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ana8swift · 2 years

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summary: you and Steve are best friends, things change after time, but one thing always stayed the same.

Inspired by the song 'time after time' by Cyndi Lauper

word count: 3,571

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"You're bad luck you know that right? My car's in repair for the second time this summer. Now, we have to walk! For forty minutes!" Steve basically yells in your ear. Like your head isn't already spinning.

"How is that my fault? Also walking is good, it's healthy!" you turn to face him and you notice how-

Summer leaves a kiss on Steve Harrington's face once again. It looks good on him. Maybe this is just the liquor talking or maybe it's something you always noticed. Steve Harrington thrives in the summer, the hot weather, the girls and dates he's been getting are just the proof of that.

Maybe he always looked this good, or maybe you never noticed anything before because you are his best friend.

"You were with me, the both times I 'crushed' my car! You are a distraction, you are also never stepping a foot near my car again" you want to laugh, you almost do , but instead you flirt. You get that way when you're drunk.

"You saying 'I'm distracting-ly beautiful' is all I'm hearing" you smirk in his direction and if it wasn't dark, you would see a pink flush on his face.

"Ha-ha you know that's not- it doesn't matter. Forty minutes! We have to walk for- he says your name as

you walk with your heals in your hand and bare feet on the freshly cut grass next to the side walk. You thank God that your allergies are over, but still you smell the flowers around you. You also smell the cheep bear from your's and Steve's breath. You think that smell will follow you forever along with his hand that's now interviewed with your fingers. You smile at the gesture and you continue to listen to his rambling.

- And do you know that girl Robin was talking about? She tried to kiss me tonight? What's with the world today? Is everyone just thinking about kissing and sex? I just want to have a nice conversation for once!" he explains.

"Maybe it's like, your lips. They looked really kissable and the girl couldn't help herself? I don't know -And also if you want to have a conversation just call Dustin up. You know he'll answer no matter what time it is. Don't go to a party with hormonal teenagers and then complain"

"You think my lips are kissable? Do you often think about my lips huh?" Now it's his turn to smirk, to charm you, to squeeze your hand.

"Shut up" you almost giggle like a little girl. Steve has that effect on you.

"Want to shut you up with a kiss?" Well he's taking it too far now, you laugh and

You drop his hand and start running. You feel like a child again. You feel a light breeze and how your short dress slowly lifts up as your feet continue to move you forward. You feel free and you remember a time when you and Steve were just kids running around and dreaming of a better world and a bright shared future.

You were around seven, when you first officially met. You always knew each other, you lived in the same neighborhood. Your parents knew each other, they attended the same parties. You wondered around a big, cold and almost empty hause. Well it wasn't empty, you could see the picture frames filled with memories but you couldn't feel the love and happiness in them. The furniture, the walls, the floor even, everything was plain, simple. You couldn't understand why this hause wasn't a home. Your young mind was confused, filled with thousand of thoughts at once as you walked up the stairs. And you suddenly saw it- a boy around your age walking out a room. On the door there was a small sign written in big blue letters STEVE. So you introduced yourself, and you spent the whole dinner sitting on the stairs, talking to a boy called Steve and promising to be each other's friend, forever.

You spent your childhood running around Steve's big backyard, playing games, hide and seek, twenty questions and you promised to always say the truth!

"Go slow" he yells and you stop running, you fall behind and you look at him and start to laugh again. Steve thinks your laugh is his cure. He wants to fall asleep to that sound, to keep it close to his ears and heart. Steve thinks you're beautiful as you take his hand again and you start to slowly dance under the street lights. You always do that when you're drunk, you forget that Steve's you best friend and not your boyfriend. But you can't help yourself, and neither can he.

So your forty minute walk turned into a hour worth of walking. Steve didn't complain again though. Both of you stayed silent till you made it to your street, a simple 'see you tomorrow' a kiss on a cheek and a sweet smile from your lips cured Steve's heartache.

Time after time, you have waited for Steve. He was always late, late to realize that he loved you, or to get to work. You were standing behind the counter, chatting with the guy you have been seeing. You offered him free ice cream and he kindly refused. Steve was left confused, how can he refuse something that you offer, even something simple as ice cream? That guy should be grateful that you are even talking to him! He shouldn't take his chances, refusing you, 'what an idiot' Steve thinks. If Steve had the chance, he would do anything you asked him to, he would do everything for you.

"Earth to Steve Harrington. You okay buddy?" Robin asks him.

"Fine"

"What, are you jealous?" She notices the way his lips frown and she realizes, it's a simple thing really. How could she not see it before? "Oh my God, you so are jealous!"

"Shut up Robin! I'm not-

"You are not what?" you try to join in the conversation. Steve stops his words from leaving his mouth, hopping you didn't hear Robin's comment and hopping he could find the courage to say something because time moves to fast and he's staring at you, taking to long to answer, feeling as the walls around him crash and thank God for Robin's quick thinking.

"He wasn't late today! Yey, we should celebrate that, go get some ice cream samples -Oh and we should catch a movie later" Robin says as you leave for the back room to find some samples.

"By the way, I don't think that we should celebrate that Steve's not late, you know. That's kinda your job" you turn to Steve, damn you're fast. You hand him ice cream and continue. "And we shouldn't celebrate that you followed a rule for once"

"What? I always follow the rules, back in high-school they called me Steve Rules!" He jokes and everything feels allright now because you laugh at his joke. You always do, Steve just realized that too late.

In high-school, your friendship was little bit different then when you were kids or now, when you're both young adults. You were friends, sure. But in school, you never sat with him and his friends in the cafeteria, you almost never went to his parties. Instead you always waited till everyone left, and you'd always find Steve on his porch. Almost looking like he's waiting as well. And you'd sit there and talk, and you'd help him clean the empty bottles and the mess that was left behind. You never minded this routine, or that you and Steve weren't exactly the definition of friends. You knew he'd always be there for you, and you'd always be there for him. It's a known fact between you two. Because you remember a night when Steve was the only one who listened to your cries about Johnny, your first ever boyfriend.

You remember a time full of heartbreaks, late night drives, pancakes in the morning.

You were around fifteen when you had your first kiss. And you always thought that your first kiss, the most magical moment in a young girl's mind, will be shared with Steve. It wasn't. Steve had his first with Marianne when he was thirteen. It was during spin the bottle, you were there and you watched your best friend kiss the meanest girl at school. You puked before you got to your turn and Steve walked you home.

Few years later he walked you home after your break up with Johnny. He listened to your cries and comforted you with silence.

"Why would someone do something like that? I don't understand. What did I do wrong?" you wondered out loud.

"Hey you didn't do anything wrong! That guy's an asshole. He did the wrong thing, he cheated"

"Just a reminder this is not the time when you say 'I told you so', I knew he was a jerk, but still I thought he'd be different with me. God- I feel stupid" you say and Steve hates this. He hates hearing you say stuff like that. When you first started going out with Johnny, Steve thought he would be happy to see you two broken up. But now, he feel just as bad as you. He doesn't quite understand what he is feeling.

"I wasn't even planning on saying that. I really hoped to be wrong about him. And also, you are the smartest person I know, so you picked the wrong guy? Mistake made, all forgotten. You'll find someone, one day"

"Agh maybe, for now I'm done with dating. I'm going to stay alone forever. And that’s fine"

"Can I be alone with you as well?" he nervously asks.

"Of course"

You got home, but later that night, Steve called. He insisted that he couldn't fallasleep and he took you on a drive around your small town. He didn't even have a license yet, he was sixteen for God's sake but still. He tried to make you feel better. And he did, because that became your routine. Late-night drives every time life got too hard.

but Back in the present.

Steve feels lost. This is the third time now. Third challenge of escaping death and protecting the ones he loves. And fuck- you're also here now. You got dragged into Steve's nightmare. You now know the truth. All those times Steve has called you, beaten, bloody and bruised. All the times you have cleaned his wounds, after all those fights. You now realize. He wasn't fighting in a fight club, he wasn't careless and heartbroken because of Nancy. He was fighting, yeah, but he was also protecting. Protecting everyone, protecting you. And he was dealing with harder things than you could've ever imagined, but you know now. You know about darker dimensions, scary monsters, brave kids, kids with powers and you know Steve. Or you thought that you knew him. All his secrets you've kept since you were kids. Never telling a soul, a promise you've told each other over and over. Just for Steve to lie to you, all this time? Not telling you about his nightmares, about the horror he's been through.

You sit in an almost empty room- well a laboratory and you think that this place feels awfully close to Steve's hause. You don't tell him that, you never tell him that. Because he knows it, and he knows that you know that. And more importantly he knows that his home, is not the hause he grew up in, the hause with big windows, high ceilings, new furniture and picture frames. His home is you. He remembers the first time he realized that his hause is haunted.

It was Christmas, you were both around seventeen. Steve never liked the holidays. That's because his parents argued all the time and that his cousins were older and didn't include him in their stupid activities. His other realities never cared about him either. But this was the first Christmas he spent without his parents. They went to New York, or somewhere, they didn't really say where. So Steve was left alone in a hause not a home. But you noticed the light coming from Steve's room. That jerk told you he was on vacation, why was he still in his room then? When you realized what was really going on, you stayed with him. You decorated a small Christmas tree in his room and baked cookies in his kitchen. While you were cleaning up, you played twenty questions. Nostalgia was in the air, as you answered:

"No, I've never been with two guys at the same time. What kind of question is that?" you're confused but you laugh anyway at his stupid questions. "It's my turn now, where do you see yourself in five year time? Remember, when we were kids, we always used to talk about the future. But I guess it's different now"

"I guess that's true. It was easier back then. But If I think to hard about it-

"Please Steve, don't you dare think too hard. You'll have to use your brain for that. And I'm m afraid you don't have that" you tease.

- Very funny, ha-ha. I'm laughing so much right now. But I was going to say that, everything is easier with you around. And see now, you've ruined my nice compliment" he tries to sound annoyed, but he can't. You can never annoy him. No matter how hard you try.

"Ahh, come on now. You're making me look bad because I joked that you don't have a brain. But let me continue- you contain your laughter as you look into his eyes, with a serious voice you tell him the truth:

-Steve Harrington you may not be the brightest person out there, but I'm sure as hell that you have the biggest heart. You just have to let people see it"

Steve thinks if he really has a big heart as you say, you've melted it away with your words, kindness and truth.

That day you gave him his first memorable Christmas and he gave you a small present. A simple meaning, a necklace with the promise of infinity, of forever. Steve wants to go back to that memory.

But right now he's again beaten up, drugged and the only thing he wants to know is-

"Are you okay?" he asks and says your name in a whisper.

"Your the one with a bloody nose and eye, are you okay?"

'' 'm fine, and you? Robin you also there?" you can barely recognize his quiet voice, but still you answer as you look at Robin.

"I'm fine, and Robin's fine. She's fast asleep though. The drugs didn't work on her"

"Do you feel them? The drugs?" he asks.

You felt them. Like a rush through your bones, ready to confess your sins. Ready to run, because you could feel the adrenaline in your veins.

"Sure, you?"

"Yeah I guess. I hope Dustin and Erica are fine"

"Knowing them, they probably are"

"Yeah, they're probably going to come through this door any second now and save us- as Steve says that, both of you turn your head to the door, waiting. And you wait for a while, it's not seconds but more like 10 minutes as -Henderson! I knew you'd come! I fucking told you! HA! Take it you Russians!"

And you were saved, by two kids and later by Steve and you escaped a secret Russian underground base, you fought a monster, you met El and witnessed her powers. And you lost. Hopper. Billy. And five more people who died in a so-called 'fire mall' . But you still had Steve, and Robin and everyone else and you knew you'll be fine.

But still, weeks pass, days go by and you are not fine. You try to be, you try to pretend for your parents, for your family and friends all except Steve.

He's always an exception for you and you're always a distraction for him. It's a known fact between you two. That's why you're avoiding him. He's the only one who truly knows you. The only one who knows that you are not fine. The only one that can see through your lies and fake smiles.

So there he was, time after time, still standing straight behind your door, waiting for you. For the first time, he was waiting for you. He felt terrified, not knowing if you'll open the door, and even more terrified if you let him in. What will he say? What's there to say? What do you want him to say? Probably the truth. You deserve the truth. He lightly says your name, begging for you to open the door. And you hate the sound he makes, you hate to make him wait, or hurt, so you open the door.

With tears in your eyes you tell him as he walks in.

"I haven't been avoiding you because I'm mad at you for dragging you into all these crazy stuff- I'm mad because you've kept all this a secret till now. I'm your best friend, you know I would've believed you, I could've been there for you!" you sit on your bed and look into his eyes.

There are dark circles behind them, his hair is a mess and that says a lot about how he's been holding up.

"That's why I didn't tell you! I wanted to protect you, that's why I've kept it a secret. Please don't be angry at me. I can't- I can't do it when you're angry at me" he's pacing around the room. A place where he has slept over countless of times, a place he has watched change from time to time. From the dolls on the floor, to the posters on the wall. Now the curtains are covering the summer's sun and everything is darker then before, still your voice brings him back to the light.

"I'm not angry, I'm not. I promise. I'm sorry I've been distant but I just didn't know how to deal with all this"

"You come at mine- you come to me. I'll be with you as you deal with this". It's all right now. He takes a sit beside you, and looks at you. He holds his eyes on you, so you'll know, that he's saying the truth.

"Only if you promise no more secrets, and for real this time"

"I promise- actually I can't do that" he suddenly remembers the real reason he's here. And he remembers all the times and all the excuses on why he hasn't said anything before. He was a coward, a little late but finally he decides to be brave.

"What? What else have you been keeping from me oh God, Steve?- your voice changes, anger fills you up. Not for long though. You can never stay angry at Steve for too long. It's something both of you know, a little fact.

"There's one more thing, one more secret I haven't told you about. Or anyone really, but I think Robin knows. And Dustin"

-You told your secret to a middle-school kid? Dustin, really?" you sound surprised, but you are not really. You know how strong their friendship is. Dustin knows everything there is to know about Steve, and the other way around. You almost sound like you're jealous.

"Well as I said I didn't tell anyone, they just know. They know, everyone knows" his heartbeats are louder than the words he says next.

"Know what? Stop talking in code or whatever, just say it"

you almost know what he's going to say, at least you hope. For the first time in a long time you find hope. That maybe he feels the same-

"I'm in love with you" he pauses and looks away. But no- he can't look away now. He's going to be brave. He has to. "have been for a long time. I just didn't realize it" he says it and he feels like time stopped. Like the rest of the world was caught in fire and you two were the only ones left.

"Well, you should also know my secret" you keep his gaze and your hand moves closer to his.

"You have one too?" he accepts your hand. He'll accept anything you have to offer. And if he had the chance right now, he would really stop time just so he can relieve this moment with you, forever.

"Yeah, it's similar to yours. I've been in love with this boy, ever since I met him. And hell, that's like a really long time. Almost- I don't even remember how many years. I've been waiting for him to realize how I've felt, but he's little clueless, little late. But he's also very brave, some people from high-school even call him a 'hero' "

"Really? What's else?" he moves closer, his other hand finds your waist. His face only inches away from yours.

"He's also loyal, and quite pretty too. He's also my best friend" you close the gap between your faces. A quick peak on the lips and Steve feels fearless. He can die in peace now. He finally tasted heaven. You look in his eyes, hold your breath and you say it back. Clean and strong, the words echo through Steve's mind.

"I'm in love with you too"

Time really stopped. The rest of the world felt it too, they all heard it. The words became a prayer and Steve was a firm believer. Every night you reminded each other.

Because time after time, your love stayed the same.

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Notes: Hi, I hoped you liked reading this and also if you noticed some grammar mistakes please let me know. Have a nice dayyy, love a ♡

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things reader insert #steve harrington #robin buckley #dustin henderson

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kirihotto · 1 year

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Friends Attentive Brother {Taehyun X Reader 16+}

→ Warnings: Slightly aggressive dom

→ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content.

→ Genre: Friends brother likes you

→ Summary: Hanging out with your friends you go over to one of there houses for the night. Expecting to have the place to yourselves. Her older brother had a change of plans. So your all stuck together for the rainy night.

→ Word Count: 2 801

Disclaimer: All members are face and name claims for the story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. All works are purely for entertainment purposes.

Published: 01/10/23

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"Hey brooo~" My best friend Minho {No. not lee know minho} called out poorly to her brother standing in the door. Us. soaking wet. Since it was pouring rain, we all huddled under the roof sheltering each entryway. It had been all sunshine and rainbows until we decided to go back from the mall. Minho just stood with a dumb grin on her face. While the other two girls behind us were shivering and nudging her. Minho's way to attractive of a brother stood with a confused glare at us. Until finally she spoke. "Let us innn! I thought you were away for the night."

"Plans changed. Come in you guys." He smiled, moving his frame from the grip on the doors. We piled in the safe, cozy place's entryway. I've been here a few times. Even though it was small it was rather nice. Dark Hardwood floors trailing to the living room. Which was filled with two black soft leather couches and matching loveseat. A circle white table sat in the middle, and a few plants decorated it. Fluffy white rug underneath. The kitchen lined with black cupboards and white countertops. Tall black leather seats met the island. A set of two huge glass doors, leading to a balcony. Taehyun marched up to Minho waving a finger in her face. "Stay here, I'll grab towels. Don't fool around too late."

"Yeah yeah." She pouted. Snatching a towel from Taehyun. He gently handed the rest of the stack to us. But my gaze was rather focused on him than the task at hand. His bleach blonde hair resting above his brows. Slender frame layered with a black hoodie and black slightly ripped jeans. A pair of white Puma slides to complete the 'at home' look. His doe eyes caught my staring ones. He only smiled slightly. Before he walked off in the direction of his room. Minho taking the floor, leading us down the same hallway. "Alright. You can put your towels here once you're done. Feel free to change here or my room. We can take turns and wait in the living room."

I changed into my pajamas for the night. Well. not really pajamas as much as they were comfy clothes. Pink shorts and a baggy gray sweater. My wet hair fresh and combed down. Sitting on the comfy couch as the other girls got changed. One by one we got dressed and scrolled through our phones. Warming up from all the wet journey. Minho quickly dragged us to her room once we finished changing. Her room was way different from the relaxed neutral appeal of the rest of the house. The room was all greens, blues and a little yellow. But very much still girly. Fluffy accent pillows, cute stuffies, flowers, jewelry, all sorts. Joo-jin and Byun stole the two most comfortable spots on the bed. Minho sat on the small desk chair backward and I sat on one of the many fluffy pillows on the floor. For once the other two's focus wasn't on their cells. Minho had clearly noticed.

"So. drama? Tea? All the deets we couldn't spill in public. Asap!" Minho demanded. Her eyes searched for a spark of fiery passion.

"I mean yeah.. With Byumho and his girlfriend." Joo-jin softly remarked. Minho instantly put the issue on full blast. While I did like my friends I wasn't about to sit here and listen to drama about boys. Any other drama besides boys I'd be all into listening. Opening a random rhythm game on my phone and tapping away. While the other three shared information about each other's crushes.

"So F/N you like anyone?" Minho rolled her chair over to my sad spot on the floor. I shook my head and my focus turned back to the level. Clearly not satisfied she let out a complaining sigh. "Come onnn! I know you have your heart set on someone."

"No i- hey!-" I was trying to deny it when she snatched my phone from my grip. The sad sound of failure rang in the air.

"Fine. whatever. But get your nose out of that game. Let's start our own game." Minho chuckled, rolling her chair back to the center of the small room. All eyes focused on her. She stuck out a finger in my direction. I cocked an eyebrow at her in confusion. "Truth or dare me."

"Truth or dare?" I sighed out. Not knowing what I'd choose for her in either of those options.

"Dare."

"I dare you.. to be nice to your brother for the rest of the day." Nice one. That had been easier than expected. She looked 'wounded' and growled. I just laughed at her dramatic expression. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

"Joo-jin! T or D?" Minho called out. They were all just so much more energetic than I was. As well as being pretty popular. "Mmm. oh! I dare you to tell my brother you like him."

"What! I don't. Ugh ok ok." Joo-jin's focus went to Byun. "T or D?"

"Truth."

"Did you used to have a crush on Taehyun?" Joo-jin questioned. A swirl of dread flooded my stomach at the insinuation. Maybe not so fun..

"Well. not really but like he was really cute." Byun admitted with a nervous blush.

"Seriously. What is with the topic of my brother? Ugh. he wasn't even supposed to be here tonight. He was supposed to be with his bandmates in Busan." Minho complained. I had forgotten he was a member of a new group. Minho burst through my thoughts again. "F/N T or D?"

"Uhhh Truth. Wasn't Byun supposed to ask me?" I chose quickly.

"Whatever, I'm sure she will agree with my offer. With the topic of my brother in the air. Who do you like?" Minho questioned shooting me a daring gaze. My face lit aflame when I realized what that glance had meant.

"Oh you so do." Byun smirked. Assuming she had agreed to Minho's 'truth offer.'

"You'd be so cute together." Joo-jin blurted.

"Come on, just admit it! I wont be mad, it's fine. He is single as far as I know." Minho Finished with a wink. They all leaned in closer to me. Eyeing me for a reaction, which I could easily feel in my burning up face.

"Alright! Fine! Fine. I like Taehyun ok? You happy?" All the girls squealed after my way too loud of a claim. Slumping over my crossed legs and covering my blushed face. Though I hadn't really thought of... dating him..

"Ok ok! Ask me one!" Minho squealed, waving her hands about in excitement. I was done with chaos and tired. It didn't take much longer for the other girls to get tucked into bed as well. Minho stole my phone so i didn't have any music tonight to keep me safe from her slumber.

In the dark room filled with flowery aroma and snoring girls I lie down awake. Knowing it was useless to look for my phone in the dark or try sleeping. I made a break for the living room. It was oh so cozy. The house was all dark other than the moon lit living room. Shiny rain trailing down the glass doors as I stared out. My warm hand resting on the cool glass. The moments from today are finally catching up to me. It was so fun other than being soaking wet and I Hadn't thought of dating Taehyun. I always seemed to stare at him while I was here. He is just so good looking. But those kind eyes. Meeting mine. I'd love nothing more than that warm gaze to be on me.

"F/N?" A male voice called from not far behind me. Apparently his gaze was on me. My heart instantly knew who it was. Jumping out of my chest by just his silky voice calling my name. He made his way over to me and leaned on the cold glass next to me. His arm resting against the glass above his head. I'd have to pray it was dark enough for him not to notice my intense blush. Yet it was enough to see his beautiful features.

"Y-yeah. Sorry, did I wake you?" I replied, finally looking him up in the eye. He smiled and shook his head.

"No no. I'm sure we're up for the same reason" he stated, nudging his head toward the hallway we had just come from. His slender hand slid down the nape of his neck. His eyes focused on mine. "I came out here to grab my charger. But.. here you are."

