#kiss full of color makes me wonder where you’ve always been
Text
Kiss Full of Color Makes me Wonder Where You've Always Been // Luke Hemmings
notes: So this was supposed to be another collab but as @kindahoping4forever mentioned, I was feeling it and Crystal didn't want to interrupt the flow. She did the graphic and is amazing so show her some love too! :) Anyway, we're here to continue our confirmed mind loss in the Luke Lane.
Warnings: Boyfriend!Luke coming in hot with first sex in an established relationship (like it's the first time they are sleeping together not like first time first time.) there is some dirty talk but it's not filthy, just sweet.
Word Count: 4290
Cass Masterlist // Ko-Fis linked in our bios
Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!
You grumble as you turn over once again, exhausted but unable to sleep. You open your eyes to peek at the clock and grumble again when you see how little time has passed since you last looked. This night feels endless.
Your eyes flicker over to the nightstand and you run through your mental catalog of toys in the drawer, wonder if there’s something in there that could maybe lull you to sleep with an orgasm. You sigh, knowing that’s been a dead end recently. It’s not what you really want.
Your mind naturally lands on the subject of your new boyfriend, Luke. You’ve been dating for a few months now but he’s been gone for most of it, writing a new album with his band. You’ve gotten to know each other quite well via texting and phone calls and you know enough to know you really like him but there’s still a sweet sense of hesitation when it comes to being physical. You’ve fooled around a bit, gotten each other off both in person and on the phone, but you haven’t had sex, haven’t even been naked together yet, which is why it feels a bit weird to be considering calling him at 2AM. In any other context, this would definitely be seen as a booty call.
You shrug, hoping he’ll understand your intentions are pure. You grab your phone and send off a “Hey.” Before you can even set it back down, your screen is lighting up in the dark: he’s calling.
“I was literally just thinking about you,” he says warmly. “Didn’t think you’d still be awake.”
You grin because hearing his voice is actually quite nice. “Eh… having trouble sleeping. What are you up to?”
“Actually, I just got home… you wanna come over? I’m sure we could find something to wear you out.”
You swear you can hear the dirty grin in his voice and you smile, letting your mind wander to the last encounter you had with him before he left town. His broad, shirtless frame hovering over you in a hot and heavy make out session, you sinking your teeth into his shoulder while the two of you ground your hips together, leading up to him going down on you and you reciprocating. It fueled your personal fantasies and your phone sex sessions for weeks afterward.
“It’s late,” you chuckle. Your words are protesting but your body is moving around your room, changing into denim shorts, putting on a bra and looking for a cute top. You weren’t necessarily trying to impress him but you also didn’t want him to think you were a slob.
“But you’re not sleeping and neither am I… plenty of room in this bed if you do get tired…” He lets his point hang there, almost like he knows you’re actually thinking it over. “It’s also late enough that traffic won’t be an issue and if you come here, we don’t have to worry about waking up your roommate.”
“Seems like you’ve got an answer for everything… are you trying to take advantage of me?” You joke, already packing a bag to take with you.
“I don't think I’d call it taking advantage… seem to remember you inviting yourself into my lap last time I saw you,” he jokes. “But if you truly just wanna come sleep in my bed, I’m fine with that too. I'd just like to see ya.”
“Are you asking me to sleep over?”
“Uh… yeah, I guess I am. You coming?”
“I’m already out the door, Hemmings.”
“I guess I’ll see you soon. Drive safe.”
Luke leans against the door frame, wearing a well worn shirt, holes displaying his skin, and loose basketball shorts. When you’re within arms reach, he grins and reaches for you, cupping your face to pull you in for a kiss. “Hi,” he murmurs, pulling you inside.
“Hey,” you smile at him. He grabs your bag and takes it to his room while you kneel to pet Petunia.
He pads back out to where you are. “Want wine or anything?” He asks.
“Uh… sure, a glass could be nice,” you agree. He grabs your hand to lead you to the kitchen and you notice the house is mostly dark, save for a couple lamps emitting a soft glow.
You watch him effortlessly reach for a couple glasses and he picks a bottle from the wine rack. He hands it to you: it’s red and definitely more expensive than anything you’d buy, but you nod. He pours the glasses and hands you one, making eye contact.
His blue eyes were absolutely the first thing you’d noticed about him, followed by how broad he was. But you couldn’t say what you liked more now that you’d gotten your hands on him.
You stand and sip for a moment before he wraps his arm around you and walks you to his room. It’s brighter in the room and his suitcase is on the floor and open, clearly rummaged through.
“I missed you, you know,” he murmurs, pulling you in by the waist.
“I missed you,” you admit, hugging him. He kisses the top of your head as his arm tightens around you.
He holds you for a little longer before sitting on his bed. He watches as you look around his room. “Oh… you’ve never been in here before, have you?”
“Nope,” you shake your head. “I think this is only the third time I’ve been to your house at all.”
He pulls you over and sets the wine glasses on the bedside table. His hands rest on the back of your thighs while your arms immediately go around his neck.
His head tilts back and he looks up at you, you push his curls off his face and lean in for a kiss, letting your fingers gently scratch at his scruff. He lets out a quiet moan and pulls back just enough to say “Yeah.” Before you realize what’s happening, he’s sliding his hands down and smoothly pulling from behind your knees so you’ll straddle him.
“Oh!” You yelp with surprise.
He smiles wide as you settle onto his lap. His hands caress your waist and you lean in for another kiss. He quickly deepens it and you tangle your fingers in his curls, enjoying the contact and the kissing and his hot little moans when you bite his lip.
His hands move down to your ass, giving a squeeze, you drop your hands to his waist and gently push under the hem of his shirt, grazing your fingertips along his sides, gently stroking his skin with your thumbs. He lets out a soft sigh and you decide that you want to hear all his noises. You’re sure you’ve heard a lot of them, probably even most of them, but you want more to power those nights when he’s away.
He interrupts your thought process, pulling out of the kiss to reach behind his head and pull his shirt off. He leans in to kiss you but you pull back, trying to get a good look at his shirtless frame.
“Oh, I’m sorry, should I not…” he starts.
You grin at him and shake your head, “I just wanna look at you. Trying to familiarize myself with the expanse of your shoulders.” You drag your fingers from his neck across his shoulders. “Your freckles…”
He takes a deep breath, smiling softly at you. “Take your time.” You lean in to kiss him, relaxing your body against him. You gently scratch through his chest hair and his fingers work at the buttons on your shirt. “You’re gorgeous, y’know,” he murmurs.
“And you're incredibly handsome.” You rest your forehead against his as he pushes your shirt off your shoulders; you shrug it the rest of the way off and he starts kissing on the newly exposed skin.
It’s when he grabs you by your hips and tosses you onto your back that you decide that if he’s ready for sex tonight, then you definitely are too. He lays next to you and you kiss his nose before slotting your lips together.
Luke drags his hand up your body, tucking his fingertips under the hem of your bralette as his lips work down your neck. His hand engulfs your breast, fingers tugging your nipple. It’s the first time you realize he’s got his rings on because they feel so cool against your skin.
“Lu,” you moan, taking a couple shallow breaths.
He pushes up and sits back on his heels. He freezes with his hand on your breast, his other hand midway through pushing up your thigh. “Sorry,” he pants. “Do you wanna stop?”
“Quite the opposite, handsome.” You snap the waist of his shorts with one hand and your other encourages him to continue massaging you. You tease, “Is it usually your instinct to stop when a girl moans for you?”
He smiles. “Just don’t want to push too far,” he replies, letting his fingers graze over the front of your panties through the leg of your shorts. “It’s been a while since we've done anything together… in person, anyway. Just wanna make sure we want the same things.”
“I was gonna tease you for being shy but asking for consent is actually so fucking hot,” you groan, pushing your hips against his hand. “I promise you’ll know if I want to stop… but right now I’m ready to hear all your sounds and dirty words in person,” you admit, reaching your hand out to gently run your fingertips over his stomach.
He shudders at your touch, but stays where he’s at, his fingers still slowly and lightly brushing over the front of your panties. He eyes you closely as he pushes the fabric out of the way in favor of sliding his fingers through your folds. He pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, grinning as you watch him curiously, “You taste better than I remember,” he comments as a cocky smirk crosses his features.
“You just gonna stare or are you gonna come down here and take care of me?”
“Oh, I’ll take care of you.” He grins and leans back in, pressing his lips to yours. He tugs at the button on your shorts and you lift your hips so he can pull them down and toss them across the room. You grab his face and pull him into another kiss, but it doesn’t last long.
His lips move down your neck, marking your collarbone. “Thought about you a lot while I was gone,” he mumbles. “Thought about that night before I left… how wet you got for me. Came just thinking about getting you to make those noises for me again.”
“Thought about you like that too, Lu… so noisy while I sucked your cock… such a turn on.” You tangle your fingers in his hair, arching your body into his kisses and touch, the dirty words comfortably spilling from your lips after weeks of phone sex.
He looks up at you, wide smile spreading across his face briefly before his lips press between your ribs. Both hands work on pushing your bra up so he can take it off of you. He looks you over quickly before leaning back into you to mouth over your breasts, finally sucking a nipple into his mouth.
Luke adjusts, putting a thigh between yours and you can feel how hard he is through the thin fabric of his shorts. You push his curls off his forehead and he looks up at you, eyes intense and full of lust. He pulls his mouth off, switches sides and uses his tongue to tease your nipple, circling it, flicking over it, never dropping eye contact.
You arch into him again, moaning at the fresh friction from the new placement of his thigh, he moans out too, squeezing his eyes closed.
You drag your fingertips over the back of his neck and down his shoulder. “Fuck Lu… missed the weight of you.”
“Missed your dirty little whines… been thinking about the way you’d take my cock, how tight and wet your pussy would feel around me,” he rasps, kissing down your body. He makes it to your belly button before you pull him back up by his hair. “How you’d look riding me…”
You moan out against his mouth. “Been thinking about that too.” Your words come out breathy as you grind against him and work your lips against his jaw, up to his ear, pulling his head back for better access. “Your hands on me, everywhere… grabbing my ass, you watching your cock disappear into me while I bounce on it, nails digging into your chest…” His hips hit extra hard at that and he strangles out a moan.
“Oh… fuck,” he groans as your teeth graze down his neck. His breath is shaky. “Wanna know how you’d sound, look, while I drive my hips up into you,” he moans. “Watch bruises form on your skin from how tight I hold you.”
You can feel the wet spot from his precum on your thigh and you reach down to cup his cock through his shorts. “Jesus, Lu, you’re gonna have us both cumming before either of us gets naked,” you groan, rolling your hips against his.
His breath is ragged as he presses your lips together. The kiss is slow and his body stills, allowing him to clear his head. “Mmm… you’re right babe, we gotta slow this down. Wanna enjoy you.” He kisses down your body, this time taking your underwear off. He kisses on both of your thighs, marking one and making sure to give you beard burn on the other, knowing you like that. He finally licks up the juices pooling at your entrance. Your body shudders at the feeling and his grip tightens at your hip and around your thigh. “I’ve got you, sweet thing,” he soothes. “You taste so damn good… so wet… bet I could just…” His voice trails off as he slowly presses two fingers into you. “Yeah… thought so,” he murmurs, easily working them in and out.
You look down at him, watching him both concentrated and amazed at how easily he’s able to work his fingers in and out of you. You wipe both hands over your face because you feel so damn good… and then his lips wrap around your clit and your hips buck and you claw at any skin of his you can reach. “Oh, oh… Lu… baby… please.”
He hums against you, amused, happy to have a moment to calm his body so he can thoroughly enjoy wrecking you. He keeps his fingers working at a moderate pace, curling into the spot that makes you pull at his curls, buck your hips and try desperately to push his face closer to you. His fingers continue but he pulls his lips away. You whine desperately and his eyes light up with joy. You watch him devilishly lick his lips, knowing your eyes are concentrated on him - he’s driving you wild and he knows it. “That’s good, babe,” he praises. “Gonna cum for me?”
The teasing lilt in his voice is even hotter in person than it was on the phone and then there’s the smirk that accompanies it that you didn’t get to see before. Your teeth are sunk so deep in your lip you’re sure you should be bleeding. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Yes… please, Lu.”
His lips wrap back around your clit, fingers still working. He doesn’t bother trying to hold your hips down because he’s particularly fond of your sounds and the way you tug his hair. He hears the whine he knows well and it’s even better in person than it is over the phone. Your chest heaves and you clench around his fingers. He moans at the feeling but quickly withdraws. He slows his tongue down, working you through the orgasm until you're pushing him away.
You tug his hair to pull him up, grabbing his jaw to pull him into a kiss. “Missed your mouth,” you moan.
“You taste so so good.”
“You got condoms?” You ask, blinking innocently up at him. You watch his face soften briefly and he rests above you on his elbows.
“We don’t have to go there…”
You squeeze his hips. “Lu, we’ve got like four options here: We call it a night, I blow you, you go jerk off or we could finally have sex since you’re finally going to be home for more than three days.” Your fingers pull up his sides and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in. “And I’d prefer the last option… if you want to, of course.”
“Of course I want to,” he replies, slotting your lips together. He sits back on his heels, smiling widely at you, and you run your hands up his thighs under his shorts. He reaches into the nightstand and tosses a bottle of lube and a condom onto the bed.
You lick your lips as you move your hands up, over the tent in his shorts, to his hips. You slip your hands into the waistband and he quickly gets the point; he hops up off the bed, shimmying the shorts off. You hear the dull thud of his cock hitting his stomach and then he’s standing stark naked in front of you.
You sit up on your knees to take in the sight of him: he looks deliciously contradictory, somehow both angelic and sinful. His large, intimidating frame looms over you while his soft curls fall perfectly in his face, despite your hands tugging at them every which way. His blue eyes shine with both affection and lust, his tongue that just made you see stars peeks out from between his perfectly pink lips. The mark you’ve left on his neck, the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows thickly, his expansive shoulders, broad chest, the thick tufts of hair on his chest… there’s so much you want to get your hands on immediately but you want to stop and appreciate him more. “You look like you could eat me up right now,” he hums with a grin.
You smile up at him, reaching out to trace the puzzle piece tattoo on his ribs before pulling him in by his hips to look for more tattoos you hadn’t gotten to see before. You nip at his belly button appreciatively, run your fingers over his inked skin, stopping specifically to trace over his thigh tattoo.
His hand smooths over your hair. “Honey,” he murmurs, waiting for you to make eye contact. “First time naked together and I feel like you’re just here for the tattoos,” he quips, smiling.
“There’s just so much to see… appreciate… and I definitely do appreciate what I’m seeing,” you flirt, dragging your fingertips up his thigh, grazing the underside of his cock.
“Well… I like the way you're looking at me,” he rasps. Both hands tuck into your hair as he cradles your face and pulls you in for a kiss. Your hand wraps around his cock and he shudders. “I’m not gonna be able to take much more,” he admits, looking at you, still holding your face.
You pull him onto the bed with you. “Then let’s stop stalling.”
He pulls you in for another kiss and then the two of you are moving, trying to figure out positioning. It takes a few minutes before you're both laying back, heads on the same pillow, soft open mouth kisses while your hands explore a little more. He squeezes your ass and pulls you tighter against his body and that’s what ultimately gets you to roll him onto his back so you can straddle him.
“This OK for you?” You ask, reaching for the condom and lube.
“If it’s what you want,” he breathes. “I’ve got no problem with this. Gorgeous girl, great view…” You hand him the lube and unwrap the condom; you lean in to kiss him and roll the condom on while he pushes two lube covered fingers into you to spread it around.
You moan as he twists his fingers around and when he pulls out, you push yourself up and steady yourself against his firm chest with one hand, using the other to swipe the head of his cock through your folds, positioning at your entrance. You slowly start to take his cock, having to do a few shallow bounces before taking more of him, again and again until he’s bottomed out.
His head is already thrown back, eyes screwed shut, a slight pant leaving his lips. One hand grips tightly around your hip while the other cups your face, thumb tugging your bottom lip.
He whimpers as you roll your hips, a quiet moan leaves your mouth too. His eyes open and he finds you quickly, watching your body as you find a rhythm that causes both of you to moan. He doesn’t let go of your hip - in fact, you can feel the bruise forming - but his free hand explores your body.
You watch him watch you, his eyes are all over your body, fascinated as his cock disappears inside you, the way your body moves, working to bring pleasure to you both. He groans, “You feel so good.”
“Luke,” you gasp, slowing down a bit.
He bites his lip and asks, “Babe, can I?” You nod, lids half closed. He grips your hips and pushes you up a bit, planting his feet on the bed so he can thrust up into you. He quickly speeds up and you drop your hands to his chest, bracing yourself for the way his hips pound into yours, the slapping of skin just barely louder than the whimpers falling from your lips, the moaning and groaning from his.
You somehow pick up on his familiar whine, between all the other noises in the room, your own included.
“Holy fuck.” He cries out and you watch him strain for a couple more thrusts before making a deliciously dirty sound as he cums into the condom. He drops his hips back to the bed and gives you an extra tight squeeze at your hips.
You collapse forward on his chest. “Feel good, baby? Sound so fuckin’ good when you cum,” you pant, kissing on his neck, scratching your fingers through his chest hair.
“Yeah… yeah.” He nods, finally letting go of your hips. You push up and lay next to him, kissing him passionately. “Noticed you weren’t making your typical noises,” he points out quietly.
“Nah… but it always takes me a while to finish with new partners… plus you gave me a killer orgasm before, so…” you shrug, pecking his lips. You notice the concern in his eyes and reassure him, “Don’t think it wasn’t pleasurable for me just because I didn’t, Lu. You felt amazing and I can’t wait for us to do this more. But I’m happy to finish myself for now.”
“I’d be happy to help,” he offers, face going a little red.
You cup his face and offer him another soft kiss. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and then we’ll see about me.”
You’re still catching your breath when Luke comes back and he very quickly climbs on the bed, pulling you over and onto your side, hooking your leg over his hip. He kisses you as his fingers sneak between your thighs. “Mmm…” he hums. “Still wet for me.”
Luke’s lips kiss along your jaw until he’s nipping your earlobe and his two fingers push back into you as his thumb toys with your clit, quickly working you up again. You almost expect him to pick up into dirty talk again but instead he meets your moans into his ear with moans of his own, quickly hurtling you toward orgasm. You pull him closer, suddenly needing to feel his body against yours. His chest hair rubbing against your nipples is unlike any sensation you’ve ever felt before and it pushes you over the edge.
“Oh fuck… Luke,” you moan. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, teeth sinking into his chest as you try to muffle the desperate whine you let out as you cum. His fingers slow, thumb rubbing light circles over your clit as you come down.
You look up and the two of you share several slow kisses. He pulls his fingers away and cradles you closer to his body, letting you catch your breath. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead before showing you into the bathroom to clean up.
“Wanna shower or anything?”
You stretch your arms above your head, standing on your tiptoes, letting out a big yawn. “Nope, as promised, I’m worn out.”
When you wander back into his room, Luke is sitting against the headboard under the blankets. He smiles big at you and holds his arms out, “C’mere, honey.”
You’re instantly across the room, fitting yourself against him. He takes the moment to nuzzle his nose with yours. “I really enjoyed this, Lu,” you murmur into his neck.
“I’m glad you came over.” He squeezes you, kissing your forehead. He feels you yawn against him and announces, “Alright, time for bed.” He pulls the blanket down next to him and you crawl inside. He tucks you in, turns off the lights and presses himself against your back.
“So… round two in a few hours?” There’s a teasing in your voice but when you look back at him, he presses a kiss to your lips in eager agreement. “Good night, handsome,” you yawn, finally drifting off to sleep as Luke gently rubs your back.
#5sos smut#5 seconds of summer smut#Luke hemmings smut#cal-puddies writes#kiss full of color makes me wonder where you’ve always been#yes the title is from a Kasey musgraves song#yes I love this couple too#yes please leave feedback#as always#thank you
283 notes
·
View notes
Note
hihi!! I was wondering if I could possibly get a kyle brofoloski X fem!reader where he confronts the reader about eating less AFTER FOREVER alr ty
Yes ofc!! This is based off something that’s helpful to me,, I understand the struggle :(
TW for mentions of not eating/eating less!!
Word count: 764
South Park - Kyle Confronts You About Eating Less
You were rambling on about something. Kyle wasn’t sure what; he was preoccupied glancing thoughtfully at your lunch tray. Still mostly full, even though lunch was going to end in five minutes.
Though he had been watching your food since you sat down, you only noticed just now. “Want my food? I’m not hungry,” you offered, nudging your tray in his direction.
The silence that followed brewed anxiety in your stomach.
“Y/n,” he said seriously, “you haven’t been eating.”
Your eyes went wide. You felt like a deer in headlights, a murderer caught with bloody palms. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know. You’ve been doing this”—he pointed at your tray—“for weeks. Barely touching your food, saying you’re not hungry, refusing when I offer you a snack… Admit it.”
You looked at your tray, pursing your lips. Picking a crumb off your cookie, you rolled it in your fingers anxiously. “I’m just not hungry.”
“That’s another lie.” Then, in a gentler tone, he said: “Please, Y/n, if something’s wrong, tell me.”
You felt your throat tighten as you thought of what to say. “I’ve just… I’ve been having a hard time lately. I don’t want to eat anything. Eating just makes me feel worse.”
“And not eating makes you feel better?”
“It’s better than how I feel when I eat.”
Kyle frowned. He took your hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “Y/n, look at me.”
Your eyes, misty with tears, met his. You were shocked at the softness in them; you thought he was mad.
“I want you to try and eat more. How can I help you?”
The tears in your eyes threatened to spill. You opened your mouth, but no words came out. The bell rang before you got your chance. You hurried to your feet, but Kyle held on to your hand. “After school.” He shot you a stern look. You nodded.
You couldn’t pay attention in any of your classes for the rest of the day. You were actually grateful to have the time to think about it, but it was still hard. It was frustrating to have to think of a solution to your own problem, but you knew it was for the better. If nothing else, it would make Kyle stop worrying.
You met by the flagpole, where you always met before walking home. Kyle was waiting with his arms crossed expectantly.
“I thought of something,” you began warily. “Maybe… Could you eat with me? Like… same food, same portions? Maybe even a little more?”
Kyle grabbed your hand, a huge grin on his face. “Of course. Do you want to come over to try it out?”
The thought scared you a little, but the look in your boyfriend’s eyes chased your fear away. You agreed.
Kyle told you to wait on the couch and put something on the TV. He emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later with two plates. Each had sliced apples on them, but one had a dollop of peanut butter as well. Kyle took the plate with peanut butter for himself and handed you the other.
He slung his arm around your shoulder as you both started eating. It was uncomfortable, but knowing that Kyle was eating too helped calm your nerves a little. The TV was also a pretty good distraction.
You had almost finished your apple slices. There was only one left. Feeling brave, you pointed at the peanut butter with one of your slices. “Can I try some?”
Kyle nodded, happily holding his plate out to you while you scooped your desired amount onto the fruit.
When you swallowed the last bite, you turned to Kyle with a smile. The way he beamed at you brought some color to your cheeks, and you looked away bashfully.
“I’m proud of you,” he murmured into your hair as he pulled you in for a kiss. He dragged you from your sitting position to a reclined position on his chest, with his arms around your waist and your head over his heart.
“Thanks,” you whispered. Then, looking up at him, you ventured: “Can we do this again?”
Kissing your forehead, Kyle hummed. “Of course. Whenever you want.”
You grinned, nuzzling into his chest with your head turned to the TV. You weren’t even sure what was on the screen right now; you were too busy being proud of yourself, and glad that you had such an amazing boyfriend. The way he squeezed you, sneaking soft pecks atop your head, told you he felt the same.
Thank you for reading! And thank you for this request, stay safe and healthy loves <33
(divider by saradika)
84 notes
·
View notes
Text
but your love is such a swamp (you’re the only thing i want)
pairing: sebastian sallow/reader
rating: t
summary: You’re toeing the line, giving into this, following your heart, doing whatever you want. Maybe it’s too late, maybe it doesn’t matter anymore. Or maybe some things are better left untouched. You’ll know soon, won’t you?
notes: crossposted from my ao3 account (which i only remembered to do now lol). reader is implied to be hufflepuff, but no explicit descriptions so you’re free to imagine them in another house if you wish.
full tags include: unresolved romantic tension, awkward kissing, awkward makeouts.
as always i took a lot of liberties writing this so if u see any inconsistencies or anything else, thats me exercising that lol
It’s a rare thing to have a whole evening to yourself. Between finishing school works and exams week, there’s never enough time for you to relax, or to spend time with friends and have fun. And now that it’s all over, you’d accepted at the first invitation to celebrate, eager to get away and do something different for once.
But things don’t always go your way. You’ve known it before; it’s the oldest lesson in your book, the only thing that the world keeps trying to remind you over and over, relentless, without mercy. And now you’re stuck here in this place, sitting around and doing nothing, waiting for the snowstorm outside to pass.
Briefly, you wonder if it’s just your bad luck, your innate misfortune. If you hadn’t been so eager to leave, would all this have happened still? You don’t know, not really; you’ve got a feeling that the answer would somehow be a resolute no, but you’re trying not to think about it.
Besides, being stuck indoors isn’t that bad, anyway. It doesn’t feel like you’re stranded; if anything, it feels nice – the opposite of whatever you’d initially expected. Cozy, comfortable. Surrounded by the warmth of the fire, the laughter of the other students. How it echoes down the hallways, loud and cheerful, bright. It makes you feel less alone, less annoyed to be stuck in this place.
It's easy enough for the few first hours. You’ve mostly just wandered around the halls, sipping your hot chocolate and listening to the other students gossip, trying your best to keep a straight face each time one of them says something funny. When you’ve had enough of it, you promptly sneaked back into your room, thinking you might catch up on some sleep instead.
It doesn’t work. Within minutes, you’re back to where you started, wandering around the hallways again, looking for something to do. The answer comes easy to you this time, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes, because how couldn’t you have thought of this earlier?
Is it still sneaking around if you’re doing this in plain sight? You don’t think anyone cares at all; it’s not like you’re friends with him in secret. You’re certain everyone’s seen you together at one point: hanging around after classes, spending time in between breaks. Plus, it’s not like you’ve got something to hide.
Still, you have to admit that it’s a little daunting to be in this dorm. Though nobody’s tried to stop you from going in, it doesn’t stop them from giving you odd looks and questioning stares, like they could tell you don’t belong here. Granted, you already know that you don’t; the colors in your robes already highlights the difference between you, but it’s not like they still need to rub it in. Besides, it’s not like you’re here for them. You’re here for one thing only – well, for one person, even if it’s taking you a while to find him.
It isn’t easy. Most of the time, he’s the one trying to sneak you in, navigating you both around in the dark, and without his guidance, you’re practically at a loss. But still, you manage, and in the end, you finally locate his room, squaring your shoulders as you muster the courage to knock on his door. Five gentle raps – a secret code, something he’s taught you before to let you know that it’s him behind your door.
You hear the sound of the knob twisting and you shift your weight from one foot to another as you wait. The door opens just a crack, and you see his familiar face peering at you from inside the room, suspicious. Realizing it’s just you all along, he lets you in without much of a fuss, opening the door wider and gesturing for you to come in. Briefly, you wonder what it is he’s got to be suspicious about. He’s the one that taught you the code, didn’t he? Somehow, the thought of someone else knowing about it hurts more than you could admit.
Still, there’s no time to dwell on it. You step inside, close the door behind you, watching as he retreats into his desk, grabbing his quill and scribbling something on a parchment. He seems busy enough for conversations, though it’s not as if you mind. You’ve always wanted an excuse to poke around in his room, and now’s as good a time as any.
You sit on the edge of his bed, eyeing the books he’s got on display. There’s not a lot of them, certainly not more than an average Ravenclaw’s, but it’s still more than you can count on both hands. Textbooks, mostly – borrowed from the library with no intention to return, as well as a few novels – authors you barely recognize. Huh.
There’s something in the corner that catches your eye, so you stand up, reaching for it with one hand. He doesn’t stop you, though from the corners of your eyes, you see him staring at you, one eyebrow raised curiously. You meet his gaze head-on, and he tilts his head to the side, more curious than ever. “What are you doing here?”
“Poking around,” you reply easily, leaning against the wall and flipping through the pages of the book. It’s a title you easily recognize – a childhood favorite you’ve carried with you until now, something you’d once told him about in an effort to connect. “I didn’t know you have this.” You wave the book around in your hand, as if to emphasize.
He shrugs. “You’re the one who told me about it.”
“I know.” You grin. “Guess I’m rubbing off on you, huh?”
He frowns, though his eyes are bright, twinkling with mischief. “More than I’d like to admit, unfortunately.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “Rude.”
He snorts, and you don’t miss the tiny smile that plays about the corners of his lips. he doesn’t say anything after that, opting instead to go back to his writing, and all is quiet again.
-
It takes him a while to get done. By the time he’s stood up from his chair, you’re about halfway through the book, the familiar twists and turns greeting you like an old friend. He sits down beside you, and the bed shifts under his weight, the motion startling you out of your reverie.
“Hi,” he greets, just as you turn to look at him. He flashes you a tiny smile, though it quickly turns into a frown once he gets a closer look at you. “You look different.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Do you say that to everyone you meet or is it just to me?”
“No!” he exclaims, just a little too quickly. There’s a flush on his cheeks now, and you bite the inside of your cheek, trying not to laugh. It takes him a moment to recover, clearing his throat and trying again, watching you from beneath his lashes. “But you do look different.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know,” he says, pausing as he thinks. It takes him another moment, but then he shakes his head, shrugging. “You’re sure you didn’t get cursed on your way here?”
“I was?” you ask, blinking, because now this conversation’s making you all confused. “How can you tell?”
“I can’t,” he replies, giving you another narrow-eyed stare. Slowly, he leans in, looks at you closely as if doing so will grant him the answer he seeks. You doubt it would, but you humor him, anyway, sitting up straighter and letting him into your space, trying to ignore the intensity of his gaze, how the warmth of his breath tickles your cheek, your skin. “I’m not sure.”
“Are you sure I’m the one who’s cursed?” you ask weakly, trying to bring some levity back into the room. You’ve never really been this close to him before, not until now, and now that you have, you can’t help but feel nervous. You’ve always thought he’s pretty before, a thing obvious even from a distance, but even that knowledge alone isn’t doing him much justice. Your heart’s pounding in your chest now, and quietly, you wonder if he could hear it, too. “For all we know, you’re the one who’s cursed here.”
He snorts, though he doesn’t look a tad bit amused. “Very funny.”
Silence again. He frowns, watches you closely, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He raises a hand, as though he wants to reach out and touch you, but then he pulls back at the last second, as if he’s thought better of it, and you swallow the lump that forms in your throat, trying your best not to look too disappointed.
You lick your lips, clear your throat. Your voice is quiet when you speak, almost breathless. It’s hard to affect some tone of normalcy when he’s this close to you, nearly touching you but not quite. “Have you managed to figure it out?”
“No.” He sounds frustrated now, grumbling, and you’d laugh at him if you aren’t too busy trying to distract yourself from his proximity. “And I can’t sense any curses on you either.”
You hum under your breath, thinking. There has to be an answer in here somewhere, and you close your eyes, rack your brain for some clues, anything to solve this riddle. The answer comes to you then, quick as lightning. Little flashes of memories, both here and there, vague and a little blurry. Still, there’s no doubt about it; it’s the answer to his question.
“Oh! I get it now,” you say, opening your eyes to look at him. You must sound so certain because even he looks intrigued, raising an eyebrow as he waits for the big reveal. You give him a victorious grin in response, pointing a finger at your lips because there’s no way it could be anything else. “Lipstick.”
“What?”
“Well, you know,” you gesture vaguely around you, trying to come up with an easy enough explanation, something he'd be quick to understand. Seriously? “Things that people wear to look pretty?”
He’s staring at you like you’ve grown another head. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does if you’re not from around here,” you grumble, frowning.
He still looks confused, though he’s staring at you now with a newfound interest. Great. Now you feel like a clown at a circus, or something equally silly. “How does it taste?”
You give him a pained smile, trying not to laugh. “Sebastian, it’s not something you can just taste.”
“Isn’t it?” He meets your eyes then, and there’s a glint in them you’re sure you haven’t seen before. Your breath stops, catches in your throat. You’re not entirely sure what he means by that, and you’re not sure if you even have the heart to ask.
“Well, I can put it on you if you like…” you begin, then stop, realizing he’s begun to lean in again, closer to you than ever. You swallow nervously, completely aware of how quickly your heart is beating, but you can’t move away from him. You want to, you think absently, but something about him draws you in, makes you want to be even closer. Like a moth to a flame. Wanting – no, needing.
Is it even the right thing to do, when you could jeopardize everything that’s nice and good between you? You don’t think so, and yet you want it anyway.
Still. You lick your lips, open your mouth, trying to come up with something – a convenient lie, a believable excuse; you’re not even sure anymore. All you know is that you’ve at least got to say something, a last-ditch attempt at salvaging whatever you have, keeping it intact. “But I left it in my room. I’ll have to um, go back…”
He’s not saying anything. He’s staring at you still, and his eyes are bright, twinkling. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, and it makes you more nervous than ever, because you’re not sure what he wants, what he’s planning. Is this a joke, some kind of prank? Is he even serious? “Do you?”
“Not… really,” you admit, hesitating for a second before finally giving in. “Not right now.”
“Okay.” He nods at you, leaves it at that. His gaze darts to your lips, lingering for a few more seconds before he looks up to meet your eyes once more. “Good.” Here, he stops, pauses, hesitating as he moves closer, like he wants to but he isn’t sure if he should. “Um, can I…?”
“Okay,” you breathe, because it feels like the right thing to say, the proper thing to do. And really, because it’s the only thing left for you, and you can’t find it in you to deny yourself what you want. There’s no turning back now, you know, and maybe it’s that knowledge settling in that drives you to desperation, to eagerness, because somehow, you want to make the most of it. The first kiss, and then the last. “Okay.”
He doesn’t say anything else after that, just leans in to kiss you. The kiss is chaste, awkward, neither of you certain what you should do. He pulls away – a brief respite, reaching out to cup your cheek, thumb tracing circles against your skin as he pulls you closer, trying once more.
This time, the kiss starts slow, gentle, sweet enough that it’s easy to melt into. You try to kiss him back, but you’re not even sure if you’re doing the right thing. You’ve kissed people before – students your age, but it’s never like this. Most of the time, it’s a chaste affair, easily forgettable: a shy peck on the cheek, the corners of the mouth, but nothing this serious, this deliberate.
You think you could feel him smiling against you: an unmistakable grin that makes your heart flutter. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip, slow and hesitant, like he’s testing the waters for the first time. For a second, you’re frozen in your spot, uncertain how to react, what to do. Vaguely, you’re made aware of his hand on your cheek, the feel of his thumb, running along your skin, tracing circles, urging you to relax, and slowly you begin to ease into it, into him, giving in and parting your lips open.
You’re practically buzzing with anticipation by the time he slips his tongue inside, lets it brush against yours – a gentle caress you’re not sure how to respond to. Somehow, this one’s even more awkward than before. This time, there’s no rhythm to follow, nothing but instincts to guide you.
Your movements are stiff, stilted, and it’s getting obvious by the minute that neither of you know what you’re doing. You’d laugh, you think, if everything doesn’t feel like a fever dream. Even now, you still can’t believe that any of this is happening. If you close your eyes and let loose too much, what’ll you find next? A broken friendship, ruined and unsalvageable?
You don’t like the thought of it, and so, just to keep yourself from floating away too far, you reach out, tangle your fingers in his hair. A movement borne of desperation because it feels real enough – he feels real enough. Like an anchor, you think, grounding you to whatever reality you’re supposed to be in. And if that reality includes him kissing you, or you kissing him, then you’ll take it.
Then there comes a knock in the door, and the world you know is shattered. Three quick raps, loud and impatient, as if the person on the other side is in a hurry. Quickly, the two of you spring apart, moving as far away as possible from each other, embarrassed at being caught, perhaps even a little guilty. You can’t tell anymore. It’s weird how the distance between you seems multiplied all of a sudden, like he’s light years away instead of meters, a stranger instead of someone you’ve grown close to over the years.
You keep your eyes ahead of you, though you try to watch him from the corners of your eyes, trying to gauge his reaction, what he thinks of the whole thing. Does he think it’s all a mistake – a thing manifested in the heat of the moment, or did he really mean to do it?
You watch him quietly, frowning. You can’t read him, can’t see through him. He’s mirroring your pose, both hands folded in his lap, gaze trained on the wall in front of him, deliberately trying not to glance your way, and it frustrates you a little because it shouldn’t be this complicated, this confusing.
You open your mouth, feeling the need to say something, though you’re not quite sure what. Should you ask him about it, come clean and confess? Or should you keep things normal, pretend you haven’t done things friends wouldn’t do? You’re not sure anymore; you don’t think you’ve ever been sure of anything since the moment you realized you like him.
You clear your throat, try again, thinking you’d fare much better if you start lightly, beginning with his name. It doesn’t work; your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, and the silence between you only grows sharper, heavier. The clock ticks; every passing minute only adds to the torture, the tension, and yet you can’t do anything but sit here, still and quiet, uncertain where to start, how to begin.
The knock comes again, louder this time, almost careless. Four times, each one more deafening than the last. It takes him a moment to recover, and from the tails of your eyes, you watch him fix his hair, straighten his robe, making sure that nothing’s out of place. You think you see him glancing your way, but then he’s turning away before your eyes could meet, and you can’t tell whether the expression you’d caught in his face a few seconds prior is guilt or regret.
He’s still not looking at you as he walks over to the door, opens it a little. There’s a flurry of voices in the background, though only one of them is familiar. The conversation’s hushed, quiet – a thing not meant for your ears. No matter, you think; you’re not interested enough to eavesdrop, especially when there’s something else that occupies your mind.
It’s over as soon as it started, and a second later, the door’s closing again, the silence enveloping the two of you once more. You take this moment to stand up, straightening your robe, and then slowly making your way over to the door. You catch the confusion flashing in his eyes, though you quickly look away before his eyes could find yours. You don’t want him to see you right now. You’re not even sure you want to look at him either.
“I’m… sorry,” you say, because it’s the first thing you can think to say. Easier to lie and make up an excuse than admit that everything between you is ruined. That you’re the only one who seems thoroughly affected by this. You’re not meeting his eyes, keeping your eyes to the floor as you continue, afraid to see what his reaction is. What do you even want to see on his face, anyway? Do you even want to know? “I’ve um, well. I’ve still got some homework to finish, so I’ll uh, catch you later?”
You know he knows you well enough to know when you’re lying. It’s too obvious, anyway; there’s no homework to finish, no advanced readings to do. For once, your break’s solely your own, and yet it’s the first lie you can think of, the first thing that spills out of your lips. Not plausible enough, you know, but you don’t need plausible – you just need an excuse.
You don’t even hesitate. Quickly, you open the door, slipping out of his room before he could even formulate a response.
“Wait,” he says, long after you’re gone, walking down the halls with your arms glued to your sides, ignoring the odd stares cast your way. You don’t stop, don’t even bother to look back, and the only thing that follows you is the sound of his voice, almost desperate in its echo.
330 notes
·
View notes
Text
Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller chapter 5 sneak peek
You wipe the last tear away from your cheek and look at yourself in the mirror across the room. You definitely look like you’ve been crying with your tinted red eyes and wet sleeves that leaves traces of tears on the back of the aquamarine color. You feel like a complete mess.
Just then, you hear the click of the door handle and the squeak of the hinges as Joel opens the door and slowly shuts in behind him. You silently gasp as you hope he doesn’t notice you were crying, but he probably will. He always notices.
“Hey, you okay there, darlin’?” Joel asks as he comes over and sits on the bed beside you, his eyebrows knit together with worry as his brown eyes stare intently at you.
“Mhm,” you hum out faintly as you keep your eyes locked on the cream carpet.
“That doesn’t sound very convincing to me,” he says as his hand brushes up against the side of your thigh, almost calming you down as your insides still rage like a hurricane.
“I’m fine, just a little upset is all,” you mumble out, holding back anymore tears that may spill over the edge.
“Hey, look at me,” he says gently as he cups your chin carefully and turns your face to him. His brown eyes are full of concern, and his gaze doesn’t waver from yours at all.
“Where’s that smile that I love so much, huh? C’mon, baby. Let me see it,” he coaxes as he lifts the corners of his mouth into a warm smile, the sight instantly calming you down.
He slowly unfolds you, and you can’t help but break when you see his crooked smile splayed across his face. It’s your favorite thing in the world. You drop the frown and replace it with a gentle smile as he trails his calloused thumb against your jawline, making you relax into his touch.
“Ahh there’s my girl. The one with the beautiful smile,” he presses as the words send a quick giggle out of you. “Atta girl,” he praises as you get lost in his soft brown eyes. He leans over and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, making your insides coat with tingles at the warmth of him.
“Thanks for making me feel a little better,” you sigh as you fall into his chest and lean your head into the crook of his neck as he gently runs a hand through your hair, soothing you into a calm state.
“I’m sorry about this weekend,” he apologizes as he gently combs his fingers through your hair.
“Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault my parents canceled at the last minute. It’s whatever. I didn’t even want to go that bad anyways,” you pout as you jut your bottom lip out.
“Oh, yes you did, sweetheart. I saw how upset you got down there. This trip meant a lot to you, didn’t it?” he asks as he trails his large hand up and down your back repeatedly.
“Yeah, it did,” you sigh, letting the thoughts wash out of your head so you don’t get upset again.
“What if you could still go?” he asks as your body goes still underneath his touch.
“Huh?” you ask as you pull your head up and sit up straight. “Still go? What do you mean?” you ask, confused because the trip had already been canceled.
“What if you could still go, would you?” he asks as he pushes a fallen stray curl away from his forehead.
You ponder his question, wondering why he’s asking such a silly thing. “Of course I would, but why are you asking?” You raise an eyebrow and look at him curiously, trying to decipher his meaning.
“Because,” he starts, straightening out his button-up blue flannel, “what if I take you?”
Your mouth drops open and your eyes go wide. “What?” you ask with a locked jaw expression, not believing the words that just came out of his mouth.
“What if I take you? Just you and me. We could stay the weekend, get a little sun, maybe swim some, explore Galveston.”
“You’d do that for me?” you ask with teary eyes as he connects his hand with yours, entwining his fingers with yours as you feel them burn the back of your skin.
“I’d do anything to see that pretty smile, sweetheart,” he says with the curl of his lips and the dimple that presses deep into his cheek.
He’s so fucking beautiful and sweet and so loving. How did you ever get so lucky?
“Joel…”
“Let me take you to Galveston, please. I’d love nothing more, truly,” he says with genuine brown eyes.
You start to tear up, vision blurring as the tears lick at the edges of your eyes and start to fall against your cheeks. Joel cups your face with his big hands and wipes away the falling tears with the pads of his thumbs.
“Hey, hey. What’s the matter? Why are you cryin’, darlin’?” he asks worriedly as he looks into your eyes intensely, concern lathered in those doe eyes of his.
“You’re just… you’re just so good to me, Joel. Why are you so perfect?” you cry out as another hot tear falls from your eyes. Joel catches it with the tip of his thumb and brushes it away effortlessly.
“I’m nowhere near perfect,” he chuckles as he keeps his brown eyes on you, “I just know how much the trip meant to you, and there’s no way I’m letting that get taken from you. You wanna go? Then we’re going. I’m not gonna see you disappointed, baby. I’ll take you there myself, and I’m gonna make sure you enjoy every second of it,” he confirms as he drops his hands from your face.
You suck in a breath and slam into his broad chest as you wrap your arms tightly around him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you. God, I love you so much,” you breathe into his ear, feeling one of his hands come to cup the back of your head and the other wrapping around your waist.
“You’re so welcome. And I love you, too, sweetheart. Never gonna stop,” he says slowly into your ear, making every part of you completely lose it for him.
#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel x female reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel the last of us#soft joel miller#soft!joel miller
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
swipe right - jjk | m
“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers
♡ summary- after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?
♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)
♡ word count- 9k
♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.
♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia @untaemedqueen for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks and @hongism for the perusal and help in writing this!
Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.
He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.
Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.
Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.
“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.
You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”
“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”
You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.
“I’m at our park.”
Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.
“Give me five minutes, okay?”
You nod, even though he can’t see you.
“Okay.”
Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.
He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.
You still look so beautiful.
And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.
He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.
“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.
He sniffs haughtily.
“The trash added character.”
Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.
“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.
He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.
“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”
You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.
“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”
Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.
“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.
“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.
“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.
Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.
He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.
“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”
“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.
“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”
As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.
You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it.
“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water.
He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk.
“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.”
Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo.
“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?”
You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above.
“You call Jimin a prince?”
Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband.
“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.”
You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?
“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.”
You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own.
“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.”
“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.”
Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid.
It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom.
The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed.
The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it.
Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can.
“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”
Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone.
The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway.
He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk.
His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read.
He just matched with YOU.
His best friend.
His secret, lifelong crush.
He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it.
YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!
He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen.
JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?
You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other.
Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message.
JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀
Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone.
A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend.
YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies
“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone.
Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion.
“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”
You huff.
“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”
Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband.
“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.
There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line.
“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”
You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend.
“It’s nothing!”
“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.”
“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”
“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.”
You roll your eyes.
“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”
“I’ll be expecting your call later.”
“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”
“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”
You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.
“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.
You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.
So, why do you care so much about what you wear?
You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.
Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?
The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.
You shake all thoughts off.
No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.
You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.
Perfect.
With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.
JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!
ME: See you soon!
Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.
Is he too casual?
He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.
Maybe it’s too much.
Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.
Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.
He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.
He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.
It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.
You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.
“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.
He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.
You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams.
“Jungkook?”
It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.
“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.
“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.
“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.
“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.
“Oh?” He asks, taken aback.
In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.
“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”
His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly.
“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”
The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”
A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.
“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures.
You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.
“Well, are we going?”
Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.
But he resists.
“Let’s go!”
You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen.
But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more.
Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is.
But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork.
Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.
And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you.
It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause.
“What’s up?” He asks curiously.
Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner.
You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours.
“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”
Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own.
Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to.
As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.
“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.
Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.
“What? We were going to get ice cream?”
You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.
You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.
“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.
His body stiffens.
“Okay, let me walk you home.”
You shake your head, already moving away from the man.
“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.
Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.
You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.
“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.
“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”
“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.
“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.
“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator.
Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.
“We’re on our way over.”
Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.
Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.
Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.
“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”
Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.
“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”
Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.
“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”
Jimin nods knowingly.
“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”
“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”
Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze.
“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”
You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face.
“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”
Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”
Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”
Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.
You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.
Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light
speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.
“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.
Ouch.
You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.
“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”
Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest.
“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”
“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”
“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”
Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.
“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone.
“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”
You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.
“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”
“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.
He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”
“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”
He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.
“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”
“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”
“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”
You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.
“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.
He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.
He can’t watch you run away from him again.
“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”
Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.
“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”
He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.
The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.
“Hi Kook.”
The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.
It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others.
Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.
Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.
“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”
Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.
The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.
“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”
He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.
“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”
He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park.
“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”
The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too.
“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”
He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.
The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.
“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”
The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.
The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.
“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”
The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth.
“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”
His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm.
He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.
“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”
Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.
Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.
The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.
It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.
It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing.
Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.
Maybe it was too late.
You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it.
“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”
“You should have brought a jacket.”
The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face down the intruder.
Jungkook.
He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.
He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.
“You came.”
He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.
“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.
“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”
He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”
You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.
“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.
“Every word.”
His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.
“Why did you run away?” Another step.
You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.
“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”
One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck.
“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”
You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”
All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes.
“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently.
“And I promise to never run away from you again.”
Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel.
“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself.
“I would like it if you would.”
As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again.
“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with.
“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing.
“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”
Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss.
Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.
“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip.
“Really? I couldn’t tell.”
He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours.
“You’re such a little smartass.”
His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly.
He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed.
“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?”
You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement.
“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.”
Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited.
“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs.
His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge.
“Oh fuck,” he breathes.
“Feels pretty real, huh?”
“Y-yeah.”
Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more.
“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.”
Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable.
One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan.
“How about this? Not a dream?”
He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water.
“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”
You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently.
“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue.
“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue.
You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets.
“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”
He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully.
“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.”
He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body).
Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are.
“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”
Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down.
“Still dreaming?”
He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire.
“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.
You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes.
“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”
Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart.
“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”
His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout.
His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.
“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?”
His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.
“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug.
Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing.
“I plan to find out everything.”
Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.
“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.
“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.”
He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss.
He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you.
“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.”
Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body.
He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.
He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands.
“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.”
His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation.
“You’re so pretty. So perfect.”
He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.
His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.
One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.
“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”
His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.
“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.
“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”
Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.
“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”
He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.
“And I need you, my love.”
“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”
Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.
“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off.
He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.
After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air.
“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”
You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.
“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”
He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”
“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”
He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”
A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.
“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”
“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”
Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.
“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”
You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.
“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”
Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.
“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”
“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”
Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.
“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”
Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.
“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”
He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.
“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”
You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.
“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt.
He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.
“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”
The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation.
“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”
A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.
He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.
“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”
With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.
“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”
You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”
His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion.
He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.
Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.
After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.
“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”
You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.
“All yours.”
“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship.
You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.
You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.
“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”
Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.
“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”
Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”
Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister.
You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.
“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.
“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”
Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.
Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.
“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”
You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.
“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”
Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.
“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”
You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.
“Sure, Kookie.”
He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”
Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”
tag list - @giadalin @nohayarcoirissintormenta @pjmislovely @xhazmania @marcoazam2 @eggbutnotyolk @feel-the-sunset @unicornbabylover @aretha170 @jeonmisha @hordanhearsawhooo
© ppersonna - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.
#bts smut#jungkook smut#bts fic#jeon jungkook smut#jungkook#ficswithluv#jjk smut#bts fics#jjk fic#jungkook fic
7K notes
·
View notes
Text
Golden Sparks
Harry is new to town and signs up his eight-year-old daughter, Josie to the soccer team where he takes an interest in the well-respected Coach Y/N.
Word count: 25,027
A/N: Hello friends! I hope you’ve been well, honestly I had this idea for a while and it wasn’t until I stepped back from another piece and came back this one that it began to flow. im proud of what I wrote and I hope you enjoy. my longest piece to date :) I do hope you all love it.
Warnings: sweet dad harry, slight angst, slight smut
please do let me know what you thought of the story and please reblog! <333
⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️
"You're going to do great."
"I know, dad." Harry's eight-year-old daughter responds.
"Hey, I'm being supportive." Harry shakes Josie's foot, causing her to laugh.
"Thank you, I'm excited. Honest." Josie puts her hand over her heart, making Harry's heart melt.
He hadn't seen his daughter smile this much since they found out about the tryout that was soon to start in fifteen minutes. He felt awful making her move from their home in Georgia, but it was time, and this new opportunity would be good for them. Josie hated to leave her friends but mostly her soccer team with whom she had been with since she started playing at the age of five, but Harry promised he would find her a team, and he did.
The team was different from back home, seeing as it was an all-girl team instead of a mixed team of boys and girls. Not that he minds; he feels this will hopefully allow Josie to branch out and make friends that would not pick on her for playing what they said was "a boy's game." Those parents pissed him off back in Georgia, but he's gone, and he prays this goes well.
"Do you think mom will visit my games more now that we're closer?" Josie's green eyes peer up at him, reminding him that she looks nothing like her mother and is his little clone.
"I hope so. She was excited to hear about the move, remember." Josie nods before glancing at the field where other girls were chatting as they laced up their cleats.
Harry despised his ex-girlfriend, the mother of his child. At the age of nineteen, he became a father, and his ex, three years older than him, didn't want to raise a child to a man who wouldn't marry her. They were together for two months when he called it quits until she came back a month later, calling him an asshole for getting her pregnant. After giving birth to his beautiful girl, she gave him full custody, not wanting to worry about diapers and night cries.
All she worried about was getting her figure back. It wasn't until Josie turned one that she came back and demanded to be part of her life, leading to them going to court and getting to see Josie on the weekends, and it went well because his daughter always came back happy after a visit. When Josie turned five, Claudia moved to California because she fell in love and was going to get married. Claudia didn't care that she was leaving Josie behind. A heartbroken girl not knowing why she couldn't be part of her mother's wedding and why she moved across the country so far from her.
Josie cried for a whole week straight until the ice skates showed up on the front door with a note from Claudia for Josie to chase her dreams. Thus, having Harry sign her up for ice skating classes came to an end in two short weeks when she learned how awful the leotards looked on her.
Josie was then determined to find a sport liking the idea of being active and having the chance to make friends, which led to her seeing soccer on the TV when a commercial of Alex Morgan for Nike came on. She asked question after question until Harry told her okay, and went to call a friend to see where he could find a team for her.
The first team they found was only boys, not wanting to mix, causing both of them to get upset, but a mom took pity on them and told them of the Sunnyville team looking for players. It was perfect; seven girls and eight boys were on the team, and Josie fit in perfectly until she didn't.
At first, Josie wasn't very good; no kid is, but Harry every night took her to their large backyard and practiced with her, and within a few months, she was able to dribble a ball at her feet without looking down constantly. She wasn't the best, but she was improving.
Harry enjoyed every minute he got to help her improve because within the next few years, he saw her go from being timid to push someone away from the ball to beating someone in a sprint.
California was a significant change for Harry and Josie, but this was a big deal for the company, and Josie understood. He was happy he could do something for her now it was her turn to shine and prove why she deserved a spot on the team.
"Now go prove why you're the best, petal." Harry kisses his daughter's forehead, taking her bag over his shoulder.
She takes a step forward before stopping. "Walk with me there, daddy."
Harry's smile softens, "Of course, honey."
They march forward, their steps in sync; Harry can feel eyes on both of them as they pass parents in their chairs, some sitting on blankets spread out on the grass.
There's a woman, dressed in black Nike sweats, some fancy Nike cleats on her feet and a plain maroon tank top and over to cover from the breeze is a windbreaker; the team logo on the left side over her heart and right under is a name he can't quite make out. If Harry's being honest, she took his breath away, she's gorgeous, and she's smiling at him. Harry's sure if he kept looking into her eyes, he would fall in love.
"Hello, I'm Coach Y/N." She greets them with a big smile on their face.
"Hi, I'm Josie, and this is my dad, Harry Styles." Josie steps forward, holding her hand out that the coach is quick to shake.
"Nice to meet you." Harry finally speaks.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Styles. I've got all the paperwork that you submitted, and everything looks good."
"That's great." Harry nods, keeping his eyes on her. "Just Harry is fine, please." She nods, letting him know she heard him.
"Nice accent, you English?" Y/N asks.
"I am, Josie was born there too, but she's lived in the states all her life."
Y/N nods, "No wonder I didn't spot an accent on her." She teases.
"My dad sounds funny, so one of us is okay." Josie jokes at Harry's expense.
"Hey now," Harry pouts, causing both to laugh and his heart to flutter, wanting to make Y/N do it again.
"Now, Josie, how about we introduce you to the girls before we get started."
Josie nods and steps forward to follow Y/N.
Y/N addresses him one last time, "You're welcome to sit by the parents or welcome to stand behind our bench on the sidelines."
"Thank you." Harry watches the walk away, his daughter's bright pink socks standing out around the flash of black, green, and blue. He smiles, knowing he'll have a good eye on her, as will the coach.
⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️
It has been a while since the team had a tryout for the Golden Sparks team. It has not been necessary because most of the young girls are already on the u-9 team.
She had heard the rumor of new people moving into town but wasn't sure, so on a whim, she added them up in places parents were bound to see them; at the grocery store, doctor's office, the school, and the local sports store.
Thanks to the flyers, they got two responses from Mr. Styles and Mrs. Clover, who wanted their girls to join. Mrs. Clover's daughter, Caitlyn, was switching over from a different team, so she knew the girls on the team well. Josie, the daughter of Mr. Styles, would be the only one who needed an introduction as she was new to the town.
After meeting Harry, she was surprised at how handsome and young he was. Most parents here are well over the age of thirty and are married or dating.
She has been coaching for four years now and only started because of her niece Juliet who is part of the team. Y/N's older sister, Clara, had Juliet at 23 a year after her wedding and when Y/N was only 18 and about to start university. It was a good thing she had decided to go to university only three hours away and not across the country as she first thought, or she would have missed so much of her niece's and goddaughter's life.
Y/N had just graduated and knew she would no longer be playing soccer and needed something to do when her sister Naomi approached her and asked her if she could watch over Juliet for the summer so they didn't need to get a babysitter. She was more than happy to accept.
At first, they would paint, color and dance, but they got bored quickly. Y/N wasn't one to spend her time inside, so instead, she decided to take her four-year-old niece to the park with a soccer ball and make the most of it.
At the local park, they both ran around each day, chasing the ball for hours. A week later, Y/N bought Juliet her first pair of cleats, letting her shoot in the nets. As the weeks went by Y/N, saw Juliet improve as well as take direction well. She was a bright young girl, and Y/N knew she was still small, and all she wanted to do was run, but Y/N knew that because Juliet had seen her play, she knew what was right and wrong. There were times when she just ran in circles picking flowers because, after all, she was a four-year-old.
A month into summer, a mom approached her, asking her if she was a coach because she saw her there every day. Y/N laughed it off and told her she was just taking care of her niece. The mom told her it was a shame because her daughter told her it looked like fun. Y/N smiled and said to her that she was welcome to join, and before she knew it, a bunch of little girls came together to kick a ball around.
Only when Y/N had over ten girls showing up every Monday and Wednesday at a designated time did she begin to look at soccer leagues for children, and to her luck, there was one in town, an all-girls league that started from age 4 to age 18. She got the paperwork required for her to be a coach and for the girl's parents to fill out. She pitched the idea, and everyone was aboard.
That is how Golden Sparks was created, and those four-year-olds are now eight. She has watched them grow in front of her eyes. She went through her master's coaching a team. It's just something she does as a hobby, and it's wonderful because she knows how vital her coaches were for her when she was growing up. Now she can do the same.
She loves these girls, which means she had to do trial runs for how well the new girls fit in with the team dynamic. That is why today is an important day for Caitlyn and Josie.
"Ladies, may I please have your attention?" Y/N calls out to all the girls trying to juggle their individual balls as they wait for her.
The girls quickly shuffle over, passing their balls to Kate, who is setting up both nets and getting out the bright pink pinnies that Emilia's parents donated to the team that the girls will be needing.
Josie is standing very close to Y/N, and Caitlyn comes to stand to her other side.
"Now, today's practice is going to be different. We have two guests today. We have Caitlyn, who comes from Ice Angels from across town, and Josie, who comes from Georgia all the way across the country. I hope you will be kind and welcoming because we would be honored to add them to the team."
Juliet raises her hand and smiles, waiting for Y/N to let her speak. "Yes, Miss Juliet," Y/N giggles.
"Can we say something interesting about ourselves when we introduce ourselves?"
"Now, that is a smart idea. I wish I would have thought about it." All the girls smile, waiting for her to share.
"I'll start, I guess." She puts her hand on her hip, exaggerating her thinking face. "My name is Y/N, and I'll be your coach, and something interesting is that I like to paint." She turns to Kate, who is standing there, arms crossed. "You're next."
"I'm Kate, the meaner coach,"
"Kate," Y/N chastise.
"Kidding," Kate laughs, capturing all of the girls' attention. "I'm the assistant coach, and I love making tamales. Next potluck, you'll know how amazing they are."
Kate volunteers Steph, standing next to her, allowing her to share, and before she knows it, all the girls have gone. It's a calm environment, and Y/N is happy she can help these girls be a part of that. There were a total of fourteen girls, sixteen now with the two new girls trying out, meaning they would have even teams of eight, just one more than in an actual game.
Y/N makes two teams by dividing her forwards, midfielders and defenders. Then the scrimmage vest were handed out to the team where the new girls were trying out.
"Four twelve-minutes quarters," Y/N shouts, and in the next second, Kate blows the whistle, and they begin.
⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️
Harry was sweating, his focus was on Josie and how well she was playing, but he also noticed how the coach was whispering to her assistant coach. They were doing a lot of talking, and he did not like it one bit. They had finished two quarters and took a more extended break before the third, where Josie shot him a thumbs up after drinking water. She was too busy talking to a girl to come see him. Harry was happy she no longer felt nervous and was making friends.
He had heard nothing but good things about Golden Sparks and their coaches, but he was nervous about what they thought of his daughter. When they blew that final whistle, Harry let out the breath he was holding. Thankful that Josie would be told her fate on the team.
The coaches rounded them up, and Harry just wanted to rush over there and have them tell him there and then, but no, they were dragging it out for him. Then again, they had more than one player to look after for.
"Golden Sparks!"
It was shouted out by all the girls, and they rushed over to their bags. Josie walked to her bag, handing her pinnie to the assistant coach while Coach Y/N made her way over to another parent. A young girl with a long french braid made her way to the coach, most likely to talk about her fate on the team. Harry moves his gaze away from them when he spots Josie chatting away to a girl about her age, wearing a black top with the team's logo on it. Usually, after practice, she rushes over to Harry, and she slips out of her cleats in the car. It makes him emotional seeing her make friends, something she didn't have many in her previous team.
Before he knows it, the coach talks with Josie and the other young girl before she nods and gets up, swinging her bag over her shoulder. The three of them make their way over to Harry, chatting softly, not allowing him to hear a word.
"Hi, petal. Did well out there." Harry tells his daughter once she's an arm's length away. He frowns when she doesn't rush into his arms to give him a hug.
"Yeah, it was fun. Everyone is so kind." Josie smiles at her father.
"Mr. Styles," Y/N begins, but Harry has to interrupt.
"Harry, please."
"Sure, Harry," she emphasizes. "Josie is a wonderful player."
"I agree."
"But," Harry frowns, knowing this is not going where he would like it to. "Josie tends to hold the ball too much. When given the opportunity to use her left, she takes that extra pass to switch to her right where it causes her to lose momentum and the opening."
"I get it, she's not perfect, but neither are those players out there."
"Dad." Josie gives him a glare to be quiet and listen.
"As I was saying," Coach Y/N, her voice just a bit less friendly. "She has flaws, but we noticed she has lots of speed; she controls the ball really well. She's stellar in the midfield."
Harry shifts his eyes to Josie, who is holding back a smile, and that is when he knows she's in. "We'd love to have her join the team and help her become an even better player."
"That's wonderful, I accept."
"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm glad you think it's a good idea, but it's Josie's choice to make."
"You're right. I'm sorry. Josie, honey." He steps back, a tad embarrassed.
Josie lets out a nervous laugh, "I had fun."
"How long have you played?" Y/N asks Josie.
"Three years now," Josie says, looking at Harry for confirmation and nods.
"The most important question is how you felt playing with everyone?" Y/N knows how important feeling welcomed to a team can mean to someone.
Josie looks up at her, a smile on her face. "Like I belonged."
"Does that mean you're joining?" The young girl standing behind Y/N answers.
"Yes. I would love to join." Josie says, a grin taking over her face.
"Well then, welcome. Practices are 5-7pm. Sometimes we can have a scrimmage with other teams, and it will be an hour before or after just to take that into consideration. Games are on Saturday, but when we have tournaments, they are Saturday and Sunday."
"That's great. I sometimes get out of work late." Harry confesses.
"It's why practices are later because we know parents work. So just shoot us a text the day before or early morning, and either Kate or I can pick them up as well as other parents. We're great with carpooling."
Harry smiles; he likes how organized they are. He has no worries about Josie joining the team. He's happy, and if he's honest, he is kind of glad to see more of Coach Y/N.
"It was great to meet you, and I'll see you on Monday for practice," Y/N tells both Harry and Josie.
As they are going to walk away, the young girl in two dutch braids speaks, "Auntie Y/N truly is the best. She's the reason I play so well." Juliet tells Harry.
Y/N blushes, "Knock it off. Save the sweet-talk for Kate."
"She's your aunt!" Josie explains. "That's so cool."
"Harry, this is Juliet, my niece and the reason this team exists. I introduced her to the sport at age four."
Juliet nods, "Yeah, because she didn't want to rotten my head with television."
This causes all of them to laugh. Harry and Josie walk away with a smile on both their faces.
Yeah, they would fit just right in. It was beginning to feel like home.
⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️
It's been a month since Josie joined the team, and he's never seen her shine as much as she has since she joined the group. It's like she's a whole new little girl, he hates to admit it, but his little girl is growing right in front of his eyes.
They had recently had a team bonding; they headed to Kate's house to swim and do a little bonfire. Parents were allowed to stick around, but almost none did because they want their daughters to feel comfortable hanging out with their friends and be themselves. Also, all the parents trusted Kate and Y/N with their daughters because of the years of friendship.
Harry wanted to stay the first time, a bit fearful she wouldn't like it and also because he wanted to get to know Josie's coach better. He hadn't had many chances to chat her up, always getting a formal greeting and a goodbye. Harry can proudly say he has a crush on coach Y/N, but he wants to have a chance to take her out and maybe take it further.
Josie begged and begged him not to stay, so he just did a quick hello and then left. What did he do in the four hours his daughter was gone, nothing. He was bored without her. Harry began to watch a movie he'd been dying to see, but it was boring. He went to call his best mate, but it went straight to voicemail, then remembered it was date night for Mitch.
He couldn't drink because he wanted to pick Josie up even though he knew she could carpool, but he wanted to hear all about it right away and maybe get one more glance at Y/N because she looked lovely in her pastel pink shirt, black leggings, and a matching scrunchie. His feelings only grew each time he saw her, but he wouldn't dare pursue anything because his daughter adored Y/N, and he wouldn't do anything to wreck that.
It was Monday, and he was driving his daughter to practice. She was on a high because she spent the weekend with her mom. Claudia managed to make her soccer game and then took her home for the week. Everyone got an insight of his ex and how she was not the kindest, but sure did adore her husband by the way she kissed him the majority of that game. Harry did not want to sit next to them, but she wanted to flaunt her relationship in his face to his luck. Not that he cared one bit, he just cared about his daughter's happiness. That she happened to be a part of.
After they won the game, she sprinted over to them after Y/N congratulated them on the win, and they finished shaking the other team's hands. Josie wrapped her arms around Harry, squeezing him tight before hugging her mother, who just patted her back before letting her go congratulating on her goal.
Claudia's interactions with Josie always made Harry upset, but what was he to do? She gave him full custody and only saw her on weekends. It was easy living, but that doesn't mean he had to like it. He wanted his daughter to have a mother figure to guide her and show her the right and wrong to show her what it is like to be strong and resilient, yet Claudia was none of that for his daughter. Sarah, Josie's godmother, did more of that, and Harry was thankful.
Showing up to practice, Harry was embarrassed and hoped Y/N didn't bring up meeting his ex-girlfriend. Josie was quick to introduce them, but thankfully the conversation didn't last long as she was called over by the other team's coach.
"Can you drive any slower?" Josie pouted, looking out the window as Harry entered the parking lot at a safe speed in case any person happened to cross in front of him.
"Josie, I'm not trying to run anyone over." Harry sighs as he finally eyes an open parking space and signals left, always cautious about an accident.
"Well, I want to talk with my friends before practice." Josie has unbuckled herself and is close to throwing herself out of the car.
Harry puts the car into park, unlocking the car door. "Fly, young one."
The grin that takes over Josie makes Harry happy. "Love you, dad."
"Love you too, Josie."
Harry slides his sunglasses on, hating how bright the sun was; it'd be a few hours until the sunset. He was nervous; he was dressed in black slacks that hugged him in all the right places with a mint button-down shirt that calls attention. He didn't have time to change today; everyone saw him in his casual clothes, never his work attire. Josie said she didn't mind, but he did. Honestly, he was nervous about what Y/N might say about his look. Not that he cared what she thought. Not one bit, right?
He went to his trunk, got out his purple folding chair, and left the matching one there. Harry is a sucker for deals which is why he walked out of the store with two when he only needed one.
He strolled, making sure no eyes were on him, and he was in the clear until he heard a shout, "Dad!" He looked over at the field, and it was Josie waving at him to sit closer to the parents. Harry shot her a thumbs up; he liked the parents genuinely. They have all been so kind and welcoming, telling him the best places to go for the team's discount.
He got along well with Payton's and Stephanie's parents. They had a good sense of humor and liked asking him questions about where he was from and how Josie was growing up. His daughter had become best friends with Juliet. They were two peas in a pod, talking from the beginning of practice to staying almost ten minutes after as they slowly took off their cleats.
Y/N didn't mind seeing as she had to pick up everything, and the girls were eager to help her if it meant spending more time together. Honestly, she was begging for a sleepover, but he kept telling her no because he wanted to meet at least one of her parents first. He wasn't sure what either one did, but Juliet didn't mind if they couldn't make it to a game because her biggest supporter was already there.
Harry approaches where all the parents sit under a shaded tree, waving at everyone before taking a seat next to a man reading on his kindle. He smiled, knowing he loved reading in his downtime as well. This would be an excellent spot to sit, conversation or not he'd be comfortable, but first, an introduction was needed.
"Hello, don't mean to bother you, but I don't think I've seen you before. I'm Harry Styles. My daughter Josie joined the team last month."
"Well, Harry Styles, it's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard wonderful things about your daughter. I'm Xavier Torres, father of Juliet." Xavier responded with a bright smile on his face.
Harry doesn't hide his surprise. "I've been dying to meet her parents. She's a wonderful girl, glad our daughters decided to get along."
"Yeah, we come as often as we can, but Juliet always assures us she's fine. That she has the best auntie watching over her."
"Coach Y/N is great with everyone. I've never seen anyone so dedicated." Harry shares.
"She's always been like that. I met Clara in my second year of university. She was only fourteen then, but she was so caring. I wasn't introduced to the family until we've been dating for six months, and she was shy but always offered me water or cookies she had baked. I loved having conversations with her; she has always been the smartest person in the room."
Harry grins; this definitely grew his crush on Y/N.
"I hear they are begging for a sleepover," Xavier comments, breaking Harry from his thoughts.
Harry nods, "Yes, I kept saying no because I wanted to meet the parents."
Xavier smiles, agreeing they were the same. "Yeah, we had to meet the dad."
He's shocked Xavier doesn't ask him about a partner, but then again, Y/N could have easily mentioned meeting Claudia and her husband. Harry's grateful if she did not like having to explain how he's a single dad and how he wishes his daughter's mother would do better.
"Well, now that this has happened, I have no problem with a sleepover happening."
"Glad we're on the same page." Harry laughs, grateful, their daughters will be happy with them.
Harry and Xavier spend the entire two hours of practice talking. Harry has close friends, but he wouldn't be opposed to adding Xavier to his guys' nights that happen less frequently now. At the end of practice, they exchange numbers and promise to coordinate a date for the girls. It may be summer, but the girls are still keeping busy during the week instead of doing nothing.
The girls rush over to them at the end of practice, giggling at the two fathers still chatting away.
"Does this mean a sleepover can happen?" Juliet asks, squeezing Josie's hand she's holding.
Harry and Xavier share a look and nod. "Yeah, it can happen."
"Amazing!" Josie cheers jumping up and down.
"We have to plan a day that works for both of us, so it may be a while." Josie frowns but nods. Juliet does not accept it.
"Auntie Y/N can host it."
"Your auntie is going to do what?" Y/N says, sneaking up behind her tickling her sides.
Juliet lets out a loud shriek, not being able to escape her grip. Harry beams at Y/N loving how playful she is with her niece.
"You can host our sleepover. You aren't busy like daddy and Mr. Styles." Juliet says in one breath after Y/N let her go.
"I do have a job, you know," Y/n says in a sing-song voice. Xavier laughs as Juliet pouts. "But I do have more availability than your parents. I'd do it if both of you were comfortable with it." Y/N looks up at Harry and Xavier, letting them have the final say.
Xavier throws an arm over Y/N's shoulder and pulls her in a hug. "Of course, it's a yes; I'm always looking forward to a kid-free house."
"Rude, daddy." Juliet frowns, crossing her arms.
"Only joking, my little flower. How about frozen yogurt on the way home?"
"You're forgiven."
Y/N waits patiently for Harry to answer as he has a staring contest with his daughter.
He sighs, "Yes," Josie cheers, hugging Juliet. "Only if we're really not imposing on Y/N."
"Please, Harry. I'd be honored to have them over. I'm an excellent host, and my movie collection is amazing."
Juliet smiles. "She does, also the biggest backyard so we can run around and do whatever. There's also a pool." She whispers the last part.
"Enough speaking about my house. She'll get the tour soon enough."
"So it's settled," Harry tells them.
"Guess it is; send me when you guys decide. I'm free after twelve on Fridays, and I'll take them to the game on Saturday, of course, or we can do it after a game. All up to you, gents." Y/N gets it all out there, allowing Harry to breathe a little easier.
"Good," Xavier shouts.
"I'm going home, coming Julie?" As Xavier swings his chair over his shoulder. "Daddy, you have to help auntie Y/N. You just sat on your butt for two hours."
"Hey now, I watched you practice."
"I'm going to tell mommy, you know how she feels about you not helping Y/N. She'll give you an earful." Juliet sasses her dad.
"I don't know where you got all that sass from, but I know I'm going to hate it when you're a teenager," Xavier mumbles as he goes to get the goal nets put away.
Y/N laughs before turning to Harry and Josie, "I'll see you both on Wednesday. Have a good night."
Harry watches her walk away as she races Juliet over to the balls scattered around. He smiles at the ground, hoping he could one day make her laugh that much. He doesn't notice Josie watching him, and she grins, happy that maybe one day her daddy will smile as bright as Xavier does when speaking about Juliet's mom.
They walk hand in hand to the car, both comfortable walking in silence for what the future might bring them.
⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️
Y/N enjoyed morning games as opposed to the afternoon, where the sun was blazing high. She had a hat that was helping with the heat, thankful she hadn't started sweating yet. She loves coaching, but during the summer, it isn't the most enjoyable.
"Hi, Coach Y/N."
She turns her head over her shoulder and sees Harry approaching. She checks him out, thankful for her sunglasses; he's got a black short-sleeve button-down that shines in the sunlight, letting her know it's expensive; he paired it with white linen pants and the beat-up Vans he always wore. He always looks good.
"Nice to see you, Harry."
"How are you?"
"Doing good, bracing the summer heat."
"Yeah, not so enjoyable."
"Ready for the game," Harry says, pointing to the field that will soon have fourteen girls running around.
"Yes, they have been working hard. I'm excited, and you?"
"Oh, nervous," he confesses.
"The girls are going to do great. If they start dozing off, then we can start to worry."
Harry laughs, knowing that she is right. It's about the girl's focus.
"How long did you play?"
"Too long." Y/N jokes.
"Haha," he laughs.
"I started at six and played up until I finished university."
"Wow! You must have been marvelous." Harry is amazed that someone can play a sport that long then go to teaching. He was never the most athletic, but he was a beast at ping-pong that was all hand-eye coordination.
"I would like to think I was good."
"You started coaching when?"
"The year I turned four, and soon enough I was running, and by four she bought me my cleats and bam! A team was created." Juliet answered for her.
"I'm pretty sure you told Harry this already." Y/N laughs playfully, nudging Juliet.
Juliet shrugs, "Just like reminding."
Y/N grins, "Okay, lovebug."
"Plus, you're a great coach."
Harry nods. "I can attest to that. All the girls love you, including Josie."
"And I love them," she tells him truthfully. "We don't get many new players, but we're happy to have Josie. She earned the starting spot as right-wing."
Juliet nods, jumping up and down, "Yeah, she's really good."
"Go on, start the girl with four corners." Y/N pats Juliet's back to get her to go on the field.
"Yes, ma'am." Juliet takes off running, talking to Kate, who helps her get started, and Y/N knows it's her cue to walk away from Harry.
"Good luck, coach."
"Thank you, Harry. See you after."
"Sure, of course. I'll be cheering for you. I-i-i- what-" Harry stutters while she stands there holding back a smile as she can see the heat traveling up his face. "I mean you and the girls. A-all as a team."
"Well, we appreciate it."
Harry watches her walk away, letting out a short laugh, not being able to believe he made a fool of himself.
The game was tied 1-1 with only eight minutes left. Harry could see Y/N was calm, voice firm when speaking to the girls. Lola was about to take a corner kick, he saw her take a step back, and Harry was ready for her to strike it, but instead, she shocks him as she passes to a player who ran up to her.
This startles the other team before Brenda sends it to the center midfielder, who passes it to Josie, who is screaming she's open. Brenda sends a through ball, and off his daughter runs. She gets a foot on it, looking at where the goalie stands. She makes the pass strong enough that the goalie doesn't stop it and just for Andy to tip it in, but it's too strong, causing the ball to go over the net. It's a miss but, everyone didn't mind impressed with the play.
The last few minutes were slow as both teams were tired out, and there was no chance for another goal in two minutes. When the referee blows the final whistle, all the girls bring it in, jogging over to Y/N and Kate as they all round up in a group hug. Harry can't hear what she's saying, but he knows it's reasonable considering all the girls are sporting similar smiles. He is quick to pack up his chair, ready to say goodbye to his daughter, who is about to have a sleepover with her coach and best friend.
The girls come back from clapping the other team's hand and are quick to go sit on the bench and take their shoes off. The clean-up was accomplished quickly today. Harry is waiting to talk to Y/N as she speaks with other parents. Caitlyn's dad praises her for that play, but Y/N is quick to tell him it was all the girls; they are the players. Either way, he hugs her, and Y/N pats the older man back softly. She waves goodbye to most girls when he finally gets to approach her.
"Great game today."
"Yes, they played well." Y/N agrees.
"Your coaching reflects on them."
"In a good way?"
He nods, "The best way."
She thanks him, and he knows she's not one to be boastful, so he changes the conversation.
"You are still good to take them for the sleepover."
"Of course, I'm excited."
"That's great. What time should I pick her up tomorrow?"
"Oh, I forgot to mention earlier, my sister and brother-in-law are coming to have dinner if you'd like to join us. Xavier has been dying to use the grill, and you'll get to meet my sister and my nephew."
"Juliet never talks about a brother."
Y/N chuckles, "It's because he barely started walking, so he doesn't hold much of her attention."
"Ah, that makes sense."
"She loves being a big sister, but only when he sleeps or plays blocks."
"Older siblings got to love them."
"Yeah, I know."
"Do you have a sibling?"
"I do. She's 35 and lives in London and runs a law firm. Total badass."
"I bet she is."
"If she ever stops and visits, please bring her around and would love to get all the dirt on young Harry Styles."
"Only if I get to do the same."
"Stop by Sunday, and you'll get the chance." She shrugs at him as she walks away.
"See you Sunday then." Harry shakes his head smiling as she grabs a bag of soccer balls and begins walking to the parking lot.
Josie runs over and gives him a big hug. "See you tomorrow, daddy."
"Bye honey, call me if you need anything."
"Sure, I love you." She yells as she runs to Y/N and Juliet, who are waiting for her at the end of the grass.
Harry knows she's in good hands, but his heart can't help but miss his little girl. He'll see her tomorrow and Y/N as well. He ignored how hard his heart was thumping at his interaction with Y/N instead of letting himself get lost in the idea of the beautiful afternoon that was to come tomorrow.
⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️
Y/N had a great time with the girls. She promised she would let them do their own thing and just supervise, but both girls wanted her involved. As soon as they arrived at her house, Juliet gave Josie a tour of her home, taking her room to room before they ended up in the backyard, both dressed in their bathing suits to go swimming.
She couldn't help but laugh, knowing how eager they were to go jump in the pool despite playing an intense game for an hour in the blazing sun.
"You little ladies must eat first before you can even think of swimming," Y/N says, arms crossed over her chest, knowing Juliet was going to try to fight her on it.
"Auntie, that's not what we want to do."
"Maybe so, but your tummy's say otherwise."
Josie steps over from behind Juliet to stand next to her. "I would like to eat. Dad says we need to regain all the energy we worked off."
"Your dad is a smart man, Jo." Y/N nods to the girl. "It's a 2-1 vote, then."
"Fine," Juliet groans dramatically.
The girls sit at the table as Y/n begins to boil pasta. She decides on pesto as she has had a craving, and both girls happily agree. In just thirty minutes, she serves the girls two even plates, and they have a flowing conversation. Mainly, Josie and Juliet do the talking, occasionally asking YN her opinion or a question they want her to answer.
After the late lunch, she sends the girls to wash up and meet her outside to lather them in sunscreen. She puts most of her dishes in the dishwasher and soaks her pans in water, wanting it to be easier to wash later when the girls give her a free moment.
"Thirty minutes we are waiting," Y/N tells them, the sun lotion bottle in hand.
"Come on, you believe in that?" Juliet asks.
"Okay, little miss rebel, since when do you always question everything I say." Juliet's eyes go wide, and she shrugs.
"Alright, listen. I adore you, Juliet, but it's not nice trying to take advantage of me because you have a friend over."
Y/N waits for her to say something, but she nods her head and moves to hug her around her waist. She hears her mutter a sorry, and when Y/N brushes her hair back, she sees Juliet move back to look up at her. "I'm sorry."
Y/N gives her a small smile. "It's alright. Now sit down so I can get your back."
Josie patiently waits her turn, and just as Y/N finishes Juliet, she speedwalks to the edge of the steps and sits on them, letting her feet get soaked. Josie sits patiently as Y/N spreads the sunscreen to her shoulders, then turns her to get her face and neck, allowing Josie to rub it into her legs.
"All done, Josie." She stays seated on Y/N's patio chairs under the shade. Y/N doesn't question her not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable.
"Is it okay if I go join Juliet?" Josie asks in a soft voice.
Y/N almost awes out loud at how polite Juliet is, "Of course, go on. I'll let you know when it's okay to go in."
Looking out at the spacious yard, Y/N frowns, getting lost in thought about how she has the perfect home, but it gets lonely. It might be time she looks into getting a pet. She'll have to go check the local shelter soon but knows she should think about it for a while longer.
The ringer of her phone tears her out of her head when she hears the splashing, "Is it, time auntie?"
"Yeah, sweetie, it is."
Quickly she swipes three pairs of goggles from the table just as she begins to hear their splashing paired with laughter.
"Are we playing mermaids, auntie?" Josie asks as Y/N steps into the water, relaxing in the cool water, not suffering from the heat.
"We sure are," Y/N raises the three goggles and hands over one to each of them.
It's after two hours that they all emerge from the pool, deciding to head into the shower seeing as the sun has begun to set. She ushers them carefully to the shower letting Josie use the guest room and Juliet her room seeing as they are the only two rooms fully equipped with towels and shampoo.
After the three of them are clean and changed in the pj's, Y/N makes popcorn to snack on while they play a few board games. They switch from Uno to Candyland to Mancala. It goes on for a while until they decide to put on a movie deciding on Tangled.
It wasn't until a quarter to ten that Moana watched Maui sing "Your Welcome," they began to yawn and started trying to fight back to sleep. Y/N thought they would never go down to sleep because two eight-year-olds have too much energy. Y/N paused the movie and told them it was time to sleep. Neither girl put up an argument.
She guided them to the guest room that had become Juliet's over the years. The girls get tucked into bed after brushing their teeth.
"Thank you for a great day, Y/N," Josie whispers, grabbing her wrist, halting her, tucking their blanket.
Y/N smiles at the kind girl. "Of course, sweetie. It's been a joy having you here."
Y/N goes to Juliet, gives her a kiss on the forehead, whispering a quiet goodnight who already has her eyes closed, her breathing slow and steady. She goes to Josie, who's looking at her with wide eyes. "Would you be okay with a forehead kiss goodnight? I don't want to make you uncomfortable." Y/N addresses the young girl.
Little does Y/N know that small comment was enough for Josie to seal Y/N in her heart forever for her kindness. "Yes, please." Bright green eyes look up at her with a small smile as she gives her a soft kiss.
"Goodnight, Y/N."
"Night, Jo."
Y/N goes to her room and does her night routine taking extra steps due to getting more sun exposure today. She loves how she feels putting on moisturizer at the end of the night. She lays in bed under her soft white covers. Her eyes shut, and she begins to count backward. She reaches all the way to one and tries again but stops halfway, sighing, knowing there's no chance she'll sleep; she heads to the kitchen to make herself a tea.
With her chamomile tea in hand, she sets it on the chrysanthemum coaster on the side table, picks up the book she left there, and sets it in her lap as she turns on her television to Netflix, deciding on The Great British Baking Show to use as white noise. She presses play on where she last left off, forgetting the book in her lap as the bakers had to make a raised game pie for their signature.
Y/N had already watched collection three, but it was one of her favorites. She loved the bakers and liked watching Nadiya improve each episode. The technical challenge was getting started, the bakers reading their vague instructions to make the tennis fruit cake when she heard small steps down the stairs.
She turns around, spotting Josie making her way down, "Hi there, you alright?"
Josie just nods but continues towards her, joining her to sit on the couch. "Can't sleep?" Y/N asks to share her lavender throw blanket with Josie.
"Not really."
"Yeah, I get restless sometimes as well."
Josie stares, tilting her head as if trying to figure out why she can't sleep, "What do you do to try to sleep?"
"Well, I usually try to read a book in bed, but I decided tea and a bit of tv would help."
Josie nods, and Y/N can tell she's working up the courage to ask her something. "Can I please try with you?"
"Of course, would you like tea as well?"
"Chamomile?"
"Sure, that's what I was drinking."
"Daddy adds a bit of honey."
Y/N smiles, "Honey, I can do that."
She goes to the kitchen alone, getting Josie her favorite mug with bees scattered all around. As soon as she's done making her tea and checking it is at a suitable temperature, she brings it out to her. Y/N sees Josie has put play on the show.
Y/N just grins, happy the girl likes the show as well. "Have you seen this season?"
"Yes."
"Yeah, me too."
"Nadiya is excellent," Josie comments as Nadiya wins first in the technical challenge.
"She is! I'm glad they picked her as the winner though she had strong competition against Ian and Tamal."
Both Y/N and Josie sit there in silence, sipping their teas, watching the bakers now try to make Charlotte Russe cakes for the showstopper. It's not until the presentation begins that Josie breaks their comfortable silence.
"Why can't you sleep?"
"Well, uhh, sometimes I can't get my brain to shut down and have lots of thoughts swirling around."
"Oh," Josie responds. "Do they ever stop?"
"Yeah, usually when I count backward or tell myself a story."
Josie looks delighted at hearing Y/N sharing this with her. "What kind of story?"
"A sweet one, one my grandparents used to tell me, or I make one up."
"And it works?"
"Almost always."
Josie continues with her questions, but Y/N doesn't mind. "Do you get bad dreams?"
"Not always, but sometimes, do you, Jo?"
Josie smiles, "I like that."
"What?" Y/N says, puzzled, aware she avoided the question.
"Jo, dad calls me honey, darling, Josie and Josephine when I do something I'm not supposed to, but no one ever has said, Jo. I like it."
"Oh, I'm glad. It's alright that I keep calling you that then."
Josie repeatedly nods, "Of course."
Y/N looks back at the TV focusing on the new episode that started during the talk.
"Sometimes I dream I'm back in Georgia with daddy." Josie is looking down at her lap, where she draws a circle on the palm of her left hand with her right index finger.
"Yeah, how does that make you feel?"
"Sad sometimes and sometimes happy."
"Why is that?" Y/N asks in a soft voice.
"Well, mommy called me more when I lived farther away. Now I don't get to see her every weekend even though that's the deal. She doesn't even like watching me play."
"That must be tough, Jo. Have you shared this with your dad?"
Josie shakes her head no. "He'd get mad at mom, and I don't want anyone fighting."
"Don't think it's fighting. Your dad just wants the best for you and wants your mom to see that as well."
"I guess."
"Did you know I've visited Georgia?"
"You have?" Josie sits up, crawling closer to her, excited at the change in conversation.
