#could just be her in times end bookstore idk

[howdyfriend]

man if i were her id be so fucking tired.

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 3

in which spencer reid spends a rainy day teaching inexperienced fem!reader how to touch him. of course, her efforts don't go unrecognized, much less unrewarded

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings: inexperienced reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, oral m receiving, reader swallows lol, a truly sickening amount of praise, like really, you JOKINGLY refer to each other as dirty sluts, r has longish hair, spit mentioned once, thigh riding (moans loudly), its filthy idk what to tell you, i feel like i've crossed the desert on foot i don't even know what else is in here, your honor they're in love, i take you to dinner first, this part is stupidly long a/n: had a fucking field day the three separate times i had to rewrite this el oh el... but think i like how it turned out?! anyway, if u like this PLS lmk bc writing it took a small piece of my soul, and yes there will be a part four!! take care of yourselves!! i love you!!!

You give Spencer half a minute or so before knocking on his door for a second time. 

It’s miserable outside, and though the hallway you’re standing in now isn’t terribly cold, you’d much prefer to be in Spencer’s apartment, where it will be the same toasty 68.5 degrees as always. Not that the heating will magically dry you. And not that you’ll be there for long, if the date you’d scheduled last week goes on as planned. 

You’re getting worried, about to knock for a third time when the locks finally click and the door opens to reveal a disheveled Spencer Reid—not at all looking ready for a date. You take in his ensemble; blue checked pajama pants, FBI Academy crewneck, the usual questionably paired socks. He’s rubbing his droopy eyes, which slowly widen as he notices your attire. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, our date! I mean—you look really nice. I look… like this. Why don’t you come in while I get ready to go?”

He holds the door open a little wider and you step through, relishing in the familiar warmth as you pull your hood down and excess water droplets spatter on the ground. 

“When did you get in?” you ask, hanging your raincoat up on a hook. You know he’d wrapped up a case yesterday evening, but you’d gone to sleep before the team left Cincinnati. 

Spencer pauses in the middle of the room, staring at the antique flooring like he forgot what he was doing. 

“Uh… four hours ago.”

“Wh—four hours? Spencer, you must be exhausted.”

He laughs awkwardly, running a tired hand over his face. 

“I mean… I’ve definitely felt better.”

You kick your soaked shoes off and cross the room until you’re toe to toe with him. Immediately his hands settle on your waist and yours find his arms. His eyes are kind, and he’s clearly pleased by your presence despite his lack of energy. 

“The weather’s terrible, anyway. Let’s just go out another day.”

His features have softened and you can see how tired he truly is—not just in his bleary eyes, but the way his fingers grasp weakly to you, the way his head bows slightly. It seems bone-deep. 

“But I haven’t seen you in a week. I don’t want you to go home.”

Your lips twist. A clap of thunder rolls in the distance and the rain starts coming down even harder against the windowpanes. 

“We could hang out here. We can take a nap!”

Spencer sighs—half resignation, half disappointment. 

“But we made such good plans,” he laments. 

You kiss his cheek. 

“Plans that can be rescheduled. The bookstore will still be there next weekend.”

It takes him a moment to settle into the idea, but you watch the exhaustion win. 

“Okay. But no nap. I want to be awake for you. Coffee?”

You nod enthusiastically, beaming at the prospect of getting to spend the day doing nothing with him. Spencer mirrors your grin, before pressing a kiss to your head.

“You’re so cute.” Heat creeps into your cheeks and you can’t think of a satisfactory reply, but in the end you don’t need to, as he tugs gently on your hands. “C’mon. Tell me what mug you want.”

The kitchen counter bites into your palms as you lean with your back to it, watching Spencer putter all around the kitchen as he works on the coffee. It makes you tired just to watch. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap? Caffeine isn’t a substitute for sleep, you know.”

“I do know,” he agrees, measuring coffee grounds. “But other than last night, I actually slept fairly well this week.”

“You seem exhausted.”

“I… am tired in lots of ways. Not all of which can be resolved with more sleep.” he admits.

Your heart drops ever so slightly at the way his voice weakens as he looks through the fridge. Sometimes you remember there are still things you don’t know about him—sides you haven’t met. His work side is one of them, and it more than a little intimidates you.

“Bad case?” you ask, voice quiet and crackling with nervous energy. 

Spencer nods, approaching and setting a carton of milk on the counter behind you—caging you in with his arms in the process. It’s hard to find the words when he’s this close, but you manage to stumble through them. 

“Do… do you wanna talk about it?”

Spencer hums, tilting his head before gently saying, “not right now. But thank you for offering, lovely.”

“Okay, well—if you change your mind… if there’s anything I can do to make you feel better…”

Finally he stops with the teasing—the unabashed staring at your lips, the faux-attentive nods—and drops his head to your level to kiss you properly. It’s obviously an attempt to get you to shut up, you’re not dumb enough so as to miss that—but you don’t really care why he’s doing it so long as he does it at all. 

“I feel pretty great right now, actually,” he murmurs against your lips, a hint of a smile coloring his words. “Do you want sugar in yours?”

“Um…”

Your eyes dart helplessly between his as he pulls away and you struggle to un-fluster yourself enough to answer his simple question. Spencer seems to delight in this. The longer it takes you, the bigger his perfect smile gets. 

“You took too long. You’re getting sugar.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” you plead later on the couch, for the third or fourth time, setting your mostly-empty mug on the coffee table. 

His eyebrows raise. 

“I’m sure, honey.”

“But I want to help,” you pout, pulling your knees into your chest. Spencer regards you for a moment from the other end of the couch, before beckoning you closer wordlessly. 

“You are helping,” he assures you, gently grabbing your wrist as you crawl into his lap. He rubs soothing circles into the delicate skin with his thumb. “You being here and being you is plenty.”

It’s the closest you’ve been to him since before he left, and while you’ve all but given up on asking him to sleep with you, it doesn’t mean you don’t think about it multiple times per day. It’s especially difficult to keep your thoughts PG when you haven’t seen him in a week, and his hair is all messy, and he’s got his pajamas on, and you’re in his lap, and he’s looking at you like that. 

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer murmurs, likely concerned by your lack of response and the glazed-over look in your eyes. You reanimate, averting your gaze to the spot on your thigh he’s now rubbing absentmindedly. 

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

“I missed you a lot, too.” You don’t even have to look up to know that his brows have twisted into a pleasant sort of bemusement, like you are a particularly complex puzzle—you can hear it as he continues speaking. “I’m still not used to having something external take up so much of my attention while I’m trying to do my job. I’ve never had that before. Not something good, anyway. It’s like every time I leave, I’m thinking about you more than the time before. And I was already thinking about you a lot.”

The corner of your mouth twitches as he rambles. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he chuckles. “You prove to be incredibly distracting even when you’re hundreds of miles away. Do you know how many nights I almost called you before realizing it was one in the morning?”

A slow smile spreads over your face. 

“Oh? Whatever could you have been calling about at one in the morning?”

You’re teasing him, and it works. He blushes adorably. 

“Um… probably exactly what you’d expect. In hindsight I think it’s best that I refrained.”

“What?” You grin, incredulous, forgetting your shyness and leaning closer. “You totally should’ve. I’ve never had phone sex before. I would’ve done it.”

“No, you wouldn’t!” Spencer laughs. “It would have just been me talking to myself with you on the other line. I don’t think phone sex is really up your alley.”

“Shut up,” you laugh as your lips meet. He smiles into the kiss. Before you get too lost in it, you pull away, leaning back when he tries to follow you. “I think you’re over-complicating it. It’s just dirty talk, right? I can totally do that. It’s just, like… blah blah blah, dirty slut, something something…”

You trail off as he gives you a look. Poker faced—aside from the slightly narrowed eyes sparkling with humor. 

“You want me to refer to you as a dirty slut?”

Maintaining eye contact is an uphill battle—you crack in a matter of seconds, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes stubbornly. 

“No. For all you know I want to call you a dirty slut.”

It’s a ridiculous, but he recognizes the bravado for what it is, still smiling slightly as he rubs your hips. 

“Right. I apologize for assuming. But just for future reference, I don’t want to be called that, and I don’t think I’d be comfortable calling you that, either.”

“But you can call me other stuff,” you remind your boyfriend, pulling back and still not looking at him. 

“Yeah? Like what?”

And just like that, you’re shy again. 

“I don’t know… nice things. I like when you’re nice.”

“I like being nice to you.” It’s so sincere-sounding that you meet his gaze, examining his face. His eyes are clear and soft on you, the only source of warm light on such a grey day, as his hands keep running slow lines over your sides. “Kiss?”

And how could you ever deny him anything? 

As has happened before, the kiss starts out innocent enough. And it’s not that it gets particularly heated, or anything—it’s just that it doesn’t end, and after a few moments your mouth slips open and so does his and that’swhat gets both of you worked up over a period of minutes. Pressure and heat that you’re becoming accustomed to build between your legs, and you don’t even notice that you’ve begun rocking back and forth in his lap until Spencer is attempting to still your hips with patient but assertive hands. 

“Honey, that’s—slow down, sweetheart.”

Finally he gets a grip on you and you realize as soon as you stop moving that there had been friction occurring—and you’re pretty damn sure you know what you were grinding against. 

Your whole body feels hot with arousal and embarrassment. 

“Oh my god—I’m sorry,” you mumble, moving your hands from his shoulders to cover your face. “That was an accident, I—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer assures you, squeezing your waist gently. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing because I know we haven’t… gotten there, yet.”

A moment passes—your hands fall to the FBI stitching across his chest, studying the letters without really seeing them. You haven’t gotten there yet… but why not? Why haven’t you touched him, or even seen him? You think back to the few times he’s touched you and realize that you had been too busy with either your own insecurities or pleasure to genuinely consider how it might be affecting him. He says your name gently, drawing your attention. 

“You okay?”

You nod haltingly, brow furrowed as you think. 

“I—yeah. I was just realizing that I haven’t, like… touched you, yet.”

It’s silent for another long second, and you glance up, to where he’s studying you with a dissonant kind of relaxed scrutiny—a knowing confidence that probably comes with a lot more experience than you have. 

“Do you want to?”

Woah. 

Usually you have to beg on hands and knees and prepare a slideshow presentation before he agrees to doing anything sexual in nature. He’s never so overtly invited or initiated it before. Not that you’re complaining by any stretch of the imagination.  

You nod shyly, still fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. 

“If you want to, I can show you how. But it’s also absolutely okay if you don’t.”

Show you how? 

Your brain is melting into sludge at the idea. 

“I do,” you admit, meeting his gaze again. It’s kind, and you know he really wouldn’t be upset if you said no—but now that you’ve thought about it, you feel deeply compelled to try. 

“Okay. Come here, first.” You lean forward expectantly, eyes fluttering shut as his hand finds the back of your neck and he pulls you into another soft kiss. By the time your lips separate again, your head is spinning. “We’re just trying something, okay? You’re allowed to stop whenever you feel like it. Really low stakes. Got it?”

You nod, still close enough that your noses brush as you do. 

“Got it.”

He presses one more chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away and leaning back into the couch. 

“Scoot back a little, angel.”

Wordlessly you do so, heart pounding with nervous excitement as he lifts his hips and slides his pajama pants down just enough to where he can comfortably pull himself out, and—

Your breath catches. 

Now, you may be about as virginal as they come, but you weren’t born yesterday. You’ve seen porn, you’ve received unsolicited nudes—it is the 21st century. Yet never before have you thought to yourself; wow, that dick is the pinnacle of beauty. Perfect. Breathtaking. But there’s just no other way to describe him. 

So that’s what hits you first—how unexpectedly pretty it is. 

The size sinks in a quick second later. 

You can’t tell with perfect accuracy how many inches he is, but you’re pretty damn sure he’s big. That’s meant to fit inside of you?

No, no—that’s a consideration for another day. Right now you need to stop staring like an idiot. You glance up at his face, and he’s sporting a cocky little half-smile which lets you know you’ve been caught. Motherfucker he’s so hot. It’s unnerving. 

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” he asks politely, quite obviously containing his amusement. But you can’t summon a sufficiently sarcastic response. 

Your voice comes so soft when you reply, “you’re pretty.”

Spencer melts, eyes impossibly softening. 

“Pretty?” His smile is earnest now. He strokes your cheek and you can’t not lean into his touch. 

“Mhm. I want to, um…” your lips twist to the side as you look back down, finding he’s not gotten less intimidating since you last checked. “But what if I’m bad at it?” you whisper. He chuckles, brushing hair over your shoulder.  

“It’s kind of a hard thing to be bad at. And I’m gonna help you, okay?”

It’s the honesty with which he speaks to you that makes you feel so safe. There are no hidden intentions or words that seem to mean one thing but really mean another. Spencer wants you as a person more than he wants you as a body and that’s been clear since the first time he touched you. You take a deep breath. 

“Okay. What do I do?”

“First, you’re gonna spit in your hand.”

You look up, alarmed. 

“You want me to intentionally get my spit on you? Is that not your worst nightmare?”

“Believe it or not, I’m not super worried about yours,” he teases. “But if you’d prefer, I can spit in your hand.”

“Actually, mine is fine,” you laugh nervously. 

Hesitantly, you do as instructed, even though it seems frankly bizarre. 

“Good. Now just wrap your hand around it, like this.” His voice is quiet, focused as he guides your hand downward. Your heart rate ticks up again as he encourages you to wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He feels much warmer than you’d expected—his skin is silken beneath your touch but he’s undeniably hard and that sort of eliminates any sense of him being fragile from the equation. 

“It’s gonna be less sensitive down here—and then, up here—” he slides your hand back up, covering your thumb with his own and swiping it just below the head of his cock on the underside. He hisses and you look up in fascination. “That’s the most sensitive part.”

Without further instruction, you do it again, keeping your touch light and watching his face for a reaction. His drawn brows twitch, furrowing deeper for a second, and his lips part. A heavy exhalation passes between them and quickly builds into a breathy laugh. 

“What?” you murmur, over-eager to please and very nervous to do something wrong. 

“Nothing. Just feels good, that’s all.”

“Don’t laugh,” you pout. Of course that makes him laugh again, and he leans forward to kiss your head. 

“I’m laughing at myself, angel. I’m a grown man fighting for my life from a handjob that you’ve barely started. I knew it would be different with you but I didn’t realize it would be this different.”

Heat rises in your cheeks and you look away. 

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying,” he urges, grabbing your free hand and encouraging you to uncurl your fingers. His thumb traces circles in your open palm, before capturing your entire hand in his. “Do you feel how much softer your hand is than mine?”

You frown, attempting to feel whatever it is that he’s pointing out. Despite the fact that you think he has very nice hands, you realize he’s right. By no means would you say that they’re rough, but you can tell where his gun normally sits in his hands, where his fountain pen rubs against his fingers. “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Anything you do is going to be perfect because it’s you.”

Spencer drops his hand to your leg, rubbing it soothingly. The other moves to cover yours—the one wrapped around him. 

“You’re gonna help me, right?” you ask quietly. Some adventurous part of you is very excited about this as an experiment—fascinated by the reactions you’ve already gotten from him and eager to push it. 

“I am. Little bit tighter, honey. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

You do as you’re told, and he’s murmuring more praise—slowly encouraging you to begin moving your hand with his own. A shaky exhale catches your attention, drawing your gaze to his face. His eyes are, of course, cast downward, but his expression is hypnotizing. Those lips remain slightly parted, and suddenly you wonder if he makes noises like you do. In that moment it becomes your life’s mission to find out. 

For a while you continue letting his hand guide your movements, but he keeps things so slow for your sake that you’re getting impatient. You forgo his direction, picking up the pace but trying to keep the rhythm he’d instilled in the motion. His hand slackens around yours. 

“Fuck,” he hisses to himself. The hand on your thigh rubs achingly deeper into the flesh. “Angel, what are you doing?”

“I want it to feel good.” Suddenly shy again, you slow down. His hips stutter, which you think may be a sign that it was working. “Am I—was that bad?” Spencer looses a breath, looking almost… frustrated?

“No, I’m just—I’m weirdly close to coming.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Well,” he mutters, “not usually. Mostly it’s embarrassing.”

You giggle, a release of some tension, and begin pumping your hand again. His breath hitches and he finally looks up at you, meeting your eyes with his own lust-glazed ones. Heat pools deep between your legs. 

“I want you to come,” you admit quietly as you twist your wrist, brushing that spot underneath the head of his cock again. His jaw literally drops, and a look that is part confusion, part pleasure, twists his features. You see the surprise sparkling in his eyes and it only spurs you to keep talking. “I’ve never seen how you look when you do, but I’ve imagined it. I bet you look so pretty when you come, Spencer. ‘Nd then I would know that I can make you feel good, too.”

“You… you are making me feel good,” he assures you. The way his brow furrows and his  lips are parted give you a feeling that’s entirely new. Normally, you’re the one falling apart under his touch—but when it’s the other way around there’s a whole new kind of pleasure in it for you. You feel kind of powerful. Maybe even close to confident. 

“Really? I’m not this quiet when you touch me.”

“I’ve ha—ah—had more practice not making noise.”

“But why?” you implore, ignoring the fact that he’s slept with other women and enjoyed the sounds they made, and opting to brush your thumb across that extra sensitive part he definitely shouldn’t have told you about. His hips buck up and he hisses, which is immensely gratifying to you. 

“Because I like to listen.”

“What if I do, too?”

In a moment of divine inspiration , you cover the tip of his cock with your hand, swirling beads of pre-come over your palm. Spencer moans and his hips jut up into your grip. It’s a beautiful sound, just as you’d hoped. 

“Jesus, fuck.”

You understand why he seems to enjoy touching you so much. It’s so rewarding to watch as his breathing picks up and pleasure contorts his face—to watch him get messier and messier and lose his composure a bit more with each stroke of your hand. It’s so simple but Spencer looks at you like you’re exercising some arcane deviant power over him and he’s not sure he should be enjoying it as much as he is. 

Distantly you think about how it felt when he had his hands on you—and then, in clearer focus, how it felt when he went down on you. Both were perfect, but something about his lips so gentle on the most intimate, vulnerable part of you had felt like ascension. Maybe it was the emotional component, or maybe it just felt fucking good. Regardless, it seems an irresistible thought. 

You keep stroking him until his head is lolling on the back of the couch as he groans.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah, baby?”

He sounds so destroyed it makes you clench around nothing. Without any indication that you’re going to do so, you stop touching him, and the speed with which he lifts his head again is almost comical. Immediately, while he’s utterly defenseless and desperate, you ask, “can I use my mouth?” 

His eyes widen, and then shut, as he processes your request with a tiny shake of his head—probably trying to clear the haze of pleasure from his mind before he answers. 

“Honey,” he rasps eventually, opening his eyes and smoothing a hand over your hair, “you don’t have to do that just because I do. That’s not why I do it.”

“But I want to,” you murmur, shy and mildly embarrassed by what feels almost like a soft rejection. “I don’t think I could do anything, like, mind-blowing, but… I want to try.”

Your face is hot by the end of the sentence, and you can’t meet Spencer’s eyes as his fingers twitch over your hip. A quiet moment passes—but it’s short-lived.

“Okay. Go ahead, baby.”

Wide eyes dart up to his. 

“Really?”

Spencer smiles fondly, brushing an invisible speck from your cheek. 

“I don’t think I’m capable of turning that offer down. Not when it’s you.”

“Okay—um, should I just—” Spencer watches on, finding your sudden enthusiasm completely adorable as you scoot off of his lap and gingerly kneel in front of him. Your eyes are big and glassy as you look up at him, hands set politely on his knees. You squint suspiciously, eyes darting between his face and his cock, now about as hard as it’s ever been due to your toying. He knows it’s probably intimidating for a girl who has never seen one in real life, and he feels kind of bad about it. You do terrible, wonderful things to him that he doesn’t understand. “Wow. So... it looks bigger from down here.”

“Please don’t try to choke yourself,” he instructs hurriedly, leaning forward slightly. “I really don’t need you to do that. It’s fine if you can’t fit it all, I just—” he exhales shakily. Spencer is most definitely strong-willed but he can’t pretend like the sight of you on your knees for him, inches from his aching cock for the first time isn’t impacting his cognition. Most importantly he doesn’t want to make you feel pressured. He’s trying to not let how badly he wants this show in case you change your mind. 

Spencer watches as you psych yourself out—wilting like a thirsty flower. 

“But what if I’m bad at this?” you mumble, hands curling into loose fists atop his legs. Spencer pushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears. 

“What’s your worst case scenario?” he asks. Your answer is immediate. 

“That I’m so bad you make me stop halfway through.”

Spencer can’t help but laugh again. 

“I’m sorry—I just… honey, you are really underestimating how profound your effect is on me. I just almost came from a minute long handjob. I can assure you that I won’t make you stop halfway through because I’d rather not have your mouth on me. That is… that’s just not going to happen.”

You lean your cheek against his thigh. He might actually pass away. 

“Will you tell me if I’m doing something wrong?”

“Honestly, as long as you don’t bite, you’re in the clear.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and your lips pull into an embarrassed little smile. 

“Great. Thank you for that invaluable advice.”

“Of course,” he smiles. It fades slowly as you take a deep breath and look up at him, obviously steeling yourself, before leaning forward and taking him in your hand again. He watches with bated breath, repeating no sudden movements to himself over and over as your hand moves up and down a few more times and your head lowers. 

You delicately, so lightly trace your tongue from the base of his swollen cock to just underneath the leaking tip, mapping a vein, and his hips buck as you take him into your mouth experimentally. Only the first few inches fit but the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the way you’re looking at him is so unbelievably erotic Spencer knows he won’t last very long.

From a purely technical perspective—he knows he’s gotten objectively better head. Still, something about the way you’re so delicate with him, so soft and timid in the way you lick and kiss and take him into your mouth has him fighting not to come already. Maybe it’s wrong, but knowing that he’s watching you do this for the first time in your life is obscenely arousing. The idea that you’ve never trusted another person this much; that you’re letting him be the one to help you navigate something as new and as important as sexuality. The more he thinks about it, though, the more he realizes: it’s not your inexperience that turns him on. It’s just you. Everything you do is so undeniably you—he recognizes your mannerisms in every tiny motion, in every glance, and it’s killing him. You’re like a dream as you look up at him with big nervous eyes, (no, really, he has had this dream) and he remembers he wants to be reassuring you—not pondering life and human connection. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, groaning and hips twitching as your cheeks hollow, wrapping his achingly hard cock in soft gentle warmth so sweetly it feels taboo. “So good, baby. So gorgeous like this.”

You whine around him, receptive as always to his obsequious praise, and he notices the way your hips wiggle as you seek friction. God, you must like this a lot. Spencer gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, resting his hand on your head as you begin to bob it. That, he wasn’t prepared for. He’d have been satisfied with just kitten-licks and suckling but he won’t complain about this. It’s slow, and so intentional as you keep watching him for feedback cues. Ever his observant girl, you’re constantly paying attention. Aware of his reactions. He needs to keep telling you you’re good or else you’ll assume you’re terrible. 

“Over-achiever,” he whispers through a little smile as you down even more of him. 

Spencer is for the most part a kind and gentle person. For better or worse he is also a man, and he can’t help but fantasize about getting you all teary and drooly as he holds your mouth open and sees how much of his cock he can push down your throat. But again—kind. Gentle. So when you get a little over-zealous, attempting to sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure, he pulls your head back slightly. “That’s far enough, angel. That’s—fuck. God, you’re good at this.” The words are thoughtless, muttered to himself more than you as he watches through a haze while you look up at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes, slipping him in and out of your warm mouth, a little faster now as you gain confidence. 

You whine desperately around him, like you’re the one nearing orgasm and not him. The sound of your pleasure as you suck his cock makes him dizzy. His hips buck, pressing him a little deeper into your mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he exhales. “Slow down, baby. I’m—” a louder moan from him like you’ve never heard as he thrusts shallowly turns you on profoundly. He’s so much more vocal than you’d have imagined—sonically and verbally. He breathes out a quick, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” pulling your hair slightly, and you’ve never wanted to touch yourself more but you know you can’t focus on both. Instead you work on making him come—you can worry about you later. He says your name, with an authoritative edge to his tone that makes you throb. “Honey, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna come—”

You swirl your tongue around the top of him like candy and he’s done for. Spencer tries to pull out, which only results in cum both in your mouth and on your face. The orgasm is his strongest in recent memory, and he grunts, watching your lips part and a little squeak escape as he comes all over your face—but you keep stroking him all the while. Once he’s 90% sure it’s over, he falls against the back of the couch, breathing heavily and looking down at you through hazy eyes. Oh, he’s going to feel terrible about this in a few seconds—but right now you look fucking perfect. Your eyes are wide, nervous as his essence drips over your face and down your neck—he groans when you swallow cautiously, averting his eyes to the ceiling lest he do another thing he regrets. 

“Baby, I am so sorry,” he mutters, forcibly clearing the haze of orgasm from his mind and sitting up, fixing his pants and looking around before locating the box of tissues on the side table. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” You look up at him attentively as he wipes himself from your face as gently as he can. 

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t ask you first. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Spencer guides your head around by your chin, wiping your jaw and lips. 

“It’s okay, Spence, I—”

“No, it’s not,” he cuts you off, trying to at least turn his guilt into a learning experience for you. He’s not deluded enough to think someone like you will stay with someone like him forever, because sometimes he does things like that, and he’s reminded that there are certainly people out there more deserving of you. At the very least he can clarify that nobody should ever do what he just did to you. “It’s really not nice to do that to someone.”

“Do you care what I think at all?”

Spencer freezes, finally forcing himself to look you in the eye. Despite the fact that he’s mad at himself, he’s sure it’s coming across as being directed at you. And he knows you’re sensitive, especially about this kind of thing. 

“Of course, I do, baby. I’m sorry. Do you want to come back up here with me and tell me what you’re thinking?” he murmurs, cupping your jaw. Hesitantly you nod. The tissues end up on the table—which he will be thoroughlywiping down later—before you crawl back into his lap from the floor. Spencer helps you settle against him, hoping he hasn’t messed this up irreversibly. He keeps his voice quiet as he rubs your leg. “What were you going to say?”

“I was going to say,” you begin, “that it’s fine, because you’ll remember to ask next time. And because… I kind of liked it. I like when—when you do stuff like that.”

It’s a miracle he can hear you with the way your voice drops into an almost-whisper and you’re hiding against his shirt. 

“Like what?” he murmurs. Although he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle the answer. 

“Like… I don’t know. Like you can do whatever you want to me. Like I’m literally yours.” Each word makes you cringe further, but Spencer has to try hard to maintain a cool facade as he processes this. If he’s going to try and be chivalrous, you’ll have to move away from this topic—this revelation—immediately. Thankfully, you seem eager to move on. “So… how did I do?”

He almost laughs. It seems exceedingly obvious how you did, but as per usual, you require verbal reassurance. 

“That was really good, baby. You did well.”

You blossom. 

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie.”

“Was I the best girl out of all of the other girls?” 

I wasn’t in love with any of the other girls. 

Just barely, he manages to stop himself from saying it, pinwheeling his arms on the edge of a very steep verbal cliff. The realization that he’s been in love with you for a while hits him like a truck. But he can’t tell you that right now. He should wait until you’re less vulnerable.

Fuck. 

He really wants to tell you right now. 

“Actually—don’t answer that,” you decide, while all of this happens in his head in less than a few seconds. “I want to go back to pretending I’m the only girl you’ve ever seen in your life.”

“You’re the only one that matters,” he offers, relieved to express at least some portion of the much bigger truth. Then he frowns. “Not that the other women I’ve met don’t lead important lives. I actually know a lot of incredibly influential and intelligent people who are women. I have deep respect for all of them. Am I helping or making it worse?” he rambles. You giggle. He has his answer. “What about you? How do you feel?” he asks after a moment, tenderly, lowly, stroking your hair as you lean against his chest. 

It takes you a moment to deliberate, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. 

“I feel good. I, um… liked it a lot more than I would have thought.”

“Well, that’s good. Much better than if you had hated every second of it.”

You hum in agreement, and he waits for you to say whatever you’re holding back. It comes sooner than he’d have anticipated. 

“I feel bad about the times before. How did you just… go to sleep after? Were you not, like—insanely turned on? Not that I’m, like, irresistibly sexy, or whatever—you know what I mean.”

Spencer smiles because he knows you can’t see him. 

“I wasn’t doing it to pressure you into feeling obligated to reciprocate, I guess. My line of reasoning was that it would be less intimidating if I didn’t even present it as an option until you wanted to try.”

“Oh.”

Spencer thinks he sees where this is going. 

“Why?” he asks, leaning back and encouraging you to look at him. “Are you insanely turned on?”

“Wh—that’s—I didn’t say that!”

Spencer can feel how warm your cheeks are as he presses his lips to the side of your face. 

“You can tell me if you are,” he murmurs, all smiley as he moves to kiss your lips. “If you want something, you need to ask for it. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Yes you are,” you grumble. “That’s literally what behavioral analysis is.”

Not quite true, but surprisingly, he doesn’t feel the need to explain to you the semantics of what he does for work right now. 

“What got you all excited?”

“You know what,” you mumble, trying to look away again. Spencer doesn’t allow it this time, gently grabbing your jaw. 