"Yeah. o-oh! I'm ok alone. I'm not even that tired. It's just so nice. The rain." My view flew quickly back to said rain. Taehyun's gaze still noticeably scanned me. Presumably hunting for a lie. Until he did the same. Looking out to see what was visible of the city lights.

"Well.. what if I'm not?" Taehyun questioned, leaning slightly in my direction. His gaze focused outside. His dark eyes glistened upon the cold dark sky. A small smile graced his face.

"Oh, I can stay with you." After a moment of processing I answered him. Once more staring.

"You don't have to. But I certainly wouldn't mind having someone like you to pass the time with." He gave me a side eye before releasing a sigh. Leaning his back against the cold glass rather than his side. His face toward the ceiling. Long eyelashes shadowing his cheeks.

"I was planning on staying out here anyway. May as well stick together." Honestly, I wanted to run away so bad. My mind is racing a mile a minute. Poorly attempting to make sense of my emotions. But clearly my racing heartbeat was the silent, yet loud and clear answer.

"Let's get comfy. It's awfully cold. " Taehyun offered. Making his way toward the couches. A blanket was quick to appear next to him. Along with myself. He tossed half of the soft white blanket barely on me. "I won't bite. Let's watch a movie?"

"Sure. not too loud to wake them." I reminded him. Taehyun chuckled slightly, grabbing the remote from its place on the table. Flopping back comfortably and turning on the TV. Scrolling through movies he picked one that played quietly behind our chatter.

"I don't want to disturb others. But Minho. Mm she deserves it." Taehyun giggled slightly, reaching for his phone. A scroll later and a sad sigh erupted. An irritable run of fingers through his blonde locks. "If it weren't so stormy."

"Oh? I thought you said it was nice." shocked at the sudden mood change. He seemed so relaxed. Now tense and slightly salty. The bright LED screens lit up the otherwise dark room. Taehyun's gaze wandered his cell screen.

"Oh yeah haha. It's pretty, don't get me wrong. We had to delay our practice again due to bad driving conditions." another sigh and wave of his hands. He tossed his phone on the soft pillows next to him. His focus was back on the TV. while mine had hardly left him. His tousled blonde hair attempting to hide under a big black hood. "It doesn't matter. This is nice."

After a half an hour or so of my eyes drifting from Taehyun to the bright tv screen. When my gaze met the TV I'd only think about my feelings toward him. My heart raced steadily through the entire half hour. Until the movie had gotten more... intense than expected. Nonetheless we watched the two lovers 'quarrel' with each other in the sheets. Taehyun didn't seem overly uncomfortable for someone that didn't know me well. Other than his leg slightly bouncing moments before the scene came on. Looking away from him and the TV hoping to distract my thoughts. This is my friend's brother. Get a grip. I repeated in my head. But it was no use. The blush flooding my cheeks must have been visible to Taehyun by now.

"Oh sorry. I just uhm.. Zoned out." Taehyun had clicked off the TV after a quick glance at me. His focus fully on me. He took down his hood hurriedly and twisted his body in my direction. Stray blonde hair stuck up in a few places.

"No, it's ok! If you want to watch it, go ahead." I replied, waving my hands in my face. Taehyun had only let out a relieved sigh. His shoulders relaxed again. Our roles had been reversed. Now I was wondering if he was ok.

"Shh.. not too loud. It was my fault you got so worked up. You're loud when you're nervous.-" Taehyun cut himself off. Shooting me a rushed worried glance. I hadn't known why until.. How would he know that about me? Nearly giving myself whiplash in my hurried frantic glances. Unless. My statement earlier..oh no..

"H-how did you come to that conclusion? We hardly know each other." I replied hastily. Even though he was right.

"Before I say this, don't freak out. I didn't mean to listen in. My room is right next to Minho's. I can hear her snore. So you guys were yelling earlier...gah.." Taehyun fumbled upon his words. His hand resting on the nape of his neck again. Nervous habit. A slight pink dusted his cheeks. Wow. I could get used to this. Even though I knew what he was going to say next. "I heard your claim earlier. You liking me."

His focus shot up to me finally. After his statement of said knowledge his gaze hardened. Like getting those words out was a relief. While hearing those words I had claimed earlier, broke me. My heart was aching by this point. It was pounding like nuts since we sat down. now It was more of an anxious beating I'm sure. His eyes scanned my form for any sign of reaction. But once his eyes met mine we both knew.

(spice)

Taehyun tossed the blanket off us. Pinning me to the small leather couch in the moonlit living room. His hands on either side of my head. A shiver creeping down my spine. Whether it was from the sudden cold or Taehyun's intense stare from above me, I didn't know. Was he toying with me? I felt an anger start to boil in my throat. Though no words were spoken. We just stared. His dark doe eyes meet mine. Messy blonde hair dangling inches away from me.

"Luckily, I've taken a liking to you." He stated, slowly moving closer to me. His eyes flickered from my lips to my eyes. In my shock I flew my blushed face the opposite way. Facing the now oh so interesting leather pillows. Taehyun let out a quiet deep chuckle. His warm breath fanned my neck against the cold. The slight smell of his cologne filling my senses. He halted his movement. Hovering above me. "If you don't want this you have all the right to say so. At any point and time. If you don't say anything I can..continue..?"

My thoughts were racing. So he did like me. I just realized what I have been feeling toward him and now this? Though it was sudden my racing heartbeat didn't want me to go anywhere. All movement stopped as I processed my thoughts. The sound of rain slamming into the roof repeatedly, the glow of the cold blue moon. This was too good to pass up. Nodding slowly, my body relaxed. Feeling reassured I wasn't being forced or restrained.

Taehyun moved away for a moment. My eyes shifted to sneak a peak at his reaction. He seemed shocked, but a small grin was across his face. Along with a cute string of small blush. His hair tickled my neck before I felt his breath again. Soft kisses along my neck and behind my ear slightly. My eyes shut, the back of my hand over my mouth. Holding in what I knew would be a mess of tiny moans. He was hardly touching me but my fluttering heart didn't seem to care. It only craved more.

Taehyun hovered above me again. I turned my body to face him, slowly putting my hands on his lean shoulders. Tensing from my touch. We were both nervous yet trusted one another. He caressed my cheek before kissing me lightly. My hands rested together behind his neck and shoulders. Pressing our bodies together. The heat from him, warming me from the chilly air. Strings of kisses getting more and more intense. Gasping for air as he rested his forehead on mine for a moment.

"Your so beautiful.. be mine." Though it was phrased like a question. His tone said otherwise. A fiery yet passionate gaze. I was already his.

A/N: Part 2? 0.0

#kang taehyun #txt #txt x you #txt x reader #txt fic #taehyun x reader #taehyun txt #taehyun x y/n

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matchmade-chemistry · 1 year

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Y'all, I just made fangan ocs ^^

I am so happy rn, I'm linking their intros RN-

Just a quick note that most of these are pulled from my writings and some interactions on character.ai. And my protagonist and other roles aren't created yet. I just have this group, on with the show then!! ^^

"An honest to god, Ultimate...? That's so interesting..." The boy said, his eyes filling with respect for the person in front of him. He was about to say his own name and ultimate, but then had a worried look in his soft pink eyes. "I'm............ I am....." He started, but never finished. He just gave a blank and haunted look to the floor, it seems like a good chance to see if this guy was a threat.... he was around average height. He had strawberry blonde hair, and the bangs went in his pastel pink eyes. He had a couple of freckles on the bridge of his nose. He absent-mindedly leaned against the locker that had to have been pried open for him to be freed. He wore a black longsleeved shirt, and a white vest, with a undone tie that was bright red and had some type of insignia on it... Although it was unrecognizable right now. He also wore deep blue jeans and red sneakers, as he audibly winced. Never thought concentration could be this painful... But, finally, finally he introduced himself "Kurai. You can call me Kurai.."

Kurai, Ultimate ???

"An.... Amnesiac.? You can't remember.... anything?" A girl questioned. She looked... ghostly. and skeletal. She was... VERY thin, and her skin and hair were both a pale white, frosty, even. She was a bit taller then average, at least 5'7. The main color came from her eyes, which were red as blood, as if you'd pricked your finger, and seen the blood pool on your finger, but the drop fell into this girls eye sockets. And her clothing. She seemed to go for more pastel colors, short sleeved shirt that puffed up slightly, a dusty turquoise apron with pale yellow accents, but black pants. And black shoes. She got the bangs out of her eyes with a pale yellow headband "I.... I am......Reika Todomatsu, Ultimate Confectioner. Please explain why you think that of yourself.." She requested

Reika Todomatsu, Ultimate Confectioner

Looking for the owner of the laugh, it seemed to belong to someone in the corner. It was a boy, a tall boy. His messy black hair covered one of his eyes, but the uncovered one was a rich golden color. He had a smirk on his face, which didn't seem to be leaving any time soon, as one of his hands were neatly tucked into an open black jacket with thick white accents. He wore two other shirts underneath, a deep red shirt, with the top three buttons undone, even though there was a silver chain holding the shirt by it's collar, and the last was a plain white t-shirt. He wore a slightly spikey black leather belt and white pants, with the design of a vine or flower going up on one of the legs. In his other hand, which was adorned with rings and bracelets, was a cigarette, the smoke framing his face in a unusually pleasant way. "Kei Saikoro, Ultimate Jeweler. Charmed, I'm sure."

Kei Saikoro, Ultimate Jeweler

"Ooooh, newbie?~ Care to explain why the fuck you think you can approach m-" The girl who said this was cut off by a boy who looked exactly like her. The girl was maybe 5'7 whilst the boy was 5'10. They both had silky bright blue hair, but the girls was shoulder length and there were wavy pigtails in the back. Whilst the boys was much longer then a boy would normally let it grow, at least near his elbows, even though it was put up into a ponytail. They also both had heterochromic eyes, one being black and the other white. They also wore matching clothes, as if it was a uniform. A white longsleeved shirt with a charcoal grey vest, charcoal grey pants, and knee high black laced up riding boots. The main difference was that the girl wore a cap on her head and the boy had a trenchcoat placed upon his shoulders. "So sorry for my sister. Anyways, pleasure to meet you. I'm Shiroko Hiroshima, and this is my sister Kurone. We're both the Ultimate Leader." The boy now named Shiroko introduced, quite exasperatedly

Shiroko Hiroshima, Ultimate Leader

Kurone Hiroshima, Ultimate Leader

"..." The other person seemed to take a bit of a long time to answer. Not as if she was shy like Reika, but as if she didn't want to be here right now, but this gave everyone a good chance to observe them. It was a girl, with long hair, almost wrist length, and was two toned. One side was a pure snow white colour, the other was pitch black. She had lavender eyes, but her choppy bangs slightly covered them. She was wearing a black longsleeved button up shirt with deep violet shorts and suspenders. She also had a shimmering glimmery strap across her chest, likely holding the camera that was at her side, hinting at her Ultimate ability already. "Nozomi Akazawa, Ultimate Photographer.."

Nozomi Akazawa, Ultimate Photographer

"It's very nice to meet you!" A girl said. She was on the shorter side, only 5'3, and she held a tablet in her arm, tucked safely into her side. She had slightly curly elbow length dusty pink hair that was put into low twintails, and her fluffy bangs were held back by a white headband with a bow on the side. She also had bright acid green eyes with long lashes. She wore a white, short sleeved button up shirt with black slacks, and an oversized, dusty blue cardigan which fell off of her shoulders, so that way the neck of her sweater reached her elbows instead. But.... if you looked right into her eyes they looked.... glitchy. Like, there were some oddly placed pixels in her pupils, and the outline was a bright neon pink instead of normal, in her case, green. "My name is Osanoko Yuki! Ultimate Digital Artist!"

Osanoko Yuki, Ultimate Digital Artist

After looking at the classmates he was stuck with up and down with a judgemental olive green stare, and opening his fan so that it covered the lower half of his face, he sighed, as if just introducing himself was exhausting. "Konichiwa, gaijin. My name is Toshihiro Umanosuke, and I am the Super High School Level Traditionalist." He said, his voice a monotone drawl. He was tall, quite tall, he had to be at very least 6'3, with long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. He wore a navy blue kimono, so dark it could blend into the deepest ocean itself. Along with the matching black fan, and thankfully some white on the collar, plus the white obi around his waist cut the sheer depressing colorscheme. He also wore pale white tabi socks and zori sandals.

Toshihiro Umanosuke, Ultimate Traditionalist

#fanganronpa #fangan oc #danganronpa oc

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2bgrey · 2 years

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Miles below

I'm flying with a whisper of clouds just below, and this melody, “never my love” beats into my drums, and your blond hair a commercial from the 70 falls on your slight frame and fills me, with a cascading of memories of what used to be.

Earlier a baby girl maybe three stood up in her seat in front smiled and looked at me in a duel of stares that ended with my blinking and smiling, a wrinkle of my nose, and I saw you again some fifty years ago.

I cannot. This struggle with you both beautiful and horridly graphic takes my emotions and tears them to break.

Small geometric rectangles, squares, and triangles the patchwork of farmland below, and man’s attempt in feeding us all. Fried chicken, buckets of beer, and worn-torn jeans you take my breath away. I can only stare and bare that which was naked and exposed only to a few or maybe none I fly quietly above an engine that roars a lul that heavies my eyes I want to dream and take you with me.

Sheeran shivers I’m driving down Williams dressed to be noticed you open a door and wait to be pleased.

I should be writing my father of the bride speech but I’m thinking of us getting married.

It’s approaching noon and I rumble with fear knowing you are no longer near and fear there can be no going back now.

Tom Walker gargles gravel and recites poetry for me to hear. I write this in response and hope it’ll take before it is too late.

White sheep dot the green-grey below and I, the one you chased after and now carry back into the fold.

The wings tip a slow to and fro your in my mind once more. This time it is a car ride where you in short hair and riding glasses drove me wild my fingers had their way with you

“It’s a sin” now plays with a piano backdrop and everything I’ve ever done, everything I ever do it’s a sin. Elton John the elder takes the lead from pet shop boys and my fingers tap beat into measures that are meant for you.

And like a dream without beginning or end or meaning in between, I write to tempo and think it poetry

a child this girl of 10, blond with a dress of tiny flowers white, pink and gold lays her head against a window with blind down she takes to slumber Neil diamond enters in Holly holy I tap to try and find a lyric or two that will better make sense how I feel for you. Brandie Carlisle screams controlled pain into an empty space and I fight these tears that seem to come out more frequent now — call it age call it forlorn.

Where have the sheep gone? disappeared into this ocean of blue swallowed up white so much still left to do.

Psst..psst..thump, thump, now together a disco beat in stereo, some club from the eighties French smoke a slender snake slithers and tangles with me on a dance floor. Tight-knit dress with hair messier up in a bun she beckons me to have some fun, we move as one her eyes pull me in my hands on her hips keep me from entering too deep. Is that the Mississippi down below? Probably still Texas, the response from siblings that road trip in the heat without air, a brown Dodge Dart whose alternator blew and we found ourselves charging batteries the way you do with your phone or laptop, everywhere and whenever. Adagio for strings a rave version thumps Mozart like never before. I stop typing because this is far too perfect to ignore which makes me type even more.

The soundtrack to a video game loop, techno sizzles then stops a quarter short.

A lookout to a wing turned up offering stability think utter turn upside down out of the water we cut through the wind and wake below. I could put a cherry on the top of Everest if she laid just outside but we’re not in Kansas anymore and it’s still flat the sheep have reappeared. Just in Time, “I raise a hallelujah in the presence of my enemy.” Church that one Sunday at the open door where I sang for twenty and still was not heard.

Chain smokers sticky up lyrics in confusion for all. Then the roar of no more, I fly, you drive somewhere below. And that is one slice of life, flying high with stones below.

#flight #songs

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decorishing · 2 years

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[gallery] Color:GreyColor:Grayproduct material: 1.Kid chair is constructed with solid wood and P2 plywood frame. 2.Surface of kid sofa is covered with eco-friendly linen fabric. Dimension: 1.product size:L 29" *W 17.7" *H 19" 2.package size:30* 18*15.7 inches 3. Weight: 15 lbs. 4. Suitable age:1 to 4 years old children We have more than 10 years experience in manufacturing kids and pets furniture. Such as kids sofas,toddler chairs,ottomans,preschool chairs and stools,children beds and pet sofa beds,etc. Our factory directly provide good price, high quality and new design products for our customers.we offer OEM&ODM&CUSTOMIZE service. Any question about this kid chair or cooperation, welcome to find us.You can leave question under product listing or email us.Thanks for your order. Make sure this fitsby entering your model number. Ergonomic Design: Kids sofa size is 29" W* 17.7" D* 19" H. It can bear up to 99 LBS kid. Recommend for 1 to 4 years old children.Reasonable and comfortable size is only to fit kids. Modern Stylish Sofa: You can choose one favorite color and put kid sofa in bedroom, study, living room and playroom or even outdoor. Durable Safe Materials: Kids sofa features a sturdy wood frame and use high density foam and wooden sofa feet. We have passed the ASTM-963, CPSIA,CPSC ,ASTM-F2613 American standard test.You don’t need to worry about its quality. 4 Colors : You can choose gray, blue, pink or sage. Easy Installation: Our kids sofa is well build with no sharp ends.You just need to install 4 wooden sofa legs. Good quality wooden legs will not hurt your carpet and floor. [amz_corss_sell asin="B07RS9LJP9"] https://www.decorishing.com/product/kids-sofa-couch-big-kids-couch-linen-fabric-2-seater-upholstered-sofa-chair-for-toddler-ages-up-to-4-ideal-baby-gift-for-girls-boys-30-w-gray/?feed_id=29839&_unique_id=626e694372d6e

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perenlop · 3 years

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i love explorers of sky but gameplaywise its kinda the most cishet pmd LOL

#not storywise tho. dear lord not storywise #but i mean its the only game attract affects the opposite gender; the starter genderlocks (tho thats in rt too)#the blue for boy pink for girl frames; the floors having boys one floor and girls the opposite #echoed voice #i mean it doesnt hinder the game at all beside no female shinx and riolu or male eevee bc thats BULLSHIT but #its funny compared to the rest of the pmd games being like ‘’wtf is a gender’’ and attract affecting everyone

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drakenology · 3 years

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the yakuza wife - yakuzaboss!bakugo x housewife reader - inspired by @hanji-is-life ‘s sexy ass.

yakuza au

tw: violence, sadism, mentions of blood, smut, cum, cussing, daddy/ddlg kinks undertones, mentions of guns, very much harley quinn and joker only joker actually loves harley in this ya know?

“where the fuck is my money?” bakugo asks this bludgeoned man tied up to a metal chair in some god forsaken warehouse god only knows where.

“please sir, i’ll get it to you as soon as I can! please stop!” the man pleads, flinching when bakugo raises his fist to land a mean left hook into his jaw with a dark chuckle.

“you know you shouldn’t borrow from people if you have no intentions in payin’ em back. it’s fuckin’..” he pauses before taking a crowbar and bashing the man in both his knees, blood curdling screams filling the empty space. “rude!”

bakugo smirks as the man begs for mercy, pulling a set of pliers of his pocket and holding them up to the man’s face to tease him, grabbing by his neck to make him meet his intimidating gaze.

“shoulda thought of that before trying to playing me for a fuckin’ fool.. hey, I wonder how many teeth I can pull outta ya before your weak ass passes out.” he grunts, waving the plier in his face until the sound of his phone ringing stops him from doing anything.

“you’re lucky I gotta take this.” he mumbles, taking a piece of dirty cloth and shoving it into his mouth to keep him quiet.

bakugo turns away and rolls up his sleeve, setting up his tools for torture as he answers the phone.

“hi baby!” you chime, at the mall having the time of your life with his credit card.

“hey. ‘m workin’ whaddaya want?” he says, holding up his pliers and sitting them down on the table as his hostage screams in the background.

“just checking on you, dummy! whatcha want for dinner, hm? i know you haven’t eaten yet.” you say, holding up different dresses to your frame to imagine yourself in them. “hey, pink or powder blue?”

“pink. and ‘m not hungry. you’ve got security with you, right baby?” he asks, kicking the man onto the floor with a loud thud.

“of course. you won’t let me leave the house without them.” you respond, not even paying attention to the muffled screams you hear in the background. you’ve learned not to ask too many questions when it comes to being a yakuza wife.

“gotta keep my baby safe, right? listen, princess I gotta go. i’ll be home before 9 okay?”

you suck your teeth and roll your eyes, “fine. be careful okay?”

“always am. love you baby.” as he hangs up and returns to his task.

the difference between you and katsuki was night and day. everyone knew you to be so sweet and kind; unbeknownst to them all how you ended up with a cretin like Bakugo. even though Katsuki was immoral in many ways, he knew marrying you was the right thing to do. who else would want to dress his wounds and pick out his suits for the day?

katsuki demanded you quit your job. in fact he came with you to put in your two weeks notice, tough scowl staining his features as your boss signed the approval with shaking hands.

from that day on he ensured you were well taken care of and that marrying him and becoming his housewife came with many perks.

for starters, your husband was loaded. all those years of extorting and money laundering paid off every time you come home with a couple shopping bags from the mall.

katsuki loved lavishing you in the finest of everything, adoring how you look in designer. so much so, he fucks you by the bay window of your luxury penthouse, the Chanel dress he just bought you hiked up over your ass as his calloused fingers make way into your mouth. you’re pinned to the glass, bare breasts pressed against the window as he railed you from behind. and he wonders why you turned out to be a spoiled brat.

your gifts always made you stand out above the rest. many men fawn over you and he knows this. just a small price to pay for having a fine ass wife. but if anyone ever forgot their place, if anyone ever got to close. well. that’d be the last time you’d ever see them. course you have no idea why. but even though katsuki loved you with all his heart, you could be a real pain in the ass. you were so bratty, especially when he was busy.

one day you came trotting into his office in the middle of some business deal. whatever. your jimmy choos popped and you needed a new pair before the yacht party you were attending started.

“daddy’s taking care of business right now, okay? go wait outside.”

“no! you promised we’d go shopping! I need new shoes what the fuck am I supposed to do with these?” you whine, pouting like usual to get your way. bakugo’s brow raised, walking towards you and gesturing for the meeting to continue without him. his hand rested on your lower back as he escorted you out.

he fucked your brains in in the next room for disobeying him, panties around your ankles, your charm anklet jingling as he picked up your legs.

“spoiled fuckin’ brat. told you to wait didn’t I? hm? or did you make a scene ‘cause you wanted my dick?” your head hangs back as your hips are held down by him, thrusts brutal as you cry for him to slow down, face turned away from his. he grabs your chin and turns you around harshly with his scarred and calloused hands, bruised knuckles turning white with a tight grip.

“look at me when i’m fuckin’ talkin’ to you.”

he came inside you when he was done, pulling your panties up for you as it dripped down your leg.

