Jaime Lannister simps shit talking GOT/HOTD characters and calling them predators when Jaime raped Cersei next to their dead son’s body is…. Bold to say the least

why is every trip to the grocery store fifty goddamn dollars!!!

𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲

summary: hiding your relationship with rafe from your friends is fun... at first.

word count: 2k

now spinning: freak by lana del rey

author's note: this one put me in a silly mood <3 i love this man <3 so cute it'll rot your teeth! enjoy!

He’s a bad habit. Your worst habit, in fact, one that you hide from everyone like a dirty secret.

At first you’re just embarrassed. You’re supposed to be a Pogue, you try to remind yourself every now and then, you’re supposed to hate him and everything he stands for.

You’re supposed to hate the pretty jewelry he buys for you on a whim, hate the stupid—or something like that— look in his eyes when he puts it on you and presses a kiss to the soft skin of your neck or wrist or ankle, and you’re especially supposed to hate the way he spends money on you. 

You’re supposed to hate all of it, but you don’t. In fact, you think you’re falling in love with Rafe Cameron.

Which is bad, so so bad, you don’t even have words to describe how terrible it is. Rafe—who your closest friends despise, and for good reason. He becomes an ass outside of the sheltered, private walls of your tiny bedroom, getting into fights and egging everyone into violence.

He’s completely different, like an entirely new person, and you should hate him for what he does to your friends and goads them into doing. 

Hate is the furthest thing from what you actually feel. You’re not even embarrassed anymore. You’re protective, because you know your friends won’t understand, that they’ll try to talk you out of your feelings, and you’ll have to show them the thing that you’re dreading the most of all, that you would defend Rafe to them. That you would take his side.

That you would become that girl you used to make fun of, screaming at your friends because you don’t know him like I do, and then running home, running to him, to feel better.

It’s gotten bad, and to avoid all of this, you don’t bring up your relationship to them at all. What started off as chance encounters and graduated into quiet, peaceful hours spent in each company without another care in the world, has now turned into a real relationship. A secret relationship, at that. 

Rafe wants to tell the world, and he especially wants to tell your friends. You convince him that it’s romantic to sneak around, with plenty of hidden kisses and longing gazes and making a fool out of everyone right in front of their eyes.

He buys the act for now, but you know he won’t for long. You think that he wants to rub it into your friends’ faces, that he got you despite how much they hate him. He doesn’t tell you it’s because he has to know, has to be sure that you aren’t ashamed of being with him.

𝜗𝜚

The first time you almost get caught is in Rafe’s truck—parked along the beach, in what was meant to be a cute little date. You pack sandwiches and fruit, freshly squeezed lemonade in a mason jar that you and him pass back and forth.

The two of you watch the sunset from the safety of his car, specifically because you’re worried your friends will catch you if they spot you on the beach with someone.

“This is good,” Rafe says, taking another sip out of the jar, his lips shining with the sugary juice. You want to lick it clean, but you hold off for now. “Where’d you get it from, again?” 

“I made it, Rafe,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “We have a lemon tree in the backyard. My parents like to grow their own stuff.” 

“Well,” he says, licking his lips. Damn it, there goes your chance to sneak a kiss in and act like it was for some other reason. “You should make more. Shit’s good.”

“Then take me on another date. I’ll make you a whole pitcher.” 

“Our next date is gonna be way better than this,” is his response, looking down at his half-eaten, heart-shaped peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

He notices your eyes get big, like you’re upset, and immediately follows up his own sentence.

“Not that this isn’t perfect,” he says, resting the mason jar in the cupholder. “It is. Perfect. Couldn’t ask for more. I just meant, next time, you won’t have to pack anything or juice any lemons, like a restaurant. All you have to do is wear something pretty and show up.”

You smile, giddily. 

“You have some lemonade, right there,” you say, pointing to the side of his lip, leaning in for a kiss, just about to close your eyes, when you hear the unmistakable hoot that is your boys, as in your other boys. “Shit-” and you duck, head resting on Rafe’s thigh as you try to get out of their eye-sight. You don’t sit back up until you make Rafe triple-check the coast is clear.

“Y’know, if you wanted to get freaky in my car, all you had to do was ask-”

𝜗𝜚

The next time is a month later, a month of bliss and joy that you still haven’t told your friends about. Rafe came over to help you finish baking lemon squares, but really just creating a mess and kissing you with sugary, citrusy lips and flour-coated hands. 

You take turns showering to clean off, because as much as you would love to rinse off together, your shower is not like the one Rafe has in his Tannyhill bedroom, and sadly, barely big enough for one. You go first, washing your hair and complaining about icing remnants, and send Rafe in after you while you dry your hair. 

On his way in, he tells you not to get dressed just yet. You sit in anticipation, wrapped just in your towel, brushing your hair absentmindedly. You drop the brush on your foot when you hear three sharp knocks on your bedroom window.

Crap. 

When you turn to look, it’s just Kie, and you sigh a breath of obvious relief. You wouldn’t be able to manage lying to everyone, but if it’s just Kiara, you might be able to get away with it.

She climbs in through the window, lying flat on your bed and starting to explain what’s going on—her feelings for Pope and some old feelings for Jayj that are coming to the surface. You half-listen, feeling like a terrible friend, but your heart is currently showering in your tiny bathroom, probably complaining about the luke-warm water and thinking about all the things he’s going to do to you when he gets out.

“Is your shower running?” Kie asks, ever-observant. “Dude, that’s like, so bad for the environment.”

“Oh, I-” your brain turns to mush. “I just stepped out to brush my hair, I’m going right back in. I’m so sorry Kie, I’m so distracted today. You know, I-I hate wasting water.” You stare at her for a second, wondering if she bought it.

“I’m just glad you care. JJ and John B don’t even recycle their beer cans. I’ll come back later, then?” and you nod, maybe a little too excited. “Are you gonna finish showering now?” she questions, watching you linger by the door. 

“Yes! Yes, I am. Bye, Kie,” you say, opening the door and closing it quickly, hoping Rafe doesn’t speak up. You drop the towel and climb into the shower, clasping your hand over his mouth quickly. You wait to hear your window close, and then the noise of her car driving away.

“Y’know, kid, if you were feeling that impatient, all y’had to do was tell me,” Rafe says, leaning in for a hot, wet kiss.

𝜗𝜚

It all breaks down because JJ is like a walking metal detector, eyes flitting to anything shiny and new and the questions never-ending, even when you’re glaring at him. 

Rafe bought it for you. A gleaming, pretty silver bracelet with a little pink heart hanging off, complete with the letter R engraved on the back of the charm. You try to sneak it in with your other bracelets, the beaded ones Kie makes, the thread friendship bracelets all of you share in matching colors, and you even throw on a watch just so no one notices something new on your wrist. It doesn’t work.

“Wow,” JJ starts, letting out a whistle. You freeze instantly. “What’d you do, rob a Kook and not invite us?” He comes up closer, taking your wrist in his hand and raising it above and below, inspecting it. 

“No, no…” you trail off, mind going completely blank on how to explain this to your friends. All you can think about is the soft way Rafe kissed your wrist while helping you put it on, and the not-so-soft two hours you spent at Tannyhill after. “I, uh-”

“What, you found it?” Pope throws in, and you start to nod, even though your friends know you better than that. “Because you should really turn it in, I mean, they’ll get you for that-”

“Trust me, I would know,” John B says, coming around to look at it closer. “I feel I’ve seen that before.”

“Yeah, I bet all the Kook princesses have ‘em and compare with each other.” JJ puts on a goofy, high pitched voice that would normally make you laugh. “Mine’s silver. Mine’s gold. Actually, guys, mine’s encrusted with diamonds.” 

“You know how much child labor funds the entire jewelry industry? They have kids mining in caves-”

“But that would actually make sense, Kie, because, like, they’re so tiny they’re the only ones who can just like, sneak on in there with their little tools, and just like-” JJ imitates, what you can only assume, is a child mining for gold with his hands. 

“They can grow diamonds in labs now. It’s so unnecessary and dangerous,” Kie says, looking back at you. “We should burn it, so it goes back into the soil.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” JJ says, getting up and putting himself between you and Kie, like a barrier. “Why would we do that? We could probably go get a couple hundos for that thing. Y’know how much beer we can buy with that?”

“He’s got a point there,” John agrees. You’re speechless.

“Well, does it have any markings? Because if we just return it, the owner might give us a reward for finding it.” JJ scoffs.

“Yeah, right, they’d probably think we stole it.”

“Well, we did, that’s like the definition of-” you cut Pope off before you can stop yourself.

“I didn’t steal it!” It comes out like a yell, even though you don’t mean it, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “I didn’t steal it, okay, it’s mine, so can we please just drop it?”

You notice the boys lock eyes with each other, eyes wide, probably wondering what just happened. You turn away from them to look at Kie, about to apologize because you know she’s totally right about the whole child mining thing, when you see her eyes are fixed on your wrist.

“R?” she questions. “What’s the R stand for?” 

You drop your hand to your side, eyes shutting on their own as you release a tight breath. You really have no idea how to get yourself out of this one, until a voice pipes up from behind you.

“Why don’t you idiots take a wild guess?” The voice belongs to your boyfriend, your secret boyfriend. You guess it’s not such a secret anymore.

JJ is the first to react, exactly like you thought he would, too.

“No, no, gross, gross!”

John B stares at you like you’ve just run over his puppy. Kie has her eyebrows raised like she’s questioning everything she ever knew about you. Pope’s eyes are wide like coins, fist clenched like he’s about to start swinging.

You let out another breath.

“Was that really necessary?” you ask, turning your head to question Rafe, standing right behind you, his arm hanging around your shoulder now. 

“Had to tell ‘em eventually, kid. Guess today’s the day,” and then he uses his hand to squeeze your cheeks together, giving you a sloppy kiss and waltzing off in the direction he came from.All you hear is JJ—gross, gross, gross!

could you do hc’s for the 141 + könig with a reader who has iron deficiency anemia? like maybe readers iron drops to a low level and they nearly faint and they take care of them after?

Ooh! I can relate! Except I haven’t fainted but I’ve definitely gotten close lmao whoops

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

My man has both eyes on you at all times, especially if you’ve told him you woke up with a headache that morning

He’s watching you to make sure you’re taking care of yourself but when advil doesn’t touch your headache, he starts to worry

I personally headcanon him as being hands off but always close, so he won’t be fretting about you, he gives you the space and the chance to decide when you need help

But when you start walking a little lopsided, with a hand against the wall for support, he’s sprinting towards you, his heart is hammering in his chest as he catches you before you lean a little too far off to the side

“Alright, back to bed with you.”

“Si, I’m fine.”

“I look like I’m muckin’ about? Bed. Now.”

It’s one of the few times he’ll assert himself when it comes to your well-being, not his fault you gave him a fright, darling!

Soon enough, he’s back at your side with a sandwich and some juice, he’s not sure what happened but some food is a good place to start, he crawls in bed next to you as your eating and turns on the tv to whatever you’re feeling (he’s particularly fond of Bake Off, so he won’t be opposed if that’s what you choose)

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

When you woke up that morning massaging your temples, he was a little worried but he shooed your hands away and started massaging your temples and your scalp instead, kissing the side of your head

It seemed to help a little bit but it wasn’t enough to chase the thrumming pain away, still it wasn’t that bad so you decided to go about your day regardless

That wouldn’t stop him from checking up on you every chance he had, he’d laugh when you elbow him and jokingly tell him to back off, he’d pull you against him and kiss the crown of your head

“Not on your life, bonnie.”

But then he saw you tumble to the side a little bit, arm reaching out to balance yourself and he was at your side in a heartbeat, steadying you by wrapping his arm around your shoulders and holding you against him,

“Alright, hen?”

“Yeah just a little dizzy that’s all.”

“More than just a little I’d say. Come on, let’s get you in bed and I’ll get you some food, aye?”

“But it’ll mess up the bed.”

“Then don’t be messy.” He winked and kissed the side of your head, you shoved him playfully before clinging to him again. Sure enough, you’re back in bed with Soap, half eaten sandwich on the nightstand, both of you back asleep with the tv lulling you even deeper.

John Price:

Sweet man doesn’t let you leave the bed for anything as soon as you tell him you have a headache

“Don’t bother liftin’ a finger, darlin’. Shout if you need anything.” He kisses your forehead and leaves a glass of water, a cup of tea, and some headache medicine, he’s in the other room if you need anything

At some point, you get bored and decide to do some chores you’ve been putting off for a while, so you’re folding laundry when John walks back in the room

“What’re you doin’, thought I told you to shout.”

“I’m not gonna shout at you put away the laundry, especially when I’m the one that started it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you know I love it when you shout.” He teased, you threw the tshirt in your hands at him with a laugh and a blush, he caught it with ease and started to move to put it away

He saw you take an unsteady step back with an arm outreached to balance you out, in two long strides he was at your side, gripping your arm to steady you

“Right. Enough of that, back you go.”

“John-”

“Don’t you ‘John’ me, back in.” He’s guiding you back in bed and coming back in the room with some fruits and a sandwich, he’s not leaving your side until you’ve eaten all of it. And when you’re done, he kisses your forehead and crawls in bed with you. Nothing wrong with a lazy day.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

He’s so extra omg as soon as you tell him you’ve got a headache, he’s wrapping you in your favorite blanket, brewing a cup of your favorite tea, he’s got you sitting on the couch, buried in blankets, and he’s got Uber Eats pulled up and ready for you to order

“Babe it’s just a headache, I’m not dying.”

“Irrelevant. Just order something, yeah? My treat.” He winked at you. You share a checking account. He loves making that joke. (So do I)

He walks away and comes back with your tea and some medicine, “No love of mine is going to have a headache and not be spoiled.”

On your way back from the bathroom, you start the feel the walls spin and the floor slip away from you. You called out to him and he was there in a heartbeat, he gently and slowly picked you up and carried you back to the couch

“Aren’t you glad you’ve got me here for you?”

“Don’t get an ego, just shut up and keep taking care of me.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He kissed your cheek with a big wet smooch and went to grab the door for your order, he settled next to you on the sofa and started laying out the food for you.

König:

Much like Ghost, he lets you get up and be about on your own but he hovers much closer

He gets you some medicine and some water, and he brings you those fruit gummies you love so much too

He’s ok with you moving about but he’s always close by, and by close I mean he’s attached at the hip (just bump him away with your hip and he’ll laugh enough to let you be for a little bit)

In one of those moments you managed to successfully bump him away from you, your dizziness seemed to hit. You nearly dropped the dishes in your hands as you took a few steps to the side, König was there in seconds to get you steady again

He took the dishes from your hands and gently put them in the sink,

“Come now, schatz, rest, please.”

“Köni, I’m fine, I promise.”

“Nonsense. Bed. Now.”

He never used that tone with you (ok maybe sometimes but this isn’t that context), so you supposed you wouldn’t fight him on it. Not that you could but you appreciated that he gave you the option.

So he carried you to bed, your gentle, sweet, mountain of a man, and set you down, burying you in blankets. He crawled beside you and started running his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp, peppering kisses on your cheeks.

Before you knew it, you’ve dozed off in his arms and he’s kissing the crown of your head.

Just For Tonight | Ch. 2

Series Summary: Harry spots an angel in the crowd and he can't keep his eyes off of her. And, as if by some cosmic pull, he can't help but ask her backstage. But it's only going to be just for tonight. Or is it?

Chapter Summary: Y/n's pretty sure she'll never see or hear from Harry again. They had a fun night but he made it clear that it was only just the once. Except Harry can't seem to follow his own rules.

Warning: 18+ only, smut

Word Count: 10,501

Commissioned by anon (thank you!! xoxo)

Just For Tonight Masterlist

Having a night with Harry Styles was like having one of those hot-girl secrets that only the most privileged were in on. But what that also meant was that she couldn’t really go talking all about it to everyone either.

She would have loved to have posted on Instagram all about it. Bragged about having seen his cock and then having it inside of her. She would have loved to have seen Dyna’s face when she told her that Harry Styles had eaten her out and spanked her. Dyna was one of those acquaintances in her friend group who was smug and pretty but rude. Thought her shit didn’t stink.

And well, she never would tell anyway. Not only would she never brag about what she’d done with someone during sex, but she wouldn’t want to betray anyone that way.

But it was kind of a bummer that she couldn’t talk about it all. Ady drilled her for information and Y/n had already decided that she’d only spill the details to her best friend, whom she could actually trust. Ady was a work friend at best. She trusted Ady, but not with that kind of secret.

All Ady knew was that Y/n had spent the night with Harry Styles. And when she arrived at the office on Monday morning, half of her co-workers had already heard about it.

“That’s why I didn’t give you details, Ady. You shouldn’t be saying anything to anyone.” Y/n replied as she bit into her sandwich. Ady was trying to extract more information from her.

“But I would never tell anyone those details, Y/n! Come on. Just give me something. Any tattoos we don’t know about? Is his dick as big as everyone thinks it is?”

Y/n rolled her eyes and stood up from her chair, tossing the crust of her sandwich into the garbage, and completely ignoring Ady on her way back to her desk.

After a few days, the gossip had died down and Ady had pretty much given up. Y/n was glad everyone had stopped talking about it and asking her uncomfortable questions.

And while on the outside it had appeared Y/n had moved on completely, on the inside she couldn’t stop replaying the night with Harry over and over again.

Especially when she was alone in her bedroom at night.

Y/n had a housemate. She lived in a two-bedroom bungalow with a microscopic backyard, street parking, and the tiniest closet known to man. And still, she could barely afford to make rent each month. But Brad was nice. And he allowed her to pay a little late sometimes. She didn’t often pay late. Maybe a handful of times over the year.

But it also helped that Brad had a bit of a crush on Y/n. She didn’t want to be that person but it came in handy in this case.

“I’m so sorry. I get paid next Friday and I’ll pay you first thing. Just didn’t keep track of my spending again this month.” It was slightly embarrassing. She wasn’t careless about how she spent her money but that month she had the Harry Styles concert, bought a hotel room (which she didn’t even sleep in), and spent a little extra on her cute new bodysuit. She had saved up her money but overspent just a tiny bit. Okay so maybe she was a little careless with her money at times. And she was getting too old to keep living paycheck to paycheck. It was time to start putting money away.

And she couldn’t do that with her current job and all the bills she had on top of that.

Y/n was going to have to find a second job. Anything so she could get her footing and pay off some loans, and then maybe she could breathe a little.

“No worries, Y/n. I’m good for it until then.” Brad smiled. She could tell he was getting tired of it, though. And for that alone, the embarrassment of having to ask if he could cover her part for a handful of days and to see his expression of pity and probably a little bit of annoyance, yeah. It was time to find a second job.

Her cousin was the floor manager at a posh, expensive restaurant downtown that Y/n would have never dreamed of stepping foot into. Not normally anyway. But there was a job opening for a server spot that her cousin had casually mentioned a week prior. She didn’t know if the position had been filled or not and if they would give her that prime weekend shift but there was only one way to find out.

“Y/n! Hi! How are you?” Laren answered chipper and sweet.

“Hi. Uh… good! How are you?”

Small talk commenced before Y/n finally got into the nitty gritty of why she was calling.

