#like I was so close to quitting but thank god I didn’t because now I’m getting a sweet deal to fuck off with no notice lmao
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anyway in an absolutely wild turn of events I think I’m free of my hideous job and like. substantially richer for it??? lmao 2023 you really owed me
#ok so this a lot of personal shit but I’m just gonna incredulously vent into the tags#like I don’t even know how to describe what 2023 in this job has been like lol#since April they’ve been insulting and scrutinising and scapegoating me over absolutely everything#they were really angling for just firing me outright for never measuring up to their constantly shifting and increasingly bizarre goalposts#and it got so personal man they kept insisting that it wasn’t but my god#then my dad gets sick and it suddenly becomes awkward for them to keep insulting and overworking me#so they switch to just ignoring me entirely so they don’t have to reckon w what me and my family are going through#like they never ask how he is or how things are going just every Friday they say hey do you reckon you can take more work on again?#and THEN I get a gut infection and suddenly im being guilt tripped for taking sick leave and pestered for evidence#it was giving like ‘we had to give you time off for your dad but now you’re taking the piss’#to the point I DID reach out to a third party at the company and was like ‘I’m sorry but why the fuck are they treating me like this’#and she was like ‘confidentially this is disgusting and I advise you to report it’#WHEN SUDDENLY I get back from sick leave and it’s like ‘the business is falling short so we have to make some redundancies….’#and now they’ve had to pay me a SUBSTANTIAL sum to fuck off!!! I think I win???#like I was so close to quitting but thank god I didn’t because now I’m getting a sweet deal to fuck off with no notice lmao#i leave end of the month#at first I was shocked like y’all really doing this now??? but suddenly I’m like. this is the best possible thing that could’ve happened#I spoke to that third party again and she was like ‘I am so happy for you’ like omfg it was a curveball but we’ll take it!!!#I’m fucking outta here and in due course I WILL be writing on glassdoor how fucked they are
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Eddie is beginning to wonder if he’ll ever reach a point where Steve couldn’t reduce him to this state.
This state being… transfixed. Eddie is sure he must look like a lovesick cartoon. In fact, if he could manage to drag his gaze away, he’d probably find red hearts circling around his head in a halo, popping like little bubbles.
But Eddie can’t move his eyes. Can’t even close his mouth either.
Steve’s talking to him too, which is most definitely worse — he’s totally missing every word. He can see Steve’s lips moving, pink plush lips wrapping around words but fuck, that was a total trap because now Eddie is just looking at his lips. He tries to refocus, to listen. His eyes just wander back to what he was staring back at the first place.
Was Steve like this all the time? Just a walking around looking so damn delectable?
Or is it Eddie, just a starved man who’s been living off stolen glances, for as long as he can remember? For once, he’s learning, he’s allowed to look.
And by God, is he looking.
Steve’s not even doing it on purpose either, which probably makes the whole thing funnier. Eddie knows what his boyfriend (boyfriend! he thinks giddily in his mind) looks like when he’s cleaned up to impress. He can spot the way Steve preens beneath Eddie’s lingering gaze.
This is not that. Today, Steve is just cleaning, a usual Sunday morning ritual.
He’s got some old sport shorts on and he’s clearly grown a bit since he first got them— unless Hawkins has always been giving out slutty little shorts to the basketball team (They haven’t. Eddie would know if they did.)
He’s wearing one of his wife-beater singlets too. It’s a little on the scrappy side though, considering it’s nearly see-through with how worn it is.
Honestly, in Eddie’s humble and gay opinion, it’s stupidly hot. The dark hair dusted across of Steve’s chest is visible beneath it, the shirt showing off the shape of his broad chest. Even better, his happy trail is visible and goddamn, if that doesn’t make Eddie happy, he doesn’t know what will.
But it’s not even that.
Quite frankly, Eddie’s rather embarrassed that he’s basically blue-screening because Steve is pulling out the cord out from the vacuum cleaner.
But… but he’s yanking it up towards his chest, slow and strong repetitive motions— that take enough effort to make his biceps bulge with every tug.
Eddie can’t stop watching. The cord must be several metres long and he’s not sure if he should be cursing it or thanking it for the view he gets; Steve’s tan arms flexing and rippling. Try as he might, Eddie can’t help imagining how they must look when Steve’s got his hand aroun—
“—hello? Are you even listening to me?”
Steve’s voice cuts into Eddie’s dangerously side-tracked thoughts and he pauses his tugging at the same time. It’s the thing that finally allows him to break his lustful stare at Steve’s arms. Oh God, he just got all hot and bothered over his boyfriend doing the vacuuming.
“Hello.” Eddie says back, because that was the first word to register in his brain. “I mean- yes. I’m—”
Eddie decides mid-sentence that he’s not getting away with the lie. He pivots. “Okay, no, I didn’t hear that. Would you please tell me what you just said, oh lovely sweet man of mine?”
Ever the butterer-upper, he was. Thank God it works on Steve. He rolls his eyes a little but there’s an adoring grin on his lips.
“Man of mine,” Steve mutters amusedly under his breath. He drops the vacuum cord on the carpeted floor and leans down the grab the handle of the vacuum. “You just kinda froze when you came in. I was asking if everything was okay? I’m just doing this room then I’ll be done, if you don’t like the noise.”
Eddie adores that Steve’s taken his silence as though he might be afraid of the vacuum cleaner or something. He nearly snorts aloud at how far from the truth it is.
“Uh huh.” Eddie nods, not bothering to correct him. He jerks a thumb behind him, pointing at nothing. “I’m just gonna…”
He spins on his heel and exits left stage, fast as he can while still looking normal (he’s unsuccessful, as he leaves a baffled Steve behind him.) As he enters into the kitchen and decides to fix them both a pot of coffee, Eddie lets himself giggle over the pure absurdity of what just happens.
It’s mortifying. It’s hilarious. He can never tell Steve.
Except, when Steve comes to find him in the kitchen and trades a kiss for some coffee, Eddie can’t help it. All he ever wants to do is make Steve laugh.
He decides it’s worth the embarrassment when Steve laughs so hard coffee comes out his nose.
Steve teasingly promises that he’ll to try be less distracting, then rescinds his words at Eddie’s abject reaction (“Don’t you dare.”) looking far too smug— in a delighted sort of way. Preening, in that way Eddie loves.
Their first kiss, as Eddie slides onto Steve’s lap and loops his arms over his shoulders, fingers dancing on those tasty arms, tastes a little bit like coffee. Their mugs grow cold, untouched.
Eddie doesn’t mind — he’s too busy finding out that the rest of their kisses taste like something between sunlight and Steve.
#have; the thought i’ve been having every time i vacuum#i’m one of those bitches who just like pulls out the cord the whole way when i start#and now i say so is steve#just a lil ficlet to get my writing brain up again#ruby writes steddie#steddie#steve x eddie#steddie fic#steddie ficlet#steve harrington#eddie munson#fluff#it’s always just fluff with me innit#<3#i dunno how active we all still are…… 🧐#guess i’ll find out
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Overstimulation
Brahms Heelshire x reader
You walked over to your room and you decide to take a nap for the hour since you were done with Brahms and since you put him down for a nap.
You didn’t expect him to join you so soon. But you didn’t mind it either, he was the one to change his mind quite often. He cuddled behind you holding you close to close as he closed his eyes, his breath from his lips tickling your neck as you relaxed to his touch. “Y/n..” he mumbles gently as he pressed against you. “Yes Brahms?” You open your eyes “can we play” he frowns gently as he nuzzles against your neck “we haven’t in a while and I miss you” he pouts quietly.
Brahms can be very sassy at times..maybe all the time but you grown used to it now. Especially when he askes you a question he’s gonna get what he wants at the end. That’s why you were pinned under him as he thrusted his cock in and out of you quickly. Ofcourse this is what he meant by playing. What else is he talking about. You cried into the pillow as he grips your hips ramming his cock deeply into you not caring how much you tried to slow him down.
“B-baby” you gasped as you cried into the pillow, bharms looked at you and smiles “it’s okayy~ I’m going fast as I-I can momma” he whines gently as he thrusted deeper causing the bed to creak and the walls get knocked on every thrust. You grip the bed as you came on his cock. He looked down as he slaps your ass “bad bad” he shakes his head as he thrusts faster “I’m not done momma. You have to wait” he pouts as he pulls all the way out then flips you on your back then slams back in.
“B-Brahms!” You cry as you arch your back. He uses your shoulders as handles as he pushed you down on his hips then he thrust fastly. He looked at your face as he pants behind his mask. He wanted to kiss you, he pulled his mask up slightly and leans down kissing you deeply and sloppy. You moan against his lips as you grip his hair your legs hooked on his hips and your walls tightening again. It’s almost like he didn’t feel it because he still hasn’t came yet. “O-oh god I can’t take it no more” you cried as you look down at him going in and out of you. You came once again, now you felt doozy as you squeeze your thighs together. Your chest bounced as he thrusted up into you fastly, “p-please s-stop” you moan as you throw your head back shaking under him. He looked at you waiting for your word that you both agreed to be said if you couldn’t take it. He didn’t hear it so he kept going.
“M-momma gonna cum.~” he whines as he digs his head in your shoulder. “M-momma gonna cum hard” he whines louder as the bed shook more aggressively. You nod as you weakly lay there getting used like some doll. You didn’t mind though. You and bharms have overstimulated each other before. “G-god Brahms c-cum already” you cry softly. He whines as he thrusts got sloppy. He gasped as he pulls out then thrusted in his cum, he kept ramming his cock until there was no more cum. He pants as he grips the pillow next to your head. “I-I’m I’m all done momma” he whines out softly. You shook under him as you look up at him “‘m-m..m good boy b-bharms” you shake as you felt yourself doze off to sleep. Brahms looked down at you and shook you slightly “momma.” He seen that you was sleep as he sighs and just snuggles up to you with his cock still in you. He mumbles against your neck “thank you momma” he takes his mask off then nuzzles into your neck covering you both as he falls asleep with you.
#brahms heelshire#brahms the boy#brahms heelsire x reader#brahms x reader#brahms the doll#brahms x you#brahms hillshire#brahms smut#slashers#slasher x you#slasher fucker#slashers x reader#slasher x reader#slasher headcanons#x reader#kinktober#fanfic
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❛SUGARDADDY HEADCANNONS❜ ( p. jongsong )
p. jay park x fem!reader w. 0.5k
warnings? 18+ headcannons mdni
— 𖦹 ( headcannons of jay as your sugar daddy ) !
sugardaddy! jay who’s a regular at the club you work for as a new dancer , he sees you and immediately wants you for himself.
his eyes were trained on yours as you made your way over to him. “you stare a lot.” you were incredibly sexy , but your voice was soft almost innocent like. “how much?” he said taking a sip of his drink. “for a private dance?” he shook his head. “no to make you quit this job and come with me?”
sugardaddy! jay who asks you to be his sugar baby that same night during his “private dance.”
“j-jay , fuck!” jays head fell back against the couch as you rode his cock , you boobs freed from your bra , bouncing in his face as you bounced on his cock. “f-fuck your too perfect to be working here.” he groaned , pinching your nipples. “leave this job and i’ll pay for anything you want”
sugardaddy! jay who spoils you to the max , buying you anything you set your eyes on , you could look at something and it will show up at the condo the next day.
“close your eyes princess , daddy has a surprise for you.” you obeyed , closing your eyes , he sets the diamond crusted collar in your lap. “open baby.” you looked down , confused. “a collar?” you questioned. “for wh- oh my god!” you gasped. “i saw you looking at a dog , so i got everything , she’ll be here tomorrow.” you squealed throwing your arms around him. “thank you so much daddy.” he smiled. “you welcome baby.”
sugardaddy! jay who moves you into his condo after only a month.
“are you sure? it’s only been a month , i don’t want to intrude.” you straddled his lap , his button down on but fully unbutton exposing your naked body. “fuck baby i wanted to move you in the day i met you , you’re here everyday anyway.” he squeezed your boobs , you moaned. “o-okay.” you grind down on his cock. “sh-shit , good princess , to celebrate i’ll fuck you on every surface of this condo.”
sugardaddy! jay who sets up a pole in your bedroom , and buys you a bunch of lingerie — you’re his personal stripper.
“c’mon baby.” he put another hundred dollar bill in between your breast. “dance for me.” he took a sip of his drink , his cock twitching against his suit pants as you moved your body to the music up and down the pole — just like you had done the day he met you. “fuck princess i’m so hard right now.” he palmed his cock. “come here and ride daddy’s cock.”
sugardaddy! jay who rents out clothing stores so you can shop privately , and so he can fuck you in the dressing rooms.
“fu-fuck jay!” you screamed as jay pounded into your cunt , your hands pressed against the mirror. the workers outside instructed to leave you to be , to pretend they don’t even hear him fucking you dumb in the dressing room. “poor dress didn’t even make it out the store.” he groaned. “it’s okay baby after i cum in your pussy and all over this pretty dress, daddy’ll buy you as many as you want in every color.”
sugardaddy! jay who fly’s you anywhere you want on his plane just because you want to.
“it’s so pretty.” you looked out the window of the plane that over looked the beautiful island. “i want to swim in the water for the whole trip.” jay watched your eyes wide like saucers. “we can do whatever you want to do baby , this trip is to help you distressed.”
sugardaddy! jay who fucks you on the balcony of the hotel that you’re staying in.
“daddy , fuck!” you moaned out as he held you against the railing by the back of your neck as he pounded your insides. “that’s it princess , let everyone know how good daddy fucks you , let everyone know who you belong to , who’s pussy this belongs to.”
sugardaddy! jay who gets jealous when other dudes flirt with you
“he was practically fucking you with his eyes , like i wasn’t standing directly behind you.” jay rolled his eyes. “jay calm down it’s not that deep.” he turned to you. “you see that necklace , what does it say.” he pointed to your necklace. “jay.” “exactly you’re mine , okay.” he said. “no one is allowed to even look at you without my permission.”
©LUVYENI
#kpop x reader#kpop smut#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen x reader#enhypen headcanons#enhypen scenarios#enhypen smut#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen hard headcanons#jay hard thoughts#jay park x reader#jay park smut#jay hard hours#jay smut#jay park scenarios
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“Something you wanted.”
Eddie Munson x female reader
Summary: you show up to Eddie and Wayne’s with gifts.
Warnings: language, very soft eddie, eddie doesn’t know how to react to presents, some insecurities on his behalf, new relationship with him and the reader. i hope everyone had a great christmas!!<3 okay and also i’m not going to do my taglist anymore because that’s a pain in the ass so sorry for my laziness!!
“Merry Christmas!” You beamed, lugging in bags of christmas presents in your arms, huffing a breath as you tried to cram yourself in the door.
“Uh- babe,” Eddie helped usher you through the door, eyeing your skeptically. “Why do you look like Santa Clause?”
You chuckled as you dropped your gifts to the floor, face red from the cold. “I look like mrs. clause, thank you very much. You like my skirt?” You twirled your red and white skirt, matched with a red sweater and a santa hat on your head.
“What are you doing here?” He started patting the snow off your shoulders, closing the door to his home. “Thought you’d weren’t coming over till tomorrow.”
“Well tomorrow won’t be christmas anymore!” You smiled, looking around the trailer. “Is Wayne here?”
Eddie gave you another weird look before turning. “Old man! Y/n’s here!” When he looked back you were on the ground shuffling through your gift backs.
“What are those for?”
You paused, looking up at him to give a funny look. “What do you think they’re for? They’re for you guys, dummy! Christmas presents!”
“All of these?!” His eyes widened. “Y/n- no way, you shouldn’t have.”
“I know that.” You chuckled, taking them out one by one at his feet. “But I wanted too.”
“Why is Santa in our living room?” Wayne announced himself, standing in the kitchen with a raised brow.
“Merry Christmas, Wayne!” You waved, sparking off your pearly teeth. “You guys go sit down so I can pass these out!”
Eddie looked to his guardian with confused eyes, not sure what to do. Wayne muttered under his breath as he made his way to the couch, nodding for Eddie to sit down.
“Okay, so I have these labeled.” You crawled over to their feet with two gifts in hand. “Read what it says.” You sat them in their lap.
Eddie was looking at it like it was a ticking time bomb, while Wayne fished out his reading glasses. “Something you need.” His voice came out in a deep hum.
“Are we supposed to open it?” Eddie said confused.
Wayne rolled his eyes as you laughed. “Yeah, Eddie, open it!”
He nodded before both of them started to tear open the paper, and you noticed how Eddie kept looking at you, then to the other gifts you had behind you.
“Underwear?” Eddie raised a brow, holding up a five back of boxers.
“Oh, thank god,” Wayne exhaled. “You’ve been living in those blue checkered ones for three years now.”
“I have not!” Eddie burned red, straightening. “Quit talking, old man, and open you’re shit.”
“Hey, I’m the one who does your laundry, boy, I outta know.”
You giggled behind your teeth, watching as Eddie felt the fabric at the opening, giving you an awkward smile.
“Batteries?” Wayne said skeptically.
“Uh-huh!” You nodded. “Because the last time I was over you were bitching about your flashlight dying with those old batteries, so know you don’t have to bitch!”
“Thank god.” Eddie praised. “Say, thank you, old man.”
Wayne gave his nephew a glare before giving you a grateful nod. “Thanks, kid.”
“You’re welcome.” You nodded back. “Okay, next!” You reached behind you to grab two other gifts, making their jaw drop.
“Y/n, you didn’t have to do all of this.” Eddie furrowed his brows as you placed another gift in his lap. “We don’t need-”
“Something to read.” Wayne read the label on the red paper before tearing it open.
Eddie hurried to catch up.
“Hey, nice,” Wayne chuckled. “Peanuts comics.” He showed to Eddie. Wayne liked to read the comics in the paper before work, especially peanuts and Garfield. “Thanks, doll.”
“No fucking way.” Eddie cursed, revealing a thick, brown book. “You did not.” His eyes were wide as saucers. “Y/n, this is-”
“Not as expensive as you think.” You finished for him, grabbing his calf. “Just look inside, it’s actually pretty cool!”
It was a collectors edition version of The Fellowship of the Ring, maps on the inside, facts of lore and inspiration from the author. Eddie had seen it once in a bookstore in Indianapolis. That was four months ago.
“Pretty cool?” Eddie’s voice rose an octave. “Babe, this is amazing.” He looked over at Wayne, holding up his book as the man smiled at him. “Look away, old man.” Eddie flung his hand toward Wayne as he leaned down to give you a peck on the lips. “Thank you so much.” Eddie allowed himself to smile. “Really, thanks a lot. This is epic.”
You blushed, your heart warming at his own happiness. “Okay last one.” You placed two other gifts in their lap as wrapping paper laid down at their feet.
“Something you wanted.” Eddie read this time, giving you a smile.
Wayne tore into his quickly, making you laugh as he revealed his present. “Now, just how and the hell did you know I wanted this?” Wayne chuckled, holding out his new leather wallet. It was expensive, but they didn’t need to know that.
“I specifically heard you say damn wallet one day when the zipper was stuck.” You smirked, patting his knee.
“New chains!” Eddie squealed that time, nearly jumping in his seat. “Holy shit, thank you!”
You smiled widely, then over to Wayne who looked very proud. “You’re welcome, Ed’s.”
“These will look perfect on my black jeans, don’t you think?” He asked, taking them out of the package.
“Without a doubt.” You tossed off your santa hat, getting hot. “Look right sexy.”
And then Eddie got quiet. Very quiet. Both you and Wayne noticed it, but he was the first to say something. “You okay, bud?”
He nodded, but didn’t say anything, keeping his head down. You tried to find his eyes but couldn’t, chewing on your lip nervously. He had seemed to like everything.
Wayne mentioned something about going out for a smoke, stepping over the wrapping paper and thanking you once more for the gifts.
“Eddie, what’s wrong?” You grabbed his ankle. “You’re quiet all of a sudden.”
Your heart sank when you saw he was crying. “Hey,” you said gently, moving to sit beside him on the couch. “Eddie, what’s wrong? I saved the receipts if you want to exchange them.”
“Exchange them?” Eddie looked at you, eyes tearful and red. “No, y/n, it isn’t that. It’s just…”
This wasn’t normal for him. Wayne and him would give each other something small sure, but someone coming into their home with gifts wasn’t normal. Someone thinking of them for a change wasn’t normal. You should of realized, but it wasn’t your fault. This was your first christmas with him.
“Hey,” You grabbed his red cheeks. “You deserve every little bit of this and more, you hear me?” You wiped his tears with your thumbs. “You’re my boyfriend and I love you. I wanted to do this.”
“I’m sorry,” He shook his head shamefully. “I just..well, I’m not very good at this stuff. I have something for you too, but it’s not near as good as all of this.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, baby.” You shook your head. “That’s not what this is about. I just want you to know how much I care about you, is all. That’s what this time of year is for. Both you and Wayne deserve it.”
Eddie allowed himself to shed one more tear before he buried his face under your chin, pressing his nose against your collar bone. “I love you so much. I don’t deserve you.”
“Yes, you do.” You wrapped your arms around him, kissing his ear. “Both of you deserve this.”
You could feel his tears slide down your skin, and you held him tightly close, knowing Wayne was outside probably close to freezing to death. When you heard his sniffled stop, you peaked down at him with a smile. “Should we go check on your uncle? He’s probably an ice block by now.”
Eddie chuckled and sniffled, using his sleeve to wipe his tears. “Yeah, let’s go check on the old man.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#soft eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson imagines#eddie stranger things#eddie blurb#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson x you#christmas eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things season four#joseph quinn#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson headcanons
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Hello! I love your headcannons! What are your headcannons for when S/O is gravely injured? Like, the S/O is fighting against some demons along with MK, Wukong and Macaque and they get very seriously injured, to the point of passing out. What would their reactions be?
Wukong, Macaque, and MK With a Gravely Injured S/O
(This one took a bit, sorry about that!)
Wukong:
Oh, he is livid.
He shouts at MK to take you somewhere safe, as far away from his location as the boy could go.
“Get them out of here kid, get them help! I’ll handle this!”
He needs to beat some sense into this bastard, right here and right now.
Uses almost every single one of his powers to strike the demon, soon enough scaring them off into never hurting you or even going near you again.
Grabs them by the collar as they fall to the ground, bearing his fangs as speaks through his teeth.
“If I see you even stand close to that mortal ever again, I will not hesitate to kill you next time…”
Eventually travels back to you and MK on his cloud, finding the both of you in your apartment as the noodle boy patches you up.
He sends MK home, ensuring you’ll be ok.
“Don’t worry bud, they’ll be fine. Get some rest, ya earned it.”