“now.. back to what I was doin’. tell the driver to take your ass home.” he huffs with a zip of his pants and a shake in his sleeves to fix them. bakugo leaves you on the desk, leaving the door cracked for you to leave when you got yourself together. and when you did you could hardly hold yourself up, holding your high heels in your hand as you limp to the car waiting outside for you.

having a yakuza boss as a husband was always exciting. something in you liked the danger; the thrill.

you tell this tale to your other socialite girlfriends and they almost never believe you.

you were out with bakugo on a date when work called. to your dismay, he had to get up and leave. you insisted on being brought along, hating being left alone in that big house that was often empty without him. he agreed but only if you promised to be quiet like a good little girl.

when you arrive at some warehouse (the same one mentioned earlier), a man was already hog tied on the ground, muffled screams behind a piece of duck tape as bakugo ripped it off. you sat by a table, legs folded in annoyance. this interrupted date night? you scoff and fold your arms.

“ah. good seeing you old friend. remember me?” he asks, taunting him a little with a gun in his hand pressing it against his jaw as the man let out muffled pleas for him not to shoot.

“you tried stealing from me. fuckin’ idiot. my boys caught you in some hotel with your little girlfriend. did you think you were gonna have a victory fuck after you made off with my money, hm?” bakugo asks, hitting him upside the head with the butt of his pistol.

you jump at the sound of the blow, a small part of you turned on watching your husband beat the crap out of a complete stranger. your pussy starts to ache when you peer over at bakugo’s strong tattooed arms as he flung his jacket aside, rolling his white sleeves up to ensure his expensive suit doesn’t get soiled.

“oh fuck, where are my manners? this is my lovely wife, y/n. say hi baby.” he coos at you, a switch from rough to gentle when he spoke to you. you smile and wave, the hostage sobbing out a weak greeting when bakugo demands him to.

“anyways. what’d you do with the money, asswipe? gonna tell me or are you gonna make me fuck you up in front of my pretty wife. god, look at ‘er, ain’t she gorgeous? you know I was about 30 minutes from railing her before you had to go along and ruin our night. I should kill you right here.” bakugo turns his head towards you with a sick look in his eye.

“whaddaya think, princess? what should I do to this motherfucker, huh?” he asks.

“smack him again. he ruined date night.” you grumble, folding your arms.

“he sure did, baby.” bakugo says, punching the hostage in his jaw. he gestured for his men to crowd around him, all of them taking turns kicking and beating him with metal bars. katsuki walks towards you and pulls you into a passionate kiss, a bit of blood on his knuckles as he pulled your hair. god, this whole situation was sick. but why was it so hot?

bakugo carries you away to the car, tells the driver to fuck off somewhere while he rails you in the back seat, knowing his men will take care of the rest of what he started inside the warehouse. you straddle his lap, bouncing up and down on his stiff cock as the car rocked back and forth. the car windows fog up as your body heat commingled throughout the space, your hands pressing against the glass to gain to balance as you rode his fat cock.

“fuck, daddy. you’re so hot when you’re handling business. ooh, you’re dick’s so hard.” you purr, bakugo’s hand pinching and playing with your breast as his hips thrust upwards. He smirks at you, almost a bit shocked you got as turned on as he did from the pain he inflicted.

“hmm, I know baby. god, you’re sick. getting this wet from watching me beat up some punk. dirty fuckin’ girl.” he huffed into your hair, leaving sloppy kisses on your neck followed by harsh nibbles.

truth is even though you were so sweet and caring, you had a dark side no one knew about. I mean why else would you marry into the yakuza?

you were both fucking insane.

#bnha smut #bnha bakugou #bnha imagines #bnha headcanons #bnha todoroki #bnha kirishima #bnha x reader #bnha bakugo x reader

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angelisverba · 3 years

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thinkin’ bout you

in which harry owns a flower shop and has a major crush on a girl who comes in to buy flowers every once in a while (and he’s too shy to ask for her number)

word count: 17.3k

paring: florist!h and y/n

warnings: just some pinning and lustful yearning. m for mature...

author’s note: i’ve been working on this forever. not to pick fav’s but i think florist!h comes second to sl23... hes just so.......well, you’ll see!!

* * * * * *

When Harry was given the option to go on a playdate with his car-loving and dirty-nailed schoolmates or spending the weekend at his nan’s house, he would often pick the latter.

He preferred to spend his afternoons frolicking with her Siamese kitty in her wild-flower filled garden, sunbathing in the open grass, or napping on a quilted blanket under the large, round oak tree, with the kitty nestled into his tummy, keeping him warm. When he woke in the arms of his nan as she carried him inside the house for a glass of cool lemonade, he bore a band of pink sunburn over his button nose, and the blue and white striped Mickey shirt was sticking to the areas where his furry friend had provided an extra heat.

So, it was safe to say that from the start, Harry’s tastes weren’t what could be considered ‘average’ or ‘normal’ or ‘straight’ for a heterosexual male of his age in current society.

Not that he ever valued those opinions, but their impressions rang in the back of his loving head when the women who he brought to the comfort of his home made hurtful ‘joking’ comments on how ‘peculiar’ his choice of decor was or giving him prolonged strange looks before shaking their heads and yanking their clothes off so that they landed in a forgotten heap in some unimportant corner of his room.

Granted, he still got a good shag, but it wasn’t enough to fulfill his desires regarding any actions associated with relationships. He wanted someone warm and soft and kind. Someone who wouldn’t judge his home, his music choices, his clothing, or anything else about him. A girlfriend, not a fuck.

Long ago, he’d stopped caring about what others said about him. Adopting this mindset had given him some of the happiest and healthiest moments of his life (albeit occasionally, doubts merged with the ghastly shadows of his loneliness). Business at his flower shop increased as his charm increased with positivity, and a new life within him bloomed like a baby rose bud when he accepted that being single was okay. The ribbons of his bouquets bouncing with an added umf and the mist that landed on his skin when he changed the water in the flower buckets only enhanced the golden hue of his skin.

Harry even took to renovating his home a bit.

Coincidentally, his apartment was located on the floor above his flower stop, and contained a significant amount of singular flowers in vases or bouquets in empty corners to prove it. An array of pastel colors smeared on the once blank walls. Bambi pink in his bedroom, sage green in his kitchen, and a French blue in his living room. The couch was a suede papaya three-seater with black and white checkered pillows, and the coffee table was an emerald-tiled piece standing on top of a geometric lavender carpet, a soft contrast against the dark oak of his floorboards. Harry’s taste in pop-culture, art, and literature was displayed on the frames hanging off his walls. Pictures and posters of his favorite pieces like Matisse’s Blue Nudes and Goldfish and The Dance II. An enhanced, enlarged photo of maraschino cherries and a raven haired pin-up girl. Another glass table by the end of the couch held a silver candlestick and a small statue.

Sometimes, the miniature Greek statue he bought at a thrift store of a man with his nakedness pure and unobscured to the viewers' eyes made his dick bloat against the seams of his pants. If he stared at it for too long, his eyes drawn to the softened cock between thighs that looked so flesh-like even though it was carved out of some clay or ceramic material, his mind would travel to sensual, honey-red places that he hadn’t been in so long. Harry’s imagination explored- as cheesy as it sounds- the sexual aspects of the male genitalia, and therefore his own sexual expeditions and how much he missed giving or receiving a good fuck. More often than not, he ended up with himself in his fist, forehead sparkling with perspiration under the candle lights in his room as his thighs and abdomen clenched with every buck of his yearning hips.

The doorknob of his room was in the shape of an eye, the iris colored a brilliant blue. His king bed- no, frame, just a minimalist white base, pushed up against the wall with two tables on either side, both of them loaded articulately with vintage trinkets and ceramic ring trays shaped like seashells to hold his jewelry. His bedsheets were a stylish combination of pastel colors; lilac comforter, mint and sky pillows. Previously, they had been snow white sheets with strawberry print, but a woman he brought over said they looked like the sheets her five-year-old niece had.

He changed them the week after that.

On the windowsill, a pot in the shape of a white, blue-eyed kitty with vines of string of hearts kissing the floor. A mirror in the shape of a heart with a pink trim besides the lightswitch, above his brown dresser. In the corner, a bookshelf stuffed with books that spilled over the seams, and perpendicular to it, the home of his pet chameleon, Owen (he wanted a cat, but when he went to the pet store and saw the dehydrated creature, he couldn’t leave him there). A 16 x 16 x 30 inch tank filled with a branch that cut across halfway. It was full of all the things he might need, maybe even too much of it, but it didn’t matter because when Harry was home Owen spent most of his time hanging off the collars of his shirts or snuggled in the ruffles of his hooded sweatshirt on his shoulder. The small, color changing friend adored his owner, and only morphed into a mild red color when Harry didn’t feed him more mango.

The renovations occurred in his bathroom; a cherry-red covering the walls because it looked boring before (at least in his opinion). The gold piping of the sink accentuated nicely with the darker color, and the sun seemed brighter when it streamed in through the window above his ceramic claw-footed tub. Owen particularly liked the misty showerhead stall in the corner, and as long as he kept his eyes to himself, Harry didn’t mind it if his green friend wrapped around the showerhead and enjoyed the mimicked tropical atmosphere.

For awhile now, it had been just him and his chameleon (and maybe his mum’s cat if she was going out of town and needed a sitter) but he didn’t mind it.

He got to meet new people everyday within the parameters of H’s Garden, and they all tended to overshare when it came to buying a bouquet. ‘My wife just had our son, want to see a picture?’ or ‘my boyfriend and I have our anniversary on Saturday’ and even ‘my sister had plastic surgery so me and my dad need something that says ‘congrats you look like Kim Kardashain now’ how ‘bout it?’

Stories ranged from sweet, to grotesque, to sad, to funny, and sometimes even evil- Harry didn’t like customers that gave flowers as a ‘fuck you’. He thought it was a waste of beauty and sacrifice. Flowers were living things that had their lives cut short in order to provide momentary satisfaction and life long memories to the receiver, not bitter feelings of revenge. Although it was still business, it pained him that such a pretty arrangement be misused. It was one of the cons of his work. He created what he considered to be masterpieces, and had no control over where they would end up, whether it be as a centerpiece for a candlelit dinner, or in the trash after the apology for a strong argument hadn’t been enough.

However, Harry couldn’t deny that he didn’t love his job, because he did.

When he turned 16, he’d determined that he wanted a peaceful life with a job that wouldn’t bore him. He wanted to be as stress free as possible, with his spirituality as a prominent highlight in his lifestyle. When he turned 18, he had determined that he wanted to be a florist, and began to save up to open his own shop with the occasional help of his friends and sister. He refused to take anything from his mother because he wanted to be the one giving her gifts and money and everything good after all of her sacrifices in raising him. Call him a momma’s boy. Harry loved his mother.

Online seminars and college classes became his best friend, teaching him everything he needed to know about accounting, stocks, and how to keep his business going. He was a businessman first, florist second. During the slow seasons (the start of winter and an awkward half-week between summer and spring) he relied on his investments to triple-ensure that he had enough money to stay afloat.

On his 22nd birthday, as a gift to himself, he signed the lease to the building that housed all of the pretty plants in temporary buckets full of flower food and water, and hired a graphic designer to design the cursive, golden letters that spelled out the name of his shop above the front door.

Now, three years later, he lived as happy as can be.

And he wasn’t lonely anymore.

Well, if you wanted to be technical, his relationship status was still a checkmark over the box labeled ‘single’, but his heart couldn’t be fluttering any harder at the sight of one of his regular customers, and she was there, creeping around in his brain to keep him company.

She was the complete opposite of every girl he’d ever been with. She was sweet, kind, funny, and didn’t judge him for the way he dressed, or his profession. In fact, they bonded over things that previous women had… slyly berated him for. The color of his nails, the lace of his collar, the pattern of his flared pants, and even the sheep on his baby blue sweater vest.

She stole his heart the moment she walked through his door with a soft smile on her face, a sparkling gleam in her warm eyes, and placed it in her pocket the moment she said, “it smells lovely in here!”

Harry, awestruck and blushing because well, she was pretty and wore a shade of purple that somehow made her hair look so soft. Two strands of hair were pinned at the back of her head, essentially keeping the rest of it away from her face save for the few baby wisps that rested gently against her cheeks like a lover’s caress. The stuttering, stumbling cupid’s-bow-struck fool replied with, “thank you. It would be my pleasure to help you with anything you’d like,” and that had been his name, signed on the dotted line of a soul contract. Only she was not the devil. She was an angel.

But even then, it wouldn’t matter. If she was the devil, if she was an angel, something in between or something new entirely he wouldn’t care because he was half gone for her already.

“In that case,” she smiled, and Harry’s heart sang a melody it never had before. It was like the sun beamed from the spaces between her teeth and tickled the fuzzy spot beneath his earlobe. She had the most amazing voice, tranquil and clear and ethereal. “I just moved into a new apartment and wanted the place to feel like home. I thought maybe flowers would give it a little life.”

He vividly remembers that the color of her cheeks changed to that of what is called a ‘blush’, but he didn’t know if it was a trick under the light, or a product of his wistful imagination. Her fingers gently skimmed the petals of a rose from it’s bucket near her hip, and one of the straps of the tote bag on her shoulder disrespectfully dropped away from her shoulder. He wanted to simultaneously rush over and fix it for her, and yell at the inanimate object for not being grateful of the fact that it had the opportunity to cling to her shoulder.

But, before either of these inner-conflicts met a sound resolve, her delicate fingers righted what was once wrong, and Harry cleared his throat, embarrassed because he’d stared for a little too long. He wanted so badly to ask for her name and how she liked her eggs in the morning, but instead he said, “there’s nothing like a bit of something pretty to brighten your day. Did you have something specific in mind?”

He hoped that the meaning of his words wasn’t caught on her, or that would be totally embarrassing and ‘loser’-like.

When she walked out the door with a content smile on her lips, his own heart was beating faster than the flapping of a hummingbird’s tender wings. He was sure that he had never laid eyes on a pair of lips like hers, neither the feeling that blossomed in his chest at the thought that she might be smiling just for him to see and enjoy.

Of course, it was a silly crush. One that clawed and gripped onto his sweaty palms with no sign of letting go. Maybe, Harry thought, it was because he hadn’t wet his wick in so long, and the interaction he’d had with her had sparked irrational, poem-inspiring feelings within the love cavern of his ribs. Because how could he fall head over heels with someone he didn’t even know? Surely, the swarm of hormone-pumped butterflies in his stomach was the beginning of a dead-end infatuation.

Right?

Harry went that entire day, appalled at the apparent angel he had the fortune of being in the presence of in her short fall from the tender heavens. He wondered where she placed the flowers she bought (an arrangement he was particularly proud of, full of lilac, delicate stems of lavender, and puffs of baby’s breath wrapped with a white bow) and where that tiny extension of him was. At the entrance of her home, right below the place she rested her hand against as she tugged her shoes off? At the center of her table? Maybe besides her bed? Where she would see the purple petals and white of him as he wrapped it every time she woke up or went to bed? He hoped- as much as it was a romantic thought- that it wasn’t the last one. He’s been so awkward, so pink. A blush on his cheeks he hadn’t remembered being there since the time he yelped, startled, at the unexpected pain of a tattoo needle, the artist pointedly peeved. Acting like such a boy.

Right before crawling up the steps of his apartment, heart still bleeding with love-blood from the deadly tip of Cupid’s arrows, he made himself a mini version of the bouquet he’d made her, and placed it at the center of his tiled coffee table.

*********

A few days trickled by, and the memory of her face drifted in and out of his mind like a giant sway of fabric slowly billowing in the wind. He was just so… struck by a slab of awe, stunned by her kind of beauty. Natural, the kind that hooks you in it’s purity, like the golden beams streaming in through transparent curtains on a warm spring afternoon.

Her strawberry lips curved elegantly under her nose, and displayed a smile that leaked some sort of heady drug into the air because the air was sweet when he breathed it in. And when he handed the bundle of flowers over to her, the pads of her delicate fingers skimmed the rough ridges of his knuckles. He wondered immediately what kind of moisturizer she used, and if it smelled like honey or lavender or peaches. She smelled sweet. Sweeter than all of the flowers in his colorful soul shop put together. The colors that belong to her, on her person and worn by her, were more captivating than any of the tones that painted the petals on his plants.

Owen got a kick out of this whole ordeal, though. Harry’s passionate mood had him divulging in munching and nibbling on things that tasted the way he felt; ambrosial, fresh and pure. It resulted in the purchasing of endless amounts of fruit, with many bites given to the tiny chameleon. Mangoes, strawberries, oranges, grapes, pears (Asian pears, if the store carried them, they were Harry’s favorite), peaches and guavas. The sudden craving for fruit might be explained as just a casual craving, but deep deep down inside, Harry knew that it was because he wanted to replicate the feeling that coursed through his golden veins when she giggled at something she happened to find funny.

He wished that he had caught her name. The girl had paid in cash (and left a five dollar tip Harry fawned over), so he couldn’t have read it on her card, and he was halfway between charming and awkward that he didn’t even think of asking for it until the minute the door closed behind her, bells tinkling in announcement of her exit. He wished for a hundred different things, but he was not the type to live in regret. Not anymore. So after about a week of floundering in her memory, he meditated for an hour, tropical incense on one of his bedside tables, and cleared his mind as best he could.

The next morning, he did the same thing. Woke up with heavy limbs, plopped himself down on his blue mat and stretched in various positions, his white boxers hanging low on his hips. His lips and eyes were sticky with sleep, and the back of his nose ached with cold air that he must’ve breathed in throughout the night after forgetting to close the window (again) but the pleasurable twinge of stretching aches between his joints were the perfect way to start his day. They urged his mind to transform into the still surface of water, clear and collected from any unproductive-pinning thoughts towards a girl he would most likely never see again.

Even his clothes reflected his refreshed mindset.

Harry donned his favorite pair of flared trousers in an earthy brown color, nestled snugly on his slender hips and around his thighs. The tight fit accentuated the way his back tapered into his waist, glutes shapely and sculpted. A maroon sweater vest that had a teddy bear embroidered on the middle of his chest, the small latte-toned stuffed animal seemingly childish, but on him it only directed attention to the spotlight daze of the velvety heart sheltered underneath his breathless plate. Underneath, a mustard long-sleeve shirt with tiny cherries printed on them. Some straight, some tilted or lopsided. His shoulders and biceps were hidden in the floofy bunches of cloth, anonymity given to the true thickness of his ink slathered skin.

He looked like a corduroy dream. A thick milkshake of patterns and colors, but he managed to pull it off.

A tiny gold hoop on his right ear gleamed under the morning sun coming in through the windows and a pearl necklace rested against the downy skin of his throat. Slender fingered tipped with a coat of pure white, with his ring fingers accented in a shimmery pink. Chunky rings adorning the base of his digits; a silver rose, a band of dancing teddy bears (a running theme with him), two gold rings with his initials H and S on one hand, and a simple ruby stud from his graduating class.

He looked good, he knew that he looked good, and was ready to begin a bright, healthy, non-pretty-girl-thought-polluted day. Even the old woman had pinched his cheek whom he had been assisting- a regular-had said he looked like a proper ‘nice boy’ along with ‘when are you going to her a lovely girl to help you run this place, Harry?’. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he had momentarily sworn off women until his broken sentiments healed, and they had a long way to go.

In the middle of wrapping a smashing set of tulips and fern stems with a cherry red bow, the bells adorning the top of the door frame dinges, announcing the entrance of another pleasant customer and giving passage to a gust of chilly air. Harry looked up to greet the customer with his usual pleasantries of ‘welcome! I’ll be with you in a moment!’, but the words died on his throat in a desperate hussle, just as the little mermaid had given up her voice to meet her gallant prince.

It was his own personal little slice of heaven presented to him on the black and white checkered floors of his shop. Hair loose against her shoulders again, eyes cast downwards to inspect a bucket of fresh daisies that tickled the space above her bare knees. How she could wear a skirt in this biting weather, he didn’t know, and it partially prevented him from continuing his pursuit of admiring her because the first thought his caring mind jumped too was, ‘is she cold? And if so, does she need a sweater? Because I will gladly give her one.’ His second thought, however, was ‘how could someone be that beautiful?’. The third was something along the lines of ‘all my yoga has gone to shit, and I’m okay with that’.

He cleared his throat, tightened the bow around the stems of the flowers in his hands and said, “I’ll be with you in a moment, love!” His head bowed, looking at his work because he wasn’t sure he could afford the medicals for the paralysis that was sure to take over his meek self if they made eye contact so soon. Harry needed a moment of homeostasis, his soul adjusting to her dulcet presence.

The woman he was assisting, Edna, spoke, drawing him out of his daze, but he had been so deeply in thought that he had not heard what she said.

“What was that?” He asked her. He grabbed Kraft paper from the roll by the register to wrap up her arrangement.

“The girl. You like her?” She was smiling at him, wagging a finger the way his nan used to do when she caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. “Don’t lie to me, I recognize that look. I’ve given and received that look many times throughout my life.”

The woman was not wrong. With age, comes wisdom, Harry thought, smiling to himself at being caught. A dimple carves itself into his cheek, nestling onto the space above the corner of his mouth as if he had no choice in the matter. The apples of his cheeks were shadowed with a dusky pink, and the tip of his nose was twitching like a rabbit when it stood on its rear and sniffed the air, only he was coy after just being caught and wanted to avoid the question as much as possible.

“I’ve got no idea what y’talking about,” he chuckled, keeping his voice low so that the intriguing stranger in the store didn’t hear that their topic of discussion was her. He moved over to the register to ring her up, and even slid in a discount he applied to customers he liked.

“Next time I come in,” Edna said, passing Harry her debit card, “I hope to hear that you got her number, dear. Don’t let these opportunities pass you up. Life is short. And who knows? She could be the one.” Harry gave her the card back after charging her, and handed her the flowers, too. All the while Edna was grinning at him, shaking her head like she knew something he didn’t.

“Take care, Edna. And don’t forget to change the water every 2 days with the flower packets I placed at the stems,” he reminded her, sweetly wiggling his red-lacquered nails at her retreating woman as butterflies awakened in his stomach in a furious flood of nerves. The girl was looking around, her hands hovering over the up-turned faces of a bundle of lively sunflowers, browsing and quietly humming to herself as she waited.

There was no backing out of this, even if he wanted to. And he didn’t! He didn’t want to back out. The girl was a customer, and he would have to approach her no matter what. But she was so pretty it was also intimidating. He doesn’t remember ever being this nervous while approaching someone, especially one he harbored feelings for. His heart was pounding so loud, he was sure it was audible.

