#or if it was better because then i didn't have to face anyone and pretend to be fine

[jamescarstairs]

you know there's something wrong with me when i'm grateful work is getting me out of the house 😭

#lex waffles #pet death cw in the tags #being at home it's just so empty & quiet & there's just so many reminders of her #at least at work i'm distracted for a good few hours focusing on the task at hand #whereas when i'm at home i'll get distracted for some time and then my mind is like 'you haven't seen the dog in a while go see her' #and then i'm like 'oh i can't' 😭 #it's why going to the living room is just so much worse now because she should be there! #coming home from work for the first time since she's gone was literally nothing i could've prepared for #i didn't expect that to effect me so much #i though the 'how was your easter/holiday?' questions would've hit harder but no #idk if i would've prefered being at work last week #so i didn't have to sit at home for a whole week not leaving the house and just having to come to terms with the fact she's gone #or if it was better because then i didn't have to face anyone and pretend to be fine #(like i'm still not fine about it but i can put more of a brave face on now than i probably could've done last week) #i had to hide away one of her toys that i used to play with her a lot just in case my mum decided to rehome / throw away her toys #idk if she would but she was already ripping the bandaid off with other things way quicker than i would've liked... but yeah #i think it's hit me harder than i originally thought it would because it was unexpected and i really did have hope that she would come home #(from the vet) #and then i woke up the next morning.... #anyways....

[pretty-little-mind33]

You Are In Love

James Potter x Lupin fem!reader

Summary: You never realized how much of an idiot your brother's best friend is until he becomes jealous.

Genre: Fluff, friends to lovers

Warnings: Regulus Black x reader mentioned, swearing, insecurities, unrequited love? James is oblivious, he's kind of an asshole, jealousy, idiots in love basically

During the six years you've known him James Potter was never mean to you.

He'd always been the sweetest out of your brother's friends, and as kids you looked up to him. However, it wasn't until you turned sixteen that it became obvious you didn't see him as another brother. Instead, your admiration turned into the most obnoxious, heart-wrenching, crush. 

When, after a year of pining, you came to the conclusion that James would never like you in the way you liked him, you reluctantly allowed your crush to fizzle away.

"He's just so cute," Your smile hurts your cheeks as you lay on the ground and point out the little notes your newest crush had written in your potions book. 

"Oh, and look at this," You sit up and lean in to proudly show your friends your wrist, where a messy little heart is drawn. "Isn't Reggy just the cutest?" You must sound repetitive by now but your friends still listen with enthusiasm, "I think he likes me," You whisper.

You don't pay attention when James, Sirius, and a few other Gryffindor Quidditch players walk into the Common Room until, with exhausted humphs, Sirius and James let themselves slump dramatically onto the couch behind you and Sirius nudges his foot into your ribs, "Hey, little Lupin," He teases.

You hum and nonchalantly turn to look at him, accidentally catching James's eye. Jame's arm leans across the cushions as he tilts his head a moment and his lips curl up. His tongue cheekily pokes at his cheek as they turn pinker.

"Heard'ya have a crush on my little brother," Hearing his friend, James's smirk disappears as he tears his eyes away from yours, "He mentioned you yesterday." Sirius continues. 

Quickly, you jump up and happily skip over to where Sirius and James sit. Your friends watch you in amusement as you mutter, "Excuse me," and wiggle in between the boys.

James moves his arm and sits up, clearing his throat. He runs a hand in his hair as he pretends not to listen in on your conversation.

"What did he say?" You ask.

James's jaw tightens as your scent surrounds him. He is never sure if it's your perfume or your shampoo but you smell like vanilla (with just a hint of strawberry) and his heart thumps. Absentmindedly, his hand twitches around his knee. 

"Said he wants to know you better," Sirius side-eyes you, "Wanted my advice on how to talk to you. You wanna know what my advice is, Lupin?" Sirius leans his elbow on his knees and his chin in his palm as he looks at you directly.

You nod, your entire body now turned away from James and facing Sirius, "Stay away from Regulus. He's trouble. I don't know what you see in him anyways." Your face falls.

"What do you mean? He's actually kind, and he's funny, and he has really gorgeous eyes." You insist a little loudly, "I like him. He makes my heart flutter as if it contained a million butterflies — " You admit.

You've have always had a tendency to dramatize your crushes. 

You hear James shift and he mutters something under his breath. Turning to him, your cheeks warm as you don't think you heard him clearly, "Sorry?"

"I - can't you just shut up about Regulus for one goddamn second? Because, frankly, I don't think anyone in this room actually cares what he does to your heart or how good he makes you feel," James's voice is tense and he looks at you with a completely blank expression.

Your eyes bounce frantically from feature to feature. From his crimson cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes, and a small, developing, bruise (most likely from Quidditch) hidden under his chin. You feel nauseous as his words sink in. 

You look around the room. Your friends all look surprised by James's comment and a few of the Quidditch players still in the Common Room whisper among themselves as they occasionally glance your way. Sirius turns to his best friend, his smile has disappeared but he doesn't speak. You wonder if he's as lost for words as you are.

At that moment, your brother walks into the room, three or four books tucked under his arm, and he looks at you and his friends from behind his reading glasses. He sees your lip tremble as your hands shake over your lap and you refuse to look away from James. Remus frowns, "Y/n, what's wrong?" He asks, cutting into the tension.

"You're a jerk, James." Your voice quivers and you stand. Without another word, you run up the stairs to your dorm and, as quickly as possible, your friends scramble to follow you.

"Why'd you say that?" Sirius asks in shock, raising his eyebrow in question at his best friend. James barely feels like he's in his body anymore and he blinks. Why did he say that to you? He looks at Remus and his heart sinks as a pit forms in his stomach. He's so screwed.

"What the bloody fuck did you say to my sister, Potter?" Remus curses.

Remus never curses. 

* * * 

James hasn't spoken with you in almost three weeks. Which means he hasn't had the chance to tell you he's sorry.

He's not that stupid, he knows you've been ignoring him and he can't exactly blame you. As you'd said, he'd been a jerk and he feels goddamn awful about it.

Ironically, what is making this entire situation so much worse is instead of hanging out with your friends — with him — you've been hanging out with Regulus. 

James sees you study with him in the library. He sees you eat together in the dining hall, and walk to Quidditch games, hands almost brushing. His Quidditch games. Where he can't concentrate because all he can think about is the way another boy is making you laugh as he whispers, whatever it is that is so urgent he needs to press his lips to your skin, into your ear. 

"What the hell was that out there?!" Sirius sounds annoyed as he hits James in the chest with his damp towel on their way out of the showers and into the changing room, "Where was your head, because it certainly wasn't in the game, mate!" 

James looks away as he dries his hair with his towel, "I know, I know. I don't know what's wrong with me lately." He slumps onto the bench and resists the urge to scream into his hands. 

"It's his little girlfriend. Our captain here s'just upset because she's been spending all her time with your little bro instead of with him — like she usually does." Andy, one of the beaters, snorts from behind James and quickly, James spins around and throws his towel at him in. He sends Andy a dark look, to which Andy shrugs his shoulders.  

"Y/n?" Sirius frowns, he points at James and then gestures his arms wildly, "Our Y/n? As in Remus's sister, Y/n?" James cheeks flame in embarrassment and Sirius's eyes widen, "Oh my, you're so jealous." He says with a smirks

"I am not jealous, Padfoot. I just — seeing her with him while she smiles like that annoys me a lot." James tries to defend himself, "I don't know why it bothers me so much but it does. It really does and I- it's just that she was never with other guys usually and I – " He pauses and squeezes his eyes shut as he groans, "I'm just describing my jealousy, aren't I?"

His teammates laugh and Sirius crosses his arms, "Yup." He tilts his head and pops his 'p', "So, how long have ya had a thing for our little Lupin, Prongs?" 

James gives in and leans forwards to cover his face with his hands, "I don't know, Pads. I didn't even know I had a thing for her until three seconds ago." He opens his fingers and peeks at his friend, "And what am I supposed to do now? She's completely in love with your brother and she's Moony's sister."

Sirius rolls his eyes, "Oh please, she isn't in love with my brother."

James drops his arms onto his lap and looks at Sirius with confusion, "How would you know? She seems pretty in love with this to me."

"James, do you really not known that she's had a crush on you for almost a year? Everyone knows, even Remus." 

James's eyes widened, "Wait, what? Since when – I - why didn't anyone tell me?"

"She made it very obvious. It's not our fault you're a knucklehead when it comes to women." Sirius chuckles and throws his towel over his shoulder. James stares blankly in front of him as all kinds of emotions wash over him.

You had a crush on him?

"Yeah, w-well she doesn't like me anymore," James concludes as he stands up and slips on his jeans, "I was a dick, she must hate me now." He clumsily buttons his chemise.

"Y/n could never hate you." Sirius chuckles, "Just go talk to her, you idiot."

James stares at his friend for a moment, debating his options, but then nods. As soon as he walks out of the changing room, he's determined to make this all okay again.

However, when he enters the Gryffindor common room a few minutes later and sees you and Regulus sitting on the ground around a game of wizards chess, his heart sinks.

His eyes automatically find the board. You're losing.

James can't help but remember all the times you've beaten him and the way your cheek had risen in excitement and smile lines had illuminated your features. He doesn't understand why Regulus would want to miss that smile. 

James would kill to see you smile like that again.

You glance up at the sound of the door just as Regulus turns around. James stands in the doorway, his skin pales and his knuckles flex as his eyes vibrate. They're locked onto yours. Instantly, you're on your feet, "James!" You exclaim, eyes shifting from him and then Regulus. Regulus, whose expression is blank.

"Sorry," James mutters weakly. He realizes her doesn't have it in him to be jealous anymore. Not now that he knows why he's jealous. Who is he to stand in the way of your happiness? And if you're happy with Regulus, then he's happy for you.

He walks by you without a word and you turn around to watch him leave. However, your chest tightens when he pauses and it looks like he's debating something. You sense Regulus stand, "You know what? No." James suddenly blurts out and then turns around. You look at him like he's insane.

"I can't let you do this," He continues breathlessly. 

"I think your friend has gone completely bonkers." Regulus leans in to whisper in your ear with a smirk but James interrupts him,

"This really doesn't concern you." James doesn't waste any time on him as he looks at you again, "Y/n, you should be with me, not him." 

"Excuse me?" You frown and then look at Regulus as if to make sure he'd also heard James correctly. Regulus's smirk just widens as he crosses his arms.

Your embarrassment becomes worse when the common room door opens and Sirius, Peter, and your brother walk in. Their amused chatter turns into hushed whispers until they become silent as they watch the scene in front of them.

James's head whips around and you assume he'll stop whatever he thinks this is, but instead he just continues to ramble, "Hi!" His voice is hurried and loud. Sirius frowns. "You guys can stay. You should hear this too, Moony."

James turns to you again, "I like you."

You blink at him and look around the room, worried that you're losing your mind. Your brother has his cheeks flushed and he narrows his eyes at his friend. However, his eyes move to you and they soften when he sees your expression, "Y/n," Remus whispers.

"You like me? Is this one of your sick jokes?" You're unamused. James shakes his head adamantly but you continue in one breath, "I've liked you for months and months and it's only now, when you probably think I like someone else, you decide you like me? That's unfair, James" You sound stern. 

"That's really fucking unfair," You whisper and push past him. James turns to you and calls your name as you disappear up the stairs to the dorms. It feels all too familiar when it sinks in that he messed things up. Again.

 "You're such an idiot," Sirius groans as he drops his head on Remus's shoulder dramatically. 

* * * 

You throw yourself onto your bed with a bounce and scoop your pillow into your arms, screaming into it. Why does James have to be so goddamn infuriating all the damn time? He's always been oblivious to you until now — just when you've been trying your hardest to move on.   

You hear a knock on your door and you grumble in response. One of your roommates walks into the room, "Remus is waiting by the stairs. Says he wants to talk to you." She says as she throws her book-bag onto the ground. You sit up, running a hand all over your face with an annoyed groan.

Reluctantly, you make your way downstairs. Your hand slides down the railing until you pause and see your brother at the end of the stairs, his arms crossed over his chest. "What?" You raise your brow and mimic his posture with a small smile. 

James and Sirius aren't with him. "Come here," Remus demands calmly. 

You look away and bite your lip. Still, you jump down the last pair of stairs until you're directly in front of your older brother, "Y'know, I don't know why you're pissed at me. I wasn't the one who — " Remus suddenly flicks your forehead which shuts you up.

"Do you like James?" He stares at you.

You stare back, your heart pounding. You don't know what to answer him. "I- I don't know." 

"Well, you better know because he's having an existential crisis in the dorm right now and to be honest, Y/n, I'm so sick of pretending I don't know you've been head over heels in love with him for what feels like years." Your brother always sounds serious, but this time it scares you a little. Your arms drop to your side.

"Would you let me date James if I liked him?" You ask cautiously. 

"I couldn't exactly stop you," Remus shrugs and looks away a moment, "Who am I to dictate your life." You see a small smile curl his lips, "Plus, James is an idiot but he's harmless. I've never seen him so genuine."

You perk up, "Yeah?"

Remus turns to you and reaches out to hold your shoulders, "Yeah. You should talk to him. He's convinced you're in love with Regulus." Your smile disappears. 

"Oh, yeah, Regulus." 

"You aren't in love with him, are you?" Remus asks, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Of course not!" You stutter, "I mean — I did like him for a moment but I've always liked James more. And I'm not exactly Regulus's type, y'know…" You admit in a whisper, knowing Remus knows exactly what you mean. 

Remus smiles and nods. You look up at him and see his eyes shimmer, "If you've been holding back from liking James because of me, don't." He says sincerely, "He could make you happy, I know that."

You look at your brother's expression. He's completely serious. You look away and think back to James's confession: Y/n/n, you should be with me, not him. Your cheeks burn just remembering his words. You turn your head to your brother and nod, smiling. Remus drops his hands on your shoulders and lets you sprint up the stairs. 

You barely make it to your brother's dorm when the door opens and James comes out. Your forehead hits his and the momentum causes him to fall backward.

You yelp as James's arms wrap around your waist as he cushions your fall and smacks the back of his head on the ground. You lift yourself with your arm, your knees in between James's legs as you practically lay on top of him.

James winces and his eyes shut.

"James! Are you okay?" You pant, barely aware of the embarrassing position you're in. 

Sirius and Peter peek their heads out of the door and Sirius smirks when he sees the two of you, "I don't think Moony meant you could jump straight into this, Y/n." He jokes. 

"Shut up," James mumbles and his hand holds your back as he sits himself up. You're now sitting on your heels as you look at James with wide eyes. He looks at you too and then his thumb gently brushes over your forehead, "You're gonna form a bruise." He mutters, eyebrows scrunching. 

You smile faintly and move to adjust his glasses on his nose, "Probably from your glasses."

James stands up and helps you up with him. Your hand lingers in his and you smile faintly. 

"We should talk." You say.

"Yeah," James looks away bashfully, "Come with me." He takes your hand again and you let him steer you down the stairs. Your feet barely feel like they're on the ground as you follow him.

Your stomach is in knots when he pushes the doors to the Common Room open and you make your way down new stairs and multiple hallways. Your head is spinning.

"James?" You mutter but he continues to walk, "James! Wait." You shout in a laugh. James turns around just as you pull him closer. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears when you delicately push him towards the wall and as his back hits the wall, you press your lips on his. 

Your hands cup his cheeks and his hand lowers to your lower back as he pulls you into him. You can't help but smile into his mouth as you run your hands in his curls.

After a moment, he disconnects your lips and his thumbs rub across your cheeks as he holds them. He grins, "Since when do you know how to kiss like that?" He teases with a raised brow. 

You smirk, "Wouldn't you like to know." You kiss him again quickly.

"Y/n, be honest," James looks serious. You frown. You thought your joke was funny. "Do – did? Di- do you still like Regulus?" He tries to avert his eyes but quickly looks at you as if he simply can't look away, "I think I deserve to know," He mutters.

"Of course you do!" You look into his eyes, "And if I still had any feelings for Regulus, I wouldn't hesitate to let you know, but I don't like him – not anymore. I haven't for weeks. Regulus doesn't like girls," You explain slowly. 

James's eyes widen, "Oh. Ok." He smiles and tucks some of your hair behind your ear, "Good."

You giggle and kiss him again, "You're cute when you're jealous, Potter." You pause, "Cute but just a tad insane."

James frowns, "You'd go insane too, if you were me." 

You grin, "Perhaps I would." You tease him and look at him adoringly, "You won't make me find out will you?"

James returns your grin and wraps his arms around you. He kisses your forehead and says, 

 "Never, my love." 

#james potter #james potter fluff #james potter angst #james potter x y/n #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter x reader #james potter x you #marauders imagine #marauders #marauders fic #marauders imagines #marauder james potter #james potter smut #james potter imagines #james potter imagine #james potter fic #harry potter #harry potter fox #hp #hp marauders #marauders fanfiction #james potter blurb

[hellfiremunsonn]

Tender Touches. Eddie Munson x Reader

Tender Touches

I DO NOT ALLOW MY WRITING TO BE REPUBLISHED ANYWHERE OTHER THAN MY OWN BLOG WITHOUT MY CONSENT

Summary: A typical Tuesday that leads to you and Eddie finally confessing your feelings for each other, and finally, losing that virgin status.

18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

Warnings: fem!reader, reader has a vagina, virgin reader, virgin Eddie, hes such a teasing little shit, protected sex, first times, 'fem' pet names (IF THERES ANYTHING I MISSED LET ME KNOW)

AN: I CAN WRITE? WHO KNEW!!!  NOT REALLY PROOF READ (And shout out to my bby boy @rowanswriting for giving this a read through for me to make sure it wasn't absolute garbage! love u <3)

Wordcount: 4.6k

It's a normal Tuesday afternoon. You're at eddies, kneeled in front of his tv that he's moved into his room so the two of you can lay in his bed and watch movies instead of squishing together on the couch. Not that you didn't mind squishing up with him, it was actually one of your favourite activities when the two of you weren't constantly teasing each other to cover up the fact that you both were head over heels for one another. 

You can hear Eddie bumbling around in the kitchen, muttering to himself while you sift through the pile of tapes. Some newly rented, some classics he already owned, so it was just a matter of deciding on watching something new or rewatching something just cause. You decided on The Lost Boys. You had only seen it once before when Eddie rented it for halloween one year, but never made it through the whole thing because you had fallen asleep. You had come down with a cold only two days before and were upset you couldn't do your halloween traditions, but naturally that didn't stop Eddie from showing up at your door step, with snacks, and drinks to make you feel better along with the movie and cuddles from him that could never compare to anyone else's. 

You were so lost in thought that the entire time you've been sat going through the movies you didn't realize Eddie had been watching you. Stood in the doorway with a stupid smile on his face while he watched you quietly talk to yourself about each movie. 

He tries to hide his laugh by covering it with a cough, pretending to clear his throat and slightly startling you in the process. "Pick one yet?"

You squeaked slightly at his voice. "Shit Ed's you scared me"

He laughed, laying down on his bed, setting the bowl of popcorn down in the middle, and putting your drinks on the table next to him. "It's not my fault you're so jumpy all the time" 

"I swear I only get this bad around you" you say with a fake sigh, sliding the movie out of its cardboard case and into the VHS machine. 

"That sounds like a you problem dude" he says flicking a piece of popcorn at you. It hits you in the forehead and lands in your lap. 

"Rude" you mumble, picking up the piece of popcorn and eating it before standing up with a stretch. Arms over your head with your fingers interlocked; your cropped band t-shirt rising up, to where it's about a centimetre away from fully exposing your boobs but the stretch feels too good for you to notice. Eddie notices though, and he almost fully chokes and gags on his own spit at the sight of the soft skin of your underboob. 

You crawl your way onto Eddies bed and sit next to him, pulling the popcorn bowl closer to you, and taking a tiny handful. Eddies body is ridged next to you, but you don't seem to notice.

You make it about ten minutes into the movie before your fourth sigh of the night makes Eddie take the bowl of popcorn from you and turns to face you. "Alright, what's your issue?" he asks.

"What? What are you talking about?" you sit up, pushing yourself up with your hands and crossing your legs under you. 

"You've been sighing every five seconds like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders, so what is it" he pokes your shoulder a little too hard and you wince but smile nonetheless. 

"If I ask you something stupid do you promise not to laugh?" you gnaw at your bottom lip, looking up at him with soft eyes. 

"Have I ever?" he says quickly, a smug smile on his face.

"Often actually" you tease.

"No but seriously, you can tell me anything" he says reaching over to give your thigh a gentle pat and squeeze. 

"Okay, um, do you think I'm hot?" you can feel the heat of embarrassment rise from your stomach up your neck to your cheeks. 

Eddie stares at you. You almost think he might actually be frozen, and you're about to ask him if he's okay when he exhales loudly. 

"I'm not sure what you're asking me here" he says with a small laugh. "Are you asking if I'm attracted to you orrrrr?" he raises a brow.

"Well, no" you furrow your brows. "Not exactly, but if you are attracted to me, that might help?" You groan, dropping your head into your hands. "ugh, okay" you said loudly and taking a deep breath. Pretending that it will help you feel more confident with your words.

"When you look at me, or when we first met did, did you think 'wow she's hot' or do I just not look like that?" the words tumble out of your mouth, almost too quickly that Eddie slightly struggles to understand you at first. 

Eddie looks at you in disbelief before letting out a small laugh, shaking his head. 

"S'not funny!" you say slapping him on the arm, which only spurs him on.

"No, no it's not" he said in between breaths. "It's just an absolutely ridiculous question, of course you're hot" he said matter of fact. "Have you ever even looked at yourself?" He puts the bowl of popcorn down on the floor next to him, turning to fully face you now making you feel nervous with all his attention on you.

"I look at myself everyday Ed's" you say looking down, playing with the hem of one of your socks.

"Okay don't get an attitude with me, you know what I mean" he said while crossing one arm over his chest to scratch at the opposite bicep, you bite your lip at the sight.

You roll your eyes and huff. "M'not getting an attitude Ed's I ju-" (you were absolutely getting an attitude) But he grabs your face with one hand before you can finish the sentence, squishing your cheeks together until your lips are in a pout. You had thought that your face couldn't heat up any more with embarrassment than it already had, but then his hands touched your face and your entire body engulfed in heat.

"Answer the question" he said slowly, each word enunciated and his tone oddly stern. Watching you for a moment, before releasing your face from his hand, leaning back against the wall.

Your heart was thumping in your chest. "I j-just don't see what other people see obviously, a-and maybe I'm missing something you know? And that's why people don't like me" you rush.

He scoffs, shaking his head, leaning back until he was looking up at the ceiling. Throat on display, thick and inviting, begging to be bitten. You swallowed hard when he looked back at you, some sort of mischief in his eyes. 

"Ed's you're being weird" you say shifting slightly, trying to ignore the roaring heat you could feel between your legs.

He hums. "Do you not see the way I look at you?" he leans forward, resting his elbows on the top of his thighs while he looks at you intently. 

"I can see the way you're looking at me right now" you say softly, heart thumping so loudly in your ears you wondered if it was loud enough for Eddie to hear.

"And how am I looking at you right now?" he asks, tilting his head to the side.

You swallow thickly, only raising your eyes to his briefly while you said. "You're looking at me like you want to-" you lick your lips. "-Like you want to fuck me"

His smile spreads slowly, it's a wicked grin that makes you nervous but intrigues you more. 

"There's my smart girl" he coos. 

Your mouth falls agape, unsure at how to respond to him "Huh?"

He's quick, grabbing at your legs until he's pulled you down enough so you're laying on your back, hair sprawled around you messily while your breath catches in your throat. He's hovering over you with both his hands on either side of your head looking at you like he's on death row and you're his last meal.

"I want to do a lot more than fuck you, but I'd like to start with a kiss if that's okay?"

You're in shock, you almost consider pinching yourself to make sure this isn't a dream "You want to kiss me?" you ask. "Did I fall and hit my head or something?" you lean up on your elbows and Eddie moves back slightly to accommodate you but still stays close.

"For someone who's as smart as you are, you can be really dumb sometimes" Eddie laughs. "Of course I want to kiss you, you idiot" he says all too casually. 

Something blooms inside you. You don't know if its confidence, or arousal, but with a laugh you wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips into his. He lets out a small groan and it fuels the heat between your legs more spreading throughout your entire body until it reaches the centre of your chest. His lips are soft and pillowy just like you had imagined. He taste like cigarettes, popcorn, and the sugar from the candies you had shared. 

You push yourself forward more until Eddie leans back almost completely. "Sit" you mumble against his mouth and he listens, not letting your lips be untouched for more than a second while he moves to sit on the edge of his bed. You quickly straddle him, hands coming up to either sides of his face to deepen the kiss, and his squeeze at the sides of your hips, earning a small moan that you tried to keep quiet. You don't realize you're not putting your full weight on him until you feel him guide your hips closer, the brush of his hardened cock against your centre makes you squeak in surprise. 

The two of you move together like you knew what you were doing, it was instinct considering you never made it this far with most of the people you've been with. Sure you've fooled around with others, and you've done most of the sexual acts your mind could comprehend but neither of you had been able to discard that 'virgin' title. But it's never felt like this, it never felt electric, and the shocking realization that you could make Eddie feel this good makes you even more turned on. 

Eddie pulls back slightly when he realizes you've started to grind against him. "W-We don't have to do anything if you don't want to" he says breathlessly. 

"I know" you whisper "But this feels really good" you admit, never once stopping the motion of your hips. 

"You're gunna make me cum in my pants if you keep doing that" he says glancing down to watch the roll of your hips. 

"Is that a challenge?" you tease, pressing down on him a little harder which makes him close his eyes tight and groan. 

"You don't wanna start that game sweetheart" his hands are tight where they've moved to your thighs, squeezing harshly. 

"Why not?" you say looking at him, eyes blown out and glassy, you feel drunk off of want-Need.

"Cause you won't win" Eddie says with a smirk. One arm wrapping around your waist as he pushes himself up into you hard, a forced moan slipping from your mouth loudly while he flips the two of you, until you're on your back under him once again. 

"How do you know how to do all that?" You ask through a small gasp.

"I'm a virgin sweetheart, not inexperienced" he smirks and you open your eyes just quickly enough to catch the end of it. 

"Can I keep getting those pretty sounds outta you?" his cheeks are flushed, and you think he's never looked prettier.

You nod quickly, pulling at the fabric of his t-shirt, trying to get him closer "More" you plead. "Please?"

"Yeah? You want more?" He asks while looping his fingers into the waistband of your pants, inching them down so, so, slowly until your lower half is bare before him. You whine impatiently and he smiles. "You can have anything you want baby I'll give it to you" 

You cover your face with your hands, heat rising to your cheeks at the way he called you baby while undressing you. He moves your hands away, a cocky smile on his face. "What's got you all shy now hmm?"

"You can't just call me baby like that" you breathe, watching him in a daze as he trailed kisses down between the valley of your breasts, barely covered by the crop top you wore. 

"Why not?" he mumbles against your skin, nipping and licking at any spot he can get access. You keen into his touch, your waist instinctively following the warmth of his mouth. 

You hum, forcing the words to come to you, but he's making you feel so good. "Gives me butterflies" you murmur. "B-but, like lower?" brows furrowed.

Eddies head shoots up to look at you when he hears that. Your eyes are closed and your head is tilted back so you can't see him look at you. "Lower?" he asks trailing a finger from your sternum down to your waist.

"Yeah" you nod and sigh.

Eddie coos "You tellin' me I give your pussy butterflies?" His hand continues down you until his palm pushes against your clit. You know he's smirking, you know he's looking up at you, but you can't open your eyes to look.

You hate the way pussy rolls of his tongue, but you hate the way it makes your stomach flip more, and the pathetic noise of a whimper that leaves you when he says it. 

"Can we, c-could y-you" your trying to get the words out but your arousal fogs your mind, the only thing there is Eddie.

"What is it baby, what do you need?" his thumb swipes at your clit and you mewl. 

You finally open your eyes, tilting your head to your shoulder to look at him. His eyes are down where his thumb is connected to you, watching in awe the way your cunt literally shines for him. His eyes flick back up quickly and he smiles when he sees you looking back at him. 

"Can we have sex?" you say quickly and so very quiet Eddie almost doesn't catch it. 

"Do you want to?" He asks seriously. 

You nod. "I feel like I'm on fire, I want to feel you, I need it" you say it so surely that Eddie has to bite his tongue from declaring his love for you right then and there, so instead he just nods leaning back onto his knees, too far away from you for your liking and you pout. 

"Show me how you touch yourself first" he says while reaching behind him to pull his shirt over his head.

"What!?" you prop yourself up onto your elbows, mouth agape in shock knees knocking together.

"Show me" he says with a nod, eyes flicking down to your slick pussy that he can still see despite your attempt to hide it, and then back up to you. "How you touch yourself" his words are slow, just like his hands as they undo his belt, pulling it out of its loops and chucking it onto the floor. 

You hesitate still, watching him while he pops the button of his jeans and pulls at them so the zipper slides down. "Listen, I'm sure I can figure it out myself, but I'd have a better chance at making you cum if you show me" he smirks. 

That smug bastard. It takes everything in you to keep your voice steady but when you speak, you don't break eye contact and say "I'd rather you put your mouth on me instead" 

He falters only slightly. It's the way his smile drops just barely at the corner of his mouth and the way his cheeks flush that you're able to catch it. He laughs in disbelief, tugging his jeans down just a little to relieve some pressure, exposing the soft happy trail just below his belly button.

You bite your lip and hum at the sight, dreaming about the way it would feel if you dragged your tongue over it. "I don't know if I can wait that long though" you admit, sighing when you look back up at him. 

"Wait that long for what?" he says slowly crawling his way back on top of you, knee slotting perfectly between your legs. You flinch when the fabric of his jeans makes contact with your clit.

"Tell me what you're waiting for hmm?" he asked, that stupid smirk you already know is plastered on his face. 

You're getting needy, and Eddie is memorizing every sound and movement you make because of it. Determined to get you like this as often as you'll let him. "Please" you whine, and you curse yourself for the tears you feel prick at the corner of your lashes. 

"Please what" he crowds your space, enveloping you in all of him. 

"Please sir? Please Daddy? Please Master? Please Eddie?" you rush frustrated. "I n-need you Eds please" 

"Fuck" he breathes, head falling until his forehead is resting against your shoulder. "You sure?" he asks again, looking back at you for reassurance. 

"Yeah" you lick your lips, mouth dry with excitement. "I'm sure"

"It- Um, okay, I might not last very long" he says bashfully, leaning back from you to lean over to his bedside table, picking out a shiny packet and tossing it onto the bed next to you. 

"I don't care" you shake your head smiling, you're so blissed out, you can't imagine how you'll feel when he gets to fuck you properly but that's for another day.

He huffs a laugh, pulling back from you to take his jeans and boxers off. You admire him, finally getting a glance at what you've been dreaming of. His dick is perfect needless to say, but you can't help the nerves that bloom in your stomach about what the two of you are about to do. 

Eddie catches the change in your eyes and is quick to reassure you, with a hand on your knee, resting his chin on it and giving it a squeeze. "Hey, it'll be okay, we'll go slow okay? If it sucks, just tell me, I'll wait forever for this, as long as its with you"

Your eyes water at his sincerity and he panics slightly when he sees your bottom lip wobble. "Baby, hey, come here" he lays next to you and pulls you into him, and you gladly hide your face into the crook of his shoulder, sniffing slightly. 

"You're so sweet to me" you say quietly.

"Well it's cause I love you" he says, and you both still for a moment, because that's the first time those words have been fully and truthfully spoken with romantic intent. 

"You love me?" you ask, leaning back to look up at him. Even though he just said it, and you know it's the truth, it's what you've been waiting to hear for the last three years. 

He nods and smiles, his cheeks pink as he says "I do"

You giggle. "I love you to"

"Gross" he says before leaning down to kiss you quick. "Wanna try?"

"Yeah" you take a breath. "Yeah, I'm ready, m'just nervous that it's going to hurt" you admit. 

"It might, but tell me if it's too much okay? If I had known this was going to be happening today I would have restocked my lube"

You snort at his unfiltered self, never afraid to say what he's thinking.

It's shaky hands and fumbling movements, shoving your faded sea creature themed comforter you always brought with you for sleep overs, down as far as it could go. It's the first time the two of you have seen each other like this, the tension building over the last three years as the two of you pretended you weren't head over heels for each other it felt like you could explode.

"Can I take this off?" he asks, hands slipping under the sides of your shirt. 

You nod, lifting yourself up to fling it over your head and onto his floor, and he drinks in the sight of your bare chest. He stares for a moment, just taking you in, like he's dreamed about.

"You're acting like you've never seen a pair of tits before" you tease.

"I've seen plenty of tits" he scoffs. "but I haven't seen such perfect tits before" and he dives in, kissing every inch of them, mouthing at the skin, and licking each of your nipples until you're keening into his touch. He only stops when you whimper because he knows you're growing needier by the second. 

"I know m'sorry" he says breathlessly against your sternum. Sitting back up onto his knees he reaches for the condom next to you, tearing the wrapper by the corner and pulling out the slippery latex circle. You watch as he slips it on so quickly, like he's done this a million times, and just before you can ask "I've practiced" he says with a smirk, coming back to rest between the safety of your thighs, hugging his hips perfectly. 

"Ready?" he asks. 

"Yeah" you nod with a smile. 

"Okay" he breathes. "Fuck, yeah, okay, okay" he takes his cock into his hand, pushing it through your slick folds and the two of you moan in unison. Gathering your arousal l until he dips just below to your entrance, looking back up at you for approval. 

You nod again. "That's the right spot" you encourage and he laughs. 

"Tell me if you need me to stop okay?"

"I will baby I promise"

he leans over you quickly to kiss you, because how could he not when you just called him baby like that? Slowly he pushes the head of his cock against you. Just the slight pressure of his cock feels good but it doesn't erase the nerves bubbling through you as Eddie pushes in more.

"Sh-it" you say through gritted teeth. 

"D'you want me to stop?"

"No no, sorry, just, weird feeling, never had anything so um" you giggle and Eddies eyes panicky search yours, because why are you laughing when his dick is about to enter you. 

"Please don't tell me my dick is small, not now, I couldn't handle it" 

You laugh again but louder, switching to a moan when Eddies own laughter causes him to push in a little more. Your hands coming up to hold his biceps. 

"I've never had anything so big in me" 

"Don't flatter me" he teases.

"Oh fuck off" you slap his arm before returning your hand back to it.

He slips in inch by inch, and it doesn't not hurt, but it doesn't feel entirely great either. It's a mixture of pain and pleasure, with the oddest comforting feeling of him so deep inside you. 

"Fucking christ" Eddie breathes when he bottoms out, arms shaking from where they hold himself up above you. "If I move I'm cumming in like thirty seconds, tops"

You laugh and he groans at the feeling of your cunt squeezing around him. 

"Fuck, don't, you can't laugh" he says, but you can't help it especially when he says it through a laugh himself. 

"Stop making me laugh then!" you quip. 

And so he does, slipping one hand between your two bodies until he finds your slippery clit, rubbing circles that has you embarrassingly and shockingly close to cumming. Your back arches with a gasp, another pornographic moan leaving you as Eddie continues his movements. Eventually slowly pulling himself out an inch before going back in. You don't even realize he's doing it until one thrust and clench of your cunt happen at the same time and you almost choke on your spit at how good it feels. 

"Holy shit" you breathe. 

"I know" Eddie says through a laugh of disbelief. 

A thick heat engulfs your body, sweat forming between your two bodies, and you feel everything in you begin to tremble. 

