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heavenlyhischier · 1 month

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𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 | 𝐋𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

word count: 4.9k

summary: The one where you run into the guy who makes you believe in love all over again.

warnings: kissing, strangers to friends to lovers where they’re both a little oblivious, game mentioned is the game against philly with luke's ot goal

note: no angst?? who am i?? thank you maddy for answering my questions about luke so i could make this as accurate as possible ily

Someone once said that love comes when you least expect it and when you’re not looking for it, but you used to never believe that. You used to think that love was something you always searched for in others, that love was something everyone wanted, but you stopped believing that after it kept leaving you stranded and broken. You stopped looking for romantic love, choosing to believe that maybe it wasn’t meant for you, until one day when you’re quite literally trampled by the boy that made you believe in it all over again.

Walking the path near the water was one of your favorite pastimes since you’ve moved to the unfamiliar city. It was something that always brought you a sense of serenity whenever reality became a little too overbearing, or when you just needed a space to breathe after a particularly straining day at work. It was also your favorite way to start off your day whenever you had the time. Always a coffee in hand as you savored the peacefulness before the day truly began.

Today was one of the fortunate days when the weather wasn’t too cold that you needed more than a light jacket when you stepped outside. There weren't many people out and about as the sun had barely risen, but there were still a handful on their morning jogs or simply relaxing on the benches as they read a book. You had only looked away from the path in front of you for a brief second when you collided with something, or rather someone, and it sent your barely drank coffee to the ground, spilling all over your shoes.

“Shit,” You heard a boyish voice exclaim, his hands grasping at your biceps to keep you upright, “I’m so sorry!”

You knew it wasn’t on purpose, but you couldn’t help but grow a slight annoyance as you stared at the dropped drink. It wasn’t entirely his fault because you weren’t paying attention either and it wasn’t like you had just bought the coffee, you were just slow to drink it. Looking up at the person in front of you, your breath hitched in your throat when you saw one of the cutest guys you’d seen in the city yet. Though he looked slightly familiar, you just couldn’t place where you might have seen him.

He had a sympathetic, small smile on his face as he awkwardly dropped his hands back to his side. He had a beanie covering his hair, but there were a few strands of curls that had managed to poke out from the thick material. You were close enough to him that you can see a small scratch on the bridge of his nose that looked almost fully healed. He was quite a bit taller than you as well, his anxious eyes peering down into your own as you slowly blink at him.

“Are you okay,” He spoke again, gaze briefly filtering down to your shoes.

“Yeah,” You sigh as you step away from him, “I’m fine, but my shoes might not be.”

The both of you let out awkward chuckles before you bend down to grab the cup, slightly frowning to yourself as you bring it to your chest. When you meet his eyes again, he looks as if he was contemplating something by the way he keeps looking all around you. His hands were shoved in the pocket of his hoodie as he shifted his weight on his feet. The air is a little awkward as you think about just walking away, but he speaks before your feet ever move.

“Let me buy you a new drink,” He suggests, his voice slightly quieter than before as if he was nervous, “It’s the least I can do.”

“Oh, no you don’t have to do that,” You shake your head, “It’s no big deal. It’s just a coffee.”

“Please,” He tries, not wanting to press so hard enough he comes off desperate, “It looked almost full based on what I can see on the ground.”

You couldn’t help but notice his shy smile and hesitant eyes as he waited for your response. His cheeks and nose were slightly pink from the wind that refused to stop whipping at any exposed skin it found. He was sporting a nervous half smile as you mulled the option over in your head, trying to gather if there was any plausible reason to not let the cute boy with a crooked smile buy you another coffee.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” You agree, a smile of your own toying on your lips as you keep your gaze on him, “But only if you tell me your name first.”

“Luke,” He lightly chuckled, taking his hand out of his pocket, extending it for you to shake, “Yours?”

You gingerly took his hand in your own as you told him your name, ignoring the way his touch made your cheeks heat up and butterflies fill your stomach. You retracted your hand quickly, moving it to grasp the cup with both hands as you gestured for Luke to lead the way. You catch the way his eyes briefly dart to your cup before he began to walk the direction you had been coming from.

The two of you fell into a bit of an awkward conversation, him asking you if you were from the area and him telling you that he wasn’t either. He told you that he played professional hockey for the Devils and it clicked in your brain that that was why he looked familiar. You had seen him on TV, but you weren’t involved in the sport enough to put a name to his face. You teased him a little and playfully asked if he would get you tickets to a game, but the speed at which he said yes shocked even himself.

When Luke was handing you your new drink, that was when he told you that he was already running a bit late to some sort of meeting with his team and as much as he’d like to stay, he had to leave. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little disappointed at the news, but you ended up exchanging phone numbers before he was rushing away, still not entirely looking where he was going. You watched him leave with a smile on your face and a sort of hope filling your chest that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

The two of you had began texting each other so often that people started to ask questions. Though it had only taken three days of you quietly giggling to yourself for your roommate to ask who the guy was. Whereas for Luke, it had only taken Jack until after practice the day he had met you. Jack had never seen his younger brother rush to check his phone while still in full gear before so quickly, and that was how he knew.

You didn’t see Luke for nearly two weeks after you had initially met courtesy of the stars, also known as his games and your work schedule, never aligning in the right way. When Luke had texted you after one of his games asking if you were free the following evening and you finally got to answer with a yes, you grew excited, and also extremely nervous.

He had given you the option to go out and do something, or to come over to his place and the two of you could order food and watch movies; just hangout, he had said. You ultimately decided on the second option since the weather had grown colder and you weren’t necessarily in the mood to join the crowds of people in the city. He subtly mentioned that his brother would be gone so it would just be the two of you, and the thought made your cheeks warm despite knowing he had no underlying intentions.

When you had texted Luke to tell him you had finally found a parking spot and he told you where to go from there, you had to take a small breather in your car to get yourself to stop shaking before finally going into the expensive looking building. You were so focused on taking in all of the little details inside the lobby that you weren’t paying attention to where you were going and ran straight into someone’s chest.

You let out a surprised squeal as you squeeze your eyes closed at the impact, fully prepared to go stumbling backwards, but you never do. You can feel their hands on your hips, the pads of their fingers slightly digging into the skin separated by the material of your shirt. The soft laugh that filtered through your eyes made your eyes snap open to see a familiar face sporting an amused smile.

“At least there’s no coffee this time,” Luke teases, keeping his hands on you a tad longer than necessary before he pulls them back to his own body.

“Shut up,” You mumbled, hoping he didn’t notice the tinge to your cheeks, “I was looking at the stupid fancy decorations. I didn’t know you were going to be down here.”

“I noticed,” He chuckled, “You thought I wouldn’t meet you down here?”

“Well, no. You gave me the apartment number so I expected to meet you there,” You shrugged, forcing your gaze away from him and to your feet.

“You would’ve thought it was weird if I didn’t give you the apartment number,” He raises his eyebrows even though you aren’t looking at him, “Besides, sometimes people have trouble finding the door. It’s a little confusing.”

When you had reached the floor his apartment was on and saw that it was only one big hallway, you couldn’t help but give him a confused look. It wasn’t confusing at all, especially given the fact that his door was only the second one on the left. You could tell he was purposely avoiding looking in your direction as he pushed through the door, holding it open for you to slip inside, and you chose to let it be.

The rest of the night was spent with the two of you talking about anything that possibly came to mind once you got through the brief bout of awkward tension, and you quickly found that Luke could talk forever. He talked about his teammates and family in a way that made you smile because it was clear he truly loved and looked up to them. You told him about your family back home and why you moved and the way he was hanging on to every word made you flustered because no one had ever cared enough to listen to you that way.

By the time the night was winding down, you were close enough to him on the couch that your thighs would brush together and his arm was slung around the cushions behind you, but not touching you. There was a movie playing on the tv in front of you, but you would be lying if you said you were paying attention to it. All you could think about was how things with Luke flowed so naturally and how you hadn’t felt this comfortable around someone in so long that you forgot the feeling even existed.

The two of you began hanging out regularly after that, never doing anything more than something you would do with a friend, but you could feel your feelings for him grow with each passing day. It started off as small notions and things you could brush off, but then you found yourself thinking of him no matter what you were doing. You were always seeing something that reminded you of him or something that made you think ‘oh, Luke would love that. I can’t wait to show him’. However, you were far too scared to let yourself believe that he would ever feel the same, so you swallowed those urges and went on as if nothing had changed.

When Luke had asked if you would be interested in going to one of his games, you thought nothing of it. You had told him that you would gladly go, but you would only need one ticket since your roommate worked most evenings and you didn’t necessarily have anyone else to go with. He told you not to worry about that and he would figure something out for you before he asked for your email to send the ticket. What he meant by that, you weren’t sure, but you didn’t ask questions.

You asked your roommate to help you with your outfit before she left for work that day, wanting to make sure what you wore wasn’t too much but also wasn’t sloppy. Once she had settled on something that adhered to your standards, she managed to leave enough time for her to help with your hair as well. She could tell that you were nervous based on the way your hands were constantly fiddling with each other and by the way your already clumsy habits seemed to increase by the second.

You weren’t entirely sure why you were so nervous. It wasn’t like this was the first time you were hanging out with Luke, and it surely wasn’t going to be the last. For some reason, him inviting you to one of his games felt different, but then it made you queasy because you began to think about how many girls he had invited before. By the time you were on your way to the arena, you had managed to calm yourself down enough that your heart rate was almost back to normal and your self sabotaging thoughts had been long forgotten.

Luke had taken the liberty of reserving parking for you, which you tried to deny but he said he had already done it so there was no room to argue. The parking garage was full of people in various jerseys for both teams as they made their way into the arena with you following suit because you had virtually no idea where you were going. You were so focused on looking at section numbers that you kept bumping into people, quiet apologies tumbling from your lips as you rushed away from their pointed looks.

Eventually, you found the correct section and showed your ticket to the usher at the top of the stairs before following his direction as you walked down. You stopped at the row your seat was in, your eyes falling on a group of women as they talked and laughed with one another, and you suddenly felt a wave of insecurity wash over you. They clearly knew each other, and you were there by yourself, and on top of that, they were absolutely gorgeous.

You took a deep breath before you shuffled down the row and to your seat, trying to ignore the way their voices grew quiet whenever you sat down. You could feel their eyes on you as you kept yours on the rink, watching as they set up the net and as others filed down towards their seats before the game started. It wasn’t until you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder that you turned to look at the one sitting right next to you.

“Hi,” One of them greeted, a bright smile on her face, “I’m Nicole!

You let out a shaky breath as you took her hand, giving her your name before returning her smile. The way her eyes lit up and she briefly glanced at the girls around her with a subtle smirk threw you off, but she was quick to ease your confusion as she moved her focus back to you.

“So you’re the girl Luke won’t stop talking about,” She playfully teases, “He made sure Jesper told me you would be coming and to look out for you so you weren’t alone.”

You can’t stop your face from heating up by being identified as ‘the girl Luke won’t shut about’, and judging by the way the other girls looked at you, it seemed to be a universal experience. They went around and introduced themselves, and their children, to you before they began to ask you questions. They started off with the easy questions such as your career, if you were in school, if you were from the area, if you were a big fan of hockey, but they quickly transferred the topic over to your relationship with Luke.

“We’re just friends,” You meekly said, eyes darting away from them as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

“But you like him,” Cat asks as she raises her eyebrows, though her tone hints that she knows the answer to that.

You briefly hesitated, not sure what your response should be, but you were very graciously saved by the music blaring through the speakers followed by the announcer's voice. You hastily turned towards the ice, thanking whatever higher being saved you from the embarrassment of admitting your feelings out loud.

As the game started, you caught yourself really only focusing on Luke rather than the puck itself. If he wasn’t on the ice, you were leaning towards the girls beside you to ask questions about the game you didn’t entirely understand. When he was on the ice, you flinched every time he got hit a little too hard, or when he would trip over seemingly nothing and fall on the ice. Although, you did know to join in on the collective booing whenever he was sent to the penalty box for a bogus call.

The game ended up going into overtime with Luke, his brother, and team captain on the ice as they stood opposite the Flyers players. Your hands were clasped together as you leaned forward, waiting with baited breath as the puck dropped on the ice. You watch as they skate towards their net, hastily trying to get the puck from the other team. You’re not sure who managed to get possession, but the next thing you know Luke is taking a shot that ends up in the net to win the game.

You jump out of your seat as you scream, your eyes not leaving Luke as he learns forward into a celebratory bow that you’re positive he did when he was at Michigan. A fact you knew after you asked him “if he was even good at hockey” and he proceeded to show you his highlight reels for the next hour. His team rushes towards him with giant smiles on their faces as they crowd around him, the arena filling with cheers so loud that it made your ears ring.

By the time things had calmed down, Nicole was the first to tell you that you were supposed to go with them down to the locker room. You walked through the arena with them, only briefly stopping to talk with security because you didn’t have the correct pass. The area outside the locker room was buzzing with life as various friends and family members of the team waited for the guys, their voices meshing with the loud cheers from inside.

The guys slowly began to trickle out of the locker room clad in their fancy and expensive suits, dopey grins on their faces. You stayed tucked between Cat and Nicole as they talked, but you were only halfway listening as you kept an eye out for Luke. Some of the guys you only vaguely remembered from pictures or videos Luke had shown you, but most you knew with confidence because of how often their names popped up in conversation.

When you finally saw a familiar head of curls walking through the doors, it was a bit embarrassing how quickly a smile grew on your face. He wasn’t even looking in your direction, instead animatedly talking to his brother who had seen you, a slight smirk on his face. The girls had stepped away from you, knowing looks on their faces when Luke finally looked in front of him to see you standing there waiting for him.

If they thought Luke was excited before, it was absolutely nothing compared to the look on his face when his eyes landed on you. He quickened his pace, leaving his conversation, and his brother, behind as he only focused on getting to you. You were painfully aware of the multitude of gazes on you, the attention beginning to slightly overwhelm you, but all of the worry disappeared the moment Luke wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him.

“Congratulations on your goal,” You mumble with your head pressed against his chest, your arms draped around the middle of his frame.

“Thank you for coming,” He quietly says, his hold on you subtly tightening as he lets out a deep breath.

You can barely hear the quiet whispers of those around you over the blood pounding in your ears, but you didn’t mind them anyways. Right now, all you wanted to focus on was the way his arms felt around you and the way his entire body seemed to relax under your touch. While physical touch with Luke wasn’t uncommon, it still gave you a small sense of hope that maybe everyone was right and maybe he did like you back after all.

“Jack, you might need somewhere to stay tonight,” You heard one of the other guys tease from behind him, making your face heat up as you stepped away from Luke. Though he doesn’t entirely break away from, keeping his arm slung across your shoulders as he turns to look at his teammates.

“Oh, I planned for it don’t worry,” He laughs as he shakes his head, “You picked a good first game to come to. Luke played his ass off.”

“I always do,” Luke quickly defended himself, his voice slightly raising and his posture straightening the smallest amount.

“Yeah, but you really did tonight,” Dawson pressed with a mischievous smile on his face.

“You guys are annoying,” Luke rolls his eyes, “I’m starving, so we are going to leave. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Your gaze snaps up to Luke as he briefly looks down at you with his usual half smile, but the sound of Jack calling out to him briefly moves his attention back to his brother. You let your eyes fall back to the ground in front of you, your mind running a mile a minute as you try to ignore the way he’s slightly grazing the skin above your collarbone with his fingers. Your breath hitches in your throat, the skin involuntarily raising in wake of his touch as you try to keep yourself outwardly collected.

“Hey,” Luke’s voice breaks through the thin barrier keeping you composed, “You ready? I figured I’ll drive so you can put the chipotle order in and we can pick it up on our way back to my apartment. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” You breathe out, giving him a small smile.

The two of you bid goodbye to the others, but not before they could pass on teasing comments or not so subtle winks as you passed by them. Luke had dropped his arm from your shoulders, a small absent feeling settling over you when he did. He asked you if you ended up having a good time and if the girls were nice to you, which you, of course, told him that you did and the girls were extremely welcoming and kind.

When Luke had climbed into the driver’s seat, he fished his wallet out of his pocket and handed you his credit card with the subtle threat that if he didn’t see a charge on his card for the food that he would buy you the expensive hoodie you had looked at a few days ago. You rolled your eyes as you took his card, not knowing that he had already bought the hoodie anyway and was waiting to give it to you.

By the time the two of you had picked up your food and were back at his apartment, your nerves from earlier had almost entirely disappeared and things felt normal again. Before the two of you started eating, he went into his room to change, and he returned with a random pair of sweatpants you had forgotten you bought last week and a shirt you’re positive was his. He waited for you to come back before he started eating like he always did, but you couldn’t help but feel like the air surrounding you felt slightly off.

You couldn’t tell if you were overthinking things or if something really was wrong because you still felt that way when the two of you moved to the couch. Luke still sat in his usual spot directly next to you, but he was barely focusing on the movie. His eyes kept darting around the room and he was nervously chewing on his bottom lip. You wanted to ask him if he was okay, but you kept your eyes on the TV until he spoke up.

“Can I tell you something,” Luke nearly shouted, slightly startling you out of your spot on the couch, “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I just– I need to tell you something.”

Your eyes were wide and full of confusion, and slight panic, as you spoke, “Yeah, of course. You can tell me anything.”

You watched as he took a deep breath, slightly turning his body so he was facing you completely, and you couldn’t help but let an almost painful sense of worry envelope you. You were running over every possible scenario you could conjure in your mind, but they were all so negative that you had convinced yourself what he was going to say was too.

“This might screw everything up and if you never want to talk to me again, that’s fine, but I can’t ignore it anymore,” His voice was serious, yet thick with an emotion you refused to place, “After I scored tonight and all the guys were around me, all I could think about was you. Not even just you being there to see it, but celebrating with you. Seeing your smile. Hugging you. Kissing you.”

He said the last part so quietly that you almost didn’t hear him, but you did. Those two words rang in your ears as you looked at him, your mouth slightly dropped open as the ability to form a semi coherent thought in your mind suddenly fleeing. You wanted to respond, to tell him that it was all you could think about too, but your mouth and brain were far from cooperative.

Your silence was slowly suffocating Luke, and he quickly wishes he never said anything at all. To him, he knew it was a long shot that you felt the same way he did. Early in your friendship, you had let it slip that you weren't looking for a relationship and you wanted to focus on yourself. He knew that, but he couldn’t keep his feelings to himself anymore.

“I’m sorry,” He backtracks, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t have said anyth–”

You cut him off by surging forward and slamming your lips on his own, not trusting yourself to accurately say everything you felt. Luke’s reaction was almost instantaneous, his hands grabbing at your hips and pulling you onto his lip as he kisses you back. The metaphorical wall that had been keeping the two of you as friends crumbled beneath you as you pour everything you felt for him into one kiss.

His hands had moved to the small of your back, pulling you so close that there wasn’t even a millimeter of space separating you from him. Your hands were looped around his neck as your mouth moved against his own, and you couldn’t stop yourself from carefully grasping at his curls. Luke groaned against you, and he knew he had to stop before he took things too far on his living room couch.

He pulls away from you, his heavy breathing falling in sync with your own as he drops his head to your shoulder. You can feel his chest rise and fall against you as you attempt to gather your thoughts and tell yourself that this was real. That it actually happened and it wasn’t something you had dreamed up again, but you were suddenly shaken from your thoughts when Luke harshly snapped his head up to look at you.

“Wait, does this mean you like me back,” He asks, feigning a sense of seriousness, but you can see the smile threatening to shine through.

“You’re an idiot,” You playfully roll your eyes at him.

“Maybe, but I’m your idiot, ” He counters before his eyes slightly widen as he hesitantly continues, “Right?”

“Yeah,” You chuckle, a small smile decorating your face, “You are.”

The two of you spend the rest of the night wrapped up in the other, the movie halfway forgotten as you found yourself with your lips on his more often than not. You were selfishly thankful that Jack had been telling the truth when he said he found somewhere else to stay. The uninterrupted time you spent in Luke’s arms allowed you to truly soak it in. To relish in the fact that you had finally found someone who made you believe that love did exist, and you owed it all to one spilled coffee.

#luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fic #luke hughes oneshot #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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authorhjk1 · 3 months

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Dea Romana

(Minatozaki Sana X Male Reader)

(Author's note:

Hi everyone! Thank you for patiently waiting for me! I'm done with writing my exams now, so I will be able to write more again until Juli. Since I like history a lot, the beginning got a bit longer than originally planned, but I hope you will be able to enjoy it nonetheless. I tried to make everything as historically accurate as possible, but please don't expect everything to be true.

Stay healthy! I will do my best to upload the next piece as soon as possible!)

Every muscle feels like it's burning. Your legs and arms feel heavy. Your feet barely lift off the uneven ground with every step you take.

Dried blood stains your face. Your armour doesn't look much better. The shield you are holding, has a big dent in it. The javelin in your right hand feels like it's made out of steel. The chainmail on your chest weighs heavier than usual.

"Marius!"

Your second in command shouts at you from the back.

"The women need a break!"

You sigh in annoyance. It's bad enough that you almost got your whole century killed. Now you have to delay your reunion with the rest of the legion because of those Gaul captives.

"We will take a short break."

You announce to your eighty legionaries and the twenty rebels you captured.

Spotting a small stream near by, you walk closer, while most of the soldiers sit on the ground, some are standing guard.

Taking off your helmet, you start to wash your face. The dried blood sticks to your skin. After some effort, you are just a little bit cleaner.

Another sigh leaves your lips as you kneel in place. In front of the small stream, your century in the back, looking into the deep forest.

You have lived a hard life. You were not born a Roman. Not born a free man. But you took your life into your own hands, instead of hoping for the mercy of the gods. Because gods don't have mercy. Only you can change your own destiny.

"Let's keep marching. We are almost there."

You go back to the front of the century, your men following your orders. Most of the Gaul rebels you captured are women and children. Their husbands and fathers killed by your swords and javelins.

Orders are orders. To kill or to be killed. These are the only two principles you live by. At least most of the time.

"Have you heard yet?"

Quintus asks from behind you, catching your attention. You silently wave for him to walk next to you. It's not necessarily the gossip you're interested in, but you did learn that it's important to know what is going on inside your century and the legion itself.

"Aelius fucked up some of his soldiers."

You raise your eyebrow while you keep walking. Nothing new there. Aelius is a spoiled son of a whore. He only became centurion in the tenth, because of his family's status. And he is usually unnecessarily brutal with his century.

"Reason?"

"They ate some of the extra rations we all got a week ago. Aelius said that they are meant for centurions only. Not for legionaries."

You have to stop yourself from spitting onto the muddy path you are walking on.

Aelius paints the perfect picture of the Roman nobility. Rich assholes. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"Did he kill someone again?"

Quintus shakes his head.

"But I heard that the premus pilus had a talk with him."

You let out a dry chuckle.

"All the centurions of the first cohort are the same. Do you really think he got in trouble?"

"No. But I thought you would be interested. It's not like you have very good connections with-"

"Shut it, fool."

It's not really a secret in the tenth legion that you and Aelius are bitter rivals. The two of you are the completely opposite of one another. A rich brat, who is the centurion of the third century in the first cohort. And you. The former slave, who climbed the ranks to be the centurion of the first century in the second cohort.

There aren't many ranks that separate the two of you. But making the jump into the first cohort as a former slave is nearly impossible.

Your century walks in almost complete silence for the next couple of hours. Despite being one of the most feared soldiers in the legion, you can't help but be cautious. In case there are more rebels lurking in the shadows of the large trees.

"Marius!"

The scout you send out to check the path ahead is jogging in your direction.

"We take another short break."

A light murmur of gratitude echoes through the ranks.

You wait for the young man, barely older than a boy, to reach the spot where you are standing.

"Someone seems to be traveling towards the camp. Our paths are going to cross, once we reach the small clearing ahead."

"Do you know who it is?"

"It looked like a person from the nobility. There was a carriage. And a couple of men with spears. Probably guards."

"We can't be too cautious. Titus!"

You shout for your second in command to walk to the front.

"Take your contubernia and make fast pace. I want to make sure that everything is going according to regulations."

"Yes, Marius."

The rest of the century starts marching at normal pace again, while the eight men rush ahead. The scout leading them towards the small crossroads.

"You know what's going on?"

You shake your head at Quintus' question.

"Might be a politician from Rome. Or a nobleman's wife."

"You know that that's against the law."

Of course everyone knows. It's illegal for a legionary to be married. And yet, some centurions always think that they are above the rest of the legion, when it comes to this kind of rules.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

An angry shout echoes around the forest, just as you and your men reach the small clearing.

The scout was right. A carriage, pulled by two grays, accompanied by a handful of men, armed with spears, and some servants.

An older woman is standing in front of the carriage's door, screaming at the poor Titus. Glancing over his shoulder, your optio rolls his eyes.

"Woman. Don't scream at a Roman legionary."

You make your presence known as you keep walking towards the middle of the clearing.

The servant, probably around forty to fifty years of age, looks at you with anger in her eyes.

"Do you even know, whom you are holding up?!"

"No."

You state bluntly, finally standing in front of her. Behind you, you can hear your men take their positions. Not to threaten the travelers, but to guard the area.

"Well, she is one of the most prestigious women in all of Rome."

"And what is a woman like her doing so far away from the city?"

"Visiting her husband."

You click your tongue. As far as you know, none of the centurions in the first cohort have wives. Which means, she must be the woman of a centurion, who ranks lower than you.

A smirk, which you can't suppress, plays around your lips. How are you able to enjoy a higher position than a noble in this republic?

You walk off without another word, leaving Titus in charge. There is no need to bother with this stuff. Some of the Gaul rebels fell a little behind earlier. You have to check on them. In case they are sick or badly injured.

"Her name?"

You hear Titus ask, before the woman let's out an exaggerated gasp.

"Sana Lucii."

You groan in annoyance. By Jupiter. Is this really his wife? Lucius Aelius? Just when you thought, you couldn't hate that man even more.

You despise men, who don't follow the law and rules of the republic and the legion. Of course, sometimes you can define them a little different for your own gains, but this is just breaking them.

Trying to stay calm, your fingers tap the pommel of your gladius. You don't hear a response from Titus. He must know which Lucius the old woman ment.

"Marius?"

He finally makes you turn around.

You walk back up towards the carriage, just as the door opens.

"By Bellona! What is taking so long!"

You have to say, you are amused by the woman's expression. You didn't expect her to call out for the goddess of war.

"Just doing our duty, lady."

Titus answers politely, although you know how hard it is for him to not lash out. He hates Aelius just as much as the next soldier. Especially, since he is your optio.

You are stunned, once the woman actually shows herself. Her beautiful face is slightly twisted with annoyance. Although, you would be sure that she could look like Venus herself, when she smiles.

She is wearing a turquoise stola, which also covers her brown hair. The thin material enables you to have a look at her white tunic underneath. Her skin looks flawless and pure. A golden necklace adorns her neck and collarbone. It's probably worth more than a whole year of your salary.

An image of a goddess.

"I hope we can speed up this process. I'm supposed to be by my husband's side."

Lucky bastard.

"Please. Speak respectfully with my legionaries."

Her gaze meets yours. You can feel your heart skipping a beat. Not one woman has looked as pretty as she does. Not one.

"Who are you to lecture me on speaking?"

"Salve."

Your fist meats the blood stained chainmail on your chest.

Maybe, if you behave respectfully, so does she. The army is for her protection after all.

"My name is Marius. And-"

"What's your first name, centurion?"

A cute smile suddenly plays around her lips. Maybe this will get her out of here faster.

"Gaius."

"I see, Gaius. I'm sure you have more important things to do than stop me from traveling further? My husband must be waiting for me."

If she didn't know better, Sana could swear that she caught a glint of hate in your eyes.

"This is protocol. We have to check on everyone, who approaches the camp."

"I'm a noble woman. Can't you make an exception for me?'

You don't fall for her sweet smile. You are on duty. Not even Venus herself could distract you. Well, maybe a little bit.

"Your choice. Here, or at the gate in front of even more legionaries. Like everyone else."

That last part makes her glare at you. You won this round.

Not waiting for a response, you gesture for your men to search the woman's belongings. Your Imperial legate has more than enough enemies in Rome to be cautious of. And you don't want him to end up dead inside his own camp. Even if she is allegedly Aelius' wife.

Quintus nods in your direction after going through her belongings, signaling that everything is alright.

"We will accompany you on your way to the camp. We are on our way back, anyway."

You turn around without looking at Sana again. A signal for your men to get into formation.

It feels like she stares at your back for a second longer, before you hear the door close behind you. You don't like the Roman nobility. At all. There is only one man you are willing to follow.

After two more hours of marching, your century and the noblewoman's entourage finally reach the camp's gate.

"The village, where the senior officers are staying, is right behind the camp. You can't miss it."

The older woman, who screamed at Titus earlier, still looks at you as if she is holding a grudge.

"I hope you enjoy your stay in these wonderful lands, lady."

You raise your voice a little, making sure that Sana can hear you. It drips with sarcasm and you can hear Quintus chuckle behind you.

"Vale."

With a dismissive wave of your hand, you walk past the old servant. Her shock at your rudeness visible on her face.

Already making your way past the guards, you can't hear Sana's scoff.

Who are you to talk to her like that? If she is gonna tell her husband about this, you are going to be in trouble for sure.

Sana will never be able to get used to this. She was able to decide that, immediately after she stepped out of her carriage. It took her only a couple of steps to enter the small house her husband is living in right now. But that was enough for her already.

Nothing here looks like Rome. Even the legionaries look out of place. And their shouts and the sounds of shields and stuff isn't what she hears when she is home. Sana is already missing the comfortable house with the atrium. She likes to bathe in the sun throughout the day, while sipping on a really good wine.

"You're late."

Lucius doesn't even look up from his small table as he hears his wife coming in.

"That's how you great me after a year?"

"You know how I value punctuality."

"Out of my hands. Some centurion insisted on searching my luggage. He was really rude."

Now Lucius is looking at her. Sana knows that he can't stand someone disrespecting him. And when she gets disrespected, it goes deeper. He is affected as well.

"Who?"

She can see his eyes becoming a little darker. He bites his lip, maybe trying to prevent himself from shouting.

"His name is Garius Marius. I think?"

"That son of a whore. How does a slave dare to stop you?"

Now, Sana feels shame run down her spine. If she knew that he was born a slave, she would've hit him for talking to her like that. No matter his rank, he is and will always be beneath her. Once a slave, always a slave.

"I swear to Jupiter. One day in battle, I will..."

Lucius takes a deep breath, before focusing back on his wife.

"We are eating dinner with the Imperial legate, the leader of these legions tomorrow, and the senior generals. I expect you to impress them."

"I'd be happy to, love."

Sana almost spits out that last word, but Lucius doesn't seem to notice. He sits back down, opening an envelope. She can see how his eyebrows are still furrowed. He won't let this incident pass without consequences.

Sana eventually leaves the house to explore the small town and it's market. Despite being married to Lucius, she can't stay around him for too long. She is only his wife, because of his money and connections. As soon as she can find someone better...

Sana feels a little dizzy as she steps out of the big house. Lucius told her to be on her best behavior. But that idiot was behaving the worst throughout the dinner.

She hated how calm and reserved the other centurion was, the man who stopped her. He was the lowest ranking soldier and yet, everyone listened to his advice and thoughts about future and past battles. And how is he on a first name basis with the imperial legate? And why is Lucius too incapable to enjoy the same treatment? How can he do worse than a slave?

Sana holds onto the wall, standing right next to the entrance. Suddenly, two men walk out the door. They don't see her because it's dark. She tries to find out who they are. The first one is a little taller, while the second has broader shoulders and looks more muscular.

"We can't do this forever, Gaius. We need a plan to wipe him out. I expect you to help me with that."

"Of course, Gaius."

Sana almost groans in annoyance. Of course it's that Gaius Marius. And the other one is the Imperial legate. Gaius Julius Caesar.

"Rome is an empire. We will defeat Vercingetorix sooner rather than later. His supporters will crumble soon."

"You did a good job today, centurion. You've proven once again, why you rightfully carry the name I gave you. Gaius Marius Antonius."

Sana assumes they are talking about some barbarian leader. But Caesar gave him that cognomen? She can't help but wonder what he must've done to be called "priceless".

"You know the political situation in Rome. The more time I waste conquering Gaul, the more powerful my enemies become."

"I swear to Mars. I will cut down anyone who tries to oppose you, Gaius."

She sees Caesar put a hand on the centurion's shoulder.

"It's only a matter of time, until you will be one of the Tribuni angusticlavii, leading the tenth legion into battle. And I will make sure, you will eventually become a rich senator."

Sana has heard enough. It's so disgusting to her. A slave becoming a senator. She is working so hard to become the most powerful woman in Rome. And with that in the whole empire. How can that lowlife become something better than she herself? Sana either needs to push Lucius further up the ranks, or she needs to find someone, who can match Marius' new found status.

Sana groans in relief, when she can finally leave the small village. It's not like someone forbid her to leave, but there just wasn't something to do in and outside the village. What was she gonna do in a forest? A very dangerous one at that?

But now, she heard of a big market place around two hours away. Sana is still looking to buy some oils and pottery. She could do that in Rome of course, but she is hoping to find them cheaper in their land of origin.

Looking out of her carriage, Sana leaves behind the village and the big camp right next to it. The constant noise made her head spin. Not that Rome isn't loud, but this is something else.

After about an hour, Sana hears a troop of men marching in front of her. She became familiar with that sound after a few days. She doesn't look outside, despite being curious. Why would a century be here? The battles would take place in the opposite direction. Right?

Sana hears how the carriage passes the back of the century. The heavy steps of the legionaries kick up some dust. Her old servant looks outside, curious herself.

"It's him again."

The older woman grimaces, before letting the curtain drop back into place.

"Who?"

"The man who stopped us a couple of days ago."

Sana's attention is now on the men outside. She remembers the conversation you had with Caesar.

"Really?"

She pretends to be cold, not wanting to get caught. After having seen you around a couple of times, the young noble woman is unsure on how to feel about you.

Yes, you are a former slave. A peasant. But you are also a great centurion. A trusted man to Julius Caesar.

Despite being not the highest ranking officer, Sana did notice how the other men look at you. She catches an occasional whisper of your brave actions in battle. She sees the men greet you with almost too much respect. Even the other centurions seem to want to be on your good side.