He sits down next to you on the couch as he lays your head in his lap.
His fingers intertwine with your hair, his other hand caressing your face as you rest from the intensity of your wounds.
He stays like this for quite some time, maybe even hours as he does not dare to move a muscle.
His heart skips a beat as you shift awake, smiling up at him as you regain consciousness.
He smiles back at you, it might have been the fact you were still a bit tired but you swear you could see small tears in his eyes.
“Peaches, oh thank Gods! It’s ok! You’re ok, you’re safe…”
He wants nothing more than to scoop you up in his arms and cover your gorgeous face in kisses but does not want to move you when you’re in pain.
Soon enough when you’re ready to move he does just that, laying you on his chest as he presses soft kisses all over your face.
He holds you close as if you were about to disappear any second, you’re guessing he really was scared today -which is super rare.-
“I love you, oh I love you so much. I’m so glad you’re ok.”
Macaque:
His first instinct is to get you the hell out of there.
As soon as his six ears hear your breath falter, he pulls you through into the shadows and gets you both out of the fight.
“Damnit, damnit, damnit! You're going to be okay sweet cheeks, don’t close your eyes on me. Keep those gorgeous eyes open.”
He falls into his living room with you in his arms, frantically kissing your forehead as he sets you down on the couch.
He’s scrambling through his dojo to find stuff to patch up your wounds, he doesn’t have much because, well, he’s immortal.
After patching you up, –which is sloppily done by his shaking fingers–, he leaves you alone to rest.
“Gods damnit!” He punches a hole through the wall of the dojo, taking his rage out on the crumbling drywall.
He needs to direct his anger towards something else before the entire building falls.
And luckily for him, he has just the target.
Oh, the demon didn’t win like they thought they did, not even close.
As soon as Macaque sees they let their guard down, he emerges from the shadows to summon his smoke monster.
It grabs the demon within its giant grasp as it forces them into the gravel below, crushing them with its sheer force.
“So! Do you really think you got away with hurting that mortal? Big mistake on your part…”
After beating the demon to a pulp, he travels back to you through the shadows.
You open your eyes to see him land on the living room floor, his ears perking up from the sound of your breath hitching as he rushes to your side.
You smile up at him through your pain, your bandages wrapped a little too tight.
“Macaque? I love you and appreciate it so much but you tied these a little too tight…”
He blinks in surprise as he reapplies the white strips on your wounds, smiling as he kisses your nose.
“Heh, sorry about that starshine. Glad you’re ok…”
MK:
You don’t think you’ve ever seen your bright bubbly boyfriend so angry.
In fact, he is beyond furious.
To the point, he turns into his monkey form and beats the demon into a pulp.
Pigsy and Sandy were helping you stand as you stared at the sight in front of you, MK glowing a bright gold color as the two flew through the sky so fast you couldn’t keep your eyes up with them.
At one point, the demon tried to teleport away but MK was two steps ahead as he reached his arm out and grabbed them by the collar.
“Hey! Who– Said– I– Was– Done with you yet!”
He was throwing the demon around the mountains in between his words, finally, the demon was defeated as Mk ran up to you.
“(Name)! Oh, please be ok!” He wraps his arms around you, earning a gasp of pain from you.
“Careful kid, they’re hurt bad…” Pigsy put his hands up to warn your worried boyfriend.
“Right, right. Come on, let’s get them home.”
MK scooped you up in his arms as he carried you to your apartment, using the key that you gave him to set you down on the couch.
“Stay here, I’ll get you some bandages.”
He kissed your forehead as he left the room, coming back with white gauze and a waterproof marker.
You raised your eyebrow at the marker, earning a small smile from him as he slightly laughed.
“I was gonna draw on your bandages, add a little happy touch to the sadness!”
You laughed softly, nodding at the idea.
“Sounds fun, let's do it.”
He beamed as he applied the white strips, drawing various doodles on your bandages such as a doodle of the two of you kissing, one of the Monkey King (of course), and little hearts and stars everywhere.
You smiled as he held up his phone camera to you so you could see, giving him a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you babes, I look so colorful!’
His cheeks flushed red as he kissed your cheeks several times in return, “Of course, I think you look goood! I’m so glad you’re feeling better sweetie”
#ask#lmk#lego monkie kid#lmk x reader#lego monkie kid x reader#lmk sun wukong#lmk macaque#lmk mk#sun wukong x reader#macaque x reader#mk x reader#lmk sun wukong x reader#lmk macaque x reader#lmk mk x reader#lego monkie kid sun wukong x reader#lego monkie kid macaque x reader#lego monkie kid mk x reader
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Say that again | Bc
Pairing: Bang Chan x reader
Warnings: fluff, almost smut but mostly just alluding to it.
Word Count: approx. 800
𖠫Summary: After watching Chan’s episode with the Felix and him playing with the twin girls, your mind is sent reeling by thoughts you’d never really entertained before. You voice those thoughts to Chan and find yourself quite surprised by his response.
✎A/N✎: I am not responsible for my sleepy thoughts. The thoughts that prevail and demand to be written BEFORE the damn stories I already have outlined. I guess be thankful you’re getting anything at all at this point. *laughs nervously* Also, domestic Chan makes me so weak and thus this fic was born. Not super edited because I sleepies.
◠ ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈
「© December 28, 2023 by myseungsungheart」
“Babe? Did you hear me?”
Chan’s voice shakes you from your thoughts. You’d entirely lost track of the conversation. Mainly because your mind was wondering to places you really never had let it before. The two of you had just watched Felix and Chan’s episode with the twins. Watching Chan with those precious little girls had really stirred something in you that you genuinely thought you didn’t want.
“Hmm?” the sound leaves you as your eyes meet his and he smiles softly at your dazed look.
“What’s going through that pretty head of yours?” Chan asks, a hint of concern in his voice as he reaches out and brushes his hand lightly against your jaw, this thumb caressing your cheek with care as he holds your gaze.
You find that words don’t immediately spring forth, so instead you lean forward and press your lips against Chan’s. He melts into the kiss, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling you closer to him on the couch, your mouths moving slowly together as the graze of his touch causes goosebumps to break out on your skin.
“That doesn’t really answer my question,” he chuckles against your lips, pulling away reluctantly and looking into your eyes again.
You sigh. It’s deep and meaningful. Chan can tell whatever you aren’t saying is weighing heavy on your mind.
“That bad, huh?” he asks hesitantly, letting go of your face to grab your hand instead, interlacing your fingers together. “Whatever it is, I’m always here, baby,” he assures you.
You close your eyes briefly, stealing up all the courage you can muster for the next sentence you’re about to utter. It really could change everything and your heart flutters at the thought. Your husband is a busy man, with producing music and working with the boys non stop. Is this really something he’d want? You haven’t talked about it in so long because you really thought you didn’t want this. Now, you are questioning everything you once thought.
“I think I want to you try to have a baby,” you say and it comes out all in a rush as if the sentence was just once giant word strung together.
“What was that?” Chan asks, his brows knitting together in confusion as he chuckles quietly at you.
“I want to have a baby,” you say, this time more slowly and with more certainty. “I know we haven’t talked about it in a long time because I thought I didn’t want that, but…”
Your words are cut off by Chan’s lips crashing into yours, the kiss raw and hungry, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he pushes you back against the couch and hovers over you. He pulls away breathless, his chest heaving, his eyes full of love and hope. Not the reaction you anticipated.
“God,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss your jaw. “Please,” he continues, the trail of kisses moving along your jaw to your neck. “Say that again,” he all but begs as his lips hurriedly kiss up along the column of your neck and back to your mouth.
You reach out for his face then, holding it mere centimeters away from yours and speak again.
“Let’s have a baby,” you whisper.
“I thought you didn’t want,” he starts but you cut him off.
“I thought I didn’t too, but really I just thought I’d make a horrible mom. Didn’t want to end up like mine, you know?”
He watches you carefully, brows knit together again as he stays hovered over your body. He’s shaking his head, but you power through.
“But watching you with those girls made me realize I could do absolutely anything with you by my side. You’d be such a great dad and god i want that for a kid. I want someone to feel so lucky knowing you’re their dad. I want our kid to know that,” you finish, your eyes darting back and forth between his.
“You’re wrong about one thing,” he counters, kissing your lips gently before speaking again. “You’re already great at loving people. You love me for god knows why. You love those seven crazy men I call my members and take care of them. You would make a great mom, of that much I have never had any doubt.”
You pull his lips to yours once more, your fingers running into the hair at the back of his head and hold him to you. You’re crying and you’re not sure when that started.
“Please,” you beg as Chan’s hips settle between yours, his desire for you evident as he presses in closer to you. “Chan,” you can’t stop the breathy moan that escapes you.
“I’d take on the world with you, do anything for you,” he says, pulling away from your lips long enough to look into your eyes. “Including starting a family,” he adds, his hips rolling into you and causing your back to arch up off the couch. “How about we see if we can’t make that happen, hmmm?” he says against your mouth, his hands now freely roaming your body.
“Yes,” you agree, your head spinning. “I love you,” you remind him as his hands move to remove your clothes and make your’s and his dream a reality.
“I love you more,” he assures you, before kissing you deeply once more and giving you everything you’ve hoped for and more.
#stray kids#stray kids x reader#bang chan fanfic#bang Chan one shot#bang Chan fluff#bang Chan x reader#my bias wrecker
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. THE KAVEH WAY !
synopsis: after being married for quite some time, you and alhaitham decide to expand your family and try for a baby – unfortunately, things don’t work out as you imagine for a bit. after a short chat with kaveh, alhaitham decides to try switching up things a little and try the kaveh way while trying to get you pregnant – letting loose completely and making you feel absolutely loved and cherished.
cw: fem!reader, she/her pronouns used but only in the beginning; mentions of pregnancy, trying for a baby, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampies, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), pet names (god there’s so many; baby, babe, sweetheart, good girl, my queen, honey, princess), slight degradation (he calls you his pretty slut once or twice lol), aftercare
minors, please do not interact. i‘m okay with likes because i don‘t go through those but do not interact with my blog via reblogs or comments.
wc; 2.6k
alhaitham was rolling his eyes when he heard kaveh’s laugh, the blond architect acting to be wiping tears off his cheeks. “so, you’re actually telling me that you were completely relying on logic with this whole thing?”
“yeah, so? what’s so wrong about it?”, alhaitham argued back, it simply just made so much more sense for him to get real with facts and logic about your mutual decision to try for a baby, after being married for quite some time and being absolutely ready and sure about it. “it doesn’t really make sense to try when she isn’t even able to get pregnant, so what’s the problem here?”
“alhaitham, you’re such an idiot, oh god”, kaveh laughed. “so, you guys have only been having regular fucks whenever she was ovulating and didn’t even pay attention on how you were feeling at all? of course things wouldn’t work out like that!”
that made the scribe think – no, neither of you had really considered that your emotions and the intimacy throughout the process of trying. the more kaveh spoke on what to pay attention to, alhaitham was absolutely sure on what to do – well, luckily, you were ovulating anyway. he couldn’t totally let go of relying on logic with this.
he might as well make things up to you for not paying attention to you as much as he should have as your husband. and he might as well try the kaveh way of things to get your mutual dream come true.
–
the moment you were back home, alhaitham pulled you inside the house, close to himself and lifting up your chin as he kissed you. he kissed you, oh, so softly, he hadn’t been this gentle with you in such a long time.
you knew that he had been absolutely busy with the akademiya falling apart so he was insanely stressed out with the sudden workload. so, the whole baby making thing you were both excited about had been a complete disappointment so far – he probably didn’t even realize how much the stress affected his mood and you didn’t really want to talk to him about it either.
he was going to realize it sooner or later and it appeared that just now, he did realize it. “i’m so sorry for neglecting you recently”, he mumbled, burying his face against your neck. “i’ve been a terrible husband, haven’t i?”
“well, i wouldn’t say terrible because either way, i love you, but yeah, the last couple of weeks were somewhat lonely for me”, you replied, voice soft as you wrapped your arms around his neck, trying your best not to sound too sad about the whole situation.
“i love you”, alhaitham said, planting yet another kiss on your lips before he pulled you inside to the kitchen where you were met with an already prepared, candlelit dinner that had you look at him with so much love in your eyes.
“this all looks so great, thank you, my love”, you smiled, sitting down, as you immediately dived in, groaning at how good it all tasted. “this is amazing.”
“of course, love. you deserve all the best.”
–
after dinner, he pulled out some wine as he put on some of the sensual music he got from kaveh (which he only accepted reluctantly, after deciding it was time to pamper you since he didn’t get to do that for so long now).
“going all out tonight, aren’t you?”, you teased, “well, it wouldn’t be fair if i were to let you do everything right?”
you finally returned from the bedroom you had buried yourself in after dinner, wearing one of the sets of dark red lingerie your friends had jokingly gifted you for your wedding. alhaitham gulped at the sight, you were looking so gorgeous in that soft silk, it was so hard for him not to pull you on his lap and rip that fabric off.
you grabbed the glass of wine alhaitham had already poured as you sat on the couch next to him, drinking a sip to calm your nerves – it had been so long since alhaitham truly paid attention to you, which you didn’t blame him for. it just simply affected how easily shy you got around him; something you had gotten over with after a while of being with him.
“you’re so beautiful, baby”, he mumbled, “i missed you so much the last couple of weeks. everything was just so stressful, i’m sorry for not paying attention to you more.”
“it’s alright”, you replied, placing the glass on the table, pulling him on top of you, giggling as you noticed how taken aback he was about that. you had your legs wrapped around his hips, laying down on the couch before you kissed him. you only realized in that moment how much you had missed your gentle and doting husband.
though, the only thing you did not realize was that this piece of lingerie that didn’t really cover anything of your skin and beautiful body was letting out the pussydrunk beast he tried so hard to push away from coming out.
he deepened the kiss, one hand softly lingering over your legs, as the other one was pulling down the fabric to reveal your nipples which he just started to play around with, pinching, sucking, biting on them, having you writhe around. the more he went down on you, he noticed the beautiful scent coming from your body, he assumed a perfume that had an undertone of some sort of aphrodisiac because it made him go so feral out of nowhere, pulling off the panties covered by the short dress.
“you’re so gorgeous, baby”, he mumbled against your thighs, and leaving a soft kiss on your clit. “i can’t wait to pamper you like you deserve, my queen.”
alhaitham didn’t care how messy he was when he was fucking you with his tongue, thumb circling your clit and he was holding your thighs apart with his tight grip, already so pussydrunk with your taste and he was unsure if he would be able to stop.
“feels good, honey? i can tell by your cute noises, baby, oh you sound so good. it’s been so long since i last got to taste you, hasn’t it? i missed the way you taste and the way you pull my hair when you get so needy, baby”, he talked you through your first orgasm of the night, you were shaking and your eyes had gotten all teary.
“alhaitham”, you whimpered out his name, body relaxing as you calmed down. “please.”
“please, what, lovely?”, he questioned, teasing you with a soft giggle. “just kidding, honey. let’s move to our bedroom, shall we?”
he had you thrown over his shoulder, having you laugh as he tickled you and then put you down on the bed, before he laid down on top of you, caressing your cheek. “i keep on repeating this but archons, i’m so in love with you, baby”, he whispered, “i can’t imagine spending my life without you anymore.”
“i love you, too”, you replied, kissing him so passionately when you were turning you both around, sitting down on your husband’s lap as you pulled the silk over your body, all naked on top of him and you couldn’t help the heat rushing up your cheeks as you realized that alhaitham was still in his clothes.
“not fair”, you mumbled, unbuttoning his dress shirt, before he sat up to pull the fabric off his body. you leaned down to press soft kisses over his skin, down to his abs, still so mesmerized by how toned his body was despite being a researcher and mostly sitting in his office doing paperwork.
“you know what’s not fair, love? the fact that you try to pamper me when tonight was supposed to be all about you. and since i know you love me being rough”, he interrupted himself as he pushed you back down on the bed, keeping your wrists pinned against the soft mattress, “i will just use you until i fuck a baby into you.”
you rolled your eyes back as he spoke, the thought of you finally getting pregnant after trying for so long had you whine in need; you just wanted him to fill you up over and over until you couldn’t take anything anymore.
alhaitham pulled his pants down and threw them off the bed, grabbing your hips to lift you up and thrust deep inside of you, having you cry out as you pulled him closer to you. “please, fuck me”, you whimpered, the needy gaze you had in your eyes were simply making him go feral on you, rough and hard thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin had you so weak in the knees.
“archons, you feel so good around me, honey”, he groaned, keeping up his relentless pace as you buried your nails into his back. “go on, babe, leave your marks on my back. go crazy, i don’t mind. i love the sweet pain you make me feel. beg for me to make you come and cream on my cock. beg for me to come deep inside you, to get you pregnant with my baby. you want that so bad don’t you, baby? you want me to fill you up, don’t you?”
“please, i need it so bad. wanna make you- make you a daddy”, you babbled, your brain no longer properly functioning as the attention he gave you and your pleasure was making you feel dizzy, tears rolling down your eyes.
“oh, honey, you will. don’t worry, you definitely will. even if it doesn’t work out this time, i promise you, i won’t give it a break until we make our dream come true”, he calmed you down, slowing down with his thrusts to give you his full attention again. “shh, baby, don’t cry, love.” his voice was so soft and he stopped his movements for a moment, pulling out as he realized you were actually crying and those weren’t tears coming solely from pleasure.
“need me to stop?”, he asked then, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. you shook your head no. “shh, what happened, love?”
“the thought… of not being able to get pregnant and giving you what you want”, you mumbled, “you wouldn’t leave me if i weren’t able to get–”
“hey, hey, no. stop right there, love. there is nothing in this world that could make me love you less, especially just because this didn’t work out. i would never leave you for something as simple as this. i love you too much to do something like that. i’d rather get old with you alone instead of leaving you because i couldn’t get you pregnant.”
he left soft kisses on your face, making you giggle while your sobs stopped and you calmed down again. “archons, that must’ve ruined the mood now”, you mumbled.
“what are you talking about, babe?”, he smirked, leaning down to kiss you on your lips. “i recall promising you to pamper you like you deserve, didn’t i? and believe me, i intend to keep that promise.”
–
he was manhandling you like it was no struggle for him at all – lifting your legs to get you into a mating press, your hips up as you were laying on you stomach as he fucked you from behind. alhaitham was not hesitant to let you know who‘s in control in this situation, having you at his complete mercy as he made you gush around him over and over again.
“oh, you feel so good, princess. take it like the good girl you are, sweetheart”, he moaned, “mhm, good job, honey. you‘re doing so amazing for me, taking your husband‘s cock like the good and pretty little slut you are. you’re my good little slut, aren‘t you, baby?” he chuckled as you nodded in agreement, brain totally empty from all sort of thoughts.
“good girl”, he groaned, intertwining your hands as he leaned down to kiss you on your soft, yet somewhat swollen lips from all the kissing sessions you had in your breaks. “oh, archons, i’m so obsessed with kissing you, honey.”
you were pretty much unable to reply at this point – brain totally clouded from how good and exhausted you were feeling.
“look at how much you’re coming for me, honey. look how much of a mess we made here”, he mumbled against your neck, watching how his cum leak out your cunt, before he scooped up some of it with his fingers and pushed them inside of you. you had lost all track of time and you were sure it had been a couple of hours since he had started ravaging you.
“sensitive”, you whimpered out, brain unable to process anything else. it had been a bit since all power had left your body and you were just laying there, taking it like his good girl he loved to praise you as.
“oh, love, did you think i was done? that’s cute”, alhaitham giggled before he thrusted his cock back inside, “i’m not going to stop.”
your eyes widened, the overstimulation had you look at him somewhat in fear of what to expect. you couldn’t remember the last time he had made you shake so intensely, make you come over and over until you were nothing but his good girl, his good little slut, clenching around him so tightly as he had you at his mercy.
“what is it, sweetheart? am i scaring you, baby? good. you’re all mine. you deserve such a good fuck for being such a good girl for me, lovely.” he let our a groan as he - once again - buried his cock deep inside of you, painting your walls white. “come for me, baby, just take it all and come for me.”
the moment you gushed around his cock, crying out his name and sobbing in pleasure, he just watched you unfold, losing all control of yourself as you submitted to the way he made you feel so good.
“you took my cock so good, honey. i’m so proud of you”, he mumbled, pulling out. “and if you this time did not work out, we‘ll try again. it‘s alright, sweetheart. it will happen eventually.”
he placed a hand on your tummy, thumb softly caressing the naked skin. “one day it will work out.”
–
“relax, sweetheart. i know this was a lot to take in, i don‘t really know what came over me tonight”, alhaitham calmed you down as he hugged you tight from behind as you both sank into the bath. “feel good honey?”
you nodded, closing your eyes as you relaxed against him, your tense muscles turning into mush as he simply made you feel so giggly and happy. “i have a good feeling about tonight, y‘know? i feel like this time it will have worked out”, you said.
“we‘ll see, honey. and even if not, it‘s perfectly fine”, he whispered, making you shiver at how deep his voice was. it was a reminder of all the promises he made; how they were always kept and came true eventually. and you knew that this one, no matter how long it’ll take, wouldn’t be broken either.
a/n: inspired by jake and amy from b99 trying to get pregnant. i have no idea what came over me with this one. it just happened.
#. flowers for : alhaitham !#genshin impact#genshin smut#genshin alhaitham#alhaitham smut#genshin fanfiction#alhaitham fanfiction#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham x you
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— Incubus in the Forest.
cw. fem!reader, incubus!character, dub-con, praise/degradation kink, implications of somnophilia, overstimulation, implied breeding kink, possesiveness (may not fit all characters listed)
a/n. i love going through the gonewildaudio subreddit for fanfiction ideas because i don't have motivation to make my own and my askbox can't peak my interest that much and guess what. i found some incubi content and now i wanna write a thirst about it.
masterlist | tag system | 17- & MASC-ALIGNED DNI!
All you wanted to do was camp with your friends. They were all joking about demons and horror stories and one of them popped up the concept of incubi, talking about how they go through the dreams of women and have sexual intercourse with them that would soon lead to death if the partner has too many sessions.
All of you brushed it off to the person just being weird or downbad. You were part of them because the idea of a demon going through dreams of unconscious women and fuck them in there sounded ridiculous. Thank god it wasn’t real and just a piece of folklore or mythology.
That was what you thought. You wished you were sleeping in the tents of your female friends because the so-called fictional demon was haunting your dream. Or better to call it, ‘Dreams.’
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen a cute girl like you went to this forest. No one ever dared visit here anymore because of those rumored incubi haunting the place. So it’s good that you haven’t heard them.” you frantically looked around, you weren’t in your tent anymore. But in a red Victorian room you aren’t familiar with.