“Oh? The server position? It hasn’t been filled actually. We’ve been interviewing, though. You should come in and apply. I can put in a good word.”

The position was for two weekday nights and rotating a Sunday and Saturday every other week with a draw for the occasional Friday night (the coveted night to serve apparently). It wasn’t ideal but she figured she’d at least apply and see what happened.

Y/n had been a server in college so she was familiar with the work. It was hard, stressful at times, but tips could be good with the right tables.

And part of her didn’t want to waitress again. She was already working 40 hours at her office job. This would leave her with very little free time. But she needed to do something because every time she thought about how she was late on rent again it made her cringe and flush hot with embarrassment.

The interview process was fairly painless. And the fact that her cousin already worked there seemed to be in her favor because the very next afternoon she was getting a call to come back in to begin training. She’d gotten the position.

And it was just as hard as she imagined it would be. Shadowing one of the servers felt strange. She started on a Tuesday night since it would be a relatively slow night. Rushing from her office job to get home, changing into her uniform, and then racing through heavy traffic to get to the restaurant gave her a good idea of how it would be for her on the nights she worked during the weekdays.

Her past experience was a blessing. She only needed to shadow for two weeks before they started letting her have her own tables. Everyone on staff was easy to get along with on some level.

She did learn, though, that Vyra was upset that they were letting her take a weekend night shift so early on. Vyra was also a server who’d been at The Dulcería for a couple of years and wasn’t allowed weekend shifts until she’d been serving for a while.

“Tell them I’ll take your ten top tonight. I don’t think you’re quite ready for the level of service you’ll need to provide.” Vyra placed her tray down and faced Y/n as she spoke.

Y/n had just arrived at the restaurant for her first weekend evening shift by herself. She didn’t even know she had a ten top as she’d only just walked into the door.

“I… okay, well, let me at least put my stuff down. I’ll talk to Mannie and find out what he wants before I ask for that.” She was already annoyed. Not ready for the level of service… Just for that comment alone, Y/n was going to make sure she kept the table and was the best damn waitress that ten top could ever have that night.

“I’m telling you that it’s going to be better for you to just give me the table. We’ll switch off. They’re gonna be here all night.”

Y/n put her purse in the locker and turned to look at Vyra, “How do you know they’re gonna be here all night?”

“Because the reservation was very specific about how long they would be here. Probably someone famous honestly. Just tell Mannie you’re giving me your section.”

Sighing as she clicked the lock into place and tied her apron around her waist she shook her head, “We’ll see.”

Y/n checked the schedule for the night and realized, the only table that she was assigned was the ten top Vyra had mentioned. Which was interesting. Looking at the name on the reservation it didn’t ring any bells for her as to who could be in the party that would require her to stay with them all night but she knew she could take care of the table on her own. Even if they were famous and picky and maybe demanding. There were only ten of them. And it was her only table.

After the first two guests had arrived and were brought to the table by the hostess, Mannie signaled to her to greet them at the table and get some drinks started.

“You didn’t tell Mannie to let me take over. You didn’t even ask. I think it’s in your best int–“

“I’ve got it, Vrya. I appreciate your concern but I’m fine. Really,” she spoke as she neared the private area of the dining room where her table was.

“No. I don’t think you understand, Y/n. You’re new at this–“

Y/n stopped abruptly and Vrya nearly ran into her, “Stop. I’ve waited tables before. And Mannie wanted me to have this one. Just… go back to your tables and give it a rest.”

The pair at the table were dressed extremely casually, which was unusual for the restaurant. Most people entering the doors of The Dulcería wore designer and dressed appropriately in smart casual.

“Hi. I’m Y/n. I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Would you like me to get you started with anything? Wine for the table or appetizers for when everyone else starts to arrive?”

The young woman at the table ordered three bottles of wine to start and a handful of appetizers. Easy enough.

When Y/n returned to the private area with a cart full of wine and water she stopped in her tracks. More of the party had arrived but now she recognized two of them. She blinked her eyes and swallowed as she felt her heart rate pick up before pushing the cart forward again and closer to the table. She could be seeing things, she told herself.

As she neared the party she honed in on the man with his back to her with chocolate brown curls and broad shoulders. Was this…? It couldn’t be.

And yet she was sure it was. Based on the fact that she was looking right at Jeff Azoff and his adorable wife Glenne… She gulped as she parked the cart at the edge of the room and plucked up one of the bottles of red wine to uncork.

Carrying the bottle and a glass of wine toward the young woman who ordered it, she was suddenly aware that all eyes were on her as she turned the label side out toward her. But before she could pour a taste sample the young woman pointed at the man with his brown curls at the other end of the table, “It’s his to taste.”

She let out a quick breath to ground herself and closed her eyes for only a moment before turning to see those bright green eyes already on her. The big grin on his face told her he recognized her immediately. Of course he did.

She smiled, taking a step back, and slowly walked toward Harry to give him the first taste of the wine.

Pouring the liquid into the glass slowly as she stood to his left Harry finally spoke, “I didn’t know you worked here. How have you been?”

Okay. A standard greeting. Even that alone got her heart aflutter. She wasn’t sure if he’d act like he didn’t know her or if he’d greet her kindly. She would assume the latter but of course, one never knows in these circumstances.

“I’ve been well. This is actually a new job for me. And uh, how about you? How have you been?”

Harry sipped the wine and nodded, “S’good. Thank you. I’ll have a glass of this one,” he cleared his throat while she poured a serving for him, “And yeah… I’m great. Thank you. We should catch up soon,” he leaned in closer and finished his thought, “Kind of wish I’d gotten your number.” He spoke the last sentence a little softer so only she could hear.

For the duration of the dinner it was difficult to have any kind of real conversation with Harry while she was taking orders and running back and forth but each time she returned Harry made sure to get in a comment or ask her a question. She noticed the looks from a few of the people sitting around the table.

Heading back into the kitchen to grab their meals she noticed Vrya walking toward her side of the restaurant where the private dining room was. By then, all the servers heard about who was in the private dining room. Most didn’t make a fuss about it but a couple of them were curious.

With the tray loaded she delicately walked back toward her guests and spotted Vrya next to Harry and chatting. Technically Vyra wasn’t allowed to speak to guests at Y/n’s table unless she requested help. It wasn’t a big deal normally, but since Harry was a celebrity, a famous pop star, it would be frowned upon. This wasn’t some Deux Moi tell-all Sunday sightings gossip rag. This was a posh, upscale restaurant where wealthy people and celebrities came to enjoy a quiet meal without being disturbed or spotted. Mannie was not going to be happy about Vrya taking it upon herself to check on Y/n’s table. She couldn’t wait to talk to Laren about Vyra as well. She wished her cousin was there that night so she could vent but she’d be calling her about this later.

Placing the tray onto the stand Y/n frowned at Vrya as they made eye contact, “I was just seeing if everything was going well. Since you’re new and all,” Vrya laughed and looked down at Harry, “Plus having such a big star here we need to make sure service is perfect.”

Harry smiled at Y/n, “Y/n here been more than perfect. You’ve nothing to worry about. I’m sure we all agree,” he gestured toward everyone at the table, “we are in the most capable hands here. Couldn’t be happier.”

The fake smile on the intruder was telling as Y/n began to bring dishes around the table, “Thanks for checking in on me Vrya. It’s unnecessary, though. I’ll call on help if I need it.”

Standing up straight and nodding at Harry she walked behind Y/n and whispered, “His water glass is low,” and then exited the room.

Y/n had no idea what she’d done that would have Vyra acting like such a child. She was polite to Vrya but she really wanted to yank her hair out and shove her out the window for sticking her nose into business that wasn’t hers. But she figured she was better off ignoring the whole thing.

“So, Y/n…” one of the guys at the table spoke up, “We hear that you and Harry met at a recent concert. How did you enjoy the show?”

She felt her neck get hot as she fumbled with the notepad in her apron pocket, “Oh… it was awesome. Yeah. I gave him a pair of sunglasses that he wore that night on stage. That’s pretty much how we met. Brought a co-worker with me. A blast. It was the first concert I’ve been to.” She smiled and then quickly corrected, “First Harry Styles concert that is!”

The look on Harry’s face was cheeky. He was holding in an obvious grin on his face as he gazed at her. She was a nervous thing in this setting. Harry remembered quite well how sure of herself and confident she’d been that night. How she was practically dominating him, leading everything that happened. Mostly.

And even though he made it clear that what had happened was just for that night, he realized he’d been fantasizing about her a lot since then. In fact, every time he touched himself his thoughts made their way to Y/n just before he could come. He hadn’t even slept with anyone since. Not that he’d been holding out for her or anything. He had been thinking about her a lot, though. Missing her even. He was quite delighted that she was his server and that he happened to meet her once again. It felt like fate maybe.

And Harry was a big believer in fate and the universe shifting and creating space and paths for humanity. He was a believer in karma and destiny and intertwined lives. And so because of that Harry was sure this meant something.

When the restaurant was shut down and the servers were calling it a night, Y/n was clearing the table and refilling the last of the wine for everyone. She was told not to rush them, and she had no intention of doing so. She was enjoying the table. Everyone was polite and easy to please. There were no difficult requests or off-the-wall dietary restrictions.

Though Harry was particular with his order (the man was clearly eating strictly healthy which made sense given the state of his body, which she was quite acquainted with) it was easy to accommodate. Plus his presence had set her in a good mood. He was gentle and sweet and everyone in his party was the same.

And the way Harry kept looking at her, as if he knew something she didn’t somehow… a teasing grin, slightly stifled… she was all nerves and butterflies and big smiles. It had been an amazing night at work. It hardly felt like work at all.

Exiting the bathroom after a much-needed bladder release she walked up the hallway but was stopped short when she heard his voice, “What are you doing after you get off?”

His deep rasp had her tummy boiling as she turned and saw him leaning against the frame where the hallway met the corner of the entry to the kitchen. Stepping back toward him she looked up at his sharp green eyes and shook her head, “Going home.”

That smirk, the one that hid what he was really thinking deep down slowly widened until he was grinning full-on, “Where’s home?”

Looking behind her and then over his shoulder to make sure no one was nearby she squinted her eyes at him, “Why do you want to know?”

Harry sighed and softened his stance, putting his arms down to his sides, “Because. I was gonna ask a follow-up question and figured it might be important to know if my place is closer or yours.”

She let out a soft laugh in surprise and now her ears were growing warm, “At this hour… A fifteen-minute drive away.”

Harry nodded and reached a hand out to her apron, pulling gently at the bow, “Got it. Would you be interested in having me over tonight?”

Cocking her head and keeping her eyes squinted in scrutiny she responded, “And why would you want to come over to my place?”

She felt like this was obvious. She could have answered this question on her own. But she wanted to hear it from him. Wanted to be sure she was on the same page as him.

He leaned in and lowered his voice, keeping a finger looped into her apron’s bow, “Seeing you tonight has reminded me of how much fun we had. I know I said it was only a one-time thing but maybe we could make it a two-time thing,” he smiled broadly and shrugged.

Harry was a confident guy. He wasn’t typically turned down. In fact, on the rare occasion he was turned down it usually had nothing to do with him. So he was pretty sure Y/n would be happy to have him. But even as sure of himself as he felt, he was feeling his nerves peak at the idea she would say no.

“A two-time thing. Okay… well I do have a roommate. His bedroom is connected to the wall next to mine. Privacy is an issue. If you’re okay with that then I’d say… sure.”

Harry let out a laugh through his nose, though it was more out of relief than due to anything being funny, “What makes you think I want to be in your bedroom? Maybe I just wanted to stop by for a movie. Or we could bake cookies or something.”

Harry laughed at the obvious nonsense he’d just spewed. They both knew what this was.

“Oh? So you want to like watch a movie and bake some shit? I’m down with that. I don’t think I have the ingredients to make cookies or anything but I’m sure we could stop somewhere and grab flour–“

Harry pinched at her hip and stepped in close, “I was kidding…”

Now it was Y/n’s turn to laugh before she straightened her back as much as possible and put on a serious face. With his proximity, she was bent slightly back to look up at him, “You were? So you mean you don’t want to bake cookies with me?”

Harry’s grin and his hands at her hips were soft, “I don’t want to bake cookies with you. I want to get you in bed again.”

Well okay. There it was. She knew that’s what it was but to hear him say it out loud had her head spinning and her heart pounding.

She nodded, “Right. So… how do we do it? You want me to drive or…?”

Harry shook his head with a laugh, “Give me your number.”

.           .           .

Harry and his crew left before Y/n did. She’d given him her number and he texted her back right away. It was surreal. Just like how she felt the first time she met him. She almost didn’t believe it was happening.

Vyra was cold for the rest of the night but after the huge tip left, Y/n could understand why. Harry’s table had been her only table of the night. Her shift was only four hours but they stayed the entire time. She figured Vyra knew that some celebrities tipped well and wanted in on that.

In fact, the tip had been so big she had to sit down when she realized the number written in the tip line with a small smiley face next to it. She’d have a talk to Harry about this. It was far more than necessary. Even after splitting the tips up between the kitchen and the bussers in the system, it left her with enough money to cover rent and all her bills for a month. Yeah. Excessive.

She texted Harry the minute she parked her car in front of her house. It was well after midnight. She wasn’t sure he’d actually come, still in disbelief about it all. The fact that he was there and that she was assigned to that table felt like pure luck. Fate if you believed in that kind of thing. Which she didn’t. Not normally anyway.

His return text came back quickly.

On my way.

Quickly showering off her sweat and the smell of cooked food then shaving her legs she tried to calm herself down. The night with Harry in the hotel room she’d been perfectly groomed and ready for anything that might happen. Not that she expected it that night, but one never knows. Going to a Harry Styles concert and having the chance to catch his eye wasn’t something she’d half-ass. She never in a million years would have thought he’d have pointed her out while he was singing and then proceed to bring her back to his suite. But he did.

And this evening, she wasn’t fully groomed but smooth legs and clean bits were the least she could offer in such a short amount of time. She laughed to herself as she thought about it all. Wondered if he’d even care if she was a little sweaty. She wasn’t going to chance it.

When he texted that he was out front she took a few deep breaths and looked in the mirror one last time just to be sure before dashing to the front door as quietly as possible (so as not to wake Brad) to let the famous pop star into her small, rented bungalow.

She gestured to Harry with a finger to keep quiet, “My roommate is sleeping. Do you need water? The bathroom?”

Harry’s grin revealed that he needed only one thing. And neither had anything to do with what she’d just offered.

“I take it no baking cookies, then?”

They grinned at each other as she led him to her room.

Her bedroom was cute. She had cream curtains that draped down to the floor, a wooden dresser with a framed photo of Y/n with her family atop, a coaster from a local bar, a box that appeared to be a jewelry case, and a carton of tissues. Her bed was made and the comforter looked fluffy with a pretty pink and yellow flower pattern all over it. Framed prints of plants and flowers on her walls and a standing lamp in one corner. A closed door, which was definitely hiding a closet behind. A nightstand on either side of her bed.

“Cute,” Harry spoke as he looked everything over and then brought his gaze back to the woman he’d been fantasizing about since their last night together.

“Yeah. Uh… this is it.” She shrugged and felt her tummy warm up under his scrutiny. He was staring at her and she knew he was there for one thing only.

Sitting on her bed she sighed and attempted to lighten the mood, “So… that tip was way too big, Harry. I can’t possibly accept such a thing. I don’t think–“

Harry shushed her as he sat down and took her hand in his, “Nonsense. You are an amazing server and deserve every penny of that. Probably more even.”

His light eyes were scalding. Every inch of skin he took in she felt sizzle.

“Thank you. Just feels weird. Especially now that you’re here…” she laughed quietly.

“Now that I’m here? What do you mean?” His fingers wound into hers, his thumb moving along the edge of her hand. Such an innocent gesture, giving her goosebumps. Though she was well aware his intentions weren’t innocent.

“I mean… Like you just gave me a bunch of money and now you’re in my bedroom,” she smiled and tried to maintain eye contact but it was hard with how gorgeous he was.

“This is separate from that, Y/n. You should know that. I just missed you which is why I wanted to come here. You’re just really good,” he looked at the bed and then back to her, “You know… in this setting.” He grinned wide.

“In this setting?” She laughed at his words and shook her head.

The grin dropped from Harry’s face as he brought his free hand up to cup her jaw, “Can I kiss you? I missed these lips so much. I’ve been thinking of them since that first time with you.”

Nodding her head she felt him pull at her thigh just as his lips found hers.

Things had shifted since the last time she saw him. Somehow it felt a little different. Maybe more intimate in some way. It was probably because they were in her bedroom rather than a hotel suite, and this was the second time they’d be seeing each other in this context. But there was something else there too. She was feeling… less sure of herself. She still had the confidence she needed to kiss him back and unbutton his shirt, but unlike last time when she was feeling very forward, this time something kept her slightly reserved.

And Harry noted her softer demeanor. He didn’t mind it, though. In fact, this time he was feeling like he wanted to show her how good he could be. Give her a taste of him taking the lead and maybe have her begging him a bit. He was in a bit of a mood that night. He was glad that he saw her in the restaurant because it’d been a month since he’d gotten laid (and it just so happened the last person he’d had sex with was Y/n) and she was the only girl he could think of that would scratch the itch he had.

Y/n was pressed back into the mattress as Harry pulled her sweatpants off, “Do you want to feel good, Y/n?”

She nodded and puffed a laugh out, “Well… yeah…” She thought that was an obvious answer and the way she responded told Harry she was mocking him.

Harry paused the movements of his hands as he stuck his fingers into her panty’s waistband. He cocked his brow up at her in warning before he popped her thigh with a smack. She laughed and sat up with her mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Behave. I was just asking a question. Wanna try that answer again?”

She swallowed and blinked her eyes, “Yes, Harry. I want to feel good.” She smirked at him. Her answer was still lined with cheek but he’d give her a pass. He wanted to see her.

He smiled and nodded before proceeding to pull her panties down her legs, “Good. Because that’s what we’re here for. To feel good. Take your shirt off for me.”

Y/n was relieved that Harry seemed to pick up where she was lacking. She didn’t know what had her feeling so permissive but they seemed to be on the same page. She peeled her shirt off over her head and Harry spread her legs apart, fitting himself in between her thighs.

He was still mostly dressed. His shirt was unbuttoned and his jeans were undone. Both Y/n’s doing, but that was as far as it had gone with getting him out of his clothes before he stopped her and began to tell her he was going to get her naked.

“Can you take your bra off too? Need it all off.” He waved his hand toward her chest as he directed his sight to the space between her thighs. It felt so vulnerable to have him clothed while she was naked. But she did as he said and removed her bra for him.

The dim lamp in her room kept everything visible. Harry could tell she was already a bit wet. The gleam peeking out from her labia had his tummy on fire. He couldn’t wait to feel her again. Slip his cock right in and drive into her. He imagined he’d need to keep her mouth covered while he was fucking her to keep her quiet because he recalled how loud she was the first time they’d been together.