“Yes, I do. But I want you to tell me. If you want me to make you feel good, this is how you’re going to convince me that you deserve it.”

You whine wordlessly, looking at him with those big, lust-glazed eyes.

“You wanted me to teach you how to use your words, right? This is it. I’m giving you an opportunity. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. Maybe we can take a nap, like you said earlier.”

“No! I liked—um, I liked all of it. I didn’t know if I would, because I was really nervous. But when I first—you know—and you got all quiet… it was like you couldn’t even talk for a minute. I was kind of proud of that. Because normally nobody can ever get you to stop talking.” Spencer narrows his eyes incredulously, a small smile tugging at his lips. But he doesn’t interrupt—not when it seems you’re finally starting to get more confident in your words. “And I really liked the noises you made. I think that was my favorite part. I liked when you pulled my hair back, and how you spoke to me. And when… when you got me messy and I had to swallow it. I really liked how it felt because I couldn’t think of anything else, just making you feel good. I really wanted to… make you proud, I guess. Is that weird?”

Spencer shakes his head no, a fond smile on his face when your eyes meet his again. 

“No. It’s a pretty normal thing to feel when you’re nervous and wanting to impress someone you care about. And I would have been proud no matter what, for the record. You were being very brave.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, watching him expectantly. Spencer should have known you’re too needy to truly absorb anything he says to you right now. Which is actually pretty cute. Everything you do is endearing to him. 

“Stand up.”

You frown. 

“But—”

“Just stand up,” he demands calmly, preferring to think of himself as firm and not bossy. 

You do, looking rather annoyed and confused as you plant yourself in front of him. 

“Why?”

“You are so full of questions.” His hands slip up the side of your legs, under your skirt, and hook in the waistband of your underwear. Spencer looks up at you meaningfully and you nod, swallowing. 

As he pulls down, Spencer can literally feel the resistance of the fabric clinging to your soaked core. Under his touch the skin of your thighs is warm and soft. He wants to feel it on either side of his face, he wants to hear you whine as his stubble rubs against it, he wants to feel it clamp around his wrist, he wants it between his teeth and he definitely wants it pressing against his hips as he—

But no. 

There will be time for all of those things—especially the last one—later. For now, he’ll reach between your legs just to see—

“Oh, my god,” Spencer half-chuckles, half-groans, upon feeling how wet you truly are for him. He drags his knuckles from your dripping entrance up over your clit, pinching very lightly and earning a squeak from you which he ignores. “You really did like having your mouth full of me, huh?”

“I told you,” you breathe, visibly relaxing some as he continues to play with you for a moment. Then he pulls his hand away again, patting his thigh. 

“Sit.”

“You want me to…”

“Yes,” he says, simply. 

“But is it not going to… am I not going to mess up your pants?”

“You are even more neurotic about messiness than I am. I can wash them, honey. Come here.”

Spencer guides your hips over his thigh, watching your pretty face twist with uncertainty as you fully settle on him. Fuck, he can feel your warmth through the fabric instantly. Already he’s getting hard again. 

“What am I supposed to do?” you whisper, bunching his shirt in your fists. Spencer slides your skirt up higher, revealing the way you’re nestled against his thigh. He spreads you a little further apart, exposing more of your clit to the material underneath you. Immediately you press against him—he watches the delicate flesh rubbing gingerly against him and  his grip tightens ever so slightly. 

“All you have to do is rock back and forth. It’s easy.”

Already you’re starting to do it—but he guesses it’s like earlier where you don’t even realize it’s happening. 

“But… I wanted your mouth,” you admit, quietly, slinging your arms around his neck and burying your face there. 

“Do this for me first. Just get yourself off like this one time and then you can have my mouth. You said you wanted to help me feel better because I’m tired today, right?

“Yes,” you mumble, squirming over him. 

“Well, there are a lot of days when I get back home and I’m tired. I’m gonna need you to be able to get on top of me, just like this, and make me feel better. And I know you don’t know what it feels like to have something that deep inside of you yet, but it’s gonna be a lot. Even once you know how it feels to have me inside when you’re underneath me. I need you to practice for me right now so you’ll be ready, okay?”

You could come from the words alone. You nod, dazed with need as you roll your hips in a circle, pressing his thigh against your clit. 

“Back and forth, baby,” he murmurs, guiding your hips forward with his hands locked around them. “Back and forth, just like this…”

You moan quietly, shamelessly, eyes fluttering as you look down and watch your clit dragging over the darkening fabric. It’s easier if you isolate your hips, grinding down without moving your legs or upper body at all. 

“It feels really good,” you whisper under your quickening breath. 

“Yeah? Does it?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, angel. You look like you know what you’re doing.”

It’s audible now, quiet and wet and dirty. 

“I don’t,” you breathe. He sucks in a breath of his own, stilling your hips with fingers pressed deep into your flesh. 

“Sit up, baby.” You really wish he would stop making you stop, but you don’t want to keep going in case he needs you to quit—so you rise slowly, thighs trembling as you kneel. Spencer groans at the strings of your arousal momentarily connecting your core to his pants before they snap, getting your inner thighs wet. There’s a dark, very wet patch over his thigh, shining like glass. He thumbs over your slick clit absentmindedly as he looks up at you like you’re a miracle. “You’re fucking soaked. I’ve never seen you like this. Is this all from making me come?”

You nod feverishly, hips grinding against nothing in search of friction. He sits you back down on his leg, allowing you to sloppily find your rhythm again. Spencer bounces his leg lightly and you cry out softly, buckling forward. His arms wrap around you, still pressing you down against his thigh as you rut against it. 

“You’re sweet. Maybe I should have known how much you’d like it when I came all over your pretty face. You really like hearing that you did a good job, huh? I bet you like it even more when I prove it to you.”

You moan a “yeah,” barely processing his words. 

“My good girl even swallowed on her first try. Took it so well. And now look at how you’re taking this. You’re gonna love riding, baby. Just going to be another thing you’re good at as soon as you try it.”

“Spencer,” you gasp, overwhelmed by the praise. He’s bouncing his leg at regular intervals and everything is so sensitive.

“I know it’s harder to finish this way, but just one time, remember? And then you can have my tongue for as long as you want. You are my only plan for the day. Just give me one like this.”

But it’s not really harder to finish this way. Then again, you’re so turned on you could probably finish if a breeze hit you just right. Regardless, the thought of him going down on you again pushes you even closer to the edge.

You don’t know how much time goes by like that, you rubbing against him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, him pressing up into you until the pressure is so taut it snaps. There’s no time to warn him, but you suppose you don’t really need to. You writhe against him, caught between wanting to keep going and not being able to take more stimulation. He lifts you up just slightly, trying to separate you from his leg. You exhale deeply as your body relaxes, already close to dozing off against his chest.

“We can’t have you tapping out just yet. I still have to fulfill my end of the deal.”

In the end, he fulfills it three times over, and you end up showing your appreciation in kind one more time—much slower and more comfortably in his bed. He gives you plenty of time to learn what he likes, taking your teasing and coquettish explorations like a champ and never so much as tightening his grip in your hair. Turns out, you don't exactly spend the day doing nothing.

And you do end up taking that nap after all. Just... much, much later. And with less clothing on.

-

part 3.5

[spectersgf]

harvey specter x reader idk they meet in a book store (maybe the reader could run it?) never giving each other last names or smhting. but the reader is mikes sister and mike tells her all about harvey but no one manges to connect teh dots? idk you have free control i just thought something like that where the reader has nothing to do wiht his work life and is really soft and sweat .

— bookstores and brothers 𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

pairing: harvey specter × reader (+ mike ross & reader are siblings)

summary: a hotshot lawyer walks into a café bookstore and meets a pretty barista. the world is smaller than he thinks.

warnings: none! kinda suggestive but nothing crazy

wordcount: 3.7k (yikes!)

a/n: first request! sorry this was so horrifically late but hopefully the length makes up for it? but also not proofread OOPS. (more rambling at the end <3)

(if you want to be tagged in future fics or if you have any requests, let me know! for my other fics, here's my masterlist!)

Ever since your brother, Michael, started making the big bucks at his job as a fraud lawyer, he had decided to invest in you — your business, that is. With his investment, you were able to follow your dream of opening a bookstore-meets-café, with a small apartment atop the store. Your store was popular enough that you were able to live comfortably; you had a community of regular readers who came for your books (especially since you’d always fulfil requests) and a hoard of regulars that came for your coffee. Your coffee was easily the best in the area, and people even went out of their way to get coffee from you.

Someone who went out of their way for your coffee, though you didn’t know this, was Harvey. You knew very little about him; he was a very attractive man who came in at 8:30am, like clockwork, for his black coffee with vanilla and sugar. You were rarely able to converse with him for very long or in a lot of detail, but you had assumptions. He was maybe a banker or some kind of lawyer like your brother, but the only thing you knew for sure was his coffee order and the fact that he wore a three-piece suit every day. On particularly warm days, he’d forgo either the jacket or the vest, both of which were welcome options. On particularly cold days, he wore a scarf and gloves, and even a coat. His hair was always styled the exact same and he had the most wonderful crow’s feet and smile lines. 

This morning, Harvey took you by surprise by coming in earlier than normal. He came in at 8:17am exactly. It was a warm day so he was without his vest, but other than that he was in his normal attire. Since you were having a slower morning this morning, you started his coffee as soon as you saw him approach. By the time he was in the door and at your counter, you’d finished making his coffee and his cup was ready on the counter. You were feeling bold and flirty and had drawn a heart next to his name on the cup and it was visible to him when he stood in front of you.

“Good morning, Harvey.” You were feeling very cheery this morning, and even more so after seeing him walk in the door. 

“Good morning, Y/N. That for me?” He was eyeing the cup on the counter that was very obviously for him, typical smirk on his face and a playful glint in his eye.

“No, it’s a black coffee with sugar and vanilla for the other Harvey in my life.” You teasingly rolled your eyes as he picked up the cup. You weren’t sure if your eyes were deceiving you, but it seemed like he was being careful to not smudge your penmanship on the cup.

“Well, it’s a good thing this other Harvey isn’t here so I can have his coffee.” He took a sip of the drink, completely unfazed by the temperature and smiled. “Perfect as always. Crazy how this other Harvey drinks the exact same niche coffee that I do, hm?”

You bared your teeth in a cheeky smile. “So crazy,” you replied. “Did you want a pastry or anything?” You gestured towards the display case of freshly baked goods, pausing at your favourite. “This one goes down a real treat.”

“How about a rain check on the pastry, and you can bring it with you when I make you dinner tomorrow night at my apartment?” he asked, feeling equally as bold and flirty as you were. He supplemented his question with a warm smile, his entire demeanour oozing confidence. 

“Oh? The elusive Harvey idon’tknowyourlastname asking me on a date, I see?” you teased, though internally you were screaming: ‘YES! I would love dinner with you!’ 

“You’re cute. Is that a yes? Maybe I’ll tell you my last name when you come over.” He was reciprocating your teasing, which you thoroughly enjoyed. You always appreciated a man who could keep up with your humour. 

“I have a better idea. Come back after I close up shop and we can have a reading date. The best way to get to know someone is through the books they like to read.” You smiled shyly, nervous to be rejected, though Harvey didn’t seem like the type of man to rudely reject your ideas. 

His warm smile was all the confirmation you needed. “That sounds perfect. I’ve been meaning to check out the other half of your establishment for some time. I need some enrichment in my life.”

“Well, if by enrichment you mean a cheesy romance, I’m your girl. I have a bad habit of stocking my favourites and I am a romantic at heart, so that’ll make up a lot of what you find here. I have other stuff, too, but I just gravitate to a good romance book,” you rambled. You blushed when you finally caught yourself, smiling as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Well, clearly I need some romance in my life. I’ll be here this evening.” He didn’t seem put off by your rambling which you were grateful for. Your stomach buzzed with excitement as you nodded.

“See you this evening.”

───────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────

Harvey had just signed off for the day and was slipping his jacket over his shoulders when Mike Ross walked into his office.

“Haven’t we talked about you not barging in here unannounced?” He asked, only half joking with his associate.

“We both know you don’t care anymore,” Mike replied, rolling his eyes. “And where are you going? It’s only,” he checked his watch, “5:30. Why do you get to leave but I’m stuck here late?”

“First of all, it’s none of your business where I’m going. And second, I did my time working 23 hours a day. And third, it’s none of your business.” Harvey made the decision to take off his tie as he spoke, wanting to feel more comfortable and casual while he was with you.

“Removing your tie, too? You have a hot date tonight. What restaurant are you taking her to?”

“Mike. Shut up.” 

Mike laughed at Harvey’s reaction. “Alright, have fun old man. Use protection!” He shouted as Harvey walked out of his office, no longer entertaining Mike’s discussion. 

───────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────

He arrived much earlier than close. You were unusually busy this evening and hadn’t even noticed Harvey walk into the store as you finished the line of coffees in front of you. You finally finished and swapped with your employee to take over as cashier when a familiar voice ordered a familiar, but niche, coffee.

“Can I get a large black coffee with vanilla and sugar? But can the pretty barista make it and sign my name with a heart like she did this morning?” he teased, smiling as he saw you.

“Harvey! You’re early, I’m not off yet,” you replied, brow furrowed with concern.

“I was finished for the day and thought I’d come in early and chill here. And by finished for the day, I mean distracted and eager.”

“And by chill here, you mean bug me until I’m done?” you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

“Something like that,” he replied, the look in his eye matching yours. 

“Okay, well, I’m going to hope you meant me when you said ‘pretty barista’ and I’ll bring your coffee over to you in a second.” A warm blush tinted your cheeks as you spoke, swapping places with your confused barista once again.

You quickly made Harvey’s coffee and signed his cup with a heart as he’d requested. After making a mocha for yourself, you spoke to your employees, asking them to take over for you now that the rush had started to slow down for the night. You removed your apron and took your hair out of its loose bun and found Harvey sitting on a sofa in the bookstore portion of your shop.

“Coffee for the gentleman.” You held the coffee cup out for him to take, the side with his name written on it facing towards him. “I would’ve made it in a mug but I had a weird request from the guy ordering it.”

You took a seat next to him and brought your cup to your lips, taking a sip and letting out a quiet hum of appreciation for your drink. He looked at you quizzically as you did so, expecting you to have to get back to work. 

“I managed to get off early. Perks of being the owner.” You smiled over your cup as you slipped off your shoes and got comfortable on the sofa. 

“I don’t think I ever registered that you were the owner here. It’s like, I knew but didn’t know. Does that make sense?” he asked, smiling as he took a sip of his regular coffee.

“It does. Kinda. My brother Michael helped make it happen, he’s a lawyer at some hotshot firm and invested in me and my little dream.” You gestured around the room as you spoke, smiling gratefully at the thought. 

“Did you know I’m also a lawyer at some hotshot firm?” he asked. His tone was light and playful, which you appreciated. 

“I did not. What’s it like, hotshot?” You tucked your feet under you and wrapped both hands around your cup, turning slightly so that your body was completely facing Harvey.

“Well, I’m the best closer in the city. I’m great at what I do and I love doing it. And I have an associate who is determined to become my mini-me. No complaints.” Deep smile lines framed his mouth like a piece of art as you admired him and took in his words.

“A mini Harvey, huh? Sounds like he looks up to you.” Despite your matter-of-fact tone, you were asking a question, curious to know his opinion on the matter.

“It seems like he does. I don’t ever say it but sometimes it feels like pressure. I’ve worked in the grey a lot and I worry about him following in my footsteps. I wouldn’t ever say that to him though.” He opened up to you, though neither of you had expected it. He was surprised by how easy you were to talk to and how quickly he had allowed himself to be vulnerable with you.

“It does sound like a lot, but I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. My brother always tells me about his mentor; he says that despite making some questionable decisions, he’s great at what he does and he looks up to that. It’s probably a similar situation,” you told him sincerely, reaching out to place one hand on his arm in an attempt to comfort him. 

“His mentor sounds like a great lawyer. What’s his name? Maybe I know him,” Harvey asked, obviously wanting to change the subject from his vulnerable state.

“I’m not sure. I can’t remember, I have the worst memory literally ever,” you reply, smiling shyly. “I’m good at remembering books, though! Shall we get stuck in?”

“Is this the part where you bombard me with a million love stories?” he teased, clearly amused but secretly excited. 

“God no. Just one. Or you can pick your own.”

“Do you like to reread books?” 

“Oh, I love to. I’ve reread almost all of my favourites.”

He looked at you smiling, amused once again by your answer. “How about this. Let’s read your favourite book together, and then next time we can read mine?”

“Oh? Next time? You’re that sure it’s going to go well tonight?” you asked teasingly, giggling to yourself. 

You stood up and walked to the shelving, immediately finding your current favourite book and pulling out two copies. You got comfortable on the sofa once again and handed one copy to Harvey. “This is a current favourite, but I haven’t had a chance to reread it yet. It’s a university-based hockey romance and the main character is a PhD student who’s half-Indian and vehemently hates hockey players. I loved it. If you don’t like it, please. Do not tell me. I can’t cope with that much heartbreak.”

You beamed at him and Harvey felt his heart melt at your expression. You were clearly passionate and excited to share this book with him, and he was looking forward to reading it; to seeing into a small piece of your soul.

The pair of you read together for about an hour. You kept to a similar pace and offered casual commentary and anecdotes from time to time. You had to resist the urge to spoil the plot, sometimes only offering quiet hums as opposed to full sentences. You gradually felt yourselves growing physically closer, until you were laying down with your head next to his leg and your hair draped across his lap, legs dangling over the arm of the sofa. He was idly twirling a strand of your hair, only pausing to turn a page when necessary. 

You finished the chapter you were reading and made a mental note of where you were up to before snapping the book closed. “Okay, I think we should call it. I’m starving.” You looked up at him from where your head was resting and watched as he closed the book without his hand leaving your hair.

“Sounds good to me, sweetheart. Since you chose the book, I’ll choose the restaurant. Sound good?” he asked, looking at you with that smile. 

“Sounds great, sweetheart,” you replied, playfully teasing him.

───────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────

After the success that was reading and dinner that night, the pair of you went on another date. And another. And another. The pair of you got to know each other like the backs of your hands and became unashamedly infatuated with one another. Harvey told you about his brother, Marcus, and you told him about yours. You mostly focussed on childhood stories about your whizz-kid brother with the photographic memory, but you occasionally did update Harvey on your brother’s relationship with his mentor. All positive, but you sometimes did joke that he sounded like he could be a bit of a dickhead. 

After about a month of consistently seeing each other, you discussed meeting the family. You were in his apartment with your head on his lap, the pair of you laying in his big comfy bed.

“Well, I only have Michael. Our parents passed when we were pretty young and my grandma passed almost a year ago. So you only have to deal with my brother and my best friend. Super easy,” you told him, idly tracing his skin with your index finger. 

“I have my brother and his family; he’s got a wife and kids. And then my mother but we don’t talk. So a similar situation for you. Brother and some friends. I’d say you can meet my associate and colleagues but they’d grill me rather than you. So would Marcus, actually.”

You giggled at his words but stopped as the seriousness of your relationship started to set in. Talking about meeting the family was a big step for you considering how little family you had. Letting someone into that trauma felt extremely vulnerable but just as quickly as you felt nervous, you felt calm. You were ready for this. You wanted this with Harvey. You decided to mess with him regardless.

“So… You think you’re ready to meet the family, hm? That’s a pretty big step,” you started, pretending to be deadly serious.

“Oh? Is it now? You don’t want to meet my family?” he asked, tone playful but you could tell there was an undertone of nervousness when he spoke.

“Well, I don’t think two people engaging in a casual fling have any business meeting each other’s families. Don’t you agree?” you continued to tease, though Harvey couldn’t tell you were only teasing.

“Is that what you think this is? A casual fling?” The hurt was starting to show in his voice and you smiled, not at his pain, but at the fact that clearly the pair of you were on the same page with how serious your relationship had become.

“Is that not what you think it is? Do we need to have the what are we conversation?” The teasing lilt to your voice was obvious this time, which immediately eased Harvey’s nerves and put him out of his misery. He smiled at you, smile lines popping and his eyes sparkling once again.

“No conversation necessary, baby. You’re my girl and I’m your man.” He tugged on the piece of your hair that was wrapped around his finger, causing you to smile.

“My man? Too old for the boyfriend title, hm? Old man,” you joked, poking him in the abdomen. 

“I’ll show you old man,” he replied, flipping you so that you were pinned to the mattress under him. The pair of you were a giggly, smiley mess, both excited to have established what you were to each other. Both true romantics at heart.

The next morning Harvey left you in his bed, heading to the office after kissing you goodbye. You watched him get dressed and style his hair, finishing his process by skillfully tying his tie. You watched his hands move the whole time, thinking about how they were all over you the previous night, and you sighed contentedly. Once he left, you flopped back onto his bed, hair fanning out across the pillows as you inhaled your boyfriend’s scent. 

You spent the next few hours reading, gratefully taking advantage of your day off. You made yourself an at-home coffee and easily moved around Harvey’s lavish apartment whenever you wanted a change of scenery, taking full advantage of the space. At around midday, you placed a lunch order to pick up from your and Harvey’s favourite café and got dressed, opting for a pretty white sundress. You left your hair down in its natural form and quickly left Harvey’s building, picked up lunch, and headed in to his office building.

On your way to Harvey’s office you, surprisingly, bumped into your brother. 

“Mike? What are you doing here?” you asked, not expecting to see him today.

“Obviously I’m lawyer-ing, Y/N. What else?” he replied. His sassy tone was an exact mirror image of how yours sometimes was with Harvey, and the fact that you were siblings became extremely obvious if someone focussed on your mannerisms.

“You mean fake lawyer-ing?” you teased, tone matching his perfectly.

“Ha ha. What are you doing here?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as he looked at you, taking in your appearance in his place of work and the bag in your hand.

“Obviously I’m bringing lunch to my boyfriend, Michael. What else?” you mocked playfully, wide smile on your face.

“Boyfriend? Here? Who’s your boyfriend?” he started to ask, but before he could grill you, you spotted Harvey walking towards you.

“Hey, Harvey,” you beamed, greeting him with a warm smile as he walked up to you.

He leaned down to give you a quick peck, completely ignoring Mike’s presence. “Hi, baby,” he mumbled, smiling back at you. He finally turned to look at Mike. “Mike, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Sweetheart, this is my associate that I’ve been telling you about, Mike-”

“Mike Ross,” you interrupted, smiling as the realisation set in. Harvey’s associate was your brother. Your brother’s mentor was your boyfriend. You threw your head back laughing once you realised, shocked that nobody had put the pieces together sooner. “Harvey, meet my brother. Michael Ross.”

The shared look on both of their faces was priceless. They looked at you as if you’d sprouted another head, which only made you laugh more. Both of them joined in once they realised the situation, with Mike being the first one to break the circle of laughs in the middle of the office.

“So this is the hotshot lawyer you’ve been basically ignoring me for?” he asked you, gesturing towards Harvey. “And this is the barista slash bookworm you’ve been dumping all your work on me for?” he asked Harvey, gesturing towards you. 

You both nodded and agreed with a perfectly in-sync, “Yes.”

Harvey looked between you both in disbelief. “Wait a minute. Your last name isn’t Ross.” He was asking a question without actually asking, as he often did.

“Very good observation, Harvey,” you replied.

“Yeah, thank you, Captain Obvious,” Mike chimed in, causing you to smile. The two of you had always been a sarcastic duo, irritating a lot of your older relatives in your younger years.

“Oh my god,” Harvey mumbled, “There’s two of them. Exactly alike. How did I not realise?”

“To answer your unasked question,” you started pointedly, focussing on your boyfriend and suppressing your giggles, “I took my mother’s maiden name as soon as I was able to. Y/N Ross just sounds ugly, and this way, I get to honour her.”

Both Harvey and Mike visibly softened at your explanation. Harvey snapped out of it after a moment. “You’ve been talking shit about me to your pretty sister?” he asked Mike, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

“She was my sister before she was your girlfriend, man. That’s my right,” he replied, punching Harvey right back. “Speaking of, if you ever hurt her, I’ll-”

“What are you going to do? Fake lawyer him?” you jumped in at Harvey’s defence, keeping your voice quiet since you were still in a communal area.

“No, I was going to say I’d beat his ass.”

“Like you could. Have you seen his arms?”

“Okay, can you stop thirsting over my boss right in front of me? That’s disgusting.” Mike pretended to gag at your behaviour and you rolled your eyes in response.

“I can do so much worse, Michael,” you teased, pulling Harvey down by his tie to meet your mouth in a (relatively tame) kiss. Mike said nothing but walked away, muttering to himself about your ‘disgustingly inappropriate behaviour’. 

“Now that he’s finally gone,” you started after releasing Harvey from your hold and holding up the bag in your hand, “Lunch?”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

oh my lord this was long. i wrote this in multiple sits. nonnie, i hope this was up to your standards. i hope i did your request justice. pls pls pls do give feedback. thank u so much for your request. there are more requests in my inbox which I'll be getting to in the coming days so send them in! for any suits characters, not just harvey! plus characters from other media! (warning, i know nothing about most things but if i can write for you, i will <3)

taglist: @shadowinthedarkknight @strawberriesareprettycool

[elliereject]

ifhy .1

* in which ellie’s obsession relationship with you begins to sour as your romance with your new boyfriend seems to flourish. it seems she’ll stop at nothing to ensure your happiness, (which you’ll find with her, obviously) even if it means hurting you in the process.

* lowkey obsessive ellie, (I LIKE EM’ A LITTLE CRAZY!), angst + comfort (next chapter(s), infidelity, unrequited feelings yet also mutual pining (just read it like, idk idk I forgot how to do these),lmk if I missed anything!

* im back, ok not really this has been rotting in my drafts forever and I was reading it back and I was like damn I lowk cooked with this. It’s unfinished as of RN but this is only 1/3 of the fic im just splitting it up so u don’t have to wait months,,for it..like my other fics..DONT ASK ME ABT THOSE, cuz I don’t got an answer. IN THE MEAN TIME ENJOY THIS! <3

* mdni (but like if u do wtvr, nothing crazy happens in this chapter)

wc ~ 1.6k

pt. 2 here

Ellie Williams fucking hated you.

Surprisingly, she didn’t at first. In fact, she was in love with you, bordering infatuation.

She had seen you for the first time at the local bookstore before the semester started, you were flipping through a book about time and relativity with a concentrated look on your face. She smiled to herself when she saw you push up onto your toes to reach for another book but to no avail. She took this as an opportunity to walk up to you and reach over your head to grab it, making sure to flex her lean, tattooed arm before placing it in your hand.

Her jade eyes locked on yours and your face heated immediately, you mumbled a “Thank you.” Before scurrying past her to the checkout.

Imagine her surprise when on the first day of classes, she walks into her astrophysics course and sees you, doodling in your notebook with that same concentrated look on your face.

Of course, she sits next to you, flashing that charming smile that has sweat gathering at your hands. She tells you her name then asks for yours and learns about your major, favourite course, and how you’re staying in a little apartment just outside the campus before more students and your professor filed in. You didn’t know why but you just felt so comfortable telling her things, She laughed at your corny jokes and made even cornier ones, and she admired the doodles that covered your notebook and the little duck pen you used.

You didn’t want to speak too soon, but it was safe to say you were harbouring a tiny bit of a crush on her.

Ellie on the other hand, was completely ready to admit it. She felt her love for you grow each second she was around you. Your smile quite literally felt like the sun shining upon her, your laugh made her want to drop her studies of space to pick up stand-up comedy just so she could make it her job to make you laugh. In her eyes, everything you did was perfect. Her thoughts were completely consumed by you, you, you.

And for a few months, things were amazing! You had been introduced to Dina and Jesse and even spent Halloween hanging out with the trio watching horror movies and eating each other's weight in candy. When the holidays rolled around you and Ellie, along with the others, cozied up under some blankets and made fun of cheesy Hallmark movies while she tried her hardest not to interlock her hands with yours even after your pinky brushed against hers for the sixth time.

During finals, Ellie and you organized designated study days that usually ended in giggling at stupid memes on each other's phones or late-night food runs. Of course, there were lingering touches and flirtatious glances here and there but you were too shy to act on it and Ellie would rather die than make you uncomfortable so she kept you just at arm's length. Besides, she knew you were too timid to approach anyone else, so in a way she had you all to herself.

Then, you met him. Some motherfucker whose name she didn’t care to remember. However, she did remember the innate feeling of anger that surged through her body when you gushed to her about him and how he was a history major and the way his glasses framed his face perfectly and whatever the fuck else you found interesting about him.

She nodded and laughed and smiled along with you when you would drone on about him but would excuse herself to the bathroom to tend to the crescent-shaped wounds in her palms from digging her fingers into them so hard.

She tried her best to not show these negative emotions to you because she knew how much you didn’t like when she got mad but fuck was it hard. Especially that one night when you were out with him and you hadn’t replied to her texts in over 5 hours. Man did her drywall take some damage that night.

And when you finally did reply you had completely disregarded her message and went on to boast about the time you had and how gentlemanly he was. All she could do was reply with a dry “sounds like fun🙂” before she went back to throwing a tantrum around her room and tormenting that poor wall…she’d have to remember to buy some spackle before the end of the semester.

