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sunflowervolvimp3 · 4 years

Text

changes (best friend!harry)

Warnings: language, nsfw content, drugs (marijuana) and alcohol

Pairing: best friend!Harry x reader

Word Count: 17k (holy shit)

A/N: So this started as two requests I had in my inbox that I got way too into and then it became this. this may be the longest stand-alone fic I’ve ever written, and it, like watermelon sugar, is dedicated to touching!!!! I spent so long on this so as always. feedback is appreciated. and if you like it, please reblog it!!! reblogging is the best way to show fic writers your appreciation <3

{masterlist}

Unless she’s reminded otherwise, Y/N always thinks of herself as a teenager.

This, of course, isn’t true. She turned twenty-six a month ago, works as a media producer for an online clothing company, and lives alone in a one bedroom apartment in London. However, unless she physically has something in front of her to remind her of her real age and the passing of time, Y/N disregards this information.

Usually, the reminder is a bill in the mail, or a phone call to remind her that she needs to book an appointment with her doctor. Usually, the reminder is an ache in her back, her glasses prescription getting worse, or realizing that she has no idea what her teenage cousins are talking about when she sees them at Christmas. Usually, the reminder is enough to give her pause, but not enough to throw her for a loop.

This time, however, the reminder is her childhood best friend naked in her bathroom.

Y/N and Harry had been friends since they were in primary school, after Y/N had moved to London with her mother. Their new house just happened to be next to Harry’s, and Anne and Y/N’s mother had quickly hit it off. Anne had been quick to volunteer her son to be Y/N’s tour guide at school, and despite not being enthusiastic about each other in the beginning, the two began to grow closer by the end of Y/N’s first week there. Within a month, the two were inseparable, and that didn’t change as they entered their teen years, started secondary school, and Harry left London to become a member of the most famous boyband in the world. Just typical teen things.

However, despite their distance, Y/N and Harry had remained as close as ever. They constantly texted, called, and video chatted with each other, and Y/N even joined Harry on tour a few times (with permission from her mother). Although both of them had been worried when Harry left, their worries and fears never came to fruition. Just as they balanced each other in personality, they balanced each other in lifestyle—when Y/N needed a break from high school and university, Harry brought her to shows, award ceremonies, and parties, and when Harry felt like his fame was overwhelming, Y/N sent him reminders of home, hosted countless movie nights for him, and told him story after story of university life.

They were so perfectly matched that, when they were younger, many people—and tabloids—suspected that they were dating. Even their mothers had asked them, on occasion, if one of them had any interest in the other. However, their answers were always the same. Y/N and Harry were best friends, and nothing more. Sure, they were touchy, affectionate, called each other pet names, and had even kissed on a few occasions during truth or dare at parties, but none of it actually meant anything. Y/N had watched Harry grow from a cute kid to an awkward teen to a self-assured man, and her feelings for him had never changed, and an attraction to him had never developed.

Until now.

Harry’s facing away from her, his towel in his hand as he dries his chest. His entire body glistens with water from the shower. Y/N can’t stop herself from letting her eyes canvas over every inch of his smooth arms, toned back, down lower to his—

Her breath catches in her throat. Yeah. His ass is toned, too, she thinks to herself, and only has another moment to think that she shouldn’t be looking before Harry glances over his shoulder, alarmed by the small sound she had made.

“Y/N—” His eyes widen a bit, but he doesn’t make an effort to cover himself with his towel very quickly.

Her eyes automatically follow his movement for a moment before she realizes what she’s about to see. “Sorry!” Y/N turns around quickly, her face heated. “Sorry, I—the door was unlocked, I didn’t realize you were—”

“It’s fine.” Harry fixes his towel around his waist. “Don’t worry about—”

Y/N leaves the bathroom before he can finish his sentence, walking to her bedroom quickly and shutting the door tightly behind her.

Harry, it seems, is today’s reminder that she’s no longer a teenager, because his body is that of a man.

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before, she tells herself, walking to her dresser to pick out a change of clothes. Y/N’s seen him half naked countless times. The whole world has seen Harry half naked countless times. But she’s never seen him like that.

When did Harry grow up? Somehow, between movie nights and pool parties and going away to school, Y/N had failed to notice that her childhood best friend is no longer a child. Harry had grown into his features, developed muscles in his arms and chest, tattooed designs all over his skin, and had become an incredibly attractive adult without her noticing.

Y/N pulls her pajamas off quickly, stopping to glance at herself in her full length mirror. She, like Harry, is also no longer a child. She had grown into her features like he had, had gotten a few tattoos, made her share of mistakes, and became an adult the same way he did. Neither her nor Harry’s growth had happened overnight.

As she runs her hand between her chest, down her stomach, brushing her hip, Y/N can’t help but wonder: has Harry noticed that they’ve grown up? Does he still look at her and see the shy little girl, the developing teenager, or does he look at her and see a grown woman? Is she the only one who’s been late to the party?

Y/N feels a flutter in the pit of her stomach. Is it possible that, at some point, Harry looked at her and had the same realization that she had a moment ago? That not only had she grown into a woman, but that she had grown into an attractive woman?

The sound of the bathroom door opening distracts Y/N from her thoughts, and she hurries to finish getting dressed. Her shirt, she finds when she pulls it on, smells a bit like Harry’s cologne, as she had set it on the side of the bed that he slept on the night before. She likes it more than she should.

After she’s dressed, she debates just staying in her bedroom to avoid facing Harry again for a bit longer. However, she can hear him working her coffee maker in the kitchen, and knows she can’t hide in her bedroom like a child. She isn’t a child.

Neither is he, she thinks to herself as she touches her bedroom doorknob. Which is the problem.

Still, Y/N shakes herself from her thoughts and walks out to her kitchen.

Harry, now dressed in wide leg jeans and a plain white t-shirt, is leaning against her kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in his hand. His hair is still wet from his shower, but other than that, he looks normal. Completely normal.

And yet, Y/N can’t manage to meet his eyes.

“Good morning.” Harry’s voice is low, a bit of amusement in it as he notices her demeanor. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine.” Y/N hates how tight her voice is as she grabs a mug from the kitchen cabinet. “I slept fine. Did you?”

Harry nods, his eyes still tracing her every move as her own eyes avoid him. “I did. Woke up a bit early, though. Thought I’d shower before brunch.”

Right. Brunch. They’re having brunch that day with a few old friends, at a place just down the street from Y/N’s apartment, which is why Harry had stayed over the night before. Y/N was going to have to act normal around their other friends, which means she can’t avoid looking at him for much longer.

“I’m sorry.” She says as she pours a cup of coffee. “I am, I—I should’ve knocked. I forgot you slept over, and—”

“It’s fine, Y/N. I should’ve locked the door.” Harry says easily, the corner of his lips tugging up. “It’s not a big deal. Besides, it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

At that comment, Y/N pauses. “Except…I haven’t seen you naked before?”

Harry shakes his head adamantly. “No. You have. There’s no way we’ve been friends for almost twenty years, and you haven’t.”

“Harry, believe me. I’ve seen you in a lot of weird positions over the years, but I’ve never seen you completely nude.” Y/N feels her regular ease with him begin to return, just a little bit. “I would remember that.”

“Would you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, his coffee cup half raised to his lips.

The bit of ease that returned disappears immediately. “I—” Y/N’s cheeks heat up again. “Shut up, you know what I meant.”

Harry tries to hide his laugh behind his coffee, but fails. “I’m just teasing you, love. It’s fine, promise. I don’t mind that you saw. I’m very comfortable in my body.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Too comfortable, I think.”

“Is there such a thing as being too comfortable in your body?” Harry asks in a teasing voice, crossing his arms.

“When your best friend walks in on you naked and you don’t bother to cover yourself?” Despite the blush on her cheeks, Y/N manages to laugh. “Yes. There is.”

“I don’t know…” Harry finishes his coffee and sets the mug in the kitchen sink. “It sounds like there’s issues with your comfort, not mine.”

Before Y/N can form a reply, Harry shoots her a smirk and walks out of the kitchen.

For the rest of the day, Y/N does her best not to think about that morning’s awkward encounter. Brunch with her friends is normal, and she just lets herself enjoy having Harry home, and catching up with everyone. The afternoon also passes in an unremarkable way, as does that night. Over the next few days, however, things begin to change.

Within two weeks, the atmosphere of the country has shifted. There’s a virus that’s highly contagious and can be fatal, Y/N’s work tells her to work from home, and soon the entire country is being told to stay home to avoid catching Coronavirus.

And then Harry texts her two days later, without any warning or leeway for her to disagree.

I’m on the last flight back to London. Pack a bag and bring some groceries to my place, so we can isolate together. You’ll go crazy alone in your flat.

Y/N tries to reply that it’s not necessary, but her message doesn’t go through. Harry’s already on the plane. So she does what he says, and packs a bag of clothes, her work bag, some alcohol, and her favourite snacks, and drives over to his house.

Letting herself in with her key, Y/N begins to bring the house back to life. She lights Harry’s candles and orders some dinner, as well as groceries for the next couple weeks. She makes sure she gets his favourite foods, and the weird snacks that only he likes. She calls her mum to tell her she’ll be with Harry, and Anne, to tell her the same thing. And then she waits.

When Harry finally walks through the front door, he looks more like the tired seventeen year old on his first tour than the grown man she had seen a few weeks ago. The bags under his eyes are evidence of his jetlag and stress, his jacket is rumpled from the plane, his hair just as messy, and he looks like he could collapse the second the door closes behind him.

“H.” Y/N walks towards him and gives him a tight hug. One hand goes to his back and the other to his hair, playing with it as she always does. “Are you alright?”

“Long flight.” Harry mutters in reply, eyes closed as he holds her tight. “Everyone’s going insane in the States. I’m lucky I got a flight back to London.”

“Why did you?” Y/N pulls back, brushing his messy hair from his eyes. “You could’ve stayed in LA.”

“Yeah, but…” Harry shrugs a bit. “I knew you’d be alone. And I wanted to be with you.”

Y/N can’t help the soft smile that creeps onto her face. “C’mon. I have dinner ready.”

Harry barely makes it through dinner with his eyes open, but still insists on watching a movie after. Y/N tries to tell him that he should just go to sleep, but he won’t hear it.

“We can watch it in my bed, like we used to when we were little.” Harry gives her his best puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

Y/N shoves his shoulder. “You’re twenty-six. Stop pouting to get what you want.”

“I’ll stop pouting when it stops working.”

Y/N laughs in spite of herself. “Fine, but shower first. You smell like a plane.”

Of course, as predicted, Harry starts to drift to sleep within the first half hour of the movie. He slips down in the bed more and more, until his head is in Y/N’s lap completely. Out of habit, Y/N begins to play with his damp curls, running her fingers through them at a steady pace as she watches the movie.

Harry’s breathing begins to even out as she does, and Y/N begins to pay more attention to him than the TV. When they spend the night with each other, Y/N always falls asleep first. It’s rare she gets to see him completely relaxed.

As much as she loves his green eyes, his eyelashes may be a close second. They’re so long and dark that they almost make Y/N jealous. And his cheeks…she brings one hand up to gently touch them. They’re stubbled from his long day of travel, but the skin underneath feels soft. Despite having lost his baby fat years ago, there’s still a layer of tenderness in his body.

Y/N is so distracted by him that she doesn’t realize that she’s stopped playing with his hair, not until Harry speaks up.

“Why’d you stop?” His voice is groggy with exhaustion, lower, with a thicker accent. His words slur together as well

“Hm?” Y/N hums in her throat in response. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Not really.” Harry’s eyes stay closed as he shifts his position a bit. “Will you play with my hair a bit longer? Feels nice.”

The movie credits roll in the background as Y/N does what he says. Harry sighs contently, relaxing back into her again.

Y/N turns the TV off, so the only light in the room comes from the moon through the open curtains. It shines over half of Harry’s face, catching the ends of his eyelashes. Somehow, the moonlight makes his cheeks and lips even more pink.

“You’re really pretty, y’know that?” Y/N says it absentmindedly, her fingers still combing through Harry’s curls.

“Thanks.” He has just enough energy to mumble a response. “’M, not as pretty as you, though.”

Y/N’s stomach flutters when he says it, so quiet that she’s not even certain she heard him correctly. “Liar.”

“’S true.” Harry’s reply is even less audible than before. “So pretty.”

If Harry was awake and more present in the conversation, Y/N might tease him. She might try to make him blush, or roll his eyes, or laugh. Maybe, just maybe, she’d even ask him to elaborate, just enough that she could figure out what the fluttering in her stomach means.

But Harry is hardly awake right now. And it wouldn’t be fair.

“Go to sleep, H,” is all Y/N says, shifting to lay down a bit more without pausing the movement of her fingers.

…

It takes Harry a few days to readjust to London time. While Y/N spends her weekdays working from the kitchen table, Harry naps and fiddles with his guitar and journal. While she can tell he’s working on something, Y/N can also tell that he’s not making much process.

A week after coming back from LA, Harry half stomps into the kitchen during the afternoon, frustration clear on his face as he opens the fridge and grabs an apple. He bites into it angrily and leans against the counter, the irritation still on his face.

Y/N glances at him from behind her laptop. “Everything alright?”

Harry gives half a shrug. “Trying to write.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Fucking sucks.” Harry takes another bite of the apple. “I thought I’d feel more inspired, being at home and not having deadlines, but I can’t get anything out. Not anything good, anyways.”

“I know the feeling.” Y/N sighs as she closes her laptop. “There’s been a huge surge in online orders, and my boss wants me to create more promo material, but it’s hard to focus on anything right now.”

Harry nods and glances out the window. “Doesn’t help that it’s a beautiful day, but we can’t go out.”

“We can go out. We just can’t leave the property.” Y/N replies. “You have a giant backyard. Why don’t you use it?”

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll go for a swim.” Harry takes another bite of his apple. “You want to come?”

Y/N laughs a bit. “Unlike you, H, I have a real nine to five job. I’m on the clock for another two hours.”

“After, then.” Harry tosses his apple core in the compost and gives her a grin. “I hope you packed that yellow bikini.”

Y/N crumples a piece of scrap paper in her hand and throws it at him. “Piss off.”

Y/N did, in fact, pack her yellow bikini. However, when she’s changing from her clothes into a swimsuit, she chooses her blue bikini instead, just to have a bit of agency. Every instinct in her is telling her to wear what Harry said to, and it’s a little concerning. She’s never cared about dressing for him before, and she isn’t prepared to start.

Despite the different colour, Harry still grins from the edge of the pool when he sees her walk out. “Look at you. Should’ve put you in the Watermelon Sugar music video.”

“Shut up.” Y/N sits on the edge of the pool, dangling her lets in the water. Harry rests his head on his arms, his cheeky grin still on his face as he looks up at her.

“I’m serious.” He says innocently. “It was a fun day. You really would’ve liked it.”

“Of course you thought it was fun; you had a bunch of beautiful girls fawning over you and feeding you fruit.” Y/N rolls her eyes from behind her sunglasses. “You’re such a narcissist.”

“All musicians are narcissists, love. At least, the best ones are.” Harry’s grin grows as he pushes away from the ledge. “Are you going to just sit there and look pretty, or are you actually going to swim?”

“I’m going to tan.” Y/N leans her head back, enjoying the feeling of the warm sun.

Harry shakes his head. “No, sorry. The pool is for swimming only.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

In hindsight, Y/N should’ve known what Harry was about to do. She’s been friends with him long enough that she knows how his brain works. However, Y/N is enjoying the sun so much that she lets her guard down for one moment, and that one moment is all Harry needs.

She feels his hands grip her legs, and before she can stop him, he pulls her into the pool. Her entire body submerges, and when she finally rises, gasping for air, the only thing she can hear is Harry’s snickering.

“You’re such an ass!” Y/N hits his shoulder hard, not caring about leaving a mark on him. “That’s not funny!”

“The pool is for swimming only. I told you.” Harry can’t stop laughing long enough to make it through his sentence clearly. “Them’s the rules.”

“Them’s the rules.” Y/N repeats in a mocking voice, hitting him one more time. “You’re the worst.”

“Maybe, but you’re stuck with me.” Harry runs a hand through his wet hair. “At least until quarantine is done.”

“I should’ve stayed alone in my apartment.” Y/N mutters, tossing her wet sunglasses on the pool ledge. “Would’ve been so much more peaceful.”

“And boring.” Harry points out. “And you wouldn’t get to take relaxing swims like this!”

“Right. Relaxing.” Y/N splashes him playfully. “Jerk.”

Harry just grins at you.

…

“Want one?”

Y/N glances at Harry as he packs loose marijuana into a wrapper, concentration clear on his face as he rolls it.

“You learn how to roll those in LA?” Y/N asks, taking a sip of her wine.

Harry chuckles lightly, his skin illuminated by the fire burning in front of them and the moon above them. “Yeah. I’m not very good, though. Usually I have somebody else to roll them for me.”

“So high maintenance.”

Another low laugh rolls out of Harry’s mouth. “Ha. High maintenance.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but an endearing smile is on her face. “It’s still illegal in the U.K., you know.”

“I doubt the police are going to break social distancing rules to arrest me for it.” Harry’s tongue pokes out of his mouth as he tries his best to roll the joint tightly.

Y/N watches as Harry brings the wrapper to his mouth, licking it lightly. To her dismay, her attraction to Harry had yet to fade, and spending every moment of the day together wasn’t helping.

“I’m not an eighteen year old girl on your tour bus anymore, Harry.” Y/N raises her wine glass. “I drink red wine now. I’m sophisticated.”

Harry snorts, his eyes flickering to her before looking back down at the joint. “Sophisticated, right. Like you didn’t do body shots off the bartender at your birthday party this year.”

Y/N’s cheeks burn. “Birthdays don’t count.”

“Neither did tour buses, and neither does my backyard in the middle of a pandemic.” Harry seals the joint as best he can. “You may have a fancy job now, but you’re still my Y/N.”

His Y/N. That phrase ignites the now familiar flutter in her stomach and, over the last few days, her core. Something about Harry identifying her as his drives Y/N insane, even if it’s nothing new.

“And what exactly does your Y/N do?” She manages to say after a moment.

“She doesn’t take shit from anyone. She gets drunk fast and high faster. She’s always down for a laugh. And, although she won’t admit it, she has a tendency to make bad decisions that she tries to suppress, but can’t always manage to do so.” Harry sparks his lighter and sticks the joint between his lips, lighting it and puffing it quickly.

“Then you should know that your Y/N can’t have a joint of her own.” Y/N steals the joint from Harry’s lips, taking a few puffs of her own from it before handing it back.

The smoke curls in her lungs, forcing a few coughs from her.

“Alright?” Harry asks, concern in his eyes.

Y/N nods, her hand pressed to her chest like she can stop the burn. “Yeah. Just haven’t done that in a while.”

“You always cough so much. It would be cute if it wasn’t so bloody concerning.” Harry says casually, lifting the joint to his lips and inhaling.

Y/N watches as he exhales smoke slowly. She wonders if she looks as attractive as he does when she blows out smoke.

Harry grins at her with just the corner of his mouth, like there’s a secret tugging at the edge of his lips.

Y/N really doubts it.

“Here.” Harry places the joint between her lips. “Inhale slowly.”

Y/N does as he says, doing her best to keep from coughing until the joint and his hand is away from her face. Her eyes burn a bit, both from the smoke and the oncoming high that’s starting to twist through her body.

“That’s a good girl.” Harry praises her before leaning back, placing the joint back between his own lips. “You’ve gotten better at that. Thought you were going to pass out the first time we smoked, remember?”

“I remember I almost did.” Y/N giggles to herself as she settles down into the couch more. “I coughed so much that I thought I was going to die on that tour bus.”

“Niall was certain you had.” Harry laughs too, and Y/N known they’re both playing back the same memory. “Wasn’t quite sure how we were going to explain that one to Paul. Neither was I, honestly.”

“You don’t give me enough credit.” Despite the feeling coming over her, YN still takes another sip of her wine. “I was fine.”

Harry nods as he finishes the joint, setting the butt down into his ash tray. “Still…we had some fun nights on the bus when you were there.”

“That was a fun summer.” Y/N agrees, her eyes fixed on the fire before them. “Lots of good memories.”

As Y/N watches the fire, Harry watches her. He lets another moment or two pass before speaking again.

“When you were on tour with us that summer…” He rubs his lips absentmindedly. “You and Niall. Did you two ever…?”

“What? Fuck?” The weed and the alcohol take away the careful tone of Y/N’s regular speech, leaving honesty and bluntness behind.

Harry laughs once. “I was going to say date, but yeah. I guess so.”

“We didn’t date. We fooled around a few times.” Y/N shrugs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “He was fun. But we both knew it wasn’t anything serious, just something to do while I was on tour with you.”

Harry nods a bit, reaching for his own drink and taking a sip. Y/N watches the movement with heavy lidded eyes. His arm muscles flex underneath his tattooed skin when he moves, and the way his fingers wrap around his glass is fascinating to her.

“I figured he would have told you.” Y/N pulls her sweater around her tighter. Now that the sun has set completely, a chill has appeared. “You guys always talked about girls together.”

“No, he didn’t tell me. And I didn’t ask.” Harry keeps his glass in his hand, looking down at it with an unreadable expression. “I thought you might tell me, but you didn’t, either.”

The substances in Y/N’s system are clouding her mind, but she does her best to focus on Harry’s words. As a way to ground herself, she pulls her sweater away from her body, hoping that the cold air will help.

“I’m sorry.” She says slowly, like it takes all her effort to get the words out. “I didn’t mean to…hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh.” Confusion fogs Y/N’s mind. “Then…why is it bothering you?”

“It’s not bothering me.” Harry denies, finishing off his drink. “I was just wondering why. You usually tell me everything. You always have.”

Y/N bites her lip. “I don’t tell you about every person I sleep with.”

Harry hums low in the back of his throat, but offers no other response.

After a few minutes, Y/N stands up. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”

Twisting his empty glass around in his hands, Harry nods. “Alright. I’ll be up in a little bit.”

“You know, you have a guest room.” Y/N pauses, fiddling with the bottom of her sweater. Her skin feels unsettled, and the fabric against it isn’t helping. “I should probably start using it. Social distancing, and all that.”

Harry looks up at her, a stubborn look reflecting in his eyes. “No. I sleep better with you beside me.”

When Harry finally comes up to bed an hour later, Y/N is still awake, eyes closed, with her back away from the door and head toward the wall. She doesn’t turn over when she hears the door creak open, and instead just listens to the rustling sounds of Harry changing, going to the bathroom, washing his hands, and returning to the bedroom.

Y/N feels his weight on the bed, but doesn’t hear him slide in next to her. Instead, she does her best to stay completely relaxed when she feels his fingers brush against her hairline, pushing back a few loose strands.

Staying completely relaxed, it turns out, is easier thought than done. The moment Harry touches her, Y/N feels the nerves in her face burst to life. It’s like electricity, like nothing she’s ever felt before from any previous touches from Harry. Behind her closed eyes, Y/N feels her head spinning, but she’s certain it must be the weed and the alcohol in her system.

Finally, the sheets are pulled back, and Harry gets under the covers. He pulls Y/N back against him, and Y/N can feel the hot skin of his chest pressed against her shoulders. Harry takes a moment to adjust before sighing, almost in content, and then he presses a gentle kiss to the back of her shoulder.

The tender action leaves Y/N speechless. The action itself isn’t new; they had always been very physically affectionate with each other. But there’s something about the moment that Y/N can’t quite place a finger on. Perhaps she would be able to if she was sober, or less tired, but with her brain in its current state, the words she needs are lost, and she’s certain she won’t remember the feeling in the morning.

Harry inhales deeply, his nose buried in her hair, and sighs again. Y/N can feel him relaxing back against her, but his arms stay wrapped around her tightly. It’s a comforting embrace, and makes it easy for Y/N’s mind to finally quiet and drift off.

…

“You’re still working?”

Y/N looks up from her laptop to see Harry standing above her, sweaty from his workout. His hair is tied up in a little ponytail on top of his head, and he has a towel wrapped around his shoulders that he uses to wipe sweat from his face. His body is literally glistening in the sunlight, and Y/N suddenly finds it very hard to focus on her work.

“I am.” She says finally, closing the lid of her laptop and stretching out on the beach chair. “Or I was. I’m done for today.”

“Good.” Harry sits down on the chair next to her. “I’m going to have a shower, but I was thinking we should try baking something later.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I want cupcakes, and homemade are way better than store bought.” Harry says easily, stealing Y/N’s water and taking a gulp from it.

Y/N watches his throat move as he swallows the water, how his Adam’s apple bobs, how he licks his lips when he finally pulls the glass away from his mouth.

Y/N’s own mouth suddenly feels very dry.

“Alright, yeah.” Y/N nods weakly. “We can bake something later. It’ll be fun.”

…

“It’ll be fun.” Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. “God, I can’t believe I said that.”

“It was fun!” Harry argues, holding up a red velvet cupcake. “And we did it!”

“And we made a mess.” Y/N gestures to the kitchen around them, which looks like a warzone. Flour, powdered sugar, and cocoa powder cover every counter surface. There are broken eggshells on the counter, splatters of batter everywhere, and both Y/N and Harry have dyed red hands from food colouring.

“It could be worse.” Harry shrugs, clearly untroubled. “C’mon. Try a cupcake.”

Y/N reaches for one, but Harry simply lifts the one in his hand to her mouth. She locks eyes with him as she takes a bite, the icing smearing across her top lip.

Y/N chews slowly and swallows hard. “Yeah. They’re good.”

Harry extends a hand, and his finger runs along her lip, collecting the icing. He pops it into his mouth, sucking for a moment before humming in agreement. “Yeah. Sweet.”

The cupcakes, it turns out, pair well with watermelon cocktails, and soon Y/N and Harry are sitting on the couch, takeout and cupcakes in front of them and drinks in their hands as they giggle and talk. They’re intoxicated, but not just from the alcohol in the strong drinks that Harry makes.

“Honestly, working from home isn’t ideal, but it’s not that bad.” Y/N pops a bite of food into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Definitely not the worst part of quarantine.”

“Yeah?” Harry leans back on the couch. “What’s the worst part?”

Y/N shrugs. “It sucks being away from people, cooped up inside.”

Harry nods, but his face looks wistful. “I miss sex.”

Y/N laughs, but she nods in agreement as well. “Fuck, I know. I miss sex so much.”

“It’s nice, you know? A good way to burn some energy…always sleep so well after…” Harry sighs, taking a sip of his drink between his phrases. “I feel like I’m back on a tour bus again, with no one around but my hand.”

A giggle escapes Y/N’s mouth. “How tragic.” She also takes a sip of her drink, and tries to stop herself from making a face. Harry really does make them strong. “I just miss touching. I haven’t been this touch starved since I was seventeen.”

Harry makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. “We touch.”

“That’s different.” Y/N finishes her drink. “That’s friendly touching. It’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?” Harry challenges her, a glint in his eyes that Y/N’s come to recognize as a sign of trouble.

She refuses to take the bait. “You know what I meant.”

“I don’t.” Harry says it innocently, and he reaches forward to take her glass from her. “How about I get us some refills while you think of how to say it?”

Y/N lets him take the glass (she loves his drinks, despite how strong they are), but shakes her head. “Stop being an ass. You know exactly what I meant.”

A low laugh rolls out of Harry as he walks to the built-in bar he has in the lounge. He begins to recreate the drinks, muddling this, adding a splash of that. If Harry wasn’t already a rock star, she’d suggest he become a mixologist.

“Maybe I do know what you meant.” Harry shakes the cocktail shaker with ease before straining the liquid out over their glasses, which he’s filled with fresh ice. “But I want to hear you say it.”

Y/N runs a hand through her hair. She feels warm from the alcohol, and the lit candles around them aren’t helping. The food and cupcakes sit on the table, all but forgotten in their new conversation. “Say what?”

Harry’s lips pull up in a smirk, but his eyes show something else. He walks back over and hands her the drink before taking a seat next to her again. “The kind of touching you miss.”

Their fingers touch as Y/N takes the glass from him, and suddenly the warmth of the room feels ten times hotter. “You want me to say it?”

Harry lifts his glass to his lips, but keeps his eyes on her. “I do.”

“I…” Y/N takes a sip of the drink (which is stronger than the one before) and then presses the cold glass to her cheek. “I miss touching. Intimate touching. And…being touched intimately.”

Harry inhales deeply, stretching out his shoulders before responding. “Yeah. I miss that too. Holding hands, touching someone’s stomach, chest, legs…having them play with my hair…”

“I play with your hair.” Y/N says defensively, a crease appearing between her eyebrows.

Harry laughs once. “Right, but like you said…that’s different.”

Y/N clears her throat. “Right.”

Harry takes a long sip from his drink. “’S still nice, though.” Harry adds after a moment, licking his lips. “I love when you play with my hair. You know that.”

Nodding softly, Y/N begins to trail a finger over the rim of her glass. Whenever she begins to get tipsy, she begins to fidget more, and feel freer in her actions. And when Y/N glances back at Harry, she can tell he recognizes the sign as well.

“What about you?” He asks, bringing her back from her thoughts. “What do you miss having people do?”

Y/N drinks again, pulling her knees to her chest as she leans against the couch’s armrest. “I miss…having my hair played with, too. That’s always nice. I miss having my fingers played with…neck kisses…I like when people, like, rub my arms or thighs, just absentmindedly…” She leans her head against her arm. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” Harry rubs his nose lightly, and Y/N can tell he’s feeling the alcohol, too. “What’s my turn?”

“Tell me what else you like.” Y/N smiles softly, a small laugh just barely bubbling out from her. “We’ve never actually talked about it, H. Isn’t that strange?”

Harry turns to face her more, pausing to think for a moment. “I suppose we’ve never been specific before, yeah.” He taps his thumb against his H ring. “I like being in control, usually. Telling them what to do, where to touch me…” His eyes get a faraway look in them. “But sometimes it’s nice to give up control. Have someone else…”

“Decide.” Y/N finishes his sentence for him when he trails off. “Yeah. I’m more like that, I think. I usually let someone else decide. But I like the in-between, too. Like…both exploring each other.”

“What do you mean?” Harry cocks his head to the side curiously.

Y/N shrugs loosely, her finger still tracing her glass. “’S hard to explain.”

Harry’s voice is low when he replies, almost like he’s somewhere else. “Try.”

“Well…” Y/N takes a drink before setting her glass down. “It’s like…do you remember your first time?”

Harry blinks, surprised at the question, but nods. “Yeah. I do.”

“And remember how nervous you were?”

“Yeah.”

“And like…” Y/N plays with her fingers as she ponders her next words. “You were nervous, yeah, but there was also this excitement in you. Kind of like…a breathlessness. And you looked at the other person and knew they…”

Harry closes his eyes for a moment. “Felt the same.”

“Yeah.” Y/N tucks her hair behind her ears. “And just, like, being comfortable with them, and knowing you could both explore, and ask questions, and you were both together…” Y/N feels heat rise to her cheeks as she trails off. “I don’t know. I feel like that’s rare, but I—it’s nice. I like it.”

“Yeah.” Harry rubs his thumb over his lip as he shifts his position on the couch. “It’s nice, yeah. Rare, usually. But nice.”