“Hello,” he wanted so badly to add ‘love’ at the end of his greeting. “Are y’finding everything a’right?” He asked her, his hands wringing themselves, palms moist with sweat from his unyielding need to impress her. The pink tip of his tongue poked out to swipe across his full bottom lip, and soon after that his teeth sunk down into it, nibbling with uncertainty. Harry made sure that he was standing straight, body aligned to face hers because in that psychology course he took once, he learned that it was a subconscious tactic to engage interest and pleasant replies to attempts at wooing another.

At the sound of his voice, the girl jumped, startled at the sudden vibrations of Harry’s husky voice. Her delicate feet, he noticed, skittered on the floor from her tiny jump, and her doe eyes widened, shouldered rising and falling at a quicker pace than before from the new rush of light fear. When she realizes that it’s just him her hand flattered over the base of her neck and her collarbone in attempts to soothe her racing heart.

“M’s sorry,” he whispers, his hand clamping over his mouth, and then lowering to his chin when he speaks again, “didn’t mean to scare y’love.” This time he can’t restrict himself. It comes so naturally, like the endearment was meant for her, and when a flush covers the bridge of her nose his first instinct is to coo at her for looking so cute. The second is a surge of guilt for having scared her to such an extent.

“It’s okay,” she says, a little out of breath. The blush on her face was partly because she was embarrassed at her own reaction, while the other was that she had let herself act so freely and uncoordinated in front of someone that looked like him. Handsome and sweet and eyes so green they refreshed you upon first glance. Like the cool burn of water going into a mouth that had just chewed a stick of minty gum. “I want to buy these flowers.”

God help him. Her voice alone was enough to make him melt. The lilts and melodies of her voice swarming all four of the ventricles in his heart with warmth, and every blood cell that passed contained a glowing heat, buzzing with her energy.

She points to the sunflowers, her gaze lingering on them with longing. A soft smile toying on her mouth, and Harry could see the tendons in her throat stretch as she inhaled to add another thought to her sentence, “Do you sell vases by any chance?” The girl looked at him shyly, her eyelashes almost twinkling as she blinked, and his heart soared, “I had a really nice one in the shape of a big Coca-Cola bottle, and I accidentally knocked it over, so now I have nothing to put them in.”

Harry is incredibly enamoured by subconscious gestures that take over her hands as she speaks, fiddling as if the vase she spoke about was in her hands, all in one piece before it was broken. He’s quiet throughout her tiny ramble, listening and taking note of her enticing antics. She’s looking down at the floor or the flowers or her hands, and when her eyes dance over to his steady gaze, “I’m rambling aren’t I?” she murmurs bashfully.

“No, no it’s a’right. I can look in the back for something if y’like?” He suggested, arrowing a thumb to the ‘back’ he mentioned. “Did y’want anything in particular?”

“Oh, I don’t wanna be a troubling customer!” She squeaked, concerned with becoming a nuisance she didn’t want to be.

“Y’not a bother, love. M’promise. I’ll go look f’you. What color did y’have in mind?” He asked her, tone calm and soothing to reiterate his sentiment. She was not a bother. The only thing about her that bothered him was the fact that he did not know her name, and even that was his own fault for not asking her.

His hands rest on his hips, tattooed cross momentarily hidden by the bunch of his sweater vest as he waits for her to respond, his eyes locked on her mouth, her own tongue subtly licks her lips, adding a sparkly sheen to it that only drove him crazy. Ever the jilted fool, his mind jumps to what it would feel like to kiss her, or what it would feel like if she kissed him in other places. What fruits she tasted like, and what kind of kisser she was. A timid one? With a patient mouth waiting to be broken open with the force of his own? Frugal? Opening her mouth and giving him everything she had to offer.

“Something pink, please. If you have it.” That smile again. One that told a million apologies it didn’t owe, with her eyes pinching at the corners with whatever nonsense culpability she felt. Her voice was sweet, Harry thought, like wind chimes on a summer morning.

Feeling guilty for allowing such dirty thoughts to gallop through his mind when she was so… so pure. Like an angel. Even her way of presenting herself was shy and sweet, yet he was thinking about kissing her. Was that perverted? She was a customer he had seen twice, and his mind was already running wild with luscious assumptions; a sunday topped with a red cherry of sensuality. How awfully dirty of him.

But! But those were not the only thoughts he had. He wanted to ask her what happened to cause her to drop her vase, and where she had bought it. If it was vintage, considering it was a Coca-cola bottle, and if she had any accidents while cleaning up the mess of broken glass. He wanted to hear her thoughts. No, better yet, he just wanted to hear her talk. He wanted to get to know her. To know if she was as nice as she looked.

“‘Course,” he mumbled, his eyes shamefully downcast to the floor. “Be righ’ back.”

Harry stalked off to ‘the back of the store’. Truth was, there was no back of the store containing vases. There was only a small closet with boxes of items he might need around the store, like flower food, rubber bands, and decorative paper for the bouquets. A crate of bottled water for when he got too lazy to climb up the back stairs and into his home.

His home.

Plucking the keys from his pocket, a ring that held a ceramic swan his closest friend Mitch had gifted him with a humble admission of ‘saw this at a thrift store and thought about you, H, I had to buy it’, and five keys: one to the front door of his shop, one to the cash box in the register, one to the mailbox, another to the front door of his apartment, and one to his car. The one to his front door was painted at the head with pastel pink nail polish, so it was easy for him to pick out when he was dead tired after a long day of being on his feet (spunky shoes that he liked to wear sometimes didn’t help ease the ache on his back, and neither did his posture).

The back door that led to the stairs had locks on both the inside and the outside. A deadbolt and chain on matching sides of the door to ensure comfortable sleep at night, and peaceful work time during the day. Not having to worry about curious children opening doors or nosy customers relieved him. It was a little amatuer, but the door made a loud noise when opened because it wasn’t quite level, and he had a tiny key so he could lock it from the outside, too.

A loud shucking noise resonated through the store as he pulled the door open, and then again when he closed it behind him. The delicacy of his dainty yet large hands were nearly comical around the tiny golden pin stud that hung from the chain, almost slipping from his hands with nerves as he slid it in place. Harry didn’t think that she was nosy or anything like that, bit if he was going up to give her a vase of his own personal collection, he didn’t want her to find out and feel even more intrusive that she already did.

He was a huge giver, and upon hearing her say that she broke her flower pot, his mind was already thinking about the perfect one to replace it. It just so happened to be sitting on his shelf with a bundle of dying lavender. Climbing up the stairs (the ache in his thighs was a mere twinge compared to what it was when he first moved here), Harry huffed and thought to himself all the ways he could ask for her name and number.

Listen, I really like y’and would like to have y’number?”

Do y’wanna have my number so we can go out sometime if y’feel like it?”

“Is it alright if I get y’number so we can go out sometime?”

“Hey, love. What’s y’name?”

Nothing’s making sense to him. The pick up lines he had stored in his head for the rare times he would flirt with a girl were slipping from him. None of them seemed worded right to use with her. Too abrupt or too brisk. Not sweet enough. He wanted to treat her gently and to be worthwhile of her time. Plus, it also had to be smooth enough that it made her forget she was paying him for flowers or it would be awkward. He was a twenty-six man for crying out loud, not a twenty-one year old smile at the bar looking for a good time. This wasn’t a ‘good time’. This was… a courting. An inquiry to a relationship. A rose rose in a candlelit room.

Harry opened his front door and moved in a quick jog to a table besides his hi-fi that held a translucent pale pink glass, fat at the base before twirling and widening a few inches at the lip. An image of a nude mermaid puffing out at the front like an engraving. Cuddling it into his breast, he grabbed the lavender, speed walked back to his kitchen where his toe banged against the metal of the trashcan as he pressed on the lever to open it. He hissed fuck under his breath and shucked the dead lavender into the bag before turning back to his door, closing it behind him, but not locking it because he didn’t want to keep her waiting. His feet moved quickly down the stairs, the one hand not holding onto the vase cupping a hand over the side of his hips that held his keys so they didn’t make much noise.

The button on the chain slipped from his fingers a few times from their repeated clamminess, and when he was ready to finally twist the knob, he paused to take a breath and collect himself. Harry ran a hand through his hair, fixed his collar, and dusted off his pants legs. He wanted to look perfect for her.

“Don’t be stupid,” he murmured to himself. He had a good feeling about this. About her. And if he messed this up because he looked bad or said something weird he would kick himself into a muddy ditch.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and calmly walked back, “I’ve got the last one,” he said, tapping the tip of the vase with his pointer finger. It was a lie, right through his teeth, but he was happy to tell it in return for the way she was looking at him in that moment. His eyes rounded out as he approached her, like the curves of hearts that made up the heart-eye emoji, or the puppy-dog face. Just another physical display of his growing affinity towards her.

“Oh my god!” She said, “It's so pretty!” The trapped crystals in her irises twinkled with bewilderment at the treasure Harry’s presented her with. She’s got a smile on her face, and he can’t help but think, ‘wow, she looks like a freshly bloomed white lily’.

There’s a vintage print hanging in his corridor, a ‘flower language chart’ with different types of flowers and a sentence beneath them describing the messages they send. For example, red carnations= my heart aches for you. The description beneath white lilies reads ‘my love is pure’.

She asked him if it wasn’t too pricey, and he made up some fake sale he had going on about a hybrid BOGO in which if she bought an arrangement she would get a vase included in her purchase (he added “I’ve got a shipment of new ones coming in an I need the space cleared out before they get here” just to make sure his fib is believable.) And he explains this so shyly. Harry can’t keep his eyes locked on hers because she’s staring at him with an intensity that lets him know she's really listening, and it makes him squirm. The tips of his fingers tap against the vase, and he’s tripping over his tongue, which is ridiculous because he already talks so slow.

“I guess I was right in waiting then,” she said casually, waiting for Harry to finish ringing her up.

His finger froze over the touch screen of the sleek, modern device (he wanted nothing but the best for his store) and listened to the exciting roar of blood through his eardrums at her words. I guess I was right in waiting then? What did that mean? That she was planning on coming back to see him and didn’t? Of course, it could also mean that she was going to buy something else somewhere else, but he couldn’t stop the vine of ripe hope that swelled around his chest. And she looked so apprehensive while saying it. As if she was walking on glass and was looking for cracks as she stepped. As if she was waiting on him to catch on to something.

Harry cleared his throat and looked at her through the corner of his eye, trying to be as discreet as possible as his fingers continued their deliberate work on the screen, “What d’you mean, love?”

“I was going to stop by sooner, but I just got in my head about it,” the girl shrugged, and adjusted the ends of her cardigan so they wrapped around her torso. She had a different bag this time, one of those reusable market bags that was made up of holes, and it was filled with two books and a can of green tea from the vegan store down the street. Harry thinks he can make out one of the titles on one of the spines, which looks suspiciously similar to something that he has on his own shelf.

“Why would y’get in y’own head about coming to m’flower shop, hmm? It’s hardly that intimidating,” he chuckles to play off the dashes of pink and red that are painting themselves across the bridge of his twitching nose, “I don’t bite, either.”

And he hopes that his wistfulness isn’t meddling with his vision because he swears that he can see a matching reaction on her own doll face. “I know! I know, it’s just that I can’t help it sometimes. Talking to other people makes me nervous.”

Harry could coo at her right now. He doesn’t, though. He nods and smiles at her before reading her total out to her, “That I get, too. But y’doing just fine with me, love.”

Waiting patiently as she digs through her bag for cash, he tries to not stare. However, it’s impossible. His eyes had a mind of their own dragging against the forces of his will to feast on her image again. Her hands and the tip of her nose. The base of her neck and gentle swell of her clavicles. The swoops of hair that hung in a curtain from her shoulder as her head tilted in search, and the how her teeth bit down into her lip in concentration. Harry counted the amount of times her eyelashes met her waterline in those few seconds of comfortable silence. Three.

“I thought I had cash on me today,” something in her bag clicks, and she pulls out the rectangular card Harry’s become familiar with, holding it out to him between two deft fingers, painted with red hearts on a white base. “I guess I used my last twenty at the organic food store down the street,” she said.

“It is pretty easy to get lost in there, isn’t it?” He took her card from her, and tried not to make it obvious that he was eager to read her name off of it as he inserted it into the machine. The embossed letters into the plastic read y/n y/l/n, and when he turns back to look at her, he can’t help the smile that spreads across his boyish features.

Y/n.

Y/n, y/n, y/n.

This is what it must feel to be let in on a secret that’s worth millions of dollars. It must, because Harry’s heart is soaring with a closure he didn’t know he needed. Y/n, y/n. Her name tickled him. Stroked him. Lathered him with the honey smoothness of the beeswax shampoo he bought at that fateful organic store. It was a fitting name. Sometimes, one could tell a person ‘you know, I actually thought you were a Amy or a Jessica’, because their looks and style just didn’t match the strength or modesty of their name. But not y/n. It fit her like a glove. There was no other way to make sense of the way Harry’s brain was thinking. The name was her.

“What?” Her lips quirk up into a smile and her eyebrows dip in confusion. Why was he looking at her like that? Did she have something on her face? Here she was, opening up to a cute stranger and she had something on her face? This, she thought to herself, is humiliating. Her finger dusted off non-existent crumbs from the corners of her mouth, “do I have something on my face?”

“No! No, no.” Harry’s careful beam simmered down from it’s previous brightness, and his hand nervously filed through the swoop of chocolate curls sitting on his head like a cinnamon roll. “I just think y’name is pretty thas’ all.”

He murmured the last part so that it was practically incoherent, and lowered his gaze as a searing heat stretching like saran wrap around his head and the divot on the nape of his neck. Oh, God. He was fucking blushing. Great Harry. A normally favorite among the ladies had been reduced to murmurs and thick, uncoordinated movements.

Like dropping her card when she piped up again.

Voice as small and quaint as his had been, "you think my name is pretty?” Her fingers are wrapped around the frail straps of her bag, tight enough that her knuckles were white and Harry was scared that she’d bury her fingernails into her palm.

“I think y’very pretty.” He whispered back. He can’t even bear to look at her in fear that he’s totally fucked himself over once and for all. His logic was this: what girl wants to be told by the guy they’re buying flowers that they’re pretty after he reads her name from her debit card? Especially one who (if outside female sources are to be believed) dresses “the way my mother did when she was a girl in the seventies”? Jesus, fuck. He must’ve looked ridiculous.

Harry opened his mouth to backtrack and apologize for being so unorthodox in his workspace, a breath sitting on his tongue with words ready to spew out, but the bell began to chime and it yanks his head from the register to the front and instead he said, “welcome! I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Flustered and full of regret, the flower connoisseur returned his wired gaze back to y/n, who… was smiling at him? The kind of smile that said ‘oh my god, I can’t believe you just said that. Now please say it again’? Was he… dreaming? Did he have to pinch himself in order to verify that he wasn-

“Thank you... what’s your name?” Y/n looked at the card from his hands and sunk her hand- carefully, as to not get her fingers stuck in any of the tiny holes- and there was another clicking noise before she took her hand back out. That angel-like smear of girlish happiness was still on her, decadently radiating positivity and secret affection. Goodness leaked from the seams of her bones; through the cracks of her breastplate, radiating from her chest to Harry’s. He could feel it now. He could feel that his previous assumptions about her nature were true. She was altruistic and tender, like the inside of a bird’s wing.

“Harry. M’name’s Harry.” This time, he didn’t hide his happiness. Even his eyes shone with a heightened, clear and sparkly shade of liquid evergreen. The joy that bounced inside of him like ricocheting metal balls in a pin game machine. His slender hand, fawn-skinned and graceful like the legs of a deer, stretched out between them. His mother had taught him that along with the first introduction of his name, a handshake must be present, always. Dipping his head slightly, and his words spongy with love-ditz, Harry rumbled, “Nice to meet you, y/n.”

She placed her hand in his, and was practically swallowed by only his palm. He curled his fingers around her, thumb and middle finger overlapping around the clammy center of hers. So she was nervous, just as he was. Y/n was trained on their embracing limbs, and he could feel a spot on his neck where the skin palpated from the rush of blood as she observed their entwined digits. Their hands moved up and down, up and down between them for longer than necessary until her chin twitched back up to meet his, and she blinked mawkishly, slowly, like the videos of rehabilitated barn owls Harry sees on his Instagram.

Then, suddenly, as if she remembered she was not the only one present, y/n jolts upright and shakes her head dazedly. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Harry. I like your nail color,” she added.

He’s cheesing. A shit-eating grin too big for his face and it carves dimples into the flesh of his cheeks. His name on her tongue had never sounded so appealing, like it was made for her and only her to say. Not even the turtle-doves that cooed outside his window in the mornings sounded as beautiful as she did saying his name. And she complimented her nails! She hadn’t scrutinized him like others had, instead, she displayed her admiration for them. No one- well, actually he can’t say that without offending Mitch- no female of his age had ever received him with such open-mindedness as hers. If he didn’t have any self-restraint, he would giggle. Instead, Harry pulled his hand back so that their perfect moment wasn’t sullied with bouts of bad timing, “thank y’love. I like yours, too. You’ll have t’come over sometime and paint mine, yeah?”

Y/n laughed, and he breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t been too bold, “I’d love too!” With glee frozen on her, she turned to look over her shoulder at the customer who was browsing the flowers Harry had in buckets, “I don’t want to hold you back from a customer for so long. I’ll stop by again soon, Harry. Thank you so much for your help.”

The moment her hands reached for the wrapped bundle of sunflowers and the mermaid vase, a metaphorical grey cloud of rain and thunder manifested in the space above his head, and blocked all of the sunshine from spanning across his toned, lithe body. Did she really have to go? He wanted to whine. Maybe even wrap himself around her ankles like a child that refused to leave the park. They were only just getting to a mutual spot of comfort! Forget the other customer, he wanted to shout. Harry would kick them out and flip the sign to ‘closed’ if it meant only a few more minutes in the presence of her candy-coated charisma.

But he knows that’s unrealistic, and settles with, “it was my pleasure, y/n,” a flirty wink (at least he hopes it is), “I’ll be waiting f’your next visit.” His taffy lips wrapping effortlessly around his smooth words, fueled by her welcoming receptiveness to his advances. It would be easy to be himself in the future, a little smoother and eloquent in his language and feeling. He was usually clear with what he wanted from anyone, and made it a pleasurable experience in all aspects for both parties involved (once it was three). Harry wanted to sweep her off her feet, and he wanted it to be an enjoyable experience for the both of them. Revel in that feeling of blooming emotions in a new relationship. A healthy one, in which he wasn’t receiving back-handed compliments all the time.

He wasn’t superficial enough to push anyone off the table based on looks alone, but it did help that y/n had the disposition of an angel. An ethereal voice, supple lips that looked so silky and soft they had to feel that way, too, and hands that felt so tender in his. Perfect for holding on a late night stroll, or over the center console of his car when -if they go out on dates.

What really hooked, reeled, and sinked him, though, was the fact that she was so nice to him. From the start, she’d been nothing but polite and sweet with him. Don’t even get him started on the way he swooned at the tone of her voice when he said that her name was pretty! So quiet and velvety, careful and calculated like she wanted him to know that it was okay. That she wasn’t thrown off by his comment. He nearly toppled over, clutching his heart with his legs jutting straight up into the air like a frightened goat.

It wasn’t until the bells stopped ringing the sad notice of her exit that Harry realized he passed up the perfect opportunity to ask for her number, and as he kicked himself over it, he walked with the perfect customer service face he could muster to help the other person in his store.

***

Harry was having a shitty morning.

Not the kind of morning where every aspect of his routine is a terrible mishap, but like the water being too cold and the stove not working or the bottle of oat milk in the fridge being empty so he couldn’t make coffee. No, everything was fine and rolling smoothly, as it should.

His water was the perfect temperature and ran down the toned bumps and divots of his muscles like the relaxing thrums of a lover’s caress in the midst of prowling heat. As soon as it hit his back, he released a sigh of contentment, his shoulders hunching and head rolling back and his hands roamed his shoulders and the back of his neck, rubbing away any aches that existed. The branch of eucalyptus that hung from the golden pipe of his showerhead fused a thick minty scent into the steam that fogged the glass wall, and the calming aroma helped the tendons loosen like the deflating limpness of untied shoelaces. He spent a few minutes just standing there, inhaling and exhaling deeply and feeling his lungs open and stretch beneath his rib cage.

It almost made him wish that he’d opted to use his tub for a hot bath instead.

He was able to cook an egg just fine on his stove, with dashes of Everything Bagel Seasoning with a side of avocado and a slice of toasted cranberry walnut bread, the same thing he had every morning. The carton of oat milk was brand new from his trip to the market the day before, and his coffee tasted the same as it always did. But… he was just... sad. An melancholy soreness that eroded against the insides of his body, consuming him slowly but surely and leaving him with a lost feeling of emptiness and unimportance.

He thinks he might know why he’s feeling this way.

While he’s stirring his scrambled eggs, he’s wondering how y/n likes hers. Over easy? Sunny-side up? Scrambled, like him? Did she even like eggs in the morning? What did she eat in the morning? He knows that some people ‘aren’t hungry’ in the mornings, though that’s only because they’ve gone hungry in the mornings before for an extended time period, and after so long of not feeding their growling stomachs, their brain discontinues the signals of hunger. Harry hopes that isn’t the case with y/n, and that she’s eating the proper three meals a day every day.

And while he dipped a mini vegan chocolate croissant that he got at Whole Foods, he also wonders what she likes to dip chocolate croissants into, or if she even likes chocolate croissants. If she was a person who likes sweet treats, like strawberry tarts with powdered sugar over them or something lighter, like fruit cut into small squares in a bowl. When Harry was younger and would visit his nan on the weekends, she would pick fresh strawberries from her garden and cut them up for him when he’d woken from his nap. Sometimes, she would even sprinkle half a tablespoon of sugar over them. He wonders if she’d ever eaten strawberries like that.

It’s been a week and a half, he still hasn’t seen her, and his heart is yearning.

Harry knows he’s not in the correct headspace to assist other people with a cheery disposition about an hour before opening time, and decides it’s best if he writes a note on the door about how the shop wouldn’t open that day because he didn’t want to taint the reputation of his business by snapping at a customer for the only bundle of sunflowers he had, or dissolve into a puddle of love-sick tears in the middle of ringing someone up. Though really the notice just says ‘H’s Garden will not be opening today. Sorry for the inconvenience!’ followed by a frowning face and a lopsided, filled-in heart.

Harry drags his feet back up the stairs, his lower lip jutting out in a discreet but depressing pout, and grabs Owen from his tank so that the chameleon could curl into the shoulder of Harry’s hoodie while he moped on the couch to sappy rom-coms that would only make him think about her more. At least there was someone there with him, even if his small green friend only used him for mangoes and papaya. They sit together for the entirety of Romeo + Juliet, and when it’s over, Harry’s sniffly and standing up to return Owen to his enclosure and to clean because the riotous emotions that whirl within him are too much to process while sitting down.