Maybe that's what Sana has to do too. In order to further climb up the ladder. It is risky. And it's still a long time in the future. But if Caesar can really make his ambitions reality, you will be one of the first people who benefit from it. And if Sana plays her cards well, she can benefit too.

For a moment, she wonders what a man like you would need. Something she could have to bargain with. Money? You probably earn quite a lot already. Especially compared to your earlier environment. Land? You will get that too, if you stay long enough in the army. A wife? You are a soldier. You are not allowed to be married.

As Sana is still pondering on what to do to convince you to help her gain more power, she gets closer towards the front of the century.

And it's not like she doesn't have influence. She could maybe even get you a promotion into the first cohort. Of course without her husband finding out.

Sana draws back the curtain a little with only one finger. Just a few meters ahead, she can see you walking.

Your helmet is decorated by a big crest of red horse hair. The back of the helmet and the rest of your armor shimmer in the light of the sun. She remembers your first encounter. Your armor was full with blood, indicating that you were more than able to fight a battle.

You turn around as you hear horses behind you. It wouldn't have been a surprise. One of the auxilia officers could be taking his men out to train.

Surprised at the sight of the carriage, you catch a glimpse of the passenger. Her eyes meet yours, a big golden ring decorates the finger that holds back the curtain. You could swear you see a small hint of a smile play around her lips.

"Salve."

You great her by hitting your armored chest with your fist. Not because you like her, but out of politeness.

"Salve, centurion."

Her passive aggressive mentioning of your rank indicates that she is still not over that incident a couple of days ago.

"Are you visiting the market?"

"I am. I suppose you are not here to buy pottery?"

A mocking smile replaces the earlier one.

"It may sound unbelievable, but I'm not."

A cute chuckle escapes her mouth.

"Well, I hope you enjoy this beautiful day."

Is she still mocking you, because you are on duty? You are not sure, but you can see her lazily wave goodbye as the carriage drives past you.

"Don't get too close to her. She is only gonna be trouble."

You look at Quintus.

"I'm merely being polite. I don't need trouble with angry nobles. At least not now."

"By Jupiter. One might think you've become a responsible, grown man now."

"Fuck off."

You raise your hand, but Quintus ducks away, avoiding a potential slap.

Only listening with one ear to the conversation next to you, you scan the market for the young noble woman. Despite her attitude and the fact that she is married, you can't help but glance at her occasionally. Plus, the market isn't as safe as it might seem. Cunning merchants, thiefs and rebels might roam the place, ready to strike at any moment. And being a beautiful Roman woman makes her one of the most desirable targets right now.

"Listen, Roman! I barely sell anything! How do you expect me to pay your unreasonable taxes?!"

"Shut it."

You turn back to the stall holder. Titus' and his conversation got heated.

"We are not hear to argue. We are here to collect taxes."

The man grits his teeth.

"I'm telling you! I don't have anything to give away!"

The other people around you look at the scene, before walking past. Only you and a couple of legionaries are here. The rest of your century is patrolling another village nearby and the rest of the market, making sure you are not getting ambushed.

"Don't scream at me, old man. Pay up."

"I don't have a fucking coin!"

You know he is lying. You saw someone buy his fabric from a far as you entered the marketplace. And, judging by the money bag he held earlier, it wasn't cheap at all.

"We can do this the easy way, or the heard way."

You take a step forward, towering above him.

"But the hard way won't end well for you."

"I already told you, I-"

You let your head fall back in annoyance. Collecting taxes is a necessity. Not something to be proud of. It's not as honorable as fighting in battle.

"Do you really want to go this far?"

You look down at him again, your hand now resting on the pommel of your gladius.

He caught the movement of your hand, worry creeping onto his features.

"What is it gonna be? Your life? Or coin?"

The old man is not stupid. And a couple of moments later, you walk away from his stall. The tinkle behind you indicates, that Titus is adding the silver denarii into the bag with the rest of the already collected money.

"Are you trying to rob me, old man? You are a con artist!"

Women screaming at a merchant are as common as clouds under the sky, so you don't pay much attention to it as you hear someone scream.

"How can you demand so much for this lousy work?"

You keep walking, although you kinda feel, like you heard this voice before. It sounds oddly familiar.

"By Bellona! I'm going to have you beaten for your rudeness!"

And there it is. With an annoyed groan, you immediately recognize, who is disturbing the rather peaceful market.

If she was a common local woman, you would've kept walking. The Galli could solve their own disputes.

But Sana is, as unfortunate as it is, not a local. She is a Roman woman. A member of the elite even.

You take a deep breath, before walking towards her screams. You can already guess whom she is screaming at.

"Keep going."

You tell Titus over your shoulder, as you approach her from behind. Her servant must have stayed with the carriage, because Sana is standing in front of the stall of the potter all alone.

Before the young woman can scream another word, you grab her arm.

"What-"

You spin her around and walk away, pulling her with you.

"What do you think you are doing?!"

"Silence."

You didn't say it in a loud voice, but your tone makes her go silent.

After a couple of meters, you stop, turning around to look at her.

"You're welcome."

"Excuse you?"

Her hands now rest on her hips. You can't help but catch how slender her waist seems to be.

"I just saved you from embarrassing yourself even further. You owe me."

You turn away, ready to reunite with Titus and your men.

"What the-"

It's now Sana's turn to grab your arm, stopping you from leaving.

"I don't owe you shit."

"Really?"

You turn to look at her again.

"Your temper is as bad as your observation skills. Minerva would strike you down for your utter incompetence."

You said the words, before you thought about them. You are aggravated. Because of the merchant earlier, because of her causing a scene, because of Lucius (as always) and because of her being his wife. Alright, maybe that last one was a little jealousy.

"How dare you? You are some rude-"

You stop her from saying another word by grabbing her shoulders and spinning her around.

"Look. Look and tell me what you see."

"What are you talking about?"

You see her frowning. An act that makes her beautiful face a little less flawless.

"Tell me what's going on."

You realize you are using the same tone as with the men during training. Harsh, straight forward, a little condescending. But not rude. Just factual.

"The merchant is still selling his stupidly expensive pottery."

You don't answer, waiting for more.

Sana, visibly annoyed, struggles against your grip for a moment, before giving in. You are a seasoned legionnaire. There is no way she is gonna get out of your hold on her.

"There are a couple of women and men who browse his items."

"Keep going."

"Someone is buying a bowl and an amphora."

"What is the woman on the right doing?"

"She is paying for her stuff. What-"

"Can you see how much she is paying?"

"Way too much for a stupid-"

"Do you see any of the locals complaining?"

Sana hesitantly shakes her head.

"Do you know the reason?"

"Because they are stupid. In Rome it's cheap-"

"We aren't in Rome, woman. This is Gaul."

You stand behind her, both of you silent for a couple of moments. You give her time to think about the possible reason. Although she is probably just complaining about you to the gods in silence.

"They all pay the price he demands, because he and his work are respected here."

"But they look-"

"Yeah. Some of his pieces aren't pretty."

You admit that.

"But he is an old man. His hands aren't as good as they used to be. He is obviously regarded with a decent amount of respect."

You gesture for Sana to look around the market.

"Most of the people here bargain over every single item. Food, cloth, tools and even pottery."

You turn her back towards the old man's stall.

"But not there. They respect him too much to try to get a better price. His work might not be the very best anymore, but his skill is known by everyone here."

Sana groans in annoyance and anger as she sees you coming out of the biggest tent of the camp. A week has gone by, since you treated her like a child at the market. Her blood still boils, whenever she sees you from a far.

She decided against telling her husband, not wanting to cause unnecessary friction. And if you have the favor of Caesar, it might be a bad idea to egg on her husband.

And Sana is still debating on your ability to help her seize more power. She is ready to do anything to get to the top. Even if it means working together with someone as low born as you.

Sana stops in her tracks as she sees her husband walk towards you.

"Aelius."

You don't greet him like any other lower ranking centurion would. The young woman can feel the tension between the two men, despite standing barely in earshot.

"Marius."

His face shows a disapproving twitch.

"It seems like we are catching up to Vercingetorix. I hope you don't make any mistakes in battle. I would hate to lose a lower ranking officer."

You click your tongue, taking a step forward.

With the two of you standing right in front of each other, Sana realizes that you are bigger than her husband. Not just in statue, but also in the way you carry yourself. With slightly less arrogance and more discipline.

"Don't worry about me, Aelius. As you know, I always make sure my men are taken care off."

Sana feels a shiver run down her spine. She heard more than enough stories about the battles of the tenth legion since she joined her husband. The amount of times that you were mentioned in one of them was noticeably high.

The young woman heard of a battle two summers ago. You weren't a centurion at the time. Merely a soldier of the second cohort. But in battle, your centurion chose to let his men die, while he stayed behind, watching his century getting slaughtered. After half of the eighty men were dead, you walked straight towards the cowardly centurion. A nobleman, which the storyteller didn't fail to mention with a hint of disgust. Your gladius seperated his head from his shoulders in one swift motion and you took command of the second century until the end of the battle. Caesar honored your bravery and agreed with your actions. Instead of getting executed, you got promoted.

"Are you implying I'm not leading my men well?"

Sana hears you chuckle.

"News travel fast among the younger men, Aelius."

"Maybe you should discipline your soldiers like I do. Your century is a disgrace to the tenth legion."

"Nugas garris. You are pathetic."

You walk off, leaving him behind.

Sana almost expects her husband to draw his gladius. How can you call him a disgrace? And idiot? He is higher ranking than you and he is a member of the elite.

But Aelius just watches you leave, before entering the tent you just came out of.

That short interaction reminds Sana of the power you actually hold. You might not be the highest officer, but almost the whole legion treats you as such. If it wasn't for your low birth, you might have been able to be the centurion of the first century of the first cohort.

Sana's decision is slowly forming in her mind. A plan to gain more power than she has right now. Siding with you might be risky. But the rewards could be great.

Sana glances at you from across the room as you stare at Caesar, who is currently talking. She is still not quite sure what she can offer you to make you join her side. But when the leader of the legion mentions the nobility in his speech, she sees your expression change for just a second. It is obvious that you hate all the wealthy and arrogant men and women. Maybe Sana can offer you something to get back at them. Or at least get back at Aelius.

"And that's why the tenth legion outshines any other. Your bravery and honor are praised throughout the whole empire. Rome is grateful for what you have done. And the gods smile down at the men, who give their lifes to the republic."

Caesar ends his speech. And with that, the long meal is finally over. It is night time already. Only the moon and the stars still shine.

You walk out of the large tent, ready to sleep. It has been a long day and there is no doubt that you will be fighting soon. Caesar's promise to promote you to such a high position still rings in your ears. You can't believe you've come this far.

"Gaius."

Her sweet voice makes you stop in front of your tent. She doesn't sound as angry as she usually does.

"Yes?"

You turn around, standing face to face with Sana.

"I'm here to ask you for something."

You look at her, waiting for an explanation.

"I heard that you are the bravest and most powerful man in this legion. At least unofficially."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Where is all of this honey suddenly coming from?"

Sana gives you a melodic chuckle. Only now do you realize how close she is standing. Her oils make you breath in the flowery air that surrounds her.

"I want to strike a deal with you."

"What would you want from such a low ranking officer like me?"

Your sarcasm makes it hard for Sana to not lash out. Just because she needs you, doesn't mean that she likes you.

"As far as I've heard, you won't be a low ranking officer for long."

"Is that so?"

You cross your arms in front of your chest.

"Well, it's actually quite simple. You have something I want. And I have something you want."

"I highly doubt that."

You watch Sana turn her head left and right, making sure that no one is around.

"There is a always something a man wants from a woman."

You are surprised at what she is suggesting.

"Judging by the look on your face, I can comfortably say that I'm right."

You shake your head, which seems harder than usual.

"Have you never thought about having your way with me? A noble woman?"

She takes another step closer. Now, Sana's sandals are touching yours.

"A married one at that? I bet you would love to destroy my husband. This could be your first step to success."

You narrow your eyes, still unsure of what to do. You've never been in this kind of situation. Is she making fun of you? Did Aelius put her up to this, setting a trap for you? Or is she genuine?

"What would you get in return?"

"Your power. Your influence. I can't live, knowing that another person might have more power than I do. I need to be at the top of the republic."

"And you think, I can get you there?"

Sana nods.

"With my support? Definitely."

She looks at you, waiting for a response.

You are still torn. She has a nice body, yes. But you're not fond of her attitude. She is a noble woman. And she is married. Getting caught would have serious consequences. For the both of you.

But the chance to use her? A noble woman? Fucking her, while her husband is only sleeping a couple of tents away? More than just tempting.

You look around the camp yourself. No one in sight.

"Get in."

A victorious smile forms on her lips. As she walks past you, she lets her finger glide over your armoured chest.

You follow her immediately after.

"Now that we have come to an agreement, I-"

You push Sana forward, bending her over the wooden table.

"What-"

You don't give her time to speak. If you're going to do this, you're going to do this quickly.

Hiking up her red stola, you reach underneath her tunic. The smoothness of her legs makes you hard as you reach between them.

"It seems like you are enjoying this more than I expected."

Your fingers graze her lower lips. She is not just a little wet.

"Hey, I didn't give you permission to-"

You shut Sana up by covering her mouth with your other hand.

"I don't need you permission. I'm going to ruin you anyway."

Her gasp is muffled by your hand as you push your first finger inside.

You haven't slept with a lot of women, the army being mainly responsible for that. Nonetheless, you do know how to pleasure a woman.

Sana's moan escapes between your fingers as your digits slide along her wet walls. Her pussy is already gripping them tightly.

If it weren't for your hand, her head would've sunk onto the table already. But you are holding her in place, which ultimately makes her arch her back.

She tries to say something, but your grip on her mouth makes it impossible for her to speak properly.

You are surprised at how wet Sana is.

"Was your desire for power just an excuse? Do you just want me to fuck you?"

She tries to shake her head. You don't let her.

"Do you get off, knowing that a lower born man is fucking you?"

Sana is unable to respond, when you let go off her face. Her whole upper body is now lying on top of the table. You drop your belt and hike her clothes up a little further.

"Don't get confused. I still don't like you."

Sana's growl doesn't sound very convincing with your fingers inside of her.

"Might be true. But you aren't married to Aelius because of his personality anyways."

Pulling your fingers out of her core makes Sana moan loudly. She blushes in shame. Doubt starting to rise inside of her. Is she really only doing this to team up with you?

"You only seem to care for power."

"So? Only a coward wouldn't want power."

You shut her up by letting your tip graze against her lips. Sana hisses through her teeth, unwilling to moan again.

"I'm just curious about how far you would be willing to go. How dedicated you are to this cause."

"Don't worry. I'm ready to do anything."

"Anything?"

You raise an eyebrow, which Sana can't see.

"Anything."

"That's reassuring."

Your nonchalant tone makes Sana shiver.

Finally, you push inside of her.

"Fuck, woman."

You can't help but marvel at how tight she actually is.

"Fuck me already."

It's a mixture of plea and demand.

With one hand you grab her hair, pushing her cheek against the wooden surface. Your other hand holds her waist.

Another moan escapes Sana's lips as you thrust forward. Before she can react, you pull back and push inside of her again.

After just a couple of seconds, you start to fuck her hard. The table rocks back and forth with every thrust. Her moans escape her lips, whenever you bottom out inside of her.

"Harder!"

Sana holds onto the edge of the table, her knuckles slowly starting to turn white.

Because you keep pushing her upwards with your thrusts, the young woman's feet eventually dangle in the air.

You are now able to fuck her even deeper. Her moans become louder when she feels your cock invading her pussy even further.

At this point, Sana is merely a hole for you to fuck. She doesn't move. Only your thrusts rock her body back and forth. The thin material of her clothes makes Sana's nipples rub against the wooden surface. They've become hard due to her arousal and are now adding to the pleasure she is already feeling.

"So good!"

She moans yet again. You suddenly realize, that this isn't really a save place to be this loud.

"Shut up."

You growl into her ear, trying to quiet her.

But Sana can't help it. She has already lost control over her body. Your cock is parting her walls again and again, making her clench around it tightly.

She is even unable to produce a disappointed whine, when you stop fucking her. You leaver her snug pussy, before getting her off your table.

Turning her around, you push Sana against the wooden post, which is holding up the roof of your tent. Reaching for your belt, you hold her arms up, before tying them together.

Sana is now unable to leave. You pick up her light frame, making her impale herself on your cock.

"By Bellona! Fuck!"

"I told you to stay quiet."

Your faces are barely an inch apart.

Because you push her body against the post, you are able to lift her up with only your left hand. Your right one moves upwards to wrap its fingers around her throat.

"One more word..."

You let the threat of unknown punishment linger in the air for a moment.

But you can't hold yourself back for long. Sana's pussy drips her juices onto your cock, coaxing you into resuming your pounding.

A whimper escapes her mouth, when you start to fuck her again. You can tell she is at least trying to stay quiet this time. While you make her bounce on your cock, you thrust upwards. It makes her eyes roll back, whenever she feels your cock pushing against her guts.

"Venus!"

A louder sigh escapes her mouth yet again. You close your fingers around her throat a little further.

"Behave."

The conflict in Sana's eyes amuses you.

She should be the one in charge. She is the noble one of the two of you after all. But here she is, bound to your post, your hand around her throat as you fuck her as hard as you can.

Sana tries to fight the belt, wanting to tell you that you have to choke her harder. She can't keep quiet when you fuck her like this.

Another moan escapes her lips and you tighten your grip yet again.

"I warned you."

You hiss into her face.

Sana's wide eyes look beautiful. The way she stares at you, begging you to fuck her harder, while she tries her best not to make any noise.

But she fails miserably. A loud sigh echoes through the tent.

Without a word, you reach upwards. The sound of metal on metal cuts through the night as you pull your pugio out of its sheath. You let Sana get a good look at it. Then, you slowly part her lips with its blade.

"If you don't want to hurt your pretty face..."

You don't continue your sentence once more. But Sana is well aware of the risks.

With your dagger in her mouth, Sana has to pull back her lips, while simultaneously biting onto the blade, to make sure it doesn't fall or hurt her.

You see her closing her eyes as you keep fucking her. She is now really quiet, focused on keeping your pugio in place.

"Finally. Your voice so annoying."

Sana blushes in shame, able to see your honesty in your eyes.

"At least you have a nice body. I could fuck you every day."

The young woman almost lets out another moan. She really has to hold herself back. This was the first time someone reduced her to nothing but a wet hole to fuck. She didn't expect it to feel this good.

You suddenly hear footsteps outside. You stop moving, almost making Sana whine in disappointment, but then she hears it too. The two of you hold your breath. Neither of you wanting to get caught.

As the footsteps disappear into the night, you resume your fucking.

You make Sana bounce up and down on your cock. She glides along its full length. Whenever you impale her on it, Sana's eyes shoot wide open. She would scream if it wasn't for the dagger between her teeth.

"I'm gonna cum."

You hiss into her face, unable to hold back longer. Her tight pussy has been working on draining your cock this whole time. It feels perfect, almost too good to pull out. But cuming inside is obviously not an option.

You put Sana back onto her own two feet, taking the knife out of her mouth. Undoing your belt, you free her arms. Sana drops to her knees, opening her mouth. You catch a couple drops of blood on the corners of her mouth, before she wraps her lips around your cock.

Your pugio falls out of your hand and you take a fistful of her beautiful hair. Her eyes look up at you, telling you to finish inside her mouth. Her tongue glides over every inch of your cock it can find, while her lips are tightly sealed around it.

"Sana."

You manage to groan her name, before you unload inside her mouth. You feel dizzy, having to close your eyes for a moment.

When you open them again, you see Sana gulping down your cum.

"How often do we need to do this, so that we have a deal?"

"I think you know the answer."

It's so dark that Sana's face is barely lit by the torch outside. You could swear a small smile plays around her lips though.

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #twice sana #twice #sana minatozaki #sana twice #sana smut #sana #twice smut

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cupid-styles · 8 months

Text

silk and rope

the long awaited ddlg harry and yn pairing has finally arrived!!!

some general disclaimers: I've never been in a relationship like this myself nor have I experimented too much with proper bdsm techniques, so there may be some things that are wrong in this!!!! I did research and tried my best to make it as accurate as possible but pls don't come for me if something isn't right ok thank yoooouuuuuu!!!!!!!

word count: 10.6k

content warnings: daddy dom and sub/little yn relationship, big ol’ daddy kink, basically just a lot of smut (bondage, overstimulation, use of toys, dirty talk, f oral, penetration), discussions of subspace and crappy sexual experiences (nothing forced), yn in little/sub space

"Y/N, I just don't think this is working out anymore."

Normally, Y/N is able to see this coming.

In the past, she's had 20/20 hindsight, predicted when whatever man she was seeing — or rather, submitting to — had finally gotten bored of her, and been able to paste a smile on her face when it finally happened. She could bite her tongue hard enough to prevent the flush that would eventually warm her entire body with embarrassment, mumble out some nonsense response ("okay, that's fine, I appreciate the time we spent together", which was usually a lie anyway), give them a halfhearted hug and let them go.

Todd, however? The world's worst dominant? She seriously can't believe that Todd of all people is ending things.

Realistically, Y/N doesn't really care that Todd isn't interested in dominating her anymore. He was shit at aftercare and only paid attention to maintaining a sexual relationship, as opposed to an emotional one, too. (Y/N's profile specifically said that she was looking for a dominant inside and outside of the bedroom.) So, when it comes down to it, it's fine that Todd is putting a stop to their rather lackluster relationship, but Y/N is unprepared.

Typically, at this point, she already has a date with another dominant lined up for 24 hours from now. She's already talking to other people, listing out her hard limits and what she's looking for, maybe even switching her photos around to change things up after being on this god forsaken website for a year and a half.

And maybe she, too, was so unsatisfied with Todd that she wasn't paying enough attention to realize the end was coming.

But with her slightly squinted eyes and half-open jaw, it must seem that she's in some sort of immediate stage of heartbreak (she's not, she's just surprised), because Todd goes to sling his arm around her shoulders and presses a kiss to the side of her head.

"It's not you, babe, it's me," he says, and it makes Y/N want to elbow him in the ribs, "Really, you were great. Fantastic every time. Just think I'm looking for someone a little bit more... emotionally stable, y'know?"

That's what breaks Y/N out of her trance, so she quickly rises from her couch and wordlessly opens the front door.

"Thanks. You can go now."

With furrowed eyebrows, Todd stands up, as if he was expecting her to get down on her knees and grovel at his feet, begging him to stay.

"See, this is what I'm talking about, babe— one second you're all quiet and mousey, and the next you're trying to boss me around like I'm the submissive," he feens offense as he pulls his sneakers on, "I think you should probably get your brain together before you start seeing someone else, it's a real mindfuck."

"Okay," Y/N smiles tightly, gesturing outside to the chilly evening. "See you around, Todd."

The confused expression remains on Todd's face but thankfully, he leaves without another word. Y/N lets out a deep sigh as she shuts the door behind him and locks it up. She grabs one of the leftover muffins she made at work today, plops down on the couch, and turns on the TV to find a show to fall asleep to.

. . .

If Harry's being honest, the bar is the last place he wants to be right now.

And he would be at home if he hadn't blown his friends off for the past three weeks, and Claire hadn't stopped by his desk while he was packing his things up, threatening to kidnap him if he wasn't planning on attending this evening.

He feels bad, especially because he knows he has the tendency to prioritize work over his friends, so he shoots her a tight smile and tells her to lead the way.

So now he's at their usual booth in the corner, slowly nursing a lukewarm beer that he'd ordered an hour ago when they arrived. He's halfway listening to a story Lea is telling about her shitty on-again, off-again boyfriend, occasionally suppressing the urge to yawn. He glances down at the watch on his wrist to read the time and promises himself that he'll stay another 30 minutes before ducking out.

Truthfully, he's bored, and he's tired, and his bed is calling to him in a way that's almost painful. He occupies himself by people-watching, trying to guess who's on first dates or, like him and his friends, getting together for weekly drinks. It's only then that he zeroes in on her — Y/N, that is — sitting alone at the bar top, slightly hunched over as she taps on her phone, a glass of wine in the other hand.

Harry doesn't know Y/N that well. He knows that she went to college with Naomi, who started inviting her to things around a year ago, and now she's always just around. He's unsure if she actually likes any of them besides Naomi, though — she's quiet and introverted, which Harry respects and understands, but the one-on-one conversations they've had are few and far between.

But that's why his interest is piqued in the first place. He's never witnessed her sitting alone at the bar, and a twinge of concern fires through him as he watches her. He clears his throat and turns back to the table, unintentionally cutting Lea off.

"Is Y/N okay?" he asks, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the bar.

"What? I didn't even know she was here," Lea says as she peers over with a shrug, "Seems fine to me."

She continues on with her story and Harry rolls his eyes, grabbing his pint and striding over to where Y/N is sitting. He props himself up on the stool next to her and waves the bartender down, pointing to his glass.

"Hey, Y/N," Harry greets easily as his glass gets refilled. She looks up from her phone and immediately locks it, as if he's tearing her from some deep thinking, surprised that anyone would come to bother her in a busy pub. "How are you?"

With slightly parted lips, she looks a bit bewildered. "Um... I'm fine. How are you, Harry?"

He swallows, glancing down at the half-full glass of white wine she's drinking. He's never actually seen her drunk, despite near-weekly meetups at this pub. She seems tipsy, not fully under water, though decently buzzed.

"I'm good, thanks," he forces a smile onto his lips as an effort to seem as though he's not concerned for her wellbeing. "I saw you over here and realized I didn't even say hi to you."

Y/N shrugs. "I didn't really feel like socializing tonight. Naomi kind of dragged me here."

"Ah, Claire did the same to me," Harry replies understandingly, nodding his head, "Said she'd kidnap me if I didn't come out."

She scoffs at that before tilting the glass back towards her lips, taking another hearty gulp. He doesn't miss the thin wince she makes as the liquid touches her tongue, swallowing it down quickly.

"Is it 'cos you got broken up with, too?"

Harry's eyes widen at her question, but she's already looked past him, zoning out with a bleary look.

"Oh... I'm sorry, Y/N. Do you want to talk about it?"

He's not great at emotional conversations, especially with people he barely knows, but he supposes it's a decent explanation for why she's in this state. He's content with lending a shoulder to cry on, he decides, because he doubts Naomi had done the same.

"It wasn't really a breakup, it's fine," she mutters with a dismissive wave of her hand. "We weren't dating, is what I mean."

Although she attempts at some sort of explanation, Harry's still confused, but he nods as if he understands.

"Was it like a friends with benefits situation?" he guesses, and she shrugs noncommittally.

"Kind of."

"So it was complicated, then," Harry murmurs. He gets that — he's been there a thousand times over, and he understands the pain associated with those types of situations.

"It wasn't," she shakes her head, and now Harry knows she's just spewing out drunken nonsense, "He was my... dominant. Or tried to be. He was really fucking shitty at it."

Dominant?

The familiar word echoes through the chambers of Harry's mind. He's certainly not unacquainted with dominant and submissive dynamics, but he's shocked — more than, really — that Y/N refers to a typically taboo word in such a casual way. He chalks it up to the alcohol, but he's still surprised that Y/N even had a dominant to begin with.

"I met him on one of those stupid seeking arrangements websites, which honestly never produces good results," Y/N continues, making Harry's eyes widen even more. He's sure that she would never reveal this information to any of their mutual friends, let alone him of all people. "Every dom I've had from there has been... whatever. But he was particularly awful, and he just ended things out of nowhere. Normally I like to have someone else lined up, but... yeah."

Even in her alcohol-fueled state, Y/N realizes that she's rambling, providing far too many personal details to Harry, who she rarely talks to. She knows she'll be ridiculously embarrassed by the entire evening as soon as the wine drunk haze wears off, but for now, Harry's on the receiving end of her secrets.

Harry clears his throat and straightens his posture, sitting up a little taller. "Well, you said it yourself. Those sites are shitty, the dominants on there are usually just looking to experiment for the first time and they don't know what they're doing. The local BDSM community is your best bet... clubs and gatherings and such."

Y/N wrinkles her eyebrows and peers at Harry beside her. He's looking straight ahead and nibbling on his bottom lip, his hand firmly grasped around his glass. She doesn't know much about Harry besides the fact that he works at some large company with a relatively well-off position. He's gorgeous, of course, and has flings with people here and there but otherwise, her knowledge of what him is... well, almost non-existent.

It wasn't totally impossible — the likelihood that Harry, like Y/N, was involved in similar sexual dynamics. She wouldn't classify herself as part of the BDSM community, but perhaps it was because she'd never dove headfirst into learning about it outside of what she's interested in. She felt that what she looked for in a dominant was rather... specific.

"Do you... are you...?" Y/N doesn't quite know how to phrase the question, "are you a dom?" without sounding like a total creep, so she allows him to fill in the blanks. His throat bobs as he takes a sip of his beer, shrugging his shoulders tersely.

"Yeah," he finally answers. "Not very consistently, I guess, but I'll take on a sub a few times year. Usually for a few months."

She nods slowly, squinting her eyes a bit as she tries to picture it. She's not sure what type of dominant Harry is — whether he's sweet and soft, or tough and enjoys pushing his subs to their limit each and every time — but regardless, the mere thought of it is enough to make her squeeze her thighs.

"What about you?" he asks, shifting his position to face her. "It sounds like you go through doms kind of... quickly."

Y/N hums, "Kind of, I guess. I think I have kind of... like, particular needs, and not everyone is interested in it."

It's the most they've ever spoken to one another, and Harry doesn't even think before he's asking her what exactly she looks for in a dominant. He's immediately embarrassed — he doesn't know what made him question her so openly, but he can't help his curiosity.

She waves his slight exasperation off, clearly not offended by his press for details.

"Can I just ask that you don't tell anyone?" Y/N says, looking at the man sitting next to her. "It's like, a little embarrassing, and I've never told our friends about it. Not even Naomi."

"Of course," Harry quips. He's always been good at keeping those types of things under wraps — he didn't believe anyone had anything to gain by learning about someone's sexual interests.

"I... I guess I have some trauma stemming from childhood that I've worked through in recent years. It's not important to this, but I tend to look for dominants who fulfill more of a caretaker role. I like to be... taken care of. In certain ways."

Her cheeks flush as the words leave her mouth as he listens to her closely. He's not sure if he's reading between the lines, looking too far into her explanation, but he gets it. He thinks.

"So... a daddy dom?" Harry asks softly. Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and nods curtly.

"That's nothing to be embarrassed about," he murmurs once he receives confirmation, "A lot of people like that type of relationship. I can understand why you'd be interested in it, especially if you have trauma."

She shrugs. "A lot of people think it's weird, too."

"Sure, but those aren't the people you should be seeking relationships out with," Harry replies easily, "What do you look for specifically? I'm sure we could find someone for you in the community."

Y/N lets a deep breath out, rolling her neck to each of her shoulders. She can't believe they're having this conversation in public, but she'd be lying if she said Harry wasn't easy to talk to. Plus, at the night went on, more people filed out of the bar considering it was a weekday.

"It's not necessarily age play I'm after, which I think a lot of people think is what I want," she explains, "Just like... a caregiver, I guess, that's there for me both in and out of the bedroom. I, um... on bad days, fall into a... headspace, and it's very difficult to navigate that on my own. If that makes sense."

"Makes perfect sense," Harry nods. "Are you looking for punishments and such?"

"Yeah." she breathes, nibbling at her lip as she crosses her legs, attempting to mitigate the dull throbbing in her core.

"Y/N, do you have my number?"

She swallows as she peers up at him through her eyelashes, shaking her head. He puts his hand out and she grabs her phone, placing it in his palm. He taps at the screen and she assumes he's putting his information in her contacts.

"Claire drove me here so I can't give you a ride home, but I'm gonna order you an Uber so you can head home," he murmurs lowly, handing her phone back to her. "Text me tomorrow. Can we get together after work?"

Y/N nods with slightly rounded eyes, making him smile gently. He realizes she must be more depraved than he thought if she's already slipping into her little space from an act as simple from that.

"Keep it together 'til you get home," Harry says with a quirked eyebrow, though embarrassment quickly washes over Y/N's body. He chuckles as she blushes, patting her thigh lightly. "I'll walk you out."

She grabs her bag and follows him out of the bar, welcoming the autumnal chill as it pimples her skin.

"Are you gonna slip on the way back?"

Y/N looks up to see Harry towering over her, a concerned expression on his face.

"N-no. I'm fine."

He continues analyzing her for a moment or two more before he finally nods once. "Okay. If you feel yourself getting there, call me."

"I won't. I promise."

Harry hums as a black sedan rolls up to the curb. He checks to make sure it's the correct license plate before guiding her to the car and holding the door open for her. She gets in the backseat and he nods at the driver, murmuring down at her, "seatbelt on."

She complies readily and he smiles, patting her head softly. "Message me when you get home. We'll talk tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you, Harry."

20 minutes later when he receives a text from her stating that she's made it home safely, he already knows he'll do anything to be her dominant.

. . .

Harry half expects Y/N to pretend like last night ever happened.

He would understand it if she did. She was tipsy, revealing intimate details about her sexual preferences pertaining to BDSM. No one else from their friend group knew. It just ended up coming out for both of them — Harry doesn't parade his dominant role in the bedroom all around town, but if someone he knows asks, he's happy to admit to it and talk more about it. He's not ashamed by any means, but he can tell that Y/N is. She prefaced her explanation by stating that she has trauma — and really, who doesn't? — and hinted that dominants in the past have found her requests to be weird.

Harry doesn't think the whole daddy dom thing is strange. He understands it, especially pertaining to a psychological, healing level. He's never engaged in that sort of dynamic before, typically sticking to scratching the itch his submissives usually had, whether it be getting tossed around a little, orgasm denial, or being tied up. He was happy to do what made them happy, but he usually kept it in the bedroom.

The thought of taking up a caregiver role in Y/N's life made his spine tingle.

He's always been interested in her — not even in a romantic or sexual way, he's always just found her fascinating. She's quiet and shy, beautiful, and the definition of a wallflower. Naomi brought her in one day and she just never left. It's been a year since then and Harry doesn't think she's spoken more than 15 words to the others.