"You okay?" he says from the crook of your neck.

"Uh-huh" you nod with a hiccup.

Eddie pulls himself from your neck to look at you, concerned with the sad noise that you made. He slows down and you open your eyes, blinking rapidly to clear the tears that blur your vision. They slide down the sides of your temples, and fade into your hairline. Eddies hand comes up to wipe away at the tears, pushing your hair out of your face. 

"Baby, baby, what's going on?"

"M'okay" you say though a small sob. "Just feels really good" you admit. 

"Yeah?" He says picking his speed back up. 

"You're gunna make me cum I think" You say craning your neck to look at where the two of you are connected, his trimmed pubes, wet against yours with your arousal. You slide your hand down to rub at your clit, and the sensation is almost so intense you want to stop, but you're so close. 

"Keep doing that baby, come on" he grunts, gritting his teeth as he fucks into you harder once he realizes you can take it. And boy can you take it.

"Yes, oh- ohmygod!" you whine, head falling back against his pillows. "Please please please please-" You chant. You're not sure if you're asking Eddie for permission or yourself, but him approving it doesn't sound too bad. 

"Come on, you're so close I can feel it" he watches as your legs tremble, slowly moving up, up, up, until your knees are under your chin, toes pointed against his thighs like you're trying to push yourself away from him while your hands cling to his biceps to bring you closer. When you start bouncing yourself back on eddies cock in time with his thrusts he knows he's going to lose it. 

"Cum on this cock pretty girl, come on" his voice shakes, and he's losing his rhythm. 

"I'm- oh I'm- fuck Eddie!" The hand that still holds him grips tightly, nails digging into his skin, and he can feel it start to burn but he doesn't care. 

"Fuck yeah baby, look at you, you're so hot, fucking christ, god, you're amazing, m'gunna cum, shit" he babbles before he cums, spilling more words and expletives as he spills himself inside the condom, inside of you, his words warm against your chest.

Its quiet apart from the two of you catching your breath, relaxing your muscles, and the only time either of you make a noise is when Eddie lifts his head from you, bangs stuck to his forehead in every direction and you can't help but laugh. 

"What?" He says smiling back at you, absolutely in love. 

"You look a mess" you say snorting, pushing his hair away from his face. 

"You look sexy" he says leaning up from you, slowly pulling himself out of you and removing the condom, tying it in a knot and chucking it into his garbage can next to his bed. You make a small whimper of disapproval when he leans back again, thinking he's going to get up. 

"Not going anywhere pretty" he says reaching for the blanket that had been pushed off his bed, bringing it back up, and cuddling it up around you before sliding himself under it next to you. 

You scooch over until you can lay your head on his chest, leg hitching up over his waist and you can feel your arousal leak out of you and probably onto him but you're too blissed out to care.

"I love you" you murmur softly into his skin, placing delicate kisses.

"Hmm?" he lolls his head to the side, eyes sleepy and fond, thumb rubbing gently across your cheek. 

"I love you" you say looking up at him, cheek smushed against his chest. 

"I love you right back" he says without a beat. 

#hellfiremunsonn #Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #Eddie Munson fic #Stranger Things fic #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x fem reader #Eddie Munson x reader #Stranger Things smut #Eddie Munson fan fiction #Stranger things fan fiction #Joseph Quinn #Eddie Munson Stranger Things #Stranger Things Eddie Munson

[coffeecatcraze]

I would just like to say how hard it hits me in the chest to see Charlie masking every time she's onscreen the day before the fight (including what we see on Vox's spy screens of course), except when no one is with her but Vaggie. Even during her emotional speech she tries so damn hard to keep that confidence up and smile on. But we do see her stop masking twice, when the only person watching her is Vaggie.

First:

No one's really paying attention to her, and she's not smiling; she's worried. When Vaggie approaches her, she doesn't put on a happy face. She talks about her mom with the same smile as in the first episode (during a very emotionally vulnerable moment with Vaggie, might I add). It's not happy or confident. It's nostalgic, wistful, and sad, because her mom's absence is something very personal and painful for her. When Vaggie asks if they're ready, Charlie doesn't instantly start to smile or answer with confidence even though she usually would (even within that short beat of time), because her mask is off. She's not confident or optimistic. She's scared. She's not ready.

Then Pentious comes out and she's all smiles again! The mask comes back on when someone other than Vaggie is there.

Second:

Of course, one of our favorite scenes. Charlie's alone when she breaks down, but when Vaggie shows up, she keeps the mask off. She admits how scared she is. When she does smile, it's not the big smile she's been throwing on throughout the day, and it's not strained either. It's soft, gentle, and real. She's not masking. Vaggie is genuinely making her feel better when she's finally letting herself fall apart, just by being there and reminding her that no matter what happens, she's already accomplished so much, and she's so loved.

Charlie is under a lot of stress and pressure. She's scared. She's not as optimistic as she's making herself out to be. She's giving everything she's got out there being a strong, confident, inspirational leader and friend in front of everyone, and it's only with Vaggie that she lets it go. She doesn't have to try to be strong. She doesn't pretend. She lets down her guard, because for her, Vaggie is that one infinitely special person who gets to see every part of her; the one person she can always be her honest self with.

There were plenty of times in other episodes when Charlie didn't mask her negative emotions around people, but that was when she didn't have anyone looking to her as a leader. She's running on adrenaline and the weight of people's expectations as Extermination Day gets closer, and she can't let the mask she's put on slip in public. She has to seem like she's totally ready for what's coming. But Vaggie is different.

The amount of trust and love Charlie has for her is staggering. She's under an insane amount of stress and pressure, and having Vaggie by her side is probably the only thing keeping her from completely falling to pieces. Seeing a relationship so full of deep trust and love is absolutely beautiful. <3

#hazbin hotel #chaggie #charlie morningstar #vaggie #no i am not saying her usual attitude is always a mask #just that when you're known to be a certain kind of person it becomes an automatic mask sometimes #and from these two moments and the situation as a whole it looks like that's what was happening here #she's probably spent the last month trying increasingly hard to keep up a face of confidence and fearlessness #except with the one person who's by her side and not following her #they are PARTNERS and that word means so much

[slushycoookie]

Kissing Practice ~ Miguel O'Hara × Spider AFAB! Reader +18!!

A/N: Had this short idea late at night so enjoy this little somn somn. ALSO, thank you for the 100 followers!!! I'm happy you all really like my stuff. <3 (Ignore the format, I'm trying out different stuff).

Miguel froze, staring at you as the question you asked him replayed in his mind.

You wanted to practice kissing…on him. Out of all those days he spent pining on you, admiring you from afar, you go ahead and ask him this. He couldn’t believe it. He must be dreaming.

“I’m sorry…repeat that again.” He asked you, wanting to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

You rolled your eyes. “You heard me. I want you to help me practice kissing. For a guy I like.”

His shoulders deflated at that last sentence. Of course you weren’t asking to kiss him because you liked him. It was for someone else you liked. Not him.

“Why are you asking me?” He turned his back to you, pretending to go back to work and not be bothered by the pang in his chest.

“Because you’re my friend.” You maneuvered to get a good look at him, not wanting to be shut out. “And friends help each other with stuff.”

Miguel scoffed, the sound almost turning into a laugh. “Friends don’t ask other friends if they could practice kissing one another.”

“Not true.” You retorted, putting up a finger for emphasis, “Teenagers ask their friends all the time to help practice kissing.”

“We’re adults. Not teenagers.”

“I know. That means we’ll be more mature about it.”

His muscles tensed in slight annoyance. Your logic was terrible and didn’t make any sense at all. After all, why were you asking him out of all people? There were plenty of other spider people around your age you could run to. So why him?

As the lab was silent, you peered your face around to meet his eyes. “Come on. I wouldn’t ask anyone else.” He felt his shoulder getting poked by your finger. “I always think I don’t kiss that well. And I wanna get better at that. You seem like you have some experience…”

Miguel shut his eyes as he thought for a moment. This would get really bad fast if he didn't have any self-control. He always pictured kissing you, just not in these circumstances. But you were asking him. And you two were great friends. That’s exactly what he was doing. Helping out a friend.

“Fine.” His heart flipped at your squeal with joy, “Let’s do it now.”

You stopped at that, looking around as if anyone else heard him. “Right now?” He nodded. You weren’t expecting that response. Or for him to say yes. So you dug into the pocket of your spider suit, digging for something you said was very important. Your lip balm. The same one he’s watched you put on many times. How the red-colored product glided along your full lips. Adding a red tint to them. He had to resist staring at you directly, folding his arms as you smacked your lips.

“Okay. I’m ready.” You stood close to him, a small smile on your face. Your eyes were closed, lips puckered up and ready for a kiss. He stepped closer. Ignoring how the soft feeling of your body was against his. Miguel licked his dry lips before leaning down and pressing a small peck on your own. Hints of strawberry lingered around his nose while you blinked in question.

“Really? That’s it?”

“Yes. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

You sucked your teeth, “I said kiss, Miguel. Full on lip action. Not a little baby kiss.”

“That was a peck. Not a baby kiss.” He argued back, running his hand across his face.

“You heard what I said right? How am I going to learn from a peck?”

Miguel shook his head, stepping back into your space and placing a firm hand on your lower back. You were fully flushed against him as his other hand cradled your cheek. He leaned in and kissed you like you wanted. It was slow and gentle as he wanted to savor how you felt against his own lips. Kissing you like this was like the last time he was able to.

When he pulled away, your face was flushed. The red tint from your lip balm was a little faded, he was sure there was some on his lips. But he wanted to kiss you again.

“H-How was that?” You asked after clearing your throat.

Miguel shrugged, “You could be better.” Inside, you did perfectly. He didn’t understand why you needed practice in the first place. “We should keep practicing so you can get better.”

“Okay.” You nodded in agreement, “How does tomorrow sound?”

He had to hold himself back from smiling, “Tomorrow sounds great.”

Everyday he set some time for you to come into his lab and kiss him. It was only for ten minutes. Ten minutes of holding you close, enjoying your soft lips against his own. And then pulling away as if nothing happened.

There were times when you wanted to switch it up. Add tongue or a bite on the lip. Miguel was happy to oblige as you allowed his tongue to slip in, gliding along your own with fervor. Giving a gentle nip to your bottom lip whenever he pulled away. He took note of the sounds you made each time you kissed. And there were times he got carried away, his groans mixing in with your moans. And it took all the strength he had to not take it further. Because this was for someone else you liked.

“What about during sex?”

He almost choked on his cold coffee, “What? What do you mean?”

“You know, kissing during sex? I was never good at that either.”

Miguel’s talons were digging into the console. You weren’t suggesting…?

“You want to kiss during sex?” You nodded quickly and he took a deep breath. “That’s not…You should ask somebody else…”

You waved him away, “It’s just kissing during sex. No big deal.”

“It’s a very big deal.” He was over you again, chest heaving. But Miguel wasn’t angry. The complete opposite. He was making sure that you really wanted to do that with him. Be completely intimate. You didn’t back down, taking this entire conversation casually.

“There’s no one I’d rather do it with.”

Miguel’s lips rarely left yours. Not as he peeled your clothes away from you at his apartment. Placing you on the bed as if you were delicate. Even as he thrusted into you. Feeling your walls stretch around him as he kissed you with infatuation. He took everything from you. Your pleasant cries drowned against his embrace. He was determined to show you that the person you did like should be doing this to you. Not anyone else. Not even him.

He was emotional as he sat on the end of his bed. Miguel knew you all shouldn’t do this again. Especially after you tell this guy that you like him. He wondered who it could be. Who stole your heart before he could?

You shifted against him; eyes lowered in satisfaction. He stared at you as if you were in a dream. Someone he couldn’t get enough of.

“Miguel?” He hummed when you called, wondering what you needed. “You’re the guy I like.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #slushycoookie writes

[surftrips]

HEADCANONS — FLIRTY ACADEMIC RIVALS w/ CORIOLANUS SNOW

you're not sure when the rivalry started, but for as long as you could remember, you were always sat next to coriolanus snow in class, whether by assignment or choice. neither of you actually hated the other, it was more a friendly competition born out of your strong feelings for each other that neither of you trusted yourselves with, so you resorted to teasing and playful mockery.

both of you care very much about your academics, snow on his way to win the plinth prize, and you, eager to impress your parents and secure a job in the capitol. when you put two highly ambitious and motivated students next to each other, it was no wonder you were always top of your classes. some people called you the power couple, but you denied the latter half of that term.

"where's your little boyfriend?" sejanus had asked one day. "how many times do i have to tell you, he's not my boyfriend!" you responded. "tell me then, why haven't either of you dated anyone?"

the easy answer to that question, and the one you always resorted to was that you simply had no time for dating right now. never mind the fact that you've been using that excuse for your whole life.

corio, on the other hand, never denied the dating rumors. not because there was any truth to them, but more so to annoy you. "corio, did you tell professor crane we were going to formal together?" "yes, what's wrong?" he feigned innocence. "what's wrong? you told him we were going together! as in boyfriend girlfriend!" "i still don't see the issue."

most days, he drove you crazy. and he probably wasn't even aware of his affect on you. shoulders touching when reading a textbook together, quickly pulling away his hand when your fingers went to turn the page at the same time, pretending not to be flustered on the rare occasion he gave you a compliment.

other times, it was nice to have him sat by your side. for example, the nights when you stayed up late studying often led to you dozing off in class, leaning on corio's shoulder until he gently nudged you off, "hey, sleepyhead. what time did you go to sleep?" he would tease.

the best classes were the ones you took with a professor that you both mutually hated— you could hardly control your laughter when he whispered a remark in your ear, or the shivers that he sent down your spine from being in such close proximity to you.

one time, he found you hiding in a corner of the library after receiving a particularly bad grade on a test. you had abruptly left him in the hallway, claiming that you had an "important phone call" to take, but of course, he knew you well enough to know that something was wrong and you needed space. thirty minutes later, he was pulling you off the floor and taking you out to ice cream.

"my girl," he said, wiping off your tear-stained cheeks. "what can i do to make you feel better?" you had wanted to kiss him right then and there, to resolve the tension between you two once and for all, but you didn't want your first kiss to be under these circumstances.

life in the capitol was not as glamorous as everyone else made it out to be. you faced an immense pressure to perform well, uphold the reputation of your family, and be successful, and most of the time you felt alone and exhausted. but coriolanus was always there for you, when things were good, and especially when things got bad.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus x reader

[k4vehrtz]

⸻ YOU'RE A CRISIS OF MY FAITH

. ✦ . starring — dom!top! t. fushiguro / m! reader

warnings — porn with some plot, sacrilege, a copious amount of religious themes, priest! reader, virgin reader ergo loss of virginity, allusion to homophobia / internalised homophobia, unprotected sex, blowjob (r receiving), deepthroating, fingering, riding, creampie, toji lowkey has a corruption kink, use of the nickname 'angel', toji refers to the reader as father once but that is entirely in a religious sense . ✦ . wc — 2.1k . ✦ . notes — we'll all pretend that didn't just happen!! anyway!! i'm so so normal about toji...and !! i don't know what exactly falls under dark content but seeing as this contains sacrilege you've been warned nevertheless. not proof read bc t**blr stressed me out

“what does —” he stops himself mid-sentence to motion upwards, “the big man upstairs think about homosexuality?”

you swallow hard, your adam’s apple bobbing. you hadn’t expected the question, naturally. especially from the likes of toji fushiguro of all people. but you answer anyway. “well,” you murmur, averting your gaze so that you’d stare out the window as the first signs of winter begin to settle in for its extended stay instead of being forced to meet toji’s pointed gaze. “we all are subject to desires that may or may not reflect god’s light, but these desires aren’t sinful unless you act or encourage others to act on them.”

he nods almost absentmindedly in response before following up with: “…even you, i imagine, as a man of god, could fall victim to such desires?”

and you pause for a beat, your jaw tightening as an image escapes the dark recesses of your mind; the neat box you’ve forced what you deemed unpleasant thoughts into.

the man in your mind didn’t look quite like anyone you knew at first. he was just a man without a name or a face — similarly to the world before god’s divine intervention, he too was without form. but then, by chance, you met toji fushiguro and his teenage son. then the man who’d haunt your thoughts began to change.

he was older, weathered by life experiences and parenting, and taller, maybe 6’2, with messy black hair that fell over his brows. his hair reminded you of the cloudless, starless night sky. then there was that scar on the corner of his right lip. you’d imagined yourself on more than one occasion leaning toward him, pressing your lips against it before he’d open his mouth and let you explore the wet cavern.

though you shake your head as if that would dismiss your thoughts, fingers curling defensively around the window’s ledge. “everyone encounters temptation in their day-to-day, but, like god’s son, we must resist.” you counter eventually. “you’re not one for idle chatter.”

“i’m not,” he agrees, his voice smooth, something akin to the feeling of silk against your skin. it gives you goosebumps and makes the hairs stand up. he puts his hands up in mock surrender, his gaze intent. you can feel him burning holes into the back of your head. “you know, i think i’m long overdue for a confession.”

“as you wish.”

“our heavenly father has declared the following in the book of james, chapter five, verse sixteen: ‘therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. the prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective’. now, in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy spirit, amen.”

silence — and then toji sucks in a breath, his voice thick with an emotion you can’t quite grasp but has you shifting in your seat on the other side of the confessional booth anyway. you’re, on some level, disgusted by your behaviour. it’s unprofessional at best, or perhaps the beginning of your unravelling at worst. you fear it’s the latter.

“bless me, father, for i have sinned,” the words slide off his tongue with ease, “it has been two months since my last confession.” and your eyes flutter closed, or maybe you forced them closed because you feel no better than a pervert by the way you ache at every sound that comes out of his mouth.

either way, you don’t notice the way the door creaks as toji lets himself out of his side of the confessional booth and opens the door to yours until he’s kneeling in front of you, the pads of his fingers digging into your sides. the skin of his fingers is rough, worn out from the different tasks he takes on to keep himself and megumi afloat, you think. he’s become something of a handyman around town.

“to be honest, father,” he says, now directly addressing you. “i came here fer’ your guidance…you see, i’ve been havin’ thoughts lately that i don’t think align with what god wants.” and you find yourself at a loss, your eyes still closed, though your adam’s apple bobs again as you swallow your suppressed thoughts. “my guidance?” you repeat quietly, “confess your…thoughts…then, and seek forgiveness. it’s not a sin unless you act on those thoughts.”

he lets out a pleased hum at that, leaning forward so that his face is practically buried in your clothed crotch. “so,” he counters, “if my understanding is correct, would it be a sin if i told you to spread your legs f’me?”

you don’t trust yourself to speak right now — not when your thoughts are all muddled. so, you simply nod and toji clicks his tongue. “but sin or not, you’re going to anyway because you and i both know how we feel about each other, right? c’mon, use your big boy words and tell me.”

the smart thing—no, the right thing to do here would be to say no. adamantly deny the lingering touches and glances that the two of you had come to share. affection between two men could only go so far. but then again, you’ve gone so much farther in the safety of your bedroom long after the sun has set. how much longer could you shamelessly show your face to the other members of the church and listen to them confess their deepest secrets to you? you’re parading as a righteous man when you’re anything but.

if it turns out to be as bad of a sin as they say, god will strike you down.

turns out it’s not as bad of a sin as they say — or maybe it is and you’ve yet to receive divine punishment.

“god works in mysterious ways,” you say under your breath but toji hears it anyway. how could he not when you’re in such proximity to each other? you hadn’t meant to say it out loud but it doesn’t matter. and toji (ever the charmer) takes it upon himself to respond, “maybe he brought us together for a reason…or maybe i’m one of lucifer’s lackeys sent to seduce you.”

you make the conscious decision to ignore that which seems to entertain toji even more. he’s ridiculous in ways you can’t fathom. like…the way he’s got your legs spread, back pressed firmly against the wood of the confessional, your thighs trembling as he clicks his tongue, “spread yer’ legs a little wider f’me angel, s’not enough f’me to suck that pretty cock.”

he… he knows what he’s doing. whereas you were clumsy and inexperienced. but, to be fair, you had taken a vow of celibacy when you were twelve.

now, though, you’re experiencing true pleasure for the first time — and with a man, no less. you tilt your head back in what little space the confessional affords you as toji gives your balls tentative touches, maybe light squeezes, as he aligns the head of your leaking cock with his mouth. you’re embarrassed, warmth flooding your cheeks, but you can’t look away. not when this is all you’ve ever wanted.

there’s pre-cum on his lips; your pre-cum. it’s there, as clear as day, and he’s entirely unbothered. all of his attention is on your cock. your cock that’s throbbing as he sucks on it. pre-cum and saliva mixing. it’s all so new to you.

as for him…well isn’t this cute? you’re trying your hardest to stifle those needy moans of yours, he can tell. but no matter how much you bite down on your lower lip or how you press your hands against your mouth those pretty sounds you make always find a way of escaping. part of him, somewhere deep down, feels guilty for corrupting you like this. but perhaps he doesn’t feel guilty enough.

he continues to work on your cock, sucking on it whilst simultaneously fondling with your balls. you’re quivering, rutting your hips forward now and then. occasionally you go too far and it scares you at first — you didn’t mean to push your cock all the way to the back of his throat! ever the unbothered, though, he welcomes it until you’re spurting your load down his throat. and he swallows, utterly content.

then he coos at you, bringing a thumb up to your face, and tracing the outline of your jaw. “don’t worry about me, angel, you’re not going to hurt me. what you’re going to do f’me is let me reposition us so i can see your pretty boy hole, m’kay? my boy can do that f’me, right?”

my boy. the idea of being his. after so long…it only feels right. so, you allow him to readjust your position so that you’re straddling his lap and somewhere in the process you both disregard your clothes.

“you’ve been thinking about my cock? that’s why yer’ hole is winking f’me? all ready to take my cock like a big boy?” he asks and you nod your head eagerly. every word that comes out of his mouth is dirty but your reactions are the icing on the cake. you’re not the quiet, unassuming priest he met by chance all those months back. and to think that he’s the reason why.

well, he doesn’t linger on the thought. you’re impatient, squirming on his thighs in search of friction. but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t get him going and he may be many things but he would not force himself into you without properly preparing you to take him.

so as much as you whine about it, he ultimately takes his time with you. the nearest lubricant happened to be some sort of oil, but he made sure that it was safe to use before coating his fingers in a generous amount. then he oh so carefully drags his finger across your hole. it makes you shudder, but after a few minutes of this, you find yourself unprepared for the stretch of fitting a singular digit in. it hurts and the moment you so much as whimper toji’s pressing his lips against yours. the same lips that were around your cock only moments ago. his lips are gentle, soothing, even.

and he keeps it like that — his lips against yours as he slowly introduces more fingers into your ass. it takes a while but your pained whimpers soon morph into more desperate, filthy little noises as he drags his fingers in and out of your hole before curling them, tips grazing your prostate.

you want it, you decide. his cock, that is. you want his cock in your ass beyond a reasonable doubt. it’s all you need. bouncing on his fingers feels good but you just know that his cock would feel so much better.

“this is a sin, we’re both sinning,” you announce, your words strong but your delivery coming in between laboured gasps as his fingers continue to graze your prostate. “so i expect you to fuck me like you mean it.”

and he doesn’t need to be told twice. with a scoff — one that sounds more amused than annoyed — he pulls his fingers out of you. shaking his head as you whimper at the loss. but it’s soon replaced by something bigger and much thicker. it’s his cock, covered in the same oil, and you almost can’t believe it when he’s aligning it with your entrance, pushing past the tight ring of muscle.

you have to take a few breaks before you fully sink on him with a low groan. he makes you feel so full and he hasn’t even moved yet. and when you take it upon yourself to ride him you revert to the softheaded boy he makes you out to be.

your movements are clumsy — mediocre, you’re sure of it. but toji doesn’t intervene. he simply leans back, big, warm hands on your hips, while you figure out your rhythm. and after a few failed attempts you find one that works for both of you. it feels good, it feels great even. his hard cock filling you to the brim while you all but mindlessly bounce on his cock, your walls clenching around his throbbing length.

you’re going to cum soon, you’re sure of it. and when you do eventually watch through teary eyes as your cock spurts ropes of cum onto his stomach you’re not surprised whatsoever. toji, however, takes a lot longer to cum. you’ve probably cum at least two more times by the time toji takes control, his grip on your hips tightening as he angles you just the right way to hit your prostate with each thrust of his hips upwards. your toes curl, eyes half-lidded, and you just barely acknowledge the warmth of his semen in your ass.

all you can think of, and just barely manage to stutter out is: “you’ve fucked me,” and he stares up at you with a smug smile, chest heaving as he copes with his orgasm that has been a long time coming, “yeah, i’ve fucked yer’ pretty boy hole.”

#x male reader smut #x bottom male reader #toji x male reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #toji x you #toji x y/n #jjk x y/n #x sub male reader #jjk x male reader #toji fushiguro #toji smut

[narryffdreaming]

Maisy and Harry are just friends (except they aren't)

Summary: It all started with the prompt "we're not just friends and you fucking know it", and then it turned into several short scenes about two people who are supposed to be just friends, except they aren't.

ONE-SHOT AU, friends to lovers, angst, romance, sweetness, smut +18 (explicit language and explicit sexual content) 25k words

It took less than five minutes for a girl to approach him.

Maisy sighed and leaned back in her chair, sipping her almost-empty-drink and watching the scene take place right in front of her.

To be fair, she wasn't surprised. In fact, before Harry had left the table to get another round of drinks, she'd thought about making a joke and bet how long it would take for a girl to divert him from his task. In the end, she didn't say anything, of course. First because she worried he wouldn't find it funny, but mostly because she was afraid he would see right through her words and notice how terrified she was about the possibility of seeing him with someone else.

So, yeah, she wasn't surprised, but that still didn't mean she wasn't upset. After all, she had spent the entire day secretly hoping things between them would be different now.

"You're staring," Niall muttered next to her, taking the seat Harry had been occupying until a couple of minutes ago. "Already told ya, if you want him, talk to him."

Maisy scoffed, shaking her head as if she could also shake his words away. Niall was sweet, but he was also oblivious to the fact that Harry already knew about her feelings and, still, nothing had changed. Although, if she really thought about it, maybe things were even worse now.

Ugh, why was he acting like that? Why did he keep pretending nothing had happened?

Harry was one of her closest friends, and one of the things she loved the most about him was how sweet and thoughtful he was to everyone around him, especially to those he cared about. That's who he'd been to her since the first day, at least. So even if he didn't feel the same, surely she wasn't expecting for him to simply ignore her feelings.

Over a week had passed and she hadn't talked to anyone about it. As the days went by, it became obvious that the more she thought about what had happened, the more anxious she felt. She figured she deserved to be honest and talk to someone, so she straightened her body and pushed her shoulders back, turning towards Niall and taking a deep breath before finally letting the words out of her mouth.

"We kissed."

Niall pulled his beer away from his face and turned his head, facing her with an open mouth and widened eyes. "Wha—Who? You and Harry?" 

Maisy nodded, and Niall jerked his body closer. 

"What the fuck?! You two kissed? When? How?!"

His reaction made her chuckle, but she dismissed his excitement by shrugging and finishing her drink before speaking again—as if the story wasn't that important or that interesting (and as if they both didn't know that was obviously a lie). 

"He just came over last week and… I don't know. We kissed?"

It sounded more like a question, like she wasn't sure it had actually happened. But it had. The kiss was real. It had happened and it had made her feel all kinds of different and exciting things. And now she couldn't stop thinking about doing it again. And again. And again. 

"Right," Niall scoffed. "Just like that? After five years hanging out together, out of nowhere, you both just thought you know what? Let's kiss today. Might be fun!?"

Maisy didn't know how to answer that, so she rolled her eyes and laughed lightly. Niall definitely had a point, and maybe in a couple of weeks—or months, or years—she'd be able to explain it better, but right then and there she honestly didn't have an answer. It wasn't supposed to happen and it definitely was not what she had in mind when she invited him over, but they were having fun and laughing and at some point she felt something shift in the air and she just… She just kissed him.

Just like that.

Maisy kissed Harry.

And then Harry kissed Maisy.

A lot.

The memory made her cheeks turn hot, and her belly fluttered. She turned back to the table and looked down, fixing her eyes on her fingers and picking at her nails. 

Niall must have sensed her uneasiness, because he didn't pressure for an explanation, moving on to the next question with a softer tone. 

"Does he know you like him, then?" 

Maisy shrugged. 

"He must know. I mean, he has to know…" She tapped her foot on the ground, narrowing her eyes as she stared at her fingertips, "right?" 

She lifted her eyes just a second, just to question him, and Niall dropped his shoulders. 

He moved closer, throwing his arm over the back of her chair. "Isy…"

She shook her head, then focused back on her nails. "You said it yourself, Ni, we hang out all the time… And, I mean, he stays over a lot, and we cuddle, we hold hands… I don't do that with everyone. You know that. He knows that. And also, I don't know, why would I kiss him like that? Out of nowhere?"

"Because it wasn't out of nowhere."

"Exactly!" She looked up, and her eyes landed on Harry once more. Maisy sighed. "It wasn't."

The girl was still there, talking to him, casually laughing and flipping her hair. And Harry seemed really into it, happily paying attention and nodding to whatever the girl was saying. Smirking so fondly that Maisy could even see his dimple. 

Her chest tightened, and her stomach swirled. 

"God," Maisy laughed bitterly and shortly, rubbing her forehead as she looked away. "I'm so stupid."

"Isy," Niall sighed, "Stop. You're not stupid." 

"I am, though." She shrugged. "It's just… He never looked at me that way, you know?" 

Her voice cracked, and she took both hands up to her face, hiding behind them with an exaggerated grunt. "Fucking stupid…" 

Niall took his hand to her shoulder and sighed, offering half a hug as he squeezed her gently. "That's not fair, Isy. You know how incredibly amazing you are. And to be honest you're just so out of his league. So much better than anyone he could ever date. So he is the stupid one for not seeing what's right in front of him, ok?"

Maisy shook her head. She knew Niall meant well, but she also felt like he didn't understand where she was coming from. See, Maisy knew that Harry liked her, and how much he trusted her — after all, that's why they were friends in the first place. She knew that she was important to him and that she was the first person he'd call or the one he'd run to when he needed something. She knew Harry would let her cry on his shoulder, hold her, share a bed with her, and listen to whatever she had to say. Dates would come and go in his life, but she was still there and he wouldn't let go of her. 

So it wasn't like he didn't know what (or who) was in front of him.

Harry just didn't fancy her. Simply as that. He didn't dream about her in the same way she dreamed about him. And he had never treated her the same way he treated the girls he fancied on their nights out. He had never offered to buy her a drink just because he thought she was pretty, nor had tucked her hair behind her ear just to kiss her neck. He'd never rested his hand on her leg under the table, nor whispered in her ear how badly he wanted to take her home. 

Harry had never shown any signs of being physically attracted to her, and that really, really, freaking fucking sucked. Because there was nothing she could do about that. She couldn't force him to want her like she wanted him.

"Do you want to leave?" Niall squeezed her shoulder. "'Cause I think we should." 

Maisy nodded, then dropped her hands down to the table. "Yeah, please. Let's just go."

"Ok, great." He smiled, relieved at the idea of taking his best friend away from there. "'M just gonna pee and we'll go, ok? Be right back."

Nodding to Niall's words and watching him walk away, Maisy couldn't help but glance over them one more time.

Without a doubt, if Maisy had a choice, she wouldn't actively compare herself to others, knowing it was an unhealthy and worthless habit. Then again, she didn't notice she was doing it until it was too late and her throat felt too dry to even breathe. Because everything about the girl standing in front of Harry seemed perfect, and everything about Maisy sitting at that table by herself seemed ridiculous — she hadn't even at least showered after work, for God's sake!

There were so many differences between her and that girl that it seemed impossible not to feel embarrassed about even thinking something could happen between them, or about even feeling something just platonic for him. 

Besides the fact that the girl was extremely attractive, or that her hair was long, wavy and shiny, or that her dress hugged her figure amazingly, it was obvious that her body language screamed confidence and determination.

And she wasn't doing anything wrong, really, but Maisy wanted to push her away from him as soon as she saw her raise her body to whisper in his ear, touching Harry's arm and making him smile. It only got worse when Harry leaned in and tucked a lock of hair behind the girl's ear, letting his hand slide from her shoulder to her hand, and then resting it on her waist. He smirked, then whispered something back to her.

"'M back, let's go." Niall stood in front of her, frowning while blocking up her view. "'M gonna walk you home, then I'm gonna punch Harry's fucking stupid face. C'mon."

— — — — — 

Maisy had a feeling it was Harry as soon as she heard the knock on her door, hence why she wasn't surprised to see him standing in the middle of the hallway. Still, it was barely past midnight, so seeing him there didn't make much sense—wasn't he supposed to be with the girl?

"Heyyy Haz!" She smiled, trying her best to appear nonchalant despite the fact that she had just spent thirty minutes crying over him in the shower. "Thought you were still at the pub."

"Can I come in?" 

The tone of his voice was one she couldn't recognize, and Maisy froze for a moment. She blinked at him, taking in the intensity behind his glare and the tension all over his face. Her smile faltered, and she furrowed her brows. 

"I—Yes." She took a step aside and raised his hand, showing him the way as if he hadn't simply barged in any other time up until then. "Of course."

Harry stared ahead and walked in, radiating so much tension and heat that Maisy's heart skipped a beat, then immediately sped up. She swallowed, closing the door before following his steps to the living room.

As seconds went by, he didn't turn to look at her, and she was able to spot a slight trace of red lipstick on his neck. It was hard not to picture him and the girl together, but it was even harder not to think about how it had felt to tangle her own fingers through his curls while tasting that same bit of skin. And it hurt that, no matter how much she wished she could kiss him again, somebody else had done that already just earlier that night.

"Are you ok?" she asked, pushing the memories away. "Did—Did something happen?" 

Harry snorted. "I don't know. You tell me."

Maisy frowned, scrunching up her face and blinking a few times while trying (and miserably failing) to organize her thoughts. 

"What? I—What's… What's that supposed to mean?" 

Harry remained silent, though, and her chest tightened. Closing her hands into fists, she licked her lips and took a breath in, then looked him up and down.

"Haz, please…" her voice trembled, but she still tried. "What's going on? Talk to me."

Nothing changed, and she swallowed. 

"Can you at least look at me? Please? I don't—"

"Why?!" He turned around, then, so abruptly that Maisy's mouth fell open as she took a step back. 

"Why didn't you talk to me? Huh?!" Harry glared at her, his jaw tightened and his brows snapped together while he threw his hands in the air and raised his voice. "Why did I have to go through a massive fight with Niall to find out that you have—That you—I mean—" he paused, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. A moment passed while he took a deep breath, only for him to give a humorless laugh right after. "Jesus, it's so absurd I can't even say it."

"What…Why—Why are you so mad at me?" She wrapped her arms around herself, knowing Harry wasn't making any sense, but at the same time scared for what she thought he was implying. Had Niall gone back to the pub? He had walked her home only a couple of hours earlier, they'd talked a little, she'd cried on his shoulder, and then he'd left. She hadn't thought about where he would go next, just assuming he'd go straight back to his place, but maybe she'd been wrong? She just… She didn't… What was happening? "I—I didn't do anything. I don't even… I don't even know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about the fact that Niall just yelled at me for half an hour for apparently breaking your heart, Maisy. That's what I'm talking about!"

There was a pause. A long and painful pause.

Harry's chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, fists clenched while his arms remained at his sides and he glared at her. 

