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punkshort · 3 days

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i know who you are | 9. the end

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel leaves overnight for a scouting mission. When he returns, you finally confess your feelings for him.

Chapter Warnings: language, amnesia, slow burn, dry humping, some dead bodies 'n stuff, fluff, feelings, smut (18+ MDNI), piv unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), soft!joel, guns?

WC: 9.1K

Series Masterlist

A/N: Two things. One: I don't have the slightest clue how memory loss works and if what I am about to detail in this chapter is even plausible but if television has taught me anything, nothing is impossible only extremely rare. Two: this is the final chapter and it makes me very sad. I wish I could have thought of more storylines to drag this out but at the end of the day, I feel good about how it all came together and I can't thank quite literally hundreds of you enough for reading this each week. It's kind of insane. So, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! Also, if anyone wants to toss some one-shot/sequel ideas my way, I am all ears. Much love.

Two Weeks Later

"Joel," you whispered, your head tilted back into the couch cushion while his mouth greedily nipped and sucked at your neck. His hips were grinding lightly against your center and you knew if you didn't stop soon, you would be in trouble. "I think we should slow down."

"Mhmm," he mumbled in agreement, reluctantly pulling his hand from underneath your shirt.

"You're lucky it's still cold enough for me to wear a scarf," you murmured into his hair. He sighed against your neck, finally dragging his mouth away and sat up on the couch while yet another movie went unwatched on the TV.

"Can't seem to get enough of you," he said with a grin, his arm stretching over the back of the sofa. You rolled your eyes dramatically but smiled, pushing yourself up and fixing your shirt before looking at the TV. "Brad Pitt's in this?"

Joel tossed his head back and laughed heartily. "Think he's the main character," he told you, and you scowled at him but he could tell you weren't actually angry.

"Well maybe if you didn't distract me every time we try to watch a damn movie, I would know that."

The past two weeks had been downright perfect. Joel couldn't be any happier. Now that things had changed between you, he craved your touch constantly. Part of him wondered if it was his way of trying to make up for lost time because you weren't wrong: he couldn't keep his hands off you. He had no desire to leave the house or see anybody. All he wanted was to stay holed up with you doing absolutely everything and nothing. He shuddered to think how crazy he would become when you were finally ready to take things further. Tommy will have to drag him by the collar from your bed for his patrol shifts.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked him, leaning into his side and tucking your legs underneath you, only half listening to the movie.

"Patrol," he answered while the tips of his ears burned red from embarrassment, like you caught him doing something he shouldn't be doing. He was perfectly fine waiting as long as it took until you were ready, but it didn't stop him from fantasizing about it. And the fact that he already knew what you felt like, what you sounded like, what made you come undone, worked him up even more.

"How are you feeling about getting back out there?" you asked, tipping your head up to look at him. He didn't seem worried but it was hard to tell sometimes.

"Actually, there was somethin' I wanted to talk to you 'bout," he admitted. "And if you don't want me to do it, I won't. I put you through enough shit as it is-"

"Spit it out, Miller," you said, shifting out from under his arm.

"Now that the snow's melted, I wanna take a couple guys and scout the area for any trace of those raiders," he began, watching your face closely. "I won't go far, but..."

"But?" you pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"But I would be gone overnight. Just one night," he assured you quickly when he saw your face.

"Wouldn't the others have already noticed anything out of the ordinary on patrol?" you asked as anxiety began to squeeze your throat. "I don't understand why you need to go out there."

"'Cause I only trust myself to make sure we're safe," he explained. "If somethin' happened to anyone 'cause I led these assholes to our doorstep, I'd never forgive myself. D'you understand?"

You chewed on your lip and glanced down at your lap as you weighed your options. On one hand, you understood where he was coming from. And if no one else on patrol or guard had yet to see or find anything strange, then Joel would most likely not find anything, either. But on the other hand, just simply leaving Jackson was a risk. And even if Joel didn't find any other raiders, he wouldn't mean he would be safe from whoever or whatever else was out there.

Joel pinched your chin and gently tugged your lip from between your teeth, making you snap out of it.

"Can I go with you?"

Joel's face softened. "No, baby. You don't even remember how to shoot a gun. I can't risk it."

Of course, he was right. "Who would you take?"

He smiled and dropped his hand. "Tommy. Neil. George. Couple others offered, too, but I'm not sure how many we wanna bring. Don't wanna stick out like a sore thumb with ten horses out in the middle of the woods."

You relaxed a bit knowing he would be going with some of Jackson's most seasoned patrolmen.

"Okay," you agreed softly. His face lit up and he leaned forward.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you sighed, looking over at the TV as the credits began to roll. He hooked a finger under your chin and dragged your eyes back onto him.

"Thank you," he whispered before pressing his lips firmly against yours, trying with all his might to pour every ounce of affection and adoration he had for you into the kiss. You giggled against his mouth as he tried to push you onto your back once again, but you playfully shoved his shoulder before breaking the kiss and scooting away.

"We told Ellie we'd meet her and Dina for dinner, remember?"

He groaned as if he were in physical pain and reached out for you but you quickly stood up, wagging a finger at him. He gazed up at you from the couch with his brown eyes all wide and gentle.

"I mean it, thank you. I don't know what I did to deserve you."

You blushed and bit your lip as you slowly walked backwards towards the stairs. "You can make it up to me one day."

Joel's gaze darkened and he dug his fingers into the couch cushion. "Just say the word, baby. Anytime. Anywhere."

You laughed and turned towards the steps. "Come on, we should get ready for dinner."

"In a minute," he said as you disappeared upstairs. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to will his raging hard on away before standing up and following you.

You inhaled deeply, your body heavy with sleep as you struggled to focus on Joel's voice.

"Sweetheart, I'm leavin'."

With a groan, you rolled over and reached out for him blindly, your eyes still not fully adjusted to the beam of light shining in from the hallway.

He smiled and grabbed your hands, wrapping them around his neck. He felt your fingers dig into the back of his neck and shoulders as you feebly attempted to pull him towards you.

You asked him to wake you up before he left for his scouting mission, so he did as you requested but you were so warm and soft and supple under his touch that he was finding it impossible to leave.

Maybe you planned it that way.

"I'll be back late tomorrow. I love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss against your temple, taking an extra moment to savor it. When he pulled away, your fingers tightened around his neck and you lifted your chin, kissing him with an urgency he hadn't expected from your half-awake state.

"Come home to me, Joel," you mumbled, your eyes squinting at him through the darkness. He pulled an arm from around his neck and brought your knuckles to his lips.

"Promise."

It was so hard to leave but he kept reminding himself he was doing it to keep you safe. Regardless of what Tommy thought, something in his gut told him they hadn't seen the last of those raiders. He brought them into the mountains, and he was determined to be the one to finish it.

"I'm still surprised she let you do this," Tommy said a few hours into their travels. George was leading the group while he and Tommy brought up the rear. The forest was silent, save for the birds just beginning to wake in the branches above. After a long, painful winter, it was a relief to hear the first signs of spring.

"What'dya mean let me?" Joel scoffed, but when he locked eyes with Tommy, who was giving him a look that said he saw right through his bullshit, Joel grinned. "Yeah, alright, it took a little work but she understood."

Tommy nodded and went back to paying attention to their surroundings. They were officially in unguarded territory, the nearest patrol route now miles behind them. The trees had yet to fully bloom so it was still rather easy to see through the woods.

"I think you really freaked her out when you left," Tommy said, "she came runnin' to the house that mornin' in a panic. Thought she wouldn't let you leave her sight again after that."

Joel hummed and turned his head so his brother wouldn't see his smile. He didn't want to worry you, but every time he heard something like that, it reminded him how much you cared, even if you couldn't say it just yet.

"So, you two back to normal now or what?" Tommy pried. Joel shot him a look and he shrugged. "We got a long journey here. We can't talk to pass the time?"

"Yeah, mostly back to normal," Joel finally answered, shifting his weight in his saddle. He could already feel his lower back beginning to flare up. "Takin' things slow. Givin' her as much time as she needs."

Tommy nodded, reading between the lines. "Didn't look that slow the other night after dinner," he muttered under his breath, but Joel still heard him.

"She had a couple drinks, is all," he replied with a chuckle. He scratched his chin as he thought back to a few nights prior when you had draped your arms around his shoulders and your face buried against his neck for the better part of thirty minutes. It was late, all of the families had cleared out after dinner, leaving behind the adults to kick back and cut loose a bit. It reminded Joel of a time before the world went to hell. When he and Tommy would go to a bar on a Friday night, the smell of stale beer and cigarettes in the air while the patrons had to shout over a mediocre cover band playing Lynyrd Skynyrd. It was the first time in a long time he felt relaxed and at ease. He watched his brother and wife across the bar steal kisses around conversations with neighbors, grateful for a night out as Ellie had offered to babysit. He had you at his side, sipping whiskey and making a face before you switched to something else.

As the night dragged on, you got a little closer. Then your hand found his knee under the table and you tilted your head into his shoulder, quietly listening to him discuss the plan for the trip with George. He wrapped an arm around your waist but his focus was entirely on George, too concerned with the map he had spread out over the wooden table. George's wife finally came to collect him, telling him she was tired and he was too old to be trying to keep up with the younger men, shot for shot. She wasn't wrong by the way he stood up and stumbled a bit, leading him towards the door, leaving just the two of you at your table. Once you were alone, your arms snaked around his neck and you tugged him to your lips, your tongue greedily licking into his mouth, the heavy taste of whiskey and gin on your combined breath.

"You sure it was just the drinks? You don't think it had anythin' to do with Angie sittin' two tables over?"

Joel's face flushed and he cleared his throat. It shouldn't turn him on but he couldn't help it. He liked it when you were possessive over him.

"Didn't think it wise to ask," was all he said. Tommy chuckled.

The group made decent time. They had a grid in mind and they almost reached their desired destination by sundown. When morning came, the plan was they would make their way back towards Jackson and cover the northeast quadrant of the map.

As they set up camp for the night, deciding to forego a fire since the temperature was comfortable and they didn't want to risk giving away their location, Neil commented that they hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary so far.

"Not that I mind coming out here, Joel," he followed up quickly, "always a good idea to take precautions and all that."

Joel nodded and focused on spreading out his sleeping bag. "I appreciate you all comin'. Not sure if I say it enough, but I'm grateful."

Neil and George exchanged surprised looks at the unexpected appreciation.

They got an early start the next morning, and as the sun rose higher in the sky and more ground was covered, Joel began to wonder if maybe they would make it back to Jackson sooner than he thought. He really hoped they would. Even if it was just one day, he missed you. He hated sleeping without you. He hated waking up and not finding you curled up against him with your head resting on his chest or his arms wrapped about your waist, face buried against the back of your neck.

He was glancing around the forest, wondering what you were doing right at that very moment when he spotted something orange in the distance. His heart rate picked up and he whistled, catching the group's attention. He pointed through the trees and they all silently slid down from their horses. Checking their weapons, they fanned out and slowly made their way towards the scrap of fabric. As they got closer, Joel could see it was a knit cap stuck in a bush, fluttering in the wind. None of the men saw any other signs of life, each of them silently communicating with hand signals they were taught years ago.

Tommy heard shuffling and he held up his hand, bringing the group to an immediate stop. From his angle, Joel could see that the bush with the knit cap was right outside the opening of a small cave. The way the trees had grown around the rocks, it was impossible to notice it from a distance.

The perfect hiding spot.

He exchanged worried looks with Tommy before they crept closer, his rifle gripped tightly in both hands, ready for anything. The shuffling got louder and clearer and it became apparent that the noise was coming from right within the mouth of the cave. Catching Tommy's eye, he made sure to show him he was putting his rifle away in favor of his hunting knife. He always preferred a silent takedown over wasting ammunition, but just in case it went sideways, Tommy would be ready to cover him.

Joel situated himself next to the mouth of the cave while the other men, spread out amongst the trees, hid and waited. He reached down and grabbed a rock, throwing it about ten feet away to draw out whoever was hiding.

He didn't even need to see it to know what was waiting for him.

When the rock cracked against a tree trunk and he heard the telltale snarl of infected, he tightened his grip on his knife. The runner stumbled out of the cave with a shriek, jaw snapping angrily in the direction of the noise. Joel had run into his fair share of infected over the years. He knew the noise would have drawn the attention of any infected in the immediate vicinity, and when he only spotted one, he almost breathed a sigh of relief.

He took it down silently with a blade to the back of the head, then inspected the body. It looked fresh, the clothes mostly intact. The rest of the men joined him as they peered inside the cave, listening intently for any movement. When they heard none, they began to advance.

The cave wasn't very big but it was enough to house ten men. At least, that's the number of bodies they found, not a single trace of life left.

"Well, shit," Tommy muttered, kicking one of the mangled bodies with his boot. "Guess that hunch of yours was right."

It didn't exactly please Joel to know he was right, but at least it was the best possible scenario. The men were taken out by infected probably within the past week. He counted the bodies five times. Then recounted the backpacks and sleeping bags. Ten seemed to be the correct number. No one was missing, assuming the runner he had just killed was the only raider who had the misfortune of turning instead of dying right away.

They scavenged what they could from the dead bodies before trekking back to the horses.

"Keep your heads up. Don't mean there ain't anythin' else out here," Joel warned.

"The warmer weather must've thawed out some infected," Tommy mused next to him. Joel nodded.

"Probably should warn the others to keep their guard up the next few weeks," he replied. "Maybe add an extra body to the towers if we can."

Tommy nodded in agreement. The winters in the mountains were harsh but at least they saw a decrease in the undead.

"Now let's get the hell home," George said over his shoulder, the rest of the men mumbling in agreement. Joel ducked his chin to his chest to hide his relieved smile. Home.

To say you were happy to see him return was an understatement. It was closer to ten at night when you finally heard his heavy footsteps on the front porch.

"Told'ya I'd come back," he chuckled when you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tight.

"I know," you mumbled into his shirt. His heart swelled in his chest and he closed his eyes, breathing deep the smell of your shampoo. You both had a lot of work to do, essentially starting over and building a relationship from the ground up, but it was moments like those that made him believe everything was going to work out.

"Are you hungry?"

"Nah, just need a shower," he said, dropping his pack by the door and kicking off his boots.

"So I take it you didn't find anything?" you asked, trailing up the stairs behind him. He walked into your bedroom to grab a fresh set of boxers and sweatpants.

"Actually, we did," he began, and your heart plummeted. He saw the look on your face and quickly shook his head. "They were dead by the time we got there. 'Bout ten of 'em holed up in a cave. Infected got to 'em first."

"Oh, wow," you breathed, slowly sinking down onto the bed. "Well, at least you have peace of mind now, right?"

"Exactly," he said, giving you a quick kiss before heading into the bathroom. "Be out in a minute."

You heard the water turn on and you glanced over at the red flannel of Joel's that you slept in the night before. Even though it was clean, it still smelled like him. You glanced at the closed bathroom door and bit your lip, your heart fluttering in your chest as you thought things over. The morning he left, you wished you had told him but you were too sleepy and you wanted it to be more meaningful. Then, when you woke up and his side of the bed was ice cold, you felt the dread begin to creep up your spine. What if something happened and you never told him how you felt?

Well, nothing happened. He was home now. Safe and sound. There was no reason not to tell him.

You heard the water turn off and you jumped up to grab his flannel and scurried out of the bedroom, across the hall to the other bathroom, shutting the door.

Joel emerged a few minutes later with his wet hair slicked back wearing just a pair of sweatpants, per usual. He tossed his dirty clothes in the laundry basket and looked around. He noticed the closed door across the hall and assumed you were getting ready for bed so he slid between the sheets with a groan. He closed his eyes and took a moment to appreciate the mattress underneath him instead of the unforgiving forest floor before leaning over to grab his glasses and a book.

When you tiptoed back into the bedroom wearing only his flannel, he didn't notice at first. His focus was on the small print in front of him, blinking a few times and wondering if he needed stronger lenses when you cleared your throat. He glanced up and did a double take, his lips parting in shock when he saw his red flannel hugging your curves, the hem falling just below your ass.

You looked up at him and feigned surprise. "Oh, is this okay? I was cold-"

"Yes," he swallowed, immediately cutting you off, "it's okay."

You smiled and made a show of bending over to fix the sheets. Again, he swallowed tightly when he caught a glimpse of your black underwear and he felt his cock twitch. Before you turned around he made sure to be focused back on his book, although he was most definitely not absorbing any of the words on the page.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw you peel back the sheets and with a sigh, you tucked yourself in. You glanced over at him, admiring his strong side profile and the way his glasses perched on the tip of his nose.

"I missed you," you whispered, and he dragged his eyes from his book to look at you.

"I missed you, too."

You caught the way his eyes flicked down to your chest where you purposely left two buttons undone so you exposed a little bit of cleavage.

"What are you reading?" you asked, and he laughed through his nose.

"I've got no fuckin' idea."

In a flash, his book was discarded and you were in his lap, your mouth hungrily devouring his as he carefully removed his glasses and tossed them to the side. He wrapped both arms around you and held you close to his bare chest, his tongue licking past your teeth eagerly.

"You look so fuckin' good in my clothes," he growled, sounding as if it pained him before biting at your jaw.

"I wore your shirts the whole time you were gone," you admitted, rolling your head back and grinding down on his hips. You bit your lip when you felt how hard he was already. "Almost the whole week. I slept in your bed and-"

"Fuck," Joel groaned, grabbing your face with both hands and feverishly plunged his tongue into your mouth. You moaned and grabbed his shoulders, the intensity behind the kiss growing too hot. You could feel yourself tumbling, free-falling into the abyss with the unspoken words sitting heavy on your tongue, hoping Joel would be there to catch you.