But before he could indulge himself in feeling the juicy stretch of her around him, he was determined to have her come in his mouth and on his fingers first. She didn’t orgasm when he ate her out the last time and that was something that stuck with him. He had nowhere to be the following morning and given that it was a Sunday he figured she was free as well so they could play for a lot longer this time around. Not that that stopped them from having a good romp and then a quick fuck in the morning the last time, but he planned to take his sweet time with her now.

He smoothed his hands up her thighs and licked his lips, “I’m gonna lick your pretty pussy until you come and then if you’re still well behaved maybe I’ll let you taste my cock for a bit before I fuck you. How’s that sound?”

She nodded and moaned softly, “Mmm… That sounds so good.”

Harry smiled and pressed his thumb over her clit and gently began to rub back and forth, “It does doesn’t it? I missed this with you, angel. Can’t believe I thought it was just going to be the one time. Seems as though fate had a different idea.”

She scrunched her brows and an ooh feel from her mouth at the feel of his thumb on her clit and his soft words.

Harry leaned over her body, the fabric of his shirt dragging over her tummy as he dipped down to wrap his mouth around her pebbled nipple. She craned her neck back into the soft pillow and sighed at the feel of him on her. His lips on her breast and his thumb on her wet nub.

By the time he’d licked and sucked the expanse of both of her breasts, she was completely on edge. On fire. His teasing thumb gently rolling her clit back and forth was making her lose it.

“Fuck… please, Harry,” she whispered as she stuffed her fingers into his hair. He lifted off her breast and looked up at her, “What is it, angel? Please what?”

“I just… I want you to fuck me. Now.”

Harry sat back onto his haunches and looked at where his hand was at her pussy. All wet and shiny for him, “What did I say?” He looked back into her eyes, “Don’t you remember what I said I was gonna do first?”

She let out a shaky breath, “I do. I just thought you could skip it if you wanted. Really want to feel you again.”

He kept his thumb working her clit as he groaned, “I want to feel you too. But I have to have a go at you first. Want to put my mouth right here,” he slid his thumb upward and pressed down, “and make you come.”

Her tongue poked out from her lips as she kept her mouth parted. Heavy lids and wiggly hips.

Harry loved the way she looked. Like she was ready for whatever was to come. She was desperate for him and he already had her saying please. He loved a little begging when he could get it.

“Little tongue coming out to say hello,” he reached forward and pressed his finger onto her pink muscle and she immediately wrapped her lips around his digit. His own mouth dropped open at her desperation. Her tongue pressed into the pad of his finger and she sucked him in.

“Shit, angel. I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good. Okay? Don’t worry.”

He felt her lift upward into his hand and he got the hint. She needed something.

Pulling his finger out of her mouth and taking his hand from her pussy he pulled his shirt off over his shoulders and knelt down, pressing his fingers through her crease, coating his digits in her slippery essence.

He looked up at her face as he plunged two fingers into her hole and then lowered his mouth over her cunt and she bellowed loudly before putting her arm over her mouth to keep herself quiet. She’d have to keep herself in check with the noises but her concern about Brad being right next to her room was slowly dissolving.

Harry chuckled into her labia as his tongue slipped up and down, lapping at her arousal.

It was soft but every time he puckered his lips and ran his tongue up and down her clit she felt a spark lighting up her insides.

Her moans were muffled under her arm. But she was so wet that everything in her room sounded exactly like what was happening. Harry’s lips and tongue and fingers moved through her wet labia and creamy arousal and she wished she could record the sounds to listen to later.

Harry’s heart was pounding in his chest and he curled his fingers and dragged the tips along her soft ridges on the inside. He flattened his tongue over her clit and slurped before quickly sweeping his tongue back and forth. Her little squeak was a good sign. He smiled.

When he felt her fingers in his hair, pulling gently she began to roll her hips into his face. He lifted up to take a look at her as much as he could with her fingers on his head. She was gorgeous. Her wet pussy was smeared all over his face, her tits swayed softly as she arched and writhed, her hair was splayed out across her pillow, soft thighs parted.

Then he noticed the way she was fucking herself down onto his fingers. Her hips began to move faster and her pathetic mewls were falling muffled from her mouth.

Harry lowered his lips back to her pussy and she sighed in relief. But he only applied a sloppy kiss to her mound before looking back up at her. He moved his free hand up her body and pushed her arm off her face, tilting his head up to speak, “Keep your eyes on me, angel. You can be a good girl stay quiet. I know you can,” he pumped his fingers into her as he spoke against her pussy in hot breaths.

She adjusted her body slightly, using the pillow to help keep her neck angled so she could watch him. To keep her eyes on his. She gasped and tried to stifle her moans as she watched him dig in with his whole face.

His pretty green eyes were mostly pupil, dark with only the edges of crystal green surrounding. She put her other hand into his hair and cradled the back of his head. The hand he wasn’t using to finger her had her thigh held down, his fingers pinching into her soft skin.

But then he used his tongue to move quickly back and forth over her clit while thrusting his fingers deep, curling into the right spot. And there was something about his eyes watching her that made her flush hot. His steady gaze seeped into her brain and wrapped itself around all those bits that supplied dopamine and caused a craving that would be hard to shake.

His fingers were stuffed so deep inside of her that she knew he must be getting his knuckles drenched. Probably his whole hand given how wet everything sounded. The bend of his fingers inside of her and the pressure on her clit, when he sucked her, pulled a loud groan from her lungs. But it didn’t stop him from continuing the sloppy lapping and slurping.

Pulling his hair tighter between her fingers she bucked her hips into his face and tried to close her legs slightly by instinct. Harry kept her one thigh pressed down hard and he used his shoulder to hold her other side down.

She cried out, “Oh god!” And threw her head back, removing her eyes from Harry’s just as she felt the spark turn into a harsh current that began to tip her into the edge of her orgasm. She knew it had been too loud. Knew that it might have woken up her housemate but she was too far away from caring about that just then. Her pussy was being snacked on in a way she’d never experienced in her life.

Harry dug himself in deeper when he could tell she was close. Her loud cry and the quiver of her thighs were a good sign. He kept at what he was doing and looked up at her soft tits as she arched her back and moaned his name.

When she began to clamp down on his fingers and her moans moved into a steady stream of whining and whimpering and her muscles tensed he knew he’d gotten her to come finally. He allowed her to have her eyes closed because he could tell it was intense. He’d have her watching him next time he made her come on his cock.

Which reminded him of what sort of state he was in. His hard dick was painfully achy. But the anticipation for what was to come had him reeling as he licked her through to her end, keeping his fingers inside of her, working her until she slowed her hips and loosened the grip on his curls.

He sat back, grabbing her hands from his hair, and looked over his handiwork. Her pussy was ready to be fucked. She was ripe for more. He knew she’d be good for another orgasm. Her body was made for this.

When she finally opened her eyes she giggled as he leaned over her frame. His face was all wet. His chin, his cheeks, and his nose were shiny with her. She followed him with her eyes as he climbed over her.

Somewhere in between her coming and right then, he’d removed his pants and boxer briefs. His cock hung heavy over her face, “Open.”

She was flat on her back as she opened her mouth for him, reaching a hand up to grasp the base of his cock to guide him to her mouth. She felt his warm tip against her lip, the smear of his precome and her slippery arousal wetting the edge of her mouth before she wrapped her lips around him.

The groan he let out was the sound of pure sex. She had barely done a thing but she was already smiling to herself at the way she made him whine.

Harry held onto the headboard with one hand and used his other to grasp the back of her head as he pushed himself down into her throat. He’d only dip in a few times. Make her swallow and gag around him once her twice because he wanted to fuck her. Wanted to feel her again.

She closed her eyes when Harry’s tip dragged against the back of her throat. He pumped himself into her a few times and she swallowed as she gagged around him. The whimper he let out made her brain swirl. She was thoroughly enjoying having her throat fucked. He wasn’t going in too hard but he was taking control of her and dipping in until she was coughing and drooling.

He pulled himself out and looked down at her, moving his hand up to her cheek with a grin, “My god, angel. Just so fucking perfect.”

She was still catching her breath. From her orgasm, from having his cock in her throat, from the intensity of the moment…

She could hear him ripping the condom wrapper open before he was back in view. He sat between her legs on his haunches as he softly moved his palms over her thighs and up to her hips, “Gonna give me another one? Come on cock this time?”

She planted her gaze on his and nodded, “Yes…” her words were a whisper.

The cheeky grin Harry returned to her had her heart fluttering. He was so painfully attractive she felt like this was all a dream.

“Good. Need you to keep your eyes on me this time, okay?” He paused as she nodded, “Want to watch your face when I make you come. Might have to cover your mouth if you get too loud like you just were. Is that okay?”

Another quick nod and a moan told him she was on board.

Harry moved his hands up her sides, pressing his fingers into her soft skin and up to her breasts, kneading at them for a moment before lining himself up to her hole, “Look at me.”

They kept their eyes locked as he slowly pressed in past her tight opening. Harry knew that if they went without a condom he might come inside of her and not want to pull out. If she felt as good as she did with a condom, he knew he’d be falling in love and down on one knee if he felt her without.

Her puffy, juicy pussy was taking him in just as he remembered. He had to work himself in and out a bit before he finally got himself into her balls deep. He would have loved to tuck himself in further but he was halted from his thick, full balls.

“Feel that, angel?” He groaned quietly as she nodded nodded in gasps. “Yeah? It’s so fucking deep, isn’t it? Love the way you spread open for me,” he rocked into her and pulled back, listening to the slick sounds it made.

He put his palms on the mattress with his body leaned over hers, using his strong back and thighs to fuck into her as deep as he could. He just wanted to be stuffed inside of her guts, fucking into her as far as humanly possible. And she felt that too. It was deep. The sharp ache made her keen but the drag of his pelvis against her clit felt otherworldly.

Her thighs were pushed back, bent at the knee as Harry laid himself into her over and over again. Thick, deep, languid strokes.

“Ahhhh!” She cried when he smacked into her, pushing her upward slightly.

Harry groaned and kept his eyes on hers, “Yeah? It’s that good, huh? Gonna have to cover your mouth now because I’m about to go a little harder.” She wanted harder. Liked soft too, but hard stuck around for days. Loved the feeling of having her pussy fucked so good she was reminded of it later on. Just like the first time they were together. She felt him every time she sat down or stood up for two days. Felt the leftover ache on her thighs and the burn on her bottom.

Harry angled himself down, pushing her thighs apart further with one hand and covering her mouth with his other. And his sudden punishing thrusts had her eyes going wide. It hadn’t been expected so quickly but he got right to it.

He could feel the vibrations of her moans against his palm as he buried himself in and pulled back to his tip before he hammered back into her repeatedly. Long, deep, fast strokes.

She was already rolling her eyes into the back of her head. He wanted her to watch him but he’d give her a small break and make her open them when she was coming. He wanted to watch her face and her eyes as she reached her peak.

Her bed creaked and the springs danced loudly. Muffled sounds of moans and the wet slap of skin filled her bedroom. Harry didn’t necessarily want her roommate to hear them but he did enjoy all the noises that came with sex. And in all honesty, they were both being as quiet as possible given how hard he was fucking her.

His thighs burned from the thrusts and his back muscles held himself steady over her, “Listen to that, angel. Our bodies connecting like that. How wet you are for me…” he moaned his words as he watched her face screw up in ecstasy. Her muted noises were stifled with his palm as he wrecked her insides.

She felt every inch of him taking her. Every slip and thrust, drag and pull, every deep nudge inside… She opened her eyes to see him already looking down at her and she nearly lost it. His hair was in his face, curls swaying, sweat building at his temples, his arms were flexing as he held himself up over her, his chest flushed and glistening from the intensity of his thrusts into her. He was so strong and so overpowering she felt like a rag doll under him flopping and grunting under his hand. She was just a hole to fuck as she clenched down on him when he pasted his hips to hers and rocked inward sharply.

“Keep those eyes open, angel. I can tell you’re about to come on my cock and I need you to look at me so you know who’s making you come,” he spoke his words through gasped breaths as he pushed into her deeply, slowing his thrusts so he could control his own orgasm. He was too close and he knew she was nearly there.

He rocked his hips into hers he ground himself down when he stuffed himself in fully, making sure her clit was being smushed against for friction. Repeatedly he fucked her little hole with slow plunges and smoothed against her clit. Every time he screwed into her to the hilt he felt his balls pressing into her bum, being wetted by her creamy arousal. He keened at the feel of her around him. Every little ridge of her insides taking him in like they were made for that very thing had him spinning.

Harry removed his hand from her mouth. He wanted to see her whole face as he fucked into her. Wanted to watch her mouth drop open as she creamed on his cock when she came, wanted to hear her cries, fuck anyone else that might hear. In that moment it was all about his angel and how good she was feeling. All he cared about was that she was being taken care of and that he was making her feel as good as she deserved.

“Harry, please… oh my god please…” she gasped as she clung tight to his back. His cock inside of her felt full and had her walls tingling and fluttering. She was reeling with pleasure and having him inside of her. Never wanted that feeling to go away. If she could bottle it up and take it with her she would. So she tried to stave off her orgasm for a moment longer.

“Begging me, baby? Want to come so bad don’t you? But it feels so good like this doesn’t it?” He used a hand to hold the side of her face as if he were being gentle with her. As if he wasn’t fucking into her deep with harsh ruts inward that had her gasping for air. His words and his soft touches and his hard cock were doing her in.

She tried. She really did. She wanted to have him fucking her like that for hours but she couldn’t hold on any longer. She began to moan, starting with a low, quiet sound, until she was crying out his name and shaking under him.

She kept her eyes open but found the task difficult as she started to come. And she realized that watching Harry while she came only intensified her orgasm. Her head swirled with his handsome face hovering over hers, looking directly at her as he made her come felt like she was being dominated in a way that she’d never experienced. He hadn’t tied her up or whipped her or anything like that, but it was the sensation of being watched while she was coming that made her feel like he was taking control. The experience of having the man who was making her come as he looked down at her at that moment felt like he’d claimed her as his. He was watching his own work come to fruition and it was a dominant act.

“Fuck, angel. Just like that. Come all over me. She me how good it feels.”

Y/n babbled an unintelligible response and moaned around her syllables and vowels. She didn’t know what she was saying as she forced her eyes to stay on his.

And it had been worth it to keep her eyes open when she saw Harry’s face pinch up and his mouth drop open. She could hear his groan and the harsh thuds into her cunt before he stilled and clenched his teeth as his cock throbbed inside of her. He was coming and she got to see it on the tail end of her own orgasm and it was the hottest thing she’d ever seen.

“Ahhh!” He panted as he sucked in a deep breath and choked out a loud moan. The release was heaven. He came so hard he wondered if it could be possible to leak out of his condom. He pumped and throbbed and worked himself to his end as he looked down at the pretty angel under him all fucked out and smiley on his cock.

His chest heaved as he twitched the last little bit and his features relaxed on the comedown. He kept himself over her as he began to smile, “You okay?”

She was melted below him, a soft smile on her lips as she nodded, “So fucking good. Oh my god…” she whispered.

Harry gently pulled himself off of her and checked to verify that he hadn’t in fact leaked out of his condom before pulling it off and tossing it onto the floor. He’d deal with the cleanup later. In that moment he needed to hold her and kiss her for a while.

She felt her body pulled against his and then his lips caressing over hers. Soft and reassuring. Her orgasm had been intense. Maybe the most incredible orgasm she’d ever had. The eye contact was something she hadn’t expected. She thought it would feel silly. At first, it made her feel vulnerable but when she could tell how much he needed it, needed her eyes on his it felt like a rush. Adrenaline coursed through her veins and she came so hard.

She kissed him back and put her hands up to his shoulders. Lazy and soft and sweet.

Harry pushed his nose into hers and spoke softly, “That was really, really good, Y/n. You don’t mind if I stay the night here, do you?”

Shaking her head she scraped her nails against the nape of his neck, “I want you to stay. Please.”

.           .           .

Waking up in her bed with Harry next to her felt like a wild fantasy. She considered pinching herself as she fluttered her eyes open and saw his sleeping face smushed into her pillow. The night before he’d been a sex god. A man so fine with a masculine and well-muscled body that he made her mouth water and her clit throb. He’d fucked her so good and it was so hot it gave her goosebumps just thinking about it. But there he was lying in her bed asleep, pink lips and glossy eyelids, small puffs of breath coming from his nose, and adorably messy hair. She couldn’t quite wrap her brain around how he went from the man who took control of her the night before to the soft, cute, sleeping beauty the very next morning.

He asked if he could stay. Said he wanted to be with her a little longer. And that was the part that really stuck with her. Sure he was handsome and then some. They got along so well and everything felt so compatible with him. And that was a problem. Because he wasn’t just some guy. This was Harry Styles. She couldn’t go getting her feeling too mixed up in everything. But he made it hard with the way he treated her and handled her. Like they’d known one another for an eternity.

On their first night together it was clear that what they were doing was just something fun and that was it. Which she was fine with. She happily accepted his terms then. Just as she happily said yes to him staying the night this time. Whatever he wanted she was fine with it. Well, she hoped she’d be fine. Because she was sure he’d never get his feelings mixed up with sex when it came to her.

Gently putting her fingers into his hair she saw his eyelids move and then slowly he graced her with his gorgeous eyes and then a soft smile.

He didn’t say anything before he dragged her the short distance to rest her head on the pillow his head was on and kissed her.

And it went from a quiet soft morning make out to Harry’s erection poking into her hip and then scrambling for a condom with messy hair and soft sighs to a slow break of day fuck.

The springs in her bed bounced gently with every thrust of his hips. Harry kept his mouth glued to hers as he drove into her soft, wet pussy. All of her blankets had been kicked to the floor in a rush for the condom and switching positions on the bed and now it was just two bodies at the center finding relief and catching an early orgasm before their day began.

Harry rocked into her, his cock so hard and thick she felt every single inch of him moving into her and slipping back before he languidly pushed in until his hips met hers. She had her ankles crossed over his back and Harry had one hand cradling the back of her head, his mouth covering hers while his other forearm kept himself held up slightly, his chest against hers.

She gasped under him, reaching for breath every time he thrust into her. His own panting grew more desperate and soon the first sound of his voice was heard for the day, a whimpered moan falling from his throat as he felt her walls taking him in with a decadent squeeze and wet squelch.

Morning sex was always Y/n’s favorite, but it turned out it was Harry’s too. It was less fussy really. Just two tired bodies wanting to connect and feel pleasure in the golden morning light. No preamble or big to-do. Just soft morning sex and a delicious orgasm to get the day started off right.

The moment Y/n’s moan grew loud and Harry felt her cunt spasming and pulling him in deeply he let go, spurting into his condom and licking into her mouth as he throbbed in ecstasy.

And just like the night before and the first night she’d spent with him, she was amazed. Maybe it was the shape of his cock or their natural chemistry. Or maybe it was just Harry, but somehow the sex with him was beyond just good sex. She was going to be haunted by this man.

When he pulled out he held her thighs apart and lapped at her gently, just for a taste. Just to enjoy one more little squeal from her throat, which she immediately gifted him.

“Harry stop! I’m too sensitive!” She pushed at his forehead and he smiled up at her before collapsing onto the bed next to her.