Standing a few feet across from him, Maisy's eyes welled up with tears. She knew Harry like she knew the palm of her hand, and out of all the times she'd imagined him finding out, anger had never been present. Shock? Sure. Sadness? Yes. Worry? Also yes. Pity? Almost every time. She'd imagined many things, and different emotions. Everything. Anything. But never that. 

She'd never thought he would ever throw words at her so carelessly, so loudly, and so harshly. On top of that, she also didn't think she deserved them. Because, really, what had she done besides stupidly falling in love with him? She'd never gotten in his way nor stopped him from living his life. So, yeah, truly—why was he so mad at her?

She swallowed down her tears and clenched her teeth, blinking rapidly as adrenaline rushed through her veins. 

"Oh, I see." She took a step closer and nodded, straightening her body and allowing her hands to talk along with her own raising voice. "So what? Niall tells you that you broke my heart and this is your reaction? What the hell Harry?! Did you really think this was a good idea? Coming back to my place in the middle of the night just to yell at me?! What were you thinking?!"

Harry flinched, and blinked. A mix of emotions flashed through his eyes, until he settled with anger once again.

"Of course I didn't think or plan this, Maisy! That's exactly why I'm here. I'm trying to understand because it doesn't make any sense!" 

"What doesn't make sense?"

"Everything was fine, Maisy!" 

She rolled her eyes and looked away, taking her hand up to pull her hair back and letting him say whatever he wanted to say. 

"So I don't get it, ok?! I don't! And we were having fun tonight! Man I met this amazing girl, and was just about to take her home when Niall started yelling at me. For fucks sake! Out of nowhere! Of course she left and now I'm—"

"Okay, okay. Stop," she interrupted, holding her palms up and staring back at him. "Just… Just stop, please." 

Harry frowned even deeper, and a long, low sigh fell through Maisy's lips. There was no point in arguing with him, and she knew that. 

"I get it, okay?" she added. "And I'm very sorry for ruining your night with this amazing girl. I swear I didn't mean to. I left the pub just so I could come home and cry by myself. So trust me, I didn't want to bother you with this, ok? And I swear to God I didn't want Niall to go back and tell you about it. I didn't want any of this to happen. So I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry."

She dropped her weight on the couch and breathed in, then slowly rubbed her temples and breathed out.

It was the realization of how exhausted she sounded that made Harry stop and pay attention to her for the first time since she'd opened the door. He noticed the lack of energy, the way she covered her face, the way she hunched her body as if she needed to hug herself. As if she needed to protect herself. 

It only took one second and one attentive glance for all of his anger to melt away, and a big wave of guilt crashed into him.

Unfortunately, though, Harry didn't know how to handle that situation. It was a new dynamic between them, a new path for a friendship that wasn't supposed to take that turn. So he continued justifying himself, although much more carefully than before.

"It took me by surprise, y'know? That's all. I was—" He shut his mouth and shook his head, exhaling before going back to explaining himself. "It doesn't matter. The thing is that Niall just came out of nowhere, so mad at me, Isy… I couldn't understand what was going on, and then he was blaming me for breaking your heart and talking about how you—saying that you have—I mean—That you have—"

"That I have, what?" With closed eyes, she dug her fingertips into her forehead, then shrugged. "Just say it, Harry, c'mon."

He frowned, unable to move.

"Is it true? Do you?"

"Again, what?" Letting out a hollow laugh, she dropped her hands down to her lap and looked at him. "You have to at least say it."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because it doesn't make sense! It— it can't be true. We are just friends and—"

"Oh, c'mon Harry!" She stood up, taking a step forward if only to make sure he wouldn't ignore her next words. "We're not just friends and you fucking know it."

"No! I don't—I mean, yes. Yes we are. We're just friends, Isy!"

"Just friends? Really?"

"Yes!"

"Well…" She shrugged, and looked away. "Not to me then, I'm sorry."

Harry took a step back and widened his eyes. And then, he blinked, pulling his hair back with one hand and resting the other on his hip before glancing down at his own feet. 

Maisy sighed. A tiny part of her wanted to grab him by his shoulders, shake him up, and yell at him to wake up. Just shout at him. Prove him wrong. 

However, she had no more energy to fight him. Not about that, at least. Her body felt too heavy to even move and her heart had changed into a slow thud inside her numb chest. Harry was her favorite person, but at that moment all she wanted was to be alone. It wasn't her intention to make him angry, let alone disappoint him, and knowing that she'd put them both in that situation only made her feel even more ashamed.

So she decided to be honest. Too exhausted to argue, she decided to stop fighting or running away and just say what she'd been thinking since she'd left the pub earlier that night.

"Look… I don't think we're just friends, Haz. I'm just friends with Niall. I've known him for over 10 years and I've never kissed him. God, I never even thought about kissing him. He slept over plenty of times, but he never asked to cuddle with me, and he never held me the way that you do. Last week I… I kissed you and you kissed me back, Harry. And maybe I got it wrong, but… But you really made me feel like you fucking wanted to, y'know? We weren't drunk, we kissed for hours and we didn't even have sex. We kissed and then you stayed and you fell asleep with your arms around me. And then you woke up and you—" Her voice cracked, and she knew she needed to take a deep breath if she wanted to continue. Maybe reliving every single detail was too much, maybe she didn't need to do that. "Anyway, no, ok? No. You and me, Harry? We're not just friends, and even if you can't say it out loud or believe it's true, I do have feelings for you. I've had feelings for you for a long time now and to be honest, yeah, you really… I'm sorry but you really broke my heart tonight."

Even with all the chatter around him, Harry caught the soft thump of someone's boots across the busy studio. It was like his mind was searching for the perfect excuse to get distracted, because he instantly dropped the task he was supposed to be doing and focused on the sound, instead. From there on, every noise caught his attention — Nina's fingers tapping against the keyboard, Johnny's phone ringing, Jenny and Patrick laughing as they filled their mugs with coffee, Maria and Julia whispering by the windows. 

Despite not seeing anyone, he somehow kept up with everyone's movements and conversations. Meanwhile, displayed on the screen in front of him, the design he was supposed to be working on since he'd arrived that morning—and that he was also supposed to deliver to a client in less than thirty-six hours—remained untouched. 

"You look like shit," Niall's voice pointed out from behind him, and Harry stiffened on his seat. 

He knew Niall had been right behind him all along. Of course he knew. It wasn't as if he could've expected anything differently. After all, that's how the two had met: they'd joined the agency on the same day and were assigned to sit back to back from each other, then the rest was history. 

Since then, that monday was the first day in over five years they still hadn't said even one word to each other. It was weird, to be honest, but they were both still resentful from the events of last friday's night, and too stubborn to handle the situation any differently. 

So, yeah. To sum it up, Harry knew Niall had been there all along, but he wasn't expecting to engage in a conversation with him. Not yet. Not for another couple of days.

Still, Harry cleared his throat, and shrugged. 

"Yeah, well…" he said, keeping his eyes on the screen. "I feel like shit." 

Niall made a sound that resembled a hum, but then got quiet. And Harry wasn't sure of what he could say next, or if there was anything to say at all, so he breathed in and waited in silence. 

No matter how confusing the latest events of his life had been, if there was one thing Harry was still sure of, it was that Niall and Maisy cared about each other like brother and sister. And that whilst he'd been easily welcomed into the group by the two of them, their friendship already lasted for over a decade, so it would always come first. And he was ok with that, he understood that. Niall knew Maisy in a different way than Harry did, and she would tell Niall things that she would never talk to him about, so there was no point in competing with them. It wasn't even something he would ever try to do, to be honest. 

"So…" Niall cleared his throat. "You went to Isy's."

And there it was. 

Harry closed his eyes.

See? Of course Niall already knew about that.

Sure, it didn't bother him, and it also wasn't a surprise, but… What was he supposed to say? He didn't even think Niall would want to talk to him, so what was he supposed to expect out of that conversation? As far as Harry knew, he had broken Maisy's heart and she wasn't talking to him anymore. And that was it. He had fucked everything up — before he even knew there was something to fuck up in the first place. 

Bloody hell.

Harry sighed, then glanced at the screen in front of him. 

To be completely honest, he had spent the last 48 hours trying to understand what the hell had happened, wincing every time he remembered Maisy's words and shuddering every time he thought about how he'd left her crying by herself on the couch. 

Those same 48 hours had made him feel all over the place, everywhere and yet nowhere at the same time. He was all by himself the entire weekend, locked at home, having to occupy his mind with random, meaningless and stupid little things so he wouldn't drown in his own thoughts. Surely, it wasn't the first time they hadn't seen or talked to each other for a couple of days — although it was something rare to happen — but it was the way they'd left things that kept tormenting him. 

He still had so many questions, because he needed so many answers. He wanted to know more about what had happened, about what had changed, or when, or why… 

And he was also desperate to know what would happen next, because… Well… What was he even supposed to do after all that? 

Harry rolled his chair around, getting himself out of his own spiraling thinking. 

Niall was already facing him, glaring at him. He sat with his arms crossed over his chest and his legs extended forward, clenching his jaw and flaring his nostrils as if he was trying to set Harry on fire. 

Clearly, it was safe to say Niall was still mad at him. And Harry didn't blame him — he was mad at himself, too.

He rolled his shoulders, and finally asked, "Did she tell you about it?"

Niall shrugged once. Briefly and quickly. "Kinda."

Harry nodded. He took one of his hands out of the pocket of his jumper and lifted it to the back of his neck, then massaged some of the stiffness away. There were so many things he wanted to ask, it was hard to choose where to start. He also didn't want to say the wrong thing and have Niall trying to physically fight him again. Things were already bad enough as they were, there was no need to add more drama into it. 

Moving his hand from his neck to his face, he dragged his eyes to the floor and pinched his lip, pulling the skin as he voiced the next question. 

"When did you see her?" 

"Yesterday."

Harry nodded again, eyes still on the floor and fingers still on his bottom lip. 

Across from him, Niall narrowed his eyes. He wasn't just messing around when he'd said Harry looked like shit. A beanie hid his hair, his shoulders were rigid, he hadn't shaved, his jaw was clenched, and he kept constantly squeezing his eyebrows together. Also, judging by the bags under his eyes, he didn't seem to be sleeping that well — or he didn't seem to be sleeping at all. 

Should he be worried? He'd checked on Maisy a lot, but maybe he should've checked on Harry as well, because maybe this whole situation had also messed him up, even if for different reasons. Maybe Harry also needed a friend.

Shit.

Niall took a deep breath and uncrossed his arms, letting his shoulders fall as he straightened his back. "You honestly look like shit mate, did you sleep at all this weekend?"

Harry finally glanced over, shaking his head. 

"I'm just…" He pressed his lips together, scratching his jaw before letting both of his hands fall on his lap. "She hasn't been answering any of my calls." 

Niall lifted then dropped his eyebrows, nodding as if he knew exactly what Harry was talking about.

"Yeah, well…" He shrugged. "I don't think she will, to be honest."

Harry nodded, and looked away. 

He probably deserved that.

— — — — —

"Thanks," Harry said to the waitress as she placed two beers and some fries on the table.

As soon as she walked away, he grabbed a bottle and took a sip, giving himself a few more seconds before asking the question he really wanted to ask. 

"How is she?"

Niall's hand was full of fries, midway to his mouth, and Harry didn't miss the way he froze for one second before looking at him and engulfing them. He didn't finish eating before answering, mumbling the words as he chewed, "She's hurt. And you know how she gets when she's hurt."

"Fuck." Harry ran his fingers through his hair, pulling his head back and sighing to the ceiling. It killed him to know he'd been the one to make Maisy suffer, it killed him that she didn't let him hold her when she cried, and it killed him how she begged him to leave her alone because his presence was only making it worse. "I didn't mean to hurt her. I would never mean that."

Niall scoffed, and Harry glanced down again. He found his friend eating fries absently, as if he wasn't part of the conversation anymore. Scanning them carefully before picking one and shoving it into his mouth. And then another one.

Harry frowned. "What? You know I didn't mean to hurt her, right?"

Niall peeked at him through the corner of his eyes.

"Well…" He tilted his head from side to side, then shifted on his seat and rubbed his hands together, cleaning up the salt. "Look, you didn't mean it. Fine. But I don't think you worried about it either, alright? I mean, you walked to the bar to get Isy a drink and didn't come back 'cause you wanted to hook up with some random chick. Which, by the way, was already a problem in the first place 'cause she had to watch you flirting around. But then, after I told you she has feelings for you, you went back to hers and blamed her for not getting laid? That's fucked up man, c'mon."

"She told you I blamed her for not getting laid?"

Niall lifted his eyebrows. "Didn't you?" 

"I—I don't know, I was just freaking out. You saw when I left the pub, I wasn't even thinking."

"Clearly," Niall snickered, then looked around the pub as he took a deep breath. "Look, she didn't want to say anything 'cause she didn't want to lose your friendship… And, yeah, maybe part of this mess it's on me, 'cause… Well, 'cause I told you about it, alright? But… Mate… Look, you didn't see how hurt she was when she saw you at the bar, ok? You didn't think about her, and that really, really pissed me off."

Rubbing his jaw, Harry rolled his neck and sighed. It was true, Harry didn't see how much it hurt Maisy to see him at the bar. He actually didn't even know Maisy was watching as the girl approached him, but even if he did, he wouldn't have thought it was something that would hurt her. Sure, she would probably tease him for ditching them, or pinch him for leaving her waiting for her drink… But feeling hurt? As far as he knew, that wasn't even an alternative. 

"I don't… I don't get it." He shrugged. "It's not like she never saw me with a girl before. I mean, I've been single since we met, and that's over five years, man. She's the one who had a boyfriend for two fucking years and you never saw me say a word about it."

"Huh," Niall scoffed, curving his lips up as he took his beer to his mouth. He took a sip, then murmured behind the bottle, "I had no idea Maisy having a boyfriend bothered you." 

Harry tilted his own bottle, pointing at him. "That's not what I said. My point is, she knows I hook up every now and then. We always talked about it, and it was never a problem before."

Rolling his eyes, Niall sighed. Harry was really getting on his nerves with those stupid doubts. 

"Well, obviously, this time was different."

"But why? Why was it different this time? What changed?"

"What changed?" Niall laughed, humorlessly and unbelievably, banging his beer against the table and inching forward. He wouldn't expect a kiss to mean something when it came to random hook ups, but he also wouldn't expect Harry to treat Maisy like a random hook up. Harry knew her better than that. And Maisy deserved better than that. Harry couldn't just kiss her and act as if it hadn't happened. He just couldn't. Niall wouldn't allow that. "Are you fucking kidding me?! Or are you just that stupid?!"

"Wha—" 

"You two fucking kissed, mate! C'mon!"

"I—"

"You do remember that, right?"

Harry scoffed. "Of course I remember!" 

"Of course you remember." Niall rolled his eyes and shook his head, chuckling at how dense his friend could be. "Then what? Are you trying to pretend it didn't happen?"

Harry shook his head and stared down at his hands, one of them holding the bottle as the other played with the sticker on it. Of course he wasn't trying to pretend their kiss hadn't happened. He just didn't think it was something that would happen between them, and when it did, he didn't think it would go further than that. He didn't think Maisy saw him that way. Maybe at first, years ago, when they'd just met. But once he realized she'd put him in the friendzone, he didn't think he would ever get out of there. And he'd made peace with that. He put the idea away and locked it inside his mind. But he also wasn't sure if any of that made sense, and he didn't want to say something that would make it seem as if he didn't care about Maisy. Because he did. He cared about her way too much to lose her. 

"I'm not—" Shit. How was he supposed to explain what was going through his mind? "I'm not trying to pretend it didn't happen, that's—that's not it."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know." He shrugged, feeling a sour taste in his mouth. "I guess… I guess I just didn't think she was expecting something different from me, that's all."

The pause that followed his answer was filled with tension. Harry kept fidgeting with the bottle in his hand, taking deep breaths to clear out his mind. Or perhaps to relieve the memories of that day. Trying to understand why it should've been so obvious to him that Maisy expected more out of them when she didn't say anything about it. Why should've been so obvious to him, when she didn't act any differently the next morning? Why should've been so obvious to him, when she'd barely texted him back the next day? And why should've been so obvious to him if, when he'd invited her to go out for a drink, she'd been the one to suggest that Niall tagged along? 

"Anyway…" Niall said, then put more fries inside his mouth and chewed. After a second, he swallowed, then added, "Everything would've probably been just fine if you hadn't freaked out on her. That was really stupid."

"Right." Harry raised an eyebrow, eying his friend from across the table. "Can you blame me, though? You shoved me over those tables and tried to punch me, mate! Out of nowhere. Did you really need to be so fucking dramatic?"

Niall shifted on his seat, chuckling under his breath as he scratched his neck. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that… I told ya, I was really pissed off." 

Harry's lips curved into a smile. He shook his head, lifting his beer and finishing the liquid inside while Niall ate more fries. 

The tension between them had faded off, so although their conversation died for a couple minutes, things didn't feel awkward anymore. Still, there were a million things rushing through Harry's mind. Because, truly, what the hell was he supposed to do now? He didn't want to lose Maisy. He really didn't. But she wasn't texting him back, nor answering any of his calls, and he didn't want to be invasive and just show up at her door. He wanted to fix things, not make them worse. 

So, playing with the odds, Harry decided to break off the silence and rip off the band-aid that was covering his deepest dilemma.

"What do I do now?" 

Niall gulped the fries down, then drummed his fingers on the table and shrugged. "Do you have feelings for her?" 

Harry looked away. Did he? Didn't he? How was he supposed to know that? It was a very simple and obvious question, and whereas it didn't surprise him, he wasn't actually expecting to answer it. He didn't know how to, to be honest. 

"Can't help you if you don't know what you want, mate," Niall said. "You already know she has feelings for you, so I don't know what you expect me to say… 'Cause either you have feelings for her and go for it, or you don't and you let her go. But there's no way you can pretend nothing happened."

"No, I know that."

"Good. So figure out what you're feeling, and do something about it." 

 

Three weeks later, Maisy saw him again. 

Lucie had offered to leave him out of her birthday celebrations, but to be honest Maisy didn't think it was fair to shut him off from his entire group of friends. Even if the only reason why he knew them was because she and Niall had introduced him in the first place. 

So there she was, at a gorgeous rooftop club, on a Saturday night, wearing a black top and white pants that she secretly hoped would blow Harry's mind. Showing off as much cleavage as she could, and pairing the high-waist with heels to highlight her curves around her hips. Mingling with the girls, and avoiding Max's hints for a second date. Laughing and chatting with a drink in her hand, while peering at the door and waiting for him to arrive. 

It was kind of agonizing, to be honest. And if she didn't know he was giving Niall a ride to the party, she would've already given up by then. 

But then she finished her second drink, went to the restroom, and as she made it back to the table, she finally saw them. Harry and Niall. Walking up the stairs that led to the terrace. Half an hour late, and the last ones to arrive.

Knowing it would take them a minute or two to reach the group, Maisy took a step to the side and hid behind Callie, placing a hand on her lower back and encouraging her not to move.

"What's up?" Callie asked, turning her head to the side. 

Peering over her friend's shoulder, Maisy shook her head and whispered, "Nothing. He's here." 

"Hmmm…" Callie nodded, then took a sip of her drink. "So what? You are moving on, remember? Going out on dates with Max and all that?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Maisy rolled her eyes, giving a dismissive wave of her hand. "I just wanna look at him for one second, then I'll move on… I mean, just look at him, Callie… He's hot!"

Callie chuckled and shook her head, and although Maisy couldn't see her, she could imagine her rolling her eyes at those words. Not because she didn't think Harry was handsome, but because she'd already made up her mind about not supporting her feelings for him anymore. Not after seeing how much he'd hurt her. Still, she didn't say anything else, going back to whatever conversation she was having before and letting Maisy enjoy the view. 

So that's exactly what she did. 

Harry walked with his head low, following Niall's lead and mumbling "excuse me" and "sorry" every time he had to squeeze between bodies. He was wearing her favorite shirt, a custom made checked one he'd gotten last Christmas from his stylist sister, and Maisy bit her lip. He'd left it unbuttoned and layered it over a white t-shirt, its neckline so low that she could see the two swallows facing each other on his chest, as long as his usual gold cross necklace. His curls were shorter and all messed up in his head, and if she didn't know him better, she would've thought he hadn't even remembered to comb his hair after showering. But that wasn't the case, and she was sure it was exactly the look he was going for — it had always killed her how good he looked like that. 

"Niall, Harry, over here!" Diana raised her arm and waved her hand, bursting Maisy's tiny bubble. 

Moving from behind Callie, Maisy walked to the opposite side of the table and took a seat next to Josh. She smiled at him and Eileen, who had her fingers intertwined with his, and pretended not to see Niall stand right next to Lucie and raise his arms up in the air, or how cheers were thrown around them when they started greeting everyone. 

"You ok?" Eileen asked, leaning forward to look at her.

"Of course." Maisy smiled, and nodded. 

Was she, though?

Their voices were mixed up with music, laughter and glasses clinking together, but even so she heard Harry's words loud and clear, wishing their mutual friend a happy birthday and thanking her for inviting him. It's been a long time, you definitely look older, he joked, and Maisy had to really force herself to hold back a smile—and maybe even some tears. 

It hurt to see him like that—so comfortable, so cute, so friendly, and so hot—knowing she wouldn't be able to touch him like she wished to. Above and beyond, it hurt not being able to sit next to him and just chat, make him laugh, and stare into his green eyes while listening to his deep and slow voice. 

She didn't know how to act in front of him anymore, which really bothered her. 

Before their fight, or whatever that had been, being friends with Harry had never been difficult, and her feelings for him had never felt like a problem, so being incapable of at least saying 'hello' to him made her feel immature and stupid. There was a weight on her shoulders pressuring her to quickly find a way to handle the situation, and a voice shouting at her that she was a 28 years-old woman who by now had to know how to remain friends and move on. 

Honestly, though, why did she let this happen? Why did she kiss him? Why did she tell Niall about the kiss? Why did she have to go and ruin everything?

"You think you'll talk tonight?" 

Maisy shrugged. She didn't have to ask Eileen what she meant by that. All of her friends knew about what had happened that Friday night, and they'd all shown different reactions to it. In this case, Eileen was still very supportive of her feelings for Harry, and a firm believer that their friendship was too important and deep to let it die so easily after one mistake. 

"I don't think so," she said, focusing on her friend's eyes to avoid the fact that, had it been a month before, she would've already been wrapped around his arms. "What's there to talk, anyway?" 

"What if he wants to apologize?"

"Who wants to apologize?" Josh asked, sitting in between the two girls. 

"No one—"

"Harry."

"Eileen!" 

"Oops!" Eileen covered her mouth with one hand and widened her eyes. "Sorry! Sorry! He won't tell anyone. I promise."

Josh frowned. "Couldn't even if I tried." 

Maisy sighed. "It's fine. I just—" 

"Hey guys…" Harry's deep voice interrupted their conversation, and they all shut their mouths. 

Maisy held her breath and turned her head, tilting her chin up to look at his face. Harry stood right across from her with a soft smile on his face, hunching over the short table to give Eileen a kiss on the cheek and Josh a handshake. Her pulse raced, and her stomach fluttered. Oh God. She couldn't do that. She just… She couldn't. 

She really couldn't. 

It was too much. 

So when he seemed to finally turn his head towards her, her eyes just darted to the other side, and she was up from her seat.

"Niall!" she shouted, her mouth curving into a wide smile as she raised her arm and waved to get her best friend's attention. "Hii!"

And before she knew it, she was off the table and away from him. 

— — — — —

The music was louder than before, everyone seemed too drunk and sweaty, and it was definitely time for her to leave. But Maisy was having fun for the first time in three weeks, and she didn't want that feeling to end. She had cried too much, for too many days, and a night of laughter and dancing with her friends was all she needed to step out of that sadness.

Or, well, that's what she'd thought, at least.  

Because, see? Maisy was having fun. Until, out of nowhere, her friends decided to start discussing her (nonexistent) lovelife. All over again. 

"Horannnnn! C'mere!" 

Callie waved, and Maisy dropped her head back.

"Nooooo!" she cried. "Stop!"

"Ladies," Niall said with a huge grin on his face, standing between Callie and Maisy and throwing one arm around each one. "What's the shouting all about?"

"Well…" Eileen said, wiggling her eyebrows and hiding a smirk behind the rim of her drink. "We want to know what's up with Harry." 

"What? Why? What did he do now?" Niall dropped Callie and turned towards Maisy, placing both hands on her shoulders and forcing her to look at him. "Tell me and I'll kick his ass."

"Nothing!" 

She really wanted them to stop. How was she supposed to stop thinking about Harry, if people kept constantly bringing him up?

"Mhm, nothing." Callie said. "He's just been fucking ogling her the entire night, that's all."

"Ohhh, that," Niall chuckled, throwing his arm around Maisy's shoulders one more time and then pulling her closer for half-a-hug. "Yeah, I know."

Lucie and Eileen squeaked, the first one quickly demanding an explanation, "What do you mean, yeah, I know?"

Maisy looked away. 

Niall frowned. "Just… Yeah, I know he's been watching her?" 

"Okay, but why is he watching her?"

He shrugged. "I guess he's just so used to it that he doesn't even notice, I don't know. You both should talk, though," —he tapped Maisy's shoulder— "he's honestly been miserable at work."

"And who's fault is that? Huh?" Callie straightened her back, crossing her arms on her chest. "Besides, he's too late, we're rooting for Max now."

"Uh, excuse me?" Eileen scoffed. "Honey, there's no way I'm rooting for Max. I'm totally team Harry." 

"Yeah, I don't know," Lucie said. "I mean, I always felt like Maisy and Harry were end game, y'know?"

"Girls—" 

"But he was such a dick to her!"

"Once, Callie. It was one questionable moment in five years, ok?"

"Yeahh! He's such a sweetheart. I think he deserves the benefit of the doubt."

"Ladies, hey—" 

"Well, I don't. Max stepped up in one week and did something Harry couldn't in five years. That's the kind of man I want for my friend."

"Just let them," Maisy whispered, watching the way her three best friends argued about something that had nothing to do with them. And the exact topic she'd been trying to avoid the entire night. She loved them, she knew they meant well, and she knew they were all drunk, but they were definitely ruining the end of her night. She didn't want to talk about Max, and she didn't want to think about Harry. She just wanted to have fun. Why couldn't her friends let her have fun?

"Are you ok?" Niall asked, directly in Maisy's ear, then squeezed her shoulder.

"Mhm." She scoffed, and tilted her chin towards her friends. "I'm pretty sure if I walk out of here right now, they won't even notice."

"Wanna sit and chat for a bit?"

"Nahh…" She shook her head, then looked around, checking out the different groups of people surrounding them. There was a beat of silence between them, loudly filled by the music, and then she added, "I know he's been watching me." 

Niall snorted. "Don't we all? Guy doesn't know how to be subtle." 

Maisy's lips curled into a smile, and she looked down at her feet. "It doesn't matter, tho. He told me we're just friends, so… I don't know… I don't want to look too much into it." 

"Right. Well…" Niall sighed. By then, he'd already chatted with Harry for weeks, till the point where it felt there was nothing left to talk about. So he knew his friend had fucked up things, but he also knew how deeply he regretted it. If things had happened in a different setting, under different circumstances, Harry's reaction would've been also different. Which is why he'd been feeling so guilty—he'd been the one to throw Harry off, when he knew both of them had more than a few beers in their system. And although he couldn't go back in time and change Harry's actions and words, he could try to make them talk again. 

"Y'know," he started, and then took a pause to think about his next words. "When we talked at work, he told me that your kiss was just a kiss. So I asked if he had ever kissed Callie, or Lucie, or Eileen, right? And, like, he just went in shock, as if what I was saying was fucking absurd."

Maisy frowned. "I'm not following, Ni. I'm not drunk, but I'm definitely not sober enough to psychoanalyze stuff."

Niall chuckled, shaking his head and squeezing her shoulder. "My bad. What I mean is, he didn't think kissing you was absurd, but he thought kissing the other girls was, y'know? I guess he thought that it was so normal that it didn't mean anything."

"That doesn't make sense," Maisy laughed bitterly, shaking her head and taking a step back to look into Niall's eyes as she left her unfiltered thoughts out of her mind. "I don't want my kiss to feel normal, Ni, c'mon. If he didn't feel anything, if he didn't think about doing it again or, I don't know… If it didn't cross his mind even once, then why will I think he wants me? I hate that we're supposed to believe men feel something for us even when they don't say it, you know? Or that we're supposed to believe they love us when they say they hate us. If he can flirt with other girls and let them know he wants them, then why can't he do the same for me? I just—I can't be with someone who won't let me know they want me, okay? I can't. And I won't."

"You're right, yeah, sorry." Niall lowered his head and nodded, knowing she had a point. Maisy shouldn't wait around just because Harry wasn't ready to deal with his feelings, she had already talked to him about that and explained her point of view, and he understood where she was coming from. It wasn't Maisy who had to step up and do something about her feelings. Not anymore. Now Harry was the one who had to let her know how he felt. "'M sorry, Isy." 

Maisy sighed, grabbed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. "I know. You're fine. Thanks for always listening." 

"Anytime, love." He pulled her by the neck and kissed the side of her head, then let her go. "Look at that, now they walked away and we didn't even notice." 

She looked around and chuckled, noticing her friends weren't near them anymore. She glanced back to their tables, then, where she found them dancing with the boys. Josh was there. Max was there. Franklin, Nick and Kevin were there. Ryan was there. And even Tommy had shown up again—attached to a girl Maisy had never seen before. Of course, since he stood next to her, Niall was missing. But besides him, the only one who wasn't around the table was… Harry. 

And to be honest the thought shouldn't have crossed her mind. It shouldn't. And even when it already had, she shouldn't have looked around for him, because deep down she already knew where she would find him and what she would see, and she didn't want to go through that again. 

It had been such a fun night, she'd felt so good again.

She didn't want to look for him.

And yet… 

She did. 

She let her eyes wander and stop right where he was, at the bar, wearing her favorite shirt. 

Again, she should've looked away, but she didn't, because she wanted to know who he was talking to, who was standing in front of him while she only could see his back.

And if she had listened to all of those warnings voiced in her head, if she hadn't waited for him to move a little bit, and if she hadn't waited for the person in front of him to tilt their head to the side, she wouldn't have felt the air getting knocked out of her. Because she wouldn't have seen him there, talking again with that amazing girl from three weeks ago — the girl he was talking to when her own feelings ruined everything for him, and for them. 

 

"C'mon… C'mon…" Maisy mumbled to herself. Her body shivered while she stared at her phone, watching as the Uber app tried to find her a driver, and she crossed one arm over her stomach.  

She knew she should've worn a blazer instead of prioritizing not clashing her outfit. Or at least she should've been still inside, where it was warm and she could sit down — although that wasn't really an option, because it would've ruined her plans of sneaking out without Callie noticing. 

She tapped her foot against the floor, glaring at her phone. It wasn't supposed to be taking this long, it wasn't supposed to be so hard to find a ride home. 

Maybe she should just walk. She wasn't that far away from home… 

No. Of course she shouldn't just walk. She wasn't stupid to walk by herself on a Saturday night, dressed like that, after having a few drinks. 

Her phone buzzed, the app finally notifying she had a new driver. Leaning against the wall, Maisy sighed. Adam was only thirteen minutes away. Not as fast as she would've liked, but still better than nothing.

Taking in her surroundings, she blocked her phone and kept it tight between her fingers, then placed her arm on top of the other one. Hugging herself. Protecting herself from the coldness. And maybe even from the sadness. 

The street was almost empty, only a couple of people standing on the sidewalk just like her, probably waiting to go home. And except for two or three cars rushing by here and there, there were no signs of anyone else driving around the city.

She looked down, and unlocked her phone. 

Adam was currently twenty minutes away.

"You've got to be bloody kidding me," she muttered. 

"Aha! There you are!" 

Maisy moved her eyes up and to the side. 

Niall beamed at her, one arm stretched out to keep the front door open. 

"Max was just asking about you." 

He looked inside the bar for a moment, then back at her, taking a step closer and letting his hand fall to his side. As he walked, though, the door remained open, until Harry walked through it and let it close behind him. 

Maisy's lungs froze, and her heart thumped inside her chest. 

"Are you leaving?" Niall asked.

Harry's eyes darted to her, and Maisy's eyes darted to Niall.

"Uh, yeah…" She nodded, blocking her phone and holding it tightly into a fist while she squeezed her crossed arms around her body. "I'm just waiting for my Uber."

"Huh." Niall flinched his head back, slightly wrinkling his brows. "Well, just so you know, Max is under the impression he is taking you home…"

Maisy sighed, and rolled her eyes. Unlike Callie, who'd been thrilled about Maisy going out with her boyfriend's best friend, and who thought Harry didn't deserve another single second of her time, Niall knew how guilty and conflicted she'd been feeling about going out with one friend just to get over another one. Even if it had been for only one date, and even if she wasn't planning on doing it again. And even if one friend was nothing like the other. 

Because, yes, her friendship with Max was nothing compared to her friendship with Harry, but Maisy supposed Max would be what she considered just a friend to be, and she didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings like hers had been hurt. 

Although, of course, Max didn't have actual feelings for her, he just fancied her — he fancied her a lot. So badly that he'd spent months waiting for the moment to ask her out. Something Harry had never, ever, cared to do. 

Ugh. 

"I know," she said, diverting her sight across the street before she gave in to the urge of looking at Harry. "I'm trying to leave before he finds me." 

Niall chuckled, and Maisy bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a smile. It was shitty of her, she knew that, but at that moment she was too tired to care. She planned to text both him and Callie as soon as she got home. And she could've (and would've) done that by then already if the damn driver weren't taking so damn long.

"So," Niall said, "you're not going home with Max?"

Maisy shook her head.

"'Cause you don't want to go with him. Right?"

Pulling her eyebrows together, Maisy glanced at him. Was it really necessary for him to word it out like that? She was ready to call him out for asking such a question, when she caught him looking away from her. And then, out of instinct, she followed his line of vision. And before she could even notice and stop herself, she was looking at Harry as well. 

Maisy's world stopped turning. All over again.

Different from them, Harry focused on the front door, moving his jaw and parting his lips as he chewed gum. Silent. Distracted. Hands hidden inside his pockets, shoulders slightly up. Unkempt curls pulled back on the top of his head, clearly getting stuck there after he'd ran his hand through them. 

Maisy's belly fluttered. Everything about him was pretty, no wonder why he walked around so confident all the time. As if he owned the space.

She'd always found herself physically attracted to him, but since kissing him it seemed as if she couldn't hold herself anymore. And the fact that she knew so much about him only made it worse. Because there he was, wearing a shirt she loved so much that she'd borrowed it from him multiple times. And a shirt that, if things hadn't changed so much, and if their friendship hadn't been ruined by her stupid feelings, she knew she would've been wearing it right then and there—and then she wouldn't have been feeling so cold.

Damn. 

What was he thinking? What was he looking at? Was he paying any attention to their conversation? Was he waiting for someone? Oh God. Was he waiting for… For that girl? Was she going to be forced to watch them leave together? Go home together? Oh no. 

No, no, no. 

Please, no. 

Where the hell was Adam?

Maisy glanced at her phone just as it buzzed in her hand. She read the notification, dropping her shoulders and closing her eyes.

"C'mon," she murmured, taking her free hand up to her face and pinching her forehead. "Fuck."

She was so tired. All the fun she'd had with her friends came to an end the moment she saw Harry and that girl talking, and she didn't deserve to have to stand there and watch even more of that. Or to have to hide from her friends. Or to have to stand by herself on a cold night in the middle of the street. All she wanted was to go home, hide under the blankets, and cry. 