“I think it’s rare, because, like—” The alcohol makes it harder for Y/N to gather her thoughts, but also harder to sensor them. “I don’t know, I feel like when I was younger, and hadn’t had sex yet, I took more time with, like, finding the right person? Like I wanted it to be with someone who loved me for the first time, and someone I was comfortable with, and it was. And then after, the love part didn’t matter so much for me.” Y/N glances at Harry, who seems to be hanging on her every word. “Which, like, was fine. What mattered to me the most was that whoever I had sex with respected me. And they did, so that was…good. But it’s different.” Y/N rubs her arms. “I don’t know if that makes sense…”

“It does.” Harry assures her, placing a light hand on her knee. He begins to rub small circles. “Keep going.”

“I just think that, like, that in-between, breathless, exploring each other kind of thing…the comfort…that’s rare because it only really happens with someone you love.” Y/N murmurs. “At least, that’s how it is for me. And I haven’t really been in love much in my life.”

“I’ve been in love probably too much.” Harry admits, his hand still on Y/N’s knee. “Too much to be good for me.”

Y/N shakes her head adamantly. “No, H. That’s good. That’s…brave. You’re not afraid of how you feel. Most people are.”

“Maybe.” Harry finishes his drink again with one long gulp.

Y/N watches as he does, seeing a little drip of liquid slip from the corner of his mouth. She can’t stop herself from leaning forward and wiping it away with her thumb, feeling the stubble of Harry’s chin scratch against her.

Harry watches her with hooded eyes as she leans back to her previous position. His hand slips a bit higher, from her knee to her lower thigh, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Who have you been in love with?” He asks. His words are slurred a bit, and his accent seems thicker.

“My first boyfriend, Parker. You remember him.” Y/N sighs, closing her eyes as she herself remembers. “And…Christian, from university. We were together for two years. That’s it, I think.”

Despite the alcohol, Harry’s face still shows some surprise. “Really? No one else? No one since Christian?”

Y/N shrugs. “I’ve dated, yeah, and had relationships, but…I don’t know. I didn’t love any of them. I was…infatuated. But I never…it was intense, but like—intense like a spark. Nothing prolonged.”

Harry hums in response. “Thought you were going to say Niall for a moment. He was pretty torn up when you went back to school after that summer.”

Y/N’s face mimics Harry’s surprise from a moment ago. “Was he?”

“Yeah. Moped around a bit, spent time by himself, on his phone every two minutes…” Harry’s expression shows the difficulty it’s taking him to think back eight years while drunk. “I knew it was because you left. Thought you two had an…agreement, or something.”

“An agreement?” A giggle escapes Y/N. “This isn’t a Jane Austen book, Harry. We didn’t have an agreement.” Once she gets her laughter out, she sighs. “He was that upset?”

“Yeah.” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “So I thought…he must be in love with you. And you were…”

“No, I wasn’t.” Y/N says softly. “He was so upset that you thought he was in love with me?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N bites her lip. “Was he more upset than you?”

Harry takes a moment to reply, looking at her with a serious expression. His lips are so red, and his eyes are so green, and both of them are so drunk that neither of them can sense the meaning behind what they’re saying.

“No.” Harry finally responds. “He wasn’t.”

…

“Good morning.”

“Shhh.” Y/N covers her eyes with her arm. “Don’t yell in my ear.”

“I whispered.” Harry counters, but his voice is a bit quieter this time. “Do you have a headache?”

“I didn’t know something flavoured with watermelon could make me feel so shitty.” Y/N groans a bit, shifting on the bed without opening her eyes. “What did you do to me?”

When Harry laughs, it’s not audible, but Y/N can feel it through his chest pressed against her side.

“How are you completely fine right now?” She asks, rubbing her eyes.

“I’m used to it. I’ve always been way better with hangovers than you.” Harry presses a small kiss to her shoulder before getting up. “How does breakfast in bed sound?”

“Normally amazing, but I can’t eat right now.” Y/N mutters. “How about coffee in bed?”

“Sure.” Harry smiles a bit. “You look cute like this.”

“Shut up.”

Harry returns ten minutes later with a tray of coffee, toast, and eggs, of which he manages to coax Y/N to take a few bites. She doesn’t really want it, but she knows it’s easier to do as he says instead of arguing.

“How about we have a movie day today?” Harry suggests after breakfast. “In bed, since it seems like you won’t be moving anytime soon.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Y/N glares at him from the top of her coffee cup.

Harry raises his hands in defense. “Hey, I didn’t make you drink. You chose to.”

“I know, but it’s easier to blame you.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Is that why you’ve been doing it for twenty years?”

“Exactly.”

Harry carefully lifts the empty tray to the ground before holding up the remote. “You can pick the movies.”

Y/N bites her lip. “If we watch Titanic, will you make fun of me when I cry?”

“Of course not. I’ll even cry with you out of solidarity.”

“Alright.” Y/N settles back into the blankets. “Put it on, then.”

It’s easy for them to be like this, Y/N thinks, as Harry pulls her into his arms when the movie starts. It’s always been so natural for them to be physical and affectionate with each other. They’ve never acted any other way.

Except this doesn’t feel like any other way.

Yes, Y/N has watched countless movies while cuddling in bed with Harry. But has he ever whispered in her ear like that before? Has he ever rubbed her sides so carefully before? Has he ever let his lips rest on the bare skin of her shoulder, almost at the base of her neck?

Y/N can’t recall. However, she’s certain that if he had, it hasn’t felt so electric.

“Look at them. Look at how Jack watches her.” Harry murmurs his words directly in Y/N’s ear as they watch Jack draw Rose. Y/N can feel his lips brushing against her, and the heat of his breath and tone of his voice makes her shiver.

“She’s very pretty.” Y/N nods, shifting in Harry’s arms. She likes how warm he feels.

“I suppose, but that’s not what I meant.” Harry traces shapes on her arm. “I meant look at how he looks at her. Do you think they have the kind of love you talked about last night?”

Y/N glances over her shoulder at him, surprised he remembers their conversation. “I think so. Do you?”

“Yeah.” Harry says in a low voice. He says no more, so Y/N turns back to face the television.

They continue to watch in silence, gripping each other a bit tighter as the Titanic begins to sink. As they watch a mother reading to her two young children in bed, Y/N begins to lose her composure, like always. Tears well in her eyes, and she lets out a quiet hitched breath, a single sniffle.

“It’s alright, love.” Harry’s hands move to her stomach, holding her tighter to comfort her. “Don’t cry.”

Y/N can hear the tears in his voice, just as they’re in her own. “Can’t help it. This part and the band and the old couple in bed—they always get me.”

“I know.” Harry rubs his thumb along your side.

Y/N reaches behind her without turning around, threading her fingers through Harry’s messy curls. She plays with them absentmindedly as she watches, and tries to ignore how right it feels to be close to him like this. She wonders if he notices it, too.

Harry presses a chaste kiss to her shoulder.

…

The day they hit the one month mark of quarantine, Harry sits across from Y/N at breakfast with a determined look on his face.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Y/N glances up at him, her attention barely shifting from her book. “A proposition?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind of proposition?” Y/N tilts her head to the side. What she first thought was just determination on Harry’s face, she realizes, is actually determination and mischief, and she knows it won’t end well.

“I haven’t had a tattoo in a while.” Harry steals a strawberry from Y/N’s plate. “And I have a machine here, so I was thinking you could give me one.”

Y/N stares at Harry incredulously as he pops the strawberry in his mouth. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Probably.”

“I’m a terrible artist, Harry. You know that.” Y/N shakes her head. “And even if I wasn’t, I have no idea how to tattoo someone!”

“You can watch a YouTube tutorial, or read a WikiHow.” Harry sighs loudly. “I’m so bored in isolation!”

“What do you even want tattooed?” Y/N eyes the intricate tattoos on his arms suspiciously. “I doubt I could do something like your ship.”

“Something simple.” He shrugs. “Probably lettering.”

“Probably?” Y/N says suspiciously.

“That’s why I want you to do it. I want it in your handwriting.”

Harry’s tone is easy, but it makes her breathing shallow.

“You do?”

“Yeah. I was thinking of something to remind me of this time, because of how weird it is.”

Despite her increased heartbeat, Y/N laughs. “What, do you want me to tattoo COVID-19 on you?”

“No. Be a little more creative than that.” Harry scoffs.

“Why do I have to be creative?”

“Because I want you to decide what I get.”

Y/N’s eyes widen. “You’re not serious.”

“I am! Why is that so hard to believe?” Harry asks. “I trust you. And you’re good with words.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

…

“Make sure my drink has two shots in it.” Y/N calls to Harry as she looks over the tattoo supplies on the living room table.

Harry laughs. “I’m not sure I want my tattoo artist to be drunk.”

“The only way I’ll even be your tattoo artist is if I’m drunk.” She counters. “I still think this is an awful idea.”

Harry hands Y/N a tall glass with a light pink liquid in it. “Drink this, and you’ll change your mind.”

Y/N takes the glass and takes a large gulp, not focusing on the taste of the mixers, but the liquid courage behind them.

Harry grins, lifting his own glass. “Cheers.”

“Shut up and sit down.” Y/N mutters. She ties her hair back before grabbing the disinfectant wipes. “Where do you want this?”

“My upper inner arm. I already shaved it for you.” Harry smirks as he points to the area, which is easily exposed in his loose tank top.

“And you’re sure I can write it with pen?” Y/N asks nervously as she disinfects the area.

“Mhmm.” Harry leans back comfortably in his chair. “What did you decide on?”

“It’s a secret.” Y/N uncaps the pen, getting closer to him.

“So I can’t know until after it’s on me permanently?”

“Is that a problem?” Y/N asks innocently. “I thought you trusted me?”

Harry chuckles. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Also that I’m good with words.” Y/N makes sure Harry’s head is turned away before she carefully writes the phrase she chose. Then she snaps on gloves and starts the machine like she watched in videos early that day.

“You’re fine, love.” Harry assures her, seeing the nervous look on her face. “It’s a small tattoo. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Quiet.” Y/N mutters. “I need to focus.”

True to Harry’s word, the small tattoo only takes a few minutes to finish. When it’s done, Y/N gives it one final wipe before setting the machine down and taking off her gloves.

“Alright.” She picks up her glass and drains it completely. “You can look.”

Harry peers at his arm, curiosity clear on his face. There, in Y/N’s loopy handwriting is the phrase “touch me.”

“It looks so fucking good, Y/N.” Harry grins at her. “You did amazing!”

“I didn’t fuck it up?” She asks, chewing on her lip anxiously. “Is it alright?”

“You did a lovely job.” Harry smiles. “Wrap it for me?”

Y/N does as he asks, carefully wrapping the fresh tattoo in plastic wrap and taping it to his arm. “I think I’ll accept my tip in the form of another drink.”

Harry snickers. “Coming right up.”

Two drinks later, they’re both back in the honest and loose headspace that they’ve grown familiar with. It’s not enough that they’re unaware of their actions, but both Y/N and Harry know that their lips are looser because of the liquor in their systems.

They’ve migrated to the bedroom to get comfier, but took a few items from the bar with them. It’s with these items that Harry tops up Y/N’s glass again as he speaks.

“So tell me…” He sets the cocktail shaker on his bedside table. “Why ‘touch me’?”

“You said you wanted something to remind you of isolation.” Y/N takes a long sip of her drink. “And that’s what we both miss the most, right? Being touched?”

Harry nods slowly, his rings clinking against his glass. “Yeah. I’m probably going to go straight to the bars after this is all done. Find someone there.”

He laughs lightly, showing that what he says it half a joke, but Y/N sighs wistfully and shakes her head in disagreement. “I won’t.”

“You won’t?” Harry is surprised, his laughter fading. “Why not?”

Her shrug almost causes her to spill her drink on the bed. “I don’t know.” Y/N sighs again. “I don’t really—I’m not a hookup fan. Not right now, at least. It’s not what I…want.”

“What do you want, then?” Harry finishes his drink, but sets the glass down instead of refilling it. “If not sex?”

“I want sex.” Y/N says defensively. “But I want—I don’t want it to be someone random. I want sex, but I want to be…intimate. Like, I want to know that person cares about me, and I care about them.”

Harry licks the last of his drink from his lips. “Like that breathless feeling?”

“No. It would be nice, but no. That takes time.” Y/N brushes her hair behind her ear. “Just…someone who cares. I don’t want a quick fuck, I just—”

“You want to be touched. Intimately touched.” Harry takes the empty glass from Y/N’s hand and sets it down on the table next to the bed.

Y/N nods gently, her limbs feeling loose. “Yeah. Intimately touched.”

“You know, I could…” Harry trails off, pursing his lips. “We could…do that.”

The alcohol makes Y/N slow to recognize the meaning of his words. “What?”

“I’ve noticed you…the way you look at me, it’s…different than it was.” Harry says carefully, his eyes gauging her reaction. “For the last few weeks. And I—I know that I’m…attracted to you, too.”

“We…” Y/N struggles to think of what to say as she finally registers what’s happening. “We’re friends.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see you as attractive.” Harry looks down at his hands. “Don’t you…? I mean…”

“I—yeah. I think you’re—” Y/N laughs a bit nervously. “You’re attractive, H, you know that. We’ve just never…discussed it.”

“I’m not saying we have to fuck, or—we don’t have to do anything.” Harry straightens his shoulders and looks you in the eye. “Just—when we touch, it’s mild. If you want to be touched intimately, we could…”

“Like, a hand job?” Y/N says slowly, her words blunt with confusion.

Harry goes a bit red, but he shakes his head quickly. “No, Christ, that’s not what I meant, I—just—can I show you?”

“Um,” Y/N swallows hard. “Sure.”

“Okay.” Harry nods slightly, taking carefully measured breaths. “If this feels weird, or anything seems wrong, just tell me to stop, alright?”

Y/N replies faintly. “Alright.”

Nodding again, Harry moves closer on the bed, sitting on his knees so he can get closer to Y/N, who sits cross-legged. His hands rest lightly on her bare thighs, and his rings are a cool contrast to his warm skin.

Harry begins to rub his hands up and down her thighs slowly. His movements are measured, and he watches Y/N’s reaction carefully for a sign of her disliking his actions. However, what he finds is a nervous but interested girl staring back at him.

“Like this. Like, what you like.” Harry says lowly. His hands move more to her inner thighs, but they don’t creep higher. “And…”

“And…?” Y/N asks, her heart rate increasing even more.

Harry moves one hand to the hem of Y/N’s tank top, pushing it up a bit so his hand can rest on her waist. He rubs over her warm skin, marvelling in how smooth and soft it is to his touch. His fingers graze the lace of her bra, but he goes no higher.

“How—how’s that?” Harry asks quietly.

“It’s, um, it’s good.” Y/N replies as she struggles to keep her voice normal. “Yeah. Good. But, um, can you…” Harry’s movements pause at her words, and Y/N feels her cheeks get even warmer. “Maybe touch my, uh, my neck. If you’d like.”

Harry nods, and the hand on her thigh moves to her neck. He traces his fingers across her shoulder and over her collarbone, delighting in feeling the curves of her body. Y/N’s breath hitches when his fingers travel up her neck, and Harry swears he can feel her pulse increase under his fingers.

Y/N’s not sure if it’s the fact that she’s touch starved from self isolating that makes Harry’s touches feel so good, or if it’s the fact that it’s Harry touching her, but she doesn’t dwell on it. Instead, she closes her eyes and tilts her head back, allowing him better access.

She feels Harry’s breath before she feels his lips, but she’s still surprised when she feels him begin to sponge light kisses across her neck.

“H…”

“Is this alright?” He asks the question right below her ear, and yet she can barely hear him because he’s so quiet.

“Yes.” Y/N breathes. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Harry returns to pressing light kisses to her skin, his hands still rubbing over her sides and hips.

For the first time since seeing Harry naked in her bathroom, Y/N can’t deny or explain away her attraction to him. She can’t convince herself that she doesn’t want him to touch her, because she does, and she can’t tell herself that she doesn’t need him, because she does. Every fibre of her being is telling her that she needs Harry, and she needs him now. Her heart is pounding, her skin is on fire, and her core feels like she’d going to explode if he doesn’t do something. And yet, Y/N can’t tell him to touch her more. She’s frozen, mind blank, and she can only register what Harry is doing at the moment as what she wants.

Harry continues to kiss her neck, never lingering too long in one spot, never sucking too hard. Every kiss is gentle and chaste, except the few rare ones that include the tip of his tongue running over her skin.

After what feels like an eternity, Harry pulls away from her neck, face flushed. Despite his hands still on her body, Y/N makes an involuntary sound in the back of her throat.

“Is that better?” He asks lowly, rubbing his thumb against your hip.

“I—kind of.” Y/N says softly. If anything, she thinks, it’s worse. She needs to satisfy the burn inside her, but she doesn’t know how.

“Good.” Harry replies, but he doesn’t take his hands off her.

Y/N’s own hands have been sitting at her sides as his moved over her body, but she raises one now, as hesitant as Harry was. She extends it towards his arm, but pauses with her fingers right over his skin.

“Is it okay if I…?”

The corner of Harry’s lips lifts up, just barely. “Yeah, love. Go ahead.”

Harry’s skin is warm beneath her touch. Y/N traces the outline of his mermaid tattoo carefully before moving onto others. She loves how his arm curves under her touch, how he stays still and lets her explore. She appreciates it, thinking that if Harry made any sudden movements, she’d force herself to pull away.

Soon, her fingers move from tracing his tattoos to tracing the lines of his muscles. She moves down his forearm to his hand, running her fingers over the veins that show through his tan skin, over his knuckles, down the tips of his calloused fingers and back.

Harry sucks in a breath, and Y/N’s trance flickers for a moment as her eyes move to his face to see what’s wrong.

“Sorry, just—surprised me.” Harry says, voice low yet sheepish. He nods down to his thigh, where Y/N realizes her own hand is resting.

“Oh—” She moves to pull her hand away, but Harry places his own on top.

“It’s fine.” He says quickly. “Keep going.”

Y/N bites her lip as she turns her attention back to his arm. Her fingers move slowly and carefully back up his forearm to his upper arm. She traces over his tattoos while she rubs her thumb gently against the muscle, and stops her fingers at the edge of his t-shirt sleeve. With a quick glance at Harry, she pushes the sleeve up, tucking it up on his shoulder so she can run her fingers over his ship tattoo, which is one of her favourites.

“Feels nice.” Harry murmurs, his eyes following her movements.

Y/N glances back at his face, taking in his appearance. His lips are red from the time he spent kissing her neck, and his cheeks are still flushed. His eyes are darker than usual, and she’s not certain if it’s the candlelight or something else causing it. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, with a few loose curls hanging down. Out of reflex, Y/N reaches up and pushes his hair back out of his eyes.

Before she can return her hand to his arm, Harry captures it in his own. Y/N watches as he brings it to his lips, inhaling as her wrist passes underneath his nose. Although she’s not sure why, there’s something about seeing how much smaller her hand is in Harry’s that delights her.

Harry presses a soft kiss to her wrist, following it up with another on her palm. Y/N’s eyelids flutter at the tender sensation.

“It’s my turn to touch you.” She says softly, her voice strained.

Harry hums in reply. “I know.” He kisses your wrist once more before looking at you. “I’ll help.”

Lifting his hand from his thigh (your hand, which was underneath, stays where it is), he pulls up his shirt just enough that he can sneak your hand underneath. He rests it on his lower chest, and even though his shirt is still partially covering him, Y/N knows she’s touching his butterfly tattoo.

“I like to be touched here.” Harry says in the same low voice.

“Okay.” Y/N bites her lip, her head swimming with alcohol and the smell of the candles and Harry’s cologne and Harry. “It…would be easier without your shirt.”

Without breaking eye contact, save for the moment fabric covers him, Harry pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side. “Better?”

Y/N’s eyes drift down to his tanned stomach. His body is familiar and a stranger to her all at once. She knows his tattoos, scars, every mark on his skin from a distance, but seeing it like this—touching it like this—makes her feel like she’s never truly seen him before.

“Better.” She manages to say, her hand brushing across his ribs.

Y/N spends a while exploring the planes of his stomach, the contours of his body. When she gets to his v-lines, and runs her fingers over the ferns tattooed there, Harry shivers a bit, his hand gripping her knee tighter.

Y/N massages his thigh gently. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Harry clears his throat. “I’m good.”

“Okay.” Y/N nods, but moves her hand further up again, over his chest and over his collar bones. She takes a moment to trace the lines of his neck, feel the beat if his pulse underneath her fingers, and then tangles her fingers in his hair. She uses the leverage to tilt his head back a bit, and presses her lips to the base of his neck.

Harry’s cologne smells better up close, and Y/N adores the heat of his skin on her sensitive lips. She presses small kisses over the curve of his neck, pausing over his jugular. Her tongue darts out and she carefully licks along it before ending the motion with a kiss.

“Christ…” Harry exhales slowly, the tips of his fingers digging into her knee slightly.

Y/N knows they’re crossing the threshold of just touching each other for the sake of touching. She can feel herself dripping in her panties, and when her eyes flicker down, she can see the outline of Harry’s half hard cock in his shorts. Together, they’ve reached the border of friends helping each other out, and she’s certain that she wants to cross it with him. However, she’s not sure if they should.

Pulling back enough to look Harry in the eyes, Y/N clears her throat. “H, we—what are we doing?”

Harry waits a moment to answer. “I…I don’t know. I have no fucking clue.”

“This isn’t friendly anymore.” Y/N’s voice drops to a whisper. “It’s not just—it’s intimate, yeah, but it’s more…” Her eyes move to the outline of his hardening cock once more before looking back up at his face. “It’s more.”

“Yeah. It’s more.” Harry moves his hand further up her thigh again, rubbing slow circles. “But I don’t want to stop.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “You don’t?”

“It’s been so long since…” Harry trails off, his gaze drifting down to your lips before returning to your eyes. “And it’s you. I’ve always wondered if—we—”

“I’ve wondered, too.” Y/N admits, her voice filled with nerves. Are they really discussing this? “Especially since that day, in the bathroom—”

“I wondered if you looked then.” Harry’s voice drops lower (which Y/N didn’t think was possible). “I thought about it later that day. I—fuck, I wanted you to look.”

A small noise escapes the back of Y/N’s throat. “This—we’ve been drinking, and—it’s the alcohol, H. Neither of us is thinking straight.”

“This isn’t the alcohol talking. I’ve thought about—when we’re in the pool, when we cuddle, when we flirt, I—I can’t help it.” Harry closes his eyes for a brief moment, like he’s collecting himself. “I need you. And I think…I think you need me too.”

“I do. I need you.” Y/N touches his stubbled jaw with careful fingers. “But we’re friends. This is going to change that.”

“We don’t know that.” Harry leans into her touch. “You said before that you wanted someone you’re comfortable with, something intimate, something breathless. You and I are comfortable, and intimate, and—I don’t know. All I know for sure is that I want you.”

Y/N isn’t sure if he means he wants her in a purely physical way or something more, and while she knows she should clarify that, all she can focus on is his voice and the way it’s going straight to her core.

“I want you, too.” She says simply.

Harry brings his hand to Y/N’s hip. “Can I kiss you?”

Y/N nods. She’s not sure she’s capable of giving a verbal response.

Harry takes it upon himself to lean closer, his fingertips digging into Y/N’s skin in a way she adores. He pauses, hovering just above her lips for a moment, as if to give her time to pull away. Instead, Y/N just waits in anticipation, delighting in the feeling of his breath running over her skin.

When he kisses her, Y/N tastes alcohol, mint, and what she swears is her own heart in the back of her throat.

Any previous kisses she’s shared with Harry have been half kisses, given in teenage games of truth or dare and in a friend’s parent’s basement. Those kisses were safe, guarded, and an obligation. This kiss is the exact opposite.

Although it starts chaste, it quickly grows more passionate. Y/N can’t stop herself from tugging on Harry’s hair more than she imagines Harry can stop himself from rucking up the hem of her tank top. His fingers dip under the band of her lace bralette as she nips at his lip, tugging slightly, delighted when a strangled sound echoes from the back of his throat.

Within minutes, Y/N’s allowed Harry to pull her to straddle his lap, his hands grabbing at her hips with a neediness she’s never seen him exhibit before. Of course, she feels the same way, and she lets her hand run down his chest over and over, using her nails a little more each time. Although there’s no one around to see, no party to return to, nowhere to go, Y/N wants to leave a mark. She wants anyone who sees his chest to know that he belongs to her.

Harry breaks away from her, lips red, eyes frenzied, and breathing heavy. “Can I—?” His hands tug on the hem of her top, tugging in question.

Y/N lifts her arms in response, letting him pull it off and toss it to the side. Harry moves back in to kiss her again, but she keeps her arms up, giving him a long look.

“You’re not done.” She says simply.

He understands right away, and his fingers find the band of her bralette again. This time, however, he removes it slower, almost as if the removal is ritual itself, and his hands are less frantic when they return to your skin.

Harry looks at Y/Nu with wide eyes, and she understands the meaning in them: this is so much more than just touching, and so much more than two friends using each other for mutual pleasure. With every touch, they further cross a line, and neither of them can stop.

With this realization, Harry’s movements become more cautious. His hands come to rest on her sides, his thumbs just brushing the side of her breast.

“You’re fine.” Y/N assures him in a soothing voice. “Keep going.”

“Are you fine?” He counters, his voice an equal mix of concern and need.

“H.” Y/N takes his hands in her own and places them over her breasts. “Like that. Touch me like that.”

Harry sucks in a short breath as she manipulates his hands, showing him how to rub her and touch her. After a few moments, she lets her hands move to his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

Y/N begins to grind against him, desperate for a bit of friction. Their kisses are soon accented with their moans as they each pull the other closer in lust and need.

Still, underneath the physical desires, there’s a current running between them. Y/N knows it’s been there for the last few weeks, humming quietly in the back of her mind, but being here, now, with Harry touching her, it’s come alive like an electric fence. She can’t turn it off, and she doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to in the slightest.

Harry begins to kiss down her neck like before, but this time his kisses are anything but chaste. When he reaches her breast, he kisses around them before taking one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Oh fuck—” Y/N arches her back, fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. “Harry…”

He hums against her, and his spare hand rubs her back like he does when they get ready to sleep. Usually, the motion is calming, but right now, Y/N feels anything but calm.

Harry continues until he’s satisfied with his work, and then he kisses his way to her other breast, wrapping his lips against her other nipple. He spends just as much time on that one, letting his teeth graze it ever so slightly before soothing the action with his tongue.

When he pulls back, there’s a little line of spit connecting Harry’s mouth to her nipple, and Y/N whimpers at the sight.

“H…” She runs her finger through the line before gripping his chin with her thumb and forefinger. The need inside her builds, as does her fondness for the man in front of her. “God…”

Harry tweaks her hard nipple with his finger, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, but enough to make a gasp fall from her mouth. He offers no response in the form of words, but the hungry look in his eyes has only increased.

“Let me…” Y/N climbs off of his lap, gently pushing him to lay back on the bed. “Yeah?”

Harry runs a hand through his messy curls, nodding quickly. “You want that?”

“Yeah.” Y/N nods too, pressing a wet kiss to his swollen lips. “So bad. Yeah.”

Her hands move to the waistband of his shorts, and Harry lifts his hips off the bed. Y/N tugs down his boxers in the same movement, and tosses both articles of clothing to the side before looking back at him.

Harry’s cock is just as beautiful as she remembers it being the morning she accidentally walked in on him. Even more so, she thinks, because now he’s hard, and the head is the most appetizing shade of pink, with drops of precum pearling at the top. When Y/N wraps her hand around his girth, she adores the heat that she feels.

“So pretty…” She says the words almost to herself, and strokes him lightly to get used to the feeling of him in her hand. “I just want to…”

Y/N leans down and flicks her tongue over his tip, collecting the precum gathered there. In return, a strangled moan leaves Harry’s throat as his arm moves to cover his eyes for a moment.

Y/N presses a kiss to the head of his cock before she continues licking, reveling in the sounds Harry makes. She had no doubt, with a voice as angelic as his, that his moans and whines and whimpers would be just as beautiful.

When she wraps her lips around the head and sucks, she feels Harry’s hand move to her hair. She looks up at him without lifting off of his cock, staring him in the eye as she takes more and more of him into her mouth.

“Fuck—” Another moan leaves Harry’s lips, more strained than the last. “That’s it…” He tugs on her hair, but doesn’t push her down. Even when lost in pleasure, he’s careful with her.

Y/N loves him for it.

Pacing herself, she takes more and more of him into her mouth until her nose is pressed to the base of his stomach, brushing against his (neatly trimmed) pubic hair. She stays down for just a moment before pulling up completely to breathe, but keeps her hand on him, stroking him slowly.

“You look so good.” Harry mutters, running his hands over her hair in a soothing motion. “I imagined it, but didn’t think…so much better…”

Y/N moves to push her head back down, but Harry stops her, bringing her up for a kiss instead.

“I want to taste you, now.” He tells her, laying her down on the pillows. “Is that alright?”

Y/N nods desperately, feeling even more heat rush to her core and pool there. “Mhmm.”

Harry kisses his way down her body again, slipping his fingers into the waistband of her shorts. He leaves her panties on as he pulls the shorts down, and lets out a low groan at the sight of her pink Calvin Klein panties, and more specifically, the dark pink spot that’s apparent on them.

“You’re soaked…” He presses a kiss to her sensitive inner thigh before brushing a finger over the wet spot.

Y/N jumps a bit, making a sound in the back of her throat. “Harry!”

“Sorry.” He kisses her thigh again. “I’m sorry. Just relax, yeah? It’s just me. I got you.”

Harry continues to kiss along her inner thighs, moving closer and closer to the thin cloth covering her center. When he presses his first kiss to the fabric, Y/N grasps the sheets in her hands.

“God…” She whispers, fists clenched.

Harry reaches up and takes one of her hands, placing it in his hair wordlessly before kissing over her again, his tongue peaking out just a bit.

The torture continues for what feels like forever, with Harry teasing her over the soaked fabric of her panties. Finally, Y/N sighs in relief as she feels his hands grip the fabric, and she lifts her hips eagerly as he tugs the article of clothing down.

The first thing she feels is his hot breath hitting her core, which is enough to make her legs reflexively close with pleasure. Harry’s hand grips her leg, pushing them back open as he takes in the sight of her dripping cunt before him.

“Fuck…” He inhales deeply, committing her scent to memory. “Your pussy is so gorgeous.”

Y/N whimpers at his words and tugs on his curls. “Please, H…I need you.”

“Need me?” Harry asks in a husky voice, his finger touching her outer lips just barely.

“Yes!” Y/N whines, not caring how she sounds. “Never needed anything more…”

Harry runs his finger over her slit, collecting the wetness dripping from her. YN moans loudly at the contact, not fully relieved but grateful for the light touch.

“So fucking wet.” Harry’s voice sounds not completely his own. “Fuck, Y/N, how are you so wet?”

Y/N feels heat rush to her cheeks, and she mumbles her reply in what’s almost an embarrassed voice. “You know exactly how.”

“Don’t even know what to do first.” Harry ignores her reply, lost in his own world as he continues stroking her slit. “Just want…”

He presses into her without warning, and Y/N arches her back off the bed as Harry’s finger slips into her cunt. His cold rings touch the top of her entrance as Harry pauses inside her, his eyes heavy with lust.

“And so tight.” He moans, biting his lip hard enough to leave a mark. “Oh my God…”

He curves his finger inside her, wanting to feel every inch of her that he can. Y/N continues to whimper above him.