Then, there was the time she trekked over to your apartment with some pizza for a surprise movie night and saw the bouquet placed in front of your door. She set the box down to pick up the flowers and read who it was from, her body reacted before she could rethink. She tore the flowers from the beautifully wrapped packaging and stomped on them over and over and over until all that was left were broken stems and tattered petals.

Thankfully, you got home just a few minutes later and missed her outburst. You gasped when you saw the smashed flowers and asked her what had happened, she shrugged and lied easily, claiming it was like this when she got there. She let out a breath when you shook your head and sighed, saying it was probably your next-door neighbor who had always been a bit of a grouch.

She had genuinely thought she was doing a pretty good job of hiding her true feelings for both you and him but it was when you gleefully announced that he was officially your boyfriend she knew she was done for. You squealed and pulled her in for a hug but it felt like her heart had shriveled up into a clump of black coal and woosh like magic, her love for you had turned into something twisted, something possessive.

It was when you invited her over to your apartment to eat dinner with him that she had started considering the idea that you knew she had a crush on you and you were just fucking with her emotions for fun.

How could you start dating, let alone seeing some random ass motherfucker when she was right here! She knew she could treat you better than he could even dream of, she knew everything about you and she’d make it known to you how perfect she was for you, one way or another.

That night at dinner she sat uncomfortably as you fluttered around your tiny kitchen, adding last-minute touches to the spaghetti you made and despite the grumble in her tummy it felt like she had no appetite when she watched the hungry way he looked at you, as if you were a juicy steak and he was a starved wolf.

Once you were finished plating the food and placing it on the table you sat down eagerly and tried your best to mediate the obvious tension.

“Soo uh, Ellie, you’ve been really into watercolour recently right?” You beamed.

“Uh-huh.” She said dryly, twirling her spaghetti around her fork.

“Oh that’s cool, you know watercolour as an art form has been around since Egyptian times! It’s funny to think that like—Cleopatra was painting with water and grapes or something!” He spoke and you giggled like it was the funniest joke in the world. She shot you a look that said really? because she knows she could make a joke that was way funnier, and would expel your real laugh.

“That’s cool. You know how to shut the fuck up?” She mumbled into her bite of spaghetti.

“Sorry?” He asked and you gave her a sideways glance.

She smiled tightly and swallowed before answering, “Just said that’s cool!”

Dinner dragged on as he droned about the history of the Renaissance or fucking Christopher Columbus, she didn’t actually know, she tuned him out. After you cleared the plates, you ushered them into your cozy living room for a movie and when you excused yourself to the bathroom she plopped down on the couch next to him, subtly pulling out her switchblade.

“So, Kevin—“

“Actually my name—“

“I don’t give a fuck what your name is, matter fact I don’t give a fuck about you in general. What are your intentions with ★?”

The man tensed up as Ellie expertly spun the blade around in her fingers.

“Uh—I mean, she seems cool and dating her has been pr—“

“Cool?” Ellie scoffed, “She’s fucking perfect, and I hope you know whatever you have going on with her right now? It won’t last. Soon she’s gonna see you for the limp-ass motherfucker you are.”

He was taken aback, “What?—I’m sorry, did I do something to offend you?”

“Your whole existence offends me.” She rasped, inching her blade closer to his neck. “She’s not meant to be with you.”

He furrowed his brows, “You like her, don’t you?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Before he could reply you were back from the bathroom and she slipped her blade back into her pocket and got up with a firm grip on his shoulder.

“What were you two talking about?” You asked as you grabbed a bag of chips from your small coffee table and tore into them.

“Oh you know, girl talk.” She smiled, digging her blunt nails into his shoulder. Translation: don’t say a fucking word.

You rolled your eyes playfully like you even had a clue of what was going on, “He’s not a girl, dumbass.”

She shrugged, stepping away from her previous seat to plop down on the other small sofa.

The rest of the night proceeded relatively smoothly, your boyfriend had been so shaken up by Ellie’s words that even with you sitting next to him he kept his distance with worried glances toward Ellie now and then. Ellie crunched on her popcorn happily and watched the movie with a satisfied smile and a chipper aura.

— ★

🤔 shall I put out the second part? only time (and interactivity! 💝 pls don’t let this flop) will tell!

[sthavoc]

omg hello!! I was wondering if u could do an author x enzo fic? she is a well published romance author and they ask her where she gets her inspiration while she’s doing book press etc etc thank uuuuuu 🩵🩵

─📚𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 | ENZO VOGRINCIC

·˚ ༘ pairing: enzo x author!fem!reader

·˚ ༘ summary: enzo teasing you after founding out he’s your inspiration for your romantic writing.

·˚ ༘ warnings: fluff, romantic teasing, cringey dialogue (idk if it is, just in case)

·˚ ༘ note: no worries! this is such a cute idea <3

There was a question. One that every single one of your fans would ask themselves. How would you get so much inspiration? It is considered for an author to get writer's block at any point in their career. But for you? For you is as if the ideas came like water. Water that readily spilled and nothing would be able to stop it. Not even a bucket.

You found yourself at your local bookstore doing a book press. The room was replenished with people around as they paid attention to you speaking and answering some of the questions that they had. Some being of the characters like, how do you find your ways to portray them? and see their future? Or the most famous—

“Where do you get your inspiration?”

You weren’t foolproof if you wanted to answer the question. But you didn’t want to leave the fans hanging either, it was dubious. Having the mic resting just a few inches away from your lips, made an apprehensive chuckle facade your lips, you did nothing but turn your head and look behind you. Enzo stayed seated on the chair that was behind the desk, and where you had your items waiting for you as well. Everyone lingered for an answer, an answer that you'll give.

“Well… It comes from everywhere really.” You sighed, in an endeavor to stumble upon the words that wouldn’t leave your insolence. “It usually comes to me when I’m at home, with my boyfriend. We could be having a conversation and the ideas just rush through me—” Your hand moves in a circular motion in front of you. “But sometimes I just write what the two of us do. You could say he’s sort of.. my muse.” You finalized.

The room emitted a few “Aws” that had you wanting to hide your face from the embarrassment. The feeling of the heat climbing from your neck to your cheeks, and you, wanting to quickly get rid of it.

The book press continued until it came to an end. Enzo and you had gone home and were cordially greeted by your cat who rubbed her fuzzy tail on you and Enzo’s feet. The warmness of the house struck you like a pillow that would narrowly knock you over for you to get to bed. You felt cozy and relaxed when you sat on the couch waiting for Enzo to join you.

“¿Pesado?” He asked. In reference, to your day. He sat with you on the couch after placing the cat on the ground again. His hand caught up with yours to give it a gentle kiss of fondness.

“Ni te imaginas.” You giggled, placing your middle and index finger on your temple ready to give it a light massage.

“¿Queres que te prepare algo?” Enzo appeals, continuing to rub your hand. You felt the warmness of his hand against the coldness of yours. Something usual between the two of you, even on cold days. Enzo would always manage to keep his body temperature warm.

You shook your head while you got closer to him, trying to hug him. “No, solo quiero estar aquí contigo.”

And that’s how it remained. With Enzo and you lying closely on your couch, with his strong arms wrapped around you, and your small kitty lying down on the rug that was placed under the coffee table. A moment that you loved. The company of the person you loved next to you, and the company of your small being with the both of you in the room. Your eyes were shut, feeling the truce that served the room every time you were with Enzo. Until you heard his chuckle.

“¿Qué pasa?” You stayed in your spot. You felt how he played with the small braid that was a part of your hairstyle, and also, catching a glimpse of how his hand moved with the action.

“Nada, es solo lo que dijiste hoy.” His voice was so low that when he spoke, it rasped.

You rosed from your position confused by his words. Not recollecting what you could have said, after a session of numerous questions and answers. “¿De que?”

“Pues—” He hauls on the syllable not stopping his play with the strand of your hair. “Que soy tu inspiración.” He grants you a smirk that you knew was coming with teasing.

“Y por esto no quería decir nada.” You spoke to him with a toothy smile, wanting to get up but Enzo was quick. He grasps your arm softly.

“Ay, no chiquita. Es que me halagas.” He cracks up as you push him away in a delicate mode. You didn’t want to hurt him. “Todo lo que escribes es por mí.” He covers his mouth letting out an overdramatic gasp. The kind that brings you a laugh.

“¡Enzo!” The giggles you let out fell toned down onto his shoulder.

“Ya dale, dale.” He pressed his lips together unmoving with the smile besmear on them. Your lips mirrored his smile after he gave you a peck. “Estoy orgullo de vos.”

Enzo has always been proud of your attainments. Every time you would release a new book, he would take you out for dinner. Knowing that the past months would be stressful, he wished for you to have a good relaxing night after your hard work.

“Todo es gracias a ti.” Your finger tapped his upper lip making him jerk his head back softly. He offered you a cute wink that made you roll your eyes in joke.

“Puede ser.” He dragged the phrase with a shrug of the arms. His fingers moved in a typing manner on your bare shoulder, teasing you.

“Eres un tontito.” You quipped, lightly elbowing him, but you failed as Enzo tugged you closer to him. His hand had fallen on your waist and he managed to pull you over his lap.

“Tú tontito, nena.” He positioned his hand under your jawline bringing you closer to him to place a kiss. “Te amo.” His words fall in a whisper into your kiss.

“Y yo a ti.” You kiss him back, with your hands hand full of his hair.

“Sí escribis sobre esto, haceme ver bien.”

His teasing was never going to leave you alone, but you loved him. Tolerating his jokes wasn’t going to change anything.

[screechingsandwichtriumph]

Platonic yandere avengers x reader x romantic yandere peter parker

Idek how to begin this so beware unlucky readers

Summary: you are an idol ,you are an avenger. How can they not be slightly a little bit protective of you

Warnings: yandere themes , stalking, obsession, fighting, blood , I think this is it

Also this will include(I'm sorry I didn't exactly do the like main six or whatever) Tony , Steve , Bucky , Clint , Natasha , Wanda , Peter

This is longer than I expected and I kinda don't like it but here it is in its full glory<3

When you joined the team , they blamed their protectiveness over you to your personality

I mean you are so cute and look so innocent , how can they not want to protect you ?

Tony had totally not hacked into every single account that you own / have owned in your life and he absolutely hasn't researcher your dad's Facebook to find childhood pictures of you. And he surely didn't print those out and handed then around in the team. Also expect to be spoilt rotten. Complained once about a stain on your favorite jacket? Have three more of the exact same just in case

Steve claimed to need specifically your help to understand how to operate anything mechanical ad expect to have a lot of movie marathons. He will read you before you sleep even though you are not a child anymore because ' he just liked when he is reading out loud'

Bucky would be the type of person to dig in deep in your life. He wouldn't stalk you specifically. That is tasked to someone else. No . He would stalk Al your friends and all your exes and highschool teachers.ad if he had to he would accidentally make some of them he consider bad influences disappear

Clint along with Natasha are your stalkers

Clint will always be hidden close by in case you need help with something (like , idk someone dead?) and my man could literally enter your home , casually look around a bit , stare at your decorations , and be out without you even realizing he was never there

Natasha on the other hand isn't so subtle. You could easily spot her on the other end of the street wearing sunglasses and staring at you intensely. Once you were in a bookstore admiring some books and stationary that you did not buy and the next day they were at your door with a little note that said ' saw them and they reminded me of you - Natasha ' as if you hadn't seen her looking at you. It isn't even that she is stupid . She just doesn't care

Wanda practically lived at your head at this point knowing things about you , you were barely aware of. Like , what do you mean you can't remember that one time you went snowboarding and fell? What do you mean how she knows that story and that you never told her? Of course you did silly!

Peter now was clearly in live with you and the first to meet you and get obsessed over you. When after some time he went to Tony and told him about his feelings , Tony supported his feelings to the max since this could be beneficial for all of them. Peter would never leave , they trusted him and he could keep you close.

Now you seem like a soft baby that needs protection from everyone ands that's mainly due to the way you present yourself and act. You have the most bubbly soft personality and everyone loves that

Being an idol , and an avenger was a dream come true for you , so when you had a big show and gave to them tickets to come see you they of course came( Tony almost bought all tha tickets so it could be only you but Steve stopped him)

Heating a music so fitting to your aesthetic it was like they fell in love (platonically and romantically for Peter) all over again. You are just so sweet and cute

Then a day came where an attack happened in new York and all of you jumped to action. They had no time to stop you from going to battle or even think about doing it really. The only think they could do was act.

Now , your powers were so incredibly powerful that they never thought you would have to fight face to face with someone. But they were terrible wrong

Once the fight was over they all spotted you on the corner of a building with bloody fists and a small trail of blood staining your pretty pink costume. A fan of yours was there asking you to take a picture . You kindly smiled at the camera revealing a set of bloody teeth.

Your fan seemed super excited at that and almost yelled out in joy. You bid her goodbye and went towards the group of your shocked friends

They all just stared at you in an unusually bloody shape , that somehow seemed fitting (?)

Later on they were shown a video of you with a bunch of people , that you were brutally fighting with . They were all left to shreds when you left your head held high.( Peter was even more into you after that)

Asks are always open<3

[toxicanonymity]

The Barbecue. Silence can never be bought, only rented (pt. 5 of 6)

5k / dbf!Joel x f!Reader, 18+ / pt 1 / master list

The long-awaited HOG (hot old guy) barbecue. Joel watches in the reflection of the window as you get out of the pool and grab a towel.  You follow him inside. "Don't tell me that made you jealous," you say. "Turned me on," he responds, and you can tell.

NEXT: part 6 / Story Master List

WARNINGS/NOTES: NSFW 18+ dry humping, vaginal fingering, jacking off, brief oral (M receiving), semi-public-ish, swallowing, alcohol, irresponsible cook-out behavior, DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE, some angst, reader wears Joel's shirt, lack of PIV, blue balls. Do not read the dad as your actual dad!

Tags - This story: @jbcalway @daddy-din @angelmenace @silkiers @axshadows @legs0pen4dilfs @fan-fiction-floozy @grnherbs @icuminurbutt @lokanda @not-a-unique-snowflakewflake89 @likeanimagepassingby2 @witchy-jadda @mxtokko @missannwinchester @cannolighost @anxiousankylosaurus @montenegroisr @97cityy @lillyrob @billyloomiswhore4 @cloudroomblog @boysddontcry @blackvelveteen1339 @twsssmlmaa @call-me-doll-facee @str84pedro

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea. @evyiione. ty @dark-scape for the support as usual.

Lmk if i missed you. Idk why some are buggy.

-

You don’t hear from Joel for days.  The first day, you’re a mess of feelings, pinballing between numb and smitten.  

You feel like you don't really know anyone in your life.  The people you thought were closest are perfect strangers.  You don't trust anyone.  Your roommate is spending all her time with that friend of Chad’s.  Your friend from home is on a trip overseas and won’t be back until the day after Independence Day.  You feel like you don’t have anyone to hang out with, talk to, or even sit in silence with.  You’re lonely and pensive.  

On the other end of the spectrum, your mind (and body) frequently drift to that long-awaited kiss, and everything that happened in that hotel suite.  You almost feel like if you can sleep with Joel, everything will be right in the world, even when it’s all wrong.  Even when he’s part of what’s wrong.  You know it’s illogical.  

-

One afternoon, for a change of scenery, you go to the bookstore with the cafe where you work.  Maybe you’re clinging to the last bit of familiarity that’s left.  On the bulletin board at the entrance, there’s a flyer for Chad's band playing at your favorite spot.  That must be why he originally came by the cafe the other day.  

While you’re in the middle of the bookstore, you get a text from Joel and your face burns when you open it. It’s a disappearing dick pic.  Not just his dick. It’s a blow job POV including his dick.  “Your souvenir,” he says, like that’s all that happened.    Your blood boils but also rushes to your loins.  

That’s all he has to say to you?  You respond, “really?” He’s trying to act like that whole car ride never happened.  

“Wanna talk about it?” he responds.  It’s nice that he offers, and your heart probably swells a little too much at the basic decency, but you’re actually not sure you want to talk about it.  You’re almost afraid to find out more.  You already wish you could rewind and live in blissful ignorance. 

-

After an exhausting day of stewing and sulking, you decide to go to Chad’s show.  It feels pathetic, but who cares? The way you see it, you don’t have anything to lose.  Chad can’t hurt you anymore.  It’s hard to imagine anyone who could.  You text Chad to let him know you’re coming.  He doesn’t text you back.  

When you get to the venue, you don’t see anyone you know, at first.  There’s still another band to play before them, so they should be hanging out near the merch table and you make your way over there.   Finally, you see their drummer behind the cash box, then you see Chad’s hair from the back.  The drummer says something to Chad, then Chad looks over at you.   Your stomach turns when you see his face.  You can only see half of it, but there’s a gauze bandage across his eyebrow and upper cheekbone.  His mouth is scabbed over.  Joel.  Chad makes himself scarce as soon as he sees you. 

You finally respond to Joel, “not really.” And that’s that.  But you don’t know how you’re going to face him or your dad when you go home for the holiday.  

-

On Independence Day, you’re so anxious that you drive right past the turn onto Joel’s street.  You don’t forget, you just decide not to turn.  You go to your friend’s house, even though you know she isn’t there.  It’s a familiar place to park your car and try to calm yourself down.  You sit there for almost an hour doing nothing but scrolling tumblr and listening to music.   

When you don’t arrive at the barbecue, your dad and Joel separately call you and you don’t answer either of them.  Based on your degree of dread with each respective call, you realize your dad is the one you least want to see.  You’re not really harboring much negativity toward Joel at this point.  

Frank texts you and you finally take a deep breath and decide to show up.  Your plan is to detach as much as possible and let yourself leave as soon as you’re uncomfortable. 

-

You pull up to Joel’s house wearing a bikini and the flannel with a change of clothes in your Billy Loomis tote.  Pretty much everyone is already at Joel’s house.  Tommy and Maria, Bill and Frank, your dad and stepmother, a couple of Joel’s neighbors, and two of your dad’s work friends, rounding out the requisite hot old guys (HOGs), according to your friend, at least. One of the HOGs, Steve, always looks at you like a piece of meat.  You used to think he was just an old  creep, but now he strikes you as a bit of a DILF. 

A light breeze carries the smell of propane and pork butt as you approach the pool gate.  Only Frank is in the pool.  You’ll probably hang out with him the whole time.  Joel is at the grill in swim trunks and t-shirt, talking to one of your father’s work friends.  He doesn't even look up when you open the gate.  His swim trunks sure do show a lot of thigh. 

Your stepmother is all over your dad.  You pry him off with a hug out of spite and to face your fears.  Then, you go to the grill and hug Joel from the side. It’s way too hot to stand there long.

“There she is,” Tommy announces on the other side of the grill.  He’s talking to a guy you don’t recognize who turns around and does a double-take.  

“This is Jesse, he works with your dad.” 

He extends his hand and says “I’ve heard a lot about you.”  

“Hmm, that sounds ominous." You can imagine being very attracted to Jesse even a week ago, but suddenly you don't have interest in anyone under 40.  

"Well I heard you like to swim, at least. I didn't wanna swim alone," Jesse says.

-

Frank has a tray at the side of the pool with a glass of wine and his phone on it.  He puts his glass of wine down when you walk up. 

"Thank God, I've been drinking by myself," he says. 

"And what kind of pairing is this for your pork butt?" you tease him as you sit down on the edge and put your feet in.   Bill just barely raises his glass to wave at you.  He's sitting alone under the shade of an umbrella, wearing khakis and a button-down shirt. 

"Hey I think I have this shirt," Frank says, and takes the flannel between his thumb and finger.  He studies it contemplatively for a moment.  You catch up with Frank for a while.  

-

You call over to the grill, "Joel are you gonna swim?" 

"I'm on butt duty," he says. 

Frank gives you an inquisitive look then asks if you're gonna get in.  

You put your stuff down on a chair, take the shirt off, and start applying sunscreen.  Joel watches as you rub it into your bikini top. Then you turn around to give him a side view as you rub it into the part of your butt cheeks hanging out of the bottoms. 

Jesse moseys over within seconds and takes off his shirt. And well, damn.  When Jesse raises his eyebrows at you, you realize you've been staring while lazily reaching over your shoulder and applying sunscreen.  You were really just looking at his tattoos.  Mostly. 

“Nice ink,” you say.  

"Need a hand?" He asks. Why not? You hand Jesse the sunscreen and watch his face as he squirts some into his palm. He bites his lip. 

You turn around facing the pool – facing Joel – and stretch out one leg in front of you, keeping the other bent, while Jesse rubs lotion into your back.  He doesn’t do  it in an erotic way, but you curl your toes and subtly bite your lip as though it is. You let your legs fall open a bit. 

You lower yourself into the pool and have small talk with Jesse for a minute, then Joel says your real name for once and it makes your eyes go wide. He doesn't say it that loud but you still hear him from across the pool.  "Gimme a hand?" He asks. 

Jesse stays in the pool and awkwardly makes small talk with Frank. 

-

Joel watches in the reflection of his big living room windows as you lift yourself out of the pool and get a towel.  You follow him inside to the small, secondary kitchen and he closes the door behind you..

He pins you up against the counter, already aroused, and further hardens against your wet swimsuit, flooding you with desire from your core to your chest.  

"Havin' fun?" He growls in your ear. 

"Don't tell me that made you jealous."

"Turned me on," he says, low and horny. 

He kisses your chin, then your neck.  Your hands wrap around him and grab his ass, pulling him into you harder with your own soft grunt.  

He slips his hand under the damp cup of your bikini top, his fingers curving around the side of your breast, thumb resting at your cleavage.  His warm palm pushes your cold, hard nipple as he firmly cradles your breast, his hand applying slow pressure in rhythm with his hips.  Your knees are weak.  You're dripping, not just from the pool.  

He wraps his arms around you and slides his warm hands into the sides of your swimsuit bottom, grabbing hold of your cold ass cheeks. He groans, "God almighty.”  

He kneads your ass, pulling you into him and his rock-hard length.  He kisses your neck and grinds himself into you.  The feeling of his warm, thick rod slowly rutting against your clit drives you mad.  You couldn’t get any wetter.  If you don't have this man inside you soon, you might actually die. You reach into his shorts and use your other hand to try to take them down.  He doesn't stop you. 

But there’s a knock at the door.  Good Lord.  You know who it's going to be.

Joel puts his dick away and removes a big pan of coleslaw from the fridge.  He hands you the coleslaw while you open the door.  

"Am I interrupting anything?" She asks. 

"No," You say, then cock your head and add  "Am I?"  You hold eye contact for several seconds, then hand her the cole slaw and ask, "don't you and Dad have some catching up to do?" 

Your stepmother takes the coleslaw outside.  

You close the door behind her.  “Basement?,” you ask, and start toward the pantry at the back of the space.  There’s a hidden staircase that opens into the movie theater downstairs. 

Joel groans and rubs his beard.  “Later,” Joel says with a sigh.  “We better go back out.”

You scoff.  “Really?” 

“Go on back outside.” He opens the door to the main kitchen.  

-

When you get back to the pool, Jesse's already gone, talking to your dad.  When you get back in, Frank says, "You little minx."  He's got Instagram pulled up on his phone and shows you a picture from several years ago of Joel and him together,  both wearing the shirt you arrived in.  "Tell me everything."

Your face gets hot.  “Seems to be a popular shirt,” you say. 

"No," Frank says. "Shirt's just the kicker. There's something about the way you say each other's names. They sound like a secret."  Frank is good at reading people.

"What, you think I fucked him? I didn't." At least you don't have to lie about that. 

"Maybe not yet," he scoffs.  Frank looks behind you and covers his mouth, then says “Look at his shirt."  Yeah, Joel’s shirt has just the right wet spots.  In theory, they could've been from a hug. It basically was a hug.  

"Ever heard of a hug?" you say. 

Frank raises his eyebrows then holds up his glass of wine and "accidentally" clinks his wedding ring on it before downing the rest.  Bill hears it and comes over with the bottle.  Frank gives him a look with the slightest nod across the pool, like he can't even wait a couple hours to share his new gossip.  Bill's eyes dart over to Joel, then meet Frank's eyes again. As usual, no reaction is visible on Bill's face, aside from a twinkle in his eye.  "Everything to your liking, sir?" he asks Frank.  

Frank smiles, "Come on, at least dip your feet," but Bill leaves. Just as well, Frank's not done prodding you. 

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me," Frank shrugs.  "But I know you want to. . . and my lips are sealed. . ."  

Frank is one of the most trustworthy people you know, so you don't worry about him spilling it.  You just don’t feel like saying it out loud and putting words to it.  Once it exists in the air, it’s something that can be broken. Something that can fall apart.  

You panic and tell Frank about Joel and your stepmother instead.  You claim you're just keeping Joel close for now while you decide what to do.  You leave out any details about what close means.  

The initial look on his face is horror, then Frank looks like he's going to cry.  "Are you okay?" 

"Chill," you say, looking around nervously. "Jesus, how much wine have you had?" 

"Sorry, I just.  I'm sorry.  I know it's hard.  That's all."  He hugs you, and over Frank’s shoulder, you see Joel looking across the pool with his brow furrowed even more than usual.

"Well, don't forget my dad cheated on my mom with her, so, whatever," you say.

"Well, exactly. That's why I worry-" 

Your face tells him to stop, so he changes the subject.  "So what about that guy from the band, is that still a thing?"

You sigh.  "Chad? No. Nothing juicy, just no."

"Got it," he says and you know you can trust him not to bring it up again.  He follows your eyes back to Joel.   You’re not off the hook, but at least you don’t have to talk about it.  

-

The actual meal is relatively uneventful. It’s hard to be around your father right now.  Deep down, you knew there were secrets.  You knew he wasn’t the most upstanding man.  You never fully trusted him after what he did to your mom.  But at this point, he feels like a stranger.  You’re almost glad his wife is cheating on him.  

Steve, the hotter of your dad’s non-Joel friends, tries hitting on you.  Asks if you like to party.  Says he bets you get pretty wild after a few drinks.  Pressures you to do shots with him.  Why not, you think.  You do one shot, but make Joel join in.  

“Bad fuckin’ influence over here,” Joel says and gives Steve a slap on the back.  Steve tries to egg you on to do more, but you don’t and neither does Joel.  

"That's why we call him Mr. One Shot," Jesse says. laughing at his own joke. 

Joel bristles at the nickname and crosses his arms, jamming his hands under his ungodly biceps.

Steve lowers his voice and asks Joel,  "How many shots in Uvalde?" Joel doesn’t answer. 

"One," Jesse says. "Miller’s too modest, you're embarrassing him," he laughs. 

Joel tenses. "Give it a rest, Jesse. Have some discretion." 

Jesse looks at your end of the table and swallows. “Right”

Your stepmother abruptly changes the subject.   She asks Jesse how old he is and why she hasn’t seen him before. She’s drunk, and every time she looks at Jesse, she looks like she could eat him alive. 

Your dad elbows Jesse.  “I think my wife likes you,” he says with a wink.  It’s awkward. 

-

Joel’s face is a little pink from the sun, and it looks good on him.  He’s looking at your face, but not making eye contact. He seems to be in a trance.  You kind of feel like you should still be mad at him, but for some reason, you’re not.  And you’re not going to deprive yourself out of spite.  You can feel Frank noticing every detail of this.  

Bill pours the last of a bottle of wine, and you volunteer to go to the wine cellar.  Bill says they’ve had enough.  Frank protests that he wants one more glass.  He asks you for a German Riesling, with a wink.  You subtly shake your head at him, falsely denying what he knows you’re up to.  

-

You stand in the wine cellar, enjoying the cool air, then sit on a cabinet that spans the whole back wall.  It’s only a few minutes before you hear Joel’s flip flops echoing down the stairs, presumably with the pretext of helping you find the wine.  He crosses the cellar without even glancing at the wine.  “Leavin’ for the fireworks in 15,” he says.  

He has that horny look in his eyes and there’s already a bulge in his swim trunks. The way his t-shirt stretches over his pecs and arms — God damn. 

When Joel reaches you, his massive hands part your knees, then lightly stroke your bare thighs.  His lips brush your temple as he says, “You’re gonna get me in trouble one of these days.” 

“That’s the idea,” you say as his hands wrap around your back and he slides you closer to the edge of the cabinet.  When your crotch comes to rest against his, an acute desire floods your breasts.  You squeeze his sides with your thighs, then roll your hips into his arousal and hook your hands under his arms, bringing him closer.  

You slide your hands down his back and into his swim trunks, feeling his ass and bringing the trunks down.  At the same time, you pull his hips into you and the swell of his hard-on against your clit makes you throb with need.  You start to untie your bikini bottoms while he gropes a breast.

His mouth latches onto your neck. You let the front of the bottoms fall between your thighs, and tilt your hips in just the right way. He brings a hand between your legs and drags his flattened fingers up and down your slippery seam, then thrusts two of them inside and you moan. 

“Fuuck,” he breathes.  

You grab his cock.  “Come on,” you beg as you tug him.  He takes his hard length from you, holds it in his hand, and furrows his brow as he pumps his fingers slowly in and out of you.  You try to read his face.  He breathes heavily as he fingers you.   

“Fuck me already,” you beg.  