"Wait," you gasped, pulling away, but only a little. Your forehead still rested against his as you both panted for air.

"I know, I'm sorry-" he was about to apologize for taking things too far when you cut him off.

"Do you remember all those months ago when I asked how I fell in love with you?"

Joel nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you remember what you said?"

He tilted his head back, lips parted as he gazed up at you, wondering why you were asking him those questions in that moment.

"Yeah," he replied slowly, "I said you're gonna have to wait to find out."

You bit your lip and with a shaky hand, you traced one of the wrinkles next to his eyes. "Well, I found out."

His chest stilled, breath caught in his throat as he processed your words. His eyes roamed over your face, hoping and praying he wasn't misunderstanding. When you saw him nervously swallow, you smiled.

"I love you, Joel."

His eyebrows pinched together and before you could see the tears welling up in his eyes, he pulled you down for another searing kiss. This time, he went slower. He savored every second, he memorized everything he possibly could about that moment because the way you made him feel hearing those words was unlike anything he ever experienced and he didn't want to take a single second for granted.

"I love you, too," he choked. He could feel you smile against his lips when he pressed his mouth against yours again. "Fuck, I love you so much," he mumbled, his hands falling to your hips, "I'd do anythin' for you."

Your mouth latched onto his throat and you dropped your hand between your bodies, your fingers lightly stroking him through his pants. And once again, you felt his muscles stiffen and freeze.

For a moment, the self-doubt crept in. What if he didn't want to? Was he too tired? Was he not ready? Then his hand covered your wrist and you watched as he slowly dragged your hand up and down, showing you what he liked. Encouraging you to continue. So you did.

His head tipped back against the headboard with a sigh and he squeezed his eyes shut, removing his hand and letting you take control. He wanted - no, needed - you to call the shots. You needed to take it as far as you wanted to take it.

When your fingers dipped below his waistband, he tensed.

When he finally felt your soft touch on his cock, he groaned.

It was better than he even remembered. His eyes were still closed as you worked him up and down, the arousal pooling between your legs the longer you spent just feeling him and not seeing him.

"I want you," you whispered in his ear, and his hips jolted as he whined against your shoulder. You wanted him.

When he opened his eyes, he looked absolutely wrecked. You could see that he was trying his best to hold back, trying his best to make sure you were comfortable, that you weren't feeling pressured, that you really wanted it.

But when you sweetly whispered please, Joel, he didn't hesitate. He flipped you onto your back and pulled hastily at the buttons of his flannel while he cemented his mouth against yours. Your hands drifted to his hair and back, pulling and scratching as you went while he finally flung open the shirt. He instantly latched his lips around your nipple, making you moan and arch your back underneath him.

"So beautiful," he mumbled against your chest. "Tell me again."

You smiled and peered down at him. "I love you."

He breathed a sigh of relief, his exhale fanning over your skin, making your nipples tighten. His rough hands slid down your stomach, thick fingers splayed wide, trying to touch as much of you as possible at once.

You could hear your heartbeat thrumming steadily in your ears when he dipped his fingers below the elastic of your underwear, a deafening sound that made it hard to focus but when he slid a finger slowly through your arousal, your senses suddenly sharpened. The house could have been on fire but you never would have known because all you could focus on was him.

He dragged his open mouth across your chest, teeth grazing over your collarbone, tongue flicking out and tasting you as he went. His lips puckered and sucked at your skin as he pet gently at your entrance, making you squirm with need and tug impatiently at his hair. When he pulled his hand out of your underwear, you made a frustrated little noise that made him smile. He popped his finger into his mouth and you watched, struggling to breathe, as his eyes fluttered closed and he moaned like he had just slipped into a warm bath after a hard day.

"God, I missed that," he whispered, and the look on his face made you actually believe him.

"Joel..." you breathed, plucking feebly at the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Lemme just make you come on my mouth first," and before you could respond, he was shimmying down between your legs and tugging off your panties. When you glanced down and saw how good it looked with his head between your legs, you relaxed and leaned back. How could you argue with that view?

"Oh," you sighed when his tongue first slid through your folds. You tipped your head back and closed your eyes, allowing your muscles to melt under his touch. His hands held your thighs open but he didn't need to bother. There was no possible way you would do anything to stop him. Not when he felt so good, taking his time and expertly lavishing your core with his tongue. And perhaps he was an expert. At least when it came to you, he had five years of experience to fall back on. He surely must have figured out what you liked in all that time.

Your breath was growing ragged and you could feel the heat creeping up your chest. He pressed the backs of your thighs, pushing your knees up towards your chest so he could devour every inch of you, eating messily at your cunt. You pulled your knees back and hooked your hands around each one, your thighs becoming too shaky to hold open with your own strength.

It was a combination of his lips wrapping around your clit and the deep groan that rumbled through his chest that made you come undone the first time. Instant relief flashed through your body and you released your knees, letting your legs fall limply onto the quilt while he eagerly cleaned you up with his tongue.

When he sensed it was too much, he began peppering kisses along your inner thighs, murmuring praise into your skin as he went. You opened your eyes and peered down at him, your breath getting caught in your throat at the sight. His mouth and beard were glistening with your slick, his own eyes remained shut as he mindlessly nipped and kissed your skin, but even from your angle you could see him rutting his hips into the mattress, looking for any amount of friction to relieve the ache.

You reached your arms out to him and he inched up but stopped at your stomach. He sighed and rested the side of his head against your belly, listening to your breath evening out as he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around your waist. It took you by surprise that he wasn't immediately jumping at the chance to chase his own release when it was clear just a moment before he was dying for it. You glanced down at him and smiled when you saw the look on his face, simply content with just holding and being close to you. Carding your fingers through his curls, you heard him hum before pressing a gentle kiss against your stomach.

It might have been that moment when you realized he was right. What you had was special and rare. You could feel it in your bones, the way a look or touch sent a jolt right through you. The way you felt drawn to him, even from the very first day of your accident, you could sense something in him. You had no idea at the time what it was, but you were beginning to understand now.

"Joel?" you whispered, worried he might have somehow fallen asleep. Then you felt it. The first hot teardrop hit your skin and your heart clenched. "C'mere," you said, tugging at his shoulders. Begrudgingly, he obeyed. And after his arms loosened and he unpeeled his wet face from your belly, you saw the anguish in his eyes. All watery and wide and guilt-ridden.

"I don't deserve you," he said softly, his voice breaking a bit as you cupped his jaw. "Never did and definitely don't now. Not after everything I've done. Don't deserve your forgiveness, let alone your love."

You shushed him and pressed your lips tenderly against his, your thumb wiping away his tears as they fell.

"Don't tell me who I can and cannot love," you said, taking his chin in your hand and giving it a firm shake, like you were punishing him. He chuckled thickly through the tears.

You pulled him down by the back of his neck and kissed him slower, your tongue just barely dipping into his mouth. He groaned when you began to plant wet kisses along his jaw and you noticed with pride that his chest was rising and falling faster than usual while his hips ground into yours.

"Love you s'much," he almost sounded drunk, the feel of your mouth over his skin clouding his mind and mushing his words together.

"Yeah?" you asked before sucking a bruise where his jaw met his throat. "Then show me."

Joel kicked off his sweatpants and boxers with a grunt but when you went to remove his flannel from around your shoulders, he stopped you.

"Leave it on."

Your cheeks flared with heat at the way he looked at you and all you could do was nod and bite your lip.

It felt like time stood still when you first felt him enter you. Like nothing else in the world mattered outside of those four walls. He held your gaze and your fingers dug into his back, each of you savoring the stretch with your mouths hung open, the only sound was the occasional sharp little breath or gasp from one or both of you.

You could see it in his face again and you had a feeling you mirrored his look. It was too intense. Too overwhelming. So much had happened that led up to that moment: all the fear, sadness, laughter, arguments, long talks and shared traumas came crashing down at once. A tear slid down your cheek right when his hips came flush with yours and he leaned down to kiss it away.

"You okay?"

You nodded and wiped another tear away with the back of your hand.

"It's just a lot, y'know?" you sniffled, hoping he understood. And he did.

His eyes glistened and he smiled, his fingers brushing away a few stray pieces of hair from your face. "I know. We've come a long way."

"Yeah," you whispered, blinking back more tears. Your fingertips traced his bottom lip, your eyes flickering around his face, taking in every little crease and dimple. "Kiss me."

He did as you asked, kissing you slow and deep, matching pace with his hips. Your fingers dug into his arms, holding onto him, keeping him close. His hand pushed his flannel back, exposing one of your shoulders while your head tilted back into the pillows, momentarily breaking away for air. You moaned softly when he began to grind his hips against you, providing your clit with some much needed stimulation while he dragged his mouth down the column of your throat and across your collarbone. When he sunk his teeth gently into your shoulder, he felt you clench around him and gasp.

How's that feel?

Do that again.

Tell me you love me.

I love you.

Those sweet, desperate whispers were shared, breathed into each other's mouths, every word dragged out, every touch deliberate and slow. Neither of you in the mood to rush a thing as your fingers tightly laced together next to your head.

His other hand skirted around your back and under his shirt, palm pressing against your spine, pulling you closer to him, if it was even possible. He flexed his hips and you groaned when the tip of his cock hit a spot that had your entire body buzzing.

"Right there," you whimpered into his neck, brows pinched together and stomach tightening as you concentrated on the fire being stoked deep within you. Every one of his powerful thrusts was adding fuel to the flames. Your skin was slick with sweat and you began to regret keeping his flannel on.

"I know, baby. I remember," he whispered, tightening his grip on you. "Fuck, y'feel so good, I can't-"

"Don't stop! Please, Joel, more," you begged, tears welling up and spilling down your cheeks the closer and closer he pushed you to the edge. Your thighs tensed around his waist and his lips kissed the tears away and when you came, crying his name into his skin, he soothed you. He told you how much he loved you, how much he missed being so close to you, reminded you he was right there, that he had you and everything was okay.

Moments later, you felt his body tremble and his hips stutter. In a haze, you loosened your legs from around his waist. His lips captured yours frantically, fast puffs of exhale fanning over your cheek as he got more and more lost in chasing his climax. Your shaking fingers reached up to get tangled in his hair, ensuring his mouth remained firmly planted against your lips, muffling his groans and garbled versions of your name and I love yous, swallowing everything down until he yanked his hips away, spilling himself all over your stomach.

You both broke the kiss and looked down between your bodies, watching as each weak thrust painted your skin with more and more of his release until he finally stilled and shuddered.

After he finally forced himself to stand, he cleaned you up and slipped back into bed, one of his legs sticking out from underneath the covers, still slightly panting for air. You curled into his side, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you snug against him, his nose getting buried in your hair as you listened to each other's breaths even out. You quietly told him about a wound you stitched up at work all by yourself the day before and he told you how proud he was of you. You listened to him tell you a little more about his trip, how relieved he felt now that he confirmed with his own eyes Jackson was safe. At least, for the time being.

The last thing you remembered was him telling you how much he hated sleeping on the ground and how much he missed you while his knuckles soothingly dragged over your stomach but all you could think about was the warm glow that radiated from your skin and the delicious soreness between your legs as you drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, you heard birds singing outside your window. You smiled before you even opened your eyes. Spring was coming. You always loved spring. Something about it made you hopeful and calm, and that morning was no exception.

You awoke still wrapped in his arms and his flannel, your cheek pressed against his bare chest, one of your legs slotted between his, enjoying the peace and quiet the morning brought.

"I thought you died," you admitted quietly once he woke, your fingertips tracing over the scar above his hip. "When you didn't come back that day, I was so worried. So scared my last words to you were something cruel and hurtful."

He hummed and said, "Oh darlin', I'm so sorry," then kissed the top of your head.

"Don't be. In a way, it helped me realize how much I care about you," you replied, lifting your chin from his chest to glance up at him. He always looked way too handsome in the morning. It was hardly fair. "Made me realize I couldn't live without you."

He grinned and rolled his shoulder, stretching out his sore muscles. "Well, if that's all it took, why didn't you say somethin' sooner?"

You giggled and looked back down at his scar, the smile slowly slipping from your face the longer you looked at the pale jagged edges marring his bronzed skin. "God, that day you didn't come back, though," you continued, your brow furrowed as you thought, "I had the worst pit in my stomach. Almost like I knew something was wrong, you know?"

He nodded and closed his eyes, letting you talk, completely at ease listening to your voice.

"It probably didn't help I had woken up that morning from the worst fucking nightmare."

"What nightmare?" he asked sleepily.

You chuckled when you thought about it.

"It's not really funny," you explained, rolling off of him and onto your back, pulling his flannel closed as you moved. "It had started out just like this, actually. It was morning, we were in bed and we were talking... about death?" you said the last part as if it were a question. "I was asking you if you believed in heaven and I told you I was afraid we were going to hell." His eyes snapped open and he quickly rolled his head to look at you, waiting for you to continue. You laughed again and shrugged. "I guess it felt like a premonition or something. Really freaked me out, it felt so real."

"What else?" he asked excitedly, sitting up. You looked up at him and cocked your head to the side.

"What do you mean?"

"What else do you remember? From the nightmare?"

"Oh," you said, pushing yourself up so you were also sitting. You stared at the wall blankly as you thought about it. "You told me we aren't bad people, and even though I told you we had done bad things, I believed you. Then..." you felt your cheeks flush and he sat forward eagerly.

"Then what?" he urged, and when you looked at him again, any trace of playfulness was gone.

"Then... it got a little dirty but I woke up before anything happened. But I do remember you were on top of me and you said-"

"This is heaven right here?" he finished for you, and you looked at him in surprise.

"Yes! How did-"

"That was no nightmare, honey. That happened," he told you, his voice rising. He thought his heart was going to explode, it was racing so fast.

"What?" you whispered, but Joel was already jumping out of bed and tugging on his boxers.

"C'mon, get up! We gotta take you to see Nick!"

"Wait," you said, buttoning up his flannel as he flew around the room, grabbing new clothes for you both. "Joel, this was a month ago, what will going to see Nick do?"

"I-I-I don't know! But we gotta tell him. Maybe there's somethin' we can do if we know you're capable of -"

"Joel, sit down," you said, cutting him off. He froze, having just tugged on a shirt but his jeans were still left unzipped and unbuttoned. You stared at him until he took the few steps towards the bed and sat down on the edge. "I'll talk to Nick next time I'm at work, but I don't want to barge in there and take up his time. You know this is out of his area of expertise."

He looked disappointed but he knew you were right because he finally nodded in agreement and bit the inside of his cheek while he stared at the floor. You put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, drawing his attention back onto you.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," you said softly. "If my memories come back, then they come back. If they don't, they don't. All that matters is this... right?" you asked, inching closer to him and resting a hand on his thigh. He smiled and enveloped your hand in his.

"Yeah, you're right," he said, staring down at your conjoined hands for a moment. "You wanna go get some breakfast? Maybe talk 'bout it a bit more?"

"Sure," you replied, then leaned forward, kissing him tenderly before standing up. "I should probably shower, though. Last night got a little messy," you said, tossing him a wink over your shoulder. He smirked and watched your ass sway back and forth in his fucking clothes as you made your way to the bathroom. You turned around in the doorway, one hand on the knob, the other braced against the frame as you looked at him expectantly from across the room. "Aren't you coming?"

All the blood rushed directly between his legs and just like that, his excitement for you recalling a memory was replaced by a very different kind of excitement.

"Hell, yes," he said, standing up and shucking off his shirt as he followed you into the bathroom. He grabbed your face with both hands and crashed his mouth against yours, kicking the door shut behind him.

Three Months Later

"Can't believe I'm the one teachin' you how to shoot," Joel muttered in disbelief as you walked back from the line of trees where he had hammered a paper target into one of the trunks. "You were always a better shot than me. Almost better than Tommy, and he was in the goddamn Army."

You laughed and shook your head, still finding it difficult to believe that you ever shot a gun before. From what you remember, you were always afraid of guns growing up.

"Maybe I'm a natural, then."

Enough time had passed and the weather had gotten warm enough where you decided it would be beneficial to re-learn how to shoot. You didn't plan on going back to patrol, but in the world you lived in, it was an important skill to have.

You sat down next to Joel on the fallen tree trunk in the middle of a small field about two miles away from Jackson. He picked up each one of his guns and inspected them, making sure they were clean so there wouldn't be much kickback.

"Have any dreams lately?"

You sighed and shook your head. "Just the one about Ellie, and that was over a month ago."

When you woke up one morning from a dream that felt all too real, you shook Joel awake to tell him about it. It was a simple dream, but it felt intense. You had dreamed Ellie sat you and Joel down at the kitchen table, and full of nerves, explained that she was seeing someone. Someone she cared about deeply. You seemed to catch on quicker than Joel because the conversation lead to where Ellie had to point blank explain to him that she was dating another girl. He seemed surprised but not overly shocked, and when he shrugged it off and still maintained that his only concern was her partner treating her right, her face broke out into a huge smile.

After he confirmed it was a memory, you agreed to see Nick. He didn't end up having much insight on what spurred your sudden recollection that day, just as you expected. But much to your surprise, Joel was perfectly calm. In fact, he made a point of thanking Nick and you even saw him smile at the other man.

And it wasn't just Nick you noticed his demeanor changing toward, either. When kids playing in the street bumped into him, he laughed and waved them off. When Jesse proposed to his girlfriend, Joel was one of the first in line to give him a hearty handshake and wished them well.

You weren't sure if his behavior changed because you were so revolted by it in the beginning, or if he was just happier in general, but you didn't complain.

"Alright, so which one d'you think we're gonna use from this distance?" he asked after he showed you his revolver and then his rifle, explaining the difference between each: how they handled, when to use them, when not to use them, and then finally, how to load and unload them.