“More.” She begs him, pushing back against his finger. “I can take more, Harry, please.”

Harry easily slips enough finger in, repeating his motion as she pushes back on him. However, the pressure building inside Y/N disappears abruptly as his fingers do, and she’s just about to get angry at him when she feels his tongue replace his fingers.

“Fuck!” She exclaims loudly, her eyes closing as she throws her head back. “Harry—!”

Harry moves his tongue in and out of her, loving the taste of her juices in his mouth. He moves further up to her clit, licking and sucking over the sensitive bundle of nerves as Y/N writhes above him.

“Taste so good.” He growls from between her thighs. “Fuck, Y/N…you’re going to cum for me, yeah?” He asks as he reaches up and grips her hands in his, interlocking their fingers. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Another strangled moan leaves Y/N’s mouth as he speaks. “I-I’m so close, Harry. Keep going, please.”

“Tell me.” He demands, licking over her clit again. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Y/N grinds against his tongue as she grips his hands tighter. “I’m going—fuck—I’m going to cum for you, H. I’m going—”

Harry sucks hard on her clit, and Y/N throws her head back as an orgasm hits her harder than ever before. Her thighs clench shut, trapping Harry’s head between them, but he just continues to lap at the juices flowing from her cunt while making the most obscene sounds Y/N has ever heard.

Harry doesn’t pull back until Y/N unclenches her thighs, and before he does, he presses one last kiss to her clit, making her flinch.

Y/N is so exhausted she can barely open her eyes. Once she does, however, and sees Harry, she feels all the exhaustion fade.

Harry’s lips are, somehow, even more red than before, and his whole chin is slick with her wetness. He keeps licking his lips, like he can’t get enough of the taste, and Y/N feels like her whole body is on fire.

“Harry…” She whispers, squeezing his hand again. She doesn’t know what else to say.

Harry lifts himself over her body, which is still shaking from her orgasm, and kisses her gently. She can taste herself on his mouth, and she adores it.

“You taste so fucking good.” He murmurs, pressing his sweaty forehead against hers. “Like candy.”

Y/N swallows hard. “I haven’t—no one’s done that in a long time.”

“I’ll be glad to do it again.” Harry replies, brushing her hair back. “But right now…all I want to do is make love to you.” He looks at her with sincere eyes. “Will you let me?”

The tenderness of him asking almost brings tears to her eyes, and Y/N nods, her hands coming up to cup his rosy cheeks. “Yeah, H. I’m…” She bites her lip as she realizes the truth of her words. “I’m yours. Always.”

Harry inhales sharply before kissing her softly, his hands stroking her hair in a comforting fashion again. “How do you want to…?”

“I want you on top.” Y/N replies, touching his swallow tattoos. “I-I want to feel you. Feel your weight. Feel you close.”

With a nod, Harry positions himself over her, spreading her legs wide enough that his body can fit between. He holds himself up with one hand and uses the other to guide his cock to Y/N’s folds, just brushing the head over them. He’s teasing himself just as much as her.

“Harry…” Y/N leans her head back at the sensation. “Please, H…”

“I don’t—wait—” Harry pauses his movements, and Y/N can see on his face the strength and discipline it takes for him to do so. “I—a condom—”

“I’m clean, and I have an IUD.” Y/N assures him, running her hand along his shoulders. “Are you?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I am, but—are you sure?”

As Y/N looks into his eyes, the love and concern and want written all over them, she knows she’s never been more sure of anything in her life. “I want to feel you, without anything in between. I—” She takes a deep breath and presses a kiss to his jaw. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Harry presses a kiss to her forehead, and the tender action makes Y/N close her eyes as she revels in the feeling. A moment later, Harry moves down again and puts his forehead against hers as he pushes into her.

The moment he enters her, Y/N feels a fullness she’s never experienced before. Not only is Harry stretching her cunt in a way that feels euphoric, but she feels complete. He’s as close to her as he’s ever been, his breath is mingling with hers, his body weight is held over her carefully, and Y/N thinks she could die in the pleasure of this moment happily.

“Y/N…baby…” The pet name seems to fall easily from Harry’s lips as he bottoms out, holding himself still to adjust to the feeling. “Oh my God…”

Y/N digs her fingernails into Harry’s shoulders, pressing kisses to his lips between gasps for breath. “Move, H, please.”

Harry begins to thrust his hips, setting a slow but deep pace before gradually speeding up. While part of Y/N wishes he would thrust as fast as he can, a deeper part of her is grateful that Harry is taking his time with her. This feeling, now that she has it, is better than anything she’d ever felt before, and Y/N doesn’t want it to end anytime soon.

Harry kisses Y/N again as he moves inside her. Although they’re as close as they’ve ever been, each of them keeps pulling the other closer. As Harry thrusts deeper, Y/N pulls more of his weight down on her. As Y/N scratches her nails down his back, Harry kisses her jaw. Neither of them can process exactly what they’re doing, but neither of them can stop. Each touch is tender, each kiss is passionate, and each moment brings them closer together in so many more ways than just physical.

They don’t speak except for the occasional whisper from Y/N for Harry to move faster, or the occasional moan of Y/N’s name falling from Harry’s lips. The only constant sounds in the room are of the slickness between Y/N’s thighs as Harry moves between them, the sound of his skin meeting hers, both of them panting and moaning, and a few whispers of “please” that are barely audible. Despite the lack of speech, however, the two are in constant communication. Kissing, biting, scratching, and squeezing have become the vocabulary of their new language. When Harry looks into Y/N’s wet eyes, he knows that she feels something running through the very depths of her being. When Y/N feels Harry tuck his head between her neck and her shoulder as he whimpers, she knows that he trusts her to comfort him and hold him there.

Soon, Y/N feels the waves of pleasure begin to build, and she knows that when they finally break, they’ll pull her under. “H, I—fuck—I—” She can’t manage to form the sentence she needs to.

Harry, however, can tell exactly what she’s going to say. “Please.” He pants, adoring how she buries her head into his shoulder. “Please, love, cum for me…” He kisses over the shell of her ear as he thrusts deeper. “Need you.”

Y/N whimpers, biting down on Harry’s shoulder as her orgasm rolls over her. Harry feels her walls tighten around his cock, but he doesn’t slow down, and he works her through her climax until she whines in his ear.

“So good, H…” Y/N can barely find the strength to whisper the phrase.

Hearing her sound so fucked out, feeling her cunt squeezing him, and seeing the euphoria on her face is enough to bring Harry to the edge. He slows his thrusts, about to pull out, but Y/N presses on his back to keep him close.

Harry groans as a shiver rolls through his body. “I’m about to cum, Y/N—”

“Stay inside me.” She pleads, pressing the pads of her fingers between his shoulder blades. “I-I’m yours, Harry, I told you. Yours.”

Y/N looks up at him with such trusting and vulnerable eyes that Harry can’t make himself argue with her. He nods instead, his thrusts increasing in speed again until he feels himself reach the edge of pleasure.

As he freefalls into Y/N, his hips stutter, and he presses deep inside her while her name falls from his lips over and over again. He can’t think of anything else to say. He can’t think of anything else worth saying.

When Harry finally manages to pull himself together enough to pull out, Y/N instantly feels the emptiness inside her. She wishes he would stay, but knows that it’s not practical, and instead just relishes in the feeling of his cum dripping from her entrance. It’s like he’s claimed her as his, left a physical mark of himself, and Y/N doesn’t have the strength to stop herself from loving it.

They lay in silence for a few moments, trying to catch their breath and regain a sense of where they are. Both Harry and Y/N are sweaty, exhausted, and covered in each other in more ways than one. The wrap on Harry’s tattoo has slipped from his arm. Somewhere in their pleasure, Y/N has lost an earring. And yet, the only thing each of them cares about is looking at the other.

Out of instinct, Harry pulls Y/N’s shivering body into his, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He can’t imagine she’s cold, and Y/N can’t bring herself to tell him she’s shivering because of the feeling of being so close to him, but neither of them denies the other of the affectionate gesture.

Y/N loses track of how long they lay there until Harry breaks the silence.

“I—” His voice cracks, and he clears it quickly before trying again. “I’ll get you a cloth to—to clean you up.”

Y/N nods, and Harry gently untangles himself from her before going to the bathroom. Y/N can hear the running of water, and turns her head to see what he’s doing, but when she spots his naked silhouette, she closes her eyes. Despite what they just did, there’s a shyness in her still when she sees him completely stripped.

Her eyes stay closed, and she only detects his return from feeling his weight return to the bed. He places a gentle hand on her trembling knee, pulling her open ever so slightly.

“’M just cleaning you up.” Harry says in a quiet tone. “Is that okay?”

Y/N nods again. She’s not certain she has enough strength to say anything.

Harry wipes between her legs with a gentle touch, watching how she flinches at the slightest of pressure. “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely, kissing her knee tenderly before continuing. “You’re sensitive, I know. Almost done.”

Once he finishes wiping away the cum dripping out of her (his cum dripping out of her), Harry tosses the cloth onto his pile of clothes on the ground, deciding it can be dealt with later. His most pressing concern at the moment is Y/N.

He lays back down on his side so he can face her, and pushes a lock of hair away from her closed eyes.

“Y/N.” Harry murmurs, hand resting on her waist carefully. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is rough when she answers, and Harry can hear the echo of her moans in her words. “I-I’m fine, H. Just…tired.”

“Do you…” Harry bites his lip. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Y/N gives a slight shake of her head. “Maybe—maybe tomorrow, yeah?” She does her best to open one eye, but quickly shuts it again when she sees how Harry is looking at her. “Can’t right now.”

“Okay.” Harry lays his arm over her side as he moves closer. “Tomorrow.”

Y/N presses her head into his shoulder and commits the scent of his skin to memory.

…

The first thing Y/N registers when she wakes up is the feeling of someone touching her hair.

She doesn’t need to open her eyes to know it’s Harry. Of course it’s Harry. It’s always been Harry. In every way.

Y/N sighs and readjusts her position in bed, moving a bit closer to Harry. She shivers once from the cold, still naked from last night’s activities, and that’s the only hint Harry needs before he pulls the sheet up around her more.

“Are you awake?” He asks softly, careful in case she’s still lost deep in sleep.

Y/N moves her head in a passable nodding motion, and her voice is thick with sleep when she answers. “Mhmm. Barely.”

A low chuckle escapes from Harry’s mouth, and the next thing Y/N feels are his warm lips against her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“A little hungover. A little sore.” Y/N finally opens her eyes as she speaks, and almost wishes she hadn’t.

Harry’s hair is a mess from both sex and sleep, messy and wild and haphazardly pushed out of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed, and his neck and chest are covered in marks from both Y/N’s lips and fingers. She knows that if he turned over, his back would be the same, and it embarrasses her and delights her at the same time. He looks completely fucked and content, and more relaxed than she’s seen him in ages.

Y/N wonders if she looks the same. If she looks as pretty.

“Sorry.” Harry says, his tone a bit sheepish.

“It’s not your fault.” Y/N replies, shrugging a bit.

“Well…it is, actually. I made your drinks. And I…” He trails off, brushing his fingers down her bare hip to her thigh.

“Yeah.” Y/N feels her face get warm. “I guess it is your fault.”

Harry laughs lightly, but it fades away as he looks into her eyes. “We, uh…we should probably talk about what happened.”

Y/N purses her lips. “Yeah. We should.”

“So…first question, I guess.” Harry props his head up on his arm, but keeps running his fingers over Y/N’s hip gently. “Do you regret it?”

Y/N sits up a bit more in bed, clutching the sheet to her bare chest. “No. I don’t. Do you?”

“No.” Harry replies instantly. “I don’t regret it.”

“Okay.” Y/N is so aware of Harry’s eyes on her as she thinks of her question. “Did…did you enjoy it?”

A snort falls from Harry’s mouth, and he shakes his head incredulously. “Christ, Y/N, of course I enjoyed it. It felt—you felt like heaven.”

Y/N flushes at the comment. “I’ve never…I’ve always made my partners wear condoms. So that was a first for me.”

Harry’s fingers pause over her hip, but only for a moment. It looks as though he’s deciding whether or not he should comment on that, but changes his mind at the last moment. “Did you enjoy it?” He asks instead, echoing your question.

“I did.”

“You said you were mine.”

Y/N swallows hard. This conversation is less incriminating than making love to him last night, but it seems infinitely more powerful. Probably because they’re both sober, she thinks.

“That—” She clears her throat. “That’s not a question.”

Harry sighs, but there’s an endeared smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You said you were mine. Did you mean that?”

Y/N can’t look him in the eyes, so she looks down instead. Harry’s hand lies between them, and she intertwines their fingers, playing with his rings as she carefully formulates her answer. “I’ve—I’ve always been yours, H. Ever since we were kids, I’ve belonged to you.” She runs a finger over his H ring. “Even when you were gone.”

Harry frowns a bit at the tone of her voice. “I’ve been yours too, Y/N. I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.”

“You’ve always been further out of reach.” Y/N pulls her hand from his, until their fingertips are just barely touching. “Always just…a little out of reach.”

Harry intertwines their fingers again. “I’m not out of reach. Not right now. And I’ve never—if you ever called me and said you needed me, I would’ve been on the first flight back home to you. I would’ve dropped everything for you, Y/N. I still would, and I always will.”

Tears prick Y/N’s eyes, and although she hurries to close them, one slips out. Harry catches it on his finger before it can run off her cheek, and when she looks at him again, there’s a concerned look on his face.

“C’mere.” Harry mumbles, pulling Y/N into a tight hug. He rubs her back like he always does, and the motion is so comforting that she almost forgets the vulnerable position they’re both in. “You’re my girl. You’re always going to be my girl.” He murmurs in her ear, voice low and soothing. “Always. Don’t you know that?”

Y/N nods, not trusting her voice at the moment.

“If this is too much for you…” Harry traces his fingers between her shoulder blades. Y/N thinks he’s tracing words, like they used to as children, but she can’t tell what words he may be tracing. “I understand. We can just—we can pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I—” Y/N shakes her head, looking up at Harry. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Then what do you want, Y/N?” Harry asks, his tone as pleading as it was last night. “All I’ve ever tried to do is give you what you want, and usually I’m pretty good at telling what that is, but right now, I’m lost. I don’t want things to go back to how they were, but I don’t—I can’t lose you, so just—if you just tell me what you want, I’ll do it. I’ll make it work. I promise that I won’t be mad, or hurt, or anything.”

Y/N sits up as best she can, her fingers combing through Harry’s messy curls on reflex, as she always does it when he gets upset. “I can’t pretend that I don’t want you, H. I do. I need you. I told you that last night.”

“But you’re crying.” Harry cups her wet cheek gently, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone. “I hate that.”

Y/N leans into his touch. “It just feels…strange.” She says after a moment. “All of this. I spent so long trying to stop myself from thinking of you like this, and now that I am, I feel like—like it’s wrong.”

Harry tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth. “Does it feel wrong?”

His low voice makes her shiver. “No. It feels right. Really right.”

“I feel like…” Harry’s eyes flicker between Y/N’s own eyes and their intertwined hands. “I feel like we’re both dancing around saying it.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “Saying what?”

“Saying…” Harry leans in and presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Saying that we’re in love with each other.”

Y/N feels breathless at the words coming from his mouth. “You’re in love with me?”

“Are you not in love with me?” He replies, moving so he’s leaning over her more. “We’ve said I love you so many times before.”

“That’s a different kind of love.” Y/N mumbles, touching the chain dangling from Harry’s neck.

“But we were both meaning something different when we were saying it. At least, I was.” Harry inhales deeply, like he’s centering himself. “I’ve known…for a while, but I’ve felt it for longer than I’ve known it. And I thought that you might…”

“I think I do.” Y/N whispers. “But saying it feels so—so permanent. Like we can’t go back to being friends if it blows up in our faces.”

Harry traces a finger down Y/N’s cheek, her neck, between her breasts, to her side, touching just below her ribs. “Maybe we can’t. But I don’t think we’ll want to, Y/N. I think we’re perfect for each other.”

Y/N’s heart pounds in her chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods. “This last month, it’s been like we’ve been…playing house, or something. I’ve loved it. I keep hearing from friends saying that they’re so sick of the person they’re living with, so tired of them, but I’ve never felt that way about you, and I don’t think I ever will. I’ll never get sick of you.”

Y/N laughs a bit. “That’s romantic.”

“Shut up.” Harry can’t help but smile slightly. “It is romantic.”

“Yeah. It is.” Y/N says softly, her hand rubbing over Harry’s tattooed arm. “You’re really in love with me?”

Harry nods. “I am.”

“Huh.” Y/N bites her lip. “So I guess we’ve been lying to our moms, haven’t we?”

Harry laughs loudly, collapsing on the bed next to Y/N. “Jesus, can you not mention our mums when we’re naked in bed?”

“I’m just saying! We’ve been saying for years that you’re not in love with me, and it’s all been a lie.”

“What about when they ask if you’re in love with me?” Harry’s tone is joking, but there’s a hint of nervousness in the back of his voice. “Has that been a lie, too?”

Y/N’s heart pounds as she nods. “Yeah. We’ll have to get them something really good for Mother’s Day this year to help make up for it.”

A grin spreads over Harry’s face, almost triumphant, as he leans down to kiss her. “Agreed.” He moves to cage himself over Y/N. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“I want to hear you say that you’re in love with me.” Harry’s grin turns into a smirk.

Y/N flushes as she shakes her head. “You say it first.”

“I’ve already admitted it!”

“So have I!”

“Not as well as I have!”

“Oh, so it’s a competition now?” Y/N scoffs. “What a wonderful start to our relationship.”

“I’m just saying, Y/N, admitting it is the first step to—”

“Are you seriously going to say that to get me to say that I love you?”

“Just—”

“You’re so irritating—”

“I’m irritating? You—”

“You’re the worst!”

“And yet you’re in my bed with no clothes on!”

“Okay. Nope. Relationship over.” Y/N pushes Harry off of her and wraps the sheet around herself as she gets out of bed. “You blew it, Styles.”

“Y/N.” Laughter falls from Harry’s lips as he leans over the edge of the bed. “Love. Come back to bed.”

“I think a minute and thirty-seven seconds may be the record for the world’s shortest relationship.” Y/N searches her bag for some clean clothes.

“Come here!”

“Another world record for Harry Styles.” Y/N calls to him without turning around. “You must be so proud—”

Her words are cut off in a shriek as Harry picks her up, throwing her over his shoulder as he brings her back to his bed.

“Harry!” She yells, hitting his arm. “Put me down!”

Harry tosses her on the bed, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, and cages himself over her sheet-covered body. He’s still completely bare. “Take it back.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Fine. We’re still together. One less record for you.”

“Good. Now…” Harry brushes a finger over her lips. “Say you’re in love with me.”

Y/N’s laughter fades a bit as the nerves set back in. “I…”

“Please, Y/N?” Harry murmurs, leaning down to kiss her neck. “Please say it.”

“I’m—” Y/N sucks in a quick breath, and all of her protest leaves her body as she exhales. “I’m in love with you, Harry.”

She can feel Harry’s lips forming a grin against her neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Y/N tugs on his hair gently, just enough so she can pull his head back to look in his eyes. “Now you say it.”

“Y/N.” Harry says her name like it’s something precious. “I’m in love with you.”

A flush of pleasure crawls up Y/N’s spine at his words, but she does her best to keep her tone light-hearted. “So are you calling our moms, or am I?”

“I’ll do it.” Harry reaches for his phone on the bedside table. “And I’ll be sure to mention how it took us getting drunk and having sex to realize—”

“Harry!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell your mum we used a condom—”

“I’ll kill you, Styles, and I’ll make it look like an accident.” Y/N shoves his shoulder hard.

Harry grins at her. “Now that’s romantic.”

#feedback is appreciated and use a condom kids #harry styles oneshot #bestfriend!harry #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles preference #one direction imagine #one direction preference #one direction fic #one direction fanfiction #one direction #best friend!harry sty;es #watermelon sugar #watermelon sugar music video #fine line album

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Text

Taking Time—Forty Three

Don't be late

When you’re small and everything is new, it’s easy to feel fear about almost anything: the dark, the faucet dripping in the other room, howling winds, a scurry of feet, or the breaking of a twig. And then when you get older, your fear transforms into more socially acceptable things like bad grades, disappointing people, cheating, and lying. But then, if you’re very lucky, you find a protector and those acceptable fears become surmountable. And then new, worse fears are introduced like your best friend getting pregnant, your friends drifting apart, losing sight of what you were after in the first place, your partner keeping secrets, and the overwhelming pressure to be something you never considered in the first place. Those fears become seemingly insurmountable and then a new fear appears that is guaranteed to take your feet out from under you and you’ll be swept out into a sea of uncertainty. Great.

Maya pulled the rest of the groceries out of the back of her Jeep and nudged the trunk door shut with her hip. It was a particularly cold January afternoon and only a few days before Maya was due back at Columbia. She balanced the bags of groceries in her arms and stumbled over the threshold of her home with relief. Dropping her keys in the bowl by the door with some effort, she let out a great sigh and kicked off her shoes before beginning to shuffle back toward the kitchen. Maya was halted however by the crescendo of voices upstairs.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Maya could hear Becks’ voice filter down the stairs—she couldn’t help but lean against the banister, craning her neck to hear more as she clutched the grocery bags against her chest.

“We’re not finished,” Jacob retorted quickly.

“Jacob, please–”

“We’re. Not. Finished.” He said firmly, his voice ever so slightly raised.

“Stop, Jake. You’re not going to change my mind.” There was that stubbornness that Maya loved in Becks. It rarely ever flared up, Becks usually being the middle ground between Maya and Keye whenever they found themselves at odds, but when it did, it was withering.

“It’s not safe, Becks! Why don’t you understand that?!”

“Oh please,” Becks shot back, her voice piquing.

“This is not just about us anymore. How am I supposed to keep you both safe and build the house and do everything I’m supposed to do here?” Jacob was getting heated now as if rehashing this part of the argument plagued him with immense anxiety.

“There’s nothing needing protecting, Jacob. Nothing happened to me last semester, and nothing will happen this semester.”

“No.” He said curtly.

“No?” Becks gave an incredulous laugh.

“You heard me: No.” Jacob said stubbornly.

“Jesus, Jake,” Becks replied, tired.

“I’m not comfortable with you leaving the rez, so no.”

“Real mature.”

“Becks—”

“Jake!” she shouted now and Maya jumped at the sound. “I have to go back to school, I have to finish out this semester, I have to do this before I can’t anymore. Do you understand that?! That’s it!”

There was a long pause and then, Jacob’s voice changed into a softer, begging tone.

“Please Becks…stay with me.”

Maya held her breath and clutched the grocery bags a bit tighter in anticipation. It felt like an eternity before Becks replied, her voice strained:

“Jake…I have to go.” Following this, Maya heard the shuffling of feet and then the door to the guest bedroom slamming. She scurried into the kitchen and dropped the bags on the counter, hurrying to unload them as she heard the pounding of Jacob’s feet coming down the stairs. As he rounded the corner into the kitchen, storming past her, Maya turned, feigning a look of surprise as she said:

“Hey, Jake…” But he didn’t pay her any mind as he opened the french double doors, pulling off his t-shirt and throwing it into the backyard as he bolted toward the tree line, the anger radiating and rippling off of him in visible shudders. An explosion of wood and branches outside of the open door indicated that he had phased and taken off in a hurry.

Maya continued to unload the groceries, trying to keep her face neutral even as she heard the softer, measured steps of Becks coming down the stairs. An exaggerated exhale of breath alerted Maya and she turned to give her a soft smile.

“Sorry,” Becks ran her hand through her shoulder-length messy black hair and gave Maya a truly apologetic look. Maya waved her off as she said,

“I take it he’s not wanting you to finish the spring semester?”

“You think?” Becks slumped into a chair at the kitchen table and looked longingly out the back door. Maya rolled her eyes and snorted.

“What does he think is going to happen, exactly? You’re going to get kidnapped by a bunch of vampires who suddenly know who you are?” Becks didn’t respond and Maya pursed her lips before turning back to continue unloading the groceries.

“I get why he wants me to stay. It’s easier to protect us here, his attention isn’t divided, and he can start his alpha duties, but—”

“Wait, Jacob’s going to be alpha?!” Maya interrupted, whipping around to stare at her wide-eyed.

“That’s what he said,” Becks let out a great sigh and rubbed her forehead. She was starting to look a little pale. Maya crossed over to one of the cabinets and pulled out a glass to fill with water. When she set it down in front of her, she took a seat in the chair across from her.

“Are you sure you’re doing okay?” Maya asked and then grimaced. She was trying to play it cool, as cool as she could manage anyway, but Becks looked tired, worn out, and like she was about to puke.

“I’m fine,” she said after taking a hearty gulp of water. “He’ll be fine, I’ll be fine, I just need to make it through this semester and then we can relax a little.” Becks absently placed her hand over her stomach and Maya’s eyes flitted down to it quickly. Becks rubbed her hand across her abdomen for a half a second before meeting Maya’s eyes and letting her hand fall to her knee.

“Becks, I—” Maya reached out across the table to take her hand, but a clattering of the front door and “My?” coming from the front door signaled Paul’s arrival.

A few seconds later he came into the kitchen and Maya withdrew her hand.

“Everything okay?” he asked curiously looking between the two women. Maya stood up from the table and walked back over to the remaining groceries with a quick “Yeah, fine.”

“I’m gonna go lay down,” Becks said, her voice overtired as she picked up her water glass and headed toward the stairs. Paul gave her a small smile and nodded watching her go for a second before turning back toward Maya. Once Becks’ footsteps had receded and the sound of the guest bedroom door had gently closed, Paul came up behind Maya and put a hand on her lower back.

“My?” He coaxed gently. Maya’s mouth was set in a firm line as she unpacked and shuffled items into their designated locations in the cabinets in front of her, “What happened?” Paul probed a little confused. Maya stopped suddenly and whirled around on him, hands on her hips:

“Were you going to tell me about Jacob taking over as alpha?” Paul’s eyes searched her face carefully but Maya tried to keep her expression neutral.

“Of course, babe, what—” Paul said tugging on her waist to pull her closer. Maya put her hand on his chest to steady herself as she felt heat rise to her face.

“He’s not going to let her leave the rez, Paul,” Maya said breathlessly. She stared at his chest for a moment and then raised her eyes to look at his face, expecting that stern, measured look of his. But instead she was met with softness, and a sweet smile that always set her heart racing. Paul raised his wide hand to cup her cheek, allowing his thumb to stroke the expanse of her cheek a few times before he said,

“If Becks is determined to go, there’s nothing he can do to make her stay. He knows that, he’s just stressed,” he paused to watch her eyes that no doubt matched in his softness now at his reassurance and then said, “You guys always forget that the imprint has more sway in this relationship than almost anything else. He won’t like it, but he’ll do what Becks asks.” Maya let out a huff of air and turned her head away from his hand and back at the groceries for a second. “You’re kind of cute when you’re flustered.” He mocked gently with a low laugh.

Maya turned back at him and pinned him with an annoyed stare that made him laugh out loud. He looped his arm around her shoulder and tugged her into his chest, hugging her tightly before kissing the top of her head.

“It’s gonna be okay, My,” he murmured against her head, swaying her back and forth slowly in his arms. Maya had her hands placed on the sides of his abdomen, her eyes trained toward the staircase where Becks had disappeared moments before.

A crescendo of closed car doors sounded as the foursome piled out of Maya’s jeep and into the clearing of Sam and Emily’s. Maya shrugged further into her coat and when she looked over her shoulder back at Becks, Jacob was already by her side and taking her hand in his. She smiled at him tautly and Maya walked around the front of the Jeep, casually taking Paul’s hand as he tugged her toward the door behind him.

Another farewell dinner, another impending goodbye. She sucked in a sharp breath to steady herself and quell the thrumming ache growing in her belly and buzzing up her spine, down her arm, and vibrating into Paul’s. He gave her a reassuring look as he opened the door and crossed the threshold, giving a loud “Party’s arrived!” to the already packed living room. Emily had insisted on another send off dinner for her, Becks, and Keye (who was currently wrapped up in Collin on the couch). But Maya was tired of goodbyes. Instead she saw this as an easy closing point for Jacob, and an obvious send off by his pack as well. Maya wondered if Emily had done this intentionally to show her support of Becks or if that was just a bonus.

Whatever the motivation, she was glad to have Becks’ back who was still adamant about leaving tomorrow morning along with Maya. Jacob and Becks had tried to keep their arguments to a minimum after Jake had returned later that day, but Paul and Maya could clearly feel the tension between them. Maya was still worried that Jacob was going to force Becks to stay even though he gave no indication of it. Still, she didn’t trust a rogue wolf—she firmly believed no one should.

Emily and Kim wrapped Becks in a hug and Kim held on a little bit longer, her eyes a fair bit misty. Maya raised an eyebrow at Keye who mouthed “Contact hormones” before rolling her eyes affectionately and bursting into giggles as Collin nuzzled into her neck.

“Hi, Maya,” Emily said gently as she pulled her into her arms and gave her a warm, welcoming hug.

“Hi,” Maya mumbled, still tucked in her coat and feeling warm.

“Ready for next semester?” Emily asked as she pulled back and retied her apron strings around her waist. Maya pulled off her coat as Paul grabbed for it while in conversation with Sam and Jared. Maya crossed and then uncrossed her arms , giving her head a hearty nod. She noticed Becks out of the corner of her eye, head bent toward Kim, one hand on her stomach and talking animatedly. She swallowed hard and stuffed her hands in her back pockets, heading toward the kitchen. Emily shook a saute pan of rice as Maya hoisted herself up on the counter and picked at some bread in a basket next to her.

“Are Jacob and Becks going to stay with you guys through the house building?” Emily asked nonchalantly, flitting from one task to the next. Maya glanced toward Becks fully now who was laughing, head thrown back, entirely too beautiful, her copper skin shimmering in the low light of the living room. Her heart ached for a moment that Becks hadn’t been able to share that joy with her.

Stupid. Maya bemoaned to herself. And then to Emily, she said,

“I think so. There’s not many places around the rez that meet Jacob’s standard of living for Becks at the moment.” She paused and looked down at her hands that gripped the counter too hard, “They’re welcome to stay as long as they like though.”

“That’s good,” Emily said in a relieved breath, “And I know what you mean. The housing revival project isn’t going as smoothly as Billy hoped so there’s less appropriate housing than usual. I think Paul said something about pulling in outside contractors he knew?” Emily looked over her shoulder interestedly at her and Maya’s eyes went wide.

“Did he?” she asked, completely out of the loop, “I wouldn’t know.” She replied a little exasperated.

“Oh, right. You’re probably swamped with school, makes sense,” Emily waved off. Maya bristled and then told herself to calm down. She couldn’t know everything that was happening on the rez and maintain her life at Columbia. There was just no way, so she shouldn’t get herself upset. Still…

“What am I doing?” Paul asked as he sauntered into the kitchen, gravitating toward Maya and gently pushing her legs apart to stand between them and plant a quick kiss to her lips. He let one hand rest on her thigh as he reached around her for some bread. His eyes watched her carefully as Maya leaned back on her hands and took him in with a skeptical look.

“The uh, the project for the housing expansion on the rez,” Emily confirmed distractedly. Paul continued to stare at Maya, amused, a smug smile coming across his face. Maya smiled back, unable to help herself and shook her head at him.