"Isy, hey," Niall called, his voice much softer and closer than before. He stood next to her with worry in his eyes, grabbing her shoulder and letting go of whatever he was saying before. "What's wrong?"

Maisy shook her head, taking her hand away from her face and wiping a tear from under her eye. No more crying Maisy. No more crying. 

"Nothing… Just…" She blinked, then stared at her phone. "My uber. He canceled."

"Ok…" Niall tilted his head, trying to get her attention. Or maybe trying to get a look at her face. Or maybe trying to read her emotions. Or maybe just trying to figure out what the hell was going on. "Can't you just get another one?"

"Well," she muttered, peering at him through the corner of her eyes whilst sliding her thumb across the screen. "I'm not stupid, am I?"

Niall frowned. "No, I—" 

"What do you think I've been trying to do for the past twenty minutes?"

"Sorry, I—" 

"I can give you a ride," Harry said. 

Both Maisy and Niall jolted, then turned their heads to look at him. Although he kept his distance, Harry had gotten noticeably closer as well, standing only a few inches behind his friend. Niall seemed to notice that, too, taking a step aside and dropping Maisy's shoulder as he turned to give him some space. 

And then, as Harry fixed his forest-green eyes into hers, and as Maisy kept her head turned to the side and stared back at him, the entire world seemed to —  once again — stop around her. There was nothing but empty and silent distance standing between them, and every nerve in her body seemed to tingle. Desperate to run towards him. Desperate to say yes and let him not only take her home but also make her a cup of tea before going to bed. Desperate to let him wrap his arms around her and fall asleep breathing into her neck as if that was something just friends normally did. 

She squeezed her phone between her fingers, tightly, and made sure to hold as much air as possible in her lungs. Because she truly missed him. She missed being his friend, she missed talking to him, she missed answering his calls. She missed making him laugh, and she missed feeling silly next to him. She missed being able to be near him whenever she wanted to, and she missed hugging him just because she could.

But she also really wanted him. And although she had always wanted him, now it was definitely worse. Almost unbearable. Because now, as she looked at his pinkish and soft lips, she also missed feeling them against the curve of her neck. And as she admired his growing facial hair, she also missed feeling the scratchiness under the palm of her hands as she cradled his cheeks and kissed the hell out of him. And as her body quivered under the intensity of his green gaze, she missed the tingling between her legs caused by the strong grip of his manly hands. 

Maisy hadn't been able to taste all of him, but she'd tasted enough to be scarred for the rest of her life. And it hurt to know he didn't want her back. It really did.

"Shit," Niall cursed, then coughed. 

Maisy blinked, finally breaking away from the spell Harry had put her under and facing forward, where her friend was supposed to be. When she didn't find him, though, she straightened up and stepped away from the wall, scanning around the street. 

"Where—"

"I forgot my jacket!" Niall shouted. 

Following his voice, she got a glimpse of him behind Harry, by the front door, already taking a step into the club.

"Be right back guys!"

And just like that the door closed, and there was nobody else around. 

Nobody but her.

And him. 

Nobody but them.

Emptiness dropped in the pit of her stomach, and her chest tightened. 

Shit. 

She took a deep breath in, folding her arms and rubbing her forearm with her free hand. She didn't know where to look. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know what to say. Her heart was racing, and she could feel her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. Was she supposed to just stand there?!

Peeking at him, she could only see his back. Harry stood ahead of her and to her side, facing the door where Niall had just walked through. Frozen. Hands still inside his pockets, but shoulders more relaxed than before. 

Second went by as silence completely engulfed them. But then he chuckled, looking down and shaking his head while his shoulders moved up and down. 

The sound hit Maisy's brain first, and then it bounced to her chest, suddenly reminding her to breathe again. Her lips curved up, and she licked them before swallowing her feelings down her throat. That was not the time, nor place, to find joy in the sound of his laughter. 

Harry turned around, still laughing. 

"What?" she asked — although she wasn't expecting to. 

"It's just…" He covered his face with one hand, then slid it up his forehead and ran his fingers through his curls. Calming himself down. "Niall."

"Oh…" She furrowed her brows. "Okay?"

"I mean," he added, dropping his hand back down and looking at her. Beaming. Glowing. "He's so fucking stupid. I just remembered he didn't even bring a jacket."

Maisy widened her eyes, then she nodded. "Ohhh…" 

Although she didn't want to, she couldn't help but laugh, too. Maybe not out of happiness, but because Niall could be really silly when he wanted to be. And maybe because it was nice that Harry had felt comfortable enough to share that with her. Maybe because finally, after weeks, they were finally sharing a nice moment together. 

Although, of course, that didn't erase the fact that things weren't okay between them.

She faced forward, across the street and away from him, shaking her head while her entire body shivered. 

"How subtle," she added, placing her folded arms over her stomach and smashing her phone into her side. She still hadn't tried to find another driver, and although she knew she should've, she didn't want to take the risk of having to walk away from him. Not so soon. Not right then. 

"Right?" 

The smile was obvious in his voice, and Maisy was just so hyper-aware of his every moment. Of every detail. Absorbing way more than she'd ever absorbed before. Feeling him way more than she'd ever felt him before. 

And Harry didn't make it easy, because he didn't stop moving. He shuffled on his feet, stepping closer while shoving both hands back into his pockets. He breathed in, then heavily breathed out, taking his time to walk until he was in front of her and she didn't have a choice but to look at him. 

He buried his hypnotizing eyes into hers, and Maisy curled her toes inside her boots — desperate to stay grounded and hold her balance.

Harry didn't look happy, he didn't look mad, and he didn't look sad. 

He looked honest, he looked available, and he looked familiar.

He looked like her best friend.

And it hurt, because there was nothing Maisy wanted more than to go back to what they were before, but as they both stood like that for a moment — silently watching each other, and silently waiting for each other — she realized that it was something she would never get to have again. 

How could she? If she wasn't able to be around him without hiding her feelings anymore? If she wouldn't be able to see him dating someone — falling in love with someone — without feeling betrayed and heartbroken? Maybe she'd misinterpreted his actions before, but now that she knew he didn't feel the same way, it wouldn't be fair to hold it against him. She needed to grow out of her feelings, and in order to do so things needed to change. She wouldn't be able to keep interacting with him like she did before.

"I meant it, you know?" he said, pulling her out of her mind. "About giving you a ride home."

Maisy blinked.

"Thank you," she murmured, shuffling on her feet and shrugging. "I'm just… I don't know if that's a good idea." 

Harry nodded. He looked down and between their feet, then back into her eyes. 

"Just so you know," he said, leaving all traces of playfulness behind, "I'm not leaving with her."

Maisy pulled her eyebrows together, and it took her another pause until she could open her mouth and ask, "W—what?"

"I know you saw me talking to that girl, the one from that night," he explained, taking a short step towards her, "but nothing happened between me and her. And nothing was going to. I swear." 

Maisy blinked.

"Oh, okay." 

There was a pause.

A pause in which, against her better judgment, she didn't avoid the intensity of his eyes. And a pause in which, as seconds went by, she was easily consumed by the calmness, the confidence, and the assurance he exuded.

Still, it was hard to figure out what was happening, or where he was trying to get to. She tried to read his expression, tried to understand his emotions, tried to get a sense of his thoughts. But she couldn't. So she asked, "Why?" 

Harry slid his tongue between his lips, then tilted his head. "Why?"

"Yeah…" Maisy shrugged. "I mean, you were really into her, so… Why?"

He curled his mouth into a timid smile, breathing out his answer as if he couldn't believe he had to say that out loud, "Isy… I was an asshole and hurt your feelings because I wasn't aware of things, but I would never do that knowing—"

"Oh my—"

"—what I know now and—" 

"Stop." She raised her hand, the one still gripping that stupid phone, and Harry closed his mouth. "You don't—" She took a deep breath, putting her thoughts in order. "You don't need to stop yourself just because I have feelings for you."

"No, I know. I—"

"Harry, look," she said, putting her hand down and taking a step back from him. "I never meant for you not to go out with her, ok? Or anyone else, for that matter… I can't stop you from fancying people... So if you want to be with her, I mean, you don't need to stop yourself just… Just because you feel sorry for me, okay?"

He closed his eyes and let out a harsh breath, then dropped his head back and looked at the sky for a moment. He didn't have to say anything for her to know that he was thinking about her words, and that he was taking them in before saying something back to her. 

Maybe that's why Maisy didn't rush him. And why she distracted herself by watching the way his throat flexed when he swallowed, and the way he softly moved his jaw as he chewed his gum. His facial hair was always kind of longer on his neck, and also kind of messier — something she tended to forget, because it wasn't really noticeable unless he threw his head back. Just like then. 

"I know that," he said, once again pulling her out of her mind. "Sorry."

She blinked, watching with blurry eyes as he rolled his shoulders and fixed his eyes back on hers. 

"That came out wrong and it wasn't actually answering your question. I didn't walk away from her because I felt sorry for you. I walked away from her because I didn't want to stay there, because I wasn't—I mean, because I'm not interested."

"Oh…" Maisy barely whispered, his words echoing inside her. Then what… What was he doing? What was she supposed to do with that information? What difference did it make? She breathed out through her nose and licked her lips, squishing her eyebrows together and flinching her head back slightly. "Then why… Why are you telling me this?"

"I don't know. I guess…" he said into her eyes, pausing to close his mouth and chew his gum as he took a tiny step closer to her. "I guess I just want to make sure you don't leave tonight thinking something happened between me and her. Because it didn't, and it won't. Not her, not anyone else."

Speechless and breathless, Maisy remained lost inside his eyes. It was hard to make sense of what he was saying, and it was even harder to understand if he meant something else between the lines. Was he making sure she wouldn't cry when she got home? Was he simply protecting a friend? Or was he hoping for something more?

She shook her head and took a step back. See? She couldn't do that. She couldn't be his friend when she would be constantly hoping for something more to be in between the lines. That wasn't healthy. And it wasn't fair. "I— I can't… I—"

"Wait, no!" He took a step forward and raised one arm, then immediately dropped it back to his side. Closing his hand into a fist and opening it up again, he softened the tone of his voice and pleaded, "I'm sorry. I don't… I don't know what to do or… Or what to say to make things right. I don't want to overstep, but I also don't want you to think I don't care about losing you, because I do. I care so much, Isy… And it's been killing me."

"I hate this," she said, dropping her chin down and hiding her face behind her hands. Everything hurt — her stomach hurt, her chest hurt, her head hurt. "I didn't… I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't want this to happen." 

And then, she cried. 

"It wasn't… It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"Gimme that," he murmured, closing off the distance and taking her phone away from her hand—and from her face. Maisy sobbed, and tears fell down, but she also chuckled, because even amidst everything, Harry was still the same friend who would point out how it wasn't his fault that her bags were too small to carry her things, and yet would always end up keeping whatever she needed safe into his pockets anyway. 

"I know, ok? I know," he added, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her to fully cry into his chest. "And I'm sorry, ok?" He placed his cheek on the side of her head, speaking into her ear. "I really am. I'm the one who messed everything up and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for making you cry. And I'm sorry for all the times I made you feel less important than you actually are."

Warmth filled up her body, and she sobbed again, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter while pressing her forehead against her hands, and her hands against his chest. 

"There are so many things I should've done differently when it comes to us… I know that. And I'm sorry, ok? I am. I don't want to lose you, Isy. I really want to fix this. Please let me try to fix it." 

Maisy breathed out through her nose and nodded, letting her hands fall from her face and throwing her arms around his waist. 

"Jesus fucking Christ thanks God," Harry instantly breathed out, smashing her even tighter into him and pushing them both towards the wall.

She blinked her eyes open and chuckled, letting more tears fall down and sniffing while turning her head to the side and pressing her ear against his chest. They both shuffled and stumbled, trying to keep up with their clumsy tiny steps until her back hit the wall. Harry stopped and sighed, and Maisy felt every bit of the relief rushing through him — the way he heavily moved his chest up and down, the way he shivered, the way he squeezed her. It was contagious, and it had her sighing as well. Loosening up all the tension. Melting into him.

"I missed you," he whispered, taking one hand to her head and threading his fingers through her hair. 

He stroked her scalp — just like she loved — and Maisy bit her lip, closing her eyes while getting drunk on his cologne. That was exactly where she wanted to be. How she wanted to be. With his heart thumping loudly into her ear, his warmth enveloping her body, his masculine and strong scent filling her lungs. 

Sniffing again, she took one hand up to her face and wiped under her nose, exhaling a groan through her mouth. "Ugh… I'm a mess."

"I don't care."

Maisy rolled her eyes, rubbing her cheeks as best as she could while still caged inside his arms. "But I do."

"Shhhh…" He swagged them gently, then grabbed her wrist and took it back around his waist. "Got a lot of fixing to do, I know. But I missed this, so let me enjoy it."

She sighed, holding her own forearms as she rested her arms on his lower back. No matter how hard she tried to be mad at him, she didn't feel like she actually could. Harry had overreacted and hurt her feelings, sure, but it had been the first and only slip in a friendship that had already lasted five years. He was a great guy, and she knew that — of course Maisy knew that. And maybe that is why the words ended up rolling out of her mouth so naturally when she said, "I missed this, too."

"Yeah?" He scratched the back of her head with his short nails, then kissed her hair. "Do you think…" — another kiss, and another one—  "Do you think you'll be able to forgive me?"

Hadn't she already? 

"I don't…" She cleared her throat, getting rid of the scratchiness from her previous crying. Staring ahead to the empty street, she nuzzled against his chest, then started again. "I don't think it's about forgiveness… I think… I think I just need time."

"Right," Harry murmured, and a moment of silence lingered between them. "Time for what, exactly?"

"It's just… You already know how I feel about you, and I don't think I can be your friend right now."

"Why not?"

"Harry." She rolled her eyes and pulled away, tilting her chin up to look at him while he followed her lead and angled his head down to look at her. He was close — really close — and she had to withdraw her arms from his back to be able to create some more distance between them. 

Harry moved, too, letting her go and taking half a step back. 

And Maisy hated it. 

She wanted to be glued to him all over again. 

"Don't make this even harder than it needs to be," she added.

"I'm sorry, I'm not… I'm not trying to make this harder. I just want to understand, that's all."

"Is it really that hard to understand that I can't be your friend when I have feelings for you?"

Harry frowned. "To be honest, yes. Why can't we be friends?"

"Oh my God," she laughed, but mostly because she couldn't believe how dense he was. If what he needed was for her to spell it out to him, then she would, but only because she couldn't handle all the weirdness and the running around circles anymore. "Harry, you're not just a friend to me, ok? And when I say that I have feelings for you, that means that I want you, ok? I want you so much Harry, and I can't stop thinking about it. It's like… It's like I can't pretend that I don't anymore because that's all I think about. All the time. Every time I look at you I can't stop thinking about how much I want to be with you, and every time I see you with a girl I can't stop thinking about how much I wish that was me. And maybe it was fine before, but we kissed and now… Now I just… I just can't, ok? That's why I need some time. Because I can't pretend anymore and I can't—"

"Then don't." He stepped closer again, instantly placing his palms on her cheeks and cradling her face. 

Staring into her eyes, Harry was so filled with emotions and so determined to hold her close that her body quivered. And her belly fluttered. And her heart sped up.

Maisy blinked. "What?" 

"Don't pretend you don't." he said, not even once faltering his gaze away from hers. "Let me know how much you want me. I wanna know, ok? I want to know how I make you feel. And I want to keep making you feel this way for me. Or more, or better, I don't know. I just… I want all of this with you. I want you, ok?" 

With widened eyes, Maisy breathed in and out through her nose. Quickly. Shortly. Desperately. Making her chest go up and down erratically. 

"I…" 

No more words came out of her brain, and Maisy froze like that. Blinking at him with parted lips and out of breath. 

Harry's eyes flicked to her mouth, then traveled back to her eyes. With featherly touches, he brushed his thumbs up and down her cheeks, then bowed closer. 

"So don't stay away," he murmured, glancing at her lips once more before closing his eyes and pressing their foreheads together. "Don't take some time. And don't stop thinking about me. Yeah? I didn't react properly the first time, but I love the fact that you have feelings for me. Don't get rid of them, please."

She grabbed his wrists, keeping his touch in place while closing her eyes, too. "Please don't… Don't say those things if you don't mean them."

He shook his head, and his nose nudged hers. 

"You know I wouldn't," he said, breathing warmly into her face. "I would never—I want you, Isy. I want you and I want you way more than just a friend."

And just like that first time, back at her place, Maisy knew it was about to happen. It was written all over him, and it burned inside her. It made her tremble—out of excitement, out of nervousness, out of fear, and out of anticipation. 

So she squeezed his wrists, and fluttered her eyes open. 

"Let's…" She swallowed, aware of the closeness between them. "Let's get out of here."

Still leaning into her forehead with his eyes open, Harry nodded. He took another moment to breathe in deeply, then opened his eyes, too. 

"Ok," he said, drawing sweet circles around her cheekbones before dropping his hands off her face. He met her palms in the process, though, and they automatically held each other, intertwining their fingers together while stepping away from the wall. "C'mon,  then." 

 

"Niall's going home with Eileen and Josh," Harry said, putting his phone back into his pocket. He threw his arm over Maisy's shoulder and looked side to side, then pulled her closer and guided her to cross the street along with him. "So we're good to go."

Maisy bit her lip and nodded, placing one arm around his waist while holding his hand on her shoulder with the other one. 

Harry had told her he'd parked around the corner and further down the street, and although he'd already driven Maisy home many-multiple-hundred-thousands of times, and for many-multiple-hundred-thousands reasons, it was safe to say she'd never felt that much anticipation about being alone inside his car with him. 

"By the way," he said, leaning to kiss the top of her head and speaking into her hair, "remind me to get him a bottle of something, yeah? Feel like I owe him big time."

She smiled, turning her head to nuzzle into their touching shoulders as Harry took his free hand to the back of her head and stroked her gently. He chuckled and kissed her hair one more time, then faced forward when she did, and dropped his hand to meet her one on his waist. After that, he didn't say anything, neither pressured her to say something back to him, walking in silence as they both hurried to reach their destination.

It was weird, the apparent sudden need they had to be close to each other. To touch each other. Hands grabbing hands, arms giving hugs, sides touching sides. As if they needed reassurance of each other's presence. Or as if they wanted to make sure they wouldn't vanish. 

It'd started as soon as they'd walked away from the club, when they failed so badly at keeping any distance that they kept constantly stumbling into each other's feet. They eventually found a rhythm and a way to hold each other that suited both of them, but that need to stay close (close, close, close) didn't change as seconds—and then minutes—went by. It didn't change when Harry walked to a trash can to spit his gum, and even less when he took his shirt off and placed it over her cold shoulders. It also didn't change when Harry slowed down to get the keys from his pocket, nor when he opened the door of the passenger side for her to get inside.

"So…" he said, placing his hands on her hips and guiding her to stand between him and the opened door, "Where am I taking you now?"

She placed her hands on his chest, now covered only by his white t-shirt, and tilted her head to look up at him. Harry wanted her. He'd said so, and she didn't think he would ever lie to her—not about something like that, at least. And yet, her mind couldn't stop wondering. So instead of guessing the answer, she decided to openly ask him.

"Do you still mean the things you said?"

Harry nodded. "Every single word."

"About everything? I mean, do you really want me?"

Curling his mouth into a smile, he sneaked his hands under her shirt—his shirt—and slid his arms around her waist, resting them on her lower back and right above the curve of her bum. 

"I really, really want you, Isy," he said, straight into her eyes. 

"Why? What changed?"

"Nothing changed," he eagerly answered, and then he slowed down a bit. "I think… I just… I don't know." 

He dipped his chin down and drew his sight off from her eyes, then shuffled slightly on his feet. "I think I just wasn't able to put two and two together by myself… That's all."

He shrugged, and Maisy bit the insides of her bottom lip. 

In five years, she had never pictured a less confident side of him. Harry was the kind of guy that always managed to be proud of himself, and that always found a positive outcome in every situation. All the time. Even in his most embarrassing moments. So it was honestly weird to see him act like that. 

At the same time, the prospect of having new things to learn about him felt really nice. And exciting. Something she wouldn't be able to do if she didn't lay all of her cards on the table. Right there and then.

"That day…" she said, pausing to lick her lips and breathe in. Gathering the strength to point out the thing that had hurt her the most. "Harry, that day you really made me feel like I was getting in your way of—"

"Ugh. I know—" 

"—being with that girl and—"   

"—I know. I'm sorry, 'm sorry." 

He grunted and cursed, pulling her closer and hiding on the curve of her neck. And Maisy let him, closing her mouth and listening to whatever he had to say. Just like she had done that other night.

"I'm really sorry," he repeated. "I don't… I don't have any excuses for the way I reacted. I know that. I—Fuck." Pulling away to look into her eyes again, he took one hand off from her back and placed it on her cheek, tenderly but firmly holding her as he kept talking. "It caught me off guard and I… I fucked up, I know. But I would choose you over absolutely anyone and everyone, Isy. Anytime. No doubts." 

His words hit deeply inside her, and a warm glow flowed all over her. A joyful glow. As if her body had burst with bright, sparkling, and multicolored bubbles. 

So she bit her lip, and twisted the neckline of his t-shirt around her fingers. 

It was hard to know what was the right thing to do. Rationally, her mind told her to not make it so easy for him. To give it some time, and see if he was actually telling the truth. If he actually meant it. 

On the other hand, despite everything, her heart knew what it wanted. She believed his words, she believed he wouldn't intentionally hurt her, and she believed people deserved the benefit of the doubt. More than anything, she also wanted to believe that if she ever made a mistake, the people that she cared about would give her a second chance. So why couldn't she do the same? 

"I know," she said, so softly she wasn't even sure he would be able to hear her. But then Harry brushed his thumb on her cheekbone, acknowledging her words, and she immediately kept going. "And I believe you're sorry. I do. I just… I think I'm scared, or… I don't know. I convinced myself you didn't want to be with me in that way, so… I don't know…" She shook her head. "I don't know."

He nodded, drawing gentle circles on her cheek. "Niall said… He said something about how you don't think I'm attracted to you, is that true?"

Maisy widened her eyes. "Oh my God! Niall told you that?"

"I mean—"

"What else did he say?!"

"Nothing! He just—"

"I'm gonna fucking kill him!"

Harry pursed his lips, and then laughed.

"It's not funny!"

She pinched the exposed skin on his chest, and Harry jolted. 

"Ouch!" He looked back at her with both a frown and a smile on his face. "What was that for?" 

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe for yelling at me for talking to Niall instead of talking to you? And then you talking to Niall instead of talking to me?" 

"Right… Ok, yes. I can see you have a point there, but in my defense—"

"There's no defense!" She pinched him (again), and Harry jolted (again). He took the hand on her face to rub the new stinging inch of skin on his chest, smiling while she kept lashing out at him. "Can't believe you two, honestly! Dickheads! Gossiping like two little—"

"Ok," he said, taking his index finger to her mouth and pressing it into her lips. "Listen to me, woman." 

Maisy narrowed her eyes at him, but she suddenly didn't have anything else to say, so she exhaled heavily through her nose and consented to his demand (albeit silently and annoyingly).

"Good." Staring into her eyes, he slid the pad of his finger side to side, slightly brushing it to her parted lips. "Niall was just calling me out for not letting you know how I feel, ok? That's all." 

Harry glanced at her mouth, then switched his index finger with his thumb. The place he both touched and stared at seemed to buzz, and heat bloomed through her cheeks. From then on, no matter how much she tried to keep paying attention to his explanation, she simply couldn't put the information together anymore.

"Told me you didn't think I fancy you," he added, just as entranced with the movement of his thumb as she felt, "and that you couldn't read my mind, so if I wanted things to change…"

He put more pressure to his finger and pushed his way between her lips, bumping into her teeth. "I had to show you."

Intoxicated and absorbed, Maisy bit into his short nail, holding him there. 

Harry smirked, and met her eyes once again. "Or something like that…"

It was hard to tell what was going through Maisy's mind, then. Mostly because she couldn't care less about her rational thoughts anymore. She didn't want to think anymore. She didn't want to know about Niall's suggestions—or whatever he said—and she didn't want to hear Harry's apologies anymore. All she wanted was to feel, so that's exactly what she did.

Keeping her eyes fixed on his, she leaned in, then slithered her teeth through his nail, stopping where the skin of his thumb began. His fingertip rested on the tip of her tongue, and her belly quivered and swirled in expectation of his reaction. 

To her delight, Harry sank his shoulders and gawked at her. Some new, dazzling determination took over him, and even his eyes seemed to darken as he shifted his arm around her lower back and pulled her closer. Gripping at her side with one hand, he moved his other one and got deeper into her mouth, pressing his thumb in, in, in, until her teeth clamped around his first knuckle. 

Maisy molded her lips around his shortest and chubbiest digit, keeping it locked between her tongue and the roof of her mouth. She tasted him softly, running slow circles with her tongue while still watching him. Harry faintly smirked, so much that it was almost undetectable, and she took that as a challenge. Because she wanted more. She wanted more reactions, and she wanted more actions. So she placed both of her hands around his wrist and closed her eyes, then sucked his finger in. 

Harry stiffened at first, and then he cursed, breathing out heavily through his mouth while taking a tiny step forward and spreading his other four fingers open on her face. 

"Damn, Isy…" he murmured.

The admiration, pride, and approval in his voice cracked something inside her, and a very familiar feeling pulsed through her veins. It made her go all slippery and quivery. And it brought wet heat between her legs.

Bold and fearless, Maisy swirled her tongue and hummed. Making it dirtier than it needed to be. Making it louder. Making it wetter. 

And he didn't seem to mind it. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it just as much and encouraged her to go even further, moving his thumb side to side while digging his other four fingers into the skin of her cheek and neck. 

It was so good. So unexpected. And so desperate. 

To put so much energy into something like sucking a finger. To feel herself going mindless as she tightened his wrist between her hands and brought him closer, then sucked him deeper. Breathing in and out through her nose, then completely forgetting about their surroundings and pushing her head down to fit his whole finger inside. And losing herself as she sucked. And sucked. All over again. 

"Jesus Christ," Harry murmured, backing her into the back door of his car, tilting her head up and pulling his thumb off from her mouth. "That's enough." 

Everything happened so fast, that before she could even process the information or blink her eyes open, Harry had already pressed his lips to hers in a desperate move. 

They first met awkwardly and clumsily, hitting each other's cheeks and chins. But then Harry cradled her jaw and kept her in place, taking the lead and capturing her lips for a much hungrier and experienced kiss. 

A soft tingle ran between her legs, and Maisy moaned softly, so softly she barely even noticed it. She dragged her hands up to his shoulders, then to his neck, and to the back of his head. Harry hummed, and she threaded her fingers between his curls and tugged, standing on her tiptoes and parting her lips to take things further. Searching for his tongue while he searched for hers. Tasting each other with the same devotion and effort she had just tasted his thumb. Moving in perfect sync, and making sure to taste every corner and every inch.

Harry dropped his hand from her face to her bum, giving it a rough and forceful squeeze and sucking all the air around them through his nose. 

Maisy hummed, holding onto his hair tightly as she rolled her hips forward. Harry smirked into the kiss, then slid his other arm down, filling both of his hands with her ass. He squeezed her again, this time digging his nails into both of her cheeks and pulling her forward while he also stepped closer, and finally fully pressing their hips together. 

His growing bulge nudged between her legs, and a gasped moan came out of her throat. 

"Fuck," he breathed out, breaking the kiss to roll his hips on hers. 

"Oh God…" she sighed, taking the opportunity to drag her wet lips to his jaw. That was so embarrassing. Maisy had to stop. She really had to stop. She needed to stop. They both needed to stop. And yet she couldn't. She didn't want to. Because Harry was getting hard while making out with her. She could feel him pressed against her hips and she didn't want to lose the feeling. She didn't want to step away. So she didn't. She moved her mouth thoughtlessly, instead, savoring as much as she could of him. Feeling his stubble under her tongue, and his scent under her nose.

"Fuck," he murmured, timidly rubbing himself up and down her front. "That's…" He swallowed. "Feels good, baby." 

Maisy hummed, mapping kisses from his jaw, to his ear. She tangled her fingers around his curls, holding her weight while speaking softly and as close to him as she could. "Take me home, Haz." 

"Mhmm…" Harry nodded, his hair brushing her temple. 

She moved back towards his cheek, leaving a wet trail behind while making his mouth her final destination. 

"Please?" she asked, then kissed him shortly. 

"Sure." He nodded again, leaning in— "Anything you want." —and kissing her again.

Maisy smiled. The way he seemed enraptured by her was cute and sweet, but also extremely arousing. She could only imagine the things they would do under the influence of that dynamic, and she couldn't wait to find out. But the only way she would be able to do all the things she wanted to do was if they weren't standing in the middle of the street, only two blocks and a half away from their friends. So she sucked his bottom lip and pulled away, letting it slide softly between her teeth while stroking his scalp.

"Now," she whispered, watching him stand there, at her mercy, with closed eyes and parted mouth. "Take me home, Harry, please."

He opened his eyes. 

"Wha—" He licked his lips, and shook his head. "I mean, yes." Out of breath, he nodded once, and then twice, and then thrice. "Yeah. Ok. Home. Yes." 

Maisy giggled. Still caressing the back of his head, she flinched her chin back and pulled away slightly, only to be able to watch him better. "You okay?"

"Dunno. Think 'm high right now."

She frowned, holding herself from laughing any louder than she should. "High?!" 

"Mhm. Pretty sure I got high from your kisses."

"Oh my God." Maisy snorted. She placed her hands on his shoulders and shoved him off, but his hands on her ass didn't allow her to put any actual distance between them.

"Think I developed an addiction—"

"Shut up." 

"—and your mouth is my drug—" 

" — Harry! — "

" — I need more — " 

" — You're ridiculous—"  

" — Gimme more — "

He kissed her again, and although Maisy couldn't stop laughing at how lame and silly he was, she still kissed him back. He smirked, seemingly proud of her reaction, then moved his large hand to her face and cradled her cheek, leading the way into a much slower and tender pace. His mouth was suddenly gentle, moving carefully while discovering a new side of their relationship. Not a desperate and hungry version, like it'd been up until then, but a smooth and thoughtful one. Made of sweet and calm kisses. Of gentle pecks, and timid tugs. Of wet lips, and honest affection. 

Eventually, their eagerness toned down, dissolving into a different kind of longing for each other. Less desperate on one hand, but much more intense on the other. 

Harry sighed, then broke off the kiss. 

"Let's go," — he pecked her lips one — "then." — two — "Let's go home." — three — "Mine," — four times — "Or yours?" 

One last kiss, lingering longer than the others, and Maisy finally blinked her eyes open. Harry's hand was warm on her cheek, and she felt herself needily nuzzling against it. She took a minute to catch her breath, and also to adjust to the dim lights, taking the opportunity to meet his touch with her own hand and turning her face just enough to press a kiss to his palm. Then, she whispered, "Yours… Take me back to yours."

He leaned in to kiss her temple, then brushed his lips on her skin as he spoke. "Back to mine it is, then."

— — — — —

In five years, Harry had already driven Maisy home, to the grocery store, to parties, from parties, to work, from work, to the hospital, to Niall's, and even back to her parents house. 

In the process, Maisy had watched him a lot. She had watched him enough to memorize the way he would spread his legs and switch his foot between pedals, the way he would relax into the car seat and blindly shift gears, or the way he would place his elbow by the window and hold the steering wheel with one hand. More than not, she'd admired him secretly, too pent-up to say anything, and too afraid to let him show how much he affected her. Only a few times she had been brave enough to praise him out loud, although usually hiding behind some joke about how much he tried to look cool while driving, and never admitting how deeply attracted to him she actually felt. 

That day though, as he drove them back to his apartment, whilst everything seemed to be still the same between them, everything seemed to be just as different and new. Because now, while she watched him turn the steering wheel, she also couldn't stop thinking about what had just happened in the middle of the street. And now, as she watched him flex his arms and shift gears, she also couldn't stop thinking about the feeling that kept dripping out between her legs.

"You're staring," Harry said, stopping at the traffic light. He turned his head to the side and smiled, sliding his now free hand against hers and intertwining their fingers once again.

Biting her lip, Maisy tried her best not to beam at him. It was useless, though, and her mouth ended up curling into the biggest and most genuine grin. 

"I am," she laughed, then shrugged. "You look hot when you drive."

Harry widened his eyes, but there was a twinkle behind his gaze that made her feel comfortable about his reaction. As if the shock of her words did nothing but please him. 

"Hot?" He squeezed her palm. "You think?" 

Maisy nodded. 

"I do, yeah… It's just… Hard to look away."

"Hmm…" Slowly, he let go of her hand, then placed his palm on her thigh, spreading his fingers open and digging them slightly into her flesh. "Keep looking, then."

Heat spread under her skin, and goosebumps rose all over. Harry's hand was large and heavy, and it covered so much of her leg that it was hard not to pay attention to it, or to ignore how close it was to a place she didn't think he would ever actually be. And yet a place that he had teased just minutes earlier. A place that he had rolled and pressed himself against. A place that he had fully woken up that night. 

And judging by the way he grasped her in that exact moment, and by the way he had touched her earlier—so thirsty to squeeze and press her closer—Maisy knew he would be good at… Everything. She knew he would be the one to match the expectations no other guy had been able to match up until then. And she knew that he would be the one to set her body on a whole new level of fire. Not because other guys hadn't been good—after all she'd had some pretty great sexual experiences in her life—but because he was different to her. They felt different. 

And she wanted to get a taste of that. She wanted to have him. She wanted him to touch her. And she wanted it all right now. 

"Ugh." Maisy shuffled on the passenger seat and looked away from him, watching the empty street and covering the back of his hand with her palm. "Why is your place so far away?"

Harry smirked, and although she couldn't see him, she could feel the burning of his eyes all over her chest. 

"It's not, actually," he said, so low and so husky that it felt almost calculated. As if he knew the effect it would have on her. "I think you're just eager to get there." 

He squeezed her thigh, getting his fingertips just a little bit deeper into her, and Maisy faced him again. 

If he wanted to play that game, then she would play it just as well. 

Staring into his eyes, she scooched down a little, then dragged his hand along with hers. Sliding it just an inch up through her thigh. "I think I am, yes." 

His gaze faltered for a moment, dropping down to where she was guiding their touch. Maisy bit her lip, enjoying his attentiveness, and kept moving their hands, stopping only when his pinky finger reached the crease between her thigh and her pelvis. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed her body, pinching her flesh with his fingers. 

Maisy sighed, hypnotized on how pretty and hot and cute and manly he looked. All at the same time.

"Aren't you?" she asked, making sure her voice acted as a mirror of her current feelings, and sharing with him the sensual and confident side of her. One she had never been able to show him before, but was dying to.  

Harry licked his lips and exhaled through his nose, then looked back at her face. He blinked a couple of times, then asked, "Hm? Am I what?" 

Holding back a smile, she slid her fingers up his wrist, freeing his hand from her touch at the same time she brought her other hand around and placed it on her other inner thigh. 

"Eager," she murmured. She squeezed her own leg, just like he'd done it before, and made her way up to the place her body most wanted him to be. "To get home… And touch me." 

"Jesus Christ." Harry looked between her legs and swallowed, sinking his nails so deeply into her flesh that Maisy couldn't help but hiss at the pain. 

Moving her palm from her inner thigh to the back of his hand, she finally directed him to her burning and aching center. She circled her other fingers around his forearm, holding tightly onto him, and rolled her hips timidly, subtly. Almost as if she didn't want him to see it—but also making sure he would not only see it, but that he would also feel it.

"I want you to touch me," she murmured, rolling her hips for a second time.  