You gave him a blank look. "The rifle, Joel. I'm not a complete idiot. I've seen movies."

He grinned and holstered his revolver.

"Good girl. Beauty and brains," he said, and you rolled your eyes.

"Don't start."

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Don't start flirting with me. You'll distract me and I want to take this seriously."

"I ain't flirtin' with you."

"Yes, you are!"

He laughed heartily at your frustrated little pout. "Can you blame me? You're so goddamn cute."

"Joel..." you whined, and he held up both hands in defeat before picking up the rifle.

"Alright, alright. Lemme shoot off a few rounds and you watch my form, okay? Watch my shoulders and where my hands go."

"Okay."

You observed him as he took aim at the target, nearly hitting the bullseye but not quite.

"You wanna give it a shot?"

"Pun intended?"

He grinned and held out the rifle, so you grabbed it and sunk down to one knee, resting your elbows on the tree trunk as you tried to imitate his posture.

"Like this?"

"Mhm," he said, "now take a deep breath and squeeze the trigger nice 'n slow."

Doing as you were told, you inhaled and blinked a few times, making sure your vision was clear and your eye was on the prize. Pursing your lips, you slowly exhaled and squeezed the trigger - only to miss hitting the target entirely.

"Shit," you grumbled, sitting back on your heels.

"You got spooked by the kickback," Joel said, "try again, but this time try not to flinch."

You shouldered the rifle and took aim, once again taking a deep breath and focusing on the little yellow circle in the middle of the target. When you fired off your second round, doing your best not to flinch, you clipped the edge of the paper, but you were no where near the center.

"Goddamnit!" you yelled angrily. Joel chuckled and crouched behind you.

"Here. Lemme help you."

He wrapped his arms around yours and pressed his chest against your back, his hands coming to rest on top of yours as he made some minuscule adjustments to your posture.

"Y'gotta be gentle, see?" he whispered in your ear. Your eyelids fluttered but you managed to nod. "Gotta be patient. Don't let her scare you. Think of her as an extension of you. Like another arm."

"Her?" you teased.

He chuckled, his breath puffing against the back of your neck. "Yeah. Her. I'm respectful and careful with all my girls."

"All?" you repeated, leaning into him a bit. "How many are there?"

"Oh, tons," he said, making you giggle. "But if it makes you feel any better, you're my favorite."

"A favorite over a bunch of guns? I'm so flattered."

"Hey, now. Didn't you just say you wanted to take this seriously? C'mon, focus up," and you knew he was right so you straightened up and pressed your eye against the scope once again.

Joel stayed behind you, his hands on your shoulders to help stabilize your upper body as you squeezed off shot after shot. His advice helped a little, you were at least hitting the paper, but you weren't getting anywhere near his shots from earlier. He could see you were growing frustrated so when you ran out of bullets, he took the rifle and told you to take a break while he reloaded.

"It's okay, darlin'. It's gonna take a bit to get used to it."

You sighed and slumped forward on the tree trunk. "Yeah, I guess," you mumbled.

For the next twenty minutes, Joel coached you while you struggled to remember all his advice at once. Keep your shoulders loose. Don't flinch. Follow through. Breathe. When you pulled the last round into the chamber and took aim, you expected it to go like all the others so you stopped worrying about it and just pulled the trigger.

"Holy shit, you did it!" Joel exclaimed excitedly. You hadn't even bothered to look, so you quickly brought the scope back up to your face. When you saw the small little circle burning a hole through the paper, nearly dead center, you squealed and quickly placed the rifle against the tree so you could jump into Joel's arms. He wrapped his arms around your ribs and spun you around while you giggled into his neck.

"Told you," he said with a wide grin after he put you back down. You grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him into you, crashing your lips together, taking him by surprise. He stumbled forward but wrapped a hand around the back of your neck just as you lost your own footing and fell onto the grass, dragging him down with you.

You laughed against his mouth, still peppering kisses all over his face. He braced both arms on either side of you, elbows digging into the warm grass, smile permanently stretching across his cheeks as he soaked up your affection.

When your laughter died down, you pulled away to gaze up at him, your fingers playing with the dark curls at the base of his neck. The sun was shining over the field and onto his tanned skin, making his sparkling brown eyes look like the color of gold. It took your breath away.

"You're so handsome," you whispered in awe, your fingers leaving his hair in favor of stroking the graying stubble dusting his cheeks. He blushed and shook his head, but before he could protest, you spoke again. "I love you so much, Joel. Sometimes it makes me sad to think we probably wouldn't have ever known each other if the world didn't end."

His eyes softened and he gave you a small smile, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "I'll always find you. In every life, in every universe. You've got a piece of me," he tapped your chest lightly, "I don't make the rules."

You laughed and laced your fingers together with his. "Like fate?"

He shrugged. "Call it whatever you want. I already told you, sweetheart. We're meant to be together."

You pulled him down for another kiss, this one more gentle. More loving. More intimate. For the hundredth time, you mentally berated yourself for wasting so much time after your accident when you could have been with him like this, being loved and adored and cherished all along. Instead, you both had been searching endlessly for some version of yourself that you weren't sure you would ever find again. But then you realized if you never did, that was okay. Because you got to fall in love with each other all over again, and how many people get to say that?

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #the last of us game #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #ikwya fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou

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see-arcane · 3 days

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Annual reminder that despite all memes and adaptations to the contrary, Jonathan ‘If I die I hope Mina gets my diary as a goodbye :’c’ Harker acknowledged that something ominous was up as of DAY 2 in his little Transylvania travelogue. The only reason he wasn’t turning his ass around was, you know. Needing to Do This Incredibly Vital Assignment for His Brand New Job. If you put this boy in [PICK ANY HORROR MOVIE], he would be out of there two seconds after the opening credits

Halloween night in Haddonfield? My guy isn’t sticking around to meet Michael Myers and his killer kitchenware

Camp Crystal Lake is very lovely, he’s sure, the nice nubile college kids should send him and Mina a postcard while they’re hanging out at home

What’s that? There’s a haunted house with spirits chucking furniture around and you want to record it all for posterity? Neat, cool, awesome, write to him about it while he’s off in a restaurant somewhere talking up a chef and posting nice foodie reviews

This guy knows when horror story bullshit is happening even while being unaware of the fact that he is one of the main characters of Dracula.

He can smell what genre he’s in and does Not like it and would be out of there if he could, do not paint him as a one brain cell oblivious baby man

#part of the horror for this opening bit of the book is how clearly Jonathan is picking up the red flags #followed by how desperately he tries to hold onto rationality as a way to calm and reassure himself #because once the Horrors are fully acknowledged that means he must struggle with knowing #he’s truly in danger—and not just in the ways he would be if the threat was ‘normal’#if Dracula was just a murderer he’d be a human threat #but no #he’s fucking DRACULA #and Jonathan gets to learn just how existentially horrifying being his target is #…all of which comes AFTER acknowledging the preliminary Horror #jonathan harker #dracula #dracula daily #re: dracula

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starkwlkr · 2 days

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teacups and princesses | max verstappen

an: i’ve never been to disneyworld/land so sorry if anything is wrong lol

Max had promised Ophelia a trip to Disney World whenever they made it to Miami. That’s all the little girl could talk about. She even made a list of all the things she wanted to do and characters she wanted to meet. Max would do anything to see his baby girl happy so your little family of three arrived to America earlier than you usually would so Ophelia could spend a day at Disney.

Max wanted her day to feel magical so he bought her an identical sleeping beauty dress and pink glittery flats instead of those plastic heels that came worth the dress.

“Papa, you have to wear the ears!” Ophelia pointed at the Mickey wars that were on display. “Please!”

“You think papa would look cute in them?” Max grabbed her hand and walked with her to the store. You couldn’t help but take a picture of them.

“Yes! And mama can wear this one!” Ophelia pointed to the Minnie ears.

“Oh, mama is going to look so beautiful in these. Can you pick some ears for me? I want to look beautiful like mama.” Max grabbed the Minnie ears and placed them on your head. He then took his phone out and took a picture of you.

Ophelia was taking the job of finding the perfect Mickey ears for Max very seriously. She had changed her mind at least four times. When she spotted the perfect ones, she immediately grabbed them and showed them to her dad.

“I love them, phee. Here, put them on.” He crouched down so Ophelia could place the ears on his head.

“You look pretty! But mama looks prettier.” The girl giggled.

“I’ll take that.” Max chuckled.

After paying for the ears, the first stop was a ride that Ophelia had been wanting to ride for a while. The line for the teacups was a little long, but Max kept Ophelia entertained by asking her the most random questions.

“If you were a any color of the rainbow, which one would you be?”

Ophelia thought about it. Orange? No, she didn’t like it. Blue? Not even close.

“I wanna be every color!”

“That’s what I was going to say!” Max replied.

“What about you mama? What color of the rainbow would you be?” Ophelia asked you.

“I would be red. I love the color red.” You nodded.

“Traitor!” Max said jokingly.

After a while, it was your turn to ride the teacups. A while back Ophelia had told Max she wanted to ride the pink teacup so Max, wanting to be the best dad ever, raced to get to the pink teacup first.

“You know you were the only adult running for a teacup, right?” You laughed at Max. You helped Ophelia get into the teacup.

“If my girl wants the pink teacup, she’s getting the pink teacup.”

When the ride started, you all turned the wheel as fast as you could since Ophelia wanted to go super fast. Hearing your daughter laugh was like a sweet song that you never wanted to end.

“Faster!” Ophelia yelled.

You looked at Max. The smile on his face never left. It warmed your heart seeing him so happy.

When the ride ended, you were all tired from turning the wheel. You were pretty sure your arms were about to fall off, but it was worth it.

“Where to next, princess Ophelia?” Max questioned.

“I want to meet Mickey and Minnie and Sleeping beauty and Cinderella . . .” She listed all the characters she wanted to meet.

Of course Max made it all possible. He never broke his promises when it came to you and Ophelia.

As you walked around, you were on the search for sleeping beauty. Ophelia was getting disappointed that she was no where to be found, but her dad assured her that she would meet sleeping beauty.

“Phee, look over there.” You pointed towards a small group of children that were gathered around Princess Aurora.

Ophelia looked and practically fainted at the sight of her favorite princess. “Mama! Papa! It’s sleeping beauty!” She pointed at the blonde princess.

“Let’s go!” Max grabbed Ophelia’s hand.

When you got to where sleeping beauty was, Ophelia had gone shy. She was in the presence of her favorite Disney princess, how could she not be shy?

“Look at you! We have matching dresses! Oh, I love your shoes!” Princess Aurora told Ophelia.

“My papa got them for me.” She said in a low tone.

“Well your papa definitely picked the most beautiful shoes for you. They’re so glittery, I love them. Can I keep them?”

“But they’re too small for you!” Ophelia laughed at the thought of the princess wearing tiny shoes.

“You’re right,” the princess said sadly. “But maybe we can ask someone with magic to make the shoes bigger?”

“Wait! My papa knows where to buy these shoes but bigger for you! And then we can match more!”

You and Max watch the whole interaction with smiles on your faces. It was too cute.

“You know, Ophelia asked me when are is she going to have a baby brother because she’s our princess and now we need a prince.” Max told you.

“And what do you think?” You ask him.

“I think . . . that’s she’s right.”

“A boy. A mini you.” You kissed Max. “Just you, me and our little girl and boy, sounds like the perfect dream.”

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #mv33 #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #dad!max verstappen

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leonsbimbogf · 3 days

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“Miguel..” was all you could say as you stared into his dim red eyes. As you stare you can see him kissing your neck as his warm lips are trailing down to your neck.

“Yes honey? Speak up.” he says in a certain tone, he can feel his cock growing at the thought of fucking with you til your panting and sweating. His lips go to your breasts while he cups them and kneads the fat. You moan out at the sudden touch of your sensitive nipples. You can hear a bit of mumbling spilling from his lips but they go unheard by your moans and whimpers. His thick fingers find your clit and start to rub in a circle like motions. He shoves them inside before pulling it back out and playing with your tiny bud. He rubs before shoving it back inside. Suddenly he pulls his fingers out and does something unexpectedly puts his damp fingers to his mouth and sucks them. As the taste hits his buds he groans instantly, his cock twitches. He decides to just reveal his hidden cock since you've guys already got to that point, He pulls down his gray sweats to reveal his fully hard cock. Beads of white precum is oozing out of the swollen tip. He looks up at you, holding eye contact saying.

“See honey..this is what you’re doing to me..” his hoarse tone silences you instanty.

Here’s to my taglist🥂: @monstera02 @muchosbesitos @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @yournextbimbogf @blahblahblahblueslol @chiwhorei @lazyjellyfish300

A/n: guys I wanted to try something new uh🤓 I DUNNO IF U GUYS FW HIM DOING THAT BUT HEAR ME OUT😔 this is only a preview and imma leave it off an cliffhanger bc why not😩

Btw if you want to be added to the list just dm me and tell me what series you’d want to be added/characters you want to be added on your if you want to be added onto anything!🫶

#tumblr fyp #miguel o'hara #x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #miguel atsv #spiderman 2099 #foryopage #cliffhanger #miguel o’hara blurb #miguel smut #miguel ohara #did you guys know his eyes were red..🙁#I thought it was brown #fic cliffhanger #I did it for the fun of it😣

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finelinefae · 3 days

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semi-finals [tennisplayer!harry x tennisplayer!y/n]

synopsis: y/n gets distracted and harry just wants the girl he likes to like him back

word count: 10.7k

contains: fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, set at a boarding school, slow burn, angst, tennis rivals, strict parents, first kiss(es), jealous!h, jealous!yn, inaccurate height of certain characters who may actually be taller in real life but this is an au so it's fine, a crazy confession but not really bc we all saw it coming

this is part 3 of the match! read part 2 here

. . .

Y/N watched him from across the room, studying the way people walked up to him as though he was some kind of celebrity. He smiled and laughed but it didn’t reach his eyes, not in the way it did when they were together.

But it wasn’t his charismatic smile and booming laugh that constantly grabbed her attention when she was trying to listen to Sarah’s story about the cat her parents had fostered back home. It was the blonde girl beside him, the one who hadn’t left his side for the entire night, who laughed along with him and stole glances whenever he wasn’t looking.

Her opponent for the next tournament that was now a month away.

Astrid Anderson had once been a student at Crestwood. They’d all been in the same infant class together and every boy in their year group was obsessed with her. Harry and Astrid hadn’t started dating until the year before Harry left for Australia. They were the ‘It’ couple of Crestwood, everyone treated them as though they were some kind of celebrity couple.

All that lasted until Harry had to leave for Australia. He broke things off and then Astrid moved to Trinity Academy which was Crestwood’s biggest rival in most competitive areas. Y/N didn’t know or care what Astrid had gotten up to since she left school. There was no bitterness between them but they both knew they weren’t the type of people to share the same social circle. Whilst Astrid cared more about her social life, Y/N was completely focused on academics and there was nothing wrong with either of those things but it didn’t give them much to talk about.

“Right Y/N?” Sarah asked, her head whipping around in her direction only to realise she had no idea what she was talking about.

“Right,” Y/N nodded, having no clue as to what she was agreeing with.

Adam held back a smile as he sat on the couch across from her, “Mitch, come get a drink with me,” Sarah stood up, tugging the hem of her skirt down, “I need you to push past all the tall people.”

Mitch, all five foot eight inches of him, rose from his place beside Jake on the couch with a self-satisfied stretch, as if flaunting his height as proof that his girlfriend needed him. "Coming, babe," he declared, a hint of smugness in his voice. Everyone laughed as Mitch winked, following behind Sarah through the crowds of dancing bodies.

Y/N glanced over at Harry who was now standing with his back to her, talking to Astrid with his hand propped up against the refrigerator. “If you’re not careful, you’ll burn holes into his back,” Adam spoke from beside her.

“That’s the idea,” Y/N murmured.

“Hm, I thought you didn’t like him?” Adam asked the question causing her to turn and face him.

“I don’t,” She answers immediately but the words are like metal on her tongue, “I-I mean I-”

Adam’s lips curve into a knowing smirk, “I see,”

Y/N wanted to protest but found herself unable to muster the words. Her mouth seemed to glue itself shut as she attempted to argue against Adam’s assumption that she liked Harry even a little bit. Her emotions had been all over the place ever since she asked Harry to coach her. He seemed to bring out a part of her she didn’t even know she had. One moment she was angry, the next she was laughing, and sometimes her heart would beat so hard against her chest that she felt like it was trying to leap out and walk right into the palm of his hand.

She couldn’t comprehend how the wires in her brain had seemingly rewired themselves, transitioning from loathing someone to now seeing visions of them before she drifted off to sleep. It both frightened and excited her, this inexplicable shift in her feelings consuming her thoughts and diverting her attention from the actual game - a game that had never required feelings before.

“We both agreed on not seeing anyone if this was to work out,” She confessed.

“Did he make that rule or you?” Adam quirked a brow.

“It was a mutual agreement I guess,” Y/N shrugged.

Adam nodded slowly, his eyes darting to and from Harry. “C’mere,” He motioned with his finger. Y/N leaned in at the same time as he did, until they were only inches a part from each other, “Laugh,” He says.

“What?” Y/N questioned.

“Trust me, just laugh.” Adam glanced over her shoulder again before smiling.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before complying, a hesitant laugh escaping her lips to which Adam joined in. The more he laughed, the more she laughed with him until he stopped, “Uh oh,” He smirked, leaning forward and grabbing his drink from the coffee table, “Looks like you started something now.” He motions his head behind her and Y/N turns to find Harry no longer with Astrid but striding towards them, anger radiating from him.

“Adam, what did you do?” Y/N exclaimed, sitting on the edge of the couch as Harry approached them.