Suddenly, the bed sinks and you look at the source. You faced a man with pointy red horns and a tail that was swooshing around excitedly at the sight of you. His eyes almost lit up as he crawled right in front of you, “I have to say, you look more appetizing up close than watching you from afar.”
He was… watching you? You have to admit he was quite sneaky because the forest wasn’t that big at all nor did it have many trees for people to hide in.
“I might save you since it’s been a while since I’ve gotten someone so… Lovely.” he breathes in your scent, snuggling into your neck and licking it. “Gods, you’re making me crave you more and we haven’t even started yet.”
You gulped, furrowing your brows and gasping as you got pinned to the bed, his fangs biting down your skin as he sucked your blood. He lets out a satisfied groan at your taste, pulling out with his mouth stained with red substance as he seductively licked them. You were trying to push him off while your screams were muffled by his bigger and muscular body.
You tried punching and kicking but he wouldn’t budge. He was much stronger than you are and he only stared at you with a pleasant smirk. He thought this was so entertaining seeing you deny him. Who do you think you were to push away such a handsome guy like him?
“Why don’t we get started? I’m so impatient right now.”
.
.
.
Fuck, you haven’t felt this full in a while. It’s probably because this so called demon was pent-up for a long amount of years that he got hard at the sight of a new victim to fuck.
But since it’ll be a very long time since he’ll get another dupe he was gonna save you and follow you around since you were the first person in a while to visit the forest. The bite on your neck served a purpose and that every time you slept, he’d appear and use you however he wanted.
Though he wanted to be careful since he’ll take your lifeforce away and make you insane. It’s been years since he’s gotten some good pussy to fuck and he didn’t want to harm you in any way. Well, the more the two of you had sessions like this, the more needy you are for the incubus to fuck you.
He was in awe of how much power he had over you. You were much more adorable than all the other women he slept with. He wanted to keep you to himself, even if it meant it would make you a desperate whore for him to play with however he wanted.
He groaned and kept you closer to him, your body flushed with his as he continued ramming you over and over. His tail couldn’t stop moving from how much pleasure he was receiving, he didn’t even know how long he had been fucking you. It must’ve been hours which were just a few minutes in real-time but in this dream? It’s much longer. Which would be quite advantageous if he could be honest.
“Ahah, you’re so good for me. I might wanna keep you for myself.. Might only want you instead. I can’t find anyone whose so fucking slutty like you are.” he moans when you tightened around him more. You were practically choking his cock to death.
He traps you on the headboard, having your legs around his waist so he could have better access to your pussy and have his cock reach deeper inside of you. Ah, it felt so good having him touch places you weren’t able to touch.
The red sheets were stained with your blood and the mix of your and the incubus’ cum. “I can’t get enough of you, sweet girl.” he soughs into your lips, ramming into you like you were the last woman he’s ever gonna fuck.
You couldn’t say anything, hell, you couldn’t do anything from how strong his grip on your body was. It’s almost as if he had control over you instead of you. “Gonna come again, take it like the good slut you are.”
You let out heavy pants as he emptied himself into you again. Your body was shaking against his, your chest heaving uneven breaths as you tried to catch them. He only chuckled and cuddled into you with his arms around your waist, keeping you close to him, making sure his cum doesn’t leak out of you. “Why don’t we go for another round?”
“D-don’t think I can go anymore..” you whimpered as he only grinded his hips in response. “Sure you can! Don’t go sleeping in your dream now, you wouldn’t wanna know what I’d do with your body if you went unconscious on me.”
He was right. If you sleep in your dream, you’ll most likely go through another deeper layer of your unconsciousness and it’ll be difficult to wake you up. You definitely don’t wanna have the knowledge of him using your sleeping body as he wishes, so you try to open your eyes wider and see that same shit-eating grin you despise.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” his little bat wings flapped in excitement as you only threw your head to the side and glared at him. “Don’t be like that, you don’t want me to go rougher on you now.”
“Not like you were gentle in the first place.”
“Hah! I can’t argue with that.” he picks you up, making you straddle his lap as he hovers your hips over his erected cock once again. “Take a deep breath, this is gonna be much longer.”
© notsodivininglover 2023. reposting, plagiarizing, translating or claiming my works are strictly forbiddened.
#notsodivininglover ; king’s pages#genshin smut#genshin impact smut#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#childe smut#childe x reader#tartaglia x reader#tartaglia smut#kaeya x reader#kaeya smut#kaeya alberich x reader#kaeya alberich smut#kaveh x reader#kaveh smut#capitano x reader#capitano smut
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bf!jaehyun 18+ thoughts
warnings: fem!reader, sub!jaehyun, mentions of crying, mentions of subxsub, dirty talk/praise, like one mention of slapping, use of the name puppy, he’s my sweet sensitive boy so i wrote him as such!, begging, and i think that’s it!
SMUT UNDER THE CUT. MDNI.
bf!jaehyun, who lowkey cries when things get super lovey and passionate. it’s so endearing and honestly SO!! attractive to see a man be unapologetically sensitive. sometimes when you two have sex you have to check in with him rather than the other way around, and you don’t mind of course! it’s nice to be able to take care of him in such a special way (it’s hot). he would literally be mid-stroke and start tearing up and you would be like ??? and he would say in the middle of shedding tears “i just love you so much.” it’s the sweetest thing ever, literally makes your heart fill with so much love for him.
bf!jaehyun, who is most likely quite subby. he’s a switch, but he really loves when you have control. he loves when you use him, telling him that all he’s good for is being your puppy, it ignites his love for you. there’s just something about the idea of you being the dominant one that makes him feel all cool like he loves having a girlboss gf that isn’t afraid to smack him when he’s been a whore.
bf!jaehyun, who is the most fun to experience subxsub with. it’s so desperate and messy like two puppies in heat just aching to get off. you’re both so stupid, rutting into each other with only one goal in mind. in moments like this, the two of you probably won’t even get your clothes fully off. he’ll just fuck you on the nearest surface with your panties pulled to the side. it’s so filthy to think about. he would slam you against the wall as you both tug at each other’s clothes, he would speak aloud, telling you, in a pained voice, “i’m so desperate for your pussy right now.” it would make your body heat up, the want for him increasing tenfold as you tell him, “need you, need to feel you cum in me so bad, myungjae.” that would only egg him on further to get his cock into you as soon as possible.
bf!jaehyun, who really has a hard time containing himself when you praise him. he’s so fucking cute; his cheeks blushing, his cock twitching, his eyes looking away from yours because he feels shy. he’ll literally get so shy if you compliment his cock too. you would tell him as you’re riding him, “myungjae, you have such a pretty cock, could fuck myself on it forever.” this man would turn into a PUDDLE. a shiver goes up his spine with the way you talk to him, and he would close his eyes, throwing his head back with a smile plastered on his face. what’s really fun, though, is if you ask him “why didn’t you say thank you? i just complimented you!” with a pout. he gets sooo flustered and shy as he spills out a bunch of gratitude as you continue bouncing on his cock. he’s so fun to play with <3
bf!jaehyun, who is the man that every girl dreams of. he’s out here moaning and crying in your ear. he truly doesn’t hold back, especially because he trusts you with his most vulnerable sides, so he’s not shy about moaning. and boy…. does he have the prettiest fucking moans. not only that, but he’s so whiny like he’s always on the verge of tears and it’s so- literally like orgasm inducing. he also doesn’t stop talking at times, he would whine out things like “please- please- i’m so fucking close i’m gonna cum!” and “stop! it hurts! too much- oh my god-” WHEW- he’ll beg and he’s not ashamed to do so!
#kisa’s hard thoughts#admin.kisa <3#boynextdoor hard thoughts#boynextdoor hard hours#bnd hard hours#bnd hard thoughts#boynextdoor smut#bnd smut#myung jaehyun smut#myung jaehyun x reader#myung jaehyun hard hours#jaehyun bnd smut#bnd jaehyun smut
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pairing: woozi x reader
word count: 3.4K
warnings: a couple of swears, kissing, alcohol, sad!reader, sad!jihoon
Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary.
flatline by 5 seconds of summer
someone just like you, no one else
i’m falling for the first time
heart is gonna flatline
now i can’t even look at you
you’re like staring at the sunshine
You stand outside the crowded bar, grateful for the respite of fresh air after your time in the hazy, grimy dance club. There are only a few other patrons smoking or loitering outside as you wait for your ride to arrive, because it’s only midnight and inside, the party is just beginning.
Your head is buzzing pleasantly as you squint at your phone to check the time, the bright light from the screen making you wince. 12:07. If you were more sober, you would probably laugh at yourself. You’d gone out for a friend's birthday, but as soon as you had said the satisfactory hellos and gotten sufficiently drunk — which, arguably, didn’t take long — you’d been ready to go home. At midnight.
Your younger self is cringing.
As you gracefully get into your Uber and the driver begins to wind through the streets from the bar to your apartment, you pull up the last text thread on your phone. A smile is already on your lips just at the sight of the contact name.
Y/N [12:08am]: On my way hoooome. Hope u waited up for me!!
Your roommate shoots back a reply almost instantly, and you giggle at his response, your hand lifting to cover your mouth.
Jihoon-Ah [12:09am]: Ok. I’m still working, so keep your drunk ass quiet.
If you had it your way, he’d have come out with you. He knows all of your friends and you know all of his, but the club scene isn’t really his vibe. Plus, he has a music final due tomorrow – today? – and if there’s one thing he’s dead serious about, it’s his music.
Jihoon-Ah [12:13am]: Door’s unlocked. Be safe.
You feel a flush spread across your cheeks as the second message comes through, and warmth floods all the way down to your toes.
Jihoon always manages to do that to you. Make you blush, make you feel warm and fuzzy, make you laugh. It’s funny, because to those who don’t know him, he seems quiet and private, and maybe even a little bit closed off. But with his friends, with those who get to know him, he’s brash and hilarious, and he cares a hell of a lot about those who care about him. He’s one of your best friends, your roommate, and quite possibly the love of your life.
He doesn’t know about that last part, though, and you don’t plan on telling him anytime soon.
“Jihoon-ah,” you singsong as you finally make it into your shared apartment. He doesn’t turn to look at you from his spot on the couch, but you know he’s heard you come in by his grunt of acknowledgement. He remains where you left him, on the couch and hunched over his laptop, black hair mussed from where he’s probably been running his fingers through it as he agonises over his piece. You hastily take off your shoes before you cross the room, flopping down next to him unceremoniously. He glances at you briefly before turning back to his screen.
“Did you have fun?” He asks without looking at you.
“Mhm,” you mumble back. It’s quiet for a few moments, the sound of his fingers clicking away lulling you into a daze until he speaks up once more.
“You should change,” he says, and you turn to stretch out your legs, pointing your toes. He glances at you again as you do so, eyebrows raised. “You took off the shoes, thank god, but you’re probably not comfortable in that dress anymore.”
You yawn, smiling at his thoughtful comment before replying, “It’s called fashion, Jihoon, look it up. Beauty is pain.”
“I already told you before you went out that you looked nice, don’t push it.”
You let out a laugh at that, and the quiet smile on his lips betrays any real irritation on his part. You watch him for a moment, your eyes lingering for far too long on the softness of his mouth as he focuses back on his work.
You really hadn’t stood a single chance against falling in love with him, had you?
“I’m too tired to change,” comes your weak mumble.
“Okay,” he responds easily, his attention back on his computer again. You take the opportunity to let your eyes trace over his profile one more time; his eyelashes, his nose, the curve of his lips. The quiet contentment remains on his face, and you’re suddenly overwhelmed knowing that you’re part of the reason for it.
Your eyes finally turn to wander across the laptop screen to see what he’s working on, your head falling onto his shoulder. You’d have done it sober too, but with a bit of alcohol in your system, you’re just slightly less nervous. You can feel him tense. Your eyes fall to where his hands have paused, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve stressed him out with the physical contact, but then his shoulders relax. It takes only a few seconds before he begins clicking and typing again, and you can’t help but smile.
You’re looking at his computer and, subsequently, at his unfinished work. You can still recall when he’d been hesitant to let anyone see his music — let alone his drunk, touchy roommate. Yet somehow, you’ve managed to secure a coveted spot in the small group of people Jihoon trusts enough to share his work with. That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t still freak out every time he shares a piece he’s working on – he does, and you know that – but he insists that he wants to show you anyway. You often feel a strong sense of satisfaction in knowing what that means. It means that he trusts you — and that’s an incredible privilege.
You stay on the couch like that for a few more minutes as he continues to work, until a yawn overtakes you and on instinct, your nose turns to burrow into the crook of his neck. You let out a sigh, falling into a false sense of security for just a moment — into a world where Jihoon is yours to be with like this. Your eyes fall shut. You hardly register your own movement until it hits you that Jihoon’s entire body has gone rigid, and your eyes shoot open in a panic. You don’t think you’ve ever done that before – nuzzled into his neck like you belong there.
And now you’re terrified that you’ve finally crossed a line that you can’t come back from.
Another thing that Jihoon allows you to do more than anyone else is initiate physical contact. You’d taken advantage, and lately you’ve been toeing the line of too much. It just feels so easy to do, because you’re so drawn to him, to who he is, to the way he makes you feel �� but you know it’s not fair of you. Not when he hasn’t ever expressed feeling the same way, not when he hasn’t ever protested as you go on dates, not when he hasn’t ever initiated anything himself. Jihoon always tells you it’s okay when you’re touchy, that he doesn’t mind it every once in a while, but you can’t help but feel like a complete fool.
He’s not yours, and he doesn’t want to be.
You abruptly feel yourself sober up as you scramble to move away, putting as much distance between the two of you as possible.
“You didn’t have to move,” comes his blunt reassurance, his eyes not leaving the screen of his laptop.
“I know you hate being touchy. I should have asked first. Sorry.”
“You’re always like this, especially when you’re drunk,” he retorts, “I don’t know why you’re only apologizing today.” You can’t help but shrink back against the couch, defeated.
“Sorry,” you say again, your voice small.
Jihoon looks at you then, eyebrows raised in surprise, like he really had no clue you were actually upset. “Hey, it’s okay. I always let you do it,” he adds after a moment.
“Yeah…” You trail off, and you hate the way you sound a bit like a child as you repeat, “but you hate it.”
Normally, Jihoon would ignore your tipsy pouting. He’s usually not the best at reading people – self-proclaimed – but this time, he seems to sense something’s wrong. He searches your face, and when you look away, he gently nudges your foot with his. “I don’t hate it when it’s you,” he says, quiet and serious, and you can feel his eyes still on you.
“Soonyoung and Y/N privilege,” you try to joke as you meet his eyes again, and Jihoon nods slowly. His eyebrows knit together, like he’s trying to figure something out. Whatever it is, you don’t think you want him to. “I’m going to bed,” you say, and he nods again. Neither of you says anything else, but you can feel his eyes following you as you disappear into your bedroom.
It’s not unusual for Jihoon to emerge from his room around midday. What is unusual, however, is for him to be up any earlier than 10:00am. So when you leave your room at 9:30 a few days later only to find him hunched over your kitchen island, to say you’re surprised is an understatement. He’s got a near-full cup of tea in front of him, and he’s staring into the void. He doesn’t turn, even when you clear your throat, and you’re beginning to panic now.
“Jihoon?” Your hand itches to reach for him as you approach, but you don’t. You feel distinctly as though you’re trying not to startle a deer.
“Hm?” The sound of his name seems to finally jolt him out of it, and he turns to meet your eyes. Your heart breaks a little. He looks exhausted — more than usual. There’s something about his face that suggests it’s more of a mental than physical kind of tired, and you want nothing more than to give him a hug.
You tread carefully. “Did you… Go to the gym already?”
Jihoon shakes his head. You didn’t think so, given that he’s still in the shorts and t-shirt he usually sleeps in, but it seemed like a safe enough topic. He says nothing more. Why else would he be up this early? Your brain is running a million miles a minute. Something is clearly wrong, but how can you help?
You’re silent as you go about your morning, making breakfast as usual — except that this time, you make twice as much. When you place two boiled eggs and some cereal in front of him, it takes him a second to react. You try not to flush when you feel his eyes on you as you sit across from him, scrolling through your phone and taking a bite of your own food instead of acknowledging it.
“Thank you.”
You look at him when he speaks. The corner of his mouth is tilted up just so, in that quiet, wonderful Jihoon way, and you can’t help but smile back. “Of course.”
It’s quiet between the two of you as you eat. You try not to think too much about it, but lately, sitting in silence around your friend has been almost unbearable. There’s just so much you want to say, especially after the other night.
“How do you always know?”
You look at him again, eyebrows knitting together as you process his question. “Know what?”
He gazes at you for a moment, and the intensity of it has your neck flushing. Then he looks down at his plate again, and you remind yourself to breathe.
For a second you think that there's something there, something hovering between you. You just don’t know what.
“You always know when something’s up with me.”
You shrug, trying desperately not to show just how flustered you are that he’s noticed. “I’m an empath,” you offer, and Jihoon lets out a soft breath of laughter. He looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t, and it almost feels like you’re both holding your breath now.
Neither of you had mentioned that night the week before. Though a part of you knows that it’s best to just let it be, another part of you almost wishes he’d brought it up. You’re so in love with him that it makes you nauseous, and you’re so aware of it. He’s all you think about, and you worry that if you don’t say it out loud soon, you’re going to explode during one of these quiet moments. You’ve tried so hard to ignore it, to push it down, but the feelings just won’t quit.
And you have no idea what to do about it.
Y/N [4:12pm]: what’s my favourite music man up to?
You sniffle from your spot on your couch, curled up in your favourite fuzzy blanket. You’re miserable, despite your sunny sounding text. That’s your job, though, isn’t it? To be the happy friend? To pretend everything’s fine when it’s not?
You’d just gotten home from a grueling day at work. You’d been hoping that your roommate was home – not because you’d actually have told him you were upset, but because seeing his face makes your day brighter. But he’s not, and you’re alone.
Jihoon-ah [4:34pm]: working. I’ll be late today
Y/N [4:35pm]: classic jihoon. guess I’ll just eat alone :(
Usually, Jihoon’s short texts don’t bother you, because you know him and you know he means nothing by it. It gets to you tonight, though, because all you want right now is for him to hold you.
You wouldn’t ever ask him for it.
You selfishly wish that he would just know that you need him, but he doesn’t. He’s busy, and he’s not very affectionate at the best of times. The worst part of it all, though, is that deep down, you know he would do anything for you if you asked. But you won’t.
It’s not his fault, you remind yourself. If you don’t tell people what you want, you can’t expect them to know.
You’re in your room a couple of hours later, curled up as you watch an episode of your newest binge. You’d let yourself cry, let yourself feel everything even though it hurt, and now it was on to phase two: distraction.
You’re so enthralled in your show that you don’t even hear the front door open and close. When a knock sounds at your bedroom door, you jump and sit up straight. The knock comes again, and you freeze.
“It’s me.���
Your eyes fall to your phone to check the time. You hadn’t expected him for another hour at least. You get up slowly, grimacing as you pass your reflection in the mirror, and move to open the door. He looks out of breath, almost as if he ran home, his eyes wide and his jacket still on.
“Jihoon?” You blink. “Why are you here? I thought you were working.”
“Can I come in?” He asks instead of answering. You step aside, trying to figure out why he’s home early — and why he’s knocking at your bedroom door. It’s quiet for a minute before you sit back on your bed, gesturing for Jihoon to join you. He does, hesitantly, and the room is so quiet that your heart starts to race a little.
“Is everything okay?”
He takes a deep breath. “Are you…” He winces as he trails off, a hand lifting to run through his hair. He tries again. “Are you having a bad day?”
You blink at him for a moment, surprised. “Huh?”
“Seungcheol told me that you were having a bad day.” He looks embarrassed as he says it, and you remember that you’d told your mutual friend about your shitty boss’s latest antics at lunch.
“Oh,” you manage, reminding yourself to scold Seungcheol later.
“Yeah.” He takes a deep breath, almost as if he’s trying to ground himself, and then he’s pushing forward again. “So… Are you? Having a bad day?”
You debate lying so as not to worry him, but he’s looking at you so intently that you just know you can’t. You look down at your hands. “Kind of.” Your voice is quieter now, and you can feel his eyes on you.
“Okay.”
“Yeah.” It’s quiet, and you kind of wish to be swallowed whole.
“I wish you’d told me,” he admits.
“It’s okay. I didn’t want to interrupt your… stuff.”
He shakes his head, almost like he’s frustrated, and you wish — not for the first time — that he was a bit easier to read.
“Your stuff is important to me, too,” is what he finally says, and you can feel how warm your face is getting.
“I know, but it’s okay. It’s nothing big,” you try to reassure him. “I’ll get over it.”
Jihoon hums, and when you look over at him again, you find him with his hands clasped together in his lap as he leans forward. He still seems frustrated, but you’re not sure why. “I came home as soon as he told me,” he tells you, and your stomach flips.
“You didn’t have to—“
“I’m sorry I’m bad at reading between the lines.” His interruption surprises you, and you blink back at him.
“Huh?”
Jihoon sighs, turning his body towards yours. “Even when I don’t tell you, you always know if I’m upset about something. I wish I was better at that, but I just get so focused and I don’t notice things. You know how I am.”
“It’s okay, Jihoon,” you say again. “I can’t expect you to just know how I’m feeling.”
“Yeah,” he says slowly. His gaze on you is intense, his eyes wandering across your face, and you suddenly feel self-conscious. “I guess I just wish that you, and everyone else, would be more straight up with me.”
You bite your lip. “I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head quickly. “No. Don’t be sorry, just…” He takes in another breath. You’re holding yours. “Can you please tell me next time?”
“I will. I just… don’t want you to worry about me.”
“You don’t have to be ‘on’ all the time,” he says. “Not with me.”
Your heart is ready to beat out of your chest. All you can do is say, “Wow, Jihoon, it kind of sounds like you care about me.”
When he responds easily with, “I do,” your mouth falls open a little.
The soft tone of his voice is so tender, so serious. What surprises you even more is the way he’s avoiding your eyes now, hand scratching at the back of his neck. Is he… blushing?
“I want to be there for you,” he adds a moment later, and you think you must be dreaming. He straightens, meeting your eyes again, and your breath is caught in your throat. He searches your face for a moment before he says, “I’m bad at knowing when people need me. I know that. But I’m telling you that I want you to tell me when you need me, because I want to be there for you.”
“Jihoon…”
“Please tell me you understand what I’m saying.”
The room falls silent. Your mind is running a mile a minute as you process, but you know you have to take the risk — so you do.
