#Tee better give me the details

[respectthepetty]

Hi Respect!

I really loved @placetneplacet's post calling out how Zo's fears around Joke went directly back to his interactions with Puen, and you highlighting the specifics of how it's impacted Zo throughout the series. You both tapped so adeptly into something I've been rather incoherently rambling about, regarding how fear is a reoccurring motif in the show. And I was curious about your thoughts (and anyone else's) on how Joke's fear is being portrayed so far. We're seeing him push through a lot of more...I don't want to say superficial, because they're still quite valid...but more traditional human phobias (height, rollercoasters, etc) due to his desire to be near Zo. But there was that one scene where he absolutely panicked at Zo not answering the door & phone, to a rather excessive degree (I think most of us would assume our friend was asleep or stepped out without their phone before we decided they were probably dying and needed our help). So it seems that he's able to overcome fears in order to get closer to love, but that same love is also his biggest Achilles' heel around fear.

It feels to me that Joke has a rather substantial fear around loss based on something that happened in the past. And I'm wondering if there's going to be something revealed that will cause Zo's fear to retrigger, and maybe pull back, and then that will create issues around Joke's fear around losing Zo...

Anyway, would love to hear your thoughts!

(Adore your color analysis, btw)

@befuddledcinnamonroll, this is me after reading this -

@heretherebedork has mentioned a similar idea that Joke has his own issues with abandonment and loss due to the way he reacts to Zo's distance.

I'm of the mind that Joke is simply a lovesick guy who subjects his cousin to Sad Boy Karaoke when Zo avoids him.

But you and @heretherebedork have pointed out several instances of Joke panicking when it concerns Zo like the apartment moment.

And @chicademartinica mentioned that episode three was just forty-five minutes of watching Joke panic to the point that he showed up in the middle of the night outside of Zo's apartment

All because Zo was "acting weird earlier."

When it was because he touched Zo, and Zo ran for the hills.

TWICE!

But now that I think about it . . . maybe I've been too dismissive of Joke's behavior.

I took Joke for being the usual pushy seme in a BL, but when it comes to Zo, he is really pushy.

I have defended Joke's behavior because, to me, it's needed to break through Zo's resistance, but . . .

Each time Joke has been called out for his behavior, he offers a variation of this response:

And next week, when confronted with his hidden agenda (if it isn't him conspiring with Pat to get Zo, I'm going to be shocked - LOOK AT THE REFLECTION!)

He offers the same reasoning - due to his actions being based on his care for and of Zo, he wasn't in the wrong.

Which leads to Zo getting upset.

During their pseudo-date, Zo told him the story of roses.

In response, Joke mentioned he would never let his lover go.

Joke stated he "would never let someone [he] loves face danger alone."

We have four episodes left and have no idea where Joke's parents are. Why did he take Zo to meet his grandmother, and not his parents? But we've seen Joke cover for Nita to protect her from a stalker to the point that he didn't defend himself against rumors. And we saw how he reacted to James and Puen hurting his loved ones.

Joke's reactions are reasonable to me, but both Nita and Zo had to drag him off James, and Joke wanted to fight Puen so the second Puen grabbed Zo's arm, Zo had to tell Joke to back off.

I want there to be a reason beyond love that makes Joke so protective, but like you mentioned, what if love really is his Achilles' heel? What if Joke gets so blinded by love that he can't see reason? What if he wants to protect Zo so badly because one time he didn't?

And what if it all stems from the freshy contest?

Because even then, Joke had his reasons.

Perhaps the one time Joke didn't cross the line and didn't push back, was the one time he didn't protect Zo.

And he can't allow that to happen again.

[cupid-styles]

daisy 2 (english profrry x quiet TA!yn)

she's alive and I hope you like it 🩷 I think there will be a short epilogue wrapping everything up after this :)

part one

word count: 7.9k

content warnings: a bit of angst (nothing too crazy), smut (f receiving oral, penetration, size kink/belly bulge, dirty talk, a tiny bit of cum play), and — as stated in the first part — massive, big fat warning for an inappropriate power imbalance.

main masterlist | talk to me

. . .

Y/N had tried to talk herself out of it. Several times, actually. For hours. 

But at a certain point, she realized all she was doing was driving herself insane with a nonstop, hamster wheel of thinking. She couldn’t stop replaying the conversation with Professor Styles — or Harry, rather, as he’d said earlier — over and over, nitpicking at every tiny detail. She wished she had someone to go to — an unbiased, neutral third party who wouldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear, but she doubted that even if she did have that, they’d think her analysis of their discussion would be appropriate.

Because she had a huge, obvious, stupid crush on her professor. 

Well, he wasn’t technically her professor. She was just the professor she was… assisting, and that technicality is the only thing that gave her enough courage to bundle up beneath layers of thermal wear and her forest green puffer jacket, hiking through the chilly winter evening to see if, by some miracle, Harry was still in his office. 

On the way there, she spoke to herself sternly. She needed to have a goal in mind — an intention, really, of what exactly she was going there for. It wasn’t a normal thing to go see a professor in his office on a Monday at 6:40 pm.

It wasn’t normal to think about his grumpy face and even crankier demeanor; the way his lips pursed thoughtfully around wordy responses about a student’s answer to an essay question, or his long, calloused fingers that wrapped around the same gel ink pens he always used for grading.

It wasn’t normal for her to fall asleep imagining herself pressing her own plush lips to the same ones that nearly begged for an apology just a few hours ago.

And it certainly wasn’t normal for her professor to admit that he’d spent the weekend thinking of her, either.

The English building stays unlocked until around 9 pm on weekdays, just in case professors end up hauling their grading into late nights or students have group projects. She hurries through the wooden doors as soon as she arrives, hurriedly yanking her mittens off and stuffing them in her coat pockets as she walks the familiar journey down to Harry’s office. She’s unsurprised that most of the offices and classrooms have already gone dim, but the closer she gets to Harry’s, the sooner she realizes that his is the exception. With the bleak, yellowed light from the lamp she’d picked out a few weeks back, she sees a faint luminance from his office’s frosted window. Swallowing, she decides against her better judgment before waltzing in like she owns the place, and instead opts for a hesitant knock, punctuating it with a call of his name. 

“Profess— Harry? Are you in there?” she nibbles on her lip before tacking on a, "It's Y/N."

She hopes he recognizes her voice as she wrings her fingers together in front of her. She thinks she hears muffled movement on the other side of the door, but she’s not entirely sure. It never occurred to her that perhaps he wouldn’t want to see her — maybe he’d peek through the crack of the door, see her face, and widen his own eyes in shock and embarrassment, maintaining silence until she eventually gave up and walked away. Her throat bobs nervously at the imagery. 

She’s ready to give up when the door swings open, revealing a rather flushed looking version of the typically neat, well-kept professor she’s used to seeing. His cheeks don a splotchy pink hue that speckles down to his neck, where his usual button down is currently undone. Underneath, he wears a plain white tee-shirt. She blinks at the small display of intimacy before snapping her eyes back up to his face. He’s running his finger through his messy curls, tugging lightly at the base of the locks.

“Is everything alright?” he asks through a slightly nervous voice. With furrowed eyebrows, she nods her head slowly.

“Yes— well, no, I guess. I feel bad about earlier.”

She chokes the words out in hopes that she can keep her humiliation at bay. She’s unsure if her eyes deceive her, but it seems as though his face relaxes some before he quickly nods, stepping aside to let her in. 

“Um, you have nothing to feel bad about,” he says, shutting the door quietly behind her. She shrugs her shoulders as she stands in the middle of his small office, avoiding his gaze. “I was out of line, Y/N.”

“What did you mean by it?” she rushes out, facing him with a leery expression. “That you spent the weekend thinking of me. And feeling awful about how you’ve treated me.”

His mouth opens and closes, and she can’t help the way she glances down at his raspberry-hued lips. She swallows tightly, biting on her own bottom lip.

“This isn’t something we can do,” he mumbles out breathily with a shake of his head. “You know that, right?”

They’re dancing around the obvious. Her stomach lurches at the low, groveled volume of his voice, and her fingers twitch at her sides as she resists the urge to step closer to him. She’s never been forward with a romantic interest before — she’s never had a reason to be, to uphold a certain level of confidence. 

But she can’t help herself. 

“Tell me, then. Tell me what you thought of this weekend.”

Harry’s nostrils flare. 

“If it’s not something we can do,” Y/N says softly, licking over her lips, “Then whatever you thought about should be nothing, right?”

He’s torn. He’s so utterly torn that it feels like his brain is being split in half. He knows what he should do — he should tell her she’s wrong and that she should leave. He should leave this entire situation behind him, chalk it up to him being a touch-deprived idiot, and move on with his life. Join a few dating apps and find someone decent to settle down with. 

But why would he do what he’s supposed to do?

“I thought about how fucking shitty I felt for ignoring you for weeks after you told me you just wanted my praise,” Harry blurts, heart hammering in his chest as he slowly starts to close the gap between their bodies. “I thought about how much I like having you around — how smart and talented you are, how beautiful and creative your brain is.”

“I’m not—”

“I’m not finished,” he replies curtly, making Y/N’s eyebrows shoot up to her forehead. “I thought about how pretty you are. I thought about how I’m thankful to have you as my assistant, because no one has ever been able to meet me on the same level. I thought about… how I’d be taking advantage of you if I told you any of those things, so I promised that I’d keep them to myself.”

He’s standing directly before her now. He’s so close that she can smell the warm musk of his cologne and see the freckles dotted over his nose. It makes her stomach churn in the best way. 

“Why didn’t you?” she finally breathes out. 

A smirk forms at the edges of his lips. He looks down at her as if he wants to swallow her whole, and she’s not sure that she doesn’t want him to. 

“You asked me to tell you, sweetheart,” he murmurs. He reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and her skin zips with electricity. “‘S not much of my fault now, is it?”

Quickly, she shakes her head. She swallows nervously and hopes he doesn’t notice her picking at her nails as she waits for him to surge forward and press a messy kiss to her lips. 

But instead, he stops. 

A look of clarity ghosts over his face and his throat bobs. It doesn’t stop him from thumbing over her chin with sorrowed eyes. 

“We’ll wait until the end of the semester,” he murmurs out. The look of disappointment on Y/N’s face must be obvious because his eyebrows furrow in dejection. “It’s the safest way, okay? After that… after that, I’m yours.”

I’m yours. It echoes through her brain, making her heart thump rapidly in her chest. She feels it everywhere, but the hesitancy remains. 

“Promise me,” she whispers, pressing a wary hand to the expanse of his chest. “Promise me I’m not wasting my time. Promise me that you mean this.”

He can’t help it — before he can even contemplate the consequences, he ducks down to connect their lips. It takes her by surprise but she immediately kisses him back, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck to pull him closer.

Despite the reluctant context, the physical bond is anything but. Harry kisses her unhurriedly, like he has years to worship every bit of her lips. He dips his tongue into her mouth the second she grants him the opportunity, and her chest feels like it’s ready to explode when he squeezes her hip. His large palm easily finds its way to her ass and she whimpers breathily into the seal of his mouth. It’s the only thing that brings him back down to earth — a reminder that he’s no longer daydreaming but experiencing the real thing. He forces himself to break the kiss but leans his forehead against hers, keeping his eyes shuttered closed.

“I promise you,” he exhales, and he feels her nod. “I’m yours.”

. . .

Attempting to act normal around Harry is harder than Y/N had anticipated. 

In hindsight, the evening consisted of a half-assed confession and a rather… intimate kiss that nearly knocked her off her feet. If it had been with anyone else — someone her age, a fellow student or peer, maybe — she, of course, would be anxious over it. But the fact that she had to see him a day later in class was… well, somehow embarrassing. 

She contemplates her outfit for hours, wanting to seem cute and put-together without overly desperate. She was scared it would be written all over her face the second she walked in and sat at her seat beside his podium — "I made out with Professor Styles in his office a day and a half ago and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it for more than two seconds since it happened" may as well have been written across her forehead. 

When she finally does show up to class, Harry looks… well, he looks like his usual self. He’s wearing those wide-legged trousers that she thinks he must have in at least a dozen colors, matched with a button down and a sweater vest overtop. He’s standing at the podium with his back to the entrance as he waits for students to filter in, squeezing his bottom lip between his fingers. He’s reading something, Y/N’s unsure what it is, but when he hears the less than graceful clatter of her setting her things down at the table, he glances over to her and flashes her a smile. 

A smile.

“Hey,” he greets. His voice is low and gruff and if she hadn’t been looking for it, she surely would’ve missed it. But she doesn’t, and it instead sends a zap of lovesick energy thrumming through her body. 

“Hi.” she mumbles back, waving as she leans over to pull her laptop from her bag. 

That’s the extent of the interaction, but it’s far more than she’s ever received from him. Normally, when she arrives at class, he fully ignores her. She only began to take issue with it when she figured out she was growing feelings for him, but somehow the quiet utterance of hey feels like a public acknowledgement of what occurred just a day prior. In some crazy way, it seems like it’s just as open as grabbing her and smacking a hard kiss to her lips. She finds herself wishing he would as he begins today’s lecture on male writers in feminist discourse.

As written on the schedule, Harry’s taking the time to discuss authors like George Herbert, John Berryman, and Leo Tolstoy. Y/N doesn’t feel particularly drawn to any of those figures, though a few weeks back when she and Harry were discussing this unit, they did find a mutual appreciation for Jacques Lacan. He wasn’t originally in the lesson plan — Y/N remembers it vividly, because she can recall saying that he would be a great fit. Her heart had expanded in her chest with praise when Harry agreed. 

And yet… Harry’s standing up there in front of the lecture hall, waxing poetic in the dreamiest way possible, about Jacques Lacan.

“Lacan was incredibly controversial, so I don’t expect all of us to feel comfortable with translating his viewpoints to modern day psychology,” Harry explains as he hovers over the old, wooden podium, “But what I do want to dig into is his basic idea of the symbolic register. Does anyone know what that is?”

Yes, Y/N wants to say. It’s the concept that our existence as humans includes language, culture, and rituals. 

“Lacan came up with this idea that he thought was waiting for us the second we were born. He felt that the symbolic register encompassed maybe more artsy, culture-based facets, and that was one of the most important parts of the human existence. We won’t get too far into it because this isn’t a psychology course, and frankly, I could give a shit if you truly understand this or not.” The class, including Y/N, laughs quietly. Harry rolls his lips into a thin line to avoid a smirk from appearing.

When the huffed merriment tapers off, he continues. “What I want you to take away as writers is this: Lacan’s symbolic register essentially implies that our lives, from the very start, are swamped with uncertainty. There’s no path for us. As you write your characters, consider that. Lacan thought that life experiences, specifically lack and desire, were what impacted the course we go on.”

As expected, the class is silent. Y/N’s found that students are typically too nervous or intimidated to contribute to conversations during Harry’s lectures, and she’s been on the receiving end of many, many emails asking things that could have been resolved in class.

“Think about what your characters lack. What are they missing? What are they unable to receive access to? Is it a resistance to pleasure, to giving in?”

Y/N swallows harshly at that. She pretends like she doesn’t hear it, instead focusing in on typing a response to an email in her inbox. 

“And then, consider their desires. Their deepest, darkest wants. No one has to know them — in real life, no one truly knows our truest desires, anyway,” she swears her eyes squeeze closed at that, but she quickly snaps them open, “But use it as an exercise for this weekend. Don’t forget, second drafts are due on Monday. Class is dismissed.”

Y/N swear she feels a second heartbeat in her core as the lecture hall begins to trickle out with students.

. . . 

“I thought we were waiting until the semester is over.” Y/N blurts it out when she can’t focus on grading Ren Wei's draft. 

Slowly, Harry glances up from the stack of papers he’s currently grading. With confused eyebrows, he sets his pen down. 

“We are,” he says softly. 

“Then what were you talking about in class today?” She hisses lowly. She keeps her voice quiet even though the door to Harry’s office is shut closed. 

“What do you mean?”

Y/N sighs frustratedly and sits back in her seat. She avoids Harry’s confused gaze as she crosses her arms over her chest. He ignores the way it pushes her breasts up through the soft fabric of her sweater. 

“The whole lack and desire thing. You know you weren’t planning on talking about Lacan until I brought him up a few weeks ago.”

Harry’s throat bobs and she licks over her lips, quickly glancing back up to his face. She’s right — they both know she’s right, but Harry’s reluctant to admit it. He’s stubborn — he’s always been this way in relationships, and it tends to be one of his greater downfalls as a partner. Deep in the pit of his heart, he knows Y/N deserves better. She wouldn’t be worth putting his job or her status as a student in danger if she wasn’t.

“You’re right,” he finally admits as he nibbles on his bottom lip. “I’m sorry. It was out of line and I won’t do that anymore.”

She pauses for a beat. And then, “I thought maybe you changed your mind.”

His shoulders deflate and she suddenly feels embarrassed. It was a stupid thing to reveal, she decides, and she picks at the skin surrounding her fingernails as she mentally beats herself up for it. 

And for a moment, Harry contemplates it. He knows it hasn’t been that long since he told her they have to wait, but he’d be a ridiculous liar if he didn’t admit that she’s all he’s been thinking about ever since they kissed in his office. Nervously, he reaches across the length of his wooden desk and takes her hand into his. He intertwines their fingers together and gives her hand a small, reassuring squeeze, and she looks up at him through her eyelashes. It makes his heart warm.

“You know this is incredibly difficult for me, right?” he asks. Y/N shakes her head and he scoffs in response. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N.”

She blushes. “I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

“Yeah?” he chuckles, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. She nods. “When we kissed, it… it was so good, y’know? It just… it felt good.”

“I know,” she breathes. She squeezes his fingers lightly before retracting her own hand and placing it in her lap. She may look naive, but she's already decided that she won't let him have the upper hand – not when it comes to something she can actually have control over, like teasing.

The movement surprises him but he chooses not to acknowledge it. “But this is what we decided on, right? It’s better this way. It’s kind of like edging, hm?” 

His eyes nearly bulge out of his skull as she glances down at her phone to look at the time. 

“Anyway, I have to head out to class. Text me if you need anything, Professor Styles.”

She waltzes out of his office with a snarky, knowing grin on her lips, and Harry has to do a series of deep breathing to stop his cock from exploding in his trousers. 

. . .

Y/N Y/L/N is a complete and utter minx. 

Harry has no choice but to come to this conclusion because in the weeks that follow their agreement, he swears she does everything she can to try and make him break. The worst part is, he doesn’t even know if she’s doing it intentionally. But every time they’re in the same room, all he can think about is hauling her over his shoulder, locking her in his office, and stretching her body over the length of his desk so he can fuck her until she can’t even think straight.

And there’s still three months left of the semester.

Admittedly, nothing ever really happens between them. Despite the apparent and blatant flirting that occurs on both sides, they keep things surprisingly professional, even behind closed doors. For the first time in his teaching career, Harry is actually ahead of grading. For some reason, he feels as though it’s a testament to how well he and Y/N actually work together.

But then there’s the matter of her teasing, which drives him up a fucking wall — the cute little mini skirts she almost always wears, the batting of her eyelashes at students in his class, followed by the wide-eyed smile she flashes Harry as soon as she knows he’s seen it. She even out-smarted him on Ursula LeGuin the other day and, as dorky as it seems, Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his life.

It’s a series of back-and-forth. When Y/N has to leave his office for class, he’ll thumb at her chin or her cheeks so she gets all flustered before she heads out. Later that night, she’ll text him an innocent question with some sort of “typo”:

can’t stop thinking about your lips

oops! list* not lips! your list of grades — it’s due next friday, right??

It’s a stupid, risky game that neither of them can stop playing.

Even when they’re sitting in Harry’s office that Wednesday afternoon, buried beneath piles of final drafts for the midterm paper, he can’t help but gnaw on his bottom lip as she sits across from him. She’s focused — the cute furrow between her brows is the primary tell — but every now and then she’ll bring her pen up to her mouth to bite on it or poke her tongue out to lick over her lips.

Despite the chill of the day, she’s wearing a wool mini skirt atop sheer black tights, and he hasn’t been able to stop glancing down at the soft skin of her thighs since she showed up to campus hours ago. He wants nothing more than to rip a hole in the fabric, pull her into his lap, and kiss her until she’s a whimpering, breathless mess. 

He’s so distracted that he doesn’t even notice the clock is steadily ticking towards 5 pm and, technically, Y/N should’ve left an hour ago. With wide eyes, he drops his pen on the pile of papers in front of him. 

“Shit,” he curses, “You should go. Your hours ended at 4.”

She taps her phone screen beside her, “Oh. I didn’t realize it was so late. I guess I got in the groove with grading.” 

“It happens.” He says understandingly as he leans back against his chair, stretching his achy back out some. “I’ll see you on Monday, then?”

She peers up at him through her lashes. “It’s 5 pm on a Friday, Harry. You should leave, too.”

He runs his tongue over his teeth. She’s right, especially since he’s been attempting to distract himself from his crush on Y/N by doing late grading sessions in his office. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he mumbles as he grabs his large tote bag. “I’ll walk you out, if that’s okay.”

They both know that it’s perhaps a cross of the boundary they’ve been trying to firmly maintain, but how harmful could a walk be? 

Y/N flashes him a small smile. Silently, they each pack their things up, and she follows him out of this office as he locks his door. They walk side-by-side, Y/N nibbling on her bottom lip as Harry tries to resist the urge to grab the hand that he keeps accidentally brushing with his own knuckles. 

“Do you have any weekend plans?” She suddenly asks softly, glancing up at the taller male. 

He hums, “Nothing too exciting. Probably just gonna catch up on TV and reading. You?”

“The secret life of an English professor, hm?” Y/N teases and he chuckles. “I have to start prepping for midterms. Laundry, too. I guess nothing more fun than your plans.” 

He laughs and her stomach erupts into flutters as he holds the front door for her. She smiles in gratitude, but her steps come to a stop when she witnesses the state of the weather. 

It’s nearly a white out. A snowstorm must have barreled through while they were busy grading, because now it’s dark, flurries of snow instantly landing on Y/N’s eyelashes and jacket. 

“Y/N,” Harry appears at her side, “You’re not planning on walking through this, are you?”

“I-I don’t have a car.” She mumbles, stuffing her already freezing cold hands into her pockets. “I’ll be fine, it’s not far.”

“No, but I wouldn’t feel okay with sending you home in this,” he replies. She blinks when she feels his hand reach out to her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “Would you let me drive you home, please? Just so I know you get home safely.”

Her stomach turns. This would officially cross the student/teacher boundary, but he’s right — it’s frigid out, and she always hates walking home in the dark anyway. Swallowing tightly, she nods. 

“Yeah, please. I’ll take a ride.”

“Good,” he exhales with a nod, “My car’s just over in the faculty lot.” 

With the both of them slowly shuffling through the snowy ground, they eventually make it to Harry’s car. As expected, it’s covered in snow, but he turns it on and blasts the heat so she can sit inside while he uses a brush to clear it off. She picks at her fingernails as she watches him through the foggy front window, her chest continuing to grow with nerves. She knows that this is all she’s wanted for weeks — to be alone with Harry, outside of the confines of his office — so why is she so scared? 

Luckily, he gets in the car before she has more time to contemplate it. Blowing warm air into his cupped hands, he shivers dramatically. 

“Fuck, it’s cold,” he whines, making her giggle. “Something funny about that, passenger princess?” 

“No!” She exclaims with a laugh, “I’m sorry I didn’t help clear your car off. I’m sure that was awful.”

His eyes crinkle teasingly as he chuckles along with her. As he backs up out of the parking spot with ease, he presses the palm of his hand to the back of Y/N’s headrest, checking to make sure he’s clear. She wonders if he’s used to driving in the snow, but lets the question die in her throat instead of pushing the conversation. 