“That’s right, I am doing that. We should be getting quotes in a couple of weeks. But, I’ll talk down whatever price they bring to the table,” Paul rubbed Maya’s thigh with a firm touch and cocked his head to the side as if welcoming a challenge, an exchange. Maya shook her head and leaned forward, conceding to their silent conversation and letting her lips melt against his. He hummed his appreciation and slipped his hands up to grip her ribcage, making her gasp against his lips.

When Maya pulled back with a grin, she asked, “You were going to tell me all about that, weren’t you?”

“Of course, babe. On our way to the airport,” he said, still smug. She smacked his shoulder before pushing him back and hopping down off the counter to walk around him and help Emily who had become increasingly flustered in the kitchen.

The night was easy and slow as the warmth emanated from the hot-bodied men who gathered around in the living room, poking fun and cracking jokes. Maya was squished into the couch next to Keye and Becks as they shared a bag of wasabi peas. Embry was squaring off against two of the younger packmates and they were playfully clashing into one another, trying to three wrestle each other to the ground. Their bodies made frightening, heavy noises when they smashed into one another and Maya and Keye watched with wide eyes as Quil, Seth, and Jared laughed and goaded from the sidelines. Becks’ eyes were trained off toward the round kitchen table where Jacob, Sam, and Paul sat seemingly to talk earnestly, an absent hand over her stomach.

Embry swiped his foot at one of his packmates' ankles, bringing him thudding to the ground as he jumped on top of him and pinned him to the floor. The other boy followed suit piling on top of Embry to the cheers and laughter of Jared and Seth.

“Hey,” Maya nudged Becks’ shoulder with her own, catching her staring at the three serious leaders at the kitchen table. Becks shook her head and gave Maya a tight smile. “What are they talking about?” Maya asked, clearly having seen some sort of torn recognition in Becks’ face. Keye was glancing around Maya at Becks now, her face transforming into one of concern.

“Me, probably,” Becks said, sounding almost resigned. She looked down at her hand on her stomach for a half a second and then met Maya’s eyes.

“What, why?” Keye said, digging in the bag of wasabi peas and bringing a handful to her mouth. Maya continued to watch Becks carefully, her eyes flitting to the table every now and then. The men’s heads were seriously bent together, as Jacob shook his head looking stressed.

“Because I’m going back to school tomorrow and Jacob doesn’t want me to. And the council doesn’t want me to. And the pack doesn’t want me to. And my parents don’t want me to,” Becks voice was beginning to crack.

“The pack?” Maya said, her eyes skittering to glance quickly at Paul who was saying something to Jacob with a hard look in his eye.

“Emily basically tried to mom-guilt me about staying for Jacob’s sake,” Becks said. Maya’s eyes went wide in a flash.

“Why would she do that?” Maya breathed, shocked. Becks shook her head and stared back at the sparring boys in front of her in the living room.

“Everyone thinks it’s a bad idea for me to go. So, maybe I should just—,” Becks began to concede.

“No!” Keye and Maya nearly shouted in unison. Jacob, Sam, and Paul’s gaze shot up to stare at the women and Maya squirmed a little in annoyance under their gaze. She gave the most infinitesimal shake of her head at Paul and looked back to Becks who was staring, lips parted, almost pleading at Jacob.

“Becks,” Maya said. “This is your decision. No one else’s. Okay?” She placed a hand on her arm and Becks shifted her gaze toward her. She eventually nodded, still unsure and Maya’s heart momentarily broke. They didn’t have too long to sit in that feeling though because Collin and Embry stumbled sideways, losing their balance and falling toward the girls on the couch. Keye yelled as Embry caught himself before he nearly crushed Maya. Collin stumbled and fell back against the girls though eliciting a sharp hiss from Becks and a “OW, FUCK!” from Maya. Becks curled her hand and arm protectively around her stomach as Keye shoved Collin as hard as she could in annoyance.

“You fucking idiot!” Keye said as she tried to push him off. But suddenly, he was yanked with force from on top of them and thrown to the floor with a startling thud. Keye followed and jumped on top of Collin to hit him across his chest and shoulders as payback. Maya glanced at Becks and was opening her mouth to ask if she was okay, but Jacob was already there, kneeling in front of her and putting her face in his hands, a worried, strained look across his face. Becks winced as she sat up straight and Maya rubbed a sore spot on her ribcage where Collin had accidentally dug his elbow in when he fell.

“Becks?” Maya broached as she saw her breathe in sharply. Jacob was simmering with rage as he looked over Becks’ body. Collin was laughing, completely unaware of the exchange unfolding as Keye continued to whale on him. The sound of his laughter seemed to crack something in Jacob though and he dropped his hands from Becks’ face, standing in one swift motion and pulling Collin up roughly on his feet, sening Keye flailing back onto the ground on her butt.

It all happened so fast—one moment Collin was laughing on the floor and the next, Jacob had him slammed against the nearest wall, his forearm across his throat and pressing as he screamed, “ What the FUCK is your problem?! She’s fucking PREGNANT you idiot! Get your god damn head out of your ass or I’ll fucking rip you to shreds!”

“Jake!” Maya reacted as Collin choked and coughed, his face beginning to turn purple from the pressure. Paul was behind Jacob now with Seth trying to wrench him off of Collin with little luck.

“Jake chill! It was an accident!” Seth yelled trying to get Jacob’s attention. Sam was there now too trying to pull him off as well but Jacob’s head was gone. Becks sat stock still, in shock, her arm still wrapped around her, as she watched the man she loved completely switch to a side she’d never seen before.

Jacob pounded his other hand into the wall next to Collin’s face as he continued to yell, but the words were getting lost and jumbled. Paul yanked with all his might and was able to relieve some pressure off of Collin’s neck. He took the reprieve and gasped for air heartily. Jacob was thrashing against Seth, Paul, and Sam’s hold now as he shouted, “Get off of me!” He looked as if he wanted to kill them.

Maya didn’t know when she had gotten to her feet, but she found herself standing, fists clenched as she watched wide-eyed as Jacob lunged for Collin again, slipping from the men’s hold. He had to stop, he needed to stop. She looked over her shoulder at Becks who was hyperventilating, barely recognizing the man in front of her. Maya took two steps forward around the coffee table toward the scrambling men before she heard Paul shout, “Maya! Stay the fuck over there!”

She halted, shook to her core by his desperate rage as he tried to wrestle Jacob off of Collin again who’s eyes were rolling the back of his head.

“Get over here!” Sam shouted to the rest of the pack. Once Jared, Embry, Quil, and Brady joined, they were able to successfully pull Jacob off of Collin and wrestle him out the door and toward the treeline. The fresh air washed some of his anger and yanked free of their grasp in the cool night air, bringing his hands up to his head, looking frantic.

“What the fuck, Jake,” Embry said, breathless. As if realizing suddenly what he’d done, he tried to beeline for the front door again as he muttered, “Becks…”

Paul smashed against him, as the others crowded his back to block his way. “No. No way. Go cool off,” Paul said firmly pointing toward the treeline. Something broke in Jacob’s gaze as the reality of what he’d done dawned on him. With a frustrated growl he turned, ripping off his shirt as he bolted and disappeared into the treeline.

Paul and the others watched the breeze scrape empty branches against each other, their chests heaving.

Maya was frozen in place where Paul had told her to stay, her legs trembling as she watched Keye kneel in front of Collin who was rubbing his windpipe and still taking gulping breaths. Becks was surrounded by Emily, Kim, and Sadie. When Paul came through the door, Maya’s gaze shot to him immediately. He strode toward her, that same heated purpose that he usually wore on his face when he saw her. Her breath caught in her throat and when he cupped her face in his hands, looking over her face and body with a gentle scan she felt herself hold her breath. The sheer anger and visceral, feral rage that had permeated the room moments ago had left a damp feeling of sadness and shock.

Maya couldn’t quite find her voice but Paul understood, kissing her forehead for a long moment before saying gently, “Do me a favor—please don’t ever try to get in between something like that ever again. Understand?” His voice grew gruff and ragged with emotion on that last word.

Maya nodded her head quickly and he finally pulled her into a hug that she wanted to let herself be swallowed up by and disappear until next year. She’d have to settle for the next few minutes though because the urgent feeling to get Becks the hell out of here started to creep up the back of her neck.

It took some convincing, but Maya was able to get Emily to agree to let her take Becks back home with her since they were leaving in the morning anyway. Maya worried that if she left Becks at Emily’s, she wouldn’t leave La Push at all. The terror in her eyes started to tell another story on the way back home though. Maya kept glancing at Becks in the rear view mirror as Paul glided them quietly back to the blue home tucked in the corner of the reservation.

Becks was silent, her eyes watching the fluttering of the occasional street lamps run ominous shadows onto the slick streets.

Maya followed Becks inside the house and as she poised to go up the stairs, she let out a small, “Becks? You okay?”

Becks halted, her hand on the railing as she took some deep breaths to steady herself. In a shaky but assured voice, she replied, “I’m fine, My. I’ll see you in the morning.” With that, she ascended the stairs and Maya heard the soft click of the door to the guest room close. Paul was at her back, his hand resting on her hip as he leaned down and said softly against her temple, “I’m gonna give Sam a call. Go lay down and I’ll be up in a minute,” he kissed her temple and moved around her to head out the back door as he pulled out his phone.

Maya stood frozen in the entryway twisting her hands around themselves as she watched him go. The physical anger that had roiled off of Jacob this evening had been frightening. She was sure Becks had never seen that side of him and for what? For one of his brothers accidentally falling on his pregnant girlfriend? It made no sense to Maya. Even if he was under such intense stress with the thought of Becks leaving, this reaction was too much.

Where do they go from here? She knew that Paul had a history of troubled anger but had he ever lost it like that? Did all of the pack have that same potential to unleash that kind of rage or was it just Jacob? Was it just a perfect storm of tension, upset, and unsettled conflict that led to it? Maya felt her feet move underneath her as she floated up to her and Paul’s bedroom. The enormity of their abilities, their strength, and just how far they could go to protect not just their imprints but anyone was suddenly laid bare for Maya. They could kill. Suddenly, things felt so much bigger than they had before. As she undressed and pulled on some loose sleep shorts and one of Paul’s shirts, she thought back to that night she had left the reservation to go the warehouse party with Sadie, Becks, and Keye. She remembered how Paul had showed up at just the right time to wrench that guy off of her and had beaten him within an inch of his life. He might have killed him if Seth hadn’t been there.

Did that make him a monster? Should she fear that strength? That ability to kill even if it would never be directed at her? Were they all a short fuse waiting to be lit? And what felt worse was that if they were these dangerous creatures simmering just under the surface, she understood that nothing could take her away from them. She loved Paul, unwaveringly so. And seeing this side of Jacob tonight meant that Becks, despite any fear or trepidation, loved him still.

When Paul quietly opened the door to their room and changed into some simple sweats before climbing into bed next to her, she turned toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him forward to her lips. He held her tightly against him, his hands squeezing her waist as her hips pitched forward to meet his. Maya heard the low growl sound in his throat signaling the hardening need between them and she knew she’d give him everything. Anything this man wanted her to give, she would try to give it to him—love, friendship, trust, babies, comfort, anything. Everything in her responded to everything he communicated.

Her hand coasted down the naked expanse of his hard chest, slipping under the waistband of his sweats and taking his thick overwhelming length in her hand. He stuttered a moan against her lips as she began to stroke him, pulling him out of the top of his sweats. She felt his hands tighten to a bruising degree against her ribs and then loosen. The feeling of it sent a tingle down her spine, spreading through her core. Maya’s thumb smoothed over the head of his length, spreading the bead of moisture around and down him as he continued to grace her with his heady moans. He yanked the shorts down her body and leaned over her so she was slotted beneath him. Naturally, he pushed his hips forward and Maya canted hers up, lining him up neatly against her core. He pushed up on a forearm so he could more easily pull the shirt she was wearing off, leaving her naked. He always needed her completely naked so he could drink in every inch of skin, watch the rise and fall of her breasts as she spiraled toward orgasm and see the line of her hips press against his. Paul gave her body one long look of appreciation, leaning down to kiss across her shoulder and the hollow of her throat before leaning up, spreading her further apart so he could bottom out into her in one hard push. Maya let her mouth hang open in a prolonged gasp as she felt him stretch her apart, filling her completely.

And with the unspoken fear still lodged in her throat, she let him claim her. As he rocked into her slowly, making sure to fully remove himself before sliding all the way back in, she knew she would let him take what was hers to give again and again. This love and heat and carefully buried fear of this man who was working between her legs, who would give her everything, and expect the same was it. Monster or not, Maya was in love with all of it. And as he pressed into her faster, pulling her toward a sweeping crescendo, she watched the wracking pleasure and hedonistic lust on his face transform into one of everlasting adoration. Maya’s mouth fell slack and she cried out a moan too loud for the evening. So when he clamped his hand gently over her mouth to quiet her as he edged her toward her orgasm she let that feeling of overwhelming love rush through her, comforted by the fact that this man would only ever be hers. Mine.

Maya held Becks hand as they walked slowly through the SeaTac airport. Paul walked a few paces behind them, his eyes traveling around the terminal and lazily back to his phone as if he was waiting for a call he didn’t care would come or not.

When they had woken up that morning, Becks hadn’t mentioned Jacob. She hadn’t said much at all. But her suitcases were ready by the front door of the guest room, ready for Paul to ferry them to the car. Maya had asked Paul if he had heard anything or if Jacob would be showing up to send them off but he had shaken his head, showing her the texts between him and Sam about his whereabouts.

It was almost as if Becks knew, so Maya thought that maybe Jacob had contacted her to tell her to go or that he was sorry or that he would give her space or whatever she needed. She was honestly relieved if she was being honest, because if that was the case then Becks could return to Northwestern one last time before her life inevitably changed forever. As they approached Becks’ gate though, that relief evaporated. Jacob towered over the heads of the other travelers as he scanned the crowd for his imprint. His eyes looked soft, sullen, resigned, but his face was pulled with tiredness, the dark circles under his eyes darkening the chocolate brown of his irises. Maya gulped and felt Becks pause beside her. Immediately she shot her a look to garner their next move—should they run or get out of sight before Jacob saw? Maybe Paul could run interference, say Becks got on an earlier flight and she was already gone. But Becks was looking straight ahead, her eyes almost calling out to Jacob’s and he answered the call almost immediately. He took one step forward as if to run toward her but then stopped, thinking better of it and waited until she began walking toward him.

Maya let go of her hand and let her walk forward with her, Paul taking Becks’ place and filling her hand with his quickly. The soothing warmth lulled her panic somewhat as she watched Becks come to a stop in front of Jacob. Neither of them said anything for a long moment—they just stared at one another as if the short time apart during this upset had been more like months or years. And finally, Maya watched as Jacob raised his broad hand to cup Becks’ cheek, his tired eyes glimmering with unshed tears as he said the words “I’m so sorry.”

Paul tugged Maya closer to him and she obliged. Becks fell into Jacob’s arms as the sobs shook her shoulders. Jacob leaned his head over hers and continued to mumble apologies and promises. He would be forgiven, because there was no other choice. But Maya knew even if there was one, Becks would forgive him because that was the person she was. No matter what rage or violence she witnessed in the man she loved, she would choose to see what mattered. She’d forgive him his past if he’d share it with her. For now, though, this could be enough.

Maya watched with bated breath as the overcom announced that Becks’ flight was beginning boarding. Jacob had Becks’ face cradled in both hands, speaking with her earnestly. Becks was shaking her head softly but Maya couldn’t see her face. She looked up at Paul whose mouth was set in a hard line as he watched. That look pitched her stomach with anxiety and she looked back at Becks silently chanting for her to go. Jacob leaned down to kiss Becks in earnest now as she brought a hand to his face to catch a tear that had escaped. When they finally pulled apart after what felt like an eternity, Becks nodded. Maya inhaled sharply and looked up at Paul for anything, any sense of what was going on. He glanced down at her and gave the smallest shake of his head.

What?! Maya’s mind was racing. But when she looked back, Jacob had pulled Becks into a crushing hug, openly sobbing now as he held her. This didn’t look good.

After another moment of them holding tightly to one another, Becks took a step back and then…amazingly, walked around Jacob toward the door to the gate. Jacob turned to watch her go, his sobs wracking his entire body in a soul-splitting pain that Maya had trouble watching. But when Becks turned to give him one last look, she gave a weak smile and blew him a kiss. And then, she left. Jacob stood there, hands tangled in his hair as he dissolved into a complete mess. Maya felt her cheeks and realized they were wet. When had she started crying? The immense heartbreak she had just witnessed almost crumbled her own resolve to leave this time, but Paul pulled her into a tight hug and steered her away from Becks’ gate and down the terminal toward her own.

“You’ll look after him, right?” Maya nearly choked. Paul nodded, giving her a small, sad smile.

“Of course, My,” he promised. “He’s going to be fine.”

Maybe they were too distracted with the devastating departure of Becks and Jacob, but leaving Paul this time didn’t feel so bad. He held her a little bit longer than normal and buried his face into her hair, taking deep inhaling breaths to capture her scent just a little bit longer. But when he let her go this time, Maya felt solid.

Three months later…

Maya was typing as fast as she could in her Geotechnical Engineering course on a balmy April afternoon. It felt like her professor was talking a million miles an hour and she could start to feel a familiar knot in her neck tighten. Maya was swamped to say the least. Between four overwhelming courses, looming finals, and her advisor pressing her to submit applications for prospective internships to pursue her sophomore and junior year, she hadn’t slept much.

She had never felt this much stress before and that was coming from someone who had had little to no free time thanks to her overzealous, community-minded mother since she was 4. Spring break had come and gone so quickly and she had tried her best to hold onto the carefree feeling she had as she spent an entire week uninterrupted with Paul in New York. They had spent their time going out to lunch and dinner, watching movies in the rented townhouse, and making love on the rooftop terrace. It had been nothing short of magical, but in the month since, Maya felt like she hadn’t had any time to catch her breath, much less talk to Paul.

The ache in her stomach was a constant presence and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t on the verge of tears most nights with the stress, the quick texts before bed, and the missed phone calls. But she wasn’t going to let it get to her. She was almost through her first year at Columbia and she could push through a few more weeks before getting back to normal on the rez.

Well, as close to normal as you could get with your best friend due to have a baby that summer at 19.

Maya glanced up at the shifting slides on the overhead projector and suddenly felt light headed. She was completely lost in the lecture now even though she had been scrambling to keep up. Suddenly, she felt nauseous. Maya groaned internally and closed her eyes tight trying to get a grip. Her eyes darted up to the clock above the projector—only 15 minutes to go and then she could make it back to her dorm and lay down for a minute, maybe call Paul, and relax.

Maybe.

Twenty-five minutes later, Maya shut the door to her and Beez’s dorm and leaned back against it. A pitiful groan sounded from underneath a pile of blankets on Beez’s bed.

“You okay?” Maya said, panting as if she was out of breath. The roiling in her stomach still hadn’t settled and she placed a tentative hand over her stomach, hoping it would quell the upset and stress that bubbled there.

“Eeeegnnhh, nooooo,” Beez whined.

“What’s wrong?” Maya said as she tried to walk over to her bed slowly before sitting on the edge, “You sick?”

“Nooo, it’s my fucking period,” Beez moaned.

“Again?” Maya said flopping back onto her back and staring up at the ceiling trying to count the holes in the ceiling tiles to distract herself from the mounting nausea.

“Uh yeah, that’s the point. It comes every month like a bat out of hell sent to drag me to…hell,” Beez finished with a groan. Maya narrowed her eyes and tried concentrating on what Beez had just said.

“It hasn’t been a month, though,” Maya said after a beat.

“What?” Beez said peeking her head out from under the covers. Maya leaned up on her elbows and looked toward Beez with a wince.

“It hasn’t been a whole month has it?” She asked again.

“Uh, yeah, it has. I think I’d know,” Beez said grumpily. Maya glanced back up at the ceiling mentally counting out the weeks. It hadn’t really been a month had it? Maya had been so distracted with class and keeping her head above water that she couldn’t remember…the last time she’d had her period.

She wracked her very full brain, shuffling around the structural analysis formulas and geotechnical principles to see if she could remember. Paul had been out here a month ago for spring break and she hadn’t had it then…she remembered having it shortly after she got back to school, but after that, it was all a blur. The nausea swelled within her again as panic pounded her brain.

There was no way. No way in hell this was happening. She couldn’t even say the words in her head

“Maya?” Beez said from underneath her comforter.

“Mm?” Maya said shortly.

“Do we have any aspirin?” she groaned. But Maya didn’t answer. Next to her, her phone started to ring, flashing with a picture of Paul. For the first time though, Maya couldn’t bring herself to answer him right away.

[Voicemail: 4/28, 8:34 p.m.]

Hey My, it’s Paul. Just trying to catch you. I haven’t heard your voice in a couple of days and I just wanted to…to hear you. Listen, babe, I know we’ve both been busy and I know I’ve missed some calls because I’ve been caught up with this house stuff for Jacob and Becks and the new baby, but…when you come home, I promise things will slow down. I love you. Call me back. Okay…bye babe.

Maya clicked to save the voicemail from Paul and then quickly pocketed her phone back in her pocket as she strode forward in the cool night air. The last week had been her just going through the motions. Ignoring the mounting stress as best she could and burying the near persistent nausea building in her stomach, Maya pushed ahead toward finals.

But deep down, she knew she couldn’t put this off forever. If she was…she swallowed thickly unable to bring herself to think of the word, then what then? She was desperate not to think about it anymore. As the lights of the campus infirmary came into view though, Maya couldn’t put off the unknown any longer. When she left her dorm that night she had intended on heading to the library and to study until her brain went blissfully numb. When her phone had lit up for the third time that day with Paul’s warm and comforting face however, she had changed course.

Whatever happened, she’d deal with it. But she didn’t have to deal with it alone, so why was she leaving Paul on read and unanswered in her inbox? The bright lights of the infirmary washed over her as she headed toward the reception desk to the student aid behind the counter.

“Hello,” she said in a kind, tired voice. “What can I help you with?”

“Um,” Maya fidgeted her hands on the top of the counter and leaned in a little to keep her voice hushed even though the small lobby of the infirmary was empty save for one student. “I need to do a pregnancy test.” Maya flushed red and watched as the almost bored looking student aid gather paperwork on a clipboard and slid it across the desk toward her.

“Okay, no problem. Fill this info out and return it when you’re done. We’ll get you back in a few minutes. They don’t take very long,” she said. Maya stalled holding the clipboard limply in her hands and staring open-mouthed at the student aid, “Let me know if you have any questions though.” The aid reassured her.

Maya snapped out of it and nodded, walking toward a close chair and sinking into it. As she filled out the necessary information, her heart ratcheted up in her chest. I should call Paul, she thought involuntarily. She should call Paul. But she knew if she did he would panic and do everything he could to get to her before she even found out the result. The irony that only six months later she was sitting in such a similar situation to Becks did not escape her. Did Becks also feel this scared, this unsure about what she’d do next? Did all she want was her imprint by her side to tell her it would be okay and that they would do everything they needed to do and whatever felt right?

She must have.

“Maya Sunriviere?” The nurse called from a doorway behind the reception desk. Maya’s head shot up. When had the clipboard disappeared from her hands and ended up in the nurse’s? Maya got up on unsteady legs and followed her back into an exam room. The questions offered by the nurse floated in and out of her head. She must have answered them though because the next thing she knew she was being ushered toward a private bathroom with a cup in hand.

Time was moving too quickly and skipping ahead, but when she found herself back in the exam room, everything slowed down to a torturous pace. She pulled out her phone and checked the time. Only two minutes had ticked by but it had felt like an eternity. Maya absently swung her feet as she sat on the exam table letting her mind mingle with thoughts of Paul, her, and the potential of…no. She wouldn’t let herself go there, not yet, not when she didn’t even know what she wanted.

But what if she didn’t want…it? What if she wasn’t ready? For once, Maya didn’t know how Paul would react to something like that. If she didn’t want that with him right now, how would he react? Would he support her or drag her home? The council would have her head if she tried to deviate any further than what she already had.

Maya felt herself beginning to hope beyond hope that this wasn’t real and that she’d wake up in bed and laugh at herself. She began to hope that it wasn’t a possibility. But there was a small voice in the back of her head saying otherwise.

Maya glanced down at her phone again. Five whole minutes had passed and the room felt colder. Just as she released a great sigh and was about to start pacing her phone vibrated causing her to jump. Paul’s broad smile shone up at her and in a daze, her trembling fingers pressed answer.

Even as she pressed the phone to her ear, she knew it was a mistake.

“Hello?” she said, her voice sounding stronger than she thought it would sound.

“My? Oh, baby it’s so good to hear your voice,” Paul’s warm voice vibrated across thousands of miles and echoed in her ear. She felt immediately soothed by it and couldn’t help closing her eyes at the sound. “Where have you been?”

“I-I…I’ve just been studying babe, I’m sorry. It’s been…t-totally crazy,” she stuttered. She needed to get a grip.

“My…” Too late. “What’s wrong? You okay?” The stress was evident in his voice. The timbre took on a rougher scratch that pressed it’s urgency on her.

“Yeah, fine,” she quipped. There was a deadened silence on the other end and Maya held her breath as her eyes darted about the room. She couldn’t tell him, not now when she didn’t even know herself. Why the fuck did she answer the fucking phone? “Paul, really. I’m fine, just tired. It’s….been a long week and I—”

“Are you okay? You sound…”

“Baby, yes. I’m fine. I’m….in my dorm with Beez. I’m fine,” she said, not wholly convincing anyone. Paul let out a sigh on the other end and seemed to be taking a moment to measure his words.

“I’m sorry. I know this time apart has been hard and you’re so stressed. I’m probably picking up on that. You just sound…off,” Maya was almost annoyed at the accuracy at which he had her pegged. She felt bad that she wasn’t telling him where she was right at this moment and how scared she had been just a few moments ago. And now…now she felt lighter, safe. It still took her off guard the effect he had on her sometimes.

“Oh,” she said, a little breathless, “No..no I’m fine. It’s nothing I just…I wasn’t feeling well and I went to the infirmary and I—” A knock sounded on the outside of the exam room and the nurse peeked in.

“Maya?” she said gently with a smile. Maya’s mouth hung open mid-sentence as the phone slipped off her ear and onto her shoulder.

“You went to the infirmary? Are you sick? Baby?” she could hear Paul’s voice echo on the phone.

“Yes,” Maya answered, her throat dry now as the nurse clicked the door softly shut behind her and consulted her clipboard.

“Maya? Are you there?” Paul continued, his voice hinting at a panic.

“We’ve got the results of your pregnancy test,” the nurse said, consulting her clipboard. Maya swallowed hard. This was it. Her heart hammered in her chest and as she watched the nurse’s lips form the words: “Negative.”

“Negative?” Maya repeated. “As in..”

“As in not pregnant,” the nurse confirmed. Maya could have fallen through the floor with the relief that crushed her in that moment.

“Thank you,” Maya breathed. The nurse nodded and left the room.

“My?!” Paul shouted. She brought the phone back up to her ear, “What’s negative?!” Maya was stunned and her voice had disappeared. The only words she could muster as the pain in her belly subsided into one of overwhelming relief was:

“Can I call you back?”

“What?!” Paul shouted, the anger clearly ebbing around his concern. Maya ended the call and let her arm fall slack at her side.

“Fuck,” she breathed out as she broke into a sob of relief.

Next > >

#taking time #twilight fanfiction #the twilight saga #maya and paul #paul lahote #paul lahote pairing #jacob black #paul lahote x oc #twilight fanfic #twilightfanfiction #paul lahotexoc #twilight #twilight wolf pack #books #chapter forty three #43

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gyusbambi · 3 years

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humph; han seojun (pt 3)

click here for humph masterlist!

part 1, part 2, part 4

story: frenemies to enemies to lovers, high school au

synopsis: seojun and you have known each other since kindergarten. you’re neighbors and even attended the same singing and piano classes. despite knowing each other for such a long time, you don’t enjoy spending time with seojun. even though you are aware of his unfairness, you keep spending time with him. when will you finally leave your childhood frenemy?

note: humph! is a story inspired by pentagon’s “humph! / 접근금지”. originally, this is a seungyeon fanfiction, which i posted on my wattpad. words: 4.3k

after what seems like forever, the bus finally arrives at the location. the rest of the bus ride went alright, except that suho kept turning around in his seat, checking if you’re doing well. because of that you simply decided to text him that everything was fine: seojun wasn’t even talking to you. on the contrary, he acted quieter than usual, looking out of the window the whole time.

speaking of: how lucky seojun felt that you didn’t seem to notice the truth behind his behavior. after all he’s a person incredibly difficult to read. one moment he’s mean only to remain silent in the other. even his friend with keen sense of perception, chorong, struggles to detect the real meaning of the boy’s actions. however, he’s definitely not about to give up, after all he spent the whole night planing the ultimate reconciliation.

han seojun himself, has no clue how to act. yet, one matter is clear: he wants to make up with you. the whole time he suppressed that he misses being near you, constantly trying to fight back the thought of wanting you. well aware that it’s easier said than done, he thinks of a way to overcome his stubbornness. in the first step, he needs to distance himself a little, though the concept of that seems more difficult than it sounds.

after everyone gets settled into their hotel rooms, it’s game time. outdoors you stand next to your roommates sua and soojin, as your teacher explains the simple rules for the tug of war game. your teacher’s suggestion of separating the teams classwise gets absolutely rejected by chorong, who claims that the game wouldn’t be exciting that way. therefore, your teacher hands the rope to chorong himself, stating that he should choose his opponent and divide into two groups.

at the sight of your friend grinning from ear to ear, you narrow your eyes in suspicion. is it that big of a deal from him?

but you’re even more surprised when he chooses his closest friend han seojun as his opponent to which the latter doesn’t react well.

“woah, you betrayer.” seojun tilts his head with a frown on his face before brushing his hair away from his forehead,

“game on.”

“okay, i’m the first one to choose and i choose y/n!” enthusiastically chorong pulls you to his side a little too fast, causing you to bump shoulders with him.

something seems off today.

two equal groups finally get created, a line separating them from each other. kim chorong and han seojun face each other, positioning themselves in the very front. purposely, you stand near the back, gripping the rope tightly with your hands since you don’t feel that strong.

right when the game is about to start, chorong suddenly groans in pain while holding his stomach,

“i don’t feel so good. someone else should take my position.”

“oh, well then suho should-”, you raise your hand to suggest who should replace chorong but you get interrupted by chorong immediately,

“y/n, thank you so much for volunteering. my strongest player!”

everyone watches you with confused eyes, probably thinking the same thing that’s running through your head. strongest player?

overwhelmed, your helpless eyes search for suho’s and it doesn’t take him long to react,

“if you’re not comfortable i could-”

“y/n, come on! what’s taking you so long?” sua gently grabs your shoulders from behind to push you to the front while laughing nervously.

as stupid as it sounds, once again you’re not able to hear her whispering something certain to your group members, while you are too busy observing the boy on the other side of the drawn line.

the whole team is lead to confusion when your friend tells them to let the rope go on the count of three.

on the sign of your teacher, the two groups start pulling the rope to their direction, trying to get the other members to their side. certainly, it’s difficult and requires a lot of strength. while tugging the rope with force, you look up to see han seojun doing the same thing, completely focused on the game.