Your fingers find his, a slow brush of skin against skin as you wait for him to make the next move. Your heart nearly beats out of your chest when he closes the gap, lacing his fingers through yours, and squeezes.
“Yeah,” you whisper. “I understand exactly what you’re saying.”
“And?”
“I care about you too, Lee Jihoon. So much.”
“Yeah?” It comes out as a whisper, and you’re rewarded with a smile when you nod.
“Yeah.” You flush, opening your mouth to speak again, but nothing comes out. Jihoon tilts his head as you play with his fingers nervously.
“What?”
“Can you… Would you kiss me?”
Jihoon’s smile widens, even though you can see the tips of his ears turning red in the dim light of your room. “I can do that,” he murmurs, his free hand finding your face, and your nervous inhale is quieted by his mouth on yours.
It’s gentle and slow. It’s Jihoon, and he’s kissing you, and it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.
When you pull away, you’re blushing. You let your forehead fall forward against his shoulder, and you can feel him laugh as his hand lifts to your back.
“Do you want to talk?“ He asks gently. “About your day?”
You shake your head no, moving back to look up at him as you say, “Don’t worry. My day is much better now.”
A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on pov and idk! Here’s the third of our Thirteen Valentines. Nana Tour!Woozi has ruined my life as much as he has ruined yours. xoxo
Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed <3
Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @tae-bebe @gyuminusone @savventeen @eoieopda @minisugakoobies @wheeboo @lvlystars @darkypooo @christinewithluv @bella-l (Strikethrough means it wouldn’t let me tag you, sorry!)
#woozi fluff#woozi angst#woozi imagine#woozi x you#woozi x reader#seventeen x reader#seventeen imagine#seventeen x you#ljhfic#my writing#thirteenvalentines#seventeen fluff#Also yes i changed his song don’t @ me
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Can’t stop thinking of a tav who just showers Raphael in attention and affection. It’s the little things like listening attentively to his plays and dramatizations whenever they ask anything, to looking at him like he hung the moon and the stars, cupping his face as if he’s some kind of precious lovely thing instead of you know, A DEVIL
Just tenderness because that’s not something common in the world of devil and demons (I think?)
Ps: love your writing!
Hi!
Thank you! I took the opportunity to write more Patron!Raphael, with a little bardic twist!
Raphael x reader (gn)
You were Raphael’s favorite.
This knowledge you wore with great pride and much to the aggravation of his other servants.
You had never expected a patron Fiend to be so dynamic. His passion for the performing arts rivaling even your own. You’d struggled being a bard for so long, working your fingers raw upon the instruments that refused to sing for you. Your creative abilities severely stunted. Until Raphael entered your life.
The cambion had carefully watched your passion to act and dance, recognizing in you his own desire to draw down the magic of words upon parchment.
You had been so eager to sign his contract, agreeing to serve him and spread his own creations to the material plane in exchange for unhindered, undiluted talent.
Raphael was quite pleased with this arrangement. Under his mortal disguise he would often attend your little shows, his amber eyes glinting with self-satisfaction as he watched his little bird channel his creations. Through you, Raphael gained another taste of what being a god must feel like.
At the end of another long recitation of one of Raphael’s more laborious poems, you watched the guests file from the room and took a welcome drink of cool water for yourself.
Raphael leaned against the marble pillar, idly swirling a glass of red wine as he studied you.
“You’re not enunciating enough during the last stanza.” Raphael tutted lightly, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “The attention of your guests lapses accordingly.”
You grimaced and rubbed your sore throat. “Sure, it’s my enunciation. Not the fact you drone on about the tempestuous nature of pixies for five minutes.”
Raphael’s smile didn’t reach his dark eyes. “For a mortal so favored by Fate, you certainly enjoy tempting it.”
“I’m not favored by Fate, I’m favored by you.”
“Well said. Well spotted.” Raphael chuckled and drained his cup before placing it aside and moving close, the fragrance of his musk burning your nostrils. His hand cupped your jaw and tilted your face up. “Not appreciated nearly enough, however. I labor long so that you may be the conduit of my brilliance.”
You couldn’t help but roll your yes, a twinge of unwelcome fondness stirring yet again within you for this curious devil. “I adore everything you create, Raphael. Well…almost everything.”
“And what, pray tell, is the exception?”
You hesitated and pulled your head out of his grip, his long index finger trailing beneath your chin. “Well, that song about the hagspawn was pretty terrible.”
Raphael inclined his head. “Granted, it was not my best creation. Yet you did it justice, once you heeded my tender correction and stopped laughing.”
You rubbed your lower back at the unpleasant memory. “Yes…I remember your ‘correction’ quite well.”
“As always, it is my intent to make an impression.” Raphael extended a hand which you took, preparing to be whisked back to his House of Hope. “Even amongst the most stiff-necked of my servants.”
A blast of hot air met your face as Raphael pulled your body through the familiar hellfire portal. You didn’t mark the change, but Raphael had shed his human guise and now stood before you in full cambion form. He stretched his arms and wings wide, clearing his throat before launching into a dramatic recitation of his newest poetic piece.
You sat in an armchair as far away from the roaring fire as possible, listening to Raphael’s deep voice paint the images of an epic tale. It was clearly another of his self-insertion stories with a protagonist modeled after how Raphael perceived himself. Which was a sight different than the reality.
Despite the blatant conceit, you couldn’t help but be drawn into the world he had created. You clapped enthusiastically at the end of his impassioned oratory.
As always, you were his biggest fan. Aside from himself of course.
Haarlep passed through the large room on the way back to the Boudoir he was often confined to. The incubus wore a sleepy expression and the usual replication of Raphael’s image, carrying a mug of steaming liquid in hand.
“Raphael has just come up with the most exquisite tale, Haarlep!” You said with excitement, not noticing Raphael’s glare on you soften slightly at your words.
“Believe me, cherub. I’ve heard it all.” Haarlep waved a dismissive hand in your direction and continued on his way.
“He doesn’t like me much.” You said, a little put out as you always were at Haarlep’s disinterest.
“Pay him no mind.” Raphael handed you yet another long sheaf of parchment whereon he’d scrawled more lyrics for you to memorize. “There is only one whose attentions you should crave.”
You glanced over his work and smiled, trying in vain to hide your delight at the new project. “Of course, but it does get a little confusing since you insist on him wearing your form.”
Raphael’s tail smacked your backside causing you to hiss at the sting. “Careful, little nightingale. Even my fondness for you has its limits.”
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Infatuation On A Mutual Level
You and Harry are housemates and are both secretly quite fond of one another.
A/N: Woooo she’s here!!! I loved writing this one shot a lot and I really hope it shows. I haven’t had motivation to write for ages and this year I’ve really come back to it and I’m so happy. I hope you all love it as much as I do. She’s special to me. Special mention to the only person who ever wants to read for me @all-things-fic <3 Please come tell me what you think afterwards!! Katie x
Trigger Warnings: sexual content, brief mentions of loss, nightmares
Word Count: 18,777
~.~.~.~.~
Now
Every morning was the same.
The creak from the only bed on the first floor began the day. Then the gush of the tap in the shared bathroom. The kettle in the kitchen on the ground floor. The door closing when George left for the day. Then again 15 minutes later when Rhys did. Abbie starting the shower immediately afterwards now her boyfriend was gone. And then the only thing that ever made your skin prickle:
Harry’s door opening.
Every morning you would roll over at the sound, away from it. God forbid the man who defined ‘sex on legs’ ever pinned you with that warm, green-eyed stare first thing in the morning through the open gap of your own bedroom door. No, you might never be able to survive such a thing.
Living in a shared house was hard. Not least because you felt responsible for the place itself; owned by your single dad who would do anything to bring in what income he could, including taking more rent off his eldest child than he’d like. An argument arose regularly over your living situation but it was hard enough filling the fourth bedroom with a tenant. Living in the third was the least you felt you could do. The building was in dire need of some TLC but it wasn’t exactly an affordable fete. Sometimes the ceiling leaked on the second floor when it rained thanks to some shabby scaffolding work a few years back; the main reason why it was so hard to let the fourth bedroom. Part of you didn’t want to.
It was also hard in a house share because people were messy and you had a horrendous phobia of general mess. If you could quit your job and play full-time housekeeper you absolutely would. But your dad wouldn’t allow that. “Not in my lifetime,” He’d say with the gentlest scowl.
But the hardest part, by far, was being in such close proximity to the man who rented the bedroom across the hall. You weren’t sure why you were so terrified of him. Scarred by your original encounter with him, perhaps, but he wasn’t actually scary. He was, rather annoyingly, the nicest person in the house. Constantly aloof, yes, but still the poster boy for gentlemen everywhere.
Maybe if you spoke to him you’d learn he’s just a normal bloke, your inner voice trilled.
“Shut the fuck up.” You hissed into your pillow.
You waited for the inevitable sputter of the shower starting up again, and then rolled out of bed, threw on the clothes you’d hung up on the wardrobe door the night before - clean white shirt and grey trousers, ironed within an inch of their life - and scurried downstairs to arrange your usual to-go breakfast. Coffee in a reusable cup and a cereal bar. Hair and makeup could be fixed at work. You were always thirty minutes early anyway.
~
Harry wasn’t sure how you managed it. How every day you managed to evade him to avoid a puffy-eyed “good morning” or a potentially awkward conversation over breakfast.
As he stood in the hallway between your bedrooms towelling his hair dry in nothing but a pair of boxers and a damp t-shirt, he stared into your bedroom and marvelled yet again at how you seemed to have managed to keep it tidied to a borderline compulsive degree.
A large king bed sat against the left wall with ironed white linens and a plush sunflower yellow throw draped across the foot. One lone bedside table tucked against the right side with a tasselled muted green 60s velvet lamp and a book resting atop. A picture hung above the headboard - some vibrant canvas of abstract art. Every morning he wondered if you’d painted it yourself. Against the opposite wall stood a tall regal-looking cherrywood wardrobe next to a matching dresser with a sleek TV on top. It was the most modern thing about the room. In the window overlooking the garden a dream catcher hung in the dead centre. It was the only nicknack you seemed to have, and part of him hated that it seemed like something negative. Something to catch nightmares, to ward off evil.
Did you have bad dreams? And if so, why?
As always, the window had been opened two inches to let in fresh air. You never closed your door, not even at night. You never had clothes left out. Clutter didn’t exist in your vocabulary. Dust wasn’t permitted in your room. Or the bathroom, or kitchen, or living room, he’d deduced. You took Wednesdays off in the week and cleaned when no one else was home to bother you. He doubted the others had picked up on these things about you, but he’d noticed.
Harry had noticed a lot about you.
Especially that in the mornings, you waited until he took his bathroom time to get ready for work and leave without having to run into him. Some chaotic part of him wanted to change his routine so you’d have to. He wanted to know what you looked like straight out of bed with puffy eyes and linen marks on your cheeks and hair in disarray. The other part of him, the gentleman, told him not to. Who knew what might happen if he threw your routine off kilter.
Distress, probably?
No. He wouldn’t be having that.
Shaking his head, he wandered into his own room and shut the door behind him. One day the puzzle of you would finally form a complete picture. Today, he settled for the tethered, jumbled segments he’d managed to collect this far.
~
You stared at your phone, face a picture of bewilderment. Deciphering text messages from the housemates was starting to get increasingly difficult, no thanks to the fact that you were shit at it and everyone else seemed to excel.
Blackpool Tower
🌚
👰🏼❌🧽🍽️🔄
🌝
🙈🖕🏼
👰🏼
😕
Translation:
Abbie
George didn’t wash his dishes again.
Rhys
Oh for fuck’s sake.
George
Whoops.
You were on a roll with the emojis. It had started as a joke because George had said he hated people who only used emojis to text each other rather than actual words, so for a week the four of you had sent every text using only emojis. Then it had turned into a bet: how long could all of you go without using words, and who would be the first one to crack. You all knew that, without a doubt, Rhys would crack first, even though he was the one who’d proposed the bet in the first place. It had been two weeks and no one had cracked yet.
🍉
🤔👰🏼🥄🥄🍱🔄
👰🏼
🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😠
🌝
😒🙄
🌚
🏃🏻♀️🏃🏻♀️🏃🏻♀️
👑
❌❌❌❌❌❌❌
Translation:
Harry
Maybe George should cook dinner again…
George
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA no.
Rhys
Yeah right.
Abbie
No thank you.
You
Absolutely fucking not.
Why did all of you have such ridiculous headers?
Abbie and Rhys were the twin moons because that was the look they always gave each other when they thought something was cute, funny, interesting, or otherwise. They’d moved into the house as a couple and had remained in said couple for 3 years. Sharing a room was their way of saving money to buy a house. It made sense.
George was a blonde bride because he was the most outwardly gay man any of you had ever known and often acted like an utter madam. Madam was actually George’s nickname to his friends now thanks to the house’s light ribbing. He had also chosen his own emoji.
Harry was the watermelon because we were never without it thanks to a frankly concerning obsession. If there wasn’t a watermelon in the fridge, or slices, or packaged chunks, something was very wrong.
And you were the crown because you’d refused to pick an emoji and the house had affectionately bestowed the title of Tower Queen to you. You’d pretended to hate it, but they all knew you viewed it as the highest compliment.
Oh, and the group chat was called Blackpool Tower because you lived together in a tall, two-rooms-to-a-floor townhouse at the top of town. The Eiffel Tower had been suggested but George immediately pointed out that we were not a classy enough bunch to live in such a fine establishment. I’d told him to speak for himself.
The talk of food made you hungry, and it hit you like a landslide that you hadn’t had any dinner. You rolled off your bed and sent a text to Blackpool Tower, then shoved your phone away.
~
Multiple things happened at once. The shower turned on in the bathroom; your bedroom door opened with a quiet creak (which would not happen again since you went through WD40 like a bee in pollen); Harry’s phone vibrated with another text.
Blackpool Tower
👑
👩🍳🍝 … 🌚🍝🌝🍝🍉🍝➡️🧊 … ❌🍝👰🏼
Harry snickered.
Translation:
You
Making dinner. Leftovers in the fridge. None for George.
It wasn’t unusual you’d make enough food for everyone. Harry had learned that you’d picked that trait up from your dad. Sometimes no one would stop you, especially since there was never anything wrong with a meal you’d cooked. In fact, if there were a restaurant with food cooked by you, Harry would dine there every night. But he also knew that letting you cook for all the other housemates all the time wasn’t fair.
🌚
🍉➡️🍉❌🍉➡️🍉❌👑
👰🏼
🚫🚫🚫🚫
“For fuck’s sake.” He muttered.
Rhys must have been in the shower. If George or Abbie were home they’d have rugby tackled you to the floor given the chance.
Harry abandoned his phone and lurched out of his room, down the stairs to the kitchen. He nearly stacked it twice but he made it, with panting breaths to accompany him.
You turned your gaze on him with a startled look, giving him a once over. “What are you doing…?”
“Don’t you dare cook for everyone else.”
You blinked twice and then rolled your eyes. “It’s fine - I’ve got plenty.”
“It’s not fair.”
“If I don’t cook it today it’ll go off. So might as well.”
Harry looked at the produce you’d piled on the counter and back at you, then back again. “Bullshit.”
“Excuse me?”
“You bought enough for everyone.” He straightened and folded his arms across his chest.
You spluttered and scoffed for far too long. “No.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t stop me.” You scowled at him.
It was the most emotions he’d ever seen on you. If he’d known all this time that all he needed to do to get a conversation out of you was wind you up a bit, he’d have done it much sooner.
“Yes I can.”
You put a hand on your hip. Christ. “How?”
He stared at you, statuesque and cursing himself for challenging a bet he couldn’t win. You were right. How would he stop you? He wasn’t going to drag you away from the kitchen and up the stairs without your permission. Hell, he didn’t want to do anything without your permission, threats begotten. He hadn’t thought this through.
You let out a breath, a mocking one, and turned away from him and picked up a knife to start chopping. “Didn’t think so.”
“You can’t do this forever.”
Chop.
“Do what?” You challenged, refusing to look at him again.
Chop chop.
“Look after every person that comes in here because you feel like you owe people something. The world will take advantage of you. Is that what you want?”
Your shoulders visibly tensed over the words that tumbled out of his mouth. They weren’t even spoken with malice. They were soft and cautious.
CHOP.
“This feels like a very deep conversation to be having on a Tuesday evening.”
He growled, frustrated. “Stop babying everyone.”
Chopchopchop.
“If they didn’t want me to baby them they simply wouldn’t let me. And maybe I like babying people. Sometimes it’s nice to have a responsibility.”
“That’s just it, though. They’re not your responsibility.”
You smacked the knife down on the chopping board and turned to face him, an unfamiliar anger in your eyes that muddled with something else murky and grey. Hurt. “Will you just let me cook my fucking dinner in peace?”
Harry stood, tense, staring at you with his fists clenching and unclenching. Finally, he said, “Fine. But you’ve got to let me help you.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ, Harry.” Your head lolled back.
“Two different people, but I appreciate why you might get confused.”
You stared at him for an indecipherable length of time. Or gawked might have been a better descriptor. And then you snatched the tea towel off the side and smacked it in a whip-like movement against his arm. “Git.”
~
Two weeks later and you and Harry had begun a sort of ritual; you would cook with each other every other night. The distinct difference was that when you bought food, you bought enough for everyone. When Harry did it he only bought enough for the two of you.
You hadn’t quite figured out yet if being in this new… friendship with Harry was better or worse. Cooking together four nights a week versus blissful ignorance towards him and his attractiveness? The now near-constant proximity to him was making your head spin for stupid reasons. Namely said attractiveness.
His biceps for one. No one should be allowed arms that had the ability to make one’s mouth water. Pair his strong muscles with the litter of tattoos that were drawn down his right arm and you’d found yourself sweating even on the coldest day. A man’s body should not have such a strong effect on a person, yet here you were - a swoon personified.
Then there was his face, which was worse. Eyes mouth jaw. Those three things individually on a man were the first thing that always drew you in, but Harry had a triple threat. Seaglass green, blush pink and the perfect 100 degree angle. Not too square. And to top it all off, a wispy mop of chestnut waves atop his big head.
The perfect man?
“Aye,” Harry took the knife off you before you started chopping an onion, “thought we established that needed sharpening. A blunt knife is more dangerous than a sharp one.”
A man who cared about your wellbeing?
His bedside manner could use some work.
“Fuck off.” You whispered to your inner voice.
“What?”
“Nothing.” You shook your head, cheeks burning. Great, he probably thought you were crazy.
You silently passed Harry the stone out of the drawer. He could sharpen it if he was going to make such a big deal out of it.
“Thank you.” He mumbled, and started swiping the edge of the knife along the full length of the stone.
Chalky noises. Sharp noises. Furrowed brow. Biceps flexing. Obscenely attractive. Abort abort abort.
You busied yourself by turning on the hob and drizzling oil into a pan. Basically looking anywhere but at Harry and his arms. Sexy arms.
Sex on legs.
Your legs were wobbling. A flame of burdened heat licked its way between your thighs and you had to lean against the counter to stop from buckling. It had been a long time since a man had touched you.
Yeah. This was worse. Definitely worse. Hyper-awareness of everything going on around you wasn’t unusual, but being hyper-aware of everything Harry did was like some unfound form of torture. There was being attracted to someone and then there was whatever this situation was.
Ridiculous?
It was ridiculous, but at least you could suffer knowing that your inner voice had been wrong. Harry was not a normal bloke. He was some kind of enigma.
~
For the past couple of nights Harry had kept his door open. He’d learned that you did indeed have nightmares regularly so the dreamcatcher you kept in your bedroom window was doing little for your unconscious mind. He’d debated buying a bigger one for you but wasn’t entirely sure how appropriate that would be.
You weren’t loud. In fact, if he hadn’t kept his door open he never would’ve known, because the ajar-ness of his door had come prompted for completely different reasons - that unusual urge to see you first thing in the morning. Now two nights in a row he had been woken up by your little yelp, followed with a hissed string of curses while shifting around your bedsheets to get comfortable again. As soon as he knew you were asleep, he wasn’t too far along after you.
He still hadn’t been able to decide if cooking with you nearly every night was a good thing or a bad thing. While he never failed to enjoy himself during your bi-nightly kitchen sessions, he hated separating from you afterwards. It wasn’t enough. The persistent nearness of you for an hour or so only to be followed by a later severance was almost painful. The bedroom door being left open was just another attempt at trying to get closer to you.
He knew it was you in the bathroom because you took longer than everyone else. Not because you were using up all the hot water but because you used it as an excuse to give it a thorough clean. Being able to hear everything going on in the house was both a gift and a curse, but Harry wasn’t attuned to all the tenants. Only you.
Five minutes later the bathroom door opened, and you plodded up the two flights of stairs. He knew the way all the stairs creaked, and you were going at nothing more than a leisurely pace. He caught a glimpse of you as you passed, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. The scent of strawberries and jasmine wafted through the gap in his door after you.
Harry’s phone vibrated.
Blackpool Tower
🌝
Friends coming over tomorrow night for drinks 🍻 we’ll behave
👰🏼
You idiot
🌚
RHYS
🌝
NOOOOOOOOOO
🍉
Pay up dipshit
🌝
😭😭😭
A few minutes later Harry got a notification to say he’d received a £10 payment into his bank account.
~
Then
The cold had crept in again. Not from the weather - it was warm at night. This was a different kind of cold. The sweaty kind that kept you up at night. Medication had kept the nightmares away for some time but now you were locked in the house for the foreseeable future you couldn’t bear the idea of being constantly dimmed down by it in front of your housemates.
Last night was the first time you’d had a nightmare in close to a year and it was just as terrifying as it used to be. Some traumas just wouldn’t leave you be. You’d taken a couple of painkillers to numb your headache and they’d graciously knocked you out for another few hours and brought you right on through to 8am. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d slept that late. With everyone at home all the time now, it seemed no one wanted to get out of bed.
You had a job to do today, anyway. The room next to yours had finally been rented, so you’d been tasked with giving it a proper clean before the new tenant arrived this evening.
You did need to eat, but before that you wanted to get the window open in there to coax some fresh air in.
Hauling yourself out of bed, you meticulously tidied your room the same you did with every morning, dressed in clothes appropriate for cleaning, and took the short step across the hall to the other room.
The door was closed which was unusual. You always left the doors to the empty rooms open with a wedge so they wouldn’t get stuffy from disuse. Maybe you’d opened the window yesterday and forgot? Had the wind closed it for you?
Shrugging to yourself, you opened it anyway.
“Oh,” your eyes widened, “fuck, shit, sorry.”