“Sorry, I didn’t ask where you live,” he says when he turns onto the main road. “I think you mentioned once that you’re not too far from campus?”

She nods. “Yeah, I’m on Maple. It’s a single-person house, I’ll tell you where to turn.”

“You live alone?”

She doesn’t think the question is meant to be inherently suggestive, but there’s something about his immediate response that has her teetering on feeling that way. Swallowing, she nods again.

“Mhm. Most of my friends graduated or moved away when we finished undergrad, so it’s just me.”

“No pets or anything? You seem like the type to own one of those bald cats.”

Y/N balks at his reply, a peel of laughter bubbling from her chest. “What?”

Harry’s cheeks warm as he slowly drives down the snow-covered street. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he thinks about what kind of person she is when she’s not around — he knows it probably sounds creepy, but it’s how he’s been entertaining himself in the meantime. 

“I just… feel like you’d like those things,” he treads lightly, shrugging his shoulders, “Is my assumption wrong?”

“Very much so. I’ve only had dogs,” she giggles, “Are there any other assumptions I should know about?”

His throat bobs. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” she quirks a brow. “Turn at the light.”

He flicks his right signal on, “I may have tried to figure you out a bit in my… spare time.”

He cringes, but the sound of her laughter quickly pulls him from his embarrassment. 

“Well now I have to know.”

“Fine,” he decides, finding himself drawn to her little game, “I think you prefer matcha or hot chocolate over coffee.”

“True, but that’s only because you watch me cringe every time you drink your stupid black coffee.”

Harry snorts, “Okay, fair. I think you’re a homebody.”

“Mhmm,” Y/N nods. “True. Go on.”

“You prefer chocolate to vanilla.”

“Strawberry, actually.”

He hums. “You read period piece smut for fun.”

Y/N lets out a loud cackle. “What about my personality makes you think that?”

“You just seem like the type to go to the romance section at the bookstore, but only buy dirty books that are set in the 1800s,” he replies easily, a smirk edging at his lips, “Am I wrong?”

She ignores the way her cheeks flair with warmth. “I’m not opposed to it, but it’s not the only thing I read.”

“Sure,” he laughs. She rolls her eyes before pointing to a house down at the end of the road. 

“I’m right over there.” 

Harry nods and pulls up in front of it. The snow is only worse on the residential streets, likely because there haven’t been many cars going through to clear the roads. She nibbles on her lip as she unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to look at him. 

“Thank you for the ride.” she says softly. 

“Of course.”

They stare at each other for a beat before Y/N tears her gaze away from him. She glances out through the front window, watching momentarily as snowflakes continue to beat down on the exterior of his car. 

“It’s not safe,” she mumbles breathily, facing him again. “You shouldn’t drive in this.”

He swallows. He knows what he should say: No, it’s okay. I should go home. We said we’d wait, remember?

But he doesn’t want to. Not when she’s dangling alone time, off campus, right in front of his face. He can’t resist her — he doesn’t want to resist her.

“Can I come inside, then?”

. . .

Y/N’s house is everything Harry would have expected it to be. 

She has two huge bookshelves that are overflowing with worn novels, Post-It’s and folded-down pages sticking out of nearly every page. She has plants and candles, cuddly blankets thrown askew over her couch, and a sink filled with half-consumed cups of tea. There are framed pictures and Polaroids tacked up on her fridge of people Harry assumes are her friends and family. He smiles gently as he passes by an image of her wedged between two older people who have some of her same features. It’s all very her, which means it’s all entirely too comforting.

“Do you want something to drink?” Y/N asks, nibbling on her bottom lip as she glances up at the man before her. It’s an unusual sight; one that makes her feel like she has to blink a few times to ensure she isn’t dreaming. 

“Not unless you’re willing me to make my ‘stupid black coffee’, as you affectionately referred to it in the car.”

Y/N blushes, “I don’t have any coffee here, but I can make you tea. Or hot chocolate.”

“Tea is good, sweetheart.”

The flush only deepens at the pet name. He’s not sure where it comes from — maybe easing into a relationship-type dynamic is easier than he thought, especially considering he’s been pushing it down since their kiss. He watches as she turns to face the kitchen counter, occupying herself with turning the kettle on and retrieving two tea bags and mugs. He wants nothing more than to hug her from behind, pressing his fingertips into her hips to squeeze them teasingly. To dip his head to the crook of her neck and press kisses along her delicate skin. He swallows and adjusts his trousers, willing the thickening erection tucked underneath to go away.

“How do you want it?” she asks, glancing behind her to look at him.

He coughs. “Sorry? How do I want what?”

“Your tea,” Y/N replies slowly, a small smile on her lips, “How do you want your tea, Harry?”

“Oh— um, however you take it is fine.”

She nods and busies herself with filling the mugs up with the boiling water. Once she’s finished, she slowly hands him the steaming cup. He smiles in gratitude, allowing their fingers to brush against one another in the pass-off.

“By the way,” she says lowly, blinking at him, “You’re doing a shit job of hiding your boner.”��

Her eyes crinkle in a smirk as she lifts the mug to take a sip of the warm liquid. Harry’s cheeks instantly warm and he stutters over his words, attempting to force out an apology. She lets him scramble for a moment before reaching out to curl her fingers over his wrist with a smile. 

“I’m just teasing you. I hope you know I don’t care.”

He huffs, setting his cup down on the dining room table, “Yeah, but I’m the one who told you we have to wait. And now I’m standing in your kitchen, getting hard over you making me tea.”

She giggles. “I consider that a compliment, to be honest.”

“I’m sure you do,” he grumbles, “You make me feel like a doped up, lovesick teenager.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he scoffs, “Everything you do does something to me. Even if you don’t mean it. It’s ridiculous.”

“What do you mean?”

He sends her a knowing look and she grins. 

“You know what I mean, Y/N.”

“You know I’m not good at reading between the lines, Harry.”

He sighs. “You turn me on. Even by doing the stupidest shit— knowing more about me in certain subjects, wearing those cute little skirts… it all drives me insane. I’ve been trying to keep it together, but I can’t.”

“Then don’t,” she replies almost instantly, placing her mug on the table next to his, “I don’t want to wait, Harry. I feel… I feel so stupidly desperate for you. And I want this— I want you.”

“I know, but—”

“But in any other context, if we didn’t meet this way, there wouldn’t be an issue,” she points out stubbornly, “If we had come back to mine after a date, we’d already be upstairs with our clothes off.”

He can’t help the way his cock jumps at her words and he mentally groans. He wants to yell into one of those cute throw pillows on her couch, or maybe lay face down on the fluffy carpet in her hallway. 

“Listen, I’m sorry if I’m crossing boundaries, we can just watch TV or something—”

“Stop,” he cuts her off with a shake of his head. “Can we just… Can I just kiss you again? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

Y/N blinks owlishly. Surprise is clear on her face, but it doesn’t stop her from nodding her head. As corny as it sounds — and Y/N knows it’s corny — it feels like magnets being pulled together. It’s not a moment longer before Harry’s palm is pressed gently against her cheek, his lips brushing up against hers. She’s nearly salivating at the thought of closing the gap between them and yet, at the same time, her brain is melting with lust. 

This kiss, unlike their first, is riddled with want. It’s hurried and sloppy, teeth clashing and tongues dipping into each other’s mouth. Harry’s hand slips from her cheek and down to the back of her neck, giving it a small, testing squeeze. She presses her chest impossibly closer to his, eyelashes flittering at the warmth radiating from the button-down he wears. She’s desperate to feel him, to eliminate any boundaries or distances between them — for the first time, she’s sick of playing games. 

“Upstairs,” she pants out through swollen lips. He takes her bottom lip between his teeth and pulls playfully, allowing it to snap back in place, “Take me upstairs, please.”

He swallows and her eyes find his Adam’s apple, nervousness settling in her chest. He gives her neck another squeeze. 

“Are you sure?” he breathes. She leans up to wrap her arms around his neck and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“If you’ll have me, I’m yours, Harry.”

“You’ve always been mine,” he mutters with his forehead against hers, “Show me the way, sweetheart.”

She grabs his hand in hers and lightly tugs him out of the kitchen. If she’s being honest, she’s fantasized of this moment for months now. She was never sure of how it would happen (the logistics never mattered in her daydreams), but having him here, standing in her bedroom, feels like some kind of joke her mind conjured up. 

But when he lays her back against the mattress, elbows digging into the soft tufts of her bedding, it feels a little like a hazy fantasy. 

When he parts her thighs and kneels down between them, pressing a smattering of kisses along her neck as his hands push the fabric of her thick sweater up, her labored breathing is the only anchor she has in reality.

And when he finds himself between her thighs, tugging her black tights down to reveal a sodden pair of underwear, a hiss sounding out from her mouth when he bares her center to the cool air of her bedroom, things begin to feel very, very serious.

“Is this okay?” he asks huskily. He’s since moved down to kneeling on the carpet of her room, his large palms parting the insides of her thighs. Every single move he makes drives her insane. 

“Yes,” she breathes, fingers gripping the blanket beneath her. 

He’s less calculated now that he’s received her consent. She instantly mewls the second he puts his mouth over her, licking through the wet fabric of her underwear. Her eyes roll back just from the muffled sensation, especially when he allows a low moan to vibrate from his chest. 

“Need more,” he mutters against the soft skin of his thigh as he pulls the material to the side. He inhales sharply at the sight of how wet she is, his fingertip gently tracing over the tip of her swollen clit. “You were hiding all this from me for months.” 

He states it as if it’s a fact — like she’d been doing it intentionally, when all she’s been doing is dreaming of the day he’d finally be the one to break. Through a shaky swallow, she parts her lips. 

“Didn’t mean it,” she murmurs, sitting up slightly to look down at him. It’s a heavenly vision — the image of the professor she’s been crushing on, on his knees for her in her bedroom. He sends a smirk her way as if he can read her thoughts (and maybe he can, she’s truly not sure anymore), and surges forward to dip his tongue through her folds, licking up the heady arousal dripping from her hole. It makes her gasp and reach down to grab his hair, a tight fistful of locks in her hand.

“Doubt it,” he says into her core. His fingertip continues tracing tight circles into her clit as he begins to flex his tongue inside of her, and Y/N’s back is arching against the expanse of her mattress from the wet, intoxicating sensations of it all. It’s nearly too overwhelming for her, especially given the sensitivity of her clit — but Harry can feel her tensing beneath his grasp, a delicious telltale sign that her peak is quickly rising. 

“Harry— oh my god—”

“I know,” he coos, replacing his tongue with two of his fingers. He presses against her g-spot and she gasps, grinding her hips down against his hands, “There you go, angel girl, cum on my fingers. That’s it, good girl.”

If his hands weren’t currently occupied, one would undoubtedly be wrapped around his length right now, twisting and pumping until he emptied himself to the sight of Y/N’s coming, pulsating pussy. It's better than any daydream he ever could have thought of — her moans are beautiful and whimpery, her body warm and pliant beneath his touch as she comes down. Sensitivity immediately takes over and she gently bats his hands away, panting out loudly from above. 

“Alright?” He asks softly, placing a light kiss to her thigh. He hears her swallow loudly. 

“Jelly,” she mumbles, “Limbs are jelly.”

That makes him chuckle as he sits back up on his knees. He hovers over the length of her body and smiles at her fucked out expression. 

“You’re pretty when you come.” He says before leaning down to peck her lips. 

“Yeah?” She asks teasingly, “Show me what you look like?”

Harry stills but she nips at his bottom lip playfully, “You didn’t cum in your pants just from eating me out, did you?” 

“Got pretty close to it.” He confesses, eyes falling shut as she continues pressing kisses to his jawline and down to his neck. 

She hums at the admittance as her hands rake down his chest, “Do you wanna fuck me?” 

“Whatever you want,” he swallows, the answer sounding far more submissive out loud than he’d intentioned, “Fine with… I’m fine with whatever.” 

“I want you to fuck me.” She says, looking up at him. “Is that okay?”

“That’s perfectly okay.” 

Y/N grins and begins to make quick work of shedding his layers of clothes. His button-down is the first to go, followed by his trousers and belt. Once he’s down to his briefs, she gently hints at wanting to climb on top. He has no reservations with that so he helps her straddle his thighs, watching as her eyes peer down at his covered length. 

“You look big.” She admits. 

He’s not sure if it’s meant to be a compliment or a nervous comment, so he silently issues a small squeeze to her hip. 

“Seriously,” she continues with a frown. “Other girls have taken you no problem?” 

This makes him laugh. “Generally, yeah.” 

“I don’t think it’s gonna fit.” 

Harry smirks. “This isn’t your way of telling me you’re a virgin, right?”

“No!” She exclaims theatrically, and that only amplifies his laughter. “I’m just… I’m nervous! You look really big Harry, seriously.” 

“Take me out then,” he instructs lowly and the tone of his voice zips straight to Y/N’s center, “I promise, you’re freaking yourself out over nothing.” 

She grumbles as he pulls his underwear down his legs. Harry kicks them off his ankles and she sighs as she takes him into her hand. He has to make an effort not to hiss at the feeling of it. 

“Still huge,” she mutters, “My hand barely fits around you, Harry.” 

“You’re making my ego insane, angel.”

She peers up at him, where his arm is tucked behind his head like he’s lounging the day away. She gives the head of his cock a small squeeze. 

“Do you really think it’ll fit?”

“Yes,” he chuckles, “If not, I’ll just go down on you for an hour and by then you’ll be open and wet enough.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, the thought of him spending an hour of his time between her thighs almost being too much to fathom. “‘M gonna try to put you in.”

“It’ll be fine, sweetheart. Just breathe and take your time. We can do a different position—“

“No,” she quickly shakes her head. “Wanna ride you. This is how I envisioned it.”

Harry’s eyebrow quirks at that but his curiosity is quickly replaced by pleasure when she hovers her hips over his length. The warmth from her previous orgasm is radiating off of her and he breathes out sharply when she pushes the tip in, her fingertips covering the sight. Harry reaches out to move them. “Need to see,” he grunts. 

Her jaw drops open as she slowly lowers onto him. Neither of them speak — it’s all entirely too consuming; her getting filled to the brim and him being surrounded by the tightest heat he’s ever felt. When she finally sinks down to his pelvic bone, her eyelashes flutter. 

“Can you move?” He asks through a slightly clenched jaw, “Or— do you need me to—“ 

“I can do it.” She replies as she steadily attempts to move her hips up. “Oh, that’s a lot.”

“Too much?”

She shakes her head, “It’s good. Is it good?”

“It’s amazing.” He breaths out, gritting his teeth as she moves up and down. 

With his reassurance under her belt, it’s easier for her to find a bit of rhythm, even if she has to place her hands down on his chest for stability. He happily places his own palms on top of them, curling his fingers around her wrists to help her. 

“There you go,” he encourages, leaning his head back against the pillow as he watches her. “You look so beautiful, holy shit.”

She moans when she finally figures out a pace that hits that soft spot inside of her, eyelashes fluttering from the constant pressure. Harry moves his hands down to her hips to assist in the maneuvers, but mainly because he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get sick of seeing his touch on her skin. She swallows harshly when she lifts a hand to coax at her swollen clit, a wet gasp sounding from her lips. Harry’s gaze lifts from where they’re connected to see widened eyes. 

“What’s the matter? Are you okay?” He asks in immediate panic. 

She nods quickly and reaches out to grab his hand and place it over his stomach. 

He thinks he may pass out. 

Beneath the soft, dimpled skin of her stomach, he can feel his length bulging in her tummy. If he looks close enough, he can see the faint outline. It takes everything in him not to snap. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters as she resumes her pace of bouncing on his cock. 

“Told you you were— oh— big,” she says stubbornly, and if he wasn’t so overwhelmed with the current state of her body, he probably would have had a comeback. But right now, all he can focus on is not blowing his load inside her. 

“Need you to come,” he grunts. She nods eagerly like a puppy and he smirks when her fingers return to her clit, rubbing tight circles. “Need you to come so I can paint that pretty pussy, yeah?” 

“Yes,” she mewls desperately. Her movements get jerkier and sloppier, but Harry has no problem meeting her hips. He thrusts up inside of her to hopefully reach the same spot, though his worry is quickly wiped away when he feels her muscles contract, her face twisting beautifully. 

He can barely help her through her orgasm before he’s pushing her into her side. He’s no longer inside and his hand has switched to keeping her thigh up as he pumps himself, groaning at the sticky mess between them. 

“Wanna feel it,” she whimpers almost pathetically, “Please Professor Styles, cum all over my pussy.” 

That’s all he needs before he’s bursting at the seams, ropes of thick, white cum covering her. He’s a groaning mess and he doesn’t even notice that she’s running her hand through his hair, playing with it gently, until he has nothing left to give. With a final whimper, he lays back against her bed, completely spent. 

When they’ve both caught their breath, Harry turns back onto his side to face her. 

“You alright?” he asks softly. He’s nervous to reach out and thumb at her cheek or press a kiss to her hand. For some reason, he feels like the situation is too delicate right now and he’s at risk of fucking it all up.

Y/N hums, “Mhm. Are you?”

“I am.” he answers with a thick swallow. “Is it okay if I hold you?”

“Please.”

His heart jumps and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his chest. He leans down and kisses her hair. 

They sit in the silence for a bit, Y/N finding comfort in Harry’s constant breathing, the sound of his heartbeat. 

And then: “So you envisioned this?”

She bites at the smile on her lips before she bats at his pecs, “Shut up. I know you did too.”

Harry has no problem admitting that she’s right.

[teamatsumu]

compression. (sakusa kiyoomi x reader)

summary: atsumu is the perfect person to feed your obsession with kiyoomi’s arms.

word count: 1172

warnings: swearing, very mildly suggestive (if you squint), detailed descriptions of kiyoomi’s arms in compression sleeves so it’s not for the faint hearted

tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi

When you studied Marketing and Communications in university, you didn’t exactly anticipate that your future would include you managing a V League Division 1 sports team. But every day when you went into work, you thanked the gods above that this is where your career path had led you, because that meant you could ogle Sakusa Kiyoomi and his infamous compression sleeves all day.

Oftentimes you were certain Kiyoomi didn’t mean anything by them. For him, they were practical. They kept his arms taut and ready for the ball. They made his movements sharper. He received the ball better. He didn’t have to feel his bare skin on the dirty court. These were all reasons you had heard straight out of his mouth. When you heard him mention them so nonchalantly, it almost made you feel bad for the absolutely sinful- borderline deranged- thoughts you had in your head about the way those sleeves made his arms look.

You were well aware of the kind of thoughts Kiyoomi’s choice of athletic wear caused among his fans. To put it simply and bluntly, they went feral over it. There were whole Twitter accounts dedicated to just his arms, or his chest. And as someone who often managed social media profiles for some of the members, you got to see the most unhinged of these comments with your own two eyes. And you would be the first to (secretly) admit that you agreed with 90% of what was being said, because holy shit did those sleeves do something to you.

Most of the time during practice, you could feel your eyes drift back over to the man in question, wearing a black sports tee and those godforsaken sleeves, working up quite the set as they played set after set to prepare for their next game. As the hours passed, Kiyoomi would get more and more disheveled, curls becoming unruly enough that he would grab a towel, biceps flexing as he ran it over the nape of his neck and dipped into the collar of his shirt. Christ almighty.

You should’ve known that you would eventually get caught. But if it was anyone who would notice, you had expected it to be Meian or maybe Coach Foster. But the person who did bring it up to you happened to be the biggest nightmare in this scenario; Miya Atsumu.

“Ya should be a little less obvious ‘bout it.” He commented when he trudged over to the bench where you sat, grabbing a water bottle and beginning to chug. You tore your eyes from Kiyoomi who now had his back to you, the muscles under his shirt flexing with every movement. You raised an eyebrow at the blond, not yet correlating his words with your hidden obsession. He placed the bottle down and placed a hand on his hip, giving you a knowing smirk.

“A blind grandma could notice the way yer lookin’ at him.”

Your eyes widened and cheeks flamed when he nudged his head in Kiyoomi’s direction, and you knew you had been caught. You clenched your jaw hard.

“You say a single word-”

He threw his hands up as if in surrender, effectively silencing your threat in its tracks.

“I won’t, promise! But there is one thing…..”

You groaned loudly, throwing your head back. Of course, of fucking course he would blackmail you with this.

“What do you want?” You deadpanned, glaring at him and preparing for the worst.

Atsumu looked a bit affronted, as if the mere insinuation that he might want something was preposterous to him. You gave him another tired look, until he sighed and gave up, plopping down heavily on the bench next to you.

“A phone number. Ya know that cute girl who comes by once a month? From the Volleyball Association?”

“No.”

Atsumu’s mouth dropped like a child who just got slapped. “Hey c’mon! Ya didn’t even hear me out!”

You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a characteristic frontal headache begin to build, courtesy of Miya Atsumu. “I’m tired of setting you up with people, Tsumu! It won’t end well, as always-”

“I’ll get you a picture of Omi with his compression sleeves.”

You give him an unimpressed look. “I can get hundreds of those off the internet.”

“I’ll get you a picture of Omi with just his compression sleeves.”

That made you halt in your tracks. You searched Atsumu’s face for any form of mockery or lie, and you found none. Your eyebrows shot up when you realized he was being serious.

“In the locker room. I can get it for ya today.”

Oh my god. Instinctively, your eyes darted over to the man in question, who was talking to Hinata about something. It looked like volleyball tips since he had his arms before him in a receiving position, and Hinata was rapidly nodding to what he was saying.

“No.” You shook your head. “No, that’s wrong.”

“I’ll take a selfie with him, yeah? He will know there’s a photo. And I can send it in the groupchat.”

You look back at Atsumu, seriously contemplating his offer. He kept yapping, as per usual, thinking that the more he talked, the likelier it would be to convince you. And the bastard was right, it was working.

“No one else will bat an eye. We see each other in the lockers all the time. No big deal.”

You bit your lip in thought. The possibility of seeing Kiyoomi shirtless and only in compression sleeves had your pulse rising.

“And you just want her number in return?”

Atsumu nodded eagerly. You gave him a narrow-eyed glare.

“Send the picture. Then I will give you the number.”

His triumphant grin made it feel like he had already won. “Deal.”

That evening, when your phone pinged with a text notification, you nearly flew across the bed to grab it, opening the picture Atsumu sent in the groupchat with eager fingers and freezing as soon as you laid eyes on it.

Atsumu had held up his end of the bargain spectacularly.

He had taken the picture with Kiyoomi a little further in the background, so he could get the man’s full torso in it. He was facing slightly away from the camera, but his face was turned towards it, capturing the scowl between his eyebrows and the little pout of his mouth. He was gloriously shirtless, still a bit sweaty from practice, and he held his shirt in his hand, one arm flexed as he held it while the other was held carelessly by his side, compression sleeves hugging the cords of toned muscles just right.

There was another ping, pulling you out of your trance and making you realize just how dry your mouth had gotten. Atsumu had messaged you privately.

“My payment? ;)”

You rolled your eyes and sent him the number, immediately going back to the picture and starring it for future reference, a tiny smile quirking up the corner of your lip as you did so.