His eyes were darkened, his jaw tense, “Y/N,” He said her name over the music, “Can I talk to you?” Each word was tense as he spoke them like he was trying to control himself.

Maybe it was the bit of alcohol she’d had that was taking over her senses but she felt a sudden boost of confidence. Y/N folded her arms, “Ask me again,” She smirked.

Harry scoffed, “Can I talk to you?”

Y/N’s expression was smug as she spoke the next word carefully, “Again,”

Harry’s jaw tightened, gritting his teeth he spoke again just as she asked, “Can I talk to you, please?”

Adam snorted beside her and Y/N’s lips curved, “Okay,” She stood up, ignoring the way her head spun, and stumbled as she followed him down the hallways of his apartment to a room near the back right by the bathroom that people were queuing up to use. He stood in front of an unopened door and pulled out a key from his back pocket to unlock it.

Stepping inside, Y/N glanced around the room and noticed how different it was from the rest of the apartment. It had calming blue walls and a simple bed with white sheets. A big window let in soft light, making it cosy. There were personal things like photos and an old music player. There were posters on the wall and pictures of his friends on the corkboard by the desk. On one of the shelves in the corner, she saw the trophies she had previously seen in boxes now displayed on his shelf.

She smiled but it quickly disappeared as she faced an angry-looking Harry. “What are you playing at?”

“What do you mean?” Y/N crossed her arms.

Harry's eyes narrowed, his frustration evident as he took a step closer to Y/N. "Don't play dumb with me, Y/N," his voice tinged with a raw edge. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You and Adam? I thought we agreed not to date anybody?”

Y/N scoffed, “So did I until I saw you hanging around your ex-girlfriend who - might I add - is my opponent for the next game!”

Harry took a step forward and Y/N took one step back until she was backed up against his door. He placed one hand on the wall right by her head and hung his head to look down at her. Y/N’s breath hitched at how close he was, “Are you jealous?” He murmurs.

“Jealous of who? You and your ex?” She emphasised the ‘ex’ like she was reminding him that Astrid was his ex-girlfriend.

Harry's eyes flickered with a mixture of emotions, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. "You are, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with a hint of amusement.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she felt the heat of Harry's body so close to hers. She swallowed hard, refusing to let herself be intimidated by his proximity. "I'm not jealous," she insisted, her voice tinged with defiance.

Harry's smirk widened, his hand still resting against the wall beside her head. "Really?" he challenged, his breath warm against her cheek as he leaned in closer. “You don’t think I didn’t see you and those pretty eyes staring holes into the back of my head?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, her frustration evident. "You're more arrogant than I thought," she muttered under her breath.

"Do you like him?" Harry's question caught her off guard.

"I've already told you I don't," she replied, a hint of annoyance colouring her tone.

"You know it kills me?" Harry's voice softened, his expression pained. Y/N's confusion was clear as she waited for him to continue. "It kills me to see you with him, to see you with anybody but me. Especially when you laugh like that, I only want you to laugh like that with me."

"Well, unfortunately for you, you don't tell me what to do," Y/N shot back, her heart pounding against her chest.

"I thought I was your coach?" Harry smirked, attempting to lighten the mood.

"You're my coach, not my keeper. If I want to talk to Adam or laugh around him, I will. In fact, I'm going to," she declared, spinning around and pulling the door open, the noise from the party flooding her ears.

As she walked back into the living room, Y/N spotted Adam with Mitch, Sarah, Jake, and some others playing beer pong at the dining table. Adam's smile faltered when he noticed Harry behind her. "Hey, everything okay?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

Y/N nodded determination in her eyes. "Can I play?"

"Sure, it's my round so you can be on my team if you want," Adam offered with a smile.

Y/N grinned. "Who are we playing?"

Suddenly, the boy she had been locked in the room with stood at the opposite end of the table. "Mind if I join?" Harry's question hung in the air, his eyes fixed on Y/N.

Y/N tried not to react as Astrid approached him, placing a manicured hand on his shoulder. "I'll be on your team, H," she said with a smile, and Y/N's jaw tensed at the sight.

Harry smirked, glancing at Y/N, “Alright then,”

“You sure about this?” Adam asked.

“Mhm,” Y/N nodded, “It’s just…How do we play?”

Adam laughed which caught Harry’s attention as he spoke to Astrid, “Just follow my lead, you’ll get the idea.”

As the game started, Y/N sensed Harry was intentionally trying to make her jealous when he laughed and spoke to Astrid far too enthusiastically. But she refused to let it bother her the way he wanted it to. She focused on the game with Adam, watching as he tossed the ping pong ball into one of the cups.

She noticed Harry scowl whenever they got remotely close to each other, high-fiving or giving each other a hug whenever one of them managed to get the ball into a cup. It gave her a sense of satisfaction whenever she’d see his eyes narrow as Adam placed a hand on her elbow to help her aim the ball in the right direction.

Towards the end of the game, Y/N could feel herself slowly starting to fall under the effects of the alcohol. She had only ever drunk alcohol at functions or dinner parties with her parents and now she was countless drinks in. Her brain was turning fuzzy, there was no thought behind her words whenever she spoke and every time she aimed the ball, it would fly off the table somewhere across the room.

As Y/N took her last turn, she was already very drunk and she knew she'd feel bad about it in the morning. Even with her friends cheering her on, she struggled to focus. She aimed carefully at the last cup, but the ball bounced off the table and landed in a plant pot nearby.

"Oops," Y/N slurred, her lips curving into a drunken giggle. "Looks like it's my turn to drink."

Before Adam could reach her, she took a step forward, catching her foot on the table edge and tumbling to the floor. Y/N laughed as she lay flat on her back looking up at the ceiling, “Are you okay, Y/N?” Sarah’s voice called.

"Are you alright?" Adam asked, helping her stand back up again.

"Whoa," Y/N said, putting a hand to her head as it started to pound.

"Okay, I think that's enough for you," Adam chuckled.

"Are you okay?" Harry appeared in her view. "Hey, look at me." He gently lifted her chin with his finger.

"I'm fine," Y/N swayed. "I'm really, really great."

"Yeah?" Harry smiled. "Your knee's bleeding."

Y/N's brows furrowed. "It is?" She looked down.

"Mhm, c'mon, let's go clean it up." He took her hand.

"Oh, but the game!" Y/N looked over her shoulder to see everyone returning to their own groups.

"The game's over, love," he sighed when he realized she wasn't going to take another step on her own. He threw her over his shoulder and carried her down the hallway to his room.

"Hey, quit calling me that!" she slurred, banging her fists against his back.

The noise from the party softened as Harry closed the door behind him. Y/N found herself on Harry's bed, her body bouncing lightly as he carefully laid her down. She gazed up at the ceiling, her legs dangling over the edge of the mattress.

Harry stumbled into his bathroom and dampened a cloth under the cold water before walking back to her. Y/N propped herself up as he approached, observing him closely as he knelt between her legs.

He gently took her calf in his hand, “Are you drunk?” Y/N asked.

Harry chuckled, his cheeks flushed. "Just a bit," he admitted, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "Maybe more than a bit."

Y/N giggled, “Me too,” She confessed.

“I know that,” He chuckled, his hair falling in front of his face, “You play a mean game of beer pong.”

“If it weren’t for you I probably wouldn’t be so competitive,” Y/N admitted.

"But it was fun, right?" Harry's smile softened. “You like spending time with me?”

Y/N relaxed, her shoulders dropping, “I think…” She starts, her mind whirring, “Okay shhhhh,” She puts her finger to his lips and his lips pout automatically against them, “Don’t tell anyone this but everyday I wake up and I look forward to spending time with you.”

Harry smirks, “You do?”

“But don’t tell anybody,” She insists.

“Okay,” He nods, “I won’t tell anybody.”

“How do I know you won’t tell anybody?” Y/N frowns.

“Hmm,” Harry thinks, “How about I tell you something?”

Y/N nods, “Okay.”

Harry’s eyes look into hers, “No amount of time in the day is ever enough for me. I want to spend every moment of my days with you, every second of time and even more than that.”

“Woah,” Y/N’s eyes widen, her hand resting on his shoulder, “That’s a lot of time.”

“And it’s still not enough,” Harry whispers, his head leaning closer to hers. The cloth slipped from her thigh, Harry’s cold fingers wrapping themselves around her ankle that was right by his knee as he knelt on the floor.

“Harry,” Y/N murmurs, “Do you still love her?”

Harry shakes his head immediately, “No,” He says, “For someone so brilliantly smart how do you still not know?”

“I’m not smart when it comes to people,” She whispers, “Or you. I think that’s why you frustrate me so much.”

“You frustrate me for an entirely different reason,” His hand lifts to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She could feel his breath fanning her face, smelling the scent of alcohol.

Her hands go to his shirt, scrunching the fabric into tight fists, “Tell me,” Her eyes flutter shut as his lips ghost over her cheek.

“Not today baby,” He says.

“Y’ said it again,” Her lips curve, “You called me that in the car too.”

“You remember that?”

“I remember everything,”

As Harry parted his lips to reply, Y/N seized the moment, her hand darting to the back of his neck as she planted a quick peck on his lips. His eyes widened in surprise as she giggled, "Whoops."

Before she could fully retract her hand, Harry leaned in, closing the gap between them and pressing his lips to hers once more.

Y/N melted against him, feeling his lips merge with hers as he caught her bottom lip between his. Her eyes were closed and her senses were overwhelmed with the taste of alcohol and the scent of his aftershave. His lips were soft and everything about him was so warm. Every time she would try to catch her breath he would just steal the air right out of her as if she were his source of oxygen.

They both pulled away. Y/N needed a moment before she could open her eyes again as she tried to regain her breath. When she did, green, hazy eyes looked into hers. Her lips curved before she spoke, “I haven’t kissed anyone like that before,” She admits.

"Really?" Harry asked, his voice tinged with surprise.

Y/N shook her head, her laughter bubbling up. "I mean, I kissed Jamie Keller once in the fourth year, but it wasn't a proper kiss."

Harry rolled his eyes, a hint of amusement in his expression. "Fucking Jamie Keller," he muttered.

Y/N laughed, unable to tear her eyes away from him. "Yeah," she murmured, "Fucking Jamie Keller."

Harry's fingers brushed against Y/N's cheek, “Do you think we’ll remember this in the morning?” He asked.

Y/N couldn’t find an answer, instead, she brushed the curls in front of his eyes to the side and wondered just how much she had had to drink to end up in the one place she’d been trying to avoid.

. . .

“Shit,” Y/N hissed, “This isn’t real.”

Her head was pounding like someone was hammering against her skull and her spine felt like she had been sleeping folded in half as she sat up straight in bed. She was in a room, a room she didn’t recognise and hoped it wasn’t just some random stranger’s.

The last thing she remembered vividly was sitting on the couch with Adam and Harry standing somewhere across the room with Astrid, everything afterwards just seemed to blur all into nothing.

It was her first time getting drunk and probably her last too from the awful state her body was in. She wanted nothing more than to shower and sleep in her own bed, eat foods high in sodium and drink gallons of water.

Her heart leapt inside of her chest when she heard soft snores coming from somewhere in the room. She looked down and saw Harry curled up asleep on the floor, his arms wrapped around her ankle and holding it to his chest like a teddy bear.

Y/N's heart swelled with a mixture of confusion and tenderness as she gazed down at Harry's sleeping form. She couldn't deny the warmth that spread through her at the sight of him, even if she couldn't quite understand how they had ended up in this situation.

Carefully extracting her ankle from his grasp, Y/N shifted to the edge of the bed, wincing as her head throbbed with each movement. She needed to get home. She had so much to do and prepare for now that her first game was over. She cursed herself as she tiptoed past Harry, not before grabbing a blanket to place over him as she walked to the door.

Harry sighed, “You don’t remember do you?”

Y/N frowned, wondering if he was talking in his sleep or actually asking her a question. She shrugged and pulled the door open, closing it softly behind her.

Harry’s apartment was a mess.

There were beer cans littered across the room and silly string on bits of furniture. She wondered whether or not she should stay to clear up but then remembered it was technically Mitch’s party which also made it his responsibility.

She tried to spot someone who might have been able to offer her a lift home so she didn’t have to get the bus back to her dorm. Fortunately for her, Adam was lying on the couch asleep so she walked right over and gently shook him awake.

“Hey,” She whispered, “Sorry to wake you up,”

“Y/N?” Adam groaned, “I thought you went home,”

Y/N didn’t know why she was suddenly blushing but she replied, “Any chance you can give me a ride home?” She knew he had a car because he lived with his parents.

“I’ve been drinking,” He groans.

“Please?” She was desperate, “I know you only drank water for most of the night,”

He yawns, “Fine,”

In the car ride back to her dorm, Y/N tried to recall the memories that had been missing from the previous night. She vaguely remembered playing beer pong and Harry playing alongside Astrid but the more she drank, the more her memory seemed to fade.

“You okay?” Adam asked, glancing over at her from the driver’s seat.

“No, I can’t remember anything from last night,” Y/N groaned, running her hands over her face.

Adam chuckles, “So you don’t remember falling over?”

Y/N’s eyes widened as she turned her head to look at him, “I fell?”

He nodded, “You tripped over the dining table when we were playing beer pong. Harry took you somewhere to fix up your knee,”

Y/N looked down at her knee and frowned, “My knee?” She murmured, seeing the cut on her knee and the blood that had dried up around it.

Seeing the cut on her knee must have triggered something in her brain because all of a sudden everything was beginning to piece together.

Harry’s eyes look into hers, “No amount of time in the day is ever enough for me. I want to spend every moment of my days with you, every second of time and even more than that.”

Harry's words echoed in her mind, sending a shiver down her spine. She could almost feel the warmth of his breath against her skin as he spoke those words and when he leaned and…

“No fucking way,” Y/N blurted after everything came flooding back.

“Are you okay?” Adam looked at her concerned.

How could she possibly answer that? Was she okay? Clearly not, considering she had ended up in the bedroom of her longtime rival and kissed him.

She had kissed him.

And she had enjoyed it enough to want to kiss him again.

This wasn't good. It felt like she was breaking all the rules she had set for herself. Harry wasn't just any boy she went to school with; he was her coach, her rival, and someone she had known for years. He was the boy who used to tease her on the court, the one who always seemed to be one step ahead.

It must have been a drunken mistake. Y/N had no idea what she was like when she was drunk and clearly, she wasn’t the most sensible. It didn’t matter if things had suddenly changed between them, she couldn’t be with him, she wouldn’t allow herself to. Her focus was on winning that scholarship at the end of the school year where afterwards they’d be on two separate paths moving away from each other.

Her feelings weren’t forever, tennis was.

Thankfully, Adam had pulled into the front of her dorm building. She opened the door and leapt out of the car, “Thanks for the ride, Adam.” She tries to smile.

“Hey Y/N,” Adam stops her, a look of concern on her face, “Are you okay?” He asks again and she realises she never answered him before.

She bit the inside of her cheek and gave him a tight-lipped smile, “I’m okay,” She lied and closed the door, spinning on her heel and walking to her dorm where she hoped she’d be alone so she could have time to work through her thoughts.

Even when she felt like she was winning, he always managed to one-up her, and this time was no different.

. . .

Y/N walked into school the Monday after the party at Harry’s house.

When she returned back to her dorm, the first thing she did was shower and then spent the rest of the day wallowing in self pity and trying not to cry at the thought of kissing Harry.

She had managed to go avoiding him the entire weekend and planned on doing the same today. He had sent her text messages asking her if she was okay but she’d ignored them, putting her notifications on silent like it was enough to trick her mind into believing nothing happened between them.

Sarah had walked in on her hiding under her bed covers, watching episodes of Gilmore Girls and eating cold pizza. It was a sight she had never seen before which left her wondering if something had happened at the party but Y/N refused to tell.

People congratulated Y/N in the hallways as she walked to her locker. She wasn’t used to getting attention from everybody. Most of the time, people didn’t really acknowledge her unless they needed help with their homework.

“Heyyy court queen,” Sarah beamed.

Y/N immediately shook her head, “Sarah, no,” she snorted, trying not to laugh.

“What?” Sarah frowned, “I’m trying to think up a catchy nickname so it catches on and people put it on merch and signs for your game.”

This time Y/N did laugh, “Are you trying to make money off of me?” She teased.

“No, of course not, I’m just being a supportive friend. You know my mother is designing a new clothing line? I can totally get her to design something for people to wear for your games.”

“Sarah,” Y/N put her hands on her friend’s shoulders, “I’ve won one game for a school competition. As much as I love you for it, I don’t need you to create merchandise or give me catchy nicknames.”

Sarah’s shoulders slumped, “I know, it’s just… You’re playing against Astrid Anderson. Not only is she popular at her new school, but she’s also still pretty popular here too. Jake told me he saw her volunteering at a homeless shelter, offering them invites to come to the semi-finals.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “We’re playing tennis. It’s not a beauty pageant. Whatever happens, won’t be up to how many people turn up or what everybody’s wearing.”

“But don’t you think she’s trying to do it to throw you off?” Sarah asked, “I’m pretty sure she still has feelings for Harry. Isn’t that weird?”

“Weird?” Y/N replied quickly, “Why would it be weird?”

Sarah looked at her suspiciously, “Because she’s Harry’s ex-girlfriend? And your opponent for the next game and did I forget to mention Harry ‘your coach’s’ ex-girlfriend?”

“What Harry does outside of our training is none of my business,” Y/N cleared her throat.

“Did something happen between you two? At the party, Mitch said he saw you two go off somewhere and now you’re being weird,” Sarah questioned.

“Nothing happened, Harry was just being his usual, annoying self,” Y/N hoped she was convincing enough to drop the subject, but Sarah continued to look at her like she knew there was something she wasn’t saying.