Inside, collapsed face down on the bed dressed with only a sheet was a man, near-naked in only a pair of boxers. You couldn’t see much of his features bar a mop of chocolate curls, a heavily tattooed arm, and a particularly nice arse beneath his pants.
He lifted his head, complete with a gorgeous profile, and peeled open an eye. A very green, beautiful eye. He made a confused, questioning noise.
The room was full of belongings, so this must be the new tenant and not some homeless person who’d managed to sneak in without anyone realising. At least you hoped.
“I’m sorry, I thought you were moving in later today. Sorry.”
“Friday.” He managed. A sleep-coated, groggy and somewhat delirious voice. It was delicious. You wanted to taste it.
“What?”
“Friday was moving day.”
“Yes. Today.”
“No. Yesterday.”
You looked at your phone. “Christ. I’m sorry. Isolation is getting to me. You don’t care. I’m sorry. I’m interrupting your sleep. I’ll go. Sorry.”
You pulled the door closed before you could embarrass yourself any further, and then hid yourself in the bathroom out of sheer embarrassment.
If you never saw that marvellous-looking man again it would be too soon.
~
Now
Harry often thought about that first day.
Morning. Just after dawn. Early summer sun casting you in gold. Tiny shorts. Faded creaseless t-shirt. Sleepy face messy hair.
He hadn’t seen you anything of the sort since and he craved it like an addict did cocaine.
A pandemic had ruined many things for many people, and the most recent ruin back then had been Harry’s longest relationship. That’s what had brought him to a double bedroom in a shared house rather than a flat and his own fucking space. He couldn’t afford the latter.
It had been hot that night, moving into a new home in the darkness. He’d picked up the key from the owner, your dad it had turned out, and transferred his possessions from one place to another in the late night simply to avoid having to discuss his situation with people he didn’t know.
But yes, the heat is what had caused him to strip down to his underwear before passing out. The startled look on your face at the sight of him had absolutely been worth it. The sight of you had been worth it. Such a strong attraction to someone fresh after a breakup should be wildly inappropriate, but there you suddenly were, bare-legged and dangling yourself in front of him like a piece of string to a kitten. Still, the fact remained that Harry liked to think himself a gentleman. He tried to be a gentleman, and after living so close to you for so long, it didn’t take long to learn that you liked to keep to yourself. So he had done the same.
Until now, apparently.
“That housemate of yours here?”
Harry’s ears pricked up at the question like a cat’s would if it heard something interesting. He recognised the voice and hated the speaker. He always had. Today was no exception.
“Which one? I’ve got three of ‘em if we don’t include Abbie.” Rhys’s oblivious laughter filtered up the stairs to the sanctuary of the top floor.
“Well I ain’t talkin’ about the lads, am I?”
Harry shivered. He imagined if you could hear them then you would too.
“She’s here”, “Don’t bother,” came simultaneously from Rhys and Abbie. Abbie sounded almost defensive, and that pleased Harry to no end.
“Why not?”
“Because she isn’t interested.”
“Maybe you should let her decide that for herself.”
Unconsciously, Harry rose from the desk in his room and made his way across the hall to yours. The door was open, obviously.
You were sitting up with a book but you had earplugs in. Whether it was playing music or just to block out the noise from downstairs he wasn’t sure. As soon as you spotted him a small smile curved on your lips, and you pulled an earplug out. It was playing music.
Harry had never met anyone who could listen to music and read at the same time. There were surely plenty, but this put you in the Elite Tier in his head.
“What’s up?”
Footsteps began on the stairs, and Harry threw a cautionary glance over his shoulder before he slipped inside and closed the door behind him, sliding the lock across.
You were leaning forward now, a crease in your brow. “What’s going on?”
“Rhys’s friends are here.”
You blinked. “I know.”
“Yes but his idiot friends are here.”
You tipped your head. “I’m not following.”
“I don’t trust him.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know… Gaz? The one with the teeth.”
“Oh. Right. Why not? He’s harmless, no?”
“Is he? I’m not so sure.”
Your name suddenly trilled from the floor below. “You home?”
You looked at the door as Harry moved to the side, dumbfounded. Harry shook his head at you when you began to move.
Why not? You mouthed.
Harry pretended to drink from an invisible glass and grimaced.
The idiot called your name again and knocked on the door. “Come on, come say hi.”
Harry was really scowling now. You flashed glances between him and the door multiple times.
“She’s probably asleep, mate!” Rhys hissed from outside the door. “She works early some Saturdays.”
That was not true. You’d never worked weekends, not even as a teen. It was Rhys’s smart ruse to get him to back off.
The door handle jostled. Harry suddenly looked more threatening than a mafia boss, and your jaw fell slack from shock.
“Oi,” smack, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“What? Worth a shot.”
“No it fuckin’ weren’t, go downstairs.”
Some heated muttering commenced, but neither you nor Harry moved or spoke until you were satisfied they wouldn’t hear anything.
“Did he seriously just try and get in here?”
“While you were ‘sleeping’?” Harry air-quoted around the word. “Yes. He did. Hence the distrust.”
“What the fuck…”
He watched you for a moment and the look on your face said it all. You were upset, in a confused sort of way. Your mind was somewhere else, no longer in this room. Eyes glassy and breathing shallow.
Someone had tried to come into your personal space while they had the impression you were sleeping. If that had been the case there was no telling what would’ve happened. If Harry hadn’t come in you probably wouldn’t be any the wiser to Rhys’s friend’s real character, and that was what scared him. You had a tendency to put too much faith in people as just people. If someone was being nice to you that must mean that they are nice.
“What are you reading?” He asked into the silence, not only to break the quiet but to pull you out of the trance you’d been in.
“Oh, er,” you looked down at the book in your lap and turned it upwards, flashing the cover to him, “some daft romance.”
You put it aside after slotting the bookmark inside to keep your place. He smirked to himself. God forbid you dogear a page.
“Happy ending?”
You nodded, playing with your loose earbud. “Yeah. Has to be.”
“They’re my favourite.”
You gawked at him then. “Really?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Is that so shocking?”
You laughed musically. “I don’t know… I kind of assumed a guaranteed happy ending would irritate you or something.”
“Not at all. Sad endings are rubbish.”
“Aren’t they?” You patted the bed by your lap, suddenly animated. “I hate them.”
“Me too.”
“What are they for? No one wins, everyone is miserable, and someone has almost always died in the middle.”
He folded his arms, brows furrowed in a mock defence. “Now who hurt you? Tell me. Who do I need to beat up?”
“John Green.”
Harry scoffed. “He’s the worst.”
“Paper Towns? What the fuck was that all about?”
“Load of shit.”
“Exactly!”
He grinned, relaxing his posture. A commotion began downstairs, and he turned over his shoulder towards the door. Two phones dinged inside the room.
Blackpool Tower
🌝
🍻🍻➡️🌃➕👰🏼
You were being left alone. Thank God.
Harry met your gaze with a passive smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “I’ll let you get back to your reading.”
“Wait…”
He raised a single brow at you. “Yes?”
“Why don’t we watch a movie? If they’re pissing off out…”
He was both surprised and elated by your suggestion. All he’d be doing otherwise was looking for flats to move into alone and listening to some murder podcast before passing out. Friday nights were raucous in one’s late twenties.
“Two movies.” He bargained. “One we can bitch about first, and then one we like to make ourselves feel better.”
Your returning smile was prizewinning. Priceless. “And… takeaway? I really don’t want to cook.”
He clicked and pointed a finger at you. “You’ve got yourself a deal, madam.”
~
This was a new low for you. Or perhaps it was a high - you hadn’t decided yet. Using the newfound common ground over a love of happy endings off the back of the fear of a mad man trying to let himself into your room to coax Harry into a movie night with you. In your room, no less. The house was empty yet you chose to suffer the shitty WiFi signal in your tower room because your bed was more comfortable than the communal sofa in the living room on the ground floor. The cold ground floor.
Now, after a shared pizza that was delivered in record speed, you and Harry lay parallel to one another as you batted bitchy comments between one another about the infuriatingly devastating plot of Atonement.
“I wanna smash her face into a wall.”
You nearly choked on your wine, and wiped a pre-existing tear off your cheek. “Harry,”
“What?” He whined. “Every time I get to the end and she tells the real story I see red. Why get people’s hopes up like that?”
His eyes were red around the rims.
You sat forward as the credits began to roll and looked at him with a timid smile. “Opinionated, aren’t you?”
He was draped across the left side of your bed closest to the door, legs crossed at the ankle and hands tucked behind his head against the headboard. He was close to slouched, but he looked so impossibly at ease you wanted to just nestle right into him.
You could do it. Nothing is stopping you.
You repressed a growl.
“Coming from you?” He retorted, amused.
Childishly, you stuck your tongue out at him. “What’s next?”
He pursed his lips and gave a thoughtful look towards the ceiling. “Notting Hill?”
You gasped. “Fuck yes. Do you fancy dessert?”
“Always. What have you got?”
“I picked up a chocolate trifle on the way home from work.”
“That sounds dirty as fuck.”
“It is dirty as fuck.” You agreed and stood from your bed. “I picked it up on the way home with the intention of eating it all by myself, but… I’m willing to share.”
“How kind.” Harry chuckled. You felt his gaze on you leaving the room.
Two minutes later you returned with an unwrapped trifle and two spoons. Harry had already found Notting Hill on one of the many subscription sites you paid for and had it paused right at the start. He sat up straighter as you settled back down, pressed play, and then the two of you sunk into cake and gooey chocolate layered beneath sweet cream.
“Is Hugh Grant too posh?” Harry asked between mouthfuls.
“Yes, but it suits him?” Your question pondered. “Like, I couldn’t imagine him with a Scouse or Georgie accent.”
Harry’s returning laughter was delighted, magical. “This would be a very different film if he did.”
You gave a gutterall, mischievous laugh. “I would like to see it.”
Once you’d spoiled yourselves with trifle you settled back down, two parallel figures unmoving in the dim room, except to drink wine.
Harry was an ominous presence beside you. Warmth radiated off him in languid rolls, beckoning to you like an evil sea siren. Your hands fisted on your stomach, muscles tense. It really was taking everything in you not to lean into him and inhale his scent. Let it lull you to sleep like a safety blanket.
Occasionally you peeked glances at him. If he’d noticed you he never said anything, and it made you brave. After so long the film became background noise and Harry was the real star. A black t-shirt across a flat, muscular chest, steady breaths causing a rise and fall. Black jogging bottoms that rose higher up his legs with each slight movement, showing more scrumptious leg hair per inch. Big, boney, veiny feet with heinously long toes. Hair taken off his face with a tiny claw grip, a little greasy around the ears.
The overwhelming need to shove your face into his armpit finally gave motive to look away. Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts meant nothing anymore. There was a sexy man sprawled across your bed who ate your trifle and wanted to watch stupid rom-coms with you.
You fell asleep before the end.
~
Harry was sure he was dreaming. It wasn’t possible, the situation he found himself in. It was what he wanted, what he had really wanted for a while now, but the actual possibility of it coming to fruition had been next to none. Zero. Impossible.
He’d woken up in your room. That was the first tell that he was still dreaming. Then he found a warm body curled around him, and him around them in return. Your warm body. Leg draped over his thigh, arm slung across his torso, head tucked under his chin, his arms around your shoulders and inhaling your strawberry shampoo.
You were both still on top of the covers, neither able to finish the movie without passing out. He’d even noticed you had nodded off first but he didn’t want to leave you without making sure you’d lock the door behind you again in case Rhys and his idiot friends returned.
Huh. Maybe it wasn’t a dream. That was too accurate and not nearly lucid enough for an unconscious mind.
He didn’t want to move in case he stirred you, but he was desperate to see your face. Your beautiful, sleeping face. He refused to believe you’d cuddled up to him while conscious. Because it had been that way around - you were parked up on his side of the bed. His lips pricked upwards at the corners with that knowledge.
It was raining heavily outside. It fell against the window in loud smatters, the room cast in a dull grey tone. It made him want to squeeze you tighter, to keep you from any harm. He still refrained.
Eventually you woke. He could tell from the way your body tensed and your breath caught in your throat.
“Don’t freak out.” He mumbled, voice thick from lack of use.
You took in a deep, obvious breath. “No? Why not?”
“You don’t need to.”
“I think I do.”
“Explain, please.”
You hesitated, wetting your lips, and took in another deep breath. “I’ve embarrassed myself.”
“How?”
“I’ve put myself into your personal space without your permission.”
“You were unconscious.” He argued.
“Doesn’t make it any better. You should’ve run for the hills the second my foot touched your lovely hairy leg.”
Harry chuckled. He tightened his arm around you and brushed his nose through your messy hair. “Maybe I don’t mind you in my personal space. Maybe… I like it.”
“Do you?”
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps?”
He laughed again. “You’ve nothing to worry about.”
You sat up and faced him.
Gah. There you were. Puffy eyes, cracked lips, scruffy hair. His stomach did a backflip at the sight of you - a dream he had nightly. In equal measure, he missed having the warmth and weight of your body against him.
“Don’t think about it too much.” He gave you a gentle smile. “Nothing needs to be complicated.”
You remained silent, either awestruck or dumbfounded. He wasn’t sure.
He stood, reluctantly, and pinched your cheek. “You’re cute when you’re in shock.”
That sorted you out. Your face rearranged itself into a scowl, gaze following him as he left the room. He hadn’t wanted to leave, but such a conversation felt too poignant for 8 o’clock in the morning. You needed space to let your thoughts take over.
~
Cooking dinner and movie nights. That had become yours and Harry’s thing. After he’d dropped what you considered a bombshell that he didn’t mind you in his personal space you’d had the longest shower of your life - accidentally using all the hot water - and then spent the morning face down on your bed trying not to scream into your pillow.
Since then you’d been obsessively cleaning, more so than usual by way of distraction from the man living across the hall. The house was spotless. You’d even cleaned the windows at one point, outside, with help from your dad and looked at a way to fix the leaking problem in the empty bedroom.
It still didn’t stop your mind from constantly drifting back to the other morning. Waking up curled around Harry like that had been both terrifying and utterly perfect. For a man with such a hard physique he’d been incredibly comfortable. Too comfortable. Then he’d said a number of things that threw your somewhat orderly brain into complete disarray and chaos.
“You’re cute when you’re in shock.”
Harry hadn’t seemed to take his own words lightly, either. He’d been more comfortable in closer proximity with you since that morning, in the little things like light touches to your arms and back while you cooked together, or a kiss on the top of your head before you disappeared into your room for the night. Some nights you would share a bed after a movie because it was just easier - you were already settled, and you always woke up cuddled against him like a fucking creep.
“This,” Harry said as he pulled the oven door open, a waft of heat filling the cold room, “is gonna be fuckin’ banging.”
“Mhm.” You quipped, shoving a tortilla chip into some salsa, and then into your gob.
It was a Saturday night. By a freak stroke of luck, all the other housemates had gone away for the weekend - George to his parents’ and Rhys and Abbie on a weekend break to Amsterdam. So, a dinner and movie night had been a given, but you’d stuck a portable heater in the communal living room downstairs, found as many blankets as you could and piled them onto the sofa, then queued up enough movies to last all night.
Harry’s carefully crafted pizza sat atop the stove, cooked to perfection with your favourite ingredients on one half and his on the other. Your mouth watered.
You carried everything into the lounge, set it all up on the coffee table, and pressed play on your first movie of the night.
It was civil while you ate, and you were admittedly starving. To Harry’s credit the pizza was delicious and you wished it was bigger because you could’ve eaten another. You filled the hole in your stomach with tortillas and salsa instead. He graciously took all the dirty plates back into the kitchen when you were done, and returned with two bowls of strawberries, raspberries, and of course, watermelon. It was a very healthy dessert but the watermelon looked seriously out of place.
“I can’t believe you’re letting me eat your watermelon.” You joked. “Feels like a sacred honour.”
He snorted but remained silent.
Eventually, after all the food and a couple of glasses of wine, you were horizontal, your feet in Harry’s lap. He had his hands locked around your ankle after you accidentally kicked him in the thigh.
“If you were in a rom-com, who would you want to play your love interest?”
Harry pursed his lips. “Hugh Grant.”
You giggled, turning your face into the sofa cushion. “90s or current Hugh Grant?”
“90s. Current Hugh Grant is into much more sophisticated roles that I don’t care for. Even if they are generally great films.”
“I see…” you mused.
He squeezed your ankle, a smile flirting on his lips. “No, I don’t know. Who’s queen of romantic comedies? Reese Witherspoon? J-Lo?”
“Oh my God, I love J-Lo.” Your voice was a dreamy, breathy sound.
“A fine woman indeed.”
“I love it when you talk like it’s the 1800s.”
He laughed so loudly it was almost a bark. “Noted. Who would you want to play opposite?”
“Sam Claflin.”
“The king of rom-coms.”
“Exactly. Very easy on the eye.”
Harry was smirking again. His hands were moving now, smoothing up and down your leg in easy strokes.
Thank fuck you shaved, you little scruffy bear.
You mentally flicked your inner tormentor behind her ear.
The film played on and held your attention for some time. You were possibly the most relaxed you’d been for a very long time. Not one muscle in your body felt tight.
Harry’s lackadaisical caressing continued, which you were still half-conscious of. It was nice to be touched that way - you don’t think you ever had been. You didn’t panic until you realised he’d been venturing just a touch further up your leg with every stroke; until his fingers tickled your thigh.
You gasped, grabbing his wrist, wrenched yourself upright.
Heat flooded your centre, slick and warm. It was so instantaneous it took you by surprise, and your cheeks burned, the tips of your ears warm.
His eyes were on you, wider than usual. “Sorry,” he tried to speak but it only came out in a whisper.
What is wrong with you, woman? You wanted this.
The inner tormentor was right. You had wanted it, and for quite some time. But the advance of it had taken you so completely off-guard that your body had reacted before your brain did.
“Shouldn’t have done that.” Harry muttered, a furrow between his brow. He was angry with himself.
Finally you managed to shake your head. You managed to manoeuvre yourself by taking one leg - the leg he still had his hand on because you were keeping it there - off his lap and tucked it under itself. You pressed his palm flat against your skin, smoothing over each of his long fingers in turn, and met his intense gaze.
You were much closer now, faces and bodies mere inches from each other. You could feel his breath against your face, and you knew he could feel yours too from the way his eyelids fluttered with each exhale. Shiny eyelids, you noted.
He slowly closed the space to brush his nose upwards against yours, and your next exhale was much shakier.
“What are we doing?” You asked.
“Whatever you want.”
You wanted many, many things. And 99% of them involved him.
You licked your lips, and his gaze dropped to them at the action. Your stomach squirmed and your inner voice squealed with nerves.
Harry placed his other hand firmly on your hip and tugged, and you spilled over his lap, straddling him with your hands using his shoulders for balance. Another gasp fell out of you at the feeling of a certain something between your legs. A certain hard something.
“Is this okay?” He asked, both hands tentative on your thighs.
“Mhm.” You managed.
His hands spread wider, and you grew wetter, breathing heavier
He swallowed thickly. “Can I kiss you?”
All you could do was nod.
You noticed the beginning of a smile before his mouth was on yours. That mouth you’d thought of many times, at all hours, on all days of the week. And it was finally on yours, and perfect too. Soft, big, spongy. It felt like heaven against your own.
He took his time, leisurely testing the waters with you. What you would allow and what you wouldn’t. What you liked and what you didn’t.
You liked all of it.
His tongue was reverent as it eased your lips open, but thorough once you’d granted him access to you. He tasted like strawberry and watermelon, a delicious combination. A lethal combination.
His hands still smoothed over your thighs, reaching for your arse but never quite making it there. He didn’t want a repeat of the previous reaction from you.
You held onto him tightly, hands squeezing over his shoulders in an accidental but welcomed massage. You wanted to touch him everywhere but weren’t sure if he was okay with it.
“I never thought I’d be able to do this with you.” Harry’s voice was gruff, strained. He spoke against your lips.
“Neither did I.” You said breathily.
“Thought about it a lot.”
“Me too.”
He groaned into your mouth, hands rising to your hips and waist, tugging on your loose t-shirt.
You continued kissing, mouths bruising with lust, skirting around the removal of clothes. His arousal only got harder between your legs and it made you wriggle. Your wriggling caused friction, and the friction caused whimpers.
“I won’t last if you make noises like that.”
This information gave you immense satisfaction. He practically ate the smile off your face, and you wriggled again over the top of him. More whimpers, more movement. Back and forth, back and forth until you were utterly soaked inside your pyjama shorts.
“Jesus Christ,” he hissed.
“Harry,” you moaned, fisting his t-shirt at the chest.
“Keep going.” He practically begged.
You gave a frustrated noise and did as he said, rolling your hips over the length of his clothed shaft. Over and over and over again. Tits began to bounce. Back began to sweat. Toes began to curl.
Harry stripped you of your top and buried his face in your chest. Kissing, licking, sucking, bruising. A canvas of vivid colour. He dragged his lips across any inch he could, leaning forward, arching you backwards, just to access more. More more more.
Rolling, dragging, rolling and dragging your dampness against his erection. It was your sole focus. You needed it - the release you hadn’t felt for some time. You were always too nervous to masturbate with only two walls and doors separating you and Harry. You needed this more than anything else.
He held onto your back with one strong arm, hand gripping your waist while his other cupped your breast, and he took your nipple into his mouth without any further hesitation. Lick, suck, lick.
You squealed at the sensation, grabbed his face and brought his mouth back to yours. Faster faster faster you moved your hips and devoured his mouth until-
“Harry!”
Heat burst through your body, crashing through every cell, corner and crevice. You were tense as you came, clinging to Harry as tightly as possible. Then, as breath left you, you fell limp against him.
Harry stroked your hair and kissed your temple. His nose drew circles on your cheek.
When you pulled back, thoughts catching up to you, you looked confused.
“What?” He asked, head tipped to one side.
“This doesn’t make sense to me.”
“What doesn’t?”
“This,” you pointed between him and you.
“Why doesn’t it?”
“Because,” you gestured at him and then dropped your hands to your lap, “have you seen you?”
“Many times.”
You gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m serious, Harry. People that look like you aren’t interested in people who look like me.”
“What a horrifically outdated cliche.” He said in a flinchingly bored tone. “For the record, I think you’re bloody gorgeous. Have done since the day I met you.”
“Why?”
“Because I do! Life is too fucking short to let society dictate who is attractive enough to date who.”
You made a face, one where your eyebrows and your mouth stretched. “Yes, but-,”
“-No buts. I fancy the pants off you and that’s all you need to know.”
“Are you sure?”
He laughed. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t have let you do what you just did if I wasn’t sure. Would I?”