Y/N nods, "My grandparents had family there, so every summer, we'd make our way there. Spent all our time at the lake or just walking through the woods. They lived in a secluded area, so lots to roam."
"We lived in the city."
"I bet you still went to neat places."
Josie thinks about it for a minute, "We did, the weekends were for the lake, and it was easy to drive to another state for a week."
Y/N laughs, knowing how exciting it was visiting a new state in a matter of hours compared to how hard it is in California. "Yeah, I liked that as well."
"What's your favorite memory?"
Y/N stops to think about it; it has been a while since she thought back to her times there. She hasn't had the chance to go back since her grandparents passed away.
"The fireflies. I remember we were in one of my uncle's backyard, and he was showing us his peaches. When I saw a buzz of light followed by another, and soon enough, they were all around us. My uncle tells me he'll never forget the look on my face because it was true happiness and disbelief."
Y/N's smile is nostalgic. If she closes her eyes tight enough, she can picture the fireflies surrounding her. She's brought back to the present when she feels a small hand placed over her own.
"Thank you for sharing that with me," Josie says before she leans over, giving Y/N a hug.
Y/N laughs and hugs her back, happy she got to know this sweet girl better.
"I think it's time for bed."
"Okay."
As they begin walking up the stairs after making a stop in the kitchen to put their mugs in the dishwasher, Y/N stops outside the guest room.
"You're really wise for your age."
Josie nods, "My dad tells me that all the time."
Y/N can't help the smile that Josie draws out of her, "Goodnight."
"Night."
Y/N goes to bed with lots more on her mind. Her thoughts on the young girl who is caring more on her shoulder than she lets on. Josie has grown us quicker and doesn't realize it due to her experiences. Y/N goes wondering what tomorrow will bring.
⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️
A lot was running through Harry's mind after the dinner he had on Sunday with Y/N and her family. Trust him; he enjoyed it. He adored seeing her in a different environment, but she seemed distant, and so did Josie. It's as if the two gravitated towards each other more. Always whispering to each other.
He enjoyed seeing them get along; he just didn't like not being included. This also made him second guess in pursuing Y/N. He wasn't willing to risk it not working out. Harry also knows he's not sure if he'd survive the heartbreak.
It's been a while since he's put himself out there, but as a single dad, he feared that no woman he had met was good enough to meet Josie, not after learning that he had full custody.
Y/N's sister was kind, always teasing Y/N but Y/N gave it right back. He could tell the love they had for each other was the kind he shared with Gem. They might not have been that close in age, but they appreciate each other better as adults. Harry loved Y/N's nephew, who stumbled every few steps he took, which is why Y/N took it upon herself to have him attached to her the whole night.
It warmed Harry's heart and gave him all kinds of crazy ideas, for example like a baby that was half him and half her that he'd love just as much as Josie.
Fuck, he had it bad.
Harry's thankful it's Wednesday, and he gets to see Y/N again. He didn't make practice on Monday having Sarah bring her, and today Y/n picked her up from his house where Mitch was watching her because he had a meeting that would be running long. Luckily, he made it just in time before the practice started.
He knew he was going to stand out, showing up wearing creamed flared trousers and a black silk button-down. Harry had taken off his cropped, lapel grey plaid jacket knowing the heat would eat him alive if he left it on.
Harry chuckled to himself as he walked from the parking lot; his folding hair swung on his shoulder. He waved to the parents before setting up alone under a tree, wanting to enjoy the shade today and no conversations unless it was from one specific person.
He sees her pocketing her phone in her bag and knows this is his chance to talk to her. He makes his way discreetly as possible, going behind the parents, who are all currently staring down at their phones.
"Y/N,"
She turns, she scans him head to toe quickly, not wanting Harry to catch her, but he does. He lets it boost his ego a little.
"Harry, a bit dressed up, no?"
He chuckles, doing a little spin for her. "Not at all, haven't you heard business casual is the new uniform."
She shakes her head at him, "We'll take it into consideration."
"That's all I ask."
Y/N looks over to Kate and motions for her to get the girls' warm-up started.
"Dinner was nice."
Y/N nods, "It was. My sister really likes you."
"That's good. She's really funny."
"She knows it." Y/N rolls her eyes playfully.
Harry knocks his hips into her, "Don't worry, you're still my favorite."
"Gee, I was so worried." Y/N fakes dramatically but isn't able to hide how her cheeks heat up at his compliment. "Now, you need to go sit. I have to coach. Parents are going to think I'm flirting."
Harry smirks, "I don't mind the flirting."
"Styles, you'd know if I was flirting."
"I'm just going to say that I very much am."
"Hmm, I'll take that into consideration. For our future conversations."
Y/N joins the girls as they are about to start their second lap; Harry slowly makes his way to his waiting chair, happy that Y/N might like him just as much as he likes her.
⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️
Y/N pulled Josie aside before the scrimmage wanting to speak with her noticing she wasn't connecting with the team as she had on Monday.
"Doing okay?" Y/N asks as Josie gets a drink of water.
Josie nods, "Of course."
"Well, Juliet told me you didn't want to hang out. She said you had wanted to try that donut place with us on Friday."
"Because I had plans with my mom."
"Oh, that's fun."
"No."
"Why not?"
"She said she was busy," Josie murmurs.
"Well, you're still welcome to join us on Friday. I'm going to take Juliet to get ice cream at my favorite shop after practice. You're welcome to join." Y/N offers, knowing the little girl needs something to cheer her up.
"Does my dad have to come?"
"Not if you don't want him to."
Josie shakes her head no.
"Okay then."
"I'll go ask permission now."
"You can wait," Y/N laughs at her eagerness.
"No. I tell him now, and he can think it over while I play."
"Okay, sure. Don't take long."
Josie nods about to take off, but Y/n stops her. "Josie, I'm sorry your plans changed."
"She's been doing that more." She shrugs as if she's not bothered.
"Just because she is doing that doesn't mean you aren't loved. Your dad loves you and your godparents; the team does as well. I do, also. You're amazing, Josie." Y/N tells her, knowing Josie needed to hear it from somebody other than her father.
Josie's eyes shine, but she blinks the tears away. She gives her a quick hug before turning around and running towards Harry. From the corner of her eye, she sees Josie dramatically asking for permission as she lets her father retie the laces of her boots. Y/N smiles because she loves Josie, and if given a chance, she might also get an opportunity to love Harry. Y/N looks forward to watching what the future may bring.
⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️
Kate had organized a pizza party for the girls because they had been doing so well and thought they deserved a reward. Y/N and Kate always talked about motivating and encouraging the girls for their hard work and dedication. They would do small gatherings or bring them a treat to enjoy after practice, and the occasional Monday off that happened on significant dates or when they as a coach needed a break which wasn’t often because they loved this and the girls.
A pizza party was fun, it allowed parents to interact somewhere that wasn’t crazy hot, and the girls got to eat their weight in pizza. Y/N personally loved it because she got to eat crazy good buffalo wings. Kate and Y/N always shared a basket.
Y/N had sat in a booth with Kate across from her knowing the girls would take up two of the long tables. They rather not squeeze in between when they have a good view of them here.
“Anyone I should be aware of, Thomas, was it?”
“Uhh, no. He turned out to be a jerk who couldn’t get me off.”
“Gee any louder, Katie, would you.” Y/N smiles at Cynthia’s parents, who are in line waiting to order themselves around some beers. Y/N was never one who got into drinking, but it doesn’t bother her those who do.
“Anyways, the one who is coming is Tiffany, and we have been talking for a week, and I think I may be in love.” Kate sighs, a faraway look in her eye as the waiter drops by her beer. Y/N eyes it, not liking how much foam was in the cup.
“You say you’re in love each time.”
Kate rolls her eyes at Y/N, “Well, I mean it this time.”
“Sure.”
“No, you’ll see. Tiff should be here soon. She got the most gorgeous curls and the most perfect brown eyes. Then when she talks Spanish to me, I have an idea what she’s saying, but it turns me on like crazy.”
“I can translate for you.” Kate rolls her eyes, knowing Y/N’s Spanish was perfect due to her high school and college years, not to mention she took YMCA classes at seven. “Anyways, let us move on from the conversation.”
“Okay, let’s talk about your sex life.”
Y/N chucks a piece of lettuce at Kate hitting her square on her chin. Before Kate can retaliate, Harry steps towards them, “Hello, ladies.”
“Hi, Harry,” Kate responds by making crazy eyes at Y/N.
“Mind if I join you, don’t think Josie would like me sitting with her or alone.”
Y/N nods, “Of course, but only if you don’t mind sliding in. I like the edge seats, or you can sit with Kate.”
Kate shakes her head no, “No, he cannot. My date should be here soon.”
Y/N gets up to let Harry slide in, he does a little wiggle to get to the other side, and Y/N does her best to hide her laugh. It seems to work, as he didn’t mention it. Y/N feels her body heat up because their thighs are touching. She feels ridiculous getting worked up over a simple touch.
The next hour flies by, and Tiffany arrives during that time, and Y/N loves her. She is as gorgeous as Kate described, her hair long falling down her back in thick ringlets, her brown eyes captivating, and her golden skin shines with just a hint of sunlight. She can see why Kate was smitten, but getting to know her and Y/N can happily say she’s a perfect fit for her best friend. She hopes it works out for Kate because this will be a heavy heartbreak if it doesn’t.
Y/N excuses herself, wanting to check with the girls. She approaches the table sitting by the pinball machines. The girls have question after question for her that she happily answers. She looks to see Juliet, happily leading a conversation with a quiet Jo sitting next to her staring out the window.
She excuses herself from the girls and places a hand on Juliet’s shoulder, who stops her chatter to grin up at Y/N before continuing like she never stopped. Jo just smiles at her before looking at the other girls acting as she was involved in the conversation, but Y/n knows better.
“You alright, Jo?”
“Of course, a bit full, that is all.” Y/N stares at those green eyes long and hard before nodding.
“I’m just over there if any of you need anything.”
“Yes, thank you, coach.” Most girls answer in unison.
Y/N goes back to their table, and Harry smiles, scooting over, “Saved your spot. Susan tried to nab it.”
“My hero.” She giggles.
The conversation around Y/N flows easily; she laughs and comments. There is a moment where Harry squeezes her thigh affectionately when she makes a witty comment defending him and his style. She wishes he’d rest his hand there, but he moves it back on top, also not wanting anyone to be suspicious.
As much as Y/N is having a lovely evening, her gaze drifts over to Josie, who hasn’t uttered a word since she was with her.
Harry is too busy chatting and having a nice time to notice how quiet Josie has gotten, not that she blames him; the place is loud and complete because it’s a Saturday afternoon. This worries Y/n as she has seen Josie withdrawing more and more but didn’t want to believe it. Josie hides it reasonably well.
Y/N hopes she’s wrong and that sweet Josie is only having an off day.
⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️
Harry was happy to see Josie loving California. He knew it was a risk moving across the country when the East coast is all she had ever known. Josie has shown him nothing but happiness; he can't wait to see how she does in the Fall when she goes back to school. The great thing is she will have friends due to the girls on the team. Also, he hates to admit it, but it has been good for Josie to see more of her mom. Allowing them to build a better relationship. Harry only wishes the best for his daughter and hopes he has been doing that so far in her life.
It's Wednesday, and Harry feels his weeks go by faster now that they have a structured routine. He always gets excited because he knows that he'll have a chance to chat with Y/N no matter what.
They arrive five minutes before practice starts, making Harry rush out of the car, holding Josie's hand as she pulls him along, wanting to apologize to Y/N.
Y/N approaches them as they reach the area where all the girls have just started their warm-up lap.
"We're so sorry. We got stuck in a traffic jam." Harry rushes out, hating to get his daughter punished for his tardiness.
She shakes her head at him, not bothered. "Go on join the others, Josie," she gently touched her shoulder. "I've got to chat with your dad."
Josie gives her an uncertain look, but she assures her with a smile. She runs off, joining the second lap at the back of the two lines.
Harry stands there, uncertain, not sure what she needs to tell him. By the solemn look she has, it might not be good.
She walks off to the side a distance from the parents and has an eye on the girls finishing up their warm-up laps before going into a stretch.
"Josie brought up something I think you need to know."
Harry waits, allowing her to go on, knowing he shouldn't interrupt.
Y/N takes a deep breath before looking him in his eyes, "Josie says her mom told her she needs to stop calling her and to stop with the visits. That she's pregnant, and that's her priority, not her."
Harry's jaw drops. He didn't know Claudia could be so cruel to their daughter. He wasn't even aware she was pregnant or that she wanted more children. Mostly he hates that he does not hear this from his daughter.
"She told me she was afraid of how'd you react to the news, but I told her she needed to address it, and by your reaction, I assume she didn't."
Harry shakes his head. "No, we celebrated the win and had a good weekend. Seemed happier than normal honesty."
"It's common for kids to try to block it out. As someone who had to go through her fair share of child therapy, I feel like it would be good for her to see a therapist." Y/N tells him, voice gentle, knowing this is a lot for Harry.
"Why" Harry bites back, defensive. "She's fine, happy, and laughing."
"Harry, I'm not saying she's not, but she needs to talk about it. Jo won't be with you, and it's because she trusts and loves you and doesn't want to hurt you. She thinks she is protecting you; an eight-year-old shouldn't be trying to protect her father."
Harry feels himself boiling, no longer wanting to hear any more of what she has to say.
"The signs are there."
The signs," he scoffs.
"Quietness, sadness, isolation, anxiety." She points to the field, and he turns to see Josie stretching alone, lost in her own head. No longer sitting between Juliet like she always had the last few weeks. A frown on her face seems to be permanently placed.
"You've got no right to say this." Harry wishes she never brought this up.
"I'm doing this for her, not for you."
Harry has had enough; he wants her to hurt her like he is right now, which is why he lets his mouth speak before he can think over what he has said, "Who do you think you are? Honestly, you're a lousy soccer coach who has nothing better to do but judge kids and their parents."
"Harry," she whispers, trying to mask her hurt.
"No, you've said enough. I think you can forget about Josie playing for this team." His voice dripping with venom. "Seems all you wanted was extra cash in your pocket with the addition of a player ."
He walks towards the field. "Josie, we're leaving," Harry doesn't care that the other parents are watching now. He throws Josie's bag over his shoulder as he watches her jog over to him,
"We just got here. I was warming up."
"Josie, we're leaving." No room for argument in his voice, but Josie stands her ground.
"I don't want to leave." Her voice falters as she stares up at him.
"Josie, don't."
"Dad, I like it here, Coach is-"
Harry cuts her off, "Enough, Josephine, you're not coming back here ever."
Those words bring tears to her eyes; she drops her head, defeated. She follows behind Harry and turns to look at Y/N one last time, shooting her an "I warned you look."
Y/N watches them walk away, and she can only hope this is the last she sees of them. She shakes all her feelings out, knowing she has all eyes on her right now. She's got a team to coach, and just like that, she brushes away Harry and his cruel words, knowing they'll resurface later in the appropriate environment.
⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️
After leaving the practice field, Harry And Josie did not speak a word to each other or the next day. They continued in silence, not for Harry's lack of trying to get a word out of Josie; she was just that upset with him.
All he received were head shakes, and Harry was worried. He cooled down after and let everything sink in, but the damage was done; it was too late.
That same night Harry called Claudia to confront her to tell her he would be taking her to court to forget seeing Josephine. All she responded was that it was quite alright. She was giving him full custody and would be sending him the paperwork she had already signed. Then hung up the phone on him.
Harry was appalled that a mother could do this to their child, to abandon them with no care. He always knew Claudia wasn't a good person, but he wished better for his daughter, and right now, even he didn't feel good enough for his angel girl.
On the fifth day of silence between his daughter and him, he received an email he was tempted not to open due to who it read the sender was. He did so anyway; it was the name, phone number, and location of a therapist nearby. The email read professional, not a hint of the last few months of knowing each other. There was an endnote that said to give her as a reference. He knew he would think it over for now.
On the seventh day of his daughter ignoring him, he called the number that he marked down on his phone. He called and set up an appointment for the following day; he knows it could have been longer if he didn't name drop Y/N. Harry knows he needs to apologize, but he's not sure where to begin or if it would be appropriate to show up at her house, but he decided to focus on one thing at a time, and that would be Josie.
Harry would have liked to walk hand in hand into the big building with big windows overlooking a secluded private park, but Josie walked ahead and sat herself on the rainbow-colored couches for kids and picked up a Judy Blume book to read.
Harry walks to the front desk and admires all the photos pinned up behind the receptionist. He knows they must be patients with only their first name signed. His favorite is a dinosaur swimming on a floaty holding a milkshake; there was some natural talent hanging on the wall as well as a lot of imagination.
"Sir, here for?" The receptionist called him for his turn, not noticing the person in front of him was now seated.
"Styles, Harry. Well, Josephine," he corrects. "Sorry."
"No worries, all parents do that their first time."
He awkwardly laughs.
"Dr. Sylvia Hernandedz will be with you shortly." He thanks her, going to sit on the black couch. He sinks right in full of comfort.
Five minutes later, they are called to go. He reaches for Josie's hand, and she lets him take it but doesn't make any move to hold him; it's as if he's carrying dead weight. Harry sighs but follows behind the receptionist.
"Hello, Styles family, lovely to meet you." A woman in her mid-forties greets them, a nice styled bun not a hair out of sight. Glasses on the bridge of her nose. She has a dark blue pencil skirt and a white buttoned shirt tucked in. He feels not as uncomfortable as he thought he would.
"I'm Syliva Hernandez, and you must be Josephine Styles." She leans down to be eye level with Josie and sticks out for her to shake.
"Yes, Dr. Hernandez. A pleasure to meet you." Josie responds politely.
Dr. Hernandez smiles. "Now, how'd you know I was a doctor?"
"The frame behind your desk shows your credentials." She points to the USC doctorate hanging behind a desk full of framed photos.
"Well, aren't you an observant girl?"
"Thank you."
"Would you like to accompany me to this playroom while I chat with your father? I can have my friend Alycia join you if you don't want to be alone."
Josie shakes her head no, "I'll be fine. I like being alone sometimes. I had a very wise person tell me it's okay to want to be alone sometimes, but it doesn't mean you're alone."
"Did your dad tell you that?" Dr. Hernandez asks.
"No."
"Very, well off you go. We'll have an eye on you but feel free to use all the items in there."
"Thank you." Josie slips right in, grabbing paper and colored pencils, carefully pulling out her desired colors.
"Have a seat, please, Mr. Styles."
"Thank you."
He sits in the mahogany chair; he can't say he likes it much.
"These chairs are awful. My office is better furnished, I assure you."
Harry tears his eyes from Josie to look at the therapist.
They are silent, and Harry isn't sure what to do.
"Uhh...Y/N Y/LN recommend us to you. I'm not sure if they informed you or I had to let you know."
"Yes, I'm aware. She's a great person." Shutting down conversation.
"Your daughter's birthday."
"December 13th, she's eight".
"How long have you been separated from her mother?"
"Since before her birth. We have a court agreement that I get weekly, and she gets her weekends, but that has recently changed. I have full custody of her.
"How does that make you feel?"
"Not okay; I grew up with divorced parents. My mother never remarried. I have an older sister, but we live in different countries."
"Do you fear the same for her?"
"Think it's worse for her. Josie's mother told her she didn't want her anymore because she would be having a baby. She didn't even tell me. She told--," he cuts himself off.
"Who did she tell?"
"Her soccer coach."
"A female?
"Yes. They are close. Have a real bond, an understanding of sorts."
"Do you think she is looking for a female to look up to?"
"It would make sense. My mother lives in London, and we only see her on holidays, same with my sister. She gets on well with my best mate's girlfriend, Sarah. She taught Josie to play the drums a bit. Also, Glenne, a dear friend."
"Male figures in life?"
"Too many. Mitch, Jeff, Adam, and his kids. Tyler, a family friend."
"It seems she has paternal figures, but she's searching for maternal figures." She states before continuing, "What's the reason you brought her in?"
"The coach addressed to me that she was worried that she was withdrawing herself, becoming anxious and lonely. Less happy. I didn't see it, but we've gone a week without speaking, and I've seen her mope and stare off a lot."
"Is she still seeing her coach?
"No, that's part of our not talking. I got upset over the suggestion of therapy and took that away from her."
"It led to a negative response."
"Yes, and I feel awful about it."
"It seems that the sport and coach are important to her and who she is. It's what you call a safe place."
"But she was beginning to withdraw from there as well," Harry states, not knowing it couldn't be so safe if she was isolating herself.
"Well, we'll have to talk with her. Are you comfortable with me speaking with her alone? I do have to let you know what I speak with her is confidential. She can tell you about it, but you cannot ask me."
"Yes, of course. It's fine, I understand." Harry knows therapy can be scary, but it can also be the start of something better.
"Well, let me call her back."
Dr. Hernandez stands and opens the door, "Josephine, come with me, please." Josie nods her head, putting the colored pencils away and bringing her picture with her.
"I apologize if we took too long."
"Not long. Enough to finish my drawing." She shares, giving the doctor a small smile.
"Can I have a look?"
Josie hands it over, Dr. Hernandez turns it so they can both see what she drew. It's a photo of a goal net and who he assumes to be himself in the net. A little girl with two pigtails standing there, hands raised, and another female is to the side cheering with a megaphone.
"It's beautiful."
"Thank you," Josie says proudly.
"Do you think I can keep it? Have you sign your name and add it to the front desk."
"Would you?" Josie's eyes go wide at someone other than her dad hanging up her art.
"Of course."
"That'd be wonderful." And for the first time in a week, she turns looking up at Harry. "Did you hear that daddy, Dr. Hernandez wants to keep it?
"I would too; it's beautiful, darling."
"I can make another."
Harry smiles, grateful, his daughter is her vibrant self, "Thank you, honey."
"Josephine, are you okay with your dad stepping out and you talking with me privately one on one?
"Yes, I like you. Also, you can call me Josie."
Dr. Hernandez nods in acknowledgment before turning to address Harry.
"You can wait in the waiting room. Alycia will bring you back to discuss in my office when we are done."
Harry mutters okay and walks out, closing the door behind him. He walks a few steps before laying his head to rest on the wall. This has felt like a lot, but he also feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulder.
Maybe I need to see a therapist. Harry thinks to himself, liking that he got a lot off his shoulders in just a short amount of time.
He's walking down the hallway when he hears a familiar voice, one he didn't think he'd have the pleasure of ever hearing again.
It stops him in his tracks.
He hears her voice once more and follows it out to the waiting room he's supposed to be waiting for his daughter.
Harry sees that she is talking with Alycia, and as he steps closer, he feels like it is harder to breathe.
"I have three more clients before I'm done for the day, but I have a thirty-minute gap, so maybe we can order smoothies, my treat." She tells the secretary handing her two twenty bills so that she can get everyone a drink.
"Y/N," he gasps out.
His eyes roam her body; he's never seen her dressed, so office official always used to see her in shorts, sweats, leggings, and a t-shirt. She's wearing this blue satin silk blouse tucked into high-waisted black trousers and low heels.
She is gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous.
Y/N turns, not at all trying to hide the surprised look on her face.
"You're here." She nods; he's not sure why she's here.
"Here's your next client's file. They are doing an intake. You have over half an hour."
"Great."
Harry is now standing in front of her. "You work here?"
Y/N nods.
"You're a therapist." He states.
Y/N can clearly see he wants to talk and knows a better place to do it than their waiting room filled with waiting people.
"Why don't we talk in my office?" Harry nods, ready to follow her, but before he can, she turns to the desk once more, "Hold my calls, please, Alycia."
"Of course."
"Follow me, Harry."
They walk in silence as they pass Dr. Hernandez's door. She opens her door, allowing him to enter first. It feels bright and full of color; the wall's painting is pale green and hanging on the walls; she has lots of scenic photos and drawings. The chairs are nice, a red velvet couch pushed against a wall, her desk is not that big, he notices. It lacks pictures compared to Dr. Hernandez. Her degrees are placed on a bookshelf. She has it color-coded in colors of the rainbow, which is quite impressive.
"Have a seat." She offers all the open space.
Y/N takes a seat on the couch, and he follows.
Harry feels underdressed next to Y/N, and that has never happened before; he is always the one showing up in extravagant and overpriced suits.
"You work here." He waits for her to confirm.
"Yes, I'm a therapist here. Dr. Hernandez was my advisor during my undergrad. She knew what I wanted to accomplish for my career. They offered me a job, and I accepted. They have been supportive of obtaining my doctorate."
Harry is very impressed, "Congrats, that's wonderful."
"Thank you."
They both quiet down, not sure who should go first. Harry is about to start when Y/N begins to speak.
"Listen, Harry, I'm sorry. I went about addressing it wrong, and I never meant to upset you. I apologize." Y/N keeps her eyes on his wanting him to see how sincere she was.
"No need, I've taken a week to reflect on what a jerk I was. Having Josie give me the silent treatment for a week was torture." Harry confesses, scratching his neck to avoid reaching for her hand.
"Is she okay? Harry, that's a long time." Y/N's voice laced with concern.
"I'm sure she's chatting Dr. Hernandez ear off as we speak."
"I'm sorry you had to go through that."
"I brought it on myself by taking her away from one thing she truly loves."
Y/N nods, not able to disagree with Harry. "Yeah, I understand."
"Is that how you know she needed therapy because you're a therapist?"
"Yes. I saw the signs, but I mostly observe and never address it, but from the conversations I've had with Josie and the relationship we built, I felt like I owed it to her to get her help." Y/N pauses, debating if she was ready to share more of herself with Harry. "It was also that I saw myself in her, it felt familiar, and I wanted to help."
"I'm going to tell you a story."
Harry can tell it's not going to be an easy one as she's not staring at her hand, focused on the lone ring she has on her index finger. "You don't have to."
She reaches over and squeezes his hand once to let him know it's alright. "I was nine years old when I walked in on my dad cheating on my mom with his secretary. I told her as soon as she came home and she didn't believe me. She went as far as calling me an attention seeker. By the end of the week, we were living with my grandparents. I didn't see my parents again after that day. At age ten, I started visiting the counselor because I blamed myself for my sister no longer having parents. I wouldn't even allow myself to talk to her; I was just consumed by guilt taking all the blame when I shouldn't have."
Y/N knows Harry's gaze is on her, but she doesn't dare look up, not wanting to see the pity in his eyes. "Don't think I've stopped since then. A big reason I'm doing the job I am now is for those who helped me along the way.
"Y/N,"
"Harry, no pity comments. I've made my peace, sure the trauma never truly leaves, but you overcome it."
"Thank you for sharing that with me, I know I don't deserve it, but I'm grateful."
Harry needs to apologize; he wants to leave here today knowing he didn't lose a friend.
"I'm sorry I hurt you."
"Harry, you-"
"No, I really am; I didn't mean a word I said. I know you're more than a coach, and you're not lousy; you're brilliant. You're my daughter's favorite person. I didn't mean it, and I hope you'll forgive me."
"I accept your apology, that was a bad day for all of us, but I can move past it if you can?"
"Yes, I would love that. I feel awful you're someone I trust, a friend. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.
"Thank you, Harry."
"One more thing."
"Yes, go on."
"Can you recommend a therapist for me? Talking with Dr. Hernandez was amazing, and I think I would benefit from it."
Y/N doesn't make any comment, just nods. "I'll send you a list of therapists but do know you'll always find a friend in me if you ever need a shoulder to cry on or someone to watch over you as you get drunk."
Harry chuckles; he'll keep that in mind for future references.
"There's a knock on the door. "Yes, come in."
"Sylvia is ready for Mr. Styles."
"Thank you, Alycia. I'll walk him to her office."
Y/N stands, and Harry follows close behind as they make their way out to reunite him with his daughter.
"Y/N, can I hug you?"
She bits back the smile threatening to overtake her face at how small he looks asking. "Yes, that's fine."
Harry doesn't wait for another second; he throws his arms around her holding her tight. He hadn't been lucky enough to hug her before, but now doing it, he doesn't think he ever wants to go a day without one.
They walk out, both having heated faces due to enjoying being the embrace of one another. She walks them a few doors down and knocks, waiting for the go-ahead to go in.
"One last thing," She says, pointing a hand to his chest."
"Name it." He'd give her anything.
"Jo comes back to the team. You bring her to the game this weekend."
"Yes, of course."
She beams at his response, "Great."
Y/N peeks her head in, locking eyes with Sylvia. "Alright, to come in, Doc?"
"Of course, Josephine, this is my good friend and coworker Y/N."
Josie turns and smiles wide, jumping up when she sees her walk in with Harry right behind her.
"Hiya, champ. Seems to have found your dad lost out here."
Josie giggles and runs into her arms, hugging her tightly.
"I've missed you."
"As have I little miss sunshine. I missed my fastest midfielder at the game. All the girls missed you."
"Awe, I'll be back," she looks up at Harry with a look of worry on her face. "Right, daddy?"
"Yes, darling. Got a game at ten am on Saturday."
Josie lets out a loud shriek.
"So this is Coach." Dr. Hernandez says with a knowing smile.
"Yes, she's great," Josie responds, holding tight to Y/N's hand.
Y/N chuckles. "How about you and I go draw a picture to add to my office while Dr. Hernandez and your dad tie up some little things."
"Okay."
They walk out hand in hand as Josie catches up with Y/N on everything she did on her week away. Not shying away from how she handled the now resolved issue with her father.
"You don't look as blue," Dr. Hernandez comments."
"Sorry," Harry blushes, having been lost in thought on the two girls who just walked out.
"Mr. Styles, your aura is soft, kinder."
"Yeah, I think she has that effect on people."
"You might be right."
Things are finally looking up, and Harry looks forward to rebuilding his relationship with Josie and hopefully creating one with Y/N besides their parent and coach relationship.
⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️
It's been two weeks since Josie came back to play, and thing's have been going smoothly. Harry begins helping out with cleaning up at the end of practice to talk to Y/N more. He asks more about her job and how the doctorate is going. He worries she might be juggling too much, but she assures him she has a smooth dynamic of handling everything.
It's a cold Saturday morning, it's the quarter-finals, and the nerves are high for everyone. The girls finished on top of the leaderboard, but the league likes doing a championship game to honor all the hard-working teams.
Y/N is quieter this morning, and all the parents have picked up on it. They are used to her light and kind nature, wishing everyone a good day and accepting treats. Cynthia's mom is in charge of snacks for today and offered her a muffin one she never says no to except today.
It immediately puts everyone in a skittish mood.
Truthfully, Y/N isn't here for the parents, but the girls and the team they are against is the dirtiest. Most girls are nine and will be moving up a division, but Coach Roman teaches them that dirty plays will make them win. Her girls are strong players, but she reminds them of the importance of sportsmanship and playing with heart.
Y/N even makes sure she cannot be approached by anyone, only the girls and Kate, as they start to warm up on the field. The girls do their drills as Kate stands quietly by your side.
"Someone can't take their eye off of you."
"Stop."
"It's true though, he was pouting when he saw you on the field clipboard in hand," Kate says with a giggle.
"Shush."
"Going to ask him on a date?"
"Only if we win."
That shuts Kate up, "You're joking."
Y/N slowly shakes her no, "Girls, two lines, run through side net shots."
Kate and Y/n stand back to back as the girls pass, and they kick it-bag, giving them only a second to angle themselves. This is one of their favorite warm-ups, and she's glad she can still talk with Kate during it.
"What made you finally decide?"
"I realized he's not going to make a move because one he fears I'm going to reject him and two it goes horribly wrong, then he might never show his face around here again. I'm positive he likes me."
Kate nods, "he likes you, adores you. He's got it bad." She's quiet for a moment before starting up again, "I know we're going to win, so how are you going to ask him? I'm going to need all the details."
"I'm going to go up to him and ask him out to dinner, simple as that."
Y/N changes the drill marking the end of their conversation; she leads the girl into two groups of keep away while Kate takes Dawson, their goalie, to keep warming up.
Before they know it, captains and coaches are called. Coach Roman is smug and annoying as he shakes her hand. The girls pick heads and win the coin toss. They choose to have kickoff; Roman's girls decide to stay on their side, meaning everything to their advantage as they have the slight uphill to battle through for the first half, and the second will use it to their advantage.
The starting lineup is quick to attack, and in a matter of minutes, Juliet scored a goal from a pass from Imelda. The girls' cheer, happy to be leading the game. They know better than getting cocky; if anything, this intensifies their speed at playing. The next twelve minutes of the second quarter are stressful as Josie makes it a two-zero lead from a corner kick. Just as half-time is to be called, a midfield slips through the defense from the back and gets it over Dawson's head, and just like that, the referee calls it.
Y/N can't remember the last time she was this anxious. It's foul after foul, and she's had enough of it.
Kate is quick to round up the girl, not wanting to monopolize all their time, wanting them to relax mostly to stay in a positive mindset. Kate leads the talk letting them know they are doing well and that the left-wing is getting beat, but having the downhill in favor should help her out now. Y/N went around making sure each girl was safe and had no injuries, only grass stains on their knees.
"Be aggressive, but don't stoop to their level."
"Yes, coach" is heard in unison as a response.
Each girl goes to their bags and starts to stretch, knowing they can't approach their parents because it's easy for them to influence them on how they are playing. Everyone respects it, but there are a few times a parent comes by.
She decides to take a walk, getting away from the girls. She just wants to relax and not be as tense for the end of the half.
She nearly jumps out of her skin when she hears someone call her name.
"Fuck, Harry. You scared me."
He raises his hands up in defense. "Sorry, I was just checking if you are okay?"
Y/N doesn't hesitate to rush into his arms, tucking her head into his neck. Harry, without hesitation, wraps his arms around her. He runs his hand down her back softly, hoping she finds it comforting.
"Hey, hey, it's okay." She holds him tighter, so he goes on. "You're okay, yeah, doing a good job. Girls are playing well. Taking care of each other, just like you taught them."
She slowly nods her head, she's calmed down, and Y/n thinks it might have to do with his soothing heartbeat.
"Deep breaths, love, Come on with me."
Harry breathes in and out until she does it with him. He feels her relax and tries to pull her back, but her grip is tight.
"It's okay, not going anywhere."
"Sorry," she whispers.
"No need to apologize, love."
"I just don't like when coaches teach their girls to play dirty; I hate injuries. They're just kids." She whispers, looking up at him now.
"They'll be okay."
"You don't know that. We have two quarters left."
Harry knows he won't be able to comfort her like he wants when he hears the ref blow the whistle. "Look, the girls are about to start, and they need a coach."
She nods, knowing she has to go back to her coaching mentality. The girls are her main priority; she can do this.
"Thank you, Harry."
"I'm here for you, whenever you need."
Y/N jogs over, nudging Kate playfully, who is shooting her suggestive eyes. They let the captain lead the huddle and listen intently before wishing them luck. The parents clap as the team cheer echoes out.
Only twenty-four minutes left, they can do this. She knows they can. The referees assured them he'd get a better eye on them, not wanting anyone to be carried off injured. Y/N refuses to take her eyes off of her girls. Constantly reminding them to keep communicating with each other when she hears them go quiet.
The last two quarters pass much quicker than the first; the girls play with more fleeting touches, not allowing the other team to put pressure on them.
Just when number eleven is close to getting the ball, Leslie switches the ball over to the other side; Y/N is shocked at how well Josie brings it down, she constantly struggles with this at practice, but she knows that Josie has been putting in the extra work.
She can hear Harry clapping and cheering on Josie; Y/N shouts her praise, letting her know she's doing well. Andie gets a breakaway, and it's a one-be-one versus the goalie. She fakes right as it goes left, touching it in softly, and in it goes. Y/N can't stop cheering, feeling the buzz all over her body. She's incredibly proud of the hard work they have all put in. Just as they reset and the ball is passed back, the whistle is blown and signifies they have won.
Golden Sparks are moving on to the semi-finals.
The girls are quick to jog in and tackle Y/N and Kate in a massive group hug. Y/N is going to be basking in this happiness for the entire weekend.
Y/N sends all the girls to their parents, letting them know she was okay doing the clean-up on her own. Kate stuck around, as did Juliet, because she wanted to have breakfast with Y/N telling her parents they were not welcome to come even though the invitation was extended to them. Clara and Xavier did not take any offense, happy to go back home and nap the morning away if their young toddler would let them.
Y/N approaches Harry after she gets everything settled in her trunk. He smiles at her, walking over helping her close her trunk as they wave by to Kate together. Josie and Juliet hang out in Harry's car, going through his Spotify playlist as they skip song after song, not being a fan of his taste.
Y/N lets out a deep breath, "I've been working up the courage to do this."
"Do what lovely? Harry asks curiously.
"Would you like to have dinner with me?" Y/N feels her stomach tense up as she waits for a response; by his wide eyes, she can tell he wasn't expecting her to say that, but he plays it off well.
"Asking me on a date?"
"I am."
Harry agrees, "I'd like that."
"Does Friday work for you?"
"Yes, great."
"I'll uh, pick you up."
"Proper wine and dine, love." She chuckles because, yeah, she wants to swoop Harry off his feet just like he did to her without even trying.
Y/N gives him a hug holding him tight for a few seconds, smiling up at Harry feeling giddy that they had a date planned after two months of flirting that they weren't sure would go anywhere.
"Juliet, we got to go."
"Okay, auntie." Juliet slams the door just a tad bit too hard, making Y/N mutter an apology.
"Bye, Harry."
"Bye, love."
⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️
Friday had arrived quicker than Harry expected. He got to see Y/N during the week because of the practices, and he was texting her every chance he got. He wanted to let her know he liked her and he was serious about pursuing her. It's been a long time since his last relationship, but call him cliche with Y/N; it all feels right. That everything is falling into place like it should.
Now here he sat on his couch waiting for Y/N to arrive; he had changed his outfit three times because she told him casually, and he couldn't settle on a look. It wasn't until he put on a plain black tee that hugged her arms just right and white linen cropped pleated trousers that he felt ready. He even broke out his new white Vans for the evening.
Harry was about to check the time when there was a knock on his door. He couldn't tame the butterflies in his stomach if he tried. As he opened the door, Harry let out a laugh because there stood the most beautiful woman holding up a bouquet of red lilies. He's falling in love, and there's no stopping him; he just hopes she's there to catch him.
"Hi Harry, these are for you."
Harry laughs, not knowing how to react to receiving flowers, "I'm speechless." He accepts them and gently cradles them in his arms. "I'll put them in water, and we can go."
"Sure, no rush." Y/N admires his living room, never having stepped foot in his house until today, and it's small but cozy. There are photos of all his family framed on the wall to her right. He has a small bookshelf that holds more vinyl than books.
Harry comes back and sees her staring at a photo of Josie on her first birthday covered in cake from head to toe. "I'd give you a tour, but I'm actually really excited to start our date."
"I'm sure they'll be another time."
She walks down his driveway to her parked car allowing Harry to have a moment to look her over. She's dressed casually; she has high-waisted jeans that show off all her beautiful assets. Her lavender cardigan looks warm; she left it open to expose a white plain top. It is genuinely a casual look, but she makes it look over the top.
"You look beautiful," Harry tells her as she stands by her car door.
Y/N does a small twirl before jokingly curtsying for him. "Glad you think so. Those trousers are doing your thighs justice if I do say so myself."
Harry giggles loving how easy she compliments him.
"Right, I wanted to take you mini golfing but considering it's a Friday and summer, it's going to be packed with teenagers."
"Oh, you definitely saved us."
"Yeah, I thought we could take Josie during the middle of the week as a date. I bet she'd enjoy it. Although, I never keep track of points because I'm too competitive."
The date has barely started, and she's left him speechless twice.
"You want Josie to join us on dates." Harry states.
She looks over at him quickly as they are stopped at a red light, "Of course, Harry. She's your daughter; I don't expect you to find a sitter every time we want to go out together. Isn't it like if you're dating me, you're dating my daughter."
He chuckles, "but not on our first date."
"Honestly, I think we were long overdue for a date."
"Yeah, I wanted to ask you out all summer long," He confesses.
Y/N gasps in shock as she signals a right turn, briefly checking her blind spot before making the turn. "Yet, it only happened with a few weeks left in summer."
"Yeah, but we got here, didn't we?"
Y/N leans over and places her hand on his thigh, squeezing him twice, "Yes, we did."
Harry sees her turn into a diner that looks a bit run down; he doesn't dare question her because she seems so excited as she gets out of the car and waits for him by the trunk. Y/N extends her hand for him to take, and he does without a hint of hesitation.
Y/n leads the way, but he hurries to open the door for her. She thanks him with a squeeze of the hand. Walking in, he was startled at how Harry felt he was transported to a seventies diner. The booths were red and looked sparklingly new. To the left was a jukebox that he was desperate to have a look at, maybe dedicate a song to Y/N. The floor's black and white pattern shined at him as the waiter wore a nice button-up with a black bow tie, a red and white striped apron thrown over, his name tag said James.
"After you," Y/N said, wanting Harry to pick a booth side; he knew better than to fight her and slid in on the left side. Harry is surprised when Y/N slides in right next to him. "This alright, Harry?"
Harry grins at her, dimples on display just for her. "Yeah, just caught me by surprise."
She opens up the menu sliding the other one away so they could share. Y/N points to some of her favorite items on the menu and cringing at ones she disliked.
"You know the menu well." Harry states before deciding on the turkey burger she had raved about.
Y/N chuckles, closing the menu. "My grandparents brought Clara and me here every other weekend, never letting us eat out. My grandmother was against the food industry, and she knew the owner here prided themselves on giving back to the community. Always holding fundraisers or donating to local teams."
"Fast food industry isn't the best, but I thank them because I can get Thai food delivered to my house."
Y/N doesn't have time to respond, as their waiter comes back with two glasses of water. "I'll have the turkey burger, no onions, and fries instead of the salad."
Harry didn't know she didn't like onions but made a mental note on it, "I'll also have the turkey burger and the side salad. Oh, and the couple milkshake, we agreed on strawberry, right?"
Y/N nods her head, "I had forgotten about that, but yeah, two straws, please."
"I'll have that out shortly," James tells them, walking away.
"The shake is too hard to die for; it has whipped cream on the top and bottom. It's freshly made, nothing like the canned kind. It's large! Made to be shared, thank goodness you remembered."
Harry shrugs, "That's what I'm here for."
Harry loves how easy conversation flows with Y/N. He doesn't have to force himself to say try to think of a topic or question to ask her. She's very open in sharing herself with him, he's never had someone drop down all his walls this quick, yet again, he might have dropped back ages ago.
Y/N talks to him about his grandparents and how adoring they were. That they supported all of her dreams, even the ones that we're crazy, like wanting to become a witch because she wanted to make flowers grow from her palm. Harry shared how the first year of Josie being born, he felt like he never slept, always nervous something would happen. He also tells her how living in Georgia is something he didn't enjoy, but he also didn't want to bounce Josie around from school to school. It was only date one, but Harry was excited for what the future had in store for them.
When James came back to drop off their burgers and shake. Y/N didn't even hear him too busy laughing at a dumb joke Harry had told her; he can't even remember the joke he made because her laugh is music to his ears.
Y/N waits for Harry to take his first bite, and he decides to tease her just a bit. He slowly raises the burgers stopping an inch from his lips; Y/N sits there, chin perched on her hand as if she has all the time in the world to wait for him.
"I'm in no rush, casanova." She smirks, not falling for his game.
Harry knows eating burgers is nothing sexual, so he decides to go all in. He moans at the first taste he gets, it's juicy, and the pepper jack cheese is perfectly melted, adding an excellent combination.
"Love, that is an amazing burger."
"I know." She's already gotten a bite in. She eyes his salad plate for a moment before looking back over to her fries.
"You want some, sweetheart?"
Y/N giggles at his comment, "God no. I eat healthy enough already, thanks to Juliet, but can I have some of your ranch?"
Harry understands eating healthy, he does it for Josie, and since Y/N is constantly around Juliet, it makes sense she would change her eating habits but does know as an aunt she's easier to give in to desserts. Not that he minds; he needs more sweetness in his life.
"Sure, you eat it with your fries. That's interesting."
She shrugs, "I don't think it is. Everyone in my family eats fries with ranch, including Josie."