Thankfully, the bell for the first period was a perfect interruption. Y/N slammed her locker shut, “I’ll see you later?”

Sarah nodded, “Lunch, right?”

Y/N froze, remembering that Harry was a member of their usual lunch group, “Um, I-I have tutoring.”

“What?” Sarah furrowed her brows, “I thought you tutored on Wednesdays?”

“Change of schedule?” Y/N blurted out, grasping for an excuse.

Sarah’s eyes narrowed, “Something very weird is happening… Are you pregnant?”

“Okay, love you so much, bye,” Y/N rushed, giving Sarah a quick hug before walking quickly past her to avoid blurting out any more hideous lies.

As she turned the corner, she accidentally bumped into someone, her shoulder colliding with theirs. Y/N looked up, and her heart was in her mouth when she saw Harry looking down at her, something flashed in his eyes, his lips parting the same way hers did as she finally laid eyes on him after ignoring him all weekend. He was wearing his blazer for once, but his tie was loose around his neck.

“Y/N,” he breathed.

Y/N’s eyes softened, she wanted to speak to him, but then her cheeks flushed as she remembered the night in his bedroom. “I-I-” Her throat felt like she’d swallowed cotton wool as she tried to get her words out, “I can’t.” She shook her head, walking past him and ignoring him calling her name.

. . .

Y/N had hoped by ignoring the things that were bothering her, everything would fix itself on its own. It was a bad habit she hadn’t learned to kick and the situation with Harry was no different.

They hadn’t spoken a word about their kiss since it happened, in fact, they barely spoke about anything at all. Y/N had hoped Harry would go back to their usual back-and-forth arguments and forget about everything but whenever she tried to say something that would push his buttons, he’d just ignore her or use one-worded replies.

During tennis practice, he’d barely even look at her when she asked him a question and stopped arguing with her when she wanted to do things differently from the way he worked. She was even beginning to think her friends had figured out that something had gone down between them from the way Harry would completely shut down whenever she opened her mouth to speak during lunch break,

As much as she hated herself for it, she missed him. Missed the way they would argue over everything but smile at each other because they both knew it wasn’t serious, missed the way he calmed her down whenever she would get too passionate about something and the way he looked at her like she was the only person in the room.

She had tried to forget the kiss but she went to sleep dreaming about it. Every time he got anywhere near her, thoughts of his lips on hers flashed through her mind like a showreel. His low, drunken mumble when he spoke to her outplayed the music in her ears whenever she tried to listen to the playlist he had made for her.

Worst of all, it was affecting her gameplay. Y/N was pretty sure she had never seen such terrible volleys or groundstrokes in her entire life. Every time she would try to aim the ball, she’d get distracted by Harry wiping sweat from his brow or watching her so intensely when she wasn’t looking like he was trying to set her on fire with his own eyes.

The game was two weeks away and the dream of winning that scholarship was slowly slipping out of her grasp with every passing day.

It was the end of the week and Y/N was sitting in her dorm room, eating cereal at her desk with her pyjama bottoms and her school shirt on. She was finishing up the last few questions of her math homework when Sarah walked in.

“I need to show you something,” Sarah dropped her bag on the floor and pulled out a newspaper.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N frowned, taking the rolled-up paper in her hands and unrolling it on her desk. Y/N’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open when she took in the image before her.

It was a blown up picture of her and Harry on the front cover of the school newspaper. Harry had one arm around her waist and they were both looking into each other’s eyes, a smile on his face and a surprised look on hers.

To everyone else, it looked like the front cover of a Nicholas Sparks novel and it probably didn’t help that the title was written in big bold letters with the words ‘The coach and his student’.

“What the fuck!” Y/N stood up, gripping the newspaper in her hands she thought it might rip apart.

“I know,” Sarah cringed, “I had no idea they were going to do that, Y/N, if I did I would never have gotten Luke that interview.”

“Sarah, ‘The coach and his student’? What is this? The title of a porno?” Y/N couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “How many people have seen this already?”

Sarah didn’t answer until Y/N gave her a stern look, “Everybody,”

Y/N groaned and threw the newspaper in the trash can beneath her desk before sliding on her trainers and storming down the hallways of her dorm.

“Wait where are you going?” Sarah ran after her. Y/N ignored her as well as the people whispering about her as they held copies of the newspaper in their hands. She made a beeline for the car park, her gaze drawn to the familiar sight of his black Audi parked in its usual spot. There he was, leaning casually against it, engaged in conversation with Mitch, Adam, and Jake.

Mitch’s head turned when he saw her pacing towards them, Sarah still running behind her. Harry’s attention shifted to her. She saw the flash of amusement on his face before it fell flat again.

“Have you seen this?” She held the newspaper up in front of him.

Harry’s eyes darted to the newspaper before landing on her face again, “Yes.” He said the usual one-worded reply he had been giving her all week.

“And you approved of it?” She could feel the anger bubbling beneath the surface of her skin.

“No,” He replied, “But it doesn’t bother me as much as it bothers you it seems.”

“Of course, it would bother me!” Y/N exclaimed, “If I’d have known they would make it look like we were a-”

Harry stilled, his jaw clenching, “If we were a what?”

Y/N paused before answering, “A couple.” He seemed to react in a way she couldn’t put her finger on, “I would have never done that stupid interview in the first place.”

Harry scoffed, “Why does it bother you so much to like me?”

“It doesn’t bother me,” It did but she wouldn’t tell him that.

“You haven’t talked to me since Mitch’s party,” Harry started but she cut him off before he could say anything else.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” She stressed.

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

“Harry you’re being ridiculous,”

“Says the girl who ran out here in her pyjama pants,” He quips.

Y/N looked down to realise she was, in fact, still in her pyjama bottoms. She glanced around at her friend’s who quickly looked away to act as though they weren’t all watching their argument like it was some kind of reality TV show moment.

Harry’s shoulders dropped and he let out a sigh. He reached for her wrist and pulled her in closer. Y/N inhaled, it was the first time he had touched her since the party. “Look,” He murmured, keeping his voice low, “If I’d have known this was how you’d react I would have never have done it.”

Y/N looked surprised, “Really?” She couldn’t help but feel a sting at his words but she ignored it.

He nods, “I went too far and I know things with you are different,”

“What do you mean?” But before Y/N could get a reply, she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket.

She pulled it out and felt a pit form in her stomach when her mother’s name lit up the screen. She immediately answered it and walked to the back of Harry’s car to speak to her. “Mum?” Y/N answered.

“Your father got an email this morning,” Her mother replied. No hello, no how are you or how’s school, just straight to the point.

“He did?” Y/N already knew where this was going.

“It was a copy of the school newspaper,” Her mother’s voice sounded as though she was trying to keep her anger at bay, “We opened it hoping to see our daughter somewhere on the scholar’s page but low and behold there you were right on the front cover - with a boy no less.”

“Mum-”

“We want to see you,” Her mother snapped, interrupting her, “Your father has reserved us a table at Château Blanc two weeks today. It’s the only day off he could get so be grateful.”

Two weeks from today was the day before the semi-finals. She needed to train but she couldn’t say no to her mother, “Okay, I’ll be there.”

“Good.” Her mother replied before hanging up the phone.

Y/N slipped the phone back and sighed, “Are you okay?” Harry’s voice sounded.

“My parents have seen the newspaper,” Y/N’s jaw clenched, “They want me to have dinner with them.”

“Do you need me to come with you?” Harry looked at her with genuine concern.

“No, what I need you to do is leave me alone.” Y/N had shut down. It was the way she always got whenever she spoke to her parents.

“Y/N I didn’t know-” He reached for her hand as she walked past but she quickly pulled it away.

“Leave me alone Harry,” She said, completely defeated.

Y/N made her way back to her dorm and collapsed on her bed letting out a sigh of frustration. She looked up at the ceiling and wondered if she would ever find the off switch that would finally offer her a break from the life she was living.

. . .

Harry stood on one side of the tennis court, sending tennis balls flying with his racket toward Y/N, who stood on the opposite side, swiftly striking them back. She tried to ignore the intensity of his gaze, which seemed to linger on her every move as if he were observing more than just her technique.

Every time she attempted to slice or backhand the ball, it would completely falter landing somewhere off the court. Whilst her body was on the court, her mind was elsewhere like it had been every day since her parents had called.

She made an attempt to drop-shot the ball only to end up missing it completely. “Fuck!” Y/N cried out and hit her racket against the ground over and over again in a fit of rage and frustration.

“Okay, slow down there, love,” Harry chuckled, “Y’ gonna break the racket and I’m pretty sure it’s school property.”

“It’s my own racket,” Y/N replied.

The corner of his lips tilted upwards, “You still mad about that kiss?”

Y/N glanced around them to see if anyone heard him. It’s not like it would change anything, everyone already thought they were dating after the school newspaper came out, “No, I’m not mad. In fact, I’ve already forgotten it ever happened, my brain has fully wiped it from my memory.”

Harry’s lips transformed into a smirk, “Oh really?” He took a step forward and she took one back, “Replaced with all those books…and…tennis,” His eyes dart down to her lips.

“Tennis…” She whispers, her heart thudding in her chest.

“So you don’t think about it at all?” He asks.

“N-not at all,” She lies, terribly.

“Okay,” He shrugs, wiping the smirk from his face, “Well clearly something’s bothering you because those hits were the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

Y/N gives him a look, “It’s my parents. I’m meeting them for dinner this Friday and I haven’t seen them since they dropped me off here at the beginning of the year.”

“Are they that upset with you over the paper?” Harry looked concerned.

“I guess so. My dad even reserved a table at Château Blanc. It’s his favourite place to get mad at me and my mum. He can book a booth and then try to control his anger whilst eating steak and mashed potatoes - honestly, it’s his dream scenario.” Y/N laughs but Harry doesn’t see the humour. She sighs, “I’m worried it will throw me off of the game.”

This time, Harry does smile, “I don’t think anyone could do that.”

“Everything is piling up and I just feel so mad and I don’t know where to put it,” She huffs.

Harry's smile softened. "Here," he offered his racket, "Use mine. Can’t have you breaking yours when you have a semi-final to win."

Y/N hesitated, then accepted the racket, seeking confirmation from Harry. With his nod, she began to hit the racket against the floor repeatedly, releasing her frustration with each strike.

"Ugh," she screeched, "I’m so pissed."

"Oh, yeah, let it out," Harry encouraged with a chuckle.

With each slam of the racket, Y/N vented her frustration. "I just wanna play tennis!"

“I just want to win my next stupid game!”

“I just want my parents to like me!”

Suddenly, Harry joined in, mirroring her actions. “I hate that I have this stupid injury!

“I think my dad’s disappointed in me!”

“I just want the girl I like to like me back!”

They continued hitting the rackets on the ground until they started to crack and split from the force. As the rackets began to splinter, they exchanged a glance, a mix of exhaustion and relief evident in their eyes. With a final forceful slam, they both dropped their broken rackets to the ground, the sound echoing in the quiet of the tennis court.

Y/N looks down at their broken rackets on the floor, her chest heaving up and down. Unable to help herself, she starts laughing feeling relieved to have finally gotten all her anger out. Harry watches and then starts laughing with her.

“Feel better?” He asks.

Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Yeah," she replied softly, meeting his gaze, “I do.”

. . .

Y/N’s parents sent a car to pick her up on the night of the dinner. She sat in the back of the car in a pair of tights and a navy blue dress with a pair of brogues laced up on her feet. Her hair was in loose curls fastened with a clip at the back. Whenever she was around her parents, she always had to dress smart.

She glanced at her phone to make sure she wasn’t running late as they pulled in front of the restaurant. She tipped the driver before leaving even if her parents wouldn’t agree if they found out later.

The dimly lit restaurant looked elegant, with fancy lights and dark wood furniture. There were long curtains on the windows and the tables had white cloths and polished silverware. Gentle jazz music played in the background as people chatted across tables.

Y/N spotted her parents in their usual booth at the back. She made her way towards them but immediately began to panic when she realised they weren’t alone.

Sitting across from them was Harry’s mother, Anne, who Y/N had last encountered briefly before when she had visited his apartment for the first time. She looked regal in her fancy dress and matching pearl jewellery.

Beside her sat a man wearing a finely tailored suit and tie who resembled an older version of Harry, with grey hair and a face lined with wrinkles, but he didn't seem a day over sixty. His eyes were a darker shade of green than Harry’s were and his demeanour wasn’t as friendly.

“Y/N,” Anne was the first to acknowledge her presence, smiling as she walked over.

It caught the attention of her own parents, who turned and forced a smile as though to project a united front in front of Harry’s parents. “Hello,” Y/N bent over to kiss her mother and father on the cheek in greeting.

“Y/N, you remember Anne and James from the country club?” Her mother, Theresa, spoke.

“Of course,” Y/N sat in the chair beside her mother.

“We invited them to eat with us considering this matter contains them both.”

Y/N nodded, not knowing what to say in response. She knew the dinner with her parents would have something to do with her participation in the Academy Slam but she hadn’t been expecting to see Harry’s parents too.

“Did you see Harry on his way in?” Anne asked, “He said he was on his way earlier.”

“Mind if I sit here?” His voice appeared out of nowhere and Y/N’s entire body reacted in a way she couldn’t control around him.

Her head lifted to look up at him and the air knocked out of her. Unlike his usual casual attire, he was wearing a black suit with golden buttons and a black tie. His hair was better styled than the usual unruly mess of curls. He smiled down at her, his eyes seemed to brighten beneath the dim lights at the sight of her.

He winked and sat down in the chair beside her, “Sorry I’m late.”

His presence overwhelmed her senses, the faint scent of his cologne filling the air as he settled into his seat. Whatever this dinner was meant to be had completely changed for her; she suddenly felt less alone.

“Harry,” Y/N’s father, David, spoke, “Haven’t seen you since you left for Australia.”

“It’s certainly been a while,” Harry spoke, smiling forcefully.

After ordering their food, David speaks, “I assume you know why we’re here,” He directs the statement towards Y/N who feels everyone’s eyes on her.

“The newspaper?” She says.

“The tennis,” Her father replies, saying the words with a hint of disappointment. “Y/N, you don’t seriously think you’re going to get anywhere with this tennis thing do you?”

Y/N’s cheeks warm in embarrassment, “What?”

This time Theresa spoke, “We understand you enjoy it for fun but don’t you think you’re being greedy taking the opportunity of a scholarship away from girls who want to waste their lives on it?”

“Mum,” Y/N starts, “Tennis… tennis is everything to me. I-I’m not doing this because it’s some game to me. I’m doing this because I don’t have a choice.”

Y/N feels Harry’s knee bump hers beneath the table like he was silently praising her for sticking up for herself, “Don’t be ridiculous Y/N,” David says, “All you’ve ever talked about is going into medicine.”

“Because it was all you were willing to hear,” Y/N quickly responded.

A throat cleared from across the table and Harry’s father looked directly at him, “Don’t think this doesn’t apply to you.”

Harry frowns, “What are you talking about?”

“Coaching Harry? Seriously? After your injury? You know the doctor said you could worsen the damage if you continued and you disobeyed that for what? A silly game of girl’s tennis?”

He scoffed, “Here we go,”

“Harry,” His mother warned.

“You know we all agreed that if you were to go back to school you’d need to pick up on other subjects so you could actually go somewhere in life? Instead, we have to hear from your teachers how your grades have fallen only to find you on the front cover of the school newspaper with a girl who can’t hire her own coach and has to put you at risk?”

Harry’s hands ball into fists beneath the table. Y/N didn’t know whether she felt more embarrassed or ashamed, all this felt like her fault and she didn’t know what to do.

“I-I didn’t mean to put him at risk, Mr Styles,” Y/N stutters. She feels Harry place a hand on her knee.

“Y/N, this will stop at once. I’m requesting the school pull you out of the competition.” Her father says and Y/N swears she feels her heart breaking.

“No please,” She was willing to get down on her hands and knees and beg, “Please Dad, this means everything to me.”

David raises a hand, “I won’t hear any of it. If it means you can focus on passing your exams and Harry no longer has to think about his injury then you can quit.”

“N-no, I won’t let you take this away from me. I’ve been good, I study every day and I’m top of all my classes, why can’t you let me just have this one thing?” She didn’t care if she sounded childish or insane, this competition was all she had been working for.

“Oh quit blubbering Y/N,” Her mother spoke, rolling her eyes, “You know I hate it when you do that.”

“Please, please,” Y/N doesn’t know what more she can do or say, they wouldn’t listen.

Harry pushed his chair back, the sound catching everybody’s attention as the legs scraped against the floor, “I think Y/N and I will eat elsewhere,” Harry spoke, taking her hand beneath the table and flipping it over to intertwine their fingers. His thumb rubbed over the pulse point on her wrist in a way to calm her down.

“What are you talking about?” James huffed.

“Do any of you actually know how hard Y/N works?” Harry spits, “I doubt it because you’re all too busy counting the paper in your wallet to look up at your own fucking kids.”

“Harry,” Anne gasps.

“No,” He glares at both his father and Y/N’s parents, “Y/N studies six hours a day, every day. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her take a break from it. When she’s not studying, she’s on the court blistering her hands just so she can get at least one perfect shot. She is the most brilliantly smart person I know and you may not care or fight for her but I will. I always will and right now I will not let you take away something she has worked so deeply hard for.” He stands from the table, still holding Y/N’s hand and everyone can see it as she refuses to let go.

“Harry, sit down,” James orders but he ignores him.

“You’ve been disappointed in me since the moment I injured myself. I know you think I’m no good to you anymore, in fact, I’ve accepted it and I am glad for it because I have never been so happy and if you looked long enough you’d realise it.” Harry looks down at Y/N, his eyes filled with passion and anger and sincerity, “I am happy.” He says, “Because of what she has given me.”