[okwons]

my one and only

♡ enhypen ﹒ female reader genre fluff established relationship word count 400 warnings skinship mentions of food — bookshelf

heeseung | having you close to him

in most cases, he does it subconsciously; an arm or hand of his snaking around your waist whenever you enter his bubble of proximity.

he adores the elicited reactions from such minute gestures; frequently glancing back at you to engrave the flustered expression smothered over your face in his memory.

jay | saving you the last bite

when making a meal, he tends to cook a serving of two—despite your insistent protests. he’d rather have you eat well than himself; always making sure to leave you the last bite.

it wouldn’t just be a spoonful, it would most likely be half the dish. his way with words would have you persuaded to finish eating the other half, occasionally feeding you himself.

jake | opening the door for you

following his gentleman agenda, he never lets you open a door yourself. often times, he races to the door handle before you can even lay a finger on it.

an example being, opening the car door for you before he gets in himself, managing to slip in a cheesy petname like “m’lady” in the process.

sunghoon | eye contact

a simple, but heart fluttering gesture that he does unknowingly. no matter how many people in the room, his gaze would always linger back to you.

he finds himself full on admiring you; his mouth slightly agape while his orbs are pouring with love. the lengthy eye contact between you two never fails to make his heart skip a beat.

sunoo | touching up your hair

if he happens to see a strand of your hair in its unjust place, he wouldn’t hesitate to fix it. he’s quite observant when it comes to you; taking into account your usual way of doing things.

he would probably be the type to buy you cute hair pins that compliment your hair perfectly. the way your face lights up whenever you receive them only makes him want to shower you with hundreds more.

jungwon | remembering the smallest details

he holds onto every word you say to him, no matter how futile it may seem to you, he makes sure to encapsulate them in a separate corner of his mind.

he notes even the smallest details you share with him, adding in things like “oh! i remember you telling me this.” or “isn’t this your favorite?”

riki | lending you his clothes

a privilege only given to you, given the fact that you look ten times better in his clothes rather than your own. it’s completely off limits to others, but when it comes to you; he simply turns a blind eye.

he finds you adorable in clothes that are twice your size, never giving up the chance to gawk at you whenever he sees you enter his room with one of his oversized tees.

© okwons ot7 headcanons take so long to write hhh

@hysgf @beomgyu-stan-present @okwonyo @byhees

[angels-fantasy]

Omg, CONGRATULATIONS LITTLE BEAN 🎉 I'm so so happy and proud of you ❤️ Your writing is great, and I can't wait to see you expand and unleash your creativity even more!

I'd love to ask for "asking them what they first thought of you" with either Bakugo or Dani, whatever suits you better 🫰🏻

Asking Them What They First Thought Of You

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Dabi/Touya Todoroki x Reader

Details: mm nothing crazy but bakugou drops the L WORD also dabi might be ooc 😪

Word Count: 531

HII omg thank you for this request and kind message tee hee im so sorry i responded late T^T so i will give you both dabi and bakugou!!

Dabi:

"hey dabi, what did you think about me when we first met?"

dabi's face scrunched up at that question. he didn't really remember, if he was being completely honest, he just knew he was extremely wary of you since he didn't know anything about you at the time.

but, he did notice that you didn't let his distant personality bother you, and that meant something to him.

he played with a lock of your hair, twirling it around his fingers as he thought of an answer. "i dunno, i just know i didn't trust you." he said, making you frown up at him.

"you can't be a little more romantic about it?" you grumbled, making him let out a husky laugh.

"sorry, romance isn't really my thing. but if it makes you feel better, i did think you were hot."

you smacked him on the shoulder, "shut up!"

he hissed, "ouch, you pack a punch huh?"

you humphed and flexed your arm, "you bet i do."

he laughed lightly and looked up at the ceiling, "seriously though, i didn't trust you at all in the beginning and i definitely thought you were attractive... but then you helped me learn how to trust you, so i started to think of you as a good person. better than me, at least."

since dabi was looking away, he didn't notice the tears welling up in your eyes and only realized you were crying when he heard you sniffle.

"dabi! that's so sweet." you cried, "y-you've never said anything so cute before."

he groaned, "yes i have!"

you ignored his words and wiped your nose on his shoulder, making him sigh.

Katsuki:

"katsuki! what did you think about me when we first met?"

"i thought you were annoying." he replied immediately, making you pout.

"be serious! i know you don't mean that."

he sighed and closed his eyes while he thought of an answer, opening them a few seconds later and turning to face you.

"i guess i thought you were pretty interesting, unlike every other extra we know-"

"what have i told you about calling people extras?" you asked, cutting him off and making him grumble.

"anyways - you weren't as annoying or dumb as everyone else so i allowed you around me." he said and crossed his arms.

you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and laid your head on one of them, "are you sure it wasn't my good looks and charming personality?"

he smiled and moved you around slightly so he could wrap his arms around you instead. "maybe that was a part of it, but only a little bit." he teased.

you laughed, knowing he was only messing with you.

he smiled at your laughter, happy that you knew he was joking with you. that was something that a lot of people misunderstood about him. qmost of the time his harsh words and tone had no meaning behind them, but not everyone knew that. so when you came around and you immediately caught onto that, he knew he had to keep you around.

"love you kats" you said, voice muffled by his chest that you were squished in.

"mm, love ya too."

authors note

i hope you enjoyed :')

taglist for bakugou fics: @doumadono @shonen-brainrot @b134ch-m4h-ey3z

[moralesmilesanhour]

teamwork (makes the dream work...?) epilogue

summary: they ass is NOT doing homework 🤣

wc: 1k+

A/N: That's a wrap, guys! tysm for reading and enjoying!

prev 'if you believe in me'

“Miles, what is this emo shit you got me listening to?” you laughed.

Miles was currently in the middle of an imaginary drumming solo next to you, with two mechanical pencils as drumsticks. Once the final cymbal crashed, he turned to you to respond.

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s emo, that beat goes crazy. You done with your conclusion yet?” 

You rolled your eyes.

“No, but I’ve got all my body paragraphs together.”

“That shit is due Monday,” the boy adjusted his glasses, “Mr. Padilla don’t do extensions.”

Shutting your laptop in protest, you got up and stretched your arms. “Can we take, like, a ten-minute break?”

Miles smirked. “The last half hour felt like a ‘break’, but sure.”

The smirk fell from his face when he noticed you staring at something on his desk.

“Aye, don’t touch nothing–”

“Is this me?”

Too late.

Miles’ notebook was already in your hands, flipped to a page full of sketches of your face. There were little lines scratched out next to each sketch, as if he were measuring the proportions of your eyes, nose, ears... 

His lines were sharp and geometrical, as always, but they softened at your hair and lips. Speaking of lips, there was an oddly-detailed sketch of them off to the side. He’d even managed to include the suggestion of gloss.

You looked up to see Miles standing in front of you with his arms crossed, expression unreadable. 

“You done invading my privacy yet?” 

“Nope,” you placed a finger on the page. “How long did you need to stare at my face for this?”

You held back a laugh when he tensed visibly.

“Not long enough for it to matter,” he deadpanned, finally snatching the notebook out of your hand. “It was just a study.”

“Oh, so you’ve been ‘studying’ my lips? Got it.”

Miles’ eyes flickered down at them as you spoke before he returned to his spot on the bed. “Whatever. Break’s over.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” you teased as you followed him, “the drawings are nice! You made me look prettier.”

The boy looked at you like he wanted to say something - to argue - but he remained silent. You elbowed him playfully in the side.

“What, you think I’m ugly, then? I’m telling you, Morales, one day we gon’ fight–”

“No,” he interrupted.

“Complete sentences, please,” you mimicked, laughing when the boy sucked his teeth in response.

“Fine. No, you’re not ugly, and I like drawing you. Can we move on?”

With a triumphant smile, you finally cracked open your laptop again. “Yes, yes we can. I need your genius powers to proofread this for me.”

Miles leaned in to get a good look at your screen, hitting you with the crisp scent of sports deodorant and some generic brand of lotion. You watched his eyes dart back and forth as he read your work out loud to himself in a low mutter. While he read, your gaze drifted away from the screen and landed on his side profile. His ears were now delightfully occupied by tiny gold studs that you would’ve missed at a farther distance. Past his jawline at the nape of his neck, a thin gold chain peeked out at you from beneath his black graphic tee.

Your eyes met Miles’ the moment you brought them back up to his face, amusement playing on his features.

“Yo, are you good? There something on my shirt?”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “Go back to reading.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m done. I just said you need to switch these two body paragraphs so they flow better.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” he laughed, dimples on display. “I’m scared I’mma get my face stolen one day. Do you stare at everybody like that?”

A beat of silence passed as you considered whether to say something bold a second time, if not just for a reaction.

“...Nah, it’s just you.”

Miles blinked, the smile dropping from his face. “Huh?”

“You’re nice to look at, and I can’t draw you in my notebook to make it last longer,” you tilted your head comically. “Staring will have to do.”

Like clockwork, the boy’s hand shot up to his ear to toy with his piercing. He glanced out of the window. 

“The sun’s setting, you should really get that essay done,” he blurted out before narrowing his eyes at you. “What’s so funny?”

You had a hand over your mouth to stifle the laughter. “I’m sorry,” you giggled, “it’s funny when you’re nervous.”

Miles scoffed.

“I’m not nervous.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you sang, beginning to type your conclusion paragraph.

There was no response. 

Your typing slowed as the silence grew long, feeling Miles’ eyes on you until you finally stopped to look at him quizzically.

“Yes?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

He leaned in closer until your noses were in danger of brushing each other, looking determined despite the rapid rise and fall of his chest. You met his gaze with a challenge.

“Well? You just gon’ sit there?”

Miles couldn’t hear anything above the heartbeat pounding in his ears, his eyes squeezed shut as he closed the distance between you. 

No one told him that kissing would feel this weird.

For one, your lip gloss wasn’t half as sticky as he’d anticipated it to be, tasting like artificial fruit flavoring. Your sweaty palm came up to rest on the side of his face and kept him anchored as his breath stuttered. Having no idea where he would put his hands (another thing no one had explained to him), he kept them flat on the mattress for support as you deepened the kiss and he leaned back. 

Your hand was gripping his chin now to guide his face. Having kissed at least two other boys before, you had a vague idea of where it was supposed to go. Unlike the other two, Miles was tense, almost unmoving, despite being the initiator.  

Miles’ head buzzed when you pulled away, chuckling softly.

What the hell was so funny? The boy felt white hot blood rapidly coursing through all of the veins in his body at once. He thought he might start floating, like a hot air balloon. Or explode. Or vomit. Preferably the first one.

“Are you okay?” you asked, dropping your hand. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

He blinked slowly, three times. “Yeah, I’m…fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. That was, um…” 

Hand on the neck. “Interesting.”

“A good interesting, I hope,” you laughed.

Miles tilted his head, a small grin spreading across his lips.

“I don’t think I’d mind doing that again.”

Handing the boy your phone, you said, “I think you’d need my number for that.”

-

[blankwashed]

TOJI FUSHIGURO - SLUTTIN’ IN THE CAFE

“mmm yes cling on to me baby, you’re so fucking wet for me y’know?” he tightens his grip around your neck. “ma fucken’ slut aren’t ya? drippin’ wet before the store closes, before daddy can feast on ya….”

your only reply was to yell moan at the pleasure your boyfriend was giving you. his large hands were snaking up your shirt, cold hands touching your hot flesh making you shriek. you needed him, you needed his thick cock sliding down your throat as you gasp for more.

“s-so cold…” you mumbled, just a whisper to him. toji smirked at how fucked up you were at this point. breathless, dripping and shameless. the shutters to the cafe weren’t brought down yet, giving a possibility to whoever would walk pass the store late at night.

“ya like it don’t cha? hmm?” he peppered kisses on your neck to your sternum. “wanna be a little public swinger, huh?”

you were lost for words, eyes and mouth drooling with tears and saliva. all you could do was to nod, unsure of what he would do next. looking into his green alluring eyes that hinted on years of experience and wisdom. they were telling you a story that only you could fulfil.

toji’s smirk darkened and licked his lips sensually, “but all of this..” he referred to your clothed body, “is mine. no one else gets to see what you have beneath your clothes other than me, doll.”

he didn’t like how you were silent and gave your ponytail a tug, making you yelp. “c’mon doll, you can do better than that can’t you? show daddy how he’s making ya feel,” toji continues as his face was centimetres away from yours. your heart was beating so fast as if it was on a race track and you were sweating with drops trickling from your forehead.

you tried to unleash yourself from his grasp, only inches away from him. as each button was removed, you noticed his breath was getting heavier and louder, as if he was a jaguar ready to pounce on its prey…before he stopped you.

“leave ya apron on, doll.”

confused, you followed his orders, stripping yourself naked except for the pink frilly hello kitty apron.

“…like this, daddy?” you asked, timidly but also clearly flustered. toji nodded and lifted your chin up with his hand, “perfect, kitten.” he said.

you suddenly were anxious, worried that security or the boss of the cafe were to step in unannounced. your eyebrows furrowed and you bit your lip while looking back and forth from the windows to toji.

he noticed your worry but only gave out a chuckle, “doll, im not going to close the doors tonight. because….you’ve been a bad, bad girl..”. you were confused, bad? what did you do today? all you did was serve drinks and cakes to the customers.

“b-but daddy, i didn’t do anything!” you tried to voice out but all that came out was a squeak. your unoccupied hands were playing with the frills of your apron.

“oh where should i start, doll?” he brought his hands to your waist, bringing you closer to him, ass facing his cock. he ground his hard cock against your dripping hole, making you whimper. “you were wearing a low-cut shirt today, weren’t cha? were you trying to tease me or to get me angry huh doll?” he growled into your ear.

it was true, you did wear the low-cut tee to tease him but you didn’t know this was what you were going to get. “s-sorry daddy! n-no more, i wont do it anymore i promise! i’ve learnt my lesson, please dadd-!” you cried out as loud as you could. as you were whimpering, toji gave your round ass a loud smack.

“AH!” your tears flowing even more at the impact of his hand.

“this has happened to you before my sweet doll, haven’t you learnt your lesson yet? or are ya trynna get daddy angry again?” he leans closer to your face after turning you around. gripping your face with his hands, you were able to see each detail of his muscular face.

you knew that the only way you were able to make him forget about your misbehaviour was to suck his cock. but..with the windows and door unlocked?

it doesn’t matter to you anymore whether anyone saw your public display of sex. if you don’t please daddy, he’s going to ruin you. kneeling down on nothing else other than the cafe’s floors, you brought down his jogger pants, always a choice for toji who has a thicc dick. its loose enough to hide his dick when he’s hard.

“fuckin’ slut…only thing you wanna do is suck me off, don’t you? such a fuckin’ slut, should tie you to my dick next time…” this wasn’t his protest but it made you salivate more. toji brought his hands to grasp your hair into a pony tail again, “girl, i think you’ve got to bring your hair up more next time..its going to make everything easier y’know?”

nodding, you started to take inches of him into your throat. his cock was hitting the back of your throat causing you to gag and make sounds that were music to his ears. “faster, bitch. and use ya hands..do i have to teach ya everythin’ again?” he mocked you while you were a slobbering mess, eyelash fallen to god knows where.

your mind only had past memories of toji cumming right on your pussy, your stomach, your face, your bed, you name it. it was fuel for you to help him teach his peak. on the other hand, you felt so dirty having his rough hands around your private parts. his tongue drooled on the pink nub of your pussy.

he’s nose deep into your soft pussy folds. “oh daddy, when have you not made me feel good?” you let out a sigh while letting his cock out of your mouth. you were unruly at this point, with only one goal in your mind, to make him cum all over your face.

toji was having his hands in your hair, bringing your face closer to his torso. the veins of his cock, bulging, ready to burst at any time. the cold air from the air-conditioning hitting your perky nipples, making them irresistible to toji.

“mmm daddy, cum already…my mouth’s tired..” you pouted, mouth away from his dick but your hands still jacking him off.

“ya’ sure? want me to cum already, dirty slut? c’mere” toji aligned himself, millimeters away your ass. he also knows how much you love it when he smacks your ass, he gropes and places his fingers through your hole. as he pummeled his cock deep into you, you let out throat screams of “ow!” and “ahh!”s.

“too much fo’yah, kitten? gotten so tight..stranglin' daddy's cock” he smirked and continue drilling till you became limp in his hands.

it was too much for you, the public sex, his large hands touching your skin. “fuck daddy…i’m coming, please please let me cum daddy!” you shouted while trying to grip onto any of his flesh in your reach. “same here, doll. we come at the same time mmkay?” he sped his hips up and grabs plush of your breast in his hands. the pain brought you to an overdrive, making you reach your climax almost immediately.

“floor, slut. lemme cum on your face, what a dirty slut…cumin’ before me huh..” he pushed you down into a sitting position and aimed his cock in front of your face. your feeble hands were trying to assist him but were whacked away by him. his eyes were closed and breathing was ragged when he splurged over your tiny face.

with your eyes closed, you licked your lips for the taste of his cum. toji chuckled, “c’mon. im sure the security guards are patrolling soon. and remember, your body is only mine.”

i couldn’t sleep i needed to finish this. this was a fantasy of mine when i was working in a cafe as a waitress fr :3 sometimes it got so boring with the lack of customers, my mind just goes places.

[ghostbeam]

Tomura shigaraki x reader, tomura is an art student, takes place in the same universe as my charcoal artist!dabi stuff, tomura is like very insecure in some of this, if the writing feels pretentious and flowery and unnecessary that’s because it is<3

His hair is getting long.

Running your fingers through the ends, you notice how it’s nearing his shoulders now. His head is in your lap, staring up at you as you lean against the mountain of pillows on your bed, clad in a pair of underwear and the tee shirt he arrived in. His jeans are stained with paint, hanging low on his hips, unbuttoned and quickly thrown on so he wasn’t naked and vulnerable in your lap. You thumb at the scar by the corner of his mouth and he kisses it, then your palm, then your wrist. Tomura takes your hand in between three careful fingers and places it over his heart.

Love is not how they told you it would be.

The two of you were assigned to the same group in painting iii, formed so that the students could give one another critiques independently. Only, you couldn’t find a single thing to critique in his work.

Tomura worked with oils—or Tomura lived and breathed and died for them. He painted people, always caught in a moment, in the middle of talking, or yelling, or drinking, or sleeping. His attention to detail was unlike anything you’d ever seen before, colors you’d never realized could appear in skin tones, shine on limbs and cheeks that made his subjects both more alive and human than any real person. His work felt sort of dirty, sweaty, perpetually damp. But it was beautiful. You couldn’t say a thing about it.

He’d confronted you about it one afternoon, stuffing handouts from the professor into his bag, which looked to be filled with more loose paper and no text books.

“Do you hate it that much?” It was the first time he’d ever talked to you, actually talked to you and not just about your work during a critique. “You never have anything to say.”

It stuns you for a moment, his anger and annoyance, how he’s decided to aim it at you instead of the group of people clamoring for issues with his painting all class period.

“I’m supposed to point out flaws, tell you where you could have done better, explain how I wasn’t moved,” you explain, staring down at your shoes, “but I can’t do that. There’s not—I don’t see how I could possibly tell you how you could do better.”

“That’s bullshit.” He mutters, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t just say what I want to hear. I won’t like you any more for it.”

He leaves you standing alone in the classroom. Like you? He thought it was about being liked? You’re in such awe of him that you can’t speak, and he thinks you’re just trying not to hurt his feelings.

During the next class, when he stands before your group for critique, you don’t say a word. And he keeps looking at you like he’s waiting for it, like you’ll be angry enough at him for last week that you’ll rip his painting apart. But your silent, once again. Nothing’s changed.

He’s the first one out of the class once you’re dismissed. He walks fast, and you’re out of breath by the time you catch up with him, resting a hand on his shoulder that he flinches away from. Your breath comes out in quick puffs that you can see, wrapping your coat tighter around yourself as you fix him with a glare.

“You’re wrong.” You say once he’s turned around. “I don’t care if you like me or not after critique. It’s not about sparing your feelings. I’ve never seen anything like what you do. And I watch you in class, and you paint like something is clawing it’s way out of you, like you need to do it or you’ll die.”

“You’re honest with everyone else but me.” He argues, unable to accept your words. You have real things to say to your peers. You don’t hold back with them. You make them better. Why couldn’t you do that for him?

“You are not everyone else.” You watch his eyes widen at your words, and if you had any shame, maybe you wouldn’t have said something so bold. “You’re leagues above all of us. Everyone knows it, and that’s why they’re harsh on you.”

Where you say nothing, your group rips into him, picking at each and every detail until there’s nothing left. He takes it all in stride, accepting their words like it’s absolute truth, and returning to his canvas with sunken shoulders and furrowed brows, concentrated on how he could be better. It’s exactly what they want.

He opens his mouth the say something, but stops, feeling a drop of something fall on his cheek. He looks up at the dark clouds above the two of you, and it begins to rain. He curses, taking a hold of your hand and leading you underneath the front of the design building.

“They’re harsh because I deserve it.” He points out, still holding your hand. You could say a million things right now, tell him in detail how moved you are by every piece he makes, but his hand is still in yours, and you don’t trust yourself not to trip over your words because of it. You can only shake your head.

“Why can’t you accept that you’re brilliant?” You question, exasperated. It makes him laugh, his smile being something you’ve never seen before. It makes you think of all the people who have seen this smile before, the stretch of his lips, the creases by his eyes. Had they felt this lucky?

“I think you’re crazy.” He tells you, knocking his knuckles against your head.

“Do you wanna go out?” You ask before you’re able to stop yourself. He leans away from you, surprised.

“What?” You can’t find the words to speak, to tell him you’re sorry, that it was uncalled for, that you’re a total creep. His face is red, you notice. He speaks a moment later, “yes.”

Rising from your lap, he leans over you, kissing your lips with as much tenderness as he had your palm. Your lips are his favorite thing to paint, second only to your thighs which he grips tightly as he wraps your legs around his waist.

When he’d met you, all full of hope and belief in him of all people, he’d thought of you as such a faraway thing. Unattainable. If you couldn’t talk about his work, there was no way you’d ever talk to him. But he was wrong, something he rarely ever is, your faith in him changing how he viewed his own art forever.

He paints you. He paints you a lot. He even paints the two of you together, though your faces are never in those ones, just bodies tangled together on one canvas. He’d call you his muse if you didn’t hate it. And besides, he knows you’re so much more.

If there had been something inside of him clawing it’s way out, you had noticed it, freed it, kept it safe with you so it wasn’t so agonizing to carry on his own.

No, it’s not how they told him it would be at all.

[heartateasee]

“House Call”

Warnings: Slight degradation, bondage, hair pulling, brief spanking, a bit of spitting and unprotected sex

Word Count: 11.9k

✧✧✧

With her heels clicking against the floor, Rowan made her way through the lobby of the office building. She looked at the directory on the wall, locating the name 'Starr Entertainment' before stepping into the elevator and selecting the correct floor. She fiddled with the heavy gold watch on her wrist as she watched the number change on the screen in the box she was occupying.

She stepped out of the elevator once she got to the proper floor, walking down the hall to suite 710. Her eyes wandered around the hallway to make sure no one was watching before slipping inside.

The last thing she needed was an employee, or an investor of hers, seeing her enter this type of place.

Rowan looked to the man behind the desk as she walked forward.

"Hi, I have a meeting with Steven," she said confidently.

The man's eyes wandered over her, and he raised an eyebrow. "You're Rowan?"

She was sure that her clean and tidy appearance made it hard for him to believe that she was coming here to hire a male stripper, but it was her friend's thirtieth birthday. Maggie always talked about how she wanted to be surprised with a stripper on one of her birthdays, so Rowan decided what better birthday to do it for than this one.

The only issue - her and Maggie have very different taste in men. Rowan knew what Maggie liked, but that little detail was going to make this a bit difficult for her.

"Yes, that's me," Rowan answered with a nod of her head. "I'm due at a business dinner in an hour, so I need this to move as quickly as possible, please."

Steven rolled his eyes with a sigh and stood from the desk. "I'm Steven, follow me."