And so, with all of this knowledge under his belt, he spends his day at work worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and constantly unlocking his phone. When he gets home that evening, narrowly avoiding Claire's proposal at more social interaction, he's lost all hope, even though he did tell her to text him when she was finished with work. He's properly pouting as he sits on his couch, knees to his chest, when his phone lights up on the coffee table in front of him.

From: Y/N Y/L/N

hey harry:) first of all, im so sorry about last night. i was clearly having a tough day and i definitely took advantage of u being willing to chat with me, so im sorry if i revealed too much or took you away from everyone else.. i know u don't go out often and im really sorry if i ruined it

im also not sure if you still have interest in what we talked about last night w helping me find someone... its totally ok if you've changed ur mind or you were just drunk or whatever. again, i know i was being a lot so no worries!! sorry! just lmk :)

Harry's heart squeezes as he reads over her repeated apologies. In two texts, she said variations of "I'm sorry" four times. She thought she had ruined his night in some way when it was the complete opposite.

His thumbs hover over the screen as he thinks of a response. He's over the moon that she still decided to text him and that she'd avoiding the path of pretending nothing happened. In all honesty, he's unsure if he could live with himself when he had all those images and thoughts of her in his head, knowing that they'd just moved on from it.

Hey Y/N. Please don't apologize for last night, I had a really nice time talking to you. I'm definitely still interested. Are you available tonight?

She's quick in her reply, which makes him smile. He can imagine the way she's probably alternating between biting her lip and picking at the skin around her fingernails, both of which he assumed were nervous habits that he picked up on last night.

ok if you say so.. and yes im free! i was planning on ordering some takeout if ur interested, i don't really have any food here that isn't a baked good lol

Harry chuckles at that. Claire mentioned once that Y/N works at the bakery close to the park he does his morning jogs through. When he passes by at early sunrise, the windows are often illuminated with a warm glow, and he wonders if it's coming from her.

That's okay, I was planning on cooking if you'd like me to bring you some. I have ingredients for a stir fry. Would that be okay?

She replies with what he can only describe as a bashful but affirmative answer (only if you're sure!! but that sounds great!) and sends a second message with her address. He's beaming as he chops up vegetables and sautes them up rice noodles and homemade peanut sauce, indulging in the simple act of cooking for Y/N.

Last night, after he'd gotten home from the bar, he'd done some research on daddy dom relationships. He knew of them, but if he was going to offer being Y/N's, he wanted to ensure that he was knowledgable on anything she could want. He learned that there were many different facets of that type of dynamic, some of which he was comfortable with and some of which he wasn't. Like any other dominant and submissive relationship, hard and soft limits would be discussed, but this one, Harry realized, wouldn't just consist of kinks he had no interest in engaging in.

As he spoons the finished stir fry into a plastic container to take to Y/N's, his stomach brews with butterflies. He's never expressed interest in dominating someone he already knows in real life. Those relationships existed purely in the confides of the bedroom. It's a commitment, he understands, to engage in such an agreement with her.

So why isn't he scared?

. . .

"This is delicious, Harry," Y/N all but moans over her serving of stir fry, chopsticks in hand. He smiles before biting into a piece of broccoli coated in peanut sauce.

"I'm glad you like it. It's a go-to dish for me, especially on weekdays when I'm exhausted from work."

She hums, nodding thoughtfully as she chews. A temporary silence takes over as they eat, ended by Harry eventually clearing his throat and gently placing his bowl on the table.

"So, about finding you a dom," he says, and her eyes perk up slightly, as if she's an over-excited puppy. "I have a proposition."

"Oh, you found someone already?"

"Sort of," Harry answers vaguely, "I think— well, no, I know. I would be interested in taking that place."

Y/N raises her eyebrows. She sets her own bowl of food on the table and purses her lips as she chews the rest of the contents in her mouth.

"I don't think you want that." she says gently.

"Why?" he shoots back, a near immediate response, "I spent all night and day thinking about it. I do."

Y/N sighs, "Because it's more than just spanking me when I have an attitude with you or cooking me a meal. I can be a lot, Harry, and it's the reason why I've gone through so many dominants already."

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you go through so many because they're the problem?" Harry asks. "You lay it all out on the table, right? You tell them exactly what you're looking for. Everything you told me last night."

She nods.

"And they still agree. You tell them you want a dominant outside of the bedroom, too, that the 'daddy' role you're looking for is a caretaker," Harry continues, "So how does that make you the issue?"

"Because what I'm looking for is... unconventional," she fights back, convinced in her stance. "Guys think the whole daddy thing is hot until... until I actually need them."

"It's not unconventional, Y/N. I did a ton of research last night. There are a million sites explaining what a DDLG relationship is and what it can consist of. The things that go into it on both sides, but especially on the dominant's. I'm not saying I know everything about being one, but I've at least cared to learn."

Y/N sighs and rolls her lips into mouth. She'll admit, she's impressed. She's not sure any guy she's ever been with has done that.

"So... what would you want, then?" Y/N asks, her voice softened.

"Well, I definitely have limits, but it's mainly dependent on what you're interested in," Harry explains. She finds that he's far too nonchalant for his own good, and the casual nature of his tone makes her even more nervous.

"If you did some research then I'm sure you learned about the extents it can go to," she says thoughtfully and he nods, resting his chin in his palm, "I don't have a desire for the more extreme things. Diapers and pacifiers and all that."

"Okay."

She's taken aback by his lack of response — part of her expected some sort of "oh, thank god" — but she's starting to wonder if Harry just simply exists in a nonjudgmental space. One that she's very much not used to.

"I just want someone to take care of me," she eventually forced out, setting her gaze on her bare thighs, a pair of lavender sweatshorts hung around her hips. "I can be bratty both in bed and out. I like to be put in my place. I enjoy being teased and humiliated. I like punishments and being pushed to my limits, even if I give you a hard time about it. I've been described as a handful when I'm feeling... little."

Harry had read a decent amount about "little space" last night. He'd dominated some partners to the point of falling into subspace, but little space seemed to differ. With his base knowledge on submission, he was able to tell that she was slipping into hers last night, giving him the inkling that making decisions for her and taking away the guess work was something she liked.

"I'm sure you're not, but all of those things are fine by me," Harry replies easily, "What do you like when you're feeling little?"

"It depends on what put me there. If I had a bad day at work, I like a bath and you cooking for me... I get really touchy. If it happens from a sexual scenario, it can be quite difficult to pull me out. But I get really quiet... I'll be more pliable, allow you to throw me around. I'll usually cry, but if you're doing things correctly, they won't be bad tears. Just from overwhelm."

"What sexual scenarios put you there?"

She clears her throat, her tongue thick in her mouth. Thinking about these things is enough to make her slip, but she won't disclose that. At least not right now.

"A number of things... edging or orgasm denial, being tied up and gagged. Anal since it requires trust and prepping. Any type of punishment, but especially spanking."

Harry's nodding his head as she speaks, apparent that he's processing everything she's telling him. He's not surprised by anything, per se, considering he's open to different experiences and nothing seems undoable. It's as if he's making a mental list, adding a separate section to his brain with Y/N's name plastered over it, filing away the information.

"What about when you're not feeling little?" Harry proceeds with little befuddlement, "What does the ideal dominant look like for you then?"

"Um... still just loving and caring. I likely won't be as bratty. More... in control of myself, I suppose," Y/N murmurs in reflection. "I would still like to have scenes with you when I'm not in that headspace, if that's alright. I'm not sure if it would be crossing a boundary."

"Of course." he answers readily without a blink of doubt, "When I embark on a dominant and submissive relationship, I don't like to half-ass it. I don't think there's a point in only asking for me when you need me. You'll never find comfort in me when you're feeling small."

Her heart warms at that, flutters in her tummy making it difficult to hide the smile curling at her lips. She assumes that she should've guessed Harry would be good at this type of thing; she's witnessed how deeply he cares for people. Even when they barely knew each other, he always greeted Y/N like they'd known one another for years, asking about her job at the bakery (she doesn't even remember if she told him he worked at one) and what sweets they were creating nowadays.

She thinks Harry just has a way of making people feel special.

It's what makes her core tingle, squeezing her thighs together for a semblance of relief as she rolls her lips into her mouth. She can feel herself starting to dampen in her underwear and she glances down at Harry's lower half, peeking through her eyelashes to see if he has a growing bulge.

"Do you think we can do a scene tonight, maybe?" Y/N asks softly, glancing back up at his eyes.

Harry chuckles. "I take it you think I'd be a good fit for you then."

"Mhm."

"You're cute," he smirks and pinches her thigh lightly, "No scenes tonight though. I can come over tomorrow, but I want to properly feed you and make sure you're hydrated before we do anything."

Y/N nods as she nibbles on her bottom lip. If she's being honest, she wants nothing more than to crawl into Harry's lap, parting her thighs and grinding into him while he babbles dirty words into her ear. She's always found him attractive, but knowing that he's willing to cater to her own sexual desires lights a fire deep in her stomach.

"I'm gonna head home, but I'm looking forward to getting started with you," Harry says with a small smile, "Oh, one more thing — no touching yourself tonight."

Her eyes widen as he stands from the couch, ready to grovel; they haven't even begun doing anything yet and he's already telling her what to do—

"Y/N," Harry growls, reaching up to grab her face. He squishes her cheeks together and her pupils broaden, surprised by his sudden change in demeanor. "Nod if you understand."

She nods.

"Good girl. I'll text you when I'm coming over tomorrow. I'll bring you dinner again."

Again, she nods.

"Say 'thank you', Y/N."

"Thank you, daddy."

Harry's lips curl into a smirk, releasing his grasp. "Oh, we're gonna have fun together."

. . .

The next day, Y/N can't stop squirming.

It's to the point where her co-workers notice that she's jumpier than normal, clumsy in her icing and piping when she's normally spot-on and nearly perfect in her efforts. She hears from Harry a few times throughout the day — he texts her in the morning and during his lunch break, checking in to see how she's doing, and it makes her entire body swarm with butterflies. He asks if she's eating a proper lunch (she's not), scolds her for it (which she secretly enjoys), and then tells her he'll make her something for her to take to work tomorrow.

Thankfully, she doesn't have a closing shift today, so she's done at a little past 6 pm. It's to her surprise, though, when she's peeling off her flour-coated apron, she spots Harry standing outside the bakery, a cozy cardigan and a graphic t-shirt covering his body.

Y/N has to do a double take. He didn't say anything about meeting her at work this evening, but he has to be here for her, doesn't he?

After sliding her jacket on and grabbing her tote bag, she exits the bakery, closing the glass door behind her gingerly. Harry turns, his eyes lighting up when he sees her.

"Hey," he greets with a grin, "Have a good day at work?"

"Um, yeah, it was alright. Sorry, did we say you would pick me up? I must've forgotten—"

"Oh, no," Harry shakes his head as he jerks his head in the direction of his car, reaching out to slide her bag off of her shoulder. He takes it into his hand, his fingers wrapping around the canvas strap as she shuffles to keep up. "I finished making dinner a little early, figured I'd meet you here. Is that alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's really nice of you, thank you."

Harry hums as they approach his car. He unlocks the doors and they both get in, but he leans over before she has a chance to buckle herself up, clicking her seatbelt in. It's a small act that makes the butterflies return, but she doesn't comment on it as he starts the engine and begins the short drive back to hers.

"I made us some veggie pasta for dinner tonight. Does that sound good?"

"Delicious," Y/N replies honestly as she watches blurs of warm-toned leaves go by. "Thank you again."

A soft smile appears on his lips as he pulls onto her road. "Of course. How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright. A little tired. Nervous, to be honest."

Harry chuckles and briefly glances over at her, "Yeah? Nothing to be nervous about. We'll take it slow."

She shuffles in her seat and wedges her hands between her thighs. "Just don't want you to judge me, is all."

"I won't, but we did manage to forget to have the conversation on hard sexual limits. Do you mind listing yours?"

She nods. She's done this dance enough times to know the importance of discussing this subject matter, though she doubts there's much Harry could do that wouldn't be a turn-on for her.

"Um, any bathroom things, fisting, foot stuff... I'm fine with anal as long as we agree upon doing it beforehand. And if you're going to inflict physical pain on me, that's fine, but I'd prefer it if we built up to it — so, like, starting with spanking then the belt or a paddle."

"Sure, that makes perfect sense. I like to have conversations with my subs after we do a scene, so we can see how you feel about what we did," he pulls into a parking spot outside of her home, yanking the key from the ignition, "And, just so you know — no anal tonight and no spanking unless you deserve it."

He taps her cheek gently with his spare hand and she flushes as she unbuckles her seatbelt and gets out of the car. She follows him up to her front door and fishes her keys from the pocket of her jacket, unlocking it and stepping inside.

"Are y'alright with the traffic light system?" Harry questions as he sets her bag down on the slim table placed in the entryway.

"Yeah. My safe word is yarn, just FYI."

He wrinkles his eyebrows and pulls a few to-go containers out from his own bag. He opens his mouth to question her but she puts her hand up to stop him.

"I like to crochet. Don't make fun of me for it."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry murmurs, traipsing in the direction of her kitchen, "Go change out of your work clothes and put something pretty on for me, angel girl."

She's happy to comply, immediately feeling giddy at Harry telling her what to do from the get-go. When she gets upstairs and to her bedroom, she meanders over to the drawer she has for evenings like this. It's filled with lacy bodysuits and ruffly underwear, knee high socks, and pastel lingerie. Eager to rid her body of the jeans and sweater she wore all day, she opts for a sheer pink bralette and matching shorts that barely cover her bum. It's a sweet set that she personally likes, but she can't help the slight worry that Harry won't enjoy it as much as she does.

She's already meandering into her little headspace as she heads back downstairs. Harry's already plated up their dinner, complete with small servings of a side salad. He looks up as soon as he hears her soft padding across the length of the living room, his jaw falling slack at her appearance.

"Look at you," he coos, standing from the couch and closing the distance between them, "You look beautiful."

Y/N licks her lips, keeping her gaze low. She feels herself slipping, but for once, she's not scared of letting it happen.

"What's wrong, little one?" Harry asks gently, pressing his pointer finger and thumb to her chin, raising her head, "Are you feeling small already?"

She nods, her eyes round.

"Mm, that was quick. Just from daddy taking care of you and putting on these pretty little clothes, huh?"

Again, she nods.

"Alright. Let's get some food in your belly and then daddy can play with you a bit?"

This time, she shakes her head.

"No? No scene tonight?" Harry guesses through furrowed brows.

"Wanna play now, please."

"Ahhhh," he nods, understanding now that she's looking to skip out on dinner. "Gotta eat first, baby. Then we'll play."

Y/N pouts and he chuckles, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and tugging her towards the couch.

"C'mon. You can sit in my lap, hm?"

Still in the trousers he wore to work today, Harry settles back against the couch. He pulls her body into his, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her steady.

"Is this good?" he asks softly, catching the shell of her ear.

"Yes." she peeps, nibbling on her lip.

"Alright baby, grab your food for me. Gotta eat at least half before we do anything."

Wringing her hands in her lap, Y/N doesn't move. Harry runs his fingertips along the length of her arm, nosing at her shoulder.

"Would you... daddy, I..."

Her voice trails off and his heart squeezes, eager to coax whatever she's trying to say out of her.

"Ask, honey. Use your words." he encourages tenderly.

She forces the words out, even if they feel humiliating despite her clouded head. "Can you feed me, please?"

Harry hums. He won't say it in the moment because he can tell the request was difficult to muster out, but his entire body feels infinitely softer. He leans forward to grab her serving, scooping some pasta on the fork.

"Y'gonna be good and eat for me now?"

She nods, "I will. Thank you, daddy."

He murmurs out a you're welcome, continuing the quiet pattern of feeding her, watching her chew and swallow, and going back for more. He doesn't let her get off without eating a few bites of salad, chuckling gently at her quiet protests.

"Still feeling good?" Harry asks, setting her empty bowl back on the coffee table.

"Mhm. Playtime now?"

He smiles and nods, carefully shimmying her body off his lap. "Why don't you go upstairs and wait for me? Daddy needs to eat too."

Y/N shakes her head and sinks to the carpet, pressing her chin to his knee. "Wanna be close, please."

"Yeah?" Harry chuckles, grabbing his own bowl of pasta, "Okay, baby, you can sit there but no touching. I know you're nearly gagging for my cock."

He watches as she shivers, nibbling on her bottom lip and shifting her position slightly so her cheek is smushed against his thigh. He laughs quietly and threads his fingers through her hair, quickly eating his own portion. He can't deny that he's just as excited to get started — he, too, has been thinking about this all day, deciding what positions he'd fold her body into, if he'd edge her or overstimulate her with orgasm upon orgasm. He didn't want to fully push her limits so quickly — he wanted to create a foundation of trust between each other, but he couldn't help the inevitable daydreams that clouded his day.

He finishes his food quickly, tapping her head playfully to alert her that he's done. She lifts her head and he takes in her moony gaze, his heart thumping quickly in his chest at how sweet she looks.

"Upstairs, bunny. Hands and knees, bum in the air, okay?" He plucks at her bottom lip as he grants her guidance, her eyes fluttering shut, relieved to finally be getting instructions. She scurries up to her bedroom, listening to Harry putter around as he places their dirty dishes in the sink. As he asks, she lets her knees meld into the foamy texture of the mattress. With her cheek pressed against the pillow, she folds her legs and maneuvers her lower half into his requested position.

It feels like an eternity before Y/N hears Harry enter the room, shutting the door behind him. He doesn't move to remove any of his clothes, instead kneeling onto the bed behind her.

"You've been doing so good for daddy, haven't you, baby?"

She knows it's a rhetorical question but she nods into the plushy pillow, wiggling her butt. He chuckles and allows his palms to roam the expanse of her skin, from the bottoms of her thighs up to the swell of her ass. She keens at the feel of his touch, already obsessed with the way his large hands fit over her body.

"We won't be doing too much tonight, but I'll be asking for your color consistently. I want you to use your safe word at any point you deem necessary. Is that clear?"

Y/N nods her head and hums, though her answer is slightly muffled by the fluff of the pillow.

He continues rubbing slow circles into the globes of her ass, intent on getting her to feel as relaxed as possible. He can tell she's excited — he is, too — but above anything, he wants her to be calm.

"I brought some toys and things for us to play with," Harry continues, her ears perking up, "Can you tell me your color for each of them? It's perfectly okay if it changes at some point. I'd just like an idea of what you want."

Y/N has never had someone care this much — every time a dominant brought a toy to a session, he'd thrown it in there haphazardly. A vibrator turned up way too high, terribly knitted rope and, the worst by far, a butt plug that wasn't lubed whatsoever.

So she's keening over the care Harry puts into his role, her heart beating rapidly in her chest as he shuffles off the bed for a moment and slings the tote bag onto the comforter. She still can't see a thing that he's doing, but as she floats into a comfortable cloudy mindset, she becomes more and more content with letting him make the rules.

"Okay, baby. Know you want daddy to make the decisions but I need you to be good for me and tell me what you're comfortable with," Harry murmurs, his fingertips dancing along the soft material of her waistband. He doesn't dip below or tug them down; it more so feels like a reminder of what can come if she's good. "Tying your wrists with silk ties. Color?"

Her pussy pulsates at the immediate vision of her arms tied high above her head, unable to touch herself or him. "Mm. Green."

"And what about your legs? Are you okay with rope, or would you prefer silk down there, too?"

"Either one, daddy. Green for both."

Harry hums, dipping down to slowly press light kisses down the length of her spine. She shivers at the sensation of his soft lips making contact with her skin for the first time. "A vibrator for your cute little pussy?"

"Green," she whimpers as his hands find purchase on her hips.

"Can daddy use his mouth on you?" he asks, the low vibrations of his voice making her core leak with arousal. "On your pussy?"

"Yes, yes," Y/N nearly pleads, bucking her hips up against his grasp. He tuts softly, and she can imagine the way his tongue flicks up against his two front bunny teeth, a look of disappointment painted over his face.

"Be patient, bunny. Don't need you squirming around just 'cos you wanna be touched."

She wants to groan out when he removes his hands from her skin but resists the urge, especially because he just told her to be patient (something Y/N has never been good at). She feels like it's a punishment in and of itself — he's barely done anything, but she can still feel the phantom kisses he placed down her back, and the skin stretching over her hips somehow feels lonely without his large palms pawing at it.

"On your back." Harry suddenly instructs. She's quick to obey, rolling over onto the plush duvet. He's fast in his movements and already kneeling above her, wrapping her wrists together and fastening a bow with pink silk. "Have you used these before? Do you know how to get out of them if you need to?"

Y/N nods. She knows that she can simply pull her wrists apart to quickly dissolve the knot, instantly freeing herself.

"Good girl. Daddy's gonna use rope for your legs, okay? Use your safe word or red if you need."

She has to admit, she's immediately impressed with Harry's apparent knowledge of bondage. She's been tied up many times before, but if she had to guess how many times someone's properly tied her hands, breasts, or legs with rope, it would likely only be once or twice.

A wet gasp leaves her mouth when she realizes Harry isn't just tying her ankles down to the bed post. Instead, he's pressing her calves into the backs of her thighs, the slight burn of the rope pressing into her flesh in the most delicious way. Although she's able to close her legs, the knots still remove most of her mobility, especially with her arms tucked above her head.

After finishing with her legs, Harry stands from the bed, still in his tee-shirt and trousers. He admires his work from above with a devilish smirk on his face, making Y/N's skin warm.

"Aren't you just a wet dream?" he mocks lightly, trailing his fingertips up and along her knee, "All tied up and absolutely useless, hm? Can't even get out of bed, can you?"

Y/N shakes her head, her bottom lip beginning to wobble at his teasing. Everything about the scene is already so intense, the build-up so delicious and consuming and— fuck, he hasn't even touched her yet.

"You just need your daddy to do everything for you, don't you?" Harry continues, kneeling into the mattress. His hands find the insides of her thighs and he pushes them apart, but his eyes don't even fall to her core, instead keeping them square on her wide-eyed gaze. "Helpless little baby, aren't you? Say it. Say your daddy's helpless baby."

"I'm— I'm daddy's helpless baby." she stammers out, her tongue heavy in her mouth.

"Are you gonna cry already, bunny?" he asks, his lips curling up into a wicked smirk, "Haven't even fuckin' done a thing and you're crying over being tied up. This is what you wanted, isn't it? Wanted daddy to make all your choices? Get all cock dumb and drunk on my cum?"

She nods futilely. She doesn't even realize the wetness pooling in the corners of her eyes, but she feels tears leaking steadily as soon as he mentions it.

"P-please daddy. Wanna be touched."

"Ah, so you do have some thoughts going on up there."

It seems like maybe that's all it takes for Harry to finally cease his mocking, digging into the tote bag at the side of the bed to produce a silicone vibrator. It's light blue and long, with a bulbous head at the tip that she assumes is for stimulating the spongey spot deep inside of her.

He finds a spot between her thighs, kneeling back on his ankles. His hands move up her inner thighs and to the creases of where her legs meet her core, the sheer fabric of her pale pink shorts immediately giving way to the wetness seeping from her hole. Harry nearly groans out at that, the sight going straight to his rock hard cock being strained by layers of clothing.

With a feather light touch, he thumbs over her clit through the material. She immediately jolts and he chuckles, moving his finger to gently stroke over her mound.

"Desperate little thing. Begging for daddy's touch."

"Yes," Y/N mewls at the top of the bed, wiggling against the rough rope, "I need it daddy, please, touch me, I've been so good—"

"Have you?" he asks, retrieving his hand, "All you've done is do as I've asked. If anything, I'm the one that should get rewarded, don't you think? Picked you up from work, fed you, tied you up... sounds like you're just being greedy to me."

"I'm not— t-that is being good, daddy, I didn't touch myself like you said a-and I've earned it, please."

She's fully crying now, tears leaking from her eyes in steadfast streams that it actually makes Harry feel bad. She hasn't even stopped her begging by the time he's pulling her shorts down to reveal her weeping pussy, a soft tsk leaving his mouth.

"Stop pleading, bunny, I'll give you want you're so desperate for," Harry says, grabbing the vibrator. He'd initially planned to work her with his fingers before pressing the toy against her clit and pushing it inside, but he hasn't even spread her open and he can already see the creamy arousal coating her lips. He thinks that if he teases her for much longer, she may just disintegrate into the bed.

So instead, because he's him and he's not a nice dom, he cranks it onto the medium setting and nudges it up against her clit. She instantly gasps out and jerks her hips up at the vibrations, a near-yell leaving her throat. He's aware that every person is different and it'll take him some time to learn her body, but with the way that her legs are already shaking as he uses more pressure to press the toy against the bundle of nerves, he thinks he he's getting somewhere.

"Are you gonna cum already?" Harry asks, his eyebrows knitted together as his eyes rake over her body. Her own eyes are scrunched up, her lips parted as small whimpers escape her throat, beads of sweat beginning to tumble down the slopes and curves of her skin — it's a sight, and he wishes to commit it to memory.

"Y-yes," she admits, nodding quickly, "Can I? Please?"

In response, he transfers the vibrator to his left hand and slowly pushes a finger into her pulsating hole.

"Go ahead."

He strokes once or twice against her g-spot with his finger before she's crumbling, her chest concave with haphazard breaths and her back arched. Moans readily fall from her lips, her pussy squeezing his finger so tight it nearly makes him cum on the spot.

As Y/N comes down from her peak, she recalls Harry saying that they weren't doing anything too crazy today, so she wonders if that's it. If so, she supposes that's fine, but she thinks she'll over him a blowie, offering to let him fuck her face while she's still tied up with silk and rope.

Instead, he cranks the vibrator up another setting and pushes a second finger inside, eliciting a broken groan from her chest.

"Again." Harry instructs, curling his fingers deep inside of her.

"O-oh," Y/N whimpers with shaking thighs and a dizzy head, "Daddy, I—"

"Again, bunny." he repeats, quickening the pace of his fingers. "I want another one. Now."

She quickly realizes that she doesn't know if she'll ever be able to reject Harry, because it only takes a few more pumps of his digits until she's squeezing him again. She's never had two orgasms so close together and she finds that this one is more intense, her muscles not even fully relaxed as they contract around him once again.

Her eyes are still closed when he removes his fingers and she thinks she hears a faint sucking noise, though she can't be sure. He lowers the vibrator setting but keeps it flush against her clit, despite the way her pussy is all but begging for a break.

"Color." Harry demands, his hand finding the backside of her knee.

"G-green," she hiccups through tear-stained cheeks, "Can keep going, daddy. Please."

He nods once, lowering so his stomach is pressed against the mattress now. He finally clicks the toy off and pushes it to the side, pausing his assault on her core before spreading her lips open with his fingers.

"Jesus, you're fuckin' pretty," he mutters, watching as her hole pulsates from two back-to-back orgasms. He spits, the saliva landing on her spread slit, making her gasp. "Who owns this pussy, bunny?"

Y/N's chest is heaving, but she still manages his honorific through wet, splotchy cheeks.

"Say it again." he commands before leaning forward to lick a fat stripe from her hole to her clit.

"It's yours, daddy." she whispers, her hands forming tight fists above her form.

"Good girl. That's what I want you to say when you cum next, okay?"

She doesn't have a chance to question yet another orgasms as his tongue makes contact with her pussy, moaning deeply. He's already obsessed with her taste and she's sure she's never had someone go down on her with this much vigor. She's gulping for air when his tongue darts in and out of her hole before licking up to her clit, lips wrapped around the nub as he sucks harshly, whines sounding from her mouth at the sensitivity.

Y/N has never understood the phrase "making out with her pussy" until this exact moment.

She doesn't even know if he's coming up for air much, but he's quick to figure out the pattern that makes her thighs shake. Messy sounds come from below as he slurps at the arousal leaking from her, using the width of his tongue to lick upwards to her clit over and over again.

"Daddy!" Y/N squeals, jerking her hips involuntarily, only to be pressing her core even closer to his mouth, "Please, I— I think—"

"Cum." he mutters into her, suckling at her clit with such fervor that Y/N genuinely thinks she may pass out.

She doesn't, though, but the intensity of her orgasm claws up her body rapidly, loud cries bubbling up her throat as she repeats clamors of, "it's yours daddy, your pussy, it's yours."

She feels him press chaste kisses against her mound as he gently begins to untie the ropes, slowly easing her legs out of their angled positions. Once they're free, he helps her stretch them outward, continuing his trail of kisses up her body until he's straddling her waist between his thighs.

"Color," Harry murmurs, reaching up to release his wrists from the silk. Her eyes are set on the bulge in his pants and he gently taps her cheek, "Bunny, tell me your color."

"Green, daddy. That looks like it hurts."

She uses her newly freed hands to point at his crotch and he chuckles, shaking his head.

"I'm fine, lovebug. Are you sure you're still green? Looking quite floaty."

"I am," Y/N lulls her head to the side, leaning it against her shoulder as she circles her wrists, "Wanna keep going though. 'm okay."

"Do you remember your safe word?" he questions, grabbing one of her wrists and pressing soft kisses into the skin.

"Mhm."

"What is it?"

"Yarn. 'cos I like to crochet."

Harry grins, relieved that she isn't too far off the deep end. He finds her to be especially adorable when she's in her little space, the moony gaze in her eyes removing any traces of stress from her day-to-day life.

"That's right, baby," he replies, pulling off his tee-shirt. "Daddy's gonna fuck you now. Is that alright?"

"Yes, please. But I don't think I wanna cum again."

He hums and nods, unbuckling his pants and kicking them off his legs, "That's perfectly fine, bunny. You got daddy so hard that I don't think it'll take much for me to cum."

Y/N giggles at that and makes grabby hands at him, making him chuckle. "Off, please," she says, pointing to the briefs straining his cock.

"You're such a polite little girl, did you know that?" Harry asks as he pushes his underwear down, settling in between her legs.

"Daddy's polite girl."

If his cock wasn't painfully hard right now, he might've laughed at her repeating his words. Unfortunately, an hour of overstimulating Y/N and watching her writhe beneath his grasp, all tied up with no choice but to just take it — he's shivering at the images of it, and he knows he needs to cum within the next five minutes or his dick will surely fall off.

"Gonna push in, okay?" Harry asks softly, rubbing circles into her hip, "Remember, tell me if you need to stop. Daddy will always listen to you."

Y/N nods her head, blinking away the leftover moisture in her eyes from her bout of cries earlier. She knows that if she didn't feel so comfortable with him, there's no way she would be this far in her little space right now, where she just wants him to take and take until he's satisfied. It's maybe happened three or four times in the past with a dom she had that was actually pretty good, but she knows now doesn't even begin to measure up with Harry.

When his cock pops through her tight walls, it's a bit of a stretch, but she's wet enough with arousal from three orgasms that it barely burns. Instead, she finds herself enjoying the way her core adapts to his shape — not to mention, he looks gorgeous above her with his eyes squeezed closed and his jaw dropped in a quiet groan.

When she doesn't safe word, Harry starts to move. He takes it slow, knowing that if he immediately starts to pump the full of his length inside of her, it may cause her more pain than pleasure, regardless of how small she's feeling. Her plushy lips part as moans begin to fall from them, hooking her ankles behind his form to bring him closer.

"You're so big, daddy," Y/N breathes out, a strangled whimper coming from Harry. "I love it, I love having you inside me."

"Yeah? My little girl wants her daddy's cock in her all the time?" He pushes through grit teeth, his jaw flexing as he begins to quicken his strokes, "Tell me, bunny. Tell me how much you want daddy."

"Oh—," she mewls as he begins to brush up against her g-spot, "I want it always daddy, I-I need it— oh, god— please daddy, please—"

"Sweet little girl sounds so pretty when she begs," He says as he takes one of his palms and presses it against her lower stomach, "This pretty pussy is mine now. You hear me? It's daddy's pussy."

"Yes, yes— fuck, it's yours daddy!"

Harry growls — actually growls — and shifts his hand down to smack against her clit, a throaty moan falling from Y/N's mouth.

"Dumb little babies don't curse," he snaps, slapping her clit once more, "Or do you wanna be punished? Not get any of daddy's cum?"

She shakes her head quickly, her eyes nearly rolling back at the sting of pain radiating through her core. "I want it, please!"

"Yeah? Beg for it, bunny."

She does — she pleads and begs and all but grovels on her hands and knees until Harry pulls out and pumps his cock over her, ropes of warm cum painting the skin of her stomach all the way up to her chest. There's so much (like an impressive amount, Y/N thinks), and she wants to scoop it up and taste it, but Harry grabs her wrist and gives her a look before she can.

"If you do that, you will have to call out of work tomorrow."

She giggles and nibbles on her bottom lip, the little headspace she's swimming in telling her to disobey him. He sighs and shakes his head, grabbing the tee-shirt he was wearing earlier and swiping it over her body, ridding her of his cum.

"You're a naughty little thing," he mumbles, tossing the tee-shirt to the floor — he makes a mental note to throw her bedding and everything in the wash once she's out of her little space. "C'mon baby, up. Gonna take a bath now."

"With you, right?" Y/N mumbles with heavy eyes. He nods as he leans down to scoop her up in his arms, guiding them to the bathroom. He sits her on the toilet and she frowns, making him roll his eyes.

"You don't want a UTI. This isn't a sex thing, just pee while I run you a bath."

She does but only because he tells her to, and she knows she'll feel embarrassed about this tomorrow, but she's okay with it right now. He busies himself with turning the water and making sure it's warm before plugging the drain.

"I brought some bubble bath and epsom salts with me but it's in my bag. Can I leave you while I go get those?"

Again, Y/N nods wordlessly and he leans down to press a kiss to her hair. She flushed and wipes while he's gone, and he returns while she's washing her hands.

Harry knows it feels oddly domestic of them to be naked and prepping to take a bath together after an intense scene, especially since this is the first time they've done this. In the back of his mind, he wonders if they should've talked through the implications of them beginning this type of relationship — a ruined friendship being one of them — and he knows it was selfish of him to forgo that conversation altogether.

He ignores his worries and instead helps her into the bubble bath once it's ready, tucking his body in behind hers as soon as she's situated. It's silent between them for the first time in hours as he wraps his arms around her shoulders, lightly massaging her shoulders.

"How are you feeling?" He finally asks after a few moments of quiet.