He looks down at himself and shakes his head no, but looks pained by his own answer.  

“We both know it’s gonna happen,” you say.

He takes a deep breath as though to restrain himself.  “Maybe so, but not tonight.” 

He removes his fingers and brings the tip of his cock to your dripping entrance.  A bolt of need shoots through you.  He dwells there for a moment, takes another deep breath, then lays his stiff manhood vertically against your seam and pulls you tight against him.  Then he grinds wetly against your aching clit, and your hips roll into him.  Your head falls back and you moan.  Your eyes are watery.  

“God, Joel. . .this is . . .so dumb. . . just fu-” 

You cut yourself off with a moan as he quickens his pace and grunts.

“Pleeease.” 

“Shhhhhhh,” he says.  You’re on the verge of coming and on the verge of tears. He holds you tight for leverage then goes jackhammer pace. 

“Joel. . .”

“Come for me, sugar,” he pants.  And not long after, you do.  You clench around nothing, pulse against him, and you hear the echo of a breathy “Joel” you didn’t know you said.  

He takes his cock in his hand again and looks at you with his pupils blown wide. His breath is ragged as he strokes himself.  You find yourself slipping down off the cabinet.  He doesn’t deserve what you’re about to do, you just want it for yourself, for whatever reason.  He steps back and you squat down to face level with his cock.  You hover your mouth over it, then wrap your lips around the head, and he comes with an echoing groan before you take any of the shaft into your mouth.  His cum even tastes unattainable.  Your eyes sting. 

You fix your swimsuit and compose yourself.  

“C’mere,” he says and hugs you.  You don't really hug him back.  You wipe a tear off your cheek.  He tries to kiss you, but you’re too upset, and it would make you need him even worse than you already do.  

-

Joel’s phone rings and he picks it up.  “We’re comin’,” he says.  “C’mon, let’s go.”  He puts his arm around you but your demeanor doesn’t soften.  You’ve had it with him depriving you.

“Ya know, maybe it’s a good night to talk to my dad,” you threaten as you near the top of the stairs.  

“Damn, Trouble.” You can't tell if he’s impressed or judging you.  “I said not tonight. I didn’t say never.”  

That makes you think twice, at which point you realize what you just did. . .You tried to blackmail Joel for sex. 

He adjusts his shorts.  God, what’s become of this situation in just a few days - you try to put it out of your mind.  You can beat yourself up over it later. 

Joel stops you with his hand on yours before you open the door. “Look,” he continues.  “Before you do anything stupid, there’s somethin’ I should tell you later.”  

You lean against the wall and cross your arms.  “Lemme guess, you and Dad are up to some shady, dangerous shit.” 

“Nothin’ to do with that,” Joel says, lowering his voice. 

“So you are.” 

“Dangerous, yes, shady, no. We’re the good guys. Less you know ‘bout that, the better.” 

“Why?”

“For your safety.” 

You open the door to the living room and people are milling around deciding who’s riding with whom to the fireworks.  Frank says, “hey, she didn’t get bricked in,” and hands you your bag from outside so you can change.  

-

You and Joel ride with Bill and Frank to the fireworks. Frank keeps looking back and making small talk, but you and Joel mostly look out your opposite windows. You get to thinking about what Joel said.   Not tonight. . . I didn’t say never. . . If he means that, maybe it’s worth the wait.  Maybe you should hear him out, whatever he has to tell you.

During the fireworks, you come around a little.  Joel playfully covers your ears, knowing you’ve always hated loud noises.   When Bill and Frank drop you off at Joel’s afterwards, everyone is going their separate ways.  You're relieved to see your dad and stepmother drive off before you have to say goodbye.   

You start to go to your car, wanting to quit while you're ahead and not end up begging for it again. Joel stops you with gentle hands on your shoulders.

"Come in for a minute. Let's talk." A pit opens in your stomach. 

The two of you go in through the pool gate.  “Lemme make you a drink,” he says.  That sounds even worse.

. . .

Joel hands you your favorite cocktail, then comes around the bar with his own drink to sit on the stool next to you.  He takes a deep breath and puts his hand on your knee.  He seems almost as nervous as you are. You can't remember seeing him nervous before.  

“Yeah?” you prompt him.  

He nods and takes a sip of his drink, then looks you in the eye.  He puts his glass down, then takes yours out of your hand and puts it down on the counter too.  

He swivels you toward each other.  He looks like he's about to say something, then something changes in his eyes.  He cradles your head with both hands, lays his lips into yours, and kisses you slow and hard, his tongue dipping into your mouth. 

After a few seconds, you don’t even notice the taste of his whiskey, and his hands trace your body on their way down to your thighs.  It’s intense but tender.  You can’t help but feel like it’s some kind of a kiss goodbye.  It scares you.  He slides off the stool and gets in between your knees, tries to put your legs around him again, and that’s certainly where your legs want to go.  But you want to hear what he has to say first. 

You pull away and your hand drifts up to your lips.  They buzz from his fervor.  Your chest rises and falls.

“Spit it out,” you tell him.   

“Right," he says.  "I dunno if you’re still gonna wanna. . .”  He downs his drink.  It’s hard for you to imagine anything that would make you not want to fuck him anymore.  

Finally, he begins.  "Alright. . . ‘member what I said at lunch the other day, 'bout how monogamy isn’t for everyone?"

"Yeah." If this is all to say it’s not for him, it’s not hitting like much of a bombshell.  Now, if he's going to tell you about other people he's fucking–when he's not even fucking you—that's a different story. 

"Well," he clears his throat and looks away.  "Your dad-"  

You interrupt him with a loud sigh.  "Just because he cheats doesn't mean you can sleep with his wife."  You’re annoyed he’s even going there.  

Joel holds up his hands as though to tell you to slow down.  "Lemme finish.  'member what I said, how even in a marriage, some couples. . . ."  He tries to make you fill in the blanks for yourself, but you won't. "Okay,”  he shifts in his seat and begins to gesticulate vaguely.  “Your dad and stepmother, they have an arrangement."  

You feel the blood drain from your face.  You think about the way she was eyeing Jesse. "Gross," you say.

He swallows and nods regretfully as you process this.  He waits patiently as your heart races along with your thoughts, then you spill them out all at once.  "I dunno why I would believe you. OR why you would believe her.  Is that what she told you?”  You laugh.  “Whatever. Even if it's true, you aren't just any guy-"

"He knows," Joel says almost somberly. “About me.”

"Oh, he knows?" you laugh. He couldn't possibly. This is a terrible attempt at defusing the whole situation for himself.  And yet, he looks like he feels bad for you. 

"The first time, he talked me into it." 

Deep breaths.  "That's insane.  That's. . .this is your new plan? Try to convince me my dad is some perverted cuckold?"

"No, not like that." He shivers in disgust. "Damn, Trouble. That's where your head went? No. . . when he. . .it was like. . . a swap.” 

Your stomach turns.  

“Okay, remember my date to Bill and Frank's wedding?  The stripper?”  Your heart sinks.  “Your dad, um, really liked her, and-"

"I get the picture," you say, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose, recalling that your dad did in fact really like Joel's date.  It was embarrassing.  

"It was casual with me and. Shit, what was her name. Anyway, we were all stayin' in that hotel gettin' sloshed at the pool, an-"

You open your eyes and say, "Yeah, I got it, okay?" Then, you walk over to the sofa to sit down.  He follows you.  You feel sick to your stomach and don't want to hear another word about it.  You cross your arms and slouch, sitting in silence for a moment.  

He hesitantly puts his hand on your knee, sending a rush of blood to your loins. You don’t know what to feel.

"Did you really end it with her?" You ask. 

He sighs.  "More or less." 

Now rage starts simmering in your chest. 

"Told her I wanted a break.”

Unbelievable.

“That just — it lessens the blow.  But trust me, I'm not doin' it again. Especially after how she’s been actin’." 

You wish you could believe him. 

You ask, "Why'd you let me think it was some huge secret?"

He's quiet for a moment.

"I don’t think your dad would appreciate you knowin’ about it," he says.  "But I was gonna tell you anyway."

“Yeah, right.” 

“‘Yeah. . . ‘member all those calls you ignored?”  

“But then I got to thinkin’ about it, and I guess. . . .” 

"What?”

"I," he pauses and sighs.  "Shit, I dunno, it was hot.  Really hot.  The way you acted, thinkin' you had somethin' over me. . .never saw that side of you before."

Now this you can believe.

"Next day, still thought about tellin’ ya.  But after the pool, there was no goin’ back.  I mean, damn."  

There’s a sparkle in his eye as he reflects on that.  He adjusts himself, which always makes you tingle, even now.  Especially now?  God, you have no idea.  

"Guess it kinda did somethin' to me,” he says.  He raises his eyebrows and gives your thigh a rub, but you flinch.  It isn’t personal, you’re just on edge, but his eyes get sad and he takes his hand away, resting it in his lap as he sits back lazily on the couch. 

You ask, "So why tell me now?"

"I dunno, maybe I'm growin' a conscience."  

You try to make sense of that, but you can’t.  Why would he feel guilty about you doing something as depraved as blackmailing him into sex?  

"Woulda been hot as hell though.  Maybe I shoulda let ya go through with it.  Damn.” 

It sounds like everything is up to him, and apparently, it is.  

He hesitantly rests his hand on your back and slowly rubs it.  You take a deep breath and sigh audibly.  You’re melting under his fingertips.  

He lowers his voice, “So, now that you know everything . . .”

His phone buzzes.  When he looks at it, he tenses and sharply inhales.

“Your dad’s here,” he says.

And your car is still parked outside in the turnaround.

-

Planning for the next chapter to be the last in this story. . .

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Past the green

Barbie dolls: Dave Lizewski x gn! Reader

Word count: 6.3k

Summary : you guys are just geeky together you help him when he's bleeding you kiss him you guys almost bag woohoo 🎉🎉🙌🙌

Warnings: you write comics now, you're friends with Katie, mentions of Dave staring at the teachers tits twice oops, blood and cuts mentioned(Dave gets his ass beat), you're kinda a dick but like in a loving manner yk, a good portion of sex jokes and I blue ball you at the end, theres like description of handies but it's like hard to explain, you quote Shakespeare, Dave's kinda an idiot, it's fairly clear that r thinks of him in a wimpy sub type of manner but who knows, insinuated that it's r and Dave's first time together like within in their relationship but I don't say if either of you are virgins, you drive and listen to Sir-Mix-A-Lot, you guys are just geeky and nerdy together yk, insinuated that you're better in English class than Dave but he could be really bad in there you don't know, a small pretentious vibe from you about your comics but it's just confidence shut it, Dave tries to kiss you and you're not feeling it, also you call Dave David a good three times, I insinuated ACAB ideas so idk suck my dick if you don't agree no Dave fic for you ig, small mention of throwing up,mentions of porn and I made a James Potter reference kinda, comic you is called Cardamon but it's supposed to be like a fake identity so sorry if thats your name

You really only dabble in comics. Your friend Katie also dabbled but she read more than you did. She just recently started a new series and wanted the third and fourth volumes. So with a fair amount of convincing, Katie and you were walking towards the only comic book store in town. You held the door open for her before stepping through the door yourself. Katie glanced back at you, smiling at you.

“We’ll be in and out in no time.” She reassured, heading straight for the genre of her comics. You shook your head, following after her.

“Take your time, I can be patient.” Katie smiled at you, reaching for the stacks of comics. You leaned against the table the box she was looking through was sitting on. You glanced around the bookstore. You normally just borrowed some of Katie’s comics, so you’ve only been inside the bookstore once or twice. You turned your head, looking at the back of the store. You froze when you saw Dave Lizewski.

Back against the windows he was sitting in the booth with his two friends. Unfortunately for you, he was facing your direction. He stared down at the milkshake in his hands, stirring the straw around his cup. Dave must’ve noticed you staring at him because his eyes moved up from his cup. You turned your head back towards Katie as fast as you could, hoping not to arise too much suspicion.

Dave was in your biology class and English class. You worked together in English, he wasn’t the best at English. You sat next to each other and you often helped him revise his answers. In biology though, you weren’t entirely sure he even knew you were in there. You weren’t sure he even knew where anything in that class was, well aside from the teacher's tits. You hadn’t told anyone, anyone being Katie, but you were pretty sure you had a hard-core crush on him.

Katie looked up from her books, looking around the store to find what could’ve possibly made you move so fast. She saw Dave staring at the back of your head. Katie looked at you confused. Connecting two and two in her head, Katie gasped. You faced her, silently telling her to be quiet with your face. She leaned towards you, holding up a comic book to hide your faces.

“You totally like him.” She whispered. You shook your head.

“Nope. No. I don’t even know who that is.” You whispered back, throwing in a one-shouldered shrug to sell the act. Katie glared at you. She gently put the book back. She latched onto your wrist, dragging you away from the table and towards Dave. You pulled back trying to stop her but unfortunately for you, Katie was crazy strong. Dave seemed to notice you two on the way, setting his milkshake down and readjusting his jacket. He leaned towards his friends, whispering something you couldn’t hear before dropping back into his seat to play nonchalant. Katie stopped by the side of Dave’s table, keeping her hold on your wrist.

"Hey guys, what’s new?” She asked glancing around at all the faces at the table. Marty set down his open comic and stared up at Katie. Tod stared too but he had a lost puppy look most days so you weren’t surprised.

“Not much, so are you guys into reading comics?” Dave asked, reaching for his milkshake again. Katie nodded. You tried to slink behind her and hide from the awkwardness. Katie jerked on your hand, forcing you to stand next to her again. You glared at her out of the corner of your eye.

“I enjoy reading them, I haven’t read a whole lot. They don’t read them though.” Katie said jutting her thumb over her shoulder at you. Marty glared at you.

“Then why are you in a comic book store?” Marty asked. You thought about insulting him. Getting down in his face and calling him a shit-bag. You settled for giving him a sarcastic smile, looking back at Dave. Dave raised an eyebrow at you before flickering his eyes back at Katie.

"They prefer to make comics than read them,” Katie said. You turned your head towards her.

“Why would you share that?” You whispered. Katie hummed.

“Trust me.”

“You never told me you did that?” Dave said. You shrugged.

“Never asked.” Dave scoffed at you.

“I asked about your hobbies though, you never said you did that,” Dave said, pointing out a hole in your story.

“I like keeping it under wraps, Katie is the only one who has read them.” You said, glancing out the window to avoid eye contact.

“They’re shy with their work, the stories they come up with are so good,” Katie said, making you wish you were sucked up by a black hole. Dave hummed. He leaned forward. He pulled one of his arms up onto the table, holding his head up by his palm.

“So what kind of comics do you write?” Dave asked. You glanced at Katie, please help. Katie pulled her hand away from your wrist.

“You guys talk about that while I go find my books, you sit next to Dave and I’ll be back in a few,” Katie said before pulling away from you entirely. As she passed you while heading for the comics she was looking at before, you whispered to her.

“Katie, Katie, please. Katie, I’m fragile. Don’t leave-“Katie motioned to her ear before shrugging and walking away from you. You turned back to Dave. You gave him an akward smile. He scooted closer to the wall to give you room. You settled into the booth next to him.

“So do you illustrate your books too?” Marty asked. You nodded. You glanced back at Dave.

“What do you write about?” Dave asked. You shrugged.

“Nothing really all that crazy but the last one I was working on was about a ship of aliens landing on Earth and then they tried to blend in with other humans.” You said. You looked at Marty to see him nodding.

“Kinda like Superman?” Todd asked. You tilted your head from side to side.

“Sort of but all the aliens like super built a town and started selling most of the houses to real humans. They would pretend to move in, this is after they have human costumes. Sometime later, a teenager spotted two aliens shed their human skin and he started to get really paranoid so he went on a killing spree and killed everyone in town before walking multiple miles down the road to get to the next town over. So actually not really like Superman.” You said, explaining the plot as fast as you could. Marty stared at you for a long moment. Todd’s jaw had gone slack. Dave let out a snort.

“You only let Katie read these?” Dave asked, tilting his head to the side. You wondered if he knew how much of his movements made you want to rip his clothes off with your teeth.

“Yeah.” Dave gave you an overdramatic frown. He leaned his head against his hand.

“You won’t let me read them?” Dave asked, staring at your wide eyes from behind his glasses. It was incredibly hard to say no to his face. So you turned your head to face Marty.

“No.” Dave groaned and pouted, taking another sip of his milkshake. He patted your arm, setting his drink down.

“While we have you here, Do you think you could weigh in on a debate we’re having right now?” Dave asked, letting his hand drop from your arm. You shrugged.

“So, why do you think no one has tried to be a superhero before?” Dave asked, making Marty and Todd groan.

“Not this again, Dave,” Marty muttered. You considered Dave’s question. Human beings are astronomically stupid, so why hasn’t one slapped on a mask yet?

“I don’t know. Someone probably was stupid enough to do it somewhere. I doubt they made it past ten minutes though.” You said. Marty nodded.

“Someone would have to be crazy stupid to it” Marty argued, looking over at Dave. Todd hummed.

“Not to mention it wouldn’t even be a superhero, just a straight regular hero,” Todd added, making you agree. You forgot about that aspect. Dave shrugged.

“Well, maybe you guys aren’t the creative visionary I am,” Dave muttered. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah whatever, Dave. Why don’t you call me when you get yourself a supersuit, hm? Use your dumbass as inspo for my next couple of books.” You said, snorting at your own joke. You looked away from the table to see Katie at the register. You stood from the table, knocking on the top.

“Gotta dash, losers. Dave, I’ll see you in English. Marty I'm going to see you when I curse your bloodline tonight. Todd, good seeing you. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, dickheads.” You said, before jogging over toward Katie. You both left the bookstore. Katie asked for all the little details of your conversation.

It was months later when Dave seemed to take you literally. You were scribbling away at your desk, trying to come up with a new idea. You dropped your pencil, almost knocking your head into your lamp. You spun your chair around, hoping maybe dizziness would spark your imagination. Your phone started ringing on your desk. You dropped your feet onto your floor stopping your chair from spinning more. You glanced at the contact name. The fuck does Dave want with you at 2 am?

“Hello?” You asked, your confusion laced deeply into your words. You heard Dave let out a groan that sounded way too close to moan for you. “Oh my god dude what are you doing?” You asked, sitting up in your chair.

“I’m like bleeding out, I think,” Dave said, you heard a car speed by on the other side of the line.

“What?!?”

“Listen, I’m hurt right now. I can’t call anybody else. I just- I need you to come pick me up. Just- please.” Dave let out a huff, you could hear him struggling over the phone. You stood from your chair, finding your closet pair of shoes.

“Yeah. Sure, baby, where are you?” You said, walking out of your room towards the front door. You pulled your keys out of the bowl sitting on top of the table shoved next to the door. You heard Dave huff.

“Next to that weird buffet that shut down two years ago because they found a rat in mac and cheese. I’m in a ditch as of right now.” You snorted. You pulled open your car door, settling into the driver’s seat.

“Okay, I’ll be there in a couple minutes. Sit tight and don’t do anything stupid.” You started the car, grimacing at the blaring radio. Your hand shot for the knob, silencing the radio. Dave hissed on his side.

“I think I might be past stupid. I’m sitting in a ditch, bloodied and torn.” You hummed.

“Right well, just hang in there.” You hung up the phone and headed towards where Dave told you. You felt like it was a little too insensitive to play music on your ride to get your bloodied friend out of a ditch. However, you did seem to forget how boring driving without music was. You were there in a few minutes just like you said. You parked your car in what used to be the parking lot for the buffet. You pulled out your flashlight and got out of your car.

“Dave?” You called. You started wandering the sides of the road, looking into the ditches.

“Oh Davey Boy? Oh Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy-“ Dave’s hand cut off your rambling, shooting up over the edge of the ditch.

“Over here,” Dave called, his voice strained. You looked down both ways of the street before running across it. You shined your flashlight down the ditch. Your jaw dropped at the sight of Dave. His face was covered by a green mask, though it was darkened with blood in some spots. You could see his lip was hurt and his left eye would probably be bruised for weeks to come. His body was covered in what you thought used to be green material. Dave was pressing his hand to his side. He turned his head to the side, groaning at the flashlight.

“ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch.” You muttered. Dave groaned loudly, pulling his head up to glance at his wound. He dropped his head back into the dirt.

“Please stop with the Shakespere. It’s making me wish I called someone else.” Dave muttered. You jumped down into the ditch next to him. You slid your hands under his arms, attempting to pull him up. With a lot of struggles and groans, you were able to get Dave onto his feet. He was leaning most of his weight on you, his arm over your shoulder.

”I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.” You whispered. Dave groaned loudly, dropping his head back. You laughed, making him grin. You started walking, it was hard to get onto the edge of the ditch. Once you reached the top getting across the road was easy.

“Yay, baby’s first steps.” You said, glad you finally reached the side of your car. Dave snorted next to you. You pulled open the door to your backseat. Dave slumped in the backseat. He kept his hand against his side, dropping his head back against the seat. You closed the door and ran around the car to the driver's side. You started the car the second you got in.

“Right, so hospital, or are we diy-ing this?” You asked, glancing back at Dave in the back seat. He was sitting still, staring at the car ceiling. You waited a moment for him to move. You reached your arm back and smacked Dave’s knee. He jolted up, staring at you.

“Do. Not. Die in my car.” You said, placing your hand back on the wheel. Dave sighed, readjusting and lying down across the backseat.

“Not the hospital, I'm taking a nap.” You hummed. You started the car, pulling out of the old buffet parking lot. You started your way back home, planning in your head how you were going to patch up poor Dave. As you turned past the Italian restaurant that you and Dave saw someone throw up into a fake plant, you spoke up.

“Are we going to address why you’re dressed like Kick-ass?” You asked, glancing back at him for a split second, he had already pulled off his mask. His eye was definitely going to be bruised.

“I’m Kick-ass.” He said. You snorted.

“Right, Dave. You’re Kick-ass.” You repeated sarcastically. Dave sighed.

“I am.” You stayed silent. There was a slight wimpy vibe about Kick-Ass that you found attractive. Dave was always showing up to school with new bruises and bandages. He was the one who posed the 'why has no one become a superhero yet' question.

“Oh. My. God. You’re Kick-Ass. Hol-ee shit.” You said, smacking the steering wheel and laughing in disbelief. Dave hummed in the backseat.

“Tried to tell you.” He muttered, turning his head, so he was facing the back of the seat. You scoffed.

“Dude you’re like..” You laughed again when you remembered you had Kick-Ass sitting in your backseat. “a total moron.” Dave flung his hand over his eyes.

“You could be a little nicer you know,” Dave said. You shook your head, keeping your eyes on the road.

“Somebody has to reality-check you. You’re getting your ass beat in a scuba outfit. You’re sitting in the back of an unpublished comic writer’s car. You’re about to have to listen to my CD of my upbeat music because I left my sad one at home. I’m taking you home so I can slap some mermaid bandaids on you and then in a day's time you’re going to be sitting in biology class staring at the teacher’s tits. I mean no offense Dave, but does that sound like something a person making smart decisions would do?” You looked back at Dave through the review mirror. Dave shook his head, staring down at your messy floorboards.

“It was partially hot though, you get two points back for that. Now you’re going to shut up and listen to Sir-Mix-a-lot, and you’re going to like it.” You turned the volume up, hoping to drown out all the bad decisions Dave made tonight. You started singing along, ignoring the scratching worry in your head that Dave would die in your backseat. You pulled into your driveway, parking your car where you always did. You shoved your keys into your pocket before opening the backdoor. Dave tried his best to help you help him out of the car.

You pulled his arm over your shoulder, snatching his mask off your floorboard. You kicked the car door shut before hobbling with Dave to the front door. You opened it, letting it swing inside. You dropped your keys into the bowl. You held onto Dave the best you could as you shut the door. You walked him to your room, letting him flop onto your bed. At this point, you weren’t all that hung up on getting his blood onto things. You could see it coating your hands and spots of it on your forearms. You just didn’t care anymore.

You helped him pull the top of his suit down so you could reach his cut. Did you think about having Dave shirtless on your bed before? Yes, but not like this. You cleaned his skin with a wet paper towel before taking the first aid kit from the bathroom. Once it was clean, it didn’t look too bad. You definitely weren’t experienced in the whole medical field. You found some Closex thing that had a cool picture on the front so you decided to use it. After that, you used a cotton pad and held it in place as you wrapped up his side with some ace bandages.

“That looks something like what I’ve seen on TV.” You said. Dave sat up, groaning in the process. He stood and looked at himself in the mirror. He hummed, rubbing his hand against the bandage. He turned back to you, staring at the blood on your arms.

“Sorry, for being stupid. I shouldn’t be pretending to be a hero, I’m just some stupid incompetent dickhead in a suit. I never should’ve even talked about a real superhero.” Dave muttered. You sighed, slapping your hands together.

“Yeah well, I guess we all say some dumb shit. You actually don’t have to listen to everything I say. I say stupid things like constantly.” You said, leaning back on your hands. Dave moved back to you, sitting next to you. Still shirtless, and still bloodied. Stay focused.

“Yeah, but I like you...r approval. I want you to like think I’m cool and stuff.” Dave said, reaching out to you. You stayed in your position, keeping a frozen smile on your face. Dave moved closer to you, leaning over your legs in an attempt for you to see the seriousness in his eyes. You weren’t entirely sure what to say. You could avoid the conversation entirely and change the subject. You could say you like his “approval” too. You squinted at him.

“Dave, I already think you’re cool just by existing. And I know you did not do all this stupid shit in an attempt to impress me. You knew I was quoting Romeo and Juliet three times today! I'm already impressed.” Dave laughed lightly, leaning even closer. He met your eyes before looking down at your lips. He knocked his nose against yours, his breath warming your face. You caught a hint of copper and wished you had a toothbrush in your pocket. It’s not that you didn’t want to kiss him. It didn’t feel like the right time.

“Whatcha doing David?” You whispered. Dave pulled back. He sniffed.

“Just checking to make sure you didn’t drive drunk, is all,” Dave muttered, slowly inching away from you. You hummed sarcastically. You stood from your bed.

“Right well, I don’t let pigs into my home so if you’re done playing pretend cop...” You trailed off giving Dave the time to respond. He nodded.

“I’m done.” You gave him a small smile.

“Right, you find your glasses. I’m going to go get you a wet washcloth, and a change of clothes. Then we can make you a pallet on the floor because I can’t let you out of my sight.” Dave nodded. You left the room, wandering around the house to collect the list you gave Dave, along with a few other items you thought might help. You headed back to your room with your arms full. You dropped your armload onto your bed. You looked up at Dave to see him with his glasses on.

“Oh, there you, pretty boy. Missed those spectacles.” You turned back to the pile. You pulled out the sweatpants and oversized t-shirt. You stuck them both out to Dave. He thanked you, holding them to his chest. You stepped out of the room while he changed. Eventually, he opened the door again. His face no longer had blood and he was holding his bloody suit. You took the suit from his hands, dropping it into your dirty laundry basket.

“I will wash it and patch it up, your crime-fighting will be set on hold for the next couple of days, okay?” Dave nodded at you. You got busy making the pallet on the floor next to your bed. Dave sat on the edge of your bed, snacking on the ice cream you brought him as a reward for the struggles he went through today.

After a while, you were both snuggled in your own beds, or pallet in Dave’s case. You couldn’t sleep. You knew Dave wasn’t either because he kept shuffling around. Maybe you should’ve kissed Dave. You really rejected him because it wasn’t the right time? But then again, if you didn’t like it in the moment then you had the right to reject him. You flipped over onto your side, staring down at Dave.

“David.” Dave hummed. The blob shape of his head turned towards you. You couldn’t see what his expression looked like in the dark but it was Dave so he probably looked handsome sobbing his eyes out. You dropped your hand over the edge of the bed, reaching out for him. His blankets rustled as he moved his hand to yours. He gently took your hand in his.

“Were you trying to kiss me earlier?” Dave froze, his hold on your hand tightening.

“No.” His voice cracked through his words. You hummed.

“Why?” You asked, glad you were having this conversation in the dark so you didn’t have to face the consequences of talking. Dave’s blankets rustled again, you assumed he shrugged.

“I’ve liked you for a while now, I just thought I was getting that vibe from you. I’m sorry for getting all up in your space like that, I must’ve read you wrong.” Dave said, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“I like you. I just didn’t want to kiss you then. I just want it to be like when you’re not in pain, sitting in my messy bedroom with an open first aid kit sitting next to you.” Dave hummed. His blankets rustled again. You felt his lips brush against the back of your hand.

“Then I can kiss you when the moment is right?” Dave asked. You hummed, pulling your blankets up further.

In the morning, you drove Dave home. He kissed your hand again, before opening the door to his house. He pulled you inside, muttering something about needing your support. His father was in the kitchen, making a disgruntled sound at Dave’s battered face.

“So what’s this then?” Mr. Lizewski asked, pausing to make his breakfast. You glanced at Dave.

“Right yeah, we were riding bikes and I totally ate it,” Dave said, actually selling the act. You hummed, nodding along.

“Oh yeah, you should’ve seen it. We were heading down to the bookstore and he just flipped I swear. It was awful. He got blood all over his clothes so he’s borrowing some of mine as of right now.” You added, hoping Dave didn’t mind your addition to the explanation. His father shook his head.