He hated navigating relationships because being famous already put his life under a microscope. Most of the time it wasn’t worth it to keep seeing someone for sex unless it was a person he knew feelings would never be a problem with, and they could both have the understanding that it was just sex. But that was rare for him. Harry was all or nothing with sex usually. It was either a one-time deal or he’d want a long-term committed relationship. And the latter was complicated for someone with his lifestyle. His last long-term relationship was something he’d take with him forever. He considered it a lesson learned. And for him that meant needing to be very picky and selective about whom he let into his heart.

No more mixing business with pleasure and then taking on the guilt of having a public break-up. No more women with super complicated lives that he could get mixed up into.

He felt like he was treading dangerously with Y/n. He didn’t want to hurt her and he didn’t want to get himself hurt either. But he could see himself being with someone like her. He liked her spice and her straightforward demeanor. She was confident and funny. She wasn’t the type that he’d be able to keep his feelings separated from the sex with. He was already getting attached.

“What?” He asked her. She was lying next to him, they were sharing a pillow and she had a small smirk on her face as she gazed over his features.

“Nothing. It’s stupid,” her grin didn’t fall off her face.

Harry brought a hand up to her jaw and he thumbed gently toward her temple, “Tell me. I like stupid sometimes,” he laughed.

She bit her lip and looked away from him for a few moments before putting her eyes back on his, “Your song, Watermelon Sugar. It’s about cunnilingus?” Her smile widened feeling ridiculous asking him such a question but she couldn’t get it out of her mind. Ever since the night before when he made her come from eating her out (a rarity for her) and then that morning after they’d had sex when he went in for a quick lick.

Harry laughed and nodded, “I guess. Yeah. Why?”

“Cause you just seem to really like it.”

Harry took in a deep breath and moved his hand down her side, “I love it. Is that okay?”

She looked at him like he was crazy, “Of course it is. Very much so.”

She wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Harry had been fun and sweet. And to know that this famous man could have anyone he wanted yet he chose to spend the night with her felt like something quite special. Something she wouldn’t get the chance to do ever again. To have him in bed at all was a crazy notion. But to have it happen twice?

“I want to see you again. When I get back to LA in a couple of months. Is that okay?” He said as he pulled her in for a hug before they left her bedroom. His car was waiting for him.

His words shocked her. Again?

“Oh. Yeah… Sure. That would be fun.” She was surprised. Stunned. If he wanted to see her again what did that mean? Was he thinking of her as more than just someone to have sex with?

“Well, geez. You don’t sound very enthusiastic about it,” he laughed as he pulled back from the hug.

Shaking her head she grinned, “Just didn’t expect you to want to see me again. You’re gonna be gone for months. I mean… I’d love to. Of course. But you know… No pressure.”

“Of course, there’s no pressure. I’m just saying I’d like to see you again if you’re free when I return to LA. That’s all.”

Letting out the breath she’d held in she nodded, “Yes, Harry. I’d really like that.”

Harry smiled softly and put a hand up to her face to press his palm over her cheek as he looked her over, “Gonna miss you, angel. Wish I could take you with me.”

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Hummingbird: Chapter One

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

You leaned back against the desk, ignoring the leftover smattering of paint as it seeped into your overalls, and checked the time. Miles’s face was stuck to the pages of his sketchbook, blue and red ink staining his cheek as he snored softly. One hand loosely gripped an open highlighter, the other dangled over the edge of his desk, half-eaten sandwich abandoned on the floor.

Twenty minutes. He’d been asleep for twenty minutes, and if you let him sleep any longer, he’d be late for fifth period.

You rapped your knuckles on his pencil case, the ringing tin jolting the teenager awake. Brown eyes flashed around the room, fists shooting out in an amateur boxing move as he tried to figure out why his spidey sense hadn’t warned him of any danger.

But there was no danger here. Nope, just Miss Y/l/n staring at him curiously from under raised brows.

“Wakey wakey, Miles,” You wore your usual pair of yellow Converse and paint-splattered overalls, the pockets hanging wide and loose after years of carrying around paint bottles, brushes, and books. The school board liked to complain about your “improper dress,” but at the end of the day you were one of the school’s only art teachers - and the most highly approved by students.

“Oh heyyyyy Miss Y/l/n.” He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck before dropping to the floor and snatching up his forgotten lunch. This was the fourth time you’d caught him sleeping in your classroom. Any more and you might actually have to start giving him detention. He tossed pens, snacks, and his sketchbook haphazardly into his bag, but not before you caught sight of a familiar blond-haired, blue-eyed girl smiling in front of a backdrop rioting with yellow, pinks, and blues more vibrant than a fireworks display. “GWEN!” the comic-style calligraphy called out next to her glowing face. Miles always seemed to be drawing her these days.

“You’ve still got five minutes left, calm down.” Miles straightened up to face you, clutching his lunchbox to his chest and smiling nervously. You folded your arms over your chest and stared pointedly at the gangly boy in front of you. With how much he’d grown over the last few months you wondered if one of his ancestors had been a garden weed. 

“You want to talk about what’s been going on, Miles?” 

“What do you-what do you mean?”

“You’ve been falling asleep in my class, this is the fourth time I’ve caught you napping here during lunch, and now I hear from Mr. Maloney that you’ve been skipping English.”

“He-he told you that?” He tugged at the collar of his shirt, hoping for a breeze to drift in through the window and save him from his nerves. He thought he’d been good about juggling the responsibilities of being a high-schooler and everyone’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. If his parents noticed anything different about him they chalked it up to teenage angst and grief over Uncle Aaron’s death. But someone had caught him slipping up.

You shrugged, “The teacher’s lounge exists, and people like to talk.”

“Oh…” he mumbled, shoulders dropping.

The dull ringing of the school bell cut through the silence, followed shortly by the rumblings of conversation as students filled the hallway, moving with the current like fish in a river.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, “Listen, Miles, you’re not in trouble, ok?” Miles sighed in relief. “If you need to eat your lunch or just take a break in my classroom that’s fine with me. I just want to make sure you’re not trying to flunk out like last year.” 

He shook his head adamantly. He couldn’t - wouldn’t - drop out of Brooklyn Visions now. He had a plan for the future: go to Princeton, figure out multiversal traveling, and reunite with Gwen and Peter and the rest of the Spider-gang. Seemed simple enough… and totally doable…

“I promise that’s not the case, Miss Y/l/n.” The sincerity behind his words satisfied you.

“Alright Miles, but I’m keeping an eye on you,” You said dramatically, squinting your eyes and pointing at his chest. Miles snorted, mouth breaking open into a lopsided grin, “Now get out of here or Mrs. Cape will think I’ve convinced you to go to art school again.” 

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I just…”

“Yes, yes, you want to go study physics at Princeton,” you waved your hand in the air, tracing some invisible pattern in the sunlight before grabbing a wet wipe from your desk and tossing it to Miles, “Quantum mechanics, the multiverse, and all that stuff.” 

It wasn’t the first time he’d told you about his future plans, but the words that left his mouth had a tendency of flying over your head. The kid was too smart for his own good.

You paused and took a moment to look at Miles, to really look at him as he scrubbed away at the ink on his cheek, “Those Princeton schmucks would be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks Miss Y/l/n.” Again he gave you that crooked, boyish smile.

“Alright now out, out!” You shooed him towards the door, watching as he saluted you and flashed you one last smile before joining the crowd of students and disappearing around the corner.

You slipped back into your classroom, the smell of charcoal, dried paint, and pencil shavings settling into your lungs - sweet and comforting. There wasn’t an inch of space that wasn’t covered in some manner of artwork: sketches, paintings, collages… colorful graffiti that you should probably scrub out before parent-teacher conferences. Most of the pieces were the works of current students, but sometimes people like to leave things behind on purpose, trusting that you would find a place for them somewhere.

You wiped down the desks, rubbed the worst paint splotches from your overalls, and then collapsed into your chair, swiveling around and munching on the sandwich you’d picked up at the Prospect St. bodega. You had thirty minutes of peace and quiet before sixth period. 

That’s more than enough time. You thought to yourself. Maybe I’ll get some grading done and-

A head of curly black hair popped into the room, face wet and screaming with tears. You straightened in your chair as the boy’s lips thinned, then turned down. His shoulders began to tremble.

“He…He,” Hiccup, “He broke up with me, Miss Y/l/n.” 

“Oh geez,” you sighed deeply, setting your sandwich down and ushering the boy in. 

There were things you missed about being a teenager… the highs and lows of a first love were not on that list.

>>>

Saturday nights were sacred - the only time you reserved entirely for yourself. No grading, no reviewing and updating lesson plans, no agonizing over student reviews. You’d used to go out with old college friends for drinks on the weekend, but most of them had moved out of the city or gotten married and were doing married people things.

Is this what getting older is like? You wondered as you snuggled further into your couch, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders to keep out the chill. It wasn’t too terrible… albeit a little lonely.

The latest in a slew of cooking shows played out on the tv, throwing flashes of light onto the book-burdened coffee table and providing the background noise necessary for you to finally get your thoughts out of your sketchbook. But the moment you went to put the pen nib down, your mind went blank, and not in a good way. Every line looked wrong, the eyes of the figure looking bloated and misshapen. Time creeped by slowly, dragging you along for a ride as smooth as sandpaper.

 You knew the cause of your frustration, but knowing never made it better. It had been two months since Richard had moved out, two months and one day since you’d found out he was cheating on you with some grad student at NYU. 

Pendejo.

You’d hated his interior decorating, but now the blank spaces on the wall screamed his name. 

You tossed your sketchbook and pencil onto the ground and went to make a cup of tea. Maybe you were better off calling it a night and crawling into bed. Mid-year reviews had just ended and you had a long list of emails to reply to in the morning. One thing you hadn’t been expecting when you’d accepted this job was the number of parents who’d be on your ass about their kids getting a B in art - in art. 

The tea kettle was just about to open its mouth and start singing when a crash sounded from the living, followed by a sheepish “Whoops.” The muffled word punctuated Paul Hollywood’s critique of someone’s lemon tart - too stodgy.

Your blood ran cold as the stranger continued to mutter. 

“There goes another one. Wow there’s a lot of stuff on the floor.” Another one of your precious potted plants hit the ground with a dull crack. 

You grabbed the wooden bat from where it leaned against the wall, swinging it easily behind your head. At least there was one good thing Richard had left you with. 

You creeped out into the hallway, backing up towards the front door with your eyes trained on the shadowy figure making a mess of your living room. The figure fluctuated in and out of existence as he stumbled about the room, tripping over the piles of books and art supplies littering the ground. His body splintered outwards like cobwebs and twisted with flashes of bright light, haunting and inhuman. 

The creak of the floorboards gave you away. All at once the figure stopped and turned around to look at you. Where its face should have been was a single, flickering white spot, pulsing with curiosity as it tilted its head to the side. 

Mierda. 

You bolted towards the door… but he was already there.

“Why hello Mrs. O’Hara. Nice to finally meet you.” A thousand voices said at once.

You screamed and swung. 

The first swing missed, leaving a crater in the drywall. The second swing hit true, but the bat merely sunk into the black void of his body, some force ripping it out of your hands as you staggered backward. “Oh! Well that wasn’t very nice.” The creature laughed. 

Spindly tendrils of dark matter grabbed hold of you and you let out one final scream before the Spot swallowed you whole.

There was a momentary blindness and the sensation of falling before you were unceremoniously spit out onto a hard granite floor. You winced at the rough cut of broken glass beneath your heels, with nothing to protect you but a thin pair of socks. You looked upward and gasped. 

Where there had once been a towering glass ceiling dozens of stories high lay a gaping hole, the metal beams blown backwards into the night air like a blooming flower. It took you a moment to recognize the building, after all you’d seen it nonstop on the news for weeks last year - Alchemax.

What the hell?

Police tape criss-crossed over the debris like yellow spider webs, the scene broken up by black holes that morphed and twisted around you, pulsing with the same energy as the stranger in your apartment.

I must be dreaming. You thought. But in the back of your mind you remembered bits and pieces of what Miles told you he’d been studying over the summer - wormholes and spacetime and portals to different universes. 

You picked up a piece of metal off the floor, experimentally tossing it into one of the spots. It disappeared under the surface like pottery in slip before popping back into existence above you. You only narrowly lunged out of the way before it crashed into the ground and stuck there like a sword in a battlefield.

“Beautiful, isn’t it Mrs. O’Hara?” the Spot stepped out of a hole in the fabric of spacetime beside you. 

You jumped back, choking the scream in your throat. “That’s not-that’s not my name.” You managed to say. “Maybe you’ve kidnapped the wrong person?” A stupid hope.

“Oh? What is it then?” You said nothing, daring to lean down and pick up a jagged piece of roof panel. It might not do much, but it made you feel safer with its weight in your hands. “Well you don’t need to tell me. I just wanted to ask you a question.” He blipped out of existence, taking with him the darkness that pooled out of his skin.

“Who is Spider-Man?” the voices said as the Spot reappeared right beside you.

“You’ve got to stop doing that! Pendejo.” 

“What?”

“Just talk to me like a normal person.” You pointed the roof panel at him, keeping him at a safe distance.

“Who. Is. Spider-Man?” He stepped closer, the tip of your makeshift weapon sinking into his skin like he wasn’t even there. 

The question made you pause. That was what he wanted to know? He had kidnapped you just to ask about Spider-Man? 

“Um, I mean, he’s kind of the local superhero. Stops thieves, saves kittens stuck in trees, makes questionable brand deals at times-”

“NO! I know who Spider-Man is.” 

You blinked in confusion, eyes shifting to the side, “Then why did you kidnap me?”

“I want to know Spider-Man’s identity! His real identity.” The edges of his body sparked, shooting outward and striking the walls of the room. Dust and plaster fell to the ground like snow.

“I don’t-how the fuck am I supposed to know who Spider-Man is?!”

“You know him! The other version of you knew him!” 

“What, other me?”

“The alternate universe version of you!” He threw his hands up into the air like a petulant child. The darkness around him grew with every passing minute, crawling around on the floor and up onto the walls like a reptile looking for its next meal. He slid his hands down his face, somehow pulling at the ether he was made of as he muttered under his breath.

“Whatever, I may have miscalculated. You’ll still be important. Don’t you worry. You may not know who Spider-Man is, but Spider-Man sure knows you.”

Next chapter ->

>>>

Author's Note: so... I may have gotten carried away and written the second chapter as well... hope you enjoy!

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OOOO moth darling? I wanna throw my idea in too. Maybe a super kind and caring goth moth darling? Especially when they look super menacing (bcus they wear hardcore goth fashion) but their favorite game is smthn like animal crossing or they like super relaxing hobbies. (Also adonis could literally suffocate in the big tittie from his goth partner.) I hope you see my vision. PLEASE.

[Yan Butterfly + Goth Moth Darling]

Adonis is so weak for Darling.... He probably sneaks invites them into the buildings/homes he cleans for his job especially if there's been a murder or the home owners had some decor he knew they'd like. Adonis makes a fair amount of money from his cleaning gig, even moreso on contacts that are more "under the table" ergo shady folks looking to clean up any evidence left behind - but he's always spending his cash on gifts he knows Darling will like because he knows their preferred style of dress ain't always cheap.

Darling tells him they don't need it, but how can he stop when they're so kind to him? Making sure he eats, takes breaks, sleep. Butterfly boy may have worked himself to death by now if it wasn't for them. The long, grueling hours are worth it so long as he gets to come home and rest on their soft, warm ti- pillows...

-

"Brought you some sandwiches. Nothin' special, grabbed them from that gas station around the corner, but I knew you had to have something since you've been here all morning. Promise I'll grab something more filling next time"

An angel....An absolute angel gifted from the heavens above. Here you were bringing him food and checking up on him, yet you had the gull to believe it wasn't enough.

"...thanks...." Adonis shyly takes the bag from you, tensing as your fingers brush against his. You gaze around the living room as he clumsily works to untie its strings. The couch, TV stand, and coffee table had all been pushed towards the far walls - dark stains embedded into the carpet close to where the legs of the table once stood. You crouch to get a better look.

"Is this...." Your voice grows quiet - barely a whisper as you extend your hand. "Where it happened?"

"M....Mhm..." Adonis mouths through bitefuls of bread and cheese. The sandwich wasn't the best, or worst thing he'd ever eaten, but knowing it came from you made every bite heaven. He had given you some details of the incident that had taken place. A burglary gone wrong resulting in the death of an innocent man. Nobody even knew he was gone until bills began piling up. Never had many friends or close family.... Adonis wasn't close with his parents either... If something happened to him... you'd probably be the first and only to notice...

"Adonis?..."

"Y...Yeah?"

The butterfly freezes as your arms fall around him, pulling him towards your chest.

"Promise me that no matter what you'll text me at the end of every shift you have. It doesn't matter how late it is...All I care about is that you're safe."

You actually care.... Adonis has always know that, but hearing you say it out loud even if muffled by his face smothered by your chest...He knew it was an inappropriate time, but it was hard not to obsess over the contact with every beat of your heart playing like a melody in his ear. An angel, his angel. His saving grace he'll never let go.

"I will... Every night... I promise to I'll let you know whenever I get home.. I promise."

"Thank you....."

Adonis looks down at his half eaten sandwich. "...My bosses said I could take anything I wanted. I think there's still some clothes in the closet still that you might like if you're interested?"

"Raiding a dead guy's closet wasn't on my list of plans today...but I think I have enough space in my schedule."

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 16 all chapters

~AUTHOR'S WARNINGS: N$FW, SEXUAL CONTENT, COPIOUS SWEARING, TOXIC POSESSIVENESS , IF SOMEONE TREATS YOU LIKE THIS IN REAL LIFE RUN RUN RUN BC IT WILL NOT TURN OUT WELL U CANT FIX THEM~

-Aware that John Wick knows this city much better than you, you stick to the crowds. You manage to find your way to the Peggy Guggenheim collection, and you hang out there for hours, looking through the art works, but really only half seeing what is in front of you.

You are devastated.

You’ve had controlling boyfriends before, and it was not fun. They seem exciting at first, until the person you were before is eaten alive by their tantrums and their ridiculous expectations as they try to fit you into a box of their own making.

You can’t believe John turned out that way.

Or maybe you can. Maybe you have a fucking type, and you should have seen this coming.

You stay almost until closing, then grab a bite to eat before daring to wander the streets. You find a little walled in park, a courtyard filled with lush greenery and a tinkling fountain. By some miracle, there is only one other couple on a bench at the far end. You practically have the place to yourself, and you sit down on a wrought iron bench with a sigh and eat your sandwich.

You pull out your sketchbook afterwards to pass the time. Your doodling hand wanders, and perhaps its no surprise when you draw John Wick from memory, his proud lips and haunted eyes. There are tears running down your cheeks as you do so. When it gets too much, even though you’re in public, you hang your head and weep into your hands.

Darkness falls, and you know you should be getting back. The bench has long ceased to be comfortable, and yet it’s like you have grown into it, unable to move.

Even with your head down, when someone sits silently down beside you, you just know it’s John.

You do not look at him, and thankfully he does not try to touch you.

“It’s getting late, y/n. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Yes it is,” he insists, sounding almost tired about it. You hate it that your demeanor softens towards him, just a little.

“You broke my heart, Mr. Wick.”