“I don’t know… some men are pigs.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Look,” he took your face in his hands, “some men are indeed pigs. But I like you. A lot. And I’ve had fantasies a hell of a lot like what we just did together for a damn embarrassing amount of time. About you. That’s all you need to know. Ever since I met you, I’ve been all about you.”
You pulled your lips between your teeth and stared at his chest, unseeing. Giddiness filled your tummy and white noise flooded your ears.
Harry picked up your hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. He watched you closely as he peppered kisses to your skin. “You’re thinking too hard, but I get it.”
“I think too hard about everything.” You mumbled. “Especially when it comes to you.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“I don’t know but I’ve always thought about you more than I’d like to.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You’re very distracting.”
“Sounds like a compliment to me.” He said, and pecked your nose. “Shall we finish our movies and go to bed?”
Involuntarily, and as if prompted by the suggestion, you yawned. “Probably a good idea.”
Harry smiled, wrapped his arms around your middle and squeezed you tightly to his solid frame. “Let’s do it.”
~
Harry worked late a lot over the next week or so. He hated it mostly because it meant less time with you. Less conscious time, anyway. For the first few nights he’d come home to find you asleep and couldn’t bear the idea of accidentally waking you up, but after sharing a bed with you for so many nights now, it had been a hard drug to quit.
It was late now, well past midnight and you’d probably fallen asleep hours ago. But seeing you curled up and facing the window, sheets bunched up to your chin and face buried in your pillow, he couldn’t help himself.
He quietly stripped out of his clothes, save for his boxers, shut the door behind him and slid into bed beside you. He surrounded you with his warmth - arms around your middle and his face pressed between your shoulder blades. He tugged you backwards until your bodies were flush together, chest to back, and sponged a wet kiss into your shoulder.
You did rouse a little, giving out a soft, sleep-filled squeak. “Hi.”
He smiled, leaving another kiss closer to your neck. “Hi.”
“Wondered when you’d be back.” You said around a content sigh.
“And me.”
You giggled. You took a hand that clasped around your chest and brought it up to your lips. “Tried to stay awake for you but failed.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“But I want to.”
He littered more kisses against your skin, because he could just never get enough of you. “Thank you.”
“Pleasure.”
“Now go back to sleep.”
“Yes sir.”
~
“You look different.”
You frowned, meeting your sister’s scrutinous eyes between washing a saucepan clean. You were washing, she was drying, like you always did. You didn’t trust her enough to actually clean the dirty tableware. Sometimes she didn’t properly dry things either, but you’d make the most of what you could.
“What do you mean?”
“I dunno.” She shrugged. “You’ve got a kind of… air about you.”
“Right…”
“Hey,” your dad appeared, nudging your sister’s arm, “maybe she’s got a boyfriend.”
Embarrassed heat filled your body.
“No, that’s not it.” Your sister shook her head. “Anyway, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”
“I don’t…” you didn’t know how to finish that.
Perhaps your many nights sharing a bed with Harry had been what she was talking about, but the label of boyfriend/girlfriend definitely hadn’t come up yet. You just liked each other. A lot. Add that to the fact that any night you shared a bed with him you didn’t wake up in cold sweats or choked screaming fits, it wasn’t exactly something you planned to stop doing any time soon.
“Oh my God, don’t overthink it like you do everything else. It’s a compliment. Take it.” She rolled her eyes.
“Aye, don’t be snotty.” Dad swatted your sister’s arm.
“I’m not!”
Your sister was younger than you, and for all eternity most definitely cooler. She was in school and that hadn’t changed into adulthood. It didn’t particularly bother you. Generally you got on very well, she just didn’t have a problem opening her mouth when she had an opinion.
“Anyway, don’t forget family dinner night. Next Friday?” Dad reminded you.
Ah yes. Family dinner night was not here at Dad’s house with just you and your sister. It was at the house with Dad, your sister, and all the housemates. George proclaimed it his favourite time of the month, because Dad, an ex-chef, always cooked. Harry, because of his often awkward shift work, was almost always absent.
“Okay.” You nodded.
After finishing your last dirty dish, you pulled your phone out.
Blackpool Tower
👑
❌😃
Sometimes a text simply couldn’t be written exclusively in emojis, so you’d come up with a rule whereby if you needed to write one, you’d send a ❌😃 to alert them.
👑
Family dinner night next Friday. Be there or be square 💘
👰🏼
🤯🤩🤯🤩🤯
🌚
🎉🎉🎉
“You’re still doing the emoji thing?” Your sister asked with a narrowed gaze.
“We have another bet running to see who’ll crack first.”
“Right… will everyone come?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“That’s me asking if Harry will be there, by the way.” She said with a smirk, nudging your arm.
If you didn’t know any better you’d be hot under the collar thinking she was onto you. The mention of his name got you flustered anyway, but you did know better. As any sensible woman would, your sister had a little thing for Harry that she’d never shied away from.
“I don’t know.” You repeated, somewhat irritated.
“Well, find out! Do I need to make an effort or not, you know?”
“I mean… he doesn’t usually come. So probably not.”
“Double check. To be safe. Or give me his number.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Bore.” She scoffed, and swished away.
~
Sundays were laundry day. Harry knew this, which is why he’d never do his on the same day. Everyone in the house knew that first thing on a Sunday morning you would head down to the basement with a book and a basket full and sit there until everything had been through the tumble dryer (unless it was delicate in which case you’d air it in your window for the day).
Today, though, Harry travelled from the top of the house to the very bottom and slipped inside the utility room, closing the door behind him before any of the other housemates could hear him.
“What are you doing?” You asked, voice light with laughter.
Harry’s gaze rested on you, full of some kind of infatuation. You were sitting atop the industrial-size tumble dryer in the far corner of the room, back against the wall and knees up, book held against your thighs.
He shrugged. “Wanted to come irritate you a bit.”
“You never irritate me.”
He grinned and put himself in your personal space. He found your bookmark and placed it between the pages, and then took it away, abandoning it. “Are you sure?”
You let him manoeuvre you; pulled you forward a little and spread your knees apart. Your legs fell over the side, resting either side of his hips, and your breathing quickened. He placed one hand on your thigh and the other stroked over your cheek.
“Feel free to interrupt laundry day any time you want.”
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
You laughed at his mock genuine tone and brushed your fingertips against his lips. “You know, my sister has a massive thing for you.”
He stood quietly for a fraction of time, gaze assessing. “I would tease you about it but I just can’t. I kind of already guessed.”
“Did you?”
“Mhm. She’s not exactly subtle.”
“No, she’s not. She asked me for your number.”
“Did you give it to her?”
“What do you think?” You rolled your eyes.
He smirked. “You getting possessive of me?”
“Maybe. But she’s too self-absorbed to realise. She thinks I’m doing it because giving out your number willy nilly is morally wrong. Which it is. But yeah, I also just don’t want her to have it.”
His lips tightened, nose flared, eyes light - batting away a smile. “I think I like this side of you.”
You gave an uncharacteristic grunt, but your eyes never left him. “You look like a frog when you make that face.”
His face neutralised and he sucked in a breath. “You’re not the first person to tell me that.”
This visibly delighted you. “Maybe I’ll start calling you Froggy.”
“Too far.” He pinched your waist
You giggled, hands pressed against his chest. Your palms felt warm over his t-shirt and he never wanted you to take them away.
“How long left on your cycle?”
“Er…” your gaze dipped downwards to the screen on the washing machine. “Like, 20 minutes probably.”
“And then it’s going in the tumble dryer?”
“Yes… why?”
“Because,” he pecked your lips once, “I think I know,” he kissed your left cheek, “something we can do,” then your right cheek, “while we wait.”
Your gaze was curious and intense as he started sponging his lips down your front, from neck to chest to stomach. You reclined some, breathing heavy, and he pulled your legs up by the ankle and planted your feet back on top of the dryer.
“Oh,” you spoke, voice caught.
“You okay with this?” He asked hesitantly.
Even though you’d been sleeping side by side something close to 5 nights a week, your little dry humping session last weekend was as far as you’d gone in the sexual intimacy department.
You made a strangled noise. “Christ, yes.”
Grin fully spread across his face, he smoothed his palms up your thighs to your hips and tucked his fingers into the silky waistband of your pyjama bottoms.
“Can we take these off?”
You hummed an affirmed noise, and lifted your arse off the surface. In one smooth pull he had the garment off your legs and over his shoulder, probably in the same vicinity of the book he’d taken off you.
He met your gaze with a lifted brow. “Not a fan of knickers?”
“Not in my jim-jams, no.”
His smile blossomed like daffodils in spring. “That’s either the cutest or sexiest thing you’ve ever said.”
“Can we go with sexy considering what I hope you’re about to do?”
“Sure thing, cutie.”
You squealed a little at the name, but he couldn’t tell if you loved it or hated it. Regardless, he kept a firm grip on your legs and lowered his lips to your knee. In a slow, measured movement, he kissed his way up the inside of your legs with his hot, wet mouth.
Your breath was laboured as you watched him, eyes wide when he met your gaze again but so incredibly keen. To prove it, you pushed a hand through his curls and massaged his scalp, coaxing him forward.
“I’ve wanted to taste you for so fucking long.” He admitted, mouth dragging over the softest part of your thigh.
His hot breath fanned against your waiting lips and you visibly clenched.
“I’ve wanted you to, believe me.” Your voice was but a rasp.
“Yeah?” He sighed happily, left hand moving closer to your centre. He extended his thumb out, “Are you wet for me?” He pulled your lips apart, and the noise he made at the sight of you was practically carnal.
“Harry,” you whimpered, tugging on his hair.
He hummed again, face inching closer to your dripping lips. He licked between you, wetness collecting on his tongue. The taste of you was something better than he could’ve ever imagined and he growled because of it. He gripped your legs tighter, hesitant no more, and buried his face right between your soft thighs.
“Oh, God,” you whined. Your head lolled backwards and both fists found purchase in his beautiful hair, twisting and tugging.
He grunted in response to you, spurred on. He collected as much of your juice as he could, firm stroke after firm stroke of his perfectly capable tongue.
He played with your clit in a way that made you squirm and squeal, eliciting the most delectable little noises out of your hoarse throat. Harry didn’t hold back - he never had in that department. He went for it completely and utterly.
The washing machine launched into rapid spinning, filling the room with wheezing, screaming noises.
“Harry, don’t stop.” You begged, body rigid with desperate tension.
He obeyed your every word. He spread your legs further and further with his digging grip. He burrowed his face into your cunt, tongue plunging inside of you and spading inside your heat like a desperate gardener.
“Yes, yes, yes,” you panted as you lifted your head again to watch him.
His eyes were already on you, dark and hooded and filled with keen lust. His head moved with an eager precision like his mouth did. He wanted you this way. He’d wanted it for so long he couldn’t quite believe he was getting it. You were a goddess, ethereal and perfect.
The washing machine’s cycle reached its peak, vibrating harshly beside the two of you. It was deafening yet the least bit distracting.
Harry pursued his advances on your cunt relentlessly and without breath until your body went rigid and then shuddered. You screamed his name, withholding nothing, any cries drowned out by the washing machine. Your body visibly vibrated like the machine beside you, and eventually your limbs weakened to jelly.
Harry stood straight and helped you sit up again, wrapping his arms around your middle. He tucked your head into his neck and twisted his face into your hair.
“You’re right, that was incredibly sexy.” He mumbled.
He revelled in your returning laughter, the sound light and airy. You showed no shame in clinging onto him, fingers raking through the curls at the back of his neck.
“Maybe you can do it again later.” You suggested, lips sponging against the skin on his neck.
“Any time you like.”
After another minute or so you pulled away, eyes scouring his face. “You’re a mess, sir.” You commented as you wiped your thumb around his shiny mouth.
He made a wordless noise, held your wrist, and took your thumb in his mouth. “I’ll be a mess for you.”
“Perhaps I’ll be a mess for you, too.”
His brows shot up and it made you laugh. “It’s cruel to joke about that.”
“I’m not joking.”
He gave you a challenging look.
“Want me to prove it?” You offered.
Was it even worth the question? “Always.”
You grinned. “Let me put my washing in the dryer and I will.”
He took a step back and bent at the waist, arms extending like he was bowing. “M’lady.”
You hopped down from where you’d been sitting and pulled him in for a kiss.
“Sir.”
~
The kitchen was a hive. And a mess. There was shit everywhere and your anxiety was through the roof just looking at it. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight because any kitchen your dad found himself in nowadays ended up looking like a pig sty but it didn’t settle the tightness in your chest.
He moved around the room with chaotic precision while you trailed after him tidying up any unnecessary mess, and your sister sat at the dining table Rhys and George had brought up from the basement an hour ago, scrolling through her phone.
“What about him?” Your sister flashed her screen to the two of you, the next Tinder profile filling it.
Your dad leaned over and squinted. “His eyes are too far apart.”
“Ugh. Knew you were gonna say that.” She grumbled.
This was a game you played regularly. Your sister would showcase potential Tinder matches either for her or for you (which you always declined to comment on), and your dad would garner his unfiltered opinion. It was probably a big part of the reason you were both still (technically) single. No one was ever good enough. That, and you didn’t have a Tinder account. Or any dating app account, actually.
“Him?” She flashed the next profile to you both.
Cute. But…
Not Harry.
Your inner tormentor smirked.
“What’s his anthem?” Dad knew all the terminologies now for the dating app world. He liked to call Hinge ‘UnHinged’, because that’s what the suitors on there usually were.
“Um… Wonderwall.”
You gagged, and Dad scoffed. “Next.”
You carried on for a little while, joining in when you felt like it but mostly just trying to keep the kitchen at an acceptable level of clean.
Rhys, Abbie and George were upstairs getting themselves ready for dinner as if it was some kind of gala they were about to attend. They did it everytime; dinner with Dad felt like an occasion. Harry wasn’t home and you hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask if he was going to be. He left at such a weird time this morning you couldn’t figure out what shift he was on and how that would affect his ‘home time’.
“Lay the table please, poppet?” Your dad asked of your sister, because he knew it was the only task she’d willingly do.
She leapt to her feet in a dramatic flurry and made for the cutlery draw. “Have we got enough for matching sets?”
“Very unlikely.” You muttered. You hadn’t eaten dinner with matching cutlery since you moved in.
The front door opened, cold air blustering in and mixing with the heat of the kitchen. Harry stepped in, bundled up in a big coat and rucksack slung over one shoulder.
“Hope I’m not late.” He said in a gravelly voice, smile sheepish.
“Harry!” Dad greeted him with complete joy. “Wasn’t expecting you, what a nice surprise.”
Your sister looked flustered all of a sudden. She’d convinced herself he wasn’t coming. Part of you had, too.
“I’ll just change and be back down.”
“Sure, we’ve got a bit of time yet.” Dad waved him away.
You’d pretended to busy yourself, but you watched as he headed for the stairs and caught the subtle wink he gave you.
Ah shit.
“What am I going to do?” Your sister panicked. “I'm a disaster - I look hideous.”
“No you don’t.” You grumbled. She’d never looked hideous in her life.
“Can I borrow some makeup?”
It was easier to just give her what she wanted rather than fighting her on it. “Sure - what do you need?”
She listed off a bunch of makeup items, most of which sounded completely foreign so you were sure you didn’t have them. You’d just give her your entire makeup bag and let her do what she wanted.
You knocked on Harry’s door before you went back down, makeup bag in hand. He opened in just his jeans, a light straight-leg pair with gaping holes at the knees.
“Hey,” he smiled, and rested an arm against the doorframe.
“Hi… I thought you’d be working late?”
He shook his head. “I was supposed to be. Swapped my shift ‘cause I always miss family dinner.”
“I see… well, you’ve successfully panicked my sister.”
“That was my plan all along, actually.”
“Mhm, sure.” You bit away a smirk. You liked this playful side of him a lot. “If you need half an hour to mentally prepare… I’d take it.”
“Noted, thank you.”
You left him to change and made your way back downstairs. Your sister eagerly took your makeup from you and dashed to the bathroom on the first floor.
Neither she nor Harry, or anyone else for that matter, came down until it was time to sit down.
Your dad sat at the head of the table as he always did, spread laid out in front of you in the middle. You sat to your dad’s right on the corner, and your sister to the left. You knew she was going to try and save the seat on her other side for Harry, but George ended up taking it instead, which visibly irritated her. She did have a particular ‘gay man’s best friend’ vibe about her - they flocked to her like sheep. Abbie sat at the other head, Rhys on her left, and then Harry sandwiched between Rhys and you.
He squeezed your thigh under the table, and you tried to pretend like it didn’t have some obscene effect on your intimate places. You lightly kicked his shin and started piling food onto your plate.
Like some kind of mafia father, your dad went around the table and asked all of the housemates for an update on their lives. He liked to do this, and fortunately your housemates liked pleasing him. He was a good landlord, and that showed by the way they gravitated towards him. He probably wouldn’t do this sort of thing if you weren’t living there, but he had a responsibility to them as tenants as well as you, his eldest daughter.
When you were done eating you sat back in your chair and put your hands in your lap. Harry didn’t hesitate to take one in his own and link your fingers. You peeked up at him as subtly as possible, unable to fight the giddy warmth that spread through you. He didn’t meet your gaze for the sake of keeping everyone else out of your business, but he did squeeze your hand, which only made the airy, slightly delirious feeling inside of you that much stronger.
Your sister spent 20 minutes talking about herself without breath, and as self-absorbed as she was, she was harmless, really. Not to mention entertaining. You never laughed as much as you did when she had her mouth open.
“Harry, you should come to these more often.” She said to him, batting her eyelashes.
You were about to walk her and your dad to the car and send them on their way. Harry was trying his absolute hardest to escape.
He cleared his throat. “I probably should, yeah.”
“It was good having an extra nice body.”
You gave her a look, brow raised. She shrugged. “I think it’s home time, no?” You prompted, gripping her arms and nudging her away.
“Fine.” She huffed, and began walking towards the street. “Bye team!”
Most people had already disappeared to their rooms but you had to admire her spirit. Dad was already gone, eager to go to bed.
You were halfway to the car when your sister asked, “So are you gonna tell me or what?”
You met her gaze with another raised brow. “Tell you what, exactly?”
“Mate,” she swatted my arm, “I am not an idiot. I know when I’m not wanted, because it’s not often.” She could not get any more vain if she tried. “I always did wonder what I had to do to get Harry’s attention better, and today I finally figured it out. I need to be you.”
Ah. Not as ignorant as she appears, then.
You pressed your mouth closed, looking away. “Er,”
“Don’t ‘er’ me. I saw that wink he gave you when he got home, but I thought he was just trying to wind me up. And then he sat next to you, not by choice it seemed, but there was barely an inch of space between you and practically a metre between him and Rhys. Then he just didn’t stop looking at you, even though he pretended he wasn’t. Let me tell you, that boy has not learned the art of subtlety.”
She turned to you then, a searing gaze heavy. “Look, I don’t know if you’re aware of it, or if you’re already shaggin’ him and lying to me about it-,”
“-We’re not having sex.” Yet.
“Okay, fine. Whatever. Just do something about it, please. If I can’t have him you should. Don’t let a man that beautiful go to waste. You hear me?”
“Loud and clear.”
“Good.” She huffed, and then pulled you in for a tight hug. “Fed up of seeing you alone and underselling yourself. You’re hot shit! I know it, and Harry clearly knows it.” She suddenly takes your face in her grasp. “So do something about it.”
~
You appeared in the doorway of Harry’s room around 20 minutes later, fresh-faced and in your PJs. He was reading in bed, having stolen a book out of your cupboard.
“Is he secretly in love with her?” He asked without taking his eyes off the pages, his long finger brushing the spine.
You squinted at the title as you moved closer to him. “Yes. What made you pick that one?”
“Because it’s obviously your favourite.”
“How’d you work that one out?”
“The spine is cracked beyond belief. It’s nearly falling apart.”
“I might’ve bought it from a charity shop.”
He lifted a brow. “Did you?”
“No.”
He put the book aside, focussing all of his attention on you. You’d sat down cross-legged on top of the covers, and you wore a calm yet unreadable expression. There was a hint of something in your eyes. Infatuation, maybe?
“What’s going on?”
You shook your head, smiling. “Nothing. I’m just… happy.”
“Me too.”
You remained quiet for a moment, gazing at one another in a comfortable silence. Eventually, Harry opened his arms in request of your embrace, and you gave it to him without hesitation. You settled against him, head tucked under his chin.
“I like this, Harry. Us.”
“So do I.” He nodded, pressing his lips into your hair. “A lot.”
“You make it easier.”
“Make what easier?” He asked, and then held his breath.
A beat passed. “Life. Sleeping. Consciousness. Cooking. Just… being.”
“That’s a very big compliment.”
“I mean it.”
“I know you do.”
When you peered up at him, he lowered his mouth to yours for a slow and tender kiss. It wasn’t abrasive or demanding; it was perfect. Full of an understanding that neither of you expected to find in another person.
“Tell me about your nightmares.”
“I don’t have them when I’m with you.” You admitted, as if he hadn’t already worked it out. When he didn’t respond to you, you reluctantly continued. “They’re about my mum. She died in a car accident a few years ago and I dream about it sometimes.”
Harry’s heart found its way into his mouth. “You were there?”
“No. My sister was. I was with dad - it was a weekend. Me and dad at his work cooking, mum and my sister shopping in town. Were on their way back and someone just ploughed into the side of the car, driver’s side. She died on impact and my sister was in hospital for a week.”
Harry held onto you tighter, his lips against your temple. “I’m sorry.” He whispered.
“It’s okay…” you swallowed, body tensed in stillness. “I dream about that day a lot. Mostly the part where Dad broke the news to me. Seeing my sister in the hospital plugged in and drugged up. The funeral; the look on Dad’s face. I wake up crying more than screaming, usually.”
He took a deep breath, and he clung to you like you might disappear. “I’m really sorry. Sorry that happened to you and your family, and that you have to relive it most nights. That’s not fair.”
You met his gaze, cupping his cheek. “Ever since we started doing… this, I haven’t had a single one. Not even on the nights we don’t share a bed. I don’t know why, I guess my conscience has decided it’s safe with you. And I do feel safe with you.”
“Then I will stay with you every night to make sure you never have a bad dream again.” He vowed, turning his head enough to kiss your palm. “I like knowing that you feel safe with me. S’a pretty big compliment.”
“I’m full of those when it comes to you.”
His chest swelled, a helpless smile on his face. “Even when you tell me I look like a frog.”
You snorted and hid your face in his chest. “You do, though.”
“Okay, thank you.” He huffed, feigning offence, but he didn’t let you go; didn’t loosen his hold on you.