“Yeah well, I’m worried about you Dave.” You really felt like you impeding now. Dave shrugged.

“I’m fine, just klutzy,” Dave said, taking a step backward. His father glanced back over at you.

“Yeah. Whatever, Davey. You’re my boy, you know that. I love you and want you safe.” His dad stepped forward and cupped his face. He pressed a light kiss to Dave’s forehead before moving back to his pan on the stove.

“Love you too, Dad,” Dave muttered. You awkwardly said your goodbyes. Dave walked you to the door and you kissed the back of his hand goodbye. You drove home and were very happy to find that you were highly inspired by last night’s events.

A short month later, Dave was leaning over towards your ear in English class. You were working on the newest passage your teacher gave you, it was something about a lamb leg.

“What if we do the spiderman thing?” Dave whispered, even though it was group work so he had no reason to whisper. The volume of conversation was loud enough that another conversation would pass under the radar with no problem. You looked away from your paper, facing Dave.

“The what?” You asked. Dave gave you a small smile. He shrugged like he felt he was put on the spot. You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain.

”You know in Spiderman, he and Mary Jane kiss while Spiderman was hanging upside down. It’s been a good couple of weeks and we still haven’t reached the moment. I mean I’m not rushing you or anything. But I thought maybe if we tried the Spiderman thing, we’d get the feeling.” Dave said, apparently stopping the whispering act. You felt a smile grow. Your lovely comic nerd boy-friend was trying to fix your weird ‘it needs to be the right moment’ problem with a comic. You shrugged.

“Yeah, worth a shot.” You said, looking back at the paper in front of you. Dave let out a quiet cheer.

“Plus,” Dave lowered his tone making sure only you could hear him. “You get to kiss the alluring Kick-Ass.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you, making you snort. You tilted your head towards him.

“Oh, well why didn’t you say so? Now I want to do it right now, let’s go right now.” Dave snorted at you, finding your hand on the desk. He intertwined your fingers, smiling at you again. You looked back at your paper.

A day or two later, you and Dave were standing in an alley. Dave was trying his best to pull down the fire escape ladder. You stared at him as he continued to struggle.

“It’ll work just give me- give me a second,” Dave said before groaning again as he pulled on the ladder. You hummed, letting him struggle.

“Take your time, your ass looks great in that.” Dave glanced back at you. He rolled his eyes before yanking on the ladder again. Finally, after Dave had tried over a million times, the ladder screeched down. Dave stepped back as the ladder hit the ground. He looked back at you to make sure you saw his good job. You held up a thumbs up. Dave pulled himself up the ladder, climbing a good couple number of rungs up. He pulled his legs through the space between two of the rungs, effectively sitting. Dave slowly leaned backward, his back pressed against the ladder. He motioned for you to come over with both his hands. You walked towards him, glad to see he estimated the height right, you being face to face.

“Okay okay, how are you feeling?” Dave asked, looking up at you through his mask. You shrugged. You took a moment to pay attention to your surroundings. It smelled faintly of piss. It was cold and the night air was making you shiver. You had been standing outside for so long you were starting to miss your bed. With all the negative feelings stirring in your mind, staring down at Dave made them disperse. Dave was hanging upside down for the chance to kiss you. You smiled, gently resting your hands on his cheeks.

“Yeah, Yeah. I think we got it.” Dave’s cheeks split into a smile.

“Yeah?” He asked. You nodded, an excited laugh slipping out.

“Yeah.” Dave giggled, pulling his arms up from the sides of the ladder. He gripped onto the rung his legs were thrown over, making sure he wasn’t going to fall off. Your hands gently inched towards the edge of his mask. You gently dug your fingers under the hem of his mask, pulling it down towards his nose. You pulled the edge of the mask just barely over the tip of his nose. Dave smiled brightly.

You leaned forward, feeling his breath on your face. Dave leaned forward, pulling his back just barely off the ladder. You pressed your lips against his, slotting his bottom lip between yours. You felt your shoulders relaxed, the weight of the first kiss of your relationship leaving your mind entirely. You let your lips linger on him, dragging out the kiss just a second more than you should. You pulled back and gently stroked his cheek. Dave grinned.

“I’m going to get down and then can we have our second kiss right side up?” Dave asked. You nodded, smiling at him. You did laugh at Dave when he stumbled off the ladder. As much as you wanted the first to be perfect, the second kiss was possibly even more exciting. You moved Dave’s hands to your sides instead of hovering next to you. You didn’t even worry about someone seeing Kick-Ass kiss someone in the alley. You were too focused on the feeling of his lips against yours.

“We’re dating now, right?” Dave muttered against your lips. You nodded. You dug your hands into the front of his green suit, pulling him closer. You could feel the stitching on the side of his suit from weeks ago when you had to drag him out of the ditch.

With Dave and you now officially dating, Kick-Ass seemed to enjoy climbing through your window. You were already 10 or so volumes into your new comic book series. Was it based on your boyfriend and fully titled Kick-Ass: Past the Green? Yes, it was. Were you planning on capitalizing on the popularity of lovely Kick-Ass, taking your finished series to the publishers, (with Kick-Ass’ approval of course)? Yes, but first you had to finish it. You were currently working on the volume you were positive would stay exclusively on your bookshelf.

A knock on the glass of your window made you jump, looking over at the open curtains. You smiled when you saw the green of Kick-Ass’ suit. You dropped your pencil, standing from your desk. You slid the window up, taking a step back to let Dave slip through. He stepped around you as you shut the window. You pulled the curtains closed so someone couldn’t sneak a picture of Dave in the suit without his mask on while you two weren’t paying attention.

You turned around to watch Dave pull his mask off and shake out his hair. He swung his backpack around his shoulder, reaching into the side pocket to pull his glasses out. Dave pushed them up his nose and looked over at you, grinning at you. He dropped his backpack next to the edge of your bed. Dave moved across your room, cupping the sides of your face and kissing you gently.

“Missed you,” Dave pulled away from you, wandering around your room.”You know someone threw nachos at me today. I didn’t even-“ Dave stopped when he reached your desk.

“You’re working on a comic?” Dave asked, glancing back at you. You jump-started, remembering what page you were working on.

“No, no, no, no, don’t look at that!” You said, rushing over to your desk. Dave moved faster than you, pulling the page off your desk. He held it up towards the light. You smacked his arm. “Dave. Please, just give it back.” Dave gasped, turning his head towards you.

“You drew porn of us,” Dave whispered, staring at you. You snatched the page out of his hands, hiding it in the folder you kept all your current projects in. You avoided his eyes, feeling like you were going to throw up from embarrassment. It was supposed to stay a secret project that you hid under your bed and pretended it never happened.

“Just shut up, Dave.” You muttered, pretending to organize the papers on your desk so you didn’t have to face Dave.

“Can I see it again?” Dave’s voice was quiet like he was scared of your reaction. You shook your head, trying to ignore your face burning.

“No. You’re just going to get all grossed out and like make fun of me.” You started ‘organizing’ your pens instead. Dave stepped closer to you, gently turning your head to face him. He bumped his nose with yours.

“I’m not going to make fun of you for drawing us having sex. If you seriously think I haven’t watched porn and imagined it as us instead, you’ve lost your mind.” You stared at his eyes. You thought about him sitting at his desk with his pants around his ankles. Then compared that to you sitting at your desk making sure you got every curl on Dave’s head right so you could draw a version of yourself pushing Dave down into your bed. It appears you two are more similar than you first thought.

“Please?” Dave asked, tilting his head down and giving you his best puppy eyes. You groaned, throwing your head back and turning towards your folder. You glanced over at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Do you want all of this issue or just the interesting part?” You asked, staring down at your papers. Dave hummed.

“All of it.” You handed him all of what you had of this volume, in order so he wouldn’t get lost. Dave settled onto the edge of your bed, gently holding onto the papers. He slowly started reading through the pages. You mentally thought through the story, trying to guess where he was at.

James Parker (the knockoff version of Dave to keep his identity safe) and his lovely partner Cardamon (knockoff you) had gone on a date to the movies. Unfortunately neither one of them knew that included in the movie was a rather raunchy scene with characters that they were able to pretend it was James and Cardamon. James and Cardamon had sat in the back of the theater, with nobody around. Unfortunately for James, Cardamon had a wandering hand that slid between James’ thighs. For the last 15 minutes of the movie, Cardamon’s hand was shoved down James’ pants, refusing to let him cum yet still dragging their hand up and down his length. By the time the credits rolled, James was shooing Cardamon out of the theater. Then after a few pages, Cardamon was pushing James down onto the mattress and swinging their leg over his lap.

Dave readjusted his hips. You stared at him as he set the pages back in their rightful order. He stuck them out to you. You gently took the pages from him, setting them back on your desk.

“So how freaked out are you on a scale of one to ten?” You asked quietly. You stared at the carpet, twisting your chair back and forth. Dave sighed, bucking his hips up again to readjust his sitting position.

“15/10 horny as of right now. Like a -4/10 freaked out.” Dave said. You glanced down at his lap, feeling a small sense of pride at the bulge peaking through the green of his suit. You shrugged.

“I wasn’t planning on publishing that one, I was just going to keep that on my bookshelf.” You said, flinging your pencil at your desk. Dave sighed.

“You know, like we could-“ Dave started.

“Oh my god please, can we?” You asked, turning in your chair to fully face him. Dave looked up from his hands in his lap. His cheeks were flushed and the tips of his ears were red. He nodded.

“You know, actually my math teacher sent me to the counselor’s office because I keep showing up to school battered and while I was down there I snagged some condoms from the bowl while they weren’t looking,” Dave said, digging into his bag. He pulled his hand out of his bag, flashing the shiny and square package at you. You grinned, leaping up from your desk chair to climb over Dave’s lap. You pressed your lips against his, partially aggressively. Once again poor Dave’s hands were just hovering next to you. You reached behind your back, grabbed onto Dave’s hands, and pressed them against your ass. You moved your hands back to Dave’s face. Dave squeezed your ass, groaning into your lips.

You were terribly glad no one was home to walk in on you and dear old Kick-Ass in precarious positions. As it turns out all it takes to get Dave Lizewski into your bed was him getting bloodied and left in a ditch and a comic about himself.

[lividstar]

愤怒的星星 ★ — COLLISION OF PARALLEL LINES.

៚ wc: 17.6k

៚ fluff, punk!hongjoong x fem!reader, slowburn, ot8 cameos, college au except idk if i did it right, mutual pining, first few parts are just flashbacks, opposites attract (kinda?) will probably be a 2-part series

៚ The thought of enjoying your Saturday morning however you please may initially seem exciting, but it can become as daunting as weekdays when you end up with tasks even on your supposed days off—which, in your case, is none other than buying a psychological thriller book for your roommate, who claims she needs it in order to share a "common interest" with the nerdy guy from her linguistics class she seems to be obsessed with. You already saw it coming when you opened your phone to find numerous missed calls from her, but what you didn't expect was a coincidental encounter with a guy who seems to have visited the bookstore for the same reason as you. It only took you two more no-longer-so-coincidental encounters for you to realize just how deep you’ve fallen into the bottomless pit.

You never really tend to realize just how much of an effect a certain person’s presence has on you until you start to crave more of it during the times you fail to feel it around.

The first time you saw him was when you were walking in and out of your local bookstore’s aisles, fingers brushing through the rows of books neatly arranged according to their genres. For how long you’ve been doing the exact same thing, you begin to forget just why and how exactly visiting the place managed to sneak itself in between your routine for the day.

Rewinding the day’s events so far so you could recall what exactly were you doing inside a bookstore standing in front of an aisle solely for the psychological thriller genre, you vividly remember your roommate calling you in the middle of your morning stroll at the park asking if you could stop by a nearby bookstore and buy her a book she apparently needs for “academic purposes.”

You were hesitant at first, thinking she was probably airing out a false reason. With the amount of times you’d come home to the sight of her deeply engrossed in a complex thriller movie, you’d assume she wanted the book solely due to her interests.

You ran your eyes through the columns once more, sighing in relief when you finally found the book your roommate wanted you to buy. You took your phone out to take a picture of it and send it to her for confirmation, but just as you were about to reach for it, another person whose presence you failed to notice until now did so as well, making your hands brush against each other after reaching for the same book stacked in the sixth row of the shelf.

You immediately looked to the side and managed to catch a glimpse of his eyes slightly widening, and so did he with yours. You remember being the first one to snap back to reality, taking a step back to face him while waving your arms off in front of your chest.

“You can take it,” you said, awkwardly chuckling as you gestured for him to take the book instead. You figured you’d just buy a copy of it online, or if you’re going to be free on some days this week, perhaps you’d stop by other bookstores. Your roommate didn’t specify when exactly she needed the book, anyway.

He mirrors your actions instead of reaching for the book, gently pulling down the left cord of his earphones—you thought it was a subtle gesture of bouncing your initiation of small talk back to you, so you let your attention get taken away as your ears perked up to listen to whatever the stranger had to say.

“It’s fine, i’m sure you’ll need that one more than I do,” he said, pointing to the book neither of you were considering taking with a gentle smile. “I’ve actually read it five times already—just thought a sixth reread was necessary earlier in the morning, so here I am now.” He chuckled, and only then did you manage to get a good look at him.

His hair had a striking resemblance to the burgundy patterned carpets of the bookstore, and from the looks of it, you were able to tell from a single glance that it definitely wasn’t the first time he’s ever dyed his hair. Black sunglasses remained sat atop his head, and his ears were decorated in multiple piercings. He wore a layered chain necklace, the silver material of the accessories shining as the lights by the roof reflected on it. A dark red leather jacket was hung lazily over his shoulders, showing the black tank top he wore underneath. He was wearing black, ripped baggy jeans, and it was adorned with chains attached to its waistline. His combat boots were of the same color, and the shoelace of the left foot was undone—you couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or if he simply didn’t notice. He wore silver rings on almost each of his fingers, and you were able to see that one of his nails was painted black when he adjusted one of his rings. It almost made you smile, but it wasn’t until he cleared his throat that you realized you’ve been staring at him for about a minute or two.

Your eyes widened in surprise, awkwardly chuckling as you did your best not to give him the wrong impression. “Sorry, I was just...” you trailed off, not knowing what horrible excuse you should use to drag yourself out of a potentially awkward encounter. “...just wondering why you’d want to read the same book six times straight.” Great, you certainly didn’t come off weird, but you definitely sounded rude.

Just as you were about to hurriedly mutter out an apology, the man’s stifled laugh immediately put a halt to your train of thought. “It sounds strange, doesn’t it? My friends have been asking me the same question for a while now, so this isn’t really surprising for me. See, this book has a lot of foreshadowing in it, so I think It’s nice to reread it every once in a while to see the points I’ve missed.” He shrugged his shoulders, making his leather jacket fall off smoothly on one side.

He noticed you struggling with thinking of what to respond, so he took it upon himself and steered the conversation away from himself and towards you. “What about you? what were you going to buy the book for?” he asked, and you were quick to answer—thankful for his initiative.

“Going to the bookstore wasn’t originally part of today’s schedule, but apparently my roommate couldn’t get any more lazier and asked me to stop by to purchase the book for her because she can’t do it herself.”

There was something about the way you expressed your frustration (although jokingly) with a deadpanning look on your face that almost made him want to laugh, and you could tell by the way he was visibly fighting against the corners of his lips that were twitching upwards.

“That’s tough,” he stated the obvious as he ran his jewelry adorned fingers through his burgundy hair—with the way you saw a line of sweat drip down by the side of his face, you knew you weren’t the only one who found the bookstore to be in a strangely warm temperature today.

You saw a few air conditioners here and there on the walls, and they were working perfectly fine earlier, so you assumed they were probably just malfunctioning. “Are the air conditioners going through a malfunction or something?” he voiced out your thoughts for you as he practically asked himself the question with the way it came out as a whisper while he was looking around.

You took your cardigan off, and only then did you notice the stark contrast between your choices of outfits. You were clad in a pink knitted cardigan your mother made by her own hands—she gave it to you as a present for Christmas a while ago, and underneath it was a white camisole top decorated with lace and a pink ribbon on its center—something you added yourself. You wore a long, white ruffled skirt, a piece of clothing you bought online two years ago when you and your online best friend agreed upon buying it together to wear it the moment you’ll finally get the chance to meet up. You stopped talking to each other a year ago, so you just started to wear it to your own liking. You chose to wear the pink doll shoes you found at a thrift store a week ago, and the cherry on top was the white ribbon hair clips you placed on either side of your hair.

“They were doing just fine when I first came in, so I guess it has something to do with technical issues.” You shrugged, and the man mirrored your actions yet again as he proceeded to fully take off his leather jacket as well.

Just as he parted his lips to say something, your phone suddenly rang, making both of you look at the device you didn’t even notice you were still holding in your hands until now. Staring right into your eyes was your roommate’s caller id on the phone screen, and for a second, you were debating whether to answer or not.

You decided to ignore the latter, figuring the call was made regarding the book. You apologetically smiled at the man first, gesturing to your phone as he returned your smile, urging you to go ahead as he mouths something about checking out other sections of the book store so you could have some privacy.

Once he was out of the frame, you didn’t hesitate to press the green button, bringing the phone up to your ears. “Before I proceed to say anything, I need you to answer a question of mine first. Do you think you’re capable of committing murder today?” She asked from the other end of the line, making your brows furrow as you scoffed in both confusion and disbelief at the sudden confusion. “Am I what?”

“Please just say yes or no,” she said in a hurried tone. “No... why? Did something bad happen over there?” She chuckled nervously as you heard the shuffling of bedsheets, assuming she was either rolling around her bed or sitting up.

“No, but... you see, about the book I asked for you to buy... remember that guy from my linguistics class I told you about last weekend?” You were confused about where the conversation was heading, yet hummed in confirmation anyway. “I do. What about him?”

“Okay, so, thanks to my... connections, I found out just now that he owns an annotated physical copy of the book, and, if you’re already catching my drift...” she trailed off, yet the moment she heard your sigh from your end, she was quick to regain composure and stumble over her words.

“I’m sorry! I’m really sorry! I wouldn’t have sneaked the task in between your schedule if I had known beforehand—I just really don’t want to waste the opportunity of a potential connection between us... and, I mean, well, yeah, I should’ve done it by myself to begin with, but I wasn’t really thinking straight earlier in the morning so I—” you cut her off by ending the call, heading straight to your messages as you scrolled down to look for her contact number.

The sound of your nails clicking on the phone screen echoed across the empty aisle as you typed, “Go shoot your shot. Don’t stress it out, alright? Just make sure this won’t happen again. Love you :)” With a sigh, you turned your phone off and put it back inside your bag. You were happy for your roommate, yet at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel like you just wasted a portion of your day.

Exiting the aisle, your thoughts went back to the man you were just engaging in small talk with a few minutes ago, eyes darting around the bookstore to search for him. You didn’t see which direction he went when he left, already having your back turned against him the moment you heard his fading footsteps.

The man sitting by the register who seemed to be around the same age as you noticed you and was quick to call for your attention. “Are you looking for the redhead, miss?” And for a second, you were slightly embarrassed, but it was the truth, anyway, so you found yourself nodding wordlessly. “He already left a minute ago.”

Hearing those words come out of his mouth, you almost let a disappointed sigh slip out of your lips, but you were quick to cover it up. “I see. Thanks for telling me,” you said, flashing him a polite smile as he gave you his own.

Figuring there was no longer any purpose for you to stay inside the bookstore any longer, you headed to the exist, the clinking of the bells on top of the doors ringing in your ears as you swung it open, putting your cardigan back on when the cold temperature of the city hit your skin like a speeding truck. Only then did you realize you didn’t even get to ask for his name, and since then, he hadn’t left your mind for the rest of the day.

The next time wasn’t any different. You were taking a stroll at the park for a much-needed unwinding after taking your exams. Kids were running around and chasing each other by the grassy fields, couples were being all cute and cuddly as they sat by the benches, and some elderly people were walking around much like how you were, admiring the beautiful sceneries unfolding in front of their very own eyes.

Your pink dress was being carried away by the soft breeze, making it flow as you took one step after another. Thankfully, you chose to wear a long dress for the day, so you didn’t have to worry about any potential wardrobe malfunctions.

From a near distance, you saw a little boy standing by the grass fields pointing towards you. His voice was a little loud, so you managed to hear what he was saying to the two men he was with. “Wooyoung-hyung, look! A princess!”

The little boy’s comment caught you off guard, making you look the other way as you pretended not to hear the words he was saying, which were hard to ignore due to how loud he was speaking. “Kyungmin, she’s not a princess, and you can’t just point to strangers like that!”

The man who you assumed to be his older brother lightly scolded him, and for a second, you were debating between playing along with the child’s wide imagination—it wasn’t his fault for thinking you were a princess as he was still young, after all, or fleeing from the park so his attention would be directed to something else so his brother would stop scolding him. “But she is a princess! Seonghwa-hyung, you see it too, right?” The other man with them was probably a friend of the little boy’s brother.

“Well, Kyungmin, she might look like one, but she isn’t—” the man you assumed to be Seonghwa stopped in between his words all of a sudden, and the next thing you knew was the little boy was standing right in front of you, tugging on your dress that was still flowing due to the wind.

“Kyungmin!” Both men yelled his name in unison, but he ignored them, his attention fully focused on you instead. “Miss pretty lady! You’re a princess, right? Right?” He looked up at you with a smile, and once again, you found yourself ignoring the latter between your choices of how to handle the situation.

You sat down so you could see each other eye to eye, a fond smile spreading across your face as you let out a soft laugh. “You think I’m a princess?” You tilted your head, making him let out a gasp of disbelief. “But you are! Wooyoung-hyung and Seonghwa-hyung won’t believe me, but I know you are! Right?” he asked for confirmation again, making you laugh once more as you rested your hands on the area of your chest where your heart was.

“Well… I think it depends on what you want to believe. I won’t tell you whether I’m a princess or not, but if you think I am, then so be it. What you believe in is what matters the most, and not what anyone else does, don’t you think?”

You figured talking some wisdom into a boy who’s probably still in kindergarten wasn’t exactly the best way to handle the situation, but it’s not like you knew better ways. Seeing his smile grow even wider after hearing your words, though, was enough to let you know you handled it just fine. “So you are a princess! I knew it!” Okay, well, that was definitely not the reaction you were going for, but at least he’s happy, right?

“You should tell them that, too!” He pointed to where his brother and his friend stood, but this time, there were three of them, and the one standing in the middle was definitely not an unfamiliar face to you contrary to the two who stood by his side. You certainly couldn’t have been mistaken—especially not when you saw his burgundy hair.

Your eyes met briefly, yours widened and his completely normal, save for the fond gaze you assumed was probably directed to the little boy in front of you. He probably didn’t even recognize you at all. “Come with me, miss pretty lady! You should meet them so they’ll be proven wrong,” he said, reaching for your arm as he took a step towards where the three men stood.

When you didn’t budge from where you crouched at all, he looked back at you with a confused expression on his face. “What’s the matter, miss pretty lady?”

You chuckled awkwardly as you stood up, looking down at him. “They’re waiting for you, not me. Go on now, don’t keep them waiting. I’m sure you’ve proven them wrong already, anyway,” you said, using your free hand to take his off your wrist. “Are you sure? I…”

“Kyungmin!” His older brother called out his name once more, making his head turn to where they were all standing, patiently waiting for the little boy to go back to them. “See? You should go.” You ushered, making him look back and forth between you and his brother and his friends for about a few seconds.

“Well… okay, then.” The frown on his face was a huge contrast to the huge smile he once had a few seconds ago, and you were quick to do whatever you could to bring it back.

“Hey, don’t be sad, alright? It’s always better to spend days like this with a smile on your face,” you said, smiling at him fondly. “Will I get to see you again?” The sudden question put you at a loss for words, and you spent a good couple of seconds thinking of how to respond correctly.

“Neither of us know the answer to that, but if you ever see me again, I promise I’ll let you introduce me to your brother and his friends, okay?” It was definitely not the right thing to say, but it was certainly what the boy wanted to hear.

With the smile on his face returning, he waved at you enthusiastically, running back to the three men who have been waiting for him for quite a while now. He approached them with a cheerful expression on his face, and you watched them slowly start to smile as well while the little boy told them about his interaction with you.

Unbeknownst to you, your attention was unconsciously directed towards the burgundy haired man who was now exchanging laughter with his friends while the little boy was still going on about his story. This time, he was wearing a see-through black jacket with a beige compression long-sleeve shirt underneath, partnered with baggy denim jeans that were secured by a black belt with embellishments. His ears had less piercings this time, and so were the amount of necklaces he wore. His boots were the same as the ones you saw him wear when you first met him, and his fingers were still adorned with multiple accessories. You could tell he opted for a casual look today, yet he still looked as cool as ever. Perhaps it was due to the vibe he carries with him, and not just his choices of clothing itself. There’s still a huge contrast between your outfits.

The little boy didn’t mention his name when he was talking to you earlier, and that was the only thing you were disappointed about with your heartwarming interaction with him. You’d probably look strange if you were to approach them, yet it proved to be impossible either way as they now had their backs faced towards you, walking away as they continued their conversation. Luck really hasn’t been on your side lately. You wonder when it will be.

Three weeks later, and you’re now walking through the halls in search of your roommate. Thirty minutes ago, she sent you a message, telling you to meet her on the third floor. She didn’t really tell you why, and it drove you off the edge more than it should’ve—one thing you’ve always disliked was when people would ask you to meet up for an unspecified reason, or even worse, message you by texting you only your name and your name alone without telling you what’s the matter beforehand. So now, here you were, eyes searching the halls in hopes of finding a familiar face.

“Hey!” A familiar voice called out a few steps behind where you stood, making you immediately look back. Sighing in relief as you recognized who it was, your roommate made her way towards you, pushing past the small portion of people crowding the halls. “Sorry for asking to meet up all of a sudden—I know you hate it when I do this, but I promise this is the last time!” So was last week, you said in your thoughts.

“What’s this about, anyway? And it better not be about your crush from your linguistics class because I swear—” She cuts you off with an apologetic chuckle, making you sigh in disappointment. “Nope, I’m not doing it.”

Just as you were about to walk away, she held your arm to keep you steady in your place, desperately pleading as she shook your arm repeatedly. “Please, please just hear me out! I promise I’ll leave you alone after this!” No way in hell you would, you thought once again.

Still, you chose to hear her out anyway. Sure, she may be annoying at times—especially when it comes to her undying crush on the boy from her linguistics class, but you can’t really deny the fact that you hold a soft spot for her deep within. When it wasn’t about her man who technically isn’t her man but you’re sure will be her man one day, she was really fun to be around. She was loud and outgoing, a huge contrast to your calm and collected personality, and as different as you both may be, you feel the most comfortable around her compared to anyone and everyone else. Whenever she’d notice you were feeling down, she wouldn’t hesitate to speedrun to the nearest convenience store by where you both lived, buy you your favorite food even during the times her pockets are begging for her to leave them alone for once, and put on your favorite movie once she comes back.

So then, you now find yourself heading towards the library to look for yet another book her crush has apparently been frequently visiting the library for lately. You figured you should hire whoever’s airing all this information to her as your detective one day, if it ever came to it.

Apparently, the book is a tale as old as time, so he couldn’t really find a copy of it anywhere, hence why he chooses to visit the library on a daily basis to read it. Your roommate thought sharing the same interests with him would be a great way to deepen her “connection” with him—if they even had one to begin with, considering how the only bridge between both of them was the annotated book she borrowed from him—which she still hasn’t returned—and that was pretty much all of it. She claims she’s too shy to approach him, and maybe that’s why.

You found yourself standing in between two tall bookshelves once again, the situation being somewhat familiar to you in a way that almost made you laugh. This time, though, the air conditioners were working just fine, and you weren’t accompanied by a presence other than your own.

Your eyes search through the books neatly stacked in the shelves, squinting and inching closer to get a better view in case you accidentally miss the book you’re looking for. There was a blank space in between two books, and for a moment, you assume the book had already been borrowed by your roommate’s crush, or maybe someone else.

You were about to message your roommate to tell her about it, until you heard some shuffling from the other side of the shelf you were facing, drawing a confused expression on your face. You heard from one of your colleagues that the librarian was way too strict for everyone’s liking, so students would mostly stop by the library just to borrow a book, but never to actually stay.

Which student was brave enough to actually stop by the library to read? Wouldn’t they be at least a little scared to be yelled at to shut up over the smallest of things such as breathing like how a normally functioning person should?

Peeking through the empty space in between the books to see who it was, your eyes widened comically as you recognized the person solely from their hands resting on the table alone. The sight of a singularly colored nail and layers of rings and bracelets couldn’t have been more familiar to you.

But what was he doing here? His hair was half blonde and half black, though, so you were contemplating whether your assumptions about his identity were correct or not, but you knew there was only one way to find out—and it certainly wasn’t peeking through a bookshelf like a creep.

Exiting the aisle—a familiar experience once again, you slowly walked towards the table while rethinking your life decisions, wondering if you should just leave him alone and mind your own business. You were on the brink of considering it, but it wasn’t until you recognized what he was reading.

It was the book your roommate asked you to borrow from the library, and it was certainly the one meant to be placed in the blank space by the aisle you were searching through just now.