They walked down the hall a bit before he turned into what looked like a proper office with binders on the desk.

"Those are my guys that I've got currently," he said pointing at them. "Take your pick, and I'll let you know who's available that day out of the ones you choose."

"I can't just tell you what she likes and you pick some options out for me?" Rowan asks, a little frustrated as she really didn't have time for all this.

"Nope," Steven answered, sitting down on the couch that was also in this space. "It's easier if you do it yourself, trust me."

Accepting the fact that she was going to have to do all the work on her own, Rowan flipped open the binder and began to work through it - page by page after she sat down in the office chair. Each page contained 4 pictures of the men, none of them naked, however, as that's not the kind of business they ran at this particular entertainment agency. The men only ever got down to their underwear, and that's the main reason why Rowan chose them.

She didn't want to have to look at the dick of a man who was not her type.

She had been flipping for about five minutes or so before she stopped, glancing over one of the guys, and giving his page a bit more attention than the others.

'Harry Styles - 29 - 6'0".'

Steven made note that Rowan dwelled on the particular man she was looking at, and he popped up from the couch, standing to look over her shoulder.

"Ah, Harry," he said with a bit of a nod. "He's one of our most popular, but that's because he's good. Been with me for a little over three years now."

Rowan swallowed thickly as she stared at the pictures provided. He was toned, she'd give him that, but all the tattoos didn't do it for her. However, she knew they'd do it for her friend. She chewed on the inside of her bottom lip before hearing a knock on the open door.

"Hey boss," a raspy British accent filled the room, and Rowan and Steven both looked over. "I'm just here to pick up my check."

Steven smirked softly. "Well, if it isn't the man himself. I think we have another booking for you, Styles. Rowan here was just eying your page."

Rowan's eyes trailed over Harry, who was dressed in a pair of light blue flared jeans, and a white ringer tee that had red adorning the collar and the cuffs of the sleeves. The material strained against his large biceps, and the light colored shirt made the black ink against his tanned skin stand out even more.

His curls were a little messy, and his striking green eyes were staring right back at Rowan. A crooked grin appeared on Harry's lips as he chewed a piece of gum between his molars.

"Is that so?"

He made his way into the office, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"That's not entirely true," Rowan said after clearing her throat. "I'm still looking through."

Harry scoffed and leaned down to place his hands on the edges of the desk, fingers curling around it. "And what would it take to convince you that I'm the perfect choice?"

Rowan made note of how his muscles flexed when clutching to the wooden surface, along with the ticking of his jaw every time he'd bite down on his gum.

"Nothing, like I said, I'm still looking."

Licking over his bottom lip, Harry straightened up and grabbed the back of his shirt between his shoulder blades. He pulled it up and over his head, tossing it onto the nearby couch before running a hand up and through his hair.

"How about now?" He asked.

Rowan could've cursed herself for not only the way her stomach flipped at the sight of his bare torso, but also the clenching of her thighs.

"Well, you're a cocky one, aren't you?" Rowan questioned with a raise of her brow. "Four nipples, and what is that...a dick disguised in a banana peel around your neck?"

Harry let out a laugh, tilting his head back. "I can assure you that no one cares about my extra two nipples when I'm grinding over their lap, and you're right - a banana dick."

Rowan knew he'd be perfect for her friend, and it sucked because she wished she could shoot him down in order to bruise his ego, but she knew she couldn't be selfish about this.

"Fine, but I'll need you to dress up."

"That's fine," Harry said with a shrug, walking over to the couch to retrieve his shirt. "Nothing I haven't done before."

"Grease is her favorite movie, so you'll be dressing as Danny Zuko that evening," Rowan stated as she stood up, shutting the binder. She rounded the desk and crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned against the front of it. "I'll get all the clothing you'll need, just give me your sizes, and then we can meet a few days before the party so I can give them to you."

"Any song in particular I should keep in mind?"

Rowan almost didn't hear his question as her focus was on his muscles rippling as he moved his arms around to get his shirt back on.

"Grease Lightning would probably be the best," she said. "Seems fitting."

Harry snorted out a laugh while shaking his head. "Sure does."

Rolling her eyes, Rowan fished her credit card out of her purse to hand over to Steven. "My friend's gonna love you. Me? Not so much."

Harry's eyebrows narrowed as he moved closer to her while Steven moved out of the office. He was on a mission to write up the contract, and to run Rowan's card back at the desk he was sitting at previously.

"You're not my type at all. I don't like tattoos," Rowan said, smirking now that she was finally able to take a jab at him. "And I like my men sophisticated, something you're clearly not."

Harry ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek as he tilted his head to the side. "I'll have you changing your mind at that party of yours, I'm sure."

Now Rowan was the one to laugh, pressing a hand to her stomach as she doubled over. "You really are so full of yourself, huh? I can assure you that my mind will not be swayed."

Harry leaned down so he could be eye level with her, and she could instantly smell the spearmint from his gum as it filled her nostrils. "We'll see about that, sweetheart."

Before she could even comprehend the closeness they just shared, Harry was sending her a wink before walking out of the office.

She didn't like the way he made her feel. He wasn't her type, and he wouldn't be an exception no matter how hard he tried.

Steven returned shortly after, having her read over the contract and sign it. He provided her with Harry's measurements, and said just to call up the office and arrange a time for the two of them to meet up for her to hand over the clothes.

Rowan thanked him for his time before heading out and into the elevator. Her mind was boggled as she looked down at the copy of the contract in her hand, and she couldn't resist flipping to the page that had Harry's photos on it.

The elevator dinging caused her to jump, and she quickly folded up the papers while exiting the office building.

✧✧✧

It was Saturday night, and the night of Maggie's birthday party. Rowan was running around like a mad woman as she tried to make sure everything looked perfect. She had insisted on having the party at her place, and that's mostly because she had more room here than Maggie had at her apartment.

She didn't want anyone to feel crowded considering there were about 15-20 women coming other than Maggie and herself. Also, she'd rather not be confined to such a tight space with Harry.

Just the thought of him caused Rowan to tighten her grip on the vegetable tray she had in her hands as she walked over to her dining room table.

Her and Harry had met up earlier this week so that she could drop off everything he needed for Danny, and, of course, they had just continued making jabs at each other.

"Here's everything you're going to need - muscle tank, leather jacket, dark skinny jeans, a black belt and the shoes," Rowan told Harry, shoving the shopping bag into his chest. "Please, make sure you only wear these things. I didn't get you white socks because I figured you'd already have those."

Harry opened the bag and looked down at everything before fixing his gaze back to Rowan, tilting his head to the side. "I thought you said you would be supplying everything I need, and your costume requires me to wear white socks, right?"

Rowan was clenching her teeth so hard she thought they could break. "Are you fucking kidding me? I really don't have time for this right now. I'm just supposed to drop this off to you and go."

"There's a store right there," Harry continued to push, pointing at the building. "Let's run in real quick and you can buy them for me."

"I told you, I don't have time - I have somewhere I need to be in twenty minutes," Rowan stated firmly, pulling her phone out to check the time. "Yep, twenty minutes, no time. You can figure that one part out on your own."

"Where do you have to be so urgently? It's after work hours, and I know you're not going on a date."

"As a matter of fact, I am," Rowan said proudly, shrugging her shoulders. "So, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go, and I'll see you on Saturday."

Harry whistled out, shaking his head as he shot Rowan a smug smirk. "Feel sorry for whoever has to deal with your shitty attitude for the whole night. You're definitely not going to get laid."

Rowan kept her expression stoic, but she truly wanted to grimace at his words. "I've never had an issue with that before. I think I'll be just fine, but thanks for your concern."

She moved to walk around him, but Harry was quick to wrap his hand around her forearm - causing her to spin around and collide with his chest. "Oh, please don't think of my thoughts as me being concerned for you. Just find you a little pathetic is all."

Eyebrows narrowed, Rowan ripped her arm from Harry's grip. "Who the hell do you think you are speaking to me that way?"

"I think you're the woman who practically insulted not only my appearance, but also my level of sophistication when we first met. I'm just giving you back what you dealt to me."

"As if you think I care about what you have to say or think about me," Rowan told him, shaking her head. "See you Saturday."

Thinking about their encounter made a sense of anger settle in Rowan's chest. The fact she had to see him tonight had her skin crawling, but she'd grin and bear it so that her friend could have the best birthday ever.

The party started promptly, and about an hour in she heard a knock at the door. She had been the one to greet the guests all evening, and she was mostly doing that so she could quickly hide Harry from her friends once he arrived since no one knew about this surprise.

She walked over and opened the door, gasping as she saw Harry in front of her. He was already in costume, the tight black jeans hugging his toned legs, and he had his curls back in the proper hairstyle. It was also obvious that he had sprayed his hair black for the occasion.

The leather jacket hung perfectly over his torso, and she could see the ripples of his muscles through the muscle tank that covered his abdomen. There was a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and she figured it was probably the clothes he wished to change into once he was done.

"So...are you going to let me in, or are you just going to stand there and continue to gawk at me?"

Harry's voice snapped Rowan out of her daze, and she brought her eyes up to look into his. She cleared her throat as she reached out to grab his arm, pulling him inside. She shut the door behind him, and turned to face him while holding her index finger over her lips.

She walked quickly across the hall to her guest room, and closed them in.

"Okay, so give me like five minutes, and I'll start the music-"

Rowan looked down all the way to Harry's shoes, and noticed that he didn't have socks on, his bare ankles showing due to his jeans being rolled up.

"Where are your socks?" She asked with wide eyes. "Are you seriously going to be that petty?"

"A deal is a deal," Harry said as he plopped down on the side of the plush bed, allowing his bag to slide off his shoulder and meet the floor. "In the contract that you signed, it said that you would supply every part of the costume. That includes the socks, Miss CEO."

Rowan scowled at him as she walked to the dresser in the room, beginning to rummage through the drawers.

"You're so fucking frustrating, you know that?" She complained while moving things around.

Her brother would spend the night with her often when he was in town on business, and she was sure that he had to have left some socks here over the course of his many stays.

"This wouldn't have been an issue tonight if you had gotten them to begin with, or if you had decided to be just a little late for your date. We could've gone into that store together and picked some out right then and there."

Rowan's movements halted when Harry brought up her date, and she shuddered when she thought about the awful sex she had that night. They say size doesn't always matter, which can sometimes be true, but when you don't even know what to do with what you have, how do you ever expect to get someone off?

They had gone back to his place, and Rowan dipped out before they could even finish. The douchebag hardly touched her, and the sex had been going on for about ten minutes without either one of them even getting close to their orgasms. Rowan was the one to speak up, and she practically flung the man off of her so she could scurry around the room and gather her belongings.

Harry chuckling right behind her caused Rowan to jump, and she quickly turned around after grabbing a pair of socks from the drawer. He didn't put his hands on her, and he didn't put his hands on the dresser to cage her in, but he did walk forward so they were chest to chest once again.

"Your face, and your body language, tells me everything I need to know about your little date," he said before running his tongue along the front of his top teeth. He took the socks from Rowan, tossing the bundle in the air before catching it. "You were left unsatisfied."

Rowan wanted to shut him up, and it pissed her off even more that she wanted to shut him by putting her lips against his instead of it being her fist colliding with his mouth.

"That's hardly the truth," she lied, shaking her head. "And it's also none of your business. You're here to do your job, not pester me about my personal life."

The smirk that curled onto Harry's lips had Rowan's knees buckling, and she reached behind her to brace herself on the dresser. She cursed herself internally, having made it so obvious that he had a hold on her considering how he looked tonight.

"You okay there, Rowan? Looking a little flushed," Harry teased, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Hearing her name tumble from Harry's lips had her almost falling out on the floor, no matter how much the surface behind her was stabilizing her. "What are you thinking about?"

What was she thinking about?

There was absolutely no way that she was going to tell him about the fantasy currently playing in her head since the image of her lips on his popped up. She pictured him picking her up, but quickly dropping her back on top of the dresser. Neither one of them would bother underdressing, both way too eager to just get this done and over with, but they were also just so hungry for each other. Harry would just get his jeans down to the middle of his thighs, while Rowan would reach underneath the wine colored dress she had on to move her black lace panties to the side.

Regardless of the personal frustration that was prominent, it was blatantly obvious that the sexual tension between them was a beginning to overpower that emotion.

Snapping herself out of the daydream, Rowan parted her lips to respond to Harry, but no words would come out. Harry let out a high pitched laugh at her silence, leaning down a bit which caused Rowan's chin to tilt up so she could still face him.

"I told you that I'd have you changing your mind tonight, and it looks like that's already starting."

Rowan couldn't even process his words before Harry walked back over to the bed, and sat back down. He removed his shoes, and began to slip on the socks she had given him.

"F-five minutes," Rowan croaked out, pushing herself off the dresser to run her hands over her dress to smooth it out. "Give me five minutes, and then I'll start the music and you come out."

There was no time for him to answer because Rowan moved so fast to get out of that space with Harry. Her guest room was in no way small, but with him in it, she felt like she was suffocating. She pressed herself against the wall outside the door to catch her breath a bit before shaking it off, heading into the living room.

"Maggie, let's get you a refill!" She cheered, taking her friend's drink and topping it off.

She wanted to make sure her friend had a full drink beside her before Harry got started, as she wasn't sure exactly how long he'd be going for, and Rowan wasn't about to be in that close of proximity to his dancing. No, she planned on standing in the dining room behind the living room with both double doors open so she could still see, but she would be far enough away so that Harry wouldn't be near her.

Once Rowan had Maggie's refill, she handed it back to her, and then grabbed the remote for her soundbar.

"Alright, so to really kick off this party, I decided that we'd start with a song from Maggie's favorite movie," Rowan said while flipping through to her music app. She clicked on it and typed in 'Grease Lightning' before looking around at everyone. "Are you all ready?"

Rowan was speaking louder than she normally would, but she wanted to make sure that Harry could hear her in the bedroom so that he was prepared. While setting up the party, she had already made sure to put a chair in the middle of the living room - using the excuse that it's where Maggie could open her presents. In reality, she had that there for Harry to coax Maggie into once his routine really got started.

The group of friends screamed and cheered, and Rowan pressed play before quickly setting the remote down. She started towards the back of the room as the music began to flow through the living room, and Maggie was already starting to dance.

Rowan peeked over her shoulder as she heard the guest bedroom door open, and out stepped Harry. He rounded the corner into the living room, causing all the girls to stop and stare at him.

"I've heard a little pink lady has a birthday today," he said, putting on an American accent - yelling over the opening dialogue of the song.

Rolling her eyes, Rowan shook her head and walked behind the table once she was in the dining room, beginning to nibble on snacks as she continued to avoid watching what was going on in the other area.

She was doing a good job of ignoring the activities happening amongst her friends before she heard their screams. Looking up from the table, Rowan's eyes caught sight of Harry's muscular abdomen as he peeled off the black muscle tank, his leather jacket already wrapped around Maggie as she sat in front of him.

Harry moved forward so that Maggie was between his legs, and he lifted one of her hands to run it over his chest, and then his abs. He began to roll his body, and Rowan could see Maggie tilt her head back with a loud laugh. Her friend was one to laugh in situations such as these because she didn't know what else to do, but she knew that Maggie wasn't uncomfortable in the slightest.

The music continued on, and she watched as Harry undid the black belt, quickly pulling it through the belt loops and dropping it to the floor. Rowan tried to will herself to look away, she really did, but she found herself in a trance with the way Harry's body moved in those tight jeans.

As the song neared its end, Rowan watched as Harry buttoned and unzipped his pants while her teeth sank into her bottom lip. She was holding a piece of celery in her hand that she had snagged from the vegetable tray, only one bite taken out of it since she had gotten so distracted.

Somehow, Harry managed to make reaching down to loosen the jeans around his ankles sexy, before he stood up straight. Within a blink, he pulled the jeans from his body, leaving him in a pair of tight black Calvin Kleins that hugged his crotch.

The celery stick in Rowan's hand hit the table as her mouth gaped, her eyes drawn to the prominent bulge that she could see. All the whistling and hollering from her friends sounded muffled in her ears, and it wasn't until her eyes looked back to Harry's face that she saw he was already looking right at her.

Rowan felt heat spreading across her cheeks and her neck, and she quickly made her way into the kitchen to avoid Harry catching her stares any longer.

Harry was in the process of cleaning his clothes up from the floor since the song had ended, but that didn't stop all the girls from talking to him - praising him on his performance.

"You should really stay for a couple of drinks!" One of the girls told him, and he looked over to her with a crooked grin.

"Yeah, if you all are okay with that," he responded, still faking his accent.

The agreement was unanimous amongst the women surrounding him, but that didn't include Rowan. Knowing that little detail made Harry feel like he had the upper hand on her, and he wanted to watch her squirm with him continuing to be there.

Harry carried himself to the guest room, and shuffled through his bag to get his fresh set of clothes out. He folded the costume that Rowan had supplied him, stacking it and leaving it on the bed for her to retrieve later. There was no point in him keeping any of it.

In just his briefs, he made his way into the in suite and saw the shower with the detachable shower head. He hung his head into the glass cubicle and turned on the water. Harry dug his nails into his hair and his scalp as he washed the dark spray away, and once he was sure he had it all out, he shut off the water and placed the shower head back in its appropriate spot.

Whistling to himself, he grabbed a towel from one of the shelves, running it over his head while he walked back into the bedroom.

Once he was back at his clothes, Harry pulled on his pair of light colored ripped jeans, and a plain white t-shirt. Licking over his bottom lip, he slipped into a pair of black and white Old Skool Vans before exiting the room, placing his bag by the door.

Rowan stood there in the kitchen with Maggie as her friend ranted and raved over Harry and his body. Maggie had a boyfriend, so obviously there wasn't any chance of something happening between the two of them, but some of the other girls thought they may have a chance. Rowan tried her best to remind the girls that he was here for work, and that she was sure he wanted to remain professional.

Her eyes quickly found Harry's as he walked into the room, and it was almost laughable how all attention became fixed on him.

"What are you doing?" Rowan asked, lifting an eyebrow at him. She immediately noticed that he had washed the black spray out of his hair, his chestnut curls still damp, and a bit unruly, on top of his head.

"I was invited by all of these lovely women to stay for a couple of drinks," Harry answered, walking forward to stack his arms one over the other - leaning against the bar of her kitchen. "One of them being the birthday girl, and I think she gets the say tonight, wouldn't you agree?"

It seemed like all the girls froze when they heard Harry's true accent, and Rowan's anger only grew with the way her friends were clearly drooling over him.

"Fine," Rowan agreed through clenched teeth, not wanting to be a wet blanket on her friend's night. "A couple of drinks. A couple is two - in case you needed the reminder."

Rowan's friends hardly paid attention to the clear animosity between the two individuals as Rowan walked back into the dining room to her bar cart. Once she approached it, she realized she had no idea what Harry liked to drink.

"Tequila, silver," the words dripped into her ears as she huffed out a breath, propping her hands up on the cart.

Harry grew ignorant when he saw the reaction Rowan had to just his voice, and he peered over his shoulder to see that they were shielded by the wall that separated the dining room from the kitchen.

"Did you enjoy it?" He questioned, stepping closer, but still not touching her. He could see the way her back was rising and falling, and it was clear just his presence had her reeling. "I saw you looking...staring."

Rowan pressed her tongue into the inside of her lower lip as she grabbed a rocks glass, scooping some ice out of the bucket she had prepped for the night. "I was watching to make sure my friend had a good night, that's all."

She grabbed the bottle of silver tequila she had at the ready, unscrewing the top before pouring some into the glass.

Harry's body heat was radiating against her, and it was everything Rowan could do to keep her hands from shaking.

"Are you sure that was your true reason for watching, Ro?" Harry's lips brushed against Rowan's ear just briefly as he whispered to her. She was fighting diligently to keep her eyes from slipping shut while resisting the urge to lean back into him - the nickname he had given her causing her brain to fog up.

Rowan swallowed harshly as she put the bottle of tequila back down. Once again he was rendering her speechless, and she hadn't been this way around anyone in a long time.

Harry's hand came in contact with the outside of her arm, fingertips running up and down it as Rowan sunk her teeth into her bottom lip.

"Y-yes, I'm sure," She whispered out, fighting against the fog in her mind that was only seeming to grow.

"Tell me something and this time, don't lie to me. You were watching because you wished you had been the one sitting in that chair, hm?" Harry's tone was so sultry, but teasing, as his lips ghosted over the side of her neck - goosebumps erupting all over her skin. "Couldn't keep your eyes off me the entire time, especially there at the end. Did you like what you were seeing?"

Rowan was so in her head that she didn't realize Harry had moved his arm around her waist so that his hand could rest on her stomach. The pads of his fingers danced across the material of her dress, causing her body to slightly jump at the sudden contact. It felt good, so good that her body seemed to pulse with jolts of electricity, but she knew that this couldn't happen.

"That's what you would like for me to admit, wouldn't you?" Rowan asked before breaking away from his grasp. She turned around to shove the rocks glass full of tequila into his hand, and Harry stared down at her with a gaping mouth.

"You don't get to just touch me like that. You'll have your two drinks, and you'll go. And don't flatter yourself by thinking I'm doing this to keep you here - I'm doing this so I don't ruin my friend's night by kicking your ass out."

Rowan quickly dipped down the hallway that was off the side of the dining room, opposite of the kitchen, so she could go and cool down in the bathroom. Harry's eyes kept tight to her retreating form as he sipped his alcohol.

It wasn't like him to lose out on trying to seduce a woman like that, but maybe he had read the signs all wrong. Maybe she really didn't find him attractive, and all she wanted was to make sure her friend had the best birthday ever.

✧✧✧

It was a Saturday night, and Rowan sat on her couch with a glass of red wine in her hand. Her TV was off, causing her to stare back at her reflection that she could see on the black screen. Every now and then her eyes would flick to the clock, and this time when she looked, it read 8:58 pm.

Two more minutes.

Taking a large sip of her wine, she got it down to about halfway. She began to nibble on her bottom lip once she swallowed - wondering if she had made a mistake with what she had signed up for this evening.

It had been three weeks since Maggie's thirtieth, and Rowan hated to admit it, but she couldn't get Harry out of her head.

The goosebumps that coated her skin from his touch, the way his heart shaped lips would curl up into that signature smirk, and, fuck, the way those tight black Calvin Kleins clung to his -

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Right on time, of course," Rowan muttered under her breath, setting her glass of wine down as she pushed herself off the couch.

For the first time in years, she was nervous.

Nothing made her nervous these days. Not a board meeting filled with 30-50 men that were more than twenty years her senior, not the initial date with people she'd match with on Tinder, and definitely not someone who presented themselves the way Harry did.

In any other situation, she'd see him as an arrogant son of a bitch, and she'd find ways to knock him down a few pegs.

But for some reason, she couldn't do that with him, at least not tonight.

With her hand around the handle of her front door, Rowan turned it, and opened the barrier that was shielding her from the man she had been fantasizing about more than she'd like to admit.

Harry's eyes immediately met hers, and just like before, he had a duffel bag over his shoulder. This time, however, he was dressed casually to begin with.

Adorned in a pair of mustard yellow corduroys that were slightly flared, and a white t-shirt that fit loose around his neck, Rowan watched as a stray curl lowered itself onto Harry's forehead as he looked down at her.

"Sounds awfully quiet in here for a party," he commented, and she could immediately tell he was chewing gum - much like the first time she had met him.

Rowan had lied when booking him, not being able to find it in herself to admit that she was wanting him again, but just for herself this time. She had told Steven that her friends loved him so much that she wanted him to come back for her friend's bachelorette in a couple of weeks, and it turns out Harry was booked up every weekend until this exact one.