You talked late into the night until you fell asleep, wrapped around one another and bundled under his bedclothes. Having you so close and being so open gave Harry a sense of clarity. He’d had an attraction to you since the day he met you, but this was turning into something more. Feelings were now coming up to bat, and he had a pretty solid idea of where they were heading.
~
“You are filthy.”
You wiped your brow, meeting Abbie’s gaze with indifference. “I am not letting this garden turn into a jungle again like it did last year.”
“I know, but I’ve never seen you so dirty. You’re the cleanest person I know.”
“Believe me, I’ll be jumping straight in the shower once I’m done.”
It was the warmest day of spring so far, and for once it wasn’t raining, so you’d taken the opportunity the second you had it to get outside and sort the garden out. The winter had turned it into a tangled overgrown mass of green mess, and you’d been desperate to get it sorted.
Abbie had offered to help but had realised very quickly that she was out of her depth, and eventually offered moral support in lieu of the physical kind. You didn’t mind the company - it beat waiting inside for Harry to come home, alone all day.
You chopped away at the forest that had grown, turned the soil over when you found it, and potted some new plants to give it some life. By the time Harry came home your legs were covered in dirt, cuts and fresh bruises, nail beds black, hair full of dead foliage, and just downright sweaty.
Abbie had surrendered to the house to be entertained by Rhys, and George wasn’t home. He was never home much anymore, you were all under the impression he had a boyfriend.
Harry helped you to your feet where you were kneeling in the soil, eyes giving you a thorough once over. “You look…”
“Filthy. Yes, I know.”
He grinned. “Yeah, but I like it.”
“Really?”
He followed you as you collected your gardening tools and hid them in the shed tucked against the side of the house. “Absolutely. You’re so clean and put together all the time, it’s kinda nice seeing you a bit roughed up.”
You hummed out a laugh. “Interesting.”
Harry boxed you up against the wall, out of sight of any of your nosey housemates. His hips trapped yours, hands holding your sides at the ribs. Without a hint of hesitation, he pressed his mouth to yours, eagerness overpowering tenderness.
You simply let him, never one to deny the most handsome man you knew a hot and heavy kiss. You enjoyed being wanted by him. Who the fuck wouldn’t?
“I’ll let you go shower.”
“Okay.” You murmured, delirious.
He pulled away, giving your hip one last squeeze before he vanished into the house. You spent five more minutes in the garden making sure you’d tidied up after yourself, and took some pictures to send to your dad.
Your shower was longer than you’d have liked thanks to the state of you, and in turn it took you longer to clean the bathroom down than usual. You were starving by the time you got back to the top floor.
Harry was at his desk when you slipped inside his room, browsing something on his laptop.
His room and yours were polar opposites of one another. Where you hid all your belongings, made your bed and kept things as minimal as possible, Harry had more shit than necessary. A bulging wardrobe, unmade bed, things everywhere. He was a man with stuff, and lots of it. Sometimes it made you itch. But he wasn’t dirty in any capacity. It smelled of fresh linen and clean air all the time.
“Do you feel better?” He asked, closing the lid on his laptop again.
“Mm. Loads better.” You gave him a warm smile as you perched on the edge of his bed.
He rolled over to you but abandoned the chair halfway to stand up. Then he crawled over you, forcing you to lie backwards and caged you against the bed.
“You smell amazing.” He said with a voice like gravel.
You ran a hand down his front and slipped it under his t-shirt, trailing your fingertips over his chest. “Thank you,”
He lowered onto his forearm, face an inch from yours and groin against your pelvis. You inhaled sharply, noticing the very obvious stiffness coming from Harry’s midsection. His hand smoothed the length of your side, down your thigh to your knee and then back up again to your arse.
He met your mouth with a kiss, deep and hungry. Dizzying. He led and he was all over you, tongue devouring yours.
“It was a lot harder than it should’ve been to not follow you into the shower.” He admitted.
You let out a soft whine and fisted his t-shirt, pulling him flush against your chest. You wanted to feel the weight of him on you. “You should’ve.”
He returned that with a growl, and his hand on your arse gripped tighter. Your name tumbled off his lips in a husky plea, “I want you so fuckin’ bad.”
Hooking your legs around his hips and pushing his centre against yours, you gave him the silent go-ahead. You looped your arms around his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair.
“I’m right here, and you can have me.”
Something inside Harry snapped. Any reservations about your desire for him vanished. His kisses became punishing and carnal. His hands on you a little rougher than before, than ever. Possessive.
You helped him out of his top and in turn he helped you out of yours. You scooched backwards up the bed as he drank you in. It wasn’t lost on you that this was the first time he’d seen your top half naked. Somehow, amongst all the nights of bed-sharing, you’d never been fully naked.
His eyes were dark, hooded. He looked at you like you were his last meal, and honestly you lived for it. You wanted to die under that gaze.
“You’re so sexy.”
You bit away a timid, flustered smile. Bashfulness wasn’t sexy.
He stalked you like a wild cat as you lay back. His mouth and hands descended on you again, searching and exploring every inch of you, searing hot and wet kisses into your skin.
His hands slipped into your pyjama bottoms, feeling around your arse again before he tugged them down your legs, leaving you completely stark under his burning gaze. A strangled moan fell out of him while he regarded your naked form, hands smoothing and squeezing your hips, your waist, your boobs.
“You’re so fucking soft.” He said the words like praise.
You laid your hands on his as they travelled over you, and he pushed his mouth back to yours in that same eager dance as before. He ground himself against you, hard as a rock underneath his joggers, and it was doing all sorts to your core. Your heartbeat fell down and down again to your middle, slick heat flourishing between your legs.
“Please, Harry,” you begged him, pushing his hand down.
“What do you need?” He asked, a little cruelly, as if he didn’t know exactly what you needed.
“Touch me.”
The man gargled at you. He was fucking strangled. He traced between your thighs delicately to the point it tickled, and swiped a finger easily in a stripe up your folds, wetness collecting.
“Like that?”
“Yes.” You wriggled under him, desperate for more. “More.”
He played with your clit teasingly, enjoying the way you squirmed. “More?” He asked as he slid a finger into your waiting heat.
A small cry left you. It wasn’t enough and he knew it. “More.”
“Bossy, aren’t you?”
You whined. Now you were the one being carnal. You gripped his head tightly and kept your mouth to his, tongue abrasive and lashing.
While he wound you up in the most irritating way, you found your own ways to move him on. Your feet dug into the backs of his thighs and pushed downwards at an attempt to budge his joggers off. You didn’t want to wait anymore. You wanted him in all his solid glory, right now.
“Are you trying to take my bottoms off with your feet?”
“Yes.” You grunted.
“Oh,” he gave you a dark laugh as his kisses trailed back down your front, “that’s gonna cost you.”
He licked around your belly button, the warmth of his hands vanishing from your body to push his joggers down. He gave your cunt the shortest, most mind-blowing piece of attention with his mouth, dragging noises out of you that you weren’t even aware you could make. Then he turned you over without warning, on your front, and tugged your arse up to rest against his crotch.
You gasped, excited by the somewhat aggressive nature he’d taken on. Your Harry - soft and gentle as they got - man-handling you. You peered at him over your shoulder as he produced a square foil wrapper from somewhere and ripped it open with his teeth. He watched you watching him as he rolled it down his shaft, drawing your attention to it - visually, anyway - for the first time. You had to swallow the lump in your throat.
“This what you wanted, darlin’?” He asked as he smoothed his hand over your arse, but his gaze never left you. “You want me to fill you up with my cock?”
“God yes.” You said without a hint of a waver.
“You want it like this?” He lined himself up, fisting himself at the base, and glided the head of him through your wet, parted, waiting folds.
“Yes.” You whimpered. “Please. Please please please.”
He made that noise again, his large fist grabbing your hip as he hovered at your entrance, and then he thrust himself inside you.
A ripping, searing pain had you wanting to scream so loudly you had to shove your face into the mattress to muffle it. An ache blossomed in place of the initial pain, one that was all too familiar and yet quite unfamiliar. It had been absent, like a friend who lived too far away. Now it homed itself inside of you like it belonged there. Perhaps it did, and the only way to quell it was to entertain it.
“Jesus fucking Christ, you feel good.” He hissed, his hands squeezing your hips and your bum in turn.
Harry pulled out, enough that only his head remained inside you, and then he gave another powerful thrust until he completely filled you. “So fucking good, my God.”
He started moving, in steady, sharp movements. He didn’t want slow. Hell, you didn’t want slow. You wanted fast and hot and sweaty, and that’s exactly what he gave you.
Harry started fucking into you so viciously you could feel it in every part of your body, from the jiggle of your tits to the shake of your arse to the rock of your hips. Oh, and the stretch of his cock as he buried deeper and deeper inside you. Every part of your body was aflame with need, a desire, a craving to be fucked into oblivion.
His hands were on your hips again, fingertips digging into your skin. He rocked you back and forth in time with his thrusts, not that you needed him to. You were doing that all on your own.
He grunted and hissed through every single powerful drive of his cock into your cunt, your name tumbling out of his mouth over and over again.
“Harry,” you whimpered, “harder.”
He growled and obeyed, pistoning inside of you.
“Yes, oh fuck yes.” You cried, head burrowing again.
You felt him on you, all over you then, his chest against your back, lips kissing your shoulders and his arms with a vice grip around your middle. His skin was tacky, as was yours. You were surrounded by a cloud of packed heat, like a humid summer day.
“You are…” Harry began to say, panting in your ear, and his head shook against you, “fuck, I can’t even think straight.”
You moaned, lifting up and twisting your head in search of him. He caught your chin and brought your lips to his in another deep, claiming kiss. You wanted every kiss to be like that from then on - owning, possessing, asserting. You were his and you wanted him to know it.
He gave another round of punishing thrusts before he made a winded noise, “Turn over,” he pleaded, “I want to see your face.”
A whimper fell out of your mouth when his thickness disappeared from inside you, and he helped you onto your back before he got straight back in there. He was low over you, chest on your chest, hand on the back of your thigh, and his eyes roamed your face while it contorted with pleasure.
He hooked your leg over his hip and went harder. Harder, faster, harder, faster. Your head lolled back and a string of curse words fell out of your mouth. His lips danced across your chest and you tangled your fingers in his hair to keep him there. There was nothing better than being worshipped by a mouth. Especially Harry’s mouth.
He licked and sucked over your skin until your boobs and sternum were littered with little purple spots of lust, and honestly you didn’t care. You wanted them all over you. You wanted yours all over him.
His hips never stopped moving - pushing, pushing, pushing you towards a beautiful, glorious high like a high-speed train ploughing towards a dangerous cliff edge. God, you wanted that edge and you wanted it now. You wanted to be flung off it whilst securely attached to the man currently pushing you there.
You pulled Harry’s mouth back to yours, holding your body to him as you clenched, milking him towards his end and yours. You needed it. Your head was about to explode with rampant thoughts and you needed to wash them away.
“Fuck, Harry,” you whispered, neck and shoulders spiked with heat. It radiated off you.
“I know.” He groused and bit your lower lip. “I’m fucking close. So fucking close, and I’m gonna blow if you keep doing that.”
“Please do it,” you begged, clenching again to feel his growl in your mouth, “come, Harry.”
And boy did he fucking come.
His body wracked with a shudder, movements ceasing as you wrapped yourself tightly around him. His muscles rippled beneath your fingertips while he came, oblivious to your own masterful undoing.
You calmed together, lips moving in tender kisses until your breath was caught again and your limbs were sore. You deflated when Harry abandoned you to clean himself up, and you dipped into your bedroom to do the same when you found the strength.
When he came back you snuggled up to him in his bed, between his legs with your head on his chest. His lips grazed through your hair, breathing light and content.
“I am… fucking obsessed with you.” He mumbled.
You traced your fingers over the hair and the swallows on his chest, a warmth filling you, like an acceptance. Being wanted hadn’t mattered to you until now. Until Harry.
“I… am also quite infatuated with you. And I have been for some time. Just… quietly.”
“You been sniffin’ my bed sheets while I’m at work?”
You giggled and nuzzled closer to him. “No. Not recently, anyway.”
“Not recently?”
“I’ve never sniffed your bed sheets, Harry.”
“I wouldn’t mind if you did.”
“I’m weird, but I’m not that weird.”
“But you’ve been infatuated with me for ages.”
“Not enough to go into your room and sniff your bed sheets.”
“Did you do anything a bit weird?”
“No.”
“Really? Not even… a little… you know?”
You gave him a bewildered look, and he waggled his eyebrows at you.
Haha. You totally did that, you creep.
“Maybe.” You murmured, hiding your face again.
He chuckled and held onto you tightly. “I did, too. Feeling’s always been mutual, darlin’.”
You heaved a content sigh. “I’m glad it was. I really do like this. Us.”
“Me too.”
~
Harry had been living life with a permanent spring in his step. He had you, living in the same house and sharing a bed, cooking at dinner time, shagging at night time, and just generally being wonderful, fantastic, gorgeous, brilliant you.
Tonight you were at your dad’s house with your sister so he was cooking alone, but George was in the living room watching one of those daft culinary competition programs on Channel 4, the commentary filtering out with an occasional expletive. Abbie and Rhys were out but would likely be home soon. You’d be back eventually, too, and he liked knowing that nowadays you came home to him.
Rhys and Abbie came back first. Harry had decided to join George in the living room, too intrigued by the shouty drama on Come Dine With Me to ignore it.
Abbie gasped at the TV. “This is the one!” She squealed.
“What one?” Rhys demanded. “Oh, yes!”
“What am I missing?” Harry asked, a little bewildered.
George shushed everyone with a finger to his lips. “I’ve been talking him through it but I want him to see.” He flailed a hand in the couple’s direction.
All four pairs of eyes glued to the TV, a vetted interest in the argument unfolding. The contestants from that week’s episodes were gathering in the final host's living room, bank notes spread in a circle atop a silver tray and holding up a scroll wrapped in red ribbon.
The front door of the house opened again, and in you waltzed, a baffled look on your face. Very rarely did you come home to find everyone in the living room.
Abbie squeaked your name, begging you to join before it kicked off on the telly. “Come on, quick.” She patted the space between her and Harry, conveniently.
His eyes were no longer interested in the TV drama, only in you.
“In fourth place is… me.”
“Ah,” you said in recognition of the scene on the telly as you sat down. Your arm brushed against Harry’s as you tucked your right foot under your left thigh, and caught yourself before you settled into his side like you normally would.
A chorus of patronising oohs filled the room from the contestants on the screen. The host was shaking his head.
“Wait, is this the-,”
“You won, Jane.”
Barking laughter filled the room from the housemates, including Harry, but the host didn’t stop there.
“Dear Lord, what a sad little life, Jane.”
“You’ve got that on a T-shirt!” Harry swatted George’s arm.
“Damn right I do.” He grinned. “Cultural icon.”
“You, or the bloke having an aneurysm?”
“Both.”
“... grace of a reversing dump truck.”
More squeals filled the room, as if the entire scene hadn’t been a meme for years now.
Abbie patted your shoulder. “Did you see the video of Penn Badgley doing this?”
“Obviously.”
“Wait, I wanna see.” Rhys frowned.
Episode forgotten, Abbie found the clip on her phone and showed it to everyone.
“Oh my God, I think I’m going to hear it in that voice forever now.” George muttered, a wistful look in his eyes.
“Shall we watch a movie or something?” Abbie suggested, a hopeful look in her eye. “We never do anything all together… it would be nice.”
“I’m up for that.” Rhys grinned, because why would he ever turn down one of his girlfriend’s ideas?
“Yeah, me too.” George nodded.
All eyes turned to you and Harry. You couldn’t very well say no now, it would look odd. Especially if you both did, which is what you both wanted to do. There were two perfectly good beds upstairs, one of which needed to be destroyed. That wasn’t very well going to happen if you both sat on the couch and watched a film with your housemates.
“Yeah, sure.” You finally said, because you hated the way everyone was looking at you.
“Go for it.” Harry managed, much worse at hiding his disapproval than you were.
“How are we going to decide, then? ‘Cause I don’t really watch the horror films you two are into,” George pointed between Abbie and Rhys, “and Harry probably only watches underground indie movies or something.”
Harry had no idea what gave him that impression, but the laugh that came out of your mouth - hearty, loud and delighted - was worth the assumption.
“Why don’t we all write a movie name down on a piece of paper that we’ll all like - a comedy or something - and do a raffle.”
“Okay, but who’s choosing?”
Harry rolled his eyes and waited for the inevitable to happen. George and Abbie fought for five minutes, both arguing that one of them should choose, and then the decision was given to you as the honorary house mediator. Everyone wrote their choices down on a scrap of paper and dropped them all into one of Rhys’s beanies. Then you closed your eyes, body screaming reluctance at having to be the decision-maker, and plucked a folded square out.
Your mouth lifted at the corners. “Shrek 2.”
Snacks were brought in, beers were shared out, and someone pressed play on the film where it had been queued up.
“Wait!” George screamed.
You all looked at him, bewildered by his dramatics. He’d even stood up.
“What?” Rhys gave him a baffled look.
“I wanna sit in the armchair.” George pointed to the very one Rhys sat in. “I don’t wanna sit in a couple sandwich. A third wheel is bad enough, but a fifth wheel is a disaster.”
“What are you talking about?” Harry asked, laughter nervous and the ultimate giveaway.
“Oh fuck off if you two think we don’t all know you’re a thing.”
Your body tensed. Harry could feel it, the way you went from soft to rigid in a split second. “What?”
“We’ve known for ages.” Abbie said with a sweet smile.
“Yeah, like, the second Harry moved in.” George rolled his eyes.
“But we haven’t been-,”
“-Maybe not the whole time, but definitely recently. I can hear the floorboards creak, you know.” George gave you an accusatory glance. Curse him living directly beneath you. “Amongst other things.”
Harry wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or whether he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. His cheeks and the tips of his ears had turned pink, and you looked like you were in shock. “Right…”
“I am slightly offended that you didn’t want us to know.” Rhys folded his arms. “What did you think was gonna happen?”
He had a point. What did you think was going to happen? Mild ribbing and inappropriate jokes? It wasn’t exactly any of their business what the two of you were doing on the top floor, but that didn’t mean you’d needed to hide everything from them. Why had you stopped yourselves from being affectionate when around them? They were your friends. You all had inside jokes and a group chat and emoji code names. They were like a second family in a way. Even though you all enjoyed your own company, you liked each other too.
“I think… for a while we didn’t really know what was happening.” Harry finally spoke, twisting in his place. “We just started hanging out and it kinda grew from there.”
“I called this on day one, by the way.” George said smugly.
“It’s true, he did.” Abbie nodded, still smiling. “Two good-looking people at the top of the house? Recipe for heaven.”
“We’re happy it finally happened. Just… don’t hide shit like that from us. We’re all friends.” George was back to scowling.
“Friends.” Rhys cooed, like Jay from The Inbetweeners.
“Anyway, now that’s all out there, can we start the film please? Or it’s gonna be my bedtime.” Abbie flailed her hand around.
The movie started, everyone settled into their places, and you managed to find a comfortable position against Harry’s side.
Even though you chatted along with conversations and laughed at the telly, Harry knew something was off. You were still tense, and you didn’t touch him like you normally would. He wanted you in his arms, not pushed awkwardly against his side. He wasn’t sure if it was because you were uncomfortable displaying affection in front of other people, but whatever it was he wanted to make it go away.
He shifted at one point in an attempt to wrap an arm around your middle, but instead you moved further away. That utterly terrified him.
As the movie credits rolled, everyone started to move, ready to get to bed for the night. Except you.
“Guys,” You said, quiet as a mouse, but everyone heard you. Because you never stopped anyone for anything, “can we all have a chat?”
Dread nestled itself into Harry’s stomach. A chat? About what? Everyone? Why did everyone have to be present? What was going on?
The housemates sat back down, if a little tentatively, gazes wary. You finally gave Harry your attention, if only fleetingly with a worried smile.
“Are you alright?” Abbie asked and pulled your hand into hers.
Harry leaned forwards.
“You’ll all be getting an email tomorrow, but I wanted to tell you in person.” You licked your lips, stare heavy on the stone floor of the living room. “Dad is selling the house.”
~
A little piece of your heart broke that evening when your dad told you his plans to sell. It was a place that you had such an odd relationship with, because while it cost a lot of money and caused a lot of financial problems, it also brought you a family you never asked for and a man you never dreamed of having.
You knew your dad would try and hold onto it as long as he possibly could because it had become your home, and he’d been in bits over dinner as he broke the news. He cried, so you cried, and then your sister cried, too. Everyone had been a mess.
“What?” George said, dumbfounded. Hell, everyone was dumbfounded.
“It’s the last thing he wanted to do, but it’s kind of burning a hole in his pocket and we can’t afford it anymore. Between the leaking second floor and dodgy plumbing there’s also woodworm and stone repairs and all sorts of other crap I don’t want to bore you with.”
“You found this out today?” Abbie asked, bottom lip trembling.
“Yeah, an hour or so ago. I’m really sorry, guys.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Rhys frowned.
Abbie crawled across the small gap between her and you and wrapped her arms around you. “We get it. It’s old, it’s a bit rickety and it needs a lot of TLC. We all know your dad gave it all the care he could afford and it’s okay that he can’t afford it anymore.”
“How long do we have to find new places?” George asked, biting his lip.
“As long as it takes to sell. Given the condition of the place it could be fuckin’ ages.” You managed a laugh.
“If your dad needs us to do anything, he just needs to let us know. And we’ll make sure it’s tidy as fuck for viewings and shit.”
“Thanks, Rhys.”
The housemates starting shifting again, collecting up their bits and leaving with softly spoken good nights. You still didn’t move, and neither did Harry. After a quiet minute or so, he slipped his hand into yours and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“What are you thinking?” He asked in a gravelly whisper.
You took a deep breath, nibbling away at your lower lip. “That I’m scared.”
“Scared?”
“Mhm.”
“Scared about what?”
You turned to face him, cataloguing every crease of worry on his handsome face. “Us. What this means for us.”
He gently cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “What do you think it means for us?”
“Well, I don’t know. I’m scared it means the end, when I don’t want it to. I’m scared that what we’ve been doing is just… convenient? And now that we have to leave it won’t be so convenient anymore and it will be over.”
“You don’t want it to be over.” It wasn’t a question.
“No. Not even a little bit. I… I don’t want a night without you ever again. I can sleep with you around. I can breathe. I need to breathe, and I can’t do that without you. And part of me hates that I need you, but I do, and the rest of me that doesn’t hate it tells me to fuck everything to the wind. Because it’s not just need, it’s also a want. I just want you around, like you have been. Presence is such a funny thing when it comes from different people, but yours… I like yours. A lot.”