“I was afraid I might.” He is sitting with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. “Would you let me make it up to you?” 

“I'm not sure that's a good idea.” 

“No?”

“No. I think you have a mean streak.” 

He had tried to warn you, you realize, in his way.

God, are you really such a fool?

“Doesn't everyone?” 

You make a sound between your teeth, and he nods like you have said something profound. 

“I'm not a nice man, y/n. But I would be good to you.”

“Like last night? I didn't like that.”

The corner of his mouth curves in a wicked smirk, and your heart skips a beat in your chest, damn him. Was the contrition all an act?

“Yes you did.”

“Not the last part.”

“Hmm. I tried to warn you.”

In the vaguest terms possible, maybe.

“My fanny.”

He raises an eyebrow to that, and you’re not sure why that little gesture wounds you like a knife to the heart all over again. Perhaps because he is beautiful, and even though you know he’s dangerous for you, you still want him so very much.  

You start to cry again, and try to get up from the bench. You need to get away from him, because you can’t think straight when he’s near.

“Y/n, wait.” He catches your wrist, and when you don’t really fight him, he pulls you down into his lap, and goddammit if this isn’t what you’d wanted all along. You feel small in his arms, cradled against his long torso and sheltered in the bend of his neck, even if in your hindbrain you know you are not actually safe at all. He strokes your hair until you quiet, and he kisses your temple like you are something precious.

How can this man be so sweet, just to turn on you?

“Why did you leave me, like that?”

You just do not understand. You could have had a lovely, fulfilling, mind-blowing if not vanilla night together. He’d laid all the groundwork like a master orchestrator, and you would have let him fuck you senseless. Fuck, you wouldn’t have even minded the tying up part, if he just hadn’t humiliated you.

“Because…” His lips ghost along the line of your jaw, and you fight not to squirm as his large hand slides up your thigh, his fingertips feather light on your skin. “Only good girls get to cum,” he says low in your ear, and you hate how it makes you ache between your legs, to hear him talk to you that way.

Outwardly, you do your best to keep your cool.

“And touching your hair made me a bad girl?”

“No.”

“Disobeying you did.”

“Yes.”

“That’s kinda fucked up.”

“Maybe.” He actually seems a little amused by you, which is not the reaction you were expecting. “I like to be in control. But you make me feel...unbalanced.”

“Me?” You sound incredulous. The thought that you could affect this powerful man in such a way seems absurd.

“Yes, you, kitten.”

The urge to demand he not call you that desiccates on your tongue. 

“So...what? You feel the need to take revenge for that?” 

“Maybe. I thought you knew the game we were playing, when you batted those big eyes up at me. Mr Wick, Sir, aren’t I a good girl?” His fingers dig into your thigh with the memory, and you can feel his growing erection beneath you. “But you’re just an innocent, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“You’re used to boys just eating out of the palm of your hand. But I am a man, with a man’s appetites, and a man’s desires.”

He was a little more than that, you reckoned.

“You want to control me.”

“That’s part of it.”

“Why?”

He smirks. “Maybe I had a rough childhood.”

You can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

“I want to take care of you.” He kisses your cheek again, and it is gentle and sweet and everything you had wanted from Mr. Wick, before this all went sideways. “I want you to be mine.”

You are not proud of the way those words unleash a fluttering swarm of butterflies in your belly, your breath quickening in your chest. You are proud when you manage to answer, “I don’t need taking care of.”

He just snorts lightly at that, as if it’s not even worth arguing over. “Come back to the hotel room with me. I promise I’ll finish what I started. With interest.” His hand slowly slides up your thigh, just beneath the skirt of your sundress, and you think you might die. You should not want this man, after what he did to you.

The ache between your legs suggests otherwise.

You give yourself some points, when you shake your head.

“No. I’m going back to my hostel.”

The shift in his demeanor gives you whiplash, a thunderhead of a frown pulling his handsome features. “Need to get back to your little friend Javi?” The jealousy in his tone hot as a brand. “Did he try to kiss you again?”

Your heart drops to your feet.

“How did you know he tried to kiss me?” you ask, your voice so small.

That was in Rome, after all.

What should have been obvious before comes crashing in, and you realize what a little fool you’ve been. That feeling that someone’s been watching you, and John’s so convenient and coincidental appearance outside the alley…

“Holy shit. You’ve been following me.”

“I’ve been protecting you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You have no idea what the world is really like, sweetheart. It’s a dangerous place.”

You frown at this.

“So…you think I’m stupid?”

“No, of course not.”

“You think I can’t take care of myself then.”

“I think I found you wandering around here like a lost little lamb. There are monsters here who would have gobbled a sweet little treat like you up in one bite.”

The fact that he sees you that way is more alarming than the thought of some unnamed threat in the shadows.

For some reason it makes you think of the men in the van back home—and how that van was found empty and on fire.

“How do you know about the monsters, John?”

“I just know.”

“You said you weren’t a cop. Were you FBI?”

He glares at you, which you take as a no.

“Interpol?”

You are met with silence, and you nod, mostly to yourself.

“You know about the monsters because you are one.” You think about those fierce looking Italian men with their scars and their bespoke suits. His previous words echo in your memory. Sono retirato.

“Were you in the mob?”

“Not…specifically.”

Then you remember he’d said he was from Belarus.

“Bratva, then.”

You should be terrified as you work all this out, trapped in the circle of this man’s arms, but you feel strangely numb about it all.

“My clever girl.” He sounds almost sad about it.

“Not clever enough,” you sigh.

You are not sure who is more surprised, you or him, when you burst to your feet. You actually manage to slip out of his grasp, though you only make it three steps before he captures your wrist again with a grip like an iron manacle. He gives you a dark look, annoyed that you would even try to play this game with him.

You remember what you learned in martial arts class a lifetime ago, pointing your thumb down towards the weak point of his grip and trying to jerk free. It’s worked before, with grabby men.

Not with John Wick, though.

“Stop.” Again, there’s that steely tone. The alpha voice one uses to reprimand a naughty dog. It only makes you angrier, and you struggle.

He pulls you hard against him, and you bite his hand. He doesn’t let you go, just adjusts his grip. “I didn’t want to do it this way,” he snarls low in your ear. “But you are so fucking stubborn.”

“Thank you.” You try to headbutt him behind you, but he ducks into the bend of your shoulder. You feel his chest trembling against your back, and only belatedly do you realize he is laughing at you.

“Enjoying this?”

“A little.”

“There’s no fucking way you can get me out of here without someone seeing. Let me go.”

He just sighs into your hair, like you’ve said something extremely naïve.

The arrival of newcomers into the park catches both of your attention. You lift your head, ready to ask for help, when you recognize the besuited tough guys from before.

Well, fuck.

“You've got some balls, showing your face around here, John Wick. Gianna d’Antonio’s son sends his greetings.”

“This isn’t a good time,” he snarls in return.

“Sorry, are you too busy fighting with your little girlfriend?”

He actually releases you then, pushing you to stand behind him. They are blocking the exit, so for now, you comply.

“You know how this will go,” John says, assuming a ready stance, his feet spread. He almost sounds regretful about it. “Do yourselves a favor, and leave.”

“Can’t do it, John,” says the one in the lead.

“For fuck’s sake,” curses John under his breath. The lead Italian makes a move, and John bursts into action. He is like a tornado of carnage upon them, throwing punches and breaking arms, cutting tendons and stabbing throats.

You are absolutely frozen as you watch all this unfold before you.

That is, until one of the thugs throws a knife at John, and you watch it bury in his chest. This is the thing that breaks your spell, and you run towards the fray with a scream, though who the fuck knows what you intend to do.

However, like he wasn’t just stabbed in the heart, John takes another attacker’s gun, pistol whipping him with it before shooting the knife thrower, then the last one standing. It cannot have been more than minute, before all of them are dead at his feet. He leans on his bent knees for a moment, catching his breath.

“John?” You hardly recognize your own voice as you rush to him, certain he’s taken a lethal blow and somehow fought through it with the surge of adrenaline. However, when you peel back his suit jacket you find no blood. He lets you look him over with frantic hands, maybe enjoying the fact that you don’t wish him dead, before pulling the still protruding knife from the breast of his jacket.

When he produces the little leather journal you’d gifted him from his inside pocket, now gravely marred with a puncture through the cover, you understand.

“Holy fuck.”

“You saved my life,” he says with an odd little smile down at you, as though all this is normal and what you just saw is totally ok.

Utterly horrified, you run.

“Y/n, wait!”

You throw yourself into the dark winding streets, taking any turn you can, trying to stay out of sight. Your feet fly beneath you; even in your shitty strappy sandals, it’s the fastest you’ve ever run.

It’s not fast enough.

When strong arms close around you, lifting you from the ground, you try to scream. A big hand clamps over your mouth, and you find yourself pressed hard into a stone wall. “Please, calm down,” he pants in your ear, out of breath from killing four people then running you down.

Your answer of, “Are you fucking kidding me?” is nothing but muffled syllables.  

“Goddammit,” he sighs behind you, rifling in his pocket for something as he pins you with his body. “This is not how I wanted this to go.”

Your pitiful plea of “Let me go,” is cut off by an evil-smelling cloth shoved into your nose.

Rooftop

Summary: You and Spider-Man meet on a rooftop, feelings develop, but you don't know him. Or do you?

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word count: 1000ish

Warnings: none, just fluff

A/N: I wrote this a long time ago and just found it. So I tweaked it and I hope you like it. Also not my gift.

____

You sat on a roof top, legs dangling off the side while you watched the sunset. You took another bite of the sandwich you got at Delmar's. Taking a deep breath, enjoying the sunset. Feeling a slight sting as the cool air filled your lungs.

"I know your there spidey." You said matter a factly, finishing your mouth full.

"How!? I didn't make a sound." He questioned his voice slightly getting higher.

"I felt the energy radiate from your soul." You told him sarcasticly.

"What!?" He was so confused, the eyes on his mask moving.

"So, do I ever find out who the famous Spider-Man is?" You teased, standing up and turning around, balancing yourself on the ledge.

"What if you already knew him?" Spidey teased back, as you stepped off the edge of the building onto the safer part of the roof. He started walking towards you.

"Do I?" You questioned, taking a few more steps.

"Maybe." He retorted, stopping infront of you. He looked out at the sky the pink and orange dancing together to create one of nature's masterpieces.

You and Spidey had been meeting up on this very roof top for a month straight. And you felt as if something had clicked between the two of you. The playfull banter and sharing of snacks, as much as the deep conversations while somehow maintaining a sense of privacy. It made something inside you feel funny in a good way. He made you feel safe, even if you didn't truly know him.

But at the same time there was Peter the scrawny kid at school who didn't look so scrawny anymore. Of course you had a crush on him, he was sweet and empathetic and he wanted to help others, he constantly was. With school work, or helping an old lady cross the road, or volunteering at May's work. But you and him? That would never happen.

You two were friends. Strictly friends. You, Peter, MJ, and Ned. It was perfect. It was your little group. Why mess it up?

What you found strange was how similar the two were. Although the great Spider-Man tried to hide it you knew he was a nerd. He was clearly a teen, who was struggling to find his place in the world. And Peter was a massive nerd, I mean just the shirts he wore. He too was struggling to find what he wanted to do, or where he wanted to be.

Spidey sat down on the ledge and you joined him. You offered your half eaten sandwich and he gracefully took it. Lifting his mask as you started at him, right before he could take a bite and then looked over at you. You looked back at the sky.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" You said the sun close to disappearing into the horizon.

"Yeah it is." He spoke so quietly you almost didn't catch it. You looked over only to realize he wasn't looking at the sunset.

God you wish you could see his eyes right now. The eyes on his mask shifted as he looked down at your lips and you looked down at his. He started to lean in and as he was milameters from your lips. His hot breath coming in contact with your skin, you turned your head to the side and slightly leaned back. He swallowed hard before leaning back.

The choice had been made. Peter. He was the one.

"I'm sorry." Spider-Man said letting out a sigh.

"Look I like you, your kind, and smart and you save this city but I don't know who you are, how old you are or what school you go to. Assuming you go to school. I would kiss you but I- I" You stuttered trying to get the word out.

"Like someone else." He finished you scentence looking up at the sky.

"Yea."

"Whats he like?" He asked, taking you by suprise. When most guys were rejected for another they got angry and weird, but he didn't.

"Uhm, he- he's nice, smart, a total dork. He used to be pretty scrawny but he isn't anymore, although I don't think anyone really noticed. His name is Peter. He's kind and he's in the mathleets. He helps me with most of the homework, since I kinda suck at it. He's such a good friend. Always there when you need him. But I just don't know how to tell him. God I'm stupid." You rambled a smile on your lips, not noticing that spidey was trying to get your attention. But he got it regardless.

He crashed his lips onto yours making you shut up. He quickly pulled away and swifly removed his mask.

"I like you to dork." Your brain was lagging, your mouth hung open overwelmed by what just happened. A strange feeling settled in your stomach before butterflies urupted.

"Peter?" You questioned, with wide eyes and a confused face.

"Hey." He gave you a cute smile before you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his lips to yours again.

Sweater Weather - Carmy Berzatto

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto x Reader

Summary: Carmy visits you at work and slowly opens up, revealing more of himself to you.

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, dialogue heavy, prob ooc Carmy

A/N: This is part two of my Carmy mini series! Hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think, I love you all! xxx

part one

It was a slow day at your bookshop in the middle of the city but it was alright, you had to get some paperwork done and now was the perfect time. The little bell above the door tinkled and you smiled when your favourite little customer came in with his mom all wrapped up in his little red scarf with his matching hat.

“Hi, Miss Y/N!” he waved, his stutter was getting better.

“Hey, Jack,” you smiled, “are you here to read to Henry?” you asked, when the little boy nodded, you gestured towards the back of the shop, “I think he’s in his bed but you can just go and wake him up. He’s being very lazy today.”

Jack giggled as he dragged his mom towards the back of the shop.

Another hour passed and the bell rang again, and this time when you looked up, a light flush accompanied your smile. The man’s cheeks and nose were rosy from the cold and the snowflakes were melting in his curls as he stepped into the warmth of your shop. You watched as he pushed a hand through his curls and he wiped his snowy shoes on the welcome mat before he looked up and grinned at you.

“Hey, Carmy. What brings you by?”

“It’s getting hectic in the kitchen, Syd and Richie forced me to take a break,” he laughed before abruptly stopping, “it’s okay that I’m here right?” his blue eyes went wide and you knew he was worried that he was imposing.

You smothered a laugh, “of course. Come and sit down,” you giggled, gesturing for him to pull a comfy chair over.

Carmy smiled as he sat next to you, “I brought you lunch, just um in case you hadn’t eaten yet,” he put a bag on the front desk.

You grinned, “you’re sweet, thank you,” you pulled out a sandwich and some fries. From up close, you could see how tired and stressed he looked. You wondered whether he was taking care of himself, “have you eaten today, Carmy?” at your question, he fell silent and you had your answer, “you’re splitting it with me.”

“No, Y/N, come on,” he started but you interrupted him.

“You’ll notice that I didn’t ask, and I’m not taking no for an answer,” you laughed as you dished out portions of the delicious meal he’d made.

He gave you a sweet appreciative look that you almost missed. You groaned with appreciation as you took a bite out of your half of the sandwich. It was hot and sweet, “that is so damn good.”

Carmy laughed as he flushed and took a bite out of his half, “glad you like it.”

You were about to reply when a little voice from behind you spoke up, “bye, Miss Y/N, see you next week.”

You smiled as you waved at him, “have a good week, Jack,” you glanced over your shoulder as your dog curled up in his bed, “good boy, Henry.”

When you looked back at Carmy, you laughed at his expression, he was understandably confused so you elaborated.”

“I rescued a dog a couple of months ago – before we met – and he was a little nervous around people so I started bringing him here to get used to people. Some of the kids that come in here started reading to him. So, I made a group where my little regulars like Jack come in and read to Henry get more confidence, like if they have a speech impediment,” you flushed as Carmy directed a warm smile at you and you shrugged, fiddling with your fingers, “it’s not a big deal.”

“Hey,” Carmy started softly and you glanced up at him, “it may not be a big deal for you, but for kids like that,” he pointed at the door that Jack had walked out of, “it literally means the world. Kids like that are usually scared to speak, I was, I had a stutter as a kid.”

“Really?” you asked.

Carmy was usually pretty closed off, even though you’d known him for a little while, but sometimes, sometimes he would sit with you and open up just a little. You knew it was difficult for him so you appreciated it.

“Yeah,” he laughed, “I had zero friends,” he flushed as his eyes darted around the shop. His eyes landed on something behind you and his eyes lit up, “you have a guitar?”

You laughed as you grabbed it and handed it over to him, “my dad got it for me, my mom wasn’t too pleased.”

He laughed as he held the guitar, placing his fingers on the fret board and strummed, going bright red when no sound came out. You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped your lips and you shot him an apologetic look.

“Wow, so you’re not good at everything? That’s humbling and very good to know,” you grinned as he rolled his eyes. You leaned forwards and moved his tattooed fingers to the correct position. His skin was warm and he flushed as you touched him, “okay, now try.”

He tried again and actually managed to make a noise, it was flat but it was better than the one before, “it takes practise.”

“Yeah well, I think it needs tuning,” he joked as he carefully put it in its stand, “this is a real nice place, Y/N,” he looked around with interest, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Thanks, I’m not sure my mom would agree with you though,” he raised an eyebrow as you continued, “my mom wanted me to be a doctor, carry on the family tradition. But one, I am not academically smart enough to be a doctor and two, like if I have a bad day here it means I probably just got a shitty customer. But a bad day as a doctor probably means that you’ve killed someone and I’m just not cut out for that,” you trail off when you notice that his blue eyes never left your face as you talked. You were a rambler and most guys hated it, “I’m sorry, I’m an oversharer.”

You watched Carmy’s eyes widen and he shook his head, “no, Y/N. I don’t mind at all! I like listening to you talk. Does it bother you that I really don’t open up all that much?”

“No,” you smiled, “I don’t mind at all.”

You decided to close the shop early and Carmy offered to walk you home before he headed back to the restaurant. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Carmy glance at you as you huddled into your scarf.

“Y’know instead of cooking together on Friday, why don’t we go out to eat?”

You giggled, your breath coming out in smoke, “are you tired of teaching me how to cook already?” you teased.

He rolled his eyes as he looked at you, “no, smartass. It would be nice to talk y’know? Without all the distractions.”

“Sounds great, Carmy,” you laughed, you knew it wasn’t a date but god did you wish it was.

As you walked up to your apartment, Carmy pulled you into a hug, “I’ll see you real soon, okay?”

“Carmy, we’re neighbours, we see each other all the time.”

He shook his head, “you knew what I meant,” he took your chin before his forefinger and thumb as he planted a kiss on your cheek.

You flushed as you looked at him, “don’t work too hard, Chef.”

Carmy snickered, “never, Y/N.”