“three.”

his veins are visible on his arms.

“two.”

his hair slightly covers a part of his forehead.

“one!”

all of the sudden everyone in your team, except for you, lets go off the rope, causing you to lose balance and stumble forwards.

some of the opponents fall down while the others are able to find balance in the last second.

letting out a small yelp, you find yourself falling into han seojun’s arms. however, when you grab onto his shoulders to prevent yourself from falling, he quickly reacher for your waist. before he knows it, both of you fall on the ground.

han seojun lays beneath you.

eyes tightly closed, your head hits his chest. with embarrassment you look up, to find him doing the same. the boy looks more than just shocked. his grip is still steady on your waist, hair messy, gaze on you.

are you starting to find him attractive?! (a/n: good morning, y/n)

and as you eventually notice the rosiness on his almost pale face, you cough more than just once.

“you just fell for me.”

it seems like it’s the last straw for you, when these words leave han seojun’s mouth with teasing tone.

now your stupid heart rate is speeding up again and you are sure that it’s able to explode any moment. not to mention, the boy beneath you can possibly hear it due to the extreme closeness.

therefore, you’re happy to come to your senses and stand up swiftly. after seconds han seojun does the same, watching you brush the dirt off your jeans.

he smiles at the sight of you and for once decides to ignore kim chorong grining like a cheshire's cat.

mission complete.

in the next game you have to build groups with four members and stand on a piece of newspaper. the group loses the moment one of their members step out of the paper.

lee suho instantly tugs at your sweater, asking if you want to be in a group with him. a smile forms on your lips and you nod to his request with joy. sooner than think, soojin approaches the both of you, questioning if she could join you. chuckling you playfully hit her shoulder to show that obviously she could,

“of course! now we only need one more person. how about sua?”

“i think sua wants to stick to her boyfriend.” soojin giggles while observing the couple clutching to each other.

as all three of you look around for a last person to join you, kim chorong pushes han seojun to your direction forcefully, causing his back to hit your own. with a look of puzzlement you turn around.

“sorry, seojun! we’re already four people. you gotta join their group.”,

kim chorong whines in a false upset tone before focusing back to his own group. once again, you fail to notice the grin on his face.

before it can get awkward between the four of you, you indicate them to step on the piece of paper. you wish you could overlook suho and seojun exchanging annoyed looks. it seems like both of them could start a fight any moment. thankfully soojin steps forward, standing between you and suho.

soon the host starts the game. everyone holds each other closely, your own arm around seojun’s back. you don’t fail to notice a smile appearing on soojin’s face when suho wraps an arm around her, holding her tightly. amused, you try to hold in your laughter but soon freeze on spot when seojun swiftly pulls you closer to his body before you can lose your balance and fall backwards. your own grip on his jacket tightens. both of you look at each other at the same time, taken aback by the sudden closeness. seojun coughs, a faint tint appearing on his ears, and looks away a little too quickly. meanwhile suho looks like he’s about to explode.

in the next round you intentionally squeeze yourself between the two boys, so that they don’t have the chance to throw fists at each other.

“why does suho ruin my plan!”

further away from you, chorong complains to sua and taehoon. the latter sighs with disappointment while shaking his head,

“i don’t know.”

“it’s almost like he likes y/n.” chorong scoffs sarcastially, eyes focused on lee suho.

but soon shock hits all three of them. chorong and taehoon avert their gazes from suho to look into each other’s eyes in horror,

“oh, no.”

the last day at the countryside is colder than usual and remains extremely silent, only sounds of crickets can be heard. that being so you choose to stay in the hotel room, watching tv dressed in jeans and a cozy hoodie. fully prepared for bed, you even removed your contact lenses and wear you specs, hair up in a messy ponytail.

however, the unexpected sight of your two roommates dressed up in their winter coats and combat boots causes you to sit up with surprise written in your face. both sua and soojin do the same when they spot you sitting on the couch lazily. after a short silence with the sound of the tv playing in the background, you finally break the awkward quietness,

“are you two going somewhere?”

“why are you still in those?”

instead of answering your question, sua looks you up and down with a confused expression. reacting to her statement, you push your glasses up your nose, eyes unable to meet hers,

“i thought we were staying in.”

“of course not! we should have fun on our last night.”, soojin chuckles while sitting down next to you, taking your hand in hers.

after nodding understandingly, you return soojin’s smile,

“that’s right. have fun, guys! i think i should stay in.”

before your friend sitting next to has the chance to reply to your decision, sua throws your jacket on your face softly,

“no way! you’re coming with us, y/n.”

removing the piece of clothing from your face, you’re met with sua staring at you with troubled eyes. resigned, you sigh before putting on your jacket which causes both of your friends to cheer. yet, this time you notice sua’s body losing its stiff posture while letting out a huge breath.

meanwhile han seojun walks outside with his hands in his pockets, feeling the cold air on his face. a shiver goes down his spine as he passes several students, who seem to enjoy the last night outside at this terrible weather. in fact, the young boy would rather stay in his hotel room if it wasn’t for his stubborn friends, who basically force him to attend the talent show. although, he thinks their several excuses are nothing but ridiculous (”it’s the last night”, “you should sing”, “sneak around in the woods” etc.) he still leaves his room at the mention of you. kim chorong never misses the chance of bringing you up in tangled situations, well aware of seojun’s reaction.

the moment they arrive at the talent show, which takes place near the forest, han seojun instantly spots you a few steps away from his friend group. completely uninterested you stand next to your friends, impatiently tugging at sua’s coat. at this sight of you, dull eyes visible under your specs, a few loose strands of hair falling down from your ponytail, he can’t help but smile at your disinterest. a few seconds ago he was feeling the same way but this changed thanks to your appearance.

minutes pass as everyone waits for the host to appear on the stage. students already found their seats on the floor, absorbed in their own conversations. somehow, chorong finds a way to sit close to you with the help of sua. the boy sits between you and han seojun with relief. moreover, he focuses on being as far away from lee suho as possible. fulfilling his plan, soojin luckily approached suho first, causing the cupid team to achieve their goal.

finally the host makes an appearance on the stage and lists the number of performances before the first group comes into view. seven girls from your grade, dressed in the same shirts and skirts, start dancing to a girl group song. at the sound of nonstop by oh my girl your disinterest disappears suddenly, replaced with excitement instead. to be honest, you really enjoyed this song, although it isn’t really your type.

while the girls are performing, chorong nudges seojun’s side with his elbow next to him, who seems rather bored.

“did you know this song is about someone who crushes on their best friend but is unable to confess?”

chorong’s sudden statement catches seojun’s attention and he turns his head to his friend next to him with a confused face,

“so what?”

“ah, i’m just saying.”, his friend shrugs with a playful pout before focusing back on the performing group.

what’s wrong with him?

before seojun can further question chorong’s odd behavior, his eyes unintentionally land on yours.

“saljjak seollesso nan!” (my heart fluttered a little)

viewing you bopping your head to the song happily causes seojun’s expressions to soften and without knowing his eyes linger on you with admiration.

the talent show ends after the last performance. unfortunately the air is even colder now causing many students to rush back to the hotel with almost freezing bodies. unquestionably, you start walking the same way as them, expecting your friends to follow you only to get pulled back.

sua loosens her grip on your jacket when you turn around to face her,

“how about we sneak around the forest, huh? what do you say?”

“forest?”

“apparently it’s haunted. isn’t that crazy?”,

she noticeably grins at you with excitement.

“yeah, that’s crazy.”, uneasily you mumble since you have bad memories with forests.

“come on, y/n! you love adventure.”

eventually you give in and follow sua and taehoon into the woods, still concerned about your decision.

seojun doesn’t seem surprised when his friends appear in front of him as he’s about to return to the hotel.

“let’s go ghost haunting!”

“ghost haunting?” he repeats chorong’s words with a questioning voice,

“forget it. i’m going to sleep.”

“why? are you scared?”

at the teasing tone seojun rapidly reacts,

“scared? me? what do you take me for!”

without having to try harder, the friend group follows seojun into the forest.

by some way the woods correspond exactly to your memories from your middle school time. you observe dark tree trunks around you as the moon shines through a lattice of leaves. with every step the undergrowth cracks and you hear the sound of wind slipping through the leaves. breathing in the cold air, you smell the scent of rich earth.

it’s almost like you’re experiencing that certain traumatic moment once again but luckily you aren’t alone.

to the sound of a flutter of wings, sua nervously clutches on taehoon’s coat while holding your wrist in the other hand. abruptly, her boyfriend stops in his track with wide eyes, causing both of you two stumble forward.

“w-what?”

“did you guys see that?” taehoon speaks without averting his gaze from the trees standing a little further away.

sua gulps, “see what? is there something?”

her voice has gotten quieter and more nervous as she follows her boyfriend’s gaze,

“this was supposed to be a mission and now we’re going to die.”

“what mission are you talking about?”

hearing your question, taehoon rapidly turns around to face you.

“nothing.”, he nudges sua with warning eyes before stepping forward,

“it’s probably nothing. do you guys really believe in ghosts?”

although he sounds quite confident, his steps are still cautious and the nervousness on his face is impossible to overlook. with each step, all of you feel your hearts pounding against your chests.

“kim chorong, where the hell are you?” sua mumbles under her breath impatiently, yet so quietly that you can’t understand a single word.

your skin shivers from the cold air and you feel your muscles tightening. trying not to shake, you grip on your friends clothing, waiting for taehoon to check what’s behind that mysterious tree.

and for one second all three of you stand still in complete silence when suddenly a tall dark creature stands not so far away from you. all of you scream in fear at the same time and before you know it you all sprint off to the opposite direction.

your legs move in extreme speed as your heart races in your rib cage. sua and taehoon are in front of you, running even faster with every second passing. frightened, your friend checks behind her and sighs in relief when she sees that you’re still with them.

from there, you run without thinking about stopping. after what seems like minutes your legs give in after you suddenly trip over a bumpy root. a small gasp escapes your mouth the moment you fall down on the slippery earth, wet and dewy leaves sticking on your palms.

without wanting to waste any time, you swiftly look up in hope to see your friends but unfortunately you’re only met with clumps of bushes, tall trees and barely visible black trails snaking through the undergrowth.

standing up, you brush the dirt off your hands and knees. hopelessly, you look around one more time to find someone but unluckily, you’re all alone in the haunted woods. the fact that it’s utterly dark makes everything worse and you try your best to suppress some terrifying memories.

although you’re shocked and frightened, you try your best to remain calm. it’s only a matter of time until you eventually find a way out of this stupid forest and return to your hotel. what could possibly happen to you? the woods are probably safe anyway, considering that the whole story about the ghosts is only a legend.

taking a deep breath, you look up to see stars in glimpses through tree breaks. it isn’t completely dark. seojun would always tell you to look at the moon and the stars when you’re afraid of the dark.

it seems like the track is endless as you walk further into the woods, fog covering your sight slightly. with your arms wrapped around yourself to keep your body warm you continue following the path. the further you go, the more you start to worry about where to go. there is nowhere to go. indeed, you are lost in the middle of the dark woods with nothing but yourself.

a look of concern crosses your face when your knees feel weak, causing you to stop in your tracks. carefully, you approach a random tree next to you and sit down completely exhausted. slowly, you were struggling to breathe normally. nothing but your heavy breathing and the sound of branches moving in the wind could be heard.

fidgeting with your fingers, red from the intense coldness, you try to come up with a way. yet, your head is only filled with memories from the time you were lost in the forest.

you remember every single detail from that night. how you left seojun stubbornly, your body shivering from the cold, dark shadows surrounding you, leaves crunching under your feet and tears streaming down your eyes.

these horrible memories cause you to feel uneasier than you already are and you feel your eyes tearing up.

you’re scared. nothing but fear takes over your shaking body. in this huge forest you are lost and completely alone. wrapping your arms around your knees, you cry quietly, heart beating faster than it should. time passes and you lose track of time while tears run down your cheeks.

out of the blue, a voice echoes through the forest with a worried tone to it. from all the panic and fear, you don’t bother looking up. soon the familiar sounds are easier to hear, pointing out that the person is near to you.

“yah, kim chorong! where are you guys?”

han seojun?

“if you guys don’t come out now i’m leaving without-”

when you’re sure that it’s han seojun’s voice, you look up to find him standing only a few inches away from where you’re sitting.

“y/n?”

han seojun’s shocked eyes find yours in a matter of seconds. the young boy stands there in his leather jacket with worry written all over his face. it hurts him so much to see you in this state and all he wants to do is to hug you.

it doesn’t take him long to squat down in front of you. carefully, he caresses your almost freezing face with his warm hands after brushing your hair out of your face. sadness crosses over his face when he wipes the tears off your cheeks. seojun’s heart aches when you look into his eyes with a mix of fear and relief, teary from crying the whole time.

“are you hurt? what happened to you?”,

he asks with a low tone, eyes never leaving yours.

at this, you squinch your eyes shut, only crying harder than you were,

“i got lost here. all alone.”

usually, you would feel embarrassed to cry or say something like that, especially in front of han seojun. but right now, you don’t care at all. on the contrary, you feel so happy that seojun found you, once again.

eyebrows drawing together, he lifts your chin up to take a better look at you,

“look at me.”

attempting to stop yourself from crying, you look into his eyes.

“it’s over now, y/n.”

“seojun-ah-” you trail off when you notice your voice shaking slightly, still taken aback by the whole situation.

“you’re not alone anymore. i’m with you.”, seojun wipes the last tears away from your face before pulling you in for a tight hug, strong arms wrapping around your figure. you feel relieved when he rubs your back comfortingly.

taking in a breath, you wrap your arms around his body, hugging him even tighter. face resting on his chest, you’re eventually able to calm down as he hums caring words into your hair with soothing voice.

fortunately, both of you find a way out of the woods. the whole time seojun held your hand tightly in his to make you feel safe. silence took over both of you, no single word leaving your mouths. now and then his thumb rubbed the back of your hand which helped you calm down.

but it definitely didn’t help your poor heart. instead of slowing down, it only beat faster.

isn’t it strange how seojun is the one who found you again, when you were lost in the woods? what’s even stranger is the fact that you feel differently near him. needless to say, you enjoy finding yourself in his arms. you also liked falling asleep on him in the bus ride.

it couldn’t be...

eventually you arrive at the hotel. eyes darting around your surroundings, you cough shyly,

“we should uh, we should go in now. again, thank you, seojunnie.”

seojunnie?

instantly your eyes widen in horror at the fact that you decided to call him by the nickname you gave him when you were younger. embarrassed, you’re unable to make eye contact and rub your neck before letting go off his hand after mumbling a good night under your breath.

however, before you have the chance to leave, seojun reaches for your wrist and pulls you back lightly. the boy tries to hide his pleasant smile and stares at you. surprised, you wait for him to speak.

“it may be a little too late. it also be not the right time or place to say this. but i just have to tell you that i’m sorry.”

sorry?

seojun notices the frown on your face and continues after taking a deep breath,

“i’m sorry for everything. i’m sorry for treating you nothing like a friend, i’m sorry for annoying you all the time, i’m sorry that i stole your audition and i’m so sorry for telling suho to stay away from you.”

the boy talks nervously, a look of guilt appearing on his face.

“it’s my fault that our friendship ended like that and i should have never done those things. i-i don’t know why i went that far and didn’t question your feelings but... but i just want you to know that i sincerely feel sorry. i’m sorry, y/n.”

utterly absorbed in his speech, you don’t notice him taking a bracelet made out of flowers until he wraps it around your wrist carefully. the feeling of his fingers brushing over your wrist causes butterflies to appear in your stomach.

“i hope you forgive me.”

after putting the bracelet on your wrist, seojun watches you staring at it with a look of surprise. the poor boy feels nothing but nervous standing in front of you, waiting for your reaction. after all, he’s content that he’s finally able to apologize, which took him long enough.

“i do. it’s okay, seojun.”

when you smile at him with happiness written in your eyes, he can’t believe his ears. how can you forgive him so easily? the young boy stands there silently in shock.

“seojun-ah?”

“you forgive me? really?”

hearing his excited tone, you nod while playing with the bracelet, eyes not leaving his,

“i’m happy we’re friends again, seojun.”

abruptly, he pulls you in for another hug, spinning you around,

“i missed you.” he mutters under his breath while you chuckle with amusement,

“i missed you too! but i think i’m gonna fall.”

after putting you down, seojun grins at you with loving eyes, happier than ever.

will he be able to overcome his feelings this time? needless to say, he likes you more than just a friend. but for now, he just wants to be near you again.

“race you to the rooms, zombie.”,

after pinching your cheeks, seojun sprints away. soon you follow him, laughing at the nickname,

“hey! you didn’t count!”

to be continued...

711 notes · View notes

cow-smells · 3 years

Text

You’re Mine [Eli Hawk Moskowitz x Reader]

Requests: 1. there’s a new girl on miyagi-do, she’s classmates with sam, hawk, miguel, tory, robby, demetri, etc... for some reason, she and hawk didn’t like each other (he can be on cobra kai or eagle fangs, that’s your choice), and one day they make a bet, which this girl wins. hawk has to be her slave for a whole week. BONUS IDEA: a stolen kiss during a fight. maybe admitting feelings for each other? i’d love that! ( @berriewrites ) 2. love the hawk smut but i’d also love some fluffy hawk about him secretly liking the reader who’s in miyagido but he tries to act all tough and hide it (anon) 3. AHHH CAN WE GET SOME HAWK FLUFF!? I love the idea where you swear that you don’t like him and you guys make eye contact from a distance when he’s standing with his friend group and you’re standing with yours and you get flustered and he can tell and he smirks and just ahh (anon)

A/N: this took so longggg this came out longer than expected (and honestly i could go on, but i wanted to get this out already) + real life has come hitting all at once and its been overwhelming lol. thanks for being patient and sticking around <3 i enjoyed writing some fluff (amidst a flurry of smut reuests loool :)

Words: 2981

Warnings: none

Read this on AO3

Summary: You don't like Hawk. He's a bad person, that much you know for sure. You're ready to make his life miserable when he loses a bet with you, but then you actually have to spend time with him...

You didn't like this.

Forgiveness seemed to be a virtue that evaded you. Eagle-fang and Miagi-Do were uniting and everyone seemed to be all for the union – except for you.

Some things were simply unforgivable. For you, Hawk breaking Demetri's arm was one of them.

You and Demetri became nearly inseparable friends when you both joined Miagi-Do. He had told you all about his former friend Eli and how he'd abandoned him in the favor of bullying him in any way he could come up with; that bullying taking a turn to the extreme when Hawk took to breaking bones.

Demetri had since forgiven him, but you hadn't.

Demetri had a softer heart than he let on, and he missed Eli terribly, so when the latter suggested they work together he gladly accepted.

But you were more objective about the situation, as you weren't a part of it, and forgiving such cruelty was beyond you.

The one good thing about the dojos coming together was the intense dedication that grew on everyone. Now that you had a common enemy, many participants would hang around in Miyagi-Do's dojo long after training sessions, training until you could hardly move your limbs.

The sun had ago long fallen when you and the remaining students took places around a mat, ready for the sparring session to begin.

With Daniel and Sensei Lawrence gone, you had taken to writing down names and pulling them out of a bowl to decide on sparring partners.

All the negative emotions you felt channeled in to great excitement when Miguel called your name – followed by Hawk's.

You could have sworn you saw a look of something you couldn't read – concern, perhaps, or fear? Before he seemed to share your excitement as he stepped on to the mat with a grin that was almost predatory.

Two could play at that game.

“You're as good as dead,” you said, your voice dripping venom. Hawk's smirk just grew.

“Is that so, princess? I'd like to see you score as much as a point.”

A light bulb lit in your mind.

“Yeah?” you taunted. “What if I get three?”

Hawk laughed. “You got a lot of confidence, don't you? I'll tell you what. If you can score three points on me and win, I'll...” He bit his lip as he thought. “I'll let you boss me around for a week. Whatever you want.”

The blood rushed through your veins, ready more than ever to fight. You were grateful for the lack of your sensei, knowing this nonsense wouldn't stand if he were here.

“Deal.”

“Are you guys done?” Miguel huffed, standing between you two, ready to referee. “Good. Bow.”

You bowed without intent and got straight to attacking. Hawk didn't expect it; he came from the dojo that prides itself on strike first and yours cared mainly about defense. You earned your first point within seconds.

That only served to throw Hawk off his game further. He dived in right away for the attack and was caught unprepared when you fell, sweeping his leg.

You earned your second point.

By that point, Hawk might as well have been fuming out the ears. His brows furrowed in anger as he looked at you like you were the most vile thing he had ever seen; that satisfied something within you.

The flurry of hits and misses was so rapid you were caught unprepared when you managed to land a punch on Hawk, Miguel's voice rising as he named you victor.

Hawk huffed, clearly exerted. You smiled. “You're mine.”

You were fully intending to use this bet to its full potential.

The next day was Saturday, and Hawk, true to his word, showed up at your doorstep at 9 p.m sharp, just as you had ordered.

You paid him no kindness when you opened the door, not exchanging a word with him before demanding: “Helmet?”

Hawk handed you a helmet, not looking particularly pleased about the situation but not being able to stop himself from taking in an eyeful of you anyway.

You needed a ride to tonight's party – that's where Hawk came in, beginning his work for you as a personal valet. Accordingly for the event, you were dressed meticulously, showing off your best features – and if you were to judge by Hawks reaction, you were on your way to turn heads.

You climbed on the motorcycle after him, circling your arms around him loosely; but when he kicked off and started the ride, you couldn't help but tighten your hold.

The party was overcrowded with people from the moment you got there; Yasmine's parties tended to get a bit... excessive.

You ditched Hawk the moment you got sight of your friends, ditching the helmet on his bike to run over to Sam, Moon and Yasmine.

Yasmine didn't hide the dirty look she sent at Hawk. “Ew. Who's the freak?”

You grinned proudly. “My valet. Ignore him. Actually...”

You looked over to the drinks table; someone had tapped a keg and it was being swarmed with people.

“Hey, Hawk!”

Hawk turned to you, the slightest furrow in his brow as he had already joined his own friends. You pointed at the drinks table. “Vodka soda!” you ordered.

He rolled his eyes, but did it anyway. Your friends watched wide-eyed as he obeyed you wordlessly, bringing over the drink. “Anything else, princess?”

“Yes,” you gave him a judging once-over. “Don't drink tonight. I want to get home in one piece.”

He bit his cheeks and glared at you before growling “Fine” and returning to his friends.

At some point you didn't even want a drink any more, it was just fun ordering Hawk to go fetch you another one; and so, you found yourself unintentionally drunk, laughing mindlessly at anything said and swaying on your feet.

You didn't even know how late it had gotten when Hawk came in the living room looking for you, ready to go home as most the others already had.

You had earlier made him promise to take you home as well, and – something you were quickly learning was, Hawk was definitely a man of his word. He spotted you half-sprawled on the couch, laughing with Yasmine at something you didn't fully register. Your cup was askew in your hand, contents about to spill over when Hawk grabbed it out of your hand, placing it on a table nearby.

“Come on, Y/n. It's time to go.”

“Not yet!” you grinned gleefully, taking hold of his wrist and shaking it dumbly as you spoke. “Later! We're having fun!”

Hawk placed his free hand on yours that held him. “It's four AM, Y/n, time to call it a night.”

You didn't reply, instead resorting to pouting like a child.

His eyes softened (the puppy eyes never failed to work) – but his jaw clenched. “If you don't come now I'm leaving you here.”

“Fine!” you hurriedly rose to your feet, using Hawk for balance. “Bye,” you pouted at Yasmine childishly as Hawk pulled you away from her and out of the house.

The sudden quiet of the outside was nearly overwhelming, Hawk's voice sounding too loud for you. “How am I supposed to get you home when you're this drunk?”

“I'm not drunk,” you answered instinctively, knowing that you very well were.

“If you can make it to the bike in a straight line, I'll believe you.” You look at his bike, ten feet ahead. You decide to keep holding on to him. “That's what I thought. Listen. You gotta stay awake, okay? I can't have you falling off in the middle of the road, or making me sway, because then we're both dead. Got it?”

“Dead. Got it.”

Hawk didn't look convinced, but placed a helmet on you and buckled it anyway.

It was about ten minutes in to the ride when Hawk pulled over. He turned to you, his voice as serious as he could make it; you simply smiled, somewhat dazed. “This isn't going to work.”

“Hm?”

“Y/n!” Hawk called, trying to wake you up a little. “Don't fall asleep!”

“Yes, sensei.” you slurred. Had you been any more awake, you might have noticed the way Hawk's eyes widened at that.

Hawk had to refocus himself to go on. “I'm serious. Look... My house is closer than yours. You can sleep it off at mine, and I'll take you wherever tomorrow. Okay?”

“Okay,” you shrugged, your mind not caring about much other than regaining the warmth of Hawk's body pressed against yours.

Minutes later you pulled up at an unfamiliar house. Hawk unbuckled your helmet and set it aside, helping you off the bike and guiding you inside, motioning Shhh as he led you through the corridor of his darkened house until you reached his room.

The most natural thing for you to do the moment you saw a bed was to collapse on it. In the seconds Hawk turned his back on you to find you Pj's to wear, you had fallen asleep.

Looking at you on his bed, Hawk exhaled heavily. He was very aware of your hatred of him; what he couldn't understand was, if everyone else forgave him, why not you?

It certainly didn't help that you looked the way you do, that you were talented, and that everyone loved you.

So Hawk undid your shoes and pulled them off, laying a blanket on you before leaving you to sleep.

You woke up groggy, somewhat hungover and in a strangers room; an interesting start to the day.

You didn't really want to leave the comfort of your lonesome in the room but it was clear you would have to face the music at some point, so you womaned up and left the room.

Following the smell of food cooking, you walk down a hallway to find a red-haired man in the kitchen, his tattooed back to you, muscles flexing as he flipped a pancake.

With his hair down, it took you a moment to register who you're seeing; who's bed you spent the night in.

Hawk.

Your first instinct was to groan, to cower in to yourself in regret; but then you remember how tenderly he treated you the night prior, making sure you got safely to a bed, letting you have his bed.

You swallowed your pride and stepped in to the kitchen. “Morning.”

Hawk's shoulders jumped in fright as you startled him; you couldn't help but giggle. He quickly rightened himself, straightening his back and flexing his abs as he turned to you.

He was good looking and he knew it. You hated him.

However, you felt your power returning to you as he couldn't help but look you up and down, your disheveled clothes revealing a bit more than they had the night before. Hawk inhaled sharply, reminding himself of who he was, how he was supposed to act: unfazed.

“Bout time you got up.”

You frowned, looking at the kitchen clock. “What do you mean about time? It isn't even noon yet.”

“Yeah, well,” Hawk flipped a pancake on to a nearby plate. “You wanted me to take you to the mall today, right? I have practice later, so it's gotta be now.” The Eagle-fangs were holding weekend practices of their own, something you weren't a fan of.

“Jeez, fine,” you sneered, allowing yourself to sit at the kitchen table. Amidst the chaos that was waking up in Hawks bed, you had totally forgot you previously asked him to take you out today. Yasmine's parents were making her take tutoring lessons, Moon was doing some spiritual healing thing and Sam was with Miguel, so you were left all alone – but you certainly didn't intend on spending Sunday at home, doing nothing.

Hawk finally shut off the burner and joined you at the table with a stack of pancakes and two plates in tow. “Eat away your hangover. I'm not gonna hold your hair up if you hurl.”

Breakfast with Hawk ended up being a surprisingly civil affair; so was shopping. There was something exciting about dragging him along after you, shop after shop, having him carry your bags and modeling clothes for him. And honestly, you were loving the effect you had on him. You knew he was trying to hide it, but you could see the way he grew antsy when you tried on bikinis. You loved teasing him, knowing he couldn't have you.

What also didn't hurt was the way you two turned heads walking down streets together. You were undeniably gorgeous, and he... While at first you thought it was the bright red mohawk that grabbed peoples eyes, after a close inspection you couldn't deny he had fair features, too. You had to look away whenever he tensed his jaw, accentuating his jawline, or if God forbid he smiled, you had to deny the way his smile made your stomach knot up.

As though to top off the experience of him, by the time you finished shopping, Hawk would have been late if he was to take you home, so you suggested he take you to practice with him and just take you home once he was finished. And oh my... You did not need to see him fighting. Having a whole hour to see his biceps flexing as the threw punches was doing you no favors; when you were both practicing you were too busy with yourself to notice him, but right then you had a whole hour to do nothing but stare.

At the end of the practice you rose when Hawk approached you, ready to go. When his sensei understood you were waiting there for him, he asked Hawk, “Yours?”

Hawk didn't answer; he merely smirked that Hawk smirk of his. His sensei nodded proudly. “Nice.” Creep.

You had a couple more days to squeeze the most you could out of your bet, and by all means were you planning on using them.

Hawk was taking you to school and home every day on the back of his bike – to Miyagi-do, too. It became a regular thing to see you two together, and if anyone was expecting you, they expected Hawk, too.

Just as the previous mornings, you and Hawk walked in to school together. Seeing your friends, you bid him goodbye and went to join them, your eyes lingering on him a bit too long as he said hello to Miguel.

Yasmine's jaw dropped as she looked at you, her expression scandalized. “What?” you asked.

“You're totally in to the freak!”

“What? No,” you denied – but even as the words left your mouth, you could hear your lack of conviction. “No.”

You looked back to where Hawk and Miguel stood; this time, he caught your eye. Then, with total audacity, he winked at you.

You felt heat rush through your body.

The smirk that grew on him suggested he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

You hated it.

Deciding to put an end to this madness, you wordlessly leave your friends and march up to Hawk, a new rage running though you.

He stopped talking with Miguel when you reached him; Miguel visibly tensed at what he felt was a dangerous situation for him to be in.

“Sidebar,” you ordered. Hawk smirked.

“After you, princess.”

You hoped no one would notice when you lured him in to an empty classroom, but in all honesty, it was you and Hawk. There were always eyes on you two.

You turned to him once you were engulfed in the silence of the room. “Listen. I don't know what you're playing at, but cut it out. I own you, got it? Don't go winking at me in the hallway like I'm your girlfriend or something.”

You expected to see him cower, blush, show any sign of intimidation – but there was no such emotion. The smirk he wore only grew in confidence. “You sure about that?” he asked cheekily. “Because it seems to me like you'll find any excuse to be around me.”

You couldn't believe the audacity of this boy. You were stunted for words; he went on. “Be honest with yourself. Once the week is up, you'll still find reasons to talk to me.”

You bit your cheeks; you hated how he was right, how he read you so easily. “And look, I'm done playing this game too.”

Your stomach dropped. Was he about to reject you, without you even confessing? “I'm not playing with you,” you tried to say intimidatingly, but your voice came out too small for comfort.

“Me neither. So...” Hawk looked down at you; you could have drowned in his ocean eyes. You averted your gaze to the side, crossing your arms.

“Fine. We can call it off early.”

Hawk chuckled. You wanted to punch him. “You still don't get it, do you?”

You returned your eyes to Hawk, ready to chew him out when he placed his hands on your cheeks, pulling you to him for a kiss.

You could feel yourself melting in to the kiss, feeling a rush of adrenaline run through you as you finally got to experience what you didn't want to admit to yourself that you craved so deeply.