Harry spoke your name in a low voice, gaze on your mouth as he smoothed his thumb across your lower lip, “I don’t want it to be over, either.” He meets your gaze again, cool, calm and collected. “I really hoped it wouldn’t be at any stage ever, least not because we have to leave the house and find another one. I’ve been living with you for three fucking years and I also don’t want to have to spend a night where you don’t live with me. Hell, it’s not even a fucking option. I know you love this place because it’s your family’s, but I don’t care where we live as long as we do it together. I’ve been looking at other places since the day I moved in, and the only reason I haven’t bothered to leave is because you kept me here, whether you meant to or not. And now we have to leave, and I’m sure as shit gonna take you with me, because I can’t live without you.”
You stared at him for a moment, and then launched into his arms, tackling him into the sofa. You peppered his face with kisses until he caught your lips and held you there, happy in the knowledge that you needed each other and that was absolutely fucking okay.
“You’re special to a lot of people, but especially to me.” Harry mumbled into your lips. “I’m selfish enough to not let you go.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“Good.”
You remained in the lounge for a little while longer, wrapped up in one another, until movement began upstairs and you decided it was probably time to head upstairs to bed. Before you made it to the stairs, Rhys and George appeared in front of you. Rhys looked apprehensive and George looked irritated he’d been dragged out of his room again.
“What’s going on?” You asked, cocking your head.
“Abbie’s in the loo so I’m gonna make this real quick before she comes back.” Rhys threw a wary glance over his shoulder. “I need your help.”
~
Every morning was the same.
This week it had been, anyway. You woke up with the sunrise, wrapped in Harry’s arms, and you listened to his heartbeat and his unconscious breathing for a blissful twenty minutes before his alarm went off. Then he’d fall out of bed with a reluctant yawn, mooch his way around the room and disappear into the bathroom to get ready for work.
Upon reappearing he’d head to the kitchen to make a coffee and leave a cup of tea on your bedside table, then a kiss on your lips, and then you’d watch the man who defined ‘sex on legs’ leave your apartment from the comfiest spot in the bedroom.
Today was the same, but different. He wasn’t going to work today, and neither were you. It meant longer in bed, with enough time for sexy shenanigans, then he’d make for the bathroom, bring you tea afterwards and breakfast.
You spent the day in bed, right up until 5 o’clock when you had to get up and go out to give your keys back.
Yes, your dad had managed to sell the house. It had taken a while, but it got there. The new owners were moving in tomorrow, and you’d all arranged to meet your dad and your sister there to do a final ‘handover’.
George had moved into a studio flat in the centre of town but spent most of his nights at his boyfriend’s place. Rhys and Abbie had finally bought that house they always wanted, out of town but easy to travel into. And you and Harry also had your own place, still renting and in the city, but it was yours together, and that was all you wanted.
“Are you nervous?” Harry asked as you walked up to the front of old Blackpool Tower.
“I’m not the one that needs to be nervous.” You shrugged, even if you had been the one to help Rhys with most of the planning.
He’d been a lot of work over the past few weeks. After he initially asked for your help he spent so long searching for the damn jewellery he forgot about the rest of it. You had reminded him on many occasions that it didn’t need a big song and dance, but he insisted, because he wanted it in the house you’d all shared with her favourite people to witness it.
The garden was lit up in the early evening with fairy lights and candles. George, your sister and your dad were already at the far end waiting for Rhys and Abbie to arrive. You gave over your keys - dad had the house professionally cleaned even though you had offered, because it was too big a task for one person.
Blackpool Illuminations
Rhys
We’re nearly there…
Yes, Rhys had really named the group chat for the planning committee ‘Blackpool Illuminations’.
You stood next to your sister who wrapped herself around your middle, and Harry kept hold of your free hand.
“I hope she says no.” Your sister said, and Harry snorted. “Just for a laugh.”
“I don’t think Abbie has it in her to say no to Rhys.” You mused.
Five minutes later the couple in question turned up. Abbie had no idea what was going on, obviously. She’d been told they were going for dinner and then for a walk. The walk was always supposed to end here, at the old house.
Abbie gasped at the sight before her, hands on her mouth as she moved through the garden. “What’s going on?”
Behind her, Rhys swiftly dropped to one knee and presented the ring he’d spent months agonising over. “Abbie,”
You all watched and listened as Rhys spent five minutes talking about how perfect his girl was for him. It was very typical Rhys - overboard and unnecessarily long. Most things maybe could’ve been kept for his wedding vows.
Just as your sister was about to explode from restlessness, Rhys finally asked, “Will you marry me?”
“I would’ve said yes five minutes ago.” Abbie giggled, nodding, and held her left hand out.
George and your sister started hollering, your dad was pretending not to cry, and you fell into Harry’s hold again, watching the happy couple with a warm smile.
“I hope to God they don’t ask me to help plan the actual wedding.”
Harry chuckled and pressed his lips into your temple. “I’ll make sure they don’t.”
Your sister presented herself in front of you with an assured look on her face. “When are you two getting engaged, then?”
Harry choked behind you, and you gave your sister a bewildered look. “Reel it in, please.”
“What?” She shrugged. “Being in love suits you. A wedding would really suit you.”
“A wedding isn’t something you arrange for an aesthetic, sis.” You reminded her.
“Speak for yourself, but I do recommend heavily considering it.”
After she turned away, Harry lowered his mouth to the shell of your ear. “I wouldn’t mind marrying you.”
You tightened his arms around you. “One day.” You said with a kiss to his palm.
His smile imprinted on your cheek. “One day.”
~.~.~.~.~
Thank you so v much for reading if you make it this far. It’s a long one, I know. The longest one shot I’ve actually ever done. Much love to you <3
#harry styles smut#harry styles smut imagine#harry styles smut imagines#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles imagines#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles writing#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst
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jh86 — in your life, you’ll do things greater than, dating the boy on the hockey team.
au masterlist | hi guys! thanks for reading, make sure you look into my au masterlist for context on yn and jack’s relationship. this can totally be read without having context, but it’ll be much more enjoyable with, so make sure you check it out !! also livvy hughes is from my gabe perreault au which can be found here. this isn’t proofread yet but enjoy, muah & kisses
Jack Hughes.
Although he was known in your high school for being a handsome and incredibly athletic boy, you didn’t care much for him.
Besides, you had too many APs and Honor classes to be worrying about. Like right now; with your nose inside your AP Chemistry textbook, trying your best to not go absolutely insane. So far, it wasn’t working.
It had gotten to the point where you slammed your head against the textbook, making those around you turn to glare at the loud noise. You apologize profusely, deciding to go cry quietly in one of the study rooms the library had, not caring if you’d go home later with red eyes.
“Hey, you okay?”
A guy’s voice pulls you away from your textbook, your sniffles quickly filling the quiet room.
“This room is reserved, sorry.” You say, wiping away your tears with your eyes.
“Oh no, I know. I was just wondering if you were okay. I passed by and heard crying.”
Great. Not only did you look terrible at the moment, a cute guy just heard you crying. How embarrassing.
“It’s just chemistry,” you sigh, “I don’t know why I took it. It’s making me go insane.”
The boy laughs quietly, nodding to your words. “Yeah, I felt the same way about chemistry. Hated it.”
You noticed the equipment he had on his backpack, a long hockey stick and skates.
“You play hockey?”
“Yep. Jack Hughes, 86 on the ice.”
Your eyes widened, not expecting Jack Hughes to be right in front of you. Sure, you’ve heard about him endlessly, mostly coming from giggling girls in your grade, but you’ve never actually seen him up close.
Suddenly, Jack’s phone rang, and he picks it up with quite a bit of annoyance. “Yes. I’m at the library. The one next to the Starbucks, uh huh. Yep, I’ll be out now. Bye mom. Love you too.”
He turns it off, turning around to face you once again. “I have to get going,” he says, frowning. “But I’d be glad to help you with your AP Chemistry work. Here’s my number.”
You glance at the numbers, taking out your phone from your pocket, typing it into your contacts.
“Thanks Jack,” you say gratefully, “I thought you hated chem, though?”
“Oh I hate it.” He laughs. “But it doesn’t mean I’m bad at it. Just give me a call whenever.”
Jack Hughes walked away that day giddy that he had given his number to a cute girl, and you had walked away happy that you were finally getting chemistry help.
However, your happiness didn’t last long when you realized Jack Hughes had absolutely no idea what he was doing when it came to chemistry.
“No Jack!” You say bewilderingly as you watched him scribble a bunch of nonsense on your paper. “What is up with you?”
It was a week after you two had first met at the library and Jack was helping you out in the same study room he had walked into you crying last week.
“I’m sorry okay!” Jack panics, face in a red flush. “I have no idea what I’m doing! I don’t! I just said I did because you’re so cute and I couldn’t help it and I—”
Jack slaps his hands over his mouth before he could say further, shocked that he’s accidentally revealed to you how cute he thinks you are. “Oh my god.”
You furrow your eyebrows, but your stern look doesn’t last long before you burst out in giggles. “Why didn’t you just say so?” You ask.
He finally puts his hands back on the table, “I don’t know.. I guess I was scared of rejection.”
“You? Scared of rejection?” You raise your eyebrows. “Jack, you know girls in our grade and not in our grade would die to even be near you, right?”
Jack blushes at this, keeping his head down. “But those girls aren’t you, it’s different.”
Well goddamnit Jack Hughes, you really knew how to swoon a girl over.
"Really? And you're not just saying that to play me?"
Jack shakes his head quickly. "What? No Y/N, I would never."
And that was the start to yours and Jack's relationship. Although you still very much needed a chemistry tutor, you're glad the hockey player had somehow managed to sneak his way into your life, bringing joy and happiness while he was at it.
"Hey Rory, do you think this looks good on me?" Olivia "Livvy" Hughes, the Hughes' youngest child and also the only girl considered you as one of her best friends because you two were both girls. She was over the moon when Jack had brought you home, claiming she was going to finally have the sister she always wanted.
Needless to say, Quinn, Jack, and Luke were frowning that day at her comment.
The Hughes had started calling you Rory after Jack had. Why did he start calling you that? You really didn't know, but Jack had explained that the nickname was cute, and he had gotten it from your last name, which was Lerory.
"You look gorgeous Livvy!" You gleam happily, watching the younger girl in awe. "He is going to die."
"Who is going to die and why are you dressed up like you're going on a date Olivia Hughes?" The voice of your boyfriend makes you turn to face the boy, who had an unimpressed look on his face. "Who's the guy? Do I know him? I'm gonna kill him."
"Jack!" you scold, slapping his arm. "Your sister looks stunning, doesn't she?"
Jack mumbles something under his breath, to which you responded with an elbow to his side. "Fine. Yes Livs, you look amazing. Don't do anything stupid, alright?"
Livvy nods, before giving you a bone breaking hug for getting her brother off her back. She mumbles a love you thank you in your ear before running outside to Gabe, her date.
Jack places a kiss on your head, leading you to his room and placing a Netflix show on as background noise.
"I'm really glad you and Livvy get along," Jack says quietly. "I was worried you wouldn't for some reason."
"She's a great person J," you say, placing a peck on his lips. "And so are you."
The next time you're over at the Hughes house, there was a bunch of yelling and crying, much of which came from Jack and Livvy. Luke was on Jack's side, Quinn being gone in Vancouver.
"What's going on?" You mumble, feeling like you're an intruder coming into a scene that you were unwelcomed in.
"Did you know?!" Jack huffs angrily, now facing you.
"Did I know what, Jack?"
"Did you know she was dating Gabe Perreault? That kid who plays hockey for Princeton?"
So this is what this is all about. Jack was once again being his overprotective self.
"Yes J, I don't see the problem? He treats her well."
"Well I don't want her dating a hockey player! I know how they are! Luke and I know how they are!"
Livvy watches in tears as her brother continues yelling some more before making her way to you, practically falling into your arms.
"Jackson Rowden Hughes, you better stop yelling at Olivia before I do something about it. You are an adult, Jack. Livvy is an adult now, she's 18, she's allowed to date whomever she wants with or without your permission. Same goes with you, Luke Warren Hughes. You guys need to stop upsetting your sister! Just because Quinn isn't here doesn't mean you can corner and scream at her!"
Your words make Jack and Luke go mute, heads down in embarrassment when they realize how right your words were.
"Rory's right," Jack says awkwardly, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry Livvy. I didn't mean it, I just don't want you to get hurt."
Livvy nods, breaking the hug with you to go hug her brothers.
Later that night, Jack slips under the covers of his bed, putting his arms around your frame.
"You'd be a good mother Rory." He mumbles sleepily.
"Hm?"
"You'll be a good mom. I saw the way you handled my argument with Livvy earlier, thank you by the way. It shows how amazing you truly are." He places a kiss on your bare shoulder. "And I can't wait to have a family with you Y/N Lerory."
His words make you pull him closer, placing small kisses around his face. "I can't wait to have a family with you too, J."
Although Jack's words weren't true, and he wasn't ready at all.
Which is why the both of you were standing in the kitchen of your dorms, mascara running down your cheeks while Jack ruffles his hair in stress.
"What do you mean you're pregnant?" he says, eyebrows furrowing.
"Well what does it mean Jack?! It takes two people to make a baby!"
"You don't think I know that?!"
"Well by the way you're acting, it sure as hell feels like i'm the one at fault here!"
"I don't know Rory, I don't know." Jack's face is in his hands now, which gives you deja vu to when he first blurted out that he had found you cute. "I need time to think. I can't do this right now."
"What do you mean Jack?" you say, voice cracking as you reach out to him. "J, talk to me."
But he shakes his head, "I'm a professional hockey player now Y/N, you're a college student. I can't be doing this right now." With that, he leaves your dorm.
The next few days are spent with you in your bed, crying into your pillows. Your roommate, Madison, frowns as she watches your depressed state. She leaves an ice cream in your fridge, telling you words of encouragement and telling you that you can come to her anytime about anything.
When the news reaches Livvy, she's absolutely fuming, immediately taking out her phone to call you. Seeing your puffy eyes and cracked voice, she dials Jack right after, ready to give him a piece of her mind.
What she doesn't expect is to see him equally broken as you, eyebags heavy and eyes red.
"I know I fucked up Livs. I know." He says, crying at his desk. Although he's got the NHL title, a bunch of girls who would die to be with him, he still feels so utterly alone without you.
"You know what's funny Jack? You always warned me about how shitty hockey guys can be, you threw a fit because I was dating one, but you ended up being the biggest asshole of them all."
And Jack can do nothing but cry, because his younger sister's words were all too true.
#ollie & daisy’s world! 🌎#livvyhughes!!#Jack Hughes#jack hughes au#jack hughes imagine#jack hughes fic#jack hughes fluff#jack hughes angst#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes fanfiction#jack hughes blurb#luke hughes
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Angst drabble:
You and Bakugo have been on and off for over two years now, mostly because he calls it quits after every argument and you’re the idiot waiting for him to come around every time.
Not this time.
This time he pushed you too far. Once again he was in your room, your apartment, yelling and arguing over something small. Except this “small” thing was the stack of printed photos you had in your hands. “Who is she?” You kept repeating yourself because he refused to give you a straight answer. Your eyes burning with tears and the photos in your hand feeling like fire.
“You keep me on a leash! I’m always the one waiting for you with open arms! W-what…do you think I can keep doing this forever Bakugo?” The tears felt like waterfalls and stung as you watched the blonde across from you fidget in embarrassment.
He opened and closed his mouth trying to form some sort of excuse for being caught with another woman. While you both were on and off, he knew it was only because he was selfish, because he was a dick and needed space before exploding. He never wanted to hurt you yet he couldn’t stop himself from making terrible decisions such as randomly hooking up with some female hero from the agency. He didn’t even know her name, only that her hair and eyes were the same color as yours.
“If i’m such a bad guy hit me! Kick me! Throw me out! Do something damn it! Stop standing there like you’re so perfect!” He screamed back, fearing that you could hear the loud pounding in his chest from across the room.
His word’s didn’t t make sense, they only made you confused and angry. You could handle the breaks and the fights, the waiting, but another woman? That was the last straw, that’s where you drew the line. While your heart bleed and your stomach cramped you threw the photos at him and ran to the closet, grabbing his clothes and belongings in such a rushed manner you just threw them in a random bag. “Get out.”
Your words froze him in place. “What?”
“Get out! Leave! This is it, this is where we end.” You felt like throwing up, the pounding of your heart was echoing in your head now and your stomach cramped painfully now like a signal.
“No more Bakugo. I can’t do this anymore.” Your cries were louder now and even he flinched at your tone. The sound pierced his heart, it was so painful he wanted nothing more than to leave and come back the next day where you both pretended nothing was wrong. To continue this cycle you two have been stuck on these past years. Yet his ego and the shame of being caught bubbled up inside of him and took control. He grabbed his bags, swinging them over his shoulders and headed towards the front door.
You followed him to the door, watching as he gripped the door handle and slowly opened it. You found yourself holding your breathe as he walked through.
He paused midway and turned to you with the most disgusted face. “Thank god we never had a kid.” And with that he left, leaving you standing at the open doorway as you held your stomach that cramped even more now.
That night you left the apartment he always came back to. That night you took everything you owned except for a note on the kitchen counter where you knew Bakugo would find it.
𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘺.
#bnha#mha#mha imagines#my hero academia#mha bakugou#bakugo#bakugo katsuki#mha angst#katsuki x you#bakugo angst#bnha angst
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When Dustin bikes past Steve’s car, left abandoned and empty by the edge of the woods, for some reason the first thing that comes to his mind is a phone call from last summer.
July 5th 1985.
He’d picked up the phone before his mom could get to it, thank God, because Steve hadn’t bothered with any pleasantries, just said in a garbled rush, “Henderson, your house, is it—you’re safe, right?”
“I mean, I’ve not used the toaster yet,” Dustin said, eyeing the bagel he’d set out for breakfast, “but the house is still standing.”
“No but, like—” Steve snatched a breath, almost like he’d been running. “Like, no-one’s… y’know, watching you or anything?”
Then it hit Dustin: remembering Steve, finally somewhat lucid, muttering sheepishly, “Yeah, we might not wanna go to your house… Well, I might’ve told them your full name.”
Dustin took pity on him, answered sincerely. “No, we’re all good, Steve.”
He didn’t even tease about how, if the house was being watched, then Steve phoning him probably wasn’t the smartest move, because the line would’ve been tapped.
Maybe everything at Starcourt had sharpened his senses, because Dustin could now hear that Steve’s voice was slurred around the edges, like he’d just woken up, breathing harshly as if he’d ran to the phone; and he had a sudden image of Steve jolting awake, wincing from the gnarly bruises on his face, Dustin’s safety being his first thought.
Steve breathed out in a whoosh of relief. “Okay… good. Great. I’m, um. Gonna sleep. Yell if you need… I dunno. Something.”
And then he’d hung up before Dustin could work out how to say that he didn’t really mean it, when he complained about Steve not “resisting” whatever nightmare cocktail of drugs he’d had forced into him.
There was a little knot in his stomach for the rest of the day—a quiet mixture of panic and concern. The next time he saw Steve, he acted like he’d never made the phone call, so they never talked about it, and the knot faded away until Dustin almost convinced himself that it wasn’t there anymore.
But now, as he brakes then steers himself round to Steve’s car, the knot has returned—along with a little prickle of goosebumps that he usually only associates with any and all Upside Down shit. This isn’t quite a Code Red, he knows that, but he also knows that it’s…
It’s something.
The knot doubles in size when he peers into the car windows, sees that the keys have been left in the ignition. When he tries the door handle, it’s unlocked.
He bikes to the nearest payphone. He’s memorised Steve’s work schedule, knows that he’s not in today, that Robin has the late afternoon to closing shift.
He listens to his gut and dials Eddie’s number.
At first, Eddie thinks that Dustin’s calling him for a ride because his bike got a flat tire again. But as Dustin explains, he gets quieter and quieter until he’s just making anxious little hmm noises.
“I think I know where he’s gone,” Dustin adds, and Eddie’s sigh is a bit like Steve’s had been that morning he called, like he’s been holding his breath.
“Oh, thank God. You’d know better than anyone, Henderson.”
Dustin hangs up the phone after promising Eddie that he’ll stay by Steve’s car until he arrives.
He thinks about the relief in Eddie’s voice when he said he had a hunch about Steve’s whereabouts, like Dustin is the chosen one for understanding what makes Steve tick. Eddie’s joked about it before; he’d called it “sibling telepathy” when Dustin had silently communicated his popcorn order at the movies, and he’d nudged Steve in the ribs when Steve’s nose wrinkled meaning Gross, dude. Then Steve had huffed a laugh, nudging Dustin back. Okay, okay. I’ll pay for it, you little shit.
But Eddie gets Steve, too, Dustin thinks; that’s why he called him. And yeah, it’s different than the way Dustin understands Steve, but it’s significant enough for Eddie to make the cut of Steve Harrington Interpreters in Dustin’s mind.
Eddie’s van comes into view, and he actually uses his turn signal perfectly as he parks next to Steve’s car, like the panic has made him extra cautious.
“I’ll leave my bike here,” Dustin tells him as Eddie hops out.
Eddie’s lips turn into a thin line when he sees Steve’s keys. He nods.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll—okay.” He takes a breath, looks Dustin up and down. “Uh, I’ve got a coat if you need it, man.”
Dustin rolls his eyes, and Eddie at least smiles through his concern. It’s started to rain, that slow misty kind that clings to the skin, but Dustin reasons that he’ll be fine; he’ll be warm enough once he gets moving.
Eddie eyes the trees nervously. He jerks his head back to the van. “There’s—you need a flashlight? Just in case, um. Just in case?”
Dustin shakes his head. “It’s not that dark,” he says, not unkindly; Eddie kind of has a thing now for always having a flashlight on hand. Dustin can’t remember the last time he’s even come this close to the woods after March—his eyes keep darting down to the ground like he’s going to see vines there instead.
Eddie nods again, sighs. He checks his watch, then says, “Two hours tops, okay? And if it gets too dark and—just come back the way you came, even if you’ve not—” Eddie swallows. “We’ll figure it out.”
Dustin acts like he agrees and leaves his bike with Eddie—but there’s no way he’s gonna turn back, not without Steve.
He heads for the railroad tracks.
#this’ll probably be 2 parts but tbd#dustin henderson fic#dustin henderson#steve harrington#steve and dustin#eddie munson#eddie and dustin#steddie with dustin’s pov#steddie#steddie fic#steddie ficlet#steve x eddie#henderfam
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