"If Josie starts eating fries like that, I will know who to blame."
Y/N bumps her shoulder with Harry, "Haha."
They eat most of their meal in silence. Occasionally, Harry steals a few fries causing Y/N to chuckle before turning her plate, so Harry didn't have to reach over her. She doesn't chastise him about not ordering fries if he wanted some. Harry likes how much he enjoys spending time with Y/N.
"What's one thing you hope to accomplish within the next five years?" Harry asks as Y/N passes the shake back to him and takes a generous drink. They had finished eating, and now we're trying to finish the shake that Harry thought was smaller than what had arrived at their table.
"My usual answer is a doctor, but what's happening next year, so, give me a moment," Harry waits for her, watching as she plays with the rings on his right hand. They went front sitting thigh to thigh to Y/N, hooking her leg to Harry's, causing her to lean more on him. Harry liked it, and if he wasn't somewhere public or their first date, he would have pulled her into his lap. He took a chance and set his hand on top of her thigh; to his surprise, she placed her hand on top of his, intertwining their fingers together.
Every little thing she did made him fall deeper and deeper.
"I want to run a marathon."
"A marathon? I didn't know you were a runner."
"Oh yeah, last December I ran a half marathon, and it was hell, but once the runner high hits, it's the most wonderful thing."
"Why not do it now?"
Y/N frowns, taking off the rose ring from his finger and slipping it on one of hers. "The training is rigorous. You have to work up the miles constantly and eat better. I would rather enjoy the upcoming year."
"Well, when it happens, I can't wait to be there cheering you on." He tells her with a hopeful look.
"I'll hold you to that, Styles."
Harry smiles, hoping she does, hoping he gets to spend many more years to come with her in his life.
Y/N excuses herself to the restroom, and Harry decides it's a good time to pick a song. He approached it grateful to half a quarter hanging in his pocket. The jukebox looked old but well kept. Harry saw over 100 songs but searched for a specific one in mind; he was thrilled to see it was on there. Just as it started to play, he saw Y/N walking back towards him, so he hurried over to slide into their seat.
"You know, you're kind of clumsy."
"Am not," he denies.
"Oh, sorry, so it wasn't you who bumped into the table as you made your way to sit down."
Harry decides not to respond, knowing she saw him embarrass himself, and instead starts singing along to the song. The smile on her face widens as she hears how good he is.
"I'm not surprised you picked Fleetwood Mac, "songbird" is a sweet song."
"Am I that predictable?"
She nods, "Jo always sings one of their songs; at the sleepover, she said that's what you played most, so I taught her my favorites."
"Is it you I have to thank for the ABBA and Selena obsession?" He playfully glares.
"Guilty. She needed to brighten her horizon."
"Josie doesn't even know Spanish."
"Ah, but she will now."
"You're weird." Y/N shrugs in acceptance, knowing he meant it as a compliment.
As Harry's song comes to an end, she jumps up and rushes over to pick her song. She doesn't shy away about dancing her way back over to him. She mouths along to "The Name of the Game," moving her body to the beat.
"The name of the game?"
"You know it, darling."
Harry feels the heat in his cheek and hopes Y/N won't bring it up. She gets him flustered in just a few words.
"You know this is about falling in love with your therapist," he states
"Harry!" She exclaims. "No, the song is open to interpretation."
"What do you think?"
"I think it's about the early days of your relationship and wondering if it'll be something more or not. Also, that bridge, I mean come on."
Harry loves how passionate she is about the song. He loves that she's not afraid to share her thoughts with him, and he realizes he's doing the same. He can't help himself and leans in to press a kiss to her temple, throwing an arm over her shoulder to pull her close as they sit there listening to the song to the end.
"Ready to go, angel?" He feels her mutter a small okay, as she gets up, offering her hand to him as he's at the edge. "Let's go take care of the bill."
Y/N chuckles, "Already did, Harry."
Harry pulls her back, turning her to face him, "When?"
"The restroom, oldest trick in the book."
"Sneaky, sneaky."
Y/N, let's Harry lead the way out this time; they say goodnight to the staff and hurry over to the car. He didn't bring a coat, and he still wasn't used to how cold California got at night. He thought summer meant warm nights with a gentle breeze, not chilly air. Y/N seemed to not mind it, not hurrying after Harry as he jumped into the passenger seat.
"Afraid of the cold, H."
"Yes, why is it so bad?"
"Didn't you get snow in December up in the peach state? Also, aren't you from where the sun never shines?" Y/N teases him as she settles in her seat, turning on the heater for Harry.
"We visit occasionally; I can handle the weather with the appropriate clothing." He pouts at her, rubbing his arms.
Y/N turns around, reaching for something in the backseat before settling in again and settling it in Harry's lap. She doesn't say anything besides dazzling him with a smile and pulling out of the parking lot.
Harry slips it on over his head and finds it fits him loose, "I hope you know you might not be getting this back."
Y/N turns to look at him as he drags the collar up to his cheek to feel the softness it still holds, "That's my coach sweater. Kate got me a few, all in different sizes; I wear this one because I like baggy hoodies."
Harry smiles at her, he knows everything they have done has been in reverse, but he loves how confident she is. He knows she's been hurt before in the past from what she's shared but not once has he felt her trying to hide or push him away. He wants to tell her everything he's kept locked inside, he's never felt like this before, and he hopes the feeling never goes away.
"You know, if people see you wearing the sweater, they'll start talking."
Harry turns in his seat, facing her as the street lights shine on her face. "Let them. I've got no shame in people thinking you're my girlfriend. If I'm lucky enough, it might come true."
Y/N shakes her head, thankful for the darkness because he won't be able to see how her face heated up. The drive to his house was short, he wished for the night to never end, but even he knows he's not that lucky. Harry lets her know it's okay to pull into his driveway as he had his car parked on the curb right.
"I'll walk you to your door." Harry holds her hand the short way to where they will soon have to say goodnight.
Harry doesn't try getting his keys out; instead, he turns her to look at him, wanting to remember her in this moment forever. His last first date. Call him crazy, but there was no one else for him. It was always Y/N; he just had to find her.
"I had the best night with you," Harry whispers, pulling her close by her waist. She rests her hands on his shoulders and nods. "We're doing this again, Y/N."
"I got a second date." She cheers.
Harry leans his forehead against hers, smirking as he hears her breath hitch. "You get a second, a third, a fifth, a one hundred. You name it, you got it."
He's so close to closing the gap between them, feeling their breaths mix together.
"That means you'd be stuck with me for a long time."
"I want to say forever, but that might be too soon."
"Our secret." She whispers, her eyes dancing from his lips to his eyes. "Please kiss me, H."
Harry knows he won't ever be able to deny anything she wishes in life, mainly because he was close to losing her once before.
His lips moved slowly, savoring the feel of her against him as he pulled her close, letting himself rest against the door. He felt the butterflies in his stomach going crazy as she moved her hands to his hair, tugging on the small curls. Harry pulled back in fear of letting out a moan at the intense pleasure she made him feel.
Y/N pulls back breathless but presses her lips to his cheek, not wanting him to touch to go far. "Will you give me another, darlin'," Y/N nods a starry look in her eye as she lets Harry swoop in and take control of the kiss. This second kiss is faster and more passionate. Harry was holding back before, but now he wants her to feel everything he makes her feel. Harry wants her to know he gives her goosebumps and fireworks.
"I could kiss you all night." Harry trails kisses on her cheeks, loving how lost in his touch she is.
"Too bad, I need to rest. I've got to coach a game tomorrow."
That statement is enough to bring Harry back to reality, where he has to wake up extra earlier to pick up his daughter then drive her to the game. They have to say goodnight, even though neither one of them wants to.
Harry pulls away, dropping his hands from her waist; Y/N follows by letting her hands slide down from his hair.
"See you tomorrow?" He winks at Y/N as she walks backward, creating distance between them.
"Of course, we got a semi-final to win."
Y/N walks to her car, touches her lips feeling the lingering heat on when he kisses her breathless. She is turning on her car, making sure her headlights are on, when she sees Harry rushing down the steps toward her, the smile on his face contagious.
"What is it?" She asks as she rolls down her window, knowing she wouldn't leave soon if she got out.
"A kiss for the road."
Y/N couldn't dare deny him a kiss, especially when she was craving more already.
Harry slipped a hand the back of her neck, fearing she'd pull back sooner than he wanted. Her lips tasted like cherry; he figures she put on chapstick. This was only their third kiss, but it had only gotten better. Harry swiped his tongue against her bottom lip, begging for entrance, but she pulled back, letting out a breathless laugh at the pout he made, no longer able to feel her against him. She leans and pecks at the corner of his mouth, whispering a goodnight as he steps back, letting her drive away.
It may be too soon, but he might just love her.
⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️
The semi-final had to be one of the most intense games she had seen the young girls play. It was goal after goal from each team, neither one backing down on the pressure.
In the second half, she told them she was proud that if they kept playing how they were, this game was theirs. Going in a 3-2 lead, the girls stood shocked when, in a corner kick, the other team had been able to get it into the back of the net and over Dawson.
Kate thought this might knock them down, but it sparked something in all of them. All the parents stood up from their seats when they saw them dance around the opposing team switching the ball side to side. Honestly, it was something far advanced than they've ever presented.
Y/N was in awe; their communication was at a new level. There wasn't much time left, and Kate feared penalty kicks even if they were prepared for it.
Lani had control of the middle field; she just needed to get it past their defense. Juliet had defenders marking her tight, no way able to make a run towards the goal. If they played it right, Juliet would draw them out, leaving a gap allowing them to make a run for it. That's all they needed for a foot race.
Kate was sitting on the bench holding tightly onto Sarah Beth's hand, not able to take the pressure; then again, no one could take it. It all happened so fast; one moment, Juliet ran towards the midfield, two defenses following close behind when she got a touch on the ball, letting her send it back where it came from, then straight down the line. Jo and Franny ran down both sides too far ahead to be stopped; Jo was able to get a touch on it, crossing it straight to Franny, who shot at goal but was stopped by the opposing goalie. Jo was there for the rebound striking it in.
Goal!
She did it. She made the final goal.
Jo was quick to be bombarded by the rest of her teammates hugging her as they ushered back for the kick-off. Y/N wished she could run in there and hug her, telling her how proud she was, but for now, shouting 'great job' and 'stay focused' would be enough. Y/N looked over at Harry, who was wiping his tears still yelling proudly for his daughter, and like he knew she was staring, he looked over at her giving her the cheesiest grin she had ever seen on him.
The game finished, and the Golden Sparks won another game, taking them to the final the following week. Y/N congratulated the girls telling how proud she was of them and the hard work they put in each game. She told them she can't wait to see them on Monday and to have a wonderful weekend. Then told their parents to spoil them a little extra this weekend that earned a cheer from all the girls.
As Y/N was packing up her things, Kate and a few other parents already helped carry everything over to Kate's car. She felt arms around her waist.
"Hey, quickster," Y/N says, turning, allowing her niece to hug her properly.
"The girls are going to get ice cream if you want to go with them; Emilia's mom will text you the address," Juliet asks, but Y/N has spent enough time with them and wants to let them be.
"Thanks for the offer, but you have a good time. I'll let your mom know Emilia's mom is dropping you off." Juliet nods, giving her one more hug before hurrying over to Emilia's car, where Jo also happens to get in. She sends them away; she notices Harry a few vehicles over putting a bag away when she reaches her car.
Something comes over her because the next thing she knows, she's calling his name and standing next to him.
"Hiya, love. Doing alright?"
Y/N tucks her hair behind her ear and nods, "Yes, all good. That was an exciting game."
"Good to hear."
"You doing anything now?" She asks, peeking over her shoulder, seeing Kate has her eye on her, but she just rolls her eyes before looking back at Harry.
"Going home, my munchkin left me."
"Well, there's a great Mexican restaurant here if you'd like to join me for lunch."
Harry smirks, "Asking me on another date, are you?"
"I have to when I know you're still a bit nervous about making a move," she confesses bashfully.
Harry's not surprised she can so easily read him; all the walls he had left are gone.
"Then I'd be honored."
"Great, uh good. Just follow me then."
Arriving, they were seated quickly. A plate of chips and salsa were delivered shortly, Harry asked for guacamole. Y/N didn't argue, knowing for many people that was one of their favorite dips. Personally, she wasn't a fan. She didn't like the texture. Most people were shocked at the revelation, and no doubt Harry would as well.
"What's good here, love?" Harry says, leaning into her side to peek at her menu instead of opening his.
"Hmmm...honestly everything. I always get something different when I come, but you can never go wrong with tacos."
"Alright, you want to share?"
Y/N shrugs, "We can. I'm not picky, but I am starving."
"Have some guacamole; you haven't gotten any."
"No thanks, I'm not a fan."
"You serious?"
"Yes, Harry."
"That's strange."
"What is?" She sets the menu down to look over at him.
"I mean, it's fine. At least you'll never buy avocado toast for like six dollars." He chuckles, and Y/N can't help but join in.
Their waiter comes over, "Estan listos para ordenar?"
Y/N nods, "Hola, si. Dos tacos de asada, y dos de al pastor. Por favor."
Harry is staring intently at his menu, not speaking a word as they wait for his order. "You alright, darling?"
He leans close to whisper in her ear, not able to focus on the term of endearment, "Can you order for me?"
She doesn't tease him, just smiles, "Y una orden de enchiladas rojas."
Their waiter smiles and walks away, promising to be back shortly.
"Have we discussed you speaking a second language?"
"I thought we had." She brushes it off like it's no big deal.
"I don't think so."
"Okay, I took YMCA classes from age seven and did so all the way until college. Even have a minor in Spanish."
"Impressive."
"Sorry if you felt uncomfortable. They speak English as well but primarily speak Spanish."
Harry shakes his head, not wanting her to feel bad, "No, I was just caught by surprise. Hearing you speak Spanish was a turn-on."
"I'll keep that in mind." She winks at him, glad to see the blush spread on his cheeks.
Lunch went great, just as she had expected. They shared food, Y/N enjoying Harry's enchiladas much more than the tacos. Harry happily ate the three tacos she left after eating most of his plate, not that he minded. Y/N appreciated how open he was in sharing food. She had always done it growing up, so Harry allowing her to do the same made her find more profound comfort in their already growing relationship.
Harry beat her to the bill, and she let him take it not without letting him know she'd get it the next time. They stood outside together, allowing the nice breeze to brush over then neither one was eager to say goodbye. They knew they would see each other soon, but with the growing affection, they just craved more time together, more time getting to know each other.
Harry had her pressed against her car door, hidden from the view of others. "We should do this again."
"We should," she agrees.
"My house Thursday night, Josie is going out with Sarah and Mitch to watch a movie, most likely do a sleepover as well."
"I'd like that. We'll see if you can maybe have a sleepover yourself."
Harry smirks, liking the idea of her spending the night with him, not caring that they both had work the following day.
"Are you going to kiss me?"
"I want to."
"You have my full permission," she teases.
Y/N met him halfway and pressed, letting him press his lips against hers. As she kissed him back, she wanted him to feel how much she liked him, how fast she was falling for him. His hands wrapped around her waist tight; it gave her comfort. She knew he wouldn't let go until she asked.
She felt her beat just a little fast as she left out a soft moan; she shifted closer as his mouth opened over hers and his tongue slid between her lips.
He was in control of her. She did not mind one bit.
With a sigh, she tilted her so he could kiss her more deeply; he didn't need any encouragement to do as she wished. His kiss became more intense, she could feel the burn between her thighs, wanting more, needing more, and that's when she knew she had to pull back, but he beat her to it.
Harry pulls back, staying close enough that he could steal another kiss, "God, I can't get enough of you."
He surprised her, how open he became with her feelings, she hadn't asked how his therapy was going, but god, it must have been doing wonders if she could feel every emotion that was going through him as she gazed into his loving emerald eyes.
"I'll see you soon, darling." Harry took that as his cue to let his hold of her go.
"Not soon enough," he whispers.
"You'll see me Monday," she reminds him.
"Can I steal a kiss then?"
"If you're lucky."
Y/N knew it wouldn't be long until she could say she was in love with Harry.
⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️
Harry never thought he'd be the type of guy to be excited over a simple call or text reading: 'I'm thinking of you." She's made him feel good and confident in their relationship. He sent flowers to her work that led to her sending him a selfie with her face buried in the flowers.
At practice, he knew she couldn't pay attention to him, but that didn't mean he couldn't. He saw how fast she moved with the ball showing the girls a new drill, then doing it again slowed down, making sure they all understood. He admired how she never got frustrated. He knew how hard it was to handle one eight-year-old, but sixteen was impressive. He'd sit there for hours just admiring her if he could.
On Tuesday, he called Alycia, the receptionist at Y/N's office, asking for her lunch schedule, wanting to drop by and leave her lunch. She let him know she was taking it later that day at 2 since she was so busy. He decided that a BLT sandwich from two blocks away would do as she had once expressed to him how well done they were, promising to take him one day.
He walked in, noting how few people were in the waiting room, but eagerly stepped up to the counter. Alycia greeted him kindly, now seeing him more than once when he took Josie to her first session. Josie showed improvement, and each time he brought her, he made sure to leave a note behind for Y/N.
As he told Alycia to give you the food, there Y/N came walking down the hall. He was surprised at how casual, yet professional her look was; she had a silky oversized button shirt tucked into her linen pants, wearing her brown loafers he knew she didn't use often.
"Alycia, can you update this- Harry!" Y/N looks shocked to see him standing in front of her, not at all expecting to see him; she just planned on calling him later at night like they had been doing the past few days.
"Hi, love. Brought you lunch." He smiled sheepishly, holding up the bag.
She laughs, handing over the file to Alycia then stepping towards Harry to wrap him in a hug she has been wanting to do since she laid eyes on him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tight against him, taking in her sweet honey scent. Before pulling back, remembering, after all, she was at work.
"I'm starving, thank you, darling. I was about to head out." Y/N rubs her stomach jokingly.
"Well, I'll leave you to it. See you tomorrow."
Y/N pouts, "You're not staying?"
"Well, I didn't want to assume."
"Assume, please." She laughs at the smile she gets Harry to give her.
They excuse themselves from Alycia and walk towards her office. They take a seat on her couch as Harry hands her the sandwich. They ate together, and for the forty-five minutes they had together, it was perfect; they shared stories of how their week was going at how Josie was anxious for the game and just promising to see each other soon. Harry got a kiss goodbye and was glad he would be seeing her the following day.
It's Thursday night, and Harry will finally get her for more than half an hour. Josie left a few hours ago to watch the movie with Sarah and Mitch, her sleepover bag on her shoulder not at all a surprise for Harry. He glanced around his house and knew it wasn't the cleanest. Josie always had some stuff scattered around the house, but he knew it just gave the house character.
"Hey, I'm outside," Y/N tells him on the phone before hanging up.
He rushes to the door, swinging it open to see her shut the door with her hip before making her way to him, a grin on her face as she carries a pink box in one hand and what he assumes to be food in another.
"You said you don't always like having to cook, and I know you said you love Thai." She giggles as he reaches to take the bag out of her hand, letting the smell take over.
"This is sweet, love. I appreciate it."
"Well, of course," she shrugs off his compliment. "I wanted to do something nice."
"I feel like I should be the one doing sweet things for you," he confesses as he guides her to his kitchen.
Y/N frowns, "Darling, we can move past that."
"Can we?"
"Of course, I feel like we've grown in the last few weeks. There's a different type of trust, don't you think?" She turns to face him, knowing the conversation was serious.
"Do you know how sorry I am?"
She nods, slowly stepping towards him, stopping right in front of him. She lifts her hand under his chin to have him look at her. "I do, and I forgive you. Sometimes we let our emotions win."
"I hope you know I'd never do that again." His voice is soft.
"I know."
She leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.
"Dinner?" She beams.
"Yes, of course."
The meal is good, probably one of the best foods he's had in a long time. She didn't pick this up from his usual place but wouldn't tell him where she went. Told him she needed to keep some things to herself to keep surprising him. Harry finished most of the meal and then opened the pink box she left on the table that held a mixture of donut holes.
"You've still got room," she exclaims.
"They smell so good." He defends. Y/N laughs but rejects the offer to have one.
After cleaning up, he leads them to the living room, deciding to watch a movie. The scroll endlessly for a few minutes before settling on Life As We Know It. Harry shared that it was one he enjoyed watching back, and she agreed.
They had only gotten thirty minutes in before they began chatting. Y/N went on about how she was planning a trip to take two up north wanting to visit June Lake and hike some trails. Y/N's sister was going to see Xavier's family in San Diego, so they couldn't go up with her. Harry, without thinking, said if she'd have them, they could go. She didn't respond, making him assume she didn't want them to join, but she surprised him by hugging him.
"Best idea you've had tonight. I'll make all the reservations. Just let me know when you're free." She told him before settling back down next to him, her hand on his thigh going back to the movie. She was grinning at the montage of Holly and Eric and how they were learning how to co-parent Sophie. Harry had not taken his eyes off of her; she laughed as Sophie pooped in Eric's old hat.
"You're staring." She narrows her eyes at him, suspicious.
"It's because you're beautiful."
"Thank you," she answers timidly. "Very sweet of you."
"Of course, I'm going to spend the rest of my life telling you how beautiful you are if you let me."
"God, you're smooth."
Harry smirks, "Smooth enough for a kiss."
She didn't answer him; she wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him forward so that he could meet her halfway, and pressed her lips against his. Harry was quick to take control, slipping his hands around her waist and placing her on his lap, "this okay," he asked, quickly pulling back making sure she said yes. Once he had a go-ahead, he went back to her lips; she shifted closer, now touching chest to chest, not a single space in between as his tongue slipped into her mouth, prideful of the moan she released against his mouth.
Harry smoothed his hands from down her waist to rest on her ass, then cupped her and held her to him as he thrust against her. He pulled back for a second fearful he went too far; Y/N frowned, slowly opening her eyes whispering "again" against his lips, and who was he to deny her.
She could feel his hesitation, slid her hands up, and cupped his jaw, "You're okay, we're okay. You're taking care of me. I want this."
Harry swallowed hard, noting she never stopped rocking herself on top of him. His mouth curved in a slight grin, pushing up to meet her, he felt her go soft in his arms, and that's when he really realized the effect he has on her.
He needed her lips on him, it had only been a few moments, but he was craving her. He laid a string of kisses up her neck until he reached her mouth, lips swollen, but he knew she was eager for more.
"Harry, please." She had a hand tangled in his curls, needing to close the distance.
"I got you, love."
He tilted her head, allowing him to kiss her deeply, the kiss only more intense than before. If he didn't need to breathe, he would kiss her forever, never stopping.
"So pretty, all those moans just for me,"
"All for you," she breathes out.
Harry smirked, moving her up and down over his pants at a steady rhythm, but she was fighting for control.
"Harry."
"It's alright, love, let yourself go. Show me how pretty you look when you come."
Y/N was so close, tensed her thighs around him about to reach her release when they heard a phone ringing, halting their movements. Harry groans, pressing one more lingering kiss to her puckered lips, before reaching over to the side table to his right for his phone, "not me."
She holds back a whine, getting up for her phone inside her jacket. "Whoever it is, don't answer," he half-jokes.
Y/N giggles and looks at the caller as she swipes right to answer, "it's my niece."
Harry watches as she nods, telling her to relax and that she'd be right over.
"Has our night been cut short?"
"It has. Juliet got in an argument with her dad and is now threatening to move out."
"What," he laughs, standing up as he watches her shrug her jacket on.
"Yeah, to the backyard or with me."
"She really made you a mediator."
Y/N laughs, shrugging.
As Harry is walking her to the car, he can't believe how the night turned or would have. "You know I thought it would have been my child who interrupted us."
"Well, your daughter is an angel next to Juliet."
"You really think so,"
"I know so."
"You make it so easy to fall for you," he confesses, wrapping her in a hug before she leaves him for the night.
"Harry."
"What, I mean it."
She leans up to kiss his cheek, "I'm sorry we didn't get to finish."
"Me too."
"I hope you know once I'm in bed tonight, I'll be thinking of you."
"That's not fair."
"Why not?"
"Because I want to be the one taking care of you, making a mess of you."
"We'll get there," she promises.
Harry leans in and kisses her; it's short and sweet.
"Night, Harry. See you Saturday."
"See you then. Goodnight, love."
⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️
It's bittersweet honestly, it's the final game of the season. The girls have worked very hard to get where they are now: at the championship game. After this game, win or lose, they'll have a month off. No one will call her asking for an extra jersey, asking her for a ride, or texting her what time the game was, even with them owning the schedule. They'd all get a break until mid-September.
Harry and Josie were the first to arrive, while Kate and Y/N were setting up the warm-up drill.
"Loverboy is here." Kate teases as they walk to the bench.
"Stop." Y/N looks over at them, seeing them heading this way. "Styles family, good to see you."
"Hiya, Coach."
"Hello, Jo. You're going to go get ready?" Y/N says, looking down at the girl's black crocs with Avengers pins.
"Yup," she skips away, sitting on the grass next to Kate, who's pumping air in a few balls.
"Harry, hi."
"No darling," he teases."
She narrows her eyes at him, "I'll have you sit with the other parents if you keep teasing."
Harry looks appalled; she'd suggest such a thing, "Now that hurts."
"You know I thought you'd be sweeter, especially about that wonderful night we had Thursday."
A smile tugs up Harry's face at the memories, "My apologies, didn't want to upset my girlfriend."
"Girlfriend?" Y/n doesn't hide her surprise.
"Yeah, uh, we've gone out enough. I like you, and I'm going out on a limb here that you like me," she nods, allowing him to continue. "You're marvelous and love, Josie; god, you even gave her a nickname. I want this; I really want to hold your hand and keep going on dates with you and kiss you. I never want to stop.
She smiles, stepping into his embrace, "I'll be your girlfriend, boyfriend."
"Enough to risk a kiss?"
She doesn't reply; instead, she leans in, giving him a chaste kiss.
"Now go be a good parent and take a seat."
Harry does so. The smile on his face mirrors her own.
The game passed in a blur; the four quarters finished quickly. Y/N had thought they lost to the other team carrying a two-one win over them. The girls didn't look defeated, but each girl she subbed came out with a sigh but cheered as the minutes counted down.
Everyone hated losing, including herself.
Then out of nowhere, Priscilla, a usually shy player, gets a touch on the ball and sends it towards the goal. The goalie lets it slip under her, and what do you know they scored. The cheers seem endless; Y/N isn't bothered with the time, knowing there isn't much left in the final quarter.
This gives the girls a new motivation like a spark has been lit. It's a game of keep-away, Blue Devils not giving up easily. Abby gets the ball at her feet, and she freezes; the goalie is running right towards her, the defense kept away by the others; it's not until someone shouts, "Shoot!" that the young girl lifts her left foot shooting it through the goalies' legs and hitting the back of the next. Then just like that, the referees blow the whistle and call the game.
The Golden Sparks had won the championship. Y/N felt the tears in her eyes, thankful for the sunglasses hiding her overflowing emotions.
Y/N laughs as she feels Kate hug her and begin jumping up and down.
"We did it!!"
"They did it!"
Y/N is swept through the motions as she shakes hands with the coaches and claps the opposing team's hands. It's not until Juliet runs towards her with full force, knocking her onto the grass, wrapping her arms around her waist, that she's brought back to the moment. Then before she knows it, there are fifteen more girls joining in on the group hug. She's not sure when Kate was dragged into it, but she feels their joy.
They have a lifetime of wins and losses coming ahead in their young lives, but she's happy to be part of one that brings them so much happiness.
The young girls help her get up before hurrying over to their waiting parents. Juliet is being smothered in kisses by her parents. Josie is passed around by Harry's friends and her godparents, congratulating her on the win. Each girl showing off their small first place trophies, indeed to be displayed for all to see somewhere in their home.
Y/N has waved almost everyone off, telling them she would see them for pizza and drinks at their usual location. She took one look around the emptying field and felt she did well this season, but there was also room for her to grow as a coach.
"Looks like you're a champion, love."
Y/N turns around to find Harry smiling at her, Josie a few feet behind, waving to a couple with a baby. "Think she's the champ; she played the game. You did wonderful out there, Jo." She grins as Jo looks at her proudly.
"I still think you should be congratulated; you led these girls. Taught them and helped them grow into becoming better little humans." he shares, grabbing her hand pulling her into his chest.
"Well, thank you." Y/N looks down at Josie, who's crouched down trying to pick up what's likely to be a worm, "Ready for some pizza, Jo?"
Josie nods, not looking up too entranced on the creature in her hands now.
"Can I give you a gift, you know for uh...winning?"
"Course, I like presents." She grins at him, eager for what it could be.
His fingers curled into her nape and pulled her head into his as he kissed her softly. She felt his full lips move over hers; she felt how much he felt for her. As Harry brought their kiss to an end, he pulled back and looked into Y/N's eyes. "Was it a good gift?"
"The best," she answers before they are interrupted by a giggling Josie, who is staring up at them.
"Does this mean you're together?" Jo asks.
Y/N and Harry share a look before looking back at Josie, who's patiently waiting, "yes."
"Oh my! Dreams come true!" She shouts, running circles around them.
"Isn't meeting dad's girlfriend too soon a bad thing?" Y/N asks Harry.
"Not when you know you're never letting go."
"Oh, I like the sound of that." She lets pull her towards him, his arm resting comfortably over her shoulder.
"Plus, you're meeting all my friends at the pizza place, they all came to cheer on Josie, and you did say everyone was invited."
"I might just regret saying that."
"It'll be fine. Not a chance you don't win them all over."
Y/N brings them to a halt, Harry smiling down at her. This is happiness; she never wants to forget it. Harry leans in, letting their mouths meet in a kiss, soft and passionate as they both spill their feelings for another, hoping that with each passing second, the emotions only get stronger and stronger.
Harry pulls back, resting his forehead against hers, "I don't know what the future will bring, but I'm glad we'll be able to see it together."
Josie walks a few steps in front of them, leading the conversation. Harry and Y/N listen intently, holding each other tightly because this is what their future will consist of; more soccer games, more smiles, more laughs but most importantly, more love.
⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️
thank you so much for reading <3333
I adore you. take care xx
#harry styles#harry styles stories#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles x reader#dad harry#soccer coach y/n#harry x you#harry styles smut#harry styles one shot#harry styles imagine#harry styles au#my writing
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Aphrodisiac Induced Reader + The Dateables
A/N: I had this thought and i really had to get it out of my head (it was org gonna be just simeon cause,,, i love repressed feelings so much but then i gave it to the rest!!) (all consensual btw!!)
Separated because it was gonna be too long with all of them, the brothers should come out soon
-
A/N: I had this thought and i really had to get it out of my head (it was org gonna be just simeon cause,,, i love repressed feelings so much but then i gave it to the rest!!)
You really should have known better than to take food that was offered by Beel. You know that he has the right intentions in mind- that him sharing food is a miracle of itself and rejecting him would have his brows furrowed and lips pursed into a pout- but he’s also gluttony. He can eat whatever he wants and as much as he wants without so much of a stomach ache. You, on the other hand, cannot. You should have seen this coming when the cupcake you bite into filled your mouth with such an indescribable sweetness that it made your teeth ache, the flavor otherworldly and leaving you hungry for me, taking greedy bites out of the cutely decorated pastry. There was a sharp pang in your stomach, your body on fire and sex dripping with every nudge that your body made.
You couldn’t be alone right now- or maybe you should have been left alone, maybe that would have saved you from humiliation of your dripping arousal that was leaking past your slit. You’re quick to rise, standing on shaky legs, curled over as your cheeks burn, sweat beading against your skin, only worsening the sensitive state that you are in. It’s fast-acting, making your breaths come out in heated gasps, and everything just feels a bit too much, just too good for it to be normal. An aphrodisiac- a strong one that is making you impossibly aroused. You suck in a sharp breath and go to the person who you know will treat you right.
Barbatos:
Barbatos is simply surprised that you chose to go to him in such a needful state. But soon, he realizes how… stressful it is to have you around. Lord Diavolo was kind enough to give him the day off, stating that he’ll be spending it with Lucifer before closing the door with quite an obvious wink. But now, you follow him around, holding his hand, begging for him to do something- to turn back the clock just a few minutes before you had that pastry. You even promised that you wouldn’t get caught but he remains steadfast in his decision, not wanting to risk another repeat of the last mistake.
There is little that can surprise the butler, but when you push yourself against him, grabbing his hand and placing it flat on your belly, his fingertips above the waistband of your shorts, he can feel his face grow hot. He sputters out for a second before regains his composure, simply pulling his hand away and commenting that he’ll make you something to dim the fire that is your body. But you don’t quit, you push yourself against him, begging for him to help you now, that you’re too hot, that your clothes are melting your skin and your flush against him.
He only has so much willpower when it comes to you. And here you are, pressed against him, begging for him to take care of you, grabbing his hand and placing his index and middle finger in your mouth. He visibly stiffens, and when your mouth closes you hollow your cheeks, the soft, slick insides pressed against his fingers. There’s a crackle of energy around and soon you're gagging on his finger, the manicured nails turning into claws, filling your mouth exponentially, spit sliding between the corners and your eyes pricking with tears.
You are much too needy to stand still, to even rest against him is something that you find difficulty in without resulting in your humping his leg. You beg him, twist your hand in his and remove his glove, holding it tight in your hand and begging for him to touch you- to make the pain between your legs go away and feel good. As quick as a blink of an eye, you’re against the wall, his fingers deep into your mouth, his smile softening for a second. He leans close to your ear, his other hand working on clothes on your back, stripping you with every gagging sound made when he pushes a bit further. His tone is almost dangerous as he tells you that you asked for him to take care of you and that is simply what he’s about to do. He pulls away, his smile still as he leans close to you, his lips ghosting over his knuckles, asking if this is really what you want and if you give him a moment, he’s sure he can make you a tea that can stop your arousal. But when you gag around him, your brows knitting together, looking absolutely like a piece of art with his fingers in your mouth and eyes full of tears, he simply nods.
His mouth is on yours, and he can taste the lingering effects of the aphrodisiac on you- the sweetness, the almost bitter taste that lingers behind, the totality of it all making him feel as if he’s going to go into a craze. You poor thing, no wonder you’ve been so needy. Barbatos holds you up, letting you rut against him, feeling your sex pulse and with a simple slip of his hand, your creaming against yourself and against him, clinging tight to him, calling his name out in such a lewd moan that it pushes away all rational thought and simply release his cock, pearls beading from the slit and you look upon him with doe eyes, kissing him once more as his tail wraps around your torso, the forked end of it teasing at your nipples.
Diavolo:
The Lord of Devildom has always been kind to you, understanding and accommodating to you even when he has always seemed so busy. It would make sense that you would go to Lord Diavolo, who welcomes you with open arms, a gentle hand on your back that makes your knees buckle. He realizes his mistake- his eyes narrowing as he sees your flushed state and it’s a wonder that you’ve even made it to him without a trail of succubi and incubi at your tail. He can smell your heat from miles away. It’s intoxicating, hanging heavy in the air and as sweet as candy itself.
He lays you on the bed and he regrets it all in that very moment. He sees how small you are in his bed, the way that your body curves and how your hands try to find something to grip onto. He has enough restraint to pull himself away from you, taking a step back only to realize that your scent is filling the room, creeping at every crevice and corner, latching onto his clothing. Your hips thrust against the bed and he bites the inside of his cheeks- something bitter and hot filling his mouth. You call his name and he has to remain strong no matter how sweet the sound of it is.
The bed is soundless as he sits beside you and your hands latch onto his jacket, pulling him close to you. He makes a noise of surprise but allows it, watching as you lay yourself on his lap, your back arched over his lap and eyes so hazy and lust-filled that he forgets for a second to avoid touching you. His hand curves and pets the top of your head, smiling when you push yourself against his touch but then you rise and he’s forgotten that you are desperate for the very thing he’s willing to give to you.
You’ve laid him down, sitting above his abdomen, your hand on his chest, as your lower yourself to look him in the eyes. Your fingers squish beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling the soft tissue of the breast and he has to admit that it feels divine. Your breath is a phantom above his lips and his hands move to grab your hips. He should pull away, but he finds that his hands are stuck to you, unable to budge from where they rest. He shouldn't be kissing you, he shouldn’t be ignoring the way that your hips are rotating above his, how you’re whining and mewling at the very action of kissing him. But he does, and he lets you kiss him, lets you weave your hands through his hair and push yourself closer against him until you have to pull away, gasping for breath.
Diavolo has to be careful with you- he treats you like you are made of porcelain, because to him, you are. You are a human, weak and gentle, loving and giving, and he is a demon, a king. He holds you with tender hands, letting his lips burn themselves against your skin, until you’re crying his name, begging for him to just touch you. He’s unable to refuse you, kissing your lips and letting his hand wander to your sex, where with just a simple touch, you release against his hand. He pulls his hand away, kissing your tears and raising his head to glance as his hand that is now coated in thick, shimmering arousal. With a promise to take care of you, he kisses your lips and lets his hand play with your sensitive sex.
Simeon:
Possibly one of the best choices to turn to, Simeon is actually quite happy to know that you chose to spend your sensitive state with him- that you trusted him the most. He’s trying to make it as lovely as possible- as least without actually attending to your needs. He won’t try anything- not that he technically could. But he misjudged the situation. He’s heard of people taking aphrodisiacs but the ones he heard of were made by and for people, not by and for demons. And now as he stares at you, trying so desperately to not slide your hand beneath the waistband of your underwear, he realizes he might have been over his head just a tad bit.
You rest on your knees, your face hidden against the comforter of his bed, lower half raised and legs pinched. Pained whimpers come out muffled, your hands clawing at the comforter, knotting and twisting the fabric in your hands. He can actually see the darkening color of your shorts peek from your crotch. His body suddenly feels hot- whether it’s arousal or embarrassment, he’s not actually sure but he wishes that it were because of the latter.
He turns his gaze away from you, clearing his throat and at that moment he knows he made a mistake. You call his name in a breathy tone that is absolutely sinful. Your arm stretches out, fingers trying to grab at the leg of his white pants. He smiles gently at you, his stomach churning when he catches your gaze- lustful and mouth already open in small moans. He can’t touch you. You know that. He knows that. But you’re in pain and even in your aroused state, you beg for him, you call out and promise that whatever he does, it’s out of good intentions. It’s a lie, of course, but he can hear you slick click against your dripping sex with just the softest of movement. Whatever he does- he can lie that he’s doing it to help you, but he’ll know the truth.
He’s unaware of how and exactly what happened. All he knows is that you’re above him, holding yourself tight to him as your face is hidden in the soft curve of his neck, and he can feel exactly just how hot your body is. Your hips are moving above his, the fabric of his clothes creating a wonderful friction that only makes your pitiful humping quicker and sloppier. You breathe against his neck and he has to dig his hands into the comforter of the mattress to prevent himself from falling to sin. Your sex is bare above him, your body curling tighter onto him, as he can feel an orgasm shake throughout your body.
Simeon whispers a prayer under his breath, closing his eyes and muttering an “Amen” as his arms wrap around your body. You jerk against him, acting as if the simple embrace from him is orgasmic, your thrusts quicker than before, calling his name, repeating it as if it were the only thing on your mind and at this point, he’s sure that it is. He promises to you in a whisper that he won’t go farther than what he’s about to do, pressing a kiss against your head and letting his eyes close. His hips meet yours in a thrust, clothed sex against wet, bare sex, and you moan his name and he can feel tears that burn slide down his neck, your words repeating for him to not stop.
Solomon:
It’s difficult for the sorcerer. He couldn’t even get up from the position if he tried. You're on his lap, legs and arms wrapping around him, and you may think you’re being discreet with your humping disguised as itchiness, Solomon knows better. He’s trying his best to find a spell, to find anything that can cure you of your current ailment. But he’s coming up flat. You’re needy, pinching your leg together and pulling away from where your chin rested on his shoulder to look him in the eye. Your face is flushed, your hair disheveled and for the first time since you’ve entered his room, you’ve stopped your humping.
He’s always had an attraction to you- it went further than just finding you pretty, it passed the need for human contact when you both arrived, it was just him wanting to bask in your warmth, to have you fret over him like he was simply just another person and not a sorcerer who happens to be able to command seventy-two demons. And now, he has you where he has dreamed of countless times, imagined behind closed doors and hand fisted over his cock. He has you with a leaking sex, eyes that are on him and no possible interruptions. His mouth is dry and he is unable to think properly. His hands fall and the book he was keeping afloat falls with a thud to the floor.
The way you call his name, a breathy broken moan when you test your hips against his, your body shuddering and he realizes with disappointment that you had orgasmed already while above him. He had missed it. He bows his head, brows knitted and he can’t think clearly when you’re rutting against him, mumbling apologies beside him, your breath a gentle whisper and then in the same breath you kiss his neck, begging for him to touch you. And as much as he wants to, he can’t. He knows the state you’re in, your mind hazy and thick with everything related to sex, and you aren’t thinking clearly, you’re just thinking of having your sex toyed with. It’s a horrible feeling he’s stuck in.
It doesn’t take much to make him crack. You pull away, when he’s still for far too long, silent even as focused as he was, you could hear the muted moans that he refused to sound out loud. But he's silent now, and when you pull away, he looks crestfallen. You hold his face his your hands, your sex pressed against his, and you can feel his cock poking at the inside of your thigh. You try your chances against, leaning close to him, your mouth on his as you beg for him to touch you, your promises of you wanting this so serious in your voice that makes him willing to kiss your lips, his tongue slipping past and the sound that you make is perverse, loud and running your hands against his body.
Solomon looks at you through heavy lidded eyes, feeling your body rise and fall, your lips on him and his hands are moving, leaving your body burning with just the palm of his hand. Thin, calloused fingers sneak under your shirt and rub against your sensitive nipples, your mouth breaking from him, and your tongue peeks out, swiping at your lips to capture the feeling of his against your one more time. But you’re in pain, more than he is, and he’s pushing you against the bed, kissing your body, hearing you call his name with such want that it makes his cock ache. And then he’s staring at your sex, leaking and throbbing, and his mouth is on you, groaning when your hands knit in his hair and his tongue is swirling around your sex.
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me barbatos#om barbatos#shall we date barbatos#barbatos x reader#barbatos x mc#obey me headcanons#obey me imagines#diavolo headcanons#diavolo x mc#om! diavolo#shall we date diavolo#swd simeon#simeon x reader#simeon x mc#obey me simeon#simeon headcanons#simeon#simeon om#obey me solomon#solomon x reader#solomon x mc#solomon headcanons#solomon imagines#i hope this reads as con#it can also be seen as lightly under the influence#but like#whatever makes it better for ya#cause for me
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Guess who has a hot new luke post this weekend?????
#luke Hemmings#5sos#luke Hemmings smut#first time with luke#kiss full of color makes me wonder where you’ve always been
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Portrait (An Alcina x Maiden Fanfic)
You walk into the Atelier and find yourself once again gazing at the portrait of the Lady of the Castle, Lady Dimitrescu. She must have commissioned the portrait when she was younger because she looked like she was in her mid-20’s. She stands in an ivory-colored dress with a full skirt, holding a glass of wine. Her face is clear of her laugh lines, under-eye circles, and wrinkles but she is still as elegant and beautiful as ever. You move closer to get a better look and suddenly wonder who might have painted this portrait. Were they close to Lady Dimitrescu?
“Do you like it?”
You whirl around swiftly and find yourself face to face with Alcina Dimitrescu. The corner of her mouth quirks up in an amused grin, making her laugh lines indent into her cheekbones. Her golden eyes are glittering with mischief.
“Well?” she prompts.
You come back to yourself. “I-It’s lovely, my Lady,” you stammer. “Did you commission someone to make it for you?”
Alcina lets out a laugh like tinkling bells. “Why, yes. In fact you could say that the two of us were rather close.” She steps closer to you and the portrait, a knowing smirk on her face. “It was actually me that painted that portrait.”