The truth was, Rowan didn't have any friends who were engaged, and a few days after the party, her friends had stopped talking about Harry. But then there was her, not being able to get him out of her head.

Clearing her throat, she moved out of the doorway to allow Harry to step inside before locking everything up behind him.

"T-there's no party," she admitted, clutching her hands into fists to try and hide how they were trembling. "Just me."

Harry raised his eyebrows at Rowan, looking past her petite form, and into the living room, before focusing back down on her. "Well...this is just rich, isn't it?" He chuckled with a shake of his head. "So which is it? You asked me here to yell at me some more? Or to try and insult me even further than you have?"

Rowan moved her head in disagreement with his words. "No it's not that, I-" she stopped herself for a moment, taking in a deep breath before sighing it out. "Look, your cocky attitude is annoying as shit, and I stand by what I said about you typically not being my type, but I...I asked you here for me."

Silence blanketed over the pair, and eventually Rowan was forced to look at her feet from the uneasiness she felt. She was regretting her decision.

How was this a good idea when it made her feel so insecure?

Jumping from sudden contact underneath her chin, Rowan felt the side of Harry's index finger curl against her skin before he applied a bit of pressure - forcing her to look up at him again.

"You want me to strip for you? And just you?" He asked, his voice low, causing Rowan's lips to part as she tried to regain proper breathing.

"Y-yes."

Harry brought his thumb up to tap against the corner of her mouth a couple of times before dropping his hand. "Go have a seat. I'll be out in a few minutes, and I'll take care of the music too."

Not another word was said before Harry walked into her guest room, causing her to have flashbacks from the first time he was here.

Rowan snapped herself out of her daze before walking into her dining room. She grabbed a chair from the table and carried it into her living room, placing it in the middle of the floor.

With her glass of wine in her hand, she sat down in the chair - her body riddled with anxiety.

Part of her wanted to go knock on the door and tell Harry just to forget about it. She'd tell Steven to let him keep the money for wasting his time, and she'd leave it at that. She'd never have to see him again and deal with the embarrassment she felt for bringing him here like this.

Lifting her glass to her lips, she went to take a sip, but paused as she heard the opening of the guest room door. Her eyes snapped over in that direction, and she heard the clicking of shoes against the tiled foyer that he had to walk through in order to reach the living room.

Rowan almost allowed the wine to slip from her hand, but, thankfully, she tightened her grip in time as she looked over Harry's muscular frame once he reappeared.

Dressed in all leather, Harry stood in the archway. The black trousers and the black blazer hung on his body wonderfully. The blazer was open with no shirt underneath, and he had a green boa draped around his shoulders. He was standing a bit taller than normal due to the black heeled boots on his feet.

"Remote?" He asked as he walked forward, still working the piece of gum between his teeth.

Rowan quickly grabbed the remote for her TV off the coffee table and handed it on him, clutching her glass of wine against her chest. She watched as Harry went to her music app, typing in a song before hitting play. A beat rang through just a bit before the vocals started.

"I can taste it on your mouth, and I can't leave it. You're a freak like me - can't you see?"

The music began to fill the living room, and Rowan didn't hesitate to practically down the rest of her wine in one go. Harry's eyebrows narrowed as he watched, and he walked forward to take the empty glass from her hand. He set it down before standing in front of her - bent over so they were face to face.

"Relax, Ro," he instructed, grabbing her other hand that had been gripping to her thigh without her even noticing. "Just breathe."

Rowan inhaled deeply as Harry stood up straight, and straddled her body in the chair between his long legs. He moved her hand to his abdomen, letting her feel over his abs as she pushed her thighs together.

Truth was, Harry was a bit nervous himself. He had never stripped for one person alone like this, and for it to be Rowan, it was enough to drive him crazy. He hated her fucking pretentious attitude, but it would be a complete lie for him to say he didn't find her extremely attractive.

In a way, he completely fed off their banter - the insults turning him on more than he'd like to admit.

As he felt her palm brush against his skin, Harry fought the urge to gasp out at the sensation it brought. His skin was ablaze beneath her touch, and it left him wondering how her small hand would feel if it grazed him, or even gripped him, in other places.

His eyes trailed Rowan's body that he hovered over, her small frame covered in a pair of casual light colored jeans and a nude colored corset-like top. The top allowed for the swells of her smaller, but perky, breasts to rise and fall with each of her breaths, and he couldn't help but let his eyes stay glued to that sight.

Rowan caught where he was staring, and as much as she wanted to make a snarky comment about him gawking at her tits, she couldn't with the way seeing him look at her like that made her feel.

Getting more comfortable, Harry let his hand leave hers for a moment, but Rowan kept it firmly against his abs where he had left it. He pulled the boa off of himself, draping it around her shoulders, before stripping off the blazer.

Fighting the urge to let her other hand rest against his body as well, Rowan's eyes wandered over him, taking in the ink that was embedded in his olive toned skin. She barely comprehended that Harry had her other hand in his grasp now, and he moved that one a bit higher - letting her feel over his pecs.

"You okay?" He asked, watching as blush began to creep over Rowan's neck, and her cheeks.

Rowan nodded, swallowing harshly before answering. "Yes, please, keep going."

Harry couldn't help but smirk to himself, and he placed his hands over both of hers that still held to his torso before he began to roll his body to the beat of the music.

Rowan's mouth ran dry, and she watched the butterfly inked into his skin practically flutter with each roll. She pushed her thighs together even more, but this time Harry actually noticed it.

Moving his hands away from hers, Harry hovered over Rowan more and dragged them down the chair to the bar that sat just a little above the bottom of it. He picked the chair off the floor with ease, watching as Rowan's eyes widened. Her hands gripped to the top of his shoulders, not knowing what his next move was going to be.

Once a certain beat of the song hit, Harry allowed his hands to release the chair, slipping them immediately underneath Rowan's thighs to still keep her up and against him as the chair hit the floor. She moved her arms to wrap around his neck, her heart pounding against her chest.

Harry leaned down, running the tip of his nose over her collarbone as Rowan swallowed down a moan, tilting her head back a bit - causing the boa to slip off her body. She could feel the pants of his breath against her cleavage, having it be cold against her heated skin due to his spearmint gum.

Not being able to resist any longer, Harry kissed over the tops of her breasts that were exposed to him while Rowan ran one of her hands up and through his curls.

After a moment, Harry put Rowan back down in the chair and she watched as his hands met the waistband of his trousers. Her eyes were trained on his fingers as he undid the button, pulling the zipper down as well while he kicked off his boots.

"No denying that you're staring this time, huh, Rowan?" Harry teased, but she could hardly even hear him - knowing that she was so close to seeing the sight that had been replaying in her head for weeks once more.

He allowed the pants to drop around his ankles, and he stepped out of them - his groin now right in front of her face.

"But you want more than just this, don't you?"

Harry's hand cupped Rowan's cheek, moving her face up to look at him. She chewed on the inside of her bottom lip for a moment before giving him a nod.

"Yeah? You think I can satisfy you in the way all those men you've come across can't?" He asked as he grabbed the boa off the ground and walked behind her.

Kneeling, he grabbed her small wrists and brought them together. "Is this okay?"

It took a minute for her to realize what Harry was asking, but once she did, she nodded once more.

"Words, Ro, I need words."

"Yes, yes," Rowan gasped, her words coming out more hurried than she intended, but she was desperate and needy. "Do whatever you want, just please..."

Harry smirked to him as he wrapped the boa around her wrists, making sure it was tight, but not too tight to hurt her, before tying it to the back bar on the bottom, similar to the ones he had been holding earlier when he was lifting her in the air. The angle caused Rowan's back to arch slightly, and he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek knowing that it probably had her tits sitting up even better than before.

After standing up, he made his way back around the front, his dick twitching to life when he saw just how immaculate she looked. Almost completely at his mercy, Rowan peered up at him with parted lips, her chest heaving up and down.

"Whatever I want?" He asked, lowering himself down to the ground once more, his large hands traveling over the tops of her thighs.

"Yes, I just need-"

"Need me, huh?" Harry interrupted, a bit of a bite to his tone as one hand traveled right below Rowan's belly button, his fingers popping the button of her jeans open. "Thought I wasn't your type?"

His eyes held hers as he lowered her zipper, and then he moved his other hand up for them to both wrap around the waistband. Rowan lifted her hips blindly, and Harry began to pull her jeans down her legs.

Once they were off, he tossed them to the side, leaving her in just her top and a white lace thong.

"You're not," Rowan replied, clearly lying to not only Harry, but also herself now. "I just...you seem like you know what you're doing, and I need to get off."

That wasn't the answer Harry was looking for, and he scoffed with a roll of his eyes. He went to push himself off the floor to leave, having every intention of leaving Rowan tied up to the chair out of spite, but she quickly realized what he was doing.

"W-wait, no, Harry," she spoke up quickly, her tone borderline begging at this point. "Fuck, okay, I was wrong! Alright? You swayed me, just like you said."

Harry kept his head down to hide the cocky grin that wanted to creep its way onto his lips. There was something about a woman begging for him anyway, but the fact that woman was Rowan, had him feeling so arrogant.

"You sure?" He jousted, wanting her to squirm a bit longer, perched onto the balls of his feet since he was pushing himself to stand just a few seconds ago. "You're not just saying that?"

Rowan groaned, throwing her head back in frustration as she stared at the ceiling. "Yes, I'm fucking sure. I'm not doing this with you. Either you get on with it, or you-"

She stopped speaking when she felt Harry's hand around her throat, not squeezing, but it was enough to get her to shut up. Harry felt her throat contract underneath his palm, signaling that she had swallowed hard, and he knew she was trying to keep her composure.

"No more talking from you for the time being unless you need me to stop, got it?"

Rowan tipped her chin down to look at Harry once more, and she nodded.

"Good girl," he cooed before dropping his hand to the top of her shirt.

His other hand came up as well, and he began to undo the small clasps that lined the front of the top, holding it together. Once they were all undone, Harry let the material hang on her shoulders, not making any movements to push it back to the creases of her arms to reveal more to him.

Leaning forward, Harry ghosted his lips over hers, both of their eyes still open and staring at each other. "Open up."

Rowan separated her lips, unsure of exactly what his next move was going to be. Sneaking his tongue out, Harry rolled the gum from his mouth into hers before sucking on her tongue just a bit. This caused her to mewl out, her hips wiggling against the chair before he popped off.

"Hold that for me, will you?"

To say Rowan was speechless would be an understatement. Even though Harry told her to stop talking, she didn't think she would even be able to at this point. Her eyes followed Harry as he completely lowered himself to his knees once more.

His long fingers hooked into the crotch of her thong, and her hips jolted up as his knuckles brushed across her sensitive clit. Harry sucked his teeth at her eagerness, wanting to tease and degrade her as much as possible. It seemed to get her off just as much as him.

"So fucking needy," he commented with a shake of his head.

Slowly, he dragged the thong down Rowan's thighs, and then down her legs before tossing them to the side with her jeans. The cold air caused her pussy to flutter, the angle she was at having her completely exposed to him already.

Harry hummed as he wrapped his hands around the tops of her thighs, pushing them apart to spread her even more for him. Her wetness had him growing fully hard in his briefs, and he ran his thumbs along the creases between her hips and her pelvis.

Looking into Rowan's eyes, he bit down on his bottom lip and pulled her forward, slinging her legs over his shoulders. The strain against Rowan's shoulders, and arms, in any other situation would be uncomfortable for her, but right now, it was just turning her on even more.

"All this for me?" He asked, kissing over the inside of one of her thighs.

Rowan groaned, forcing herself not to buck her hips up to meet his face already. She was completely drenched and desperate - needing to be touched more than she had ever felt in her life.

Harry ducked his head completely down between her thighs, licking a strip from her dripping entrance to her aching clit, and Rowan shuddered, eyes shutting tight with pleasure.

"You poor fucking thing," he taunted, kitten licking her pearl a few times before speaking again. "This deprived of true satisfaction that you're acting like you haven't even been touched in years."

As much as she wanted to snap back at him, she knew if she spoke out of turn that all of this could be over, and there was no way she was going to let that happen.

"I guess you can be obedient, hm? Don't worry, I'll let you talk again soon, but for right now - I need to focus."

Rowan let out a loud moan as Harry open mouth kissed her slit, the tip of his tongue prodding at her entrance before slipping inside. Her wrists strained against the boa as she arched her back even further, and she wasn't sure if it was going to hold for the entirety of this situation.

She didn't even notice that her top had slipped down her arms, but when Harry opened his eyes to check on her, he saw that her breasts were now on full display. Her pink nipples were hard, poking up towards the ceiling as she was snaking her torso around.

Harry hummed against Rowan at the sight, wishing he had something to ground his hips onto to relieve the ache he was currently dealing with.

He fucked her with his tongue, her heels digging into his back as he went more aggressively. It was obvious that he could get her to an orgasm easily with the way she was responding to him, and he wanted nothing more than to get her there.

Pulling back, he lifted himself up a bit, causing Rowan to squeak out in surprise when his mouth disconnected from her, and her legs moved higher. Harry's lips wiggled as he hovered over her chest, mixing both her arousal and saliva behind his teeth before spitting down onto one of her nipples. He lifted hand to cup the underside of that breast, swiping the pad of his thumb over her skin to spread the wetness around.

He turned his attention to her other breast, repeating the same action of spitting onto it, but this time he leaned down to seal his lips around her nipple. Rowan whined, completely folded in the chair under Harry's large frame at this point. He sucked against the pebbled bud before parting his lips, letting off a bit to allow the tip of his tongue flick over it again and again.

"Fuck," Rowan sighed with her head back on her shoulders, not even realizing she had spoken out of turn.

Harry smirked to himself, letting it slide as he could tell she was completely overcome with pleasure at this point. He kissed over both of her breasts before lowering himself back down, getting back to work on her dripping pussy - eyes shut tight from just how much he was enjoying going down on her. It was easy for Rowan to hear her wetness mixing with Harry's spit, the sound so erotic that a band was beginning to tighten in her lower abdomen.

Once he sank his tongue into her cunt once more, Rowan rocked her hips, her clit grinding against the bridge of Harry's perfect nose.

"O-oh," she moaned, still not realizing she was speaking at this point. "That's good, 's so good."

She was completely drunk off of his mouth, never having someone go down on her this deliciously before. Her thighs began to shake on each side of his head, and Harry was quick to wrap his arms underneath her legs to press his palms against the tops of them, fingertips digging into her skin.

Rowan's eyes fluttered open, and she could see his biceps twitching as he would tighten his grip against her plush flesh every now and then. Her breath was stolen from her as Harry's eyelids snapped open, the green of his eyes barely noticeable with how blown his pupils were.

"Oh fuck," Rowan almost screamed, tossing her head back. "Harry!"

Her orgasm washed over her, feeling like a tidal wave crashing over her body not once, but twice. She continued to grind herself against his nose, his tongue still fucking in and out of her before she slumped down into the chair. Her chest was heaving up and down as Harry carefully pulled her legs off from over his shoulders, setting her feet down flat on the floor.

"So sweet, Ro," he mumbled as he kissed up her body, licking over the roundness of one of her tits before nibbling on her jawline. "You're so fucked right now, aren't you?"

Rowan whimpered as Harry sucked at the hinge of her jaw, fighting once again against her restraint.

"Harry," she whispered, opening her eyes once he pulled away. He was looking down at her, head tilted to the side. "My hands...please."

Harry's eyebrows knitted together with concern, and he quickly shuffled around the back of the chair to undo the knot in the boa that was keeping her captive. He held her wrists in his hands for a minute, running his thumbs along the impressions that were left. They wouldn't bruise, he could tell that much, but they were terribly red.

He stood up and let them fall into Rowan's lap before walking to stand in front of her once more, watching as she shrugged her top all the way off now that her arms were free.

"Are you okay?" He asked, scooping her up, having her wrap her legs around his waist - very similar to the position they were in before, but he was holding her a bit lower this time so her face was level with his instead of above. He noticed she wasn't chewing, and he raised a brow. "What happened to my gum?"

Rowan sucked in a deep breath, resting her hands against Harry's chest. "Yeah, I'm okay, and I...I may have accidentally swallowed it."

Harry chuckled when he saw how embarrassed she was to admit that, and nodded at her before catching sight of the large arm chair against the back wall in the room. He smirked to himself as he began to walk them in that direction, giving Rowan time to recuperate, but she still looked at him with confusion.

"I got you pretty drunk off my tongue, that's for sure," he commented, dropping her to her feet.

Harry was quick in turning her around, and Rowan gasped out in surprise before he forced her down over the chair. Her torso hung over the bottom cushion, hands gripping to one of the arm rests while her hips were pressed against the other.

"But I wanna see how drunk I can get you off of my cock, hm?"

Rowan's eyes shut and she moaned just at his words. A few minutes ago, she would've been ashamed having that reaction to something so simple, but she didn't care at this point. All she wanted was him inside her. She needed it.

Harry quickly disregarded his briefs, kicking them to the side. One of his hands encompassed her hip, thumb massaging against her lower back. Licking over her bottom lip, Rowan took a peek over her shoulder, her eyes growing large as she saw Harry's thick and leaking prick, his other hand stroking himself a bit.

"Do you have a condom?" He asked, puffing out some air that he had gathered in his cheeks.

Rowan flushed an even deeper red as she shook her head. "N-no, I don't usually bring men back to my place for this kind of thing. I'm paranoid...I don't like them knowing where I live."

Harry groaned, his eyes slipping shut as he gave himself a squeeze to try and relieve more of the ache he felt in his shaft. "Are you on birth control? Are you clean?"

"Yes - to both. I just got tested last week, but I always use protection during hookups. I get tested just for peace of mind."

"Well, I'm clean too, just got tested a few days ago, and same for me. If we do this, this is the first time I'm going without a condom in years," he grunted out, stilling his hand as he felt like he could bust just talking about being raw inside of her.

"I'm okay with it if you are."

Their eyes held each other for a moment before they each gave a small nod.

"Face forward, Ro," Harry instructed, and Rowan listened, clutching to the chair as she stared at the wall ahead.

Harry dragged his tip through her slick slit a few times, biting down on his bottom when he could feel just how wet she was from her previous orgasm and from his mouth. He popped inside her, feeling her clench around the thickest part of him, and he moaned, head rolling back on his shoulders.

"Tight fucking cunt," he muttered under his breath as Rowan mewled, going to pull away from him when she felt the burning stretch happening.

Harry quickly brought his hand down to spank against one of her ass cheeks, watching it jiggle before he gripped to her hips. "Where the hell do you think you're going? You wanted it. You're going to fucking take it."

Not giving her any more time to adjust, Harry used the leverage he had from her hips, and pulled her down while thrusting his hips forward - filling her up entirely in one go.

Rowan gasped out, legs trembling as she pushed onto her tiptoes, her lower back arching as she buried her face into the crease of her arm. He was so big - his thickness and length filling her to the brim, and even though it was painful, she was in utter bliss.

Harry oscillated his jaw before pulling out to his tip, he eased himself back in, slower this time and her walls fluttered around him deliciously. "God damn," he groaned with a shake of his head.

His tip was snug against her g-spot, and Rowan huffed out when she felt him twitch inside her.

Pulling back once more, Harry decided that was all the adjusting he was going to let her do. He began to fuck into her at a steady and hard rhythm, the sound of their skin slapping together quickly filling the room - the music playing in the background doing nothing to drown it out.

"Oh, you like it fucking dirty and rough, huh?" Harry jousted into her ear as he lowered his chest to be flush against Rowan's back, humming to himself when he could feel her pulse around him as he stilled his movements. "I knew you weren't as clean and pristine as you tried to be. Underneath that uptight exterior, you just want to be fucked like a whore, don't you?"

Rowan couldn't find it in herself to answer him, completely fucked from his impressive cock even if they had really just started.

Although Harry was already flat against her, hips pressed firmly against her ass, he thrusted his hips forward after a few moments of not receiving an answer - causing a scream like moan to rattle in Rowan's throat. "I said, you just want to be fucked like a whore, don't you?"

"Y-yes, yes, yes," Rowan stammered out, hands gripping to the armrest, nails sinking into the cloth material. "Fuck me like a whore, please. Your whore."

Harry growled, taking her earlobe between his teeth as he drilled his hips into her ass harder - starting up a fresh rhythm. Little sounds left Rowan's throat with each thrust, her mouth hanging wide open as she became completely overcome with ecstasy.

As fun as it was, and as deep as it was taking her this way, Harry also wanted to see Rowan's face, and feel her hands on him.

He pulled out of her abruptly, causing Rowan to collapse against the chair with a whine.

"Turn around," Harry demanded, and Rowan did so with shaky legs, reaching out to grasp to his forearms to keep her up straight once she faced him.

Harry's hands found her hips once again blindly, and he patted the palm of his hand against one of them. "Jump."

Rowan moved her hands to Harry's shoulders, jumping as she was told before he walked them over to the couch. He fell back against it, and Rowan situated herself so that she was straddling him properly. Her hand moved down to wrap around him, stroking him a few times before sliding him back inside of her.

They both sighed out once she sank down completely on him, her fingertips digging into his skin. Rowan stared into Harry's eyes as she began to roll her hips with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. Harry's eyes danced over her face before he cupped her cheeks in his hands.

He tilted her head back a bit, but Rowan kept up her movements and still held his eyes. Harry moved both of his thumbs to press the pads of them against her bottom lip, pulling it out of her mouth.

"Fuck it," he mumbled before leaning forward, clashing his lips against hers.

Harry had been wondering whether or not he wanted to kiss her, as he found that to be somewhat intimate, but he didn't fucking care anymore. He knew the way her pussy tasted, he also needed to fully know the way her mouth did too. He only got a little hint of it when he sucked on her tongue earlier.

Rowan moaned into his mouth as she circled her hips, grinding down against him. His hands slipped down her back before grasping her ass cheeks, the tips of her fingers clutching to the crease between them and the back of her thighs.

Their tongues tangled together in a sloppy manner, but neither of them cared. They were so caught up in the moment, so caught up in each other. They both felt everything, from the tops of their heads to the tips of their toes. This was the best sex either of them had ever had by far.

"That's it, Ro," Harry coaxed her as Rowan leaned back a bit, cupping the tops of Harry's knees as she continued to ride him.

Her eyes slipped shut, head hanging back on her shoulders while Harry moved his hands to her breasts. He kneaded them skillfully, pinching one of her nipples between his fingers. Rowan cried out, panting into the open air as her thighs began to shake again.

Harry could tell he was also nearing his own orgasm, and he brought one of his hands around to the back of her head. He ran his fingers down and through her hair before taking it into his palm. Wrapping it around his hand, he yanked her head back and Rowan gasped, beginning to slam her hips down against Harry's.

"You're so big," she moaned, earning another tug to her scalp - the sting causing her to clench around Harry's dick.

"Got you dumb off my cock, yeah? And here you were, trying to act like you didn't like what you saw from the very fucking beginning, but you did, didn't you? You just couldn't admit it to yourself."

Rowan groaned, knowing that he was right, but she didn't want to confess. Harry quickly let go of her hair, grasping her hips to still her, and she straightened herself up, looking at him with a pout on her lips.

"Answer the fucking question, and I'll let you ride me until we both come. If you don't, I'll make you sit back in that chair, tie you up once more, and make you watch me finish myself off with my own hand," he threatened, the tip of his nose pressed against hers.

Their chests were rising and falling rapidly as they stared at each other. Rowan's jaw was tight, really not wanting to come clean in the way that he was asking.

"Fuck you," she snarled through clenched teeth.

Harry smirked at her, beginning to lift her off of him, but she immediately wrapped her arms around the his neck, both hands clutching to his hair. She gripped at his curls, tugging his head back much like he had just done to her.