Your mind was racing with questions pleading to be answered—the first ones being, Who the hell is this man? Why do I keep seeing him around? Why did no one ever tell me he goes to the same university as I do? And what is his name?

You figured there couldn’t have been a better time for your questions to be answered other than now, and even if you were gambling with the possibilities of him either recognizing you or not feeling any sense of familiarity with you at all, you couldn’t really care less right now.

“Hey,” you were hesitant, making your voice come off as soft and barely above a whisper—and it certainly wasn’t due to your fear of being scolded by the librarian. The man shot up and immediately turned his head around, and as he stared at you with those eyes of his, you knew your assumptions regarding his identity were correct, after all.

For about a second or two, all he did was stare at you with a blank expression on his face, and you swore you were about to let the ground swallow you whole right there and then. But for the next second, his face softens as he flashes you a toothy grin, and the words that soon followed after it caught you completely off guard. “It’s you.” It’s you?

What on Earth could he have possibly meant by that? Does that mean he recognized you when his friend’s little brother was talking to you within a fair distance from where he and his friends stood by the park, after all? Does that mean he remembers? “I was starting to think I’d stop seeing you around. Turns out we’re closer than I thought we would be.” Okay, what?

“What?” You voice out your thoughts by accident, tilting your head in confusion as all he did in return was smile at you once more. “Third time’s the charm, after all, isn’t it?” He closes the book laid out in front of him on the table, pulling out the chair beside him, tapping on it as he gestured for you to take a seat.

You do so wordlessly, awkwardly fiddling with a loose stitch of your white knitted sweater adorned with baby pink strawberry patterns. How come you’ve never seen him around? With a face as strikingly beautiful as his, you’re sure you would’ve already noticed him long ago—or maybe you were just looking at the wrong places all along.

“He still thinks you’re a princess, you know.” He rests his elbow on the table, placing his chin on his hand as he looks at you with a smile. “Who?”

“Kyungmin—the little boy from the park, remember?” That was all it took for you to put two and two together and realize what he was talking about, making you let out a hum of realization, nodding soon after. “He hasn’t stopped talking to us about it, especially Wooyoung, since he’s his older brother and he’s pretty much the only one out of all of us who keeps on breaking his little bubble of imagination.”

The conversation flowed through more smoothly than you expected a few seconds ago, and the next thing you knew was you were stifling a chuckle, careful not to drive the librarian mad—actually, was she even still around right now? He was practically speaking in a normal tone and not in hushed whispers, so he should’ve been told off by now already. But he isn’t.

“It was a little hard trying to convince him to go back to you and your friends, honestly…” you said, rubbing the back of your neck as he chuckled at your response.

“Kids and their imaginations never fail to impress me. You know, when we went to the park again last night, he kept crying because he couldn’t see you anywhere. He said you promised you’d let him introduce you to us once you both meet each other again, so he was really upset. It was adorable, though.”

You found yourself smiling as you imagined the little boy crying in the arms of his brother due to not seeing you around, this time being the one chuckling.

“I didn’t mean to leave him hanging off by my words… I hope it wasn’t too much for your friend to handle his tantrums,” you said, smiling apologetically. He waves his arms off in front of his chest—another action appearing to be somehow familiar to you. “Don’t feel bad about it. Pretty sure Wooyoung’s used to it by now,” he responded, shrugging afterwards. He was right, the boy was his friend’s younger brother, after all.

Finding both yourselves at a loss for another topic to discuss, you opted for the first thing that came up in your head. “You changed your hair color,” you stated the obvious, rushing over to make a follow-up statement in order not to look stupid, “it suits you.”

But only after voicing it out did you realize that perhaps maybe leaving your first statement as it is would’ve been a better option. Unbeknownst to you, heat immediately flushed through his cheeks, but he was quick to cover it up, making you fail to notice the way your words made his breath hitch for a slight second. “You think so?”

“W-Well, yeah. Burgundy looked just as great, though.” It was a huge lie, though. Sure, burgundy looked good on him and suited his style pretty well, but a split-dyed hair look is always a hit or miss.

For him to make it look this good, though, definitely proved to you that it’s a hit—a rare one. Even so, you were just glad you managed to save yourself from embarrassment, playing off the fact that you literally just complimented a stranger.

But with the way you’ve been thinking of him ever since you first touched each other’s hands by accident at the bookstore, was he really still a mere stranger to you at this point?

He found himself smiling at your comment, fiddling with the rings on his fingers like how you were doing with your sweater just a while ago. “Thanks, I definitely needed to hear that.” With his response, you looked at him in confusion, subtly asking for context. He was quick to catch on, bracing himself for a little bit of a story time.

“My roommates have been flaming me ever since I came home with the red dye all gone, asking me if my hairstylist ran out of bleach in the middle of the process. They’ve been teasing me about how my scalp is probably begging to be freed by the shackles of my stylist at this point, too.” You then ended up thinking about it as well. Just how many times has this man changed his hair color by now?

“Wanna take a guess?” You didn’t need further explanation from him in order to know what he was talking about, as you’ve already been pondering about it anyway.

“I’ll say… five times, maybe?” If the correct answer was to go way past that, you think you’ll end up having the same thoughts as his roommates by the end of the day. “I hate to be the bearer of the bad news, but the answer’s very far from that.” Oh.

Seeing the flabbergasted expression on your face, he laughed loudly, and only then were your suspicions about the librarian no longer being around confirmed. If she was, he’d be thrown out the window by now. “Surprising, isn’t it? I don’t know how my scalp is still holding out well until now, either.” He shrugged, and about a couple of seconds after, you ended up joining him on his fit of laughter as well.

“I gotta say, though, that’s really impressive. Anyone else would be bald by now,” you said, making him laugh once more with how you voiced out your thoughts in such a serious tone. His laughter died down after a little while, eyes now staring right into yours. “What brings you here, though?” He finally brought it up, making you wordlessly point to the closed book in front of where he sat by the table.

“Take a guess. It’s not any different from last time,” you said, and he was quick to piece your words together. “Your roommate?” You nodded, mimicking his actions as you rested your chin on your hands like how he did earlier.

Right now, he was lazily slouched on the chair, one arm of his placed on the table as the other was resting on his thigh. He seemed to be comfortable. Only then did you manage to look at him completely from head to toe.

The contrast between your choices of clothing remained the same as ever, so you weren’t really surprised at this point. For you, beneath your white knitted sweater was a pink lace camisole top, paired with a short, pink frilly skirt. Along with your pink doll shoes—one that was different from what you wore when you went to the bookstore a while ago, was a pair of knee-length lace socks with pink ribbons resting atop its garter. And lastly, for your hairstyle, you decided to go for a simpler look today, with half of it tied up and adorned with a large pink ribbon hair clip.

For him, you noticed he looked simpler than how he’d usually style himself. But then again, you’ve only ever seen him twice before today, so you were not one to talk. He wore an oversized black shirt with a simple red graphic design in front, and it was tucked in his black denim cargo jeans that were held up by an equally simple black belt, partnered up with glossy black boots that were shining every time he’d move his feet around due to the lights by the roof of the library reflecting on its shiny surface. He was only wearing one necklace today, but as always, his hands were clad in multiple accessories. A cap, which you assumed he was probably wearing earlier before you found him, remained sat on his lap. When he ran his right hand through his hair, the sleeve of his oversized shirt went down a little, giving you the chance to catch a glimpse of his tattoo that says, “NO 1 LIKE ME.”

Once again, you failed to see the corners of his lips twitching upward when he noticed your eyes raking over his form, eyes twinkling in amusement. You’ve only seen each other thrice, but for each time that you did, something that would never overlook his attention was the way you’d always examine his clothing. It was cute, though. And it’s not like he doesn’t do the exact same thing every time as well, anyway.

His smirk disappeared as quick as the speed of light the moment your eyes met his, making you avert your gaze immediately. It’s not like you were uncomfortable, but rather because his eyes just hold such an intense aura within them that never fails to make you feel intimidated—in a good way, you assume.

“You know,” you began to speak, although still refusing to meet his eyes, “I still don’t know what your name is, and we’ve crossed paths three times already…” Due to the lack of a response from him, you were quick to assume you were probably overstepping a few lines.

What if he doesn’t really want your connection with each other to go way past two people who coincidentally see each other in the most random circumstances and places? What if he liked things better this way—you not knowing his name, and him not knowing yours?

But your thoughts dissolved into nothingness the moment he finally spoke up, his voice a little softer than you could recall as he says, “Kim Hongjoong.” Of course his name is just as beautiful as he is. Were you really surprised at this point?

“Kim Hongjoong,” you let his name roll off your tongue, and something you failed to notice yet again due to how you were still refusing to face him was the way his breath hitched—again. “What about you?”

He was quick to come up with a question to ask in order to keep his composure, head tilting ever so slightly, secretly anticipating for you to turn your head towards him again. And it seems luck chose to be on his side today, with the way you did exactly what he wished for you to.

“Me?” You asked, and he nodded. “Yeah, you.” You were hesitant at first—once you and Hongjoong finally exchange your names with each other, there’s no guarantee of which direction your affiliation with him would lead to.

Sure, you may have been overanalyzing things a little—maybe he’s just asking for your name with the hopes of being friends, but even so, you couldn’t help but wonder where you were both headed, because even if you were only a potential friend to him, he certainly wasn’t one for you.

You knew the risks of dating way before you even first entered college two years ago. If anyone were to wish for a relationship, the best periods of time to do so would either be in high school or adulthood. High school’s for the cheesy moments, the sneakily exchanged glances during class, the chasing each other by the fields, the heartfelt confessions during prom night. You’d break up with each other over something childish yet would be serious if you were to be at the age of a high school student, and you’d forget all about it the moment you step into your college life.

Getting into a relationship once you have grown into an adult would be the best option out of all, because as we grow older, we learn more things about life each day. Relationships during high school are ruined pretty easily usually because of how both parties aren’t emotionally mature enough to handle conflicts, and such an occurrence can be easily avoided if you’re both functioning adults with a better perspective on most things in life. It’d certainly be more mature compared to the aforementioned.

But relationships during college aren’t exactly the brightest of all. College students are around the ages where all you’d ever want is to mess around and have fun no matter the cost knowing you’ll barely ever get the chance to do so once you step into adulthood. So, with that being said, relationships being taken seriously by college students isn’t really a common occurrence. They live to fuck around and find out, and that’s all that’s there to it. You’ve seen girls getting their hearts shattered left and right by stupid men who seem to only think with their hormones, and you know how bad it gets.

From struggling to balance their studies and relationships to completely losing focus on their goals because apparently a conventionally attractive yet emotionally unintelligent man is worth crying over more than great examination results were, all you know about college relationships is that it either plays out surprisingly well and lasts long, or it could initiate the beginning of your downfall for years on end. You swore you’d never try it out, afraid to end up being part of the latter.

But as hard as relationships during college seem, resisting your undeniable attraction towards the man sitting in front of you also proved to be just as difficult with the way all you could think about at the very moment was how those soft hands of his clicking on the table while patiently awaiting your response would feel against your skin. It wasn’t much of a surprise for you, anyway—you knew you were doomed the moment your eyes first met his in an empty aisle and you ended up staring at him longer than you should’ve.

You knew there was no point in considering the pros and cons of deepening your connection with someone who wasn’t meant to play a role of just a friend and nothing more in your life—and might I add, someone you’re heavily crushing on yet would rather jump off a cliff than admit it to yourself and accept the terms, knowing even if he asked for your name that day at the park or that one time in the bookstore, you would’ve given him what he wanted with zero hesitation anyway.

And so you do.

He proceeded to mirror your actions from earlier, rolling your name out of his tongue—and you swear your name hasn’t sounded so beautiful until now. “That’s a beautiful name you’ve got,” he starts, and when you finally gained enough courage to turn your head to the side and meet his eyes, you were met with that toothy grin of his you didn’t seem to be able to get enough of, “it suits you pretty well.”

“Oh, I—” You weren’t sure whether to be thankful for your friend for saving you from embarrassing yourself over not knowing how to react to Hongjoong’s unprovoked compliment, or to completely loathe her for cutting in between your conversation with him once again.

You’ve been getting deja vu over the parallels between everything that’s been happening right now that has already happened before although under a different situation way too often it’s actually starting to make your head hurt.

The loud ringing of your phone echoed around the empty library, and once again, you found yourself contemplating between pressing the green button or the red one. But not this time, no. You figured she’s probably calling to ask you whether you’ve borrowed the old book from the library yet, and that’s a question you were capable of answering either through text or personally, so you clicked on the red button, hearing Hongjoong let out a confused hum. “Why’d you decline?”

Because I’m feeling selfish right now and couldn’t care less about my roommate and her linguistics crush, especially not when you’re sitting right in front of me looking so breathtakingly beautiful like you’re an angel from an art museum that came to life and escaped to taste the wonders of life, was what was begging to escape from the pit of your mouth, “It’s probably about the book, so I’ll just talk to her in person later,” was all that came out.

And with the way he looked at you as if he was waiting for you to say something else, you knew he knew of your thoughts. Thankfully, he was kind enough not to bring it up. Or he probably didn’t notice at all. Truth be told, you’re hoping the latter was the case.

“What’s up with your roommate and books, anyway?” He asked curiously, although you could tell there was a hint of playfulness with the way he spoke. “You mean what’s up with her crush from her linguistics class and books?” You shrugged, holding back your laughter when you noticed his eyebrows shoot upward ever so slightly with his mouth agape.

“Oh. So that’s what it’s about, huh?” You let out an exasperated sigh, faking a frustrated expression as you responded, “Unfortunately so.”

Classes had already ended a few minutes ago, but students were still allowed to stay in the library afterwards—at first, you thought the implemented policy was stupid at first, seeing how literally no one ever visits the library, but now, you find yourself being grateful for it.

You both sat beside each other as silence surrounded both of you, but it wasn’t the kind of silence that would drive you on the edge and make you hurriedly think of what you should do or say in order to dissipate the looming tension, no. The silence between you and Hongjoong was comfortable. He wasn’t demanding you to speak, and neither were you. But just as the silence was starting to grow deeper, you were drowning in an ocean of your own thoughts again—specifically, thoughts about Hongjoong.

You weren’t sure when it happened or if you were the one who moved or if it was him, but the distance between both of you was now smaller than how it was a few minutes ago—you were sitting so close beside each other you’d occasionally feel the fabric of his jeans brush against your thigh whenever either of you would move. Since he was now closer, the scent of his cedarwood perfume engulfed you completely. You thought it made perfect sense for someone like him to favor such a scent—it suits him pretty well.

Every now and then, you’d steal a few glances from your peripheral vision while he remains engrossed in his phone, chewing the inside of your cheek whenever you’d find yourself wondering what it would feel like to rest your head on those shoulders of his. You were wondering what it feels like to rest your head on those shoulders of his?

And since you’re way too focused on not making yourself too obvious, you, as usual, fail to notice him doing the exact same thing as well. He was scrolling on his phone, sure, but in reality, he wasn’t even reading any of the posts that were appearing on his feed, way too focused on the way your eyelashes would flutter so beautifully whenever you’d blink.

The awkward smile you gave him when you first met each other in the bookstore is an image he had taken a mental photograph of, the memory still lingering in the back of his head clearly. The first thing he noticed about you that day was the way almost all of the pieces of clothing you wore were adorned in ribbons, as it reminded him of himself, in a way.

But instead of ribbons, anyone could find more than a handful of silver chains attached to almost everything in his closet. You seemed to love wearing knitted sweaters and cardigans, much like how half of his wardrobe consisted of leather jackets in varying designs and colors, though most of them were black, just like how most of yours were pink. It’s amusing to him how you two were so similar yet so different all the same.

The day he went to the park with Wooyoung, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung’s little brother, Kyungmin, he wasn’t really any different from you. You’d never know of it much like the other way around, but even when he went to the park with the same purpose you had, he couldn’t get you off his mind. It was as if his mind was the shore, and you were the waves of the ocean constantly pushing forward after being pulled away by the tides.

So, when he came back to where Seonghwa and Wooyoung were after separating himself from them for a while to look for less crowded areas of the park they could go to, to say he was surprised to see you talking to Kyungmin would be nothing short of a huge understatement.

“What’s Kyungmin doing over there?” he asked Seonghwa and Wooyoung, to which one only laughed at while the other sighed. “He kept on insisting that the girl he’s talking to right now is a princess and wouldn’t let me hear the end of it when I told him she isn’t. Then he ran off, and the next thing we both knew was he’s already tugging on her dress.” Hongjoong’s gaze went back to you, who was now crouching to face Kyungmin eye to eye.

It wasn’t exactly like he could blame the little boy for thinking that way—you did look like a princess, especially with the beautiful dress you chose to wore that day, and not to mention, the natural look of your face he was sure people under the influence—and even those who aren’t—would mistaken as one that belongs to an angel gracing the Earth with her presence.

He couldn’t believe his very own eyes that day. When he left you by yourself when you had to answer a phone call in the bookstore, he was originally supposed to head back to the aisle you were at after checking out the other sections that seemed interesting enough to grab his attention, but just as he was about to, another one of his friends (a.k.a roommates) along with Seonghwa and Wooyoung, Mingi, messaged him, telling him to come home as soon as possible because Yunho burnt the kitchen while trying to remake a recipe he saw on his feed.

At first, he thought they were just messing around with him—a normal occurrence, at this point, but it wasn’t until Yeosang sent a video of the kitchen actually burning to their group chat. Hongjoong could no longer afford to go through all the five stages of grief looking for an apartment that would suffice for eight people, so he immediately left the bookstore and ran faster than the speed of light.

Just as he was about to cross the street the moment the lights for vehicles turned red, he started contemplating between quickly heading back to the bookstore just to bid you farewell or just heading straight to his apartment building. His phone vibrated once again, and his lockscreen was being flooded by notifications of his roommates spamming his DMs, most of them coming from Jongho and San. Only then did the answer become clear to him.

Fortunately, he was able to fix the fifth problem his roommates have created for the week on time, immediately proceeding to scold all of them, save for Seonghwa who just got home from buying groceries and was now cleaning up the kitchen. For a fleeting moment, his mind drifts back to you, making him scold the six men even more than he should’ve, not-so-slightly upset over the fact that they timed burning the kitchen perfectly right when Hongjoong was just about to head back to you and continue your conversation.

Later that night, they were messaging one another one by one privately, each of them all saying the same thing: “It wasn’t really that deep. What got him so riled up?” But not even Hongjoong himself knew the answer to the question he never knew they were thinking of.

He thought he wasn’t going to see you again, and it never failed to make him feel confused whenever he found himself being a little too disappointed over it. So, when he saw you again—talking to his friend’s little brother, if anything, he was at a loss for both words and thoughts. The moment Kyungmin pointed to where he, Wooyoung, and Seonghwa stood, your eyes met for a fleeting second, and with the way he saw your eyes widen ever so slightly, he felt a little too happy over you recognizing him, so he did the first thing he thought of—trying to look as unbothered as possible even though his heart was literally spinning around, begging to be freed.

He failed to realize how smiling at you would’ve been a better option until he saw the way the corners of your lips went downwards ever so slightly upon seeing the look on his face, and before he could even clear things up by waving at you or literally anything to make sure you know he knows you, your gaze was already back on Kyungmin, and by the looks of it, you didn’t seem like you wanted to look his way yet again. To be fair, neither would he.

And as usual, he still couldn’t get you off his mind that day—though this time, it was worse, especially with the realization over the fact that he could’ve walked up to you yet didn’t dawning over him. He was beyond frustrated, to say the least. So, so frustrated he couldn’t even sleep.

Figuring his emotions were way too all over the place for him to be able to fall into a deep slumber, he sat up with a groan, stumbling over with his steps as he went to the living room, finding Yunho sitting by himself on the couch while watching a film that seemed to be a coming of age romance movie.

“What are you all up and about for?” Hongjoong walked around the couch, sitting beside Yunho as the cushion underneath him sank. “I could ask you the same question, you know,” Yunho responded, not even sparing Hongjoong a glance, obviously way too focused on the movie playing on the television screen in front of him.

“Just frustrated over some things.” Hongjoong leaned against the couch, sighing as he initiated a staring contest with the ceiling. With this, Yunho was quick to reach for the remote, pausing the movie before shuffling around so he could face Hongjoong while sitting down. “What’s the matter?”

“Do you ever think about something so often it starts to make you feel frustrated?” His question had Yunho pondering for about a while, making him think about it thoroughly.

“Depends on what this “something” we’re talking about is. I’m pretty sure that would mean two different things, depending on whether it’s “something” or “someone,” so which one of the two is it?” Hongjoong was hoping Yunho wouldn’t bring it up, but oh well. If he’s screwed, then he’s screwed.

All he had to do was stare right into Yunho’s eyes, hoping he’d put two and two together—and luckily, he did. “Since when?” Yunho was surprised, given how Hongjoong isn’t exactly the type of person who’d let himself be bothered by such things. Still, he wanted Hongjoong to tell him all about it, thankful he trusts him enough to do so.

“I don’t know, honestly. We just met by coincidence in the bookstore a few blocks away about a few weeks ago, and I haven’t been able to go through a single day without my head being filled with thousands of thoughts ever since then.”

“By coincidence?” Yunho tilted his head, and Hongjoong was quick to rewind and tell him all about it. After Hongjoong was done telling him about how it started and how it’s going so far, Yunho found himself smiling, already knowing what was up with Hongjoong, while he himself was still left in the dark.

He resorted to convincing Hongjoong to get up and do all the work himself so he’d be the one to come to terms about his feelings first-hand. “You know, nothing’s gonna happen if you keep on refusing to make a move. You can’t just expect your paths to cross once again if you’ve been staying at the same spot for days on end.”

And that was when he messaged Wooyoung privately once he was back in his room, asking if he was free to hang out for the upcoming day and if he wouldn’t mind tagging Kyungmin along with him. You’ll never know he was the reason behind Kyungmin’s second visit to the park, and part of him thinks things will be better off that way.

However, both of you were going through your own predicaments unconsciously. Until now, you still don’t know why you’re thinking of resting your head on his shoulder, and in his case, he still doesn’t know why on Earth he actually debated between bidding you farewell or saving his apartment from its impending doom.

It didn’t help how you weren’t really one to open up to people, so you were left all alone trying to fix the tangled wires inside your head, unlike Hongjoong, who was blessed enough by the gods to have a friend like Yunho. Still, despite being provided moral support and advice, he wasn’t any less oblivious to his feelings than you were.

“What’s it like?” You asked all of a sudden, surprising both Hongjoong and yourself. Much to your surprise, though, Hongjoong let the blooming conversation flow freely as he said in response, “What do you mean?” You shrugged, fiddling with yet another loose stitch of your sweater—you figured you’d definitely have to fix it up once you get home later.

“You know… having a lot of roommates.” You weren’t sure why you were asking about his roommates when you could’ve asked a question about him instead, yet you were blissfully unaware of the fact that Hongjoong was more than happy to hear you ask about his roommates—his best friends.

“It’s fun on most days, yet it’s also very frustrating sometimes. Living with seven people doesn’t exactly sound like the best experience when you’re living in an apartment that can barely fit all of you—even more when more than half of us have proven themselves deserving to be banned from the kitchen.” You laughed at his words, his laughter soon following after, watching you attempting to wind down your voice with a toothy grin on his face. “Why’s that?” You managed to ask in between your stifled laughs.

“Remember when we first met?” How could you ever forget? “Yeah, what about it?” You tilted your head, wondering what your first encounter had to do with Hongjoong’s roommates burning their kitchen. “While you were on a phone call with someone, I was in the middle of checking out the other sections, but just as I was about to head back to where you were, they spammed our group chat with messages, each of them telling me to head back home as soon as possible. Wanna guess why?”

“Please don’t tell me someone actually set the kitchen on fire.” Hongjoong only laughed in response, shaking his head. “Unfortunately.” Your eyes widened slightly, scoffing in disbelief. “You’re lying, aren’t you?” This time, it was now Hongjoong’s turn to look at you in utter disbelief, making you think he was actually offended over you not believing his story for a split second.

“Don’t wanna believe me? Here,” he said, showing you the video waiting to be played on his phone screen as he gestured for you to press the button yourself. As the video started playing, a look of shock spread all over your face as you watched the fire get worse as the video progressed, hearing screams from people whom you could only assume were his roommates.

Someone draped a towel over the flames, hurriedly stepping back when his solution turned out to be an additional problem with the way the fire grew even more. “Mingi, are you fucking stupid?! Take that towel back!” to which the man named Mingi responded with, “No way in hell! San, you do it!” followed by another, “Don’t drag me into the consequences of your stupidity!”

You heard someone from the background yell Hongjoong’s name, and as the camera was turned towards where the sound came from, you were met with the sight of a man who you recognized as Wooyoung hiding behind someone who seemed to be way too calm considering the fact that the kitchen was literally being set on fire—he was even eating an apple, if anything. The video switched to the front camera, revealing a man who, this time, seemed to look too happy despite the fire unfolding right behind him, and he even had the guts to giggle and wave to the camera.

Needless to say, you were left speechless, and the video wasn’t even halfway finished yet. You pressed his screen to pause the video, being met with the sight of him contemplating whether to laugh over the memorable (strangely enough) moment or to let his grudges come crawling back at him.

Looking at the expression on his face, you couldn’t help but laugh, your voice echoing around the quiet halls of the library. “So that’s what living with seven people looks like…” With the way you spoke, Hongjoong was unsure whether you meant it in a good way or not—and if he were to be honest, that’s exactly what made your reaction even more amusing.

“That’s also why I wasn’t able to come back to the aisle after looking around. Sorry,” he apologized, sheepishly rubbing his nape. You were quicker than a millisecond to dismiss his apology, shaking your head as you reassured him that it’s fine and a while has passed ever since that day anyway so you don’t really mind anymore. You had that awkward smile on your face again, and Hongjoong had to put every fiber in him to use in order to hold himself back from just melting right there and then.

Suddenly, your phone rang yet again, cutting your conversation with Hongjoong short. Assuming it was your roommate calling you, you were about to decline the call, but it wasn’t until you read the contact number’s nickname and realized it was your mother calling you and not your roommate.

You were quick to tidy yourself and hung your pink crocheted crossbody bag over your shoulder, reaching for the book that was resting in front of Hongjoong by the table, retracting your hand for a split second when you realized you hadn’t even told him yet that the book your roommate wanted you to borrow from the library was the one he was reading before you approached him.

He looked up at you from his seat, tilting his head. “You need it?” he asked, making you nod. “If you don’t mind, of course, it’s just—” Hongjoong waved you off, gesturing for you to take it, swearing he doesn’t mind at all. Just as you reached for the book once more, his hand rested on its cover at the same time, pushing it towards your direction. It didn’t take you longer than a second to realize your hands were on top of his. Your phone has stopped ringing, and the sound has now been replaced with your thundering heartbeat.

You were the first one to break the contact, taking your hand off his. Too focused on trying to look calm—you have no idea why having composure seems to turn itself into an almost unattainable challenge whenever Hongjoong was around—you fail to notice the way a hint of disappointment flashed on his eyes with you taking your hand off so soon, and it disappeared as quick as it showed up when you reached for the book once more the moment his hand was no longer sitting atop of it.

“I, um, have to go,” you stumbled over your words as you shoved the book inside your bag, “I’ll… see you around?” You sounded way too hopeful for your liking, but before you could take your words back and replace it with something more neutral, Hongjoong beat you to it by grinning at you widely, nodding at your words. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you around.”

But he doesn’t, and neither do you.

Three weeks have passed, and the increasing amount of his library visits were starting to become more noticeable to the seven men Hongjoong shared his apartment with through every passing day. They all went to the same university, so they knew just how annoyingly cruel the campus librarian was, which made things even harder to piece together for them. Hongjoong had also spoken up once about how much he hates the librarian during one of their drinking games when he was under the influence, so his frequent visits at the library were really confusing—save for one person who had an idea what the reason behind it was.

“You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you?” Mingi tilted his head at San who sat across from him, enthusiastically munching on the desserts he ordered while taking a few sips of his coffee in between—clearly, he didn’t hear Mingi’s question. “You’ve noticed it, right?” Mingi repeated his question, this time a little louder in hopes of getting an answer from San. His attempt proved to be successful as San finally looked up at him with a confused expression on his face. “Noticed what?”

“Oh, you know. Hongjoong and his sudden library star user transition,” he shrugged, and San let out a hum of realization after being given context. “Yeah, I have. What about it, though?” Mingi scoffed in disbelief, having a hunch that San was just playing dumb. “Come on, San. Don’t you think it’s strange? Because I do.” But the aforementioned man’s eyebrows only furrowed as he asked once again, “What is?”

“What isn’t strange about it? You know he hates the librarian just as much as we all do, right? Don’t you ever wonder what on Earth is he stopping by the library everyday for?” For a few seconds, the only thing San could do was stare at Mingi from across the table, mouth slightly agape as if he was trying to connect the dots inside his head. And then it clicks—finally. “Oh… Oh. I mean, now that you’ve mentioned it, it does seem a little weird.”