Enjoying life (Harry Styles)

During the 2000s, Hollywood portrayed the best body type for men across the world is to have a toned stomach, bulging muscles, be in shape constantly and to be incredibly fit. This portrayal of male bodies made them spend hours and days in the gym pumping iron, running on treadmills, getting hot and sweaty and then aching from all the work they would put into their body, starving them selves of enjoyment. The ideal male body just became harder and harder for men to achieve that they began to go crazy trying to achieve it. They would take steroids and guzzle down protein powder and spend endless hours in the gym to try and get that body every man wanted to achieve to have the media deem them as "attractive".

Unfortunately even today male celebs feel this pressure to stay constantly in shape with the rise of social media and constantly on show. One of these celebs is fan favourite, Harry Styles who was one of these many men stuck working out all the time trying to have the perfect body. Constantly on a world tour, wearing revealing clothing meaning most of his spare time was spent in the gym endlessly working his body to its whits end. Harry's body was in peak fitness yet this never seemed enough for the tabloids or fans who still critiqued his arms or chest or whatever wasn't "perfect". Day after day he would go to the gym to keep his toned body in check but it still didn't feel enough for him.

He was quickly approaching the end of his tour however and Harry planned on going into hiding for a few weeks and take a rest from constantly being seen and judged and looked at. And that day finally came. He had finished his world tour with great reviews and many people saying he deserved a long break, and that he agreed on. Harry got back from his tour into his huge house in Hollywood and he immediately ripped off his travel clothes leaving him in his tight white brief underwear and sunk into his huge bed, quickly fell straight asleep.

Harry arose the next day at around 12pm having slept for hours. He stretched and yawned and then decided he couldn't be bothered to go to the gym today or even get out of bed for that matter. He just wanted to lay there in his comfortable sheets doing nothing. After about an hour of being in and our of sleep, his stomach began to growl with hunger. He looked at the time and realised that it was 1pm and he hadn't eaten anything all day yet. His stomach did a monstrous growl and he knew he had to eat something big and quick. He grabbed his phone and pulled up the first fast food place he could see and ordered everything off their breakfast menu. About 20 minutes later there was a knock on the door. Harry pulled him self out of bed and stumbled down to the front door, still just in his underwear. He opened the door still half asleep, grabbed the 2 large bags of food, tipped the delivery man and thanked him and then closed the door, quickly going back to his bed. Harry sat there and ate the whole contents of the two bags with ease. As he polished off his sausage sandwich he fell back into his bed. Harry rested his hands on his extended stomach, bloated with food. He hasn't been this full in a long time, years maybe. It felt good to be full of food, to not worry about if he looks bloated or fat right now, he just enjoyed the sensation of food. As he rubbed his stomach feeling his rounded torso, he felt a pulse in his briefs of excitement. He was confused by this as he'd never felt this way about being bloated and full, but then again he'd not been this bloated and full for a long time.

Harry spent the rest of the day laying around in his underwear, snacking on the odd bits of junk food he could find in his house. He could't stop thinking about what happened in his underwear earlier however. Was he really turned on by being that full and bloated? He had heard about people that enjoyed eating and being fed but those type of people were huge gainers, he wasn't one of those surely?

Harry spent the next few days doing very little. His routine had become waking up late into the day and spending the rest of the day eating and lazing around in nothing but his tight briefs. These last few days for Harry had been the happiest he'd been in years. He felt the pressure of everyone else leave him. He didn't have to worry about the fans, the paparazzi, the magazines, his PR team. He could just live his life how he wanted to and at the pace he wanted to and that was very slow and very lazy. But he enjoyed being lazy and enjoyed eating what he wanted when he wanted and enjoyed not having to work his body till he couldn't move in the gym. He had no desire to go back to the life he had had just days ago.

A few days of this lifestyle turned quickly into weeks. He hadn't cooked a meal in weeks, he hadn't put on proper clothes in weeks, he hadn't gone to the gym in weeks, he hadn't left the house in weeks but he had enjoyed him self finally. He had found a routine he felt comfortable living in and it started to show. As Harry tucked into his second burger for his breakfast, his belly, now much softer and less defined then the post tour body he had a few weeks ago, spilled over the edge of his shorts. His softer chest slightly deforming his nipples as he slouches, his love handles started to push down his shorts, even slightly revealing the top of his butt crack which was also due to his expanding backside. Harry had gone from ideal male physic to now a softer chubby version of that. He still held some muscle definition in his arms but a lot of his body was now covered in a soft layer of fat. As always, Harry polished off the last of his large greasy meal and leaned back on the bench he was sitting on in his garden. He rubbed his gut and let out a little burp. As he rubbed his belly, the usual hardness of his abs wasn't there, instead a softness and warmth. He looked down and saw his belly spilling over the edge of his shorts. Harry's face went warm and red as he put both hands on his bloated stomach. He was touching it in shock. He'd never seen him self so soft before. He started to panic about what people would say if they saw him, what the photos would look like, how he'd look on tour with a jiggling belly, how people would point out how big he'd gotten. As he thought these things, that same pulse in his briefs was felt. His large member grew hard and excited by the prospect of people pointing out his growing belly, his jiggling belly on stage as he dances around. He enjoyed that thought a lot and even thought about how it would be if he got bigger than this and he became even harder and even more excited by that thought. He spent the rest of the day eating and lazing around stuck in thought. He didn't have any commitments any time soon nor did he have to leave the house and be seen publicly. This sparked a thought in his head. Why not explore the possibility of getting bigger? He was enjoying his current lifestyle much more than the life he had before, why not give into it, see how far he can go with it? At that moment Harry ordered him self everything off the menu from the fast food place in town and spent the evening filling is softening belly with the greasy fatty foods.

Over the next few weeks Harry spent every waking hour of the day eating. As soon as he woke up he'd make him self stacks of pancakes or waffles covered in syrup and butter. He'd follow that up with a thick milkshake and then snack on cereal bars till lunch time came. For lunch he would order 3 large burgers and 3 large chips, chicken strips and cheese melts and a huge cup of soda. After snacking all afternoon on muffins and cupcakes came the main event: his dinner. He would go full out ordering from the finest restaurants everything off the menu. He would spend the rest of the evening stuffing all the food into his chubby cheeks and filling up his growing gut. He couldn't get enough of the feeling of being full. He loved at the end of the day when he'd lay in bed rubbing his big bloated belly feeling his softening gut grow bigger and bigger. He became so in love with this lifestyle that he couldn't stop now even if he wanted to. He had gone too far to the fat side.

As Harry lay rubbing his fat body he thought back to how hard life was trying to stay in shape just a month or so ago. He would spend hours in the morning training just to feel unhappy about himself but now he didn't get up till early afternoon and spent his days eating and growing and he couldn't be happier. He thought how other men must feel having to appeal to the standard of beauty when all they want to do is eat and enjoy life. This gave Harry an idea. He called his PR team to come round first thing in the morning to have a discussion about his next career moves.

That morning Harry arose earlier then usual. He quickly hopped in the shower and then put some clothes on for the first time in weeks. He noticed how his shirts clung tight to his expanding middle and how his jeans squeezed tightly to his juicy ass and growing thighs. He made a mental note to buy some looser more comfortable clothes. When his PR team arrived they did notice Harry's fuller figure. No one said anything, thinking he'd just enjoyed his time off that's all. Harry pointed them to his sofa and they all sat down as he stood in front of them. "I want to talk about where I want my career to go from now on and I want to stand for something that I firmly believe in. Before my break I was known as a very attractive and very fit man who had, some may say, the ideal body, however this wasn't enough for a lot of people and not enough for me. I felt like shit all the time. I spent hours in the gym trying to be the best I could and it was never enough and I realise now that it'll never be enough. That is why i decided to experiment with my life style, resulting in this." Harry lifted up his shirt to reveal his soft belly and his lack of abs. This reveal was met with a round of gasps from his team who hadn't expected him to get quite this big over his break.

"I understand that this," Harry grabbed his belly and shook it, "isn't what you'd expect me to do in my break but I have enjoyed my break, enjoyed my time relaxing and eating and feeling full and content."

His PR team all seemed confused and some now worried for Harry.

"What I'm trying to say is that I like this. I like being fat. In fact I want more of it. I want it bigger. And I want to show men that you can be hot and sexy and FAT. I've had enough of fitness culture making men feel shit about themselves. It's time for the fatness culture to take over."

With this a few of his PR team all smiled and looked at each other. They all agreed to follow through with Harry's vision and wanted to support him in his growth. Harry was so happy to get this seal of approval and to celebrate, he got the whole team a large order of take out to share (even though Harry ended up having most of it for himself).

Later that week Harry would make his first public appearance since his break. He didn't want to shy away from his new body, instead he wanted to show it off to the world. Show how proud he was of his growth. He had a custom teddy bear crop top made for him that showcased his round gut perfectly. His first public outing was a press conference that he had arranged to talk about body positivity. When he entered the room, belly first of course, the room all looked at him in shock, even a few people couldn't hold back their gasps. Harry took a seat as the paparazzi snapped photos of Harry Styles and his new fat gut. Harry smiled slightly excited by this reaction. The shock and horror on peoples faces made him excited to keep growing and showing that off.

At the conference he spoke in detail about how sad he was before his break where he discovered his love for eating and enjoying food. He said how Hollywood and the media put so much pressure to look perfect but why cant a belly and a soft chest with thick thighs and a fatty bum be perfect too. The whole room stood up in applause, some even cheered for him. Harry was so happy that his first time out the house was met with such positive reaction. He couldn't wait to show the world more of what he was made of.

Over the next few days Harry took part in photo shoots displaying his fat figure in fashion magazines. He gave interviews about his weight gain and how he loved it and promoted men to try it if they feel down about their current body. The whole world was talking about Mr Harry Styles' belly. The reveal was met with many positive people praising him for letting go and enjoying life. He even inspired some celebrities to join him in their exploration of weight gain. As well as positive feed back, Harry was met with some negative feedback as well. Some fitness freaks began to slate him for promoting an unhealthy life and how people shouldn't strive to be fat but should all work for abs and strong muscles and be in perfect shape at all time. For some reason this didn't affect Harry negatively at all. One morning, Harry was reading some articles about his weight gain and came across one calling him names like "Fatty Styles" or "A pig in nice clothes". These names made his member throb and he got very excited. Seeing them call him them names inspired him and pushed him to keep gorging and keep getting fatter. If they wanted him thinner he was gonna go bigger than ever before. Harry looked down at his gut and slapped it saying "you aren't going anywhere" and stuffed his face with a full burger.

Harry was blowing up. Figuratively and literally. He was doing photo shoot after photo shoot displaying his growing belly. He was the headline of every tabloid and magazine with his fat belly on the front of every one. The fat guy was literally everywhere. Harry also couldn't stop eating. His gaining journey became less about empowering people and more that Harry had just become addicted to stuffing his belly and he loved it. Every day he would eat enough food to feed a large family. Members of his team would have to buy new clothes for him every week as he couldn't stop growing. He would go for fittings but he would never fit into them a week later. His expanding body was constantly on full public display as well and he loved every second of it

The paparazzi would have field days whenever Harry was out and about. He would walk the streets shirtless stuffing his face with some fast food or sugary filled dessert. Harry loved the public attention he got from his huge jiggly body. Since he had gone public with this weight gain, he had continued to gain an excessive amount of weight. One reason was due to the fact Harry just loved eating and honestly couldn't stop but another reason was because of how excited he got from his expanding body. As he felt his waist line get wider, his love handles grow further out, his chest start to droop, this hips and bum grow outwards and his limbs fill with fat, he couldn't help but get turned on by it. He began hooking up with an old friend, Louis Tomlinson, who loved to encourage Harry. He has never been this excited by his own body ever. He loved filling his stomach till he couldn't move and then commit sexual acts with Louis. Louis even loved walking around with him showcasing just how big he was helping Harry become.

It had now been 9 months since Harry had first gone on his break and had gone from 155lbs to now 250lbs of fat. He had honestly never been happier or fatter in his life and he loved every second of it. One morning when he woke up after a large stuffing he got out of bed and went down to the kitchen to grab some sweet treat to fill his morning hunger. He accidentally dropped his fork as he went to sit down at the table. As he bent down to pick it up, his tight over stretched weight brief underwear split right down his ass crack. As he quickly stood up he ran to the full length mirror. He turned around and saw just how large his arse had gotten. It had burst the seams to his underwear and revealed his large fatty bottom. As he stood there he took in the rest of his body. He pulled on his love handles, rubbing his belly and watching it jiggle. He rubbed his chest and saw how his once defined pecs had softened and drooped into moobs now. Harry was getting so excited and turned on that he called Louis to come round immediately to stuff him and make him fatter than ever.

Over the next few months Harry carried on gracing the front cover of every magazine displaying his now huge figure. They wanted to show the world what had happened to the fit and in shape Harry Styles and Harry loved to show it off. He loved talking about his gaining story, how he felt better fatter and how other men should gain to feel free. Now breaking 300lbs he had officially become the face of fat and obese men all over the world. His display of gluttony and enjoyment of food encouraged so many men to go from fit and switch to fat. A lot of celebs like Tom Holland, Chris Evans, Evans Peters, the Jonas Brothers all had stopped working out and started enjoying stuffing themselves with food! Harry had really changed the face of man-kind with his unleashing and accepting his gluttonous behaviour.

As much as Harry enjoyed how much he changed how men percieved their bodies and looking after them, he much more enjoyed the feeling of his own and his own exploration into his gaining. He had never realised when he was skinny but he quite obviously had a gaining kink. He loved the feeling when his belly was filled to the brim full of fattening foods. He loved being teased and showcased by his lover out in public. He loved when he played with his own huge body but he enjoyed more when others would play with this jiggly body. Louis, when he came round to stuff Harry and relieve him, would always grab Harry's underbelly and jiggle it mocking just how fat he had become. He would show images of him from before his break and tell him how much of a pig he was for letting him self go. All these things made Harry absolutely crazy. He couldn't get enough of it. He'd sometimes beg Louis to mock him and play with him he was so desperate for it. Without realising Harry's desire to be empowering had also become his desire to be a huge fat hog and he loved it so much.

As time went on and Harry descended further and further into obesity, flying past the 300lbs mark, the past image of the fit and toned Harry Styles was a distant image. He had truly accepted his life as a huge fat hog now. When he went out and about, strangers would bring him food like hot dogs or burgers and he loved accepting them. He would stuff it all straight into his fat cheeks, making it not even last a minute. Some fans would ask to poke his belly or hug him as to feel his soft middle and of course Harry couldn't resist. Every so often he would get a male fan come up to him and say how he inspired them to get fat too. These moments were Harry's favourite moments. To see that he had not only made him self a huge fat hog but inspired other men to let go and unleash their inner pigs too, it truly warmed his heart. Harry was so proud of the impact he had had on men.

As his two year anniversary of his first break was coming up, Harry had decided he wanted to go back on tour. Now at 360lbs, Harry thought it was time to tour the world as a new man, a fat man. Just before his tour started however, he took a vacation on a boat for a week or two just to have a final relax. He loved putting on tight speedos in front of the paparazzi. It would showcase every inch of his hog body, putting it all on show leaving nothing to the imagination.

Harry's tour was a smash hit. He loved spending every night on stage, wearing barely enough clothes to cover his huge body. His fans loved it too, watching the giant man jiggle around stage. He would have seconds of his show where he would sit and eat food that fans had thrown at him to eat. He would show off his new shapes and curves by jiggling his huge gut for the fans to cheer and clap at. He felt like a proper circus hog, performing for food and to grow fatter. And that he did. By the end of the tour Harry had cracked the 400lbs mark. On his final show he thanked the fans for standing by him but more importantly for keeping him well fed and fat. He admitted he was worry about losing weight on tour but his fans made sure that he wouldn't lose a pound and instead gain 40.

Harry then end back home to his trusty feeder Louis. Louis was happy to have Harry back in his hands. The first night back he admired the work the fans had done to his piggy. "Your fans really know how to keep you well fed huh?" Louis said as he pulled off Harry's tight shirt. "But let me show you how I stuff my pigs." And with that Harry went back to being fattened and stuffed by Louis. This was the life he had always wanted. He loved being this big and loved every stage of his weight gain prior but he couldn't wait to get even bigger. He knew he couldn't stop even if he wanted to but he most definitely didn't want to ever stop being a huge fat hog.

This is a story based around AI images that I created recently. I have really loved writing this story and really put in a lot of effort with it. I have slightly teased other celebs in this story so if you would like to hear a story about their gaining experiences then please do let me know. Anyways I hope you guys enjoy this story as much as I loved writing it <3

ahhh ur bf headcannons are so cute!! could u do them for jjk boys?

BF Headcannons

Gojo, Nanami, Megumi, Yuuji, Geto x GN Reader

Weee thanku for your request 🫶🏽 I hope you like this !! Here is the Genshin ver. :3

Gojo

Oh.

Noisy ass mf, always poking your cheek at 3 in the morning cause he can't sleep🙄 he cute though so whatever.

Loves to show you off to every living thing on planet Earth. "LOOK WHAT [NAME] GOT ME!!'!:@33&" You could give him a half eaten sandwich and he'll cherish that and label it as a sacred gift.

Loves to give you bear hugs and big kisses. You could be coming back home from work, he will be waiting by the door the moment he senses you. He kisses you with those dramatic "MWAH" sounds ☠️

My guy is just happy he found someone he can joke around and love with. Will do absolutely anything to protect you :3

The way he looks at you, just full of love and adoration 😭😭 sometimes he feels like he doesn't deserve you and it gets him quite down. You somehow always know how he's feeling so his sadness just evaporates the moment he feels your lips and comforting words <3

Nanami

Soft bf soft bf soft bf

Treats you like an angel sent from the heavens.

Brings you out for study dates, old school movies and BAKING AAAAA just imagine cooking up some cookies and nanami is helping you out wearing a hot pink apron ☠️

Has an obvious soft spot for you, he will be grumbling about something (gojo) but the moment he sees you he just melts and gives you the softest smile and kiss 😭

His favourite pastime is just being with you. Sleeping, reading, bathing, working. All with you. His life line <3

Megumi

cutest boy ever to walk the face of the earth. EVER.

Is very shy the first time you both got into a relationship. Always hiding his face in his hands so you don't see him blushing when you kiss him 🥲

Tries to keep you a secret from his friends (gojo), so they don't embarrass him and scare you away☠️. They found out eventually though, the way Megumi started choking when they mentioned your name was a key lead in their little investigation.

Walking his dogs in the morning together hand in hand, laughing about jokes and just being in the comforting presence of each other.

Likes to hold your hand <3 He definitely isn't too fond of pda but he HAS to have his hand on you somewhere.

Yuuji

Biggest ray of sunshine ever🫶🏽

Such a supportive bf istg, he will always be on your side helping you accomplish a goal and gets so happy for you when you do 🥲

Like gojo, he will do anything to make sure your safety is guaranteed. You probably are willing to do anything for him too, and he finds solace in that.

He always has this lovesick grin when he is with you, doesn't care about the weird looks Nobara and Megumi give him. My man is in love and he will not stop at anything!!!

Always has his arm around your waist when you are walking together, both of you feel safer with each other so he can let his walls down when he is with you.

Geto

Smoothest guy you will ever meet.

Loves to tease you and gush over your flustered state. You genuinely make him feel happy and that's why bro is so in love w u😢

He finds peace and comfort being in your embrace, like all his troubles have faded away.