James scoffs, “And what is that?”

Harry’s head spins in the direction of his father, “Something you know nothing about.”

And with that, Harry tugs on Y/N’s hand to lead her out of the restaurant.

Before they could fully walk away, Y/N felt her mother pulling her back, “If you walk out of this restaurant…”

“You’ll what? Never speak to me again? As if that’s anything new,” Y/N scoffs, “Nothing I do will ever be enough to either of you, will it?”

Y/N ignored the throbbing in her chest at her mother’s lack of reply, instead, she walked alongside Harry, holding his hand as they left the restaurant and reached his car.

Outside, the cool breeze felt nice on her warm skin. They shared a glance before Y/N started laughing so hard she started to cry. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she sobbed softly. Harry looked at her with a gentle expression, giving her space to let out her feelings and make sense of everything that had just happened.

“I don’t normally cry so can you look away?” Y/N sobs, unable to help herself as the tears fall from her eyes.

“No I don’t think I can do that,” Harry says, “You’re too pretty,”

Y/N huffs a laugh through her tears as she tries to wipe them away with the back of her hand, “I feel stupid,” She whispers to herself, her head falling forward.

She sees Harry’s shoes on the ground and lifts her head up to look up at him towering above her. He smiles and pushes her hair out of her face, “Hi Y/N,” He murmurs.

“Hi Harry,” She whispers.

“Sorry for kidnapping you,” He says and Y/N chuckles.

“S okay,” She murmurs, her hands balling at her sides when he steps closer until his face is right in front of hers.

“Can I admit something? You can pretend to be a little shocked if you want,” Harry asks.

“Okay,”

“I’m crazy for you,” He admits, the words stealing her breath, “I’ve been crazy for you since third year since you followed me around the playground threatening to beat me up with a tennis racket if I didn’t show you how to use one.”

Y/N’s lips parted, unsure of what to respond with so she let him talk, “And I’ve spent all these years pining for your attention even if it was just a scrap but I don’t think I can take it anymore. I like you Y/N, I like you so much I don’t know how to breathe until I’m around you. I thought tennis was what bought me happiness but I don’t think it ever has. The only reason I ever loved tennis as much as I do is because of you.”

“Harry,” Y/N’s eyes glisten at the boy in front of her. The boy she had spent her whole life arguing with because no one had ever frustrated her as much as he had.

“Do you hate me?” He asks, his eyes worried, “Because after that kiss I thought you did for a moment.”

Y/N shook her head, “No,” She murmured, “I don’t hate you.”

He let out a sigh of relief, “Okay, well that’s good.”

“No one has ever stuck up for me before,” Y/N says, “Or believed in me the way you do. I’ve always done it all on my own.” Harry’s expression softens, “I think all this time I thought I was hating you, I was actually afraid of you because you make these things happen in my brain that I couldn’t seem to ever figure out.”

“Have you got them figured out yet?” Harry cups her cheek in his hand, it’s warm and soft and everything she needs.

“Not everything, but I do know one thing,” Y/N stands on her toes, looping her arms around his neck and smiling harder than she’s ever smiled - ever. “I like you an awful lot, Harry,”

Harry’s smile outshone the moon. It was the happiest she’d ever seen him and maybe the happiest she’d ever been too. A sense of relief seemed to feel the air, Y/N felt lighter like she was a tennis ball flying through the air right into the palm of his hand, “You mean that?” He murmured, lips ghosting her cupid's bow.

“I do,” She says, “But if you make me say it again I’ll lie and say I don’t mean it,”

“Okay,” He whispers, his mouth grazing hers as he holds her face in his hands, “I won’t make you say it again.”

Instead, Harry surged forward with such urgency and kissed her upper lip between his. Y/N’s eyes flutter shut but the whole world becomes brighter when she does. She was consumed by him, all of her senses had just become Harry. His tongue darted and tangled with hers, his hands pulling her in impossibly close trying to mould them together.

When Harry’s lips pulled away, Y/N’s eyes remained shut and she was immediately desperate to experience that feeling all over again. Harry chuckled and she opened her eyes, his lips were pinker from the lipstick she was wearing, his eyes hazy and she was pretty sure her own pupils were carved into hearts just from looking at him.

“Can we go back to my place?” He asks.

Y/N didn’t even need a moment to think about it, “M’kay,”

. . .

Harry could barely contain his desire as they made their way to his apartment. With a forceful push, the door swung open, and he pressed Y/N against it, his lips hungrily exploring every inch of her face and trailing down her neck. Despite her attempts to remove his shirt, her hands kept gravitating back to his tousled curls, pulling him closer for more intense kisses.

As they tumbled onto the couch, Harry hovered over her, his gaze filled with desire. "Harry," Y/N's voice quivered with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, "I-I've never done this before," she confessed, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"What? Never kissed anyone? That's hard to believe because you're really good at it," Harry teased, peppering kisses along her neck.

"No, I mean... I've never..." Y/N trailed off, the implication clear.

Understanding dawned in Harry's eyes. "Is that what we're doing?" he smirked, enjoying her flustered reaction.

His expression softened. "Would it make you feel better if I told you I haven't either?" he confessed.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. "What? But what about Astrid? You were together for a year."

"Astrid's family is Catholic," Harry explained. "And if it ever came to that, I don't think I could go through with it."

"Why?" Y/N questioned, her curiosity piqued.

"Because," Harry shrugged, "I've only ever wanted you."

Y/N's heart fluttered at his words, a rush of emotions flooding her. "Don't act so surprised," Harry chuckled.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Y/N inquired, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Because..." Harry paused, his gaze locking with hers, "I knew I needed to be careful with you.”

Y/N huffs, “I’m not fragile,”

His smile is sweet and gentle when he replies, “Maybe not to everyone else,” His breath fans across her cheeks, “But you are to me.”

Y/N melts into the couch when he kisses her again. She didn’t know kissing could be so magical but suddenly they were eight years old again where life was simpler and games were just for fun, books were read for enjoyment and Y/N’s emotions weren’t so difficult to navigate.

It was strange having someone understand her the way Harry did. Her whole life she thought no one was paying attention to her, not even her own parents, but he had been admiring her from afar for most of their lives together.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight,” Harry says, “I don’t want to rush this with you. I want to do it right,”

Y/N’s lips curve, “You could never do it wrong,”

He holds her to him, their legs intertwined on the end of the couch. Y/N had always thought the court was where she was meant to be but maybe this was where she needed to be all along. After all, tennis would not be in her life if it weren’t for Harry.

. . .

“Okay, you gotta go baby,” Harry slurs against her mouth as she continues to kiss him.

“Wait,” She whines and he smiles, feeling delirious whilst their lips connect repeatedly. His hands reach are holding her thighs as they wrap around him, her hands in his hair pulling him closer.

They hear Y/N’s name from the umpire once more and Harry has to find the strength to pull away. His lips ghost the skin of her cheek, “Y’ gonna go and win this?”

“Mhm,” She sighs, releasing herself from his hold and grabbing her tennis bag.

“Hey,” Harry pulls her back into him and she makes a little ‘oof’ sound. He holds her face in his hands, “You think you’re so hard to read? Not with me,”

Y/N huffs, “I’m nervous. What if I don’t win? She’s your ex-girlfriend and everybody’s made a big deal about this because they already think we’re dating.”

“We are though aren’t we?” Harry quirks a brow, “Dating?”

Y/N looks at him blankly before hitting him on the shoulder, “Obviously Harry!”

He chuckles, “Okay, okay,” His hands slide down her arms to thread his fingers with hers at their sides, he lifts them up so their hands are pressed against each other and leans in close, “Remember what I told you about your anger? And how it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen and now that you’re my girlfriend I’m allowed to say that but honestly it’s the hottest thing ever and I almost die everytime I watch you play and I see you get all mad and-”

“Harry, focus,” Y/N snapped before she grinned and kissed him quickly, “But thank you, your ass looks pretty good on the court too.”

“Are you being for real?” Harry says, his mouth falling open, but he shakes his head to bring himself back to the main point at hand. He couldn’t pull her away for another make out session not when they were already late as it was, “But anyway, this game is no different to the others just because you’re playing against Astrid. Use everything you have and channel it against her.”

Y/N nods, her eyes twinkling when she looks at him, “You’re a pretty good coach,”

“You’re a pretty hot tennis player,”

“Okay stop,” She pulls away and grabs her tennis bag.

“What?” He throws his hands in the air and laughs, “Now that I’m your boyfriend can I freely look at your ass under that skirt whilst you play?”

Y/N spun on her heel and glared at him, “That’s misogyny.”

“But I’m obsessed with you,” He argues.

She pauses for a moment and then nods, “Fine but don’t make it obvious,”

. . .

Harry stood on the sidelines, his heart pounding as he watched Y/N prepare for Astrid's final serve. The tension in the air was palpable; it was match point, and the game had been intense.

Harry had always considered Y/N the greatest tennis player he had ever seen. Maybe he was biased because he’d also been hopelessly infatuated with her since they were in third year but nothing compared to seeing his girl play on the court.

He couldn’t seem to breathe as Astrid threw the ball into the air and hit it so hard with her racket, the sound echoed across the court.

Y/N ran to retaliate, backhanding it straight back to her. His eyes stayed fixed on the girl who he had confessed his feelings to just last night.

Astrid had tried to throw Y/N off multiple times during the game. Waving to her fans in the crowd whenever they would take a moments break or trying to remind her that she was Harry’s ex-girlfriend. Harry had told her to ignore it but Y/N didn’t exactly need advice on how to hit back at her opponent, she’d do it all in the game.

It was a long match of back and forth before Y/N finally decided to go all in, hitting the ball with so much power and precision it landed in the line and bounced straight off the court.

Crestwood students erupted in cheers as Astrid threw her racket to the ground having lost the game. Harry could feel the rush of elation over his entire body, his fist pumping the air when the scores appeared on screen with Y/N winning the entire thing.

Y/N didn’t need to go anywhere to celebrate because the one person she wanted was standing right in front of her. She dropped her racket to the floor and ran into his open arms, “That’s my girl,” He spun her around, “You did it, baby, I knew you could.”

Y/N was beaming, leaning down to kiss him in front of the whole crowd of people. “We’re going to the final,” She squealed, hugging him tightly.

“You and me,” Harry responded.

. . .

taglist: @storyschanging @lilbredsticc @esposa-do-harry @st-ev-ie @itschelseacisneros @hermionelove

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meanbossart · 2 days

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I LOVE DU drow and I love your art style! I also really like how you draw Astarion's hair, it looks flowy but still with his trademark curls.

Can you give any advice on drawing Astarion's hair? I find it a nightmare to draw. Whenever I free hand it, it just doesn't have the amount of curliness I want, and when I try to use a reference it ends up looking rather stiff.

Take care and thanks for the art 😊

THANK YOU though to be honest I'm shocked to find this ask in my inbox because every time I draw Astarion a war is waged between me and his hairdo. But sure, lets give this a shot!

First of all I feel like its a good idea not to be too attached to his in-game model hair when drawing unless your style is very realistic. The only reason why that dry-noodle helmet looks so regal and bouncy is because of the high-detailed graphics. Like you mentioned yourself and many of us have experienced, if you try and stick to it too closely in most art-styles it just ends up looking terribly stiff.

Instead, I suggest just keeping growth-direction and shape in mind and applying as much movement as you want to it when you draw it. Here's some things to remember that might help you with that:

-I employ the liquify tool a lot when sketching his hair because I never get it big enough on the first try, lol. This can also aid you with "distorting" more curliness into your lines if you aren't used to doing that right off the bat, just try not to become too reliant on it!

-I usually leave the areas around the ears and back alone but imply a lot of movement with the top and front of the hair, taking as many liberties as I want even if it's not entirely faithful to the model. I feel like the impression of curliness comes entirely from the silhouette of the hair and little fly-ways that I add, and everything else I just try to do without overthinking it too much for a more natural look.

In truth, I feel like a lot of times we get stuck on things like parting-placement, right amount of curl, which brush we're using yada-yada when in reality we are neglecting what actually makes a character's hair recognizable: Hairline, growth pattern, and shape. If you get these three things right I feel like everything else is entirely just stylistic choice. It's worth pulling away for a moment and checking on these things if you feel like you're continually unhappy with your outcome!

-Astarion has a hairline capable making most men over 30 cry. It's very low on the forehead and tight on the temples with the slightest hint of a widow's peak. As someone who drew a lot of big-foreheaded characters with receding hairlines prior, this was a STRUGGLE for me to get used to and a big reason why I felt like I couldn't get his hair to look "right" for the longest time.

-His hair swoops to the right side of his face in a fanning kind of shape and is the longest at the front and top. You can imply a strong part if you want, you can split it into sections, you can have it falling over his forehead or not at all - as long as it's going in the right direction you will probably be fine.

-A mistake I would catch myself making often was getting the shape totally wrong - making it too slick at the top and putting all the volume in the back when that's pretty much the exact opposite of what his hair does. IT'S ALL AT THE FRONT AND TOP, REPEAT IT TO YOURSELF LIKE IT'S A MANTRA: IT'S ALL AT THE FRONT AND TOP.

And lastly, if you absolutely hate how his hair looks or hate to draw it, you can forego all of this and just do whatever you want. These tips are only worth something if you like how I draw his hair specifically.

Hopefully this was helpful at all!

#ask #astarion #tutorial #resource #art advice #bg3

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andypantsx3 · 2 days

Text

balm — todoroki shouto x reader

summary: you help rub down your boyfriend's muscles after a grueling shift. and then a little more.

contents: established relationship, pro hero au, gn pronouns + afab reader (reader has breasts + vagina), emotional intimacy, aged up characters, nsft, riding, nipple play; mndi please! (2.2k)

You find Shouto face down in bed when you get home, handsome and adorably sleep-rumpled.

He's stretched out on his stomach in only his underwear, his hero uniform discarded unceremoniously across the chair in the corner. His bare back and broad shoulders span nearly the entire width of the bed, and one long leg is bent at the knee. One of your pillows looks like it's being suffocated between his bicep and face, bulging from being bunched up so tightly.

You smile, stomach fluttering with the sight of your pro hero boyfriend the way it always does.

Shouto blinks sleepily over his shoulder at you as you set your work bag and keys down on the dresser, his hair ruffled and face pillow-creased. He looks simultaneously like a model laid out for a magazine spread and a baby kitten awoken from a nap.

You are immediately drawn to him like a magnet, leaning down to kiss him. He makes a low noise in his throat like he's pleased, leaning up to give you easier access.

"Rough shift?" you ask when you separate, petting a hand through that split-toned mop of hair.

Shouto nods, long eyelashes fluttering. "I was pulled into a rescue effort. It took a long time. But all is well."

You let your fingers trail from his hair down to his back, tracing lightly over a shoulder blade. Shouto makes a sleepy noise of appreciation, rolling it out in a way that lets you know he's a little sore.

"Can I do anything?" you ask.

Shouto shakes his head, hair falling into his eyes. He looks almost like he might fall asleep again right there. But your eyes are drawn to the jar of tiger balm he keeps on his bedside, its fiery orange logo all the more vibrant in the glow from the setting sun.

You reach for it, holding it out to him. "How about I do this?"

Shouto's mouth finds your wrist, a soft, warm press of lips. "You do not have to, love."

Oh yes you do. Taking care of Shouto is like a physical compulsion for you now. You might not be a pro hero or armed with a powerful quirk, but you want to protect him and care for him in every single small way you can think of.

You shed your coat, dumping it on the floor, and roll up your sleeves, nudging Shouto into a move comfortable position. He moves with you, the muscle in his back shifting prettily in the golden evening light.

You settle next to him, uncapping the tiger balm and smearing it across your fingers. A low groan escapes Shouto when you work it into the backs of his calves with firm strokes.

"Feels good?" you ask, kneading circles with your thumbs.

His reply is muffled in the pillow, but the tone is appreciative. You knead harder, smiling when all of his muscles tighten and flex, and another lower, longer moan escapes him.

"That's it, love," he says, syllables dragging out deliciously.

It's easy to lose time focusing on your ministrations, working the balm carefully and precisely into every muscle. Shouto is the most beautiful man on earth, the only man whose outside accurately reflects the loveliness of who he is inside. You love touching him, looking at him, feeling him firm and sweet beneath your hands.

You work your way up the backs of his thighs, and then climb onto them to reach his back. You work the balm into his waist, then shift forward to sit on his lower back to reach his shoulders, thumbs searching out any knots in the muscle.

You laugh when you notice Shouto is practically a puddle under your touch. His long eyelashes fan the tops of his cheekbones, and his mouth is slack in relief. You can't help but lean down and leave a kiss on his shoulder.

The kiss seems to rouse him. He shifts underneath you then, rolling his body between your thighs. You suddenly find yourself seated on his stomach, instead of his back.

Mismatched eyes flick up to yours, and one long-fingered hand finds your thigh, securing you against him.

Like this you can see even more muscle, the way his bicep tightens with the movement, firm pectorals, and the hint of his abs before they disappear beneath your spread thighs. You find yourself a little winded.

You dip your fingers back into the pot of tiger balm, then cap it and set it back on the nightstand. Shouto watches you quietly as you lean forward rub it over his shoulders, and the tops of his arms where his biceps begin. You're working it into the divots of his arm muscle when a set of elegant fingers gather up the hem of your shirt, rolling it up over your breasts.

You stop and peer down at your boyfriend, but he just stares back innocently, fingers still tangled in your hemline.

"Excuse me sir, I'm in the middle of treatment," you say, raising an eyebrow.

The tips of Shouto's fingers slide beneath one cup of your bra in reply. You shudder when they pass over your nipple, thighs reflexively tightening on his waist.