"Don't even think about it," she said, nipping at his bottom lip with her teeth.

"Then admit it," he challenged.

She clenched around him again, even though he was halfway out, and he moaned, causing her to yank his curls once more.

"I'm not fucking kidding, Rowan, tell me. I want to hear you say it."

Knowing that her orgasm was right around the corner, Rowan let out a noise of frustration. "Fine, you're right. I thought you were attractive from the moment I laid eyes on your page, are you happy?"

Harry leaned forward, sealing their lips together as he pulled her down onto him fully once again. With his hands still on Rowan's hips, he moved his legs to part them further, and he began fucking up into her at an accelerated pace.

A tingle festered at the bottom of Rowan's spine, and she felt it starting to spread in both directions, creeping up her back to her neck, and down into her thighs.

"I'm...I'm," she stammered, barely being able to speak. "Coming. I'm coming, Harry. I'm..."

Gasping out against his mouth, Rowan reached her peak, her second orgasm of the night taking her over as she gushed around Harry's cock. Harry looked down to watch her arousal cover him, and he shoved his face into the side of her neck as he reached his own climax - continuing to thrust up into her to ride both of them out completely.

Their sweaty bodies clung to each other for a moment, Harry slouching back onto the couch, and Rowan collapsing against his chest.

His eyes blinked open, and he stared at the ceiling when he felt Rowan get up abruptly. Sitting up, he watched as she raced around her living room, picking up her clothes. "You need to go," she snapped, shaking her head as she walked down the hall.

Harry sighed, running a hand over his face as he got up as well. He gathered his own articles of clothing before heading into her guest room. After cleaning himself up in the bathroom, he changed back into the clothes he had arrived in, shoving his leather suit and boots into his duffel bag. He walked towards the front door, pulling his card out of his pocket, grabbing a pen from the drawer of the table that was against her foyer wall.

He quickly scribbled on it before heading into the kitchen to see Rowan clutching to the counter, gulping down a fresh glass of wine.

"No one can know about this. Do you understand, Harry?" She asked, not making eye contact with him.

Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes, "No fucking shit, Rowan, I could lose my job. You technically paid me for this, and I slept with you, that's not what my agency does. If it gets back to Steven, I'll be fired."

After a moment, Rowan's eyes met his as she licked over her bottom lip. "Okay then, so we both know to shut up about this."

Harry walked forward, tossing his business card on the counter. "Next time, just call me directly," he told her, and when he saw her mouth open to respond, he quickly held his hand up. "Don't try and fucking argue with me. You and I both know you won't be able to stay away. I know I won't."

Rowan watched as Harry turned around and walked out of her front door. She picked the card up off the counter, seeing it was for the agency. Her eyebrows narrowed, but she quickly flipped it over to eye another number written on the back, and she came to the conclusion he had given her his cell number.

And she knew he was right. There was no way she was going to be able to stay away now that she had had him.

(You can find part two here)

[letters2won]

Hi may I ask for an idolNiki x black reader fiction Where she's one year younger than him and is really scared to admit her feelings/confess because of fans who say that he doesn't like black people /black girls soo she starts to try and give him space so she doesn't come off as clingy/pushy and he tells her that their just stupid obviously and that he loves her too but she so convinced that the fans are right

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. LETTER TO MY 13 YR OLD SELF

pairing: idol!niki x black!reader ⋆ genre: hurt/comfort ⋆ warnings: self doubt, harmful comments, let me know if i missed anything!

1.2k wc

⤷ i hope this was to your liking :( it’s my first time trying hurt/comfort but this was nice to write so thank you for requesting

did i get emotional writing this? yes because i related to this a lil tee much 🤏

¡ requests: open !

Everyone could see the love seeping out of you for Niki. You knew what you were getting into the moment you felt these feelings starting to rise.

They were only getting stronger and stronger day by day, it was hard trying to not spill out a monologue to him on what was stirring inside of you.

But lately, you realized how out of reach he is. Noticing all the beautiful fair skinned girlies surround him caused you to spend time staring at your own reflection. You started to softly touch your cheeks and hair, furrowing your eyebrows at the thought of him not wanting to date someone like you.

You rubbed your face tiredly as you walked out your bathroom and into your dorm room.

“Hey yn! Hope you don’t mind that I used your spare key..”

You jumped at the sound of his voice, holding your chest before going to hit him with your pillow. “Niki! You should’ve at least texted me, someone could’ve seen you, you know!” and in response he just rolled his eyes playfully.

“How was your fansign today?” you asked as you got up to grab some clothes he left over to change in knowing his current clothes were too hot. You didn’t notice him staring at your every movement before he hummed to himself.

“Tiring… but it was funny! Heeseung-” he then proceeded to go into detail about everything that went down. You gave him reassuring hums and smiles to let him know you’re still listening even with you back turned.

You eventually felt your heart drop at a mention of a fan. “And there was a pretty engene today! She was so charming and funny, definitely had a way with her words” he chuckled lightly to himself.

Biting the inside of your cheek, now you know you definitely can’t confess anything to him.

“You must be tired, yea? Are you staying the night?”

He frowned slightly, “Can’t, I have practice all day tomorrow so you probably won’t hear from me.” You sighed and gave him a reassuring smile.

“That’s fine, text me when you're free, ‘kay?” and he nodded. You walked him to the door and gave him a big hug finding comfort in the warmth radiating off of him. He softly kissed your forehead before letting go, causing you to stare in awe.

“See you later pretty!” he cheekily stated before closing the door. Oh boy, you were in trouble, the pounding of your heart being living proof of it.

That night you tossed and turned, missing having his head on your chest through the night. You gave up trying to sleep and went to twitter, the bright screen causing you to squint a bit to adjust. Scrolling mindlessly on twitter until you came across a tweet that had your eyes watering a little.

“Niki wouldn’t date a black girl in my opinion, he probably also likes experienced girls too!”

Hurriedly, you look through the comments to see people agreeing with her. Yea a few comments were disagreeing but that didn’t make you feel better. You honestly felt sick to your stomach.

You sat up quickly to read more. “He definitely doesn't like them clingy, he enjoys personal space.” That’s how you found yourself going through a loophole on twitter feeling even more shitty about yourself.

Why did it have to be like this? Was that how he really feels? You know you could ask him, I mean he’s literally your best friend! But you felt too embarrassed to even ask him how he felt dating girls like you. Did he believe the stereotypes surrounding black girls?

Your heart started to ache. You already felt self conscious about your skin, but this just made you feel 10x shittier. You got up to stare at yourself again. Eyes tearing up as you start to wish your hair weren't so kinky and how you would love to have long blonde hair or blue eyes. Wishing you weren’t so different.

That night you went to bed with a heavy heart.

The next morning you saw Niki messages but you were still hurting and decided to avoid him. You can't handle looking at him or speaking to him knowing you’ll break down in front of him.

Niki on the other hand was worried that the forehead kiss is why you’re so distant. He could barely concentrate at practice. The boys noticed it, giving him concerned glances.

“Good work today boys! Niki you’re normally on your A-game but today you were so off. Work harder okay? Get some rest everyone, see you tomorrow,” the dance coach let out.

Niki was too spaced out to even care about what he had to say. He was in a rush to see you. He needed to make sure he didn’t break any boundaries. He couldn’t lose you like this, he thought to himself as he rushed out the dance studio.

He knew it was risky to be at your dorm without any disguise but he pushed it to the back of his mind as soon as he saw your door come into view.

Knocking anxiously but you didn’t move an inch. Not wanting to get bothered right now as you cuddle up with your blanket and comfort cartoon show playing in the background.

Niki checked his pockets hoping he brought the spare key with him.

Sighing in relief, he quietly opened your door. Your dimly lit up living room welcomed him in as he closed the door softly. He could already tell something was wrong as he recognized your comfort show playing which made him even more anxious.

“Yn…can we talk?”

Your saddened eyes turned to look at him and he felt like he was shot in the heart seeing you look like this. He cautiously sat on your bed as he heard the soft sobs echo through the room.

“I just wish I could be what you wanted, Niki. You are so close but so out of reach from me. If I was pale skinned would it be different, I wonder? Would you feel less ashamed knowing I fit in with you?”

Niki pulled you closer to him, rocking back and forth. “Is that why you've been ignoring me? Because of those stupid opinionated comments?”

“Yn, I liked you for you. I love how we are different from each other. Being able to learn from you and see things from your point of view helped me grow as a person. It helped me learn to love you.”

Your head shot up, scanning his face to see if you heard wrong. “Yn you didn’t hear wrong, i meant it.”

“You’re so beautiful to me and I want you to allow me to show you that” Niki finished up.

Eyes tearing up as you sense his sincerity, you pushed your forehead against his. “Sorry for making you worry.. I was already embarrassed.”

He rubbed you back comfortingly, “Don’t be embarrassed, you’re allowed to feel like this, just communicate with me, yea?” and you nodded in agreement.

You looked up at him and saw his eyes flicker to your lips, “can i?” he asked. You smiled and leaned your forehead against his again feeling his soft lips fit with your perfectly.

Sighing in content, he leaned back and you two stayed like that for the night. Holding on so dearly as if you might vanish in thin air.

[leclsrc]

congrats on 2k!! so happy to see such a talented writer get the recognition they deserve🤍🤍

can i request 5 gifts w/ charles?? ty and congrats again!

presents – cl16

genre: flufff, bit of angst, 2k celebration

Thank God for expensive cars—they barely make noise when they pull into the driveway of the house.

On nights where the bed’s emptiness is just a bit too painful to bear, your ears grow attuned to the silence so they can hear the car better. Because from then you can judge the rest of Charles’ synchronized routine—his shit parking, turning the key into the lock, heavy footsteps through the foyer and up the stairs, deliberate turning of the doorknob so he doesn’t wake you.

But he never does, because you’re never asleep. “Did I wake you?”

“Mmm, no,” you assure him, sitting up a little. He sports evidence of training, a bruise on his arm, extra stubble, a tighter fitting tee. He climbs into bed beside you holding a tiny box, rattles it so you can hear the chain shake inside. 

“Good. I have a gift for you.”

“Can it wait?” You ask throatily. “I miss you.”

He looks perfect like this, you think, pretty and handsome and tired and yours. He is rarely yours in these triple headers, season peaks where neither of your schedules give. So you envelop him into a hug, the box is laid on the bedside table, and they’re both gone by the time you wake up to the sun.

—

You were never one to accept presents, especially if they looked like they cost a month’s rent. Charles had given you a bracelet to commemorate your first year together, one that matched his.

“We agreed small gifts,” you’d said, jaw to the floor at the shiny object.

“It is… small.” He responded dumbly.

“Small, like…” you pull out your paper maché cat, which you painted to look like a Sauber driver. “Like this.”

So he’d kept the bracelet because you insisted, with all the love in the world, that you simply could not bear to wear it. Then he posted six pictures of your gift, claiming it was the best he’d ever gotten, pressing kisses all over your face.

—

“Would you like a message on the card, Sir?”

“Oui, oui. Can you write, uh…”

Charles rifles through his journal, onto which he’s written every detail of his life. There are race stats, strategy comparisons, crude venn diagrams of plans, tic-tac-toe games on slow meetings with Carlos, long-winded spiels on life that evolve from French to Italian to English, dinner date reminders, interview scripts.

But none of those is what he’s looking for. He seeks something else, a line he’d written on the day you fell asleep hugging him, comforted by his arrival. He had to leave early that day, so he enjoyed your presence and spent time writing. 

He spends a minute too long searching for it, but finds it eventually, sandwiched in between a doodle of Fred and Antonio. For all his trying, however, he later learns he miscalculated your checkout time, and the flowers never arrived on time for you to see them. He pictures the lilies, wilting alone, pictures the card you never got to unfold and read.

Thinking of you. I fall in love with you every time you walk into a room. Charles

—

You meet his eyes across the table, and narrow yours in silent challenge.

“Woah!” He laughs, amused, pointing an accusatory finger in your direction. “What was that—” He mimics your challenging expression, eyes briefly flitting down to where he holds his Uno cards. The rest of the room watch idly as the game comes to an intense close.

“It was me telling you I have great cards,” you proclaim with a giggle. “Aaaand uno.” 

The intense close is won by you, much to your opponent’s chagrin. It was an easy win, you state, I had a plus four and he handed it right to me. He finds you by the kitchen of the mansion chewing on a potato chip and extends a bottle of beer toward you, in a truce of sorts.

“Winners deserve a drink, no?” He grins, his eyes crinkling. “Consider it a gift. From me.”

“No, thanks. You already gifted me a win.”

“I just let you win,” he teases. “It was easy.”

“Was it?” You raise an eyebrow, and you both laugh. “All this talk, and I don’t even know my nemesis’ name.”

“Right, how rude,” he tsks, shaking your hand. It stays a bit too long, steals your words. “It’s Charles.”

—

In the end, your relationship befell the same fate as the collection of gifts he’d never been able to get you to receive: it just didn’t work out. 

But sometimes Charles revisits his piles of storage, picks out the florist’s business card or the winning Uno number he’d folded up and kept. He checks and rechecks boxes, wrappers, of gifts ungiven. And he goes to his trophy shelf, full of shiny metal and hard edges, and sees there, in front of them all, the Sauber driver paper maché cat.

And you sometimes go through pictures of the both of you, stare at your empty wrist and wonder what it would look like with a bracelet looped around it. You think of waiting, of the empty bed that’s now become the norm, the phone call from your hotel receptionist who asked if you wanted to return for the flowers that were sent late. 

Both of you remember. Both of you look for the other.

But perhaps most of all, both of you hope there’s a life where gifts were received and love worked. Charles passes the freeway exit that leads to your house and wonders, for a second, if he should turn into it. You lay in bed, ears attuned, wondering if you’ll hear the sound of his car.

[watchingovergvff]

Kill You To Try- Jake Kiszka

Summary: Will you and Jake ever be able to see eye to eye? Being pining idiots and hating each others guts don’t mix. Let’s find out the hard way then.

Genre: Childhood best friends- enemies- lovers. Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Jake is an asshole. Jealousy and Drinking.

A/N: This is my second favorite thing i’ve ever written. I apologize for my lack of Jake fics, considering I stay in Jake lane 24/7. I’ve been working on this for a couple of weeks and it’s not perfect by any means. I love to hear feedback so please let me know or if you want a part two to this also!! Thank you for all your patience and support<3333

_______________________________________________

Jake has never been jealous of Josh’s relationship with you, well that was until he saw the two of you dancing. Something about the way Josh’s hands caressed the small of your back, made his chest ache in resentment.

That’s where his dislike for you starts. Well, maybe not dislike but irritation at least.

Jake has known you since the 5th grade. You used to run around the playground, picking flowers for each and every one of your classmates. Jake had fallen and scratched up his knee, sniffles sounding out. Feeling a gentle tap on his shoulder, he turns around to find you smiling down at him.

“Are you okay?” you peer down at him.

“My knee hurts.”

Handing him the prettiest flower out of your bouquet, “Here this should make you feel better.” Jake admires your toothless grin from below, already feeling much better. It didn’t take much longer after that for him to decide to keep you around.

Jake and Josh were a package deal so being best friends with Josh was inevitable. Growing up, you always found that Josh matched your energy to-a-tee. He was your best friend, the one that always knew how to make you laugh. But, Jake was different. Jake felt like your home, your safe place.

That was until he started acting like an asshole out of nowhere. One day you were fine, the next day you weren’t.

It hurt like hell. There’s truly no way to describe losing your better half, other than heartbreak. Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt so bad, if you weren’t utterly in love with him.

As the years go by, Jake continues his relentless cycle of torture. The snide comments or blatant disrespect, never compared to the pain of him ignoring you. Josh was dumbfounded at Jake’s behavior toward you. He could have sworn Jake was in love with you, but it’s not the first time Jake has surprised him. Josh was tired of constantly calling Jake out on his shit. He understood if Jake just didn’t get along with you anymore, but the disrespect was uncalled for.

Over time, you got used to Jake’s nasty behavior and decided to not let it bother you. If he was going to act like a child then so be it, you would be the mature one.

The boy’s music career had shot up since high school, which meant less time spent together and more time touring the world. Saying your goodbyes was hard, but was inevitable. In the meantime, your life would live on in Michigan, while theirs roamed the world.

Life caught up with all of you, which meant less phone calls and no time for visits. Josh kept his promise when he said he would call once a week. He loved giving you every detail of tour since you couldn’t be there. You had been with them since before they even decided to be a band, so not having you around was weird for all of them, even Jake.

After being away for a year, the tour has finally come to an end. Sam being Sam decides to throw a coming home party, mourning the end of tour but celebrating their return.

Being Josh’s right-hand man comes with its perks, so when you get the invitation to their “exclusive” party, you can’t turn the opportunity down.

Would it be weird to say that you hit a second puberty over the past year? Probably, yes. But, you were being truthful. All those years begging and pleading your body to catch up with your maturing mind, payed off it seems. You finally felt good in your own shoes. So, when the hot guy from the local coffee shop asks for your number, who are you to say no.

Having had plans for a date the night of the party, you suggest that the two of you attend a good friend’s party. Surprisingly, he agrees to go with you, let’s just hope he’s used to crazy.

____

“Josh will you please shut the fuck up? I don’t want to hear her name again, please,” Jake groans out.

Whipping his head in Jake’s direction Josh says, “She’s my best friend. I’m allowed to be excited to see her Jake.”

Jake gives his best effort to not roll his eyes, but fails.

“It’s not like you have to talk to her. I’m sure she isn’t thrilled to see you either, after how shitty you’ve been,” Josh mumbles, leaving the room.

Huffing like a child, Jake does his best to calm his nerves. He is not prepared whatsoever to see you after all this time.

____

Jake already knew it would be hard to see you, but seeing you with some guy makes his façade shatter completely. Pre-gaming seems to have been a bust, because he has never felt soberer in his life.

“Sunshine!” Josh’s bright smile distracts you from scanning the crowd any longer, silently searching for his other half.

After Josh has gotten his fill of hugs and kisses from you, he makes quick work of introducing himself to your date.

Josh’s love for first impressions allows you to quickly excuse yourself, wanting to find a drink strong enough to get through the night.

Scanning the crowd, you see him. Sitting in a secluded corner of the room, slowly sipping on his drink.

Realizing his eyes had been on you since stepping in the doorway, you allow yourself one quick glance in his direction. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of actively looking for him, you walk the opposite direction, silently hoping he’ll follow you.

Is Jake an asshole to you? Yes.

Does he deserve even a second of your time? Hell no.

But, there’s still a part of you that longs for the Jake you once knew so well. It’s foolish to believe that after all this time he has changed, but you can’t help but wish for it.

Fixing a drink, you smile at people in passing or attempt to make small talk.

Feeling him before you see him, his presence looms over you like no other.

Jake sits onto the countertop next to you, plucking the cherry out of your drink. Grinning wickedly at you, he sucks the cherry into his mouth.

If you hadn’t been so focused on his cherry stained lips, you would have slapped the audacity right out of him.

“See something you like, sunshine?”

“Fuck off Jake,” you glare up at him.

“Don’t be like that, where’s my welcome home hug?” he pouts.

“Assholes don’t get welcome home hugs. They get a foot up their ass instead. Would you like me to demonstrate?”

He chuckles.

Jumping off the counter, he says, “It’s good to see you to, Sunshine.”

Watching him saunter off to his dark corner, you exhale, trying to regain your footing. Jake has always had a way of making your head feel all fuzzy, no matter what bullshit he was spewing.

____

Sam had made the executive decision to start a bonfire later into the night.

The party had dwindled down to very few people at this point.

Your date had decided to head home early because he had work the following morning. The both of you had agreed to see each other again soon. He seemed extremely nice, but you had a feeling it wouldn’t work out due to your complicated past resurfacing.

But, you were in desperate need of a distraction sadly.

Which left you snuggled under Josh’s arm, sharing childhood stories around the fire. Very clique, but it happened every time you all got together and had a few drinks.

Jake’s eyes haven’t left your figure since you walked in the door. The moment in the kitchen with you replaying in his mind over and over again. He could have sworn you looked at him, like he’s always looked at you.

Hanging on to every word that comes out of your mouth, Jake yearns for your affection.

Over the years, Jake has had love interests that weaved in and out of his life. He’d never been in love with any of them, but unconsciously found parts of you in them.

Deflecting his feelings for you by pretending to dislike you is better than being rejected by the one person he loves most, at least that’s what he tells himself.

He longs to hold you close like Josh.

Was his fear of rejection worth losing his best friend?

____

Weeks have passed since the night of the party. Danny had graciously taken you home that night, promising to have a lunch date soon.

Remember the guy you brought with you to said party, you know, the one you agreed to see again?

Well, the time has come to meet up again. The both of you agree to get drinks at a local bar in town. Your excited to go out actually. He’s a cute guy who seems to have a genuine interest in you. Plus, he could be the solution to your irritating Jake problem. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten all dolled up anyway, so this is a great excuse.

Finally feeling satisfied with how you look, you head out the door. Don’t get it twisted, you’re not dressing for him. Putting on a pretty outfit and delicate makeup is all for you, mostly because it’s fun.

High school is rough for everyone. Puberty, delayed growth spurts, acne, braces, and social standards never complimented each other. Having struggled with each and every aspect of an awkward stage during high school.

Feeling beautiful is hard when everyone around is trying to be anyone but themselves. So, you could say high school was rough for you.

You never thought of yourself as beautiful or magnificent. Mostly putting yourself into the dull category, because there was truly nothing special about you.

But, Jake always had a way of proving you wrong.

Jake watched you grow from a gentle and kind young lady, into a breath-taking woman.

Having always thought you were beautiful in every stage of life, Jake truly wouldn’t know where to start.

_____

The bar was lit up with string lights, softly playing music.

Lucky for you, the bar was just a block over from your house, so you were able to walk over. Hoping that your date went well enough for you to hitch a ride home with him.

You arrived on time, perching yourself atop the nearest bar stool. He had messaged you saying he was running behind, but he shouldn’t be too long. So, you had decided to wait at the bar for him.

____

Hours have passed and your still sat atop a barstool, downing your sixth drink of the night. You came to the conclusion about two hours ago, that he was indeed not coming after all.

“Ma’am, do you have a ride home? We’re closing up shop here, so you’re going to have to leave soon,” the older bartender asks you.

“Yeah, yeah sorry. Let me call a friend of mine really quick,” you fumble around, looking for your phone.

Securing your phone in your hand, you go to call Josh. He wouldn’t mind coming to get you.

“Hello?”

“Hey Josh, I know its late but I need a ride home. I’m at the bar down the street, but I’ve had too much to drink to walk home in the dark. Can you please come get me?” anxiously fidgeting in your seat.

“I’ll be there in five. Stay right there,” he hangs up abruptly.

He did not sound happy whatsoever. Making Josh mad was not on your to do list today.

It’s just kind of weird. Josh never minds picking you up, he actually insists its him you call. He’s probably having a rough day, don’t over think it.

It hadn’t even been five minutes when you heard your name being called behind you.

Except that voice was definitely not Josh’s.

Out of all people you could have accidentally called, it had to be him. Your night couldn’t get any worse.

Spinning around on your chair, you sigh, waiting for him to provoke you.

He looks at you worriedly, almost like you would shatter any second now.

You scoff, rolling your eyes.

“What? What did I do now?” Jake questions, conscious of your every move.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

You glare at him.

“Like I’m some fucking lost puppy.”

“Don’t give me a reason to,” he bites back.

Running your hands across your face, you realize just how tired you were. “Jake, I can’t do this with you right now. I’ve had a shitty day. Can you please just take me home?”

He reluctantly nods, heading out the door with you in tow.