"Tired," she mumbles, laying back against his broad chest. He can't tell if she's still floaty by her one-word response so he continues rubbing her back, allowing her to sink into the warmth of the bath.

They don’t speak again after that, not until the water goes cold and Y/N almost falls asleep in the comfort of his arms. In the meantime, he makes sure to gently swirl a clean washcloth over her skin, using his favorite lavender scented body wash, and wash her knotty hair. All the while he whispers how special she is, how she’ll never be too much, but especially not to him. He decides it’s okay if she doesn’t hear him because she’s too out of it, but hopes that his words at least seep into her subconscious so she believes the same.

#I will proof read this when I’m not so burnt out !#writing #harry styles #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #Harry styles angst #harry styles x you #Harry styles au #harry styles oneshot #one direction

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the-s1lly-corner · 2 months

Text

Various Creepypastas x Reader who sleeps in weird spaces

3/5 of the prizes for @reivelmin !!

Post contains: Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Hoodie, Masky, Ticci Toby, Liu, and Bloody Painter!

I actually dont think I've written for Helen before?? I know I havent written for Liu yet so heres to hoping my takes and hcs are accurate!

EYELESS JACK

When he first catches you in the closet sleeping nearly standing straight up he nearly yelps. You made the stoic eyeless Jack, the man who rarely flinches or jumps at anything, jolt. Naturally he wakes you up and asks why you're in there, but no answer really satisfies him. He tries to drag you to bed and for the night everything is.. normal. But this will be far from the last time he finds you sleeping in an odd place, seemingly unbothered. He eventually asks if theres something going on with you, even dumbly asking if theres something wrong with the bed.. but alas, nothing. You just.. sleep like that.. he often drags you into bed so you dont get sore or fall over

LAUGHING JACK

He thinks you're pranking him, and of course he starts cracking up. He commends you for getting him good, only for his laughter to die down when he realizes that you are in fact asleep while curled in a cabinet. For a moment he thinks you.. died.. or worse was murdered and stuffed into the odd place. He nearly rips you out of the space before you finally crack an eye open. Please dont scare him like that again, he does not take abandonment well even if the scenario is someone possibly dying. Once the shock is over with and he grows more used to it, the humor he originally found in it returns.. it almost turns into a game of where hes going to find you next and what position you're going to be in.. he does not bother to take you to bed and if theres room hes going to squeeze in with you wherever you are

MASKY

Hes probably done that at least once, he sometimes watches you in your sleep on the occasion that you actually fall asleep in a normal place (bed, couch, ect) and he kind of slumps into the corner he was sulking in. Though you... certainly one up him when he catches you sleeping on top of the fridge! If you're in a hard to reach place or really deep into it he leaves you be without attempting to get you out. Eventually he kind of just accepts that this is something you do and completely leaves you alone unless you're in the way of something. More likely to wake you up than moving you out of the way, though... you've probably gotten jumpscared by him simply standing there waiting for you to wake up

HOODIE

Very similar to Masky but I do think Hoodie would take you to bed so you dont get sick (floors are cold, people!) Or getting a knot somewhere in your muscles. Partly because he will likely be too busy with his work to tend to you, partly also because he can be stern when it comes to your health. Theres no ifs ands or buts, hes taking you to bed and hes going to keep you there! Hes a big dude too, he'll hold you in place next to him if he has to

TICCI TOBY

He gets it, honestly. If it's like a security or a comfort thing or just out of impulse he gets it. You might find him sleeping in ungodly positions when he crashes at your place, or sleeping under the bed. He has used a chair as a blanket before. He might feel inclined to try to one up you, actually. All fun and games of course! He also does not carry you to bed, and similar to LJ he might just join you if theres room! Just be warned when sleeping around him he might draw on your face or something.. definitely takes your phone so he can take pictures of you to make fun of you later

LIU

For a minute he doesnt realize exactly what's going on. He might actually pick your stuffed animal up and give it back to you and shut the door of the closet before ripping it open as he stares at you. Gently shakes your shoulder to wake you up, and while he might have to get a little harsh to actually get you awake hes apologizing for waking you up. So so so many questions. Why are you doing that? Why dont you come to bed? Will not take no for an answer. He wants answers, if there are any. After you offer an explanation hes a lot more understanding about it although still very.. confused. Are you not worried about falling over in your sleep? Or even just waking up uncomfortable...? That aside how do you even.. sleep standing up like that, and how long were you like that..? He just.. accepts it

BLOODY PAINTER

Very neutral about it, but he does entertain you with questions when he catches you awake in the morning. It doesnt matter where you sleep, hes not going to disturb you unless you get in his way. But considering hes claimed a corner in your home for himself and his belongings, you don't have to worry about that! Despite claiming to not mind all that much you still seem to wake up in bed despite falling asleep under it. He'll never admit to moving you, but theres no other person who could have done it.. he also wont ever say it but he does sometimes want you to lay next to him

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fushigurro · 6 months

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𝗧𝗢𝗝𝗜 𝗙𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗢 𝗫 𝗙!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / unprotected piv / noncon creampie, breeding + mentions of pregnancy / dom/sub dynamics / petnames (good girl, baby, sweetheart) / biting

“c’mon, be a good girl and let me cum inside this pretty pussy.”

he tries to persuade you as though he hadn't earlier promised that he would pull out, that he wouldn't attempt to sway you from your position of not being willing to take the risk and let him finish inside.

you vigorously shake your head and hum in disagreement at his proposal. toji's a dirty fucking liar but you somehow still find it in yourself to love him, to allow him to slide into you completely raw, knees almost up to your chest as he fucks you into the mattress because he has two different types of holds on you.

“aww, why not, sweetheart? you don’t want me to fill up that sweet little belly?" he punctuates every sentence with a heavy thrust, voice a malicious tease in your ear paired with an equally selfish grin. but then he moves to hold your gaze with a commanding intensity. "gimme fuckin’ words, baby. i need words.”

you gulp and gasp for air, his hips stopping long enough to allow you a moment to breathe. “i don’t want a baby.”

toji offers an amused scoff at your response. “yeah? s'that right?" he's convinced that a part of you is lying and that you wouldn't even think of letting him fuck you raw if something about the risk didn't appeal to you. "too afraid to be a mommy for my babies?"

those words ignite a flame of anxiety within you, but curiously enough also make you clench around him as he picks up the pace a little, holding back a growl as his fantasies wrack his brain.

"s’too bad," he says, tone growing more serious, "i think you’d be pretty good at it, even if you act like a brat yourself half the time.”

it almost doesn't sound like he's joking anymore, but how could he not be? there's no way toji could truly want a child—he can't even afford one, but all the possibilities make your thoughts go muddy and incomprehensible. you simply turn your head to the side to avoid looking at him straight on, flustered and overstimulated from previous orgasms, but he uses a strong hand to grab your cheeks and steer you back in the right direction.

“what the hell did i just say about using your words, huh? you better fuckin’ speak up or i’m breeding this tight little cunt right now." it almost seems as though he's offering you a choice with his hips speeding up and wrecking your insides like this. he's in control, but he's desperate, sweat beading along his forehead as he chuckles breathlessly. "hell, i might do it anyways with you suckin’ me in so good.”

gasping, your eyes go wide. “no, no, no!” you meekly protest, but it's too late—he pins your wrists to the bed and angles his hips to more accurately hit your deepest points, cock driving into you with even more purpose now.

“shit…” he curses and feels himself start to lose his composure, quickly slamming into you a few more times before halting balls deep and twitching his release out inside you. the hot, fresh surges of cum warm your womb as he stays rooted in place, determined to force his seed as deep as it can possibly go. in his mind, that’ll only make it easier for it to take and bring his current vision to fruition: you round and full with a baby that’s undoubtedly his. this is the image that flashes through his mind and makes his cock pulse with an orgasm that’s nearly paralyzing, teeth biting into the flesh of your neck like you're the pretty animal he's just claimed and mated.

once the storm has settled, his hot tongue licks over the mark in your skin to soothe it followed by a kiss and one more slow roll of his hips for good measure. "that's a good girl," the large pad of his thumb brushes the tears from your lashes as if he isn't the one who caused them. his hand is a little rough but still affectionate as it grips your face again and forces you into a possessive kiss.

toji pulls out of you with a wet squelch and a shit-eating grin. "gotta fight back a little better next time if you don't want me to get you pregnant."

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #cw breeding #cw dubcon #my writing.#re: toji fushiguro

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suugarbabe · 10 months

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Saving Grace

[Chapter 1]

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: You're caught in a pinch and Mattheo is quick to lend a helping hand, but you might have bitten off more than you can chew

Warnings: none

You turned the corner quickly, pressing your back against the wall to catch your breath. You had been speed walking down the hall trying to get away from Adrian Pucey. You had let him down, at minimum, three times in the last two weeks. You felt like you had been pretty forward with your denials, but Merlin was that little weasel persistent. Maybe he just didn’t get denied that often, I mean, he wasn’t ugly by normal beauty standards. But his personality was that of dragon dung. He had stopped you after potions the first week of classes, telling you how “nice your uniform fit this year” and it took all the strength you had not to gag in his face. He asked if you wanted to sit with him at lunch; you politely declined and then spent your lunch hour in the library for safe measure. Later last week he caught you after dinner, asking if you wanted to go to Hogsmead with him. Again, you declined, telling him you had to catch up on reading that you put off during the summer and swiftly walked away from him before he could ask to keep you company.

The worst was earlier this week. You had successfully avoided him all weekend, even managing to go to Hogsmead with your friends for a few things without running into him. You weren’t sure if maybe he had actually seen you out, or maybe someone else had mentioned seeing you, but after potions that morning you tried to leave and quickly head to your next class when you were suddenly pushed against the wall. Adrian had you trapped with his arms on either side of your head. He said it felt like you’d been avoiding him. You told him he was right and that he couldn’t take a hint. He laughed, like you were challenging him to get closer. As soon as you noticed him trying to lean in to you, you mumbled a quiet depulso, causing his body to leap several feet away from you before running off to charms.

That led you to your predicament today. Back pressed against the wall around the corner, waiting for the moment you needed to start running. You heard Adrian’s voice down the hall and quickly pushed off from where you were resting and headed down the corridor you had turned. You had made it almost down the end of the hall when you heard him call out your name. You didn’t turn around, scanning the faces passing through for anyone even semi-recognizable to help you, or hide you, anything at this point. Just then, you saw what could be your saving grace turn the corner: Mattheo Riddle. He was in your house, but you and he did not hang in the same circle. You knew if Adrian was going to be intimidated by anyone, it was Mattheo. The entire school knew of his reputation, how accurate it was you had deemed irrelevant as long as it got Pucey off your back.

You walked up to him quickly, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him to the side speaking quickly, “I don’t know if you know my name, but it’s Y/n. I know this is weird and I don’t expect you to help me but Adrian Pucey has been pestering me for the last two weeks and the git cannot take a fucking hint and now he’s looking for me again and I know he’s just right behind me, I heard him, can you just please pretend like you’re talking to me or give him one of those glares you do that make people not talk to you or something?” Mattheo’s grin grew wider with each word that came out of your mouth.

“I know who you are, Y/n,” He started, looking over your shoulder noticing Pucey scan the crowd again, “He’s getting closer. You want me to shout at him or just glare?” You took a step closer to Mattheo, trying to hide yourself, if possible, “Glare please.” At that moment Pucey clocked you, brows furrowed seeing who you were standing with. He walked quickly up to you, reaching out to grab your shoulder. Mattheo quickly slapped his hand away, glaring at the boy, “Fuck off, Pucey. She’s busy, clearly.” Adrian eyed you suspiciously, “Since when do you hang out with Riddle, Y/n?” You looked from Adrian’s face up to Mattheo’s, trying to find a convincing answer. Mattheo’s eyes never left Pucey, answering without missing a beat, “It’s none of your fucking business what she does, or who she talks to. What are you, her handler?” Adrian scoffed, opening his mouth to speak but Mattheo cut him off again, “Oh no, that’s right, you’re just the prick that’s been pestering her since the beginning of classes. How many times does a pretty girl have to let you down before you take a hint?”

With that, Mattheo wrapped his arm around your shoulder, leading you down the hall and leaving Pucey staring, mouth agape and completely dumbfounded. Mattheo glanced over his shoulder, noticing Pucey still watching. He moved his arm from your shoulders down to wrap around your waist, pulling you a little closer to him as you walked. “Just for good measure,” he whispered, getting close to your ear. You’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t race slightly at his movement, but you kept your face stoic.

There was no denying that Matteo was a handsome man. He had chestnut curls that seemed to fall in just the right place each day, bouncing when he walked. His eyes were multiple different shades of brown in one, easily mesmerizing any girl that he looked at. You knew plenty of girls that have fallen into his trap. Well, maybe trap wasn’t the best word, he did just help you willingly despite barely knowing you. He really had no reason to do that, and given his reputation, you’re honestly surprised he helped so effortlessly, even doing his best to make your simple walk away a little more intimate than just two friends.

You heard snapping in front of your face, making you blink a couple times before being able to refocus on Mattheo’s half turned smile in front of you, “You still with me, Y/n? You were in kind of a daze.” You nodded, “I’m fine, yeah, sorry. Just got lost in my thoughts a bit.” His smile turned into a smirk quickly, “Care to share?” You shook your head, “Not this time, Riddle. But thank you for earlier, and for walking me to class. I really do appreciate it. Who knew you had such a kind heart in here,” you patted his chest playfully, moving to walk past him and into your next class.

He was quick to grab your wrist, turning you around to face him once more, “You know there’s uh, a Slytherin party this weekend.” You smirked at him, “You know, being a fellow Slytherin myself, I’m aware of the party.” Mattheo scratched the back of his neck, almost like a nervous tick, “Yeah, right, aha. Erm, are you gonna be there?” You tilted your head slightly, feeling a little confident, “Do you want me to be there?” Mattheos cheeks had the slightest tint of pink, making you smile, “I’m just messing with you, I’ll likely be there.” Mattheo let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. “Good, that’s uh, good. I was just asking because you know, Pucey is likely gonna be there so if you, uh, needed my assistance or anything…” He trailed off.

You gave this some thought, you mean, he wasn’t wrong. Adrian most definitely would be at the party as a Slytherin himself; he kind of got a guaranteed invite unfortunately. “You’re right, I probably will need you again,” Mattheo seemed a little surprised at your words, “maybe we should have a chat then, make some ground rules in case he does try to come up to me again, little bugger is fucking persistent.” You nodded, confirming your words to yourself, “Okay, want to meet in the library tomorrow before dinner? Come up with a plan or something?” He nodded, throwing a wink toward you as he walked away backwards, “Yeah, okay. Tomorrow, I’ll see you then, Princess.” You shook your head, turning back to class and finding your seat. You sat down, putting your head on your desk. Your thoughts were racing, what did you just get yourself into.

[chapter 2]

#harry potter #golden era #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle fic #mattheo riddle x you #theordore nott #lorenzo birkshire #y/n harry potter #theodore nott x reader #draco malfoy x reader

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wingedhallows · 3 months

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i was a kid ; harry potter

pairing: harry potter characters ( no particular pairing ) | 0.6k words plot: molly seems to forget that war happened before prompt: "i was a kid" authors note: i love molly, really, but i've alway wanted to yell at her in that one scene in order of the phoenix. so, here u go (also the dialogue isn't accurate to the movie)

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Your hand clasped the cup of firewhiskey for dear life. It’s been fifteen years, yet it felt harder than before. You were ready to fight and give your life just like fifteen years ago you’re ready to do that again, of course, but your body reacted differently. Your mind was plagued, plagued with nightmares, with images of death and so much more.

You were on the edge when Lily and James died, when Sirius was locked up for something he didn’t do. All of that just swam around in your head once more, while you sat at this table.

“There’s something coming, something bigger.” Sirius spoke. Your hands began to become clammy, your eyes closed as you kept quiet. You knew that he was back, stronger than ever. You knew what that meant, of course.

“Then I want to be a part of it, I want to fight.” Harry spoke, chair squeaking as he leant over.

You were seated between Sirius and Harry. Your breath quickened. You were just like him in the past. Impulsive, you all were. You had sprung to your feet that night, a smile on your face as you almost begged Albus to make you a member.

You wished he had turned you away. Harry on the other side needed to be a member, he was the prime target, you’d protect him. Those kids were in danger and if you could protect them you would.

“There you have it.” Sirius spoke. Your breathing began to speed up, if more was possible right now, your hands held the cup so tightly you might dent it.

The anger cursed through you as Molly huffed and protested. Your head became light, as you pressed your eyes shut. They weren’t there when it all came together, when members died left and right. “Y/N.” You could hear Remus, his eyes on you.

“Enough, they’re just kids.” Molly interrupted and that was just too much. You scoffed, a chuckle leaving your mouth.

“Kids.” You said, face in a sour snarl.

You lifted yourself off the chair and looked at the people in the room. Your eyes focused on Molly.

“You think Voldemort cares if they’re kids?” You said, the room uncomfortably quiet.

He hadn’t cared then either.

“You think just because they’re kids, they won’t be murdered?”

Molly frowned at you and placed a hand on your arm, you shook her off.

“Y/N, please.” Your face held nothing but disgust.

“This is war, Molly. People die when they don’t know shit, they get murdered. No matter if they’re kids or not” Molly sighed and tried to get a hold of you.

“They’re just kids, they shouldn’t have-”We were kids too!”

You said, a bit louder. No one said anything, too stunned by your outburst.

“I was a kid.”

You whispered as a tear made its way down your face, features twitching in sorrow. “I was a kid when war struck.” You paused to bring a hand to your chest, eager to stop your heaving.

“I was a kid when I was tortured. When-When My friends were murdered, when Sirius was locked up for something one of us betrayed us for, when all hell broke loose.” Molly gasped, hand grabbing at a chairs rest.

Your eyes found hers as you gulped, pushing the emotions back. Sirius and Remus looked at you, tears in their eyes. It had struck all three of you, so hard, all those years ago.

“So don’t tell me they’re just kids.” You paused before grabbing your cup and chugging the rest of your firewhiskey down.

“It doesn’t matter what age you are when war strikes.”

#harrypotter #hp fanfic #marauders era #marauders imagine #the marauders #sirius black #sirius black x reader #harry potter fanfic #harry potter angst #harry potter x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #the order of the phoenix #order of the phoenix #post azkaban sirius #sirius black angst

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steddiehyperfixation · 5 months

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don't you forget about me (part seven)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)(part six)

Eddie takes back everything he’d thought before; sex dreams are so much worse actually, especially when you wake up to the subject of them holding your hand. His face turns bright red the second his eyes open and land on Steve. He sits upright immediately, bunching up the blankets over his lap.

The pounding of his heart - aka the rapid beeping of the heart monitor - alerts Steve who snaps awake instantly and tightens his grip on Eddie’s hand as he asks with urgent concern, “Are you alright? Did you have another nightmare?”

“No, no, definitely not a nightmare.” Eddie’s cheeks burn, feels the flush reach his ears and down his neck too. He clears his throat. “Just, uh- just a weird dream, that’s all. Not bad, just…weird, yeah. I’m fine.”

Steve relaxes. “Okay.” He hesitates, then adds hopefully, “Was it, uh- Do you think it was a memory?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Definitely not.”

“What makes you so sure?” Steve asks.

“It was fantasy.” Eddie’s eyes rake over Steve, and he tries not to wonder just how accurate his dream was.

Steve raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Fantasy?”

“Yeah, fantasy. So unless you have some truly awesome news to give me about the existence of dragons,” Eddie lies (better to have Steve think he’d dreamt of riding on a dragon rather than that he’d dreamt of Steve riding him), “I’m pretty sure it was just a regular old dream.”

“Oh.” Steve's face falls; and Eddie almost wants to take it all back and tell a different lie, that it had been a memory, but he doesn't. “Yeah, no, I've yet to run into any dragons yet, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Eddie says, running his thumb over Steve's hand. “I wish it was a memory. I mean- I wish I had more memories, and I'm sorry that I don't. I'm sorry that makes you so sad.”

The apology only makes Steve look sadder. “Oh, Eddie, no, it's okay.” He shakes his head, squeezes Eddie's hand. “Don't apologize for that. It's not like you chose to forget.”

“I know. I’m still sorry though,” Eddie responds quietly. His dream-sparked lust has since curbed into something softer, inevitably. He looks into those downturned and devastating brown puppy dog eyes. “I didn't choose to forget, but I’m still the reason you're sad - I know that, so I'm sorry.”

It's Steve this time who mutters “You don't have to worry about me so much, Eds, I'm alright,” and it's Steve this time who clasps Eddie’s hand in both of his and brushes a kiss over his knuckles.

It sends a rush through Eddie's whole body to feel Steve's lips against his skin - in real life, that is. Heat rises in his cheeks again, heart rate kicking up for the millionth time. “Uh- yeah, uh, o-okay,” he stutters, can’t seem to form a coherent thought or sentence right now. He pulls his hand away and runs his fingers through his hair instead, changing the subject, “Um. Are you, uh- are you sticking around today?”

“Yeah.” Though there’s still a trace of sadness behind his eyes, there’s something like flirtation there too as Steve smirks and says, “I’m all yours today.”

God. Eddie really is done for, isn’t he.

It’s no wonder, then, that after spending another full day with Steve, another full day of being subjected to Steve’s bittersweet smiles and friendly banter and (that is, if Eddie’s not just being delusional, which is a very real and probable possibility) the occasional flirty comment, Eddie’s dreams soon turn sappy again:

They were sitting in some restaurant, in a corner booth, holding hands behind a propped up menu. Steve was looking gorgeous in a tastefully tight polo and perfectly styled hair streaked with gold, and he looked at Eddie with that warm little smile that always made his heart glow. It overflowed; Eddie almost couldn't take it.

He said, “I know you said you wanted to do things right, so after how many dates can I ask you to be my boyfriend?”

Steve's smile grew, eyes wide with a sort of wonder and disbelief and anticipation that was vaguely reminiscent of a child on christmas morning. “I, uh- I think the third date is just fine.”

“Okay, good.” Eddie grinned. He caught Steve's other hand and held it right there out in the open without a care who saw or heard. “Because I like you so so much; you’re the best person I know, Stevie, and I wanna lock this down before someone else comes along and snatches you up. I want to be your boyfriend more than anything, and I want you to be mine, if you want that too. So, what do you say?”

Steve must not’ve cared who saw or heard either because he immediately lunged across the table to kiss him, holding Eddie's hands tight as he pressed their lips together fervently.

Eddie certainly wasn't about to complain. He indulged the kiss for a good long few moments before he pulled back to double check, “So that was a yes, right?”

“Yeah, dumbass,” Steve laughed, fond and bright and beautiful. “That was absolutely a yes.”

That ache is back when Eddie wakes up, the wanting, the wishing.

He thinks this dream falls somewhere in between the events of the last two, like his brain is turning this fantasy into a whole connected narrative now, building and fleshing out this wishful story of him and Steve. Unless… No. Eddie can't let himself think like that. If these dreams have been memories, if that had really been the type of relationship they'd had, surely Steve would've said something. It's not unusual for Eddie's daydreams to become so involved and become entire worlds. This is, as he tells himself for the third time now, just another case of his overactive imagination.

Steve doesn't ask about his dreams again, and he soon leaves for work and isn't around much that day, but that still doesn't stop Eddie's mind from continuing the fiction when he falls asleep holding Steve's hand, as always now, that night:

Eddie sat on Steve's couch, his arm slung casually around Steve's shoulders as Steve leaned against him and idly played with the rings on Eddie's other hand while a movie played on the TV in front of them. It was Steve's turn to pick the movie, and there was a time when Eddie would've rolled his eyes and scoffed at the suggestion of watching The Breakfast Club, but it had just come out on VHS and Steve was so excited about it and Eddie was more than happy now to sit just there and watch Steve watch it. Because Steve was smiling and humming along to the songs on the soundtrack, and Eddie felt, suddenly, with such simple certainty that this is where he was meant to be, that this is who he was going to spend the rest of his life with.

Something must've changed in his expression, in his stare, because Steve soon rolled his head to the side to look at Eddie and asked with an amused (and vaguely confused) smile, “What?”

“Nothing, I just-” Eddie shook his head, pressed a kiss to Steve's temple and then said like it was the easiest thing in the world, “I think I've fallen in love with you.”

Steve laughed as if this great big relief just bubbled free from his chest. “Oh thank god,” he said. “I’m in love with you too.”

Eddie believed him, knew it with the same certainty as before. They shared gentle smiles and a sweet, chaste kiss. Steve slipped an arm around Eddie's waist and curled closer against his side. He went right back to watching the movie and Eddie went right back to watching Steve. And that was all there was to it.

Clear, effortless, uncomplicated. Because how could they be anything else but in love with each other?

Eddie sighs when he blinks awake. His eyes slowly shift to the side and he looks at Steve strangely for a few silent moments.

Steve asks, “What?”

Eddie's cheeks tinge pink, and Steve wonders, not for the first time, what Eddie had been dreaming about. He gets a devastating sense of deja vu when Eddie shakes his head and says, “Nothing.” But it stops there where Steve's memory doesn't.

Although, Eddie is still considering him in that weird, just short of familiar way, and Steve wonders - again, not for the first time - if maybe Eddie just might remember too. But surely he'd say something if he did.

Eddie taps his fingers against Steve's hand and asks after a long minute. “Are you gonna be around tomorrow?”

“I can be.” Steve is scheduled to work tomorrow, but he'd call out sick in an instant if Eddie asked him to.

“Okay, because, uh, that's when the doctor’s gonna have me try to walk and when they're gonna teach me and Wayne how to take care of my wounds at home for when I’m discharged, and I, um, I want you to be there for that too,” Eddie says.

Steve finds himself a little surprised by this. “You really want me there?”

“Yeah, I mean, If you don't mind,” Eddie starts, rambling like he's suddenly scared Steve might refuse, “I know it's not the most fun thing to be here for, but I just figured whatever the doctor tells us tomorrow you should know too, just in case, you know, like I might need you one day and Wayne can't be around all the time and-”

“I’ll be there, Eddie,” Steve assures him, squeezing his hand. “Of course I’ll be there.”

And so he is. He calls out of work the next day, much to Keith’s annoyance, and stands there as the room fills with doctors and nurses and Eddie's uncle Wayne.

Eddie's mobility is tested first. He makes a soft grunt of pain as he's instructed to swing his legs over the side of the bed, and then another when the doctor taps his knee and his injured leg kicks with the assessment of his reflexes. Satisfied with that response, the doctor moves on to pressing various pressure points on Eddie’s leg to measure how much he can feel (and Steve tries very hard not to feel so weirdly irrationally jealous at watching the doctor feel up Eddie's leg). After a few more soft painful hisses that let the doctor know Eddie's nerve endings are intact - or whatever it was she was testing - he's told to try and stand. He's understandably apprehensive, hesitant. The doctor and his uncle help coax him off the bed; the competent and the familiar. Steve hangs back still, sure he's not needed for this.

But the second Eddie attempts to put pressure on his injured limb and he stumbles, his hand shoots out and it's Steve’s name he calls, as if on instinct. And, on instinct, Steve is there in a second to grab his hand and assist in steadying him. “I've got you,” he murmurs, guiding Eddie to the walker that's been set out for him. Eddie limps a few more feet with the help of the walker and the encouragement of Steve’s (hopefully) comforting hand on his shoulder until the doctor calls it and tells Eddie he can rest again.

Once Eddie makes it back onto the bed, collapsing back into the pillows with a haggard sigh, the doctor and nurses immediately crowd him again, try to go straight into the next step of redressing his wounds.

“Give him a second,” Steve snaps, protectively holding onto Eddie's hand and leaning over him. “Can't you see he's exhausted?”

The doctor shoots the only other proper adult in the room a weary look.

“They know what they're doing, kid.” Wayne's heavy hand lands on Steve's shoulder, both a reassurance and an alert for him to back off.

“I’m okay, Stevie,” Eddie adds. He gives Steve a tired smile and squeezes his hand before prying it out of Steve's hold. “It's alright.”

Steve reluctantly relents and steps back to give the medical professionals space to continue.

Eddie's shirt is pushed up so the bandages on his chest and stomach are accessible as the nurses begin to explain and demonstrate the process of taking care of the injuries. Steve watches, listens intently, wants to absorb every ounce of information so he can best tend to Eddie if need be. Then his eyes flick up and he accidentally makes dead eye contact with Eddie who seems to realize then just how vulnerable and exposed he is right now because his cheeks burn red and his heart rate suddenly increases.

The nurses don't seem to be too worried about this - if anything, they exchange knowing glances with everyone else in the room except Eddie and Steve before they continue their demonstration. Steve isn't worried either anymore - if anything, he finally resigns himself fully to the fact, the irrefutable proof, that Robin was right and Eddie really does have a schoolboy crush on him again.

Steve does his best to keep paying attention, but in the background his mind is spinning and his heart aching.

On the one hand it’s kind of sweet to know Eddie's feelings are not gone completely, that some level of attraction still swirls to the surface even through the empty space in his memory. And Steve has been indulging that crush the past couple days, little comments of flirtation just to feel like he still has Eddie in some way, just to see the reaction and have some evidence that Eddie still feels something at all for him. (Stupid, selfish.)

But on the other hand it is just a crush. Eddie used to love him, but now that's halved; and that's a very specific kind of agony.

Steve’s not sure how much longer he can handle this.

Something passed between them when they made eye contact; something sweet and sad flitted across Steve's expression, as it often does, but he looked away when Eddie blushed and has been avoiding his eyes again since.

When the nurses are done showing them how to wrap him up, Steve retreats, saying kindly, though still not quite looking at him, “I'm gonna go get you some water, alright?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks.” Eddie smiles gratefully after him.

“Your boyfriend seems sweet,” Nurse Katie comments, carefully, as she secures the last of the fresh bandages.

“Excuse me?” Eddie coughs, chokes on his own spit, spluttering, “I’m- he's not- we’re- it’s- um. He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh, sorry,” the nurse is quick to apologize. “I didn't mean to assume, I just thought since he's always in here holding your hand, even before you woke up-”

“We're friends,” Eddie says shortly. He feels a little dizzy at what she's suggesting and would really rather her stop talking.

“Alright, my mistake.” Katie backs off the subject.

Steve returns then anyways, further killing that topic of conversation. He hands a cup of water to Eddie, who takes it with another muttered “thanks” and starts gulping it down while the doctor goes off on some spiel about the process of having him discharged and more tests they’ll have to do tomorrow. Eddie’s not paying attention. He’s too tired.

Not long after that, the doctor and nurses file out of the room, and Wayne stands to leave too. “I’m glad the two of you are getting close again,” he mentions to Steve and Eddie on his way out. “You were good for each other.”

Whatever that means.

Eddie doesn’t have the brainpower left to contemplate that. Being poked and prodded and trying to walk took a lot out of him. He’s exhausted, achy all over. It’s barely even late enough to be dinner time yet, but he could honestly just pass out right now. He sets his finished water cup on the bedside table and his now free hand reaches, once again, for Steve.

“Tired?” Steve asks as he catches Eddie’s hand.

“Mhmm.” Eddie settles against his pillows, closing his eyes. He adds in a sleepy mumble, “’M glad you were here today.”

“Me too.”

He feels Steve’s lips slide gently across the back of his hand, and then Eddie slides gently into sleep.

Immediately, though, his dreams are not gentle; for the first time since he’s been falling asleep with Steve’s hand in his, Eddie dreams of the bats:

Eddie was in that hell dimension, the scene all black and red and dotted with bats. But he wasn’t alone. Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley were there too, the three of them fending off the creatures with boat oars, and Steve- Steve was on the ground; two bats gnawed on his sides, another had its tail wrapped around his neck. Eddie’s heart was in his throat, roaring in his ears and pumping pure fear and adrenaline through his veins. He couldn’t save him; all he could do was try his best to keep more bats from joining in on the feast.

Steve, however, seemed perfectly capable of saving himself. He managed to sink his teeth into the bat tail around his neck, getting it to let go. Eddie couldn’t see everything, too busy whacking away more incoming bats, but when the last of this fleet of creatures was fought off, Eddie turned back around to find Steve on his feet now, holding a bat by the tail and slamming it against the ground far more times than necessary. He watched as Steve stomped down on the bat’s neck and tore its head from its body. Blood from the bat’s tail hung from Steve’s lips in a thick, dark drip before he spat it into the dirt.

Eddie stared, jaw dropped, pounding heart pumping an entirely different sensation through his veins now. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

Steve gave him a bloodstained grin and Eddie’s knees felt weak. He would’ve dropped to the ground in front of him right then and there if-

“Keep it in your pants, Munson.” Robin shoulder-checked him as she walked past. “At least until we get the hell out of hell.”

Eddie settled instead for sidling up to Steve and, after taking a second to make sure he was alright, whispering low and close to Steve’s ear, “If we were anywhere else and you weren’t injured right now…” The muttered end of that sentence was something so filthy it made Steve’s face burn red, and he laughed.

“Freak,” Steve said affectionately as he smacked a kiss to Eddie’s cheek.

Eddie was quick to turn his head and catch Steve’s lips, locking them together in something searing and intense.

“Boys!” Nancy snapped impatiently from a few feet ahead, which startled them apart. “Seriously? Time and place, come on.”

Both Eddie and Steve laughed as they followed after the girls.

Eddie wakes up a little bit disoriented from that dream. He doesn’t know what to call it: Was it a nightmare or not? Was it a memory or another fantasy? The lines are blurred and Eddie finds himself confused.

Steve must’ve seen this on his face because he asks, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah…” Eddie answers slowly. “I had a dream about the Upside Down…but it wasn’t quite a nightmare, I don’t think. I’m just- I’m not sure if it was a memory or not.” He hesitates, then decides screw it, he might as well try to get some sort of clarification on the reality of some details of his dream. “Did you…rip a bat in half with your bare hands?”

“I did, yeah,” Steve confirms. His expression shifts, sparking with something like hope.

“And, uh, did I tell you that was the hottest thing I’d ever seen?”

“You did, yeah.”

“Okay, cool,” Eddie says, reeling. “Just checking.”

Steve is watching him almost expectantly, but when Eddie doesn’t say anything more on the subject, his face falls into something more like disappointment.