When he finally pulled away, he kept his hands on you, your noses nearly touching. “I've wanted to do that for a long time,” Hawk admitted.

You half-smiled. “It's only been a week.”

Hawk had burst in laughter, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. “You still don't get it.” Before you could protest his words, his lips met your once more.

Maybe you could find it in you to forgive him, after all.

#cobra kai imagine #cobra kai #eli moskowitz imagine #eli hawk moskowitz #eli moskowitz x reader #eli moskowitz/reader #cobra kai fanfic #cobra kai hawk

570 notes · View notes

galaxywhump · 3 years

Text

Proper Introductions

[Masterlist]

Dusted off another old WIP, so here’s a continuation of Wrong Place, Wrong Time.

cw: hero/villain whump, winged villain whumpee, hero whumper, defiant whumpee, manhandling, captivity, restraints, police, forced name change, dehumanizing name, referenced drugging, trophified.

~~~

He was handled like cargo, sedated while Bradley dealt with formalities, and when he was finally allowed to sober up he wasn’t even given any time to process the revelation of what was going to happen to him; instead he was unceremoniously thrown in the back of a van, wrists and wings restrained. The officers handling him weren’t wearing uniforms, and the van was unmarked, a clear sign that whatever was happening to him was no longer official and constrained by protocols.

It didn’t instill him with optimism, to say the least.

He was a criminal, of course, and now that he got caught he knew he wouldn’t be treated as anything else, but he’d never considered being handed over directly to the hero who had defeated him, who would be given free rein.

Stop being paranoid, he scolded himself, stretching his legs out as he sat up. He wanted to lean against the side of the van, but with his wings folded up and pinned together he couldn’t do so comfortably, so he decided against it. He winced when the van hit a rock or a pothole and his temporary prison swayed. He’s a hero. He must have some kind of a moral code, even-

Even though he had effectively trophified him.

He exhaled and fixed his eyes on the headliner as the van continued its trip, one-way for him. He cursed under his breath and his heartbeat picked up the pace when they briefly came to a halt, raised voices sounded outside, then the van revved up again and, judging by the sound, the asphalt gave way to gravel.

He was scared. He didn’t want to be, he shouldn’t be - risk was, after all, what he operated in, he knew how to keep his cool when faced with danger - but there was no denying that he had never felt more fear.

The van stopped definitively, the engine powered down. There were voices again, doors slamming, footsteps of someone circling the car until they reached the back door, and Oscar had to turn his face away when light flooded the dark space.

“Get out.”

For just a moment he wanted to refuse, but he knew there was no good way out of this, and him staying inside could be taken as a sign of cowardice rather than defiance. He got up, almost losing his balance, his body still accustomed to the swaying of the van, and leapt down from the back with as much nonchalant energy as he could muster. The officer immediately grabbed his arm, holding him in place.

Oscar looked around, keeping his chin up. There were a few people staring at him; the officers, three more tough-looking people in black button-up shirts, and, finally, Bradley McKenna himself, lighting up the driveway with what seemed to be a genuine smile that gave Oscar a sliver of hope. He quickly looked away from Oscar, though, and the feeling of being nothing more than cargo came back with full force when the button-ups - no doubt security workers of some kind - approached him and the officer handed him over to them with a nod. Two of them grabbed his arms with way more force than necessary and began to lead him away from the van. He strained his neck to see what was happening behind him and caught a glimpse of Bradley conversing with the officers, his posture relaxed, before the third security guard caught up and obstructed Oscar’s view.

He gave an experimental pull, squirmed a bit, but all it got him were fingers digging into his arms until they hurt and a light kick to the shin, so he settled on sulking in silence, taking in the sight of the house he was being led towards. It was huge and modern, clear cut angles, white pain and wooden panels, obscenely large windows, even a damn swimming pool to the left, which he noticed out of the corner of his eye. It looked like a house from a brochure, an unattainable dream that was hard to imagine anyone could afford.

It didn’t surprise him one bit that Bradley lived in a house like this.

What he was being taken to, however, was a garage, and there was a part of him that found having to awkwardly stand still while the door slowly opened almost amusing. They led him in - there was no car, or cars, judging by the capacity of the garage, only a few shelves with everything and anything, spare tires, a workbench, and a few metal stools.

There were also chains, almost comical, thick and rusty with heavy daunting manacles, already waiting for him.

“Rustic”, he commented, barely able to hear his own voice over the beating of his heart. No one laughed. He was held still while the third security guard crouched down and closed the manacles on his ankles, making sure it was secure with a tug on the chain.

Then they left him alone, just like that. He followed them with his gaze; he wanted to make another comment, anything to appear more collected than he really was, but words were stuck in his throat, so he watched the garage door close, sealing him inside, in silence.

“Alright”, he muttered under his breath, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, looking down at his restraints. First he gave the short chain of the handcuffs a pull - it felt almost dainty, thin, like it should be severed easily, but of course it couldn’t. He tried his legs next, shuffled his feet and grimaced at the weight of the chain and the sound it made when it was dragged across the floor. He didn’t know what he was counting on, and yet his stomach sank when the reality of being restrained like this, with nothing to do but wait for Bradley to tell him what he was going to do to him, dawned on him.

He looked at the workbench, way out of the range the length of the chain allowed, and frowned. It almost felt teasing, knowing that there must be tools in there that could help him break free, until he realized that they could also be used for torture, and fear struck again. He averted his gaze, let it wander over the shelves, the spare tires, canisters, work clothes which he doubted were Bradley’s. He considered trying to pull one of the stools closer, but didn’t do that in the end. He’d done enough sitting when they were keeping him drugged.

Is he even going to come here?

The uncertainty was already killing him. He forced himself to focus on minute details, counting the canisters, following the pattern of the tiled floor with his gaze, measuring the space he could freely move in. He was in the middle of counting the tiles when the door connecting the garage to the rest of the house opened and Bradley came in, hands in pockets, and the same genuine smile appeared on his face when he locked eyes with Oscar, who gave him a hard stare in return.

“Heya”, he started in a conversational tone, closing the door behind him, but not coming closer, staying well out of Oscar’s reach. “Glad you finally got here.”

“What the hell do you want?” Oscar asked, his frown deepening. He stayed still as a statue, not breaking eye contact, chin still raised, and he noted that the two of them seemed to be roughly the same height - at least Bradley wouldn’t get to tower over him.

Bradley cocked his head to the side and didn’t answer - instead two things happened simultaneously when he took a step forward and Oscar’s handcuffs yanked his hands upwards like they had a mind of their own, pulled until he stumbled and was forced to turn around, and pinned his wrists to the metal frame of one of the shelves, high enough that he was unable to move, almost standing on his toes, his arms straining.

He struggled, tried to pull back, fight the invisible force, but its hold was strong, and then his fate was sealed when he heard the clinking of another chain, this one with a lock, which floated up, neatly connected the handcuffs to the frame, and locked itself, securing his hands in place. All he could do was look back over his shoulder to watch Bradley with narrowed eyes as he approached.

“What do you want?” he repeated. The plastic tape dug into his wings when they twitched, stopped in his instinctual attempt to stretch them out to shield himself.

“Just to get to know you!” Bradley laughed, disappearing from Oscar’s field of vision, and he flinched violently when he felt his hand on his wings.

“Hands off!”

“They’re dyed, aren’t they? Your wings.”

He squirmed, trying to get away from the touch, but he was trapped, trapped like he’d been ever since he got caught, barely able to move in a way that mattered. Defeated, immobilized, helpless when there was an unpleasant - but not really painful - popping sensation when Bradley ripped out one of his feathers.

“Hey!” he protested, his words once again falling on deaf ears. Bradley rubbed the feather between his fingers and smiled seeing the powdery black residue.

“Hm. There go my name ideas.” Oscar tensed up again when Bradley patted him on the shoulder. “But we’ll find something else.”

“Something- The hell?”

He heard footsteps, a deafening echo in the mostly empty garage, and once again he tried - and failed - to crane his neck to see what was going on behind him. There were strange sounds he couldn’t identify, probably tools of some kind, and that combined with Bradley’s words turned his unease into unbearable fear.

“I doubt they cared about keeping you clean there, so let’s take care of that before I show you to your room, alright?”

There were so many confusing messages and stimuli, the primary fear, name ideas, your room, the sounds, that for a split second he just felt overwhelmed - which made the sensation of freezing cold water hitting his back with enough force to pin him to the shelves all the more shocking.

He cried out, uselessly tugging at the handcuffs to get away from the jet of water, but there was no escape. He was already shivering, his clothes soaked, his wings getting heavy with water, weighing him down.

And Bradley laughed, no doubt upon seeing their real color.

“I think I’ve found a name for you, buddy!”

“I already have a n-name, buddy”, Oscar snapped, his teeth chattering from the piercing cold.

“Yeah, now you do.”

After what felt like an eternity, during which the high-pressure water was washing off even the most persistent specks of the dye, it halted at last, and Oscar could swear he got even colder. He let his head hang low, taking deep shaky breaths, while Bradley coiled up the hose to put it away. For a few moments the only sounds were the happy tune he was humming to himself and the dripping of water, amplified by the echo chamber of the garage. Then his footsteps joined as he approached until he stopped by Oscar’s side, and he turned his head to look at him, glaring despite how pathetic he looked with water trickling down his face. He jolted in place when Bradley reached around him and ripped another feather out of his sopping wings, then held it in front of Oscar’s face, smiling his annoyingly genuine smile and gently waggling the feather, clean, light yellow in color.

“Nice to meet you, Canary.”

[next]

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lustbile-archive · 4 years

Text

In The Cards

HaechanxReader

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary/Warning: Smut. Best friend Haechan wants you to read his tarot :( warning! very beginner tarot knowledge. all card interpretations found on the app golden tarot

Request: can i request a bestfriend-to-lovers hyuck where he and the reader share their first time together?

This is the third installment of my week of halloween fics. Info about possible blurb night here

“Please?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s weird.”

“How is it weird?”

“Haechan seriously,” you finally turn to face him as you lay side by side on your bed, the pout and puppy eyes he wears on his face the exact thing you had feared to see as you knew he had his ways of convincing you no matter what, “you’re asking me to do a reading on your love life.”

“And how is that weird?” his voice pitches as he turns to mirror you, now with you both on your sides and your phones tucked under your respective pillows you have no choice but to stare into his warm eyes. His body is dramatically lax as he relaxes into the mattress, already ready to toss his body around obnoxiously if you decide to deny him again.

“You’re my best friend dude, it would be weird to see what the cards say about your possible romantic activities,” you were somewhat telling the truth. Yes, you thought it would be kind of weird to see what your cards had to say about his love life, the idea being weirdly intimate for you, but you also knew that there was a small part of you, an evil yet insecure little gremlin that had made a home in your heart a few months before, that would take whatever they say directly to heart. You never anticipated forming romantic feelings for the boy in front of you, actually when you and Haechan had first started getting close you stubbornly denied that something like that happening was possible, yet here you were stupidly infatuated with the boy who lays in your bed wrapped warmly in a worn hoodie with your heart trapped between his teeth, “that and I’m not even that good at doing readings yet.”

“An even better reason to do it,” he sits up with a jolt of energy making you return to your place on your back to watch him, “so even if you do my reading, like you said you’re not that experienced so we won’t take what they say to heart right? It can just be for fun.”

Your eyes squint in disbelief as you try to read the look on his face. Regardless of his words, you know it wouldn’t just be for fun. Haechan had made it kind of obvious on the few occasions that tarot readings, and things related to things of that nature, were brought up, that he truly did believe it. Haechan had a whimsy about him, a belief and willingness to believe in things outside of himself, things he couldn’t really explain, and usually you’d find it incredibly endearing, but now it just helped in raising your stress levels.

“Come on dude,” his head tilts back and his face scrunches as he tries to convince you, his determination unfortunately making a smile start to pull onto your lips, “I’m bored and the ambiance is way too sexy right now for us to not do some witchy shit.”

Again, like always, he was unfortunately right. It was late into the night, nearing 3 am, and a storm raged loudly outside. The storm being the exact thing that had locked Haechan in your room to begin with as it had knocked your power out an hour or so before the time he was meant to leave, so he had decided to stay instead. He had claimed it was because he didn’t want to bother with traveling in the storm, but you could easily pick out the softness behind his eyes when you casually mentioned not wanting to be alone in the dark.

Along with the steady storm, you had also gathered your collection of candles and scattered them lit around the room, that and the quiet sounds of Florence + The Machine and Fleetwood Mac playing from the small speakers connected to your phone only supported Haechan’s argument. You two had perfectly crafted the perfect atmosphere to ask questions to some other force, and you can’t help but kick yourself for putting yourself in such a position.

“Okay fine,” you finally respond hesitantly, a grimace on your face and you move to sit up as well. You hate the way your chest tightens at his reaction to your words, an excited jump bouncing him in the air as he leans over to the table you keep to the side of your bed. The idea that he just knows exactly where you keep your things dances tauntingly in your mind and you angrily push it down as you move to sit facing him with your legs crossed underneath you.

“Found ‘em,” he whispers as he rifles through the drawer, a quiet triumphant noise squeaking from his chest as he moves to sit back in front of you, mirroring the way you sit with a smug grin on his face.

“Shuffle them a couple times for me,” you say, motioning to the deck in his hands, and he does so immediately. His fingers work slowly and gently, the fear of damaging the deck floating around his form. He splits it a few times, shuffling them together in a neat stack before he hands them to you like a devious cat happily offering their owner a dead mouse, and you smile softly at his consideration for your things.

“I’m only gonna do a three card pull okay? Past, present, and future okay?”

“Yeah, yeah that’s cool,” he nods excitedly as he shifts around where he sits, his anticipation slowly gaining on him, “I’m cool with whatever.”

“Okay give me a question to ask while I shuffle,” you command, your hands holding the deck as you get ready to shuffle, “it can be as detailed or vague as you want, the cards should understand what we're asking.”

“I just wanna know…’’ he hesitates for a moment, his lips caught between his lips as he thinks, “love life I-.... hm… I guess I want to ask it to show me the path my love life will take.”

You only nod in response before your eyes fall closed. Your heart beat picks up and your hands shake slightly in your nervousness, but regardless you begin to repeat the question in your mind as your hands begin to move. ‘Show me the path of Donghyuck’s love life’ you speak to your cards as they dance between your fingers, your hands much more rough than Haechan’s.

His breathing is almost deafening as it's the only human sound that hits you as you work, and you hear it catch when your hands stop moving.

Your eyes open again, and with a deep breath you lean forward to spread the cards out in front of him in the shape of a fan, “pick three and put them in my hand,” you command again with your hand held out flat, “whichever three speak to you.”

“Okay,” he whispers, his fingers moving to hover over the cards and the way he holds himself he looks as if you’ve just asked him to take a standardized test. He jolts slightly before grabbing the card below his hand, and it's quickly placed on your palm. His reaction when picking the other two are not much different, and after a minute or two you have all three cards and you’re gently collecting and setting the remaining cards to the side.

“Okay,” you start as you shift to get in a more comfortable position, “we’ll start with past.”

He nods as you move to lay down the first card you were handed, the card revealing itself to be The Lovers, their naked bodies and the angel that lives behind them almost taunting you and making you tongue stick dryly to the roof of your mouth.

“Okay..” you trail off as you glance at the boy in front of you, his eyes going slightly wild at the sight of the card in front of him, “now present.”

Wanting to get out of the situation as quickly as possible, you lay the next card down, and before you now lay the two of cups. Another pairing of people to stare as you squirm.

“Finally,” you huff moving to lay down the last card, “future.”

With a soft thud, you place the card down, the naked woman that floats in the center of The World card is impossible to ignore. Haechan hums quietly in consideration, his head bobbing slightly as his eyes move across the spread before him. He looks pensive for a moment when he looks up at you, until a playful grin takes over his features.

“What does any of this mean?” he asks with a laugh.

“Well,” you start moving to grab the book you keep next to your pillow that hold the different descriptions of the cards, scolding yourself for still not having them memorized, “none of them are reversed so that that as a good sign, and none of them are The Tower so you’re not doomed to die alone I suppose.”

He laughs again as he watches you flip through the book, your eyebrows knitted together as you search for the first card.

“Okay so, your past is The lovers,” you start, one hand resting on top of the card as your eyes shift around the page, “it represents partnership, union, duality, and choice. This says it means a union of harmony, full of trust, confidence and strength, This relationship both a physical attraction and a deep emotional bond between them.”

You stutter slightly as you read, your eyes darting up to gage his reaction once the words leave your mouth, his face is soft but serious as he thinks, and you can’t help but get overwhelmed by the look.

“Okay, and then present,” you hand shifts to the Two of Cups while your other hand flips to the correct page, “this card means unity, partnership and two become one…” you trail off slightly, hoping Haechan only assumes it’s from you trying to read the page and not for the real reason that is the words in front of you makes you heart beat harshly against your chest, “signaling a union and partnership of balance, honor, and respect, The ancient symbol of the caduceus also suggests energy, passion, and sex, and the intermingling of opposite forces.”

“Oh,” he responds involuntarily as he absorbs the words you speak, and you can only wish that you could crawl into his mind and see exactly what he’s thinking.

“Okay and lastly, your future,” you shift again, your previous position suddenly not feeling comfortable anymore, “The World card represents fulfillment, harmony, and completion. It says, absolute unity, perfection, accomplishment that draws from inner and outer sources. This card signals the harmony of the inner and outer worlds, and reaching a level of enlightenment. An era of one's life is complete and there is joy and celebration that is coming to welcome it.”

With a soft smacking noise, you shut the book and place it back to its spot next to your pillow. Your words still linger in the air with a tension wrapped around them, and in your desperation to avoid Haechan’s eyes you begin to return the cards to the deck, a silent thank you being spoken in your mind as you thank them for their knowledge.

“So what do you think about that?” he asks, his voice softer than earlier, the tone making your eyes dart up to try and read the emotion on his face.

“It’s not about what I think Hyuck…” you place the hair tie that lives on your wrist around the deck to secure it and place it on top of the book, and when your done you lean back onto the palms of your hands to survey his body language while also creating more distance between you, “it was your reading so it’s your interpretation, what did that tell you?”

The words come out like you’re trying to cough up years worth of chewed gum and the way they clog your throat makes you feel weird. It may be up to his interpretation, but you can’t stop the way the cards and their meanings make you feel as they wrap a confusing combination of hope and terror around your fragile heart.

“I think,” he starts as he once again moves to mirror the way you sit, a soft but unsure smile on his face, “they told me exactly what I needed to hear.”

“And what was that Hyuck?”

“Well you know, the whole emphasis on partnership, and union, and choices. If anything i’m starting to think your cards like me a little bit cause they kind of told me exactly what I wanted to hear.”

“And what was it you wanted to hear Haechan?” you ask, his smugness and confidence making you laugh quietly.

“That I’m not putting my hope or my heart in the wrong place. I think it’s saying that I’m right in wanting the thing I want so badly.”

“Jeez Donghyuck,” you huff as you fall to lay back onto your side, a giddy feeling flooding you as he once again follows suit, “you speak in more riddles than the cards do.”

“Oh do you want me to tell you straight forward what those cards just told me?” he asks rhetorically as he lays close enough for his face to crowd you personal space, his breath occasionally hitting your skin.

“Well yeah, lay it on me Hyuck, what did those cards encourage you to do?”

“I’ll fucking lay it on you alright,” he doesn’t even give you the time to form the question in your mind of what he could possibly mean before he’s on the move. He’s on you before you can blink, his body pushing you onto your back and his hands landing against your bed next to your head and caging you in. Your body reacts before your mind does, and your hands are gripping his wrists and you legs are falling to the side to allow him to rest between your thighs, as he knocks the air from your lungs with his mouth pressing against yours.

You both let out matching hums in content at the feeling of each other’s lips. You’d call yourself a liar if you said you had never imagined what it would be like to kiss the boy that now rests on top of you, but no matter how many hours you had logged dreaming about the very moment, none of it prepared you for now.

He rests his body flush against yours as his lips work against yours, and there’s only a beat of time before his tongue is brushing against your bottom lip, begging for entrance.

You break away, the idea of him feeling the same way as you filling you with childish excitement and confidence, so much that you can’t stop yourself before you’re teasing, “so my cards told you to attack me?”

“Hush,” he pecks against your lips once before speaking again, “they told me I was completely in the right for being in love with my best friend, and that making a move would only end in happiness.”

“You’re in love with me?” you ask, those being the only words that stick in your mind, Your hands tighten around his wrists, and the skin of his face flushes in realization of what he said.

“Uh… yes,” his eyes are filled with his nerves as they lock onto yours. The internal debate he has with himself of wanting to tear his eyes away while being completely unable to is transparent and puts you at ease at the idea that he’s just as nervous as you, “I’m sorry if that’s really abrupt, but I really am.”

“Donghyuck,” you whisper, leaning up to nudge the tip of your nose against his, “I’m in love with you too.”

“Thank fuck,” he swears louder than intended, and you giggles of happiness is smothered by his lips latching to yours again.

There’s no asking this time as his tongue shoves its way into your mouth, and you let out a pleased groan when the moment he licks at the back of your teeth, his hips shift down and he begins to softly grind against the crotch of the thin fabric of your pajama shorts.

“Tell me,” he speaks between open-mouthed kisses that he places across you mouth and up your jaw, his words doing their own licking against the shell of your ear, “tell me if you want to stop, cause I don’t think I can.”

“I trust you Hyuck,” you whisper during the fleeting second that your mouth is free, “do whatever you want, I’m so in love with you.”

He groans loudly at the string of words that leave you, the noise cutting through and disrupting the smooth voice of Stevie Nicks and his body returns to rocking gently against yours.

Your hands trail away from his wrists, moving up his forearms and up until your fingers tangle in his hair. The slight tugging you give to his roots pulls another groan from his mouth, and the sparks of pleasure that hits your lower stomach at the sound combined with his hardening length pressing against you through the thick fabric of his sweatpants makes you feel like you could live in this moment forever.

You can feel your growing arousal spilling from you, the wetness making the fabric of your underwear stick to your skin, and at the feeling of him suddenly bumping gently against your clit makes you squeak as you hips begin meeting his thrusts with their own.

“Please,” you whimper out when his mouth latches onto the skin stretched over your jugular, “want it. Need you.”

“I’m gonna keep you up all night,” he growls the promise against your neck, “I have so much time to make up for.”

He sits up, a smile of pride on his face when you huff at the loss of him. You only get a few sounds of discontent out before his hands are grabbing at the fabric of your shorts, and shoving them down your legs, your ruined underwear following. The fabric is tossed behind his shoulder, and in his impatience, his hands are rough as they grab at your thighs. He pulls you, bringing you down the bed to be closer to him, before he’s pushing his own pants down to bunch at his hips, his tip brushing against you and making you jump as he slaps against his stomach.

You squirm as he returns to his place flush against you, both at the sudden feeling of the room’s air hitting your damp skin and the way his length glides against you. You can feel your arousal smearing against him, and in your desperation, you’re grabbing his face and pulling back down to meet your lips again.

Laying there, pressed as tightly together as you can be with your mouths devouring the other’s, you feel him reach between your bodies. His fingers only take a moment to dip into you, gathering your wetness on his fingers, before he’s using it to coat his length more than it already is.

He pulls at himself a few times, the moans he lets out at the friction being swallowed by you, before he’s pressing into you without warning.

The stretch and the idea of your best friend being the one that is so suddenly fucking into you has you reeling. You feel overtaken by the feeling of whiplash, and as he pushes into you inch by inch, you let out a moan that lived deep in your belly.

He pauses when he’s fully inside of you, the depth that he reaches as the girth of him making your eyes begin to roll wildly and before you can catch your breath his hips are retreating.

His pace is rough. He’s slow, and he doesn’t pull but a few inches out, but every time he returns to your body, it's a harsh thrust that knocks the air from your lungs.

It’s not long before you feel overwhelmed, the way the cozy heat from the candles and the thick fabric of his clothes as they brush against you licks at your skin and sinks you into the mattress. His mouth refuses to separate from yours, and his thrusts are consistent and unrelenting.

You’re sure you’ve never felt more held in your life as your wrapped up with your best friend, one of his hands moving to hold the side of your face while the other travels down to play with the sensitive nerves of your clit. The gentle way his hands move against you contrasted by the rough way he fucks into you has you clinging desperately to his hoodie as warm tears well up in your eyes.

One of your hands moves down as you get closer, your nails digging into the fabric that covers his ass as you desperately try to pull him closer than he already was. This and the way your hips start bucking against him makes him groan as you two get tangled in your sheets.

You feel the tingling warning of your orgasm running up your spine, a crackling moan feeding into his mouth from yours and the way you softly clench around him being his only warning before you come with a cry.

His hips stutter as he follows quickly behind, a very similar sound of bliss slipping from his mouth as you two begin to shake against each other.

You feel like you’ve been sewn into his skin as you twitch together with aftershocks, him equally as unwilling to separate his body from yours. Once he pulls his hand from between your bodies, his arms wrap tightly around your waist, and he pulls you tightly into his chest as he lays his full weight on you, and you legs wrap around him as you refuse to let him slip out of you.

“We’re going again in a minute,” his voice rasps as he presses his face into your shoulder, his nose nuzzling against the skin.

“Really?” You ask with a laugh as your hands return to their job of running through his hair.

“Yes I just need a minute,” he promises, and you shiver as his hips start to shift already without him even thinking, “it’s what your cards would have wanted.”

#nct smut #haechan smut #donghyuck smut #nct imagine #haechan imagines #kpop smut

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Note

more religious Billy pls

trigger warnings for homophobia, child abuse and religious trauma.

From family, to friends, to neighbors, everyone around Billy always said, people like Billy were never supposed to get their happy endings. You sin, you repent, you get to live it up in paradise. But if you don’t repent, you go to hell. It was simple the way they taught it.

And that’s exactly the problem. Billy never knew exactly how he was supposed to earn forgiveness when his sin was just being himself, simply existing, but he tried, for years he did.

He went to every Sunday service and prayed each night like a good Christian boy was supposed to. He did everything he could to make up for being the way he was, from asking out all the pretty good girls at school to participating in the anti-homosexual pushback at the town hall even if he did go home and cry so hard he threw up after that, but those things were all just a performance, cowardly, futile attempts at pleasing the big man in the sky (and at home) that were getting him nowhere near any closer to the pearly gates.

Eventually he breaks. He starts drinking and smoking and screwing around with as many men as will take him out for the night. He grows his hair out long and pierces his ear, gets a tattoo and wears makeup he stole from the church store to sneak it to a gay bar. But still in the end, he just feels worse.

In the moment it’s like a high, like he’s finally getting to see even just a glimpse of who he, who Billy Hargrove really is and not just he was told he had to be, but Neil makes sure to remind him how wrong he is. He cuts his hair with a knife and beats him bruised and bloody, he makes the family go to church on Wednesdays instead of just Sunday, he puts the Bible on his night stand every night and he prays and prays and prays the gay out of that boy, most nights making Billy do it too through his tears.

And Billy tried, desperately he did to believe that all they said and did to him was wrong, that he could be who he wanted without all these rules just to please some unseen dictator that may or may not even be real, but the things he had been taught were so deeply ingrained into his mind. He knew he wasn’t bound for anything better, and he blamed himself for that.

On the floor of the mall, he doesn’t mean to think about it, what will happen after the fact.

He knows he should be thinking about how Max’s life is going to be once he’s not there to protect her, how everyone’s lives will be plagued with all of the destruction he caused, the grief that would come from the deaths of the people he killed. The irony of the Saint-Christopher pendant around his neck when he’d attempted to carry a child to her death instead of to safety.

As much as he’d like to see a familiar face, between everything he’d done, what he put Max and her friends through, all that had happened this past week, he knows he doesn’t have a place in paradise. Not that any of that even matters. He’d had a special spot in hell reserved just for him since he told his momma he had a crush on a curly headed boy named PJ in the second grade and the poor woman almost fainted.

Billy is terrified to be facing it now, but all his life he’d known this was coming, and he thinks he deserves it all the same.

Except, the next time he opens his eyes, he doesn’t see that he’s surrounded by hellfire and tortured souls, instead he’s staring up at a white tiled ceiling, the sound of the steady-unsteady beeping and whirring of machinery filling his head.

He tries to speak, but he doesn’t think anything comes out. A panicky little redhead leans over him in the bed to press one of the buttons. He looks at her face and he concentrates hard, and thinks he knows her, but he doesn’t know her.

A nurse comes at his sister's signal, and they first make sure he’s fully responsive, which is somewhat hard when he can’t speak, and then they inform him he’s been in an induced coma for months. They tell him that anything he saw on the other side wasn’t real, and he was alive that whole time. It doesn’t do much at all to comfort him though. How can it, when he doesn’t even know who he is?

He learns that his name is William, Billy according to the snappy girl who he knows is his little sister now, but whose name he can never seem to remember. His name feels strange in his throat when he repeats it back like a question, “Billy..?” That doesn’t feel like who he is, not anymore at least.

They have to teach him literally everything all over again. All he knew how to do when he woke up was facial expressions and vague, but very painful as he learned, gestures with his hands. Anything else was fair game.

It takes a whole year in the hospital, things going so slowly because of the pain, but even more so because of the setbacks he faces.

Two days after he woke up, when he still couldn’t speak, Neil had showed up. It wasn’t for a visit or even to see his son was going now that he’s finally awake. Neil is there to first ask him what he saw when he died, and when Billy just stares blankly, his vocabulary still too small to articulate anything, to accuse him of being the devil and deliberately mocking Him by coming back.

Needless to say, Neil isn’t allowed in for many more visits.

But it still resets those two days of progress they’d made, and it was like he’d just woken up that same day. This would keep happening every time anything distressing happened around Billy, and they had to find the perfect balance between having too many nurses and visitors in the room at once that he’d get overwhelmed and distracted, or not enough and get lonely and regress.

But once they’re out of the woods with that, things go mostly smoothly. Eating and drinking and walking, he’s gets that all down pat pretty easily, but his memories just aren’t coming back to him. He remembers a few insignificant childhood memories, but it’s mostly the bad things, things like his mother leaving or his father kicking him out for a week when he was fifteen, and so on. He still has no idea what happened to him though, and Max and her mom and the nurses are all telling him these stories, trying to persuade him into remembering, but something is just not clicking.

That is, at least, until he’s allowed to visit with Steve again.

Doctors worried showing him someone who had so many bad memories associated with him might be confusing to Billy, so they held off on allowing visitation from Steve, or anyone else who wasn’t immediate family, but he was at the hospital a few times dropping Max off when Susan was working, and he wasn’t allowed to see Billy then either.