The two of you climb into his car and begin your silent ride home.

Jake’s never seen you like this. He’s used to you being angry especially at him. Granite, he does love to get you riled up.

But, his favorite is when your happy. When you smile so big, that it throws him back to the day he met you, with your big toothless grin shining down on him.

His sunshine now turning into rain.

So, he respects the silence for once in his life, letting you have your moment. Watching the tears gather in your eyes, brings along a feeling he’s not familiar with.

Rage.

Gripping the steering wheel, he feels steam run off of him, allowing his knuckles to turn white.

It’s one thing for him to tease and mock you, but another for some asshole to think he can and get away with it.

Jake wants now more than anything to be Josh for you. To make you smile and laugh. He can’t bare to see you like this any longer.

“Do you want to play some music? I’ll even let you choose,” he speaks softly, almost like he doesn’t want to run you off.

You peer up at him in confusion. Where the hell did Jake go?

Shifting anxiously under your gaze, Jake mumbles a quick never mind.

It’s been years since the two of you have had a civil conversation, so this feels unnatural.

“Do you remember when Sam had a crush on you?” doing his best to break the ice.

You snort.

His heart flutters seeing you laugh at something he said for once.

“Do I? The kid followed me around for weeks asking me all kinds of weird questions. It took you telling him that I had cooties because of you to back off,” you laugh out.

Sam was never a smooth talker, that’s for sure.

Jake laughs.

You watch in awe, begging for him to never stop laughing again.

Eventually, Jake pulls into your driveway. The two of you sit in silence for a moment, just wanting to bask in the normalcy for once.

You pull the door open, stepping out of the car. Turning around, you give him a tight-lipped smile.

“Thanks Jake, for everything,” looking anywhere but at him.

“No need to thank me, I’d do it again. If you really wanted to thank me, you could tell me where that guy lives so I can kick his ass,” he smiles up at you, only slightly kidding.

Laughing you wave goodbye, praying that he doesn’t see how flustered you were.

Once you’ve made it inside, Jake sits in the driveway, contemplating everything that happened tonight.

On the way home, Jake realizes he regrets not apologizing for everything he’s said that he truly didn’t mean.

____

Days pass and Jake hasn’t heard a peep from or about you. Josh claims that your trying to heal from getting your heartbroken, but Jake has a feeling something else is wrong.

He is terrified that he may have done something to hurt or upset you once again. He is sick and tired of being the one that hurts you.

So, Jake makes the impulsive decision to go see you. Josh protests saying “Jake is the last person you would want to see right now”. In authentic Jake fashion, he doesn’t give a flying fuck.

____

The drive to your house was torture. Jake didn’t know what the right thing to say would be or what he should do.

Thinking back to simpler times, he remembers the time he saw you the summer of 9th grade.

____

That summer was a weird one for all of you.

Jake and Josh finally went through a growth spurt and started filling into their teenage bodies.

They hadn’t seen you all summer because your family sent you to summer camp.

Jake had come home one day, looking for Josh. He heard Josh’s voice float down the hallway from the garage. Making his way in that direction, he heard a second voice. Recognizing that sweet voice anywhere, Jake strides down the hall in search of you.

Once in the garage, he froze in his tracks. It was definitely you, but different. Jake remembers your straggly hair and your scraped knees. He remembers a little girl, his best friend.

You were no longer a little girl, you were a young woman.

You had bloomed into a stunning flower. Jake felt breathless.

But, after all you were still you. Jake was still Jake.

Best friends forever, but maybe it had always been more than that.

____

Jake and Josh hauled you everywhere. Every show they played you were there.

Believing in their success was never difficult for you. The moment you heard them play together, you knew everything would change.

When the boys played their first big show, you had tagged along not wanting to miss a second of it. Their set had finally come to an end that night. Trotting off the stage, Jake immediately went looking for you. He’d kept an eye on you throughout the show, always feeling better with you close by.

Feeling a hand grip his wrist, he spins around in search of the culprit.

Wrapping him into a bear hug, you squeeze him tight.

Pulling away from you he notices tears in your eyes.

“What’s wrong? Was the show that bad?”

You slap at his chest.

“No, you idiot. These are happy tears. I’m just so proud of you guys. Thank you for letting me be here,” you smile up at him.

“Thank you for wanting to be here. I couldn’t have done it without you,” he remarks.

Arriving at your house, he stumbles up to your porch and forces himself to knock on your door. After what seems to be the longest two minutes of his life, you answer the door.

You clearly just woke up from a nap, your hair a wild mess. Of course, Jake thinks its adorable.

Obviously, your taken aback as to why Jake would be standing on your front porch. You begin to question him, but he stops you.

“Can I come in? We need to talk,” he says, barely looking you in the eye.

“Yeah sure, sure,” you say, stepping aside.

Looking around, Jake realizes he’s never been inside your house before. Your windows are wide open, welcoming the sunlight in. Music playing softly from your record player. Books littered all over the room. It feels like home, yet so unfamiliar.

Clearing your throat, you see him jump, clearly on edge.

Once the two of you have gotten comfortable on your sofa, you realize she how quiet it is. Giving him a small smile, in hopes to provide some sort of comfort due to his jitteriness. He melts at the sight of your kind gesture.

“Are you feeling better” he asks.

Chuckling nervously, you reply, “Way better than the last time you saw me. Thank you for that by the way. I meant to text you afterwards, but I was just too tired.”

“You don’t have to thank me, I wanted to.”

You stare at him blankly.

“You wanted to save me from one of the most embarrassing nights of my life?”

“No no no, I didn’t mean it like that, I just like helping you or being the one you call.”

Giving him an exasperated sigh, you sink deeper into your chair.

“Jake, why are you here?”

He sighs, remembering the real reason he came after all. “I don’t even know where to start. I just wanted to apologize, for everything. You never deserved how I treated you. You’ve always been such an enigma to me. I couldn’t ever figure out why you were so kind to me, even after I pushed you away.”

“Then why did you push me away Jake? When all I’ve ever wanted was to be close to you.”

“I felt like I had to. You and Josh had gotten so close. I was selfish and got jealous. I’ve had to share everything with Josh my whole life. The one thing I never ever wanted to share was you. At the time, I felt like you had finally made your decision and it was Josh that you chose. It hurt too much to see the both of you together, so I made myself distance from you. A few years after I came to my senses and realized I was being selfish making you choose between the both of us, I wanted to make things right. I bought flowers and wrote out my whole apology speech, just to get to your front door and cower away. I felt like there would be no way you would forgive with such a lame ass excuse at that point. I had already dug deep enough. So, I made myself learn how to hate you, even though that’s the farthest thing from the truth. I--- I’m just so sorry Y/n. I never want to hurt you again. Being the one you called that night at the bar made me realize just how much I missed you. I miss talking to you, laughing with you, and sitting with you. I miss everything. I want to make it right, no matter what it takes. You deserve it, you always have.”

Hiding his face within his hands, in order to keep some composure, he hears a sniffle. Quickly looking up, Jake comes face to face with your tearful smile.

Tears poor down your face, while grinning ear to ear.

Reaching over, Jake gently wipes your tears away. You reach up and cup his shaky hands, holding them against your face.

“You’re such a dumbass.”

The both of you die out with chocked up laughter.

“You should have just told me Jake. I’ve always loved you both and I always will. But, my love for you is different, it always has been. You’re my best friend. Josh is my brother, the one that shields me. I had a sneaking suspicion that may have been what triggered your behavior, but I was too pissed to talk about it with you. Your right, I didn’t deserve the treatment you gave me, but I saw right through that bullshit. You forget that I watched you grow up. You’ve always been my sweetheart, the friend that would go above and beyond for you. I never truly believed you hated me, I just wanted to give you time to figure yourself out, no matter how long it took. I forgive you Jake. I think I forgave you a long time ago, but was always too prideful to admit it to myself.”

Grinning at each other, Jake pulls you into a tight hug. Being this close to one another after years of pining, felt like a dream.

Finally, you pull away realizing just how close the two of you were. Feeling Jake’s breath gently against your skin, you glance down at his lips. Jake’s breathing all together stops.

Quickly, your mind comes to its senses and the both of you awkwardly pull away.

Scratching the back of his neck, Jake says, “I guess I should head back to the studio now. Josh is going to kill me if I’m late again.”

“Oh yeah, of course. I know how cranky he can get,” you laugh off. Leading him out your front door, you turn to walk back inside.

“Y/n,” Jake calls out.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

You smile so wide, your bottom lip shakes.

Waving him off, you head back inside. Laying against the door, your head feels fuzzy from just his smile.

____

Five minutes later, Jake finds himself pulling right back into your driveway. He marches right out of his car, straight up to your porch once again. In a tizzy, he begins banging on your door.

Rushing to see what the ruckus is about, you swing open your door.

“Miss me already?” you chuckle out.

“Marry me.”

“What?”

“What?”

The both of you stand there looking at each other, daring the other to speak up.

“I’m sorry that’s not what I meant to say, I was trying to tell you-

You tug him by his collar, kissing him softly.

Eventually, the two of you pull away trying to catch your breath. Resting his head against yours, you both smile.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” you whisper out.

Jake chuckles in disbelieve. “No way, I’ve been dreaming of that since 7th grade.”

He takes your hand in his, squeezing so tight in hopes to convey his love for you. Immediately understanding, you bring your hand up to gently stroke his hair.

“Well, we could keep standing out here looking at one another, or we can go inside and kiss some more,” you say.

Jake hastily responses, “Inside please.”

____

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!!!!

[vampyrgoff]

Hii I just wanted to see if you do requests? I kind of want to ask a Vince and Bo both dating you. But you kind of have a bad week and don’t talk and act like your normal self and then one day they finally ask you and (you know when someone asks if you are okay and the waterfall comes) and have a lot of comfort🥺

I’m kinda struggling right now and today just is the one over the edge and need some love and comfort from these guys😭😭😭

If not that’s alright! Thank you for reading this one anyways!

Dating Both Vincent and Bo Sinclair: You had a bad week </3 Bo and Vincent comfort <3

Bo Sinclair x reader, Vincent Sinclair x reader

contains— fluffff, Bo, and Vinnie being cutie patooties, the boys kind of give off caregiver vibes?, agere vibes but like not really specifying or going into too much detail with that, vinnie does speak a VERY little. YALL CANT TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME, HE SOMETIMES SPEAKS TO YOU WHEN ALONE IDC I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL, a bit of babying honestly, I feel like it sucks but this is the best my sleepy brain can come up with...

requests— always open! send whateva guys <3

vampyr's note— Thanks for requesting, I hope you're doing okay 🥺 I wanted to get this out as soon as possible just cause I know how it feels when you have those days where you're struggling and nothing goes right. I hope this makes your day a little better and if it does, I'm glad I was able to help! <3 My DMs are ALWAYS open if anyone needs to talk to someone! <3 I want to say that this is my first time having to WRITE a cohesive story instead of small blurbs, so I'm sorry for any bad writing!

word count— 2.0k words, 10.9k characters

as always... gifs aren't mine!

reblogs, comments and feedback are always appreciated <3

(literal husbands ughh) (Vincent speaks through sign language! its easier on me to write it that way) (NOT PROOFREAD)

It was just a day. It was just a week, even. That's all it was. "All you have to do is get through it" is what you kept telling yourself. As you lay in bed in the workshop, watching Vincent work, your chest felt heavy. As if there was some sort of weight that was pulling you down. Your throat almost felt shut closed, as if you were to speak, nothing would come out. Your eyelids felt heavy and your vision grew hazy. You've been in bed all day. You didn't even know what time it was.

One thing about Vincent: if you don't tell him to stop working, he never will. He gets so lost in sketching and materializing those sketches that he forgets to eat and drink water, sometimes even take bathroom breaks. Bo can be heard upstairs, busy with something or someone. The loud thuds of his boots can be heard from downstairs. You sat up from the bed, your hair a tousled mess. Vincent's head snaps towards you almost instantly and his eyes soften at how beautiful you looked. Your hair was a mess but it looked so good, your skin was flushed a bit from all the crying and rubbing at your face, and you sat there wearing Bo's Nine Inch Nails band tee.

Vincent tilts his head at you, something he does a lot. "How did you sleep, beautiful?" He signs. A faint smile graced your lips.

"It... it was okay." You said a bit flatly. You got up and walked to him. Vincent noticed your thigh-high socks that rested up to about mid-thigh. The warmth of the basement really hitting your skin now. Vincent stood on his stool, waiting for you to really cuddle up in his arms like you normally do. But his heart sank a little when all you did was a small side hug and looked at one of the sketches he was drawing.

You were trying to avoid his gaze. You've been like this, this whole entire week. You lay in bed and shut yourself out from your lovers. It's easy to hide your true discontent feelings from Bo, as he tends to get busy with running everything in Ambrose with Lester. But with Vincent, it's a different story. Vincent knows you like the back of his hand. He observes you like a lost puppy. You're fascinating to him. So when you have these weeks, he tries to give you space and offer comfort but, it's truly hard when all you do is push away from him. Vincent watched you walk up the stairs, listening to the soft pitter patters of your feet. He wasn't gonna follow you yet but he knew Bo was gonna get to the bottom of what has been making you feel so bad.

Vincent had always struggled with confrontation and confronting you. Bo was always upfront with you and sometimes had to air out Vincent's feelings so that Vincent's problems would get solved. You never minded it though. You kind of admired the Yin and Yang in them. You loved the warmth of Vincent and the iciness of Bo.

As you walked out into the kitchen, Bo was already there, looking through the fridge. Bo's phone dinged and he looked at the message, tensing his jaw a bit as he looked at you. The message was from Vincent and it very much was a message about you and your recent behavior. "Doll," he says lowly, dragging out the name itself. You turned your head to him, already preparing yourself to mask your emotions completely. You hummed in response as you looked up at the taller man, he looked at you with expectant eyes. You heard approaching footsteps from behind you, once you heard Vincent walk into the room, you knew the jig was up.

Bo carried you and placed you on the kitchen island's countertop. Bo and Vincent now standing in front of you, Vincent's hand holding your left and Bo's hand holding your right. In serious moments like this, Vincent takes off his mask, and Bo's icy-cold gaze softens, and in this moment, it isn't an exception. You knew where this was going and you knew you needed comfort, it was just hard opening up to them. Not because you didn't want to, and not because they wouldn't listen but because you didn't want to waste energy trying to make them understand. You didn't want advice on how to make it better... you just wanted some extra love. Bo cleared his throat, interrupting you and your thoughts. "Doll, are you okay?" he asked, his voice low but very intimate.

Within seconds, your eyes begin to water and your tears begin to blur your vision. Vincent is quick to react as he pulls your face into his chest, shooting a look at Bo. He smells like wax and lavender-scented candles, a smell that smelt like home to you. Bo's thumb ran over your thumb in a soothing manner. The gesture really makes your heart swell as you turn your head to look at him.

"I-I'm sorry guys," You say, tears falling from your eyes, wetting Vincent's shirt a bit. "I know I've been extremely distant but I-" Bo shushes you immediately, stopping you from explaining. He reaches a hand out to you, the hand cupping your chin, his thumb rubbing at your bottom lip. "Now, you don't have to tell us anything, darling. Open up when you're ready okay?" He asks and you nod your head still sniffling. "Pretty princesses like you shouldn't be crying, okay?" You hug Bo next and he smiles a bit. He can't help but think that in moments like these, you're the cutest, so vulnerable and so small. He loves reveling in the fact that he can provide for you like a true man. It's his biggest ego boost. He loves feeling like he and his brother are the only ones on the planet earth that can make you feel good. Once you pull away, Bo stamps a kiss on your forehead. "What would you like us to do for you?" Vincent signs, his face contorted with worry.

Bo carries you off the counter and you cling onto him, your legs wrapped around his waist. He looks down at you and smiles a bit, he walks you over to the living room, as Vincent goes downstairs, grabbing all of your favorite movies and DVDs and grabbing your weighted blanket along with one of your favorite stuffed animals. Bo sits you on the couch and brings you a glass of water. "Drink up, okay baby. I know you probably haven't had anything to drink in a while," he says softly while rubbing your back. It was a true statement, you hadn't really taken care of yourself this week, it was apparent. Your skin was paler than usual, your cheeks were puffy and your lips plump from constantly chewing at them. It felt so good to be taken care of by Bo and Vincent. They were the best at giving princess treatment.

Vincent finally comes up and brings all the things you need. You feel your heart swell as Vincent sets the DVDs down on the table in front of you. He sits next to you, sprawling out the weighted blanket over the three of you as you reach for your favorite stuffed animals. "Now, which movie would you like to watch, sunshine." Bo drawls as he holds up all the DVDs in hand, sprawled out so that you can pick out of your favorites. Once the movie is picked he gets up and puts the movie in as you lean into Vincent's chest. Vincent's arms come over you and he pulls you onto him so that your back is in contact with his chest as Bo sits back down next to you. Bo lifts your legs up and sets them on his lap, his warm and calloused hands, rubbing at your skin and massaging your legs sensually as the movie starts. Every now and then Bo kisses the skin on your legs, truly making you feel pampered with love.

Once the movie comes to a close, you look to your left and see Bo, sleeping already. Vincent's still up though, his delicate hands playing with your hair and making small two-strand and three-strand braids, something that you taught him how to do in the past. "Vince," you call out to him quietly. He hums softly, not stopping the braiding. "What should we do now? Bo's asleep." You say. Vincent looks to Bo and shakes his head playfully disapproving. You finally turn your body to him and Vincent smiles once he sees your face. He leans in for a small kiss, which you gladly return. He tucks some hair behind your ear and smiles more, beginning to hold your face with his warm and intoxicating touch. "Are you feeling better?" He signs to you. You think for a second and you shrug. "I don't know anymore, Vinnie. I still feel really sad." You explain truthfully. Vincent stands up and grabs your hand. "Where are we going," you ask him as he begins to pull you up the stairs.

Vincent leads you to one of the bedrooms. He sits you on the bed and signals you to wait there. You nod in slight confusion, listening to his request. You watch Vincent walk in and out of the bedroom and in the bathroom. Vincent begins to run a bath for you, adding your favorite scents, and bath bombs to the water that consisted of your favorite colors. He adds rose petals to the water and smiles to himself. Vincent always outdid himself when it came to you and your needs, this being a great example. Vincent walks back to the bedroom and tugs on the oversized band tee you were wearing, his own way of telling you to take it off. Once you do, he turns your body so that your back is facing him and very gently undoes the hooks in your bra, as he does so, his lips trail your neck and back very slowly. Once your bra falls flat to the floor he very slowly takes off your underwear and sits you on the bed.

Vincent's eyes trail over your body a couple times but his eyes don't feel predatory. It feels like he's taking in your beauty in its purest form. You were a muse for him, he's seen your body in many vulnerable poses and such and he feels lucky to even say that. "Pretty..." He whispers to himself. He looks up to you with flushed cheeks, "Pretty princesses shouldn't have to undress themselves either." He kneels down to the floor and begins to pull off your thigh highs. Nice and slow leaving kisses down your thighs and legs and doing the same to the other. You feel your heart race and you begin to cover yourself up with your arms to which he shakes his head disapprovingly as he reaches over and retracts your arms to your side. Vincent stands up, pulls his cardigan off, and begins to undress himself. He picks you up and carries you to the bath setting you in gently as he gets behind you. Your back was on Vincent's chest. Vincent hums a small tune as he undoes all the braids and twists that he did in your hair, wetting the hair in the process, massaging your scalp, and leaving kisses all over your back. "There's my pretty girl." You hear from the doorway. Bo walks in and sits on the edge of the tub. "You know you look so pretty right now, enjoying yourself with Vince, right?" He asks teasingly, and you look away from him, feeling so shy under his keen eye. To distract yourself from his gaze you grab the shampoo, getting ready to lather your hair in it. But Bo takes it away from you. "Let me," He starts, "Our pretty doll is not gonna think for herself today, okay? You just sit there and look pretty... we'll take care of you okay?" He says in a loving yet firm voice.

This night was gonna be all about you.

[joeys-babe]

Someday We’ll Be Together

Chapter 15: Parents

————————————————————————-

October 2nd - with flashbacks from the previous night.

(y/n's pov)

Yesterday couldn't have been more perfect.

After years of admiring Joe from afar, I was finally his, and he was finally mine.

*Last night*

We arrived back at my house right after midnight. Joe and I stood at my front door not wanting to depart.

We stood hugging each other for a few minutes, kissing now and then. Trying to savor the other's presence before we part ways for the night.

"I don't want to go in there." - you

"I don't want you to either." - Joe

Silence fell over us as we stared at each other. We were thinking the same but neither of us wanted to come off too strong and ask. In the end, I was the one to speak up.

"Can I stay at your place tonight?" - you

Joe immediately smiled and nodded vigorously as his arm tightened around my waist and he pressed his soft lips to mine.

"Of course." - Joe

Once we were at Joe's across the street we showered (separately of course). Joe took one in the guest bathroom after showing me how to work the shower in the master bathroom.

He was sweet enough to let me borrow some of his clothes to sleep in, though it was hard for him to find pants that would fit me.

"I don't know baby, you might have to wear a belt with a pair of my sweatpants." - Joe

We had erupted into a laughing fit every few seconds, perks of dating your best friend.

In the end, Joe laid out one of his long-sleeve tees and a pair of shorts that he made sure had a drawstring.

Of course, I took significantly longer than him in the shower so when I walked out of the bathroom he was already lying down in bed.

Joe's gaze drifted from his phone to me and after giving me a slow once-over his perfect smile graced his lips.

"I kinda look like Adam Sandler." - you

I felt my cheeks get rosy as Joe's laughter filled the room.

"You look perfect." - Joe smiled

"You're just saying that because I'm in your clothes." - you rolled your eyes

"Well duh. They honestly look better on you than they do me." - Joe

"Joe babe now you're just lying. I'm being swallowed whole." - you giggled

"You look comfy!" - Joe

I moved forward and crawled into bed next to Joe, as I got closer to him my eyes were accustomed to the darkness and I could make out the details of his face and body better. My pulse quickened when I realized Joe didn't have a shirt on.

When my eyes averted from Joe's built chest back to his face, the smug grin showing on his lips told me he was aware of my staring.

"Sorry..." - you

"Don't be. You can look." - Joe grinned

Joe shifted around and the sheet moved farther down to expose more of his toned upper body.

"You're unreal Joe." - you

"Yeah?" - Joe smirked

"Yeah." - you repeated

Slowly I reached out and placed a hand on his stomach. My hand ran over his soft skin before moving up to his chest and rounding his pecs.

"This isn't fair." - you grumped

"What isn't?" - Joe

"You look hot as hell and I look homeless." - you

Joe busted out laughing before wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into him.

"You don't look homeless baby. I think you look rather hot wearing my clothes." - Joe

"You're just saying that because you basically marked your territory." - you

He moved a strand of hair behind my ear and kissed my temple.

"Exactly, sweetheart." - Joe

His deep voice, and the nickname that spilled out with it, left me feeling rather flustered. Feeling my cheeks heat up I pressed my face into his neck and tried to hide the redness showing on my face.

"Don't hide from me, baby. I wanna see your pretty face." - Joe

"Joey, stop. You're too much." - you

"How so?" - Joe chuckled

"You're praising me so much, if my face gets any hotter I might pass out." - you

"Okay okay, I'll stop." - Joe chuckled

A loud yawn left my lips and Joe tightened his hold on me as he pulled the blanket over us.

"You comfy?" - Joe

"Very." - you rubbed your face against his chest

"Goodnight, baby." - Joe

"Goodnight, Joey." - you

Joe kissed my forehead and leaned away a little bit to get comfortable. He was super tired so I wasn't at all surprised when he almost immediately fell asleep.