"It is working. I find I am feeling much better," Shouto intones. His voice is a low rumble when it leaves him, and it feels like it shoots right to your core.

His thumb slowly pets over your nipple again, a little more firmly. A whoosh of breath escapes you.

Shouto's other hand slowly presses at your lower back, guiding you to lean down closer to him. You abandon his arms, pressing your hands into the mattress at either side of his head so you don't fall onto him.

Like this, your chest is in his face, clearly what Shouto was aiming for. His fingers abandon your nipple to grasp the middle of your bra, pulling it up and over your breasts to band across the top of your chest like a harness, pinning your shirt up.

You shudder and gasp when he bends forward, his mouth finding your right breast. His lips close soft and hot over the same nipple, and it sends sparks streaking down your veins.

"Oh!" you gasp. "I thought I was the one who was supposed to be making you feel good."

"Mmm," Shouto hums into your breast, a delicious vibration. "You are."

His tongue flicks across your nipple, and his arm shifts more firmly over your back, pulling you even closer to him. He sucks a little, then swirls his tongue in a way that makes you feel suddenly lightheaded, teasing you the way he knows you like.

You feel your hips start to rock back and forth on Shouto's waist, thighs spreading a little wider to feel more of him between them. Shouto's hand guides you back and forth, as his mouth moves to your other breast, drawing out a gasp from you.

"Shouto—ah!" you say when his other hand finds your other nipple, smearing in the wetness his mouth left behind, pinching softly.

You feel something stiff nudge the back of your thigh as you move back and forth on him, and Shouto's hips cant, pressing him into you harder.

"Always make me feel good, love," he says, leaning up to catch your mouth.

You kiss him back eagerly, opening your mouth to him. His tongue tangles with yours, teasing like he had your nipple. You muffle a moan when the hand at your back presses you down on him more firmly and the hand at your nipple slides down to press against the front of your pants instead, touching you through the fabric.

You shift into his hand, chasing the delicious friction, indirect though it is.

"Take your pants off, love, I want to feel you," Shouto commands gently.

You obey immediately, leaning back to unbutton your work slacks. Shouto holds you steady while you maneuver them off clumsily, still perched over his waist. He's freed himself from his underwear too by the time you're done, his cock flush and full and as insultingly pretty as the rest of him.

He guides you down onto him, sliding home embarrassingly easily with how eager you are for him. He feels incredible inside you, thick and firm and delicious.

His hips lift as his hands pull you down harder onto him, and the feeling is enough to make your eyes almost roll back in your head.

"I want you to ride me, pet," he says, tone low and intimate.

You nod, cheeks flushing with the pet name he only deploys when he's deep inside you like this. Your hips move, sliding you up and down on him. The pad of his thumb presses to your clit, gentle but firm, drawing tight little circles the way he knows you like.

You move over him, panting with the instant, inescapable pleasure. Shouto knows exactly what you like and how you like it, and everything he does is designed to work you up to your peak embarrassingly fast. His thumb moves over you, unrelenting, and his hips buck and flex beneath you, driving himself a little deeper, a little harder with each thrust.

He leans up to take your nipple in his mouth again, sucking delicately. It shoots heat right down all your veins, settling in your core, mixing with the pleasure of what he's doing to your clit, what his cock is doing inside of you.

"So good for me, pet," Shouto says.

You feel yourself flutter around him with the praise, grinding down on him harder. Shouto alternates between praising you and driving you wild with his mouth, and within minutes you're riding him almost mindlessly, nearly delirious with the feeling of him.

"That's right, love," Shouto says, tone soft and pleased. "Let go for me, pet. Let me make you feel as good as you make me feel."

His thumb nudges you more firmly, and he sucks a nipple harder, tongue teasing over the tip. Everything about him is too good to be true, you think wildly, from the way his cock slides all the way inside you to the way his eyelashes flutter as he sucks you. He's beautiful, he's gorgeous, he is diligent and sweet and delicious.

He gives a hard thrust, no longer content with your pace, driving himself up and into you in a way that makes your blood turn to lava. Combined with the feeling of his thumb on your clit, with his mouth on your nipples, with his arm clamped tightly around your back, pinning you to him—it's all too much.

Another sharp, short thrust from him throws you right out over the edge. You arch into him, crying out his name. Shouto grinds up into you, taking the reigns as your hips stutter, fucking you through it. He gasps against your breast, driving himself into you.

He takes your waist in both hands, moving you up and down on him with his strength alone. The way his biceps cord and flex, and the easy athleticism he moves you with lights up another spark inside you, and a wild noise escapes you when slide right into a climax again—immediately on the back of your last one.

It makes the room fuzz and blur, your blood scorch like fire in your veins, and you shout Shouto's name.

He thrusts into you faster, harder, a furrow appearing between his eyebrows, growing pink-cheeked with the effort. And then his hips stutter, pace faltering. There's the flood of him inside you, sweet and hot.

You collapse onto him, sweat slicking your lower stomach to his.

Shouto pants into your hair, his fingers coming up to pet through the damp strands.

"Thank you, love," he says, mouth finding your ear. He sucks the lobe aimlessly, teeth scraping over the shell.

"I was supposed to be treating overworked muscles but I think I've made the problem worse," you sigh, shifting. You can feel him growing softer within you, but you're careful not to move enough to dislodge him, enjoying the intimacy of him still joined to you.

"A sacrifice well worth it," Shouto says, mouth mapping the skin behind your ear.

You smile, shifting your face into his neck. He smells like sweat and tiger balm—salt and camphor and menthol. You love it.

"I'll just have to find other ways to loosen you up," you say. Shouto twitches inside you tellingly, and you laugh, harder when he nips your ear in reproach.

"Perhaps a shower," he says. "And dinner. And then we will see who loosens who."

You grin into your boyfriend's neck, helpless affection pooling in your heart.

"The right kind of sex could be considered a balm for the soul. Among other things," you say, and Shouto huffs a tiny laugh into your hair.

"Then we must work it in thoroughly, for best effect," he says.

You smile and hum your agreement, knowing you will. You will always take your best care of Shouto, after all.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto x you #shoto x reader #bnha x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #character: todoroki shouto #andie's writing

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moonstruckme · 2 days

Note

have a bonfire - send a character + a trope (one bed, fake dating, etc.) and I’ll write a drabble

hm what about remus lupin + sunshine x grumpy !! in which he is the grumpy ofc 🙌

Thanks for requesting angel!! Luv u <3

cw: mention of alcohol

Remus Lupin x sunshine!reader ♡ 653 words

Remus is reading his book more out of spite than interest. You’ve gone to get drinks with Sirius, removing yourself from his lap, which has put him in a worse mood than anything else all night, even the loud neighbors Sirius has invited over or the relentless congeniality that makes you incapable of not chatting up anyone who comes too close.

When you come back you’ve brought James with you, and Remus relaxes as you situate yourself back on his lap, passing him a drink and letting him settle his free hand on your hip. He’s not sure how it happened, but Remus has found that he feels significantly better when he always has a hand on you.

“Moony,” James greets him with a full-wattage smile, “you’re looking positively surly this evening.”

“Her fault,” he replies, making you laugh and peck him on the cheek with your booze-sticky lips.

“Right, of course.” James takes a sip of his own drink, sharing a look with Sirius. “Your bird’s a real menace, it’s just like her to bring down a mood.”

“He’s just grouchy because I made him come tonight.” Your tone is teasing but there’s not a lick of real acrimony in it, and you grin when Remus squeezes your hip warningly. “But Rem, listen, it was totally worth it!” You seem to forget James and Sirius, your attention focussing solely on him. You have this way of making Remus feel like he’s standing in a pool of sunlight when you do this, looking at him all warm and bright and extra special. “You remember how I said Frank and Alice were going to get together in the next two weeks?”

He hums in affirmation.

“Well, guess who Sirius and I just saw making out in the kitchen?”

Intrigue sparks in his chest, and Remus feels his brows lift. “Really?”

“Yes!” You’re thrumming with excitement, eyes gone all heart-shaped. “They’re so perfect for each other, I knew it would happen!”

He rubs your hip tranquilizingly before you can wind yourself up to go congratulate the happy couple or spread the news or anything else that would take you away from him. “You called it, dove.” A pause. “Does this mean we can go now?”

Your eyes crinkle, and Remus sighs as you kiss the bridge of his nose, dropping his head onto your shoulder. “We’ve only been here an hour,” you say into his hair, “but we’ll go soon, I promise. I’ll make that nighttime tea you like, and we’ll have a nice, long cuddle before bed.”

You’re so good to him it’s impossible to truly deny you anything, but Remus turns his head to nip at the skin of your neck anyway. No one can see his smile when you squeal and clutch at his shoulders, giggling.

“I’m offended you want to leave so badly, Moony,” says Sirius. “What’s so awful about my party?”

Remus sits up, prepared to give him an extensive list, but you peck your boyfriend sweetly on the lips, pacifying him.

“Nothing,” you tell Sirius, directing your smile his way. An irrational sort of jealousy rears its head in Remus’ chest. “It’s a great party! Your new neighbors are awesome, by the way.” Remus knows you really mean it, despite how those neighbors came in, drank half the liquor, and have yet to lower their voices since it entered their systems. You’re infinitely kinder than he is. “They’re so funny! I’m sure it’ll be a riot living next to them.”

“Thank you, gorgeous,” Sirius says with a pointed look to Remus. “I really like them too, I’ll probably invite them to everything from now on.”

Remus groans and hides his face in your chest, your body rumbling underneath him as you laugh. He feels your lips press to his hair. “Sorry, handsome,” you whisper. “I’ll make sure you never have to talk to them, yeah? I’m an excellent buffer.”

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somerandomdudelmao · 2 days

Note

Ok, so, some marble sky thoughts? Character analysis? Whatever this is!

I think the only reason that both Oscar and Ward are still alive is because Oscar was left to his own devices with the marmors.

There are several contributing factors to this thought, but I think it boils down to two main factors: friendliness (towards the marmors), and morality.

First point: as far as i can tell, Oscar genuinely cares about Ecliptica to some extent. My example is when he clubbed that teegardian–the look on his face, and how fast he reacted, suggest that he reacted on gut instinct because Ecliptica was in danger, not that he had a cunning plan to make himself look better. As well as the fact that he genuinely seems to enjoy being around her, and voluntarily spends time with her–I think that this has convinced (some) of the marmors that Oscar is trustworthy, or at the very least not a threat.

On the other hand, Ward has shown that so far at least, he does not like or trust any of the marmors. Now I certainly can’t blame him for that, but it doesn’t do much towards gaining him any favor in the marmor’s eyes (or, sensor things).

My next point is that Ward seems to have a very strong moral code, and acts according to that code regardless of consequences, which restricts him in a way that Oscar doesn’t seem to be restricted. With the teegardian situation, I think Ward would either have straight up refused to be a hunting dog, or tried to help the teegardians, resulting in getting himself killed.

On the other hand, Oscar, by playing along with the marmors and siding against the teegardians, managed to get into good enough graces with Ecliptica to be able to help Ward (and Holly). Now, I don't think Oscar lacks a moral code, or is trying to be evil or anything–I think he is doing everything he can to protect the people he cares about, and to stay alive. So far, he’s been pretty darn effective too. I also can’t blame him for prioritizing his life, and the life of his friend, over those of complete strangers, especially in such a morally gray area of how intelligent of a species is it ok to eat, and how to define intelligence at all.

Oscar seems to be doing whatever he feels he needs to in order to keep himself and the people he cares about alive, regardless of “right” and “wrong”.

Ward also seems to want to keep them both alive, but in contrast he is very attached to his idea of morality, defending what he believes to be right, and fighting against what he believes is wrong.

Because of this, I think Ward and Oscar would have (and probably will in the future) come into conflict because of their different ways of doing things, potentially really messing up each other’s various plans and ideas, in ways that are not conducive towards staying alive and/or friends.

Also, unrelated theory, Ward is absolutely about to polymorph into an alien cyborg bc of whatever it was that Sculptor did to him

OH THIS

THIS IS SOME REALLY INTERESTING THOUGHTS RIGHT HERE >:D

#marble sky ask

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acotarxreader · 2 days

Text

BatBite

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: Azriel relies on liquid courage to finally act on his feelings for you but the next day, only one of you remembers and its the one marked with lovebites

Warnings: Fluff, kissing, biting hehe

A/N: Gentle fluff, gearing up to write smut again. Let me know what you think of this one and if you have any requests those are open too!

More Irish flare in this, with fadas removed for your own ease of pronunciation but Greim is a word for Bite and Brú for Crush. I kinda like the idea of using Irish words for non-canon passing by characters hehe.

------------------------------------

“Az, you’re going to take my arm out of my socket!” you laughed loudly over the growing crowd of the annual House of Wind Starfall party. Azriel pulled you up the staircase towards your room, using his wings to offset his drunken imbalance. The party was growing in chaos and as much fun as dancing until you dropped was, watching a tipsy Azriel navigate his environment was more fun. That along with ensuring he didn’t try to drink and fly led you to here, inside your bedroom as he slipped off his jacket and took another drink from a flask.

“Are you okay Az?” you chuckled while watching the Spymaster struggle out of his sleeves.

“Shh shhhh Shhh-hh-hhh” English escaped the drunken Illyrian. You took slight release in his lack of composure as often when he had it you both would have pointless arguments despite your deep-rooted enjoyment of one another's company.

He slid slightly in his shoeless state while approaching you, gaining more laughter from you. Azriel stretched a hand outwards to you and you took hold of him, thinking it was so he could regain balance. Azriel pulled you into him, your chests bouncing back off one another at the speed. You felt your breath hitch at the sudden close and intimate proximity between you both.

“Umm Az-” your small laugh was cut off as Azriel ran his whole palm down your face, almost pawing you before he coordinated himself enough to isolate a single finger against your lips.

“Shh shhh Y-N shhh” You couldn't stop the laughter escaping you only to have it almost immediately silenced with the sudden taste of whiskey meeting your lips. Azriel wrapped his hands around your neck, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss you had both wanted for centuries. He moved you back without separating from you until your back hit the bedroom door, your head gently knocking off the oak.

“Wait Az, a moment ago we were fighting, practically at one another's throats-” a smirk grew on Azriels face at your words before he tilted your head back again and attached himself to your neck with agonisingly sweet pressure, a small whimper leaving you at the sudden addictive sensation. You felt your skin be taken between his lips before Azriel bit down sweetly, quickly turning to harshly, your head responding by angling further to give him more access. Azriels warm, scarred hands reached the bottom of your silk slip dress before traipsing up your legs to your sides beneath the fabric. You fought against the moans rising in your throat as he marked you hungrily.

“Wait Az, you are so so drunk right now” Your hands ran down his arms, pushing him gently allowing you to slip from his grip. Azriel gently swayed side to side without your body to support his weight.

“YN, I ha-ve wanted this for foooreever, I jus-t needed some liq-uid courage to finally be br-ave enough to ac-t on it, is that sooooo baaad?” The slur of words with the scent of the caramel brown liquor reminded you just how drunk he was as you pushed away your own burning desire. The sound of shattering glass had your head snapping to the door again, the party growing out of control. You kissed Azriels cheek gently before dipping back into the hallway.

Azriel stood in your empty bedroom on his shaky legs, he slowly retreated backwards until the backs of his legs hit the bed, sending him flying back onto the silk, wings splayed out, deep inebriated sleep taking hold.

**********************

“Oh Gods! Please someone turn down the sun!” Azriel groaned as you whipped the curtains open with a wave of your hand, the Spring day leaking light in. Azriel pulled the silk sheets you had covered him with back over his face trying to heal his retinas back to health.

“Morning Starshine” you half sang, sitting under the sheets in the bed alongside him, a cup of tea in hand. Azriel groaned, lowering the sheets below eye level to look up at you through his lashes. He quickly whipped the sheets up to look down at his fully clothed body.

“Don’t worry Az, nothing happened. I helped with the cleanup when people finally left and I just wanted to sleep in my bed, apparently, you had the same idea” you grinned at your near-death hungover friend.

“So do you remember anything at all from last night Az?”

“I remember whiskey ehhh bourbon ehh at one point I think me and Cass ate a whole sheet of cake ehhh oh! Cass then vomited said cake all over my shoes which explains where they've gone and then ehhh more whiskey” he rubbed his eyes again trying to pull more memories to his mind and failing. Azriel shimmied up the bed to lean into your side before taking your cup of tea from your hands, gaining an eye roll from you.

“Just the important stuff so” You smiled down at him before throwing your legs over the side of your bed, Azriel slumping into the space you left. You moved across your room, disappearing behind your changing screen momentarily and returning in your training gear.

“Don’t make me look bad YN, take a day off” Azriel beamed at you, trying to push the thoughts of you changing mere metres from him from his mind.

“I got a lot to think through, punching things helps me” you laughed, pulling your white ribbon from your vanity and braiding the fabric into your hair.

“Woah YN! Someone used you as their dinner last night” Azriel laughed while gesturing to the obvious marbling covering your neck, your cheeks soon matching their maroon in embarrassment. Azriel raised an eyebrow at the sudden uncomfortable mood shift, you too often talked and fought about your conquests together, the bashfulness about the situation was new. You began to untangle the braid, covering the marks again, tying the ribbon around your waist, Azriels eyes glued to the movement.

“I gotta go warm up”

“Ah come on YN, kiss and tell! I won’t tell anyone”

“You know I don’t believe you”

“Well, that's because Cass isn't just anyone to me” he laughed, raising his body from the bed to close the gap between you.

“Do I know them?”

“Az” you laughed, pushing him back, his hands going up in peace.