“Right? I asked Seonghwa last night if he knew anything about it, but he told me Hongjoong hasn’t brought up anything related to the library to him so far. I mean, sure, yeah, Hongjoong likes to read, so normally, it would make sense for him to visit the library every now and then—but everyday? Is he reading a compilation of the terms and conditions of every existing app?”

“You may be overanalyzing a little, don’t you think?” A familiar voice spoke up from behind San’s seat at the cafe, making him turn his head around as Mingi only had a smile on his face, already having seen the man enter the cafe before he even approached the two of them. “You know you can visit the library for more than one reason, right?” He gestured for San to move aside, opting to sit beside him as both of them were now facing Mingi, who sat on the opposite side of the table.

“And what would those other reasons be?” Both Mingi and San asked in unison. “I don’t know, maybe the usual things that happen when you’re a college student on the brink of graduation with an eye for attractive people?” Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Yunho, what the hell are you even talking about right now?”

Yunho rolled his eyes, leaning against the cushion of the sofa he sat on. “Think it through, Mingi. Hongjoong wouldn’t even dare to consider visiting the library everyday, had he not been developing feelings for a certain person he often sees there.” Both Mingi and San knew Hongjoong as someone who wasn’t quite fond of the idea of anything romantic, but it’s not like they knew what Yunho knew, anyway, so they resorted to laughing Yunho’s words off.

“You’re not onto something, Yunho,” Mingi began, and San continued his words, saying, “you’re on something.”

“Are you seriously accusing me of being high on a Saturday afternoon? Being high, if anything?” Yunho stared at the two men who were now proudly laughing over their joke in disbelief, frowning when he realized they didn’t even plan on taking his words with a grain of salt. “And are you seriously trying to get us to consider your idea of Hongjoong being hit by Cupid all of a sudden?”

“It’s not an idea, San. Just—would you just listen to at least a goddamn word I’ll be saying?” Yunho ran his hand through his hair, and only then did Mingi and San stop with their antics. Moments of Yunho being upset were extremely uncommon, and whenever it would happen, all of them would always fail to hear the end of it. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry. Where did your theory come from, anyway?”

“For the second time now, it’s not a theory. It’s a possibility loosely based on a conversation Hongjoong and I had a few weeks ago while you were all asleep.”

“So… a theory?”

“God, no!”

“It is, though.” San backed up Mingi, making him pat his back with a grateful expression on his face. “See? He gets me.” Yunho only responded by rolling his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. “It doesn’t matter whether it’s a theory or not—just hear me out, please.” San could tell Yunho was growing tired of their shenanigans, so he was quick to lock in and get serious. “Shoot.”

“It was around three in the morning already, and I was in the living room watching a movie. Hongjoong suddenly came out of his room and sat beside me, and he asked me a question I wouldn’t have expected to come from him. He asked me if I’ve ever thought of something so often to the point where it drives me frustrated, and based on the look on his face that night, I assumed his answer would’ve been yes if I asked him the question instead and not the other way around. I told him it depends on whether it’s a “something” or a “someone,” and he gave me a look that non-verbally told me it was the latter in his case.”

“So, to sum it all up, he likes someone who visits the library often?” Mingi asked, and Yunho shook his head. “From the looks of it, I’m pretty sure he’s waiting for a certain someone to visit the library everyday.”

“Why the library, though? And why would he have to do it everyday? Doesn’t that sound a little creepy? Or maybe that’s just me, but, I mean, there’s no way you don’t find it weird at all, Yunho,” San said, wondering why on Earth would Hongjoong have to visit the library everyday just to see whoever his crush was.

Yunho sighed, “That’s not exactly the case, you know.” Both Mingi and San’s attention were completely hooked once again, both of them leaning forward on the sides of the table they sat on, eager to listen to what Yunho was about to tell them.

“What I’m thinking is that Hongjoong probably last saw his crush in the library, and that whoever that person is went out of town—but Hongjoong doesn’t know, hence why he keeps on visiting the library everyday in hopes of seeing his crush again.”

“That’s… oddly specific,” Mingi gave Yunho a skeptical gaze, whereas San remained drowning in his own thoughts. “The fact that your theory is actually highly likely to be correct is what scares me,” San said, finally speaking up after a few seconds of silence.

“It’s not a—”

“Yeah, yeah, not a theory! We get it!”

It’s been three months, at most. You wanted nothing more but to leave your hometown and head back to your apartment—you never liked the suffocating feeling the walls of your mother’s household would always give you. You’re starting to miss hearing your roommate’s loud snoring in the brink of dawn, too. You wonder how she’s holding up—it’s not really your thing to keep in touch with people while you’re away as it only makes you miss them even more, and this is something you fortunately remembered at the last minute to tell her before you left.

Your mother had contacted you that time you were hanging out with Hongjoong in the library to tell you to head back to your household as she and her garbage of a boyfriend had scheduled a three month vacation for themselves, leaving you the responsibility to watch over their house while they go out and enjoy their lives to its fullest. How pathetic.

You vividly remember feeling your heart ache with flames while you had to fight back your tears while packing your things—trying so hard to convince your roommate—who you assumed by that time was probably hanging out with the guy from her linguistics class—that you were fine when she was on the other line of the call while you were informing her about your sudden vacation, even though it was painfully obvious you weren’t by the way your voice kept on trembling with every word you spoke.

It didn’t help that all you could think of while spacing out while waiting for the train you took to arrive at its destination was the way Hongjoong’s eyes widened ever so slightly when you placed your hands atop of his by accident, as well as the way he’d flash you that toothy grin of his every single time you’d find yourselves staring into each other’s eyes.

No, it really didn’t help. Especially considering the fact that you don’t even know why the hell you were thinking of him when you were supposed to be upset because of your parents. It really, really didn’t help how thinking of him ended up painting a small smile on your face that was quick to disappear the moment you snapped back into reality.

Yet here you are now, mindlessly staring outside the window of your childhood bedroom, watching the sun slowly fall into a deep slumber as you wonder what Hongjoong could have possibly been doing by the other side of the world. Part of you regrets not taking the old book you borrowed from the library with you, but at the end of the day, you borrowed it to help your roommate forge a connection with her crush, and not with your own, for heaven’s sake. Wait, what?

And then it hits you—he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know you’re out of town and will continue to be for three more days. You wonder if he thinks of you as much as you do of him. You wonder if he’s out there, waiting for you. You wonder if he wonders what you’re doing right now as well. You wonder if he’s concerned about you.

“Oh, God, I can’t do this anymore,” you buried your face in your hands in frustration, sighing heavily as you parted your fingers to glance at your phone placed by your bedside table. Its screen, although pitch black, felt as if it was glaring directly at you, taunting you to take it and just say “screw it” and break your no-contact-during-vacation rule.

And you did, in fact, say, “Screw it.”

Quickly scrolling through your contacts, you wasted no time and immediately dialed your roommate’s number, the constant ringing of your phone echoing around the almost empty surroundings of your bedroom. Most of the things you left here before moving out have already been thrown out, it seems.

“Oh my God!” The screeching of your roommate from the other end of the line made you jolt in surprise, hissing as you felt your ears ring due to how loud her voice was. “Is this real?! I thought you said you wouldn’t call me until you’re back here! What happened?! Is something wrong?! Are you okay?! ARE YOU—”

“Calm down! Do you want me to go deaf or something?” Your voice was as calm as ever, a stark contrast to hers. “Did you really miss me that bad?” Chuckling, you await her response, which arrived faster than a millisecond.

“Did I miss you? Did I miss you? You have no idea how quiet it has been in here ever since you left! I have no one to annoy and it’s slowly driving me insane…” she let out an exasperated sigh, making you laugh. “I’ll be taking that as a yes, then.”

Your roommate clears her throat, going back to the topic at hand. “Seriously, though, why’d you suddenly decide to break your no-contact rule? Are you alright?” Concern was evident in her voice, and it almost made you tear up. You failed to realize just how much you missed her until now.

“I’m still breathing, that’s for sure,” you joked, laughing after hearing her groan as she said, “Now’s not the time for your jokes! Did something bad happen over there?”

“No, not really, but… well, you know, I’m not supposed to come back until Friday this week, but I really don’t think I can stay here for any longer. I’m all alone because my mother and her boyfriend are out on a vacation, and I haven’t had anyone to talk to for the past few months I’m not used to waking up because of my alarm and not because of your loud snoring, you know?”

Truthfully, you really did miss her. But even if you knew she was not the only reason behind you desperately wanting to leave your hometown, you figured you’d have to tell her all about it another time—just not now.

“I can’t tell whether you meant that as a compliment or an insult…” she sighed, making you erupt in a fit of laughter. Darkness was now starting to consume your surroundings, with the moon all up and about. Your bedside lamp is now the only source of light your bedroom has. “Do me a favor and take it as both?”

“Haha, yeah, real funny. I really hate you, you know.” You could tell from the tone of her voice alone that she was rolling her eyes, making you laugh once more—she seriously had to stop, or else you were certain you were gonna have to go to sleep with an aching stomach. “I don’t think you do, though…”

“You know me too well,” she sighed, faking an exhausted tone. “Is there anything you wanna tell me about? Like, you know, literally anything? I feel like all we’ve ever been talking about lately is mister linguistics class who is my man but is technically not my man but will, one day, become my man… come to think of it, I don’t think you’ve ever talked to me about any of your crushes—”

You could still hear her voice through the speaker of your phone, but the moment her words entered your ears, they were all muffled—you were, once again, adrift in a sea of your own thoughts. In a way, she was right about the part where you never talk to her about anything regarding your romantic affiliations—but that’s precisely because you don’t even have one in the first place, and you swore to yourself you’d keep things that way until you graduate.

But right now, as your thoughts drift back to Hongjoong yet again—something that seems to have been happening way too often for your liking at this point, you weren’t so sure anymore.

“—Oh, you do like someone!” Beaming happily, she squealed like a little child winning a plushie from a claw machine for the first time, pulling you back up to the surface of reality. Surprised, you stumbled over your words, “W-What?”

“You suddenly grew quiet when I started talking about relationships, you know.” I did?

“If I were to guess, I’d say there’s a certain someone who came to your mind the moment I mentioned the word “crush” and brought up how you’ve always been so secretive with your dating life.” You could visualize the teasing smile on her face as she spoke, and it made you feel flustered. She was right, but were you really going to tell her that?

“So, who is it? Can I make a few guesses? Promise me you’ll bring a basket of candies home for me if I get it right!” It wasn’t exactly like you were doubting her—it was more on the fact that you, yourself, weren’t even sure if you actually harbor feelings for the only person in your mind right now. If you were to think about it, wouldn’t it be too soon to say you do?

Maybe it was the way he seemed to have an eye meant for seeing everything around him as diamonds in the rough—an eye able to see the best even in those already proven to be the worst. Maybe it was the way he has no fear of expressing himself freely—maybe you just admired that trait of his and wished to have it as your own. Maybe it was the way he’s always eager to thoroughly get to know the details of everything he crosses paths with—the way he reread a book five times just to look for the foreshadowed parts may sound a little silly to be used as an example, but it serves its purpose.

You don’t really know much about him, except for the fact that he lives with seven people whom you could tell he adored so much, and that he liked to design his own clothes. So for a split second, you begin to debate whether you do like him or if you just admire him as a person.

But it wasn’t until you were reminded of the way you felt sparks ignite all over your veins when his fingers first brushed past yours that day in the bookstore, the way you stared at him a little longer than you should’ve when you saw him at the park, the way you had to hold yourself back from unconsciously leaning your head on his shoulder that day in the library—maybe the way you felt about Hongjoong was a whole book itself, and you’d also have to reread it a few times to catch everything you’ve overlooked in the long run.

You may not know him at all, but right now, one thing was crystal clear to you—you wanted to.

“Do you know the…” A little uncertain at first, you trailed off, not knowing whether you should continue or not. But then again, running away wouldn’t draw you any closer to your destination. “... Do you know anyone named Kim Hongjoong?”

Silence engulfed both of you for at least ten seconds at most, until it was broken by yet another squeal of hers. “Are you for real?! The Kim Hongjoong?! You like him?! Oh my God! Wait, now that I’m thinking about it, aren’t you two, like, polar opposites, at most?”

If only she knew.

“I guess…? Why?” You decided to play along with her for now, eager to hear what she has to say. “You two would totally be the cutest couple of the whole campus! I mean, come on, think about it! He’s a punk, and you do ballet! Well, technically, you don’t, but I trust you enough to rest assured you get the reference, so…”

“You think so?” Truth be told, you could perfectly visualize the message she was trying to deliver. Subconsciously, a smile soon began to creep up on your face over the thought of you and Hongjoong walking together, the stark contrast between your styles and the way you carried yourselves being heavily obvious.

“Oh, I know so! Wait, though—when, where, why, and how did this even start? I can’t believe you’re actually telling me about your dating life now!” She beamed, but you were quick to tone her down. “Now…? I don’t even have any experience within the dating field,” you said, bracing yourself from the scream that was yet to come from her.

“I’m sorry, what?!” Yeah, called it. “You heard it right. I wasn’t hiding anything from you—there were never any secrets to be hidden to begin with.”

“So Hongjoong is your first boyfriend—” “—I think we’re skipping a few chapters here,” you immediately cut her off, turning her assumptions down as fast as you could. “What do you mean?”

“Well… remember when you asked me to buy that one psychological thriller book from our local bookstore there?” You started, continuing after hearing a hum from the other line. “That was when I first met him. He was going to buy the same book as well, but we reached for it at the same time, and, I don’t know, we kinda… talked? And…”

You continued on, starting from when you first met him to when you last saw him. At this point, you could no longer even count the amount of times she had squealed over the phone.

“Wait, so you mean to tell me you didn’t even exchange contacts before you left the library? And he doesn’t know why you left?!” You could tell she was frustrated—and to be fair, so were you. “Well, if I did, we’d be talking to each other right now, wouldn’t we?” You sighed.

“So that means it’s been three months since you… wait, hold on… three months? Like, actually?” You have no idea why she was asking for confirmation all of a sudden, yet you let out a hum of approval anyway. “So that’s why he’s been… oh my God! If you don’t come back as soon as you can, I swear!”

“Huh? Why would I need to?”

“Hongjoong’s been visiting the library everyday for three months straight now! It’s, like, one of the many things our whole campus gossips about everyday! It all makes sense now…” What?

“What?”

“I’m telling you, you need to come back before it’s too late and he loses hope!” You couldn’t help but laugh at how she seemed to be more passionate about the topic at hand than you yourself, but in a way, she also had a point. There’s no guarantee he’d continue to wait for you until you’re finally allowed to leave your mother’s household.

And that was all you needed to hear for you to immediately hang up and rummage through the clothes you packed with you for your vacation—you could hardly even call it such, but whatever. You have no idea why you’re in such a rush, but for the first time ever, you opted for a casual look: a white shirt with an oversized pink hoodie with a half-done zipper on top of it, paired with shorts that weren’t even visible due to the hoodie’s length. You quickly slipped on a pair of white socks and wore your pink converse afterwards, having to re-do the shoelaces about three times due to messing it up over and over again because of how you were in such a rush.

You didn’t even have time to stand in front of your mirror to see what you looked like—your mind was set on coming back to you and your roommate’s apartment as soon as you could.

For a minute, you were stuck in a debate between following what you had to or what you wanted to. You knew for sure that dire consequences were to wait ahead of you if you were to follow the latter, but you could no longer find it in you to care. You had to follow your heart.

Sighing under your breath, you finally got yourself to twist the doorknob open, being met with the cold breeze of the night. Perhaps it wasn’t the best decision to wear shorts, but it’s too late to reconsider things now, is it? Quickly locking the door with your keys in hand, you wasted no time in sprinting to the nearest train station, not wanting to waste the chance that laid itself upon you.

“Mind explaining what’s been going on with you lately?” Seonghwa asked, hands on either side for support as he leaned against the kitchen counter, eyes boring directly into Hongjoong, who was standing across him, too busy spacing out that Seonghwa was certain he didn’t hear anything at all.

“What?” Hongjoong’s voice was a little slurred, and one could easily tell he lacks sleep. “I said, do you mind explaining what’s been going on with you lately?” Seonghwa enunciated his words so Hongjoong could hear him better, only for the said man to respond with a chuckle.

“You really gotta stop overanalyzing everything around you, Seonghwa.” Yet the aforementioned man wasn’t having any of it. He knew very well of Hongjoong’s tendencies to deny his own struggles—even to himself, always refusing to admit he’s going through something even though it’s already crystal clear. Of course, Seonghwa and the rest knew to respect his boundaries and not pry further, but the circles under Hongjoong’s eyes were starting to grow darker, and he just couldn’t sit back and do nothing.

“I’m not buying your excuses this time, Hongjoong. Clearly, you’re forcing yourself to go through something all alone again.” Seonghwa sighed, brows furrowed in concern as he took in Hongjoong’s appearance.

“What? Like it’s the first time I’ve ever done so?” Hongjoong chuckled, although it was easy for Seonghwa to tell he was forcing it upon himself. “You know you can’t keep everything to yourself forever, right? They’re all worried about you, and so am I. Look, you don’t have to tell me all the details, okay? Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“How on Earth am I supposed to feel when someone tells me ‘see you around’ but then they proceed to literally disappear right after those words come out of their mouth? Wouldn’t you be downing a dozen shots in one streak too?” From the way Hongjoong spoke, it was clear that he was beyond frustrated. His words came out slurred and raspy, and even Seonghwa himself was surprised he understood what Hongjoong said.

Brows furrowed in confusion, Seonghwa leaned forward from the counter, clearly not knowing what the hell Hongjoong was talking about. “Woah, woah, alright, calm down. Where’d all this even come from?”

“It’s been three months—three months, Seonghwa. Disappearing without a word is one thing, but not showing up for three months is just absurd, isn’t it?” Hongjoong groaned, running his hands through his hair. Still confused, Seonghwa attempted to ask for a little more context. “Who are you even talking about?”

“Her, Seonghwa. The girl whose name I could’ve gotten sooner, had those stupid goons not decided to burn our kitchen. The girl Kyungmin mistook for a princess.”

Oh.

Oh.

So it all makes sense now. It now makes sense that Hongjoong scolded the rest of them for almost burning their apartment way too harshly than he normally would have. It now makes sense why he caught Hongjoong staring at the girl from the park longer than any other person would have. It now makes sense that—does this mean what Seonghwa thinks it does?

Hongjoong likes someone? The Hongjoong, who swore he’d never allow himself to get into a relationship yet again after a bad falling out with one of his exes a few years ago? The Hongjoong, if anything?

“Can I take a wild guess and assume she’s the reason behind your daily library visits?” Seonghwa asked carefully, not wanting to hit a wounded spot by accident. Hongjoong only sighed, “I wish she wasn’t. Really, really wish she wasn’t.”

“Why? Do you like her?”

Does he like you?

At first, Hongjoong refused to accept the terms. He knew very well of his promise to himself not to fall for anyone again, tired of experiencing the same hardships that came along with it over and over again. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking of you as often as he does. He knew he shouldn’t be letting you affect him in the simplest ways possible.

Yet here he was now.

“I tried to stop myself, you know. I really did. But I just—I couldn’t. I didn’t have it in me to forget about her just like that, even if she’s been gone for three months straight now and I don’t even know where she is.” Seonghwa could tell Hongjoong meant every word he said. It was still mildly surprising, but the words came out of his mouth so smoothly it was enough to tell Seonghwa he was really being genuine.

“I know I look stupid waiting like a dog in the library everyday, hoping I’d be met with her awkward smile when I turn my head towards the door whenever I hear it open, but I just—I can’t, you know? I can’t stop. Not when the last words we spoke to each other was about seeing each other around. I can’t help but wonder if I messed up unknowingly, somehow.”

Seonghwa’s gaze softened, stepping forward to gently caress Hongjoong’s shoulder in a comforting way. “Why not go on a midnight stroll? I think you really need one right now. I’ll make sure they won’t burn the kitchen again this time, okay?”

“You really know how to make me feel better, don’t you?” Hongjoong chuckled, looking upwards to prevent his tears from falling down. “I’m gonna need you to remember the fact that we’ve known each other since we were kids. Of course I’ll know that,” Seonghwa sarcastically said, although a smile was plastered on his face.

At this point, you were certain your legs were about to give up before you could even reach your apartment. The train you took had a major malfunction in the long run, but you didn’t have it in you to wait for 30 minutes until the train would start working again, so you did the only thing you could—run. Okay, that was most likely not the correct solution, but it wasn’t like you had any other choice. You need to head home at least before 8:30AM tomorrow, since that’s usually when your mother would call you to ask how you, or rather, her house, is doing.

You stopped between your tracks to catch your breath, hands on your knees as your chest heaved with exhaustion. You decided to walk for at least a few minutes for now so you could regain enough energy to start running again later on, knowing there was absolutely no way you’d be able to keep on sprinting without passing out in the middle of it.

You were walking on an empty road, the dim lamp posts and the convenience stores from a distance being your only sources of light. As you were peacefully admiring your quiet surroundings, you spotted a coastline from a fair distance besides the road, only about a few steps away. As you drew closer to where the waves of the ocean met the sand, you saw a figure from afar sitting on a boulder all by themselves.

Except it wasn’t just a figure.

Your heart started racing, eyes widening in surprise as you focused your gaze on the person’s hair—you couldn’t have been mistaken. You know exactly who that split-dyed hair belongs to.

Before you even knew it, your feet had a life of its own, running towards where the figure was sitting even though your legs were literally about to give up after running for half an hour without stopping.

“Hongjoong?”

He turned around almost right after you called out his name, eyes all puffy and widened in surprise, blinking repeatedly as if he was trying to process the fact that you were standing right in front of him.

“It’s you.”

You no longer even cared if your actions were way too straightforward, immediately engulfing him in a warm, tight embrace as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. “Hongjoong—I’m sorry, I just…” Your voice came out as nothing but trembling whispers blending it with the midnight breeze.

For at least a few seconds, all he did was stand still, not an ounce of his body reacting to your touch. Afraid he might not have been comfortable with what you were doing, you were quick to take a step back, removing your face from his neck.

Yet just as you were about to release the grip you held around his body, he was quick to wrap his arms around yours, this time being the one to embrace you tightly. Hongjoong’s arms envelop you, holding you tightly against him. The warmth of his body, the gentle rise and fall of his breath—it’s an entirely new feeling, yet it felt soothing all the same, as if this was where you were always meant to be.

You let yourself let loose in his embrace, feeling the tension and worry of the past three months slowly melt away. You close your eyes, savoring the moment as you bury your face in his shoulder. The subtle scent of his cedarwood cologne that you missed so much mixed with the salty sea air lingers in your senses, making you feel grounded and safe.

His chin rests on top of your head, and you can feel him take a deep breath, almost as if he’s trying to breathe you in and reassure himself that you’re really there. His embrace feels secure and protective, as though he’s shielding you from the heavy burdens of the world weighing upon you.

You notice his hesitation in the way his hands pause on your back, almost unsure of how to hold you at first. But eventually, after being allowed a little more seconds to familiarize himself with the feeling of your body resting against his, he started rubbing your back in soothing circles, making you feel lightheaded—as if all of your worries have slipped away with just a single touch.

He removes his chin from the top of your head, making you stare into his eyes with a teary gaze as he does so to yours as well. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you about it beforehand, I…” you trailed off, words getting stuck in the middle of your throat after feeling Hongjoong cup your face with his hands, “... It all happened so fast, I… my mother needed me home right away, and I just couldn’t say no to her… I wish I could’ve told you beforehand, but she only told me why she needed me home when I was already there, so I couldn’t…”

Hongjoong’s gaze softens as he listens to your words. He gives you a small, understanding nod, but you can still see the hint of hurt in his eyes—his dark circles were so visible, even under the dim light of the moon. He pauses for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, before speaking.

"I thought I might have done something wrong," he admits quietly, vulnerability evident with the way he spoke.. "I kept wondering if you were upset with me. It was... hard not knowing what happened.”

“When you left without a word, it felt like my world shifted,” Hongjoong begins. “We were in the library, and the last thing you said was you’ll see me around—but I didn't see you again. Not the next day, or the day after. I just kept going back, hoping you’d show up. It didn’t make sense—you were there, and then you were gone.”

“I started overthinking everything, replaying our conversations in my head. I wondered if I said something wrong or came on too strong, that maybe you didn’t want me to. I was scared that I might have scared you away somehow," he admits, and the way his voice trembled ever so slightly made your heart twist in pain.

“Hongjoong, I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to leave you wondering if you ever did something wrong—I didn’t like what happened just as much as you do. I just… it’s complicated…” Truth be told, it really was.

Still, Hongjoong nodded with a faint smile on his face, reassuring you that he understands.“I know it wasn’t intentional,” he said, caressing your face with his thumb. “The nights were the hardest. I’d lie awake wondering if you hated me or if I had done something to upset you.”

You reach up to caress his face with your hands as well, staring at him with eyes that hold a swirl of emotions. “God, no, it never had anything to do with you… I’m so sorry for disappearing like that," you say softly, your voice filled with a mixture of guilt and frustration. "I wish I could have told you what was happening, but my mother... she wasn’t easy to deal with.”

As you hold Hongjoong close, you sense there’s more he wants to share, but he seems to be holding back, seemingly at war with his own emotions. You give his hand a reassuring squeeze, encouraging him to express himself.

He lets out a heavy sigh, his expression a mix of longing and frustration. “I’ve been trying so hard to sort out how I feel about all of this,” he begins slowly. “I’ve been at war with my own thoughts ever since you left. Trying to keep my feelings under control, trying to convince myself it was just a worry for a friend. But it just… doesn’t add up.”

He pauses, running a hand through his hair, his gaze on a far distance. “Every day, I would tell myself I could keep it together, but I kept thinking about you so much, it was starting to drive me insane,” he admits, although a little hesitantly. “I tried to keep it down to just concern, but it wasn’t enough. My mind kept circling back to you, wondering where you were, if you were okay.”

His eyes meet yours again, making your breath hitch. “I’d go to the library every day, hoping to see you, hoping to hear your voice again. It was maddening, not knowing if you’d come back or if I’d lost you completely,” he sighs, as his grip on the skin of your waist becomes a little tighter. “I just couldn’t shake it off,” he continues, his voice quieting down.

“You were on my mind all the time, and the more I tried to ignore it, the more frustrated I became. I tried so hard to deny it, but...” he pauses, taking a deep breath, as if he’s steeling himself for what comes next.

“Oh, screw it all,” he finally mutters, as if giving in to his own feelings. “I love you, and I don’t think I can hold it back any longer.”

“You… What?” Your eyes widened in surprise, struggling to process Hongjoong’s words. Hongjoong only smiled at you in return, repeating his words, “I said I love you. I really, really do.”

“Hongjoong,” you begin softly, your voice carrying a hint of nervousness. Hearing his name slip out of your mouth sent his nerves going haywire—oh, how he missed the sound of it.

“When I had to leave so suddenly, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. It was so difficult not being able to explain what happened or tell you how much you mean to me.” You pause, trying to find the right words.

“You know, I… I promised myself I wouldn’t let anyone in until I graduated," you confess, your voice being a little softer than it already was. “So when I first started catching feelings for you, I was in complete denial. I didn’t know how to handle it.” You look away for a moment, feeling embarrassed.

“It was a war with myself, one I never expected to fight," you continued. “I told myself it was just a phase, just a fleeting crush. I even thought maybe I was imagining things or confusing friendship with something more.”

You let out a small, nervous laugh, trying to hide the depth of your feelings. “I even tried to tell myself that you were just a good friend, that I was misinterpreting my own emotions,” you admit. “But the more I tried to distance myself from my feelings, the harder it became. My heart kept betraying me, reminding me how much I looked forward to seeing you again, how your smile could light up my whole day.”

Your tone grows quieter as you share your struggle. “I kept thinking, ‘This can’t be happening. Not now. I promised myself I wouldn’t fall for anyone,’” you say, vividly remembering the battle with your own feelings you once faced. “But every time I thought of you, it became harder to deny it. My heart wouldn’t let me forget you, and it drove me insane. Eventually, I lost control, and…”

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to face the reality of your feelings. “Now that I’m standing here with you, hearing you pour your heart out, I just… I can’t deny it anymore,” you admit. “I’ve fallen for you, Hongjoong, and I’m done pretending otherwise.”

And that was all it took for him to inch his face closer to yours, intertwining your lips with his. The kiss was nothing short of pent-up tension being released, and you could feel every part of your body being set aflame.

His hands wrap themselves around your waist, its grip on your skin tightening every now and then. Your hand traces his jawline, soon finding itself tangled in his hair while the other one balls the fabric of his shirt into your first, feeling yourself get even more lost in the moment with each passing second.

As the kiss intensifies, there’s a sense of exploration, as if both of you are savoring the taste and feel of each other’s lips for the first time. Hongjoong’s hands slide up your back, one hand finding the nape of your neck, his touch gentle yet firm as if he was using every single fiber within his body to hold himself back, sending a shiver down your spine.

You mirror his movements, one hand now resting on his shoulder while the other presses against his back, wanting to be as close as possible. The world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you lost in the moment.

As your lips finally part, you both find yourselves gazing into each other’s eyes as if both of you believe the other hung up the stars in the sky. “You know,” Hongjoong began to speak. “As grateful as I am that you’re back here with me now… I can’t help but wonder where on Earth you came from...”