Cleaning wouldn’t help him solve his problems, but it would help him cram all of his worries into a tight corner at the back of his mind- sort of like when dirty laundry began to overflow in the hamper and it requires extra force to shove it all in, only to come all back out like a memory sponge. His tormented thoughts on y/n could be compared to a dramatic inner monologue, very similar to how Romeo feels about his Juliet. But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and y/n is the sun. Harry has the play on his book shelf (the one with the side-to-side modern English translation because he was never quite gifted in the English department) and as he reaches for a bandana to tie his hair back, he finds himself resonating with a particular line: parting is such a sweet sorrow.

There was no need to change any of his clothing, since he was already dressed in one of his more impromptu outfits; grey sweats and a white t-shirt that read ‘women are smarter’ in black across his chest. He tied the red bandana into a knot at the back of his head, and lifted it over his chin so that it settled on his forehead, sweeping his hair back with a final push back. It doesn’t get in his way when he crouches to clean his various tables, spraying cleaning products with his shirt pulled over his nose, another organic product that’s supposed to be less harmful and smells like cinnamon and sandalwood. His shoulder blades begin to ache because he’s being a little more aggressive than he has to be, but the green tiles were sparkling so he was content.

He washes the dishes, mops the kitchen floor, vacuums the carpets, cleans Owen’s habitat, and tidies the mail that piled up on the table when he finally calls it quits. Scouring his brain for something to do, to keep him busy- his brain busy, Harry settles on the floor with his back to the edge of his bed. He’s shirtless now, and is in need of another shower but he’d rather not because he knows he might end up crying over the possibility that he’s scared y/n off. There’s a book in his hands and a Frank Ocean record playing softly in the background that mentions something about ‘I've been thinkin' 'bout you, do you think about me still?’ and it’s not helping his case at all.

It’s no use.

There’s a plague of darkness buzzing like cicadas in his ears. He fears rejection and criticism. That maybe, she was only pretending in order to make the situation more pleasant so it ended sooner. Most of all, he feared that it would always be this way. That he would never find someone who embraces who he is as a person. Always met with mean side-eye glances or second looks of displeasure and confusion. It isn’t always that way, though, because then that would mean he gets absolutely no action, and that isn’t true.

Harry is very… well-educated in matters that concerned sexual intercourse, but it was always a one-night stand ordeal. It was never ‘I really like you we should go out sometime’. In fact, he noticed that only time his approaches were well received were those in which he was dressed in a calmer manner. Simple, solid colors with sneakers or a t-shirt. Girls would flirt back, make good conversation, allow him to buy them a few drinks, and when he’d take them to his apartment they’d ask why he lived on top of a flower-shop, and if it was his sister or female-friend’s palace that he was crashing. Sex would ensue, but his heart wouldn’t be as present and engaged as he wanted it to be.

Wrong. It was always so fucking wrong, and God, if he didn’t get out of this apartment he’s going to breakdown and cry and there’s no one to call to come over because Mitch is on a trip with his girlfriend, Sarah, and his other friend Jeff is on his honeymoon in Sweden. They were the only two on his mental speed dial list during the rare occasions he had a crisis, as they were the two that Harry had ever really opened up to. Mitch was a bit closer to his heart. They’ve known each other since their school days and practically grew up together (at one point they had small crushes on each other, which were confessed years down the line). Jeff was the owner of Winsome where… where y/n had mentioned spending her last twenty dollar bill. He didn’t have an issue opening up to them. He liked opening up to them, but he didn’t understand why they were the only two that ever truly opened their arms to him.

A walk, he decided, would help him… air out his brain. Calm down. Breathe a little deeper, a little easier.

He threw his white shirt back on, and a forest green sweatshirt that donned the emblem of the school he went to earn his business degree that fit him wide around the shoulders and felt like a marshmallow. Putting on a pair of beat up shoes, he shoved his keys into his pocket, hobbling and nearly losing his balance because he was moving way too fast. The door closed behind him with a slam, and even though he was still wearing the bandana around his head, wispy stray curls framing his face in a wild mane, his distress palpable through his appearance, but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out and feel the cool air against his skin.

There’s a backdoor behind the stairs that will take him to a small alleyway that leads to a back parking lot where other shop owners that live at the top of their stores on the same side of his street parked their cars. He unlocks it from the inside, and throws his shoulder into it, desperate to her out. When it shuts behind him, he doesn’t turn back because it’s the kind to lock from the outside when closed. His fingers curl into the ends of his sleeve so that the tips of his fingers (nails now changed to a sparkling silver color) are the only parts of his hands visible.

Rounding the corner, he whistled the cheeriest tune he can muster. His lips are puckered and his cheekbones high with the extension of his mouth. He’s not very happy on the inside, though he remembers reading something somewhere that if you pretend to be something long enough, you’ll eventually become it. If he pretends to be happy, then he’ll actually be happy.

Right?

Harry rounds the corner of the parking lot and turns on to the main street. It’s only two in the afternoon, so there's people crawling in and out of shops anywhere. He even sees a man and a woman peeking into the window of his store, and he would feel bad if he wasn’t in a shitty mood already. He’s so out of it, that he nearly yells ‘get your hands off my windows!’. He doesn’t though, because for a moment the woman becomes y/n and the man becomes him, wrapping a ringed hand around her waist and whispering in her downy ear ‘they’re closed, darling, let’s go somewhere else’ and she straightens dejectedly, pouting playfully and standing up and her tippy toes so that she could press a quick kiss to his lips.

That image fades though, and the couple continues with their stroll, hand in hand, and his heart is wrenching, writhing and trying to yank itself free from it’s place in his chest because it hurts too much to stay.

Cars whizz past, and he skirts in and out of people on the sidewalk, keeping his pace fast and focused. There’s no intended destination, he’s just moving with the intent to forget the pretty girl who haunts him. Her voice is all he can hear. Her smile is all she can picture. And the rest of her is all he can imagine, which is exactly what hurts the most. Imagination only goes so far, fulfils so much with uncertainty of what the truth was and what wasn’t. Harry could imagine her with her feet up on the lip of a bubble filled tub, a glass of wine in her hands, but then…what kind of wine did she like? Or did she even like wine? And did she even have a bathtub to stretch out in after a long day?

He curses the crimes he may have committed in past lives to deserve this torture. This unbearable pain that felt like he was being dunked in a slow-acting acid. He can do nothing about it but keep walking with labored will power. He passed his shop, and a bakery and a small thrift store that sells used clothing for way too much money. At the propped open double-doors of Jeff’s Winsome, he decides to talk in and browse. There’s so many items that smell good and taste good, that it was fun to just walk in and look.

“Back again so soon, H?”

Spinning on his heel, Harry comes face to face with Niall, a brunette, fit, Irish bloke with a chummy smile and a killer sense of humor. The two have brokered a sort of friendship, considering the amount of time (and money) that Harry spends there. Niall has even started calling him ‘H’ in silent homage to his flower shop.

“Y’know I can’t stay away,” Harry attempted to joke, his lips pulling up in a weak smile, “plus, I think I needed s’more of the peppermint essential oils f’my diffuser.”

“‘Course ya do! You're worse than the bloody vegan mums that come in asking for gluten free baby powder!” Niall cups a hand over his mouth and loudly whispers to so that only Harry catches his verbiage. There was a woman in the back of the store, looking through soaps in the limited kid’s section, the same exact kind that Niall was speaking about. “Go on and look around then, I’ll be here when you’re finished.” He said.

Harry only nodded his acknowledgement, and moved in between wooden walnut shelves. The entire store had a caramel brown color scheme, with only the inventory adding color to it. Macramé potted succulents and plants added to the natural, outdoorsy feel. Winsome had an interesting mix of smells from all of the aromatherapy based products it housed, but it only added to the appeal.

Currently, he held a packet of four lip balms that advertised to be ‘100% all naturally derived ingredients with no artificial additives' infused with ‘healing power of crystals’, two of them ‘citrine cherry' flavored, and the remaining ‘garnet guava’. The brand name is something in Italian that he can’t read, packaging thick and a triangle made of arrows in the corner signaling it can be decomposed and/or recycled. He had the same exact ones at home, only they were all misplaced and-

“Harry?”

A small, timid voice called his name from behind him, and he froze. He knew that voice. It was the same one he had repeated over and over in his head for the past week, waiting for her promised arrival with a hopeful heart.

His eyes go wide with recognition, body still and stiff like a deer caught in headlights. His heart begins to rump at a furious speed, loud in his ears like a million stampeding hooves. The packaged products in his hands shake, and then she speaks again, “Harry, is that you?”

Is this really happening right now? He’s embarrassed at having been caught with lipstick in his hands of all things, but he can’t put them back now. It was too late for that. He lets them hang at his side, and turns around. He hopes there isn’t perspiration dripping from his temples because all of a sudden he wants to yank his sweater off.

Harry turned, slowly. He feared that if he moved too fast she would fly away like a startled dove.

“Y/n…” He’s breathless, but he manages a pitiful quirk of the corner of his mouth, which he licks over right after, “hi.”

She’s wearing a dress this time, frilly at the hem which fell just above her knees. It’s pink and covered and lined with blood red trim at her forearms. A string of pearls glistens at the base of her throat, and her lips are covered in a sheen of lipstick. Her hair, however, is a tousled mess, pieces of it framing her face and untucked from her bun as if she had been jostling around. Her cheeks are flushed with the cold, and clearly that thin beige cardigan hanging off her elbows is doing nothing to keep her warm.

Y/n smiles at him, with the same shakiness, “f-for a second I thought I was talking to the wrong p-person.”

It’s quiet again, and they’re both fidgeting. Y/n’s knees knock together as she shifts her weight from foot to food, and Harry idly rubs his finger under his nose and sniffs boogies that aren’t there. She’s staring at the ground and rocking back and forth on her heels and he can’t think of anything to say because he’s so paralyzed by the fact that she’s actually standing in front of him, and looks as gorgeous as ever. Had he somehow manifested her presence?

While she’s hiking up the ends of her sweater so that they’re situated properly on her shoulders, he says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Aren’t y’cold?”

Her head snaps up and she peeks at him from under her lashes while flattening a hand at her thigh, “a little bit.”

Harry watches her tuck her hair behind her ears and wonders if she came walking from her apartment again. In the cold. Dress as she was. Not that he had a problem with the way that she was dressed! He understood that sometimes when people grew bored they used the smallest occasions to dress up and have some fun and get out of their homes. He did it too, sometimes. To clear his head. Hell, isn’t that what he was doing now?

“D’you need a ride home?” He stumbled over his tongue to backtrack, not wanting her to think that he was a wierdo or anything like that, “t-that is if y’walking, I wouldn’t want you to get sick or anything like that. S’bit chilly out today.”

Y/n smiles shyly at him, a blush on the highest points of her cheeks, and rubs the side of her face against the fabric of her cardigan, “thank you, for the offer, but uhm… it’s my friend’s baby-shower-gender-reveal thing today and I came with my other friend to some last minute gifts and some flowers. I was going to buy some stuff from here because she’s crazy about the whole ‘no preservatives’ and all but, and I was also going to stop by your shop to buy some flowers, but I saw you were closed so I…I’m rambling again.” She sputtered out the last bit, and pressed the tips of her three middle fingers to her lips to stop the words from coming out.

Harry smirked at her antics, but it’s more of a repressed smile, and the rest of his humor gleamed in the sea-glass of his eyes like a message in a bottle.

“S’alright, love.” He’s still holding the lip balms in his hand, and he can feel the moisture that’s collecting on his palms dampening the Kraft like material as he gestured to her dress with the tip of his chin. “Y’wearing pink. I take it y’want the baby to be a girl?”

“Actually, I know it’s a girl. She told me,” y/n pips, shrugging smugly.

Harry laughs at her this time, “Did you finish with all your purchases here? I can make an exception and open up f’you.”

“Oh, Harry, I don’t wanna bother you! Because if this was your day off then-”

He lifts a hand to get her to stop, and uses the opportunity to twist around and put back what he had in his hands. The conversation is flowing so smoothly now, that all of his previous worries are gone. He can only focus on her and the way her eyelashes fluttered and the crystalline sparkly in her voice.

“Y/n, it’s fine. D’ya finish here? We can head over to the shop now if you’d like.” Harry points a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door.

“Uh, no. I just got here so I still have to go grab some things,” she said, pushing her hair past her ears again. He thinks that she can probably tell the disheveled state her hair was in, because she begins to pop off a pin in her hair to readjust it. He doesn’t mind it, though. He thinks she looks cute. Angel-like.

He nods, rolling his hands into fists within his sleeves so that the cuffs hang over his knuckles, and tries not to trip over his legs as he backs away. “A’right. I’ll wait f’you in the front, then. Take y’time, love.”

“‘Kay,” she gleams at him, biting down on her bottom lip, and Harry turns away fully before he starts whining about how cute she is or before there’s a dent in the heather grey fabric of his sweatpants.

At the front, Niall has his chin at the palm of his hand, and as he gets closer, Harry lifts his head to see that the brunette is wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. There's a shit-eating grin on his face that clearly points to a mountain of teasing in the near distance.

“A little love-struck, mate?” He said, as soon as Harry was within hearing distance. At least he had the decency to keep his voice down, he thought.

Harry flips him off, “oh, bug off.”

Silver glitter sparkling on his nails, and his gaze strays to the floor, bashful of how clear his affection was. He turns to rest his bum against the counter and pulls out his phone to appear busy as he waits for y/n, mindlessly opening Instagram to have something to do (and to stop him from glancing at her ever two seconds).

“Yup. I knew it. Have y’asked her out yet?” Niall doesn’t stop to let Harry refute his question, “y’know she comes in sometimes, after stopping by your place? And she just will not stop talking about how nice yeh were to her.”

Harry’s head snaps up from his screen so fast, something at the back of his neck creaks with the force. Instagram is long forgotten.

“What? Are you fuckin’ with me right now?” He doesn’t mean for his words to come as aggressive as they do, but the thought of her speaking to someone else about him is… well, it’s thrilling.

Alarmed, Niall’s hands come up near his face in the motion of surrender, “no, man! Dead serious. Think she likes yeh, honestly.”

He can only say: “Fuck me.”

Niall is about to respond when a quiet voice breaks their stares, “I’m all finished.”

“Already, babe? I’ll rig ya up, then!”

He’s quick to slide the few products over the scanning square, and y/n and Harry stand beside each other silently, their height difference laughable. Niall’s gaze flickered between them with no commentary, and his lips pucker with a wiggling smile when he finally announces her total. A bit too much for a small changing blanket, oatmeal-based baby lotion, pacifiers with a lavender infused towel attached to ‘aid with goodnight night’s sleep’, and a bamboo hairbrush with a tuft of soft bristles.

Nonetheless, she provides the money with a pleasant smile. Harry can see a bit of tightness around her eyes that suggests discomfort, but he doesn’t say anything. Niall hands her a paper bag with her purchase, “there yeh go! Have a good day now, y/n! And be good, to Harry!”

Harry’s eyes widen at Niall’s last comment, and it takes every bit of self-restraint in him to not reach the other counter and whack him in the back of the head. Instead, he shakes and ducks his head in near shame.

Y/n, however, quips back with “I’ll be nice only if you’re nice,” and bumps her shoulder against his before walking towards the door, looking over her shoulder at Harry who’s smiling wide now, and trailing after her with no regard to Niall at all.

He shouts something after them about being rude lovebirds, but Harry doesn’t care. He’s floating after this heaven-sent like cartoon characters being led to a freshly baked pie with their nose on the scent. His rump high in the air like the Lorax disappearing into the light in the clouds, utterly ignorant to everything else.

When they’ve both stepped outside, they speak at the same time,

“Let me just-”

“Do y’wanna put-”

Harry and y/n giggle at each other,

“You go first.”

“Y’speak first.”

And then they laugh again. Harry pretends to zip his lips and throws away the key, and she says radiantly, “I’ll drop this off in my friend’s car really fast and we can walk to your flower shop.”

Watching her approach a car parked two spots away, a girl with blue, pink, and brown hair leans over to the passenger side, seat belt straining against her throat and when she sees Harry, she waves and it makes y/n push her back to her spot behind the driver’s side. Whoever this girl is, she and Niall have to meet, seeing as they can’t mind their own business. He chuckled and waved back, that girl laughing along with him and it made y/n cover her face with her cardigan covered hands.

“I’m sorry about Charlotte,” she said when she got back, “she doesn’t know how to mind her own.”

“A bit like Niall, it seems.” Harry said. He waits for her to catch up before beginning to walk down the street. Side to side, shoulder to shoulder. They’re so close, Harry can feel the warmth of her body heat through the fleece of his sweatshirt. It’s cold, and she’s still this warm?

“Maybe,” her eyebrows raise, and her head tilts towards him, “they should meet.”

“Tha’s exactly what I was thinkin’!” His voice rises with his excited agreement, and the tip of his nose wiggles as he scrunches his nose.

As they get closer, to H’s Garden, Harry reaches into his pocket for his keys, fingering through them so that they wouldn’t have to stand in the cold for so long. He didn’t want her to get sick.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I feel really bad about this,” she whispered beside him, looking up at him with doe eyes as she worried her lip between her teeth, the sheen of gloss adding an extra allure to her image at that moment. “It’s your day off, and I’m bugging you.”

They stood in front of the door now, underneath the green umbrella cover that extended from the top of the door and down the side of the window. Harry waited for her to step into the little alcove created by the indent of the door before stepping in after her and jiggling the key into the lock. He resisted the urge to pull his lips down into a cooing frown at the look on her face. She really was worried about disturbing him. If only she knew that he spent the entire day moping (and nearly crying) over her.

He sucked on his teeth, “oh, love, please worryin’ about it. Don’t wanna see that frown on y’pretty face anymore okay?” His confidence was slowly coming back, “s’not my day off, I just didn’t feel like speaking to customers today.”

Shrugging, he opened the door, and took a step back to allow her to step through first. Y/n ducked her head as she passed him with a murmured ‘oh, okay’, and he followed right after her, wanting to get away from the cold too because he knew that his nose was probably pink at that moment, but what he didn’t anticipate was for y/n to stop right after breaching the threshold, and bend over at the waist to pick something up from the floor, causing Harry to bump into her at such an awkwardly sexual angle with all of his momentum.

Considering he was half twisted away from her and in the middle of pulling out the key from it’s slot, the amount of force in Harry’s push from behind was enough to cause her to nearly fall forward, a surprised whimper slipping from her lips. Harry, determined not to see her fall, lets go of the key and reaches out just in time to grasp her hips on either side, pulling her back towards him mid-fall so that she doesn't collapse on her face.

However, in the midst of all of this Harry forgets himself and uses a bit too much force. Not to mention, the implications of their position makes him hyper aware of every single place their bodies touched, her small frame against his lithe, tattooed body.

This moment only lasts for a few seconds, but he can feel everything.

He can feel the easy give of the skin of her hips underneath each finger that touched her, the softness of the flesh on her thighs against his sturdy knees. The fabric of his sweatpants is suddenly non-existent, and it’s almost as if he felt every taught tendon of her legs, frozen with efforts of helping catch or brace herself. The heat of her groin is flush against his, and it makes him want to scream with a sudden sensitivity. Her ass is practically seated on him, full and malleable against the points of his laurel covered hip bones. Harry’s semi-hunched, as her weight also pushed him back, and the position is doing nothing to help his frenzied mind settle. He feels like shit because he’s being a horny, pubescent kid instead of asking her if she’s okay, but then y/n moves back into him to straighten fully and their centers grind. Her dress is semi-bunched at the halfway point of her bum, and he can feel heat emanating from her, radiating back on his bloating cock. He has to stifle a moan when she pushes herself up with the tips of her fingers.

Just as quickly as it started, it’s over. Y/n is dusting her bum off so that her dress falls and covers her modesty, and she’s beet red in the face, not looking at him. Which was fine by him, he was too ashamed to look into her eyes.

He clears his throat (something he’s doing a lot around her) and asks if she’s okay.

“Yes. Yes, I’m okay. This was on the floor,” she squeaked, holding up a neon yellow notice sheet in her hand. That damned thing was what caused all of this?

It’s a notice from the delivery men that said, ‘sorry! We missed you!’ with a time and date messily scrawled on the dotted lines. Harry had forgotten that he was getting a shipment of several plants that morning.

Cursing, he takes it from her, “t-thank you. Now how ‘bout those flowers?”

It’s awkward, obviously, but y/n is severely silent. Harry’s still stuffy in his pants, but he ignores it and doesn’t add any fuel to the fire because there’s more pressing matters at hand than a boner. Y/n is the most quiet she’s ever been around him, considering all of her word vomits and ramblings, and he’s suffering. Definitely beating himself up in his head for having ruined the moment. He held onto her for a second too long, frozen. She must feel so embarrassed, and he was self-endulging like a fucking asshole.

Harry asks her questions on what flowers she’d like, and she answers by pointing or bringing a stem to him, laying it on the counter without a word. A mixture of dahlias and baby’s breath with a handful of feverfew to make the pink in the dahlia’s stand out. He lays them out on his work table, cutting the ends at an angle where they need to be cutted and laying them out on a sheet of clear, dusty rose paper. Three packets of flower food are strewn at the corner, and y/n busies herself by fidgeting with them. He grows concerned when he makes a comment on the kinds of ribbons he had stored and she doesn’t say anything. Not even a nod or a hum.

Eventually, he decides he’s had enough of her neglect, and pauses his work to devote her some attention.

“Love, I’m sorry about what happened,” he said softly, trying to catch her eyes, “I know it probably made y’uncomfortable, and I didn’t do much to make the situation better, but I just didn’t wanna see y’fall.”

Y/n’s head is already dipped, so he can’t see her face, but when her shoulders begin to shake, he knows he’s utterly fucked. She starts to sniffle, and his eyes go wide. The paper crinkled as he set down the baby’s breath he’s holding in his hands. He hates seeing people cry, not because he didn’t know how to deal with it, but because he often ended up crying along with them. Also, he just didn’t want to see her cry. Harry wanted her to be happy, glowing, and smiling. Not dull with dollops of woeful distress in liquid form.

He rounds the corner and spares a look out to the street, wanting to make sure that there is no strange onlooker eavesdropping on their interaction. His hand reaches out to stroke her back or shoulder comfortingly, but he thinks better of it and drops his arm. She most likely would not like to be touched, considering what just happened between them. He drops his head, seeking face-to-face interaction, and speaks as gently as he can, “y/n, what’s wrong?”

She avoids his search, and turns the other way while sniffling, “you probably think I’m weird now or something after that.”

“No!” Harry exclaimed, jerking his head back as if he’d been struck, and her words practically had. He can’t believe that she would think that and even go as far as verbalizing her thoughts when he worshipped the ground she walked on and didn’t even know her that well, yet. “No, no. I don’t think that. Y’tripped, that’s all. Happens to everyone. If anythin’ I’m the weirdo for grabbin’ y’the way I did, and I’m really sorry about it.”