He dug the heel of his palm between her legs, then pressed his fingertips onto her center. "I can see that."

"You don't want to?"

Harry glared at her. Something seemed to have snapped inside him, and his voice got darker when he asked, "What do you think?"

Maisy shrugged, trying hard to create complete, full, coherent sentences while Harry's hand was finally there. "I hope you do. And that I'm not embarrassing myself."

He stroked his fingers through her wetness, curling his fingers and meeting his own palm as he grabbed between her legs—so harshly and so firmly that Maisy closed her eyes and squirmed on the passenger seat. She gasped quietly, leaning into his arm and pressing her forehead near his shoulder. Fully letting him take over the situation. 

"I like this side of you." He loosened up his fingers, then moved them up and down, over and over again, spreading her wetness as best as he could despite the layers of clothes that covered her. "Almost made me lose my game over there. But look at you now… Did you always feel like this?"

"Oh God," she mouthed onto his bicep. The fabric of her pants, plus her thong, didn't allow her to feel him properly, but she felt enough to quiver from head to toe, and enough to make her want more. 

She spread her legs wider, and Harry increased the pressure and speed of his stroke, moving his fingers faster and more forcefully. 

"Tell me, did you always feel like this when I drove you places?" he insisted. "Did I always make you this wet?"  

Maisy nodded, and grunted.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I know it's—It's kinda inappropriate, isn't it? I—Sorry—" 

"Shh,shhh… It's not." Harry rubbed her covered entrance in circles. Quick circles, experienced circles, making her get wetter and wetter. "Wish I knew sooner, that's all." 

He focused on performing his task with only one finger, then, pressing it between her lips and then rubbing circles in search for that spot that would drive her insane. As soon as he found it, Maisy jolted and moaned, unable to contain herself anymore. 

Still holding onto his arm, she recovered the strength on her other hand, covering his knuckles and fingers and guiding his touch once again. She helped him so he could touch her like she wanted him to, so he could keep pressing and stroking her exactly where she needed him to, and before she could notice it, she was fully rolling her hips on their connected hands. Searching for more friction. Desperate for relief. 

Harry groaned, and she arched her back. He pressed faster, and faster. And she was there. Almost there. So, so, so almost there. 

She just needed some more rolling, just like that, some more gasping, oh God, yes, and then— 

And then someone honked behind them. 

They both jumped. Maisy pressed her legs together and covered her center with one hand, while Harry straightened up and stretched his arm across her chest—as if that would hide her the flush from her cheeks, or the desperation from her breath, or the lust from her eyes. 

The car behind them honked again. And again. 

"Wha—" 

"Green," she breathed out, pointing to the traffic light while her chest moved up and down. Up and down. Up and down. 

And the car behind them honked, again.

"Shit," Harry mumbled, letting go of Maisy to shift gears and press the clutch pedal, then easily letting it go again. "Sorry… Sorry."

Still out of breath, she kept her legs pressed together and nodded. "Yeah, I—Yeah…" 

He sped up before pressing the clutch pedal and shifting gears again, driving as fast as he could through the city. 

Maisy clenched her thighs, then between her legs, and shuffled on her seat. 

Peeking at her, Harry sighed. 

"Shit. I'm sorry."

Maisy nodded again. How long did they just spend there? Stupidly parked at a traffic light? And how many green lights did they ignore? 

"You ok?" he asked, eyes on the road and both hands on the steering wheel. 

She shifted and rearranged herself, feeling the burning desire between her legs turn into sticky coldness. 

"Yeah… I just…" Maisy said, watching the neighborhood through the window and chuckling lightly. "I forgot we were there."

"I know, me too," Harry laughed. "Shit. Completely lost track of time, too." 

"Mhm." 

She laughed. 

And then they both laughed.

Peeking at her again, Harry grabbed her hand one more time, pulling it from her lap and taking it to his mouth. 

"Don't worry, by the way." He kissed the back of her hand, then took their connected hands to shift gears. "I'll take care of you as soon as we get home."

She smiled, then intertwined her fingers with his. "Mhm. You better." 

 

"Ok," Harry said, turning the steering wheel and straightening out the tires. He put the car into neutral and lifted the handbrake, then took his feet off the pedals and twisted the ignition key. The engine stopped working, but silence didn't have enough time to settle before he tapped her leg twice and spoke again, "Get out." 

He stepped out of the car, and Maisy blinked. Smiling to herself, she shook her head and reached to open her door, but Harry was already there, doing the job for her and offering his hand for her to hold. 

She narrowed her eyes, and looked up at him. 

"C'mon," he said, wiggling his fingers. "Out."

She opened her mouth to call him out for his demanding tone, but ended up snorting and chuckling, instead. 

"Well, look who's eager now," she muttered, taking his offer and grabbing his hand, then getting out and stepping aside. 

The last five minutes of the drive to his place had been completely silent, and although his promise of taking care of her as soon as they got home lingered between them, all the events of that day had finally started catching up with her brain while Harry's thumb soothed the back of her hand and she watched the streets go by through the window. Tiredness and sleepiness got a hold of her muscles, and her thoughts worked at a much slower pace than before. So whilst she still found herself desperate to get to his apartment, she also wouldn't have complained about taking a short nap first. 

"To be fair," he said, "been eager since I first saw you tonight." 

He slammed the door shut, and its bang echoed around the parking lot. Maisy looked around, fixing her outfit while Harry moved to stand in front of her. He seemed to be the only neighbor who hadn't been in the building that night, all the other spots already occupied by different types of cars. Other than that, everything was quiet, as if they were the only two people awake in the entire town. 

"What happened to building maintenance?" she murmured. 

Harry tilted his head and smiled, placing his hands on her hips and caging her between his body and his car. "Building maintenance?"

Looking over his shoulder, Maisy rested her hands on his chest and shrugged. It hadn't always been intense, gray darkness and dim lights, had it? She usually walked into the building through the front door, so she couldn't remember the last time she'd been there, but she was pretty convinced it used to look more appealing than… That. 

"Yes. Half of the bulbs are gone," she pointed out.

He lifted his hands to her face, brushing his thumb over her jawline while sliding the other four to the back of her neck. "Are they?"

Guiding her to look at him, he tilted his chin down and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. 

Maisy sighed and closed her eyes, enjoying his softness. "Mhmm…"

He pulled away, only enough to murmur, "Didn't notice." 

And then he kissed her again. Curling his mouth around her bottom lip and getting a taste of it, then letting it go and repeating the process with the upper one. 

Kind of dizzy, Maisy dropped her palms to his waist, grasping at his t-shirt for some balance  just as he tilted her head to the side and drifted his kisses to her cheek. 

"It's just…" She swallowed, keeping her eyes shut and focusing on the way his wet lips caressed her skin. "Kinda dark… Isn't it?"

Harry hummed, pressing more and more kisses. He took his time moving towards her ear, meanwhile drawing small circles on her lower jaw and pushing her body against the closed door. 

"It is dark, yes," he said, brushing his nose next to her ear and allowing every word to resonate inside her. "Means no one can see us."

Maisy rested her weight on his car, and Harry waved both hands up through her hair, holding it into a ponytail. With a gentle but firm tug, he pulled her head back, then moved his kisses down to her neck. 

God. That felt good. 

Really good.

He kissed her again. And again, and again, and again. Parting his lips slightly and making it wet. Making it sweet. Making it noisy. Hmmmm…

She parted her lips, breathing heavily through her mouth. Heat seemed to rush to every spot he touched, and she could feel her pulse racing in her throat.

So good.

"I mean," she barely managed to say. "Maybe… Someone… Could…"

He hummed again, a little longer this time, letting her know he was listening even though he seemed much more preoccupied about covering her throat with warm, needy and calculated kisses. 

"Yes…" He parted his lips wider, pressing them where her neck met her shoulder and sliding his tongue up and down. Wet, and warm. Once, and twice. "Maybe." 

Harry knew what he was doing, tracing a dreamy and sensual path from one side to the other with his plump and juicy lips. Sucking slightly even now and then, soothing with his tongue, teasing with his teeth. Using his large hands to tilt her head as he pleased. Letting her know how careful and affectionate he could be, but also showing off his power and strength. 

Maisy's heart skipped a beat, and her legs weakened.

"Wanna risk it?" he asked, breathing hot air into her ear.

Twisting her hands around his t-shirt, Maisy opened her eyes. She licked her lips and swallowed, putting herself together and finding the last remains of energy to say something back to him. 

Truth be told, there was something about being the only two in that dark parking lot that made her feel excited to keep going. The danger was a turn on, and there was no other person that could ever make her feel as safe as Harry did, so she knew that if there was a time to be brave and risk it all, that would be it.  

At the same time, the idea of getting caught by one of his neighbors—people she more than often encountered in the elevator or walking in the hallway—brought nervousness to the pit of her stomach. It was one thing to make out passionately and let others know how much you were into someone, but getting caught naked and mid-orgasm was completely different. At least when it came to Maisy, of course.

"That eager, huh?" she asked, facing the ceiling and waiting for him to tilt her head back down. "Can't even make it to the fourth floor?"

Her question put a smirk on his face, and it granted her wishes, causing Harry to tighten the grip of his fingers and guide her to look at him again. 

"That eager, yes." He leaned in, brushing the tip of his nose up and down her own. "Can you blame me?"

He let go of her hair and slid his fingers down, brushing the tips on each side of her neck. 

"Been thinking about you in this outfit since I first saw you tonight." 

He traced her collarbones, then breezed from her shoulders to her forearms, sliding his own shirt off from her arms, and then going all the way back up to her chest once again. 

Her flesh prickled at his touch, and a brief shiver rippled through her, causing Harry's smirk to get even wider.

Just like before, his reaction was enough to snap something inside her. Because even though she enjoyed taking orders and being compliant to someone else's wishes, Maisy didn't enjoy giving all her power away. Not all at once, at least.

So she looked down at her own body, let Harry's shirt hang on her elbows, and raised her eyebrows. 

"This outfit?" she asked, as if she hadn't bought that top specifically for that night. Or as if she had never heard Harry talking to the boys about bloody gorgeous tits before. Or as if she wasn't proud of the curves she had to offer. Or as if she hadn't hoped of getting his attention when she'd put the pieces together and stared at herself in the mirror earlier in the afternoon. 

"Mhmm…" He grabbed the spaghetti straps between his fingers, then followed their path from her shoulders to her chest. "This outfit."

She glanced up again, then watched him carefully and patiently, fluttering her eyelids while drowning her voice in innocence and naivety. "What about it?" 

"Do I really need to say it?"

Maisy nodded. "I would like you to, yes."

Harry hummed, and looked down at her chest. He toyed with the thin straps a little longer, hooking each one inside of his fingers and running through them up and down. 

If Maisy would've had to guess, she would've thought he was pondering his next words. Weighing them up. Choosing them carefully. Making sure they wouldn't go unnoticed, and therefore making sure she wouldn't go unaffected. She'd seen Harry flirting so many times, that she knew how much liked the thrill of the chase. She'd also shared a lot of conversations with him about the subject, so she knew how much he cared about making other people feel good, even when he knew it wouldn't go further than a one night stand—although even if she hadn't talked to him about it, she knew that making people feel good was a trait that played a huge part in who Harry was; not only when dating or hooking up, but just in general.

"Well," he eventually said, clearing his throat and answering her question. "I mean, I didn't want to be disrespectful at the club, but…" 

He moved his hands, leaving the straps of her top behind and tracing its edge instead.

"To be completely honest…" He brushed the tips of his index and middle fingers across her cleavage. Teasingly and featherly. Eying his own movements. Scanning the patterns he drew all over the swell of her breasts. "And only because you're asking…"

He paused to glance into her eyes, then slid his tongue between his lips and looked back down to his hands. 

"I couldn't stop staring at these," he finally added. 

Maisy's skin tingled, and her insides quivered. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the way his fingers made her feel. Enjoying the fact that he'd been staring at her breasts. And enjoying even more the idea of him filling his hands with them and giving both a forceful squeeze. Shit. She swallowed. 

Her heart hammered in her ears, though, and her lungs didn't seem to keep up with so much information. She knew Harry could feel her chest moving up and down frenziedly under his touch, meaning that, once again, it would be impossible for her to hide how breathless he made her feel. 

So she would have to use it in her favor, instead.

Shifting on her feet, she leaned fully into the car and breathed in deeply, filling up her chest and pressing her cleavage briefly into his hands. Then, she exhaled through her nose, leaving Harry's fingers running over empty air. 

"And?" she asked, feeling herself taking control once again. "What's your verdict?" 

He peeked at her and took a step forward, fingers finding her again. "My verdict?" 

"Mhm. You like them?" 

Harry wiggled his eyebrows and nodded, letting her know he understood the question.

Focusing on one breast, he moved his index finger up and down, drawing a straight line, then repeating the process an inch or two to the side. 

"I think they're gorgeous," he said, connecting the two lines with a horizontal stroke. 

Maisy smiled. "Thanks. I think so, too."

Harry smiled, too, then moved to her other breast. "You do, huh?"

Once again, he traced two vertical lines, and connected them horizontally with a third one. 

"Mhmm…" 

"Can't see why you wouldn't." He reached her sides and drifted down, roaming through her ribcage. "Can't see why anyone wouldn't." 

He got past the exposed skin of her waist, then to the waistline of her pants.

"These are really nice, too." He sneaked four fingers between the fabric and her stomach, leaving only his thumb out as he grabbed onto the waistline and pulled her forward. Maisy gasped quietly, almost unnoticeable, stumbling on her feet while Harry skimmed his other hand down through her belly. "But I bet this one" —he tilted his chin down while she tilted her head up, and then he cupped between her legs, fully palming and covering her heat— "looks better." 

Maisy snorted, pressing herself into his touch. "Wouldn't you like to know?" 

Holding each other's gazes, they both smirked. 

Harry pushed his hand into her, backing her up and forcing her into the cold car while stepping forward. "Am I supposed to pretend I'm not dying to take your clothes off?" 

Maisy shrugged. "I mean, I would rather if you got right into it, but if you want to keep playing games…" 

Harry's smirk faded away. He rubbed his fingers up and down, making sure to stroke from one side to the other. Harsher. Fully. From her entrance, to her front. Just like he'd done earlier that day. But somehow even better.

Oh God. Maisy blinked, then moved her palms up to his arms, holding tightly onto him while flickering her eyes all over his face. 

Something had happened. 

There were no traces of playfulness or teasing anymore. No more smirks, no more cluelessness. No more fake oblivion. No more mulling over his words. 

Harry looked focused and determined. Sure of himself. And yet ready to crumble. 

"'M not playing games," he stated, touching her. Always touching her. "Would never play games with you."

Oh. The information clicked inside her mind, and she squeezed his arms. "I—I know."

She hadn't meant it like that, and she knew Harry wasn't messing around with her. He wouldn't do that. If he didn't want her, then he wouldn't be with her. Simply as that. 

"Good." He slid his foot between her boots and parted her legs, then spread them even wider with his knee. "Now, I'd really like to make you cum." 

Applying more pressure to his hand, he rubbed circles, just like she'd guided him earlier.

Ohh… Maisy fluttered her eyelids, then fully closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip, holding back a moan and turning it into a soft whine, instead. 

"Can I make you cum, pretty girl?" 

Turning the corners of her mouth up, Maisy nodded. 

"Right here?" He moved faster. "Right now?" 

Oh God. She swallowed, then slid her tongue through her parted lips and glanced at him.

"I—Oh God—" The words flew out from her mind to her mouth, and she dropped her forehead to his chest. "Are there—Shit—Are there cameras here?" 

He shook his head. "Nope."

"Then—"

"We can barely afford light bulbs. Or so I've heard." 

"Oh my God," she chuckled, twisting his t-shirt inside her fingers as the feeling grew more and more intense with each stroke. "Shut up, and—Oh God… Just… Fuck."

"Yes?" he asked, the smile clear in his voice. 

She breathed in and out, heavily and loudly, and slid one hand from his arm to her own waist. Pulling away from his chest, she stared into his green eyes and unbuttoned her pants. 

"Touch me." And then, she unzipped them. "Now." 

Harry smirked. He looked around and over his shoulder, then stood by her side and pushed her further towards the front of the car, closer to the wall. Maisy sighed, and relaxed. It was good to know they were in sync. That no matter how much they wanted to do that, none of them got to the point of disrespecting each other's—or other people's—boundaries. 

And then, he sneaked his hand inside her pants, and every one of her worries and random thoughts vanished away. She focused on him, and on the things he did to her. She focused on the way he stood straighter and stretched his arm, then got in between the lace of her thong and the warmth of her skin. She focused on the way he stepped forward and relaxed his body into her side, too, throwing his free arm around her neck while angling his other forearm to get his fingertips past her hair, and right into her wet flesh. 

"Fuck."

"Fuck."

They looked at each other for a second, and then they both chuckled, simultaneously leaning in for a whole new kiss. 

"Fucking finally…" Harry mumbled. 

He dipped his middle finger between her folds and stroked it up and down, collecting her wetness and spreading it around. Maisy shivered, and her hips jerked forward, almost against her will. With a grunt, Harry pulled his hand off from her pants and broke the kiss, bringing his middle finger to his mouth and sucking it in. 

He closed his eyes when tasting her, and Maisy's body got on fire. Grabbing his t-shirt into fists, she pulled him closer, then licked her way around his jaw. Tasting whatever inch she could reach, and as much as she could, while he put his hand back inside her pants. 

"C'mere." He kissed her again, and dipped his fingers between her folds again. Stroking them up and down. Spreading her open. Getting to know every corner of her. 

Maisy sighed. She moved her hands, grabbing his neck, and his bicep, then let her body react to his wonderful, skillful fingers. His never stopping fingers. Stroking up and down, up and down. Rubbing circles. Pressing her clit. Rubbing her clit. So good. So, so good.

"Oh God." She leaned into him, moving her hips and searching for more friction. "Harry…" 

"Yeah?" 

More. She needed more. 

"Ugh," she practically whined, opening her eyes. "Touch me." 

"I am touching you."

She smacked his shoulder. "Then touch me more."

Harry laughed, then quickly kissed her again. He hunched slightly and pressed his middle finger inside her. Just barely, though, not even making it to his first knuckle before freezing and kissing the corner of her mouth.

"Like this?"

"More."

Half an inch forward. 

"Like this?" 

"Oh my God!" She grabbed his wrist, and glared at him. "I hate you so much right now!" 

He smiled, kissing her cheek, and her chin, then her mouth. "No you don't."

Maisy rolled her eyes. "I do, yes." 

"Hmmm." 

With half of his middle finger still inside her, he pressed one side of his hand on her clit, then went back to rubbing circles.

She let go of his wrist and placed both hands on his shoulders, then threw her head back and rolled her hips back and forth. 

"You said you'd make me cum…"

Keeping the steady movement of his hand, Harry kissed her cheek. 

"You're right, baby."

Baby.

Maisy throbbed between her legs, then squeezed her eyes shut. 

"I did say that," he added, and she huffed. 

"So make me, damnit."

"Alright baby," —he bent his knees, then pushed his middle finger deep inside her— "Alright."

Oh. 

Maisy moaned. 

He slid his hand and pushed his finger out. Then thrusted back inside. Curving it, he pressed it against her wall, searching for that spot that would drive her insane. When he found it,  Maisy's knees wobbled, and she melted into him.

"Oh God." She looked into his eyes, breathing from her mouth while he stared back at her. 

"Yeah?" Out. And in. Hitting into that same spot one more time. "Right there?"

She bit her lip, and nodded. "Mhmmm…" 

He pulled his lonely finger out, then pushed two inside. Aiming for that same delicious spot, over and over again. Making her feel good—so, so good. 

She held onto him, hypnotized as she watched the beautiful green of his eyes, and he threaded his free hand through her hair, pulling her till his lips were against her temple. Breathing into her while he worked his strong fingers inside her. Pumping so hard that she could hear her dripping wetness in the dead-silent parking lot. 

"God…" She bit her lip. "I dreamed about this for so long." 

"Yeah? Is it like you dreamed it would be?"

"Much… Much better." 

Harry sighed, then tightened the grip around her hair and tilted her face to the side. "C'mere." 

He kissed her firmly, then, connecting their lips and keeping them together while he tried his best to angle his arm and hit the spot hidden inside her. 

"Fuck…" She moaned into his mouth. "Can you… Oh God… Can you make it three?" 

He hunched down, wriggling inside her pants to adjust his hand. 

"Shit." He pulled away from her mouth and looked over his shoulder, then back at her. "Can't with these pants… And I don't want to undress you here…"

Maisy nodded. "Okay."

"Sorry." He pumped in and out again.

"It's—It's fine, I just… I need more." 

"Then I'll give you more." 

He pulled his fingers out and held her tightly with his palm, then spinned her body around. Pressing his chest to her back and hovering over her shoulder, he held her body firmly with his other arm, and proceeded to work between his legs. He pressed one finger to her clit and rubbed circles, gradually increasing the speed and pressure of his movements. The new position allowed him to relieve some of his own tension, too, rocking his hardening bulge against her ass. 

Maisy melted into his hold, throwing her arm up and around his neck and holding tightly onto him while moving her hips back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Fuck. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

That was so much better. 

Oh God.

He squeezed her tighter, keeping her in place while he made sure to give her everything she needed and wanted. More pressure, more speed. Kisses to her neck, and to her jaw. Breathing hotly into her ear.

"Yes, yes." She pulsed, throbbed, and quivered. "Oh God." 

Harry moved steadily, but faster. Pushing her further, and further.

"That's it, baby," he murmured into her ear. "That's it. C'mon."

He pushed her further and further. And even further. 

Until Maisy finally exploded, shuddered, and trembled. 

''Ah!" 

She fell forward, and Harry grabbed her. Pulling her upright, and driving her through her climax. Out of breath and numb, she grabbed his wrist and squeezed him. Silently begging for him to stop.

He complied and pulled his fingers away from her clit, soothing her and shushing her when she hissed. But then he removed his hand from her pants and automatically took it up to his mouth, licking and sucking the mess she'd made while humming next to her ear. As if she was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted.

Maisy moaned, almost painfully, holding onto his arm around her waist and instinctively drawing circles with her ass up and down his length. 

"Please. Please. Just take me upstairs now." 

— — — — —

The walk to the fourth floor happened in a rush. They didn't let go of each other while walking, nor stopped kissing or touching when they got inside the elevator. And by the time they were inside the living room, Harry's t-shirt was already on the floor and Maisy's boots were long forgotten by the door. 

They blindly guided each other around the furniture, kissing and touching while they unbuttoned each other's pants. Harry's were the first to get lost on the hallway, and Maisy didn't miss one second before feeling him up through his briefs. He grunted and sighed, chasing her mouth while encouraging her to take the rest of her clothes off. 

Maisy stumbled as they got inside his bedroom, and they both laughed, having to slow down and take a deep breath before moving on. But then she sat on the foot of the bed and Harry kneeled in front of her, going along with every single one of her movements and helping to undress her. 

He kissed her legs, and moved his lips up her body, losing himself with her scent when he nuzzled his nose between her legs. He kissed her on top of the laced thong, and then pulled the item off her body. He moved up, and they captured each other's mouths once again. Kissing, sucking, nibbling. He felt her up, and she felt him up. She squeezed him with her palm, and traced him with her fingers. He breathed in and out heavily from her mouth, too worked up to properly kiss her. And then she kissed his bottom lip, holding it and sucking it into her mouth as she slid into the elastic of his briefs and finally touched him. 

Harry moaned. So raw, manly, and helpless at the same time that it made her smile. 

She stroked him up and down, then. Up and down, up and down. He was full, firm, and hot under her hand. Rigid. Solid. His own neediness had already gotten him wet, but not enough for her hand to slide as smoothly as she would've liked, so she pulled it off and brought it to her mouth. 

Harry took the opportunity to take the last item off, his shaft hitting his stomach and making him hiss. He stroked himself, crawling over her body before diving into her neck. 

Maisy squirmed, and moaned. She searched for his hand, and once she grabbed it, she pulled it directly to her chest. 

"Want them in your mouth," she murmured, squeezing her breast with the help of his hand. 

Harry buckled his hips into hers, and cursed into her skin. He sat on his heels and brought her along by her arms, then pulled at the sleeves of his own shirt to take it off her body. 

"Tomorrow morning you're wearing this again," he said, holding up his shirt in his hand and then throwing it to the floor. "And I'm gonna fuck you in it." 

Maisy smiled. "Yes, sir." 

He sighed then shook his head, and she giggled. Lifting one arm, she unzipped her top with the other one. Harry helped her get rid of it, and then he was all over her body once again. Snuggling into her chest and parting his mouth to get a taste of her breast. Squeezing it into his hand and sucking it fervently. Nibbling her nipple, flickering his tongue. Sucking even more. 

"Bloody fucking gorgeous," he mumbled around her. 

"God, yes." She relaxed into the mattress, threading her hands into his hair and arching her body into his mouth. "Take more." 

He sucked deeper, unashamedly slurping as he drooled all over her skin and grinded against her hips. 

Maisy exploded with pure, raw, and wild need for him. She bent her knees and placed her feet on the bed, then spread her legs open. Stretching her arm between their bodies, she grabbed his length and pressed his tip between her folds, rubbing up and down her wetness. 

"Fuck." She moaned, rolling her hips up. 

"Jesus Christ," Harry grunted. "You're so fucking sexy."

He moved to her other breast, massaging the one he had just abandoned. Losing himself in her taste and squeezing her just as fiercely as he sucked her into his mouth. 

Fuck. Maisy really liked that. She really liked when men loved her breasts, but Harry being the one who sucked them into his mouth was mind-blowing. It made her feral. It drove her insane. 

"Hell yes." She moaned, and he moaned. 

She threaded her free hand around his curls and pressed him closer to her chest. Hoping to suffocate him with her breasts. "Keep going…" 

Harry hummed, drinking her in while writhing against her hand.

She scratched his scalp with one hand, and pressed him between her folds with the other. Rocking her hips back and forth while he got drunk on her. "Just like that…"

He searched for her hands, then, slotting their fingers together and sinking them onto the mattress while he devoured her entirely. Letting her breast go with a loud pop and moving immediately to her neck.

"I need you," he mumbled, spreading open-mouthed kisses to whatever he could reach. "Now. I need you now."

She hooked her legs around his waist, adjusting so he could roll and rub himself against her clit. "Mhmm… Please."

He bit her neck, and she dropped her head back, arching into him and squeezing his hands. 

"Condom," he mumbled. "I'll—Condom…" 

"Mhmm…" 

Maisy nodded, dropping her legs to the mattress, and Harry moved, stretching to open the drawer on the bed side table. She took the opportunity to kiss his neck, and his shoulder, tasting him slowly and fervently. He grunted, having trouble concentrating, but eventually grabbed a foil package and moved back to her mouth. 

He kissed her, then pulled away to tore the wrapper open with his teeth, and kissed her again. They moved together to put on the condom, always finding ways to keep meeting for tender and lazy kisses. Once he was ready, Maisy shuffled on his bedsheets and made herself comfortable, watching as he slotted between her legs and then crawled to place one elbow next to her head.

Holding himself with one arm and looking into her eyes, he took one hand down and grabbed himself. 

She hugged his neck, and he teased his tip around her clit, then tapped it twice against her entrance. 

Maisy hissed, and Harry grunted.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, guiding himself inside her body. "I really, really hope I last."

Maisy laughed, and he smiled. And then they kissed. 

She instantly hooked her legs around his waist, resting her heels above his bum and encouraging him to get closer. To go deeper. To fill her. 

Kissing. 

Panting. 

Moaning. 

Shivering. 

Maisy squeezed her eyes together, feeling the burn of the first stretch. And Harry kissed her again. Maybe trying to sooth her. Or maybe because he just couldn't stay away.

"You good?" he asked, caging her head between his forearms. 

"Yeah…" She licked her lips, and blinked. "So good."

"Can I fuck you like this?" he asked. "Wanna see you."

She nodded. "Whatever you want. Just fuck me already." 

Harry chuckled, then rolled his hips, sliding in and out slowly, just to test the waters. 

"Whatever I want?"

Maisy sighed, and nuzzled her hands into his curls. "Yes. Whatever you want."

In… 

And out… 

"In that case," he said. "Wanna fuck you like this tonight."

In… 

And out… 

"And want you to ride me tomorrow."

Maisy smiled. 

In… 

And out… 

"Wearing your shirt?" she asked. 

"Fuck yes." 

In… 

He brushed the side of his nose with hers, and smiled, too. "Nothing but my shirt." 

And out… 

In… 

She nodded. "Mkay…" 

And out…  

"Hmmm."

In…  

And out…

"We'll have…" he started, then kept going as he followed the affectionate and sensual pace of his hips. "The rest… Fuck… Of our lives… To try… Different… Positions… Anyway… Yeah?"

Maisy smiled again. "The rest of our lives, huh?" 

In…

Harry kissed her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. "Too cliché?"

And out… 

She shook her head. "I like the sound of it." 

"Yeah… Me too."

In… 

And out… 

In… 

And out… 

"Fuck," he growled.  

Picking up the pace, he held his weight firmly onto his forearms, then moved his hips and focused on thrusting into her. In and out, in and out, in and out. Faster. And deeper. 

In and out. 

In and out. 

In and out. 

Maisy whimpered and squeezed her arms around his shoulders, needing something to hold onto as he built a frantic pace. 

In and out. 

In and out. 

In and out. 

"Took me all this… Shit… All this time to figure it out," he mumbled. "I'm not—Fuck—I'm not letting you go now."

She arched her back, and sank her nails into his back. "I'm not going anywhere." 

He smashed their mouths together. Rocking his hips into her. Pounding into her. Faster. Deeper. The bed knocked into the wall. And their skin smacked together. 

Hell yes.

So good. 

"Don't stop," she pleaded.

So fucking good.

Loud. 

Desperate. 

Needy. 

Hungry. 

Feral. 

"C'mon baby…" he mumbled around her lips, then took one hand down to her waist. "C'mon…"

More. More. More.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

Deep. Deep. Deep. 

"Y—Yeah… Right—Shit. Right there… Oh my God… Keep going… Keep going…"

"You're so loud," Harry chuckled, squeezing her waist and keeping up the reckless pace. "Fucking… Love… It… Fuuuck."

Maisy gasped. She scrunched up her face, and gripped his ass with both hands. 

"More… I need… More…"

"Jesus Christ…" Still holding his weight with one arm, he let go of her waist and moved between her legs, then rubbed her swollen clit. "Like that?"

"Fuck yes. Yes. Oh God, Harry… Harry… Oh God… Yes."

"C'mon then… C'mon… Let me see you…" 

She moaned loudly, crying out as her walls spasmed and contracted around him and all the tension snapped at once, causing her body to tremble from head to toe. 

"Fuck—" Harry closed his eyes. "Isy— Shit…  I'm… Isy… Fuck." 

He shattered on top of her, pulsing inside her walls as he emptied himself inside the condom and went still with each— 

last— 

fucking— 

thrust. 

"Fuuuuuck."

He held himself and pulled out, then finally collapsed into her. 

.

.

.

Beats of silence went by. Deafening silence. A silence they hadn't ever shared before. Not in five years of friendship. Not with anyone else they'd ever been up until then. A silence that enveloped both of them naturally, that gave them time to recollect their thoughts and catch up their breaths. And a silence that, after another couple of beats, got them both rolling in bed and laughing out loud. 

"Oh my God…" 

Maisy hid behind her hands, feeling the mattress sink as he got up and got rid of the condom. Although she didn't want to, she followed his steps, going to the bathroom and cleaning herself up. 

Moments later, when she walked back into his bedroom, she found Harry laying in bed, wearing clean briefs and waiting for her. 

"C'mere," he said, patting the place next to him.

She curled her lips into a smile and practically ran to him, jumping into his bed and snuggling into his side. 

"Jesus Christ Isy…"  Harry pulled her naked body to himself, sneaking one arm under her neck and sliding the other one around her waist. "I'm so happy and also so fucking mad right now."

"What?" She placed one hand on his chest and hooked one leg around his waist. "Why are you mad?" 

"Because!" He laughed. "Can't believe you've been hiding this side from me all this time."

"Hmm… No I haven't."

"Yes, you have."

"No, because I don't even have a side to hide!"

"You totally do. All loud… Chatty… Bossy…"

"That's not true."

"It isss tho…" 

"Oh, shut up." 

"Exactly!" He laughed even louder, then forced his voice in a poor attempt of mimicking her. "Shut up Harry. Touch me Harry. Fuck me Harry. More Harry. I need more Harry. More Har—Ouch! Heyyyy!"

Maisy let go of his nipple, then slapped his chest. "Stop being stupid!"

"Will you stop fucking pinching me?" he asked, smacking his palm loudly against her ass. 

"Shit!" she yelped and laughed, jolting closer to his body. 

"You like it rough, don't you?" he added right after, then pinched right under her bum. 

"Harry!" Laughing louder, she squirmed inside his arms. "Stop!" 

"You like it rough, and you're filthy." 

"Oh my God." Maisy rolled her eyes, catching her breath between all the laughing. "So? What's wrong with that? Huh?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"Well, then stop judging!" 

"I'm not—What? I'm not!" He shuffled, staring into her eyes and caressing her cheek. "Are you kidding me? I fucking love it!"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Mhmm… Sure." 

Harry shook his head, and smiled. "Don't be silly… It's just… I don't know, but it felt different, y'know? Like… Fucking great sex… But not just like… The sex, sex, y'know? Everything about it… I don't know. I guess I just never had something like this before… Just… So fun and fucking hot at the same time… Y'know what I mean?"

Maisy bit her lip, and nodded. She cradled his cheek and moved closer, then pulled him in for a slow, sweet, and long, long kiss. 

"Yeah," she whispered, pecking his mouth one more time and sliding her hand to the back of his head. "I know exactly what you mean."

Harry grunted softly. 

"See?" He squeezed her bum. "And you been keeping this away from me! All this time!"

Maisy rolled her eyes—for what felt like the hundredth time. "Okay. Have you thought that maybe, maybe, if you had made a move on me instead of pulling up random girls at bars, you would've known sooner?"

Harry opened his mouth, then shut it again. 

"You're right." He rested his forehead against hers and nodded. Then, he smiled. "Thank God my girl's got attitude, huh?" 

Maisy bit her lip and smiled, too.  

But then, she grinned. So big she even giggled.

"Your girl, huh?"

"Mhmmm…" He caressed her side. "If you want to be, of course."

"Am I going to be the only one?" 

He pulled away, then looked firmly into her eyes. "I want you to be, yes. I want to do this properly. Wanna be with you. Only you. No-one else."

She threaded her fingers around the curls in the back of his head, then stroked his scalp with soft circles. 

"I wanna be with you, too. Want you to be mine."

He smiled, and shrugged. "Already am. All yours."

"Good." She kissed him. "No more being just friends, then…" 

"Fuck no!" He laughed, and pulled her in for another kiss. Then, he murmured into her lips, "Fuck that shit. We were never just friends, anyway." 

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #here it is... #im gonna post it and hide away forever #byebye

[doobea]

✰⋆⁺★ GOOGLE IT ─ CHOSO KAMO

synopsis: choso finally goes on a date with you but he's an absolute nervous wreck.

contents: choso being silly and inexperienced, gn!reader, somehow he thinks his brothers get more partners, half!brother sukuna makes an appearance, sfw/very fluffy, things to do and not to do on date, no curse AU word count: 2.4K a/n: of course i gotta release a choso fic before any of my milestones duh

"Uh, Choso? What are you doing?" Yuuji's voice calls from behind and it startles Choso, quite badly.