“You?” you blurt out suddenly. Then you realize how rude you must sound. "Forgive me, my Lady,” you say, ducking your head in apology. “I meant no disrespect. I just didn’t know you were the artistic type.”
“Oh, I’ve dabbled in a lot of different art forms in my life, pet,” she says, and you see her eyes mist over as she reminisces. “I was classically trained in opera, I’ve painted landscapes and portraits, written poetry...I even was a jazz singer for a time. I made that portrait when I was 25. I was a very different woman than the one you see now.” She smiles self-deprecatingly. “Well, aside from the obvious, anyway.”
“It’s exquisite,” you breathe as you lean your head to get a better look at the portrait. You think of something and turn to her. “Do you still paint, my Lady?”
“Lately I’ve taken to sketching. And now that you know my secret,” she says, giving you a conspiratorial wink. “Perhaps I might come in here and do my sketching while you clean.”
You suddenly remember the actual purpose of why you came to this room in the first place. “Right! I need to polish the bells! I’ll just get started on that, then!”
You hear her chuckle low in her throat as you scramble up the ladder, taking out your polish. You look over back at her and she has sat down on the sofa, slipping a pair of pearl chain half-moon spectacles over her nose. She takes out her pens and charcoal, flips to a new page in her sketchbook and bends her dark head down to work.
Soon you and Alcina have a little arrangement going where every time you enter the Atelier to work on your tasks, you know you will soon see Alcina ducking her head under the lintel to work on her sketching. While you are on the ladder, you sneak glances at her every so often. Her lashes kiss the tips of her cheekbones and her brow is furrowed in concentration. Sometimes you will look from her to the portrait and you conclude that if possible, her aging has made her even more beautiful.
You feel a hand on your back and jump making the ladder wobble slightly. The hand braces you against the ladder so you don’t fall and you hear a soft chuckle behind you. “I’m sorry, dear. I suppose I should have announced my presence beforehand. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s not a problem,” you say and you feel color flood your cheeks as you see you are truly face to face with Alcina Dimitrescu. Her face is merely inches from yours. Her golden eyes catch the light from the chandelier and up close you see they are not just golden but with hints of silver around the iris.
“There’s this spot around the gears that doesn’t get enough attention that I’d like to show you,” Alcina hands hover around your waist. “May I?”
You nod your consent and she gently moves you on the ladder until you’re on the other side. She bends down and whispers in your ear. “Just between the cog and the gear. Do you see it?” The smell of her perfume is intoxicating. You nod that you understand and she smiles. “Good! I know you always do a thorough job and I wanted to bring that to your attention.” With that she settles back down and resumes her sketching.
This goes on for a while, you working while Alcina is sketching. Occasionally she will take a break and stand nearby observing you as you work. You find it difficult to concentrate when she is around but she eventually smiles to herself saying, “Yes. Very good,” before returning to her seat. A couple times you are not certain but you think you might have seen a flush creep up her cheekbones before she resumes her sketching.
A couple of weeks of this go by and you notice Alcina is not satisfied with the progress of her drawing. You see that she is erasing more often and often starts from a completely new page in her sketchbook. “No, no, this isn’t right!” you hear her say aloud one day. You chance a look at her as you are on the ladder polishing the candlesticks. She is furiously scribbling on the sketchpad and when a loose lock of her ebony hair falls into her eyes, she pushes it impatiently away. You try to lean down further to get a better look. You’ve seen how talented she is, surely the sketch couldn’t be that bad…
Suddenly you feel the ladder twist from under you as you lose your balance. Your arms pinwheel helplessly in the air as you try to regain your footing but to no avail. You shut your eyes tight as you fall, hoping at the most you’ll just sprain an ankle.
Instead of the hard floor, you fall into something soft. You open your eyes and jolt back as you see Alcina’s aureate eyes staring back into yours. She chuckles. “It appears I cannot do much but startle you these days it seems.” She looks at you with a concerned expression. “Are you all right, dear?”
“Yes, my Lady, I’m fine,” you mumble. You blush scarlet as you are very aware that her gloved hand is on your upper thigh, your skirt riding up in her haste to catch you. She becomes aware of this too and smoothes your skirt down, murmuring an apology, but not before you catch the blush in her cheeks.
She turns her head quickly away to hide it, her hat covering her profile. “Would you like to take a moment and rest, dear? You’ve been working so hard, you deserve a break.”
You nod soundlessly and she takes you over to the sofa where she has been doing her sketching. She closes her sketchbook with a snap before you can get a good look at it.
A maid arrives with Alcina’s afternoon tea. “Set out an extra cup for Y/N, if you please,” she commands the parlor maid. The maid nods and pours you both cups of steaming apple cinnamon tea, perfect for a cold winter’s day.
When the maid bows and leaves, you turn to Lady Dimitrescu. You clear your throat. “Um, my Lady?”
She smiles at you over her teacup. “Yes, pet?”
You can’t help it. You’re positively burning with curiosity at this point. “What have you been drawing?” you ask before you can stop yourself.
Alcina’s cheekbones flood with color. “Oh, it’s nothing special really,” she says hurriedly. “Just some scribbles.”
You can hardly believe it. Was Lady Dimitrescu, usually so full of pride and grace, embarrassed? You see a scrap of paper on the ground near the sofa and pick it up. Alcina tries to stop you but you’ve already turned it over in your hands. You let out a little gasp of surprise as you see what Alcina has been drawing all this time.
There on the paper is a charcoal drawing of you polishing the bells. In the corner of the page is a closeup of you, your face shining in the chandelier light.
You look back at her, your mouth open in shock. When you finally gain the ability to form words, you ask, “Is this what you’ve been working on all this time, my Lady?” you ask quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper.
Alcina nods and opens her sketchbook to show even more pages of you. You staring at her portrait, you reaching up on your toes on the ladder to dust off a high shelf, you pouring her tea. There are pages upon pages of your likeness.
Alcina turns her head to face you. “I must confess that I had been in need of a new muse for my art,” she says. “When I saw you gazing at my portrait, something stirred within me. There is something about you that draws me to you.” She takes your chin gently in her gloved hand.
“Your hair,” she says, and she takes off your cap and settles your unbound hair about your shoulders. “Even pinned under your cap, it cannot conceal its beauty.” She takes your hand in hers. “Your skin,” she murmurs, pressing her lips to the back of your hand, making you feel a pleasant shiver go down your arm. “How it shines under the lamplight. Your eyes.” She is moving ever closer. “The way I could get lost in those fathomless depths. And your lips…”
Her face is so close to yours now, her lips parted. “What about my lips?” you whisper, scarcely daring to breathe.
You are not quite sure who closes the distance between you first, but you are suddenly in Alcina’s arms and you are kissing her fiercely, your hands weaving their way through her ebony locks. Her hands settle themselves around your waist as her tongue gently parts your lips. You lay back on the sofa and bring her head gently down with you. She braces one hand on the side of the couch while the other gently holds the back of your head.
The sound of the clock chiming startles you, making you break apart suddenly. Alcina lets out a girlish giggle. “We simply have to do something about those nerves of yours, draga mea,” she purrs. You smile and lift your head up to receive her kiss again.
#alcina dimitrescu#lady dimitrescu#re8 village#re8 fanfiction#lady dimitrescu fanfic#lady dimitrescu x reader#alcina x reader#alcina x maiden#lady dimitrescu x female reader#lady dimitrescu x maiden#alcina x female reader
516 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello again! I’m still loving your writing so much! I thought of another scenario I wanted to ask. I was wondering if you would write little scenarios for gender neutral reader x the boys from the Kamaboko squad (plus whoever you might want to add!) where they stick their cold hands into the boys’ clothes to warm them up. Does not need to be nsfw! I just think the reactions would be funny and cute! XD If you wanna add a bonus of them getting back at the reader that would be fun too! Thanks for listening to my request for the millionth time TvT Take your time if you do choose to write this!
Hi hi !! Thank you for requesting again it’s much appreciated <3 !! I’m so glad you’ve been enjoying my writing, that means so much to me as a busy college student haha (,: so I’m really sorry it took me a bit to get to this TT the psych professor went ham with the chapter we have to read and all the assignments with it D: ! As someone with constantly cold hands, I can relate to shoving my hands into friend’s sweater sleeves :D their reactions are always really funny, so I love this scenario !! Please enjoy and again I’m sorry for any mistakes ! Please let me know if there’s anything you’d like me to fix or change, I will gladly go back and edit!! Though regardless I’ll probably come back and edit it because I feel like I missed out on some stuff like the bonus, though I might make that as a separate entry like a part 2! WWW brain fried from reading a full chapter in 2 days, 2 discussions and an essay, so sorry about that! And I also hope you don’t mind me making this a modern au TT! Thanks again :D
🌼𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚃𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚏𝚝 𝙺𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚔𝚘 𝚂𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚍 + 𝚁𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚘𝚔𝚞!
🌼—————————————————————🌼
𝙺𝙽𝚈 𝚅𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚡 𝙶𝙽! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛
𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜: 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢/ 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚖
𝙼𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗 𝙰𝚄!
⚠︎︎⚠︎︎⚠︎︎𝚃𝚆/𝚆: 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆/𝚂𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝!!⚠︎︎⚠︎︎⚠︎︎
𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐!
-
-
-
-
🌼—————————————————————🌼
🌿—————————————————————🌿
𝑻𝒂𝒏𝒋𝒊𝒓𝒐
Tanjiro had grown used to their cold handed antics to a point where he had found it soothing as his body was constantly warm.
He was essentially the embodiment of an industrial heater wrapped in a heated blanket near a fireplace from the way Y/n would describe his warmth.
Quietly they snuck up on him, sneaking their hands beneath his solid colored top and gently slapping their icicle like hands on his back.
“Boo!” They smiled as they felt the slight shiver from Tanjiro on their hands. The warmth of his skin slowly transferring onto the palms of their hands.
“Sorry sorry,” they laughed lightly as they placed a kiss on the back of his neck, “You’re always so warm! And my hands aren’t~”
He smiled as he turned to face them, placing his hands on their cheeks, catching them off guard from his sudden touch.
His smile became mischievous as he witnessed their expression of shock and the obvious shiver beneath his touch. The audible gasp of surprise satisfying his plan of getting them back.
“How are you this cold?!?” They cried out as they took a hold of his hands in hopes of warming them up.
“I think you’re gonna have to do more than just holding my hands,” he winked, a light blush spread across his cheeks, “But first I need to warm you up~” his voice was sweet as he lifted them up and carried them away to their shared bedroom.
Poor baby clearly worked so hard to not stumble on his words and implied request.
🌿—————————————————————🌿
🌻 ————————————————————🌻
𝒁𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒔𝒖
They softly giggled as they crept up on Zenitsu. Evidently he seemed lost in a deep state of sleep as he lay sprawled on the bed, his snores and his light laughter as he dreamed filling the ambience of the room. Silently they approached the side where their beloved occupied, carefully lifting the hem of the plain white shirt he wore.
They pressed their ice cold hands against his warm tummy, a soft “Ah~” escaping their lips as they began to warm up.
His eyes ripped open as he nearly screamed from panic and shock, earning a loud laugh from them as they retreated their now warmed up hands away.
“WHY ARE YOUR HANDS ALWAYS SO COLD,” he yelled as he grabbed a hold of their cold hands, “WHY ARE THEY STILL SO COLD?!? WHO DID THIS YOU?!”
He hadn’t realized that they had been touching his stomach, “YOU WENT UNDER MY SHIRT?!?”
They nodded innocently, “Mhm! You’re always so warm under your shirt~” they giggled as they went back to slapping their cold hands onto his stomach.
He pouted in an effort to hide his deep blush and goosebumps, “Now I'm feeling cold. You’re gonna have to help me warm up~” he spoke cooly as his golden gaze traced their form lovingly.
A warm blush spread on their cheeks as they heard his words, the sheer power of him not stumbling on his words as he usually would made their heart pound against their chest.
🌻 ————————————————————🌻
🌲 ————————————————————🌲
𝑰𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒆
It was the hour of the blazing summer heat, and fortunately their apartment had superior air conditioning and yet it wasn’t enough for Inosuke as he would lounge around in his boxers and shirt with loud complains that it was still too hot.
But for Y/n it was the freest real estate to assert their dominance with the power of even colder hands.
They laid down beside Inosuke on the couch, the air conditioning blasting it’s cooling air directly at the pair.
“Inosuke I’m cold,” they whined as they curl up beside him with their back facing him.
“How could you be cold?! It’s like a thousand degrees outside,” he spoke as he pointed out the window, the rays of the sun peering in.
His arm protectively wrapped around them. Inosuke’s embrace was cold from the constant exposure to the cold winds of the air conditioner, though the smirk on his face was clear enough that it was also his own revenge for the times they would slap their cold hands on his warm back.
“But I aaaaaammmm, see!” They had a little smile on their face as they knew what they were doing.
They turned to face him and trailed their cold hands beneath his shirt. Their smile became a soft smirk as they felt the shiver from Inosuke.
“Aren’t I just cold~” they mused as they pressed their hands on his chest, fingers lightly tracing the defined lines.
A giddy feeling built up in Inosuke as he felt how close they were to him. Though he mentally cursed himself for shivering beneath their cold touch, his own revenge negated in his mind.
He removed his shirt and grabbed their wrists delicately, “I know something we can do to warm you up!”
His lime like gaze had that familiar glimmer as he smiled wildly.
They felt their face warm, “Lead the way then.”
🌲 ————————————————————🌲
🍂 ————————————————————🍂
𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒚𝒂
He shivered at the feeling of their cold fingers trailing on his back beneath his shirt.
“Ah, sorry Genya!” They giggled as they brought their arms around him, cold hands placed directly on his abdomen causing goosebumps to form on his skin as their hands would glide across his soft scarred skin, “You’re just so warm,” they smiled as they nuzzled their cheek against his back.
A blush spread on his cheeks as their touch grazed his skin. Genya’s heart was pounding hard against his chest as he felt them nuzzle their cheek on his backs and their chest flush against his back.
He turned around in their grasp, the deep blush on his cheeks becoming redder as he returned the embrace.
A mischievous smile was on his face as he pressed his own cold hands on their back. An audible yelp could be heard from them as his hands traveled along their back covered by a light tank top.
It was taking his entire effort to not pass out from feeling their skin through their top. His entire face reddened and embarrassed from his actions until their yelp became laughter.
“S-So cold,” they said dramatically as they pretended to faint in his grasp earning a light laugh from him as he held them close to him.
“Now you have to warm me up~” they winked at him, with a light blush on their cheeks as a cold hand caressed his cheek.
🍂—————————————————————🍂
🔥 ————————————————————🔥
𝑹𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒐𝒌𝒖
He looked at their retreating form longingly before looking away at the television screen as he laid down comfortably on the ground. With his eyes glued to the television and his hearing focused on the sound of people speaking, Kyojuro hadn’t felt their presence behind him.
Until he felt icicles touch his back and gently caress his skin.
An audible shiver could be heard along with the direct feeling of his shiver beneath their finger tips. Their soft laugh filled the room as they placed their cold palms against his warm back.
“Waaahh so warm~” they spoke excitedly as they caressed the soft skin, “Ah, sorry Kyo, I didn’t mean to startle you~” they teased as they traced the muscles of his back with cold fingers.
Magically he slid out of his shirt, “If you wanted me to take it off, why didn’t you just say so?” He spoke with a grin, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes as he turned to face them.
A soft blush appeared on their cheeks as their hands were now on his warm chest before Kyojuro pulled them into a hug. His embrace was oddly cold as if had been sitting directly in front of a fan for hours to plan for it. They shivered as they felt the coldness of his arms around him but still found themselves blushing as they began to warm up against him.
“K-Kyojuro…” Y/n’s voice was shy and sweet as their gaze traveled up to meet his loving red golden gaze that glimmered with a familiar spark.
ᴇɴᴅ
🔥—————————————————————🔥
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ғᴏʀ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛɪɴɢ! ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ғᴇᴇʟ
ғʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛ/ᴀsᴋs/ɪᴅᴇᴀs/ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ! ɪᴛs
ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ <3 sᴇᴇ ʏᴀʟʟ sᴏᴏɴ ! :ᴅ
#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#kny rengoku#kny tanjiro kamado#kny genya#kny zenitsu#kny inosuke#demon slayer x y/n#demon slayer x gender neutral reader#kimetsu no yaiba x reader#kimetsu no yaiba x gender neutral reader#reader insert#anime x reader#demon slayer tanjiro x reader#inosuke x reader#genya x reader#rengoku x reader#zenitsu x reader#kny genya x reader#kny Inosuke x reader#kny Zenitsu x reader#tanjiro x reader#anime writing blog#gender neutral insert#demon slayer rengoku x reader#demon slayer Genya x reader#demon slayer x reader
682 notes
·
View notes
Text
Draw your swords, pt. 5
Summary: A very special dinner brings a very special moment for the Darkling and his wife.
Warnings: angst, sexual innuendoes, swearing, bit of fluff
Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four
=================================
She felt caught in the riptide, finding it hard to stay upright. As the daughter of a general, Y/N had seen so many evils, so much hurt, yet she never buckled under pressure.
Staring at the empty spot beside her, she laid there while battling shadows in her head. So filled with rage, she wondered who she’s becoming as a part of her longed to feel his touch. Perhaps he was right, she’s a foolish girl who is trying to win a game where the rules are nonexistent.
Having stayed awake most of the previous night, she didn’t expect trouble sleeping. With a heavy sigh, she abandoned the bed they shared – it felt too intimate to remain there now. They’ve only ever kissed and it was never planned nor did it happen in the very bed she felt is so incredibly vast, so lonely and cold when he didn’t stay there with her.
Pacing the room as she saw his shadow do the night before, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if he had trouble sleeping alone too. It was less than a full week since they married and she already cursed the smallest part of her that seemed to care for him.
Men are easy to love. A woman’s heart was made to care and love those near her. Mistaking love and trust is what a woman should never do. Love and trust are separate entities, one is given, the other must be earned.
Remembering her mother’s words eased her self-loathing. If she dared to love the Darkling, it wasn’t entirely under her control. Trusting him was different. She wasn’t as naïve as to allow the echoes of her heart dictate what her mind long acknowledged – he isn’t trustworthy.
And as the stars rise in the sky, she paced the room tirelessly. Arguing with herself, she paid no mind to the night sky she loved so much. If she had, Y/N might have realized a man with dark skies for eyes had trouble looking away from her shadow.
Exhausted, Y/N rose with the dawn. She had barely scraped up a few hours of decent sleep, tormented by his words even in dreams.
“Enter”, she yawned as Genya readily walked inside. The maids rushed to the bed, willing to change the bed sheets they couldn’t last time as Y/N had sent them away.
“Stop!” She exclaims as they reach Kirigan’s side of the bed, a slightly panicked look on her face relaying uncontrollable desires she had no chance of understanding.
Frowning, Genya licked her lips. While Y/N wasn’t sure what caused her outburst, she believed to know the root. “Leave us. You will be asked to change the sheets when Y/N desires it.”
Swallowing thickly, Y/N turned away. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be”, Genya mussed. “We have a dinner to prepare you for.”
“Yes, of course.” Y/N managed a smile, briefly looking to Genya. “I’ll be alone which gives me a perfect chance to find new allies.”
Blinking fast, Genya’s frown deepened. “I’m not sure who could ally with us in the Palace. Everyone’s charmed by our General. If you’d just work with him, they would all be with you too.”
“He works for the emperor.” Y/N reminded her.
Running her hands through her hair, Y/N didn’t know if she could ever trust him enough to tell him the truth. Her plans, her fight, it’s her life’s work. She came into that palace with intention of burning it down. The emperor must die and anyone else who’d fuel the flames of war must perish along with him. The war had claimed her mother’s life, of thousands of humans and Grisha alike, Y/N aimed to end it. And to end it, she had to destroy those who started it, those who refused to implement equality between species, as Kirigan called them. Humans and Grisha must be seen equally worthy, they must ally or they will be exterminated like vermin by surrounding enemies.
She grieved for her mother every day, even now as a decade had passed. Grief is really just love one cannot give to the other. It’s all the unspent love, gathering in the corners of her eyes, the lump in her throat and inside the hollowed heart that’s trying to beat in her chest. If her sorrow was but snow that could melt with coming spring, she’d shake it off her shoulder and be done with it. It doesn’t just disappear or heal with time, she could not just let it go and forgive. Y/N survived the loss of her mother by making a vow, one she was closer to fulfilling.
“Should I prepare your usual kefta?” Genya asked, holding the blue one over her forearm.
Shaking her head, Y/N turned to her with a smile. If she wants to succeeded, she must use all weapons at hand. Being the General’s wife is one of the weapons at her disposal.
“I was thinking about a different color for tonight.”
“How different are we talking?”
Smirking, Y/N’s eyes flickered to Kirigan’s kefta. “Black.”
“No one wears black but Kirigan”, Genya reminds her.
“Until he married. I believe I’m allowed to wear his color.”
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Genya sighed heavily. “Alright. As long as you allow me to make a few modifications.”
Anticipating the dinner, Y/N felt like a goddess in the kefta Genya had crafted for her. It fit her perfectly, adjusted just above the waist as it properly accentuated her curves. The closed collar wrapped around her neck, fallen stars creating a golden woven blaze as a necklace, while moondust adorned the long, skin tight lacey sleeves. The bottom acted as a floor length dress with a long slit revealing skin up to middle of her thigh.
Entering the room with her head held high and Genya on her hand, Y/N felt even more confident about the eclipsed sun stitched across her heart. It was bound to attract attention if the rest of her makeshift kefta inspired dress didn’t.
The moment she took a step inside, everybody’s head turned. The chatter died down, replaced by astonished gasps of pure awestruck admiration.
“I believe you’ve created a masterpiece”, Y/N whispers to Genya whose smile widens.
“You are what makes it so spectacular”, Genya winks.
“Don’t be modest. We both know it’s not in your nature.”
Giggling, Genya nods, “You’re right. I’m brilliant and this”, she steps aside to give her a once over again, “You are proof.”
Pursing her lips, Y/N felt her cheeks darken. Her plan was to draw attention so any potential ally she speaks to would be more inclined to accept her request, but she didn’t expect for everyone to stop and stare.
Tugging her by the arm, Genya pulled her closer. “You’ll never guess who is here”, she spoke in a hushed tone, looking to the left as the rest of the guests began speaking again and the music played softly in the background.
Following her line of view, Y/N’s heart came to a near stop as her eyes locked on his.
“Wasn’t he supposed to leave last night?” Genya whispers, but Y/N could hardly speak.
Breath caught in her throat, Y/N stared back at Kirigan who seemed to be just as breathless. She looked like a dream, a golden bird that carried all the happiness of the world on its wings.
“He didn’t”, Y/N looked away, knitting her eyebrows. “Why didn’t he”, she tried to finish her initial thought, but she couldn’t. If she spoke of the sudden ache that settled after the initial shock of his presence dispersed, she’d hate herself more. She’s weak if her feelings are hurt by a single night spent alone in a bed. She was certain now. She is foolish.
“You won’t be able to network tonight”, Genya’s frown made Y/N chuckle.
“You’ve been frowning so often since we met.”
Shrugging, Genya leaned in discreetly. “I can afford a few worry lines. I’ll just erase them later.”
Playfully rolling her eyes, Y/N smiled brightly. She would not allow Kirigan to dampen her mood. He can stay on his side of the room and she won’t spare him a single glance.
“I’ll test the waters”, Genya promised, “If I find anyone that we can work with, we can test their loyalty later.”
Glancing over Y/N’s shoulder, Genya’s eyes widened ever so slightly.
Frowning lightly, Y/N glanced at what has her so perplexed only to huff in frustration.
“Black suits you”, the Darkling compliments her. Holding out a hand for her to take, he glances at his open palm before raising his brow. He’s challenging her.
Looking around, she realizes everyone’s waiting for her reaction. As he told her once before, they may not be a love match, but their arrangement must seem successful to the unsuspecting eye.
“Dance with me and pretend they don’t exist”, his voice softened and she couldn’t believe this is the same man who so cruelly baited her, branding her as foolish earlier. How can he act as if nothing happened when she was still reeling from it? Not that he’d know, she always put care in every move she made around him.
She placed her hand on the palm of his, holding her breath as she chained her gaze to the abyss in his. There’s no going back, she thinks, nearly shuddering as he places his free hand on her hip.
“I thought you were gone by now”, she mussed. Choosing to take control of the conversation, she kept her neck straight as it secured a proper distance between their faces.
“We had a slight delay”, he said, “I’ll be gone tonight.”
Humming, she swallowed thickly. Avoiding looking at others, she remained in a staring match with her husband.
“How did you sleep?” The Darkling smirked, watching her eyes narrow at him.
“Quite well. Did you enjoy sharing your bed with someone else?” While her voice seemed cold and unattached, her words were anything but.
“Do I detect a hint of jealousy there?” Pursing his lips, he nearly laughed as she stepped on his foot. “I’ll take that as yes.”
“I’m merely concerned how it would look if word of you sleeping elsewhere got out. I prefer my pride and honor untouched and if you choose to find a lover, I should assume you’ll be discreet.”
Licking his lips, the great general didn’t laugh at her or sneer. There was no angry squinting or vile words. For once, he had a serious expression on his face that had nothing to do with the army or their arguments.
“I’m not the kind who would seek a lover while married. Even if the marriage is a mere arrangement.”
Scoffing, she clenched her jaw as he pulled her waist closer to him.
“How many lovers have you taken?”
He raised a brow, “That’s a horrible question.”
“Because you lost count?” She narrows her eyes, the lips he found himself so fascinated with formed a thin, red line.
He doesn’t respond, so she tried again, “Why have you not married before?”
Now he looked amused, “That’s even worse!”
Shrugging, she smirks, “Well, ask me a question then! If all mine are so awful, let me hear yours.”
“Do you think I’m a very good liar or a very unlovable being?” Slowly pulling her body flush against his, Darkling looked deep into her eyes. “I’ve never loved anyone and I’ve manipulated everyone who has fallen in love with me. So?” Inhaling sharply, he watched a disarray of emotions cross her face as he asked again, “Liar or unlovable?”
“A liar. Because you are lying, not just to me but yourself.” Her breathing is shallow, strained even. “You have a heart, General, but you’re cowering like a scared little boy instead of just facing the facts.”
“And what are those?” His voice is darker as are his intentions.
If they were alone, she was certain he’d be kissing her lips now. For some reason, it seemed he enjoyed their arguments. He liked it when she fought him almost like he didn’t know any other form of affection.
“That you care. You care and you hate yourself for it.” Stopping their dance, she managed a faint smile. “But don’t worry, I’m not spending my time waiting for you to accept it.”
Brushing his fingers across the left side of her face, he cocked his head ever so slightly, “Is it possible you’ve got this all wrong? From where I stand, you’re the one who cares – perhaps a bit too much? Let me remind you, this marriage is a sham. You are my wife, but I do not love you, I do not care for you and if you were killed right in this very spot, I would avenge you but solely for the arrangement to remain unsullied.”
Nodding, more to herself than him, she took a step back from him. For the first time ever, she drew back. “For once, we’re on the same page of the same book.”
The music stops. Looking to the man clinking his glass, Y/N’s lips part. She didn’t even realize it, but too often she entirely forgoes breathing in Kirigan’s presence.
Taking a deep breath, she nearly laughs. Kirigan…General…The Darkling. She even called him husband, yet she never even heard his first name. How odd is it to marry a man whose first name is a mystery to you, she thought.
“If you’ll excuse me”, she nods curtly without sparing him a glance.
Her seat at the dinner table was beside Genya, while Kirigan was placed all the way on the other side of the room. She smirked, satisfied she’ll have some peace during her meal. She never quite liked the table formation in a wide U form before, but she blessed the ones who created it on this evening.
Studying him from afar, she couldn’t deny the attraction she felt for him. It wasn’t some cosmic connection that she hoped she’d share with her husband, rather wishful thinking. Longing for him is out of the question. He may be the most handsome man she had ever seen, but it’s not at all something she’d thank the saints for. If he were less appealing, she’d at least be free of torment his looks bring. The devil is real and he’s not a goat like man as humans believed. There are no horns, no tails – he’s beautiful, a fallen angel, but an angel nonetheless.
“You’re staring at him again”, Genya speaks in a hushed tone, her smile audible.
“I’m not”, Y/N replies, “I simply looked over in a direction and he happened to be seated there.”
“Then why was that look on your face?” Genya raises an eyebrow.
“What?” Y/N asks, incredulous. “What look?”
“You have a certain way of looking at him”, she informs. Letting out an tired huff, Genya explains, “You look at him and it’s like you’re staring at the night sky littered with stars.”
“So?”
Genya looks down before whispering, “You love night skies littered with stars.”
Rolling her eyes, Y/N stared at her food for the rest of the evening. One bite after another and her plate was quickly emptied. Her stomach felt like it would burst, but she didn’t care. Most people claim they can’t eat under stress, but she was the opposite – her appetite only grew.
“He’s standing up”, Genya informed her and despite wishing she remained impassive, Y/N’s eyes shot up to where he was sitting.
With a lump at the back of her throat, she watched him as he headed to the door. A part of her hoped he’d be decent enough to bid his farewell, to acknowledge her at least. That part of her needed to be destroyed, she decided. It’s the part of her that would ruin her mission and for what? If she truly wanted to, she could have him on his back and under her. If she wanted him, he’d be hers – at least his body would. The principle she held onto was more important and so, she swallowed thickly and looked to her empty plate in order to stop her weakness from showing.
As she looked away, the Darkling looked back at her from across the room. He felt a strange tightness in his heart and once he saw she didn’t follow him with her gaze, his heart dropped. Furrowing his eyebrows, he kept his gaze on her for a while longer – her beauty was unmatched by anything he had ever seen. White looked good on her, every color did – but black fabric hugging her curves could bring a dead man back to life.
With a heavy heart and frown etched on his face, the Darkling turned his back and left the room, the Palace, the strangest, most beautiful creature he ever laid eyes on.
He carried her in his thoughts ever since. It aggravates him how quickly she’s gotten under his skin. Most of the month before their marriage was finalized was spent in petty comments about their armies or their distaste for one another. She was insufferable, maddening and entirely different from what he expected.
And yet, even then, the Darkling hoped she’d lose her patience and either leave or tell him she loves him. If she left, he’d be free of her and the shackles of an undesirable marriage, but if she told him she loves him, perhaps he’d believe her. If he knew there was ever a possibility of her loving him, he’d dare assume he might be deserving of love – because she may have dubbed him a liar, but he believes himself to be unlovable too. He never saw the point in allowing himself to feel a thing for her when it would be futile, wasted emotions on a woman sworn to hate him.
Once he was done chasing a rumor of a stag up north, the Darkling had to accept it too was a futile. Going after a legendary animal wasted so much of his time that he couldn’t even believe how foolish he’s become too. The stag must not be real after all.
Approaching Little Palace, he felt almost eager to run up to their shared chambers and see her. Even if she’d likely have a few choice words for him, he hoped he could make her blood boil just to hear her speak. He’d never admit it, but he missed someone he could converse with without dying of boredom.
“General”, Genya rushed to Kirigan who nearly growled at the distraction. However, Genya seemed distraught, panicked enough to draw his attention.
“Yes?”
Swallowing thickly, she wiped a stray tear slipping down her cheek. “It’s Y/N.”
His heart stops at the sound of her shaky voice, his jaw clenching before speaking. “What happened? Is she alright?”
“She went for a ride this morning and she hasn’t been seen since.”
Darkling’s gaze hardens as he grips Genya’s arms and shakes her lightly. “What do you mean?!”
“We sent riders after lunch, because I was worried she missed two meals already”, gasping for air, Genya’s tears made tracks, “The snow covered her tracks.”
She left me, he thought. She deemed me unlovable, unworthy. She left.
“They managed to find her mare”, Genya continues through tears, “It was decapitated and left in the woods.”
“Woods?” He frowns, wondering why she’d stray from the meadow and then he realized. He’s the one she rode into the woods with. She must have thought the woods were safe. They were at the time, only because he was with her and he’d never let any harm come to her.
“There were signs of struggle, but the snow is making it hard for us to track them.”
Releasing a visibly shaken Genya, he grunts. Biting his lower lip, he paced before her as his hand ran through his hair. She never saw him so worried, so mad before. He looked like a man walking a fine line – a line between madness and sanity.
“Call everyone”, he orders, “We must find her.”
Exhaling in relief, Genya smiled as Ivan emerged, having heard everything.
“Why would we do that?”
A pause ensues as the Darkling takes a step toward Ivan. “I haven’t made a promise in so long”, he spoke but in truth, it’s been hundreds of years since he made anyone a promise. “I promised her I’d protect her.” His voice was ragged, but controlled. “So I’m making a new promise right here, if they harm a single hair on her head, I will end them all. I will do it with a smile on face and I will bathe in their blood!”
They took her from him and he had every intention of ripping the world apart with his bare hands and for once, the thought of how far he’d go for that insolent woman didn’t frighten him. He barely knows her, he certainly doesn’t love her, but Saints help those who touched his wife.
=============================
Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart @xceafh @sanna2020 @tarkanelima-blog @takethee @mellifluous-cosmos @marvel-ousnesss @tea-effect @starlightofsolaria @p3nny4urth0ught5 @blackbirddaredevil23 @sarcastic-and-cool @slytherinsbiggestproblem @within-thehollowcrown @notthatchhavi @musicconversedance @astrosmayhem
Part 6
#the darkling#the darkling x reader#aleksander morozova x reader#aleksander morozova#general kirigan#general kirigan x reader#shadow and bone
905 notes
·
View notes
Text
I’m Not Half as Bad as You’ve Been Told
Pairing: Loki x Reader
Synopsis: Loki is arrested by the TVA for what he did to you
This can be read on it’s own or as a spin off of in case you don’t live forever
Masterlist
Loki woke up in the Gobi Dessert in Mongolia after being ejected from the sky. The last thing he remembered was taking the tesseract after getting caught by the Avengers in New York. When he opened his eyes, he was met with four armed guards with their weapons pointed at them.
“Hunter B-15 with the Time Variance Authority here. Appears to be a standard sequence violation.” Hunter B-15 read off a small monitor. “Oh and look at that, you’re one of the TVA’s most wanted.”
“I beg your pardon?” Loki asked as he got off the ground.
“Hands up.” Hunter B-15 raised her weapon. “You’re coming with us.”
Before Loki could protest, he was knocked out and had a collar placed around his neck. He was brought to the TVA headquarters and handed off to Agent Mobius after being screened.
“Loki Laufeyson. I’m agent Mobius.” Mobius introduced himself as Loki tugged at his collar. “I hear the Time Keepers find you guilty of tampering with the sacred timeline.”
“The what?” Loki huffed.
“The sacred timeline. Looks like you stole the tesseract and committed crimes against the midgardian Y/n L/n.” The Mobius read off Loki’s file.
“Y/n?” Loki stumbled back at the unexpected mention of your name. “This is about her?”
“That’s part of your charges, yes. You’ll be given more details at your trial. But I’d ike to have a talk with you first. Come this way.” Mobius nodded towards the side and lead Loki to a room with a projector on a long conference table.
“What does this have to do with Y/n? Where is she? Is she all right?” Loki asked as he took a seat behind the projector. He had worried about you since the day you left him, even after you told him you never wanted to see him again.
“She’s fine.” Mobius assured him. “Even after you got a hold of her.”
“Is she here?” Loki hoped. “Could I see her?”
“No.” Mobius answered, making Loki’s face crumple. “She’s on Earth. You know, her home.”
“I know Midgard is her home.” Loki narrowed his eyes. “I also know how much she hated it there. But this all happened ages ago. Why am I being arrested for it now?”
“Well when you took the tesseract from its set path, the TVA was alerted and noticed that this wasn’t your first offense of tampering with the sacred time line. They saw that Y/n L/n never made it back to earth in 2019 after going to Asgard to retrieve the Aether. It went undetected at the time since the Aether made it back to earth like it was supposed to. She was supposed to go back as well, but she never made it. You were the one that kept her there.”
“How is that a crime?” Loki asked. “She wanted to stay with me. She was happy! She was happy on Asgard.”
“Was she?” Mobius raised his eyebrows and turned on the screen. “Because I think she was taken from her family, friends and home. Maybe I’m mistaken, though. Let’s take a look.”
Mobius pressed a button on a remote, and a projection appeared in front of them. Mobius began to fast forward through the foundational moments in Loki’s life until he got to what he was looking for. Loki watched in shock as an image of you, Thor, and Rocket creeping around a pillar in his home appeared on the screen. He wanted to shut his eyes and look away, but it had been so long since he’d seen you. He didn’t have the strength to look away from you now.
“I’m sure you remember why she was there.” Mobius said as he watched the scene unfold. “All she wanted was the infinity stone. She was trying to save the world. She missed her boyfriend and wanted to undo all the damage that Thanos had done. You couldn’t let her do that, could you?”
“The stone still made it back to earth.” Loki protested. “She said herself that she wasn’t an important part of the plan. And her “boyfriend” was nothing but dust particles. She-“
“Shh.” Mobius waved his hand. “The shows about to begin.”
Loki painfully returned his attention to the screen right as your first introduction played out. It was your job to distract Loki while Thor and Rocket collected the Aether.
Asgard 2013
“Who goes there?” Loki cringed at the sound of his own voice. He watched Rocket and Thor hide behind a pillar while you went out into the open. You walked into a room and found Loki lying on a couch, tossing something in the air and catching it. Loki sat up when he saw you, immediately on high alert.
“Who are you?” He demanded. “How did you get in here?”
“I’m so sorry, but my friends and I are here for the festival and I just had to sneak away to find you.” You gushed, trying to it best to look innocent. Loki took long strides towards you as he took in your appearance, highly skeptical of your story.
“My brother isn’t here.” Loki informed you, his voice thick with annoyance. “So you should best be on your way.”
“I’m not here for your brother.” You said coyly. You held his gaze as you signaled for Thor and Rocket to move to the next room.
“You’re here for me?” He cleared his throat to mask the disbelief in his voice. You nodded sweetly as Thor and Rocket snuck past you.
“Of course. My friends are obsessed with your brother, but I’ve always loved you. Won’t you show me a magic trick?” You batted your eyes flirtatiously, making a slight smirk appear on Loki’s face. Meanwhile, the present day Loki was watching the interaction with a pained expression. He remembered how it felt that first time you said you loved him. That was all he needed to hear before falling in love with you just the same.
“A magic trick?” The Loki on screen asked, mischief swirling behind his eyes.
“Well you are the God of Mischief, aren’t you?” You tilted your head to the side and looked at him through your eyelashes. A full, open mouthed smirk dressed his face now. His hand went to yours and it held it up, keeping your wrist tightly between his fingers. Loki brushed the fingers on his other hand over your palm and a diamond appeared. You looked at the beautiful diamond, weightless in your hand, and let out an unexpected gasp.
“Oh, Loki. That’s amazing.” You gave him an over dramatic sigh, but he completely fell for it. “But I don’t care much for diamonds. I haven’t any use for them.”
Loki felt a twinge of competition brewing in his chest, like he had to win your approval. You faked a yawn and his eyes gleamed with determination.
“You don’t like that? Well how about this?” Loki challenged and waved his fingers over your palm again. This time, a flower appeared. It didn’t look like any earthly flower. It was ten times more beautiful and smelled better than anything you had ever smelled before. The flowers colors were green and black with accents of gold, just like Loki’s outfit. You stared at the flower in amazement before looking up shyly at him. If you weren’t mistaken, the God of Mischief had a blush on his cheeks as he watched your face carefully for approval. Loki then picked up the flower and tucked it behind your ear. He began to lean in slightly, but you were interrupted by Thor and Rocket knocking over a vase. You noticed they had the stone and were ready to go. Luckily, you saw them before Loki did.
“What was-“ Loki began to turn his head towards the sound but you quickly put a hand behind his head and pulled him into a kiss. You felt his eyes flutter shut as you opened yours, catching sight of Rocket and Thor pretending to gag out of the corner of your eye. With one hand, you motioned for them to move. They quickly scattered and you pulled away from the kiss. Loki was fully blushing now but doing his best to conceal it, though his best wasn’t good enough. He seemed completely bewildered, making you wonder if he’d ever kissed anyone before. You touched your fingertips to your lips and felt a pang of guilt. This was your first time kissing someone other than Peter Parker in 5 years, and it made you feel guilty with how much you enjoyed it. Loki appeared to be just as lost in his thoughts as you were as he struggled to catch his breath. He ran a hand over the long black hair that you had slightly messed up in the back.
“Thanks for the flower. And for everything else. Bye!” You tried to make a quick escape, but Loki caught your arm.
“Wait!” He pulled you back towards him and looked at you with wide eyes. “Will I see you again?”
“No.” You smiled sadly. “I don’t think you will.”
“You’re not from here, are you?” He asked. “I know a Midgardian when I see one.”
“Good catch.” You let out a short laugh. “No, I’m not from here. I’m not even from this reality. I just needed to borrow something from your present. I’m from Earth, and I really have to get back.”
You tried to leave again, but Loki followed after to you and caught you by the waist. You stumbled back into his arms and blinked in surprise.
“Won’t you stay?” He asked hopefully. “We only just met. Do you have to leave so soon?”
“I do.” You frowned. “I’m sorry. I really need to go home.”
“All right.” Loki reluctantly let go of you. “If you must.”
You looked at him for a moment and chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating what to do. You looked behind you and saw Thor and Rocket preparing to leave. You motioned for them to leave without you before looking back at Loki.
“Do you have a pen?” You asked him.
“A what?”
“To write with.” You chuckled and motioned as of you were writing something down. Loki waved his hand and made a quill appear out of thin air, along with a piece of paper.
“That’ll work.” You shrugged and took the quill. You wrote your name and address down on the paper and handed it to him.
“If you’re ever on earth.” You smiled shyly. “Come find me.”
“I will.” He nodded eagerly.
“I really have to go now.” You said as you looked over your shoulder to where Thor was hiding. You turned back to Loki and gave him one last kiss, surprising the both of you.
“You’ll see me again.” You said softly. “Maybe not in this timeline, but the next.”
“That’s enough.” Loki interrupted, making the screen pause. “I know what happens. And since you’ve been studying me all my life as you claim, so do you. We don’t need to watch anymore.”
“I get it, you’re impatient.” Mobius held up his hands. “We can fast forward. How about we go to the part where you used magic to break her suit? Your brother was able to get back to Earth just fine, but she was stuck on Asgard. All because of you.”
Mobius pointed a remote at the screen and fast forwarding through Loki sneaking you to his bed chambers. He stopped when he got to you and Loki sitting on his silk sheeted bed.
“I don’t know why it won’t work.” You sighed as you touched all the buttons on your suit. “I must’ve run out of Pym Particles or something. I need to fix it so I can get back to Earth.”
“Right, right. Earth.” Loki said with disinterest. “What did you need to borrow anyway?”
“The aether.” You told him as the decor in his room caught your attention. You began to look at all his golden trinkets and stolen objects with awe.
“An infinity stone?” He was taken aback. “But why?”
“In the future, Thanos wipes out half the universe.” You began. “I’m on a recovery mission with the rest of the Avengers to collect the Infinity Stones to undo what he did. We’re trying to bring all the people back.”
“Half the people in the universe gone?” He gasped. “That sounds awful.”
“It is.” You stilled for a moment. “Honestly, I’m miserable. Absolutely miserable. All my family vanished. My boyfriend is gone. Half the Avengers are gone. The sky isn’t even blue anymore. It’s horrible.”
“So you aren’t happy there?” Loki asked as he walked over to you, a little jealousy bubbling when you mentioned a boyfriend.
“I hate it.” You admitted. “Everywhere I turn, I’m reminded of what I lost. That’s why it’s so important that we bring everyone back.”
“But what if your plan fails?” Loki wondered. “What if you don’t bring back all the stones? Or what if you do, but it doesn’t bring anyway back?”
“Then I don’t know what I’d do.” You shrugged sadly. “This plan is all I have. If it fails…”
“You don’t even want to think about that, do you?” He finished your sentence when you trailed off. You looked at him and nodded softly, grateful that he understood.