Y/n dig the heels of her hands into her eye sockets, “that was so embarrassing, I should’ve told you I was gonna stop or something. I always embarrass myself in front of cute boys and I never know what to do. I just-”

Harry interrupts before she can dig herself further another hole. He highlights a segment of her words, dropping everything else in hopes of changing the conversation and taking her discomfort away, and mostly because he was bursting with relief and happiness. She had said that she thought he was cute, just how he thought that she was adorable, and nice, and everything good. They were on the same level, their minds in sync. Did that mean…

His voice is airy and light because of what she had just admitted, “y’think I’m cute?”

She stills with awareness of what she’s just said, and a puppy-like noise seeps from the back of the throat before her hands sink further into her eyes, embarrassed. Harry tenderly wraps his fingers around her small wrists and pulls her hands away from her face, murmuring about ‘don’t rub y’eyes anymore, love, y’gonna hurt’ with nothing but kindness. A millisecond of distraction speeds through his mind at the softness on the inside of her wrists.

There’s a trickle of blubbering in her part, her bitten lips bumping against each other as she attempts to backtrack, “I mean- I- I-”

Harry decides that it’s now or never. It was a bit inconvenient, perhaps, but with her revelation his confidence soared and he was more prepared now to ask than he ever had been. So, he goes for it, “can I have y’number?”

A moment of semi-uncomfortable silence as the unknown tips the scale. Would she say yes? Would she say no? His head was spinning and he hoped his nose didn’t start bleeding or something because y/n nods slowly, smiling, and then, “okay.”

He’s elated. He was the polar opposite of what he had been that morning. If only Owen could see him then. He doesn’t waste any time reaching into his back pocket and handing her his unlocked phone. They don’t share any words, only coy glances and flirty quirks of the lips as the tips of her fingers move on his screen. Harry can’t believe that he’s finally getting her number, after nearly a month of pinning.

When she’s finished, she clicks it off and sets it next to him with an added pat to the back of his suspiciously clean white phone case while he’s tying the flowers together with a loose rubber band at the ends to attach the food packets. He’s fine with working in silence now that she's not crying anymore. He throws occasional glances in her direction, and catches her watching his hands while fiddling with her own. Her brows were furrowed and her mouth was twitching.

“Will you text me?” She asked him.

He’s careful not to bruise any of the petals as he sets them down again, pausing with his ministrations to pick up his phone. He wiggles his eyebrows at her and types a quick ‘Hi. It’s Harry :)’. He hits send, “until you’re sick of me.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” She shakes her head, and Harry’s reminded Rachel McAdams in The Notebook while she’s in complete denial of her feelings for Noah. The comparison makes his heart flutter, considering the romance of the onscreen couple. “How much do I owe you?”

Harry waves her off, “it’s on the house.” She begins to argue, but Harry stops her before she starts rambling again, “y’better go or you’ll be late, love.” He holds out the arrangement to her, tufts of baby’s breath poking out from between the vibrant dahlias like fluffy clouds, the feverfew looking like miniature white daisies in the center.

She looks at it, and back at him before huffing, “fine, but you’ll have to let me return the favor.”

“Of course,” he smirks, “with dinner, maybe?”

They’re both gleaming at each other now, “okay.” Y/n takes a step back, her body half twisted as she walks away, but it remains like that for a moment as her eyes rake him up and down, a murmur following, “bye, Harry.”

His veins charge with electricity, and his dark taffy lips part at her actions. Had she just checked him out? He doesn’t recover quick enough to return her goodbye because the previous swirl of arousal in his navel was bristling back to life at the implications of that look. Calm, slow, steady, and her eyes remained doe-like and innocent.

She had to have known exactly what she was doing, whispering his name the way she had, looking over her shoulder and under her eyelashes the way she did. Deviously provoking his thoughts to begin a new with a reinspired fervor. The space in his underwear was growing tighter by the second, a blissful ache swelling.

Before any other customer stepped in after her, Harry locked the door, and jogged up the stairs to prepare himself a nice, hot bath, simultaneously cursing and thanking the stupid fucking delivery men.

********

Harry can’t stop thinking.

Obviously, this is a huge issue for him. He was constantly thinking, and well, who wasn’t? The process of thoughts wisping around in his brain was one that he often put an unnecessary amount of energy into because he had no one to filter these thoughts onto, releasing them through a conversation to prevent the exhaustion of his brain and heart. A prime example of these mishaps being the depressing slump that occupied his demeanor that very morning.

This?

This was different.

As soon as the apartment door was shut behind him, Harry pulled the suffocating sweatshirt off of his upper body, fingers hooking in at the collar and yanking it off with a swift tug. It landed somewhere on his kitchen floor, and he didn’t stop to take note of its final destination. Instead, his legs instinctively took him to his bathroom.

Chest heaving, Harry walked to the small window leaking sunlight and rolled the stick between his fingers to close the blinds. His thumb dipped into the waistband of his boxes and dragged them down lopsidedly, the tiger tattoo roaring as it became exposed. When the blinds are fully closed, the white extension clangs against the shutters from his aggressive release. His body was slowly being consumed by a raging fire stoked by the illicit images his brain conjured of the innocent, unsuspecting y/n.

His inner turmoil consisted of guilt for using her image that way and justification from the conspiring rake of her eyes along the upper half of him that was visible behind the counter. He was so fixated by her, that her look alone felt like a tempting caress along his skin. And it all happened in a matter of fucking seconds. That’s how gone he was. That’s how fucking gone he was. Harry guesses that the easy excitement also had to do with the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in a while (he only ever gets lucky when he goes out to the bars with Mitch or Jeff, and they’d been gone for a significant amount of time) and the strong affinity he had for the girl who bought flowers from him.

Explanation or not, he had to do something about the problem in his pants. He was painfully hard, and when he shucked his pants off fully, his underwear dragged with the movement and pressed against the tip of his swollen prick. A darkened patch of moisture bloomed where the head was, and he saw stars at the short pressure. He wouldn’t take his pants off just then, though. He liked to stall his pleasure as much as he could so that when he finally did cum, his stomach muscles contracted and his toes remained curled for more than ten seconds.

He twisted the golden knobs of his tub so that the water would come rushing out at a borderline scalding temperature, and opened the small cabinet above the toilet for a bottle of almond and coconut shea butter bubbles. He uncapped it and bent over the edge of the tip, the cool, porcelain lip touching his crotch and provoking a choked whimper to leave him. Jerking his hips back, he poured the soapy liquid into the spot where the water cascaded, and retracted his hand when the beginning of froth formed along the surface.

The heady sweet smell permeated the air with the rising levels of bubbles, and Harry couldn’t wait any longer. Because he liked to torture himself, he closed his eyes and slowly dragged the hell of his hand over the outline of his cock, a groan ripping though the silence. It’s so painfully good, that he does it one more time, and he jolts forward. He removes his hand, slips his thumbs underneath the waistband of his boxers, and lugs the fabric down his hips at an excruciatingly slow pace. The head of his member smearing precum all along as he moves and when he gets caught in the ripples of his boxers the muscles in his thighs flex at the ripple of pleasure that zips into his nerves.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. His mind was a spinning vintage reel of slideshow images of y/n. Y/n on bruised knees, her mouth wide open and her own drool on her tits, the tip of his cock flat on her tongue as she pleads with weepy eyes for him to cum down her throat. When he finally springs free of his underwear, a hefty slap rings out as his dick collides against his abdomen, right on the space underneath his belly button.

There’s a stripe of liquid on the trail left by the mushroom head of his prick, and Harry’s eyes roll to the back of his head, throat straining as he hovers over the bathtub. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever been this hard over a girl before, and it’s driving him crazy. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to last as long as he usually does. As he swings a leg over the edge of the tub, the hot water encasing his calf, he’s thinking about how soft she is. The inside of her wrist and the palm of her hand. If she’s that soft on an external part of her body that’s used everyday, he can only wither away at the idea of what the inside of her thighs feel like.

Bubbles are swarming up now, swathing his thighs and buttocks as he sinks into the sloshing water. When he’s completely seated and satisfied with the belly-button level of water, he clumsily throws a hand in the direction of the knobs to shut them off, and reclined his head against the curved end of the tub with his eyes shut.

He hikes up his knees so that they’re resting against the porcelain walls, and mindlessly ruts up into the water at the filthy images he’s picturing, white foam collecting in sparse clouds over the math on his chest. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. It’s as if his body is being transported back to the moment his hips clashed with y/n’s. At the recollection, his mouth drops and his eyebrows pinch in a silent moan. The feel of her flesh underneath his fingertips has him bobbing in the water, and the next ideation has him gripping the base of his cock.

Vividly, he pictured her on all fours, keening back onto him as her pussy enveloped him in warmth, a warmth that is almost replicated by the temperature of the water, dripping and making a mess of him but what’s turning him on most of all is the easy flushness of their bodies. He had felt the way her bum gave way under his hold, and he imagined the bounce of her flesh as he thrusted into her.

He moaned a broken call of her name with his eyes still shut, and heard the trickling of water as his fist rolled up his stiff prick, squeezing at the tip so that a few more droplets of precum dribbled out. With his thumb, he rubbed over the red mushroom head and lathered it in slow, leisurely circles, a throb pulsating with the beat of his heart as he returned to flicking his wrist over himself.

The way that he looked at him and the sound of his name on her lips seared into his memory. Airy and willowy, similar to it resonated in his brain with the fantasy of sinking into her for the first time, stretching her and having her preen and arch with desperate whimpers of his name for more. Harry considered himself to be ‘well-endowed’ and his size was a factor of what sent him careening over the edge as girls mewled over his size after he’d bottomed out. He wanted y/n to mewl under him, both of them falling apart at the seams at the mutual pleasures because if Harry’s this broken over just the thought of her, then he’s sure he’s going to lose himself beyond recognition after he’s buried himself into her velvety walls, slick with her arousal and so fucking warm.

Just as she had been earlier that day. There had been two layers between them- the fabric of Harry’s pants and her panties- yet, he was still able to feel an immense heat from the apex of her thighs against his cock. He needed more than this. He needed her, not just his hand driving him closer to the edge.

His jaw clenched as he bit back on a particularly loud moan, for no reason other than he enjoyed self-sabotage from time to time, and the speed of his jerking hand increased. His other hand gripped the side of the tub, and his legs flexed as he began to thrust up into his own fist, a trail of bubbles sticking to the tanned muscles. The cut rectangles of muscles of his abdomen glistened like freshly chopped cubes of apricot with the droplets of water that remained clinging to him. His breath came in labored, strained puffs as the palm of his hand twisted, tightening at the tip and loosening at the base.

For a moment, he paused and cupped his balls, massaging them as the fantasy in his head continued. His mouth wrapping around y/n’s nipples, her eyes glazed over from previous orgasm that he wanted so badly to give her. She’d whine something soft and quiet to match her personality, ‘please, Harry, please I want more. Need another Harry, please’, and he’d speed up the movement of his hips, driving deep into her and cooing into her ear about, ‘c’mon, darling. Give m’another then. Y’want it so bad, yeah? Give me a’fucking ‘nother’, and she’d release a peircing moan that explodes in his eardrums while arching into him. She’d squeeze impossible tight around him, gushing with her own cum.

The water in Harry’s tub sloshes around his ankles, and the muscles of his abdomen clench so that he’s closing in on himself, sputtering on an outrageously loud cry that he can’t contain and his hand increases the speed of his filthy ministrations because he’s right on the edge. He’s about to fucking cum and the back of his eyelids burns with the possible variances of y/n’s face in ecstasy provided by him with his nose deep in her cunt, lapping at the sweet honey that spills with every whimper of, ‘please let me cum, Harry. I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please let me cum.

He tensed violently, his face contorted painfully as white ropes spurt from the tip of his cock over his fist and onto his chest, blending with the white almond foam. His feet are braced against the edge of the tub and his head falls back and his stomach tenses even further, the final leaks of his cum dribbling out.

With the fuzziness that comes after an orgasm, his body melts back into the water that’s still warm, and his jerks with a pant as he allows his softening prick to sink into the water. The head on his hair is matted in a chocolate smear across his forehead, and his lips are a raging heart of cherry blossoms, parted with arduous gasps of recovery breath. His hands fall into the water at his sides, and with the lapping movement of the liquid against his sensitive member, he ruts into nothing again.

Reclined with his eyes closed and heartbeat slowing, Harry murmurs a final, “fuck me,” at the extreme sensations that had raked through his body.

Somewhere in the muffled distance, his phone dings with the notification of a text message, and with a tired noise of resentment, he sits up and reaches for his sweatpants that lay in a messy puddle besides the tub. His fingers drip darkening spots onto the grey material as he rummages for his phone, and then he finally clicks it on...

It’s her name, lighting up his screen, and the text reads:

y/n <3 : so… dinner?

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever crushed on a girl this hard before because even though he’s just completely physically spent himself, there’s something stirring in the depths of his tummy just at seeing the heart she put next to her name.

He couldn’t be happier.

* * * * * *

and here he is!! what do you guys think?? pls pls pls leave your feedback in my askbox! i’d love to hear your thoughts! and if you really really loved it, don’t be afraid to press that reblog button <3333

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chloe-the-ice-queen · 3 years

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This Doesn’t Mean We’re Friends - Ch. 2

Hey guys! Another chapter done and posted, I hope y’all enjoy it!! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, I probably won’t cap it unless I really need to :)

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Marinette and Chloe rode in the Bourgeois limo from Marinette's bakery to the Grand Paris. Chloe filled her in on what to expect and what to do. "I'll be with you most of the time, so I can tell you who to steer clear of, and who you should try to talk to. I'll try to introduce you to a few people I know would be interested in your designs. You made that dress, right?"

"Yeah, designed and created it from scratch." Chloe eyed Marinette's dress appreciatively. It was tastefully made, the dark blue complementing the girl's dark hair and bluebell eyes. The top was halter-style, with a high neckline and no sleeves. It fit Marinette's form, with rhinestones glittering on her torso. The bottom half of her dress was long and elegant, falling loosely to the floor, the front hem higher than the back, showing off Marinette's silver heels. It wasn't half bad.

It was actually quite impressive, as most of Marinette's designs were. She had upgraded from her normal pink capris and grey cardigan outfit after Lila had come back to school, transitioning to a more stylish, modern look. But this dress was nothing less than gorgeous on the small girl, but wasn't overly classy and overdone like some dresses she was sure to see throughout the night. It looked nice, but it didn't look like she was showing off, which Chloe could appreciate.

Chloe herself wore a sleek, sleeveless yellow dress that highlighted her fair skin and bright blue eyes. Chloe's hair flowed freely around her shoulders, curled and styled, while Marinette had hers up in an elegant bun, with loose curls framing her face. Together, the two girls contrasted each other, but the stark differences went well together.

As they pulled up to the front of the hotel, paparazzi and reporters swarmed the red carpet, bombarding the famous partygoers.

"They shouldn't be too interested in us, but just ignore them." Chloe advised Marinette, before opening her door and sliding out of the car. Marinette slipped out behind her, adjusting to the flashing of cameras and the buzz of conversation. She shut the door behind her, and joined Chloe in walking up the front steps.

Just going to the event was sure to bring her some recognition, especially accompanied by Chloe, but she wasn't too worried about being bombarded by paparazzi. Only a few reporters bothered them, and as instructed, Marinette tuned them out.

Once they entered the ballroom, the chatter became more of a dull roar. Chloe greeted a few people mingling just inside the doorway, before they were accosted by a very familiar voice. Adrien, who was dragging a disgruntled Lila along behind him. "Hey guys! It's nice to see you here!" Adrien enthused.

"I'm sure." Chloe said, unamused. "Now if you don't mind, we need to-"

"I thought that you could introduce us to some of your friends here, Chloe. That way Lila can make some new friends-" Adrien interrupted. Lila suddenly looked interested in their conversation.

"Well, since we know how many connections Lila has, I'm sure she doesn't need me to introduce her to anyone." Said Chloe.

"Don't be like that Chl-"

"Chloe!!" Someone near them half shouted, turning the heads of people around them. A boy around their age was walking over to them, waving. "I wasn't sure if you'd come or not. It's been a while."

"Henri!" Chloe said, looking entirely amused. "I haven't spoken to you since that party in London."

"I doubt either of us will ever be invited to that again." Henri said, making Chloe laugh. Now that he was closer, Marinette studied him. He was very handsome, objectively, of course. The kind of easy beauty that makes you want to laugh or cry. He had dark brown curls, and kind brown eyes that sparkled with amusement. When he glanced at her, she felt her face flush a little. Chloe and the stranger, Henri, traded stories and jokes for a minute, while the other three observed. Adrien seemed to recognize the newcomer, and Lila was waiting for her chance to jump into the conversation.

"Now," his voice was quieter, teasing, but making sure the other three heard him as well. "You should introduce me to your very pretty friend here. I don't believe I've seen her at any of your events before." He smirked at Chloe, who rolled her eyes.

"This is-"

"Lila, nice to meet you." The green eyed girl said, sticking out her hand, which he ignored, looking at her with annoyance and slight disbelief, if Marinette had to guess.

Chloe seemed taken aback, "This is Marinette, an amazing up-and-coming designer who my mother and Gabriel Agreste have both scouted for their brands." She turned to Marinette, "This is my friend Henri, his parents are both models and his mother is a designer my mother has collaborated with. I'm sure the two of you have quite a lot in common, so why don't we go find a table to chat?"

"Why don't we come with you? You know that I happen to be friends with quite a few designers and models myself, I might be able to give some input." Lila said, while Adrien, who had been looking angry at Chloe, perked up.

He and his date began to follow the trio, when Chloe said, "Sorry, you two, but my mom reserved a table just for three. And I'm sure Lila can get you guys seats next to someone much more important anyways." She grabbed Marinette and pulled her along with her to a table near the front, Henri following behind them.

"Adrien's gotten worse since last time." The boy remarked as they sat down.

Marinette looked at him disapprovingly, when Chloe responded, "I agree. I thought it was just because of his dad, but his social skills have somehow become even worse since he started going to school."

Marinette looked surprised. Probably because she felt surprised. Didn't Chloe like Adrien? Wasn't he her best friend? Maybe they had a falling out, or maybe Chloe had stopped liking Adrien for the same reason Marinette had. Whatever the case, they could all agree on one thing.

"That girl is nasty." Henri said. "Do you know her?"

Marinette and Chloe looked at each other. "Unfortunately," Chloe supplied. "She's in our class."

"Ah, my apologies. Anyways, it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Marinette. If you're as good as Chloe said, I'm sure I'll be seeing you around more."

Marinette smiled as Chloe said, "She is quite talented. She made the dress she's wearing."

The bluenette looked at her shoes under the table. "Ah, an excellent designer then. I'll be sure to mention you to my parents when I get the chance. In the meantime, though, Chloe, I need to be going. I need to talk to a few people before I head out, it was good to see you again."

The three stood, and Henri turned and hugged Chloe, and then turned to Marinette. She smiled. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Henri."

"The pleasure is mine, I'm sure." Henri said, and took Marinette's hand, kissing the back of her knuckles lightly, his eyes teasing. Marinette laughed, blushing slightly.

The trio separated, Chloe pulling Marinette off to meet other people.

Through the entire interaction, two pairs of green eyes watched the small group from across the room. One filled with jealousy, one with annoyance and maybe a little sadness too.

----

Throughout the night, Chloe introduced Marinette to dozens of people. A few designers, models, artists, business moguls, celebrities, you name it. In return, Marinette stayed with Chloe and endured tedious conversations she had to engage in for her parents' sake. Chloe would never admit it, but having the baker girl there was nice, it made the evening slightly less unbearable.

For the bluenette, it was great exposure into the fashion world. She got to meet several of her idols and make connections with influential people. People started to hear about her designs, many of them admired the dress she wore that showcased her budding talent.

Style Queen herself was thrilled to see her there. Chloe had let her mother know who she was bringing once Marinette was invited, of course, but Audrey was still happy to see her favorite young designer.

At the end of the evening, Marinette and Chloe rode back to the Dupain-Cheng bakery together. When the limo pulled to a stop, Marinette started to get out, then paused. "Thank you so much for everything Chloe. I know you don't like me much, but tonight was so much fun and I'm so grateful that you introduced me to so many people. And thank you for inviting me to come with you, even if it was just to tick off Lila." Marinette gushed, honestly honored by Chloe's thoughtfulness, even if it was caused by spite.

"Yeah whatever, you're welcome Dupain-Cheng, this doesn't mean we're friends, okay?" Chloe grumbled.

Marinette smiled. "Good night, Chloe." She closed the door before Chloe could respond, and walked into the bakery.

----

When Marinette went to bed that night, she went to sleep with a happy buzz in her chest, Tikki nestled beside her on the pillow.

Alrighty then, I guess that’s Chapter 2 done! I hope y’all liked it!! And that should also be the end of these super short chapters, the next one will definitely be a lot longer, and will hopefully be posted sometime tomorrow?? I love you guys, thanks for all your support!

@agentofscifi

#miraculous #miraculous fic #marinette #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrien salt #alya cesaire #alya salt #nino lahiffe #lila rossi #lila salt #chloe bourgeois #chloe deserves better #chloe redemption #chloe redemption fic

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hubbie22 · 3 years

Text

Here is an ask well half an ask from the lovely @meddowscrl please don’t hate me 🥺 I just can’t do happy endings. I tried, I just couldn’t. I can only do angst. I like to suffer ~nervous laughter intensified~ Also, please excuse the writing, I have a respiratory infection and am heavily medicated.

You were happy, weren’t you?

“I want a divorce.”

You stare at him, you had only asked if he wanted to change the drapes. And the answer, turned your world upside down. He had been your boyfriend since 1968, your husband since 1972 and yet with one sentence he was now nothing.

“The drapes, I just wanted to change the drapes.” You mutter out like a hapless child.

“We haven’t been good for months.” He looks at you, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

“We haven’t?” Since when haven’t you two been good? Since when haven’t you two shared one brain cell? That was news to you.

Roger stands firms, flicking his long hair back. “No, Y/N.” He sighs, “We haven’t been us for months.”

“Is there someone else?” You look at him, searching for something. “You promised me. You promised me.” The words come out like a chant or mantra, what you held onto when he was on the road. A promise from another lifetime ago.

He sighs, as if he wants to tell you the truth. But he looks at you, and he sees the brokenness he caused. And he can’t bare to make it worse. So, he lies.

“No.”

You walk past him, and he grabs your hand and you think for a moment he will tell you he change his mind. But he hasn’t, and you tear yourself away from him trudging up the staircase.

“Y/N, this has been a long time coming. I’m not happy…. I’m not happy with you anymore.”