Choso's hands fly up in a messy attempt to cover his laptop screen, only to realize that he could've shut it instead. So he does that, loud and with too much force than originally intended, causing the cup of tea next to him to rattle and spill.

The liquid drips down to his newly purchased dress pants for the very topic he was just looking at, but he ignores it and tries to pretend that it didn't burn his skin and that he isn't mildly disappointed that he might've ruined an expensive pair.

"Nothing," Choso tries to level out his voice but his face always betrays him.

The moment Yuuji eyes his outfit, then darting to the number of colognes sprawled across his desk, and down to the neatly tucked dress shoes underneath his seat, Choso begins to falter.

"Nothing, huh," Choso doesn't stop Yuuji when he pushes his chair aside and opens his laptop. A stifle laugh and then a rather loud 'aww' emits from his brother and Choso feels like his life has flashed before his eyes. "Could've sworn you were reading an article that was like," and he, unfortunately, reads the title out loud. "85 First Date Ideas You’ll Actually Find Fun."

He snatches the laptop away from his brother before he could start listing all 85 and, this time, clenches it to his sides. Almost too embarrassed to admit, Choso mumbles out, "It's for research..."

"He's got a date tomorrow," Sukuna pipes in lazily from the bedroom entrance, frame leading against the doorway. "Saw him looking at WikiHow for kissing tips the other—"

"Sukuna," Choso slides further down in his seat. "You said you wouldn't bring it up."

The older male looks up briefly from his phone and scoffs. "Yeah, I said I wasn't gonna talk about it with you. I'm talking to Yuuji right now."

Choso should've known better to expect Sukuna of all people to keep a promise.

He rubs the bridge of his nose in exasperation and sighs heavily. "Okay, yeah, I have a date and I don't know what to do." Choso confesses.

The fact that it's actually happening is a miracle to him. Just last week, he'd finally gathered the courage and asked you out after dancing around the topic for months. And when you agreed, he felt like doing a somersault, but maybe that would've been too much. He's going on a date with you. You and him. Dating? Yeah, dating.

As much as he's excited for it, Choso can't help but to feel anxious and jittery because, well, he's never been on a date. Hence, if anyone would to compare his search history to that of a teenage boy, no one would be able tell the difference.

The number one date idea that's listed on that ridiculous article is rock climbing. Freaking rock climbing on a first date? Is that what people do nowadays?

Another 'aww' comes from Yuuji. "You guys do look cute together!" He gushes. "Have you decided where you're going to take them?"

Choso sighs again and places his laptop back on the desk, and away from the spilled tea, he's still gotta worry about his outfit situation later. "I haven't."

Yuuji throws out a long 'dude' while Sukuna laughs at his dismay.

"I know, I know," Choso opens his laptop again and stares at the many tabs he has opened.

So much research and yet he's feeling nothing but overwhelmed and underprepared. What if you actually find him creepy and weird? Did you only agree because you felt pity for him? Ugh, the last thing he would want is to make you feel uncomfortable.

"Hey," Sukuna appears by his side and throws a firm hand on his shoulder. "Stop bitchin' around and let me help."

"Help?" Yuuji takes the words out of Choso's mouth as they both stared at Sukuna with wide eyes. Normally, 'help' isn't in his vocabulary, at least when it comes to him offering it.

Sukuna cocks a brow. "Don't want it? Fine. Don't come crawling to me when it doesn't work out."

Choso weighs his options. He'll either spend the rest of his afternoon reading up dozens of lamely curated articles written by self proclaimed 'internet love doctors' or he could listen to his older half brother that has quite the reputation of breaking people's hearts. The answer is obvious, but maybe Choso could actually hear out some real life advice rather than listening to random strangers online.

He groans inwardly and accepts Sukuna's offer.

In the end, Choso ends up taking you to an amusement park. While rock climbing would've been 'too' active for a first date, Sukuna proposed an amusement park because it'll offer tons of ride options, the environment will keep everyone busy so there wouldn't be a lull moment, and it'll be great for, um, physical intimacy. Whatever he meant by that. Choso was too afraid to ask for clarification.

"You guys can be like the shitty Disney couples waiting in line," Sukuna commented.

"Yeah, yeah," Yuuji agreed. "You can say 'I'll never leave you, my love. It's us against the world.'"

Is that what they take him as? Choso doesn't know if that was meant to be a compliment or an insult. But, the fact that both of them were nodding at him approvingly before he left, he can only assume they have faith and confidence ... so that's something?

He arrives at the meeting spot maybe thirty minutes early and was about to text you when he sees you there already waiting, sitting on one of the benches and watching something on your phone. Oh no.

"Oh, hey!" You call out to him when you peer up.

"Hey," Choso lamely waves as he walks over. "How long have you been waiting? Did... Did I get the time wrong?"

"What? No, no!" You shake your head, aggressively. "I just... wanted to come a bit early, too. Don't sweat it, I literally got here five minutes ago!"

"Okay..." Still, he can’t help but feel a little guilty. And here he was trying to make a good impression by showing up early.

"Let’s go?" You smile at him and god, did that always take his breath away.

He texts the family group chat as soon as you both board the bus.

[Yuuji's Favorite Brother] I feel like my heart is about to burst.

[SUCKuna] Lol.

[YUU YUU] You got this!! 💪🏻💪🏻

"What 'cha looking at over there?" Your voice rings into his ear and he almost jumps out of his seat, nearly dropping the phone. "Woah, careful."

"Just checking the weather," Choso immediately regrets his answer and cringes.

You don't push the subject further and instead refocus your attention when the park comes into view. "Looks like they added new rides, Cho. Where do you wanna head first?"

"Actually, I was thinking maybe the food court? You haven't eaten yet, right?"

You laugh. "If I barf later then it's not my fault."

"Haha, yeah." His phone buzzes with a notification. A message from Sukuna this time.

[SUCKuna] Dead yet?

[Yuuji's Favorite Brother] Surprisingly alive.

[SUCKuna] 👍🏻

It takes a while to get to the food court, and Choso believes that the crowd has grown bigger as the two of you started to bump into one another frequently. He considers taking your hand into his but hesitates. Is that too much to ask? Do you mind? And suddenly, he forgets everything that he's read in the last week.

Choso decides to text Sukuna for his thoughts.

[Yuuji's Favorite Brother] When should I hold their hand? Is there a waiting period? Should I ask?

[SUCKuna] Just do it.

[Yuuji's Favorite Brother] Are you sure???

[SUCKuna] Lmao yeah.

Well, that's not helpful at all.

Choso eventually chickens out and walks behind you, making sure that no one bumps into you, and tries his best to listen while you list down all the rides you want to go on, the scamming logistics of cursed carnival games, and the insane prices for fair food. Most of your ranting flies out of his ear because he can't stop thinking about holding your hands. The only piece of information he remembers hearing is something about the prices of food here are the same as the ones in a movie theater.

Still, that didn't stop you from grabbing yourself a corn dog, some french fries, and a lemonade. You two manage to find an open table outside right by the ferris wheel.

"Okay, I take it back," You say after biting into your food. "These are pretty good."

[Yuuji's Favorite Brother] How hard is it to make corndogs?

[SUCKuna] Do I fucking look like a Google search engine?

[Yuuji's Favorite Brother] Sorry.

"Still checking the weather?" You pipe up from beside him, and Choso exists out the messaging app before you could see what he was doing.

"Um, yeah, I guess."

"Hm," you hum in thought for a moment before continuing. "Where do you wanna go after this?"

"Anywhere you want," Choso admits.

He hasn't been back to an amusement park in ages. The last time that he was here he vaguely recalls going on a rollercoaster ride with Yuuji, and that was after he downed a whole burger meal. Anyone could've imagined that it ended rather horribly. But Choso didn't care if you were going to throw up on him, though, he's praying that you wouldn't. He just wants you to enjoy the day, enjoy spending time together, and he's fine with you taking the lead.

Your eyes light up as you stare at the ride behind. "Then..."

Choso smiles. "Yeah?"

"Can we go on the ferris wheel?" You finish.

"Anything for you."

Turns out that Sukuna might be a hidden romantic. He wasn't wrong to suggest an amusement park as a first date and Choso can see why both of his brothers would see him as the 'Disney Couple' type. Although the ferris wheel was your idea, he can't help but to think that, if he had the confidence, he would probably be cuddling and sneaking kisses with you right now. Hell, if it weren't for the fact that he's currently suspended 100 feet in the air, he'd probably ask to hold your hands. Maybe.

"You have to put some moves on them," he remembers Sukuna say to him before he left the house.

And exactly how is he supposed to do that? He gets his phone out to text him, to ask for some more advice when—

"Hey, Choso..." Your voice rings by his ears again. You sound unsure. This catches his attention.

"Is there something wrong?" Did he do something wrong? Why do you look upset?

"Are you… having fun?"

"Huh?" The question catches him off guard. Did you think he wasn’t having fun? "Of course I am."

You take a deep breath and begin toying with the hem of your shirt. "It's just... you've been on your phone all evening. I'm sorry if this is boring—that I'm boring—"

"W-What?" Choso panics. "You’re not, I'm—"

He doesn’t notice sending the message to Sukuna, but he does in the end.

[Yuuji's Favorite Brother] Sukuna, how do you kiss someone again?

You excuse yourself before Choso can explain further. You reach to grab your phone, saying something about your parents or friends sending something important. Then Choso watches as your eyes stretch wide like flying saucers.

"Oh."

"W-What happened?" Did he do something again to make you uncomfortable? God, this has to be one of the worst dates you've been on.

"I—um," Choso feels all the color drain from his face when you flip your screen around. He accidentally sent that text to you out of all people. "Uh, last time I checked, my name isn't Sukuna."

Oh god.

This is it. This is how he dies.

"Y-You're not wrong..." How is he going to explain that?

You snort a tiny laugh. "So… you’ve been texting Sukuna this whole time?"

"...Yes?" Choso slumps his shoulders and brings a hand up to cover his burning face. "I-I'm sorry, I was just really nervous and I wanted to make sure that I wasn't messing things up. I really like you and didn't mean to make you feel—"

"Choso." You laugh quietly, and he thanks god because it seems like all of the misery that was on his face earlier had disappeared. "It’s fine, it’s okay!"

"But I—" Choso bites his lip. "I'm sorry again that I made you feel like that. I'm an awful date."

"You’re not." You try reassuring him. Then, a brief pause. "Well, maybe a little bit." You motion with your fingers.

He can't argue with that.

"Um, I guess—" You smile sheepishly at him before placing your hand on top of his, squeezing gently. "I guess you have to make up to me!"

Choso feels a blush creeping up on his cheeks again.

"You’re not the only one who’s nervous, you know. I’ve texting Nobara and Megumi nonstop over the past few days about what I should wear and—god, you don't even know how long I spent in front of the mirror this morning—"

"Me too!" Choso catches himself when he sees you flinch. "I mean—I’ve been… I’ve been reading up on what to do on a date and what not to do on a date and where to go on a date and...? I’m such an idiot." He looks down at both of your hands, which were still linked together. The sun is just about to set, the ferris wheel cart is swaying gently in the wind, and the lights around the park are slowly turning on.

"Don’t apologize." You chuckle softly. "I'm just glad to know I wasn’t boring you."

"You weren’t! I—I really enjoyed today." He really did, despite feeling like his body was going to combust at any given time. "Please, let me make it up to you."

You smile again, leaning against him. "Sure thing."

"So, uh… you want get out of here?"

"Mhm." You grin and Choso thinks about what he did right to be able to see that smile directed at him. "Oh, and Cho?"

"Yeah?" You're still holding hands by the time the ride comes back down to the ground level. "What is it?"

"I really like you, too."

Choso is pretty sure his body might explode soon, but he'll have to be sure to send Sukuna his thanks before then.

#jjk choso #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso fluff #choso kamo fluff #choso x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader #choso x you

[toothfa-1-ry]

DOYOUWANTTOGOTOTHEBALLWITHME? draco malfoy

In which,

Draco just can't seem to ask you to be his date for the Yule ball

GENRE: fluff

PAIRING: 4th yr Draco x 4th year reader

FEAT: lee do hyun as Terry Booth!!

WARNING: none :>

A/N: A continuation of my Draco Malfoy is a loser agenda!! Also did I mention that Draco is a very DRAMATIC loser??

"uhm hi y/n" Draco said nervously as he turned to look at Pansy and Blaise who gave him a reassuring nod and a thumbs up

"ooh hi Draco"

"uhm so..y/n" Draco nervously chuckled as he played his his hand cuffs "uh..y/n haha.."

"Draco-" Pansy hissed "you already said her name, there's no need to repeat it again"

"right- sorry. Uhm so y/n!"

"oh god he's a lost cause" Blaise muttered to Pansy who just shook her head.

"I can hear you, just in case you didn't know" Draco angrily muttered towards them, shooting them both a dirty look

"uhm are you talking to y/n or are you talking to us?" Blaise questioned, his eyebrows raised

"oh bloody hell" Draco sweared "uhm anyway y/n uh so like I'm pretty sure you heard the announcement today- during breakfast because like you have ears uh I have ears too! So I heard the announcement too- ha" Draco awkwardly continued.

"ofcourse she has ears dunderhead and ofcourse she heard it! Everyone heard the announcement" piped Lorenzo from a corner "just try to charm her won't you?"

Theodore shook his head in amusement as he watched his best mate Draco act like a complete fool. Actually he always acted like a fool except most of the time he didn't make it this obvious.

"right- right my bad my bad" Draco shook his head "so! Y/n!"

"yes Draco? What is the matter?"

"I thought you could do the er honour of er taking me to the Yule ball y'know" Draco smirked as he attempted to charm you like Lorenzo said

"I mean cause like I could go with anyone but I thought that I'd give you the first chance of going with me!" Draco quickly rambled and then flicked his hair "so what do you say?"

Theodore and Lorenzo tried holding in their laughter as Pansy groaned and Blaise muttered curses under his breath.

"oh bloody hell" Matteo mumbled

"mate that was horrible and I'm not even y/n! I'm just pretending to be her!" Matteo exclaimed as he took of the wig he was wearing

"if your gonna be this bad with me pretending to be y/n, how are you actually gonna face her!?" Matteo shook his head and turned to Pansy "he's totally lost!"

"it wasnt that bad was it?" Draco cringed at himself.

Oh he knew how bad it was

"it was HORRIBLE" all his friends shouted at him, especially Matteo who was honestly tired of wearing the wig and pretending to be you for the 9th time now.

"c'mon mate! This is the 9th time I'm pretending to be y/n. Just ask her out NORMALLY PLEASE" Matteo shouted

"oh shut up okay! I'm trying" Draco hissed his face turning pink

"well try harder" Theodore said from a corner "if you don't ask her out soon, someone else will"

"what?" Draco whisper shouted "you mean- there's a chance that she'll go to the Yule ball with someone else whose not me?"

Theodore rolled his eyes at his blonde friend, "incase you haven't noticed, many guys in Hogwarts likes her. And now you have double the competition with Durmstang and Beuxbaton"

Draco went pink in the face again "oh fuck"

"yup!" Lorenzo patted his cousin in the shoulder "so you better hurry up cuz!" He cheerily said as if Draco wasn't going through a mini panick attack

"ugh whatever!" Pansy groaned "you! Get your act together" she pointed at Draco "we're gonna practice this one more time! Matteo wear the wig"

Matteo grumbled as he begrudgingly wore the wig " on merlins beard why do I have to pretend to be y/n"

"okay! In 3-2-1" Pansy hollered, completely ignoring Matteo "action!"

"y/n hi! Uh I have to talk to you! Uh about uh something" Draco awkwardly grinned

"ooh yes Draco! What is it?" Matteo said in a high pitched voice that sounded nothing like you.

"uhm so-" Draco stammered

"yes Draco? Hehe" Matteo let out a giggle and twirled a strand of the wig

"uhm!..I have a collection of chocolate frog cards!" Draco squeaked, the word Yule ball being unable to form in his mouth

He heard all his friends groan and he became redder then a Weasley

"oh god not again..that's it. I'm going" Matteo threw the wig on the ground shaking his head "all the best" he patted Draco and walked away

"oh c'mon- wait one last time let me try one last time!" Draco whined as he watched all of his friends walk out of the dorm "oh wait- guys wait!"

-

"you can do this. I believe in you" Lorenzo gave his cousin a thumbs up

"well I don't" Matteo snorted which caused Draco to give him a dirty look "what? I'm being honest"

"she's right over there. Just go to her, say hi, maybe compliment her and then ask her out" the caramel haired boy ignored Matteo and gave his poor shaking cousin some tips

"what? What kind of compliments to I give her?" Draco whispered back in a sort of panick

"geez. Just tell her that she looks pretty today, and that you'd be honoured if she would go to the ball with you" Theodore cut in and shrugs "works like a charm"

"okay.. alright I got this" Draco mumbled

"yea you got it..now go" Pansy ushered the boy "c'mon now go ahead" she pointed towards the courtyard where you were.

Draco walked up towards you and a bunch of third years who were talking to you. Suddenly he felt very intimidated by those small scrawny third years and immediately turned away and walked back to his friends

"I can't do this! You lot are right, maybe I am hopeless" Draco sulked as his friends let out another sigh

"did he just call himself hopeless?" Matteo peered at the sulking boy "oh dear, y/n really did a number on him huh?"

"not helping Matteo" Pansy said sternly, hitting Matteo in the arm.

"listen, your Draco Malfoy and your going to go and ask y/n the girl who've been crushing on since forever to go to the ball with you" Blaise said giving Draco a light shake

"and if she says yes all is good and if she doesn't, well- it's kind of embarassing but it's gonna be alright" Pansy adds

"yea so go and ask her out now before she goes to the ball with Terry Booth over there huh?" Theodore nudges Draco towards your direction as the smiling ravenclaw keeper approaches you

"oh bloody hell- no way in my watch is y/n going to go out with that crow" Draco fumed under his breath as he immediately rushed towards you

"yea go get'em tiger!" Draco could hear Matteo whooping and the constant shouting from his friends, all hyping him up but that could hardly matter right now

Dracos hands were going all clamy and he could feel his heart racing. He wanted to run away from you but he wasn't going to let Terry Booth ask you out right infront of him!

"y/n" Terry approached you with a smile

"Terry" you greeted the Korean boy with a grin "anything's the matter?"

"oh yea uh I wanted to ask you if-" the keeper then abruptly stopped mid sentence as another person had joined their conversation

"y/n! Y/n!" A frantic Draco appeared, his eyes widened and his hair a mess

"Draco? Are you alright?" You ask the Slytherin boy who seemed to be in a bit of a mix

"mhm m'fine- I have to talk to you" Draco grabbed your hand which took you by surprise

You look at a awkward Terry and a frantic Draco, unsure of what to make up with this situation

"oi Booth can you bigger off for a second?" Draco coldly dismissed Terry who simply raise a eyebrow before shaking his head

"er- alright, I'll talk to you later y/n" Terry mumbled before walking away

"Draco! What was that. You can't just tell people to bugger off" you begin scolding Draco, unaware that his hands were still holding yours

"y/n I have to tell you something" the boy gulped, he could feel the way your hands felt against his and the close proximity the both of you were in. His heart racing even faster

"what is it?" You ask him, your brows creased up in slight worry. The blonde Slytherin boy who was always so put together, confident and full of himself was now nervous and quite frankly not behaving like his usual self

"Draco are you sick?" You immediately raise your free hand to his head and Draco swears that his temperature rises by a hundred degrees probably.

"uhm y/n" the boy begins, he could feel his sweat dripping and his mouth going dry

"oh dear Merlin Draco your turning redder than a tomato! Let's go to madam Pomfrey" you usher him, pulling him into the hallway "c'mon let's go-"

"wait y/n listen- I have to tell you something first"

You look at Draco in confusion. What did he have to tell you so much that he was acting quite frankly out of his personality

"er- okay..can you tell me when we're in the infirmary?"

"no! I have to tell you now" Draco pressed on. He had to ask you right now when he was full of adrenaline or else he won't be able to ask you later

"oh okay, okay" you say a little taken back "what is it?"

Draco bites his lower lip and mumbles something

"what Draco? I didn't quite catch you"

"uhm...I think uh- I think you look very nice today!" Draco suddenly exclaimed

"o-oh!" That might have taken you back by surprise even more, a slight blush forms in your face "thanks..uhm"

"actually I think you look nice everyday" Draco continues his eyes looking down, his grip on your hand tightening.

You look down and realise that the both of you were holding hands and you feel your face getting hot

"that's really sweet of you to say Dray" you said before you could stop yourself

Draco looks up at you, his eyes widened at the sudden nickname you called him

"Dray?"

You eyes widen and you the undying urge to slap yourself across the face as you see the way Draco's eyes twinkle with mischief.

"did you just give me a nickname? Dray?" Draco grins smugly, completely forgetting the real reason why he was with you

"oh shut up" you huff "I'm never gonna say that again"

"oh no please do say it again" Draco teased you, watching your face get red

"r-right, what did you have to tell me Draco? Do say it fast I don't have all day" you quickly try to change the subject causing Draco to remember the real reason why he was talking to you

"er-" Draco immediately felt all his confidence and smugness fading away

"oh dear Draco your getting red all again" you worriedly said, peering into his face "are you sure you don't need to-"

"not Draco" Draco mumbled

"what?"

"not Draco, don't call me Draco" Draco mumbled a bit louder

"well, what do you want me to call you then-"

"Dray, you should call me Dray" he says softly

Your eyes widen "Dray... I don't understand what-"

"doyouwanttogototheballwithme?" Draco squeaked

"what?"

Draco cleared his throat and looked around, he beckoned you to come closer to him and leaned towards you

"do you want to maybe perhaps go to the ball with..me?" He whispered into your ears filling your stomach with butterflies

"oh- Draco I-" you stammer, unable to form sentences "uhm I would really actually like that" you whisper back in surprise

"really?" Draco asked you back, his voice in equal surprise

You give a shy nodd

"really?!" Draco asked again looking at you eyes widened "I'm not going to stop saying really unless you give me a proper answer l/n"

Your roll your eyes "yes really...Dray I would love to go to the ball with you"

"oh my god I think I'm gonna pass out" Draco said feeling faint

"I think that's a little but of a exaggeration- oh my god Draco!" You shout out, trying to catch the boy before he fell on the ground

"oh dear- he actually passed out" you grimace slightly as you make him lie down in one of the stools in the courtyard after dragging him all the way from the hallway

You softly brush his blonde hair away from his pink face

"how quite adorable" you laugh to yourself

-

"Hey Berkshire!" Terry greeted Lorenzo who along with all his friends were trying to see what Draco and y/n were doing just as they got dragged to the hallway

"ugh we cant see them anymore!" Pansy whined as she stretched her neck, only to get a glimpse of blonde hair

"uhm s'everything alright?" Terry asked

"yea everythings fine" Lorenzo smiled at the tall boy "what's up?"

"oh uh- I did what you told me too" Terry grinned as all of Lorenzo's friends looked at him with a confused face

Lorenzo laughed "great chap you are my friend" giving him a pat in the back

"I'm guessing you told me to pretend like I'm asking y/n to the ball just so that Malfoy would make a move first?" Terry winced as he asked Lorenzo who just seemed to grin even brighter

"my god- you do catch on quick don't you?"

Terry let out a laugh and blushed at the sudden compliment. He was never really good with compliments

"you did what?" Matteo asked eyes widened

"sneaky snake" Pansy squinted her eyes at him and grinned 'your a genius!"

Lorenzo simply shrugged

"so whatdya think? He asked her out yet?" Terry peered out from where Pansy was standing

"maybe if Draco finally got the guts" Pansy snorted

"oh I think he did" Blaise said hesitantly

"what?" Pansy and Matteo asked eagerly

"it appears that our little prince has..." Theodore paused not sure whether he was supposed to laugh or be embarrassed

"he has what?" Pansy questioned

"oh hell!" Matteo shouted with laughter "the bloody wanker has fainted!" Matteo exclaimed with glee all across his face

Pansy covered her face with embarrassment as the boys roared with laughter. Only Terry wasn't the one laughing along.

"oh dear" Terry shook his head sadly "now how would the poor boy be when he dances with her?"

#hogwarts #hogwarts imagine #hogwarts fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #hogwarts x reader #slytherin x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin #slytherin boys x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy fic #harry potter fluff

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

First off I LOVE your writing, I’m so happy you’re taking requests again so, may I please request something with Ghost? Like the reader is part of the 141 and Ghost has a soft spot for her and is very protective of her and both having feelings for each other but not saying anything bc both think the other one deserves better or just something like that🥹😮‍💨💖🙏🏻 feel free to keep practicing smut for this one!👀✨

You’re awesome 🥰💞

Blood Was Its Avatar

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Getting close to you was never his plan, but when he can't stop his self-protective instincts from pushing you away, will he be able to repair your strange friendship? Or will his body have to speak for him? (18+)

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, wounds, stitches, death, smut, p in v, throat f-ing, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, implied pain kink, hair pulling, hate sex? but not really?, semi-clothed sex, vulgar language, fluff at the end, etc. just pure filth.

A/N: This is sub-par because I was up until 4 in the morning today and didn't have the energy to edit in-depth lmfao, but enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

All of Ghost’s problems started and ended with you. He was impressed with that fact, actually. 

They call you ‘Masque’ on account of the mission from years back, ‘07 Ghost recalls easily. When you’d been pinned down and surrounded, the dead bodies of your unit all around your feet. You’d chosen to act while the others had been yelling orders over the radio—rooting around the pooling blood on the ground and slathering your face with it; your body. 

You pretended to be dead. 

Quick thinking, Ghost had told you with a glint in his eye when you’d gotten back, those whites of your eyes ten times more noticeable. Like the moon hanging around a crimson-drowned sky. 

You’d cursed him out and said of course it was, quoting some poem from Edgar Allen Poe as a joke.

“Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood.” The Masque of the Red Death. Your claim to survival apparently, as you had just read it a day before.

Ghost said you were bloody fucking crazy and found his eyes darkly watching the way you smirked at him. How the dried blood on your lips would splinter at your loud chuckle as you both entered the C17.

As he knew—all of his problems started and ended with you. Today was no different.

“Damn! Lookin’ good today Ghost, are those new gloves I spy?” You were always so…bubbly. 

“Masque,” the masked-man greats blandly, not even sparing you a look as you enter the meeting room. The screen on the far wall was hooked up to Price’s computer—broadcasting its news out into the dim lighting with images of mayhem and a loop of a video containing the bombing of an embassy building in the Netherlands. 

Profile pictures stain the screen of wanted subjects; captured or killed in the crossfire made no difference here, anyone could see it. 

You drop down into the seat beside his own with a huff, body shed of your usual black gear, and wearing casual fatigues instead—your tags jump on your chest and Ghost sees them glint in the light.

Your face shifts into a smile, prodding with a bump of your elbow. The Lieutenant turns and glares dryly while you carry on, “I asked if you got new gloves; they’re nice.” 

“Needed ‘em.” Ghost drawls, seeing no way out of this as he glances around at the multitude of other free seats. No one else was here yet, and Price had needed to step out for a moment to grab another report from his office one floor up. 

A small grunt echoes from his throat before his eyes dart back to yours. Shifting in his seat, his lax posture tenses before loosening. 

Raising a brow at Ghost, you stifle a laugh.

“That’s it?” He blinks at you slowly, those bright blues trapping you as they shine out from his skeletal visage; his great body hidden under layers of Kevlar and thick canvas cloth. Like some weird and deadly present. You tease him, “No attempt at a conversation, Ghosty? That hurts.”

You sarcastically put a hand to your chest. 

“Then suffer.” Ghost states like he’s reading the newspaper, stretching out one of his wrists by rolling it until it cracks the joints. Where was everyone else? “I’m not fuckin’ talking about bloody gloves, Masque.”

“It’s called a conversation starter!” Under the mask, he raises a dull eyebrow. You glower at him, but the smirk on your lips shows how much you enjoy this.  

“For who? Could have jus’ stayed quiet, then.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes and indulge him—pointedly going silent. Almost immediately an awkward nothingness covers the room with its metaphorical blanket and Ghost’s muscles slowly go stiff as he crosses his arms slowly over his chest. You bite your lip and stamp down a snort. 

A minute spreads like molasses. Two. Three. Five.

“Alright,” Ghost growls, breaking as you pick at your cuticles, humming horribly off-tune to a point where the Lieutenant’s ears were ringing and annoyance faired. “Fucking hell stop it, just say something already to shut up that noise. Sounds like my damn brakes squealin’.” 

You stop and laugh loudly, elbowing him again as he jerks away with a low grunt. Blue flashes, and his heart pounds.

“Jeez, Lieutenant, is my humming that bad for you?” The air rolls with tension.

“More effective than torture.” Ghost utters, his Manchester drawl violent and thick as it coats your ears. You take no offense—you’d been doing it on purpose, anyways; always the one to exploit cracks in the concrete. You'd found out a lot through your studies of the man beside you. Mostly, all of the small tics and unique qualities that made Ghost such a strange character. 

On the battlefield, the large man was resilient and patient. He could wait in one spot for days if he had to, sitting for a perfect shot. Nothing could break the line of purpose and authority he had over the units he was placed in or his fighting spirit. Gunbattles, torture, you name it he’d survived it. 

But he disliked anything below scalding hot tea, detested his objects and packs being messed with…and clenched his hidden jaw at small, repetitive, noises.

Low, horrible, humming, tapping fingers, tongues clicking over and over. You had no idea why, but the sight of making this experienced and handsome man glare at you with annoyance made your face heat up. 

You chuckle in the meeting room, eyes crinkling up at him before you reach for one of the pens and notepads on the table. Clicking the bottom, you shrug and start to scribble nothing into the side margins as blue ink bleeds like foreign blood. 

“What’s Price got for us today, then?” Your voice echoes, “We shipping out with the others or going Black again?” 

The Captain usually paired the two of you up for Black Ops for a reason—Ghost the strategic mastermind to your reckless bloodlust. Push and pull. 

Missions were rarely a failure. 

Ghost sighs, finally getting the sensation of control back into him. “Black,” he begins, “least for us. Old Man’s sending Garrick and Johnny out in hopes of drawin’ a few bastards out first. Netherlands. We slip in the back—off the books, ‘course.” 

He watches you from the side of his eye, gaze following your pen as you sketch out a small stick figure with a skull for a face. Ghost stifles a huff as he scratches at the side of his face.

“Well, of course,” you slyly tease, glancing at him before looking back to your pad. “Are we getting any soldiers?” 

“None. Just us.” 

“Ooo,” Ghost watches your lips curl and feels his body slowly still. “Sounds like fun.”

“It sounds like I’m going to have to babysit again,” you laugh again and dark blue seems to spark with some strange emotion. Ghost clears his throat and takes down a breath.

“Oh, please,” you chuckle, “I’ve saved your hide a few times before, Ghosty, be nice to me.”

“Nice isn’t in the job description, Masque.” 

“Well, it isn’t for you, grumpy. I think Johnny and Gaz are lovely.” Your nose tilts up teasingly as Ghost grumbles like a cat. “But that’s alright, I like you anyways.” Winking, you go back to your pointless scribbling as footsteps echo from the hallway. 

Ghost stares, his hands on the armrests slowly clenching into fists as he studies your expression. His eyes slid over scars and blemishes he’d already looked at a million times over, seeing in his mind’s eye the stains of blood and that every present smile—the burn of your presence beside him like a brand in his stomach. You never seemed to let him get too far away from you on Ops, but it wasn’t some form of obsession. It was worry; he’d seen it. 

You didn’t like it when you couldn’t see his back ahead of yours. Ghost guessed it had to do with your lost unit. He never pressed it. 

In fact, he’d noticed himself not eager to see you off himself. Had spent many a night in the onsite gym after missions because of it, where he’d given you the cold shoulder after. He didn’t like that feeling. That hesitation. 

Ghost knew only to trust people as much as he had to…so why did he like when you said nice things to him? His jaw clenches, shoulders rolling to dispel tension as he rips his eyes away from your body as if you were fire incarnate. Your head perks up at the sound of talking voices getting closer to the meeting room. 

Soap and Gaz enter a few moments later and Price shuffles in behind them. You smile warmly and greet them, shifting the notepad closer to yourself nonchalantly. 

Ghost grunts and stays stationary, straightening up when he realizes he's slightly leaned toward you during your conversation. His new gloves pull taunt over his knuckles and he suddenly wants to rip them off. 

—

You begin to wonder when you’ll be free from blood coating your fingers but know deep down you never will be. At least, not if this was how you’d be getting covered in it.

Sitting inside the hotel bedroom, you slowly extract a blood-coated bullet from Ghost's large thigh, grimacing when he grunts from over you. You’re in between his legs, kneeling, as the metal finally breaks free from the skin barrier—the entry wound is small but nonetheless dangerous. His pants were cut from thigh to knee, a long spit that showed pale, scarred skin. 

Keeping a tight grip on the forceps, you hum under your breath in satisfaction. 

“No bullet fragments—lucky you.” 

Ghost forces out, “Yeah, feelin’ proper lucky.” You chuckle, moving back and dropping the bullet to a food plate you’d put on the floor. Shuffling, you take up the rag placed over your upper arm and bring it back up. Patting the gushing wound, you frown and think back on the events that got you here as the Lieutenant shifts and bites his tongue. 

The intensity in his blue eyes burns into you, lungs deeply inhaling with a silent breath. Your fingers tingle, but you diligently press the fabric to the wound and try to ignore the heat from Ghost’s flesh or how his legs flinch with every trail of your nails. His muscles are pure iron around you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the position you’re in. 

Swallowing stiffly, you sigh and notice him slightly shiver when your breath caresses his upper leg. You stop immediately, lips going tight.

It had been fifteen minutes earlier when Soap and Gaz had set up in a far more open and less secluded hotel three blocks away—directly across from the base location for your gaggle of targets. As planned, you and Ghost would be off the books and go in when they were too distracted by the Sergeants’ in plain sight. 

Fire was supposed to be the cover story. Go in, take care of business, and set the place alight after the area was clear of civilians. But no one was counting on the targets being surrounded by three more friends. 

Of course, guns lead to bullets and bullets to flesh. You can still hear the ringing in your head when Ghost had jerked you to the slide and shoved you behind the far wall—skull snapping back to look in horror as his leg exploded with gore. 

Fucking bastard had been distracted by you and hadn’t had time to dodge. That wasn’t Ghost, but then again, Ghosty wasn’t quite the same, was he? Least, not to you.

“You’re a fool, you know that?” You huff, something swirling in your chest as your gloves peel the layer of cut pants farther down to see better. “You should have looked after yourself.”

“And what?” Ghost grumbles, letting you do what you wanted to him.  “Let you get fuckin’ shot, Masque—you have a bloody death wish?” His last word comes off with a growl as you press tighter into his thigh. 

His hand instantaneously snaps out to grasp the back of your hair tightly with an instinctual low groan. Naturally, a small whine exits your lips in retaliation.

You both freeze and the room jumps up to a hundred degrees; your lower body flips as your skin burns a million degrees. Fingers still, you feel your breath hitch when his calloused fingers scrape your scalp, your hair in his expansive palm. It was a pure reaction you knew, and when you’d asked him to let you help out with this problem you had thought this might happen—he’s a soldier after all, just like you.

But he hadn’t denied you. If anything, since six missions back, you were the only person who he wanted to work on him. He’d never said why. 

You look up at him from the side, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. Ghost’s heart skips beats before he clears his throat, snapping his hand back immediately and slamming it to the mattress. A second of strained silence settles where you both try to forget what the fuck just happened.