“Yeah.” You said quietly. “It’s too hard to imagine.”
“See?” Loki interrupted again. “She was miserable on Earth. She said it herself. I was trying to save her from a lifetime of misery.”
“I think you’re forgetting something.” Mobius reminded him.
“Forgetting what?” Loki scoffed.
“The plan worked.” Mobius said. “Thor brought the Aether back to her original timeline, and the Avengers were able to bring everyone back. She was supposed to go too, but she was left on Asgard. That was your first offense with the TVA.”
“Oh, screw the TVA.” Loki slammed his hand on the table. “She didn’t want to go back to Earth. She was unhappy there.”
“Is that why you told her Earth was destroyed?” Mobius asked. Loki stilled and sank in his seat as he was reminded of his lies. Mobius fast forwarded again, but didn’t play another scene. Instead, he paused on a clip of you looked utterly devestated. Loki had to look away, not wanting to see you in that much pain.
“Now, I’m not gonna play this part.” Mobius shook his head. “Because even I find it hard to watch. But you need to know what you did, so I’ll remind you.”
“You don’t need to do this.” Loki seethed. “I know what I did. I know what I told her.”
“Fine, then.” Mobius shrugged. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
Loki sucked in a sharp breath before looking back at the screen. The image of your desolate expression had never left his memory, so he really didn’t need to see it again to be reminded of what he had done.
“She tried to leave again.” Loki began as he stared at the screen. “I knocked her out with my magic. When she woke up, I told her Thanos had destroyed Earth and everyone on it. I said there was nothing left for her to return to.”
“She was devestated.” Mobius said quietly.
“I know she was.” Loki snapped. “She cried for a month straight.”
“So why’d you do it?” Mobius put his hands on his hips. “Why did you lie to her?”
“I didn’t want her to go.” Loki admitted, growing disgusted with himself. “I wanted her to stay with me on Asgard. She wouldn’t want to go back to Earth if she thought there was no Earth to go back to.”
“Why keep her?” Mobius wondered. “You barely knew her. Why hold her hostage like that?”
“She wasn’t held hostage.” Loki growled. “She was safe and loved and happy. No one on Asgard was taken better care of than she was. And I may not have known here when she first arrived, but we became inseparable after a while. We were almost married, for Odin’s sake. I’ll show you.”
Loki grabbed the remote from Mobius and pressed a button, fast forwarding until he found what he was looking for.
“Look.” Loki proudly pointed to the screen. “Watch this.”
He pressed play and watched as a memory of you and him played out on the screen.
“Where are we going?” You asked as Loki lead you somewhere with his hands over your eyes.
“Almost there. So impatient.” He clicked his tongue.
“You’ve taken me around the whole palace.” You chuckled. “I have a right to be impatient.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Loki stopped walking but didn’t remove his hands. “All right. We’re here.”
You pulled his hands off of your face and found yourself in front of two large green doors.
“Wow.” You said sarcastically. “Doors.
“Open the doors.” He rolled his eyes. You gave him a playful look over your shoulder before pushing the doors open.
“Oh my God.” You gasped when the doors opened. The room was decorated from ceiling to floor with all kinds of Asgardian wildlife. I’m the center of the room, your name was spelled out in the flower Loki had presented you with on the day you met. There was a running waterfall that cascading from the ceiling to the ground, leaving a soothing babbling sound throughout the room.
“It’s yours.” Loki said as he watched your reaction. “You mentioned once that you always wanted a garden. Now you do.”
“Oh, Loki.” You turned around and rushed into his arms. He stumbled back in surprise before hugging you back tightly.
“This is the nicest thing anyones ever done for me.” You mumbled against his chest.
“Well, you’ve been so upset lately. I wanted to cheer you up.” He said as he stroked your hair. It had been a month since he lied to you and told you that Earth was destroyed, and you were finally starting to act like yourself again.
“Thank you.” You pulled away to look at him. “I love it. It’s beautiful.”
“I truly hope you like it, darling.” He said softly as he brushed your cheek with his thumb. “It’s all yours.”
You looked into his eyes for a moment before your gaze fell to his lips. Since your last kiss, Loki had brought you food and kept you company every day. You had a built up a friendship with him since arriving to Asgard, but now you felt differently. There was a connection from the very first day, but it had gotten lost in your lament over your planets alleged destruction. Now, there was nothing stopping you from feeling that connection again. You hesitated before leaning it to kiss him. Just like last time, you felt his eyes flutter shut before he kissed you back. His hands cupped your face as you reached your arms around his neck. Loki watched your first kiss on the screen with a proud but mournful smile.
“Isn’t that something?” Mobius said as he paused the screen. Loki blinked back to reality and wiped his face, not realizing until that moment he had been crying.
“That scene speaks for itself.” Loki cleared his throat and tried to act like he hadn’t been crying. “You can see how happy she was. She loved that garden. And she loved me.”
“I don’t doubt that.” Mobius nodded. “But it’s hard to see past the fact that your entire relationship was built on a lie. She was only with you because she thought her home was destroyed.”
“She was with me for three years.” Loki said sharply. “The lie may have kept her there in the beginning, but she stayed willingly after that. She wanted to be on Asgard. She wanted to be with me.”
“Maybe. But she wasn’t supposed to be.” Mobius reminded him. “That wasn’t her timeline. She was supposed to be on Earth. She was supposed to be with Peter.”
“Peter?” Loki sputtered in disdain. “Peter Parker? Her little boyfriend from when she was a teenager?”
“In most time lines, they end up together.” Mobius said, knocking the wind out of Loki’s chest. “She went on that mission because she wanted to bring him back. Do you think she would have stayed, even for a second, if she knew her boyfriend Peter was alive back on Earth?”
“She told me they were 17 when the Thanos wiped out half the universe. That means Peter would’ve been 17 when he returned. She was 22 when she came to Asgard. She hadn’t been his girlfriend for 5 years. She had grown up. Her life went on. They would’ve had nothing in common anymore.”
“But she was supposed-“
“Who cares what she was supposed to do?” Loki snapped. “Why does the TVA get to decided what she was supposed to do or where she was supposed to be?”
“They’re the Time Keepers. They make the rules. And the rules say you can’t take someone from a different timeline and marry them. Oh, that reminds me.”
“Reminds you of what?”
“Your punishment. Mobius pressed a different button and a cloudy box appeared. “Go in there while I get the rest of your files.”
“What? I’m not going in there.” Loki scoffed.
“Don’t make me get the guards.” Mobius sighed. Loki clenched his jaw and looked at the ceiling, not wanting to be overpowered by the guards again. He reluctantly stood up, gave Mobius a sarcastic smile, and went through the cloudy portal.
As soon as Loki stepped through the portal, he stepped into his bedroom back on Asgard. He took another step forward, just as something stirred in his sheets. You sat up all the sudden, hair messy and wearing Loki’s horned crown. It was too big for your head and hung in your eyes, but the sight still took Loki’s breath away.
“Y/n?” Loki gasped and stepped forward.
“Hi.” You said before yawning. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Go ahead.” Loki nodded eagerly. He failed to see how this was a punishment. It had been so long since he last saw you that this felt more like a reward.
“I want our wedding to be earth themed.” You told him as you took his hands in yours.
“Our…our wedding?” Loki asked. He looked around the room and realized that he was not actually with you, but reliving a memory from years ago.
“Yeah.” You smiled shyly. “I just miss it so much. I want it to be a part of our special day.”
Loki found himself at a loss for words. He knew that when this memory originally happened, he had continued to lie to you and lead you to believe Earth had been destroyed. This time, he knew better and kept his mouth shut.
“We could have sunflowers.” You continued. “That was my favorite flower back on earth. And we could serve earth food and play earth music and-“
“Of course darling.” He cut you off and squeezed your hand. “Whatever you want. We will have it all.”
“Thank you. And if it’s not too much to ask, I want a minute of silence where everyone lights a candle.” You said quietly. “For Peter.”
Loki gulped and forced a smile, that line causing him just as much pain now as it did then.
“Of course.”
“Thank you.” You stood up from the bed and hugged him tightly. Loki hugged you back with a troubling frown on his face. He had forgotten how guilty he felt every time he had to lie to you. He pulled away and brought you into a long kiss, wordlessly trying to convey that he loved you and was sorry.
“I can’t wait. I can’t tell you how much I miss earth.” You sighed against his lips.
“Mm hm.” He gulped.
“I just wish I could’ve seen it one last time.” You frowned, eyes growing tearful. “I feel so guilty all the time. I would’ve died too if I had gone back with Thor when I was supposed to.”
“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t go.” Loki said weakly, knowing Thor was very much alive in your timeline back on Earth.
“I know.” You sighed. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to shake the survivors guilt. It makes me sick sometimes.”
Loki stayed silent as he fingers drummed against your waist. Before he could respond, his body jerked back and he suddenly reentered the room.
“Hi.” You said before yawning. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Loki looked behind him before looking back at you. The memory played all over again, forcing him to lie to you once again. When you told him how guilty you felt, he was sent back and had to relive the moment over again. Each time he had to lie to you, he felt more disgusted with himself. After the thirteenth time, he had enough.
“I just wish I could’ve seen it one last time.” You frowned, eyes growing tearful. “I feel so guilty all the time. I would’ve died too if I had gone back with Thor when I was supposed to.”
“I lied to you.” He admitted. “Earth was never destroyed. Thor and all the Avengers and your family, they’re all fine.”
“What?” You blinked in confusion.
“I’m not your savior. I didn’t save you from anything. I stole you from your time line because I fell in love with you the moment we met. You were the first person to show a a genuine interest in me, and I took advantage of that. And for that, I am deeply, deeply sorry.”
“Oh, Loki.” You sighed and stroked his face. “It’s too late for that.”
“What?” He frowned as he wrapped his hand around your wrist to keep your palm against his face.
“I’m not even here.” You whispered.
“All right Loki.” Mobius walked through the portal before Loki could answer you. “I got the rest of your files. Let’s go.”
“But…I can’t just leave her.” Loki held on to you tightly.
“She’s not even real.” Mobius shrugged as he held up his remote. It pulled Loki back through the portal and he stumbled back into his seat.
“Here’s the last one.” Mobius said, but Loki wasn’t listening. He was still thinking about how it felt to touch you one last time. He blinked back a tear before looking up at the screen. You were there once again, talking to one of the new maids.
“Oh, I wasn’t born here.” He heard you telling the maid. “I’m from Earth.”
“A midgardian?” The maid smiled. “Wow. You’re quite far from home.”
“I know.” You smiled sadly. “I miss it every day. But I’m happy here. I’m really happy with Loki.”
“If you miss it, why don’t you go back?” The maid asked, making Loki suck in a breath. He knew exactly what was coming.
“Go back?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “What do you mean? Earth was destroyed three years ago.”
“No it wasn’t.” The nurse laughed. “Earth is fine.”
The audio faded out as you turned to look at Loki. He felt like you were looking right through him, down to his rotten soul. Your face was frozen in horror and betrayal as you finally learned the truth. Three years after arriving on Asgard, you found out your home hadn’t been destroyed after all. It was all a lie. A lie told to you by the man you thought you loved.
“Stop.” Loki choked out. “Stop it. Turn it off.”
Mobius paused the screen and looked at Loki in silence. To his surprise, Loki was wiping his tears off on the sleeves of his jumpsuit. His eyes were red and full of remorse as he looked up at the screen.
“I don’t need it see it again.” He whispered. “I know she trusted me. I know I betrayed her. I did that.”
“So you understand why the TVA is arresting you?” Mobius asked softly. “You didn’t just steal the tesseract. You stole that girl from her reality. Even if she loved you, she was never supposed to be with you.”
Loki nodded before hanging his head in shame. He knew what he had done was wrong. He knew it the entire time he was doing it. Even though he betrayed you out of his love for you, he still betrayed you.
“You’re right.” Loki said sincerely. “She was never mine to keep. Never mine to lose either.”
“No, she wasn’t.” Mobius agreed as he watched Loki curiously. The look of utter remorse on Loki’s face was out of character after everything Mobius had studied about him.
“Could you just tell me if she’s all right?” Loki sniffled. “That’s all I ask. Is she okay?”
“She’s fine.” Mobius answered. “She’s fighting for the Avengers again and reunited with her family.”
“Is she still miserable?”
“No.” Mobius smiled a little. “Not anymore.”
“And…and Peter?” His voice was barely audible now.
“Don’t worry about that.” Mobius told him. “It won’t do you any good. And for what it’s worth, there are timelines that exists where she stays. There’s even a timeline where you two are alligators and rule a kingdom in a lake.”
Loki smiled too, grateful that you were able to move on after his betrayal. Mobius furrowed his eyebrows at the sight of Loki genuinely caring about another human being, something he was not used to seeing.
“I could show you one more thing.” Mobius offered sympathetically. Loki reluctantly looked back at the screen as the man his play. To his surprise, all the good moments of his relationship with you flashed before him. All the kisses and laughter, fond smiles and endearing moments played on the screen, bringing tears to his eyes. He leaned toward on the table to get as close to you as possible, reaching out towards you with his shackled hands. The screen went blank suddenly, and his smile fell.
“They’re ready for you.” Mobius said as he checked his phone. “I can take you to the court now.”
Loki stayed silent as he was lead to the courtroom and sat in front of the judge. All he could think about was the moments of happiness he had been able to relive.
“Loki Laufeyson.” The judge brought his attention back. “How do you plead?
Loki blinked a few times, your smile flashing before him each time he closed his eyes. He thought about he had caused that smile to fade with every lie he told, and that’s when he knew he had his answer. He looked the judge right in the eye and entered his plea.
“Guilty.”
#loki x reader#loki imagine#loki x you#loki x y/n#loki fanfic#loki fanfiction#loki fluff#loki angst#loki series#loki spoilers#peter parker x reader
671 notes
·
View notes
Text
out of my league - knj | 01
you were out of my league. got my heartbeat racing. if i die, don't wake me, cause you are more than just a dream - out of my league, fitz and the tantrums
✹ summary- Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out about your years-long hopeless crush on him. And he most definitely was not supposed to find out about it in front of all your coworkers in a company-wide meeting.
✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw
✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader
✹ word count- 6.6k
✹ genre- angst, smut, comedy
✹ chapter warnings- swearing, descriptions of sex, sexual content, namjoon being a sexy flirt, jungkook being a himbo, awkward conversations, jimin being a protective bff
✹ a/n- hello and welcome to this fic thats lived in my google docs for almost a year now. without @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @chimoona, i would never have posted it. i truly owe so much of my brainstorming and creativity to their incredible brains and thoughts and ideas. i love them very much! i hope you enjoy this first chapter! please feel free to message me, talk to me abt anything!! im always here to chat. ILY!
MASTERLIST
Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out this way.
You planned to confess your undying, unerring love for your coworker at a better time, a classier place. You would wear a dress that highlighted your features, hair cascading down your back, makeup done to perfection and spritzed with expensive perfume. You’d confess, he’d confess right back, and you’d live happily ever after.
You’d also dreamt that Kim Namjoon would have the slightest inkling of who you are before he finds out about your year long crush. He might know you as the mousy girl in the office who doesn’t talk and doesn’t contribute much other than some crunched numbers and apparently the best coffee brewer in the office. But you’d prefer he knows you well—your favorite colors and movies and foods, what makes you happy and sad; things future husbands should know.
You very much did not think it would happen in a company wide conference, full of over five hundred suit-wearing executives. You did not think it would be done by the office bully, Chungha, who carefully takes over the mic and speaks the words clearly as she presents awards of recognition.
“Congratulations to Kim Namjoon for 5 years with the company, over $4 million in revenue, and the object of ____’s lust and affection. I’m sure you two will have the happy life she’s written in her journal about. Make sure you celebrate with her today!”
The room is silent, so silent you could have heard a pin drop from a mile away. Your face is cherry red and you wish the earth would open up and swallow you whole. Your heart feels like someone has ripped it in half and you stare in horror at the girl smirking at the front. Is this what it feels like to be backstabbed? Namjoon looks perplexed—confusion written on his face as he gestures around to no one in particular like he’s saying ‘what the fuck was that?’
Awkward coughing and clapping begins and Namjoon stands to receive his award, a fine wooden fountain pen, and chances a glance around the room. He easily spots you, with your wide, frightened face. His look remains passive, not hinting what he’s thinking behind those stormy eyes, before he turns and sits back down at the table with his buddies from his department.
You seriously contemplate quitting your job. You could find a new one easily, right? Just stand up and tell your boss you quit and you’re out of there before Namjoon ever sees you again and you’ll never have to face the mean girl who’s ratting you out.
As much as the idea rolls through your head, you know you won’t do it. You love your job, love the security and finances it provides you, and you love to look at Kim Namjoon, all day every day.
You don’t understand where things went wrong.
( one month ago )
It’s 9:03 am. You finish brewing the coffee in the small staff kitchen and sigh at the aroma of the freshly ground beans. Coffee is your favorite meal, favorite time of day, favorite snack, and preferred beverage. You drink it constantly. You’re known as “coffee girl” at work, mostly because no one really bothers to get to know you beyond that. You drink coffee like it’s a devoted religion. You could drink a cup right before bed and still sleep like a baby. It was, put simply, your drink.
The office workers deem you to be the one to make the pots of coffee every morning, claiming you were the ‘best’. You didn’t mind—you preferred to make your own coffee regardless—but you believe your coworkers are trying to pass off the twenty-minute job to someone lower in the office hierarchy. And you were one step above the interns.
The coffee machine chimes to let you know it’s hot, and it’s ready for you. You eagerly pour a mug, a large one, and smile as the waft of freshly ground beans (by you, of course) fills your senses.
You nearly knock the cup out of your hand as Kim Namjoon strolls into the office, eyes set on the coffee.
You feel your throat swell up, like he’s an allergen and you’re caught without an epi-pen. Butterflies swirl in your stomach and you can’t stop staring at him. He pays you no mind, tired yet determined to pour a cup of coffee and get back to his office.
You stand in the small kitchen, clutching your coffee like a lifeline, and pray to god you don’t do something stupid.
Namjoon pours his mug, and you watch his muscular hands grip the coffee pot. He pours a hefty amount of cream and sugar into his cup—it appears even perfect male specimens have their faults.
Your eyes dance on his face before they tango down his body. You wonder what he looks like in the morning, crawling out of bed with mussed hair and a sleepy smile painted on his face. He’d look at you and tell you you’re the most beautiful girl and kiss you deeply despite morning breath. Maybe he’d take you to the shower to press you against the tile as he fuc-
“Oh!” it startles Namjoon to see you, and the coffee in his hand swishes violently. “Didn’t see you there. Sorry!”
Your heart melts. He’s the picture of kindness and politeness. You recognize it’s been a few seconds and you still haven’t replied.
“It’s fine!”
“Great coffee, by the way,” he smiles. His teeth nearly knock you out cold with their brilliance. “Have a good day.”
He turns and exits the room without so much as a glance back at you. Your knees feel weak.
Kim Namjoon talked to you. He complimented you. He told you to have a good day. It’s the best and most significant conversation you’ve had with your secret crush.
You definitely file that away for another day when you need to reminisce on his compliment, and you scurry out of the kitchen towards your desk.
Park Jimin is waiting dutifully at your desk when you arrive, a smug smile still slapped over your features as you sip at your coffee. Namjoon spoke to you today—how lovely.
Jimin quirks an eyebrow.
“What’s got you so perky this morning?”
You’re normally quiet and passive, avoiding eye contact or any semblance of emotion on your face.
You look up at the blonde bespectacled boy. Park Jimin is the closest thing to a best friend in the company. He’s who you spend time with at lunch, see on weekends, and text often. You suppose he’s the closest thing to a best friend you have in your entire life.
You send him a smirk and lean in close to whisper. “Namjoon said hi to me today!”
Jimin sends you a pitiful look and pats your shoulder. Your best friend is well aware of your secret crush and while he thinks Namjoon is a nice guy, he thinks your crush is a little hopeless. He’s the most popular guy in the office, often has dates lined up every weekend. Jimin hears the way he and his friends talk in the break room. The man is definitely not hurting for female attention.
“Oh, honey,” he sighs, unenthusiastically. “That’s great.” He can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness over how excited you’re getting from a simple ‘hello’ from a coworker.
“I know, right? Anyway, lunch today?” You ask as you settle down into your cubicle.
Jimin pushes his glasses up his face and nods. “Of course! That’s why I came by this morning. I wanted to let you know that Jungkook from marketing will join us.”
You make a face, disgust etched in the lines creasing your forehead.
“Why?”
Jungkook is well known in the company. He’s a loudmouth, a player, a clown, and everyone’s favorite comedian. He’s just not your favorite.
“Don’t be rude,” Jimin admonishes at your grimace. “He asked to join and well—he’s cute. I can’t say no to him.”
“Oh Christ, Jimin,” you groan. “Not you too! Don’t tell me you have the hots for the serial fuckboy?”
He blushes lightly and shrugs. “Maybe I do! Be nice to him today or I’ll eat all your chocolate ice cream I know you have at home.”
You stick your tongue out, petulantly. “Fine, now let me get to work or else Seokjin will be up my ass.”
Jimin smiles and kisses your cheek before he scurries away, back to human resources.
It feels as if barely any time has passed. You’re working hard, running calculations and updating spreadsheets. You have an eye for numbers, and losing yourself in an equation is just another day for you. You’re shaken from your cheerful place by a vibration from your phone, and a text alert popping on the lit screen.
jimin 12:01 pm- it’s lunchtime!! you better get your butt out here!
You smile and text back an affirmative reply, then move to grab your lunch from the company fridge. Gliding down the steps leading to the fresh outdoors, you meet Jimin at the lunch tables in the grass.
Jimin is sitting with Jungkook. You can recognize your best friend by his hair and glasses, and Jungkook by his obnoxious laughter.
“Hi,” you murmur as you sit down and open up the brown bag lunch you’ve brought.
“Hi!” Jimin is excited to see you, and just a pinch over eager to be sitting next to Jungkook.
“You know Jungkook, right?” Jimin asks, a harsh look in his eyes that reminds you to be on your best behavior.
You nod as you pull out a bag of grapes. “Oh, yeah, hey,” you smile. “I’ve seen you around.”
Jungkook delivers you a signature smirk and you feel yourself roll your eyes internally. “Yeah, you’re Coffee Girl, right?”
You pout and glare down at your brown bag lunch. Will you ever become more than just Coffee Girl?
“Yeah, I suppose that’s me.”
Jimin clears his throat to dismiss any awkwardness.
“So, Jungkook, I hear you like working out? ___ likes to work out too. She drags me to the gym sometimes. Maybe we could all meet up sometime?” You don’t miss the hopeful lilt in his voice. Jungkook does.
“Oh, yeah?” He narrows a sexy look at you, rather—a look he thinks is sexy that you find off-putting. “What do you do at the gym? Little cardio sets with 5 pound weights?”
What an asshole.
“Sometimes,” you state as you take a bite of the homemade salad you handcrafted last night. “Most of the time I’m lifting heavy. I can bench 275 and deadlift 300.”
Jungkook looks taken back. “What, really?” He sounds breathless. “You lift more than Namjoon-hyung.”
At the sound of the love of your life’s name, you pause. Your face heats quickly and Jungkook smirks. Of course, he recognizes this and not Jimin’s obvious flirting.
“Why are you blushing?” He asks. “Did I say something?”
You’re quick to dismiss things. “Um--no. I just um,” you’re grasping at straws. “I’m hot.”
Jimin is trying not to laugh, hiding his mouth behind a petite hand.
Jungkook tilts his head. “It’s not even sunny today.”
You gulp. “Yeah, I must be hot. With a fever. M-malaria… probably.”
Jungkook snorts.
“You have malaria? Bummer.” He picks at his nails. “I thought for a moment you had a thing for Namjoon.”
“No!” The retort is quick, too quick for normal conversation, and it gives you away.
“Aha!” Jungkook points an accusing finger at you. “You have the hots for him, don’t you?”
Your features melt, and Jimin tries to assuage the situation. “Jungkook, please don’t tell anyone,” he pleads.
Jungkook smiles at you. “That’s so cute. It’s like a little nerdy freshman crushing on the senior class president.”
You bury your head in your hands, suddenly unable to stomach any food.
“Jungkook,” Jimin’s tone becomes more firm, authoritative. “I’m asking you this as a friend. Please, don’t say anything.”
Jungkook holds his hands up to prove his innocence and waves his proverbial white flag.
“Secret is safe with me,” he promises. “But it’s cute. I know him really well, you know. I could try to hook you two up.”
You blanch, unsure if you want Jungkook saying anything about you to the man of your dreams.
“I’m good, but thanks,” you offer meekly. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to head back to work, okay?”
Jimin frowns, knowing you’re feeling like a cornered animal, and nods. “Feel better, babe,” he sighs.
Jungkook watches as you leave and turns to Jimin. “Man, he’s way out of her league.”
Jimin slaps the boy in the chest. “Be nice, asshole, that’s my best friend.”
Jungkook promises to be nice, and Jimin is blissfully unaware that others are listening and that the man beside him is easy to persuade.
( present day )
The company-wide meeting adjourns soon after what is likely to be the most embarrassing moment you’ve ever lived through.
You’re grabbing at your things and trying to run out of the room, desperate to get out before anyone sees you or talks to you or laughs at you.
A hand grabs at the coattails of your suit jacket and you’re pulled backwards with a yelp. You turn to seek your captor and find the concerned face of your best friend, Jimin.
“Are you okay? What the fuck just happened?”
Jimin’s concern makes it all real. Until now you could pretend you were in a fugue state, totally dissociated from reality. Now, you realize that everyone in the entire company is aware of your crush on Kim Namjoon.
You can feel your bottom lip wobble, tears threatening to spill. Jimin murmurs an ‘oh shit’ and drags you out of the large room and into the nearest bathroom. He pushes you to sit against the sink and passes you toilet paper to dab at your eyes.
“I don’t know how she found out!” you cry. “God, I feel so stupid and embarrassed.”
It incenses Jimin. He’s holding it back to ensure you’re okay, but in reality, it’s an HR nightmare waiting to happen. He’ll find who did it and punish them accordingly.
They will suffer.
“It’s okay, babe,” he pulls you into a hug. “Everyone will forget about it soon. They’ll think it’s just a lame office joke, okay?”
You nod, feeling the slightest bit comforted by his words.
“How could she find out, Jiminie?” You ask with a sniffle. “You’re the only person who knows.”
Jimin sighs and shakes his head.
“I don’t know, but they’re dead. I haven’t told any-... oh, my god,” Jimin stops suddenly. You look up at him to catch what he’s thinking.
He growls and balls his fists.
“Jungkook knew.”
You let out a sob and bawl your eyes out into the tissue you’re holding. Jimin holds you tighter while he conjures up a hundred different ways to hurt someone and make it look like an accident.
“Don’t worry,” Jimin sighs, trying to comfort both you and himself. “I’m HR. I have to handle this. I’ll make sure they get what they deserve.”
You feel a sting of pain for Jimin. He’s been hopelessly doting on the man who spilled the beans for a few months now, even got to take him on a few dates. It was still nothing serious, but Jimin was clearly smitten.
“I’m sorry you have to do that, Chim,” you whisper. “I know how you feel about him.”
“Yeah, well,” he swallows thickly. “You’re more important than any asshole.”
Jimin holds you tight for a few minutes longer, before you clean yourself up and steel yourself. Ignore everyone, Jimin encourages. Just get to work, he says. Then you can go home and we’ll drink wine and forget about it all, he promises.
You replay his words in his head like a prayer as you walk down the corridors and towards your office. Everyone in the hallways stops to stare at you. They lean towards their friends and whisper. You hear snippets of their gossip, like “Namjoon” and “out of her league”. It drives the sharp blade lodged in your chest even further. It threatens to collapse your lungs and break your ribs.
You make it to your desk safe and sound and bury yourself in work and forcibly ignore the gawking and the stares.
Just make it home. Just get through the day. You’re almost there.
You could do this.
You nearly make it the entire day before running into the one person you didn’t want to see, Kim Namjoon.
At the end of the day, you’re taking the stairs down to the parking garage instead of the elevator. The elevator is too busy, too many people, and you’re trying to avoid the stares and giggles at your expense. The stairs are always deserted and you figure it’s your safest bet.
You can nearly hear the wine calling your name at home. A delicate glass of Sauvignon Blanc and some chocolate ice cream and a good cry—it sounds like the best and only way to unwind after the worst day you’ve ever had in your life.
The chanting of your name gets louder and you wonder if you’ve finally lost your mind—if you’re actually hearing your wine bottles all the way at home talking to you.
No, wait. The voice is real, and coming from behind you. You turn around to face who’s calling you and nearly faint at the sight.
Kim Namjoon stands on the landing above you, one strip of stairs between you.
“Hey!” He seems glad he’s caught you. “I’ve been calling your name for a minute.”
You swallow and search for an answer.
“Sorry, I’m-.. I guess I’m just a little out of it today.”
Namjoon grimaces.
“Yeah, about that…” he begins as he takes the steps down to be on equal ground as you. Your heart is spinning wildly. He’s so close to you. He’s talking to you. On any other day you’d be erupting towards the sky like a firework. But today isn’t any other day.
“I feel like I should apologize,” he states. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t plan it or anything.”
Damn him and his kindness. Damn him and his cute, awkward smile.
“No, no,” you assure. “I know you didn’t. You don’t have to apologize.”
It’s hard to make eye contact with the man. You want to, know it’s important in intense conversations like this, but the thought of him seeing you—really seeing you makes you ache inside.
“It was a really shitty prank,” he begins. “I’m sure you don’t even know who I am, let alone have a crush on me.”
For the millionth time that day, your face heats to a near boil. You stammer and you’re sure you’ve blown any chance at even thinking about a date with Namjoon.
“Oh, uh, right,” you seek an answer, beg your brain to pick something to say that doesn’t make you sound stupid. “I do.”
“You do what?” He’s confused and you widen your eyes at what just left your mouth.
“I do know you! I mean, I do have a crush on you! Oh, fuck,” you shove your face into your hands. “Please, ignore that. I need to go. Sorry!” You don’t give him a chance to reply, you book it out of the stairway as fast as your heels will take you.
Today was the worst day you’ve suffered through in your life.
The next few days aren’t much better.
Not only are you “coffee girl”, you’re now also sarcastically called “Namjoon’s girl”. As much as you hate your initial title, you’d prefer it to the new one they throw at you as you walk by.
Jimin rats out Jungkook and Chungha to the bosses. They get two weeks probation and they have to write you apology letters if they wish to keep their permanent files clean of any reprimands. It’s a slap on the wrist, and everyone involved knows it. Jimin is furious and wants the boss to reconsider. You tell him not to push it. You’d rather this be over and everyone to forget it even happened. Jimin unwillingly agrees.
You’re working at your desk, earphones shoved in your ears to diffuse the gossip in the room, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn and are greeted with the face of Judas Iscariot himself, Jeon Jungkook.
“Hi,” he sounds sheepish, cheeks reddening.
You narrow your eyes at him, sharper than steel. “What the fuck do you want?”
He winces, knowing he deserved that. “Well, I just wanted to apologize. I know they told me to write you a letter, but it seems too impersonal…”.
You can’t believe Jungkook is sucking his ego up and actually coming to you to apologize. You thought he’d for sure be the one to cop out and send a shitty letter.
He continues.
“I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry that all went down. I didn’t mean to tell her. She got me drunk and said she saw me eating lunch with you and Jimin. I think she was jealous or something and it slipped out. I know that’s not an excuse. I fucked up your trust and Jimin’s trust. But I just wanted you to know I didn’t do it to be an asshole. She sort of duped me.”
You pause as you take in the man’s apology. He didn’t have to come to you in person. He could have easily taken the shitty route and half-assed a letter to you. But he didn't, and he owned up to his mistake. God dammit.
“I appreciate your apology, Jungkook,” you sigh and you see his body visibly relax. “I’m still mad, but I guess the anger is at her for doing it in the first place. I’m sorry she tricked you.”
He breathes a sigh of relief and kneels down beside you. “I’m really happy you believe me. I was worried you were going to kick me in the nuts.
“I won’t lie, I thought about it.”
He smiles with you, and you feel like this is the restart of a friendship. “I definitely deserved it.”
You shrug and smile. “Jimin would kill me for hurting you. He might even kill me for thinking about hurting you.”
Jungkook’s smile drops at the name of your best friend. Yikes. Looks like there’s still trouble in paradise.
“I think you’d be in similar company with Jimin right now. He’s not speaking to me.”
You let out a breath through your nose. “Yeah, he’s a little protective of me.”
“For good reason,” he admits. “You’re like a cute little flower. A cute nerdy flower.”
“Jungkook,” you warn. “I just forgave you after I was humiliated in front of the entire company. I’d be careful with calling me nerdy right now.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”
It’s hard to stay mad at the boy, no matter how much you dislike his reputation around the office. The fact that he humbled himself enough to seek you out and apologize is proof enough to you of his character.
“It’s okay, Jungkook. I forgive you,” you smile. “Thank you for apologizing.”
He rubs the back of his neck anxiously as his cheeks flare red.
“Yeah, it felt pretty shitty to just… do anything else. Plus, you seem really cool.”
“You seem great, too, Jungkook.”
He smiles and pulls you in for a hug, catching you off guard. For the fuckboy type, he’s surprisingly sensitive and soft. You like that about him.
“I’ll see you around, okay?” He says as he pulls away from you.
“Maybe you should apologize to Jimin, too?”
His smile drops, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, maybe I’ll go find him now.”
“Good luck,” you offer with a pat on his shoulder.
With a sad smile, he turns and heads down the hallway towards the HR department. You pray Jimin shows mercy to the handsome boy.
A few weeks go by, and you’re sure that everyone has forgotten about you and your most embarrassing moment to date. You make the coffee, you calculate the numbers, everyone ignores you. Things return to relative normalcy.
Until it doesn't. The moment you think you're safe is the moment your guard comes down and everything falls apart around you.
It's when you're in the staff kitchen, grinding fresh beans to brew a second pot of coffee, that it happens.
The kitchen is fuller than usual. You normally try to wait until the lunchtime crowd dwindles and leaves to make your second pot, but you're so desperate for the caffeine that you can't find it in you to care.
You trudge into the kitchen with your handy coffee mug clutched in your tired hands and head towards the cupboards to grind up the beans.
There's a few groups of coworkers lingering in the room, and as your grinder whirs the beans around into a powder, you chance a look around to see who's among the crowd.
Your eyes flick immediately to where a hearty laugh erupts. It makes your heart still in your throat. Namjoon sits with his usual crowd of friends, hand gripping a homemade sandwich while the other assists him in telling his story to his friends. He pays you no mind—why would he?—and you can't help but stare at the way his dark brown hair lays perfectly against his forehead, and his eyes crinkle so cutely at the edges when he smiles.
You nearly forget about the coffee grounds—you're snapped out of your Namjoon-induced trance when suddenly a woman's laugh echoes around the room.
"Look at her," the voice states.
You peer up and see a girl you vaguely recognize. Is she from Marketing? Or perhaps Sales? You’re not sure, but she’s staring at you with a sneer.
“She’s so weirdly obsessed with Namjoon. It’s so creepy.”
Your face turns cherry red and you’re sure your lungs stop functioning. The air your body needs to breathe freezes and your chest aches.
Namjoon turns to look at the girl before he looks and sees you grasping your coffee grounds tightly.
“Chungha was right—it’s so weird. Namjoon, you should talk to HR about this!”
Namjoon turns back to the gossiping coworker and frowns. “Can you leave it alone? She wasn’t even doing anything.”
The girl huffs and crosses her arms over her chest and looks back at Namjoon.
“How can you stand to be in the same room as her? She clearly thinks she has a chance with you.”
Her words come out like a bite. She punctuates her point with a harsh laugh and the group around her mumbles and chuckles in agreement.
You’re desperately grabbing at anything you can, wanting to leave as quickly as possible before you’re embarrassed further.
“Well, she does!” Namjoon replies loudly, annoyance written in his features. “I was actually going to ask her to dinner this weekend in private, but since everyone is so fucking interested in my love life, I have to do it publicly.”
The room falls silent, and your favorite mug falls out from your hands and shatters on the floor. All sets of eyes stare at you while yours widen with disbelief—you don't even care that you’re standing in a pool of old coffee and shattered ceramic.
Namjoon stands and heads over to you, bending down to pick up the shards of your coffee mug. You take a few stunted breaths to kneel and help.
His eyes peer into yours. They’re warm—a chocolate brown color that makes you feel safe.
“What do you say?” He asks with a smile so gentle it nearly breaks your heart. “Will you let me take you out this weekend?”
You’re gaping like a fish and the surrounding room is silent—bated breath waiting for your reply.
“Yes, I would l-love that.”
His smile turns even brighter, and he stands to throw the broken mug away.
“I’ll email you the details, okay?”
Your head nods dumbly without thinking. His eyes sparkle as he smiles at you, and he extends his hand down to you to assist you off the floor. As your hand slips into his, you can’t help but feel how soft and strong he feels. You wonder what his hand would feel like caressing your face, smoothing down the expanse of your bare back, running down the length of your body.
The thoughts shake out of you as he winks and kisses your hand gently, causing the gossiping coworker to grunt her disapproval and for murmurs of shock to echo around the room.
“I’ll talk to you later, doll.” Namjoon winks at you before he grabs his sandwich and leaves the room, gesturing to his crew to follow along.
The place on your hand felt warm where his lips once lingered. You no longer cared about the angry glares from the rest of your coworkers. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, and you leave the kitchen nearly floating on cloud nine.
Email from: Kim Namjoon
Sent: 3:06 pm
Subject: Hey good lookin ;)
Hey!
Just wanted to see how you are! I’m sorry about what happened at lunchtime. That was super petty and uncalled for. I really wanted to ask you out, and I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much by doing it in front of everyone.
I was wondering if you’d like to go out this Friday night after work? Say around 7? If you send me your address, I’ll pick you up.
Let me know!
Xoxo, Joon
You’re sure if you weren’t sitting in your tiny cubicle, you’d be screaming your lungs out.
The second the notification of the email came through, direct from the man of your desires himself, your body froze.
You re-read the message, over and over and over.
The winky emoji, the xoxo, the nickname ‘joon’. It’s all so much and makes the grin on your face threaten to split your lips in half.
Your fingers press the “FWD” button and you quickly send the message to Jimin, before you stand demurely, attempting to give off an air of professional confidence. You need to talk to Jimin, now.
As soon as you’re out of the eyesight of suspicious coworkers, you bolt down the hallway towards Human Resources. Your high heels click loudly on the tiled floor, but the sound doesn’t even register in your mind. All you can think about is Namjoon, the email, the press of his lips on your hand, the way his smile made you feel as if you could fly.
The door to HR swings open with your tight grip around the doorknob, and you open your mouth to call to Jimin, the lone employee, when you’re startled by the sight ahead of you.
Jimin sits on the edge of his expansive desk with his arms thrown around Jungkook’s neck and is clearly engaged in a deep, sensual kiss. At the sound of the door opening, they quickly break apart, with matching cherry red blushes on their cheeks and mused hair.
“Oh, shit,” you gasp.
The men are silent and you can’t help but giggle after a moment passes. “I’ll take it you two made up?”
Jungkook flashes you a dopey grin, one that gives you an answer, while Jimin smirks haughtily.
“Jungkook and I were just discussing, umm… his 401k.”
Jungkook looks at the blonde boy for a moment, confused, before he gets it. “Yeah! Totally. Retirement. Love to t-talk about it?”
You laugh out loud and walk towards the couple.
“I’m sure it was a titillating discussion,” you tease. “I have good news though, if it’s okay to interrupt this retirement planning session.”
Jimin nods and Jungkook rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I should leave?”
“It’s okay,” you smile. “I trust you.”
Jungkook smiles as if he’s just won the lottery. He looks between you and Jimin, face pure and excited like a puppy.
“What’s up?” Jimin asks as he moves to sit down at his desk.
“I forwarded you an email. Read it.”
Jimin nods and logs on to his posh computer, scrolling and clicking before narrowing his eyes and reading.
“Oh, my god.” Jimin’s face is shocked—it's written all over his features. “Namjoon asked you out?!”
Jungkook’s child-like grin turns into one of shock himself. He runs around to stand behind Jimin, eyes seeking over the words of the email.
“Well, hot damn,” Jungkook whistles. “He asked her out.”
Jimin exchanges a look with Jungkook, one that you’re not sure you can read. It quickly slips your mind, however, as you’re more focused on the task at hand.
“Can you come over tonight after work and help me pick out something to wear?” You ask excitedly.
Jimin smiles at you, a touch of sadness in his eyes, before he nods.
“Of course, babe,” he assures. “We’ll make sure you look nice and hot for the date with Mr. Kim.”
“Thank you!” You squeal as you wrap your arms around your best friend. He hugs you back before you scurry out of the office and back to your cubicle, itching to reply to the message.
Jimin sighs as the door to his office closes behind you.
“Kook, please don’t tell me he’s going to break her heart. He’s asking her out to make himself feel better about this, isn’t he?”
Jungkook slips his hand into Jimin’s and squeezes.
“I’ll find out, baby.”
Jimin smiles and nods appreciatively at the boy, before leaning up and kissing him.
Jungkook smiles against his lips, and is determined to ensure the young HR specialist never hates him again, even if he has to go behind his hyung’s back to ensure his new boyfriend’s happiness.
Jungkook has one mission now, and that’s ensuring Namjoon takes you on the greatest date known to man.
He grills Jimin with questions about what you like over dinner one night. Jimin finds it endearing that Jungkook is so eager to rectify his mistakes, but he still can’t help but worry that Namjoon is doing this to save face—not because he actually likes you.
“So, what does she like doing?” Jungkook asks as he spins his pasta around his chopsticks idly.
Jimin smiles as he takes a bite of the ramen Jungkook has thoughtfully prepared for their stay-at-home date.
“I’ve told you already! She’s easy to figure out.” Jimin pats Jungkook’s hand gently. “She loves cooking and baking, working out, daydreaming about Namjoon.”
“Cooking, hm,” Jungkook looks thoughtful as he takes a bite. “I think Namjoon can work with that. I’ll let him know!”
Jimin tries to hide the anxiety brewing in his stomach. He’s had to plaster on a fake smile for you while you tried on different outfits, wondering which will be the one to finally convince Namjoon he is the one for you. It’s hard to fake it around his boyfriend, too—but something tugs in his stomach that flares the cynical side of him.
Namjoon went from not knowing of your existence, to watching you get publicly embarrassed in a matter of minutes. While Namjoon isn’t a terrible guy, Jimin knows he doesn’t like anything to tarnish the gentleman reputation he’s built in the office. And as much as Jimin likes him, and surely likes his friend Jungkook, he can’t help but feel skeptical.
Jungkook hurriedly pulls out his phone and types away, letting his elder friend know of what he’s found out. Jimin swallows his food, and his pride, and hopes to god his growing cynicism is wrong.
Friday comes slower than you’d like. You wake up every day during the week, one day closer, and your eagerness hits peak levels. Namjoon sees you in the hallways during the week and winks at you, hands shoved in his tight slacks that make you salivate.
He emails you again Thursday afternoon, confirming things and getting your address. You reply in nanoseconds, uncaring how overeager you come off.
By the time your alarm clock rings on Friday morning, you’ve already been awake for 4 hours.
All you can do is daydream about the date, the way his hand fits into yours, the warmth of his eyes when he smiles at you.
It’s what fuels you through work.
You hope to god the numbers you’re attempting to work during the day come out right, because your mind is elsewhere for more than most of the day. There isn’t enough coffee in the world, but also your body feels as if you’ve overdosed on caffeine already.
The clock eeks towards 5:00 pm and you’re bolting out the door at 4:56 to head home and get ready for your date.
Jimin attempts to meet you before you leave, but your desk is cold and empty by the time he gets there.
He sighs and heads back towards his office to gather his things, waving bye to various coworkers as they file out of the corporate building.