They planned on keeping it that way until they could either be sure Billy’s identity was more secure, or if they were really desperate to get Billy's gears turning, and unfortunately the latter came first, so seven whole months after Billy woke up, Steve is allowed in his room.

The thought process was that the boys were on the basketball team together, at least until Neil pulled Billy as a punishment just before the season ended, and even if all he remembers is beating Steve up, he’s still a familiar face, and it might help, so once when Steve’s about to turn around and walk out like he always does, Max comes back out, wide eyed and flustered looking, and tells him he’s allowed to come visit with her brother.

Nobody can understand why Steve is so teary eyed, or why he says Billy's name with so much desperation, but his reaction quickly gets ignored when Billy responds with a simple, “Stevie.”

It shocks everyone, Steve was the first person who Billy remembered without months of work, sometimes he still called Max by her mother’s name if he was having a hard day, but with Steve it was like there was nothing even wrong. Like it had only been a couple of days since he’d seen him.

Before, if they asked Billy anything about high school, he couldn’t tell them much other than the bad things. But with Steve, those memories that had once been impossible to touch, the blurry images of a past he wasn’t even sure belonged to him, were unlocked, and with time Billy returns to himself. Remembers everything.

His overall progress goes much quicker after that, to the point where they’re planning on letting him out as soon as his medications are all in order, and still nobody can figure out what is so special about this boy.

That is, until a nurse walks in on them, holding hands and sitting on the bed, foreheads pressed together like they’d just been kissing. She goes a little pale in the face, but she says she’s not going to tell. That doesn’t stop half the ward from knowing in less than a week.

Nurses refuse to care for him. Susan starts standing by the door in case anyone comes in. They are told their love was sinful, but it was exactly that that had saved Billy.

Without Steve and what they had, Billy still would have no idea who he was. This wasn’t something the hospital would ever actually admit to Max or his parents, but after so long, they were sure he was never going to have his sense of self back. Because while physically he was recovering, until he had that extra push, he just wasn’t himself.

That was more of a blessing than any holy figurehead could offer. When he finally, after a year and a half in the hospital, got to come home, into Steve’s care because Susan refused to take her stepson back to Neil, his space with Steve offers Billy more comfort and safety than any isolated house of God or reformation camp ever could.

And most of all, Billy isn’t afraid to be himself anymore.

#tw homophobia #tw religious trauma #harringrove #billy & max #billy hargrove #max mayfield #steve harrington #billy x steve #ej writer #story by ej!#thank you for your request anon!

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strawberrysoup · 4 years

Text

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 6

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader

word length: 2.9K

chapters: 6/?

warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. more detailed content warnings are included at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers, click through the read more, CTRL + F “content warnings”.

notes: slightly shorter than my usual, but i needed to get some stuff fixed up. if ya’ll like my stories please consider donating to my ko-fi— a bitch is poor lmao

Steve swept you up in his arms and turned to deposit you on the landing upstairs, evidently trusting the others to keep you contained for a moment. There was an audible scuffle going on in the den, Bucky would be heard growling from outside—snapping at someone who made the mistake of asking how he’d gotten out there so fast? Tony was growling at Peter who looked seconds away from begging for forgiveness.

“You guys made it safe, I’m happy to see you Nat,” Steve drew the redhaired woman into his arms and sighed in relief, but you couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement; honestly you were having trouble thinking, your brain clouded with the sudden onset of absolute and uncontrolled panic.

The moment the black-haired man had been pulled away by the delta currently stomping back up the stairs, clarity had returned to you like a slap in the face. The golden fog that obscured your vision immediately dissipated and just as quickly you’d been overwhelmed with gut wrenching fear. You didn’t actually remember kicking Steve in the face or making a break for the stairs, but evidently you had and you cursed your hindbrain for running towards the stairs—you should’ve jumped straight out the window; you had a better chance at out running Bucky and whoever else was down there than the two alpha primes and their surrounding packmates.

Before you could even take a step towards the still wide-open window, the black-haired man appeared with a green flash and wrapped around you tightly. “Shhh , pet, no. No windows for you, darling, come now—back to your nest.”

In a moment of truly unusual harmony, your consciousness and hindbrain agreed that the bed was the last place you wanted to be. That wasn’t your bed, the omega hissed tearfully, you’d never made a nest—that wasn’t yours. It could barely be called a nest, even. There hadn’t been any careful consideration regarding the placement of the pillows and blankets, there were no articles of clothing or soft items that had been scavenged or stolen to elicit a feeling of safety or comfort. Worst of all was the way it smelled. Obviously, it didn’t reek, the mix of individual scents wasn’t a bad conglomeration, but your hindbrain whined at the unfamiliarity. This wasn’t your pack’s scent.

The cohesion was jarring, and you groaned. Regardless of the reasoning, your hindbrain was aware that you didn’t get to have a pack and that reminder always hurt. It desperately desired one, but an omega’s primary objective was survival.

After all, you in all of your fully conscious state knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you would never have a pack—it wasn’t a matter of wanting or not wanting at this point in your life. You were too old to be regressed into the type of omega that packs wanted, your body too badly reliant on the chemical reactions produced by suppressants after fifteen years to stop taking them. At your age, to be found by a pack meant death.

They would get sick of trying to fix you. You’d die from quitting the suppressants cold turkey. They’d beat you for disobedience until your body gave up. You were nearly thirty and that was ancient for an unbound omega and you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks. Especially an old dog who was bound and determined not to be taught.

“LOKI!” Bucky bellowed as he stomped past Steve and the redhead on the stairs, looking three shades past furious.

The man holding you let go very quickly after that, spinning you away and moving to intercept the furious delta with an equally unpleasant expression. Why couldn’t you have just fucking kept it together upon meeting Bruce—that blood in the water, shark nosed asshole, if you had reigned in your panic there was no way he could’ve scented you through your suppressants. Steve was a different story, but if you’d been quick and calm you probably could’ve made it.

You scanned the room quickly; Bruce was on the bed, checking on Wanda. Bucky and Loki were on the floor fighting, half entangled with Peter and Sam who were doing their best to put their own fight aside to keep the deltas from killing each other. Steve was still halfway down the stairs with the other redhead, talking to her quietly. Tony was—

“Okay, princess, okay,” Tony was wrapped tightly around you from behind, carefully keeping your head braced between his chin and shoulder when you tried to thrash. “This isn’t fair to you, you’re way too fragile for this right now. Put your head here, breathe with me.”

“Please let me go,” you didn’t realize you were crying until you spoke, words coming out in sobs. “I don’t want to die like this, please—”

“You are not going to die, little love,” Thor sounded so sad from where he came to stand in front of you. “I’m not going to bond you, not while you’re so upset. But the results of the tests Bruce ran showed that you are in danger. I cannot allow that and no matter how angry you are with us, we will not let you suffer needlessly.”

“I’m not suffering! I swear, I swear I’m not suffering I’m, I’m happy! I’m happy living my life the way I have been. Please, let me have the choice, I want to be alone, it makes me happy!”

Trying to explain to a literal God why you deserved personal agency was an exhausting business, especially when said God was as condescending as Thor. His indulgent and sad smile was nearly enough to tip you over the edge, but there really wasn’t a point in getting angry—he obviously couldn’t even fathom the concept that what he was doing was wrong. It’s not like you could do anything anyway, you weren’t built for violence but for running away. Every bone in your body vibrated with rage; the injustice was overwhelming.

For fifteen whole years you’d been just fine. You would’ve continued to be just fine, if it weren’t for some super nosed freaks crossing your path. What were the odds of the only people in the world who could scent you from beneath more than a decade’s worth of suppressant use would have a cabin in Quebec that you happened to clean—and run into said people because they happened to show up early; an incredibly unusual situation.

It made you think about Mrs. Hunt. She’d only called to give you a heads up because of the last time, when the homeowner had tried to assault you even while he’d thought that you were a beta . You wondered how long it would take her to realize something was wrong; it was getting late and you’d yet to return her cart despite telling her you’d be there shortly.

The real question would be whether she tried to help or not once she discovered your presentation. She could try to help, try to stick them with omega theft, but they could claim civic duty like Peter had earlier. Besides, that was contingent upon her wanting to help you considering you’d lied to her for so many years.

“You’re so distressed, won’t you let me purr for you?”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare take away—”

“Little love, please—”

“Don’t call me that. You don’t even know me,” you spat, turning to address the room at large. “What kind of fucking superheros are you? Let go of me! Let me go!”

Tony sighed and hefted you up into his arms, one wrapped around your torso while the other hooked under your knees and pinned you carefully across his body. You struggled uselessly against his strong hold; he wasn’t as strong as Thor or Steve, but his bicep was massive next to your head and you could feel his muscles through his clothes as he walked to the bed.

“We can’t, princess,” he murmured into the side of your head as he lowered both of you to the bed, sitting propped against a mass of pillows in the corner. “We’ll never find an unbound omega in your age range again. Plenty of omegas have been offered to us, but they’re all practically children. You’re our last chance—”

“There are plenty! You said plenty! Pick the oldest who wants to be in this fucking shit show and leave me alone!” Everyone tensed when the tone in your voice approached a shriek.

“We’re not taking an omega who’s not even legal to drink—”

“That alpha is like eighteen!” You tried to gesture to Peter, who gaped at you like you’d wounded him, but your arms were still pinned tightly to your sides.

“Peter is twenty-four, actually,” Tony spoke with mirth when Peter jumped onto the bed and crawled until he was pressed against Tony’s side and your back. “And before you ask, Wanda is twenty-six.”

“We’re so lucky to have found you,” the alpha half purred, pressing his nose into the back of your neck. “We’ll make you happy, happier than you are now.”

“It’s gonna be a rough start,” Bruce laid down in the nest a few feet away, welcoming the woman you recognized as the Black Widow into his arms when she slithered into the bed. “We have to balance your hormones, or you will die. You wouldn’t have lasted another year on those suppressants.”

“Death would be a reprieve,” you hissed shortly, freezing when the tone of the room immediately changed.

All attention was suddenly on you, Bruce still making direct eye contact with those sad puppy eyes, “I know that feeling, sweetheart—”

“We will do it another way then,” Thor interrupted, sending Bruce a quieting but loving look. “I said I would not bond you while you are in distress anda I will never break a promise to you. Open your mouth, this will be quick.”

Steve seemed to sigh in response and followed to stand next to the other prime, “I lost my chance. You’ll help her?”

Thor leveled the shorter blond with a careful look before nodding, both showing signs of deference and affection and respect that you did not care for. The rattle of a belt prompted Tony to turn you, setting you carefully between his legs while continuing to hold down your arms with what could appear to be an affectionate bear hug. He even linked his fingers with yours, squeezing gently as you tried to squirm.

“No. No, no no no, that’s disgusting, I won’t—”

“Shhh , I’ll do all the work little love, all you need to do is swallow.”

He was jerking his cock carefully, a flick of his wrist near the head catching your eye. That was a dangerous weapon, the same way you’d come to learn Steve’s was and you had no intention of letting it anywhere near your mouth. You clamped your lips shut, teeth grinding.

“Stubborn,” Peter snorted a laugh and you would’ve snapped at him had his hand not dove between your thighs, fingers gliding through the slick lips of your cunt until he found your clit.

You had to stop yourself from screeching, the head of Thor’s cock directly in front of your face. “Very. Come on now, open up.”

The fingers pinching your nose shut came as a shock, you’d crushed your eyes shut out without realizing it and they snapped open when your face was assaulted. Steve was kneeling on the bed, carefully cutting of your air supply with one hand and stroking your head with the other.

“Come on, precious, you’ve gotta breathe,” he stated softly, smiling when you were forced to pull your lips back to gasp for breath—until he realized your teeth were still locked together. “Really ‘mega?”

The next thing you knew his thumb was shoving against your molars, literally prying your jaw open. There was no way to fight it without hurting yourself, especially once he wedged his thick thumb between your top and bottom teeth. You barely had a second to anticipate the horror before an unnecessarily large cock found it’s way between your lips.

You tried to shriek, your brain finally catching up to the whole series of events, but it was no use. His scent was overwhelming and his dick stretched your lips, your jaw forced completely open. Thor groaned, a triggering noise as he very carefully pressed forward until your mouth was completely full and he was settled against you tongue.

“Suck for me, little love, just a little,” he grunted, just barely working his member between your lips while his huge hand stroked the rest.

It took a surprisingly small amount of time for a massive load of cum to shoot into your mouth. It was thick, and the way that Thor growled immediately made your pupils blow wide like you’d done a line of coke.

Your body went lax immediately and you swallowed on instinct when a hand gently rubbed your throat. The fuzz in your brain was the result of arousal, a brutal orgasm that rocked your body at the sound in combination with your body’s sheer delight at the taste of alpha cum. Somewhere you realized that was disgusting but the haze in your brain made you more focused on the hand between your thighs rather than the indignity.

“Man, this shit ain’t fair,” Sam complained, panting from the exertion of trying to prevent Loki and Bucky from killing each other. “They get to cuddle and we—Hey! Quit that, man!”

“All of you stop fighting,” Steve’s alpha order was brutal and effective.

The sounds of scuffling from behind Thor stopped immediately and there were huffs and snarls and low grumbles but the nest started shifting all around you. You were dropped back to lay against Tony’s chest, having inadvertently swallowed the entirety of the god’s massive load.

“She’s so cute,” Wanda cooed from somewhere to your left.

“We’ll need to go over what we’re doing from here,” Steve sighed once everyone had settled, still watching your dazed expression with a small smile. “But let’s just… nest for a bit, okay?”

The word nest triggered something in your half alpha-cum stoned brained and you looked around the den with a displeased expression. It was a terrible nest; all of the pillows and blankets were in weird heaps and the scent was so wrong. You didn’t really want to nest here, your hindbrain grumbled in agreement, but you’d fix the damn thing. You whined and wriggled until Steve gave Tony the go ahead to stop fully restraining you.

The bed was incredibly soft, which was an upside and crawling across it was like sinking your knees into clouds as you collected the soft heaps of blankets and pillows as you went. You wanted everything off so you could start from scratch, brain muddled by the wrongness of the current layout. You wanted to wash the sheets, the pillow cases, the blankets, all of it. The scent wasn’t right.

“Help her.” It was a quiet request from the Black Widow, who’d also started shifting around to remove the items. “She doesn’t like it like this.”

It was easier to get everything pushed away and in neat piles with the packs’ help, everyone immediately moving to help organize the pillows. You only snapped at the blond beta—Hawkeye, your memory supplied— once for putting a soft blanket on the pile with the not soft blankets. He immediately gave an apologetic burr to which your hindbrain purred back instinctually; evidently a good reaction.

“Why does she like Clint? They haven’t even spoken.”

“She doesn’t like him, she snarled at him!”

“She hasn’t purred at anyone else!”

“Shut up, fuckin’ idiot.”

The noise you made was one of discontent and disdain, the arguing deltas immediately quieting. You didn’t argue with the chirping growl that meant displeased omega, not in a real pack where the goal was to keep omegas pleased and docile. Somewhere your brain reminded you that this wasn’t your pack but the alpha hormones filling your blood and confusing you and yet somehow all you could focus on was whining and pushing at pack members to get them out of the way as your rearranged; clicking your teeth grumpily when you were handed a blanket instead of a pillow or vice versa.

You found yourself being corralled back into the corner, where Natasha and Wanda immediately wrapped themselves around you. Thor had found Bruce and settled beside and settled near your feet where you’d built an intricate nest wall of pillows and blankets. Two of the deltas, Tony and Loki seemed to be glaring at each other—even as Tony laid himself completely on top of the other and they both relaxed into comfortable holds.

It was interesting, watching the pack dynamics as they moved between each other. Clint wrapped around Natasha from behind the same way Carol found her way behind Wanda. Peter had weaseled his way into curling against Loki’s side while tossing a leg over the man’s hip, subsequently laying it over the backs of Tony’s thighs. Sam, Bucky and Steve all found their way into a neat grouping on the bed closest to the stairs, piled as close to the subsequent piles of superheros as possible.

There was some sort of pattern beginning to form in the back of your brain but you were still too confused, too sucked into your own omega hindbrain by the overwhelming introduction of alpha hormone to your system. Instead of following the thought through to the end, you found yourself warm and comfortable and full and falling asleep tucked between the groupings of presentations as if it wasn’t totally, 100% against your will.

content warnings: forced cum eating, chemical manipulation, dead dove: do not eat

#avengers x reader #steve rogers x reader #thor x reader #bucky barnes x reader #tony stark x reader #carol danvers x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #bruce banner x reader #clint barton x reader #peter parker x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #sam wilson x reader #dark!avengers #dark!AU #pocketful of posies chapter 6

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eminems-skittles · 3 years

Text

please don’t let go [spencer reid x reader]

spencer reid x fem!reader warnings: this focuses heavily on depression so read at your own caution word count: 4.1k

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

It wasn't hard for her to tell when it was getting bad again. It was a gradual change but she could always tell when it was happening. It'd start off small, she'd have trouble forcing a smile around her friends. Her friends never seemed to notice the difference between her fake smile or her real smile, but even if they did, they didn't remark. After awhile, she would lose motivation for work and her efforts became minimal. She stopped putting effort into her appearance. Her normal makeup was replaced with chapstick, if she could be bothered to put it on, and her dresses and heels were replaced with sneakers and comfier clothes. When it gets really bad, she is unable to pull herself from the shelter her bed provides her, not moving for days at a time, with the exception of using the bathroom and getting food. During those times, her mind was held hostage by the negative thoughts.

The BAU team noticed something was off the first day she started wearing the facade. They often reached out to her when they noticed something was off but they were met with the same answer every time. 'I'm fine, just tired.' They knew she wasn't fine but they didn't want to push. She wasn't a very private person, sharing almost everything with the team, except for this. They decided that if Y/N didn't want to share this, then they shouldn't force her too. The team only hoped that she would come to them if things got really bad. Hotch was the only one who knew what Y/N was dealing with, as she disclosed it during her interview. After he knew she was the one for the job, he helped Y/N make an arrangement with Strauss so that she could take days off when it got really bad. When Strauss asked why Hotch was pushing to hire her, he told her that no one should be looked over simply because they have a mental illness. The deal was that when she could, she'd be at work and when she had to take days off, she'd do as much as possible at home. Y/N tried to be at work as much as possible, only working from home if she felt it would be too much to handle.

While she was normally able to somewhat predict when the harsh cycle would start again, there were often times when it would just hit her full force without warning. She was currently experiencing an unexpected 'episode' and there was nothing she could do to fix it. The team was currently on their way to work on a case in a small town in Illinois.She had never been on a case when she felt her lowest, always opting to stay back and assist with Penelope, or just working from home. By now, she knew the cycle. It would only be a matter of a few days before she would find herself immobilized by anxiety and depression. She could only hope that the case would be over in time for her to climb into bed and wait out the storm. The team of profilers were beginning to notice the signs too. They noticed how she was withdrawn from conversation and how she wouldn't attend outings with them unless it was for the case. On the jet, Y/N didn't give her usual input or witty remark. She sat silent, her head leaning against the window, silently observing and taking notes, already feeling drained of energy. Spencer watched his best friend intently to see if she was just tired or if she was falling back into the cycle.

He knew the signs better than most of the team. In fact he was the first one to point out that something might be wrong. He was able to spot the fake smile, because he had been the cause of the real smile on more occasions than he count on both hands. Spencer noticed when she didn't put as much as effort into her appearance, when her (y/h/c) wasn't curled or styled but thrown into a messy ponytail. Not that it mattered to him, he thought she looked beautiful whether she wore a ball gown or sweats and a hoodie. He was the only one who would visit her when she was at home, always volunteering to deliver the case file to her. She often wouldn't answer but when she did, his heart would break. Her eyes would be red and puffy, with dark purple bags under them, and the joy they held just days before, would be replaced with an empty gaze. He never pushed her to tell him what was wrong, but he knew what was happening.

Y/N had avoided speaking to anyone for the whole flight. It wasn't something she did on purpose but she was so lost in her own mind she didn't hear when people were calling her name or asking her questions. It wasn't until Spencer put his hand on her knee that she snapped back into reality. She shot a small, embarrassed smile Spencer's way, silently apologizing for being out of it.

"We landed, Y/N/N," Spencer said quietly. He watched as a shocked look crossed Y/N's features. She quickly looked around the jet only to find that they were the only two still occupying it.

"Oh, sorry for making you wait," Y/N said, so softly Spencer almost didn't hear it. She grabbed her bag before getting off of the jet with Spencer following closely behind her. 'I zoned out for the entire flight?' Y/N asked herself, bewildered by the fact she could get so lost in her mind that she didn't notice the plane landing. Y/N and Spencer climbed into one of the SUV's. They sat in the back while Emily and Rossi sat up front. Emily sent Y/N a sympathetic smile, having noticed the withdrawn behavior of her friend. Y/N smiled back, trying her best to force a convincing smile on her face.

The car ride to the first crime scene was relatively quiet, with the exception of a few comments about the town from Rossi, witty remarks from Emily and a few facts from Spencer. Y/N silently observed, not feeling anything she had to say was important enough to share. She saw the looks Spencer and Emily shared when they had gotten to the car. 'You're such a burden to them. They don't want to deal with you and your mood swings.' She thought to herself, and a frown settled on her face. She looked out the window, already dreading the case.

When they got to the crime scene, Emily and Rossi went to speak with the local police and Spencer and Y/N investigated the crime scene. Y/N opted to search through books and personal belongings while Spencer investigated the area where the body was found.

"Spencer," Y/N said, in almost a whisper when she found something. "Can you look at this? I think it might be helpful." She knew what she found was helpful but she second guessed herself.

"Yeah, let me see," Spencer said, jogging over to her. He grabbed the book from Y/N and read the page she had the book open on. The page had a passage that was highlighted blue. "What do you see?"

"See, this passage is highlighted, which isn't weird if you flip through the rest of the book. But this is the only thing highlighted blue. Someone who takes notes as diligently as this person did wouldn't change the color they used. It would throw off their whole balance," Y/N rambled, stopping when she noticed Spencer staring at her, a smile on his face. "Sorry." She said quietly. She thought Spencer was smiling because she was making a mistake. 'He thinks you're stupid.' The thought alone was enough to throw her through a loop.

"What for?" Spencer asked her, but she just shook her head and didn't answer. "I'll send this back to the department so we can analyze it more closely. Did you see anything else like this?"

Y/N shook her head, and Spencer frowned. "I can take it with me. I need to go talk to Hotch," Y/N said, desperately avoiding eye contact with Spencer.

"Is everything okay?" Spencer knew it was a question he shouldn't have asked, knowing she wasn't going to reply honestly. Y/N just muttered "i'm fine." almost as if she was trying to convince herself everything was okay, before going to find Rossi to ask for a ride back to the station. Emily walked over to Spencer, a concerned look on her face.

"Is Y/N okay?" Emily asked, her eyes shifting to watch Y/N and Rossi having a quiet conversation, before getting in the car to wait for the other two agents.

"I don't know. She's falling back into the same patterns," Spencer stated simply. Emily nodded solemnly. Spencer decided to change the subject. "Did you guys find anything?"

Emily shook her head. "The locals aren't too happy we are here and they don't want to help up out. We're heading back right now."

Spencer and Emily joined the other two in the car. The ride back to the station was silent except for the low hum of the radio. Spencer found himself sneaking glances at the (y/h/c) agent. She had her head leaning against the window and her eyes were scrunched closed. He was almost positive she was trying to push the overwhelming thoughts away, as he had been there so many times himself. The car went over a speed bump which caused Y/N's eyes to snap open. She looked down at her lap, sniffling quietly, before looking over at Spencer, smiling halfheartedly when she saw he was already looking at her. He reached out to grab her hand that was resting on the seat next to her and squeezed it gently. The gesture, while small, made Y/N's heart soar and grounded her for just a few seconds. She craved more of his touch, longing for him to hold her and tell her everything would be okay. Much to her dismay, he moved his hand away from hers shortly after they pulled into the parking lot of the police station.

As soon as the four agents were inside the station, Y/N made a bee line to the small conference room that Hotch was in. He was talking to the lead local detective on the case, when Y/N walked in the small room. Hotch asked the detective if he could excuse the two for a minute. The detective nodded before exiting the room, greeting Y/N with a 'hello ma'am' when he walked past her.

"Is everything okay?" Hotch asked, taking in Y/N's broken and tired expression. Y/N could have laughed at the question, obviously everything wasn't okay.

"Um, no-not exactly," Y/N's voice shook as she spoke. "I just...I just wanted to let you know that it's starting again."

Hotch's face softened. "Do you need to head back?"

"No, I can stay. I just wanted to let you know," Y/N said.

"Okay, but I want you to let me know if it gets worse," Hotch said.

"I will," Y/N said quietly. Hotch looked at her with sympathy in his eyes, placing a hand on her shoulder. It was his way of showing he was there for her.

After their conversation, the team filed into the room to come up with different theories about the unsub. They worked several different angles, trying to figure out the connection between the victims. They took a break to eat dinner before delving back into their work. The entire time, Y/N tried to keep herself busy, hoping that if she was busy enough, she could keep the negative thoughts at bay.

"Hotch, it's almost eleven. Why don't we call it a night?" Derek asked, pushing the file that he was holding away from his face. The team let out sighs of agreeance.

"Yeah, we've done as much as we can tonight. Go get some rest and we'll look at this with fresh eyes," Hotch dismissed the team. Everyone gathered their stuff before leaving the police station.

Y/N decided to hang back for a second to gather her thoughts. She sat at the conference table and rested her head in her hands, taking a deep breath. It had been a long, tiring, and mentally draining day to say the least.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked, causing Y/N to jump at least three feet in the air. She sighed heavily. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. And I know you're probably sick of hearing that question, but I just wanted to make sure you're okay. You seemed out of it today."

"I thought you went back to the motel," Y/N said not bothering to make eye contact and completely dodging his question. She knew that if she did, there'd be nothing stopping her from launching herself into his arms.

"I did. But I noticed you weren't there. I wanted to make sure you didn't kidnapped by our unsub," Spencer said, eliciting a small laugh from Y/N. "Are you ready to head back to the motel?"

Y/N nodded, grabbing all of her stuff and heading over to where Spencer stood by the door. "Okay, let's go."

Spencer and Y/N left the small station before crossing the street and entering the rundown motel. Spencer and Y/N's rooms were right next to each other on the second floor.

"Goodnight Spencer," Y/N said when they reached her room.

"Goodnight Y/N," Spencer smiled at her softly. Once again, he grabbed her hand gently and squeezed it. "If you need anything, I'm here for you."

"Thank you, Spence," Y/N said quietly, her eyes filling with tears. She blinked them back before Spencer could see them. "I'll see you tomorrow morning okay?"

Spencer nodded, watching Y/N retreat into the dark motel room. After he made sure she was safe inside the room, he went to his room. Spencer changed into his pajama's and instantly fell asleep.

His sleep was cut off by his phone ringing loudly on the nightstand next to his bed. He looked at the clock and groaned when the red numbers showed the time being twelve thirty.

"Hello," Spencer said, not bothering to check the caller I.D.

"Spencer?" Y/N's voice came through the speaker. Spencer shot up instantly when he heard how sad and broken she sounded. "Ca-Can you come to my room? I really don't want to be alone right now."

"Yeah, I'm coming right now," Spencer said, rushing out of his room and over to her door. "I'm outside."

He waited for a minute before the door opened and he hung up the call. His heart broke when he saw her with tears streaming down her cheeks. The sight before him reminded him of the times he would drop of case files for her. Except this time he'd be able to comfort his best friend instead of standing idly by, watching her mind destroy herself. Y/N opened the door enough for Spencer to walk into the cramped motel room, and shut the door when he was inside.

Y/N practically launched herself into Spencer's arms and held on for dear life. Spencer immediately held her, his arms going around her torso. Y/N dug her head into the crook of his neck and Spencer felt her tears sliding onto his neck.

"I can't take it anymore," Y/N whispered, her voice breaking as she held Spencer as close as she possibly could. He pressed several kisses to the top of her head.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N, that you've been dealing with this all by yourself. I wish there was a way I could take the pain away. I'll do anything you need me to do to help," Spencer said quietly, against her hair.

"Please don't let go." Y/N whispered desperately.

Spencer's face softened and he hugged her tighter, if that was even possible. "I won't. I promise."

They stood in each other's embrace for a few minutes. Spencer would rub Y/N's back and kiss the top of her head whenever she let out a strangled sob. His heart broke for his best friend, wishing he could take away all the pain she was feeling.

"Let's sit down," Spencer suggested. He lead Y/N to the bed, pulling her into his lap. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not yet," Y/N said, her voice gravelly. "It's too much to talk about right now. I'm sorry for waking you up."

"Love, I wouldn't have been able to sleep knowing you're hurting the way you are. I'm here for you, day or night," Spencer said. One of his hands rubbed her knee gently, and she snuggled closer to his chest. "Do you want me to stay the night?"

"Yes, please. I need you here." Y/N begged. "If that's okay."

"It's more than okay, my love," Spencer said, his hand still tracing shapes on her knee. "I know it's been a really hard day for you, darling. Why don't you try to get some sleep? I'll be here when you wake up."

"Thank you, Spence," Y/N whispered, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "I don't know how I would have got through today without you."

"I'll always be here. I know I won't be able to make bad days go away completely, but I want to help as much as I possibly can. I hate seeing you so broken because of your mind. And I've been there too, so please don't ever hesitate to ask me for help," Spencer said, finishing his little rant by kissing her nose.

"I know I keep saying it, but thank you, Spence," Y/N said, her voice laced with sleep. "We should probably go to sleep, we have to be up in a few hours."

Spencer and Y/N moved so Spencer was laying on his back and Y/N was laying on his chest. His arms stayed wrapped around her torso, and hers around his neck.

"Spence," Y/N paused, and Spencer hummed in response. "Can you tell me a story? I don't care what it's about, just wanna hear you talk."

"Of course, my love," Spencer said. "Do you want to hear the story of when I knew I was in love?"

"In love with who?" Y/N said, her voice muffled by his shoulder. She was already enjoying the distraction his voice offered.

"You'll just have to see. Do you want to hear it or not?" Spencer asked. Y/N nodded, her nose brushing his shoulder. "Okay, good. So it was a blustery day in October, and the sun was nowhere to be found. It almost felt like it should have been raining. We were working a case in Oregon, the one with the unsub who was going to different inn's...." Spencer decided not to include the gory details. "We went to one of the crime scenes, just you and me. We were inspecting the property and there were leaves all over the ground. The trees had just changed colors. I could go into the science behind why the leaves change colors, but I'll spare you the boring details. It was a beautiful day, really. The trees stood out with their orange leaves against the gray sky. And you, you looked as beautiful as ever. You were wearing your giant hoodie, the dark gray one that goes to your knees and everyone tells you not to wear it when we go on cases but you still do. Your hair was just thrown up in a messy ponytail."

Y/N was fighting sleep so she could listen to the story. Her heart swelled when she heard him call her beautiful. She remembered the day he was talking about. It was one of her favorite days she ever spent with him.