“A long time coming for who?” You can’t even look at him while you are packing your things. Most of which, he bought you. So, you only bring what you can into this relationship with yourself. “For you? Because I was happy.” There are tears streaming down your face, like a waterfall, “And I thought we were happy, it’s news to me that we aren’t. And that’s we haven’t been for sometime. Or maybe that you haven’t been.”

You sit across from him in a London high-rise, a wood table between you two and armed with a divorce lawyer. It happened fast, or maybe you were out of it the last few months.

You looked over at Roger, his hair was shorter the last time you saw him.

He stopped by your new apartment to drop off things you left, you could remember his shocked face when you open the door. You heard rustling outside and curiously you opened the door to see Roger crouched down, putting a box by your door. Blue eyes meet yours, and it was like time hadn’t passed. And maybe that’s why you treated it that way, maybe that’s why you went with the old routine. And you wonder if it was the gleam in his eyes, that let you believe that there was something to hold onto; that hope remained.

“Just some bits and bobs of yours.” Roger said, fumbling his keys in his hand.

“Thanks, Rog.” You can’t move from the door frame, the gaze y’all shared unbroken. Years of memories dancing between tha gaze. The squeal of the kettle you put on earlier makes the both of you jump.

“Cuppa? I still have your favorite biscuits.” You couldn’t stop yourself from buying them. It was just normal. And sometimes normal in this new word you didn’t know, was what you needed to sleep at night.

“Really?!” His blue eyes light up, and you motion for him to come in. Staying for tea was a dangerous thing, an old and easy routine. It was weird being so comfortable with someone, who was leaving you behind. Funny how the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Maybe it was because of the easiness of it all, that you left yourself fall back into the comfort of it all. As of you two were old friends, not two lovers frayed at the seams. Because of that easiness, you let yourself entertain a thought that maybe you could save your marriage. Put back the broken pieces into something recognizable, but it wasn’t enough. The yearning, the reminiscing of old times through the stuff he brought to you somehow turned into fumbled kisses and clothes thrown around haphazardly. It was something you thought would change the course of where your life was going. Instead of reconciling, it turned into Roger sneaking out when he thought you were asleep. It turned into your lawyer, letting you know Roger wanted you to have more than you asked for. It turned into more resentment and hurt from you, how he could use you and then leave you. How could he so easily but all those years together aside? It turned into something that shouldn’t have happened. And it turned into something that would stay with you forever. A funny word forever, because forever never is forever.

“Sign this, and your divorced will be finalized. All assets obtained during the marriage have been split, due to Mr. Taylor’s wishes.” Your lawyer says looking at you, sliding the papers across, while Roger’s lawyer speaks, “You will be comfortable, and well off Y/N. My client has been more than generous. In fact, I’ve never seen a settlement this amicable from the side of the main breadwinner .”

You sign the papers without any words, you don’t even look at Roger. You realize as you sign on the dotted line, this will be the last time you will use the surname you used for years. Funny how something you thought would never change, would be stagnant in your life just fades away. You then pass the papers across the table back to Roger’s lawyer, you watch as the lawyer slides the papers over to Roger for his signature.

And when Roger takes the paper, you stop breathing you wonder if his mind will change at the eleventh hour. But, he signs it without any hesitation. It’s a fluent and flawless movement, very unlike Roger- really. Part of you breaks at that, it was like he didn’t care he was closing the door on years of his life. Closing the door on you.

You stand up, smoothing out your wide legged pant suit. After the divorce, you had dipped your toes back into the world of working for a living. Putting that masters degree in business to use, and now it was time to separate yourself from the last of the rock n roll lifestyle you loved. And you turn to walk away, high heels on the marble floor when someone grabs your wrist turning you around.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N.” Roger looks at you with concern in his blue eyes. And you wonder if it’s for the friend he was losing, and not the marriage he let go of so easily.

You look at him, “I will. Don’t forget to wear your glasses, we both know you are blind. Don’t forget to call your mum once in while, she misses you. And try not to get so angry at the boys, they mean well.”

“Even after everything I’ve done, you don’t hate me.” You spot something in his eyes, you can’t put a name too. An emotion that seems out of place, it was almost looked like guilt and forlorn.

“I told you a long time ago, I could never hate you. No matter how much, I may want too. I just can’t.”

“You are too good, Y/N. I’ve forgot to remind myself of that. Maybe that’s why…” he drifts off, “Even those daft band mates of mine agreed. Never let me forget it. But, Im sure they are out to drive me mad!” He says with a small smirk.

“With the drum sets you destroy, I doubt the plan to make you mad.” You make a small sound, something between a strangled “hmph” and snort in retort.

“Same old, Y/N.”

“By the way, I have something to-”

“Roggiee!” A voice like a bell cuts through the hushed words you tell him.

You both turn to see a girl, or really a woman bounding toward y’all. And you look toward Roger, and you see the look in his eyes. A look that used to be reserved for you. And it clicked, the guilty look etched in his eyes, not even moments ago. The guilty look he wore that night. The whole reason your world was being upended and ruined. It was for her.

The bitterness filled you up, the way he could so easily toss you aside. The look you threw at Roger was one of pure resentment and unbridled rage.

“You lied.” Your hushed words, that come out through clinched teeth drip with a malice.

He looks at you with wide eyes, as if he was trying to shelter you from the truth. And you see that damned look again. “Y/N, please. I just couldn’t tell you.”

But before you can answer, she comes up with a smile on her pink lips and a twinkle in her dark brown eyes. “You must be, Roggie’s lawyer! I’m Gwen.” She smiles at you. And her smile is sickly sweet, and almost innocent.

It makes you want to scream, to throw something, to do something other than what you are doing.

“I’m Y/N, actually.” You extend your hand to her. Her eyes go wide, and she looks at Roger, who goes to her side immediately.

“Y/N, please listen.” He hold onto her side, and the whiteness of his knuckles against the material of her dark dress don’t go unnoticed by you. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with her.”

Gwen chimes in, “We honestly tried to stay away from each other, we just couldn’t. We were drawn to each other.”

If you weren’t so bitter, hurt, and angry perhaps the romantic side of you would find that notion tragic. You had read about it in books, and always rooted for the star-crossed lovers. But, now you were the collateral damage, you were the woman scorned.

“When we decided that what we had was something, I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell you that I was in love with someone else, when you were there from the start. I just didn’t want you to find out after I got back from tour-”

“He couldn’t see you broken like that.” Gwen finishes for him.

You can’t even begin to comprehend the information given, you were gobsmacked. You were completely barred raw, for everyone is this godforsaken lobby to see. And because of that, you selfishly did not want to see how genuinely happy he looked with someone else. Someone who wasn’t you. So, you used the words you knew would cut him to the bone. “So, you thought it was better to make me believe it was my fault you weren’t happy. That I was ignorantly living in one sided marital bliss, while you were falling in love with someone else? While you were planning to leave, I was planning for a life with you?” Your eyes are blazing, your face hot with rage, “You thought it was better to make me believe I was the problem? I can’t believe you! After everything I did for you? After putting my life on hold for you?! This is how you repay me? I deserved the truth, but you, the both of you took that from me.”

“I just-” He sighs, “I just wanted to be happy again, and when I’m with Gwen I’m happy. And I was going to tell you, I was going to tell you that day with the drapes. But, you then you uttered that damn promise. And what was I supposed to do? How could I break my best friend? I’ve always been the asshole to everyone, but you.”

“I love you.”

You look at Roger, his long blonde hair disheveled with bright blue eyes. “I love you too, you are my friend. My very best friend.” You bump your shoulder against his, and let out a giggle.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

You stare at him wide eyed, “Oh.”

“I have been for sometime.”

“Rog, I love you too. But, that doesn’t mean I want to date you. I know how you are, you will grow bored of me and find someone else. And love is sweet, but it’s not your nature. I don’t think I have it in me to me hate you, or to lose you. Please don’t make me lose my best friend.”

“You don’t get it, Y/N.” He looks at you like you hung the moon, and you like it. You crave that look. “I don’t want anyone else, it’s you. And I think it’s always been, and always will be you.”

“You promise? You promise it’s only me forever?” You bite your lip and stick out your pinky finger, like you had done so many times growing up.

“I cross my heart and hope to die.” He says as he raises your intertwined pinkies up to kiss it.

“And in that moment, I was back in Truro laughing with a curly haired little girl, and then I was in uni with that same girl, who was my best friend, I saw that girl. And, I couldn’t do that to her.”

You look at him, your face cold as stone. “I’m still that girl, I haven’t changed. You have. And that’s okay, it’s okay the change that’s life.”

That is how it ends, with a look of heartbreak on your face as the elevator doors close on the sight before you. And when the doors open, and you are greeted by the sight of the lobby. You realize, you didn’t even tell him what you wanted too.

Would it change anything?

#roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #queen imagines #roger taylor

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mrskittythulhu · 3 years

Text

blue flames and red feathers (2)

part1 part2 part3

wattpad

(18+) Dabi + Hawks + (y/n) fem

Shifting from foot to foot on the sidewalk outside your apartment you waited for your coworkers to arrive. You spent hours shuffling from outfit to outfit until you ran out of time and settled on a blue skater dress. You didn’t care much for the heals but they matched. You knew that if you wore them your feet would be killing you later, but the lack of other options forced you to wear them tonight.

The drive to the club was lively with the radio blaring. You almost wanted to insist that they come back another night when you noticed the long line of patrons wanting to enter the club. To your dismay one of the girls said she was a friend of someone who worked for Endeavor’s agency and got his rejected club passes. Hawks had told you before that many businesses send freebees to top heroes in hope of them coming. It was a strange type of marketing ploy.

After you each flashed your IDs to the bouncer you made it inside the loud thumping smoke-filled club. Bright lasers filled the dark space and low lights illuminated the bar and seating areas. You watched as your coworkers quickly flocked the bar grabbing shot glasses while you awkwardly maneuvered through the crowds. By the time you regrouped the boisterous group of girls were slamming their second shot glass.

Barely able to hear what the girls next to you were saying it was just easier to smile and nod at the conversation. Swiftly a couple of the girls from the group broke off to the dance floor. Wasn’t long before they were no long dancing with each other but dancing with strange men.

“Here drink this.” One of your coworkers nudged you for your attention handing you a swirling blue liquid inside a small glass cup. With a tight smile on your face, you thanked her. You knew you needed to loosen up the awkward tension was thick. Not wanting to be a wet blanket you drank down the glass. The burn of the alcohol caused you to let out strained coughs. When you regained yourself, you looked around see that your party had fully disbursed leaving you alone at the bar.

With wobbly feet you walked towards the restrooms in hope to text Hawks that you were not having a good time and wanting him to pick you up. Hopefully he wasn’t busy working far away. Between the uncomfortable shoes and the strange alcohol hitting your system each step became harder and harder. As you nearly fell over strong arms wrapped around your mid-section pulling you back into a hard chest. The thump of your body colliding with their then them colliding with a wall knocked you dizzy for a moment.

“Where are you off to little slut?” A deep voice whispered in your ear. A chill ran up your spine as you knew you could never forget the sound of HIS voice. You felt the scratch of metal on the back of your leg as his hand ran up your thigh. He was under your running a finger under your panties at your hip. His fingers felt hot against your soft skin.

“Are you off to fuck another villain in the bathroom?” Dabi was enjoying how your heartrate and breathing started to pick up. Your heavy panting causing your breasts to rise and fall. “That’s right you’re into heroes again. Guess you must be over that bad boy phase already.” Panic filled you from him knowing something so personal. You started to squirm away, but he gripped his free arm over you like a seatbelt leaving his hand light placed over your neck. He started to shush you while the hand under your dress was placed over your clothed core. His fingers pushing the fabric between your folds to soke up your moistier.

“Please Dabi let me go.” You sucked in your bottom lip as you let out a throatily moan from his touch. “I promise I wont tell anyone I saw you here. I just want to go home.” His nose was running along your ear, so you were able to hear him moan as if he was thinking over your words despite the loud music. “Please.” You begged with the prick of tears in the corner of your eyes.

“Alright.” His grip on your neck tightened but his large hands didn’t put pressure on your airway. “But I will be seeing you real soon (y/n).” The hand under your dress gave a squeeze of your womanhood and you jumped from the sensation. “Real soon.” He left a chase kiss at the back of your cheek near your ear. As quickly as his hands were on you, they were gone.

You spun around losing your balance in the process to see where he had gone but there was only a wall. With more urgency you made your way into the restroom. You frantically pulled out your phone but no answer from Hawks. After a deep calming breath, you texted him. If it wasn’t for autocorrect none of your rapid-fire messages would have been legible. Despite you promise deep down it would have been foolish not to tell your high-ranking hero boyfriend that a top villain was at the club. Taking a seat on the countertop you downloaded a ride share app quickly typed in your info and waited for the notification that your ride was here to get you.

“Shit.” For the second time you dropped your apartment keys to the floor. Your mind was still uneasy after your run in with Dabi. You didn’t even bother to tell anyone you had gone home. Only hiding in the bathroom like a scared child until your ride showed.

You had convinced yourself that the reason he was after you was to kill you. He knew you had told the police about him and wanted to tie up loose ends. This panic left you trembling. You took both your hands wrapped them around your keys and slowly managed to open your apartment door. A stray tear left your eye at the small victory. Rushing inside you slammed the door shut and locked it quickly. You peeked out the spy hole like a mad woman only letting out a deep sigh when you noticed the hallway was still empty.

Flicking on the living room light you only felt slightly safer in the walls of your apartment. You grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and went into your bedroom. Telling yourself that after a relaxing shower and good night sleep you would feel better. Chugging half the bottle down you felt the cool water chill your racing body. With quick movements pulled your skater dress over your head and tossed it into the hamper.

In the mirror you noticed the large wet spot on your panties from when Dabi had touched you. Slowly you moved a towards your lower half, but you stopped suddenly. In the corner of your eye, you noticed movement in the mirror’s reflection coming from behind you. As you looked over your eyes wide with fear as bright blue eyes stared back at you.

Dabi was leaning with his arms folded over his chest on your bathroom door frame. You spun around nearly loosing balance from your heals. The palms of your hands gripped the top of your dresser keeping you from falling over.

“W-wha..” Your frantic words trailed off.

“I told you I would see you soon.” He started to take long strides over to you.

“Ho- How did you get in here.” He didn’t answer with words only a blank expression and a shrug of his shoulders. Before you could ask another question, he was towering over you. Your eyes stayed locked with his fear kept you trapped in place. You knew what this man was capable of and images of your tragic end on the evening news filled your mind.

“A-are you here to kill me?” A sly smile pulled at the corner of his lips. He placed his hands on the dresser behind you trapping you in place. He leaned his face closer to yours with a hum in his throat. His nose lightly brushed along your cheek when he reached your temple, he placed a chase kiss to your skin.

“I was thinking about it.” He brought his hand up capturing your chin to keep your attention forced on him. “Would be a shame to get rid of such a fine piece of ass like you.” He ran his thumb over your lips on instinct you opened your mouth allowing him to run is thumb over your tongue while you lightly sucked it. “So why don’t you do what you do best and convince me not to kill you.”

His grip on your chin tightened as his thumb firmly pressed on your bottom front teeth. Your sucking stopped as he started to guide your face down. You slid to your knees and placed your hands on his hips. You looked up to see his blue eyes glowing with an unsettling desire. It was clear as glass what he was in your apartment for and its not like the night you shared together was bad experience. The only dread you had was having Hawks suddenly come home and catch you with a top villain.

“Do it just like you did when we met.” He removed his hand from your face while yours went to work on his belt. With nimble hands you undid the button and pulled down the zipper. With a shifting grip you laced your fingers at the top of his pants pulling them down to his mid-thigh. You were now face to face with his cock bulging beneath his shorts. He made it jump knowing you were staring at it. You tried to hide your smile at the childish act as you slowly looked back up at him.

“Well? get to it slut. We don’t have all night and I have many other positions I plan to have you in before I’m done.” One of his hands slid across your cheek to the back of your head his fingers now laced in your hair. Slender fingers slipped under his waist band to pulling them down until his cock sprung free.

Dabi’s dick is beautiful, for several reasons. It’s long and curves upwards beautifully when he gets hard. There are visible veins along his length, but the one underneath is particularly thick and gorgeous. The perfect canvas for the Jacob’s ladder that he has going from base to tip. The Prince Albert piercing was new. He must have got it done just after you met because it looked well healed. The wide head of his cock is always so pretty and pink. You staired in awe watching the little beads of precum leak around his piercing it was especially mouth-watering. He’s not as girthy as Hawks, but those piercings and veins more than make up for it.

His fingers tighten in your hair as he felt you start to take him in. The taste of metal and salt was thick on your tongue as you tentatively sucked on the tip, and it just tasted so good. You missed what it felt like to have him in your mouth, in your throat.

You picked up his weighty cock, lifting it above your face, so that you could deliberately drag your tongue along his shaft, letting it slowly climb every rung of the ladder while he watched. In awe of how big his dick looked resting against your cute face. How fucking sexy you looked when you locked eyes with him, pupils already blown with lust from how desperately you wanted him to abuse each and every one of your holes.

The sensation of the piercings on your tongue was enough to have you clenching at the thought of him sliding inside you, scratching that itch in a way that you never would admit out loud. How could you tell anyone that one of your best nights was with a top villain. You moaned, a lewd, animalistic sound as you bobbed your head over his length, feeling your tongue dance over the piercings again as the metal fastened within his tip kissed the back of your throat.

He nearly came the first time you took him to the hilt and watching you do it again now was dissolving his restraint. His fingers fisting into your hair to grip it tight, knuckles turning white as he held himself as still as he could in your throat, willing himself not to cum before easing your off his length with a choked groan.

“Shit, baby,” he murmurs, inhaling a deep breath as he slowly shifted his hips forward, rocking his length in and out of your mouth. He was loving the tears that fell from your eyes as you held back from choking on him. “You love this dick, don’t cha, doll?”

“Mmhmm,” you mewl, humming around the head as your tongue swirled around the metal and pressed against his sensitive slit lightly flicking his piercing.

“Oh, fuck, that’s it,” he growls, his eyes closing as his head dropped back. You began to swallow down the thick hot ropes that hit the back of your throat. As he slowly slid out you continued to lightly suck on his tip making sure to not miss a drop.

“You wanna know what? I actually missed the feeling of being trapped inside that soppin’ cunt of yours.” With a bit of force, he pulled you up to your feet then pushed you on to the bed. Your palms flat on the plush bedding slightly hunched over. You felt a chill across your exposed body as you stood there in your undergarments and heals.

His lips attached to your neck as his fingers went to work to remove your bra. He continued his wet openmouthed kissed along your skin causing goosebumps to form. With a soft thump you heard your bra fall to the floor. He trailed his fingers lightly up your spine causing you to whimper in your throat.

A flat palm placed between your shoulder blades forcing your upper body down to the bed. Dabi leaned over you slightly using some of his wight to keep you down. His free hand started to run along your clothed womanhood. His middle finger pressed the fabric between your lower lips causing the material to become moist from your juices.

“You are such a slut getting off to my cock, what a horny little bitch. But your my bitch aren’t you—yeah, say ‘yes sir’.” He quickly removed his hand from between your legs to send a sharp slap to your cheek.

“Yes sir.” You sharply squealed out.

“Wonder what your little hero boyfriend Hawks would say if he saw you like this? Does he make you as wet as I can?” You ducked your head down in shame. For a moment in your lust filled haze you had forgotten about Hawks and the guilt was twisting at your heart.

A cold chill stunned your body as you heard the click of locks from your front door. Despite the low villainous chuckles from Dabi you were hyper focused on the sound of Hawks’ work boots thumping closer to your bedroom.

“Whoa? I thought you were going to wait for me?” Hawks stood tall in the doorway looking between you and Dabi.

“Hawks!” You called out in panic, but he didn’t react to you. A confused look spread over your face as you took in the words, he just said realizing they were not aimed at you. It was boggling to even fathom that your loving boyfriend in anyway was working with Dabi.

“Aww... look at the little plaything trying to figure it all out.” Dabi’s words were venomous and caused your stomach to twist. You couldn’t help the tears that started to flow from your eyes.

“Come on chickadee don’t be like that.” As Hawks walked closer to you, he removed his jacket and shirt. You felt Dabi shift behind you and heard the rustling of clothes he was likely removing his pants from around his ankles. Hawks stroked your cheek so he could tuck some loose hair behind your ear.

“We just wanted to share you. (y/n) I care about you so much would you really think I would let any harm come to you?” He always has a huge twinkle in his eyes and a silly smile on his face whenever he looks at you but right now there was something slightly dark there. He only had that look when he was in an especially sexual mood. That look always caused heat to build in your panties. His words started to echo in your head as you debated his offer. No harm had come to you so far when you were alone with Dabi in fact you were quite enjoying yourself. The image of both of them having their way with you was enough to get you to start rubbing your legs together to create much needed friction.

“Seems the little slut likes the idea.” Dabi leaned next to your ear. “Not like I really cared what you thought. This isn’t about what you want Its about what we want.” With force Dabi flipped you to your back causing you to squeal in surprise. You looked away toward Hawks to see him removing the last of his clothing.

Hawks’ cock might be nicest you have seen, he has a red tip with a vain running from the tip to the base on the top and the same on the bottom. He started to lazily stroke his length as he crawled on the bed next to your head.

Dabi grabbed your face to the point it started to hurt forcing you to look back at him. His free hand was held up and incased in a blue flame. Your eyes went wide with fear but you dared not to move. Hawks gently stroked the top of your head calming you down slightly but you refused to look away from the flame. His flamed hand went down to your panties and he engulfed them. The heat stung your skin but once enough fabric was gone so was the flame.

Hawks placed a gentle kiss on your forehead and whispered that you were such a ‘good girl’. Dabi slid his hand off your face to grip your throat giving your neck a stern squeeze. His pointer finger and thumb guided your face towards Hawks’ prominent erection. Dabi slid his free hand down into your core the heat that lingered on his fingers from his quark left a warm sensation inside you. Your lips went wide as you gasped from the pleasurable sensation allowing Hawks’ to slip himself past your lips. Dabi wasted no time and removed his fingers from your dripping core and began to slide his own length inside you.

"Fuck baby, yeh that's it shit-", Hawks says grabbing your hair, you let out a moan around his dick as he pulls your hair slightly. “Yeah, you enjoy taking me so well, don’t you, Chickadee?” He hits the back of your throat as he moans. He has his hands in your hair, tugging at it, throwing his head back in accordance with the bobs of your head. You start to bob your head faster, hollowing out your cheeks and using your tongue to lick the veins along his cock.

"Ahh~ yeh that's it good girl, suck my cock"

Dabi had his palms underneath your knees, your thighs pressed up towards your chest as his slender body loomed over you, his thick cock sliding inside your tight cunt with slow, hard thrusts. His blue eyes watching the way your tits bounced with each rut of his hips.