He turns the corner towards his office but stops in his tracks as he sees Namjoon’s back to him, phone pressed to his ear.
“Baby, I’ll come over later tonight, okay?” Namjoon speaks into the phone.
Jimin feels his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. He retreats and hides behind a wall, ear carefully peeled to listen to the tall man’s conversation.
“I’m going on this date with that chick from work,” he sighs. “It won’t last more than a few hours. Poor girl has a crush on me and you know the usual assholes won’t leave her alone.”
Jimin bites his lip and clenches his fist. Namjoon thinks he means well, but he knows his suspicions have been confirmed, and he’s torn inside. He wants to tell you, to warn you not to get too invested in the man, but he also has no interest in popping the bubble you’ve been in since the day he asked you out.
Jimin lets it simmer for now. He decides he’ll monitor Namjoon and cut things off if it appears the man strings you along for fun.
Namjoon finishes his phone call with a promise to see whoever is on the other end of the phone later that night, and Jimin quickly pulls out his phone and fakes a conversation with no one when he hears the man approach.
“Oh, Kookie,” Jimin giggles, leaning against the wall casually. “I can’t wait to see you tonight, either, babe.”
Namjoon walks towards Jimin and makes eye contact with the HR specialist.
“Bye, Kook! See you tonight, baby.” Jimin finishes up the fake phone call as Namjoon arrives next to him, and he plasters on his best fake smile.
“Congrats on you and Jungkook,” he speaks sincerely.
Jimin hates how nice he is, hates that he’s a nice guy who gets too wrapped up in his own good looks and reputation.
“Thanks, Namjoon,” Jimin smiles uneasily. “You too! Have fun on your date tonight.”
Namjoon’s face lights up and Jimin desperately wishes he could go back in time to 30 seconds ago, before he heard the conversation, and believe that Namjoon truly wanted to date you.
“Thanks, should be fun, huh?” He winks and nudges Jimin, before he waves a goodbye and continues out the door.
Jimin pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials the number of his boyfriend.
“Hey, baby. We’ve got a problem.”
tag list! - @jimidol @aretha170 @dearbambideer
#kim namjoon smut#kim namjoon#bts smut#bts fics#namjoon smut#out of my league#knj#knj smut#rap monster smut#JOOOOOOOOOONie
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Devotion (M)
Word Count: 5,885 // angst (toxic relationship, friends to lovers, yandere behavior, possessiveness, jealousy, mention of physical harm, mention of neglect), smut (rough sex/slight dub-con, fingering, omorashi, asphyxiation, forced creampie), no fluff
Childhood friend!Taehyung X Childhood friend!Reader
Summary: You and Taehyung were inseparable once. When you come back to your hometown after three years, fate pulls you back to him. And this time, Taehyung won’t ever keep his eyes off of you.
Music: X
Winter darkness came early this season. It’s only a few minutes past five and the sky had darkened and streetlights casted a deep orange hue over semi-empty cobblestone paths. The streets are almost silent except for the faint piano music wafting out into the cool air from restaurants and cafes lining the streets. You keep your fists deep in your coat pockets but the numbness persists. You never thought your hometown would look the same after running away at age twenty with nothing but clothes and a roll of cash – his cash – in your bag. Now, at twenty-three, you wondered if you made the right choice, if the yearning that slept deep in your marrows was the reason why you’re glued to the ground in front of the café you had your first kiss in.
You never thought you’d see Taehyung again – assuming he left not long after you did – but here he is, sitting near the bar with his long fingers grazing over the rim of his whiskey glass. He chuckles at something the bartender says, takes a drag from his cigarette, but his eyes are sad and his smile fleeting. His hair grew longer – past the tip of his ears – and he looks overall larger than life. He’s wearing the coat you bought him for his birthday and you’re wearing the knitted plaid scarf you stole from his closet before leaving. It doesn’t smell like him anymore. It doesn’t smell like his warm cigarettes and aftershave and it takes all your might to not walk in and put your arms around from behind like you used to do when he comes back from work.
Your heart wants him. It craves him. It has spent many nights in your chest begging you to call him and apologize to your tormentor who kisses you while keeping a noose wrapped around your throat. Your Taehyung, your lover, your captor who gave you everything including his own fears.
He doesn’t know why he is the way he is and you can’t find it in yourself to ask. You just know he was easily scared of losing you. The day you found your intimidating and loving boyfriend in your classmate’s house, hovering over the poor boy with his blood-stained knuckles in the air, was the day you knew your love for him isn’t enough to keep himself from hurting himself or others.
Just a moment longer. One moment. You want to stay in the cold for just a moment longer and admire how beautiful he looks without you even if the bags under his eyes are deep and his downturned lips are set in a permanent frown.
Just one moment. Just until he swings the shot of whiskey down his throat and asks for another.
You exhale into the scarf wrapped around your lips.
“Taehyung…” you whisper his name into the cashmere wool.
As if he’d heard you, Taehyung briefly glances up at the bartender and you hold your breath, thinking he would turn his head towards the window. He doesn’t and instead stares straight ahead, the cigarette hanging loosely between his lithe fingers falling into an empty dinner plate. Your heart leaps in your throat when he doesn’t move, the finger over the glass paused, his lips falling just slightly. It’s not until you look over at where he is staring that you stumble back a step, meeting his eyes through the angled mirror that gives him a direct view of your figure through the window. His gaze pins you to the floor; you’ve seen it many times in your dreams but in real life it feels like needles down your throat.
When he moves from his seat you tighten your hand around your handbag and run, your lungs burning in the cold as you stumble through the blanket of snow in your heavy boots. You don’t turn to look, not when you can hear the faint bell of the café door opening and your name hollered in that deep, baritone voice that makes your insides clench. He sounds just as guttural as the day he was covered in blood, shaking his head and whimpering your name when you kneel next to your wounded classmate, annotated papers strewn across the broken furniture.
You turn into an alleyway, looking around to see if there is a place you can hide or crawl under.
You’re stupid.
So fucking stupid.
The footsteps grow louder in the darkness the faster you run into the alleyways. The smell of smoke and dirt making you hold your breath as you turn another corner only to face a brick wall and a line of abandoned bicycles. Screaming for help is no use in this part of town.
Your toes curl in your boots as the footsteps grow louder and louder before stopping just a few feet from where you’re standing. Taehyung can see you tremble softly under the small lightbulb from the back of a dormant restaurant building and he is in disbelief.
You, who had torn his heart out of his chest, had the nerve to run away at the first sight of him.
Again.
“Turn around.” He breathes into the air. His voice is shaking, from anger or from desperation, you can’t tell. “Right now.”
You can’t move. You can’t breathe. You certainly can’t run past him. Taehyung has always been stronger and faster, even when you had pulled him away from bullies when you were both children. Even when he had let you ravish him, let him drown in ecstasy underneath as you rolled your heat into his pistoning hips, you can feel his strength. You can feel his capacity to easily turn pleasure into pain.
“Turn the fuck around!”
You wince at his voice, your tear-streaked face disappearing further into the scarf.
When you fail to obey, Taehyung walks forward and grips the top of your arm, his large hand easily wrapping around your limb. He brings you to him, wrapping his arms around your shoulder and neck this time as his whiskey breath hits your face. He breathes in the scent of your perfume when he presses his forehead to the top of your head.
You changed so many things about yourself when you left him. The color of your hair. The shade of lipstick you wore. The dresses you adorned. The thick rimmed glasses you exchanged for contacts. The one thing you didn’t have the heart to change was the perfume he loved to smell in your hair. The faint smell of roses and musk that kept his sanity intact when your eyes lingered too long on another man or when you scream and shout at his reasons for locking you in the bedroom after working so hard to earn your first job.
“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” He whispers, tightening his hold around your body as if you were an illusion that could disappear any moment. “I looked for you everywhere. Everywhere, baby, everywhere…everywhere…”
You remember. The cries your neighbors in Denmark had to endure when Taehyung’s brother informed you that he crawled on his hands and knees in front of your injured classmate’s porch, hoping that if you saw how apologetic he is you might come back. The police had to drag him away on the third night.
“I’m sorry…” you breathe into the scarf, your shaking fingers coming up to grip his caging arms.
Maybe you wanted this to happen. You stayed another second longer, just another second longer, in front of that café window hoping that he would turn his head. You held your hand over the candle when you know it’d hurt you in the end.
“Don’t run away from me again, baby. Don’t you fucking dare or else I’ll go crazy,” he sobs into your hair. His hold is tighter and your heart is bleeding just like it had when you left. “You’re the only one...”
He pulls back and tugs the scarf down to see your face. You, his moon, his love. Your wet cheeks are still full and soft, your eyes as dark as the night sky, and your lips still swollen and wounded from your habit of digging your teeth into your skin when you’re nervous. You sniffle slightly in the cold and in such close proximity you can’t bear to look at him in the eyes until he takes your face in his big, cold hands and angles you to meet his lips.
You taste the cigarettes and the whiskey. Beyond his tongue, you taste his yearning and pain. You taste the nights he spent lying in bed with the dresses you left behind. You taste his appetite to hurt something – someone – when he comes back to a barren living room from work. You taste his seething, heartbreaking anger that enslaved you as the lover who needed to look at him and him only.
Despite the harshness of his tongue, above all cries, you taste home.
…
The apartment would have looked nearly identical as before had he expected your arrival. Stepping in, you’re hit with the smell of alcohol and leftover pizza on the kitchen counter before you witness the broken television and shards of glass from empty picture frames and bottles. There’s new workout equipment in the corner where an old, broken player used to be. Whatever cleaning he had done in the past three years was minimal. The only object that looked cleaner – polished even – than before was the snow globe with two angels in the center. You had gifted the little globe during fifth grade, gathering coins from underneath couches and stealing a few dollars from your father’s wallet.
Taehyung reaches from behind and underneath your armpits to undo the buttons of your coat and pull it down your shoulders. You turn your head away from the living room and let him without complaint, knowing from his trembling fingers that he’s holding back his unease.
He doesn’t have to say anything. Just from the sight of the place you once called home, the broken shards told you everything you needed to know.
Taehyung’s fingers pauses on the scarf around your neck. Moving your back to lean against the wall, you peek at his face through your lashes and look back down again when his piercing eyes meet yours once more.
“If you still loved me, why didn’t you come back earlier? Why leave in the first place?”
He tugs the material free from your neck and wraps the scarf around his hands before hooking it onto the coat rack next to the entrance. The light switch lays just underneath the rack but he shows no desire to reveal the extent of his anger just yet.
“I was scared.”
“Of me?”
You nod. “Of you and of myself. Of us. Together.”
Taehyung doesn’t comment, merely watching your wet lashes glimmer in the darkness as it catches the hue from the streetlights outside the window.
“D-Did you…see anyone else a-after I left?” You ask him in that soft, airy voice that you used to soften his heart when he’d get upset. Old habits die hard.
He squints just slightly before tracing the back of his teeth with the tip of his tongue, his arms coming to cage you further against the wall.
He contemplates lying.
He wanted to hurt you as much as you’ve hurt him. He wanted to watch your brows come together and fat globs of tears roll down your cheeks as he tells you he would bring women who looked like you in this space and made love to them. He wanted the satisfaction in feeling your fists pound his chest when he tells you he came inside them with a satisfied groan against their ear. He wanted to tell you he’d fall asleep with them in his arms and he’d lick every inch of their skin like he had done to you. It would be all a lie, but he wanted to. He really wanted to fucking tear your heart apart even if it’d feel like he’s tearing his own.
No matter how much he desired it, he couldn’t do that to you. Even when he knows without you telling him that you made love to other men in whatever place you ran off to, he couldn’t do that to you. Because he’s always known he loved you far more than you loved him.
“No, I didn’t.” He says and you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I’ve only ever been yours.”
Taehyung takes your hand and puts it on his chest. His wristwatch ticks against your skin like a beating heart.
“Take off my coat.” He commands.
You undo the knot around his waist with a small tug and let the black coat fall open. Taehyung hisses underneath his breath when he feels your hands flatten over his pecs and up his shoulders, peeling the heavy coat off of him until he draws his arms down and let the fabric fall onto the ground. He’s broader than you remembered him and so, so much larger in presence like he’s engulfing your entire being whole. He’s wearing a plain white button down with a pressed pair of black dress pants and a matching belt just like the time you left him on such an ordinary day.
His skin is warm underneath the shirt and you can faintly trace his strong arms and shoulders before wrapping your arms around his waist and placing your cheek on his chest. You close your eyes and breathe – in and out – gradual and rhythmic and soft. He can hear you whispering his name underneath your breath over and over again like a prayer, like he’s your religion and you found your way back to him to repent for your sins.
You don’t get the chance to tell him you want to stay with him forever when he suddenly takes your wrist from his waist in a vice grip and pulls you into the apartment, not looking back when you stumble and fall on your knees. He half-drags you into the open bedroom and throws you onto the bed before looming over your curled figure as you rub your sore shoulder. The bed smells like you and it takes a moment for you to see your dresses laying across the pillows and blankets until you’re forced to tear your gaze away as Taehyung wraps his hands around your ankles and pull you towards him.
“Tae!” You squeal when he leaves hot, wet kisses down your cheeks, jaw and throat and nips at your skin with his front teeth. Your skin prickles with sweat and your shoulder still aches from his relentless pulling.
The room is stuffy and you struggle to catch your breath with the windows shut and sheer curtains drawn. It’s stuffy most of all with the memories it held of Taehyung bringing you a heating pad during your periods, tending to your hands when you burned yourself making dinner, watching movies with a secondhand projector on the opposite wall, and stealing each other’s popcorn because you always finish your share before the movie starts. The little things that leave such heaviness in your lungs.
Taehyung’s hands are shaky but firm as he reaches underneath your knitted dress and tugs your panties down your hips along with your stockings. Because you’re still wearing your boots, Taehyung doesn’t wait until he buries his face into the crotch of your panties pulled down to your ankles and licks your essence off the fabric onto his tongue, sucking the satin clean before finally unlacing your boots blind with sharp, uneven tugs and peeling them off your ankles. The shoes fall to his feet with a thump and your panties, along with your pantyhose, falls onto the leather not long after.
He doesn’t recognize this attire and it makes him grip the softness of your thighs harder when he imagines yourself or any other man buying you these dresses. It has always been his pleasure to see you dressed in his money. He’d made a promise to be your provider when your parents threw you out of the house as a teen and out of their lives with nothing but a backpack on your shoulders.
As soon as he brings back your luggage from the worn-down hotel you’ve been staying, he’s throwing every dress he doesn’t recognize into the raging fireplace.
Taehyung pops the top button of his shirt and reaches behind him to drag the cotton over his shoulder and head. His skin glows like molten gold and the silver chain hanging from his neck, curving just slightly over his collarbones, sways with his calculated movements. At the end of the chain is the ring from a cracker jack box you’d engraved with a pocketknife.
So many fragments of your relationship with him surrounds you yet you gathered the courage to leave all those years ago. Three long years it took for you to realize you preferred to be in his arms than be free anywhere else. In his shackles you feel safe. In his shackles you feel loved. Your freedom had its own shackles too – putting on pretenses in front of strangers, trying to meet the expectations of men who could never love you like Taehyung does, molding yourself to fit into who you could be rather than who you really are. Taehyung’s shackles feel like jewelry, like luxury, like comfort.
“Did you think about me?” He runs his warm palms up and down your calves, kneeling between your legs as you squirm on the edge of the mattress.
“Every single day. I missed you…I w-wanted to call but…” I was scared you were going to hurt me like you hurt the people around me.
He doesn’t comment and for a moment you wonder if the years of anger he had built inside him will rush forward like water bursting from a dam. It was strange how you are the same, vulnerable person after all these years despite changing nearly every part of your identity.
When he looks up your heart leaps to your throat. If it were physically possible, Taehyung’s eyes would turn into steel with how hard, how piercing, his gaze is as if he intends to burn holes into your skull. Despite the glare that steals air from your lungs, he’s still beautiful with his uneven eyelids, thick straight eyebrows, chiseled cheekbones, and a prominent cupid’s bow.
“You’re not leaving me again. You hear me? You’re not taking one single step out of this room until I say so. I,” he grits his teeth, tightening his grip around your calves enough to bruise. “don’t fucking trust you anymore. You destroyed us.” His voice is harsh, labored, full of agony. “You destroyed every fucking thing we built together just because I allowed myself to love you.”
“I know, Tae, I know,” you bring a hand over your lips and stifle a sob. Taehyung’s hard gaze falters slightly upon seeing your sadness otherwise his face remains promptly emotionless. “I’m sorry. I’m s-sorry I left, I d-didn’t know what to do. I just…I’m sorry, Taehyung-ah.”
He takes his hands off of you and places them on the edge of the mattress next to your knees, gripping the plushness with all his might.
“You’re not leaving me.” He repeats as if he needed to convince himself more than he needs to convince you.
You shake your head. “I won’t. I swear.”
“If you do this again…something bad will happen. You know that, right? I won’t let you walk away. I can’t let you do this to me anymore, baby. I…haven’t I suffered enough?” He asks and it makes you wrap your arms around his neck and pull his lips towards you. He devours you like he needed you to breathe. It was obvious he was suffocated in this little apartment just as much as you suffocated in the little den back in Denmark, struggling to make it to the next month.
“I love you so much,” you whimper against his lips, tasting yourself on his tongue. “I’m here, Tae. I’m home.”
Your boyfriend groans as he pushes you back onto the mattress and hovers over your body with his knees on both sides of your hips. You bring your legs back, curling them towards your body before hooking it around his toned waist. The warmth that solely belonged to him, you didn’t know how you survived without it. His tongue roams your entire mouth from the back of your tongue to your teeth. You wince just slightly when his fingers trace your slit underneath your red dress, gathering the wetness over your swollen clit in slow circles then moving down to your throbbing core.
“Is this all for me, baby?” He whispers into your mouth as you snake your fingers into his deep chocolate brown tresses and brush his long hair back.
“All for you. I belong to you, Tae, I always have.”
He tsks, watching your hooded eyes suddenly widen and your mouth fall open into an ‘O’ when he impales his index and middle finger into your soaking pussy to the hilt. You had forgotten how long his fingers are until he’s deep inside, until he pushes so hard against your walls that you can feel him from beneath your skin. Your cervix probes his fingertips back and it makes you squirm and wince as he curls his fingers inside and lightly digs digits into your walls. You’ll take the pain with grace.
Your trembling hands reach down to wrap around his wristwatch, slightly wet with your juices trailing down the length of his palm.
“Please, Tae,” you plead, squeezing his wrist. “I want you.”
His fingers move slowly against your walls, leaving you panting and soaking your dress with sweat. He makes no move to be merciless and instead pushes his fingers incredibly deep until your opening burns. He keeps his fingers inside while he undoes his belt, the clinking of the silver buckle raising goosebumps on your skin. All those times he bent you over the kitchen table and lash you across the ass with the belt for blushing when you enjoyed the attention of another comes rushing back, your insides gripping the contours of his fingers as he moves his fingers up and down. Lewd squelches from between your legs make you turn your head away in embarrassment but Taehyung won’t take your disrespect. Not anymore.
You’re left unfilled when he slips his wet fingers out and places them in his mouth to suck, eyes rolling back and his smooth naked chest heaving at your scent. He’s brought back to reality when you work to remove his belt, your palm kneading his throbbing hardness as you unzip and peel his pants open as far as they can go to reveal his boxer briefs. His cock bulges through the dark fabric and you can lightly feel the trail of dark pubic hair above the base. In the silence of the room you relish in his labored breaths and the rustle of clothing. It’s a sound you longed to hear when you’d spend numerous night with your fingers in your panties in your lonely, cramped apartment, fingertips rubbing circles around your clit until you leak all over the vibrating dildo shoved inside.
Taehyung pulls the belt free from his hips and makes you sit up to wrap the belt around your neck like a scarf before lacing the leather back into the buckle and then tightening the loop. He places two fingers underneath where the belt meets your neck to make sure you’re safe. Even with anger radiating off every pore, he cares about you, loves you, wants to please you.
“Okay?”
You nod, palming him and wrapping your fingers around his thick, pulsing length leaking pre-ejaculate through the fabric. He admires the need in your tear-filled eyes and twists the length of his belt around his fingers before pulling you up, earning a whimper as your hands immediately move to your makeshift collar.
The fact that other men had seen you in this position kills him.
Taehyung pulls the thin straps down your arms and peel your dress down to your ankles. You’re not wearing a brassiere and he suppresses a smile. You’d often lounge wearing his shirts in the living room, your perky little nipples peeking through the cotton, all ready for his greedy mouth to latch onto.
When you kick the dress away from your ankles and bring your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself, Taehyung takes the chance to kick off his shoes. He’s too impatient to remove his slightly tight slacks and black socks, choosing to give all his attention to you instead.
“You’re really here,” he breathes, eyes glazed over in remembrance of you over the years.
It started with kisses in cafes while studying together; at the time, he hardly knew how to kiss and knew less about the feeling deep in his belly. Kisses turned into roaming hands, his fingers disappearing under your panties and yours under his jeans. You lost your virginity to him – and his to you – in the backseat of his car after graduating in which half the time was him struggling to put on a condom while your laughs made him giggle along. He had always been yours, and you his.
You couldn’t accept that Taehyung is no longer the boy you used to know. While he accepted your changes and made peace with your mercurial ways, you couldn’t do the same for him.
“I want to show you how much I missed you,” you bring his hands to your face and rub your cheeks into his palms like a kitten.
Taehyung melts, his tired smile plastered on his face as he pushes the dresses on the mattress away and lays next to you. You know what this meant. He wants to watch you come undone, watch you mold into his body as your spine arches and he can tighten the belt around your neck as you spill onto the sheets. You reach down and slide your hands under his pants, gasping slightly when your hands wrap around the girth of his cock. His hips jolt when you run your thumb over his weeping tip and smear precum down his thickness. Taehyung turns you away from him, his perspired chest sticking to your back, and brings your hips towards his lap until he can slip his cock between your folds.
Heat blossoms on your cheeks when he pants lightly in your ear, breath hitching as he slips the tip of his cock into your entrance before ramming his entire length without warning.
“Ah!” You grip his iron arms secured around your waist. He pushes his cock further until he’s fully nestled in your warmth.
“Ung, baby,” he hisses, sliding his left arm underneath your head to reach the end of his leather belt. He wraps the leather around his fingers twice and brings the belt back to him as he pushes your spine away from him in an arch.
He begins moving, his hand around your waist slipping down to your clit as he rubs coaxing circles while pulling the collar back to compress your jugular. In the dark, cold bedroom Taehyung makes you feel every inch of himself inside your starved pussy. Your vision is filled with spots and every nerve in your body curls and bows to his carnal hunger.
“Please…please, Tae, please…” You beg as he pounds without giving you the luxury to adjust to his thickness, tight balls clenching further as he grinds his hips into your little hole.
You cum immediately, legs twitching as you sob his name and curse under a single breath, the wetness from your folds coating the base of Taehyung’s twitching, loaded cock. When you gurgle and cough, he loosens his grip on the belt and listens to you heave, watching your arms pull you up and away from him as you get on your hands and knees to take bigger breaths. You palm your lower abdomen with the heel of your hand, the ache making your head turn towards the pitch-black bathroom connected to the bedroom. Not only did his penetration burned your entire lower body, but you can also feel the pressure inside screaming at you to run to the bathroom.
You underestimated how cruel Taehyung can be. With teeth gritted, he suppresses the need to cum, and bring your hips back towards him to slip his cock back into your battered pussy. You’re tighter after cumming and it takes every ounce of his energy to not spill his load inside then and there.
“T-Taehyung I need to go to the b-bathroom,” you pant as you sweat from the pressure building even more in your lower region.
He doesn’t reply, only spreading your legs further with his knees and grip your waist before impaling you onto his cock over and over again until you slump back down to the mattress.
“It aches,” you breathe as Taehyung throws his head back and closes his eyes, plunging with the ferocity of a man possessed. He finds the end of his belt curled on your back and pulls, yanking your neck back and curving your entire body to take his length. He hardly prepped you enough and he did so with purpose, with the intent to make you release in more ways than one. “T-Tae, I can’t…Taehyung!”
His hips move quicker and the sound of skin slapping skin echoes along with his deep, guttural groans.
“Give it all to me, baby,” he snaps, falling forward to pin your body beneath his as he pistons his hips like a demented animal. You can breathe now but your vision is still hazy and your breathing labored. You can’t move your arms with Taehyung’s hands wrapped around your wrists in a vice grip above your head. “Do it for me.”
When your legs convulse underneath and a scream rips from your throat, Taehyung leans his damp forehead on your shoulder and spills his seed inside. You swear you can feel every lash of his load against your walls. Your ears ring just as you reach your high once more, neck arching back, nose in his hair as you spill your wetness over the sheets along with warm urine that stung as it leaks down to the dresses below. This was his intent all along – to claim you and to humiliate you into accepting that he will take your body as he wishes.
Still, the embarrassment makes you bury your face into your arms and sob.
“You did so well for me, baby,” Taehyung exhales against your jaw and takes your earlobe in his mouth, suckling gently before running his wet tongue over the shell of your ear. You squirm in his grasp, feeling as if your bones had turned into jelly.
Taehyung reaches down and runs his fingers gently over your pussy, rubbing the wetness over your pubic curls before leaning back on his heels to look down at the soiled dresses beneath your thighs. The warmth of your urine no longer lingers and instead you’re left shivering with the collar still tight around your neck.
He takes a clean dress from behind and wipes your fluids from his semi-hard cock and thighs before wiping between your inner thighs and folds. You’re quiet, toes curled as he works his way down to your knees where your urine trailed. He rolls you to the side, gently, and gathers the wet dresses in his arms before stepping away from the bed and dumping the mound of fabric into a half-empty laundry basket.
He then takes a towel from the shelf and disappears into the bathroom. You can hear the faint sound of water running as you reach up to undo the belt from around your neck and let the leather fall onto the floor with a clatter. Taehyung would prefer to remove it himself, but he doesn’t complain when he comes back with a warm, damp towel and wipes your cheeks and neck before roughly wiping down your body.
The smell of sweat is heavy in the air but it feels rather comforting to know you can be disgusting with him and still wake up loved in the morning.
You keep your eyes trained on the ceiling until Taehyung pulls you up to the pillows once the top half of the bed is clean, molding his body to yours as he buries his face in your hair. He inhales slowly, arms locking around your body and keeping you caged inside his embrace. Only when you lean into his chest does he bring a blanket over your body and his and tuck you in.
“Are you hurt?”
You shake your head, eyelids heavy.
The room is even quieter than before. It feels serene under the blanket since nothing strange has ever happened when you’re safe in his arms.
“I missed you,” you murmur, your fingers twirling his necklace on his chest. “So…so much.”
Taehyung’s voice is hoarse when he speaks. “I never left. I’ve always been here.”
You blink, training your eyes on the broken chess pieces scattered on the floor, and close your eyes. No more lonely nights. No more haunting dreams.
…
‘What’s that?’ Taehyung pouts when you stand in front of him with a small box behind. Every time he attempts to look around your figure, you turn to hide it behind your puffy white skirt. He was really starting to get pissed off and the playground is growing louder with more lousy children interrupting his time on the slides with you. The fifth grade class is the largest in the school after all and there’s only so many slides to go around.
‘You have to guess!’ You insist, keeping the box behind you still.
Taehyung’s frown deepens and then he tucks his bottom lip under his teeth, turning away in a haughty manner with his nose turned to the sky.
‘Whatever it is, I don’t care.’ He says, stepping closer to the slides, but regrets it immediately when your eyes fill with tears and your hands fall to the side. You know he hates being teased, but he knows you love to keep him waiting.
He looks down at your hand to see a box with a picture of a snow globe plastered on the cardboard.
His mouth opens and close like a fish as he contemplates apologizing but he ends up walking up to you and putting his sticky hands on your face instead, tilting your face up to him. You don’t say anything before dropping the present on his shoes and dashing away, maneuvering through the monkey bars and sandboxes with your skirt floating around your knees.
Taehyung kneels and takes the box in his hand, shaking the package until the globe falls into his palm. There it is, the two angels and the glitter particles swirling around them, the very object that he admired in the book fair yesterday. He turns the globe around in his hands, careful, until he reaches the writing written sloppily with a sharpie pen on the glass.
‘I like you’
#bunny:fic#yandere taehyung#taehyung angst#taehyung fanfiction#bts fanfiction#bangtan fanfiction#bts angst#yandere bts#taehyung fanfic#taehyung oneshot#bangtan smut#taehyung smut#bts smut#devotion#taehyung x reader#bangtan angst#taehyung au#bangtan au#bts au
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Eclipse
summary: When a mission leaves you empty and broken, Bucky is determined to heal the wounds that linger deeper than the cuts on the surface.
pairing: bucky x reader
word count: 8.4k
warnings: canon level violence, hurt!reader, PTSD, dissociative episode, nightmares, a rapid switch from sweet/fluffy to pain, angst with a happy ending
An eclipse finds its home in the darkness
Thriving as it suffocates the sun and shadows her light
In its passage she lays in wait
Waiting— for the moon to give way and grant her morning
Bucky thinks he’s found heaven when he lays with you under the cover of thin, linen sheets; the soft, white of the fabric touching over curves and edges of exposed bodies, peaks and dips, like snowcaps nestled upon the crest of mountaintops. Lying flushed with heat, hearts beating a little faster, breaths a little labored, Bucky reaches out and traces the lines of your face.
The tip of his finger brushes over your nose, slips down along your jaw, touches the sun kissed stream of light against your cheek as it seeps in through the sheet thrown over your heads. You giggle as he pulls you in for a kiss, chaste and sweet, his hand curling into the hairs at the nape of your neck and he tugs you closer. It’s the most beautiful sound in the world, the way you laugh to his lips, muffled in his kiss but still uncontained.
Hidden under sheets, shared breaths between you in your own little world, Bucky decides he will be content if he stays here forever.
“I won’t be gone long, you know,” you tell him as you press lightly on his chest, just enough to get draw his attention away from the trail of kisses along your cheekbone and down your jawline. He pouts playfully at you, but you soothe your hand along his shoulder, recognizing the shift in energy as his eyes flicker a shade of hesitancy. “I’ll can handle myself.”
“It’s not that,” he replies quietly, voice soft, barely a whisper, as his smile begins to fall. It’s subtle, but you notice.
“Then what?”
Bucky shrugs, swallowing back the anxiety that begins to pool deep into his stomach every time you leave on assignment. But he pushes out a smile, one you do not question, and he leans in to kiss the button of your nose.
“I’ll just miss you, is all.”
You grin and it lights up wide across your face. The cast of sunshine behind you as it filters in through the sheets tossed over your body drapes down like a halo, an illumination of an angel, and Bucky commits the image to memory. Stored to a safe place in the back of his mind for the dark nights alone in this room. He’ll find you those moments, even when you’re miles away.
“You’re a sap, Bucky Barnes,” you laugh, ruffling his hair as you toss the sheet up from over your faces and take in a deep breath of fresh air. It’s brighter in the room than you realized and you squint your eyes, tucking your face to the crook of Bucky’s neck to shield yourself from the sun.
“Only for you, sweetheart.” He tries to ignore the bright red flicker of the clock beside you as he crawls out from under the safety of the bedsheets, the fantasy fractured by the reminder of your impending assignment; four weeks in a classified location, entirely on your own.
A smile presses tight to his lips as you steal a glance back at him full of bright eyes and sunshine.
He does his best to swallow the anxiety though it churns like blades through his stomach.
***
Bucky paces back and forth in his room, stealing looks at his phone as it sits face up on the bedside table. He taps the screen every few seconds, as soon as it dares to fade to black, so he can see your face again; the picture of you laughing behind an ice cream bar melting down your hand. A shimmering red bow and mouse ears on the top of your head from your trip to Disney last spring. He can still smell the melted vanilla and hardened chocolate when he looks at it and he tries hard to focus on the memory, but he knows it’s an excuse to make sure he doesn’t miss your call.
Tap.
Still nothing.
You’ve been gone over a week now and though he does his best to busy himself with time spent sparring with Sam in the gym, running out along the lake behind the compound, cleaning the kitchen until the stench of bleach burns up to the floor above him, you’re still at the forefront of his mind.
He knows you’re safe. He knows that you can protect yourself and that you were capable of solo missions long before Bucky came crash-landing into your life, but it doesn’t stop him from worrying. It doesn’t stop the incessant twitching in his hands as he curls them to fists, doesn’t stop the frantic pacing and the wear he drives into the carpet, doesn’t stop the panic that skips the beat of his heart when it’s two minutes past check-in and you haven’t called.
“Stop it,” he grumbles to himself, “she’s fine. Stop worrying. She’s fine.”
Another glance back at the phone. Tap-tap on the screen until it lights up with your smile. Nothing.
Three minutes past check-in.
He has half a mind to track down Fury himself when suddenly, the phone rings.
A ringtone you’d changed early in your relationship - a synthetic, almost electric, instrumental of Can’t Take My Eyes Off You right when the music starts to pick up and the trumpets are blaring and it throws him straight into overdrive.
Bucky lunges it at, hands fumbling for the phone but it falls to the floor in his hurry. He hits his shoulder against the edge of the nightstand with a loud thump and collapses down to the carpet as the phone bounces down under the bed.
“God-fuckin’-- ugh!”
He grips tight to the phone by the chime of ‘I love you, baby!’ and quickly brings it to his ear. He’s out of breath but he stills himself, takes a moment before he says anything and he hopes his voice is calmer than the rush in his chest.
“Hi.”
You snicker on the other end of the line and he knows in an instant he’s been busted. “Thought I told you not to wait by the phone, Buck.”
“I wasn’t.” A full faced lie. He grimaces as it comes out.
“Sure, you weren’t,” you drawl, a laugh tucked sweetly into the hum of your voice.
Bucky can hear floorboards squeaking faintly through the speaker between your breaths. Old wood, the whistle of the wind in the distance; a motel built in the early sixties with poor insulation and cracking foundations. He wonders where you are or if the image of you pacing amongst faded shades of burnt orange and green curtains, of once brightly colored comforters and pealing wallpaper only exists in his imagination.
“You okay?” he asks first because he needs the confirmation. Despite hearing the even tones in your breath, the sweet laughter in your voice, he needs to hear you say it.
“Always am, honey,” you respond lightly and Bucky lets himself take in a deep breath before you add, “I miss you though. It’s awfully cold here and I could really use a super soldier to keep me warm.”
It makes him smile; the first one that pushes up into his cheeks without force since you left. God, he misses you.
“Don’t go calling Steve now, okay?” he teases, the anxiety draining from his body in gentle waves, cast out by the flow of ocean water through his bloodstream in the sound of your voice and the image of your smile as you tug your lower lip between your teeth.
“Never. I prefer my men one-armed and dangerous.”
Bucky laughs as he sinks down further onto the floor, the carpet rubbing against his tailbone though he doesn’t mind. He’s grinning, listening to the sound of your voice as you tell him about how much you’re craving popcorn and chocolate chip movie nights and he feels like you’re sitting right next to him. He can see the creases in your smile, the lines by your eyes, the faint markings of old scars on your skin. He hears your voice and it reminds him of home.
“It’s beautiful here, Buck,” you sigh and he wonders if you’re staring out a window to mountains or ocean or tundra. “I wish you could see it.”
“Where is ‘here’ again?”
You giggle and—God—it's the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, even crackled and broken through the speakers of an old satellite phone miles away. “Nice try, baby.”
The timer on his watch starts to ding and his heart clenches.
“Time’s up, huh?” you whine playfully, but he can hear the disappointment in your voice. It’s never long enough, these three minutes that Steve allows for you, but he’ll take seconds if he can get them. Just long enough to calm his nerves, to give you the motivation to keep going on your own, without the possibility of the call being traced.
“Yeah,” Bucky sighs, clenching at his hand. He brushes closed knuckles against his forehead, presses deep into his temples because he can already feel the pit in his stomach forming again. “Stay safe, alright? Come home to me.”
He pictures your smile, the soft edges and the curve of your lips.
“Always do, don’t I?”
You do. He knows this.
But his mind is cruel and it wonders when the day will come when you won’t.
***
“I’ll raise a Kit-Kat,” Bucky concedes nearly two weeks later with a tired huff, tossing a chocolate bar to the center of the table to accompany a handful of M&M’s and mini-Twix. It knocks over Natasha’s carefully constructed tower of Milkyways and she shoots him a warning glare.
To his right, Sam snickers under his breath, a laugh too confident for a man with a dwindling stash of chocolate in front of him to the mountain sitting beside Natasha. He hides his face behind the fan of cards, but Bucky can still see the crease in his brow, the pinch of lines together at the center that tell him Sam is bluffing. Natasha is as stone cold as he would expect and he has no interest in challenging her resolve, so he decides to weed out Wilson first.
“When’s your girl getting back, Barnes? Think you might need her around to console you after I obliterate your snack drawer,” Sam taunts, changing the subject abruptly. Another tell of his.
“End of the week, I think,” Bucky replies with a shrug, playing it off casually because he knows Sam is trying to throw him off his game.
“As if you aren't counting down the seconds.” Natasha scoffs, a smirk pushing at pursed lips.
“You're an absolute goner for her, you know that don’t you?” Sam says as he pushes a few more M&M’s to the center. Brightly colored pile at the center and he plops one from his own stash into his mouth.
Bucky, meanwhile, chews on the inside of his cheek, avoiding Sam’s wandering eyes because he knows it’s true. You’ve only been together a little under a year, but he’s spent twice that loving you from a careful distance, just out of fingertip’s reach until he’d come back from a mission with one too many bullet wounds in his body and he couldn’t take the tension between you anymore.
He could still picture the smile on your face as he told you, the way your eyes lit up and you jumped into his arms; IV drips and wires to machines and all. The press of warm lips to his cheek, his temples, his nose, his mouth. Sun streaming in through the window and casting a halo behind your hair.
“Yeah, I know.”
“Atta boy.” Sam nudges Bucky’s arm, grinning wildly.
They turn to Natasha as she nods in approval before setting her cards down on the table with the kind of look in her eyes that tells Bucky the game was over before it even began. Royal Flush.
“Not again!” Sam whines, slumping down into his chair.
“It’s starting to feel cruel playing with the two of you.” Natasha reaches into the center and gathers the mountain of chocolate to drag it towards her towering pile. She starts to unravel a mini-Twix, keeping a taunting eye on Sam as he glares back at her. The chocolate passes behind parted lips and she bites down with a contented hum.
Sam rolls his eyes. “You owe us drinks, ma’am.” He gestures to his empty glass.
Natasha smirks, conceding easily as she stands to grab their glasses. She turns to Bucky. “You want a refill, Barnes?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”
As Natasha makes her way back to the kitchen, Sam sneaks a few M&M’s from her pile and quickly plops them into his mouth with a cautious glance over his shoulder. Bucky begins to shuffle the cards and he can feel the burn of Sam’s stare even before he opens his mouth.
“What do you want, Wilson?”
“When’s Y/n coming back? For real.”
Bucky glances up. Sam’s arms are stretched out along the backs of the empty chairs beside him. He’s relaxed into his position, chewing on the stolen chocolates as he raises an eyebrow.
“End of the week... like I said.”
Sam leans in closer. “That a question?”
“No,” Bucky retorts shortly, though Sam clearly isn’t buying it. He exhales a tense breath as he bridges the deck. “She’s supposed to call tonight. Longest stretch without a checkpoint since she left.”
Sam nods. “What about the three minute calls?”
“Last one was four days ago. Same day she checked in with Fury.”
“You worried?”
Bucky slices the deck. Shuffles it for the fifth time. Bridge. Repeat. “Course not. I’m sure she’s fine. I’m not worried at all.”
“You sure?” Sam chuckles, leaning back into his chair with another quick grab of a few stray green M&M’s.
“Fuck off, Wilson.”
That gets Sam laughing. He reaches across the table and snatches the cards out of Bucky’s hands before he can shuffle for a seventh time. He flashes Bucky a smile, dimples into his cheeks and all.
“I’m dealing this round.”
Bucky nods, letting the tension slip easily from his muscles. He pushes out a smile. “Yeah, okay.”
But then, a glass shatters behind him and Bucky jolts up to his feet.
“Nat? Are you--”
He freezes in an instant, tension burning through him like marble; the full force of a train straight to his chest and knocking the wind from his body, fracturing the stone to pieces around him.
Natasha stands just a few paces ahead of him, her hands clasped at her mouth in an array of shock and horror, glass shattered at her feet. Ice along wooden floors and the smell of vodka burning into the air.
Bucky almost doesn’t recognize you. There’s a slump in your shoulders, a far off look in your eye like you can’t quite focus on what’s in front of you, and a knife in your hand that won’t stop shaking.
But that’s not the worst of it.
You’re covered in blood. Deep red seeping into your hair, sticking thick and wet to your face and down your neck; trails of it along your cheeks like raindrops against a windowpane. It soaks into what remains of your suit, ripped and torn, exposed skin stained with grim and dirt. You look like something out of a horror movie.
“Oh God,” Sam mutters out, pulling Bucky from his trance.
He wants to sprint, wants to scream for help and sound every alarm he can find, but instead, Bucky only manages broken exhale as he slowly walks towards you. He moves with cautious steps, a hand out towards you defensively, like he’s approaching a frightened animal. It’s what you used to do when the line between him and the Soldier blurred, how you’d seek him out amongst the trauma and distortion and bring him back home.
“Y/n?” he calls gently and finds his voice rough in his throat.
You don’t respond, don’t even look at him as he stands within a foot of your reach. Nat and Sam are close behind, but they hold their distance.
“Sweetheart, what happened?” Bucky asks as evenly as he can manage, eyes glancing down over your body in search of injuries. There’s too much blood and he doesn’t know how much of it is your own. He wants to tug you into his arms, tell you that he’s got you, that you’re safe now, but for the first time since Shuri removed the triggers from his head, he’s afraid to touch you.
Your lips part, a few short blinks of your lashes, and you mumble out, “I came to find you.”
Your voice doesn’t sound like your own. It’s too flat, too void of emotion, and it rips Bucky right to his core. It’s a defense mechanism, he knows that. You’re still in there somewhere, he just needs to get you through this first.
“That’s good, sweetheart,” he tells you, trying his luck as he sets a hand on your back. You don’t flinch, but you don’t lean into him either. He shares a worried glance with Sam and Natasha before he turns back to you, pushing out a smile. “You did good.”
“How did she get all the way here from the Hanger without anyone stopping her?” Sam questions, eyes trailing over the mess of blood in your wake, footprints following you from the staircase by the elevator.
“She’s covered in blood and God knows what else,” Natasha whispers back. “They were probably afraid of what might happen if they did.”
Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from you, vision tunneling on the mess of blood rooted in your hair and the stains of red on your face, your chest, your hands. Natasha and Sam’s voices become muffled beside him as he slides his hand down your back and gently lays it over your grip, still shaking as you hold onto the heel of the knife as if your fist had molded to stone around it. The tremors stop as he holds your hand.
“It’s okay, honey,” he whispers, impossibly soft that not even Nat or Sam hear him, “I need you to give me the knife, alright? You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”
It takes a moment, but your grip on the knife slacks. It falls to Bucky’s palm and he gently guides it out of your reach and hands it over to Natasha. He doesn’t know what happened, but he knows what you’ve done for him when the Soldier has taken over his mind, when he didn’t feel like himself and needed reminded who he was, where the ground was solid under his feet.
He knows what he needs to do.
“Nat,” he starts, but she’s already a step ahead of him.
“I’ll go find Steve,” she says, like she can read his mind. “I’ll tell him what happened, see what he knows about her assignment that would have led to this.”
Bucky swallows back the bile in his throat and he nods. “Sam--”
“I’ll sweep the jet, see what I can find,” Sam replies quickly. He sets a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, gives it a slight squeeze, and pushed out a tight-lipped smile. He was your friend long before he was Bucky's. The determination reads in his eyes.
"Thank you,” Bucky whispers.