Always finds himself getting lost in your eyes. When you ask him about it, he shuts you up with a passionate kiss.

I feel like he's one of those guys who put a hand on your waist to move you out the way😍😍😍😍😍 MMMMM YES. He will be like "excuse me love ☺️" AAAAAA

He know you are whipped for him so he has a little bit of privilege in your shared home. I mean, how can you stay mad at him. He is equally as enamoured by you so it's all cool.

His kisses with you are either passionate and rough or gentle and soft <3 He just revels in the feeling of your skin against his, he just loves it so much.

Steve is a complete nightmare when he is sick. Mainly because he insists that he isn't. At first, he can hide it. He'll keep driving everyone around despite the worsening headaches, he lies to Robin about how sick he is when he's at work and he tells Dustin to not let his mom make him extra food because he knows the kid tells her anything and everything. It’s all that toughen-up attitude instilled in him by his parents, who always sent him off to school sick in order to maintain perfect attendance (which always felt pointless considering he sucked at the actual academics part). That, combined with his stubborn need to show up for everyone, always.

After a couple of days, he is most definitely worse and everyone gets angry with him for hanging around them when he's grossly sick. They even go as far as to not ask for rides or favours of any kind where they would be anywhere in his general proximity. Robin even takes the bus to school, not wanting to catch what she calls 'Dingus-itus' (an offshoot of her typical diagnosis of ‘Lovesick Dingus’). She also takes it upon herself to dob him into Keith who calls and berates him not to come in spreading his "super-virus-contagion to all our hot chick customers".

A whole 24hrs go by after that and no one has seen or heard from Steve. No calls to say he's all better and can run carpool, no pop-ins to Family Video falsely announcing a miraculous recovery to get his lost shifts back.

"Steve? Where are you? Dustin thinks you're dead or something, man."

Eddie stops in his tracks at the sight of Steve laying in bed, blankets piled up, curtains drawn and surrounded by tissues. A trail of clothes litters the floor to the bed, including pyjamas, sweaters and Steve’s work clothes. An assortment of empty coffee cups and cold medicines crowd his nightstand.

"I'm fine," he mumbles, raising his head from a mountain of pillows, his hair greasy and flattened on one side.

"I... um, came to see how you were," Eddie lies, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking over the scene before him with a grimace.

Well, it was only half a lie. Dustin demanded he come over to check on him (he was always ready to send out a search party if he hadn’t heard from Steve in more than a day). And Eddie really wanted him better. One day of driving everyone around was enough. He didn't possess Steve's organisational skills - expertly knowing who needed to be where and when and how logically work it so he wasn't zing-zagging all over Hawkins. Eddie also needed Steve's signature Mom Authority to actually tell the kids 'no' from time to time (which is how Eddie ended up out of pocket after a single day of gremlin wrangling).

"Alright, man. Up."

"No!"

"Look, I know I'm going to sound like a total Nurse Ratched, but I'm getting you up. I'm going to make you some food and park you in front of the TV while I clean up in here."

Steve whines but sits up anyway.

"You're going to get sick," he says as Eddie helps him change into fresh clothes.

"Ha! So you admit it!" he grins, failing to resist the urge to tickle him as Steve pulls a new sweater down over his torso.

Steve only makes a face as he gathers up his pillow to take downstairs.

Eddie shuffles him down to the living room and turns the TV onto a rerun of The Brady Bunch and notices Steve smile despite his glazed half-concentrating expression when he realises it's an episode about Greg's lame guitar playing. He decides he's content enough to leave and go into the kitchen to make a sandwich. The kitchen is a mess, suggesting Steve has been sicker for longer than the gang's initial diagnosis. There are dishes stacked up on the sink and Eddie assumes what's left on the kitchen island (tea, bread, half-eaten leftovers from Dustin’s mom) are some basics Steve has been surviving on for a few days. It's far from the regular tidy order he keeps the kitchen in.

He finds a half-crumpled note in Mrs Harrington's handwriting saying Steve's parents were away for a fortnight and Eddie starts making a mental note of things to pack to come and stay over, pushing away his annoyance at two people he still hasn't met.

"Eat this, Stevie," he says, trying not to sound too commanding as he holds the plate in front of him.

Steve hums as Eddie runs his fingers through his hair while he eats. He devours the sandwich, breathing through his mouth between ravenous chewing. He should find it disgusting, but Eddie thinks this might be the closest Steve's ever come to being an actual puppy dog.

"Eds..." Steve begins as he is maneuvered to lie down on the couch. But Eddie cuts him off, shushing him and kissing his warm forehead.

"I'll just clean up your room a little."

Steve hums in reply and gathers the crochet blanket from the couch up to his neck with a shiver.

"Alrighty Patient Harrington, my cure is a steady course of kisses and cuddles at least four times a day until otherwise prescribed,” Eddie says as he leads Steve back up to his newly cleaned room with fresh non-checked pattern sheets on the bed.

"You're such a dork," Steve says somewhere in between a laughing cough.

Two days later, Eddie is sick. Unlike Steve toughing it out, Eddie is an absolute baby. He milks every crumb of attention he can get and calls out to Steve (in a whining “Steeeeeve”) any time he leaves him alone, even if it's just for a moment. 

"But I'm sick," he complains when Steve says he doesn't want to watch the terrible black and white midday horror movie Eddie finds on TV. And he most definitely continues to say he's still sick so that he can get an extra day or two with Steve to himself at his house with no one else coming around for fear of catching the dreaded Dingus-itus. It really only ends when Steve starts to worry he'll totally get fired if he doesn't start showing up to work again.

On thin ice (Hockey player! Miguel O’Hara x Figure skater! Fem! Reader)

A/N: Yall know that tiktok sound that goes “My life is the crown, and yours is politics, and I will not trade one prison for another. I’m sorry I looked at Mrs Riley and lightly grazed her left tit.” That’s literally me writing thoughts/ descriptive paragraphs vs writing dialogue. Anyways lol. Not Proofread so excuse typos and gramatical errors, excuse If Miguel is ooc.

(Y/N)- Your name

Cursing, using of cannabis, mentions of throwing up (like nothing serious, but thought I’d mention it.) Miguel being a jerk, (Y/N) being a jealous jealous jealous girrrrl (read that I’m your head like in the unreleased Lana del ray song.)

Word count: 1.3k

Serious Masterlist

Chapter 10: Do I wanna know, if this feelin’ flows both ways?

—

“What a fucking asshole!” You hissed under your breath.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have ignored him for 3 weeks.” Kate snickered as she playfully hit your shoulder, you just shot her a small glare, causing her smile to widen.

“Not funny.” You huffed, tone still quiet, crossing your arms on the dining hall table, and resting your head in your arms.

“Aww, poor (Y/N)..” Logan jokingly cooed, as he began to rub your shoulder from where he sat next to you.

From the other side of the uni’s dining hall, sat Miguel with some of his teammates from the hockey team, which wasn’t what upset you. What did upset you was what he had sitting in his lap, or rather, who. On Miguel’s lap, sat some cute blonde from your English class, she was a pretty little thing for sure, you couldn’t deny that, and even though you knew you had no right to feel the tightness building in your chest, had no right to feel your whole body get hot all over like you could combust into flames at any moment, didn’t mean you didn’t still feel it.

You wanted to find yourself disliking her for something that wasn’t her fault, maybe in an attempt to make yourself feel better about the situation, give yourself a reason to shift the blame onto something, or rather someone else. But despite your best efforts, you know you couldn’t bring yourself to dislike her, you didn’t even know her name, and the thought of hating another girl because of a man? You couldn’t. And much less the man being Miguel??? No way.

You let out a sigh and slowly lifted your head up and took a bite of your food in front of you, trying to zone in onto the conversation that Kate and Logan were having, but you could only do so for a few seconds at a at most. Finding your eyes drifting to Miguel’s table from time to time, a glimpse of him wrapping his arms around her waist here, a peak of him lightly kissing her neck there, it made you feel sick to your stomach. Wanting to make you puke the half of your sandwich you’ve eaten. Your lucky you were too far to hear the girl’s giggling or Miguel whispers in her ear, you felt like if you could have hear them as well as see, you’d have to leave the building in order to keep yourself from getting too-

“Jealous?” Logan’s word’s snapped you out of your thoughts, you let out a hum as you turned to face him, seeing the knowing smirk on his face. “He’s probably trying to just make you jealous.” He shrugged, but Kate’s face scrunched up in disagreement.

“Or maybe he got tired of you ignoring him and he moved on.” Kate said, popping a fry in her mouth. Logan gave her a questionable look, one that almost looked like he was asking her “you seriously think that?”.

“Can we not talk about this anymore? I’m already too busy this month to think about some hockey player.” You spat out last words that came of your mouth like they were poisonous, and although Logan agreed with your hatred for hockey players, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes a bit at your dramatics.

—

“I’ll see you later honey~”

Miguel had to stop himself from cringing, as he opened the girls car door for him, “you too.” He mumbled back with a half-ass smile, as she got in, before he closed her car door and she drove off. “Finally…” he sighed as he rubbed his forehead.

Maybe Miguel shouldn’t have picked a girl that was so clingy to try and make (Y/N) Jealous, but it’s too late now since you’ve already seen him with her around campus, so there was no going back. Okay, that’s a lie, he could totally dump her, but he was too stubborn. He’s thought about it, but then he’d think about how it would make that pretty little face of yours scrunch together in annoyance whenever he’d kiss the blonde on her neck, or how you’d not-so-obviously be glaring at him from across a room whenever he’d rest his hands on the girl’s hips. What was the girl’s name again? He’s been seeing her for a week and he still can’t remember, he should have written it down on a sticky note or something.

I mean he really didn’t care about her, all he cared about was you. He knew he was being a major A-hole, but in all fairness, when wasn’t he?

Once Miguel reaches his dorm, he opens the door to find Peter laying on the floor, a blunt between his lips, and the room covered in smoke, the pungent smell of Cannabis filling the small cramped room despite the window being open and the two lit candles on the nightstand. Miguel quickly steps into the room and closes the door behind him, before fixing the towel Peter had pushed up against the crack between the floor and the edge of the door, to prevent too much of the smell from leaking out.

“How long are you gonna keep this up?” Peter asked as he took a long drag from the blunt, his bloodshot eyes slowly wandered over to meet Miguel’s. Miguel didn’t need to ask Peter about what he was referring to. Miguel opted to stay silent instead, kicking his shoes off and placing them next to the door, before walking over to sit on the floor, leaning against his bed as Peter sat up and took the joint from between his lips into his hand and offered it Miguel would gladly accept it.

Taking a deep inhale, he felt the smoke fill his lungs as they felt like they were being lit a flame, being a hand up to his chest to help soothe the temporary burning sensation as he coughs a bit, puffs of smoke leaving his chapped lips, before he instinctively licked them. After a few more moments of silence that felt longer than it should have, Peter spoke up again.

“You both are acting like a bunch of middle schoolers.” He stated as he took the blunt back from Miguel.

“You don’t know what your talking about, your fucking high Parker. Literally.” Miguel shook his head as he sat back more against his bed, feeling the effects of the joint already start to take effect on his body.

“I don’t need to be sober to see that both of you are into each other, but both of you are too stubborn to say anything.” Peter deadpans.

“Can’t we have this conversation when we aren’t getting stone?”

“If we didn’t you would get too angry.”

Miguel let out a huff, knowing Peter wasn’t wrong. He took the blunt from Peter’s hand and took another hit. If he was gonna have have this conversation right now, he needed to be really fucking high.

“Miguel, as your best friend, and your dorm mate,” Peter places a hand on Miguel’s shoulder, “I want to tell you this in the most honest but respectful way, okay?” Peter raised a brow as he waited for some sort of response from Miguel, which he got in the form of a head nob. “You’re being a fucking idiot. Stop acting like a high school fuck boy that plays mind games and just talk to her. I get you don’t believe in ‘talking about feelings’ or whatever. But you can’t just mess with her and expect shit to sort itself out.” Miguel looked at Peter with a confused look, wondering we’re all of this sudden wisdom came from, maybe it was the wee- “wanna order McDonald’s?” Peter asked with a shit-eating grin, causing Miguel to let out a heavy sigh. That’s the Peter he knows.

—

Taglist: @tayleighuh @cowboylikeevie @coralineyouareinterribledanger @jukioku @loser-alert @migueloharaspookiebear @serpentstarr @littlexscarletxwitch @darksidescorner @sukioyakio

Wanna Be Yours

A fic in which Vash finds himself yearning for what he can’t have

↳ Vash the Stampede/Reader

↳ Nicholas D. Wolfwood/Reader

content warning. gender-neutral pronouns, afab reader, mention of sex, mention of masturbation, angst, unrequited l word, hurt no comfort

Set in the same timeline as Stargazing and Cigarettes and An Audience. Minors DNI 3.6K words

Vash the Stampede- The humanoid typhoon, the man with a six million double dollar bounty on his head, Gunsmoke's sharpest shooter- was a man of many names and titles. One he held more dearly than the rest was friend, considering neither him nor you had something quite along the lines of unconditional, non familial love, even if it was platonic. You two had found each other in some backwash town, one you were both passing through under drastically different circumstances. Him, running for his life from July Military Police, and you, a traveler looking for a nice city to settle down in. It was a mutual agreement that you would stick together until one party or the other found what you needed, but neither of you ever divulged exactly what that was to each other. 