(final part is here!) taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies; please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. if you didn't make the taglist but still wanna follow along, you can follow the tag #dyfamsteddiefic to keep up with new updates!)

#lots going on here. medical inaccuracies and self-indulgent dreams lmao #our boys will finally get their shit together in the next part i promise and i am just as excited for that as the rest of y'all #steddie #steddie angst #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #mine #dyfamsteddiefic

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hollowdeath · 4 months

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Hello, I was wondering if it'd be possible for you to do an enemies to lovers with Harry Potter (with smut)? I feel like since Harry's life has been focused on Voldemort, he hasn't had a lot of time to think about things like crushes, and he's only had a couple of girlfriends here and there, but he's never felt such strong feelings for someone like y/n, so he deals with them by having a disliking towards her. (maybe he has a breeding kink? 🙏🙏) Maybe she's dracos sister? I dunno, all I know is that your fanfics are beautifully written, and you are my FAV tumblr author. Thank you ❤️

hi! thank you so much for requesting! you are so so sweet, i appreciate it so much <3 i had a lotttt of fun writing this one, i hope you like it!

pairing: harry james potter x fem!slytherin!reader (18+)

summary: harry becomes infatuated with you, draco malfoy's little sister, whom he's extremely protective over. though harry's confusion when it came to you lead him to hating you for several years, he eventually sees who you truly are, and loves what he finds.

c/w: mostly angst/fluff, slow burn, some smut at the end (oral & penetrative sex with some minor breeding kink). and, of course, briefly edited, all lowercase, not exactly book/movie/canon accurate, you know me !

word count: 14.6k (i'm so sorry)

a/n: soo i kinda ran with the draco's sister plot line lol. i actually had 2 other requests that also asked for a slytherin reader, so i tried to make it all in one! i hope everyone enjoys!

it wasn't until year 2 that harry learned draco actually had a little sister who would now be attending hogwarts with them. "how did you not know?" hermione had asked him, dumbfounded. "you've never heard someone mention [y/n] malfoy?"

harry tried to pay attention to hermione's questions, but he couldn't stop staring at you. you only vaguely looked like draco, maybe more so from certain angles, but there was something so completely different and unique about you. you carried yourself differently than draco. no constant sneer or narrowed eyes looking for trouble; instead, a soft smile, gentle touch, and nervous giggle. harry wasn't sure what to make of you. how could someone like you be related to such an evil pest like draco malfoy?

"blimey, harry, we're over here," ron whines, snapping his fingers in harry's face. harry looks back at his friends with guilt. "sorry, it's just, she doesn't seem related to draco," he says.

hermione makes a face. "i still wouldn't trust her regardless, the malfoys are nothing but evil trouble,"

harry glances back at you again, laughing with a few other first year girls waiting for the sorting hat.

it came as no surprise to anyone when you, a malfoy heir, were quickly sorted as a slytherin, their table erupting into cheers as you excitedly ran to a cheerful draco. harry remarked this as one of the first times he's seen draco actually look happy, a genuine grin plastered across his face as he gives you a big hug.

it almost feels wrong to see draco be affectionate with someone. harry's never seen someone make draco soften so much so quickly. as he's guiding you to sit next to him at the table, harry can actually hear him congratulating you. "see, i told you, nothing to worry about."

seeing him be so brotherly with you was so off putting it was almost upsetting to harry. if draco does have feelings, then why is he so awful to harry and his friends for no reason? and not just them, but to almost every student or professor? it just made no sense to him. harry hated hypocrites.

after the ceremony, harry's heading to the gryffindor common room when draco sharply cuts in front of him, standing nose to nose in the hallway.

draco looks harry up and down with a sneer. "i saw you staring at my baby sister, potter. try anything with her and you're dead."

harry's caught off guard but sneers back at draco, disgusted at his insinuation. "wasn't planning on it, draco. hermione's right, your family is nothing but trouble."

you come up behind draco, pulling on his robes softly. "draco," you say.

draco gives you one last warning look before taking you by the shoulders, guiding you away from harry. "let's go, [y/n]," he says with disgust.

as draco pulls you away, you swiftly turn over your shoulder and wave at harry with a big grin on your face. "hi, harry!" you call out excitedly before draco turns you around and walks you down the hallway quicker.

harry waves weakly. now he's really not sure what to think. draco is clearly protective of you and doesn't want you to even talk to harry. but you seem so kind and friendly, and harry can't deny how cute your smile is…

harry brushes off the situation, meeting ron and hermione at the top of the stairs where they were waiting for him. "what was that all about?" ron asked.

harry rolls his eyes. "nothing. can we just go?"

ron and hermione look at each other, a bit confused at harry's annoyance, but don't push him any further.

it's on this walk with ron and hermione that harry decides he hates you. as far as he's concerned, you're just another draco to him. he doesn't care if you seem nice, hermione's right - he can't trust you. not even for a second. not even if you look at him with those big beautiful eyes, that soft smile, your infectious giggle…no, harry hates you. and he hates draco. nothing's going to change that.

harry actually manages to not have another interaction with you until the beginning of 4th year, though that never stopped the longing stares between you two. harry often caught you attempting to talk to him, but always figured out a way around it to avoid you completely. he wasn't scared of draco's threat; harry knew he was serious but he wasn't afraid of draco. he simply had no desire to be around you, not even for a second.

mainly because he knew you could easily win him over if you wanted to.

harry had tried to deny it for over a year before he finally admitted to himself that fine, okay, maybe he does find [y/n] extremely pretty…but that doesn't have to mean anything. he still avoided you like the plague as draco continued to torment harry and his friends like normal.

at the beginning of fourth year, however, you made it a point to find harry when he was alone and practically force him into a conversation with you. he tries to get away when he sees it's you coming up next to him in the hallway, but you grab his arm. "harry. please."

harry pauses. he hasn't really heard your voice since you were in your first year, and only barely. it was so soft and kind, and just a hint sad as you asked him to speak for a moment.

he turns to you reluctantly. he knew this wasn't going to be good. he's already a little lost just looking in your eyes, but keeps himself focused as you begin talking to him.

"you've been avoiding me for almost 3 years now, and don't try to deny it because i'm not stupid…" you say, your tone of sadness only more pronounced. harry's awkwardly diverting his gaze, watching as you both slowly become some of the only students left in the hallway. he doesn't intend on replying, instead letting silence fill the air between you.

"i know you and draco don't get along but, can't we at least be civil? i'm not like him like that," you ask, your voice slightly desperate.

harry glares at you, ripping his arm away from your lingering grasp. he was never one to get angry at someone being so kind to him without reason, but he just couldn't stand you. you confused him, you made his heart race, you made him feel crazy for disliking someone so intensely when they haven't done anything wrong, but he couldn't help it.

"draco is an evil, blood purist bully. and as far as i'm concerned, you're nothing but his little shadow. so no, we cannot be civil." harry spits at you, his voice dripping in anger.

your face drops, but he's already stomping away, his blood pumping from the adrenaline rush of simply speaking to you.

"well fuck off, then. i was just being nice."

harry turns around at your loud voice, seeing you in tears just before you turn around and run out of the hallway, a few lingering students watching and looking over at harry as well.

harry just ignores them and continues walking away. he feels guilty, of course, you really were just trying to be nice despite harry's relationship with draco, but harry can't let his guard down for even a second. he's got so many other parts of his life that require his attention and time, he can't risk getting caught up in his feelings over his enemy's sister in the middle of it all.

it was easier for both of you if harry just put that wall up right away and ignored his other feelings for you. the feelings of longing, the feeling of guilt…

after that day, you and harry hadn't spoken to each other again. there was always looking, staring from across the room in both admiration and disdain. you found harry to be incredibly rude after that encounter and never saw him quite the same, but you couldn't help but watch him through the years as he grew into himself. and he had the same issue, only finding you more and more beautiful as time went on, from an adorable girl with the cutest laugh he's ever heard to a gorgeous woman in every sense of the word.

harry had a few crushes throughout this time at hogwarts and, ironically, even dated his best friend's sister at some point, but always found himself disinterested in all of them after a while for one reason or another. harry was constantly on edge these last few years and would practically lose himself in the situations he was in. his world would be turned upside down and he was expected to fix it every time. at that point, he just couldn't bring himself to care about a crush or even a relationship after experiencing what he's gone through.

what harry did always care about, though, was you.

not in a traditional sense, at least. he didn't necessarily want bad things to happen to you, not at all actually. he had always kept an eye on you during your years together. he didn't have any reason to, you guys were anything but friends, but harry felt a responsibility to keep you safe for some reason.

by harry's last year, draco had more or less left him alone completely. no more bullying or picking fights or spewing names, draco was now a sullen shell of who he used to be with no motivation to do anything but graduate and leave hogwarts behind.

harry couldn't blame him. he had to give it to draco, he went through a lot. though harry believed it all happened due to draco's own stupidity and selfishness that left him alone and depressed in the end, he still felt for him, if only a little bit. if not for what it did to you.

you had never given in to your family's connections to the dark lord, even when things were at their most detrimental point in the war, you stood with your fellow classmates, and, ultimately, with harry. draco couldn't say the same.

harry remembers being shocked, but not entirely sure why. he knew who you really were outside of your surname: a kind, understanding, empathetic person who brought light to people's days. but still, after all this time, there was a part of harry that still believed it might have all just been an act. he knew he was being ridiculous once he saw you turn away from your own parents and brother, not for harry, but for what was right.

since then, harry's felt different about you. rather than feeling anger or confusion whenever he saw your face or the back of your head in the hall, all he felt was happiness. he was happy to see you, happy that everything was okay now, happy that you had been genuine this whole time…though, of course, that came with the guilt of being so awful to you previously.

harry had been meaning to apologize to you and finally settle things before the end of the year. the issue was getting you away from draco.

since draco began struggling after the war, you two were practically attached at the hip. you tried everything in your power to help your brother, to be there for him, to reassure him; it killed you to see him so disappointed in everything, especially himself. harry found it sweet, of course, just how much you were willing to try for draco, but he ultimately saw it as a lost cause. if draco wanted to wallow in self-pity for knowingly being on the wrong side of the war, harry couldn't care less.

however, he cared for you, of course, so he respected your space around draco as harry knew he would only make things worse.

he was still determined to speak to you alone, so he figured out what classes you and draco had, both together and separately, and found a time where you would be alone. your last class of the day ended before draco's did, so harry waited by your classroom door until the bell rang.

once he saw you exit, talking with a friend, it took him a moment to build the courage to interrupt the conversation. but he knew he had to do this now, or else he'd never do it at all.

"[y/n]," harry said, coming up behind you and your friend. you both turned to him, your face instantly going pale. "oh," your friend had said, looking at you and harry before giving you a smirk and a simple goodbye.

you waved her off and turned back to harry, a complex look on your face. harry smiled tightly. "i was, um, wondering if we could speak, just for a moment," harry stumbles through his words, gesturing to an empty hall to your right. you take a moment to look around you, but nod at him and head around the corner to the less used hallway.

harry sighs as you turn to him, arms crossed, watching intently. "uh, look," harry says awkwardly, his hands going to his head in stress. "just, since everything that's happened, i've been thinking a lot…" harry continues, not able to look at you.

"i'm sure you have," you say softly. your voice is a mix of sincerity and sarcasm. it stings. harry can tell you're disappointed, angry, sad, and above all, completely hurt.

he chooses his next words carefully. "i'm sorry. for everything. for what happened with you and your family. for putting you through so much. for treating you how i did. i let my anger for draco and your family get in the way of my judgment." harry says softly, staring at the ground. "you didn't deserve that. none of you did. and i'll live with the guilt forever."

you're still watching harry, your weight shifting to the side, arms slowly uncrossing.

"i'm not asking you to forgive me. i just wanted to say sorry." harry sighs, sneaking a look at you before quickly looking away down the hall. your expression is unreadable. confusion, shock, sadness.

you leave a few moments of silence before replying, thinking of what you want to say to harry after all these years. you clear your throat, your hands folding together in front of you. "you should be sorry," you say simply.

harry's heart drops, but he's not surprised at your response. he knows you won't be easy to win over.

"i grew up idolizing you, harry. do you know how heartbreaking it was for you to hate me because of something i can't control?" your voice is breaking, your eyes turning away from him as well. harry doesn't move or respond. he knows he deserves to hear this.

you sigh shakily, trying to regain control. "but," you say sharply, causing harry to look towards you. your eyes were still diverted, nervously wringing your hands together. "there's no guilt to be had. you didn't do anything. you didn't choose this life. everything that happened to all of us was happening to you too." you say flatly.

you glance at harry, who's surprised at your words. "you were just a kid, harry." you tell him softly. harry's eyes threaten to tear up as he turns his head away quickly. you look back down the hall in front of you. "but so was i, and i didn't deserve that from you. so, yes, while i don't forgive you yet, i do accept your apology." you say with a suppressed smile. harry also has a small smile on his cheeks from what you can see.

another few moments of silence pass before harry sighs, relieved. "well, thank you."

the bell rings, and harry's heart drops. draco. he's going to be looking for you. he turns to the other hallway before looking back at you. "i guess i better go," he says. you smile sadly at him. "yeah. guess so." you say quietly.

harry gives you a sad smile too before leaving you behind, looking around to make sure draco wasn't close by before leaving down the hall.

harry wasn't afraid of draco. he never had been, but he certainly didn't want to see how he'd react to harry talking to his sister, even just casually. harry understands to an extent, if he had a sister he'd never let her near draco–but that's because he's draco. harry's a good guy, and he'd treat you well.

harry shakes his head at his thoughts.

what is he doing? he just wanted to apologize to you. nothing more. just because you make his heart flutter and are probably the most beautiful girl he'll ever know doesn't mean he has to like you. even though harry can't deny just how much he admired you for what you sacrificed during the war. when you turned your back to lucius and narcissa, your face stained with tears, hands in a fist, harry remembers thinking this must be what an angel looks like in real life. all of the evil in the world at your fingertips to corrupt you and you were strong enough, smart enough, to say no to it all in the face of war.

but that didn't have to mean anything, right?

right. harry could appreciate what you've done and still keep his distance with you. he apologized for his behavior, and you might've proved his suspicions about you to be wrong, but you were still a malfoy. one good, precious apple out of the entire rotten orchard isn't going to change his mind.

the next day, harry's just splitting ways with hermione outside the library when he catches your eye from down the hall. "harry!" you call out, walking quickly in his direction.

harry turns to you, instinctively smiling before letting his face go blank. "[y/n]," he says, surprised, as you come up beside him. "what's wrong?"

you laugh a bit, giving harry a look. "what? nothing's wrong. i figured we could maybe eat lunch together."

harry's a bit stunned. he takes a look around you both. obviously you had been alone, but he was still a bit suspicious of draco's absence. you two had been practically glued together this last year or so, it was almost odd to see you without him.

"oh, sure, um…" harry says, still shocked as he continues scanning the faces around you. you laugh again, putting your hand on harry's arm as you guide him to the dining hall. "just us, don't worry. draco's sick in bed for the day."

harry's a bit relieved at your words, but gets the sense that you think harry's afraid of draco seeing you two together. he might not want it to happen for one reason or another, but he's not afraid. he just wants to be respectful. though he's not entirely sure why, as draco has never given him the same in return.

sitting down at an empty spot at the gryffindor table, you start making a plate for yourself with the plentiful food options in front of you. harry sits across from you, his heart racing thinking about everyone seeing [y/n] malfoy and harry potter spending time together. weren't they well-known enemies of the school? i thought they hated each other? what does draco think about this?

harry started eating his food along with you, a comfortable but strange silence falling over you two. he wasn't sure if he should break it by asking why you wanted to meet with him, and he wasn't sure if he really wanted to know why.

after a few minutes, you wipe your face with a napkin and set down your utensils. "harry, i wanted to tell you something."

really? harry's heart could only beat harder. that was the last thing he wanted to hear from you right now. he was already practically sweating from the anxiety.

harry waits patiently for you, his eyes fixed on yours. he notices just how pretty they are in comparison to your skin, hair, lips, it just all makes sense together, like someone was extensively planning a beautiful painting when it came to your features.

you seem a tad nervous before looking down at your food and continuing. "i've decided i would like to try and be friends, if you'd like that." you seem flustered, almost embarrassed to ask. "i know there's been a lot of complications since year 3 when i first asked to be civil, but…y'know, like i already let spill, i've really admired you my whole life and…"

harry has never seen you so nervous. it was totally endearing, your mannerisms, your quiet voice, like a pet wanting approval.

"and, i think i would just really love to spend some time with you. and learn how to forgive you, of course." you add on the last part with a bit of coldness. it subtly reminds harry of draco. but you flash him a smirk before taking another bite of food, and it's like draco never existed.

harry smiles warmly. just a year ago if you had asked him this he would've laughed in your face and ignored you because it angered him that you think you two could ever be friends. but harry's changed a lot since then, he sees the human in you, and he's no longer suspicious of your intentions. though his guard is still up, he's not sure it'll ever really come down, he wants to reach out to you now.

with another bite of his food as well, harry casually nods his head. "yeah, i think we could be friends."

more silence passes before you finish your plate. "well, to commemorate our newfound friendship," you say as you raise your glass to him. harry chuckles. "a toast after we've already eaten?" he asks incredulously. you roll your eyes slightly, a smile still poking at your lips. "just do it, potter."

potter. the nickname can only remind him of draco. but somehow, it feels different coming from your mouth, in your voice. it's not harsh, it's not condescending, if anything it's full of love and care. it's admirable.

harry picks up his own glass and clinks it against yours, still chuckling to himself. "to newfound friendship."

it had been a few weeks of you and harry hanging out, and he was over the moon about it. you two had wonderful chemistry together, he'd come to learn, and your sense of humor was enthralling to him. you were always able to get a smile out of him, even sometimes just from a single look. you both enjoyed reading and would spend hours at the library together, you enjoyed going to harry's last few quidditch matches of the year to cheer him on, and harry loved helping you study for your exams. the more time you spent together, the more harry had let his guard down around you. you were really starting to grow on him. he found himself thinking about you all the time, and not in a negative way like he used to for so many years.

now, when he thought of or saw you, his heart ached with how much he truly cared about you. he thought about the night you two ended up sneaking out together simply just to talk under the moonlight, where you told him everything about your complicated relationship with your family. he told you all about his fight against voldemort, the months he spent looking for horcruxes, and what it was like being the chosen one at such a young age. he remembers how intently you watched and listened to him. he had never met someone so intrigued by his life and feelings. you were extremely empathetic to what he had gone through, and it was refreshing to harry. he remembers looking at you under the moon, and thinking you were truly the most beautiful thing in the world, inside and out.

when he thought of or saw you, he remembered the time you spent together just before christmas, exchanging presents in the solitary of his bedroom. simple, small gifts wrapped perfectly and neatly with sentimental value for both of you. he thought about the hug you gave him as you left his room, his gift still in hand, holding him for a few moments longer than you normally did. the way you'd said, "happy christmas, harry," with the softest, sweetest voice in the world.

when harry thought of or saw you, all he could think about was the care and admiration he had for you that only grew with time. at first.

then, he thought about draco.

harry always thought about draco when he was with you. not that he wanted to, he wished he could focus all his attention on you in the moment, but you were still his sister. harry was reminded each time you gave him a bit of attitude or curled your lips away from him that you were, in fact, still a malfoy, and your time spent with him wouldn't be looked at favorably by anyone in your family. most especially draco.

harry never brought up the prospect of your family unprompted. he knew it was a sensitive subject, but he also knew it would never end well with you. one way or another, by the end of the school year, harry was leaving and you couldn't follow. as much as he loved being around you and valued your budding friendship, he knew it was destined to fail from the beginning. he was everything your family hated and spent their lives working against. he was the chosen one. though he's sacrificed many aspects of his life because of this title, you will undoubtedly be his most painful.

and he certainly never brought up draco, as the idea itself made him sick to his stomach. it was bad enough you were related to him, but the fact that you spent pretty much every moment with draco when you weren't with harry made his skin crawl. he knew your relationship with him was not negotiable. you loved draco so deeply it was almost foreign to harry. the way you talked about him that night under the moon and the experiences he's had to go through did make harry empathize with him more than he had previously, but he was still full of anger and hatred for the little blonde boy who tried to make harry's school years a living hell.

he was thinking this over as he examined a framed picture of your family sitting on your nightstand. harry had been to your room quite a few times this year to hang out, and he was always intrigued by this specific picture. your parents, sitting in elegant thrones with you and draco on either side. you looked so out of place. not because of your stance or expression, but you just simply looked different. if harry had never known, he would've never guessed you were born into the malfoy family.

"that's a terrible photo," you laugh at harry as you continue working on an assignment. you had asked him to come help you, but really you just wanted his presence near you. harry knew this. once he figured out that most of your invitations to "study together" just meant you wanted to be near him for an hour or so every day, he was extremely grateful to provide his help. he didn't mind being around you at all, actually.

"it's…definitely something," harry laughs off, taking his attention away from the photo and topic in general.

harry sits beside you on the bed, your back on your pillows as he sits with his feet on the ground. harry's just about to bring up something when you lean towards him, holding your book in your lap. "hey, can you explain this to me?" you ask, still looking down at your assignment on the other page. "i've read this like 10 times and i still don't get it," you point out a paragraph for harry as you scoot closer to him.

harry leans in, closer than he's ever been with you, and reads the passage to himself quietly. as he's reading, he can see you shifting nervously beside him. your hands were delicately holding the book open for him, still resting on your legs, his head just below yours.

"oh, uh, i think it's talking about…" harry starts off, trying to reread the difficult wording of the section. "bloody hell," he mumbles, frustrated, reaching for the book himself to get a better look at the paragraph. you chuckle breathily, and it hits the back of harry's neck. he immediately gets chills.

he looks up towards you, and your face is nearly touching his. he would've moved away sooner but he'd be damned if he didn't take this opportunity to truly appreciate just how deeply beautiful your eyes were right now.

not a moment later, your door opens from behind harry, and he doesn't even have to look to know who it is.

you both turn slowly to see draco standing in the doorway, his eyes flashing between you and harry sitting so closely on your bed. "dray," you gasp, standing up from beside harry.

harry's frozen. the look on draco's face is one of shock and disappointment. his lips curled down tightly, a familiar darkness growing in his eyes as he focuses on harry sitting on his sister's bed.

"so. i was right. you have been avoiding me." draco says towards you as he continues to glare at harry. harry stands with you, anger slowly growing inside of him for the situation at hand. this is the last way he wanted draco to find out you two were friends.

"dray, he was just helping–""i don't wanna hear it, [y/n]." draco interrupts you. this only pisses harry off more as his jaw clenches tightly.

a moment of silence passes briefly before draco speaks again. "i told you to stay away from him, did i somehow not make that clear?" draco's eyes divert to you, his stare even colder looking at you. you're stumbling looking for your words, but harry's anger gets the best of him in the moment.

"she can make her own decisions, malfoy."

draco's eyes snap back to harry, his fists balling up at his sides. your hand instinctively goes in front of harry as you step towards draco. "it would be wise of you to shut your bloody mouth now, potter. you were the one all over my baby sister in her bed just a moment ago." draco's words are leaking with rage, taking steps closer towards harry.

"dray, stop it," you warn him, now standing between him and harry.

"[y/n], you can't be fucking serious right now. you've loathed him for years. we both have. what are you doing? have you lost your mind? i'm genuinely asking," draco is dumbfounded at his sister's actions, scanning you up and down.

"that's not even true, draco, and you know that." you tell him in a cracking voice, tears stinging your eyes. harry wants nothing more than to save you from the heartache you're experiencing in this moment. part of him wants to hurt draco for making you cry. but, inside, harry knows you would want to handle this by yourself. anything he did to hurt draco was inadvertently hurting you as well.

"harry has been nothing but a good friend to me this semester. he's even helped me pass my exams. don't do this to me right now," you tell draco slowly, tears still threatening to fall.

draco rolls his eyes at your last statement. "oh, do what? try and keep you safe? you're being utterly ridiculous right now, [y/n], and you and i both know it."

harry can sense there's something he's missing here. you and draco keep referencing something you both understand that harry doesn't seem to.

you're clearly frustrated as the first few tears start to fall down your cheeks. "i know what i'm doing, dray. please, don't you trust me?" you ask desperately, your voice shaking.

draco softens watching you fall apart in front of him. his eyes aren't as dark, his fists come undone, and he sighs as he breaks his stare at you.

"of course i do." he states simply, his voice now more solemn than angry.

"then trust me when i say i trust harry," you say. draco winces at your statement. "i know there's complicated feelings there but i love you, dray, and i want to be honest about who i'm spending my time with," you level with draco, taking a step towards him.

he glances towards harry, a look of disdain still lingering in his eyes, but looks at you with an apologetic look. "you should've been honest from the beginning," he insists.

you sigh. "i know. i'm sorry. i felt terrible lying to you. you have to understand it was killing me, dray…" your voice breaks again as you try to compose yourself. "but you know how i've felt for a long time."

harry can't decipher the tone in your last statement, but you say it so convincingly he breaks his stare from draco to look down at you, tear-stained cheeks and, still, your eyes are so beautiful to harry. he looks back at draco, who's watching him in disgust before looking back at you lovingly.

draco's analyzing your expression as his body relaxes. he sighs again, bringing you in for a hug.

harry steps to the side awkwardly as you and draco hug for a moment. you're still sniffling by the time he pulls away, wiping your cheeks with a gentle thumb. harry watches closely. it's so strange to see draco this soft in his presence. not even harry could get in the way of draco's clear dedication to you as more than a brother, but as a protector.

for a moment, harry saw a side of draco he knew existed but never fully realized was so strong.

"i know, [y/n/n]. it's okay. i'm sorry." draco tells you softly, his hands still holding your cheeks. you smile, tearfully, putting your hands on his before holding them in front of you. draco takes them back, fixing his shirt before looking at harry with a blank expression.

harry stays quiet. there's a lot he wants to say, but he waits for draco to break the silence.

"as for you, potter…" draco says, his voice less angry than before but still contained. harry looks at him expectedly. he's easily taller than draco now, and practices for quidditch way more than draco does anymore, so harry definitely has some muscle on him. if he were to ever try anything, harry wasn't afraid.

draco takes a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking. "while my beautiful sister is putting it lightly, my feelings towards you are more than complicated," he spits out, the anger seeping through before he breaks his stare and controls himself. "but," he says, a softness in his voice.

"she's a smart girl, and i trust that she's not making a mistake spending her time with you." draco looks at you with a hint of a smile before looking back at harry with a stoic expression. "and while i may not like it, we're adults now, and i'm no longer a threat to you," draco says simply before his face sours. "unless you so much as upset her just once, i swear to merlin potter–""draco." you interrupt his rage harshly, your eyes cold as ice as you caught his gaze.

harry smirks, but wipes it away so as to not make the situation worse. draco lets out an annoyed huff before apologizing to you curtly.

"well, best be on my way then, don't want to interrupt you two," draco says with a sneer, turning to the door. "i'll still see you for dinner tonight, right?" you ask eagerly, following and opening the door for draco. he nods. "of course," he says simply, leaning in to give you a gentle kiss on top of your head. with another dirty look at harry, draco turns and leaves silently.

you close the door with a shaky sigh, and harry's immediately coming to your side to comfort you. "[y/n], i'm so sorry that happened how it did. i never wanted to cause issues with you and draco," he explains, his hand instinctively reaching for your back to rub it comfortingly.

you're still collecting yourself, facing the door, turned away from harry as you sniffle and wipe your eyes. "it's okay," you say in a broken voice.

harry's heart aches at the sound. all he wants is to comfort you, hold you close, tell you it's okay to cry with him…

but he doesn't, because he knows he shouldn't.

"it's not okay, look how upset you are," harry says, bending down slightly to your height. "look, i wouldn't be upset if you told me you didn't want to see me anymore. your relationship with draco is important to you, and the last thing i want to do is complicate it," harry tells you softly.

you snap your head at him with a concerned look, eyes red from crying. "wh-what? no, i…don't say that," you stutter over yourself. you take a step towards harry, only a few inches apart at this point.

"harry, i want you in my life. even if draco didn't understand i would still…" you trail off, your eyes starting to water again as you blink the tears away. "i want you, harry," you say, your voice trembling with fear.

harry's mind is spinning hearing you say this. he's looking down at you, so close to him, so vulnerable, willing to lose what's closest to you just for him. you're so beautiful, so full of light, and so much more complex than he ever imagined. he's never felt so many feelings about one person so intensely all at once.

the only thing he knows, the only thing he can rely on, is that he wants you too.

harry's lost in your eyes for several seconds before he can respond. "i want you in my life, too," he says just above a whisper.

you smile, still a bit sad, but you seem fulfilled with his answer. stepping back and towards your bed, still wiping your eyes, you chuckle half-heartedly to yourself. "didn't think you'd see me cry so easily," you say, a little embarrassed as you shake your head. "i tried to fight it, but…" you continued laughing to yourself.

harry followed you, still giving you your space. he watched as you sat down on your bed with a sigh, your body still shaking from the rush. "it's okay to cry," he says, holding himself back from what he really wants to say. "i'm just sorry it happened this way,"

you give harry a half smile before looking away nervously. "he was going to figure it out soon, anyways. i've been spending more and more time 'studying with the girls' than i ever have, and he was getting suspicious," you tell him, shaking your head again.

harry chuckles to himself. he found it sweet that you made excuses to spend time with him, even if it meant sacrificing time with draco. he felt special, he couldn't lie. "so, i'm one of the girls now?" harry teases, crossing his arms with a smirk. you roll your eyes, holding in a giggle. "shut up," you whine, your cheeks going red. "it was the only thing i could come up with, okay?"

"no, no, it's funny," harry says with a shrug. you still give him a look, but reach for your textbook you left at the end of the bed. "whatever. can you just help me now?" you ask, still holding back a laugh with a suppressed smile.

harry just laughs and agrees, joining the bed next to you as he attempts to help you with the assignment. soon it was like draco was never there, and you were back to laughing, joking, sitting in comfortable silence together until you had to leave for dinner.

with a quick hug and a lingering goodbye, you separated down the hall from each other. harry thought about you the entire way to his room, and for the rest of the night by himself. it's not like harry never thought about you, of course, he certainly did more than he thought he should, but tonight was just different. he thought about what you said to draco, how you defended him so quickly, how you put yourself on the line to ask for draco's trust in that moment. it was like watching you turn your back on your family all over again.

harry had to admit he felt guilty. he's really grown to care about you since getting closer with you, and he hates to think he's constantly going to get in the way of your relationship with your family like he has already. just by being his friend you're already putting so much at risk, he'd hate to think about what would happen if things ever went further…

harry really has stop having these thoughts about you. he's just your friend, and he doesn't even know how he feels about you. sure, his feelings aren't complicated with anger or hatred anymore, but if anything they're even more confusing now. harry knew this would happen, that's why he built that wall between you and him in the first place. some part of him just knew one day you would be trouble.

but now, on the other side of that wall, harry was ready for the trouble. he was going to take it head on.

he didn't care what draco thought, or your parents, or anyone else, not even himself. all he cared about was that you made him happy, and he seemed to have the same affect on you. as long as harry focused on that, the rest was just noise.

a few months later the snow was melting, the school year was wrapping up, and you and harry were still going strong. as friends, anyway.

things became a lot more natural between you and harry after draco walked in on you two that day. you no longer felt the need to hide your time spent with harry. you were bringing him everywhere and he was doing the same with you. you got along perfectly with ron and hermione despite their hesitations at first, even becoming especially close to hermione with all of your similar interests and beliefs.

harry eventually met your friends too and got along with them just as well. soon you were together pretty much every day studying with friends, playing quidditch for fun, or going to diagon alley to window shop. harry more than enjoyed his time spent with you, and felt empty on the days he couldn't manage to see you for even a moment. you were so full of light you just made everything better, and harry couldn't get enough of it.

in fact, it was over this time that harry started to figure out that maybe what he was feeling towards you was more than just complicated guilt. maybe he didn't just really care about you, or find you really pretty, or really wanted to hold you when you were sad or scared; maybe, just maybe, he was starting to really like the malfoy sister.

this came as no surprise to him once he figured it out, really. since the literal first minute he saw you at just 12 years old he knew you were special. he was mesmerized from the moment you entered his life. even through every crush and short-lived girlfriend he's had these past few years, you were always more interesting to him.

it took a long time for harry to come around to his own feelings and emotions. he's simply never had the time to truly work out why he feels what he feels, or what causes certain sensations in his body. all he knew was that your eyes made his heart ache in a way that nobody else's did. not because he hates you, but, really, quite the opposite, actually.

even if he came to terms with his growing feelings for you, he tried to not let them get in the way of your friendship together. you were constantly thanking harry for dedicating his time to you, for spending long nights just talking with you, for helping you in every way he possibly could. he knew how much you valued your friendship with him, and so did he, so he pushed those other feelings to the side and tried to keep things friendly between you two.

however, it was getting to a point where harry could barely spend more than a few minutes thinking about anything outside of you. he brought you up constantly when you weren't around, everything reminded him of you, his entire mind was stained with you and it was starting to have an effect. ron and hermione had teased him for being so lovesick for a malfoy, which he shrugged off. he knew you were different, you weren't just a malfoy, you were entirely your own. he'd never met someone like you, you made him feel things he didn't even know were possible.

soon harry knew his feelings would grow to the point that they would begin interfering with how he acted with you. you already made him nervous just by being so pretty and comfortable around him, constantly making jokes and teasing him in a friendly way that just made harry feel so giddy inside. he knew soon his thoughts of you would start to get in the way of how he looked at you, how he talked to you, and it scared him. harry couldn't lose you now, you'd very quickly become an important part of his life that made him feel complete. his silly crush could never matter as much as his friendship with you.

there was a dinner being held for the last year students this weekend, and harry was trying to figure out a casual way to ask you to go with him so it felt friendly. he didn't want to be too casual and make you think he was asking as a last minute effort, but he also didn't want to be too formal and make you think he'd been thinking about this date for months. which, in reality, he had, and it was stressing him out.

harry finally figured he would just ask you like he'd ask you to do anything else with him, but he also wanted to wait for the right moment. however, he was running out of time, and you had been unexpectedly busy this past week so he's barely seen you. it's only a few days until then, and he still hasn't even found a formal outfit to wear, because he might not even go if you're not beside him.

luckily, harry had planned a time to meet with you tonight to 'study', which, again, usually involved you two sitting with open books as you chat about everything except class.

harry was on his way to the slytherin common room, a pep in his step as he tried to encourage himself to ask you without fear of rejection or judgment. it's just you, he knows you'll be kind either way, but he really wants you to say yes and he's not sure how he'll react to any other answer.

upon entering, you're already sitting and waiting for him on the sofa. slumped into the curve of the cushions, your nose buried in a book as your head is held up with a throw pillow. harry thinks you look so precious, all curled up with a book, it's tough for him to break you out of your daze.

but harry clears his throat, and you jump a little before smiling at him. "harryyy," you call out, closing your book as you throw your arms up for a hug.

harry comes over and leans down to give you a half hug. he doesn't realize just how much he's missed you until he catches a whiff of your perfume, and he's practically melting over you once again. everything about you intoxicates him.