A few minutes later when I was about to go to sleep I realized that I left my phone charger downstairs and my phone was close to dying.

I tried to wiggle out of Joe's arms without waking him up but I failed miserably.

"Baby? What are you doing?" - Joe

"Uhm. I forgot my charger downstairs and my phone's almost dead." - you

"Stay here, I'll go get it." - Joe

He moved the covers off of him and rolled outta bed. I watched him the entire way on his trip out of the room. His gorgeous muscular body was only covered in a pair of black boxers, and God did he look downright hot.

After borderline drooling over my boyfriend and laying there in shock till he got back with my charger, I almost forgot how to form words.

"You okay, y/n? You look like you just saw a ghost." - Joe

"I- uh... yeah." - you

"Okay, well goodnight." - Joe

"Night." - you

A few seconds of silence went by before I spoke up.

"Hey Joe?" - you

"Hey y/n?" - Joe

"You're so hot." - you

Joe chuckled before kissing my cheek.

"I appreciate it, babe. You're pretty hot too." - Joe laughed

"Like I can't believe you're my boyfriend, how'd I manage to get you?" - you

Joe sighed and sat up in bed, realizing it was going to be longer till he went to sleep.

"Pretty easily honestly. You know I've been under your spell since high school. y/n you're everything I could ever want or need; you're the sweetest woman ever, incredibly funny, smart, loving, and humble. You just understand me more than anyone else ever could. If anything, I question how I got you to go out with me." - Joe

"Pretty easily honestly." - you grinned

A smile formed on Joe's lips as it registered that you copied his words. He leaned forward and pressed a loving kiss on my lips.

*Present Day*

Once again, waking up next to Joe started the day off amazingly.

Plans today consisted of telling the parents that we were now a couple. My parents already knew that last night was probably going to be the night Joe asked me out since he told them, and I'd find that out from Joe.

Now Robin & Jimmy had no idea that Joe and I were even on good terms. The last they heard was when I was at the game, so it'll be a pleasant surprise for them when we reveal our relationship to them later tonight.

As I got ready for the day, Joe fixed breakfast downstairs and I could honestly say I could get used to this way of life. I was so lucky to have Joe as a boyfriend and best friend.

After finishing getting ready, I walked downstairs to find Joe intricately plating our breakfast.

"Look at you, Mr. Chef." - you smiled

"Morning, gorgeous." - Joe smiled

I strode up to him and got on my tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Morning, handsome. You didn't have to do all of this, but I'm really glad you did because I'm starving." - you smiled

"Thought you would be. I made french toast, sausage links, and fried potatoes." - Joe

"You are the best, Joe." - you

Joe swung an arm around my waist and pulled me against him.

"Only the best for my girl." - Joe kissed you

Breakfast was all around perfect, Joe and I talked about anything we could think of and he even gave me a speech thanking me for how much I've already healed him from his past relationship.

After we cleaned up the kitchen together we walked over to my parent's house hand in hand.

Walking through the door, my mom was sitting on the island and didn't even turn around at the sound of the front door opening.

"Hey guys!" - you

"Hey, sweetie- oh, and Joe!" - your mom

My mom had turned around rather slowly mid-sentence and was surprised to see Joe with me.

"Hey." - Joe smiled

"So what have you two been up to?" - your mom

"Well... our first night and morning as a couple was pretty good!" - you smiled

"A couple!? Are you guys official?!" - your mom

Joe and I looked at each other with huge smiles, he squeezed my hand and nodded to me to tell me to say yes.

"Yup." - you smiled

My mom practically jumped out of her seat and ran over to us, pulling us both into a hug.

"Oh my gosh, I'm ecstatic for you guys. I just know you'll make each other so happy as boyfriend and girlfriend. I've been waiting for this moment since you two were born." - your mom

"We already have made each other pretty happy. Right, baby?" - Joe grinned

"Right." - you smiled back at your boyfriend

"You guys are so sweet. Your dad is on the back porch drinking his coffee, by the way." - your mom

I nodded and led Joe outside to the back deck, my dad immediately smiled when he saw me walking out.

"Hey pumpkin- oh and Joe's with you."  - your dad chuckled

He was sitting in one of the chairs so Joe and I opted for the loveseat across from him.

"You two seem awfully happy, what's happened since yesterday evening?" - your dad

"We went on a date." - you grinned

"Yeah? When will you guys finally get together? It's clear you guys want each other, and there are no doubt shared feelings between the two of you." - your dad

"That's actually what we're here for. We have something to tell you." - Joe

I looked over at Joe and felt a slight pain in my cheeks from how much I'd been smiling the past couple of days.

"Yeah, what's that?" - your dad

Joe laced his fingers with mine and gently squeezed my hand, my dad immediately noticed the action.

"We're dating." - you

Both Joe and I started getting worried when seconds had passed and my dad hadn't shown any reaction. He was just talking about how we should get together, and now he's silent?

"Really?" - your dad

"Yeah, Joe's my boyfriend." - you grinned

Joe felt himself blushing when you called him that, he'd never get tired of hearing it.

"Is this a prank?" - your dad

"What? No." - you

"Well then, congrats. You guys complement each other very well. Joe, have you told your parents yet? I'm sure your mom will be thrilled." - your dad

"We haven't yet no. We are tonight." - Joe

"Oh okay, sounds good. I'll try to keep your mother from saying anything, y/n." - your dad

"Good luck with that!" - you laughed

Joe and I stood up off the couch and started to walk back inside when my dad called my name.

"Hey, y/n. One more question." - your dad

"Yeah?" - you

"Does this mean you're going to be outta the house soon?" - your dad laughed

I looked at Joe when he busted out laughing at my dad's comment.

"Hopefully that's where it's heading. I'm in it for the long run Sir." - Joe grinned

"Good. Now you two get outta here. I love you both!" - your dad

Joe's hand on the small of my back led me back into the house where my mom was patiently waiting at the bar in the kitchen.

"So how'd that go?" - your mom

"Good! He asked if us being together meant I was going to be outta that house soon." - you laughed

My mom laughed and shook her head at her husband's comment.

"Don't feel pressured to move out just because you have a boyfriend now, you're welcome here as long as you need." - your mom

"I appreciate it." - you smiled

As much as I love my parents, as soon as Joe asks me to move in with him, I'm out of here.

Because who wouldn't want to live with their boyfriend who's also their best friend?

————————————————————————-

Authors note: Long time no see with SWBT, but a sweet anon encouraged me to post!

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

[lurkingshan]

I Feel You Linger in the Air: Novel vs Drama 

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

Happy IFYL special day! While I wait (not so) patiently for the special episode to become available for international viewers, I thought I would stop being lazy and get around to writing up my thoughts on the adaptation choices of the drama now that I’ve finally had a chance to read the original novel. 

First, let me just say: the novel is so fun. I’m so glad folks like @clairedaring and @pharawee talked about it on here and @waitmyturtles read it first and told me to jump on it, because I’ve had a really hard time with poorly translated y novels before and was definitely skeptical. But the story was excellent and the English translation was really solid, so a great time was had by all and I wasn’t even salty about spending eighteen American dollars on it. I didn’t think the novel was perfect (turtles can attest I had a few LOUD complaints) but it was a very enjoyable read. Shoutout to @bengiyo, @neuroticbookworm, and @wen-kexing-apologist as well for listening to me rant about Tee’s choices as I made my way through the novel. Bonus: if you have the chance to read this novel while vacationing in Thailand surrounded by plumeria trees and romantic scenery, I highly recommend. 

So, with that established, let’s talk about the adaptation! Adapting novels to a visual medium always comes with a lot of choices, and it’s not easy to make everything translate effectively. On the other hand, a live action drama can make some of what’s on the page feel even more vivid and new elements can be introduced that add to the canon. I’m on the record as both loving this show and feeling like there were some significant missteps in the writing, so I really wanted to understand the source material and how some of those choices were made. So here’s your spoiler alert for IFYL’s adaptation: it’s a real mixed bag of choices from our dear frenemy Tee Bundit, and all in service of one clear goal. 

I Feel You Linger in the Air, but Make It Sadder!

I’m going to break down the details below, but this is the TL; DR right here. Every choice Tee made in this adaptation was in service of transforming a relatively light and often comedic time travel romp into a story of deep melancholy and a thorough examination of queer pain. This is Tee’s whole schtick, so we can hardly be surprised; and yet I was kind of taken aback by how stark the difference in these stories felt even as a lot of the plot stayed the same. During the drama’s airing @respectthepetty talked about how this show was just too damn sad for her, and I gotta say, she was definitely picking up what Tee was putting down. YMMV on how sad you like your romance, but Tee Bundit is a very sad boy indeed.

Jom

gif by @junghaesin

Let’s start here, because this is definitely my biggest grievance with Tee: he removed most of Jom’s personality from the book in order to give us a flatter, sadder version of him that fit better with a much more melancholy vision for this story. As it turns out, Jom was originally written to be smart, sassy, and very funny (h/t to @stuffnonsenseandotherthings whose post on this really got me interested in reading to see the difference). Novel Jom is a smartass who never misses the opportunity to work in a salty comment or express his frustration when things aren’t going his way, and he’s such an active character. He does not just sit back and let things happen to him; he thinks and he struggles and he tries. By comparison, show Jom just feels… vaguely confused, mildly depressed, and wildly passive most of the time. This is by no means a knock on Nonkul, who is a fantastic performer—these are clearly writing and directing choices and he is interpreting the character as instructed.

And it’s not just the removal of his core personality, either. Jom in the book has emotional intelligence and a stronger sense of connection to others. For one, he actually cares that Eung Phueng is his sister! Throughout the book, we see him dedicate time and energy to finding ways to care for his sister despite their different social stations; this dynamic is completely absent from the show, where Jom doesn’t even seem to remember Eung Phueng has his sister’s face most of the time. This was a major hole in the show and I still don’t really understand why Tee dropped the ball on it when there was so much material to drawn from in the book.

Winner: The novel, hands down. If you take nothing else away from this post, please take it as a recommendation to read the novel so you can experience Real Jom in all his sassy glory.

The Mythology 

gif by @chickenstrangers

Now, I can’t really claim that either the novel or the show does a fantastic job with the mythology, because there’s a lot of hand waving in either case and some definite plot holes. But I will give the book credit for being upfront from the start: it didn’t really intend to explain it beyond giving us a little preamble about wormholes (yes, wormholes!) and for having Jom actually notice and care (and get very amusingly frustrated) that he didn’t understand what the wormhole wanted him to do or how to control it. He actually tried quite a lot in the book to figure it out, rather than just sitting around gazing morosely into the distance. In the end, the book tells us that Yai vowed to love Jom at first sight in every lifetime, which is a vow he made after the wormhole brought Jom to him but somehow affects the times that had already happened from our perspective. It’s a paradox that doesn’t fully make sense, but it is at least an explanation.

The show, by contrast, intentionally added layers to this mystery that it had no intention of resolving. The drawings opening up connections to the present, the ghostly visages haunting the characters, the glimpses of Jom in the future doing things we never saw in the original timeline, Mustache Yai kissing Jom in the water—all show inventions, and all setting up an expectation that some sense would be made of these clues. Which of course, never happened. Instead, these things were used to contribute to the spooky scary vibe and make everything feel sadder, and the show offered no explanation at all for why any of this happened.

Winner: It’s a draw since neither really did it well, but I’m staying salty with Tee for fucking with me.

Family Drama 

gif by @thii-nii

Here is where we get into some of the stuff Tee added to the story that actually worked pretty well. One very smart adaptation choice: he made Yai and Eung Phueng siblings so that Yai would have a reason to be more involved in their household and able to interact much more with Jom in the early parts of the story; in the novel there is no connection between the households and Yai and Jom barely interact for the first several months after Jom arrives in the past. He also added a lot of family drama in the back half of the show: the struggles with Yai’s father, the shady uncle, the plot to force Yai to marry, and the big confrontation over Robert’s misdeeds are all show inventions, likely added both to pad out the story and make the relationship harder and sadder, and because he was looking for an alternate source of conflict since he was not doing Part 2 of the book (which takes place once Jom is yanked away again and shot back to the Commander Yai time period). 

Another major change from the novel to the show: in the novel, Yai’s plans to go study abroad were already set before Jom even got there, not something he won as a consolation in a negotiation over marriage. Which has some implications I’ll get into in the next section.

Winner: The drama, where the family dynamics were much more thoroughly explored. 

The Romance 

gif by @loveisactivated

As I mentioned above, Tee made a smart choice in bringing Yai more firmly into Jom’s orbit early in the story, but unfortunately, he didn’t do much with that advantage and actually failed to use some of what the novel gave him to work with. In the novel, Jom is much more aware of the attraction between him and Yai, very attuned to Yai’s flirting and their age gap, very aware of his own growing attachment to Yai, and thinking through the implications of all of it as it grows, which is a more natural and believable build up to their romance than in the show, where Jom seems distracted and unaware of Yai’s affections until they suddenly start jumping each other. That lack of romantic development in the show (which we discussed even as it was airing) was not because the material was not there for Tee to use in the book; he simply had other priorities and neglected to build it properly in show time.

That said, I have to give major credit to Tee for how he handled the romance once our leads were together and intimately involved. First, he really brought some of the scenes that were in the book to life in a way that still has me shook, like Yai’s drunken poetry recitation (credit must also be given to Bright for his eye work in that and many other scenes, what a stunner). And on top of that, the drama has some of the best physical intimacy scenes I have ever seen in any drama, full stop, and that is nearly all Tee and his creative team. He used elements from a few scenes in the book, but he remixed and amplified them to be a lot more powerful, and certainly much more artful and sensual than the sex scenes in the book. That olive oil masturbation scene? The show gets full credit, and the way the direction, editing, and performances so vividly painted their attraction to each other still gives me shivers when I think about it.

But anyway, back to bitching about Tee: one of the scenes that really stuck out for me like a sore thumb in the romance arc in the show was when Yai learns he will be going abroad and he and Jom discuss it in a curiously flat and emotionless way, with Yai acting like it’s no big deal for them to be separated for three years. I mentioned above that this was a change from the book: in the novel Yai was already set to go abroad before he ever met Jom, it was not a new surprise that came about after they were together. They discuss Yai’s impending departure twice in the book; once when Jom is still only Yai’s majordomo, and then once again when they are lovers. As you can imagine, the emotional tenor of these two scenes are quite different. And Tee used the wrong one for the show! I almost threw the book at the wall when I realized I was reading the verbatim dialogue from that scene in the show in the context of Yai and Jom hardly knowing each other yet, and then again when I got to the second conversation that was actually appropriate for two lovers who do not want to be parted. That has to be one of the most senseless adaptation mistakes I have ever seen. Tee Bundit, what is wrong with you!!

Lastly for this section, I will just note that the very long, drawn out goodbyes between Yai and Jom are also a show invention. In the book, Jom gets yanked to the next time period with no warning shortly after they get together and begins his next adventure with another Yai. Since Tee was ending the show here in this time period, he went in a different direction, having Jom and Yai much more aware of Jom fading and anticipating a separation so that he could (say it with me) make everything sadder. His choice to wallow for two entire episodes in sorrow and melancholy and to put much heavier focus on Yai’s despair was entirely his own, and so very on brand.  

Winner: It’s a draw. The book definitely writes the romantic arc more holistically and doesn’t have any of the missteps the drama does, but the show is so artful and the parts it gets right are so good I will remember them for the rest of my life. And I can’t pretend I’m not an angst monster at heart, so Tee’s sad af vision totally worked on me.

Sides and Queer Community

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

Here is where Tee’s adaptation really shines, and I know others have discussed these changes before so I won’t go too deep on the details. But I absolutely have to give Tee props for taking tiny threads for these side characters in the books and building them into whole people that we actually care about. Especially in the case of Ming and Fong Kaew, Tee really made something of their extremely thin book stories to turn them into fan favorite characters with real growth arcs. I do think the book was better in the way it handled the fated connection between Fong Kaew and Khamsaen, but everything else about Fong Kaew’s story was deepened by the show. And Tee gets credit for adding so many meaningful stories for women characters in the first place, let alone developing a lesbian romance for Eung Pueng and Maey. He picked up on a tiny bit of subtext for underdeveloped characters in the book and ran with it, and it really enhanced the story. 

He also used side characters as a means to make this story feel all around more queer, not only by including additional queer romances but by building out a real sense of community and solidarity among the queer characters. Not only the addition of nods to real queer history, but the speakeasy, James’s explicit queerness, and Nuey the Green Queen are all Tee additions to the canon that really enhanced the story.

Winner: The drama and it’s not close. Well done, Tee!

That Ending

gif by @dragonsareawesome123

One of my biggest interests in reading the novel was seeing how the ending with modern Yai is explained in the original source material, because I found the drama version of that scene so lacking. Well, it turns out, the novel did pretty much the same thing! The ending sequence of the book is even shorter than the scene in the show and similarly offers zero explanation for this new version of Yai or how he knows Jom before they jump each other and the story concludes. The main narrative ends there and the book then tacks on an epilogue explaining who this new Yai is, and it reads like an afterthought. Honestly, it felt to me like the writer ran out of steam and just didn’t bother to finish the story, and Tee did exactly the same thing. Which is kind of infuriating, because being able to fix stuff like that is one of the best things about a good adaptation. 

Winner: Absolutely no one, my kingdom for a proper ending to this story.

gif by @pharawee

So, my conclusions? 1) Tee Bundit is the saddest creator in Thai bl, hands down; 2) It’s a draw between which version of this story is better. The novel and drama both have different strengths and significant flaws, but both versions are compelling and had me on the edge of my seat. I highly recommend the book to anyone who is missing the show and wants another chance to revisit these characters, plus the added bonus of seeing Jom wrangle Commander Yai, something we are unlikely to ever see on our screens (though hope springs eternal besties!). If you do decide to give it a read, come talk to me about it! 

[wastrelwoods]

meg’s hannibal fic recs

hurrah for accumulating enough hannibal fics to finally organize some into a sexy little numbered list (which is comprised of three subsections. tee hee i am so organized) i am leaving out some better-known and appreciated fandom classic tastemakers just because I tend to assume people have run into those on their own but of course there are some all time faves there too. this is just already so long, holy shit,

🫀 PART THE FIRST : CANONVERSE [heartwrenching character studies, missing scenes, divergences, etc]

coffee cake by bones_2_be | 82k | hannibal leaves alone after digestivo, and will stays in wolf trap. in the middle of a snowstorm, hannibal comes back to visit. a really sweet and complex slow burn that's especially satisfying to reread in inclement weather and always leaves me craving comfort food

tenderdest touch leaves the darkest of marks & the hardest of hearts by det395 | 28k | 2part divergence from season 3b | hannibal and will end up on the wrong side of the door to his BSHCI cell. THE IMAGERY is so unparalleled the twists and turns are so masterful and the integration of silence of the lambs elements in a completely unexpected way is SO fun. PERFECT

Il falò delle vanità by More_night | 17.8k | missing scenes, one per season | will and hannibal get drunk together and skirt the edges of a years-long discussion of love, destruction, and veneration. these snapshots in their increasingly tumultuous relationship and the things that change and the things that don't....ooh wee

purple hyacinth by petrodactyl352 | 3.5k | missing scene in the season 3 timeskip | scenes from will's wedding day, featuring hannibal, alana, and will. SO full of lovely pining and a fun exploration of the interplay between these characters

culinary substitution by anbarelectrum | 8.8k | mid season 3 | will's old family meets his new family. THE choice of POV for both sections lends so much to this fic and it's a great tense little vignette that explores the dynamics at play in a really clever and exciting way while being very fair and evenhanded with all characters involved. and i LOVE the conclusions drawn

trotline by colonel_bastard | 7.7k | missing scene in season 2b | will takes hannibal fishing. just a CRAZY character study. the whole of will graham writ small in a way that boils my blood to think about. (feat. extremely detailed and visceral animal death)

after the silence has returned by fahye | 2k | post-canon | domestic autocannibalism? hannibal preparing meals with will's blood for both of them to share. just very short and sweet and good

the other side of the mirror by nbcravenstag | 7.5k | mizumono | will leaves hannibal's house after their last supper torn between two impossible choices. then will turns the car around.

everyone but me by det395 | 2.7k | listen i get why more people aren't writing fic in this fandom that is wheeze-laugh-until-your-lungs-give-out funny but you know who is doing it well? @will-gayham gets a double rec for this one

the purpose of blood by basingstoke | 5k | lovely and concise post-fall getting-together fic with a very precise and adept hannibal POV. yes there are a wealth of good post-canon fics but this is my favorite! so there! 

🫀PART THE SECOND : DAMN GOOD AUs [transformative and matchless in their creativity ]

airlock by murdertrout | 9k | scifi horror romance | the spaceship's AI has been killing off the crew. will is on a mission to stop it. i love the nonlinear structure & the way that exploration of the humanity of an AI works so well with hannibal's whole thing & the exploration of bodies and codependency (&sweet robot lovin)

the back foot by spqr | 8.5k |  kind of a pretty woman vibe, a little romcom and a little crime thriller. ANYWAY i can be reticent about sex work AUs but there's such verisimilitude in this one specifically for how many part-time gigs will is working and i think its great that the full service SW is treated basically the same as the column writing and dog-walking. it's all skilled work that's a little bit of a slog and really he wants to be free to get back to the romance subplot

it never sings vain by chaparral_crown | 117k | midsommar inspired folk horror au | exquisitely painful to read from start to finish, feels like eating your own beating heart, heavily recommend (feat. extremely vivid and graphic depiction of suicide right out the gate)

long live the knife by tei | 29k | baroque musician au | STICK THE FUCK WITH ME HERE you'll  like this so much even if you don’t know much about that. you will. the depth of research that clearly went into this fic is one of the best i've ever seen and breathes so much life into this concept and will and hannibal both fit into this space in such nuanced and interesting ways! questions of bodily autonomy and god and death and art? johann sebastian bach is there?

all of history [deleted with one stroke] & coercive notions re-evolve by serindrana | 69k | sleeper agent/mind control au that leans into psychological horror | pt 1 is a season 1 vignette: hannibal tries to take advantage of will's fevered brain and finds that it is not the terra incognita he had expected. pt 2 is a plottier fic: while trying to recover his missing memories in the BHSCI, will blacks out and wakes up at hannibal's house, where he slowly pieces together the history that has been hidden from him (feat. dubious consent and torture)

🫀PART THE THIRD : EARNING THAT XXX RATING [canonverse or not but most importantly, good n horny]

rabbit hearted by bleakmidwinter | 18.5k | post-fall getting together fic | i am a sucker for this very specific mix of romantic tension and intimacy negotiation and apparently not at all immune to the allure of 'gay sex feat. this straight guy who is about to get his mind blown' 

sweet milk by lazybaker | 21.5k | post-fall good clean fun fetish fic | i am also not immune to men's tits or the notion of a LITTLE bit of tasteful lactation. sorry i meant tasty

conduit by mokuyoubi | 9k | post-fall getting together fic WITH. a fun bicurious threesome moment. like i said i'm kind of a sucker for fics that turn on the axis of will graham figuring out how to get into having gay sex

satisfied by h0neybeebear | 11.6k | WILDLY sensual and sexy t4t marathon sex that should qualify for some kind of medal or award. new nobel prize category. the incendiary capacity of el's sensory descriptions could power a rocket straight into the sun or, alternatively, keep a hitachi charged for approximately 5 aeons

let me sinful be by darlingred1 | 20k | will is an anal sex toy connoisseur and hannibal is so, so, so intrusively curious about it. i won’t say how many times this has been visited in my history. top of the ao3 wrapped type of shit