"You were walking ahead of me, looking all around you and pointing out the things you thought were interesting. I found myself wishing that we weren't on a case but rather staying at the quaint inn on a romantic vacation together and exploring the area. At point, I just stopped and watched you explore. You turned around and saw me just standing there and when you asked what I was looking at, the smile on your face was so big, it made me smile. I had to come up with an excuse so fast, I told you I was tying my shoes. When you heard that, you looked down at my shoes to see I wasn't wearing shoes with laces. But you just laughed and walked over to me. You grabbed my hand and led me over to something interesting you found. You didn't let go of my hand until we left the forest, which wasn't until almost an hour later. I remember thinking, 'I'm going to marry her someday.' We weren't even remotely together, just two best friends who work together. Hell, we still aren't together, but that's on me because I haven't had the courage to admit my feelings. I know this isn't the best time to do this, but I figured the story would cheer you up. I love you, Y/N."

"Oh Spence, I love you too" Y/N said, her voice filled with so much love. "That was one of my favorite days we ever spent together. That was the first time you let me hold your hand. That day got me through so many bad days, you have no idea. A-Are you sure you want this though? I'm a lot to handle, especially on the really bad days."

"Y/N, I love you, with all my heart. And I would do anything for you. I know this isn't going to be easy, but I want to be there for the good days, the bad days, and the really bad days," Spencer said, placing his hand on her cheek. "Please let me be there for you."

Y/N leaned into Spencer's hand, her eyes sliding shut. "I want nothing more than for us to be together."

"Can I kiss you?" Spencer asked, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone. Y/N nodded, leaning in as he leaned in also. The kiss was soft, caring and full of love. Words, said and unsaid, were communicated through the short kiss. They pulled away shortly after. Spencer whispered "Wow," against her lips before leaning in and kiss her again.

"I love you, Spence," Y/N said. "Thank you, again, for being here for me."

"I love you, too. You're welcome, darling," Spencer replied. "How are you right now?"

"I'm doing better. Still not great, but you made a really bad day just a bad day. Which, trust me, is a huge improvement," Y/N said, smiling at him.

She honestly could not believe how much of a difference he had made in such a short amount of time. She had spent so long suffering by herself and locking away her emotions so now one would see them and she wished she had went to Spencer for help and comfort sooner.

Spencer held her as close as he possibly could, reaching over to shut the light off. "I'd do it all over again, love. Now let's go to sleep now. And we will handle whatever tomorrow has in store. Together."

"Okay, just promise me one thing," Y/N said. "Promise me you'll never let me go. No matter how hard things get."

She knew it was kind of dumb to say, knowing Spencer would never let her go. But the words held a deeper meaning, one she didn't have to explain because he understood. She was asking him to never let her become too trapped in her mind. Asking him to save her if she ever needed saving.

"I'll never, ever let you go, my love. You won't be able to get rid of me." Spencer said, kissing her once more. Y/N smiled into the kiss, which caused Spencer to smile.

"Goodnight, Spence," Y/N said, yawning. She dug her head into the crook of his neck, before falling asleep. Spencer fell asleep once he felt her body relax, happy she was finally getting a break from the tiring thoughts that had occupied her mind the whole day.

#cassie's masterlist #{ writing }#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfic #{ criminal minds }#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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hoedorokishoto · 3 years

Text

Trust - Part 5

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

+ Minors DNI

previous | part | next

My lids felt heavy as I struggled to open my eyes to the bright room. The furniture in Hitoshi’s room becoming clear as my vision cleared, and I could take in all my surroundings. A very silent and stoic Mr Aizawa standing by the door, arms crossed, his face unreadable. I pulled the blankets up, becoming aware that I currently only had one of Hitoshi’s shirts on over my underwear. Something I was comfortable showing Hitoshi, but not so much the Erasure Hero.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, his voice deep and even though I knew he wasn’t accusing me of anything I still felt like I was in trouble. Guilt still seemed to be the only emotion I could manage.

“I feel fine. I didn’t have much to drink at all last night.” I answered, trying to laugh off his question.

“Even though I’m not thrilled about the underage drinking, I think you know that isn’t what I meant.”

I knew what he meant, my head dropping to my bare thighs where I fidgeted with the hem of the shirt. Memories of last night came flooding back and I couldn’t help but cringe at the feeling. The feeling of being overwhelmed with all those emotions, feeling things that I wasn’t meant to be feeling.

“I- um, I’ve got it under control now, I’m sorry about what happened last night. I should have um- I- It’s all my fault.” I barely got out before a tear ran down my face.

“Y/N. What happened wasn’t your fault, you and Sen are both almost adults and weren’t doing anything wrong. I think there was just too much alcohol and not enough communication which was the cause of the outburst. Don’t blame yourself for the actions of others.” Mr Aizawa said lowly, walking over and sitting on the desk chair across from me. Despite his gruff exterior, he was one of the most noble men you had ever met. Also, one of the best heroes.

“Um, did… Todoroki. Is he okay?” I asked, heat rising up my neck and making its way across my cheeks. My body betraying me and my intentions of trying to come across cool, calm and collected.

“He went to shower; he didn’t leave you at all last night. I’m sure it was quite cozy with all 3 of you in here last night.” Aizawa stated, standing, and making his way over to the door. He stayed? Why? What could Shoto Todoroki gain from laying on the ground like a dog and guarding me? Was he worried that I was going to have another meltdown and his ice would be able to help?

“Put on some pants, come downstairs. Everyone was worried about you, and they made breakfast.”

“I have to go finish some paperwork because Bakugo and Denki decided to defend you honour last night. Noble but stupid.”

My eyes widened; they really did that for me? I wanted to smile but thought it best to wait before the teacher was out of the room.

When the door clicked, I jumped up and found some spare clothes that I kept here. A pair of leggings that covered my bare thighs and a sweatshirt that added warmth to my cold body. I thought it best to have a quick look at my appearance before leaving the room and scaring any students. Knowing that sometimes my hair could be exceptionally large and in charge. Pleasantly surprised that someone, I would guess Hitoshi had taken off my makeup, and left a thick hair tie on the corner of the mirror, the tie perfect for restraining the small afro that had started to form on my head.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I left the room and headed to the direction of Todoroki’s dorm, wanting to thank him for all his help. My body moving before my mind could decide this might be the worst decision I had ever made.

The knock on the wooden door seemed to echo throughout the hall. The only noise in the empty hallway.

“It’s fine, just say thank you then leave.” I said to myself. Eyes closed and breathing in heavily. My anxiety through the roof. Caught between wanting to thank Todoroki for all his help but also never wanting to see him again because the last time I did, our faces were inches apart and I was hysterically crying. On the verge of an actual mental breakdown.

“Leave? You only just got here.” The voice shocking me out of my thoughts. My fidgeting hands stopping by my sides and going completely still. Maybe if I didn’t move, he wouldn’t notice me, and I could make a quick escape I thought to myself. My eyes still looking down at my feet, seeing Todoroki’s bare feet opposite mine.

“I hope you don’t think that if you stand still, I won’t see you.”

Feeling defeated, I looked up slowly. Taking in the sight before me. There was Shoto Todoroki, still dripping wet from the shower, towel hung low on his hips. Almost everything on full display. His whole body was toned and clearly built to be a Pro Hero. I didn’t think I had seen anything so sexy. The muscles of his body clearly from all the years of training.

“I- um. Thanks.” I choked out, trying to keep still, my eyes travelling up and down his body. Wanting to take it all in, knowing that I’d never be seeing this again.

“I told you I could see you naked.” I said quietly, recalling the conversation we had in my workshop. Wanting to relieve some tension. A hearty chuckle leaving his lips and reaching my ears.

“Do you want me to drop the towel? Technically I’m not fully naked yet.” He said back, voice flirty and lighthearted. For a second you forgot the awkwardness you were feeling moments ago and laughed. His hand coming out and resting on your elbow.

“Are you okay?” He asked, the mood shifting again, becoming serious. His hands still firmly on me, warm to the touch. I hardly knew him, but he was comforting, his presence very quickly becoming one you didn’t know if you could live without.

He was charming, funny, smart and dedicated. All facts you had learned from him being in your workshop every afternoon for the past week. Both of you learning about each other, casually flirting and making jokes with each other. He had definitely come along was from the little first year who thought that if he smiled people would die.

“Thank you, seriously. I’m glad you were there.” I said honestly. Not sure what would have happened if he didn’t find me and help me get a hold of my quirk. The thought of feeling all those emotions for any longer making your stomach drop and fill with dread.

“You also didn’t have to stay with me last night, I know those cots aren’t too comfy.” I said, playing with a stray curl that had fallen out of the tie awkwardly. You felt bad for him really, you knew how small and not suited for someone so tall and broad they were.

“I wanted you in my room but Shinso took you off me. I didn’t want to let you go.” He admitted lowly, dropping his head and bringing it down next to my ear. His breath warm on the side of my face. My cheeks heating up, stepping back and out of his grip.

He looked sincere, his eyes honest as I looked into them, but I couldn’t fall for it. I wanted to believe him but deep down I knew how people really were. I knew that I couldn’t let anyone else in.

My friendship quota full, no matter how wet and handsome they currently looked standing before me.

“I’m going to wear you down Y/N.” He almost whispered, stepping out of his room to make up the space I made between us. His body pressed flushed against mine, the water from his torso wetting the material of my sweater. His hand came out and played with the bottom of the sweater, toying with the material between his fingers.

“Wear me down? Don’t say it like it’s so easy.” I admitted, looking up but not moving back. Our bodies, still pressed up against each other.

“I like a challenge.”

“I’m nothing like any of the villains you’ve face before.”

“I’m excited to find out just how different you are.” He said lowly, small smile on his face as his hand shifted under the sweater and rested on my waist, his other hand coming up and resting on my cheek. Holding me in place.

“I can feel it, this wall you have put up. From a past heart break or family drama, doesn’t matter. I’ll learn soon enough. Just know that I’m going to break it down and you are going to want to be with me just as badly as I want to be with you.” He stated so surely, his mouth inching closer to mine, his breath fanning my face. Stopping short of our lips touching, Todoroki shifting and kiss the corner of my mouth, right on the cheek.

“We should go get some breakfast. Give me a minute.”

Without another word Todoroki turned and went back into his dorm, closing the door slightly to get changed. No, evidence on his face about what had just happened, or almost happened. Definitely the opposite of me who was beyond flustered, cheeks red and a little turned on.

The common room and kitchen looked different from when I saw it last. The couches were pushed back together, no empty bottles littered the floor and the space was completely bare of drunk teenagers unlike how it was when I left last night.

“Girl… so how are you feeling?” Mina asked, sitting next to me scooping food onto my plate.

“I have never been better; I feel so good about everything in my life right now. So balanced.” I said, looking over at her as she rolled her eyes.

“Sarcasm isn’t real humor extra. If you feel like shit you should just say it!” Bakugo said from the other side of me, nudging me with his arm. I had already thanked him for last night, feeling honored that he would stick up for me like that whereas Denki’s thanks would have to wait until he decided to emerge from his room.

“You have no reason to feel shit by the way. He is a fuck. He deserved the punch he got.”

“Not that I don’t agree with you, but I definitely think I should be held accountable for some of it. I mean he wouldn’t have acted like that if we weren’t sleeping together.” I stated, shrugging my shoulders and scooping food into my mouth.

“Just because you guys had sex doesn’t mean he can touch or talk to you like how he did. Once a dickhead always a dickhead.” Bakugo said back, sipping his tea.

You had to agree, the situation you were in last night had scared you. Watching Sen act like that startled you and reminded you that anyone was capable of anything under certain conditions. Before you could reply two large hands came down on your shoulders, squeezing lightly.

“Morning Y/N, sorry about last night. Sorry I couldn’t be there to help.” Kiri said sadly, concern clear in his tone.

“Where were you last night shitty hair?!” Bakugo yelled.

“I was with um Aiko… and Kameko and um whatever her twin sister’s name is.” Kiri said nonchalantly, scratching the back of his neck and sitting down in one of the spare seats at the table. I almost choked on my coffee, the fact that Eijiro Kirishima was casually talking about having a foursome over breakfast blowing my mind.

“Dude, you are my hero.” Mineta said, practically drooling as he looked at the red head.

“How do you even make that happen? What do you say?” Mineta asked.

“I do this thing called um respecting women and being a top guy. Something you clearly haven’t grasped.” Kiri said, slapping Mineta’s hand away that was held out for a high five. Bakugo chuckled to himself, turning back to his food as Mineta still probed Kiri for details. Which the latter absolutely didn’t divulge.

The mood felt nice. Comfortable. I was grateful to call these people my friends and know that we could talk and be like this together. As I looked around I didn’t miss Todoroki who kept his eyes firmly on me, which he seemed to be making a habit of and Momo, who had her eyes fixed on him

#shoto todoroki #shoto x reader #mha x reader #mha #mha smut #todoroki x reader

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imaginedisish · 3 years

Text

Devil’s Advocate (Tenet) Neil x Reader

Chapter 2: I’ll Try Anything Once

A/N: Hi guys! So this sort of feels like a filler chapter, but I hope you still all enjoy it :) And ps...this chapter is based on I’ll Try Anything Once by Julian Casablancas (it’s derived from one of the Strokes’ demos I think)

Summary: You and Neil land in London to some majorly unfortunate circumstances that are too overwhelming for you to handle, but Neil is done letting you get hurt.

Warnings: Death, guns, gunshot wounds, explosions, violence/murder (implied more or less), cursing, minor angst maybe, and yay fluff!

Word Count: 4,191

“Hey,” A voice whispers softly; the familiar sound encourages you to lift your eyelids. “(Y/N), we’re about to land,” The voice whispers again as you feel yourself slowly rocking back and forth. You groggily open your eyes.

The cabin of the plane is dark except for a few scattered overhead reading lights. You notice that your head is still resting against Neil’s chest as his warm hold envelopes you, keeping you pressed tightly against him. A tickle twitches in your stomach as you feel the plane drop down closer to the ground. The tickle quickly turns to terror as you remember where you’re headed. You feel your heart rapidly beat in your chest. You take a deep breath, hoping to suppress your paralyzing fears of being back out in the field.

Neil’s calming voice grounds you. “Are you alright?” He asks, his arms tightening around you. The airplane drops some more, causing the tickle in your stomach to continue.

“I’m not sure,” You respond honestly as you try and swallow your fear in your throat. Of course, it doesn’t work. The airplane drops again, and you pull slightly away from Neil to look out the window. Lights twinkle below you, and you can see Heathrow Airport in the near distance.

The seat creaks a bit as Neil moves closer to you. His cheek brushes up against yours as he peers out the window. His closeness was comforting.

Neil sighs. “I know you don’t want to be here, (Y/N),” Neil says as his right arm wraps around your shoulders again, stealing your attention away from the lights of the towns below. “But it’s going to be okay. We’ll get in, get what we need, get rid of who we don’t, and get out.” He shoots a smirk in your direction.

The plane grows even closer to the ground but the tickles disappear, and nausea fills your stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick,” You complain. Anxiety courses through your veins, worsening your current state.

Neil, with his arm still around your shoulders, shakes his head and pulls you away from the window. “You’re not throwing up here,” He says, chuckling a bit. “Or I’ll be doubled over with you.” You find yourself laughing too, but it’s no surprise. That’s simply what Neil does to you. He makes everything seem like it could be…

Okay.

You were too wrapped up in thoughts of Neil to notice when the wheels of the plane came crashing on the ground. The sound of skid marks screeching against the tarmac gave way for the anxiety to settle back down into your stomach. You shudder, imagining all the things that could go wrong. All the stupid little things that could go horribly, horribly wrong.

You watch as everyone begins to stand up from their seats, walking out into the aisle and grabbing their things from the overhead compartments. Neil gives you a final squeeze before letting go and following suit with the rest of the people on the plane. You look back out the window for a second, contemplating whether or not being in Tenet is worth it at all. There’s so much danger, so much death, so much fear.

And my own father is the enemy, You think.

“Are you ready, love?” Neil calls, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You shrug and stand up from the seat, hunching over ever so slightly as to not smack your head against the ceiling. “I don’t think I’ll ever be, so I might as well just jump without looking, right?”

Neil smiles sadly, almost as if to apologize. “Then I’ll be ready for you, and I’ll catch you when you fall.”

Your heart flutters in your chest at his reassurance, despite the sardonic nature of your comment. “Neil I-,” You say, carefully stepping out into the aisle. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“Don’t thank me,” Neil starts, seemingly minimizing his ability to change your entire mood. “This is what friends are for.”

Right, friends.

Neil guides you out of the plane and onto the bridge. After a short walk, you enter the airport.

It’s a ghost town. Some people are sleeping, slumped over in uncomfortable, stiff chairs waiting for their flight. You had forgotten that the time had changed. You look down at your phone to see that your New York time zone has already been switched to London’s.

3:56 AM

It only takes a few shuffles out to the main concourse for you to recognize how exhausted you are in spite of your ability to sleep on the plane. After all, that had been the most sleep you had gotten since the…accident.

You and Neil walk in silence for a while. It isn’t an awkward silence. It’s the comfortable, relaxing kind. It’s the kind of silence shared by two people who don’t need to talk to share how much they enjoy the other’s company. You take in all the shops and food stores as an attempt to keep yourself distracted from the terror of the mission.

You step onto an escalator, and your attention finally lands on Neil’s face. You had studied it a million times, as odd as that sounds, but you couldn’t help it. You liked looking at him. You liked getting confirmation that he was in fact real and was in fact with you.

“Hey,” You finally speak up. “Aren’t we in your hometown now?”

You watch as Neil’s cheeks lift and the corners of his mouth turn up. “Yeah,” He says back. “I guess we are.” His eyes rest on yours for a second before they flicker down to your lips. It catches you off guard, but the moment is gone just as soon as it begins as you’re forced to step off the escalator. You enter the baggage claim area and head straight towards the exit of the airport.

Conveniently waiting outside the doors is a black town car. You look to Neil, making sure it’s the right one. Neil nods, silently confirming that this is a part of the plan. You open the door and plop onto the seat. You hear Neil open and close the trunk before he takes his spot next to you in the car.

“We live in a twilight world,” Neil says. But there’s no answer.

You clear your throat nervously, reaching underneath your black, baggy, menswear dress pants, clutching onto the small revolver tied against your calf. “He said, we live in a twilight world.”

There’s no answer again. You take the revolver out, aiming it at the man. You look over at Neil and notice that his shirt is undone; he had already taken his gun out. He always kept it under his shirt, attached to his chest. He hunches over, slowly moving towards the man through the center console.

The man’s hat is titled over his forehead. Neil takes it off.

Neil parts his lips. “Fuck,” His voice is shallow. “He’s dead. He’s got a bullet in the center of his forehead,” There’s a panic in Neil’s voice. He looks up to the windshield, and you follow his gaze. There’s no point of entry, no shattered glass.

“So someone else has already been here,” You remark. Neil’s eyes widen as he moves the man’s shirt over a bit.

That’s when the light beeping noise starts.

“SHIT!” Neil screams. “Get out of the car! NOW!” He opens the door on your side of the car and practically shoves you out. You stumble, barely able to catch your balance when your feet hit the ground. Neil sprints to the trunk, opening it up and grabbing the luggage.

You follow behind him, tugging on his arm, trying to pull him away. “The luggage, really?” You shout in disbelief.

Neil secures both bags in his right hand, and grabs your wrist with his left. You both break out into a sprint. “We need to take cover,” Neil says in between breaths, his eyes frantically searching around the taxi area. “Do you see-,”

BOOM!

“FUCK!” Neil yells, practically tripping over his feet as the concrete vibrates violently below. He catches his balance just before he can face plant into the ground.

The car explodes behind you. The heat of the flames radiate on your back. You don’t dare look behind you; you keep running.

You and Neil finally reach a parking lot, and stop for a break.

“What the hell was that?” You whisper, angrily grabbing Neil by the collar and bringing him in between two minivans for cover, just in case anyone had followed you or was planning to attack.

Neil grabs your waist in return, brining you even closer to him. Your breath hitches in your throat as you realize how close you are to him. “They must know we’re here,” Neil says. His eyes are still wide and his breathing is still heavy.

“And the suitcases?” You question with heavy concern, and even frustration, in your voice. “Do you not have firefighters come into your elementary schools in England? Do you not get taught that stuff can be replaced and human beings can’t be?” Your whisper turns into more of an angry shout.

Neil shakes his head in disapproval. “There are explosives in my suitcase, (Y/N). If they detonated we would be dead,” He says, panic still evident in his voice, and a bit of anger as well.

You nod, loosening your grip on his collar. “I’m sorry I just,” You pause, knowing full well what had just come over you. “I just didn’t want anything to happen to you, that’s all.” You feel your eyes becoming glossy. This was the very thing you were afraid of. You were almost blown to bits, and worse than that, Neil could’ve died. The mission was already failing, and it hadn’t even truly started yet.

You shut your eyes tightly, and a few tears roll down your cheeks.

Neil swallows hard, his arms still resting on your waist. “No, I’m sorry. You didn’t know. I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat like that.” Neil pulls you into an embrace.

“It’s okay,” You mumble quietly into his chest.

You let him hold you in silence for a few moments. You needed to process things. You needed to ground yourself. You needed this second with Neil.

You feel yourself dozing off a bit in Neil’s arms. Visions of a bed with a plush comforter and satin sheets play over in your head. It had to be almost 4:30 in the morning at this point.

“How are we going to get to the hotel?” You ask, longing for a good night’s sleep. “And what if they know what hotel we’re staying in?”

Neil pulls apart from you and reaches into his pocket to grab his phone. “I’ll call TP and figure out what we’re supposed to do.” Neil types in his passcode, presses on the screen a few times, and lifts his phone up to his ear.

You look up into the night sky to distract yourself. The stars twinkle lightly, but there’s too much light pollution to get a good look. The cold wind nips at you roughly. You turn to face Neil. He’s pacing back and forth about twenty feet away from you. You try and tune into what he’s saying.

“They fucking know we’re here, what am I supposed to do?” The frustration in his voice is clear. He waits for a response.

“Yeah, she’s alright I guess, but you shouldn’t have forced her out into the field this early,” He pauses again. “No I don’t care that you’re the boss, she wasn’t ready when she left this afternoon and she definitely isn’t ready now!”

Silence, and then another sentence. “No, I’m not letting my feelings get in the way, that’s not what this is.”

Feelings?

“I mean of course it’s because I care about her, you know how I feel…” He trails off, and walks a bit farther away from you. What he says next, you can’t hear.

After a few seconds, he starts to walk back, still keeping a bit of a distance. “Alright, we’ll head over there now,” Neil looks up at you and winks, confirming that there’s some sort of plan set in place.

Neil turns his back to you. “And I swear to God,” He whispers, thinking you can’t hear him, “If she dies, I’m going to kill you.”

A shiver rolls down your spine at his words. You knew Neil cared about you, but you didn’t know he would threaten TP for you, even if it was just a sarcastic threat.

But this wasn’t a joke.

“Yeah okay. Thanks,” Neil says finally. “Talk to you later.” He takes the phone away from his ear and presses the red button to hang up. He walks back over to you. You’re still overwhelmed by what Neil had said on the phone, but you push those thoughts to the back of your head.

You yawn listlessly. “So what’s going to happen?” You ask, ready to crash to the ground in exhaustion.

Neil smiles. He picks up the luggage in his right hand again, and points to the other side of the parking lot. You notice a separate lot filled with rental cars. “TP put in a favor and we’re getting our own car. Looks like you’ll have to deal with my driving.”

You can’t help but smile back at him. You didn’t mind Neil’s driving at all, to be honest. You felt safe when Neil drove. But then again, you felt safe with Neil no matter what he did.

“It’s just on the other side of the lot,” Neil reassures. You roll your eyes at the thought of more walking, but you figured it may be a good time to talk about what you had just heard Neil say on the phone.

Before you can think of something to say, Neil loops his left arm around your waist. His fingers settle on the exposed skin underneath your oversized blazer. Your nerves tingle underneath his touch, and any thoughts you had before disappear from your mind.

After a few seconds, you force yourself to think back to the phone call. “Neil? Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” Neil says back, smiling down at you.

“The phone call you just had, with TP,” You pause, trying to find the right words.

Neil shakes his head. “Whatever you heard, don’t worry about it, please. I know what I’m doing,” He pauses and pulls you closer to him. "You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be alright. ” You’re not entirely content with his answer, but it’s enough for now.

After a five minute walk, you finally reach the rental lot. Neil walks over to the man inside of the tiny cube shaped building. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but a set of keys are exchanged, and Neil motions for you to follow him. You begrudgingly pick up your pace to catch up with him.

“What kind of car is it?” You ask. Neil presses the panic button once, and the headlights of a black, Porsche 911 flash across your face.

You go to get into the car, approaching the door on your left hand side, forgetting you’re now in Europe. Neil smirks at you, grabs your hand, and brings you to the other side of the car. He sets the luggage down on the ground, and opens your door, letting you slip inside. Normally, you would have a cheeky response to Neil opening the door for you, but you were too tired now. Neil grabs the luggage, and walks around the other side of the car. He opens his door and puts the luggage in the back seat.

Neil puts the key into the ignition and starts the car. He takes out his phone, and through your blurry vision, you watch as he slides his finger around.

“What are you doing?” You ask. Your voice is barely above a whisper and it’s filled with tiredness. “Just drive,” You order sarcastically, nudging Neil with your elbow. Your sarcasm melts away when you remember the gravity of the situation. “What if they’re already here? What if they’re looking for us?”

Neil puts his phone in the cupholder, and rests his hand on your thigh. “I’m just setting up the GPS and choosing some music, love,” Neil says. “Take a deep breath. TP just arranged for us to stay at a different hotel, and he has eyes and ears everywhere. We’ll be alright.”

Ten decisions shape your life,

You’ll be aware of 5 about,

7 ways to go to school,

Either you’re noticed or left out.

“I love this song,” You say, struggling to keep your eyes open.

“I know,” Neil says. “Try to sleep, I’ll wake you up when we get there.” His voice is calming, and you almost do as he says, but you remember where you are. You wanted to look at the city. You wanted to see it before all the chaos began. You had been to London plenty of times before, but leaving the United States still excited you, even though you were rarely there at all anymore.

When I said "I can see me in your eyes,”

You said "I can see you in my pants,”

That's not just friendship that's romance too.

You like music we can dance to.

The highway goes on for a while, looking reminiscent of highways in America. Grass and trees line the black concrete. There’s no light save for a few street lamps. Each time you start to doze off, you force yourself to wake up. The feeling of Neil’s thumb drawing circles on your thigh doesn’t make it too hard.

Sit me down,

Shut me up,

I'll calm down,

And I'll get along with you.

The trees melt into industrial areas. Car dealerships, stores, apartments, hotels. And finally, after a few more minutes, you’ve hit Central London. The lights are bright and the buildings are beautiful.

Don't don't don't don't it's not safe no more,

I've got to see you one more time.

Neil pulls into a parking garage and finds an open spot. “We’re here,” He says, squeezing your thigh lightly.

You unbuckle your seat belt, carefully open the door, and slide out of the car. Neil grabs the two duffle bags and gets out after you. You head inside the hotel, and Neil checks in. He grabs the keycard and ushers you into the elevator.

The second you enter the lift, worry fills Neil’s face. His brows furrow and he shuts his eyes as he lets his head hit the wall behind him.

“Neil?” You ask. “What’s going on?” Maybe it was the jet lag, or maybe it was the exhaustion, but you feel more confident than usual. You step towards him and grab his hands in yours.

Neil takes a deep breath. “I’m so sorry we’re here,” He says, his eyes still closed, as if he’s too guilty to face you. “I didn’t want to do the mission yet. I really wanted to wait. I know you aren’t ready yet. I just-,”

You wrap your arms around Neil, and hold him tightly against your body. “I’ll be alright Neil, I promise.” His arms wrap around your body in response. You pull away from him slightly, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. You look up into his eyes, down to his lips, and back into his eyes again. Neil brings his face closer to yours, so close that you can feel his breath against your lips.

“(Y/N), I need to-,”

The conversation is interrupted by the dinging of the elevator and the giggles of a drunken couple as they step inside.

The woman speaks up. “Sssorry for interrupting, loves,” She slurs, cackling a bit. Her boyfriend joins in and cackles with her. Neil politely smiles and nods. He picks up the luggage yet again with one hand, grabbing your wrist with the other. He pulls you outside the elevator and into the hallway.

Your heart is still beating wildly in your chest. “Neil, you had something you needed to say?”

But the moment is over. He shakes his head. “We can talk about it some other time, I don’t want to overwhelm you. Enough has happened tonight.” Your heart sinks in your chest. Neil swallows, glancing back over towards the elevator. “And those people seemed off. We should really get inside the room.” You nod, agreeing, and allow Neil to take hold of your hand and guide you down the hall to the suite.

You finally approach the room.

505.

“This is us,” Neil says, setting the luggage on the ground to swipe the keycard. The door unlocks, and Neil press down on the handle. You enter the dully lit room, and immediately flop onto the king bed. Neil smirks at you from the doorway.

He walks inside, and you sigh in relief. “This is so nice,” You murmur, sliding your black converse off your feet. You push yourself further onto the bed so that your head rests on a pillow.

“We should probably shower,” Neil says, crossing the room. He places the duffle bags on the desk by the window. He takes his suit jacket off.

You chuckle. “What, like, together?” You erupt into laughter. There was something about being so unbelievably tired and jet lagged that made you a completely different person. It was like being drunk.

Neil shakes his head and smiles widely. “If that’s what you want,” He retorts.

Oh? Is he flirting with me? He can’t be.

“I-I think I’m t-too tired for a shower a-at all,” You stutter, not sure what else to say.

“Me too,” Neil says. He begins to undo the buttons of his white dress shirt one by one. Suddenly, his chest is completely exposed. You feel heat rising to your cheeks.

He undoes his belt, unzips his fly, and steps out of his trousers. He’s only wearing his boxers now. You had seen him like this a million times, but it still caught you by surprise. He walks over to the other side of the bed, grabs a pillow, and drops it on the ground. He grabs the throw blanket at the edge of the bed and drops it on the ground as well.

You furrow your brows, confused by his actions. “What are you doing?” You ask.

Neil’s blue gaze meets yours. “Setting up camp,” He jokes, sending a smile your way.

You breathe deeply, still riding out on the confidence that being sleep deprived gave you. “Why don’t you sleep in the bed with me?”

Neil inhales sharply. “I don’t want to bother you. You’re exhausted.”

“I think I’d sleep better if you were with me, actually.” You let the words come right out, no regrets. “You make me feel safe, Neil,” You confess.

Neil smiles and bends down, grabbing the pillow and the blanket, placing them back on the bed. He lifts the covers and slides in. You get underneath the covers too. You don’t realize how close you are to Neil until you turn onto your side to face him.

“I’m glad I make you feel safe, (Y/N),” Neil finally responds. Your heart feels like it might burst. You and Neil had shared a bed in the past, but you had only ever been this close inside of one a handful of times before. “You have no idea how much I care about you.”

“You have no idea how much I care about you, Neil,” You say.

Neil pushes himself up a bit, and presses a kiss against your forehead. You’re stunned. “Goodnight, (Y/N),” Neil says, and he reaches over to turn off the lamp next to his nightstand. The room goes pitch black.

“Goodnight, Neil,” You say. Neil turns over to the other side and you do the same. You stay like that for a few minutes, before tossing and turning a few times. Seconds ago you were comfortable, and now you weren’t.

As you laid alone in your thoughts, your anxieties all began to flood back to you. How the fuck am I going to do this? How is this mission going to turn out? This is going to be absolutely impossible. What if something happens to Neil? Your mind races with thoughts. You turn a few more times before you feel a hand on your waist.

“I thought you were exhausted,” Neil snickers.

“I am but-,”

Neil cuts you off. “But that doesn’t stop your mind from racing?”

You turn around to face him. “Unfortunately, no.”

Neil wraps his arms around you, and pulls you into his bare chest. “Is this okay?” He asks.

“Y-yes,” You stutter, pressing your face into the center of his chest.

And finally, for the first night in over a month, you were able to sleep, nightmare free.

So why not try it all,

If you only remember it once?

Sit me down,

Shut me up,

I'll calm down,

And I'll get along with you.

>>>>>Chapter 3

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