"i've missed you, [y/n]," harry says before letting go. he sits across from you on the sofa, setting his bag down on the ground beside his feet. "i've missed you too, sorry things got so crazy," you laugh.

harry waves his hand at you. "don't worry about it. i'm just glad you were free tonight," he says, admiring you in the light of the fireplace. you just get more beautiful with time. something about you tonight is different, maybe it's your hair, maybe it's your comfy clothes, but harry's completely captivated by you in this moment.

you catch up with each other briefly, with harry mostly happily listening to you describe all the time you've spent with friends recently and the projects you've been working on for classes. he loves to listen to you tell stories, he just finds you so funny and endearing and could listen to you laugh all day if you'd let him.

after a while, harry builds the courage to bring up the dinner this weekend. he's just about to open his mouth when someone comes down the stairs into the common room.

draco, of course.

his icy stare lands on harry, and his face naturally twists in disgust. he looks at you, and the disgust drops to a neutral expressions. "[y/n]. potter." he says simply.

"hey, dray, where are you off to?" you ask, your eyes gesturing to his bag. draco shrugs, his eyes returning to harry with disdain. "just going out for a bit. need new shoes for dinner this saturday." he says, making his way to the door as he adjusts his over-the-shoulder bag.

"oh, shit, i forgot that's this weekend. do you have your suit?" you ask, your face dropping in concern. "i've got it. i'll see you later, okay?" draco says curtly as he opens the door. "okay," you say with a smile, waving as he leaves.

harry was suddenly hit with a realization he hadn't thought of before. of course. he felt so stupid not even considering it. what if you were already going with draco? he's your brother, and practically your best friend, of course you'd have to go with him.

harry tried not to think about draco much anymore, so it must've slipped his mind. he's seen him a few times since that day in your room when he found out you two were friends. mostly in passing, like what just happened, or in an awkward exchange as you went from hanging out with draco to spending time with harry like some strange divorced parent agreement.

other than that, draco was just your brother to harry, and though you brought him up a number of times, he was mostly a topic to avoid. so, harry forgot, and now he's even more nervous to ask you if you'd rather go to dinner with him this weekend.

"it's crazy draco's going to his last year dinner already…" you interrupt harry's thoughts, your voice trailing off. harry looks at you, and you're lost in thought. you look at him and smirk, reaching to push his shoulder. "and so are you! damn, you're old," you joke, trying to hide your laugh.

harry rolls his eyes, but you manage to get a laugh out of him. "have you asked someone yet? draco's taking that greengrass girl i believe, or at least he wanted to if he hasn't already chickened out," you say, still laughing.

harry can breathe a sigh of relief. he's not sure what he would've done if you were already going with draco. he had been trying to plan the perfect night since christmas.

"uh, actually, since you've already asked, i was hoping that you'd maybe like to join me?" harry asks, his eyes nervously shifting away from yours.

"oh," you say, clearly taken aback. harry's gaze meet yours again, and he's instantly sweating at your reaction. "unless, y'know, you don't want to, or…i'm sure someone's asked you already," harry interjects, trying to laugh it off entirely.

you're watching harry closely, your cheeks slowly turning red. "um, no, actually, no one's asked, and…i would love to go with you, i just…" you trail off again, your eyes still wide with surprise.

harry prepares himself for rejection. he knows there's a number of reasons you'd say no, and draco's at the top of the list.

"frankly, i have nothing to wear," you say, a bit embarrassed as your blush only deepens. harry breathes yet another sigh of relief. you always manage to put him through so many emotions and you don't even realize it.

"you could be wearing a paper bag and i'd just be glad you're standing next to me," harry tells you with a laugh. you drop your head, clearly flustered.

when you look up at harry, you have a shy smile pinching your cheeks. he thinks you look so adorable, knees to your chest, completely flushed, giggling like a nervous school girl. "well, then, i'd love to go with you, harry. but no paper bag. maybe after dinner." you tease him.

harry laughs with you, but part of him wonders if you're flirting with him a bit.

the rest of the night was spent joking, laughing, and enjoying the warmth of the fire together. before harry left, you thanked him for asking you, even if it was such short notice you'd have to spend all day shopping tomorrow. "don't feel pressured, i'm sure you'd look beautiful in whatever you already have," harry had told you, eager to get a blush out of you again.

when you did, harry smiled proudly and gave you a warm hug goodbye. he was practically skipping back to his room to tell ron he'd finally asked you, and that you'd actually said yes. ron was happy for harry, teasing him for taking so long, but nothing could bring harry down. even if he just meant it as being friendly, as he's sure you did as well, this was still a date in his mind.

and, shit, he still needed an outfit.

the night of the dinner, harry waited patiently outside the dining hall doors with his gift for you in hand. there was a soft mumbling coming from the dining hall as people began gathering, speaking to each other, and listening to the small band playing instrumental music. however, all harry can hear is his blood pumping through his ears as he nervously waits to see you for the first time tonight.

harry went for a simple suit, all black, nothing too showy or special as he wasn't sure what you were wearing. he actually hadn't been able to speak with you since the night he asked you to come with him, only agreeing to meet you right here just before he'd left the slytherin common room. his heart was pounding, and he felt like a young teen again, waiting for his crush to come around the corner. but he wasn't a kid anymore, and you were so much more than just a first year crush. you were everything.

harry hears someone walking up behind him, and as he turns, he's instantly drawn to you. walking arm in arm with draco, also dressed in all black, you're wearing a dark green dress that fits you perfectly, hugging your waist and hips like it was tailor fit. it's floor-length, with an off-the-shoulder neckline, and your hair is twisted up into a curly, elegant bun, with multiple curls hanging out for a casual look.

your outfit and hair are nothing, however, in comparison to just how beautiful your smile is.

harry's absolutely captivated by you. he knew you'd look beautiful, like he said, you could make a paper bag work, but he didn't think it was possible for a single person to be so striking. he was sure he looked like a complete fool, jaw slack open as he stared into your beautiful eyes from down the hall, but he truly couldn't help himself. you were everything.

"[y/n]," he manages to say once you're closer. "you look incredible," he says, his eyes never leaving yours. you smile, turning towards draco with a growing blush.

harry looks at draco, who's already staring at him with a tight jaw and narrowed eyes.

"draco," harry greets him, trying to be courteous. "potter," draco spits out, seeing through him.

you slightly roll your eyes, motioning for draco to go into the dining hall without you. "i'm sure daphne's waiting for you," you tease him with a smirk, pushing him along. draco gives harry a dirty look the entire time he passes him, and even until he's left the hall.

harry can't bring himself to care. all he can think about right now is you.

he's so mesmerized by you he forgets he has something in his hands, nearly dropping the slim box before gripping it tightly again, clearing his throat to break his focus.

"what's that?" you ask, looking at the simple black box in harry's grasp. harry can hear the smirk in your voice, knowing it's for you.

"i-i don't know, guess you'll have to open it to see," he says, handing it over to you. you scoff at him, still smirking as you accept the gift.

upon opening it, you gasp. a beautiful necklace with green gemstones that match your dress perfectly. "harry…" you gasped, staring at the jewelry in your hands. "it's beautiful…and, my dress, how did you know?" you ask in disbelief. harry just chuckles. "you have green everything, my little slytherin," he reminds you.

you blush again, handing harry the necklace. "put it on me?" you ask, turning around and holding up the curls that might be in his way.

harry nervously unclasped the necklace and put it on you, taking extra care to let his hands graze across the skin of your neck more times than what was necessary.

as you turn around, harry's heart races. it's perfect. it matches your dress, it looks amazing on your skin, and it pulls your entire look together. it draws the perfect amount of attention to your beautiful shoulders and collarbones. harry was extra proud of himself for this one.

looking down at it, you touch the necklace carefully, admiring it. "i spent forever looking for a necklace for tonight, and i couldn't find one i liked, but…it's perfect, harry, thank you," you say, throwing your hands around harry's neck as you embrace him tightly. harry smiles, his heart still racing as he pulls you in close. "thank you for coming with me tonight. i didn't want to come at all if it wasn't with you." he tells you, placing a soft kiss on your head just in front of your curly bun. you give him a shy smile before pulling him to the dining room.

it was an incredible night together. ron and hermione had quickly found you both, and hermione was gushing over how good you looked the entire time. ron was watching her with so much love in his eyes it made harry a little sick, but he was happy for his friends. he gave ron a knowing look, which ron just shook his head at and escorted himself and hermione away to get drinks.

as you and harry made your rounds around the room, meeting up with friends and stopping to say hello to professors, harry noticed just how many people were watching you and whispering amongst themselves. you two had spent plenty of time together this year, so it wasn't necessarily a shock to see the boy who lived hanging out with the malfoy sister anymore, but people were seemingly still stunned by the fact that you came with him tonight, and that you looked as good as you did.

after a while of mingling, harry caught draco's stare from across the room. his arm was entwined with his date's, but his full attention was on you and harry. he rolled his eyes at harry and walked away, pulling his date with him. harry shrugged him off and his attention turned back to you.

beautiful, perfect, effortless you.

your arm was wrapped around his in the same way, as it had been all night. harry expected himself to be incredibly nervous and awkward tonight seeing you so dolled up to be his date, as a friend, of course. but he was surprised at how natural everything felt with you. it always had, nothing ever felt forced between you two, conversation and smiles seemed to just flow naturally without either of you trying. it just made sense to harry, being with you, holding you close to him, being together in front of everyone. it was all he'd wanted for so long.

sitting down to eat dinner, you quickly made conversation with hermione and ron as harry took the seat to your left, admiring you as you laughed with hermione over something he hadn't heard. you just looked so beautiful tonight under these candlelights, in the necklace harry picked out for you, the jewels falling just above the curve of your breasts spilling from your dark dress.

as you leaned forward to whisper something to hermione, harry got the perfect view of your chest from his seat, his eyes lingering for a moment too long before ron noticed and started snickering at him.

harry gave ron a look, kicking his foot under the table.

once dinner is served, the hall quiets as everyone enjoys their plates and drinks. some small talk is shared between bites, multiple glasses are drunk amongst you, ron, harry, and hermione, and the laughter continues throughout dinner.

before dessert comes, you and hermione take a short trip to the bathroom, leaving harry with ron. they laugh once they're alone, out of habit.

"i know i give you a hard time, but really, harry, i think [y/n]'s good for you. i haven't seen you this smitten in a long time, not since you dated my sister," ron teases, taking a sip of his drink as he chuckles to himself.

harry gives him a look, but can't help the smile growing on his face. "thanks, ron. but we're just here as friends. not like you and hermione," harry tries to turn the teasing back to ron, cocking his eyebrow with a knowing smile.

ron rolls his eyes. "please, at least i can say she's my girlfriend. you don't wanna be friends with [y/n] and you know it," ron responds, not giving in.

harry stays quiet.

as you and hermione return, giggling from across the table, you put a hand on harry's neck down to his shoulder to steady yourself as you sat in your dress.

harry got the shivers, but gave you a friendly smile as you met his eyes. you took back your hand, smiling at him in return.

while eating dessert, harry can feel draco staring at him again from somewhere in the room, but he can't bring himself to care enough to find his gaze. if draco wants to watch harry enjoy his date with draco's beautiful sister, he can spend all night watching for all that harry cares.

harry's thoughts are interrupted as he hears you let out a soft moan beside him. your spoon is left in your mouth as you pull it out slowly, your eyes closed delicately. harry watches discreetly, not wanting to draw ron and hermione's attention from their own conversation, but he's enamored with the way you let the spoon leave your lips, enjoying the dessert in front of you.

"so yummy," you say happily, your eyes rolling over to harry. he turns to look at you fully with a chuckle. "yes, very yummy," he teases you.

you narrow your eyes at him. "you're yummy," you tell him, laughing. harry's stunned before you continue. "i didn't even get to tell you, but you do look really good tonight, harry. you clean up well." you say softly, your words just for him.

harry's still a bit stunned, but tried to not let his nerves get in the way. "well, thank you, [y/n]. and, i never got to tell you as much as i should have tonight, but, you just…amaze me with how stunning you are," harry sighs, not caring how lovesick he looks as he continues to admire you, a true work of art sitting right beside him.

you chuckle, taking your bottom lip in your mouth. harry memorizes every detail of you, never wanting to forget how lucky he is to have you beside him tonight.

"thank you, harry. it was a bit difficult for me, all this, just reminds me of home…" you say, gesturing to the grand dinner party going on around you. harry gives you a sympathetic look and a reassuring hand on your knee. you look at him, your eyes sending more shivers down harry's spine.

"we can leave whenever you're ready," harry tells you with a soft smile and lingering gaze. "you just say the word and we'll go 'study' in pajamas," he's only half joking.

you laugh at him again, but harry believes it's full of love. "there's nowhere i'd rather be," you assure him, putting your own hand on his knee.

harry blushes like crazy at the contact, but just laughs you off again.

after dessert the band starts playing more upbeat music, and the floor is cleared towards the front of the room for people to dance. you pull harry to the floor, along with a number of other couples, and start dancing with him. harry's not a very skilled dancer, so he just follows your lead and has fun moving around with you randomly, letting himself be free as the music and other people dancing relaxes his nerves.

after a while of dancing separately, you grab harry's hand and begin dancing closer to him, still laughing and smiling as you twirl yourself around, making him laugh as well. harry starts playfully moving with you, bringing you closer to him and further away, again and again until you're a giggling mess in his arms, practically falling all over him.

just as harry's enjoying the feeling of you in his arms, draco comes out of nowhere just beside him. "[y/n]," he snaps, trying to contain himself.

you look at draco, your smile fading at his irritated expression. "i'm leaving, just thought you should know." his words bitter, examining you entwined in harry's arms.

"draco," you start to say, but he's already making his way around you to the back door. you try to go after him instinctually, but harry pulls you back. "stay here, i'll talk to him," he says, surprising both you and himself as you turn to look at him. hermione comes up beside harry, watching the interaction from afar.

"harry…" you warn him. but harry gives you a reassuring squeeze of the hand, already heading for the door himself. "trust me?" he says, letting you go and turning away as hermione grabs your hand instead and begins asking what happened.

as harry enters the hallway, he sees draco's turned back heading away from the dining hall.

"draco," harry calls out, causing draco to stop in his tracks.

he turns to harry, an odd look on his face before he scoffs. "did she really send you to try and talk to me, or are you just dumber than i originally thought?" draco responds, shoving his hand in his pocket.

"no, i came to talk to you. i'm tired of this, draco. can't you just let [y/n] and i be friends?" harry asks, trying to contain his own anger.

draco only rolls his eyes harder, making his way towards harry with an angry step. "oh, please, potter, you're not fooling anyone. and, frankly, neither is she anymore." draco retorts, stopping a few feet away from harry with a nod to the dining hall doors.

harry's confused at his statement, and draco can tell just from the look on his face, which only makes him angrier. "you're clearly shagging my sister. and to top it all off, you made her your little date for the night in front of everyone here. and, honestly, you should be kissing the ground i walk on for letting you even so much as look at her, you fucking pig." draco's words are dripping venom, clearly having the words ready to spew in harry's face.

harry is dumbfounded, and actually outwardly laughs at draco's statement. draco takes another step towards harry, visibly turning red with anger. "don't make me fucking kill you, i'd hate to hurt my sister's feelings like that."

harry just continues to chuckle, his arms crossing. "well, as flattered as i am that you think she'd shag me, we're just friends. really." harry informs him, a smirk on his face.

draco looks at him confused, his expression falling for only a moment before returning. "well then, you still clearly like her. and you're not very good at hiding it, either." he says, his voice faltering as he steps back.

harry can't disagree with him there. as much as he hates draco, he's not going to lie to him and say he doesn't have feelings for his sister when he knows he does. it's just not right.

"and so what if i do, huh? it's our last month of classes, malfoy. after this you'll never hear her talk about me again. is that what you want? because that's what's going to happen." harry says, his anger seeping through again as he admits what he believes to be true.

draco is in even more disbelief than before. he just looks at harry like he's joking. "are you being serious or are you trying to fuck with me?" he asks, examining harry from head to toe.

harry's even more confused. "what?"

draco turns away, chuckling to himself in both disbelief and anger. "i was right, you are dumber than i thought," he starts out, giving harry a look before turning away again. harry's hands ball into fists before he releases them, letting out an angry huff.

"[y/n]'s clearly all over you, spending all her time with you, you're all she ever bloody talks about anymore, fucking hell i thought you were shagging her, for god's sake," draco rants, his back still turned to harry. "she's been obsessed with you since we were kids. all she ever asked me, 'what's harry like, draco? is harry potter really that brave, draco?' blah blah blah," draco mocks you in a high pitched voice.

"and just when i thought she had found some sense in her and loathed you along with me for a few years, you trapped her again with your fucking namesake and…god knows what else she sees in you," draco sneers back at harry, turning to him once again.

"so yeah, excuse me while i watch my baby sister, my only solace in this lifetime, practically throw herself all over you at this pathetic party," draco gestures back to the room, his eyes cold as ice as he continues staring through harry.

harry's stunned by draco's outburst, but is more stunned that he thinks you may like harry back.

they stand there for a moment, examining each other, draco breathing heavily and unevenly as he tries to regain his composure.

harry's not sure exactly what he should say to him in this moment, so he just speaks the truth, the only thing he knows. "i care about [y/n], draco,"

draco rolls his eyes for another time. "no, really, draco. i do, and i have this whole time. i don't know if she feels the same, but, quite honestly, i don't care. all i know is that she makes me happy, and i hope i can do the same for her. that's all." harry tells draco, his eyes searching for a response.

draco just watches harry for a moment, his expression unreadable as he finds the words to respond.

he sighs, his body language completely shifting as he turns away from harry, his hand covering his face in distress. "you're an idiot if you think she doesn't. she turned her back on us, on me, because she was fighting for you. she was never like my parents." draco says softly, his anger fading.

"she was fighting for what was right." harry reminds him, making draco laugh sarcastically as he moves on.

"you know, she's the only thing i care about. the only person i not only tolerate, but actually love." draco says even softer before turning to scowl at harry again. "when she chose you that day, i wasn't surprised. i wasn't even mad. [y/n]'s always been that way. it's part of the reason why i keep her so close to me." draco's words are the nicest they've been directed at harry all night.

"now i know you wouldn't understand family love, potter," draco smirks, causing harry to bite his tongue. "but that girl is everything to me. when she trusts you, when she believes in you, when she turned her back to me in hopes i could see what she sees in you…" draco trails off a bit before turning away again.

"i know she's right."

harry's more than shocked at draco's words. he can barely process his sentiment before draco continues talking, making his way down the hall.

"so, again, i may not like it, but i'll try to be civil. if you, just, please, potter," draco turns one last time, a slight smirk on his face. "for my sake. just ask the damn girl on a date so she'll shut the hell up about it."

with that, draco's gone and around the corner, out of harry's sight.

harry's left alone with his thoughts, the muffled music from the dining hall filling the air around him.

he can hardly comprehend what draco's just told him, both about you and about his belief in harry. but mostly when it comes to you.

you. alone in the dining hall.

just as harry turns, you're opening the door, your sweet face twisted with worry as you search the halls behind him. "where's draco?" you ask urgently, making your way out of the doorway as it closes behind you.

harry's hands go to your shoulders, and you look at him. he smiles down at you, his mind spinning as he examines your beautiful face still pointed with concern.

"he's fine. we talked."

you give harry another shocked look like earlier, your mouth slightly open. "you and draco?" you ask in disbelief.

harry just chuckles at you, looking you up and down again to fully appreciate just how good you looked in front of him. "have i told you how beautiful you look tonight?" harry asks, his eyes still wandering. knowing you seem to like him as well, harry takes this opportunity to test the waters with you.

you instantly blush, but you give harry a knowing look. "yes, harry. now, what did you talk about?" you ask suspiciously.

harry, again, just chuckles, pulling you to his side as he turns to the hall. "let's get out of here, hm?" he asks, already leading you away.

"oh, but, hermione and ron?" you ask suddenly, gesturing back to the party. harry shakes his head. "they won't mind."

you're a bit confused as harry continues to lead you towards the gryffindor common room, but he distracts you with plenty of compliments and questions asking if you enjoyed yourself tonight.

harry then leads you to his room where his nerves finally hit him. he had been confident until now, but it was make or break time. if draco was right and you did actually like harry, he was finally ready to make his move.

what that move was exactly, he's not sure.

but again, things with you are so natural, and once you close the door, it only feels right for harry to come up to you against the doorway. he smiles down at you, a nervous, blushing, beautiful angel just within his grasp.

without thinking, harry's mouth does the talking for him.

"[y/n]," he starts, his heart racing as you look up at him innocently. "can i kiss you?"

you're clearly shocked by his question, but don't miss the chance to eagerly nod your head, already leaning towards harry. he smiles, gently pushing you against the door as his lips finally lock with yours.

the kiss is urgent, needy, but full of longing and love. your hands find their way to harry's neck instantly, and his continue to linger against your shoulders. your body arches into his, clearly already wanting more just from a short kiss.

harry isn't stopping anytime soon though, as he's thought of this moment longer than he's planned to ask you to dinner tonight.

he savors everything about your kiss. your enchanting smell, the softness of your lips, the moans rumbling from the back of your throat; all of it is driving him crazy, but he's insistent on enjoying the moment for what it simply was. a kiss he's wanted so long from a beautiful girl he thought he could never have.

however, you're not as keen on savoring anything as you only become more desperate under harry's lips. your tongue is quickly involved, though harry's not complaining as you explore his mouth with hunger.

he's a bit flustered at your boldness, but isn't afraid of it. if anything harry only enjoys seeing you quickly submit to your desire for him. he wasn't sure how this would go, but clearly you've wanted this as badly as he has, if not even worse.

his hands finally begin to wander as he traces your collarbones lightly, his fingers running over the jewels of the necklace he bought you. "look so pretty in my gift," harry tells you between kissing you. you moan in response, your hips finding harry's as you only bring him closer to you.

before long you're dragging harry to his bed, his hands falling from your shoulders to your waist and down to your hips.

you sit on his bed, and your hand instantly lands on harry's belt, lingering fingers on the cold metal. harry just looks at you in shock. he didn't expect you to initiate anything like this so quickly.

"u-uh…" is all he can say with you looking up at him like that, your eyes already drooping so seductively as you messed with his buckle innocently.

"please?" you taunt him, your finger making its way down his semi erected cock under his slacks.

harry sighs. he wants to, he really wants to, but he wonders if it's too much all at once for you. he doesn't want you to think this is all he was looking for.

"[y/n]...i, i really like you…you don't have to–""i like you too, harry," you interrupt him, a sweet smile on your bitten lips. "i want this. so bad. please. you don't have to, but…" you practically beg, your fingers still toying with the latch of the belt as you bring your pouted lips closer to it.

harry sighs again, his hand stroking your hair as he admires you from above. so pretty, so innocent. it's like you wanted him to ruin all of that.

"i want to, but, you don't have to," harry reminds you, his cheeks starting to turn red. you giggle, and it only makes harry even more turned on. "i want to, but, you don't have to," you mock him, slowly unbuckling his belt and slacks.

harry chuckles nervously, watching you intently. he really does want to, and as long as you want to as well, who's he to deny you of what you both want?

soon your mouth is wrapped around the tip of his cock through his briefs, your warm tongue laid flat across the head as you continue watching harry's expression through your eyelashes.

his head is rolling back in pleasure already, his erection only getting more uncomfortable as it hardens in response to you.

you help him take his underwear off, and your lips reattach to the head of his cock, your tongue licking his precum. he's watching you with a lax jaw, his eyebrows furrowed as you continue running your tongue in circles around the sensitive tip.

he's already in pure bliss, his hand finding your hair again as he continues to admire you. even when you're in such a filthy position below him, you still look so soft and beautiful.

from this angle he has the perfect view of your breasts, and you notice his eyes flickering from your own down to your chest. pulling your lips off of harry, you pull down the neckline of your dress and let your tits pop out of the restricting fabric.

harry can hardly believe the sight he's witnessing in front of him.

before he can try to process just how incredibly sexy you look with your elegant dress pulled down below your tits, your mouth returned to his throbbing cock, along with your hands. you start to bring more of him into your mouth, using your hands to stroke him slowly. harry was practically thrusting into your hands and mouth at that point, desperate for relief.

you can see how worked up harry's getting, so you stop, much to his disappointment. you have harry lay on his bed as you make a show taking your dress the rest of the way off along with your shoes and stockings. once you're left only in your panties, you get back on top of harry to kiss him again.

"so fucking beautiful, darling," harry growls into your lips, his hands grabbing for your tits. you giggle, your hands going to harry's button up as you start to take it off of him.

once it comes off, you pull harry back into the kiss. his hand travel down to your hips as you start grinding against his throbbing cock. "baby, please," he pleads, the teasing becoming too much.

you giggle again, sliding your panties off carefully with harry's help. he also helps you line yourself up with him as you slowly lower yourself onto harry's cock.

your eyes roll in pleasure, a slight whimper of discomfort escaping your lips as harry's hand goes to your face, comforting you. "slow, my love," he reminds you, guiding your hips with his other hand.

once you're starting to moan in pleasure, your speed increases, your eyes locking with harry's as you already feel pressure begin to build inside you.

just looking at him makes you whimper pathetically. "god, harry, i've wanted this for so long," you tell him, leaning down for another kiss as you readjust your position on top of him.

harry's hands trace the curves of your body as you continue riding him, his thoughts incoherent as the pleasure rises by the second. your heavy breathing into his ear and beautiful body against his in the lowlight of his room is everything he's ever wanted.

"wanted you so bad, [y/n]," harry moans as you sit back up, your tits bouncing as you grind down into harry's cock.

he admires your body, your perfect curves, your insane hips, and he's even more turned on. you're already truly perfect in every way, but you have the most phenomenal body harry's ever witnessed to top it all off.

"you're perfect," he tells you, his hands gripping for your hips and ass. you giggle, your hand covering your flustered smile as you continue whimpering and whining, riding him into your own oblivion.

"h-harry…" your voice is so broken it only makes harry hungrier, his hips thrusting upwards slightly into you to relieve the tension. "fuck," he cries, his eyes going dark just watching you fall apart for him.

"harry…please…" you lean back down, your lips grazing his ear as you made your request. "cum inside me?"

harry's in disbelief, he pulls you back to see if you're joking, but you're only looking at him hopefully through hooded eyes, still riding his cock in perfect rhythm.

"are you crazy, [y/n]?" he asks with a laugh, his eyes searching yours for any sign of sarcasm, his stomach still tightening in overwhelming pleasure.

"yes. for you." you tell him seriously, your pace quickening on top of him, your tits bouncing against harry's chest. he winces from the rush of pleasure.

"f-fuck, [y/n]," he utters, barely able to hold himself bsck.

you moan, your hands grabbing harry's as you pin them down beside him. "mm, keep moaning my name like that, harry, you're gonna make me cum already…" you tell him, your face resting against his.

harry moans your name repeatedly, only getting more and more desperate as you pleasure yourself using his cock. he was almost completely lost in the moment before you squealed, your hands squeezing harry's as you tightened around his cock, your hips stuttering as you ride out your high, breathing heavily.

harry's overwhelmed with the feeling and sight of you orgasming on him, your face twisting as you moan his name in return, filthy sounds escaping your innocent lips. he's getting closer before he remembers what you asked him.

"i'm, [y/n], i'm gonna cum," harry says as you're still moving your hips to satisfy your climax. you moan again, letting your head fall into harry's neck as you continue holding down his hands. your pace quickens again, and harry is a mess under you.

"cum inside me harry, please, give it to me, i'm yours, i want to be all yours, please, please, harry, breed me and make my pussy yours," you have no shame in begging harry, his hips bucking as you only grind against him quicker.

"fuck, fuck, fuck," harry's cursing, slightly in panic. he wants to cum so badly, and the idea of you wanting him to breed you just from the first time you're together makes him even more turned on. part of him is scared, but it only ends up fueling the desire and taboo more as harry finally unloads inside of you, his voice breaking as he continues cursing between heavy breaths.

you're enjoying the moment thoroughly, your pussy quivering as it's filled with harry's warm cum. you go to give him another kiss, and he can barely reciprocate.

you giggle at harry a bit, wincing as you gently pull his cock outside of you. harry groans, but his eyes remained closed, still catching his breath. you offer to help him clean up, and it takes a moment, but he agrees, following you to his bathroom and admiring your naked body in the soft light of the room.

afterwards, harry insists you stay with him for the night as he hands you one of his favorite shirts to sleep in. you accept, laughing at his lovesick attitude already, and climb into bed beside him for the night.

harry can hardly believe he has you in his arms, finally, after being so captivated by you for practically his whole life. he's thankful to have you next to him, smiling as you trace his skin, telling him how much you've liked him this whole time, how you don't care if your parents don't approve, and how much you need him in your life. harry feels at peace with you, his little slytherin, in his bed, the moon the only source of light across your tired face. he truly finds you so beautiful, inside and out.

652 notes · View notes

dreamauri · 4 months

Note

this completely goes with the last ask but the reader having a tattoo along her spine and Max puts whip cream along with and then licks it off

┇𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗗 𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠 ? ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦˚₊ ┇ . 🌿 :: pairing — ( max vertsappen x fem! reader ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠genre — ( smut ) ┇ . 🌿 :: ⁠word count — ( 886 ) ╰ 🫧 :: ⁠ content warning — ( X )

( main master list | more of max verstappen ) ( requests )

The book you were reading was mildly interesting. With the sun barefuky peaking past the blinds of your room and Max's warm body pressed up against your back. You weren't complaining. His nose was nuzzled in your neck, and his arms were wrapped around your tummy. It was calming, listening to his breathing patterns and heartbeat.

It didn't take long till you felt Max pull away to lie on his back. What he usually says next indicates if he's asleep or awake. You have heard him maxolaining about how bad the Las Vegas GP while in his sleep, it's more common that he teaches you how to gear shift and drift though.

It's usually always about racing, and you found it intruiging and cute. He was driving his RB19 and drifting his golf cart in his dreams. Although this time you werent sure what to make of it. "Do we have whipped cream?" He must've been dreaming right? "Yeah, love. In the right door in the fridge." You nodded, pretty convinced that he was out.

And you were wrong. Putting your book down, you felt the bed dip before bouncing. Looking back you found the blond putting his boxers on. You turned on your back, reaching a hand out for him, which he took. Max kneeled on the bed, kissing your knuckles gently before your lips. "Keep reading, Shatje." [love]

You watched him walk put of the room confused, nonetheless going back to the book. You heard the fridge open and close and within seconds max was back in the room, climbing on the mattress and shaking the whipped cream can. You raised an eyebrow at him. Max never really showed and rebellion towards his dietary restrictions, what could he possibly be doing.

You were definitely not expecting him to flip you on your stomach. You were surprised, to say the least. "Max?--" You heard the loud shrrrrp before you felt the sweat on your back. More accurately, down your spine tattoo. You were about to ask what he was going to do when you felt his hot mouth on your skin.

A loud moan dripping from your mouth at the sensation of your lover practically sucking whipped cream of your spine and leaving heavy pickiest with it. You tried to get up, squirming a little. You tried to push the rest of the blanket away since it was only covering you waist under. "Max--" You called for him again, feeling yourself squirm.

"No fair." It came out as more of a whine as he continued to spray the topping on you before sucking it off. "Max, please." You whined again. "Please." You reached a hand back trying to hold him or something only to find your wrist held tight.

You weren't sure if you were still happy about getting the tattoo. It's been a few weeks since you walked out of the tat shop and Max has been stuck to your back since. You haven't even seen his face during sex because you're either always in reverse cowgirl or prone. You have to admit, you are practically jealous of your back at this point.

You tried to wriggle, turning in your spot. Max looked down at you with a pout, adjusting his weight over you so he could kiss you gently. You savoured it, kissing him back with your hands on his neck and shoulder. He tasted like whipped cream, you weren't really expecting another flavour on his tongue. But you enjoyed it. You didn't want to pull away.

"Schat." Max mumbled trying to pull away and turn you back over. "Noo." You whined, doing you best to stay up right. "I want kisses to. Not fair my back gets all the attention." Max chuckled at your behaviour, a small smile as he looked down at your pout. "You want me up right?" He asked, watching you lean up. "Mhm." You nodded, kissing all over his neck and his shoulders.

He held you from your jaw, pulling you in a rough kiss. Squeezed you eyes shut, your arched your body up to meet Max's only for hi to push you down. "Be a good girl." He said between kisses, pining your wrists by your head. You haven't even noticed that he'd pulled his boxers down until you felt his tip rest on your clit.

"We're gonna be quiet because the neighbours have guests over." Max reminded you, adjusting himself on top of you. You let him spread your legs and settle properly. You were already pretty warmed up from the events last night so it was an easy slip in. Max had covered your mouth with his hand as to muffle the loud moan.

He let go of your wrists, which immediately wrapped around his chest. The blond leaned down on his forearms till your bodies were pretty much pressed up into each other. The moans echoed in your mouth as the thrusts began, your eyes closing out of instinct. "look at you." Max whispered, picking up his speed with each thrust.

He a left a long kiss on the underside of your jaw, feeling the vibrations of your moans on his lips. Reaching for the whipped cream, he shook the can before spraying some in his mouth before leaning in for another rough kiss.