“Fuck, doll. You feel so fuckin’ good. Look at your sloppy pussy, taking me so well.” Hawks’ removed himself for a moment from your mouth. You whimpered when you felt Dabi adjust your thighs slightly, slipping your ass further up on his lap as he began to angle his thrusts at a different spot inside you, one that had your eyes rolling back.

Shoving his precum, and saliva-soaked prick back into your mouth until Hawks was sure he was going to cum. You were so keen on helping him, humming with excitement as he fucked your mouth.

You feel him twitching in your mouth, "Fuck baby gonna cum" he says as he holds on to your head in place, thrusting his hips into your face, his cock going deeper into your throat.

"Fuck.. ahh~ shit yeh fuck-" Hawks moans out as he shoots his thick cum into your throat, painting the back of your throat white.

Dabi’s thumb unrelenting against your clit as he began to draw random patterns against it, groaning when he felt you begin to clench around him. Your cunt clenching around his cock as a clear stream began to trickle from your tight cunt.

Dabi’s eyes instantly looking between where your bodies were connected to watch the liquid seep from your body, splashing against his pelvis, abdomen and your thighs as he continued rutting his hips into you, enjoying the sight of you squirting all over him.

“Shit, that’s what I’m fuckin’ talking about doll, you dirty fuckin’ bitch.” The way your cunt was squeezing around him in the aftershocks of your orgasm had Dabi following you into bliss, bottoming inside you a final time as he came deep inside your quivering walls.

When he pulled his softening cock from your tight cunt his eyes immediately watched the way your cunt squeezed around nothing, unable to resist slipping his fingers down to run through the mixture of your releases, feeling it damp against his skin.

"Your blow jobs really are the best baby" Hawks kiss your forehead, but your body was so numb and buzzing from the after shock of your pleasure you could barely feel it. Your head was dizzy and your vision was blurry from tears. While you felt the bed shift as they moved away from you everything went dark and you drifted off to sleep.

You awoke feeling over heated. Heavy lids opened to survey your surroundings. The heat you felt was Dabi and Hawks sandwiching you between their bodies. With careful movement to not wake either of them you managed yourself out of bed. With light footsteps you made your way to the kitchen for much needed drink of water.

You felt sore, humiliated, and very satisfied with what you remembered doing. Once your thirst was quenched you walked back into your room only to stop at the sight of Dabi and Hawks cuddled together. You held back you giggles and found your phone. After snapping your picture, you hid your phone in your underwear drawer and tossed on an oversized shirt and panties. When you turned back to the bed you could see golden eyes peaking at you.

He lifted his wing and lazily lifted his arm making a small space for you to come back to bed to. You didn’t know the extent of his relationship with Dabi or what it meant for your relationship now that you three all shared an intimate moment. Sleep called to you louder than the million questions swirling in your head as you crawled into place. Hawks kissed your forehead while you felt Dabi shift behind you grunting.

“Night boys.”

#dabihawks #dabi smut #dabi x reader #dabi x reader x hawks #mha dabi #hawks x y/n #hawks smut #mha hawks #mha smut #keigo x touya #touya smut #keigo smut

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chubbybuckydumpling · 3 years

Text

Royally Screwed

words: 4.2k

pairing: chubby!stableboy!bucky x royal!female!reader

warnings: arguing, period (probably not) accurate problems, smut, fluff, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, power dynamics

A/n: dear anon, I’m sorry it took me 2 months to write this, I hope you’re not too upset. I changed the original prompt a little, I hope you still like it! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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The wind is blowing through your hair, a cool breeze that relieves you from the hot summer sun. Your horse is galloping under you, his strong legs taking you over the loose ground. The rays warm your face, a welcome sensation. You missed this, riding through the afternoon, taking time to just live, all troubles and worries forgotten.

Admiral has always been close to you, your first horse and best friend since you were twelve years old, merely a child. The Arabian Stallion slows down to a trot on your command, the high grass tickling his side. You let your hands roam over his dark mane, feeling the sturdy hair under your fingers.

A single bumblebee flies ahead of you, its loud buzz making you smile. The scene around you makes your heart feel lighter, a warm feeling that floats through your chest. You let Admiral come to a halt and slide down from your saddle.

You trail your hand over the horse’s muscles, the short hair caressing your palm. His strong snout nudges your arm and he neighs, causing you to giggle, “You did so well, boy” You wrap your arms around Admiral’s muscular throat.

His scent fills your nose, it’s familiarity never fails to bring you comfort. The animal scratches over the earthy ground as the sound of hooves hitting the floor ripples through the air. You whip around, parting yourself from your companion. A little further away, you see two of the guards coming your way. Their horses are quick and strong, but they have nothing on your Admiral.

“Lady Y/n”, they yell out and you can’t help but roll your eyes. The men reach you quickly, panic in their eyes, “Your highness, you must remain in close proximity for us to successfully protect you at any time”, one of them states, trying to deepen his voice.

“Of course”, you smile at them, “it wasn’t my intention” A lie. You purposely mislead them to have a moment of your own, some quiet minutes of peace. The guards exchange glances until one of them shrugs. “We see. Now, it is of utmost importance to immediately escort you home. We shall keep you as safe as possible, your highness”

You sigh internally, but follow the mens’ orders without argument. Admiral snorts stubbornly, but reluctantly follows your lead.

The sound of birds singing and insects chirping brings you great joy as you gently rock back and forth with the steady trot of your horse. Unknowingly, these were the last moments you would spend outside of the castle for quite some time.

The guards at the gate salute as you pass them. The warm sun has kept you comfortable in the open where the wind was stronger, but you quickly start to heat up inside the walls of your father’s estate. Admiral soon comes to a halt in front of your mother. The woman is fuming as she approaches you, her face twisted into an angry grimace.

“Your father and I need to talk to you, young lady! You are in serious trouble”, her malicious voice hisses as you jump off of Admiral’s back. Your mother’s fingers wrap around your arm to pull you towards her, but a warm smile is on her face. A muscle in her jaw twitches and exposes her true anger. She speaks to one of your guards, but you can’t be bothered to listen for something has caught your attention.

A man has walked up to your horse to pet his head. He is gentle with Admiral, careful and loving even. You let your eyes rake over the man. The typical stable boy clothes are obscuring your view, but you can make out the bulge of his tummy, his big arms and thick thighs. His long brown hair falls over his face, some strands are stuck to his forehead as the sweat glistens over his face. This man looks like an absolute dream and you can feel your lips twitching up.

You begin to walk towards him, a giddy feeling brewing up in your stomach, but your mother pulls you back, “Oh no, you are not getting out of this one. Follow me, now” She drags you behind her and you wish to struggle against her grasps, but won’t dare to resist her. Not at that time at least. You take one last glance in his direction, hoping to see his face, more of him. You find his gaze, stare into the warm blue of his eyes before your mother pulls you out of his view.

A sad sigh escapes your lips, but you promise yourself to go and find him as soon as possible. The way he looked at you, sweet and shy, is replaying in your head, his sweaty form a picture in your mind. Whoever that man is, he makes your insides throb with desire.

Your father’s yelling rips you out of your trance and you look up to meet his vicious glare. He takes a deep breath with closed eyes and when he meets your eyes again he looks calmer. His hand reaches out to your face, cupping your cheek.

“My daughter, what am I going to do with you?”, his voice suddenly sounds sad, “Y/n, you know that you need to enter a marriage soon. I need you to be on your best behaviour, this is about your future. I only want good things for you” You rest your palm over your father’s, “I know, father” He brushes his thumb over the apple of your cheek, “You’re so beautiful, my only daughter. I know this isn’t what you want, but at least let me make it as pleasant as possible for you”

You sigh and stare right past your father, “I already gave my word to marry whomever you choose, father” His hand falls from your face and wraps around your fingers, “I don’t want to hand you to anyone, don’t you understand? I want someone that cares about you” He squeezes your hand, “But you need to behave,Y/n. The men of higher status, they won’t accept an ill-mannered, rebellious women”

Enraged, you rip away from his touch, “I am not ill-mannered” Your mother gasps at your outburst, but your father smiles at you. He steps forward and grabs you by the shoulders, “I know that. Believe me, I do. But these other men don’t” A sigh escapes your lips, but you nod nevertheless, “Okay, father. I will do my best” He grins and it jumps right over to you.

Your father pulls you into a warm hug and whispers to you, barely audible, “I could not be prouder of you, my child” A warm, comforting feeling spreads through your chest and you feel like a little girl, no worries or problems, just love and happiness on your mind. You pull away from the hug and watch your father’s eyes crinkle.

Your mother forces a cough and directs a pointed glare at her husband. He sighs and turns to you, “However, your mother and I have decided to ground you for the next few days. We cannot let your temperament ruin your future. We ask you to stay on the estate’s grounds” This is obviously your mother’s doing. She always cared more about your standing and reputation, but you’ve learned to just accept her orders.

“Yes, father”, you nod at them, “Mother” A satisfied look settles on the woman’s face, hands clasped tightly. “You are excused”, your father rasps and you leave the room, a sour look sneaking onto your lips. Stupid marriages. All of your life, the fact that you will be married off as soon as someone worthy shows interest, has been hovering over you, a subconscious thought that drained your energy, leaving you exhausted and numb. You can’t believe that this dreaded day is moving closer so fast.

You enter your room and sit down on your bed. The mattress gives out under your weight and perfectly molds into a comfortable shape. You let yourself fall until you’re lying flat on your back and close your eyes. Slowly, the darkness and exhaustion consumes you ,hugging you like a warm blanket.

The shine of the moonlight dancing through the window rouses you from your sleep. The light has a slight pink tint and colours the dim room in a nice shimmer. A yawn escapes your mouth and you sit up. The cool air makes goosebumps appear on your skin, yet you feel drawn to it. Suddenly, an idea pops into your mind. Surely, nobody would notice if you left for a little to see Admiral.

A grin sneaks on your lips as you wipe the nasty crumbs from your eyes. Quickly, but careful to remain silent, you dress in your warmer riding clothes, the training ones, not the dresses. Thick, warm leggings and a nice, comfortable pullover. On your way out, you grab a wooly hat to cover your ears, smiling mischievously.

Skipping, you make your way through the halls. A giddy sensation rumbles in your belly, the excitement of knowing you’re about to go on a ride. The door knob feels cool under your skin as you turn it to open it. The freezing air seeps into the kitchen, swirling around your body. Adrenaline shoots through your veins and your legs begin to move on their own, moving faster and faster until you’re running, your feet carrying you over the well known path.

You come to an abrupt stop when you see a small light in the stables, most likely a lit candle. Nervously, you sneak closer to peek around the corner. In the dim shine you manage to make out the features of the beautiful stable boy from earlier that day. His hair is falling free, framing his chubby face so beautifully.

A long sleeved linen shirt layered with a dark vest and brown trousers clad his thick form in such a delicious way. For some reason, this man made you feel things. To your surprise however, he is standing next to Admiral, gently stroking the horse’s strong, defined face. Weird, you find yourself thinking, Admiral usually does not tolerate close proximity with anyone but yourself.

That fact is seriously arousing. This beautiful man being so gentle to your hot headed horse is insanely attractive. Your heart fills with warmth the longer you watch him. He whispers into his fur, smiling adoringly at him. The stable boy’s big hands look so soft against Admiral’s fur, his thick, long digits massaging the strong muscles. You bite down on your lower lip, a sly smirk forming. This beautiful sight almost made you forget about the cold.

Your lungs fill with air as you take a breath of encouragement before you move out of the hiding spot. Making sure to move your hips extra seductively, you wander closer to the man of your desire. It’s easy to pinpoint the moment he notices you by the way his eyes double in size and his entire body freezes. The look of fear in his eyes tugs at your heartstrings.

Gently, you take a step closer to him, but he shies away from you, like a baby deer, scared and vulnerable. “Lady Y/n, I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to intrude”, he stumbles through the words, clearly afraid he upset you. You smile in hope of looking safe and not angry. “You’re fine”, your voice is gentle, almost like you’re talking to a child, “It’s impressive. Admiral really seems to like you”

He shyly looks up to you to gauge your reaction, nervously playing with his fingers. “He’s very beautiful”, the man whispers and tucks some of his loose strands of hair behind his ear. You grin, taking another step forward, “He is”, you reach out to scratch Admiral’s neck, “So are you”

A deep blush rises on his cheeks, warming his skin. You continue talking, eyes trained on the stable boy’s chubby face, smiling warmly at him, “So, what’s your name, pretty boy?” Nerves cloud his eyes, his chest rising and falling quickly, “James, b- but people call me Bucky”

“That’s a real pretty name”, you purr, “Bucky”, testing out how the word feels rolling off your tongue. Lower lip between your teeth, you reach out to touch his biceps. His strong muscles flex under your touch, but it feels soft beneath your skin. Your fingertips squeeze around him as a surge of want ripples through your body.

“I saw you with Admiral this afternoon and I could not stop thinking about you. You’re so good with him, it’s very”, you smirk and lean closer to him, lips right next to his ear, “arousing”. The whispered word makes him gulp and he feels himself twitching in his loose pants. He can’t deny he feels attracted to you, especially in these casual clothes that you’re wearing right now.

He’s been eying you for months now, always hidden away in the shadows or behind corners. He heard so much gossip, so many rumours that intrigued him, but your bond with Admiral really did him in. To see how caring and tender you were with the horse made him crave the same attention from you. He wanted your affections and love, almost like he needed them, but he knew better than to approach you. His family depends on his earnings, he would not challenge that security he could provide. But now it seemed like maybe he could have both.

The close proximity makes his heart race, your breath tickling his sensitive skin. You feel his nerves, so you move even closer, pressing your body against his. He tenses up, but shyly reaches for your waist. “I really want you right now, Bucky”, you whimper, pushing your breasts forward and up against his chest. His breath catches in his throat, but he somehow finds the energy to tighten his grip on you.

The feeling of your body against his further arouses him, a shiver running down his spine. With all the courage he could muster, he looks up at you, “I really want you too” Your hands run over his chest and grip onto the edges of his vest, “Then take me”

Pulling on the leather, your mouths crash together. His rough, chapped lips fit right onto your own soft lips, a result of your maid’s tending. The smacking sound immediately helps you relax into Bucky’s frame, letting out a little sigh. With newfound confidence, he traces your lower lip with his warm tongue, leaving you yearning for a taste.

You open up for him, letting him explore your mouth. He moans at the feeling, licking into you greedily. Little glimmers of want spark in your belly, nipples hardening as the simmering pleasure begins to grow. Your saliva mixes with his, tongues dancing together in an aroused display of want.

Just as you were about to shrug off his leather vest, Admiral neighs right next to you. Bucky shrieks, jumping away from you. You stare at him, a slight fear of being caught running through you before a grin etches on your lips, laughter bubbling in your chest. Bucky mimics your giggling, his eyes crinkling adorably, lips swollen.

Grinning you pet your horse once, but turn to the chubby stable boy to pull him after you. The back of the stable is dark, only Bucky’s candle serving as a source of light. You turn around, coming face to face with the pretty boy. The golden glow makes him look so beautiful, the breath stuck in your throat. It’s completely silent, only the sounds of your breathing audible.

You gulp, stepping even closer to him. Carefully, you take his candle and place it on the floor, close to a pile of hay. “Bucky”, you whisper, “please” He takes a deep breath, but closes the distance between you two, once again connecting your mouths. Gently, he grabs you by your waist, both hands feeling warm and powerful on your body. Your own fingers wrap around his neck, playing with his beautiful hair.

With tongues intertwined, Bucky closes his arms around you to lead you towards the hay, supporting your weight. “Wait”, he mumbles against your lips, reluctantly pulling out of the embrace, “Let me just…” With care, he shrugs off his vest and places it over the hay. A soft smile spreads over your face, a funny feeling whirling in your belly. You take the chance to take off your hat.

“Well then, gentleman”, a purring sound fills the air, “I could use some help undressing” He gulps, eyes widening in arousal. Slowly his hands find your hips, fingers sliding under your shirt. The immediate warmth that seeps into your skin makes you gasp, moaning lightly at the feeling. His digits trace your skin, gently lifting up your shirt so you can take it off.

His hands roam your exposed skin, exploring your body to his full extinct, feeling every curve and uneven spot. You reach behind your back, unclasping your sturdy bra. Bucky gasps at the sight, eyes trained on your exposed breasts. Your nipples harden, once more, under his fiery gaze and you gently push his hands towards the, your body burning for his touch.

The moment his palm cups you, a needy moan escapes you which spurs Bucky on to massage your breasts with more enthusiasm, toying with your nipples. Greedily you let your hands wander under his linen shirt, reveling in the feeling of his soft skin. The chubby rolls feel delicious under your touch, gending to your wishes. You hastily free him from the offending clothing, pressing your body against his.

Arousal and need is flaming inside you and you desperately press your lips together into a hungry kiss, teeth crashing against each other. “Please, I need you so much” He nods, breathless, and gently lays you down on his vest. You catch a glimpse of his tented trousers, saliva running in your mouth, the sight so delicious, especially paired with his big thighs.

Bucky’s chubby fingers work your fuzzy leggins down your legs. The cold air causes goosebumps to raise on your skin. You hear him gasp when he looks at your exposed heat,dilated eyes transforming into a hungry stare. “You’re beautiful”, he groans, his hand cautiously travelling up your thighs. You nod as confirmation and Bucky runs two of his digits up your heat.

He traces your outer lips, your anticipation rising. You hold your breath, hands running through the hay that the vest doesn’t cover. Finally, he leans up and spits on your core, further lubricating you. He finds your clit and begins to rub gentle circles into it, a stuttered breath leaving your mouth.

Bucky trails down to your opening, carefully inserting two of his fingers into you. “Fuck”, he groans, pushing in further, “you’re so tight and wet” He starts to fuck you with them, slowly at first, then faster, his gaze set on you. The squelching noises fill the air, soon joined by your moans. Suddenly he hits a special spot and you arch your back, pressing into him as a loud, guttural groan leaves you.

Your gaze meets Bucky’s and you begin to move your hips on your own, “Please do it again, do it again” Your begging eggs him on and he adds another finger, his strong thrusts leaving you breathless. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, pleasure building up in your lower belly.

All of a sudden you feel something wet around you, followed by a suction right around your sensitive nub. You moan loudly, hands flying into his hair. His penetrating gaze meets your eyes and with an especially hard suck the coil in your tummy snaps and you cum around his fingers, your core grabbing him tightly. You feel him moan against you, but he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, prolonging the addictive high.

Finally, you regain your senses and push him away from you, too sensitive for any further stimulation. You look at him. He sits in front of you, his chin wet with your slick, chubby belly rolls folding into each other deliciously, his trousers tented with his obvious want. A smile plays over your lips, “You look so beautiful like this, James”

He perks up when you mention his name, a shy, but aroused glint in his eyes. “You really think so?”, he sounds so little your heart starts aching for him. “I’ve never seen someone as stunning as you”, you crawl up to him, hands on his cute little cheeks. You feel his breath graze your lips and lunge forward, mouth against his, tongues tangling.

One of your hands drops lower to cup him. He feels heavy in your palm and so nice. A craving awakes inside you and you squeeze him through his trousers, a lovely moan ringing in your ears. Your fingertips hook around the waistband and you pull all the bothersome clothing off of him. His cock jumps free. It looks delicious, hard and slightly curved to the side, thick veins running along the length of it. The bulbous head is covered with his foreskin, a trail of precum has made its way down some of it.

The sight of him is so beautiful, his thick thighs making you bite down on your lip. You bow down, one hand gripping his leg, the other slowly fisting his cock. You watch as the foreskin pulls back to show his wet, sensitive head. With one last look into his face, which is contorted in pleasure, you take him in your mouth, slowly sinking down on him.

He moans, hands cupping the back of your head. You suck on him, yearning for his cum, his taste .Fondling his balls, you become even more hungry for him. He smells so husky, so good, mouthwatering even. Slowly, you take him even deeper, your nose buried in the curly pubic hair. His hips stutter, pressing his length even further into your throat, a hearty groan leaving him. You splutter around him, your gag reflex kicking in.

Pulling off, you take deep breaths, spit running down your chin. “‘m sorry”, Bucky mutters, his own hand now wrapped around himself, fisting his wet cock, “It just feels so good” Your pussy clenches at his words and you lay back down, spreading your legs. “I bet this will feel even better”

Bucky groans at the sight and shuffles closer. He runs his thick head along your slit, coating it in your wetness. Managing to hit your sensitive clit with his cock, he groans, twitching in want. Gently, Bucky positions himself at your stretched hole and begins to push in. He moans, steadily spreading you over his cock until he bottoms out.

Sweat runs down Bucky’s face, pleasure and desperation filling him. He tries to refrain himself, but when you begin to whimper and grab onto his thick arms he crumbles. Bottoming out, his fat balls slap against your bum. Slowly he pulls out again, just to thrust right back into you. His cock is so hard and curved perfectly, he fits inside you so well.

The sounds of skin slapping and moaning is the only thing you can hear, sweaty bodies moving in unison, a play of mutual pleasure, need and adoration. Bucky’s chubby belly feels so good against you, especially paired with the delicious feeling of him hitting your spongy g-spot over and over again.

His hands are all over your body, grabbing handfuls of your breasts, playing with your nipples, holding your thighs and squeezing your waist. His moans and whimpers sound so delicate and sexy, almost serene and calming, but so arousing. The squelching of where your core envelopes him makes you arch into him, his chub so soft against you, yet his obvious strength makes you clench.

His length fills you so good, his hard, quick thrusts turning you on enormously. His fattened up cock makes you mewl, all the sensations adding up into one big coil of pleasure.

Bucky’s sounds grow louder, his hard thrusts faster, more irregular. His cock begins to pulse in you when he drops a hand to your sensitive nub, drawing quick, strong circles on it. Your body is on fire, spasming under the stable boy, your hips meeting his thrusts. You feel so close to the edge and when Bucky grunts, “You’re so good for me, you’re gonna make me cum” you fall over.

Your body shakes, yet you feel like you’re floating. A warm, fuzzy sensation enveloping you, like a soft blanket hugging you close. You feel Bucky’s naked skin against you, his fingers on your skin and his breathing against your neck, but you can’t open your eyes. He grunts loudly and pulls out, but you’re so blissed you don’t find the energy to do anything but whimper.

“Thank you”, he mumbles, his soft lips resting near your collarbone, some spare hairs tickling you nicely.

Slowly, you become more conscious and manage to blink, opening your eyes. Bucky is cuddled against your side, laying on the hay. His arm is wrapped over your waist. You spot his white cum on your tummy; It looks slightly dried and feels a little itchy.

You turn to look at him, a soft smile forming at his beautiful face. His long hair frames him so well, a delicate sight that makes your fingers itch to draw. Instead, you cuddle closer to him and close your eyes. You know you’ll have to get up soon, nobody can find out about this, but for now you want to enjoy this moment of peace and serenity for a little while longer.

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