“Keep bloody going then,” He says, deep and grating to a point where you shove down a shiver. Your head feels light off of his scent, and you have to ask yourself why you’re feeling so feverish all of a sudden. 

You bite your lip and nod, hand moving away to grab at the sanitized needle and thread with your forceps—dropping the rag back onto your forearm to let it hang. For once in your life you’re left mute by his actions. 

Mute to the fact that you’d liked them. 

Your face burns like a hidden fire; epidermis alight with the strength to rival the flames the two of you had started fifteen minutes ago. Lungs stutter and hands inside the gloves go clammy. It’s only after you were halfway done with the stitches that you mutter words.

“Shouldn’t have taken that bullet, Ghost.” He had been stone still the entire time, hands clenched beside him and his thighs like rocks. Feet firmly planted. It was like he was barely breathing, too. 

Ghost blankly stares, staying quiet as you continue. 

“You were distracted. That never happens.” His form was almost entirely shadowing you; great spanning shoulders from above tight like a looming statue. You dig the needle deeper with a push of the forceps, threading through yielding skin with quick punctures. He doesn’t even flinch. 

Ever since ‘07, there was an obvious aversion to partners stemming from you. You distanced yourself from forming close bonds with those who you hadn’t already known. In many ways, Ghost and the others of One-Four-One were the closest you could get to people now.

Ghost, you admit, was far closer than all the others combined. 

But this sentiment was known—both the aversion and the care you held. The Lieutenant wasn’t good with words, but he knew how to read you better than anyone; the way you carried yourself. He knew you didn’t like it when he got hurt in front of you. 

Ghost had to ask why he even bothered to shove you out of the way, regardless. You would have been fine. So why had his eyes gone wide and his iris flared with a dead glow when he’d seen the gun swivel in your direction? The man grunts at a deep dig from your sutures but you continue to mutter to yourself as he glares at the far wall, venom-like. 

His sin was that he had grown to care about you. His burden and his curse. 

This couldn’t continue. 

Ghost looks down at you with a sheen of distanced nonchalant-ness and when you lent back with a sigh of your lips, his body moved. You blink in surprise as you feel his muscles bunch and before you know it you’re being grabbed harshly by the arms and lightly shoved to the side. 

“Ghost!” You snap, eyes narrowing dangerously as he stands to his feet—blood training down his thigh and kneecap before disappearing back under the stained cargos. “What the fuck?! I’m not done with it.” 

Attempting to stomp closer, he swivels his head to you as his spine goes formal. Your feet stall from under you and your veins pump faster, forceps and slick gloves freezing mid-air. 

You blink. He’d only ever looked at you like that when you’d first met. 

Blue is a silent sheen of ice and cold death; black sockets behind his mask are more like voids holding chilled sapphires. 

Why was he looking at you like he didn’t know you? Once more you say, confused and suddenly small, “Ghost?” 

“Enough.” His voice was monotone and barky, the tone final. Your fingers tense at the sound. What…what was this? “You need to get your head back on, Masque. I can’t watch over you like a bloody Private every time you get stiff-legged, copy?” 

Your jaw slackens. Inside, your heart smashes itself into your ribs in a violent pang. There’s a moment of complete and utter silence in which Ghost remains standing with concrete tied to his feet. He sees the flash of confused hurt in your eyes, the way your muscles jump for a moment.

A suffocating wave of regret strikes him, but he felt like he had to do this—keep up boundaries. Even if his throat was closing in an attempt to make him shut up. 

Ghost’s accent makes him sound harsh and unforgiving. “Price’ll need us back in fifteen. Get your shit together.” 

He bends down and snatches bandages with a quick hand, beelining to the bathroom and closing the door with a firm hand. Blankly, you stare at the barrier as the wall rattles; face burning—unable to speak beyond a small sound in the back of your mouth. 

The two of you stay separated for the remainder of the time, not speaking, and not moving from your respective areas. 

When Ghost finally leaves ten minutes after he’d pushed back the self-loathing and guilt, freshly bandaged, he finds your stuff already gone. He glances around the area slowly, taking in the wails of the fire trucks from blocks away and the neighboring rooms of the hotel as residents speak in mutters from behind walls. The air is cold and lifeless. 

He grabs his things in total silence, swallowing down saliva paired with long breaths. Ghost’s eyes remain tight. Body wound and coated in rigidity that could rival a rhino’s armored plates.

Mind whirling, but still ever mute, he leaves the hotel and heads to the coordinates Price had given the two of you alone. The absence of your warm body beside his was more jarring than anything he’d expected to experience.

Ghost didn’t want to admit how many times his eyes trailed to the empty concrete at his left.

—

When you lose something in someone, you tend to lose it hard. Thus still, that was the case here. Ghost and you always jabbed at each other—it was in your nature to do so—but this was different. The Lieutenant could be cold, but…never to the extent to shove you away from helping him with his wounds. 

Both of you always did that with the other, if that be physically or just being in the same room, while getting fixed up. 

If Ghost didn’t want you around for whatever rage-inducing reason, you weren't going to grovel or beg. The sudden switch-up still stabbed you in the heart though. 

On the second week, it got easier. 

You passed by Ghost without a single comment, shifting into the meeting room once more. He grunts as you shimmy through the door right before him, his feet halting before he runs into you. 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Masque, you lost your bloody eyes or something?” You don’t answer, blankly walking to the end of the table and taking the single chair with steady steps; sitting down and dragging a notepad to your general area. 

Blinking, you look up at the projection and skim the small details they give over. 

Ghost stares from the doorway, clenching his jaw. After a moment, he slips inside and slowly strides to the table. 

The days had been difficult for him, struggling to re-situate himself to his isolation after you’d been with him for years. Sure he had Johnny, Gaz, and Price, but you were…

Ghost places a veiny hand on the back of a chair about four down from yours, knuckles white as he’d shed his gloves not five minutes ago. His eyes stay stuck to the tabletop, hips shifting. He hadn’t thought it would be this hard to push you out. Not only physically but mentally. 

He found himself thinking of your face at night. Like a phantom, it would snap into his consciousness when the lights went out and the shadows got long. Your smile and your skin. How your fingers would gently press into his flesh when you were threading a needle through him—shivers of pleasure and pain intertwined by the scrape of your nails. 

Ghost’s hand tightens on the chair, and you spare him a tense glance as he seemingly fights within his mind. 

The Lieutenant wonders at your willpower and your drive. He spent the weeks hating that he had gotten what he wanted, and then he hated himself more because of that fact. It was good to keep you away from him. Not only for himself but for you. 

You both were becoming too….attached. Ghost would have none of it. It had bled over into him using his own body to protect yours that was just…was just…

“...Those new tags, then?” You look away from the screen and shift your gaze to him as his voice bounces. 

Around your neck, the new reflective metal of your new dog tags glint. Your heart skips when he speaks to you, but he still doesn’t look your way.

“That an apology?” Deadpanning, your unimpressed gaze glares into his face as his hand strangles the chair. 

The room returns to strained silence. You huff.

“Pretty shitty one there, asshat.” Ghost’s shoulders roll under his gear, a great sigh quickly exiting him. Everyone had noticed the tension over time—it was becoming a detriment to the team.

The Lieutenant’s blue eyes darken, and in his body, a great heat was beginning to burn. Just looking at you provoked lucid and vulgar thoughts, and as the dim light from the projector makes shadows on your face, Ghost traces them with a chained desire. Being away from you was a physical pain to him, but he also knew that being around you was worse. 

All of Ghost’s problems may have started and ended with you, but they also grew in his own head. They’d been there in the back corners ever since he’d given you your nickname; found out he liked the way your face was wet with spilled blood and sweat. Your body. Your hands on the hard flesh of his upper thigh…trailing up... 

Ghost’s pants get tight as he stares without saying anything. Watching you scribble on your notepad. Glaring. 

“Why can’t I get you out of my fucking head?” Your ears twitch at the low growl as if coming from a beast; seconds later, your brain catches up to process the words. Your pen stops its pointless scrawling just as your breath does. Ghost spits out, seeing your form straighten in the chair, “Every bloody thought, you’re right there!” 

His boots stomp to the floor, and before you know it a hand is trapping the back of your head, fingers carding through hair to angle your chin up. Your breath gasps out as your wide eyes lock on Ghost’s, his hold tight but not uncomfortable; as if he knows the perfect amount of pressure to make your blood surge and your pupils expand.

You stare into volatile blue with silver flecks, a skeletal mask stained from dirt and blood. Ghost’s thumb digs into your scalp. 

“Answer me, Masque,” he grunts, accent so thick you momentarily struggle to string the words together in your stupor. 

Ghost’s nose is close to yours; breathing in each other’s air as the temperature rises. Your throat bobs with a swallow. Below you, you feel your legs clench together as the Lieutenant's fingers lightly pull on your roots when you don’t respond—small sparks of electricity run down your spine that make it straighten instinctually. A soft purr flies from your lips; face on fire as your lashes flutter. Your hands clench at the dull pulse in your lower body.

The Brit’s dead eyes stare down at you, glinting; studying you deeply with growing satisfaction in his heart and tension in his boxers. 

You both glare half-lidded, panting, and flesh heated. 

“Is this your apology?” He tightens his hand and you bite your lip, small whine meeting his ears as he represses a groan at the sound. Your voice was breathy but smug. 

“You fucking wanted this, you naughty little beast,” Ghost growls, moving even closer to tower over you. “You’re playin’ me.” You mold into him as you still sit in your chair, your chin set onto his upper abdomen as the midsection of your breasts presses into his crotch; brushing against his hardened bulge firmly. 

You shiver at the feeling, your core leaking out slippery fluids to stain through your pants one second at a time. Every twitch of his fingers leaves you wanting to arch into him. Feel him.

Ghost feels your hands go to wrap his open thighs, nails digging into the back of his pants as his mouth opens under the mask to force out air. 

“You liked me in between your legs, didn’t you?” Your tiny, teasing, voice serenades him as he quickly begins to lose control of his composure. 

“Shut it,” Ghost grunts, mind yelling at him to move away, “Shut your damn mouth.” 

Those pupils were so wide his eyes were almost entirely black, feral chest moving quickly. 

“I already know why you snapped at me…” One of your hands travels back to the Lieutenant’s front, skin tingling at the scratch of a belt and the rough fabric of his cargos. You leave it over his crotch and add a tight amount of pressure; mouth lightly opening at the weight and size of him as Ghost grunts deeply, thighs jerking forward. 

Blinking at his glassy eyes you breathe out into thick air and the veiled threat of something more. His hand in your hair is so tight that you feel your pulse under the tendrils—you enjoy every second of this cat-and-mouse game. 

After all, no one knew who the mouse was yet.

You rub your hand up and down and watch Ghost’s clothed dick, feeling his muscles straining to keep himself in control. He lets you continue as he watches with a clenched jaw, his pants getting gradually wet with precum; hips twitching. 

“...You can’t get enough of me touching you, can you?” Your statement ignites something immediately, and you’re being grabbed by your shoulders and forced to your feet. 

Staring wildly, you cringe at the soaking patch under your clothes but let Ghost place your backside on the table. He presses into your hips to keep you there—legs opened and feet planted to the floor below on their tip-toes.

The man breathes like a lion, nose in front of yours. You slightly smirk at the far-off haze in his eyes, lust and pleasure blending and bleeding into the almost bruising hold he uses to press you down.

He watches you for a minute or two—taking in your scent and the rabid instinct that infects the both of you now that everything was on the table. 

You knew you were right; he knew you were right. Licking your lips you look down and stare at his blatant hard-on hungrily. Your brow raises slowly.

“You going to let me take care of that, Ghosty?” He’s up and locking the door after he slims it shut.

“This is it,” Ghost grunts, “one time, Masque. That’s fucking it, you hear?” 

“Awe,” You cue, swishing your legs as he stomps back over, hand grasping his belt and whipping it off with a flex of his forearm. Your core tightens, hips trying to press back into the table. “That's so cute. You think once is enough.” 

A hand captures your jaw, “I said,” he breathes, the other hand going to shift up the bottom of his mask up to his nose. You gasp at the sight of blond stubble and milky scars. A strong jaw wound like a spring. Ghost’s musk invades your nose and you feel your palms so clammy. “...Shut it.”

Hard lips slam into yours.

Like some game between the two of you, your mouths fight one another with aggressive grunts stuck in your throats, sharp inhales of air between partings. Ghost’s lips mold and conform to yours, clinging around the supple flesh—there’s a deep-rooted intensity, a hunger, and a desire mixed with sweet stubbornness. The tang of metal and old canvas opens to you just as your mouth does when his teeth bite down at your skin.

Quickly sucking down breaths, you feel his tongue push past layers and slip into your awaiting clutch; Ghost groans lowly and explores as his hands bare down into your hips, one making its way to grip at your hair again. Your own dig into his waist as he leans over you. 

He latches onto your hair and peels you back from him, tongue sliding out of your mouth as he moves to nip at your chin—angling your head whichever way he wants to. Your skin burns as the man bites down at your neck, hot saliva stuck to your lips as your chest pants fast with a low whine at the mixture of pain and bliss. 

Below you, your legs are wide to allow Ghost to stand between you, his firmness leaving your hips canting at every hickey he leaves behind and how he shivers into you as you move against him. It was addicting to him—your taste and how your flesh yields to him as he clamps down on it ruthlessly and rapidly. In no time he’d traveled the length of the area behind your ear and down the swell of your shoulder; shirt pushed back by his nose.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, eyes glassy as you blankly stare into the far wall over the Lieutenant’s shoulder; your panties are soaked through and the evidence can be felt. A long whine exits your chest when Ghost licks at the deep marks he left behind, blown eyes coming back to stare at you head-on as if in a trance.

His lips are red and swollen, mouth open with silent, fast, breaths. His large chest moves quickly over yours. He orders you in a hoarse voice; strained, “Get on your knees.” 

Licking your lips your widened gaze stays locked on his, the hand in your hair tight and keeping you away from slamming your mouth back to his. The air is electric, both of your bodies yielding to one another's even if you don’t realize it. 

As much as you wanted to scoff and roll your eyes at the comment, to make him apologize to you for what he’s done, you realize that your body has already complied with the request. Slipping off the table, Ghost watches like a hawk and backs up two steps—feet splayed as you move for him. Your knees slowly lower you down to the floor, connecting with the carpet as you sag, fists clenched and shaking. 

There’s a small, heart-pounding, pause. “...Good girl.”

Your jaw drops at the smirk on Ghost’s face and those flashing dead eyes of his, blood thumping with a newly ingrained need. You swallow and feel your throat bob; legs shifting to push back the inner-body itch that grows by the second. 

“Now you can listen to me, yeah? Such a slut for it.” Ghost’s hands slowly trail to his pant’s zipper, sliding the piece down the teeth with barely audible metal on metal. Your fingers twitch at every small pop; how the zipper itself had to move forward with the strain of his sizable erection. You can’t even look away from it—how his pants are stiff against tense thighs and the sleeves of his shirt are rucked up to show the black ink of tattoos.

Ghost had tattoos. 

When the teeth had run out and the man’s hands grappled for the waistband of both his cargo and his boxers, you’d found out you’d been staring the entire time, pupils so wide they matched Ghost’s and the black stain of his face-paint. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Masque,” he grunts, knuckles white and going still, “bet your pretty little cunt is soaked and I ‘aven’t even shown you my bloody dick yet, eh? Well, the thing’ll ‘ave to wait, I’m puttin’ that mouth to good use first. Teaching it who to listen to.”

You startle back, blinking away the burning heat on your cheeks that leaves you uncharacteristically stuttering at the vulgar degradation. But Ghost doesn’t notice, doing what he can to move the various straps along his thighs and his upper hips to be able to free himself quickly—eager and dripping to be down your throat. 

The throat and mouth he’d fantasized about for ages. 

Stiffing down a whiny moan, you finally see the veiny girth of Ghost’s cock as it comes free over the top of the tight white cotton of his boxers; a happy trail extending up his visible abdomen when his wrist snatches it out. 

“Put to good use?” You breathe out, “Christ, you’re going to make me fucking mute, Ghosty.” 

“Well, Sweetheart,” he breathes a sigh of relief as he plays with the leaking tip with his thumb. Your hands itch to brush against your achy clit, the pressure in your chest almost enough to make you sob at the sheer nothingness. Sweat glistens over your forehead. Eyes glare at you as you watch thighs tense and loosen. “That’ll be fine by me. Don’t need you speaking when I’m paintin’ your damn cunt with my cum, do I?” 

Jesus, you both were in the fucking meeting room. Going to fuck in the meeting room. 

You lick your lips and stare as Ghost stalks close again, gripping your chin and opening your jaw with his thumb and first finger. His dick was right in front of you, and you can smell sex and sweat like an animalistic aphrodisiac as it coats your brain with lust as you moan out. 

Your arms tense with a want to reach and touch it, watch as Ghost falls apart below the twist of your wrist. It was so addictive you feel yourself clench at the visual, your body shivering violently. 

“Oi, fucking focus.” Your tongue sneaks out and licks Ghost’s finger and he feels his grip tighten on you with a puff of hot air. “Little brat.” 

He stares into your mouth and breathes deeply as a smirk peels the edges of your lip. Blue swirls with anticipation. 

“Keep it open, then.” Ghost’s hand drops from you and you easily keep your mouth open as his hand goes back to his cock, grasping it firmly as the other finds the top of your head. You shiver and shift your thighs under you, your body striking like a drum to oxycontin and adrenaline. “That’s a girl…” The Lieutenant growls, and the tip of his dick slips into your saliva-dripping mouth with hidden fever. “Fuck.” 

Your eyes flutter at the taste, letting him maneuver your face closer to the base as your hands snap to his thighs—nails digging in and eliciting a sharp inhale as you press into the two-week-old wound under his pants. Ghost curses under his breath but watches in flooding pleasure at the image of his cock disappearing farther and farther into you. Inch by inch you tell yourself to breathe through your nose; feeling the make of his veins and the mushroomed tip traveling farther and farther back. 

Moaning in the base of your neck, Ghost instinctually jerks his hips at the sound, feral grunts trapped in his chest. Your eyes go wide with the prickle of tears, not from pain but from the surprise as you gag. His hold on your hair tightens and you mewl as he continues to lose himself to the feeling of your wet heat. 

He was so big it was like your throat was ripping new sinews just for him, and you reveled in every moment of the feeling of his predatory gaze.

“So bloody tight for me—can’t wait to be in that cunt of yours…can’t be better than this. Have to test it.” He talks more when he’s horney. 

Slightly gagging again at the sheer size, his palming hand presses you deeper and you take him as well as you’re able, still space between your nose and his pelvis as your knees dig harder into the ground. Ghost groans gutturally, head slightly lulling back and panting like a dog, looking down at your red eyes and far-off gaze. Your hands kneed his upper thighs and he smirks slowly. 

Without another word and with sweat staining him under his uniform, bits and bobs from his gear start to clink together and dance as his hips set a rough pace; you find your head being puppeteered back and forth with his thrusts as your scalp flames from his hold. Tears burn immediately.

“Yeah, that’s it—such a good little slut for me, Masque. Gettin’ it down, fuck,” Ghost pants, as you hollow your cheeks, back arching into you and leaving your nostrils flaring to take down air for your spasming lungs. The sight above you was sinful. 

Your Lieutenant in full gear, pants and skin-tight boxers stretching and shoved down just under the clutch of his crotch. With every back-and-forth motion, the zipper grazes the underside of your engorged throat as every vein can be undoubtedly seared into your esophagus like a brand. 

Ghost’s eyes flutter and flinch, but never once does his hazy gaze leave your mouth as he continues to jerk your head back and forth. Saliva drips drown your chin and the nearly painful burn in your navel lets you know how true this was a relief not only for Ghost but for you as well. You wanted to touch yourself, but you can’t stop touching the Brit—not for a second. Shit, you think you could fall apart just by looking at this; you were sure Ghost was thinking the same thing. 

“Look at that, makin’ such a fucking mess of you.” His abdomen tightens and rolls with every jerk and rut, and your eyes roll back with a deep whine in the back of your throat when he hits the back of your throat. Sweat splatters down your temple as the air is steeped with animalistic desperation. Ghost whines thickly in answer and seems to speed up as your hands claw at his thighs. “You like that, pet? Huh? Being my little cock-sleeve.” 

Your nails dig deeper into his flesh and he shivers wildly; eyes flash at the sight of himself disappearing into you and exiting just after as the slap of wet skin reverberates. The tension in his chest increases and he starts to desperately kneed at your hair. 

“If I’d known you’d take it down like this, I’d-I’d have made you hate me sooner, yeah?” Tension fizzles up his jaw and you know he’s close by how he bites down into his lip and tilts his head back. 

Instinctual tears travel down your sweat-slick face, the thought of being used like this vulgar and as dirty as the sounds that echo in your throat and strike down your spine. 

“Fucking hell,” Ghost gasps, and his pace stutters as he twists your locks. Your teeth graze along his flesh as you dig your thumb into his wound to steady yourself. Whining loudly, the action seems to get to the man using your mouth for his pleasure, as not three rough thrusts later the warm feeling of his cum splatters the back of your throat in thick, hot, spurts. 

Choking for a moment, the widening of your eyes meets Ghost’s fluttering lashes from above. His free hand goes behind you to slam onto the tabletop; back curved over you as he shakes and sputters as he rides out his high. 

Cum drips out of the seams of your stretched lips, and with a deep breath through your nose, your hand lowers from Ghost’s thighs as you carefully pull your face back from his pelvis. The sensation of his cock leaving your mouth and bringing saliva and his fluids with it was animalistic at best, they spill to the floor and off of your chin like a small river. 

Licking your lips, you swallow what you can and try to catch your breath as your chest rages. Blinking rapidly, your eye twitches as you bring a hand up to your sore and ragged throat, Ghost’s heaving body stiff and hunched as he stares at the table blankly. Sweat dribbles down the side of his nose, sneaking out from under the top side of his mask. 

There’s a long minute of nothingness as you both try to breathe and understand the gravity of what you’ve both done. And then you both lock eyes and stare. 

The air stills over as Ghost’s large pupils stare at the mess on your face—seeing it drip down your throat as you tilt your chin up to him. His chest purrs like a cat and you don’t even think he realizes that he does it. 

Two seconds later you’re being manhandled up to the top of the table, backside hitting it as a hand goes to your belt. Lips connect with yours and groan at the taste, the clinking of metal hitting your ears as you submit to his prodding tongue as it licks along your inner flesh. 

Your fingers snap to trail around Ghost’s neck, moaning into him as he slips his hands into your pants, pulling back and ordering, “Up.” Eager and filled with lust, you raise your legs and he rips them down to your knees, dragging you closer to the edge. 

“Good girl.” He smirks, black-smeared eyes creased. If you could speak you’d tell him to shut up and fuck you already. 

Your slick skin meets the air and you gasp, Ghost’s hands waste no time trailing up the flesh of your hips, pitching to make you jump. Glaring, you try to drag him back into you but he’s built like stone, clicking his tongue. When his fingers collect the fluids that drip out of you, you whimper at the stimulation—two calloused fingers getting entranced by that as they stop at your clit. You stare desperately into amused blue eyes as he pressed deep, your thighs tensing as they jerk. 

“Any more of this and you’ll stain the table, won’t you, Sweetheart? I get you this worked up, yeah? Bloody hell.” You pant, and lines form on your forehead at the indecent circling of his fingers; not being gentle as he sees your mouth open and your lungs gasp. Sharp spikes form in your thighs, and they move in tandem with Ghost. “Look at that…” 

Deep chuckles mock you, but you both know this has to be fast—and with how worked up you were, it would be. 

“Alright, then, brat,” Ghost takes his hand away and you whimper before he grunts and grips you by the shoulders. Your lust turns to confusion. “Suppose you did well. Let’s make this quick, eh? Got work to do.” 

Flipped around, you squeak as your clothed chest meets the table, ass presented as your feet scramble to connect with the floor. Surprised, you whip your head to the side to stare back at a highly smug Ghost as one of his hands goes to grab onto your supple flesh, massaging it before it sneaks to your hip. 

“Easy with it, I’ll take care of you, Masque.” In little to no time he’s lining himself up with your dripping pussy, so wet it’s easy except for the fact that he’s huge enough to make you mute by a blowjob. Your back arches into the table with a long moan as the length slowly spears you open, instinctually widening your legs as best as you’re able. 

Closing your eyes, you press one of your hands to your mouth to stifle your noises, thighs spasming as Ghost curses under his breath; gear clinking into each other.

“So bloody tight.” With a swift thrust and a knock of your pelvis to the edge of the table, your eyes burn with the feeling of holding Ghost in your most intimate area and the knowledge that he would completely wreck it for anyone else. Your lungs fight for air, but a long mewl exits your fingers as the man shakes over you with restraint. “Christ.”

Tight wasn’t the way to describe it—you were like a fucking noose. Your sensitive walls know every vein and bulge, the scrape and dig, far more intimately than your throat ever could. Like a carved stamp, they’re reforming to Ghost’s dick every second. 

Tapping the side of your forehead to the table, the man can’t help himself anymore and starts to thrust into you; feral squelching and fluids staining the top of his pants. Your face burns, the rocking of the table hypnotic as your toes fight to stay on the ground. The sensation of being so full truthfully made your mind go blank, fingers twitching as Ghost continued to palm at your hip—his other hand going to press into your spine, keeping you stapled to the table. 

His gear slammed and rubbed into your ass, bruising it no doubt, but you found you didn’t care at all. Pleasure rocked down with every ruthless intrusion. 

“Can feel ya ‘round my cock,” you keen at the words, tears dribbling down the side of your face as you try to hold back sobs of pleasure. Ghost increases his pace, rabid slapping echoing off the walls as he feels his sole focus on your mind-shattering bliss. “Can’t have ‘em hear how loud you are, now, can we? Can’t let ‘em know I’m shagging you in their meeting room like a little fucktoy, eh?” 

He angles his hips higher, pushing your farther up the table as his hands only drag you back. Every moment leaves your core tightening even more; molten heat pooling as the edge gets closer. 

Footsteps echo down the hall outside, but both of you are too focused on the other and the ache that only increases like a pair of cuffs. Your mouth lets loose insistent gasps and moans while Ghost breathily groans at every other interval of his ravaging cock as it brushes your cervix. 

You whine loudly, spine arching and legs desperately trying to close. Ghost chuckles and your reaction spurs him on—hitting that same spot over and over again as you sob. 

“Right there, yeah? That it, Masque?” You nod rapidly, and the Lieutenant's grip tightens with a loud grunt, “Fuck, that’s it, bloody slut.” 

The coil in your gut gets tighter, shining with desperate shakes of your body and the numb way you try to meet Ghost’s thrusts before you entirely lose the plot of reality. 

“You’re close,” he breathes, feeling your pussy trying to keep him in, slick trailing down the insides of your thighs and transferring to the Brit’s clothes. His boxers were soaked. “C’mon, then. Don’t disappoint me, Masque. Lemme see you cum on my cock before I fill you up like the good girl you are, yeah?”

Your body spasms, thighs tensing and toes curling at the floor; fingers scratching down the table as you press over your mouth harder in a last-ditch effort to remain in control of yourself. The coil snaps and suddenly you’re digging your forehead into the wood below you, orgasm ripping through you like a knife as cum paints Ghost’s dick as he continues his relentless chase of his second release.

“There it is, fuck, look at all that, Love. Paintin’ me like a naughty fuckin’ portrait.” Ghost gasps, a hand coming up to connect to the table by your head, feeling you completely flood his pelvis—he doesn’t stop even when you whine in overstimulation, fucked-out eyes wide and mouth dripping drool into a small pool. The milky ring at his root grows and grows. With a loud moan, he looks down and watches the vulgar sight rabidly, pounding into your heat as his own end gets closer and closer. 

“Shite,” His forehead hits your spine, taking the skin into his teeth and biting hickeys as his open mouth leaves trails of saliva. “Took me so bloody well, cunt was made just for me.” 

His body shakes and with one last shove from his hips, he spills into you with a loud whimper muffled into your flesh. Teeth biting down so hard that you moan in turn, the spent releases dribble out of you like a stuffed bird. You feel his chest atop you as he places his weight slowly down; the fast-panting mirroring your own. 

Sweat connects the two of you as it bleeds through your clothes, the smell in the air and the scent of delirious sex staining your bodies. 

Your mouth remains open and hoarse, scraped dry. Ghost above you moves delicately as he pulls back up, moving back to peel your messy hair away from your blown eyes. After a moment his small voice hits you—the accent deep. 

“All good?” Your eyes slowly rove to him as he kisses your forehead, shivering violently as he slips out of you; the wet drip of cum hits the carpet in the still silence as you whimper at the feeling. “...Masque?”

Dull concern emanates from his tone and you blink back. You clear your throat and utter in a torn voice, “...P-pretty good apology, Ghosty…S…shit.” 

Smugness burns in his orbs, but the roll of his eyes hides it quickly. The puff of his chest couldn’t be hidden from you, though. 

His hands reach down and hike up your panties and cargos—both items completely wrecked. The large splotch on Ghost’s own clothes showed you that you weren't alone in that aspect. 

As he carefully flips your limp form back over and pulls you up by your arms, you groan in annoyance but shut up when his hands go to zip your zipper and clip back your belt. 

“Couldn’t have had a revelation in your barracks room?” You huff, itching at your throat. “You’re buying me cough drops, you ass.” The state of your voice was laughable. Anyone would know what happened if they spoke to you. 

Ghost sighs and begins with his own clothes, stuffing himself back into his boxers and growling at the chilled fluids on his pants as he pulls them back up. He goes and retrieves his belt before walking back. 

“Acting like you weren’t beggin’ for it.” He slides you a smirk before he grabs onto his mask and begins to cover his jaw. 

Your hand snaps out and stops him. Ghost startles, eyes flashing before his muscles stiffen. You raise a brow and he slightly calms. 

Scoffing, you lean in and place a final kiss on his lips—a tinier and tender kiss. Gaze wide, the man stares off as his heart starts to beat fast again at the firm press. After you’re done your hand goes up and grasps the fabric yourself, carefully re-shrouding the mystery of a man with a smile. 

He watches blankly.

“We okay?” You ask, tilting your head as your lower body aches when you shift on the table. “I miss my annoyingly gruff Ghost. This new one’s a jerk.” A small laugh graces your ears, and it makes you beam. “I know why you did it,” you admit, and hold out a hand between your bodies. “But pushing me away will only hurt the both of us. Let's try this, Ghost. Please.” 

“...You’re makin’ it seem like a good deal, Love…is it?” He holds out a hand of his own, large and scarred hands that had gripped you so tight before utterly loose and awaiting. 

“No clue,” you admit with a smirk, “Wanna figure it out?” Ghost watches as he always does and always will, searching into your eyes for any hint of hesitance or denial. 

“Always liked a challenge.” He grunts and encompasses his hand with yours. You squeeze it and nod, chest light as your normal breath comes back.

“You know what a real challenge is? Trying to take down your fucking dic—” The meeting room handle jiggles and you both snap into action. 

Ghost tosses you your notepad and you slide a shoved-away chair his way on shaky legs, slipping into a free seat with failing knees. You both sit side by side on the opposite side of the table, shoulders bumping and faces hot not three seconds later. Ears twitch at the sound of a key entering the slot. 

You try to act normal and begin messing around with your notepad, stealing a pen from Ghost’s gear as Price opens the door. At the sight of the two of you, he pauses and stands in the doorway.

“Ghost…Masque.” With a squint, Price looks around the room slowly, confused at the rod-straight spine from his Lieutenant and the way you awkwardly scribble nothing onto your pad. 

“Price,” Ghost utters as you look up and fake smile, waving as you tighten your hips under the table in an attempt to hide the evidence spilling out of you. 

The Captain continues to stare, scrutiny in his eyes, for at least a full minute. 

“Problem, then?” The Lieutenant asks. Price’s lips thin and he gains a sheen of deep annoyance. You groan under your breath and knock your head to the table at the next comment.

“In the fucking meeting room?!”

TAGS:

@emerald-valkyrie , @anna-banana27 , @blueoorchid , @cryingnotcrying , @writeforfandoms , @homicidal-slvt , @jade-jax , @frazie99 , @elmoees , @littlemisstrouble , @alpineswinter , @phoenixhalliwell , @idocarealot , @lavalleon , @facelessmemories , @h-leigh, @20forty9 , @glitter-anon-asks , @emily-who-killed-a-man , @neelehksttr, @aeneanc , @escapefromrealitysm , @i-d-1-0-t , @pparcxysm , @hawkscanendme , @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney , @sanfransolomitatm , @maelstrom007 , @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet , @pheobees , @glitterypirateduck , @uselsshuman , @fan-of-encouragement , @halfmoth-halfman , @ghostlythunderbird , @I-inkage, @pukbadger , @kopatych11 , @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop , @knightofsexyness , @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons , @330bpm-whiplash , @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu , @tiredmetalenthusiast

#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #cod mw22 #mw2 #call of duty #mw2 2022 #call of duty mw2 #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #mw ghost #cod smut #call of duty smut #x reader smut #x female reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #simon riley call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare x you #modern warfare x reader #mw x reader #cod mwii

[redflagshipwriter]

Batmom Cass : enter Barbara

Part one of 2

“You did good work,” Barbara said, in a casual tone. Proud.

Timmybird nodded and gave a flash of teeth in a smile. Didn't believe. It's nothing, look away. “Glad you think they'll pass.” He rolled his neck. “I don't want anyone to be able to prove he's Danny F.”

Cass watched their interplay casually, hair damp from the post-patrol shower and comfortably swimming in an oversized sweatshirt. She played with the ends of the sleeve as they talked.

“They can suspect it all they like, but it'd be hard to disprove this is a separate kid.” Barbara ran her palms over her wheelchair handles in an unconscious tic that meant she wanted to go, go, go. “Still, I like the idea of keeping him out of the public eye until we nail down what's going on in Illinois. This GIW group is bad news.”

Cass bit her lip and flexed her toes, uncertain. Danny was getting restless. And he was a teenager: he needed to be in school. He needed to learn, stretch his wings, grow.

But safe. He needed to be safe, first.

The trouble was she didn't know how to make him fully safe. She'd had him for four days now. Judging by the report of his death, Danny baby had been homeless and on the run for more than a month. He was hiding. Even when she was in the room, he was looking for attacks. Who was he looking for? Dad and mom Fenton? GIW group?

“-gonna hit the showers,” said her little brother.” Cash barely registered him heading to the batcave bathrooms. She was internally weighing her bat nosiness sense against her worry about pushing Danny for answers too soon.

“Am I good to meet him, Mamabird?”

Cass blinked back to awareness. “Mama bat,” she corrected. “Yes.” She cracked her lower back. Mm. Too much standing after patrol. She needed to move a little. “Breakfast. Baby wakes up soon.”

Barbara snorted. “I'll go to bed after,” she said wryly, because they had been flying and solving into the morning light. Riddler was out on the streets. “Did someone check with Alfred about adding me to the breakfast table?”

She didn't know. Cass hummed and flipped over to walk on her hands up the stairs. It sent a pleasant ache through her upper back. Stabilizing her core and legs was just the right amount of casual challenge to make her body feel better.

“Christ,” Barbara said quietly, and huffed out a laugh. The elevator dinged. “I'll see you upstairs.”

Barbara Batgirl beat Cass to the top. Cass huffed in displeasure at the loss and flipped back to her feet. She ducked into the first bathroom they passed to wash her hands.

Alfie was in the kitchen in his morning waistcoat and a thin, comfortable button up shirt. Casual day!

“Good morning, Miss Cassandra,” he said. The kitchen smelled like yeasty bread. Cass sneezed happily and peered around to see meats, cheeses, and fruits.