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

Note

you ask and you shall recieve, older!eddie not only helping you relax your mind after a rough day but also, being the only one who's ever been able to put you in subspace, because the man KNOWS how to treat a woman<3 im in like desperate need for this kind of fic because i need someone to put me in subspace

The joy I got from this request. You have no idea. Older!Eddie is literally my ultimate weakness. But I tried to be as accurate as possible with subspace, even though it's different for everyone.

You can meet how Eddie and reader met here!

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), choking, spanking, subspace, soft dom!eddie, sub!reader, older!eddie, age gap (Eddie is 42, reader is 24)

Words: 3.1k

It may be true that your apartment is closer to work than Eddie’s trailer, but your car always seems to have a mind of its own when you’ve had a bad day. You’re pretty sure that your car takes over and brings you to your boyfriend’s place without you even being conscious of it. Today was no different. You’d forgotten your lunch at home, been late because of traffic, and worst of all, been passed over for the promotion you know you deserved.

It all led you to sitting in your car outside of Eddie’s home, his truck not in its usual place in front of the trailer. He should be home any minute, but every second that ticks by grates on your nerves like a broken bow on a fiddle.

The moment you see—or rather, hear—his truck come into the trailer park, you yank your key out of the ignition and get out of the car. The squeaky bucket of bolts careens into its usual spot, then falls silent. The blaring metal music stops, and the engine dwindles down until it’s quiet. The driver’s door opens before you hear it slamming closed.

“Hey, baby,” Eddie says as he walks around the front of the truck. He takes a drag of the cigarette he’s been smoking, then tosses it into his empty garbage can out front. “Been here long?”

“Not really,” you say, instantly attaching yourself to his side once you’re close enough. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Eddie says, ducking down to press a kiss to your head. “How was work?”

When your only response is a sigh, Eddie frowns, the subtle wrinkles by his eyes becoming even more prevalent. He tugs you over to the front door and ushers you in once he’s unlocked it. You watch as he takes his hair tie out, shaking his mane free. The wild brown curls cascade down to his shoulders. Unable to help it, you reach up and play with the hair framing his face. It’s something that’s always calmed both of you; you playing with his hair. It can relax Eddie to sleep and have you forgetting all your troubles of the day. Wrapping a single curl around your index finger, you notice the start of some gray at his temples. It makes sense since the lack of color has been popping up more and more in his beard and stubble lately. You don’t think he believes you when you tell him how sexy it is.

Eddie leans down, cupping your face in his hands, and presses a soft kiss to your mouth.

“Rough day, baby?”

You nod and he instantly wraps you up in his arms. He hasn’t even changed out of his greasy coveralls yet, but you couldn’t care less as you bury your head in his chest. His large hand strokes up and down your back as he presses sweet kisses to the top of your head. When he goes to pull away, your fingers tighten over the zipper of the coveralls, silently begging him not to let go.

“Don’t want me to make something for dinner?” he asks. You shake your head against his body. “Want me to order takeout?” You shrug. Eddie sighs and squeezes you against his body. “How about this…” Eddie pulls back just enough so he can tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Why don’t I call up to get some Chinese food delivered—I know, I know, Golden Palace is your favorite—and I’ll get changed and hold you in my lap until the food gets here.”

“I’d like that,” you tell him. Satisfied that he came up with an agreeable arrangement, Eddie smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead.

He makes his way into the kitchen, balancing the phone receiver on his shoulder as he searches the fridge for the magnet with Golden Palace’s phone number on it. “Want your usual, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please.” Kicking off your shoes, you nudge them over to join the tiny pile of Eddie’s near the front door. As he talks on the phone, you make your way down the hall to his bedroom. The starchy blouse and pinching skirt you’ve been wearing all day have worn out their welcome. Slipping them both off, you drop them on the chair in the corner of Eddie’s room. Spotting your favorite pair of Eddie’s sweats hanging out of a drawer, you move to go get them before freezing in place. No, you decide, you don’t want to wear them. You’re content in just your bra and panties.

Eddie’s bed is one of your favorite places in the world. And here and now? It’s just about irresistible. Climbing on, you lay back against his pillow and take in the messy room around you. Clothes are strewn about everywhere, despite his hamper in the corner being empty. There are a few photo frames on the walls now, which makes you smile. Before you, there’d only been posters of bands and movies. Some are still there, but now there are also photo collage frames on the walls featuring the people he loves. His uncle is in a few of them, as well as his buddies from his old Hellfire days. There’s even some of you that you begged him not to hang up, but he said you looked so good in them that he wanted to look over at them whenever he wanted. But your favorites are the ones of you two together. One of them is from when you’d gone to Chicago together and got caught in a snowstorm. Another is of you standing on the corner of a dock at Lover’s Lake, where you forced Eddie to hold onto your hips and recreate the Titanic pose. He’d rolled his eyes, but who’s laughing now that he put the picture up on his wall?

Eddie steps into the bedroom and stops when he sees you only in your underwear. “Babe, you can borrow clothes. You know that.”

“Didn’t wanna,” you say, making grabby hands for him. A soft smile comes to his face as he sheds himself of his coveralls and climbs on the bed next to you.

“What do you want?” Eddie asks. He’s pretty sure he already knows, but you both know you’ve got to ask for it. His suspicions are even further confirmed when you just look at him from beneath your eyelashes, fluttering them at him. “Tell me, princess.”

“Want you to make me feel better,” you say in a hushed voice. Not looking him in the eyes, you trail your fingers over Eddie’s thin gray t-shirt. “Want you to take care of me. Like only you can.”

Before Eddie, you barely had any sexual experience. But with the limited amount you did have, guys could never make you feel good. They were lacking in multiple ways, actually. Not only could none of them bring you to orgasm, but they couldn’t even distract you sufficiently when all you needed was to get out of your head for a little while. Eddie had gotten you into subspace the very first time he’d tried. Never before had you trusted someone so much, felt completely safe, which only added to the hazy feeling that came over you. You’re pretty sure Eddie was made specifically for you. Funnily enough, he thought the very same thing.

Eddie nods, laying one of his large hands on your stomach. His calloused fingers rub against your bared skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“I can do that,” Eddie assures you. “Let’s get you more comfortable, okay babydoll?” At your nod, Eddie slips your panties from your legs and you reach behind you to unclasp your bra. Once the garments are tossed somewhere on the floor, Eddie crawls on top of you, nuzzling his nose against yours. His nose trails down to your throat, but that’s not the part of him you want there. Eddie notices the barely there whine that escapes you as he places a hard kiss against the soft skin of your neck.

“My princess wants my hands, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, sir.”

Eddie shrugs himself out of his t-shirt and unzips his jeans. He might as well take it all off now because he doesn’t want to have to stop for a single moment once he’s got you going. Finally shed of all articles of clothing, Eddie lays one large, tattooed hand on your hip. Ever so slowly, he moves the hand up your body. Over the softness of your tummy, over the small tattoo you’d gotten on your ribs, just below your breast, that you decided to get after admiring Eddie’s ink for so long. Finally, his hand trails over the swell of your breast, only pausing briefly to flick a thumb over your nipple, before slipping over your collar bone and halting on the one place you wanted it. The pressure Eddie applies to his hand on your throat isn’t enough to impact your breathing, but enough to feel the possessiveness in the gesture. Waiting until your eyes slip closed, Eddie tightens his hand just slightly, causing a hitch in your breathing. This is your sweet spot, he knows. Right where you start to feel your worries melt away.

“You want me to fill you up?”

“Y-Yes, sir. Want you t-to fill me up, please,” you say.

“Gonna fuck my baby girl so hard,” Eddie says as he nudges your legs apart. “Won’t be able to have a thought in her pretty little head that’s not about me and how good my cock is making her feel.”

Resting back on his knees—but not too far back, keeping the pressure on your throat—Eddie spits into his free hand before working his saliva up and down his cock. Seeing you already relaxing, legs spread, eyes closed, and his hand on your throat? Eddie didn’t need to pump himself very many times before he was clamoring to be inside of you. Running his fingers through your folds, grinning in satisfaction at how wet you already are, he mixes your slick with the saliva on his cock. He lines himself up with your entrance, eyes focused on your face as he pushes in. Your brows pull together, just a little, and a low breathy moan escapes your lips. Eddie leans over you, bracing himself on the forearm of the arm that’s not holding you around the throat.

“How’s that, baby?”

“More.”

“More, what?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows.

“More, please, sir.”

“That’s my good girl.”

A groan tumbles out of Eddie as he bottoms out. He thrusts his hips, sliding himself in and out of you, picking up the pace just a hair each time. The pressure on your throat increases as his hips snap against yours.

“Wanna tell me what happened at work? What’s got you so upset?” he asks as he keeps a steady pace.

Keeping your eyes closed, a sigh escapes your lips. “Out of all the p-people who started working there around the same time I did, I-I’m the one who’s most qualified for—.”

“Ah,” Eddie cuts you off with a tut. “That was a test to see if I fucked the stress out of you yet. And I failed.” At that, he begins pounding into you even harder, the headboard against the wall sounding like a jackhammer. Whimpers start to fall from your lips, and when you open your eyes, a few tears slide down the sides of your face. Eddie pulls out of you, releasing his hand from your throat and you groan at the loss of both sensations. “Come on up, baby. I want you on your hands and knees.”

Letting out a small whine, you turn your head to bury it in his pillow. “M’comfy, sir.”

“Up, princess,” he orders.

He slips his hand underneath you and pulls up. Complying, you move slowly, letting Eddie know that you're headed in the right direction. Once he’s satisfied that you’re in the position he wants, —and has admired the view—Eddie pushes his cock back inside of you. He gives it a few thrusts before his one hand grabs your hip hard enough to bruise and the other gives a harsh smack against the soft plush skin of your ass.

“That’s one, baby,” Eddie says. “Want you to count them for me, okay?” When your only response is a nod, Eddie gives your ass another smack. “Okay?”

“Y-Yes,” you whine. “That was two, sir.”

“Good girl,” Eddie says as his hand rubs over the area he just struck. With no warning, he pulls his hand back and gives another stinging slap.

“Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Uh…”

“Come on babydoll, what number are up to now?” Eddie asks.

“I don’t remember, sir,” you admit with a whimper.

That’s the answer Eddie wanted, though. Your brain was slowly turning to mush, which meant he was doing his job. It almost meant that he needed to get you on your back again, since he knows that’s where you get the most enjoyment out of subspace.

After one more smack to your ass, Eddie reaches forward and wraps his thick fingers around the front of your neck. He guides you up until your back is pressed flush up against his chest.

“How’s my princess feeling?” he asks as he slips out of you. The sensation causes a whine, bringing a soft smile to Eddie’s lips. “Shh, just changing positions, sweetheart.” He carefully maneuvers you until you’re lying on your back again. Before you get fully down though, he slips a pillow under your hips. One, it’ll support your ass, being sore from the spanking. And two, this angle always allows Eddie to hit your sweet spot.

Hands holding onto your hips, Eddie slides himself back inside of you, causing your face to scrunch up in the most adorable way. He lowers himself to hover over you, his dark curls curtaining his face above yours, like the two of you are locked together in this private moment. Your eyes blink open, sleepily, as he starts pounding into you again. Eddie’s wish was coming true; there was nothing in your head besides him. Heavy eyelids drooping, your gaze shifts down to his scruff, making Eddie let out a breathy chuckle.

“Looking at the gray again, baby? I don’t get what you find so sexy about it. Like the fact that I’m old, huh? That I know what I’m doing and know how to take care of this tight little pussy of yours? None of those boys your age know how to handle a woman like you, do they? No. You need me. I know what you need, baby girl. I know what makes you feel so good.”

Eyes becoming too tired to hold open, you let them close again. Your mouth opens slightly, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate to run his thumb along your bottom lip.

“Such a pretty girl.” Your eyes open again, the fucked out expression a sign of victory for Eddie. “Aww, look at you. Got my smart girl all nice and dumb, huh? My cock that good, princess?”

Whines begin to fall from your lips, your brows tighten up. Eddie can read your body better than he can read The Hobbit, so he knows you’re very close. It’s a good thing too, because so is he. Whenever he sees you this blissed out, it hurtles him towards his own release.

Supporting his body with one arm, Eddie reaches down and rubs tight circles over your clit. “How’s that, babydoll? Does that feel good for my baby?”

There’s an imperceptible nod of your head, but Eddie sees it. Feels the way your walls are starting to clench around his throbbing cock.

“Let go, sweetheart. Let me make you feel so good.”

Your body is limp, the only movement is the rapid rise and fall of your chest, and your hips as they move against Eddie of their own accord. The moment your body tips over the edge and into your orgasm, Eddie feels his. Feels the way you soak and clench his cock. It has his hips stuttering, letting out a string of moans and curses as he releases inside of you.

“Fuck, princess,” Eddie says as his body comes down from his high. He looks down at you, eyes open but glossy and relaxed. Mouth curled into a lazy smile as you look back up at him. You’re spent and so is he.

Taking a deep breath to try and get his breathing back to normal, Eddie pulls out and flops down beside you. He knows sometimes it can take you a little while to come back to him when you’re in this state. But he also knows that holding you while you’re in this haze is your favorite part. Maneuvering the blanket on the bed—which he now needs to wash—he tucks it up to both of your waists. Slowly and gently, Eddie manages to get you to turn over and holds you in his arms. Your face nuzzles into his neck, your sweat and his blending together.

“You did so good for me, baby girl. You’re always so good for me. I’m one lucky old man.”

The soft giggle against his skin lets him know that you’re still there with him. He rests his head against yours and runs his fingertips up and down your bare spine. “Why don’t we take a bath after this, hmm? Nice warm bath, then curl up on the couch. You can pick a movie to watch while we eat dinner. How’s all that sound?”

“Good,” you say, barely audible. Your arms slip around Eddie’s waist, and you pull yourself as close to him as you can in your floaty state.

Eddie gives you a gentle squeeze in his arms. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you look up at him. Gazing into your eyes, he can see that you’re coming back to him bit by bit. Once you relax your grip on him, he’ll go get you some water to drink and run the hot water for the bath. But right now, he’s going to lay here and enjoy the cuddles that you both need. He knows you’ll thank him for this when you’re fully returned. And he’ll tell you yet again how you don’t have to thank him for it. That he loves being with you like this. The fact that you trust him in this way. Seeing you go from majorly stressed to being totally blissed out was more than enough thanks for Eddie. He feels honored that he gets to help you in this way. His perfect little girl.

“How you feeling?” Eddie asks softly.

“So good,” you say dreamily, making Eddie chuckle. “I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you too, princess.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #request #roses collection

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bealovesmarauders · 1 year

Text

paper rings // gilbert blythe

or,

the 4 times gilbert blythe fell in love with you, and the 1 time he knew he’d do it all over again

⋆ ࣪. ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖

gilbert blythe x fem!reader

wc: 5.7k

i like shiny things, but i’d marry you with paper rings

a/n: trying something new here! i’ve never used this format (five times // one time- i tweaked it to make it four and one since i’m exhausted) so i hope you all enjoy <3 also fair warning that this is not historically accurate. but i actually spend my summers in PEI (and have for my entire life) so i think my portrayal of the environment at least is good! also, this is rushed as per usual :)

⋆ ࣪. ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖

one. when he walked you home from school.

the late june air was sticky in the avonlea schoolhouse, clinging to skin, beads of sweat gathering by brows. sunlight spilled through the windows, and even billy andrews couldn’t muster enough enthusiasm to tease anyone in this heat. pinafores too heavy for this weather, the girls gathered in one corner, pretending to read the excerpt mr phillips had picked out for today, but in honesty, you were all just complaining about the summer heat.

“i can’t wait until i have my hair up,” ruby gillis sighed, casting a longing glance across the room towards the boys. “my ribbon does suit my complexion, of course- but it’s much too hot in summer to have my hair down.”

murmurs of agreement spread throughout your little group. “i tried it one time,” whispered anne dramatically, “when marilla was away. it was rather romantic, but the pins hurt a great deal.”

sitting in between jane andrews and tillie boulter, you tried not to zone out. gaze drifting across the classroom, you caught gilbert blythe’s eye from where he was sitting with the boys, and he shot you a quick smile. you gave him a shy one back, and looked away before you could blush. you’d known gilbert forever- his family was close to yours- but something had changed recently, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

mr. phillips finally dismissed the class, and in a rush of rowdiness, the boys all excused themselves from the schoolhouse, whooping and hollering about a potential skinny dip in the wild waves. in a flurry of giggles and secrets, your friends gathered their books and rushed outside (in a rather unladylike manner- but it was summer and the world was their oyster, so who cared). you knew diana was hosting a tea party over the weekend- complete with ice cream, she’d said!- but as far as you knew, there were no plans for tonight, save the beach trip the boys had talked about. trying your best to avoid the heat for as long as possible, you lingered in the coatroom, taking the time to adjust your hat into place. but you weren’t alone, and you startled as a familiar face appeared over your shoulder.

“gilbert,” you said, his name sweet on your tongue. “you’re not going to the beach with billy?”

he shook his head. “i’m not quite in the mood for that today. but i was wondering. do you want- can i- would you like some company on your walk home?”

heart in your throat, you looked at the boy you’d known your whole life. was gilbert blythe asking to walk you home? you nodded wordlessly, and his eyes immediately softened. there was a nervousness you’d never seen in him before, a cautiousness, as if he were treading on eggshells and was terrified to break them. “i- i’d love that, gilbert, thank you.” a smile slowly spread across his face, and you seemed to see him in a new light. noticing the things you hadn’t before. the softness of his dark eyes and the way they sparkled. the gentle curve of his jaw. the way he smelled like rosemary and mint soap and the blythe farm’s apple orchard, mixed with a hint of cinnamon. the way gilbert blythe was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen.

“great,” he said, finally breaking you out of your reverie. “i wouldn’t want you to get heatstroke, after all. it’d be ungentlemanly of me to let you go home without making sure you’re alright in this heat.”

your stomach erupted with butterflies, and you walked in silence with him as you left the schoolhouse. treading along the path, your footsteps settled into the same rhythm, and eventually gilbert spoke, his voice clear among the songbirds and crickets.

“how’s your family? i haven’t seen them in a fortnight.”

his tone was proper and gentlemanly, but curious and kind. you looked shyly up at him. gilbert was tall, taller than you, sturdy with broad shoulders and a grin that showed off a lopsided roguishness once in a while on his otherwise serious face. you gripped your books a little tighter, trying to focus your thoughts back to the conversation. “they’re good, thanks for asking. mother’s been wondering about you, though. she’s wanted to drop soup off for your father, but wasn’t sure if he’d appreciate it. it’s been a while since you were over, so she doesn’t know if he still likes biscuits or bone broth.”

gilbert scuffed the ground with his boot a little bit, looking down at you contemplatively. “that’s kind of her,” he said. “he’s barely been able to keep anything down, but he likes soup. i’m not sure about the biscuits, but i’d certainly like some. i wouldn’t mind some of your mother’s plum preserves either. i haven’t had much time to go into town for food lately.”

you’d noticed. there were shadows under his eyes, and he’d always been on the lanky side, but since gilbert had taken on more of the farm work you’d observed his cheeks grow more drawn. his muscles had grown, too- another result of all the wood chopping you knew he was doing- but he lacked energy, and your heart ached for the boy. cicadas chirped as you walked in unison through the path, minding the garden snakes slinking through the tall grass, and an idea sparked in your mind as you passed the field signaling close to home.

“gilbert,” you said thoughtfully, stopping in your tracks. “mother was going to make a layer cake today, with raspberry preserves and clotted cream. i’m sure it’s cooled by now. we can have a little picnic, you and i- we have lemonade at home too, that rachel lynde brought us, and father thinks it’s too tart, so he wants to get rid of it. you can bring some home for your father as well. mother wouldn’t mind, i promise- i can make us a picnic basket, and we can sit in that field.”

gilbert turned towards you, and you couldn’t quite decipher the expression on his face. “i don’t want you to pity me,” he said quietly. “much less drag your family into it.”

“no, no,” you said quickly, fearing he’d interpreted your invitation the wrong way. “just a picnic, to catch up, as friends. we haven’t talked in a while. i miss you.”

he bit his lip. you could almost see the gears turning in his head. “alright,” he said finally. “it’s almost summer, after all. i think- i think i’d like that.”

when you reached your house, your mother was more than happy to oblige, giving gilbert a big hug and fussing over how much taller he’d gotten since the last time she saw him. you cut two pieces of cake and put them on plates in the straw picnic basket along with the bottle of mrs. lynde’s infamous lemonade. your mother even let you bring the crystal glasses used for special occasions- she trusted the both of you well enough to know that you wouldn’t break them. covering up the basket with a red checkered tablecloth, you and gilbert set off again, waving goodbye to your mother and finding a spot in the field where there was a tree with enough shade to sit under. clover and goldenrod and cornstalk bloomed in the field, and the cool, sweet grass tickled the bottom of your dress. gilbert, beside you, leaned back against the tree, his broad shoulder touching yours, and spooned a large amount of cake into his mouth. it was the happiest you’d seen him in months. the thin layer of ruby jelly in between the vanilla layers coloured the cupid’s bow of your lips, and gilbert realized in that moment that he wanted very badly to take you into his arms and kiss you. but the moment was fleeting, and gilbert was left with the idea of love lingering on his mind.

that was the first time gilbert blythe realized he was falling for you.

two. when you showed up on his doorstep in the rain.

rain poured outside, streaking the windows and trickling down the roofs of avonlea’s houses. sorrow hung in the air, and black clothing had dominated the church the day prior. it was not often that avonlea had funerals, and when they were, they were a somber affair, impacting every one of its citizens. especially now. it seemed as though the whole world had watched mr. blythe’s casket descend into the soil, and now the rain was fertilizing it. perhaps flowers would bloom on top of his grave. the entirety of the little town hoped so- anything to bring comfort to the blythe’s only son.

you’d seen gilbert at the funeral, features etched with sorrow, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. but he’d looked resigned as well- putting on a strong face for those who could not. ruby had sobbed hysterically, as had rachel lynde, and even marilla cuthbert had shed a tear. normally, you would have talked to gilbert. you’d been over the day before mr. blythe had died, bringing with you a sweater you and your mother had knit together to help keep him warm. you’d known his health was declining, but it was even more heart wrenching seeing gilbert that way- expression unmoving, body stiff as he accepted the gift. you’d only had a moment with him before mr. blythe erupted into coughs again- a second in which gilbert’s mask slipped and you truly saw the fear plaguing his mind. you’d wished you could have said something to make it all better. but you hadn’t. you couldn’t.

and now you were on his porch, clutching a package of baking soda biscuits and a small posy of forget-me-nots in your hands. you were shivering from the cold rain, and you’d gotten soaked on the way over, but it was worth it. there seemed to be barely any movement in the gray house- you couldn’t spot any candles lit inside from the windows- and you were wondering if gilbert was even here when all of a sudden the door swung open and he appeared.

his expression was unreadable, brown eyes deep with emotion and seeded in sadness. “hi,” he said. “gil,” you breathed back.

after a moment of silence, the words came back to you. “these are for you,” you said, reaching out. your hands were shaking, and whether they were from nerves or the cold, gilbert couldn’t tell. he took the flowers and the parcel from your outstretched hands, almost unsure what to do with them. “they’re biscuits,” you said, mouth dry, trying to fill the quiet. “mother’s baking soda ones. you mentioned you liked them one time, and we were out of plum preserves, but i-”

“thank you,” gilbert said, and although it sounded slightly robotic, his words felt genuine. you looked at your shoes, unsure of what to say next. your parents had always taught you to say “i’m sorry for your loss” to someone grieving, but the phrase felt too unfamiliar. “i- i’ll leave you to it, then,” you stuttered, backing away from the door and turning to go. you didn’t want to intrude- even if he was your friend. because that’s what you were, right? friends. friends visited during difficult times. friends didn’t want to hug all the sadness out of him. but gilbert’s voice cracked when he spoke next, and you turned around.

“no,” he said clumsily. the words are rushed and jumbled from his mouth, and he stumbles over the next ones too. “please. you’re freezing, and soaking wet. come in.”

up until then, you’d hoped you didn’t look that bad. your straw hat had managed to protect the top of your head, but the rest of your hair was stringy and dripping over your shoulders. your cheeks were also flushed, and even in what should have been a moment focused on his own grief, gilbert found himself worrying that you’d catch pneumonia in this weather. he hadn’t expected anyone to visit today, especially not in a rainstorm.

seeing the concern in his eyes, you realized that walking all the way home in a thunderstorm was probably not such a good idea, so you stepped in cautiously per gilbert’s invitation. the house was warm, but everything seemed dim and gray. the door you knew led to mr. blythe’s bedroom was closed, and you could see gilbert’s eyes darting towards it as well, as if he were praying you wouldn’t say anything. gilbert set down the parcel of biscuits on the kitchen table and looked around for something.

“do you have a vase?” you asked quietly. “i can fill it up with water for you. i thought the forget-me-nots would bring a little light.”

gilbert nodded, but sucked in a breath. you turned to him with a questioning look. “the vase,” he said, voice dry. “it’s in his room. mrs. lynde brought some peonies over while he was still sick, and i didn’t take them out. he’s always hated peonies- he thinks they’re too big and bold. but he would’ve loved these.”

you lightly touched the small forget me not bouquet, felt the soft petals under your fingertips. “you don’t have to use a vase,” you replied softly. “a mug will do.” gilbert stood motionless in the middle of the kitchen, and you maneuvered around him, carefully filling up the pottery with water and placing the flowers in it.

he seemed rooted to the floor, even when he focused his gaze on the posy. your glance met his, and the sorrow was evident. gilbert hadn’t cried at the funeral- you’d never seen him cry. but now tears were brimming at the corners of his soft chocolate eyes, threatening to spill over, and in a moment your body overtook your mind and you had wrapped your arms around gilbert in a hug.

for a moment you regretted it. but then he was hugging you back, clutching your arms, holding onto you as if you were his lifeline. and in a way, you were. you could feel his hot breath on the back of your neck, hear his muffled cries. due to his height, your face was nestled in the crook of gilbert’s neck, and the two of you stayed like that, intertwined, for several long moments.

when gilbert finally pulled away, he knew that for better or for worse, you would be there for him until the day he died.

three. when you exchanged christmas presents in the snow.

to be honest, you hadn’t expected gilbert to come back from the steamer, or trinidad. you’d kept in close correspondence with him, saving the letters he sent you in a special drawer in your writing desk. you memorized his handwriting- the candid tone recalling his tales- the stamps on the envelope. but it still came as a surprise when he’d arrived back.

everything had been awkward at the start, but as soon as gilbert told you all the tales of his travels, you’d slowly slipped back into your old dynamic. there was still a line the both of you were toeing, trying to test out the boundaries between platonic and whatever the two of you were. when you’d met bash, he’d given you a quick wink and told you he’d heard all about you, but other than that, you were positive gilbert just wanted to stay friends. “he can’t love me,” you’d told the avonlea girls a few days prior. “the letters didn’t mean anything, he was just lonely.” but all of them agreed, even ruby- who had been zoning in on moody spurgeon ever since gilbert had left- that there was something more in his words, that it wasn’t all in your head.

and now it was christmas. gilbert, bash, and the shirley-cuthberts had all come for dinner (you’d grown close to anne the past year, and it had taken some convincing but since your father knew matthew so well, marilla had deemed it acceptable). the dinner had been lovely- your mother had brought out all the stops for gilbert and bash- roast goose, scalloped potatoes (island ones, of course), cranberry jelly, chicken pie, spiced gingerbread. flames crackled in the fireplace, biting gusts of wind rattled the windows, and blurred glittery ornaments adorned the pine tree in the center of your living room. dinner was over now, and the adults were gathered around the table and swapping stories of old. anne was there too, heavily engaged in a discussion with bash, but the social aspect was getting to be somewhat exhausting, so you quietly slipped out the back door to have a few moments alone.

in a rather unladylike fashion, you got up and sat on the fence by your house, snowflakes tickling your nose, watching the sun slowly begin to set. hues of pink and orange tinged the sky, and you were surprised you could even see it right now- the weather suggested a cloudy sky. the sound of snow crunching came from behind you, and to your surprise, gilbert was coming towards you. he had his brown cap and his red flannel on, and he looked so cozy that you somehow wished you were cuddled up in his arms. pushing the thought away, you greeted him as he came to sit on the fence beside you.

“enjoying the night so far?”

“quite,” gilbert replied. there was a sparkle in his eyes that danced, one that had been noticeably absent since his father died. you suspected it had something to do with bash’s uncle-like presence, and maybe anne’s too- it was well rumored that he’d fancied her for a while when they’d first met. gilbert looked off into the sunset, puffs of his breath materializing in the cold air, and you shivered involuntarily. he offered you his wool mittens wordlessly, and you gratefully put them on, although they were too big for you.

“oh,” you said, remembering something. he turned towards you, watching you intently as you pulled out a small package from your coat pocket. it was wrapped in festive paper, and you’d written his name on it in swooping calligraphy.

“for me?” gilbert asked. he carefully unfurled the wrapping paper to reveal a small leather bound book embossed with “the complete illustrated medical dictionary (pocket edition)” on the front. “i’ve had it since you left,” you said, breath catching in your throat. “i kept it for you. all this time.”

genuine joy shone in gilbert’s eyes. he flipped through the pages delightedly, marveling at the drawings inside. “thank you,” he grinned. “i actually have something for you too.”

breathlessly, you awaited your gift, snowflakes fluttering down and landing on you. they decorated your hair and its festive ribbon for one fleeting moment before melting, and you swore there was nothing as beautiful as this moment, exchanging gifts with gilbert in the snow, watching the sunset sweep across the dove-gray sky. finally, gilbert found what he was looking for in his pocket, and produced a tiny box.

“it doesn’t look like much,” he warned, “but i found it on my travels. i was waiting to give it to you. i wanted it to be the perfect moment.”

carefully opening the small box, you gasped as the lid revealed a necklace with a pendant. a small silver locket shaped like a heart, the kind one could put a photograph in. “gilbert,” you breathed. “this is- this is beautiful.”

and it was. the locket lay on a delicate chain, and it was engraved intricately, with elaborate designs. your mittened hands fumbled to take it out of the box and inspect it more, but gilbert took it from you with a small smile. “let me help you,” he murmured, and made to fasten it on you. you stood still, hyper aware of how close gilbert’s hands were to your face. his fingers brushed against the back of your neck, securing the necklace, and you caught yourself from flinching. you didn’t know what to say, except for thank you, so you repeated yourself again.

“a thing of beauty is a joy forever,” gilbert quoted, somewhat uncharacteristically. “keats,” he added after a moment, referencing the poet he’d read the phrase from. “i wanted you to have something to remember me by.”

“to remember you by?” you laughed. “what, are you going on the steamer again?”

he could tell the thought sobered you, so he shook his head, shrugging. “no. i just think…you’re a wonderful girl. the loveliest in avonlea.”

“i think you’re wonderful too,” you said shyly, which was about as many words as you could manage right now. the loveliest girl in avonlea? goodness.

the sun had almost set by now, and the sky was turning dark- a good cover for hiding the red tint spreading across your face. “we should go back inside,” you said hurriedly, and the two of you made your way over to the door. you stopped before opening it, basking in the glow of the oil lamp on the porch.

“gilbert, i-”

overcome by sudden anxiety, you handed back his warm mittens. “thank you,” you said, the words lingering on your tongue. “for everything.”

quickly, so fast you almost missed it, gilbert leaned down, brushed a stray wisp of hair away, and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “merry christmas,” he said simply. and then, the two of you went back inside, as if nothing had happened at all.

as soon as you entered, bash noticed the locket and smirked. gilbert shot him a warning look, lest he say anything. the two of you immersed yourself in separate conversations- you with anne, him with marilla and your mother, while matthew silently observed your father and bash discuss politics. but you kept stealing glances at each other as if you were speaking a secret language that only the two of you knew, and each time it filled you with comfort.

it was a cold christmas, but you felt the warmest you had been in a while– and, as luck would have it, so did gilbert.

four. when you climbed a tree.

and so summer rolled around again, fading into august. university loomed on the horizon. childhood was over- gone were the days of butterflies, bumblebees, and scraped knees. yet you could pretend, and so you did.

the soft salt breeze tickled your face, sending a pleasant feeling down your spine. you were with gilbert- on his farm, in the orchard. it was just the two of you- most of avonlea were in charlottetown for the island county fair, granting you the opportunity to do whatever you wanted, since no one was around to see.

so you took advantage of that. no more were the stolen glances, the sneaking around, your only physical touch with gilbert being brushed hands- and even then you’d both deemed it risky. neither of you wanted word to get around yet. sure, there had been rumors and some of your best friends knew (only the ones you were sure wouldn’t spread anything around). but here, now, the world was your oyster. and the two of you soaked it up blissfully.

you were lying on the grass with your head in gilbert’s lap, weaving a flower crown as he read a book- an old poetry collection ms stacy had lent him. the clouds were glorious fluffy shapes in the blue sky, and you pointed them out to gilbert every once in a while. your fingers deftly twined the daisies and their stems, finally tying them all together in a knot, creating a perfect circlet, and setting it teasingly on gilbert’s dark hair.

he smirked, leaving it on. “made it for me?”

“a pretty crown for a pretty boy,” you replied, smiling from your position in his lap. he was solid, sturdy, his hand resting securely on your waist. you felt safe with your body close to his, arms and legs intertwined. and he was pretty- “the prettiest boy in avonlea,” you said, mimicking his words to you from last christmas. he laughed and set the book down, taking the flower crown off and resting it gently on your hair. “it suits you,” gilbert said softly, and he was right.

the two of you stayed like that for a while, absorbing each other’s presence. you charted the rare freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose as if they were constellations, tracing them with the tip of your finger. it tickled him, and he smiled down at you. he finally returned to his book- “i want to read you something”- and blissfully, you obliged, settling down to listen.

“i almost wish we were butterflies and lived but three summer days- three such days with you i could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain,” gilbert read from the poetry collection in his lap, a break from the constant medical anatomy books he was usually seen carrying around. you recognized the fragment of poetry- “keats,” you said, “just like what you said to me last winter. when you gave me the necklace.”

a smile tugged at gilbert’s lips, and you pulled out the locket from under the neckline of your dress to show him. “i’ll never take it off,” you promised him, right then and there. “it’s like a little piece of you with me, all the time.”