Sam and Natasha disappear down the hallway and then, Bucky is left alone with you. He’s suddenly made aware of how harsh your breathing sounds, like you’re gasping in air through a straw. You stare beyond his shoulders, though he can tell you’re not looking at anything at all. You’re existing. It’s all your mind can cope with.
“Love?” Bucky calls, willing his voice stronger than it is. “Can you come with me?”
You don’t respond. Bucky clenches his jaw and tries again.
“I’m going to take you to our room, alright?”
He thinks it’s better not to present you with choices. It never worked well with him when he got this like; too much stimulation. He knows you’ll resist him if you need to. He slips his hand along your back to guide you towards the bedroom and you take a step as he does.
You’re limping, he notices, as you cross the threshold into the bedroom. He tries to push his mind away from what caused such an injury, what could have possibly happened to result in the amount of blood drenched over you.
That’s Sam and Natasha’s job. Bucky’s only concern is you right now, in this moment, bringing you home, making you feel safe. He guides you to the bathroom.
“I’m going to start the water, okay?” Bucky tells you. You used to do the same for him, telling him what you were doing step by step in an effort to orient him. It grounded him back to his reality, brought him down from the plane of existence above his own head.
The room starts to fill with steam, enough to fog the mirrors, and Bucky tugs his shirt over his head. He removes his sweatpants, but he resolves to leave his boxers on.
“Sweetheart?”
You look in his direction and Bucky can’t help the wash of relief as it floods through him. You don’t smile and it’s almost as if you’re looking straight through him, but it’s something. Progress.
He extends a hand to you, waiting patiently. Though you do not take it, you step a take closer to him, then past him as you walk into the shower fully clothed in your tattered suit. Bucky steps in behind and closes the glass door.
There’s enough room inside that he can stand comfortably behind you as you approach the stream of water. You stare at it for a moment before you reach out and let the water fall over your hand. You watch as the water around the drain begins to turn a dark red.
“I’m going to wash this off. Is that okay, honey?” Bucky reaches steadily for the loofa behind you, though he pauses as he feels the texture of the sponge: exfoliating mesh. It’ll be too much for you in this state. He resolves for the body wash squeezed into his empty palm.
“You let me know if you need a break.”
Still, there’s no response.
Bucky pushes back the burning lump in his throat and gingerly reaches towards you. He places a soap lathered palm against your shoulder and finds your muscles so tense they could have been made of steel or the vibranium seared into his own arm. You stare at his chest as if you could see through to his heart, maybe beyond that to the shower wall behind him, as he begins to peel the dried blood and grim from your skin.
The water at his feet becomes muddied and red, the water slipping down your legs tainted by the aftermath of violence laid upon your body. He’s careful to only use his flesh hand as he washes you, something softer and kinder than the harsh touch of metal.
You start to relax the more he works, your rigid stance easing as the blood cleans from your body. Your suit is still plastered to your skin, ripped and torn and cut open, and Bucky knows he needs to get this off of you. There’s blood behind the fabric, seeped behind the open slashes.
He thinks of the softest clothes he has to dress you in when you’re clean and dry, something too big for your frame that smelled of fresh laundry or maybe the sweatshirt draped over the chair – the one you liked to wear when he was out on missions because it smelled like him. He just wants you to feel safe, to feel warm and protected.
But he needs to get you out of this suit first.
He reaches for the zipper at your chest and the next thing he knows, he’s pressed up against the shower wall, his head pulsing at the impact as you grip tight to his wrist. You’re panting, eyes unfocused at the center of his chest.
He lets you hold him there. He doesn’t try to resist though he knows with his strength he could easily overpower you.
“Sweetheart, it’s me. It’s Bucky,” he tries, his voice soft against the fall of water behind you. “I’m not going to hurt you, love.”
You don’t move, but your breaths start to come in a little more even. Your grip falters on his wrist though you don’t let go. His heart feels like it’s shattering inside his chest, stray shards embedding themselves into his stomach, his ribs, his lungs.
“Honey, look at me,” he pleads. “You’re safe now. You’re home. Let me take care of you.”
It takes a moment, but your eyes begin to trail up his collarbone, hesitant sweeps along his neck, his jaw, and then – his eyes. The hard resolve upon your features begins to crumble. Your lip quivers, your hand gripped tight around his wrist slacking in the tremors, tears burn into your eyes and Bucky doesn’t waste a moment before he gathers you into his arms, presses you tight to his chest and encases you against him.
It's like something finally clicks, a floodgate burst open, because you’re clutching onto him like a lifeline. He can feel the sob as it travels up your spine and shakes your body as you cry. He’s grateful for the mist of the shower that hide his own tears as he rubs gentle circles along your back, easing you the best he can. It’s torture seeing you like this and feeling so powerless to help.
He doesn’t know how long he stands there with you, but eventually, you stop crying. The exhaustion begins to take hold and your legs begin to shake under you, too weak to hold yourself up.
“I’m going to take your suit off, okay? You’ll be more comfortable without it,” Bucky says, gesturing to the zipper. You follow his gaze in understanding and then, you nod.
The suit already clings tight to your skin without the added pressure of the sticky residue of blood drenched into the fabric and the soak of water from the shower. He slides the zipper down to your navel and slowly peels what's left of the sleeves off your shoulders.
There’s cuts and slashes underneath, wounds where blades had cut through your suit and nicked your skin. They’re superficial, better than they could have been if not for the suit taking the brunt of the attack, but they’re still painful to look at.
Bucky helps you step out of the suit and he leaves it in the corner of the shower. He glances at your underwear and you slide it down your hips without question.
“Can I wash your hair, honey? Please?”
You nod and Bucky works quickly. You’re starting to shiver as the water loses its heat, so you stand a little closer to him, seeking out his warmth. It removes just an ounce of the boulder sitting upon his chest.
When he’s finished, the water at the drain is clear again. The fresh scars upon your body and the distant look in your eye the only evidence remaining of what happened.
Bucky reaches around you to turn off the water. He pulls a towel from the rack and begins to gently pat it over your skin until you’re dry. Then, he scrunches out as much of the water as he can from your hair, before he leaves the towel resting on your shoulders to soak up the rest.
“I’ll be right back,” he tells you as he finished drying himself off. “I’m going to go grab some clothes for you.”
He doesn’t even make it a step out of the bathroom before your hand is on his wrist again. He stills, looking back at you. Your eyes fall to the floor.
Bucky swallows back the burn in his throat as he nods. “Okay. Okay, honey. Can you come with me?”
You nod.
By the time you’re dressed in a fresh pair of his boxers and the t-shirt he slept in the previous night, you can hardly keep your eyes open. He wonders how long it’s been since you slept, if maybe it was since the evening he spoke to you four days prior. You sway on your feet as Bucky guides you to the bed.
He lays you down, pulls the covers up to your chest and quickly rushes around to the other side of the bed to crawl in beside you. You come into his arms, curling up against his chest, and Bucky tries to pretend for a moment that this is just another night, that you just returned from a successful mission and there’s a relief in holding you again.
But he can’t shake the crippling dread as it burns into his skin. Even as your breaths fall even and you slack into his arms, Bucky stares up at the ceiling, eyes brimming with tears. He doesn’t sleep at all.
***
A few hours later, the soft tap of a knock draws Bucky from his trance. He blinks a few times, realizing how long he’d been staring up at the ceiling before he lifts his head and finds Steve peering in through the doorway. There’s a solemn look on his face as his eyes flicker towards you.
Bucky gently slides out from under you, careful to place a pillow under your arm where you’d been laying upon his chest as not to wake you. The bed rises a little as he stands and he takes a moment to brush the hair from your eyes before he makes his way to the door. When he meets Steve in the hallway, he’s careful to leave the door to the bedroom open a crack, just in case.
“What did you find?” Bucky asks.
Steve sinks down onto the couch. A hand brushes over his face.
“That bad?” Bucky can already feel the nausea beginning to take hold.
“We recovered footage from her last know whereabouts – the safe house in Juno,” Steve says. He leans forward to rest his elbows upon his thighs, staring out into the empty space of the kitchen. He sighs. “She was ambushed, Buck. The feed cut out a few minutes into the fight.”
“Who were they?” Bucky chokes out. His throat is made of sandpaper.
“We don’t know,” Steve admits, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Mercenaries, probably. Could have been hired in retaliation against SHEILD. Her mission was to identify the point of contact for an illegal arms distributor that was shipping assault rifles into Canada and carrying them over the border. She wasn’t supposed to see any action, Bucky. It was a surveillance op.”
Bucky doesn’t realize how tight his hands are clenched until he looks down to find puncture marks in the palm of his right hand from where his nails buried into his skin. He thinks of the woman who left him behind that morning, with sun kissed skin and a smile so sweet it made his heart melt, who has barely spoken in the hours since returning home, who’s bright eyes have dimmed into something empty and lost.
He’s missing something, he’s sure of it. Maybe if he could just see the footage for himself, identify the bad guys, track them down... maybe he’ll be able to fix this. He could bring you back, make you smile again. Killing those men who hurt you will be a small consolation prize for his efforts.
Bucky is determined as he stands. “I want to see it.”
“Absolutely not,” Steve shoots back. Bucky doesn’t even need to clarify before Steve puts an end to it. “What purpose will that serve, Buck? You don’t need to see the tape, okay? Just trust me on this. I’ve got everyone we have analyzing that video frame by frame. If there’s anything on it to lead us to those assholes, we’ll find it.”
“I have to do something, Steve. I can’t just sit here. Not with her like that...” Bucky glances back at the door to the bedroom. He can’t muster the energy to conjure the image of you standing before him drenched in blood that was not your own, a vacant look in your eyes as if you could see straight through him.
“She needs you here,” Steve argues, rising to his feet. “What do you think will happen when she wakes up and I’ve gotta tell her you’ve run off on some vengeance mission? That you’ve left her alone to face this by herself?”
“That’s not what I’m doing—”
“Yes, it is!” Steve clenches his jaw as his voice echoes into the hall. It’s quiet for a moment and they listen for the bed to squeak, for any sign that you’re awake, but they’re only met with silence, Steve relaxes again. He takes a step forward and places his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. It startles him for a moment, but he can feel the tension as it melts in his muscles. “Just be here for her, man. When there’s something to know, I’ll tell you.”
Bucky keeps his stare on the thin crack in the door, the moonlight peering in from the window and seeping out into the hallway. He listens for the even breaths as you sleep soundly for the first time in days and he knows Steve is right. He doesn’t know if he could leave you like this even if Steve handed him the direct files of every man who laid a hand on you.
“I should get back to her,” Bucky resolves, offering Steve as much of a grateful smile as he can manage. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but Steve understands.
***
It takes days before Bucky can get you to leave the bedroom. He’s only been able to get a few words out of you here and there, short answers to direct questions, and you can’t hold his eye for very long, but he takes it as improvement.
It’s the small steps.
He remembers you saying that when he was at his worst, when he could barely get himself out of bed, when he could hardly touch you without fear of breaking you in half, when the guilt tore and ate through him unchallenged.
So, every time you lift you head when he speaks, when you glance in his direction, when you nod in answer of a question, when you curl against his side and seek out his warmth – it matters. It’s more than what you were able to do the day before and that has meaning.
When you finally do venture out into the living room, Bucky is sure to keep a hand on you at all times. Whether it’s wrapped up tightly in your own, pressed gently to the small of your back, resting against your thigh, over your shoulders – it helps to ground you, remind you that he’s there. You start to drift off into yourself otherwise.
Meanwhile, everyone else is walking on eggshells around you.
Tony turns out of the room before he can even step foot into the kitchen when he sees the back of your head over the couch. Peter is constantly shoveling food into his mouth to keep from his usual rambling one-sided conversations. Steve is deceptively quiet, constantly glancing in your direction as if he’s just waiting for something to set you off. Even Natasha keeps her distance, which surprises him. She stays in the room but she keeps to the corners, observing, like Steve.
Sam, on the other hand, was never one for subtleties.
“Hey kiddo!” Sam throws himself onto the couch beside you, bowl of popcorn in his hand as it jumps up into the air before landing back safely in the bowl.
You flinch at the sudden intrusion next you and Bucky all but stares daggers into Sam for startling you. Bucky was trying to keep your environment as calm as possible as not to set you off into one of those dissociative states again. It could take hours just to get you to acknowledge his voice after that and Bucky can only take that so many times before he’ll simply crumble.
“You know what I’ve been dying to watch?” Sam says aloud, as if someone is listening to him. He shovels a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Raiders of the Lost Ark.”
“Sam, no.” Bucky warns as he pulls you closer to his side. That movie has far too much violence, even for an eighties film. He doesn’t know how you’ll react to it.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sam shoots back. He settles into the couch beside you, grinning as he turns in your direction. “Come on, Y/n. It’s been ages since we’ve watched Indie. I know the first is your favorite anyway.”
Bucky is all but ready to clock Sam ten ways to Sunday when you mutter out a quiet, “okay” and Bucky stills completely. It's the first time you’ve even acknowledged anyone besides Bucky since you came home. He stares at Sam with wide eyes, but Sam doesn’t seem to be surprised at all.
Instead, Sam simply sinks into the cushions, turns on the movie he must have already lined up in the queue, and leans the bowl of popcorn in your direction.
Indiana Jones starts his first trek into the cave in search of the Golden Idol and you reach your hand into the bowl. A few bites of popcorn within the first minutes of the movie and it’s more than Bucky has been able to get you to eat without coercion in days. A whisper of a smile crosses your face as Sam almost chokes on the handful he shoved into his mouth.
Sam Wilson might be a massive pain in Bucky’s ass, but he’s a damn good friend. He’s the only one who hasn’t treated you like you’ve lost your mind. He gives you a sense of normalcy when the floor has been pulled out from under you.
For that, Bucky owes him everything.
***
Bucky finds out a week later that there are no bad guys to track down, no one to enact vengeance on for the trauma they’d put you through. There is a reason you came home covered in blood and grime with barely more than a few superficial scratches on your body.
You’d killed them all.
“Are you sure?” Bucky asks Steve, hands planted firmly on the conference table. The night sky is littered in cloud covered stars beyond the windows, crickets chirping in the distance. Bucky stares down at the mug shots of a dozen men now presumed dead.
“We’re sure.” Steve slowly reaches out to gather the images, sliding them back into the file and out of sight. “We’re still working on who sent them but it was probably the arms dealer she was sent to identify. Fury’s sending out a team in the morning to bring him in.”
“That’s... that’s good.” Bucky doesn’t have the strength for revenge anymore. He’s grown tired of carrying it in his chest, on his shoulders, weighing him down as if sinking him to the trenches of an ocean.
“How’s she doing?” Steve asks, gesturing towards the doorway as they begin to walk back to the elevator.
“Better,” Bucky replies honestly.
He’s even seen you crack a smile a few times watching movies with Sam in the living room, maybe even heard a breath of laughter when Sam dropped an entire bowl of popcorn and threw a fit about it.
You’re talking to Bucky more, asking questions, starting brief conversations outside of the necessary ‘yes’ and ‘no’s, humming to yourself as you shower with Bucky standing just a few feet away. It’s something. Small steps.
“She’s strong, Buck. She’ll get through this.”
Bucky takes a deep breath as the elevator doors chime open. He presses the button for his floor. “I know. I just hate seeing her like this in the meantime.” The elevator reaches his floor and he waits as the doors begin to part. “Thanks, Steve. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Steve nods. “You got it, brother.”
Bucky makes his way down the hall from where he’d left you just a few hours earlier. You’d insisted that you’d be alright on your own while he met with Steve. Sam is still sitting on the couch watching Netflix just a few feet outside the bedroom, leaving a blanket of security in Bucky’s absence. He can hear Sam singing along to the theme song as he passes by.
There’s a ghost of a smile on his face as he approaches the living room, but a sudden, gut wrenching scream stills him in his tracks.
Sam jumps up from the couch, popcorn spilling to the carpet and Bucky stares back at the cracked door to the bedroom with wide eyes. He exchanges a glance with Sam and as another scream echoes out into the hall in a broken cry, the two of them rush into the room.
Bucky shoulders his way through the door, breaking the hinges on the top of the frame as he stumbles his way inside. You’re lying on your stomach, arms clutched under the pillow, sweat dampened sheets kicked off down by your feet. You’re whimpering, tear tracks into the pillowcase and your whole body is trembling.
“Y/n?” Bucky calls as gently as he can, his voice breaking in the effort. He moves closer to the bed, his hand hovering over your shoulder, almost afraid to touch you. “Sweetheart, wake up.”
You cry out again, face contorting in pain as you press your face into the pillow.
“I should get Cho,” Sam says behind him, starting to inch towards the door, but Bucky barely hears him as he runs into the hallway.
“Come on, honey,” Bucky tries again. He sinks down to his knees beside the bed. His heart is stammering in his chest. It’s pounding so loudly he’s sure the whole compound can hear it. He feels the tears burn in his eyes as you start to sob. “You’re safe. You’re alright, love. I’m here with you. I’m here, baby.”
Bucky lets his hand ghost over your shoulder and he barely has a chance to react before you jolt upright and there’s a sudden, stinging sensation across his chest. Your eyes are wide, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. It takes a minute before Bucky sees the hilt of the knife gripped tight in your fist.
“Bucky?” you gasp. “What are you—Oh my God...”
The knife drops from your hold as your hands clasp against your mouth. It falls at Bucky’s knees. You’re trying to stifle a sob as it threatens to consume you whole and Bucky tries to reach out for you, but you scramble away from him, fearful eyes staring below his collarbone.
Slowly, Bucky follows your gaze to his chest. There he finds that his shirt is torn in a long, pristine cut. Blood begins to soak into the light grey of the fabric from the open wound underneath. The knife you’d held in your hand bares his blood upon the blade.
“What have I done?!” you cry, shaking your head as you scurry off of the bed and into the corner of the room. You sink to the floor and Bucky shakes himself of his stupor to rush towards you.
“I’m alright,” he tries to reassure you, though he knows it’s no use. “Baby, I’m fine. It’s nothing. It’ll heal in a few hours. I’m okay.”
“Oh God, Oh God! No... I didn’t-- I didn’t mean to--” Your words are barely distinguishable, slurring together in your slobs, and you can barely catch your breath. You shake your head, fresh tears streaming on your cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m-- I’m so s-sorry. I didn’t-- I didn’t mean to.”
“I know,” Bucky coos. He can feel the itch of a tear as it passes his jawline. “Honey, I need you to breathe for me. Please, let me hold you. I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.”
But your eyes are glued to the open sliver of his t-shirt, the blood as it soaks into the cotton, and the slash underneath. It only makes you cry more. Its uncontrollable, like you might pass out if you can’t allow yourself to take in enough air, and Bucky feels like he’s reaching out into a fucking void because there’s nothing he can do for you.
“Sergeant Barnes,” a stern voice calls suddenly from behind him. Helen Cho stands in the doorway with Sam just beyond her shoulder. She steps into the room, uncapping a syringe. “Hold her down.”
You’re in hysterics as Bucky pulls you into his arms. You don’t resist as you fall against his chest, but he can feel the unease with which you sit in your own body, like your skin is crawling and you’re caged inside of yourself. He knows the feeling well.
You barely notice as the needle punctures your neck, heavy head falling to rest against Bucky’s shoulder. He eases his left hand down your spine, hoping the chill of the metal will help soothe you as your breaths become more even and the sobs fall weak and far between.
“I’ve got you, honey,” he whispers. You start to close your eyes, giving into the sedative. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Just rest, love. I’ve got you.”
No one relaxes until it’s clear you’re out cold. Sam lets out a heavy sigh from the doorway, slumping into the arch. Helen sinks onto the floor beside Bucky, tossing the syringe into the disposal bag before she rubs a tired hand over her face.
Bucky feels like he can hardly breathe. He waits until Helen and Sam retire to their own rooms before he allows the lump in his throat to consume him whole, before the tears on his face mirror the watermarked stains on his shirt. He doesn’t move from the floor until sunrise, unwilling to disturb your sleep.
***
“I don’t know why you haven’t left me yet.”
The words pass your lips and they puncture straight through Bucky’s chest - like a knife embedded through his skin, nicking over bone and tearing through flesh. He feels sick, a wave of nausea crashing through him as he turns to look at you.
Your eyes are swollen red, lips chewed raw. It only takes a flicker of your gaze to the long faded pink scar across his chest to know what’s on your mind.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Bucky says firmly.
You shake your head, unconvinced. “I could have killed you.”
“Don’t you go underestimating me, now,” Bucky teases, lighting his voice despite the burning ache he feels in his chest. He smiles at you but you can hardly meet his eye.
Your legs are swung over the bedside, hands wringing in your lap, reddening the skin. Your breaths are shaken, lower lip trembling, and he knows you’re trying to hold back tears. He can practically feel the lump building in your throat, suffocating you.
He sighs, sinking down to his knees in front of you. His hands reach out for your own and you flinch at his touch. It takes a moment before you can remind yourself who’s hands are holding you, who’s love you’re surrounded in, and you relax.
He thinks of the woman who taught him how to love again, who woke him from a decades long nightmare with the sweet touch of her hand and the adoration in her smile. He conjures the image of you he preserved before you left on your last mission, with sun kissed skin and laughter in your chest, as he stares up at the dark circles under your eyes, the frown upon your lips, the aching claws of shame draining you of the light you possessed.
“Sweetheart, look at me.” He tips a finger under your chin and guides you to meet his eye. He smiles, softening under your gaze.
“You hold so much space in your heart for compassion and forgiveness,” Bucky eased, stroking his thumbs gently along the backs of your hands. “You never hesitated once to absolve me of my sins as the Winter Soldier. It didn’t matter how may nights I woke up empty, not knowing where or who I was. It didn’t matter how much I thought I was a burden to you and the team, or whether I deemed myself worthy enough to be loved by you. You were patient with me, kind beyond what I ever believed I could deserve. Can you not reserve some of that for yourself, too?”
He watches the sob creep up your spine before it breaks. There’s little more either of you can say and he resides to holding you in his arms, caged protectively against his chest where not even the demons lurking in the back of your mind can find you.
He knows, eventually, you’ll be okay. You taught him that. Even when the tunnel was its darkest, when he could barely see beyond the tips of his fingers, and the sun was cast over in shadows -- you showed him that as long as he kept walking, he’d find the light again.
***
“Come on, Y/n, what is the matter with you?”
Bucky hears you grumbling to yourself in the kitchen. He wipes the trail of sweat off his face from his morning run as he approaches the island covered in stray dollops of pancake batter, bottles of maple syrup, and mixing bowls. He smiles as he leans against the counter, waiting for you to notice him.
“You weren’t supposed to be home yet,” you groan, catching Bucky out of the corner of your eye as you dump a plate full of burnt pancakes into the sink. Your hair a little out of sorts, a bead of sweat dripping down your temple. It’s almost endearing if it wasn’t for how fast your heart was beating. Bucky could hear it down the hall.
“Missed you.” He shrugs casually, testing a smirk and you started to smile in return; all shy and sweet and full of the woman he adores. He glances to the mess in the kitchen and the smoke piling on the ceiling. “What happened here?”
“Pancakes aren’t my strongest suit.”
Bucky laughs at that. “I can see that.”
You sigh, scratching at the back of your neck. “I just wanted to do something nice for you, Bucky.”
Bucky can feel his heart sinking but he holds the smile to his face. “You do a thousand nice things for me all the time. Just being here is enough for me, sweetheart.”
“You know what I mean,” you say under your breath, eyes falling to the floor by his feet. “After everything I put you through since that awful mission-”
“Hey, hey -- Don’t do that.” Bucky crosses the kitchen and places his hands gingerly on your cheeks, guiding your eyes back to his. “You didn’t do anything wrong; you hear me? You survived. You’re still surviving and I’m just... I’m so proud of you, Y/n.”
You part your lips to say more, to argue against him, but it dies on your tongue as Bucky smiles at you as if you hung the moon and the stars and every damn
“You don’t need to bring me coffee in the morning,” Bucky says before he presses a kiss to your forehead, “or bribe Stark into making new tech for my arm,” then a kiss to your nose, “or make me burnt pancakes to thank me for loving you through this.”
He pauses as he pulls back. You’re watching him with an expression somewhere between awe and relief, but it’s the warmth of your smile that does him in completely.
“We take care of each other, okay? That’s what we do,” Bucky says, leaning in to kiss your lips sweetly until he can feel the smile grow against his mouth. He pulls back, chuckling a bit under his breath. “Besides, I’m the last person who is going to be scared away by trauma.”
You laugh as you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling yourself closer to his chest. Engulfed in the sweet smell of maple and butter and batter, Bucky feels a wash of calm for the first time since you left on that mission.
He thinks you may have finally found your way home.
Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
relief & reassurance
pairing: san x reader, wooyoung x reader (both san & wooyoung are doms, reader is sub)
genres: comfort, angst-ish, smut, completely self indulgence | rating: mature ! do not interact if a minor
word count: 3812
plot: you're feeling down, and your boyfriends try to make you feel better
warnings: depression, self hatred, skin picking disorder, body weight insecurity, polyamourous relationship, nipple/ breast play, fingering, sex toy usage, oral, bdsm themes, doms/sub relationships, orgasm denial & control, squirting, spanking, choking, biting/marking/slight scratching, a bit of hair pulling, slight teasing, use of pet names (princess, good girl), bulge kink, creampie, unprotected sex (please be safe!!), doggystyle, praise kink, multiple orgasm, pain kink(?), threesome, use of the color light system (just check-ins, no safe word use), subspace, and sweet sweet aftercare - as usual, let me know if I missed anything!
a/n: this is a very very self indulgent fic. a very special thanks to @sugasbabiie for beta reading this for me and pointing out some things that I needed to change 💜💜💜
You felt disgusting, broken, and just downright depressed. You were supposed to hang out with San for the night, but he was running late. So you went ahead and ordered takeout, getting his favorite. Ever since you started dating him and Wooyoung, you would take time to have a date night with them separately and together. That way, you wouldn't always be the victim of their teasing.
You hear San unlocking the door, so you do your best to act fine as you go over to greet him.
"I'm glad you're finally here!" You say, pulling him into a hug.
"Hi baby," he says, his dimples appearing as he hugs you back. "It smells delightful," San adds, pulling back and looking at you. His eyebrow twitches, and you're afraid he is going to ask what was wrong, but instead, he takes off his shoes.
"I'm glad! I bought your favorite barbecue, and I think it might still be warm," you tell him, clapping your hands once as you go to check, San trailing behind.
"Did you already eat?" He checks, looking at you sternly as he breaks the wooden chopsticks.
"Yes, and if you want proof, it's in the trash can," you say, looking down and away.
"Alright," he says, his voice softening immediately. "Go turn something you like on, okay? I'll eat and then clean up."
You nod and kiss his cheek, going back and turning on the show you've been marathoning. San comes and sits next to you, eating and half-heartedly paying attention.
You lean against his shoulder and curl up into your blanket, trying to relax. Your insecurities were getting the better of you.
When San finishes his food, he kisses your cheek. "I'll be back in a few," he says, and you know he is going to shower.
"Make sure to brush your teeth!"
"I will," San responds with a chuckle.
When San returns from cleaning up, you hadn't realized you zoned out from the show and started crying. He turns off the TV and pulls you into his lap slowly, giving you the opportunity to pull away.
You don't, so you end up letting out a soft sob against his chest. San soothingly plays with your hair and rubs your back, letting you cry while saying soothing words in your ear.
"It's okay baby, let it out. I'm here for you, don't worry. You can tell me anything; you know that, right?"
When you’ve calmed down enough, and you blow your nose, San finally asks, "What has you so worked up, Y/N?"
You sigh, looking away and shaking your head.
"I just want to help," he assures you, "So please, tell me."
He wipes your tears away with his thumb, his own eyes full of concern.
"I've just been… feeling really insecure and hating my body," you murmur, looking away. "I hate that I have a stupid skin picking disorder. I hate how fat I am. I hate my stretch marks and my stupid eyes. I hate that I have two incredibly attractive boyfriends, and I'm just a potato," you rant, getting overly worked up to the point you start crying again.
"No, no, no, no, precious no," San says, his heart breaking as he sends a quick text to Wooyoung (get your ass over here asap).
"You're so beautiful, okay? We are all humans with flaws. Woo and I are idols, so that's why you think that. Remember my high school and middle school photos? I'd probably look worse than that now if I weren't an idol and could spend lots of money on skincare," he says with a slight giggle, handing you tissues again.
You take it and blow your nose again, groaning slightly. He just had to be logical.
"And I love all of you. I love your sexy body. I love your personality. I love the way you think and talk; how you see the world. I love your pretty eyes. They can see, you know? So you can see me," he giggles at that a little, gently kissing each of your eyelids.
"I love your pretty lips," he says, running a thumb over them. "I love your body. There's so much to cuddle, and you're soft and even better to cuddle than shiber, but don't tell them." At this, San gently starts caressing your body.
"And you know, your sweet tummy isn't going to be flat like mine. It's hard work to keep abs, and I generally don't eat before we perform to keep them there. Because when I eat, bye bye abs," he tells you, pulling his shirt up to show you how his stomach was just smooth and soft.
"And for your tummy," San begins, laying you down on the couch and pulling your shirt up to kiss it. "Your pretty tummy holds your uterus and the most precious parts of the entire female reproductive system, your ovaries and eggs. And right here," he kisses under your belly button, getting closer to over your pubic bone, a very sensitive spot for you, "right here is where all the magic happens."
You quirk an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain as you feel your cheeks heating up.
"It's where a baby will grow, if we decide to have one, and it's where your body let's you know it's reproductively healthy," he starts, kissing lower and lower each time, until you're biting your tongue to hold back a moan. San picks up the change in your state, swallowing the need to smirk.
"And your legs, your beautiful legs," he murmurs, massaging your feet and up your calves. "They carry you around all day and are so pretty." San kisses your shins, then slowly up your inner thighs, making you squirm.
His strong hands hold you in place as he continues worshiping your body. "You're beautiful thighs," he murmurs, nipping them. "They hide something beautiful between them, but even on their own…" San tries not to groan, as he can tell he is growing hard by your soft gasps. "They're soft and lovely to rest my head on, like your breasts, and I could spend all day marking them up. I love the way they jiggle like your ass does when spanked," he adds, looking you in your eye as he rubs your thigh, what he normally would do before spanking you.
When you nod, he gives them a resounding smack. This time, you don't hold back your moan.
He takes your hands in his, kissing your palms. "Your beautiful hands are perfect to hold, and your arms giving the best hugs, but don't tell Wooyoung or really anyone I said that," San giggles a little again, kissing up your arms, nipping here and there on the soft flesh.
"I know you hate how you pick at your arms, and I know how hard it is for you to control that impulse. But I want to help you, and I assure you Wooyoung feels the same way, okay?" he assures you.
You look away, more embarrassed than aroused now. "Precious, I asked you a question," he says, turning your chin to make you look at him, his dominance coming out.
"Yes sir," you say, biting your lip.
"You don't have to call me sir right now. This is about you. Now, can I make you feel good?" He whispers, his thumb ghosting over your lip as his knee ruts into your core.
"Please," you sigh, wondering if he would ask first or if he would make you beg.
Your word pleased him, as he immediately picks you up and kisses you deeply, carrying you to your bed.
“I love you so much; you know that, right?” San asks as he sets you down on the bed, helping you out of your shirt.
“I do,” you say softly, looking down as your face heats up.
San plants another sweet kiss on your lips, then slowly down your neck.
“Your soft skin is so kissable,” he says with a little giggle, nipping and sucking lightly, just enough to leave slight marks for the day. He undoes your bra, laying you back on the bed as his mouth travels down your decolletage, his hands caressing your breasts.
“You’re so precious to me, and I love all of you,” San assures you. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ll say yellow if you’re uncomfortable? Red if you want to stop?” he adds.
“I love you too,” you whisper, looking down at him lovingly. “And I always will,” you assure him.
He immediately takes one of your breasts in his mouth, his teeth lightly grazing your nipple, causing you to moan out his name.
He smiles against your skin, giving the same attention to the other breast. San begins to kiss down your stomach, humming while he does.
“I love your soft tummy,” he murmurs, looking up at you with utmost sincerity in his eyes. “It makes you extra cuddly,” he giggles.
You blush, not sure how to respond until he hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts.
“May I?” San asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes please,” you say, raising your hips to help him. He ends up taking your underwear off as well, a somewhat sheepish smirk on his face.
“Sorry,” he says, his tone rather unconvincing.
You roll your eyes as he spreads your legs, his eyes going face to face with your heat.
“Can I eat you out?” he bluntly asks, his warm fingers opening your folds.
“Please,” you say, letting him position your legs better as he immediately licks your folds, kissing your clit.
You let out a soft whine of pleasure, falling back onto your bed and allowing yourself to relax. San continues to suck on your clit, feeling your arousal start to drip onto his chin as you clench around nothing. Before you could beg for more, San’s tongue enters you, lapping up your arousal and easily hitting the spots that make your orgasm begin to quickly grow. San’s nose rubs against your clit, and he smirks as you grind against his face.
“San~ Sannie~ ah~” you moan, causing him to chuckle softly. The vibrations make your toes curl, and you gasp and grab the sheets.
San reaches up and takes one of your hands in his, gently squeezing it in reassurance as he continues his ministrations.
As you start feeling closer to your orgasm, San stops. He stands up, causing you to whine.
“Don’t worry, I’m not done yet,” he says with a gentle laugh. San opens the drawer where you kept your sex toys and lube, and he takes something out you can’t quite see.
“What color are you?” he asks.
“Still green,” you assure him, trying to smile for him.
San kisses your forehead before going back down on you, this time putting his fingers inside of you. He turns on the bullet vibrator he took on a low setting and presses it against your clit, smirking when you groan his name and buck your hips.
“God, you’re so sexy like this,” he murmurs, kissing your thigh.
You whimper in response, boosting his ego. San turns up the setting on the vibrator, relishing in the power he had over you. He was glad he could help you feel better, even if it was only temporary. Which he hoped it wouldn’t. He wanted his words to have comforted you.
“I’m close-” you begin, your toes curling and thighs shaking.
San immediately pulls his fingers out of you and turns off the vibrator.
“San, what the fuck?” you whine. You weren’t being bratty; you were just confused.
“I promise I am still doing this to make you feel good,” he assures you, setting down the vibrator. “What color are you?” San asks.
“Green,” you admit, causing him to smirk and go back down on you.
After being denied twice, the coil built into a strong pressure, causing you to furrow your brows and whine out his name, being more vocal than usual. You almost feel overstimulated, but he holds your hips in place with firm hands so you can’t escape.
“San, fuck, I’m gonna- fuck!” you nearly sob, suddenly orgasming harder than you have in the past.
He lets you ride his tongue through your orgasm before he pulls up, a confident smirk on his now rather wet face. “I made you squirt,” he says proudly.
“I-?”
“Squirted, yeah,” San smugly confirms, standing up and sauntering to the bathroom. You’re not sure what he is doing in there, but he soon comes back with a dried face and a damp washcloth.
“I want to keep going,” you sheepishly admit.
He nods and cleans off some of the mess, tossing the washcloth into the hamper. “Let's take off the blankets then, yeah?” San says, helping you stand as he strips off the blanket.
You sit back down and look up at him, pulling him in for a kiss when he comes back. “I want you inside me,” you say softly, tugging at his pants.
“Be patient, you will,” he assures you, pulling away to undress himself.
His self-control never failed to surprise you because as soon as he got rid of his clothes, his hard length stood erect.
He hovers back over you, laying you down and kissing you sweetly. San grinds against you to test how sensitive you were. When you shivered, he stopped, continuing to gently kiss you.
San pulls away after a moment in order to align himself with your entrance. “I love you so much,” he tells you, sliding his tip in.
“I love you too, San,” you assure him, gasping as he continues to enter you, stilling only when he was fully seated inside.
“See, your tummy is even bigger now,” San giggles, rubbing your tummy.
“Are you trying to get me to say you have a big cock?” you giggle.
“No, but I wouldn’t be offended if you did say that,” he responds with a giggle of his own.
“San, please move your big cock,” you tease a little, laughing softly.
“As you wish, princess,” San teases right back, beginning to move at a comfortable, intimate pace.
You move your hips in tandem to his thrusts, gasping softly as he brushes your g spot.
“I’m so lucky to have you in my life,” San says, praising you sweetly. “You’re an amazing person, and I can’t believe you love me back.”
You feel yourself blushing, unable to say anything besides soft moans and whines.
“You’re so beautiful. Like this and any other time. You’re always beautiful,” he assures you, reaching down to start rubbing your clit.
You grab onto his bicep that was holding him up, whimpering his name.
“Good girl,” San groans, reaching down to capture your lips in a kiss. “Go ahead and cum when you need to, don’t hold back,” he adds, picking up his pace ever so slightly, knowing you were growing close.
“I- oh, fuck,” you whine, your nails digging into his bicep as you orgasm.
He continues to thrust through yours, and San soon releases inside of you.
“You couldn’t wait for me to get here?” You hear Wooyoung cry indignantly.
“How long have you been there?” San asks, pulling out of you and cupping your cheek before rolling onto the bed next to you, giving you a view of a very irritated and flustered Wooyoung.
“Long enough to start getting hard,” Wooyoung complains. You glance down to his crotch, and there was a definite tent in his pants.
“Well, this wasn’t the original plan,” San begins, and you are quick to look at the floor, taking great interest in the carpet suddenly. “Y/N was feeling depressed and very insecure about her body, and it just happened to lead to this,” San explains, leaning back and crossing his arms.
“You did?” Wooyoung asks, his eyes snapping to you.
You don’t look up at him or say anything, but you nod a little.
Wooyoung doesn’t say anything, but you know he walks over in front of you. His fingers grip your chin and tilt your head up. “I asked you a question,” he says, his eyes hard.
“I… yes…” you say, sounding uncertain of yourself.
Wooyoung raises an eyebrow, waiting expectantly.
“I… don’t like myself?” you tell him, your words coming out as more of a question than a statement.
“Y/N,” Wooyoung says, trying his best not to sound disappointed. “You’re an amazing person. The best partner we could ask for. I don’t know what exactly is wrong, and I would love to talk about that later if you want. But I love you so fucking much, okay?” Wooyoung’s eyes were a little glossy, and you could tell how much he meant his words. He wanted you to feel better.
“I know… I love you both too…” You say, holding onto his arm before leaning up to give him a gentle kiss.
Wooyoung holds you close, deepening the kiss. “Is it okay if I have a turn?” he asks you, his hand resting on your hip.
“Yeah, I’d like that,” you whisper, rubbing your noses together.
“I love you so much,” Wooyoung says, mostly to himself. He then asks, “Can I be rough?”
“Yes, I’ll say if it’s too much,” you assure him, Wooyoung and San both nodding.
Wooyoung is quick to undress and is soon guiding you onto all fours. He spreads open your legs and cheeks, watching San’s cum drip out of you. “You didn’t use a condom with San?” he leans forward and whispers into your ear.
San shrugs, knowing it didn’t matter since you were all clean and you were not likely to get pregnant.
Wooyoung pulls back and smacks your ass. “I love the sight,” he groans to himself, teasing your entrance as he smacks your other cheek. “I love how your body reacts to me,” Wooyoung says, grinning as you arch your back up, trying to get him inside of you.
“You had San, and you need more?” Wooyoung teases, slowly entering you.
“Yes, I need you too,” you gasp out, getting fistfuls of the sheets as you hold them to keep yourself up.
“Good,” Wooyoung grunts, beginning to harshly thrust into you.
“You’re making such a mess with your pretty cunt,” Wooyoung laughs a bit sadistically.
“Just for you, just for you both,” you manage to get out, angling your hips so he would hit your g spot.
“You’re such a good girl for us both, and you’re so fucking perfect,” Wooyoung groans.
San scoots up closer to your face, tilting up your chin to look at you. “You okay?” he whispers. “Color?” He knows Wooyoung could get a bit carried away at times, so he wanted to check.
“Green,” you choke out, your arms giving in on a particularly strong thrust.
Wooyoung slows his thrusts and grabs your hair, pulling you up and moving his hand to your throat. “You’re beautiful, Y/N. We are so lucky to have you,” he whispers, rolling his hips into yours.
You nod a little, your orgasm building again.
Wooyoung hums softly and starts thrusting faster, grunting softly in your ear before he decides to suck colorful marks onto your neck and shoulder.
“That’s our girl,” he murmurs, reaching down to rub your clit as he squeezes your neck.
You gasp, your thoughts going blank from the slight lack of oxygen to your brain.
“Go on and cum on my cock, princess,” Wooyoung urges you, biting down on your shoulder as he squeezes your neck a little more, searching for his release.
At the slight increase in pressure, your body explodes, and you cum, your fluttering walls encouraging Wooyoung’s orgasm.
He lets up on your throat and clit, thrusting a few more times to ride out your highs. Wooyoung pulls out of you and helps you lay down, cupping your cheeks.
“How are you feeling, baby?” Wooyoung asks, cupping your cheeks.
You’re zoned out, blissed expression was a dead giveaway of your state, as you felt high and floaty.
“Damn, if I had known you were going to come and fuck her like that, I wouldn’t have made her squirt,” San says with a sigh, getting up.
“You did? Without me here to watch?” Wooyoung groans.
San shrugs, heading into the bathroom and drawing a bath.
You watched the two, not quite able to make out their conversation.
When Wooyoung picks you up, you gladly lean against his chest and gently hold him. He leads you into the bathroom and sets you in the tub, which San had filled with a bubble bath. Wooyoung kisses your forehead, and San squeezes your hand, saying something.
San stands up and sighs, looking at Wooyoung. “Don’t leave her alone like this. I’ll wash the sheets,” he tells him.”
Wooyoung lets you play with the bubbles and soon gently washes your hair. “You’re doing so good,” he says, rinsing out your shampoo. “Our pretty girl,” Wooyoung adds, smiling. “Turn a little to face me, and I will wash off your makeup~” he says, putting the cleanser oil on his hands.
“Okay!” you giggle, turning and closing your eyes.
Wooyoung is gentle as he massages the oil into your skin, singing to you softly. You hum along with the tune, letting him rinse off the oil and use your regular cleanser.
“Are you ready to cuddle?” San asks, coming back into the bathroom and now fully dressed.
“Cuddles~!” you say, nodding immediately.
Wooyoung giggles and unplugs the drain, readying a towel.
“I have your favorite pajamas ready for you,” San says, smiling.
You let out an excited squeak, reaching out to Wooyoung to help you up. He gently grabs your arms, helping you find your footing before beginning to dry you off.
“Will you finish her up?” Wooyoung softly asks San, wrapping you in the towel before picking you up.
“Yeah, go clean yourself up,” San says.
Wooyoung kisses your temple and goes to the bathroom, and San helps you into your pajamas.
“You pretty princess,” he says, pulling on your pink pajamas.
“Mhm, your princess!!” you confirm, nodding.
San smiles, plugging in your hairdryer.
“You are the prettiest princess I have ever seen,” he assures you, brushing your hair before adding essence to it.
“Then you’re my… prince?” you ask, glancing up at San as he picks up the hairdryer.
“I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” San assures you, turning on the hairdryer and drying your hair.
Before San finishes drying your hair, Wooyoung returns and lays on the bed next to you, rubbing your back.
Once finished, San unplugs the hairdryer and turns off the light. Wooyoung pulls you under the covers, holding you in his arms. San joins you, kissing your cheek.
“I love you,” Wooyoung murmurs.
“We love you,” San corrects him, smiling.
#fkp-net#kpopscape#ultkpopnetwork#ksmutclub#woosan smut#ateez smut#wooyoung smut#san smut#choi san#jung wooyoung#choi san smut#jung wooyoung smut#ateez comfort#ateez angst#san angst#wooyoung angst#dom san#dom!san#dom wooyoung#dom!wooyoung#dom!ateez#dom ateez
539 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
rocketbearfic
welcome to the FIC CAVE
hypnotunez
Hypno's Art Stuff
guilhermediaz
Guilherme Diaz
desertbox0
The Journaling of Schofield 747
utakatamitsuru
MITSURU/COS