In your travels, Vash came to the conclusion that you were good. Too good, the kind of good that would leave you hungry, leaving half of your unfinished sandwich on your plate as you slid it over to him even though he knew you hadn't eaten in at least a day or two. The kind of good where you would put yourself in harms way in an attempt to protect him from whoever or whatever was hunting him that day. He joked with you whenever you insisted on patching him up in your shitty motel room, saying these people were after him, so of course he was going to body block those bullets for you! He could see the turmoil swimming in your eyes, but all you ever did was sigh and frown as you stitched him up and covered him in bandages. He was unsure when exactly it happened, when his heart began to ache hearing your stomach rumble as you sat across from him in a diner, when you tried to take the couch or floor of the motel room you two were renting, or when your hands shook while you cleaned his blood. Perhaps it was something that always happened, perhaps he had always felt a sense of guilt putting you through all of this, even though on several occasions you assured him I'm here because I want to be, Vash. The ache wasn't just guilt, though, the ache was a yearning, a need for more.  He couldn't do that to you, though.  Things became a bit easier when it was no longer the two of you. Life was hectic, even more so once Meryl and Roberto had stumbled into your lives, but at least now there was more than just you. It was easier not turning to watch your peaceful sleeping face now that he could share a room with other people, easier to look out for you now that others also had your back.  Still, though, Vash sometimes found himself reminiscing on how things used to be. It made his chest tight when he thought about how tight you would hug him when he got hurt, how kind your beautiful sparkling eyes were when you bought him something small from a local market just because it made you think of him. He missed brushing the hair from your face when you crawled in next to him on cold nights you were traveling and couldn't afford a room, missed tracing the slopes and curves of your face with his eyes, and missed how fulfilled he would feel when he did something small that would absolutely elate you. He still got to be close to you. The closest, in fact, the one you leaned your head on in the back of the car as you napped together, and he still got to be the one you stayed up with to watch the sunset and stars. Some evenings he would get you to himself, walking to the outskirts of whatever town you had stopped in this time, just to watch the sunset. It was one of those evenings he told you about how much he loved nights like this. The sun setting over the dunes, the soft orange glow, it reminded him that even through the worst of days, things will be okay in the end, as long as he kept pushing forward.  You shared a room with him that night, and he didn't let you know he hardly slept, watching the rise and fall of your chest, hands itching to hold you just a little bit closer. He didn't tell you how his heart jumped when his fingers stroked your cheek, thumb smoothing over your lip, watching you smile in your sleep. How could he? You weren't his. You couldn't be his. He couldn't have you how he wanted you. Vash noticed a change the day Nicholas D. Wolfwood came to join your little team, or more specifically, he noticed a change in you. He noticed how sometimes you would stare at him a little too long, or your cheeks would flush if he came up in conversation. He didn't want to accept the telltale signs of a crush, he hoped that maybe it would be fleeting, maybe you would turn your affections back around to him even though he couldn't have you.  You didn't. The day Vash realized this would be his fate with you, a one sided crush, unrequited, was the day Wolfwood had asked him to swap rooms. When Vash accepted you couldn't be his, and he wouldn't be yours, was when he was woken from his sleep by a bang on the wall. He was shocked to hear it above the magnitude of Roberto's snoring, but it alarmed him, and he found himself listening closely just in case it was a mistake. When he heard the bang again, then again and again, followed by your pitchy whines of please, more, Nick. Vash flushed a deep crimson, shooting upright in bed and looking at the wall separating the two rooms incredulously. He was ashamed that he sat through it all, listened to everything, and was even more ashamed that at one point he had imagined himself above you. He had to take care of himself, and in the back of his mind he wondered how he was going to face you in the morning. Turns out it was just as difficult as he thought it would be, having you sit down next to him in the diner booth, your knees touching. His body felt hot, and he swallowed, cerulean eyes glancing up at the entrance when Wolfwood walked in. All of his affections and feelings sank in his chest like a rock, being scooted over by you. Vash was completely caught in his head, mind racing and thinking about what it would be like if you were born to different lives, in different circumstances. Needless to say, breakfast was tense, especially when he saw Wolfwood lean down and whisper in your ear, when he saw the flush to your cheeks and ears.  It was hard to accept, especially when trouble inevitably came their way. His heart lurched when, instead of running over to him, throwing your arms around him, calling him an idiot for doing something so reckless and being shot like that, you were running to Wolfwood instead. A huffed exhale left his lips, swallowing back what he wanted to feel and smiling sadly instead. He didn't have the right to mourn the loss of you, since you were never his in the first place.  At some point, Vash began to pull back from you. He stopped putting himself into positions where he was alone with you, stopped watching you so intently, even stopped offering a shoulder for you to lean on. You didn't seem to notice or care, too transfixed by the eye of the storm that was Nicholas D. Wolfwood. Really, Vash shouldn't have been as destroyed over it as he was. He's had to let plenty of people go, he's had to leave, he's seen countless people die in front of him, but none of them were you. None of them were you, the person that would insist on untying and removing his boots for him when he was beat up and bloody, none of them were you, the person that made sure he was a priority, despite him insisting you need to take care of yourself first before worrying about him. You and Wolfwood had tried to keep your togetherness a secret, and it was mostly under tight wrap, Vash had really only noticed because he's perceptive and happened to be the only one always kept up by your nightly activities. At some point it became a ritual, Vash would wait until he heard the distinct creak and click of a door opening and closing, and then he would take his leave to walk around the city. More than a couple times he stayed, listened, but the guilt would always eat at him. Those same times Vash decided he would go out and spend some time at the local bars.  Tonight was different. Tonight, Vash had been tasked to room with you. Meryl was in a particularly foul mood after the events of the day, leaving her to be the one taking the singular room, and Wolfwood was stuck with Roberto. To keep him from doing anything shady, Meryl had said pointedly, to which Vash had to choke back a response because that anything shady was already happening. You seemed to not want to poke the bear, or tempt fate and let everyone figure out what was going on, a fake smile on your lips as you swiped the key from her hands.  By the time you had gotten up to your room, his stomach had already done a fantastic job of twisting itself into knots again and again. It had been weeks since you last shared a bed, and now that you were so intimate with someone it felt wrong. He wanted to offer to swap rooms, but that would mean he knew, and he didn't want to burden you with the thought that everything wasn't possibly as discreet as it could have been. He wanted you to remain blissfully unaware that he was more than familiar with your sleeping patterns, or that he was well aware that right before you finished you'd beg please please please, pitch increasing with every syllable. You had wandered off to the bathroom, leaving Vash to stand in the middle of the room. He slapped his cheeks with his hands, the metal stinging against his left cheekbone. He ran his hands through his hair, heaving a deep sigh, before throwing his own bag down on a chair sitting in the corner. More likely than not, he would continue his nightly routine of wandering around the city long after dark, except this time it was because he didn't think he could lay down next to you without feeling guilt, or a need to be yours, even when he couldn't. Making up his mind, he shoved the room key in his pocket, taking a hasty leave. He was sure you wouldn't notice or mind, considering you hadn't noticed the rift between the two of you up until now. Oh, how he was wrong.  He had only been holed up in the nearby bar for half an hour, maybe an hour, by the time someone was plunking down across from him at his table. You'd caught him looking forlorn, pathetic, more likely the expression of a kicked dog than anything. His cheek was in his metal hand, as his other held the handle of a pint. You smiled, so soft, so sad, so understanding and in that moment Vash feared you knew exactly what was going through his head. You didn't say anything, not at first, and he was far too caught in your gaze to conjure up the beginnings of a conversation. "Mind if I join you?"  Vash huffed a laugh, brows upturned as he smiled, "No, of course not." You had managed to secure your own drink at the bar, coming back a glass in each hand. Despite not being finished his own drink, you slid the second over the table to him, much like you used to do with your half finished sandwiches. That same melancholic, bittersweet smile graced his features, a small thank you leaving his lips before tipping back the rest of his previous drink.  The two of you sat and had idle chit-chat, managing to go through a few rounds as you went. It was like nothing had changed at all, it reminded him of when it was just the two of you against the world, when everything was so much less complicated. Vash had said something stupid and you doubled over with laughter, and his chest squeezed so tight he thought he might burst right then and there. You must have caught onto the sad look he gave you, your own smile falling as you cleared your throat. "You haven't really been talking to me lately," You began, hands turning your untouched drink on the table. You weren't looking at him, only staring down. "You haven't really been... Doing anything with me lately. Did I do something to upset you?" His immediate thought was you could never, but that would be a lie. He chuckled, sounding much more dejected than he intended to let on. How could he even go about talking about this with you? "No, you didn't do anything. I'm sorry I haven't been there for you."  The frown you had was out of place, and maybe he should have known he wouldn't be able to shake off your suspicions so easily. You took a swig of your drink, the now half empty glass hitting the table with a thunk. "No, that's... Not really how it is, is it?" You finally looked up at him, his heart leaping in his chest at the look in your eye. It was that same look you gave him when you patched him up, or scolded him for being reckless. "I haven't been there for you. I could see you've been going through something, but I haven't been there for you. I'm sorry I haven't been a very good friend. I want you to be able to talk to me, I want to make up for it." Vash heaved a sigh, closing his eyes and shaking his head with a disingenuous smile. The room spun when he did so, letting him know he might have gotten too caught up in things to notice he was well past tipsy. "You've done so much for me-" "Don't give me that," You scolded, his head tilting back to look up at you again, "Don't say that when you've done so much more for me. I know you keep telling me I don't need to return the favor, or feel obligated, but I care about you so much Vash. It hurts me to see you hurting, and I want to be a shoulder for you to lean on." He couldn't say anything other than a gentle whisper of your name. The thought of confessing his thoughts and actions behind closed doors made him sick, and briefly he thought that might manifest as he held back a gag. Ever the perceptive one, you stood from your seat and made your way over to him, wrapping your arm around his torso and under his arms. "Come on, let's get you to bed."  He wasn't drunk, not to the point where he was unable to walk himself to the motel, but maybe he could let himself indulge in your kindness and warmth just a little bit. Just this once. It had been weeks, his alcohol riddled mind reasoned. You stumbled up the stairs to the second level of your motel, obviously struggling to maneuver your own drunk self, as well as him. The two of you ended up laughing about it regardless, maybe a bit too loud to be considerate of the other motel-goers. Vash was the one that managed to key open the door, gently kicking it shut with his boot behind you, and promptly flopping all his exaggerated weight onto the bed. You joined, all giggles and smiles as you nearly fell on top of him, his right arm trapped under your back. "I've missed this," You laughed, sitting up and looking down at him. Even through his orange lenses, he could see the stars in your eyes. The light of you, the never ending kindness and consideration swimming in them. It made him sick all over again. "S-Sorry, just- I'll be right back."  Vash stood up at lightning speed, almost knocking himself over in the process when the room briefly doubled. He sped off to the bathroom, shutting the door with his heel once he got inside. Hands struggled to turn the tap on, before finding purchase at the edge of the counter. He stood there, breaths heaving, eyes closing when he felt the familiar sting of tears gathering. His breathing stuttered, body hunched, and he was wondering why he couldn't let it go. Why couldn't he look at you the same way you looked at him without getting butterflies? Why couldn't he be okay with having you as you were? Vash has never been a taker, Vash has never expected anything out of anyone, but he just couldn't get enough of you. Nothing except all of you would ever be enough. "Vash?" Cyan eyes shot open, looking up in the mirror to see you standing behind him through the crack in the door. His face was wet, eyes red rimmed, and mouth hung open.  "Oh, Vash..." You crooned, pushing the door open just enough so you could slide inside the tight space with him, "Come here... Come here, please." He could never deny you, not when you spoke to him so softly. When he turned around, you were wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace. His heart hammered in his chest, his stomach twisted, and for the third time this night he felt ill. The tears continued to fall and he sniffled, sliding his hands up his face to press the heels of his palms into his eyes, moving his glasses up in the process. This seemed to urge you to hug him tighter, which in turn made him sob just a little louder, as he thinks this is possibly the first time you've held him in an embrace he didn't return.  "I don't have the right to feel this way," He choked out, feeling the strength behind your hug falter, "But I w-want... I just want to be yours." When you didn't say anything, he slid his hands away from his face, placing them on your upper arms to pull you off of him. It didn't take much effort, your weakening arms dropping to your sides as you stared up at him in confusion and disbelief. It was as if you were completely out of breath when you whispered, "What... I don't understand?"  It's not like he could blame you for having that reaction. He had made the decision for you a long time ago that he couldn't have you, and you couldn't have him, that it wouldn't be fair to constantly put you in danger. He didn't think he could say it again without crying, so he didn't. He stood there, holding your arms, watching you scan his face and stare into his eyes. The slightest change in your expression shifted, it looked something along the line of pity, and he didn't know what he was thinking and why, but he leaned down. He leaned down, his breath ghosting against your lips, eyes looking into you. You didn't pull away, but you didn't push forward, so Vash continued. He kissed you so gently, the way he squeezed your arms and scrunched his eyes closed conveying the sheer amount of anguish he felt when you made no move to return his affections. Pulling back, he opened his eyes to see you staring at him. It was shattering, how grief-stricken you looked, how befuddled your body language was. No words were exchanged, like you both didn't want to acknowledge the weight of what had happened.  Vash pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes again. "I'm sorry," He whispered, wrapping his arms around you, "I know, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."  After a tight squeeze, he dropped his arms back to his sides, walking out of the bathroom. He noted you made no attempt to follow him, and when he looked back, he could see you still standing in the same spot he had left you, only watching him through the mirror. A smile is what he gave you, sorrowful and sorry, as he grabbed for his bag and slung it over his shoulder. His metallic hand gave a small wave, opening up the motel door and walking into the night. It was a nice thought, to have someone he could love and be loved by. Maybe, had he not made the decision for you, maybe, if he was more open to what you wanted to give, he could have had that love. He couldn't ask that of you. He couldn't do that to you. So instead, he kept the best parts of you with him in his memory, close to his heart. Maybe you would cross paths again, and maybe by that point he could welcome you with open arms without wanting more. Maybe at that point, you will have found happiness and purpose and settled down and forgotten all about him.  After all, that was for the best.

Health and Hybrids (VII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and whatever prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREEis here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and this is lucky number seven baby 💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Martian Manhunter did a Whoopsie. Things are better than they were though, so...success? YJ got in trouble with Batman but Danny wasn't exactly cognizant enough to notice so that got relegated to the tags.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my awful attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

The debriefing team meets J’onn in a meeting room not too far from the cafeteria. By the time he makes it to the correct floor, the team has clearly been waiting on him; on the table are a pack of Chocco cookies, a large order of fries, and a ten pack of chicken nuggets. 

J’onn inclines his head. It’s nice to see that his favorite meal is remembered. “Thank you, Batman.” 

Batman’s nod is equally as formal. The human is already most of the way through his italian sub. “No thanks needed. Were you successful in your contact with the entity?” 

Ah. Right to the details, then. J’onn obliges the question with a seat at the table. Black Canary, a chair to his right, gently scoots over to provide him more space. 

In the end, J’onn is relieved to have a prop in his hands. It creates a small, if flimsy barrier between himself and the images the boy had shown him. 

What he knows now…

J’onn sighs. 

The room is peaceful— likely intentionally so, in order to ease the oncoming conversation. Wonder Woman and Black Canary sit beside each other, their individual meals open and half-eaten between them. As the facilitator of the conversation, Batman sits at the end of the table; as the secretary of the meeting, Superman sits beside him, his sloppy joe in one hand and a keyboard beneath the other. 

J’onn quietly tears open the packaging of his pack of cookies. Plucks one from its plastic insert inside. Chews. Swallows.

“The first thing to note is that although the entity's primary language is not known to me, he is extremely familiar with humans— and, likely, with Earth.” 

Superman swallows the rest of his sandwich in one gulp, nods, and begins to type. Batman turns to face J’onn directly. “How so?” 

“He has many memories of flying freely in Earth’s atmosphere, specifically; the stars line up with the star patterns as viewed from this planet. He is intimately familiar with several aspects of Earth’s culture, including the idea of ‘a bedroom’, which he identified as his own, and a childhood toy, which was a scale model of an Earth spacecraft. If I was shown a variety of options, I could likely pick out which craft specifically. He has a mind for detail.”

Superman’s fingers flick rapid-fire over the keyboard. J’onn happens to be aware of the Krytponian’s career, as the local telepath, but rarely is the man's passion so clearly shown; the focus and quick hands certainly project an air of professionalism around an otherwise at-ease debriefing room.

“You’re using he/him,” the Kryptonian observes, making additional notes in the margins of the in-progress report. “How did that come about?”

“He does have an understanding of the most common gender identities of Earth, and has a favored one. How he came about it…” J’onn inhales. It is a very human gesture. “…I do not know his origins for certain, but I have several theories.”

Batman cuts off an oncoming question from Superman with a silent wave of his hand. “Base information first. Questions and theoreticals at the end.”

Superman’s face at the hindering of his professional instincts is perhaps less than completely mature. “Yes, yes.”

J’onn takes a second cookie.

It’s easy to report on certain things; the entity's initial inability to communicate without acute pain, the subsequent reaction of the teenage team, the eventual discovery of clear communication and transference of emotion.

“Not all of his thoughts were particularly clear.” J’onn nibbles on the edge of his cookie. Black Canary pushes aside her empty tray of California rolls to give her pen and notepad space. This portion of the debrief necessitates more of her skills. “Most of the memories that he aimed to show me were value-neutral, or otherwise unrelated memories, likely due to the stress of his current and deeply traumatic situation. He preferred memories that did not have pain or distress associated with them. When prompted—I displayed my own perspective of the crash we had found him in— the associated memories that were brought up implied that not only was he the pilot of the craft, but that he had a hand in building it.”

Superman’s rhythmic tapping undercuts the soft conversation. “So he is sapient, then, despite the difficulties in communication,” Wonder Woman confirms softly.

“More than. There are echoes of formalized schooling and other instruction in his mind, although I couldn’t discern the topics of the lessons.”

“Were there other beings like him? Anyone we could reach out to? Family members, friends…?”

J’onn hesitates. There’s no way to confirm what he saw. However…

“…There are memories that he has of his own person, in which he looks very human. His self-conceptualization is of an adolescent human boy.”

The grief in the room is palpable. J’onn doesn’t have to look up to feel it press in on him from all sides.

“I suspect that…in the same way that Superman has largely spent his life on Earth, this boy has at least spent several years on Earth as well. There are glosses of memories of an adapted human house, though I was unable to safely explore how far back they went. There are humans who prominently play a role in his self-image and expected worldview, although the mental representations of them have scarred over with some form of psychological trauma. Overall, despite his current form, there was likely a time this child felt safe around both humans and human scientists.” 

Silence rules over the room. 

“...Do we know what changed that?” Black Canary asks, without looking up from her notes. Her pencil eraser taps quietly against the table. 

J’onn sets the package of cookies to the side. “Not…so exactly. There were hints of memories threaded throughout the recalled moments that he did not wish to pin down. Claustrophobia. Fear of incarceration. The fear of physical harm done to him— and the psychological harm of knowing with exact certainty that there were those willing to hurt him. …Intimate betrayal.” 

Superman and Black Canary’s eyes quietly close. Batman looks hardly moved under his cowl; if J’onn could not feel the man’s stress spike in the air, he might not have ever known how worried the human was. 

J’onn isn’t actually meant to know Superman’s circumstances as to his arrival on planet Earth, but there are equally few ways that any of the league can hide the entirety of their thoughts from him— especially at the time of his initial arrival into the League, when mental defenses had yet to be erected in a comprehensive manner. This situation smacks strongly of the story of Clark Kent, son of his human parents. 

“There is no way to confirm my guess without further conversation on the topic. However, it is incredibly likely that he lived under the radar, on Earth, for a lengthy enough span of time to acclimate to human society. The discovery of his non-human biology would have spurred further action, and the result would have given reason for his fear of medical professionals, scientists, and adult humans. Likely, the other humans in his memories meant to support him, and were prevented from doing so or injured in the process. The vehicle that had crashed back to Earth would have served as—”

“—An escape route,” several voices overlap together. 

J’onn nods. His fingers steeple together. “There is no way to know how far into space he had gotten, or if his escape was aided by others of his species, or even if the point of origin was in low atmosphere or Earth's orbit. Either way, our patient is alone now, is in extreme background pain, has lost perception in several of his senses that exclude taste, and has reluctantly bonded with the junior team due to a lack of more familiar presences.”

Batman’s emotional presence circles into a silent exhale of frustration. “That would be Impulse’s under-the table operation,” the human correctly identifies, dry as the desert. 

(J’onn is certain that the vigilante will never reveal it, even to himself, but the exhale has its own quiet, microscopic tinge of reluctant amusement.)

“I don’t think it qualifies as under-the-table if you have a running file on his activities, dated and timed by every individual interaction,” Superman points out, not even bothering to glance at the now-slightly-peeved Batman. 

“Hn.”

“Oh, very mature.” 

“It was not league sanctioned.”

“Neither are the majority of your movements,” Wonder Woman points out. The fork from her salad punctuates her sentence with a tease and a wave. “If you informed us your security plans for the Watchtower any earlier than a week after you had already installed the new measures, I would assume you were an imposter and prepare for battle.”

Batman hardly looks put out. He achieves deception with his whole body. J’onn genuinely admires how discordant his behavior and churning thoughts can be. 

“Hn.”

 “Oh, very well-spoken,” Black Canary flatters insincerely, toying with her pencil against her paper. 

It would be very immature of Batman to sulk. Therefore, he does not. 

“Returning to the point of this meeting… Are there any other pertinent details we ought to know?” 

J’onn considers shrugging. He packs three chocco cookies into his mouth instead, chews, and swallows. There are only two cookies left in the pack, now. 

“The biological mechanism utilized for his empathic sense is vibrationally-based. That would be why my initial attempt at communication failed so tremendously; if he does have a neurological center, it is too deeply damaged to interpret telepathic input. He has a fondness for astronomy, can recognize the color red with greatest ease, and likely needs high contrast if we would like him to recognize any materials we provide. He imprinted on Impulse likely because the boy’s presence in the Speedforce mimics the energy readings he expects to see in those of his species.” 

Superman hums. His fingers fly. “So he must have met others of his species before.” 

J’onn makes a so-so motion. “There is no way to be certain. His abilities may be instinctually pre-programmed, or he may have had access to outside materials to teach him.” 

Batman’s arms cross. His sandwich, which had been sitting on the table, is now entirely vanished— wrapper and all. “Was there any evidence as to either particular theory you were able to pick up on?”

“...No.” Hadn’t he indicated such?

“Was there any personal information you were able to pick up on?” 

J’onn has to think about that one. The topic hadn’t come up during their mental exchange, when so much more of the focus had been on creating basic understanding of the Watchtower, his presence within their base as a patient and not as a prisoner, and his current location on the moon. Anything else that J’onn might have gleaned would have to be determined on supposition and analysis. 

“...He enjoys astronomy.” J’onn tries to recall the exact memories he had seen, and only ends up reiterating what he has already said. Perhaps highlighting certain moments will make the narrative clearer. “His childhood dwelling had little stickers on his ceiling. They would stay lit even when the room went dark—”

“...Glow in the dark stars,” Superman whispers under his breath. J’onn exhales. This isn’t a familiar point of human culture for him. He’s glad his description is recognizable. 

“Yes. He organized them to mimic Earth's constellations. He had smaller, handheld versions of rocket ships. Even if he had not known of extraterrestrial origins, he was drawn to the cosmos.” 

Batman coughs. The gesture is a reflex to suppress some welling emotion. J’onn pretends that it works. “Both items are…markers of a young child,” Batman admits. “Indications of a quite young, very human childhood.” 

Ah. J’onn can more deeply recognize the sense of tragedy welling in the air. The items are astronomy-based yes, but they equally highlight his age. 

“When he donned a human appearance, he matched the coloration of the human family who took him in. As fleeting as their acquaintance might have been, he modeled his human form after them— solidly enough and surely enough that, if he feels strong enough to form a mental self-representation, I can see the outline of it in his memories.” No details, beyond vague hints in the entity's mind of his hair and her eyes and their skin.

“Very loved,” Wonder Woman murmurs. 

“Very young, and very loved,” Black Canary reiterates with a sigh. Her notes are a black mess of graphite. “And now he fears adult humans.” 

“Yes,” J’onn admits. The cookies are gone. He sets the wrapper to the side. He reaches for the chicken nuggets. “That said, he has an instinctual familiarity with black and with red hair, will likely experience less fear with a female profile as opposed to a male, and responded favorably when offered the chance to interact with an adult who did not mean him harm. The fact that we have largely indestructible adults at our disposal works to our advantage.”

It is very, very clear who exactly fills that description. Wonder Woman sits up straight, laces her fingers together, and very kindly curtails her smugness. If Superman and Batman would like to be jealous of her current position, they may do so at their own discretion.