“Morning!” She chirped. “Barbara wants to stay for breakfast,” Cass said. Barbara wheeled in a moment later, sheepish.

“Good morning, Alfred,” she said. “If it's not too much trouble-”

“It's no trouble at all,” he reassured. “Miss Cassandra, would you add an extra place setting?”

Cass hopped to it, mimicking the placement Alfred had made. It was a nearly full table today. Timbird, Batdad, Dickbird, Cass, Danny baby, Damibat. And now Barbara bat.

She heard a jaw-cracking yawn before Danny swung open the door. “Good morning,” Danny baby yawned through his hand. His eyes were bleary. She watches with amusement as he shuffled in, face down. “Have a good ni-”

He stopped. Eyes on Barbara bat.

New adult, he was scared?

No. Cass rapidly calculated and shifted his shifting body language into emotions. Surprise, joy, love-love-lo-wrong! Not love! Sad. Wistful.

“This is my baby,” Cass said, pretending she didn't notice the reaction. “Danny. This is Barbara.”

Barbara must have noticed Danny's reaction to her. She didn't move closer, lifting a friendly hand from across the countertop.

Danny looked haunted. Danny looked small. “It's nice to meet you, Barbara,” he said. Weak smile.

She had to talk to him, Cass realized. She had to talk with him today. No more delaying. After breakfast, she would talk.

#red mama bat #dp x dc #dc x dp #cassandra cain #dc fanfic

[kaciebello]

Us before you and me

Masterlist

Luke Castellan x Hades! reader (implied, fem)

Summary: Luke and the readers’ relationship before they became a couple. Luke is an absolute loser when it comes to crushes.

Warning: no use of y/n, luke is a total looser

author note: English is not my first language so I am sorry for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ)

word count: 1,3k

Luke Castellan was 14 when he came to the camp, and he was sad. Not only did he just lose a friend that turned into a tree, but he had to pretend to like his dad. Now that he was 15, his mind was somewhere else, his friends to be exact. He tried to make friends with everyone. But these two in the Hermies cabin just caught his eyes. They argued all the time it was almost unbearable, and yet they refused to sleep anywhere but next to each other. It has been a few months since they got here, and somehow their banter has extended to him.

So now that he and Chris were watching the Aphrodite girlies, he had turned him out. He was talking about something Luke did not care about. He only started to pay attention when he slapped him. Luke gave him a confused look.

“You're not even looking man,” Cris says.

“Because it's creepy!” Luke argues back. It was creepy, they disguised themself as resting campers next to the Aphrodite cabin. To him, and everyone else, it looked like Cris just discovered what a woman is. Granted, they just turned 15, so he is certain with that. Luke couldn't bring himself to care. When he thought about girls only one face came to his mind, and he was not about to confess that to his friend.

“Don't you see them! They look good!” Chri says back. 

“I like someone already.” Chris looks at him with a deadpaned look. Absolute silence. Maybe Luke really should not have said anything. According to Chris, Luke could have anyone in the camp. Even crowing him as the heartthrob of the camp.  Luke tried to move on as fast as he could from this conversation, however, Chris's attention was sparked, and would not let go of the conversation.

They kept going back and forth and none of them noticed a familiar girl come their way.

“ Stop spying on the aphrodite cabin like they are some prey!” She says, effectively tearing them out of their argument.

“ Prey?? What are we? Animas?” Luke was quick to defend himself. He didn't even want to be here.

“ Not you, you raging virgin,”  Chris says and gives him a side-eye. The girl just rolls her eyes. 

“I'm not a virgin!” Luke's voice cracked, not something he wanted to happen while defending his honor. His eyes snap to the girl, hoping that she would believe him. But she looked like she wouldn't even believe he had hair on his head. Luke signs defeat. There is no winning in this. He just has to come to terms with the fact that his crush thinks he's a total loser.

–

When Luke turned 16 he realized he wanted to look ripped. And he wanted to do you to get girls, well a specific one but he will not say that aloud. He will tell you he just wants to be a better hero with glory and all that. However Luke was 16, and he had no better idea than to practice in front of his crush.

He was nervous. Sweating. He couldn't tell if it was from the sword fighting or her. She was just sitting down and looking at him. His heart was beating way too fast for his liking. So he was very glad when his opponent called it quits and he could rest.

He went and sat down next to the girl. She smiled and handed him a towel and cold water. He rolled his sleeves up his shoulders to feel some of the cold air. The girl had to do a double-take at him. He could see her in the corner of his eye looking at him. He flexed his arms just a little.

“ Exposing your biceps like that? What a slut.” She says. His eyes widen for a second before he composes himself. He turns to her with a smirk on his face.

“ You like that don't you.”  That stopped her in the tracks. He could practically see the clogs turn in her head.

“Maybe I do.” She says, her eyes fixated on his arms. Luke went red and looked away. He could feel her arm on him as she studied his mussels. He let her arm wander, they were seemingly in their world.  Her arms slip to his chest. He looked down and then back to her.

“ I know my pecs are big but can you stop objectifying me?” The girl stopped in her tracks and looked him dead in the eyes.

“Nah.” With that, she just continued to feel him up. He just let her.

—

Luke was 17 when one of his closest friends was claimed by Hades and had to move out of the cabin into a small room above the medical storage unit. He helped her move the stuff, not that she had much but still. When he walked into the room he saw her standing with Chris, who upon seeing him gave him a smirk. Luke sat the bag down and turned around to see Crish walking out giving him a wink.

Luke turned to the girl with a confused look. She just shrugged and thanked him for bringing the bag. He could feel the tension in the air. Luke looked around the room. It wasn't big, but it was something, and first and foremost it was private. Not something he could say about his bed. He looked at the girl again. She was not sporting a black camp shirt instead of an orange one. Fitting for a Hades kid. 

When his eyes got to her face his heart jumped to her throat for a bit. She was looking at him with a sheepish smile. 

“So Chris said-” Right then and there he knew. He knew his friend had said something he shouldn't.

“Don't believe Chris !” He yelped and grabbed her hand. Silently he begged her to forget whatever the boy told her. She raised her eyebrows at him.

“ So you don't get a major ‘love boner’ every time you see me?” A whine lest Luke's lips.

“Why did he have to put it like that.” He says his voice high-pitched. The girl just let out a laugh.

—

Luke was 18 when he confessed. He was 18 when she confessed back. And he was 18 when he kissed his crush of 4 years.  He was 18 now lying in the Hermes cabin looking at the ceiling dreamingly. He could only remember what her hands and lips felt on him. The other 3 boys were taking none of that.

“He's a mess. Like mess mess.” Says Connor looking at his counselor with a weird look, before turning to his twin who wore a similar expression.

“ Mess in distress but still the best dressed?” Answered Travis. He has been cursed by one of the Apollo kids to say things that rhyme but not really.  It's been going on for a week now with no sign of going away.

“He's definitely not blessed dresses, I can tell you that.” Says Chris sitting at the foot of Luke's bed cleaning his nails.

Lukes wasn't paying them attention. He finally achieved what he wanted since 15.  He could handle the teasing if it meant he could sneak into her room after calling lights out. One of the twins poked him in the ribs but he just swatted them away.

He could hear them say he was gone, but the only thing he could think about was his girlfriend. 

It was a year later when he was 19 and risked everything.

#luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson x fem!reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fic #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #percy jackson #percy pjo #percy series #luke castellan au #luke castellan fluff #percy jackson x sister!reader #percy jackson x you #chris rodriguez #chris rodriguez x reader

[sunarc]

Best Friend Brother Choso

A/N: Im reposting this because i tried to be different the first time i posted it and i linked a photo but it did not end well lmaooo anyone if you saw this last time pretend you didn't. part two fic coming soon

Best Friend Brother Choso who steals your panties from your bag whenever you come over just so he can use them to jerk off to the image of you dripping wet in your towel fresh out of the shower. You're constantly wondering where all of your underwear is going, maybe it just got lost in the dryer, you think to yourself. 

Best friend Brother Choso who casually waves to you when he sees you entering his shared apartment with Itadori. His heart feels like it's about to beat out of his chest, but he tries to keep a calm face as he gives you a half smile to look as if he doesn’t really care.

Best Friend Brother Choso who walks around shirtless whenever you're over because he loves the lingering stares you give him when you think he isn’t looking. Your eyes can't help but stare when he’s wearing gray sweatpants that show a print so big that your mouth can't help but fall open.

Best Friend Brother Choso who can't help the way his eyes linger when he sees you walking around in a tight tearshirt, braless, allowing your perky nipples to show. He can feel his length growing in his sweats. The bright blush that appears on his cheeks sends embarrassment flowing through his veins.

Best Friend Brother Choso who strokes himself to the memory of you. He imagines the way your thighs would tremble with his face shoved between your legs. The way you'd grip his hair while he pulls you impossible closer so he can indulge in the delicious taste of you.

Best Friend Brother Choso who so desperately wants to hear the way you sound when you moan. Would you be loud? Would you whimper his name each time his cock pushed deeper into your hole? Would you beg him to fuck you harder, or would you just take every inch of him and thank him for fucking you so well?

Best Friend Brother Choso who allows you to come into the apartment one day to wait for Itadori to come home from school. Of course, he’d never leave you waiting outside. 

Best Friend Brother Choso who compliments you with a soft blush covering his cheeks. You have on a sundress that hugs your curves so perfectly. His tongue swipes his bottom lip as his eyes scan you up and down.

Best Friend Brother Choso who just absolutely adores the way that color looks on you. Here you are looking like an absolute goddess. “You don’t understand how beautiful you look right now.” The words slip past his lips before he can even recognize what he’s saying.

Best Friend Brother Choso who is absolutely shocked when you return his flirtatious comment with the same energy. His eyes almost pop out of his head when he hears your lust filled words. He craves you so badly, but listening to that precious voice of yours practically beg him to take you almost has him feeling feral. 

Best Friend Brother Choso who isn’t aware of his next actions until after they happen. His hands are on you in a heartbeat. His lips are pressing against yours, and his heart feels like it may burst. 

Best Friend Brother Choso who keeps his eyes on you as he slides down to his knees while simultaneously scrunching up your pretty dress to expose the dripping mess that you are. You're not even wearing panties, it's as if you knew this was going to happen. 

Best Friend Brother Choso who’s tongue feels so warm, gliding against your clit taking in all your juices, tasting every part of you. He’s obsessed with the way you grip his hair, pulling every time he rubs his tongue against your clit. You can barely stand up straight as you lean against the wall behind you while he places one of your legs on his shoulder so he can have a better angle to completely devour you. 

Best Friend Brother Choso who grips so tightly around your thigh, whimpering and moaning as he takes in all of your essence. His breathing is heavy, and the way he sloppily slurps and licks your cunt you can’t help the warmth that rushes to your cheeks. 

Best Friend Brother Choso who wastes no time in making you cum on his tongue. But that simple orgasm isn't enough for him he needs to feel you squirting on his face, to have your dripping down his chin, leaving his shirt a complete wet mess. 

Best Friend Brother Choso who relishes in the way you sound whimpering his name, whining about how it feels so good, begging him to make you cum again. Anything for you. He's drunk on your taste. His eyes roll back as he feels you grinding your hips on his face, desperately craving him to pull another orgasm from you.

Best Friend Brother Choso who is more than pleased when he has your cum dripping down his chin as he sloppily eats you out while you cry out his name. The way your legs tremble against his face has him smirking so hard. All he can think about is how fun it would be to watch you do that on his cock. 

Best Friend Brother Choso who cleans you up so that you don’t look completely fucked out of your mind when Itadori walks in. The way you look completely zoned out, reeling in from your orgasm still as Itadori talks, leaves a smirk on his face. 

Best Friend Brother Choso who promises to finish this with you some other time. He wants to play a little game to see if he can make you squirt even faster on his cock next time.

#choso #choso x reader #jjk choso #choso kamo #choso smut #kamo choso #jujutsu kaisen choso

[anatay004]

ꜰɪɴɴɪᴄᴋ ᴏᴅᴀɪʀ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴅ (part five)

ꜰɪᴠᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ 70ᴛʜ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴏʀ, ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴅʀᴀɢɢᴇᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴇɴᴀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ — ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ-ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ʙʏ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ɴᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴘʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ꜱɴᴏᴡ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴀɴɪᴛʏ

"MORE THAN HALF THE TRIBUTES WANT YOU AS THEIR ALLIES."

Mags announced a few days later when you and Finnick were sitting across from her in the living room. The tension in the atmosphere was suffocating, tethered to the interaction you'd had with Peeta in the training center a few days ago. You'd never seen Finnick so annoyed about something before, the brief interaction had been nothing but innocent — yet, it had Finnick grappling for something to say, spitting over remarks, and dismissing your presence in blatant resentment for the last few days.

It annoyed you, but you should've seen it coming, you supposed. Just when you'd thought that things had finally elucidated between the two of you — just when you'd thought things were starting to heal again, he'd taken three steps back. Just like he'd done the first time he'd broken things off with you back at home.

"They saw her in the simulator room." Finnick's voice broke into your reverie, but you didn't bother to look at him. You knew what he was referring to; you'd overshadowed Katniss again, but this time you'd done it in the training center.

When she'd stepped inside one of the simulator rooms to practice her archery and had formed a crowd outside her windows. You'd felt slightly threatened then if you were being honest, but Johanna had been quick to advise you. "Opaque her little show" she'd whispered into your ear and, despite you knowing better, you fell into her instigation and walked over to the rack where the tridents hung. You'd never been a fan of violence, but you were good with weapons. Your ability to swing the trident and aim for the heart had been acquired through fishing and watching Finnick practice for many hours back at home.

So, it was no surprise when you stepped inside the simulator room and astutely swung at the targets without missing a single one.

"Well, whatever the case was, you both are doing better than anyone else," Your stylist, Dean, congratulated from across the room. "So, now, you have your pick of the letter."

"We'll have Johanna." Finnick declared, and you nodded in silent agreement.

"Anyone else?" Mags signaled with her hands.

You chewed on the inside of your cheeks pensively. You tried hard to ignore the alliance that Peeta had established with you a few days ago. He'd labeled you as his friend and, you supposed, he wasn't so far off considering the past interactions you'd both shared. But you didn't dare to blurt that out into the open air, afraid that you might just ignite a fight or two with Finnick Odair.

So, instead, you decided to ask. "What about Beeta and Wires?"

Finnick pinched the bridge of his nose, in evident disapproval, but you ignored his gesture and crossed your arms over your chest.

"Anyone else?" Dean repeated, after taking note of your preferences.

"Katniss," Finnick added nonchalantly, and you couldn't help, but turn to glare at him. He pretended not to notice, but the faint grin that tugged at his lips stated otherwise.

"You have to be kidding me," You spat through your teeth, and Finnick feigned an innocent look on his face when he turned to you. "You do realize we were dragged into this mess to compete against them — not with them."

"Oh, yeah?" He quipped, narrowing his eyes at you. "Because it doesn't seem that way when you're drooling over Peeta, honey."

"I do not." You argued, growing frustrated.

"Then why are you always looking at him?"

You didn't reply for a moment. Finnick was right — these past few days, you'd found yourself looking at Peeta a lot more, but it wasn't in the way Finnick thought it was. You wanted to decipher Peeta Mellark, his gentleness and his persistence to approach you were conflicting to you. You weren't used to receiving such kindness, especially from other Victors, hence the reason you often found yourself looking at him. You wanted to break down him into pieces; just to make sense of him.

"He's kind to me," You eventually replied, to which Finnick only rolled his eyes. "You could learn something from him."

With a visible tick in his jaw, Finnick turned to face you again and you knew you'd hit a nail when his eyes darkened. "Oh?"

You pretended not to hear him.

"Okay, this — " Dean suddenly interjected, signaling you and Finnick back and forth with his finger. " — needs to stop before tonight's interview. I cannot have you both acting this way."

There was a moment of silence.

Dean signed audibly before offering you both a faint smile. "Besides, it is your wedding day."

Your muscles immediately froze at his words. And, for a moment, you could've sworn you heard the loud thumping of your heart against your chest. "What?" You managed to blurt out.

"Your wedding day," Dean repeated as though as if it were the most obvious thing before his face dropped when he saw the startled expression on both of your faces."Oh, you didn't know?"

Instinctively, you turned to face Finnick, but his expression reflected the same as yours — shocked. His eyebrows were pulled together, his gaze hard and calculating; as if he was almost trying to make sense of what Dean was saying.

"What are you talking about?" Finnick eventually questioned, and you almost winced at the hoarse sound of his voice.

"Snow will have someone come up to marry you in a few hours. He said you both had agreed to it." Dean explained, with an almost apologetic smile on his face. Instinctively, you turned to look at Mags for a little consolation, but she only dropped her gaze.

This was not part of the deal.

Snow'd never mentioned this in the agreement, but then again, you weren't surprised — he was President Snow, after all. And it made sense, you supposed, you were trying to one-up the lovers from District Twelve, and, since their wedding had to be canceled; it made sense for Snow to want you both to steal that advantage from them. Besides, you'd always assumed you would marry Finnick at some point in your life.

You just kind of wished it would've happened under other circumstances.

"You have to be fucking kidding me," Finnick cursed under his breath, raking a hand through his hair. "Do we even have a say in this?"

"I'm afraid not." Dean shook his head.

"Shit." Finnick hissed, pushing himself off the couch. You watched as he paced back and forth around the room for a while, and you couldn't help, but feel slightly conflicted with his reaction. It forced a feeling of uneasiness to retaliate in the pit of your stomach. You knew Finnick's love for you was complicated and sometimes even fleeting, but this reaction had your head spinning — perhaps, you'd read something wrong.

"Is it so bad?" The words slipped out your mouth mindlessly, and the room grew immediately quiet at the mere sound of your voice. It was low yet vehement, it underlined the thinly veiled pain that settled over your features.

Is it so bad to marry me?

Stupidly, you were hoping for his assurance. For a word that could have quenched down the feeling of rejection that burrowed beneath your chest. But, instead, Finnick's silence answered you — it was deafening, and it forced a lump to form in your throat. He doesn't want to marry me, you thought to yourself. And the thought alone was enough to force you off the couch and back into your room.

"(Y/N), honey, don't — " Dean started, but his words froze on the tip of his tongue when you shut the door behind you with a loud thud.

"I look like a slut." You complained when you stepped out of the fitting room later that day and looked at your reflection in the mirror. You were wearing a mesmerizing dress — there was no doubt about that, but the liquid organza fabric that draped over your skin was barely visible (except for your undergarments) which left more than enough room for the imagination.

"Honey, that's the point," Dean replied, brushing a few strands of straight hair away from your face."Besides, you look stunning. The most beautiful bride I've ever seen before."

Subconsciously, your gaze dropped to stare at your left hand, where a beautiful ring rested over one of your fingers. You swallowed hard at the reminder that you were now married. Even if it'd taken everything in Finnick to sign the damn paper, even if he'd hesitated in slipping the ring on your finger — even if it wasn't real.

"I know this isn't the best timing," Dean suddenly reminded you, placing his hands over your shoulders in silent comfort. "But I want you to forget about everything tonight, okay? You need to forget about everything, darling. Remember why we're here for..."

You took a deep breath.

Remember why we're here for.

"You will talk about your wedding," Dean instructed you, dropping his voice down to a whisper. "You will talk about how deeply in love you're with Finnick Odair. You will talk about your ring and your future with him."

Your head was spinning again.

"Okay." You nodded before you were swiftly beckoned backstage. The room was dark and filled with most of the tributes, they were all lined up and waiting for Caesar Flickerman to interview them — and the mere sight of them made you sick to the stomach.

You'd been here before; in a different time and with different people, but the sight pained you all the same. It brought back memories that you'd hoped to diminish, to incarcerate in the back of your head and never set free. As much as you pretended to be okay with everything going around you, you knew that, deep down inside your chest, you were far from being fine.

And, somehow, Finnick did too.

"You okay?" Finnick whispered behind you, and your muscles tensed when his warm breath pressed against the skin of your neck.

"I'm fine," You limited yourself to answer.

But he wasn't convinced.

And, without a warning, he slid a comforting arm around your waist and traced arbitrarily patterns over the fabric of your dress with his thumb. You should've pushed him away, retaliated, and escaped his cursing touch, but you didn't. Instead, you subconsciously leaned against him — because it was the only way your heart wasn't hammering against your chest.

"Finnick Odair"

"Stay calm," Finnick encouraged, before pressing a fleeting kiss to the side of your head when he was instructed to stand by. "I'll be back soon."

You exhaled shakily, hating the way his lips pressed against your skin so nonchalantly. As if he hadn't just made it clear he didn't want you.

Remember why we're here for.

With a feigned smile on your face, you straightened your frame and nauseously waited for the curtains to part open.

Remember why we're here for.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please give a round of applause for Finnick Odair."

You watched as Finnick stepped on stage.

It never failed to amaze you how well Finnick masked his emotions under the limelight, and how fast he was able to shift from his normal demeanor to a hypnotizing one. He was unrecognizable, flashing his perfect teeth to the crowd and sweet-talking his way into their attention — as if he was happy to be there. You envied how good he could fake it.

"So, Finnick..." Caesar started, once the audience had settled down. "You are a married man now if I'm not mistaken. You're married to our beautiful — our darling, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!"

"(Y/N) Odair," Finnick corrected, and Caesar let out an amusing laugh.

"I love it!" Caesar cheered and turned to face the crowd across from him. "Don't you love it?"

The crowd cheered. "Okay, now, Finnick, tell us, do you have any more plans that we might like to be aware of? So, we are not taken aback like we were with your wedding."

"Well — " Finnick's voice suddenly dropped, and the crowd went silent. Subconsciously, you held back your breath as you waited for his answer, confused. "We were trying for a baby."

You blinked.

Once. Twice. Three times.

"Oh, my god!" Caesar gasped, and the audience quickly copied his reaction. "This is exciting news, everybody! Finnick Odair and (Y/N) Odair — I love that she changed her name, by the way — are trying for a baby. How wonderful!"

The crowd cheered.

"If we win the games," Finnick clarified, a smile stretched across his face. It almost scared you, how convincing he could look. How easily you could've fallen for his lies if you didn't know any better. "We'll have a baby on our way."

Your mouth fell agape.

For a moment, you couldn't believe what you were hearing. Finnick was promising a baby — a fucking baby, to the people of Panem. Your head reeled with the sudden possibility of that happening. If you were to win the games, what would you even do? Would you continue with this farce of a marriage? Go home and carry his child? And endure his resentment?

Was he even okay with that?

What the hell was he thinking?

"By the look on your face, you don't seem too content with this news spreading around," Peeta suddenly whispered, and you instinctively flinched at the unexpected sound of his voice.

"Are you really trying to have a baby?"

"I — " You started, but the faint smirk that itched his lips made you pause. He was teasing you, you realized, but, at the moment, it seemed as if everyone in the room was suddenly looking at you. So, you decided to continue with the lie. " — We are. In fact, I could be pregnant."

Peeta raised an eyebrow. "Really?

Your shoulders tensed. "Ern — yeah."

"You don't say."

You chewed on the inside of your cheeks. "Yeah."

"Well, why aren't you?" Peeta questioned, and you nibbled your bottom lip as you tried to come up with something to say. But Peeta was making it hard for you to concentrate, especially when he was looking at you as if he'd finally decipher you.

As if he'd suddenly understood something.

"That's none of your business." You argued, trying to hide the hesitation in your words.

"Maybe," Peeta continued, but there was a subtle change in his tone when he spoke again. "But...if you plan to win the games through a pregnancy and your husband can't seem to get the job done — " He paused, dropping his gaze down to look at the ring on your finger. "— well, I guess, you know where to find me."

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You were stunned, frozen in place when his words registered inside your brain. For a moment, you simply stared at him with wide eyes and a dumbfounded look on your face.

"Cause' we're friends, right?" Peeta quipped, and your cheeks ridiculously burned.

"Give it up for Finnick Odair, everyone!"

You opened your mouth to say something — anything, but the words quickly died inside your mouth. For the first time in a while, you were lost for words. And, soon after, your name was being called and you were instructed to stand by.

All while Peeta grinned at you.

"You should've told me about the baby."

Was the first thing that came out of your mouth when the elevator's doors shut closed. To your surprise, there was no one else inside, but Finnick and you. He was irked, it was more than evident, that his plan to up-one the lovers from District Twelve had gone awry after Peeta had decided to blurt out that Katniss was supposedly pregnant in front of the entire audience during his interview.

Which, you found quite hypocritical, due to reasons you could not tell Finnick about.

Finnick audibly sighed. "I know."

"I would've come up with a much better story," You continued, leaning against the glass tiredly. It was unfair, you thought to yourself, the whole situation in which the two of you were tethered to. One wrong move and Snow's promise to keep you both alive could shatter within seconds. "We should've said I was already pregnant." You mumbled, mostly to yourself, but Finnick's head turned towards your direction at that.

"Would you have gotten pregnant?" Finnick questioned, with a general air of curiosity in his voice and you froze. "If Snow had wanted us to?"

You didn't say anything for a few seconds.

Instead, you thought about that alternative; you thought about how miserable Finnick's life would've turned out if having a baby was the necessary case. You thought about what he'd first said when he'd broke things off with you a few months ago. You thought about how hard it was for him to sign the marriage papers. You thought about how much he didn't want to be with you.

"No." You eventually answered, and you could've sworn you saw him wince at the even sound of your voice. "I wouldn't have allowed that to haunt you. A marriage was more than enough."

And then the doors parted and you stepped out of the elevator without another word. But, before you could even reach your room and lock yourself away, his hand latched onto your wrist and you were pulled back without a warning.

"What do you mean by that?" Finnick narrowed his eyes when you turned back to face him.

You withdrew your wrist from his touch. "You know exactly what I mean, Finnick."

"What?" Finnick's eyes darkened as he slowly processed your words. The intensity in his gaze made you swallow hard, but you refused to look away from him — you didn't want to, somehow, you thought it would make you smaller. "You think a child with you would haunt me? You think marrying you torments me?"

Your lips can't help but twitch in slight amusement. "We both know it does."

Finnick looked taken aback and, for a few seconds, you both stared at each other in silence.

"I don't blame you," You eventually continued, trying to quench down the tension in the room. "I know it's complicated for you to have to act like you still love me. And...I know you didn't want to marry me, I suppose you're in the right. And — God, I know you wouldn't want to have a baby with me, but — "

"— what the hell are you talking about?" Finnick interjected as his voice raised a few decibels. "(Y/N), what the actual fuck are you talking about?"

You knew his oblivion shouldn't have riled you up. You knew his cluelessness shouldn't have made your blood boil. But, you couldn't help it because he had to be playing dumb, right? How else could you have possibly interpreted his actions?

"Stop acting like I'm crazy, Finnick!" You spat through your teeth, feeling your face heat up.

"You're not, baby!" Finnick argued, trying to stifle the humorless smile on his face from stretching. "But you're not making any sense."

"I'm not making sense?" You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "You're the one who's driving me crazy, Finnick. And I'm so fucking tired of trying to decipher you."

He blinked, trying to grasp your words. But the mere expression of confusion on his face stated that he was, in fact, oblivious.

"One day you're making love to me and the next you're pretending nothing ever happened," You explained, exhaling shakily. "One day you're saying that you love me and the next you're acting like marrying me is the worse fucking thing in the world. But two hours later, you're telling Panem that you can't wait to have a child with me. That if we win the games, we'll have children of our own."

Your words stung and forced your eyes to gloss with unshed tears, but you refused to let them spill. You didn't want to cry in front of him. "And I'm exhausted," You added in a whisper. "I don't know what to think anymore. Because what happens if, by some miracle, we do win the games, Finnick? What happens then?"

Your question made him swallow.

"What happens if we do come back and Snow wants us to have a child?" You challenged, taking a deliberate step towards him. "Would you think of our family as something silly? Would the thought alone make you want to let me go again?" His eyes narrowed as he remembered what he'd said to you in an argument a few days ago. "Or would you refuse to have a kid at the very last minute? Pretend like it's the worst fucking thing in the world too?"

Finnick opened his mouth to reply, but then something slipped out your mouth subconsciously and the whole room grew dangerously quiet. "Or would I have to seek someone else to do me the favor? Just so Snow could spare our fucking lives while you try to figure out if you want me or not in your life."

You knew you'd hit a nail before the last words even escaped your mouth. Finnick stared at you — hard as if he was almost trying to figure out whether you'd been serious or not. But when you didn't open your mouth to elaborate any further, his shoulders slumped in disbelief.

"You wouldn't." He paused, dragging a lengthy sigh out as he examined you carefully.

"It would surprise you," You breathed out, trying to keep yourself from falling apart. "the things I'll do to keep you alive."

Finnick didn't know about Peeta or his suggestion to you. He didn't know that you'd considered — for a split second, to take his offer. Although Peeta was teasing, you knew that the thinly veiled insinuation was there. And, if you were to walk into his room, he would've opened the door and let you in without a doubt.

And, for some reason, you didn't hate the idea as much as you should've had.

And Finnick didn't know any of that. But, under his gaze and the burning hue in his green irises — it almost seemed as if he did. And, subconsciously, you embraced yourself for the worst: for an argument, an accusation — anything that could've broken your heart.

But, instead, Finnick whispered. "Please don't."

And your stomach dropped at the teary sound of his voice...because you weren't expecting it. "I don't think I would be able to survive that."

Your mouth went dry. "What — "

"— No, (Y/N), you don't understand," He interrupted, sliding a hand behind your neck to gently stop you. "I can survive Snow, I can survive the games — God, I can survive being sold off to the whole Capitol. But, please, don't ask me to watch you have somebody else's baby — our baby, please don't believe that for a second that I could ever be at peace with that."

"Then be with me." You exhaled, but it almost sounded like a pled as you rested your forehead against his and he shut his eyes tightly. As if he was almost debating over the matter in his own head. "Please, baby."

Your heart sank when he shook his head.

"I can't do that to you, (Y/N)," Finnick whispered, and for a moment, you weren't sure as to what he was referring to this time. Was it the marriage? The children? The punishment Snow had haunted him with? Or was it the games? You weren’t quite sure.

"We could win the games."

"No, baby," Finnick kissed your forehead and you exhaled audibly. "There are no winners."

He was right.

And, although you should've been mad at him — the anger quickly diminished when he wrapped his arms around you. You knew you should’ve pushed him away and turn the other way, but you didn’t. Because, despite everything, you still loved him and that night would be the last before the games — before the massacre.

And you didn't want to lose him just yet.

"Could you sleep with me tonight?" You whispered against his neck and his arms tightened a little more around your body.

"Always."

It was somewhere in the middle of the night when you woke up to the sound of muffled voices outside your bedroom. You opened your eyes to find the door slightly parted and the light from the hallway streaming in through the gap. Instinctively, you pushed onto your elbows and turned to the other side of the bed, but you were more than surprised to find the space empty.

Finnick was gone.

Confused, you made to toss the blankets aside and climb out of bed to look for him, but your muscles momentarily froze when you registered a familiar voice outside your door.

“You can’t speak of this, Finnick,” Haymich whispered, and the urgent sound of his voice forced a shiver to run down your spine. “It’s too dangerous, especially with Snow watching her.”

“I need to tell her, Haymich.” You heard Finnick reply, but his voice was quiet, barely audible.

“It’s for the best. If you want to protect her.”

Then silence ensued for a few minutes and the lights eventually shut off. Immediately, you laid back on your pillows and tossed to the other side of the bed to pretend you were sleeping. Until the other side of the bed deepened with the weight of Finnick and an arm wrapped around your waist.

For a few minutes, you lay there quietly as Finnick fell asleep; wondering what the hell Haymich and Finnick were talking about.

Soooooo, this chapter was longeeeer, but I do apologize for the wait, I’ve been busy with schoooool😫 Anywho, I’m wondering what team are you guys on?

Team Peeta or Team Finnick?

Please let me know you thoughts

@serrendiipty @avoxrising @queerqueenlynn @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @stayc-a-I-m @chaoticcoffeequeen @wonderland2425 @leilani788 @nexxus13 @whatsupb18 @maxinehufflepuffprincess @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @syd649 @flavorofsalt @wisewidowweasley-blog @meikoo @mozz-are-lla @nomorespahgetti @aestheticOcherryblossom

#finnick x reader x peeta #finnick x y/n #finnick x you #finnick odair drabble #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair imagine #hunger games finnick #finnick fanfic #finnick odair #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark

[girlgenius1111]

masterlist wips last updated march 25

alexia putellas

a cure for frustration p1 make it better p2 -smut

do you want my attention? -smut

do you need me? p1 just admit it p2

tease p1 tease p2 -smut

love you anyway p1 i love you... it's all i can think p2 let me show you p3-smut

trying to be cool about it p1 we don’t have to talk about it p2 i can't hide from you like i hide from myself p3

waiting room p1 she’ll be the best you ever had if you let her p2

didn't mean to forget you

something isn’t right, babe

give you my sunshine, give you my best

got love struck went straight to my head p1 what if all i need is you p2 smut

who could stay?

talk more

didn't think that through smut

birthdays are supposed to have surprises p1 i'll be whatever you need p2

stuck with me

echoes of her

you come back with gravity

miscommunications + conversations

say it again smut

rather be anyone else

please smut please part 2

i always know what you need smut putellas!reader

when i break, it's in a million pieces chap 1 shining just for you chap 2 all i do is try, try, try chap 3

young, drunk, and alone

i'll make it through the winter if it kills me p1 i'll angel in the snow until i'm worthy p2

ona batlle

you don't have to pretend with me

that night was a mistake

that night was a mistake

is this a mistake too? [smut]

i want to be here.

pay for your crimes

the great war

sweet dream was over

it was war it wasn't fair

burning embers

maybe it's the past that's talking... screaming from the crypt

we will never go back

claudia pina

resistance & persistence

always will

misa rodriguez

to the brink

no one speaks to you like that

snapped snapped p2

jenni hermoso

homecoming

cata coll

prove yourself

leah williamson

ACL tear #4, ACL couple #2 p1 matching injuries, matching fits p2 you could see the best of me p3 smut

leila ouahabi

can she make you feel like I do? smut

patri guijarro

like you mean it p1 i know you can p2 smut

ingrid engen

i wake up screaming from dreaming

engen!reader solstråle engen - family line

all that i did to try to undo it

all of my pain and all your excuses

ingrid engen x mapí león x reader

don't doubt us

always want you

you aren’t a chore…

all the same

alexia putellas x jenni hermoso x misa rodríguez x reader [aka the orgy fic]

just let go

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

barca femeni x reader

you can let it go p1. you talk of the pain like it's all alright p2. you can start a family who will always show you love p3. one step forward and three steps back p4.

don't tell Leah

pop back up p1 key to recovery p2

i can take care of myself

no one should be alone on christmas

worry about them p1 learn your lesson p2

always enough for us

don't you trust me?

wrong.

adrenaline junkie p1 with a high comes a crash p2 aftershocks p3 crumbling under pressure p4

i don't know why i am the way i am

you can face this

screaming underwater p1 wavin' from the shore p2

arsenal wfc x reader

i could change up my body and change up my face

don't let this darkness fool you

you can’t keep secrets from us

who I write for

alexia putellas

ona batlle

mapi leon

ingrid engen

mariona caldentey

patri guijarro

claudia pina

leah williamson

alessia russo

leila ouahabi

jenni hermoso

misa rodriguez

jana fernandez

I would say that this isn't like a full list because I feel like i'm forgetting people, but also just ask, i'll probably write for a lot of people unless I don't feel like I know their personality at all.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #ona batlle x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #ona batlle #arsenal wfc x reader #leah williamson x reader