“If I guess, will you tell me?” you shook your head to him as he groaned, running the end of the ribbon on your waist through his fingers. You watched the movement, maybe you wanted to tell him? Or maybe you wanted him to remember on his own accord.

“Fine Az, you get three guesses and I get off doing sprints for a month” he hummed in thought at this before agreeing. His mind went through the faces of last night, hundreds of Fae crossed his mind all of which would enrage him if you were to allow them to kiss you like that. He felt a bit of rage bubble underneath his skin as he thought of someone else's hands all over you.

“Az, I have to get downstairs” your humoured voice interrupted his thoughts, forcing him to push back the jealousy he felt.

“Hmm Cass? Wait, not him. He and Nesta have been gearing up lately and I think she’d skin you alive-” you raised your eyebrow to him “-but you’d win the fight” you rolled your eyes at his quick save, slipping the ribbon from his fingers and moving to sit and slip on your boots. Azriel wandered around the room, tapping his finger on his lips while thinking. You thought of those lips all over you last night, struggling to keep hold of the moan you wanted to release at the thought.

“Was it Greim from Ritas?” you shook your head, tying your boots up on the edge of your bed.

“Was it Bru from Feyre’s gallery”, you shook your head again.

“Ehhh oh YN no no no please-” he dropped to his knees theatrically, taking his hands in yours “-Please please YN YLN, don’t say it was Eris, I saw you two speaking earlier in the night” You found yourself laughing at the outlandish idea but his slightly desperate eyes had you reassuring him by shaking your head. Azriel launched himself from the ground to push you flush into the bed as he supported his weight with an arm above your head, you both laughing as he spoke.

“Oh Gods just tell me”

“Fine Az, you did this”

“Me? I don’t remem-” The smile slowly fell from your face at Azriels words as his grin disappeared, and his eyes widened as he collapsed beside you and stared at the ceiling. The flashbacks came back to him like lightning across his eyes.

“I am so so sorry for putting you in that position YN”

“Don’t be sorry” You rolled to your side to face him, Azriel doing the same, the comfortable silence returning between you both.

“I can’t believe I went through with it” You raised your eyebrow at his quiet confession as he closed his eyes, ready to release his secret.

“Well you see- Gods this is so embarrassing - I wanted to kiss you for…a very long time now and Cass was sick of me whining about it and he convinced me to act on my feelings finally but I just couldn’t act on them especially when I saw you in your dress - wow I mean seriously….anyways sorry I just thought I’d find my courage at the bottom of a whiskey jug…and a sheet cake and apparently I did” he reopened his eyes at your silence to find you smirking hard at him. He rolled back onto his back with a groan of embarrassment.

“You need whiskey to kiss me?” you sat up from the bed and for a moment Azriel thought he had fully spooked you. He watched you lean across him to your bedside table, removing a small pocket-sized bottle of whiskey from the drawer, tossing it to him playfully as he laughed with you. You lay down again next to him, tucking your hands under your cheek to face him on your side.

“Do-do you regret doing it now that you remember?

“I only regret our first kiss was one I remember in a blur” You took a brief moment with his words before smirking, pushing up off the bed and throwing a leg over his lap to straddle him. Azriels hand reached up to tuck your hair behind your ear before you lowered to meet his lips. Warmth filled you both with the feeling of gentleness and care filling you both, Azriels hands were placed lovingly on either side of your head. A soft hand traced the marks he had left on your neck.

“Now, that was our first kiss Az”

“Our first kiss”

“I can’t believe you thought I would kiss Eris” You sat up on his lap, hitting him gently in the chest.

“Pass me the whiskey, I need to erase the thought from my mind” he chuckled, sitting up with you, hands around your waist to prevent you from falling back. He moved to kiss your neck again only to have you stop him.

“My turn” your wicked smirk matched his as you connected to your neck, the hangover long melted away

-----------------------------------------------------

Tag list @lilah-asteria

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ask-the-rag-dolly · 2 days

Text

after listening to an among us song i was given the drive to reboot this au so ,

originated from a doodle that spiraled , SPREAD THE INFLUENCE is an au where ragatha is the ( unwilling ) host of a parasite called ' the influence ' which is a virus that only wants to spread and survive . she wasn't compliant about it at the beginning which was ' fixed ' with an itty bitty bit of psychological torment !

also yes i know the abbreviation is unfortunate and i do not care it's funny

even though ragatha's still our usual sweet little optimist , there is this persistent feeling of wrongness . too positive . too affectionate . it's like all of her humanity has been scooped out and you're left with the mask she made for others in the circus .

which is how the virus spread in the circus - they preyed on vulnerabilities which was what their host is perfect for . striking when the victim puts their guards down , making them submit under the guise that their problems will be fixed ... unfortunately it's a monkey's paw situation .

of course , that's only for this particular instance of the influencer ! something to note is that the virus takes a lot from the host's personality , so t.i's mellow and passive , only resorting to violence whenever necessary . t.i's not really an opposite ragatha she's more like a Dark , Fucked Up Version of ragatha the amazing digital circus . she cares a lot for everyone she considers a part of her hive , but it took a lot of manipulation and gaslighting for them to get infected .

caine is left uninfected because " i would do that if my goal is to destroy this place ! " t.i's ultimate fear has always been dying . it'll do everything to not die , to the point it's trying to spread out of the circus . unfortunately there's this jester who's resisting the virus with pure lesbian rage and is trying to stop her .

now rags would eventually get de-influenced and the circus will no longer be infected , but we will talk about the extremely rocky journey of recovering from knowing you harmed everyone you cared about Later

was this ' the influence ' that amanda ( ragatha's va ) keeps referencing ? sighs ... yeah . ( feels so surreal that i can say i have their seal of approval for this )

why ragatha ? in story , how is she not the perfect host ? metatextually , this is an au of an au - this came from a blog about ragatha getting a virus that is inconveniencing her life . i simply thought of an idea of ' hey what if the virus took over her body ' one day . then this abomination was born . i would reveal the why and how she got infected ... eventually .........

is she still afraid of centipedes ? is it a ragatha if she doesn't have a fear of centipedes

does pomni still use a taser ? yeah

could i use / be inspired by the influence for my au ? i did not invent the concept of Computer Viruses so feel free to be inspired by it , no credit needed . for t.i as a character specifically , please credit me !

are there ships ? just pomni x ragatha

is suggestive content of t.i ok ? just don't send them to me , tag it as #tw suggestive or #suggestive so i could filter it out

is nsfw content of t.i ok ? my tiny artist hands are powerless against the unstoppable force that is the internet so my answer will not matter . that being said , i recommend that they're not put in the main au tag so people won't unexpectedly come across it . and no i do not want to see it please do not send them to me

could i draw fanart / write fanfic of this au ? 100% yes you could either mention me or tag it under #tadc influence au

does this au have an ask blog ? only a t.i roleplay blog so don't expect cryptic lore and stuff . i do plan on making a comic series for the influence since i have a story in mind

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc influence au #tadc ragatha #pomni tadc #tadc caine #tadc jax #tadc kinger #tadc gangle #tadc zooble #[ ooc ]#canon t.i content . everyone cheers #buttonblossom #tw scopophobia

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days

Text

Winter's King 20

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: Have a good day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The crackling of the fire grows clearer as the tides of sleep swirl and still. Your eyelids part to the flicker of the hearth, a figured limned in the rustic haze, looming over you, lifting you, moving you with ease. You stir and fidget, pressing a hand to the firm wall against your arm. The woolly tunic scratches against your palm as you feel the pulsing of a heartbeat beneath.

You look up at the square jaw of your accoster. King Geralt lays you on the mattress, your disposed clothes cleared away from the corner. He's gentle as he sets your head on the pillow, caressing your cheek and your hip as he draws away. He stands, looking down on you as his fingers curl and extend, a hot breath rushing from his nostrils.

You watch him as the the world sharpens around you and a flow rolls over you like cold water. You push yourself up on your elbows as the king's eyes rove your figure beneath the thin shift. He sways and brushes his hand over his chest, letting out a deep rumble.

You want to say something. Anything. Just a word to break the fragile tension between you. You can't get a single noise out. He stares down at you with his gold eyes, like coins shining, forged in flame.

He sits on the edge of the bed, snug to you as he rests his hand on the other side of you, tenting his arm over you. His other crawls along your shoulder and down to your wrist, walking back up again. His fingertips spread goose prickles along your flesh as you lay frozen in his fiery exploration.

The haze of the fireplace, the gleam of his eyes, and the dregs of your drowsiness make you doubt the realness of it all. Are you dreaming still? Everything is so much more than it should be. His heat, his touch, the way you can feel his need radiating from him.

You fall flat, staring at him, entranced by him. He brings his calloused palm to cradle your face. You gasp and latch onto his wrist.He lets his fingers flutter away and turns his arm, looking down at your grasp on him, cautious but firm. You see how his cheek strains and he sits up, grazing his other hand over yours.

He covers your hand with both of his and draws it up. He unveils it like some precious treasure and kisses each knuckle. You shake as each brush of his lips tingles through you. He pulls back and keeps hold of you, lowering your hand between you.

"You fear me," he says, "you fear what I want from you." His voice is low and sonorous, "I want nothing from you. I only want you, my summer maid." He inhales deeply and lets it out with a quaver as you feel the tremor in him, "my treasure."

Your eyes sting and tears soften the lines in your vision. You shake your head, a knot in your throat, a pinch in your chest. He brings your hand flat to one of yours and twines his thick fingers between yours. The difference is drastic, a reflection of your status. He is all-powerful and you are a speck in the wind.

"I have worn a heavy crown, I have raised an army, I have bled in battle, and not of it can compare to this, my treasure. You are my greatest achievement. By fates, I found you. I thought that I was destined to sit the throne, to unite these peoples, to hold it all in my hand," he squeezes, "but this is all I need have in my grasp. This is what called me to your southern plains. All of it for you. I have won it and so quickly as you bid me, I would give it up."

Your lashes flick as your heart swells. He cannot mean it. Not any of it. You are only a maid.

"You have your fear, little maid, and I have mine. They are one and the same," he gazes down at you, eyes wrought in layers of pain, sadness, and longing, like the sediment of the earth, worn and weathered through the years. "I fear myself all the same as you. I have withheld myself for as long as I can and yet I feel myself dwindling. I feel the rope fraying."

You sniff and shake your head, "your highness..." you croak and your voice seems to crackle in the air, "Queen Jazlene--"

"Do not speak her name. I beg of you. Treasure, I beg. I will beg you anon."

He keeps hold of you and shifts off the bed. He brings himself to his knees at the side of the bed, clinging to you as he once more kisses your hand. As you lay helpless to him.

"Do not fear me. How can you when I only mean to worship you," he rasps. "As any treasure, I only mean to prize you, to hold you dear, to keep you from those who would steal you away. To keep you for my own. Treasure, you are mine, all mine. By rights, I, King Geralt of Rivia and the Hinterlands, claim you. No other shall have you. Upon my life, I could not bear it."

You close your eyes, ice trickling into your veins at his declaration. He is king, he is the almighty, and you are his. You are sworn to serve and by rights of marriage, you are bound to him. Even if it wrong, even it transcends the vow he spoke to another, a king may bend the laws as serve his purposes. A maid may only obey.

"You have forsaken me," you whisper.

He kneels in silence, lowering his head to rest on your hand. You lay in tableau, strangled and solemn, as he prostrates himself at your side. As a mourner might do for some tragic corpse. Is that not what this is? Grief for the treachery of it all.

"I belong to you," he speaks at last, rising as he releases you. Your eyes roll open and pinpoint on him.

He turns away and pulls at his tunic, stripping it from his broad shoulders, revealing a back ridged with muscles. He drops it on the seat of a chair and sits in another. He is patient as he unbinds the straps of his boots and removes each in turn, placing them neatly aside. He undresses piece by piece, rapt in the task of his dissembling.

He remains only in his braies, the short garment ending at the top of his thick thighs. His stomach is as thick as the rest of his, muscles wrapping around his arms and chest, fur like the very wolf he's sewn into his cloak. He approaches the bed and you steel yourself for him.

He lifts himself over you, hovering just above, his hands above your shoulders as he holds himself on his knees, straddling as he once did in the moonlight of your unconscious. He peers down and breathes a scalding plume upon you. You shiver and meet his eyes, unable to repress the wash of terror that comes over you.

He pushes himself to the other side of you, folding his arm to fall upon his side. His other stretches over your stomach as he nestles against your side. He lays on his shoulder, facing you, and his nose brushes your temple. You clutch a fold of the blankets in your hand as his traces the shape of your side, playing with the seam of your shift.

His touch creeps over your stomach and his lips dance on your cheek. He exhales your name into your ear and his hand cups one side of your chest. A whimper escapes your throat as your nipple hardens, poking him as he fondles you. He is gentle but diligent, eager as he explores your body, as if you are another map to be conquered.

He trails up to your neck and his thumb draws a line along your throat. You feel his gaze but cannot face it. It burns hotter than the heart. He touches jaw and chin, as if he's never seen anything like you; cheekbones, nose, forehead, as if he is an artist moulding a statue.

He presses his straight nose to your cheek and drapes his arm around you once more. He embraces you from the side. He tucks his fingers under you and you bring your hand to his thick forearm, feeling the soft hair along it. You claps onto him and shudder at the ceiling.

"You will not always fear me," he whispers, "when you see the world for what it is, when you see me truly, you will feel as I do." He snarls as he leans his weight into you. "You cannot fight fate, my treasure. Even a king cannot bid what is written by destiny."

You let every ounce of strength drain from you. You sink into the mattress, surrendering to his will. Whatever he might do, whatever he might demand of you, you will give in. That is your duty.

He purrs as his own body relaxes, "I only wish to feel you, little maid. My soul needs yours close." He closes his eyes and bows his head to rest against yours. You shut your eyes once more but know you will not rest.

You are afraid. You are terrified. All your life you've served but this is more than you've ever been asked. The peril is all yours. A king would never face the same atonement as a maid.

⚔️

The king enshrines you in his warmth. You examine the white strands of his hair as you lay in his arms. Your gaze wanders further to his rounded muscle, the unmatched strength woven in his body. His statue matches the intangible authority attached to his very being. He is power incarnate.

You feel smaller as you lay beside him. The night passes, as it will not matter water. Time marches on like the very army that invaded your homeland at the behest of the man now clinging to you. Just a maid. Just a deceiver.

You turn your eyes past the king's sleeping form. His rumbling snores underline the soft crackle of embers breaking down. You cannot remove the danger buried deep in your chest. Memories only drive it deeper and deeper.

Your remember when Jazlene was only a girl. You've known her through every year of her life. You've seen her grow from cradle to crown. She might be flawed, she might be selfish and rotten and mean, but she is still that life you watch round the duchess' stomach when you were but yourself a child. She is still a living being.

There was a time when she did not obsess over jewels and silks and bottle. When you both were just young and naive. When she counted and you hid, then switched places. When you revealed yourself form behind your hands and she giggled in amazement. That time is gone and you only see doom ahead of you.

You can't lay there any longer.

You move the king's arm off of you and sit up. You put your back to him and bend over your lap. How you could melt to a puddle like the icy outside those castle walls. How you might wilt away like a flower without shade.

You do not dare leave the bed. Your emotions cannot overrule the man behind you. You flinch as he quiets and his snoring turns to a long groan. A tickle crawls up your back as he touches you. He pinches the fabric, tugging it as if to get your attention.

"Are you well, treasure?" He asks with grit in his throat.

"It is morning," you say, though the shutters block out the day, "shall I fetch you something to break your fast?"

He sighs and his hand fists the back of your shift. He pulls until you twist to look at him. He props himself on one elbow, holding his head as he looks at you. His expression is not as stony as it usually is. He is not the statuesque king, he is just a man, entirely vulnerable in nothing more than a piece of cloth.

"I don't want you to be maid this day," he touches your hip, his eyes dipping to watch his hand. "I want to... show you something. I want you to know this land. Once you do, you will know me."

"As you wish, your highness."

His brows lower and he pushes himself up, sitting against the pillows, "it doesn't need be. What do you wish, treasure? Tell me and I will grant it?"

You push up one shoulder, "I wish for nothing. A maid does not..."

"Not a maid," he insists again, "you, what do you wish?"

You lower your head and turn back to the chamber, "I would see your land. Show me then what I have not already seen."

His forceful breath uneases you. He is disappointed, though you say exactly what you should. What he should want. You will heed his desire, he only need declare it.

"Very well," he jostles the bed as he moves to sit beside you, "you will need to dress warmly. I will have gloves and a hat. Some boots," his arm is snug to yours, "

"Thank you, your highness," you utter.

"No, Geralt. My name is Geralt."

Your chest racks and your shoulders feel as if there are pins stuck in the joint. Your lips part then clamp together. You try to muster your voice but it catches like phlegm. You nearly choke.

"Will you say it?" He asks gently.

You turn to glance at him. It feels next to blasphemy. You blink and he reaches to frame your face with his large hand.

"To hear my name on your lips would me like a sacred melody. Please, treasure, just for me, you can say it," he pleads.

You take a breath through your nose and let it out in a wisp, "Geralt."

He smiles and his thumb runs along your chin to your lower lip, "again."

"Geralt," you say louder and he toys with your lip, his golden eyes narrowing on it, hungering for it as if a starving man looking upon a fine citrus.

"Again," he commands once more.

"Ger--"

You cannot finish is name as he covers your mouth with his. He smothers you in his need, pulling you against him, snaring you in his arms. He brings you over him as he falls onto his back, moaning as he delights in the taste of you, nibbling at your bottom lip. He hums and draws away as you breathless stare down at him.

"I have never known paradise, not in the hinter or the summer, but I find it here," he growls, "upon my very chest, in my very arms. If only it could be forever."

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #the witcher #winter's king

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