“you better not,” he teased. “cost me a fortune, that one. even more than all of those romance books i’m always secretly buying you in town.”

you sat up and shoved him jokingly, tousling his dark curls to purposely peeve him. gilbert’s hair wasn’t tidy all that often, but he’d let it slip once that he always tried to make it look nice for you. struck by a sudden flash of inspiration, you jumped up. “let’s go pick some apples.”

the blythe orchard was infamous for their strawberry apples, the only place in avonlea where they were available. contrary to popular belief, this was simply a variant of apple, and not a strawberry hybrid. all too happy to appease you, gilbert took your hand and led you to the best tree on the land. most of the other boughs were still blooming with apple blossoms, but this tree was different.

he pointed to a low-hanging branch, one blessed with red fruit. “my father always picked the first apple on this tree in august,” he told you, tone contemplative and wistful. “he said this was the tree he kissed my mother under for the first time. he thought if the first apple of the season was picked here, at this tree, it brought the harvest luck.”

nostalgia flickered in gilbert’s eyes, and you knew he was missing his father more than usual. “let’s do it, then,” you said, finding your voice, fingers delicately intertwined with his- giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “we’ll each pick one. in honor of him. a new tradition.”

the words you’d spoken may have been simplistic, but to gilbert they meant the world. without his father, it had been so incredibly difficult at first to do anything- carry on old traditions, much less creating new ones. but here you were, by his side, looking up at him with adoring eyes, and giving him the opportunity to heal and grow. gilbert knew he could never put into words how much it truly meant to him.

you let him go first, watching him scamper up the tree like a squirrel. he seemed a boy again, plucking an apple from the highest bough and descending nimbly. when you started climbing, you found your footing easily, but doubt wracked your mind- imagine the horrors if mrs. lynde and her posse heard about this, climbing trees like a chimpanzee! - and so you opted for a lower branch, reaching it deftly. you reached for an apple and held it high victoriously. some hint of pride shone in gilbert’s eyes.

“to making new traditions,” he said- a toast with the notable absence of glasses brimming with champagne. “to making new traditions,” you repeated, and in that moment, you in the tree and him on the ground, you swore you could see hints of a future- one with new traditions and old traditions, little feet running around and everything in between. today was flawless.

and it would’ve been perfect, except for the sound of the branch cracking under your weight. you weren’t too high up in the tree, but inevitably, you landed on the ground, a crumpled heap of petticoats and ribbons, crying out softly upon impact.

you’d never seen gilbert this way, in ‘doctor mode’, simply put. he was immediately beside you, voice laced with concern, checking you over for scrapes and bruises. you were fine, mostly- just a little shaken up and scared, save for the red-hot throbbing in your wrist. the pain didn’t exactly warrant crying, but you weren’t used to the funny feeling, and tears welled in your waterline anyways. gilbert, telling you to take deep breaths, helped you sit up.

he’d noticed straightaway the way you held you wrist, cradling it slightly away from your body, and murmuring words of comfort, he started prodding your knuckles, gently examining the swollen area. you winced, but it wasn’t too bad. “i don’t think it’s broken,” gilbert said finally, deeming it a sprain after careful inspection. “but let’s get you back home. i have some bandages- i’ll wrap it just in case.”

tears threatened to spill over again as the two of you walked from the orchard to his home. gilbert noticed, and stopped. “hey,” he said softly. “it’s okay. i’ll make you some herbal tea. that should help with the pain a bit.”

“it’s not that,” you made out, a small pout forming on your lips. “we were having such a wonderful day, gil, and i ruined it all. i’m sorry.”

“whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, his brow furrowing. “you didn’t ruin anything. you got hurt, it happens. and we have the rest of the afternoon to be together- i’ll tell you what, how about once we get back to the farmhouse, we’ll make the most of it, okay? we can still have some fun.”

a wobbly smile formed on your lips, and you nodded. gilbert cupped your face gently, and looked into your eyes. “i love you,” he said, voice nervous but firm. “just let me take care of you.”

your heart caught in your throat. he’d never said that before. contrary to the rumors, he hadn’t even kissed you properly yet. “i love you too,” you whispered, voice hoarse. and before you could think about it too much, you went up on your tiptoes and pressed a small kiss to gilbert’s lips.

they were soft and sweet and filled with promise and hope, and he leaned into it, your bodies closer than they’d ever been. his hands ghosted the small of your back, your hips, your shoulders, and it felt like home. when you finally pulled apart, there was a twinkle in his eye you’d never seen before. a twinkle of something called joy.

when you got back to the farmhouse, he finally settled you on the couch, comfortably sipping a cup of tea and trying wholeheartedly to braid your hair. he’d always wanted to learn, and since you were currently unable to do it yourself, he deemed it the perfect opportunity. it made you laugh- his fingers, usually nimble and clever, were clumsy in your locks, and the braid you ended up with was slightly sloppy, but filled with adoration. a realization fluttered through your mind, and set its claws into your future. you loved gilbert- gilbert loved you- and though you wouldn’t say it out loud, at least not for several years, he would make a wonderful husband.

five. when you said “i do”.

the spring skies were blue today- flowers were blooming- grass was green. “a lovely day for a wedding,” mrs. lynde had told marilla that morning, and all of avonlea agreed.

you were walking down the aisle in a few minutes, getting ready in reverence. a delicate white veil lay on your hair, the one passed down through your family for almost a century. the lace dress fit you perfectly, intricate embroidery accentuating your waist. your mother’s simple pearl earrings adorned your ears, glowing in the morning light. in your hands were a bouquet- a single spray of forget-me-nots, periwinkle blue, an ode to gilbert’s father, who had loved them so. and at the same time, a tribute to your past together, that awful rainy day after the funeral filled with grief and tears and emotion, yet what had brought you closer together. something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. all was well. you were ready.

the springtime realm of gilbert’s yard was immersed in devotion. petals decorated the grass down the aisle. your dearest friends and family observed, and the wedding itself passed in the blink of an eye. there was not a dry eye during the vows, and gilbert’s words were even more poetic than you had ever hoped. he promised to love you- to care for you- in sickness and in health, to be your rock. it was not the fanciest wedding- there were no messes of tulle and satin and roses- but it was yours, and you couldn’t be happier.

you were husband and wife. the dawn had come anew. and that night, when gilbert fell asleep watching you breathe, finding solace in the rise and fall of your chest, he knew without a doubt that he would do it all over again.

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endiness · 14 days

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okay, i have gone through probably 50+ s2 interviews of hc researching this so far and i have to say that at this point i really don't see how he wasn't deliberately trying to manipulate the fanbase and the media against the writers and the show to get them onto his side. (and also, like, a very specific, extremely toxic section of the fandom at that.) (it's the sexist incel gamerbros. i'm talking about them.)

"I wanted to represent as much of a book-accurate Geralt as possible and a lot of the fans did as well, and so I campaigned really hard to make sure that he was more verbose, he sounded more intellectual, his choice of words was more thought out and that his approach to Cirilla and everyone else wasn’t antagonistic. Because it initially came across as he was just grumpy all the time with everyone and everything and I really wanted to show this three-dimensional character […] It’s gonna be tough to do the stuff which is as brilliant as Sapkowski’s writing, but it’s something I’m always gonna campaign for and it’s hopefully fit into the vision of the show."

there are so many interviews (ie virtually every interview out of 50+ with the exception of maybe, like, 3) where hc says the exact same thing about how he just cares so much about book accuracy, specifically where geralt's characterization is concerned, and that he really started to push for a more book accurate geralt in s2 and wanted him to be more verbose and intelligent and show that he isn't just a one dimensional character who just grunts and says hmm all the time like in s1 — and at no point does he ever take any responsibility for how that was due to his acting choices in the first place because he would cut his lines.

he also just straight up lies about the situation because the writers originally wrote geralt as being more verbose and book accurate in s1 but then changed the way they were writing him due to the acting choices he made. and yet he acts like that was never the case and that geralt was never originally written that way and he pushes this idea that a book accurate geralt went against lauren's vision. even though, once again, that was the original vision and it only changed due to him.

and on the extremely rare occasion (i'm talking, like, maybe 2 con panels here) that he ever takes any kind of responsibility for his role in all of that, he still waffles about and tries to present this image that he wasn't really cutting that many lines and they weren't really that important anyway and it didn't really matter:

"I didn't even cut that much. Just little bits when someone says how they feel, I thought if Geralt says nothing, and maybe the well-known grunts or hmms and sometimes the occasional f-word, people can take from that what they will."

even though that can't be true as confirmed by joey:

"Henry likes to cut his lines, 'cause he's lazy. No, he literally just likes to cut them. He likes to do more up here [frames his face with his hands] and just with face and hmms and grunts. There's a lot of hmms, and so I often have to take a lot of his lines and turn it into a lot of my stuff so that the plot happens."

and even hc himself confirms this and what joey said in a s1 interview:

"All the grunts, I either added or I didn't say anything and just grunted instead. It was often up to the other actors to go, 'I think he's not gonna say anything now.'"

i also have to point out that hc directly links his push for a more book accurate geralt to reading comments on reddit as i think that's very relevant to what section of the fandom exactly that he's pandering to and why he's been so vocal about it while lying about the role he played in everything and what actually happened:

"I’m on all the Reddit forums. I’m reading all the reviews. I’m literally trying to get everyone’s information. Some of it is not useful, and other criticisms are incredibly useful. I take it all in, and I look forward to bringing it even closer and closer to Sapkowski’s writing. I think any of those criticisms, they often lie in things like I was saying—we don’t have the advantage of a long involved conversation or dialogue with Geralt, so they are criticisms which I think I was prepared for. So for me, it’s about seeing that, understanding it, and working out how I can do my job better within the framework provided, [how to] appease and make those people feel comfortable that I do actually understand this character—and love this character just as much as they do."

"As a source for information, it's really helpful for me to see what everyone's saying, what everyone's thinking, and to see how much my thinking falls in line with whichever side of that spectrum it is and whether I'm doing the wrong thing, for example, by campaigning hard for the book Geralt to exist or whether I'm doing the right thing."

and just another important thing to point out imo: virtually the only times hc ever takes any responsibility in any capacity whatsoever for his own role in the show not adhering to the books (which even then he barely does and it's still always with a lot of excuses), it's only ever at con panels — which are far less likely to get picked up by news outlets and seen by a broader audience — and not in formal interview settings. (except for, i think, one interview he gave early on when s2 first went on hiatus. but even then, it still has the same problems that the con panels have where he comes up with a lot of excuses that don't match what happened.)

then there's an interview hc gave where he went on about how he added some book dialogue into a scene and he made it out to be like it was some kind of rebellion against the writers and he didn't consult them as he was just going to do what he wanted, consequences be damned:

"I did not feel like having long discussion about whether I could add this bit somewhere. So I just did it, said the words in front of the camera, and was ready to face the consequences."

and meanwhile what actually happened was that lauren eventually let hc have free reign and rewrite a scene that he was unhappy with. which, y'know. kinda fucking weird to present what happened in the way he did.

and then there's him pushing this narrative that the female characters — namely yennefer and ciri — were given more depth and focus than geralt and the male characters as if that came at their expense and all of which is somehow due to lauren's women-centric vision of the show as if that's somehow opposed to how the books themselves are:

"On season two, I wanted to bring as much of 'Book' Geralt into the show that Lauren's vision and that the plot would allow. That's a tricky thing to do, because the plot, as Lauren has said, is very centred around bringing women into the centre of The Witcher."

"In Season 1, there wasn't really much of an opportunity for expansive dialogue which Geralt is known for — in the books, he's often known to monologue — because we had two original origin stories which were the center point of the show."

"Lauren’s vision was more of an ensemble piece than the first Witcher books. It’s driven a lot more by the characters of Yennefer and Cirilla."

"I wanted to make sure we really explored as much as showrunner's vision could allow. She has her own plan, so I’ve got to toe that line between book Geralt and Lauren’s vision."

"I wanted to try and bring as much of the book’s Geralt into Season 2 as possible, and as much as the vision, the plot and storylines would allow. The toughest part for me was finding that balance between the showrunners’ vision and my love for the books, and trying to bring that Geralt to the showrunners’ vision."

"It’s important for me to have the character be three-dimensional and it’s tricky to do, as I was saying earlier, because there’s a certain vision and there’s a certain set, storyline and plot. And so, it was about me trying to find Geralt’s place within that."

"There’s only so much space to provide the same character from the books within the showrunner’s vision. But, I did my best to provide a bit more of a three-dimensional character with a bit more emotionality."

"It's important to me that the men in the story are three dimensional as well."

like, first off — and not to continually reiterate this but — that's not true. in s1, geralt was originally written as being just as verbose and intellectual as he was in the books and that only changed due to hc cutting his lines and we know that joey often had to take his lines, too. so there was, in fact, always plenty of time for geralt to be book accurate and for yennefer and ciri to have their own focus. these things were never mutually exclusive and it's definitely some kinda take to imply otherwise.

secondly, while it is true that geralt is the main character of the short stories, ciri is the main character of the main series starting from blood of elves, the book that s2 adapted. and despite claims otherwise, her pov has always had the most focus — yes, even more than geralt (sans baptism of fire, obvs.) and it's not like ciri is the only female pov, either, or that there aren't other important female characters that make up the series. there's yennefer, triss, milva, philippa, fringilla, nimue, condwiramurs, kenna — and that's just off the top of my head. there are plenty more where that came from. women and their stories have always played a central role in the books. nothing about that goes against them or is unique to lauren's vision.

and just with boe in particular, like. triss's pov is either focused on more than geralt's or at least about as much as his depending on how you want to break things down. and with dandelion following very close behind them, too! like, ciri may be the main character of the main series and geralt may be the main character of the short stories and their povs are the most focused on overall, but the books are still very much an ensemble piece made up of a collage of many, many povs to paint a full picture of the universe. and, yeah, the women make up a huge part of that. so the show focusing on ciri and yennefer and the women — and, yes, the men as well because it does actually do that! — is um, still book accurate. so y'know, why the fuck is he presenting this idea that's somehow not the case.

in general, hc emphasizes in a lot of interviews how much he fought for "male characters to be three dimensional." which yeah, given the context of everything else, is some suspicious kinda phrasing because it gives this undertone that the show wasn't writing three dimensional male characters in the first place as opposed to the women and that it's only due to his efforts that anything changed.

also, i have to highlight this quote of him talking about the three dimensionality of men because ~curious that he omits women from the list of people real menTM can be loving and caring toward:

"I believe that real men are very sensitive. They are very capable of doing things which can be violent, if possible, or necessary. But at the same time, they are incredibly capable of love and caring amongst men and towards children and family and all sorts."

and then there's the way hc talks about changing things which comes across as so suspicious, too, imo. especially when there is every other cast member to compare him to. because the way the rest of the cast has talked about this is that they all very consistently say that the whole process is very collaborative and that lauren is very much willing to hear them out about their thoughts and concerns and that it really feels like a team effort and that everyone is working together. and meanwhile the vibes that hc gives off is either "me vs the world (ie the writers)" or "but there's nothing that i can really do to change anything and it's all on the writers~" either way, his attitude very much comes off like all bad decisions are the writers' fault but meanwhile any good decision was due to him and him alone (or maybe the rest of the cast, but definitely not the writers.) like, weird af to play it off that way especially since every other cast member didn't seem to have any problems and they all gave credit where credit was due ie to lauren and the writers.

in conclusion, it'd be one thing if hc had just taken the l and admitted that he is the one who fucked up geralt's characterization in s1 and so he sought to rectify that in s2. but yeah, he doesn't really do that. instead he lies over, like, 50 times to create this narrative of him pushing for book accuracy as if that's somehow in opposition to lauren and the writers and as if they didn't originally write geralt book accurately in the first place and as if he played no role in the lack of book accuracy at all. and then that there's also him pushing this subtle (or not so subtle) narrative about how the women were taking a more central role as opposed to the men and that's somehow unlike the books and something purely due to lauren's vision, too? even though women have always played a central role in the books to the point where ciri is the main character of the main series? and that he's directly linked this narrative he's pushing to reading comments on reddit? (and that he also has a history, since s1, of trying to cater to game stans?) yeah, i just don't see how this doesn't add up to him trying to manipulate the media and audience — especially the worst parts of the fanbase — against the writers and the show and onto his side.

(also just one last thing i'd like to note as i find it super weird that when hc was asked about giving freya any advice, he immediately shut down the notion that he would ever do anything like that and he would never offer her any unsolicited advice and he would only ever give her any if she came to him first. like, there are literally s1 and s2 interviews where freya talks about hc giving her advice. i mean, maybe she did come to him in the first place, idk. but the immediacy in which he shut down the idea that he would ever do anything like that as if offering someone younger than you advice and being a mentor to them is wrong… weird. sus, even. like, why are you scrambling to cover your ass for something that's not even bad and, also, why are you lying about it by omission in the very least.)

#anti henry cavill #the witcher #!txt: the witcher #also just a friendly reminder that hc didn't even know the books existed when he started pursuing the role #and he had only ever played the games and he actually thought that the books were based off them #(and yet still never picked them up at all or y'know googled the series despite being such a massive fan)#and he's only read the full series once in 2018 right before he got cast #and he's never played the dlc either

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sluttywonwoo · 8 months

Text

collision [part two] || h.js

pairing: virgin!fratboy!han jisung x best friend!reader

summary: jisung's fraternity brothers decide to pool their money and surprise him with a stripper for his birthday! nice gesture and all, but that stripper just so happens to be his best friend...

warnings: swearing, feelings, smut (18+ mdni)

additional warnings: m first time, grinding, boob sucking, f masturbation, protected sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 3.7k

-> read part one here

Jisung doesn’t know what this means. He doesn’t know if it means anything. You’re horny, he’s horny. Maybe you’re under the impression that you’re using each other as a means to an end. He’s too afraid to ask, too afraid to ruin the moment. What’s happening now is good and he should enjoy it while it’s happening, especially if it’s the only time this is happening. Jisung tries not to think about that (very likely) possibility, though, and focus instead on the feeling of your lips on his neck.

You’re working his denim jacket off of his shoulders as you kiss your way down the column of his throat. You’re already topless, obviously. Jisung has been trying not to think too much about how he could feel your nipples through his shirt ever since you first sat on his lap and pressed your chest against his.

You’re careful not to drop the jacket on the floor, which Jisung appreciates. You’ve heard him complain about how hard they are to wash and you of all people know how disgusting frat houses can be. You, of course, had just done part of your routine on the floor but Jisung supposes that’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make in your line of work. You’ll shower later anyway. Maybe you’ll ask him to shower with you-

“Can you sit up a little?”

Your voice startles Jisung out of his train of thought. He lifts his head to look at you, blinks twice, and does as instructed, leaning forward so that you can tug his T-shirt over his head.

“Is this still okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, yeah this is great,” he breathes out.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

He expects to feel self-conscious about being shirtless in front of you in this context but he doesn’t. Maybe it’s because he’s been shirtless in front of you in other contexts or maybe it’s because you’re looking at him like you want to devour him. He’s willing to bet that it’s the latter.

His shirt joins his jacket on an adjacent chair. You run a hand down his torso, then each of his arms, admiring his body with your lips slightly parted like you’re surprised by what you see. All of the lifting he’s been doing with Chris and Changbin must be paying off.

He shivers under your touch, which seems to break the little spell you’d been under, making you smirk.

“You can touch me, you know.”

Jisung realizes his hands have been stuck attached to your hips since you first put them there several minutes ago, while yours have been in his hair, cupping his face, feeling him up. Ugh, why was he so bad at this? He nods, sliding one of his hands up your back. His fingers trace your spine, palm resting on one of your shoulders. He isn’t really sure what he should do next. What usually happens next? He’s watched porn, a bunch of porn, what did the actors do after making out?

Rationally, Jisung knows porn isn’t an accurate reflection of reality. But he doesn’t have much else to go off of.

You stop kissing his neck and sit up to catch your breath and Jisung realizes the answer is staring him in the face, literally.

“Can I, uh, can I use my mouth?” he asks.

“Fuck, yes,” you sigh. “You can do whatever you want.”

Jisung gulps and nods absently, eyes transfixed on your chest. He feels kind of silly as he sticks his tongue out and laves it over one of your nipples like he’s trying a new flavor of ice cream but you seem to like it. You gasp and jolt a little which encourages Jisung to keep going. He tests out a couple of different methods to see what you like the best, eventually settling on a pattern of sucking and flicking that has you whimpering his name in his ear.

He doesn’t want to forget about your other boob so after a minute or so he switches, replicating the motions with his thumb on the first one. He isn’t sure how much time passes. It could be minutes, it could be hours. All he knows is that he could do this forever. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed because he’s the happiest he’s ever been with your tits in his mouth.

“Ji,” you whisper, getting his attention by tugging on his hair.

He reluctantly pulls away with a pout. “What?”

“Kiss me again.”

Oh. Well, he could do that too. He melts into you all over again when you press your lips to his. It’s sloppier this time, both of you drunk off the other. When he pulls away, he notices the way your lips shimmer with something sparkly. It’s glitter, he realizes. Body glitter. You always wear it for your shifts. He’d sucked it off of your boobs and now his lips and chin must be covered with it too. Like a reverse vampire.

“‘This is the skin of a killer, Bella,’” you quote, running your thumb across his lips to collect some of the glitter. It was like you had read his mind. Maybe you really were Edward Cullen. “I hope this is safe to consume,” you add.

Jisung shrugs. “Something’s gotta kill me someday.”

Instead of telling him off like you usually would, you stick your thumb in your mouth and suck, also swallowing some of the glitter. It was like you were saying if he was going to die, you were going to die with him. He thinks the gesture is very poetic of you, albeit stupid.

But he figures body glitter has to be relatively harmless so he doesn’t feel too concerned about it.

You lift yourself off of his lap so that he’s able to unbutton and wriggle out of his jeans. He puts them with his other clothes, leaning over to be able to reach the chair you’d chosen. He’s not sure whether or not you want him to take off his underwear yet so he keeps them on, looking back to you for further instruction.

“You can take them off,” you say. “I’ll take mine off too but before I do, do you want me to suck your dick?” you ask, kneeling in front of him.

“No, no no,” he replies hurriedly, pulling you back to your feet. “I already know I’m not going to last very long. I don’t want to put myself at an even greater disadvantage.”

You snort. “Suit yourself.”

“But can I-” he pauses.

“What?”

“Can I eat you out, though?”

“You want to eat me out on your birthday?”

“Well, yeah,” he pushes his bottom lip out into a pout, making you chuckle and kiss him again, sucking on his lip to get him to moan into your mouth.

“This is supposed to be about you, though,” you point out.

Jisung doesn’t know how to admit that wanting to eat you out is about him. He doesn’t know how to tell you that it’s something he’s fantasized about for years now, that it would be the (second) best birthday present you could ever give him. He can’t say any of that without confessing to his big fat crush on you so he lets it go.

“Okay,” he concedes.

“Next time, though?” you suggest as you bend over to take your thong off, making his eyes nearly pop out of his head at both the sight and the words coming out of your mouth.

Next time? There was going to be a next time? Jisung doesn’t know what kind of face he’s making but you must think he’s still sulking because you start to make a deal with him.

“I’ll tell you what, if you want it that bad, you can eat me out once the clock strikes midnight when it’s not your birthday anymore. We can leave your little party early if that’ll make you happy. But for now, you can have a taste, if you want.”

Jisung watches you spread your legs and slip two fingers inside of yourself. You sigh in relief and curl them upward, getting yourself even wetter for him. He already has his mouth open, (in shock) waiting, when you sit back on his lap. This time, he can feel your arousal on his bare thigh and it makes his cock twitch against the waistband of his boxers.

You push your dripping fingers into his mouth, nodding approvingly as he sucks them clean. He moans around them, taking them deeper until your knuckles are brushing his lips. He wishes he could somehow deepthroat them but your fingers are only so long. You retract them far too soon for Jisung’s liking but he knows you need to move on if he’s going to get fucked and make it to his party before it ends.

“Wow, Ji. You’re a little slutty, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t know I would be,” he laughs breathlessly. “You bring it out of me.”

You put a hand over your heart. “I’m flattered. Now take your underwear off.”

Right. He had forgotten about that part. He had been distracted. You hover over his thighs as he slips out of his boxer briefs and tosses them to the side. He doesn’t care where they land. Underwear is easy to wash and who knows how many times Jisung has stumbled acros someone else’s boxers in this godforsaken fraternity house.

“Didn’t know you were so desperate to get in my pants,” he jokes.

You tilt your head to the side with a small smile he doesn’t know how to read. “Can’t you feel how wet I am?”

To punctuate your point, you grab his dick and lower yourself enough to run the head through your slick folds. It’s a rhetorical question so he knows you aren’t expecting an answer but he gives you one anyway, sputtering out a “y-yes, holy shit!” in response.

Your hand is so warm and still a little wet from Jisung’s saliva and it feels perfect around his cock. He’s so fucked. You can’t help stroking his dick up and down a few times just to tease him, smirking as he tenses underneath you and grits his teeth in an attempt to stay in control of himself.

Thankfully, you relent. “I’m going to get a condom now, okay? I’ve always got some in my bag.”

Jisung doesn’t realize he’d had his eyes closed until he feels your weight disappear from his lap. He wonders when he shut them.

You’re already on the other side of the room, bent over the bag you had gotten the speaker out of. The fact that you carry condoms in your work bag is interesting to Jisung. A lot of your rules implied that the people you... service don’t interact with you much at all. But they say there are exceptions to every rule...

There had to have been times when you were just as attracted to the client as they were to you, right? But have you ever acted on that? He shouldn’t ask. It’s none of his business. He is curious, though.

You return with a foil packet in one of your hands and offer it to him.

“Would you like to do the honors?”

Jisung takes the condom and rips the packaging open with his teeth. You look impressed, which is a relief because he’s not sure if he’ll put it on correctly and he needs that buffer of you being turned on by something he’s done if he’s about to embarrass himself. He’s practiced putting condoms on before but never with an audience. His hands are shaking as he guides it down the shaft and he can feel you watching intently. It dawns on him that not only are you watching him struggle with something so simple, you’re also looking at his dick. Do you like what you see? Is he smaller than you were expecting? Uglier? He knows dicks aren’t exactly pretty but he didn’t think his was anything remarkable on either side of the spectrum.

The longer he spends trying to roll it on, the more he feels panic building in his stomach so he decides he needs to say something to ease the tension, to shift your attention away from this pathetic little display.

“Have you ever fucked one of your clients?”

God damn it.

You shake your head adamantly. “Never.”

“So I get to be the first one?” he asks happily.

“You’re not my client,” you remind him. “So that rule is still intact.” He pouts. “Unless you want me to call, what’s his name... Chris? In here.”

Jisung narrows his eyes at you as you climb back onto his lap. “That’s a joke, right?”

“Yes, Ji. It’s a joke.”

“You think you’re funny?”

“I know I am,” you scoff, then take him by the shoulders. “Still sure about this?”

“Yes, yeah, I’m sure,” he assures you, nodding. You take his cock in your hand again and position yourself above it. “Just-”

You freeze, eyes wide. “Just what?”

“Can you kiss me? As you put it in?”

Jisung doesn’t hear how romantic the request sounds until he says it out loud but he had only asked because he’s afraid he’ll make an embarrassing noise or worse, confess his love to you, if his mouth isn’t occupied when you do sink down onto him.

Thankfully, you don’t question it and do as he asked as you, kissing him deeply as you slip the head inside of you. Jisung lifts his hips slightly to push himself into you a bit more. You gasp against his lips.

“Sorry, are you okay?” he asks through grit teeth.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just give me a second to adjust.”

“Shit, sorry. I should have fingered you first or something,” he mutters.

He feels so stupid. How could he forget something so important? Of course, grinding and your own fingers wouldn’t be enough to prepare you for the real thing. He hadn’t even stretched you out at all.

“No, I wasn’t thinking,” you laugh. “I just wanted your dick so bad and I’m so wet I thought I’d be fine... but you’re huge.”

“Wha- am I?”

“Yeah, dude, are you kidding me?” you laugh, still sounding strained. “I knew you had to be big but- stop smirking!”

“I can’t help it!” he cries defensively, covering his mouth with his hand so you can’t see it anymore. “Come on, you’d react the same way.”

You roll your eyes. “I guess.”

“Don’t even lie- god, fuck!”

You had taken that exact moment to sink down further on his length, probably to get back at him. It worked, obviously.

“What were you saying?” you taunt, raising yourself momentarily before dropping all the way down this time.

“I don’t remember,” Jisung groans.

“That’s what I thought.”

It takes everything in Jisung not to blow the instant he feels your hips flush with his the first time. He’s heard guys complain about condoms before, whining about how they can barely feel anything through the latex, but they must have the smallest dicks in the world because he can feel everything.

Obviously, he knows fucking raw must feel better to some extent, but this is pretty damn good.

You must think so too because you can’t keep your eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time. You can’t stop kissing him either, pressing your lips against his mouth, then his jaw, his neck, anywhere you could reach. He wishes he could kiss you back but all he can do is sit there and take it. All of his concentration, all of his energy, is being put into lasting as long as possible, lasting long enough to make it good for you too.

“You feel so good,” you compliment, murmuring the words into his skin.

“Not as good as you,” he whispers back.

He’s not sure if he’ll make you cum but he wants to try so he snakes one of his hands between your bodies and starts feeling around for your clit, assuming he’ll know when he finds it. He has to be way off because you grab his wrist and direct him to it after a few seconds of mindless searching.

“Here?” he asks.

“Mhm, right fucking there. Just rub in gentle circles and you’ll get me to cum in no time. A little less pressure- o-oh fuck...”

Some of the tension leaves your body and you rest more of your weight on Jisung as he moves his fingers in the way you’d told him to. He takes it as a good sign and keeps going.

You try to maintain some semblance of a rhythm as you bounce on his lap but the added stimulation on your clit makes it difficult. Jisung tries to help but he doesn’t really know what he’s doing.

You’re a little too gone to guide him but he doesn’t mind. He can figure it out. Probably. He’s not any better off, mind completely clouded with thoughts of you, you, you. He’s wanted this for so long, wanted you for so long, that it’s hard to believe it’s actually happening and almost impossible to focus on anything else.

“You’re going to- Jisung, you’re going to make me cum,” you whimper.

“I am?”

“Yes, I’m so close please don’t stop!”

He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop after you cum the first or the second time. He just fucks you until you’re digging your nails into his back and clenching around him so tight that he can’t stave off his own orgasm any longer. It goes on for what feels like forever. His vision goes white and his ears start ringing and he only knows you came again because his back starts stinging with fresh scratches.

You’re boneless when he regains his sight and feeling in his legs.

“Are you okay?” he asks, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“I’m fantastic.”

Jisung laughs. “I was okay?”

“Okay? You were incredible. Seriously. Best fuck of my life.”

He doesn’t know how true that statement is, figures your judgment is a little lacking in your post-nut haze but he decides not to question it. If you say he was the best fuck of your life he’s going to take your word for it.

“Was it good for you?” you ask.

“Oh my god, yeah of course,” he assures you. “I couldn’t have asked for a better first time. Thank you, again, by the way.”

You sit up a little and cup his face with your hands. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s not like I was just doing you a favor. I wanted it too.”

He sighs. “I know but-”

“Jisung. I feel the same way. I’ve wanted this too.”

He stares at you. “What?”

You stare back at him. “When we were... you know. You said you’ve wanted this for so long?”

“I said that out loud?” he gasps. “Wait, is that... is that what made you cum the first time?”

You duck your head, suddenly shy. “Maybe.”

“Oh my god. You like me too?”

You smack him on the arm. “Yes, idiot. I can’t believe you haven’t noticed.”

“But you never told me! You dated other people!”

“Because you never made a move!”

“Because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship!” he looks away for the next part. “And because I was scared you didn’t feel the same way. How was I supposed to know?”

“Ji, why else would I have stayed and offered to give you a lap dance after figuring out it’s you, my best friend, that I’m supposed to be dancing for? It’s because I like you as more than a best friend!”

“That can totally be a best friend thing!” he argues.

“In what world?!”

“I don’t know! It’s my birthday, don’t yell at me!”

Your eyes widen with panic and realization. “Oh shit, your party!”

“That was the longest thirty minutes ever,” Minho comments loudly as you and Jisung walk into the foyer together. He’s smug as he claps Jisung on the back but is ultimately ignored because everyone else is already swarming the two of you to wish your best friend a happy birthday.

You and Jisung had rushed to get dressed and make yourselves presentable after remembering why you were there in the first place, promising each other that you would talk about the serious stuff later.

“Yeah, are we getting charged extra for that?” Chris asks you under his breath, having pulled you both aside. He checks his watch and grimaces at how much time has actually passed since he left you with his friend.

“No, no, it’s on the house,” you assure him with a wink.

“Thank god. We don’t have the budget for that. Oh, but you know, Felix, another one of our brothers, has a birthday tomorrow. Are you doing anything?”

Jisung interjects before you can answer for yourself. “She’s busy.”

Chris looks back and forth between the two of you, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

“Um, yeah, I’m not available tomorrow,” you stutter, giving Jisung a what the fuck side-eye. “Sorry.”

“Okay, well, if your schedule clears up, Jisung should bring you by. Not to work, just as a guest.”

“I’ll try to make it,” you promise.

Chris gives you a thumbs-up and disappears into the crowd, leaving you alone with Jisung again. He’s sure his other fraternity brothers will find him soon enough, though, and drag him off to do shots or something.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cockblock a work opportunity,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I don’t think cockblock is the right word to use there,” you scoff.

“I think it is if I was thinking with my cock,” he shoots back. “I just wanted to have you to myself for twenty-four hours, is that okay?”

And maybe he also didn’t want another one of his brothers getting a birthday lap dance from you so close to his birthday. Sue him.

You smile and kiss him on the cheek. “Of course. Anything for my birthday boy.”

Your birthday boy. Jisung likes the sound of that. But to be fair he likes the sound of anything if it means he gets to be yours.

apologies for the delay but lmk what you think I always appreciate feedback!!

#collision #collision ii #stray kids smut #skz smut #han smut #han jisung smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #han x reader #han jisung x reader #stray kids x female reader #han x female reader

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