“Can we please save that discussion for another time?”

🪞 — lividstar.

[sunraies]

i need something super soft with buzzcut rafe! like the reader is really down and rafe takes them shopping and then to get ice cream. maybe singing some taylor swift in the carrrrrr?🫣 idk something cute and fluffy like that?🫶🏼 also i hope ur feeling better from ur stomach bug!

I hope this is super soft enough. Sorry it's not long. I'm feeling a lot better from the stomach, thank you, hunny 😘

Shopping trip

Rafe Cameron x Reader

As requested above

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

"Baby? Let's go out for the day. " Rafe stroked your leg with a feather light touch as it was hooked over the covers.

You'd been off. You couldn't really explain to Rafe what was causing it as you didn't really know yourself.

It could be the fact that you'd finished the book you were recently reading, having to say goodbye to characters that had filled your mind. Or the show you loved on Netflix so much had come to an end. You had watched an old movie that made you feel nostalgic. You had eaten the sweet strawberries in the fridge, and now they were gone. Everything seemed to be weighing down on you.

Even the thought of leaving the coziness of the cotton sheets and the warmth of your love's body so close to you made you want to bottle the moment and never let it go.

"Why can't we just stay like this?" You muttered, head resting on his chest, the comfort of his heartbeat in your ear.

"Because, I want to take my baby out" Rafe kissed your hair "I want to buy her everything she looks at" He paused to add another kiss to you head "Hold her bag in one hand and her hand in the other. Wrap my arm over her shoulders so the world knows she's mine. "

You looked up at him and kissed his jaw "Well how is a girl going to say no to that?"

"She can't" He teased and tilted your head to capture your lips.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Rafe drove you to Kildare, his hand on your thigh the whole time. He squished it occasionally and grinned as you closed your legs. He looked gorgeous with his designer shades and buzzed hair, making his jaw seem so defined.

You turned up the studio as your favourite Taylor Swift song came on from the playlist you selected for the drive. Being out in the sunshine, the breeze on your face through the open window did make you feel a little better.

The moment you felt truly happy again was as Rafe sang with you. Both laughing as you screamed lyrics at each other. Who would have thought Rafe Cameron would sing Taylor Swift with a smile on his face. If you ever told anyone, they think you'd gone mad but anything for his girl. If singing made her happy, that's what he would do.

Once at the mall, Rafe did exactly as he said. He held your handbag in one hand with his arm over your shoulders as you linked your fingers with his.

He also tried to buy you anything you looked at, but you wouldn't let him. You compromised on one outfit and a necklace you loved. You avoided the bookstore and led him to the ice cream parlour instead. Rafe knew your weakness, and if you did get to the bookstore, you would have up with a bunch of new books.

You ordered your favourite flavour of ice cream, choosing a cup instead of a cone as it seemed to be melting quickly, and Rafe copied your order.

As you sat on some benchs outside, you raised an eyebrow at him. "I thought Rocky Road was your favourite?"

"It is, but this is yours. I wanted your favourite." He shrugged.

You smiled at him before carefully kissing him. "Thank you for today"

"You never have to thank me, baby" Rafe said softly before kissing you back.

[sugaimhome]

country house setting kth -  part three

pairing: 19th century taehyung x reader

minors do not interact!!!

warnings (this part): age gap (10 years, readers 18, he’s 28), masturbation??,  smut, smooching, some kind of breeding kink is mentioned? idk either tbh, hes soft af, sex, yandere (? he’s very obsessed with her and her innocence, still, lol), hints towards previous abuse, distant father figure, the messed up society of 19th century britain. 

words: 7k

series summary: your isolated manor house has nothing interesting going on. but when the abandoned manor near to yours has a new occupant, things change. taehyung is obsessed with you from the day you first knock his door. he’d do anything for you, even if it meant going against your father’s wishes, even if it meant you losing something very important to your future marriage on the way, something that would force your fathers hand.

part one  part two  part three  masterlist

explanation of the title: a literacy genre where fictional characters are often isolated and alone living in a country house.

A/N: its been a month since the last chapter... i am so so sorry for taking such a long time but i am really happy with this. please enjoy the little cliff hanger at the end, though we all know what the answer will be... don’t we?

Taehyung woke in the morning, bars of light that filtered through his bedroom hitting his face. Here, the sun rose and woke him every morning. It dyed everything in his room orange, a colour that seemed to light his body and fuel his very essence. He had never been a morning person, but these past few days, that seemed to have changed. Taehyung had let you sleep in, he had pressed his ear to your door, just hoping to hear you, to make sure it all hadn’t been a dream, just hearing your soft breathing through the door. He sighed, knowing you were safe. 

“Care.” he had whispered into the chilly air as he climbed down the wooden stairs, being careful not to creak them and wake you up. Care was something he had not felt in a while, he had had friends in London, of course he had, but they were never the kind of friend you cared for. They were friends that were there but only when they wanted to be. It was hard to explain, hard to think about, but Taehyung did not feel a slight tinge of regret for leaving them without a note. He had loved his father, as every child loves their parents, but his care for him extended little past the age of 10, and that was over 15 years ago. He’d never met his mother, and his sister, the only one he had cared for out of all of them, had betrayed him. Care was a thing of the past, but he felt it for you… Pausing on one of the stairs, he lets that information sink in for a little bit. He had known you, what? Two days?

Now, he watches you. You're staring open mouthed at the blurb of a book you had picked up in this little bookstore. The two of you are stuffed down a thin line of two shelves of books, you’re between Taehyung and a wall, meaning that you’re completely safe, giving Taehyung an odd sense of calm he hadn’t realised he had needed, and had no need to feel, you were at a market, what was going to hurt you here? The book you had picked up read “Northanger Abbey - A Lady.” Once you had finished reading the back of the book, slowly, with your pinky nail tracing the words, you sighed, looking up at Taehyung and saying. “I didn’t know women could write!” you’re whisper- shouting with happiness. “Isn’t that amazing?” you ask him, and he only nods in response. It was amazing. You look at the book one last time, being gentle with its new, but fragile, spine you place it back on the shelf. 

“Would you like the Novel?” Taehyung asks, reaching towards it. It was only 12 shillings, that was nothing to him, you were worth thousands more than that.

“Oh,” you reply, that delightful blush spreading on your cheeks when you get shy. “No, I don’t expect that of you.” 

Taehyung could see that you were torn, part of you really wanted the book, the only books you had had access to were the ones in your fathers library. Y//N wanted the book. That was clear, but you also didn’t want to upset him, you didn’t want to use his money. He sighs, knowing he’ll have to work hard for you to allow him to buy this. “When was your birthday?” he asks. 

“March” you reply, your head tilting to the side in confusion. “Why?”

“Then I should buy it for you, as I didn’t get you a present.” 

“March was months ago!” you exclaim, a beautiful smile on your lips. “You didn’t even know me then!”

“That was very rude of me, not knowing you, let me buy it.” Taehyung grins, picking up the book and holding it at arms length from you. You don’t even try to fight him for it, you just follow behind him as you head towards the owner. He smiles at the two of you as you approach the counter. “Good Morning” Taehyung says, he can just see you smiling up at him from the corner of his eye. 

“Good Morning” the man says, watching Taehyung place the book down on the desk. “Oh, thank goodness someone's finally buying this, I haven't been able to sell it in months”

“Oh! Why's that?” you exclaim, turning your mouth down with the shock of it. Was it a bad book?

“Women shouldn’t be writing” he says, turning his nose up at both you and the book. “Sewing, that's your job.”

You step back a little in shock, the man's spit pretty much hitting you in the face. Taehyung steps in front of you, holding your hand behind his back. “Thank you very much, but we’ll be leaving that here. Have a good day.” He slides the book towards the shop owner, its wooden cover making a shrill noise as he pushes it down against the wood. Then the two of you are storming from the little shop, the bell and the door tinkling and slamming behind you as Taehyung rushes into the street. 

When he turns to you, he’s disappointed to see you pouting. “I am sorry” he says, looking down at you, he desperately wants to touch your face but such shows of affection in public are frowned upon. “I would have gotten you the book but-”

“It’s okay” you cut in, reaching out to hold his hand again, against his, your hand is warm. It sets flames up his arm and into his soul. “I didn’t know people could be so-”

He watches you as you pause, looking for the right word. “Rude” he finishes, and damn the public he raises his hand to your cheek, letting you find comfort in his soft touch. “I promise not everyone is rude.” 

It’s an unrealistic promise, he knew for himself that kindness is less common than it should be, people like Y/N shouldn’t be exposed to the awful part of the world. He takes in a breath, refraining from storming back into the shop and punching the shop owner in the face. “Shall we go?” you ask, possibly noticing his rising anger. 

“After the Dress-Makers” he replies, by then his anger would have dissipated anyway.

“Dress-Makers?!” you exclaim, pulling your hand away from his. Taehyung had half expected this reaction.

“You need dresses that fit you better.” he sighs. “Please let me buy you one.” 

“Only one.” you reply, trying to sound in control.

He nods his head. Once the shop had your measurements, he could buy you as many dresses as he wanted, and you could do nothing about it. Taehyung also promised himself he would go above and beyond getting you that book, you had looked so interested in reading something that wasn’t from your fathers library.

“Then we’ll go home, dinner will be ready then” he says, watching you as a curious emotion crosses your face. “If, of course, you want to eat with me.”

“I would appreciate that.” you reply, looking to the floor with that shy blush again, it makes Taehyung's stomach flip. 

***

“Where have you been all day?” your father shouts from his study. Obviously, much to your displeasure he was very aware of your absence, you had thought that you had just maybe gotten away with it. You were still on a high, flying amongst the clouds with the birds from your day with Taehyung and you were struggling to find the lie that you knew you would ultimately tell him.

“Walking the grounds!” you shout back, making your way up the stairs quickly so he wouldn’t see the dress you had borrowed from Taehyung's sister. Your father could be rude and inconsiderate, but he would definitely notice your different clothes. When he doesn’t reply, you realise you’d gotten away with it, and after shutting the door to your bedchamber / art room, you allow yourself to fly onto your bed, little specks of dust catapulting upwards with your disturbance. They dance around each other in the bars of light. Taehyung had insisted on walking you home, naturally, and he had kissed you again on your doorstep the way he had the night before. With one hand tangled through your hair and another gripping your waist. You realise how naive you felt in that moment, you had never known that such things as this were possible, and now, staring at your awful painting of two people kissing across your room you almost debate chucking it into the fire. Yet, despite your naivety, you knew there was more, there was more to a kiss than what Taehyung had already shown you. You could tell because, even when he pulled away from you, you could still see his hands itching to keep hold of you, to do more. You just didn’t know what that was, and you desperately wanted to. 

Tomorrow you will go to dinner with him again. You had met Victoria today, his maid, and you had loved her, her food had been amazing too. She had fussed over you this morning like no one had ever before, correcting your corset and pinning your hair back in light curls, something you hadn’t even known you were supposed to do. All of that had to go before you came home though, your father would definitely be suspicious if your hair was styled in the modern fashion. You sigh, half hoping your father would move to London for a month like he used to do years ago. It was always at the most random of times, and you would be left to roam the grounds and house with little restraint. He hadn’t been on one of those trips in over nine months, so that hope was out the window. 

All you wanted was for you and Taehyung to be alone forever. You had known each other for two days, but you knew that it was right. 

***

Months flew by. Most nights you would go to Taehyungs and eat, but you didn’t sleep there again. He kissed you whenever he got the chance, his hands roaming more comfortably around the rest of your body, but he hadn’t gone any further with you, a further that you knew existed just out of your grasp. There were a few times where you nearly got caught, like now, your father knocking the door when your head is resting comfortably against Taehyung's shoulder, the two of you just talking and watching the fire flicker. You had to hide upstairs whilst your father discussed a very important matter.

“Good Evening, sir” Taehyung greeted him as he opened the door, he did well at hiding the shock from his voice. “You are more than welcome to come in.” 

You can imagine him stepping aside to let your father into his home, somewhere that had been free of his taint for months. “Thank you, but I am in a little bit of a rush.” 

“That is not a problem. How can I help you, sir?” Taehyung replies, with perfect calm and patience in his voice. 

“It is just that I have received an urgent message, business you see, to return to London for a month.” you can almost hear the sigh in his voice. “I would appreciate it if you could watch over the grounds for me. Y/N should be home, but I would be a fool to trust the incompatibility of women these days. You don’t mind, do you?” There's an odd humor to his last phrase that has your stomach hitting the floor. Your value to your father seemed to lessen and lessen with each passing day. 

“No problem at all.” Taehyung replies, you can hear the tightness in his voice, with the want to defend you. Your stomach that had hit the floor rises again. A whole month with just the two of you. Bliss. Paradise. A miracle. “When will you be leaving?” he asks.

“By sunrise tomorrow, I would like to be on the road before Dawn.” 

This really was a last minute trip. Wonderful. 

“I will come up and make sure everything is in order as you leave, I will see you in the morning sir.” Taehyung says, in his voice, a sense of command that even your father could and would not deny. 

You assume your father nods his thankfulness as the door shuts downstairs. You worry momentarily that he had been looking for you, and you weren’t home. “Y/N” Taehyung shouts, pulling you from your thoughts. “He has gone!” 

You're sprinting down the stairs, holding your dress so as to not fall, Taehyung is at the bottom, arms open wide, waiting for you to fall into them. You do, wrapping your arms tightly around him, and he does the same, pulling you tight to him and kissing your head. “You better run home,” he laughs. “He’ll be looking for you soon.” 

Morning comes around quickly, your outside helping load all your fathers bags onto the carriage when Taehyung appears over the hill, it takes every strength in your body not to move to him, as you were so used to doing now. He greets your father, shaking his hand. Then he’s helping you move bags, the three of you working in an odd harmony. Once everything was loaded, and your father nods goodbye as he climbs into the cabin. You allow yourself to feel the first itches of happiness, of joy. “Goodbye Father” you say, waving as you watch the coachman push forward the horses, the carriage slowly inching away from you. Taehyung and yourself stand and watch as the carriage disappears into the distance, you wait for a while, to make sure he won’t turn around again. Once you’re sure he’s not coming back, you turn to Taehyung and smile. 

There's a small grin settled on his lips, as if he is holding back a huge smile. He tilts his head at you before glancing at the house. As you turn to look at your home, with your attention away from him, he sees an opening and you squeal as he sweeps you up from the ground. Carrying you along to your door with one arm under your knees and the other under your back. You giggle as he leads you up to your home. “Show me your art again.” he asks. Unlike before, you're happy to comply. You had wanted to show him for so long. He drops you to your feet at the bottom of the stairs and you race him to the top, a race he could have easily won, but he stays behind you to catch you if you fell, or to humor your childish side that would only be happy when you won. At the top he glances down once to your heaving chest, spreading a blush across your cheeks, before allowing you to take his hand and lead you towards your chamber. Your art had improved a lot since he had last seen it. Trading in the majority of your landscape art for pictures of the most important thing in your life at the moment. Him:

Taehyung stood outside the house, his back lent against a pillar as he pulled smoke from a pipe. 

Taehyung’s hand in yours, something that had taken you ages to master. 

Taehyung with his head tilted to the side in anger as he slides a book back towards the owner.

Taehyung walking through the fields, holding one of your new parasols in his hand as the rain falls around him. 

Nearly every painting had a connection to him, he stands open mouthed at your door, his eyes flicking between the paintings and you. 

Just over a month ago, you had realised that you had loved Taehyung. At first you panicked, and didn't see him for days. Love was for people who were married, love outside of marriage was a sin, that's what you had thought anyway. But you grew to not care. Marriage or not, you loved him, and there was no undoing that. You hoped that today that same love would get across through your art. Every moment you spent painting him had been the epitome of your love for him. But now, as he stands there with an open mouth you wonder if this is perhaps a little weird, this surely wasn’t a normal thing to do, maybe he had taken it the wrong way. Perhaps he saw you as mad. 

“You make a good model” you say, hoping to break through the silence. Luckily, he laughs, turning to you and grabbing your hand. You relax, he wasn’t mad. He wasn’t about to call you a fool and storm from your house. To your surprise, he leads you to your desk, sitting you down on your wooden chair and crouching on the floor between your legs, he's staring up at you and you find yourself blushing. 

“Taehyung?” you whisper, hoping for an answer to this uncharacteristic behavior. 

“What does all of this mean Y/N” he asks, and your stomach drops, this suddenly feels like an interrogation. You gulp, hoping some divine being will answer this for you. You realise you’ve been sitting in silence for a long time when you speak.

“Um, well, they are paintings of you.” you close your eyes, hoping the confession will be easier without looking at him. “And I painted them because you mean a lot to me.”

You open your eyes again. “Is that all?” he asks. His head tilted to the side as it did when he was both confused and angry.

You knew that this thing that you had with Taehyung was not eternal. The only thing that made something like this eternal was marriage, and considering he hadn’t settled down, and he was already 28, you doubted that it was on the cards for him at all. What makes you say the next thing, you are not sure. Perhaps it was the years spent in your manor, like  Rapunzel, and it was Taehyung that had saved you, a knight in shining armor. Perhaps it was how you were sure that Taehyung already knew. But whatever it was, the words fell from your lips like they were meant to be. “Because I love you.”

Time and space freeze around the two of you. For a moment, you think Taehyung will get up and leave, he twitches as if holding back from doing that very thing. “It's okay if you need to go.” You say, trying to feign understanding instead of feeling complete disappointment, you lace your hand through his hair, letting the soft strands fall through your fingers like waves. It's an oddly intimate moment, with that confession hanging between the two of you, your promise that he could go, yet you're holding him down by touching him. He buries his face into your dress, it's an odd action that makes you freeze up, in doing this he has obscured his face from your eyes. “Taehyung?” you murmur, hoping for at least a response to your confession, was he staying or going?

Your shoes are being slipped off before you have the chance to even say anything, then Taehyung appears from the folds of your dress with a gummy smile on his face. All you can do is say his name again in confusion. Both shoes are placed slightly away from you on the floor, Taehyung had brought those for you, much to your displeasure. You had never wanted to abuse his kindness. He doesn’t reply to his name, in fact, you’re sure you're staring at a man you had never met before, he had never done anything like this. His hands run up from your feet, up your stocking covered calf. His arm was completely under your dress, fingers playing with the clasp of your stockings just above your knee. All of this, and he's staring directly at your face, watching every reaction that you make. He’s so close to you, the warm skin of his hand against your bare thighs has a feeling starting up in your lower stomach that almost makes you want to pee. You had felt like this around him before, when you were kissing, but never to this extent. Thinking that there's something wrong with you, you try to slide away on the chair, but Taehyung's finger is wrapped around your stockings and you can’t move. 

“What is it?” he says, genuine concern plastering his face, it’s the first thing he's spoken to you since you said it. 

“Feel like I need to use the bathroom” you say with a blush so profound that it feels like it covers your whole face. Instead of moving away from you and letting you use the toilet, Taehyung only smiles, a comforting light shining in his eyes. 

“You don’t need the bathroom, your body is reacting to me.” he says, and it's the most scandalous thing you've heard him say. You’d spent all these months wondering what came beyond a kiss, and your body had known all this time. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes” you breathe. The air around you lit by the morning sun lights up every small,  beautiful,  feature of Taehyung like the mole on the end of his nose, and the one on the right side of his lower lip. This is a moment you would paint. His hands rolling down one of your stockings, placing the delicate material to the side as he placed kisses to the inside of your legs, running his hands up and down your soft skin. You felt like you had ascended into another world. 

“Tell me if you need me to stop” he says, hooking his finger around your other stocking, and as he pulls it down your leg, peppering kisses as he goes you say,

“No. Don’t. Never stop” which seems to spark something in his eyes. Something untamable, and this time he chucks your stockings behind his head instead of placing them lightly to the side. You watch them as they fall on the side of one of your paintings, the stocking soaking up and blurring the fresh paint. You couldn’t bring yourself to care. In fact, you wanted Taehyung to ruin everything about you, and paint it fresh. Only him.

With your dress above your knees, Taehyung has one of your legs flung over one of his shoulders. Constantly kneading the flesh of your calf. Then, he's stepping back, standing above you as you fight to regain the breathing you didn't realise you lost. He stands there for a moment, just watching your chest heave against the confinements of your corset. "Do you wish to keep going?" He asks.

"Yes, please" you say, reaching a hand up to him. He takes it, the rustling of your dress the only sound as he pulls you from the chair. He pulls you onto his lips, his mouth catching yours easily, he does what he always does, putting a hand on your waist, holding you close to him as all the blood in your body rushes to your lower stomach. Then he's walking you backwards, weaving you through all your paint points and paintings. There's a humorous side to it that has you smiling into the kiss. You weren't sure where he was taking you, but you let him take you there. When your legs hit the cold metal of the side of your bed, you tense a little. Taehyung pulls away from the kiss, placing a light kiss to your forehead, but he keeps you close, both arms around you, smiling down at you. 

"Do you know where this is going?" He asks. playing with the laces at the back of your dress. 

"No," you say. You had very little idea of the adult world, you'd read a book once 'A maiden's guide to marriage.' you assumed it had been your mother's before she married your dad. Sex. But you had assumed that was something only married people could do. 'Sex outside of matrimony is a sin" the book had read. "Is it a sin?" You ask, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Are you calling me a sinner?" He asks, returning that same open eyed vulnerability to you. Alongside it is a playful smile, one that has you smiling back.

"Perhaps" you say. Smiling. 

"Normally this is reserved for marriage" he says, tilting his head. 

"I know" you breathe as he begins to pull at the laces of your dress.

"Okay" he breathes, he leans down, going for a kiss, but instead of your lips he kisses your neck and all you can do is whine. You had never made such a noise before in your life. Tangling in the delicate laces, his fingers undo your dress, you suddenly feel the weight of this situation. 

"Will I be ruined?" you whisper, as he sucks at your neck. Though he pulls away from you to reply, a frown seated on his lips.

"Maybe, in the prying eyes of society. Yes." at his words, you feel your mouth flatten into a frown.

"Will you see me as ruined?" you ask.

"No. Never." He's holding the side of your face, peppering kisses on your hairline. His other hand stays behind your back, holding your dress together. "We don't have to do anything" he reminds you, nothing but sincerity in his eyes. You remember what you had thought earlier, that you wanted Taehyung to ruin every single part of you. You had meant that, 

"I want to do this" you say, staring into the delicious deep brown of his eyes. "With you." Your voice is sure, you're confident you'll be fine. All that matters is Taehyung stays with you even after, and you know he will, maybe not in marriage but always in friendship.

"I'm going to let go of this now." he says, giving a light tug on the laces of the dress that he's holding up to indicate what he's talking about. Just before he does he tells you "I'm going to talk you through every step of this, so you know if you need to tell me to stop."

You manage to murmur an "Okay" before your dress is released. It falls, pooling around your waist. Left exposed to the eyes of Taehyung and the cool air, your skin rises into little bumps. The intricate details of your corset is what holds your breasts into place as Taehyung does nothing but stare at you. "Taehyung?" you whisper, hoping to distract him from you.

"Mmmh" he replies, looking up at your eyes. "What's wrong?"

"You were staring" you reply, the need to pull away from him and fold into yourself is overwhelming.

"Because you're so beautiful" he smiles back, bunching your dress up in his hands, as if to pull it over your head. "Could stare at you for hours, I'm going to pull this over your head now, okay?"

You think you murmur okay, but everything seems a little blurry to you. Either way, you allow him to pull your dress over your head, raising your arms to help him get easier access. “See,” he begins “Absolutely beautiful.” he leans down, pressing a kiss to each side of your chest, all whilst maintaining eye contact with you. He folds up your dress carefully, placing it on the back of your wooden chair. It was the first dress he had brought you, the same day as the man at the bookshop spat in your face for being a woman. It was difficult being a woman, you had known that before Taehyung, but that day had solidified it for you. Taehyung kisses you on the forehead. “Now for these.”

He kisses you on the neck, sucking harsh marks onto your skin, whilst pulling at the laces of your undergarments. “If you need me to stop-”

“No, don’t stop,” you say. He smiles before doing as you requested and not stopping, he pulls down your undergarments, hardly even looking at you below the waist despite being completely bare to him, then he’s onto your corset, untying the the bow quickly, delicately pulling apart the laces and slipping it over your head. You cover your breasts on instinct, once he’s placed your corset gently to the side, he stares at you with such softness in his eyes, such kindness, that when he reaches up to pull your hands away, you let him. He stares at you for a moment, you wonder if he notices that one seems ever so slightly bigger than the other. You wonder if he’s judging you. 

You were unsure if this was how it worked, you being completely bare and him being completely clothed, but Taehyung didn’t seem to care either way. He mumbles something you don’t catch, before practically headbutting your left breast, causing you to cry out as he sucks at one of your nipples. He has his hands on your bum cheeks, holding you in place as he pulls at your nipples with his teeth, your head thrown back in pleasure, you had never felt anything like this in your life.

“Oh my goodness” you breathe, your hands felt empty, so you threaded them through Taehyung's hair. He switches nipples, the sensation remains painful but you feel like you’re floating on a cloud. Some instinct takes over you, knowing that this can’t go any further if Taehyung remains completely clothed, you begin to fiddle with the top buttons of his shirt, hoping that they’d pop open. He whines as your fingers brush his skin, it’s as if your touch distracts him away from your breasts as he pulls away and helps you unbutton his shirt. He’s breathing heavily, chest heaving up and down under your palms, and so are you as you see his skin, touch his skin. His chest is soft to the touch, his stomach smooth under your hands. His shirt joins your dress on the other side of the room, all you can do is stare at him, at the way he’s shaped, how smooth he looks. You run your hands up and down his body, even when he’s leading you backwards on the bed, until your back touches the neatly organised sheets. He hovers over you, his knee slotted in between your thighs, the fabric from his trousers rubs blissfully against your naked centre. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, when you nod eagerly he smiles. “I wanna go down on you, but we’ll save that for another time”

“Down on-?” you begin, confused at this new term.

“I’ll explain it another time. Can you open your legs?” you do as you’re instructed, the new phrase being quickly forgotten as he stands up, looking down at you wide open for him. Taehyung reaches down, grabbing your hand lightly. You think he’s going to kiss it, like they do at balls and dances, but instead he leads it down your body, resting it atop the small mound of hair above your area. “Can you touch yourself? Need to make sure you’re super prepped and comfortable.”

With the way he talks, the surety that you know what you're doing, you’re almost embarrassed to say that you didn’t know what that was, you had never touched yourself in your life, only in the bath, and that had only been to clean. With the painting of confusion sketched into your features, Taehyung’s mouth falls to the side. You feel wrong, as if you had missed out on something important in your life. “I am sorry” you apologise, feeling guilty for your naivety. 

He doesn’t respond, instead he starts undoing the laces of his trousers, pulling them down over his legs and kicking them to the side, leaving him in just his undergarments, you almost wish he had taken them off too. Then he drops to his knees, his face level with your intimate area. You can feel his breath against your skin. “What do you know about being a woman?” he asks. When you reply with,

“Not much”

He kisses the inside of your thigh. “Place your hand here.” he says, indicating for you to put your palm on your mound of hair, and you do. “Use your middle finger to rub this spot. I am going to touch you.” When you don’t stop him, he reaches up between your legs and presses his finger straight on what seemed to be a ball of nerves, for you’re almost shooting up the bed with the sudden shocking pleasure of it. “This is your clitoris,” he says. “It makes you feel good.”

You do as you’re told, using your finger to lightly rub around the clitoris, it felt so good, you could see what Taehyung meant. Whilst you circle this new discovery, Taehyung stands up again, watching your hand as he undoes the final laces of his undergarments. You wanted to throw your head back, but you also wanted to watch him. This part, you had been expecting. Somehow, as you had grown up, regardless if it had it been from the animals that surrounded you on the farms or just some kind of knowledge that everyone was born with, but you knew that that was a penis, and in that moment you knew that it was to go inside of you. Taehyung's penis, was beautiful, and had you ever seen another penis in your life, before or after this moment, you know it could not have been compared to Taehyungs. It was quite big, and you wondered what part of you could accommodate such a thing as that, it was also hard, erect, pressing against his stomach like something or someone had angered it. You’re sure your mouth falls open with shock. You don’t miss the smug smile that adorns his lips, this was something he was proud of. You could see why. 

You feel so safe with him, so at home, that when he runs a finger through the folds of skin just below your clit, you only revel in the feeling of his skin on yours, the shock of pleasure it sends up your core. He mutters something about being “wet” before climbing back on top of you, moving your hand away from your clit at the same time. “Are you ready?” he asks. You nod your head, but before he does anything he leans down, connecting your lips. The two of you stay like that for a while, Taehyung relaxes his arms that were holding him up from touching your body. He’s pressed against you entirely, his shaft pressing into your thigh. You had never been close to someone so emotionally as this. You feel so safe, so loved, you almost cry. This is where you wanted to be for eternity, between Taehyung and bedsheets. When he pulls away from the kiss, his eyes are dilated, wide as if he was holding something feral back, he hides the animalistic look from his eyes by leaning down to kiss your neck. 

When he pulls away again, leaving angry welts on your neck, his eyes are soft again. “Are you okay?” you ask him, running your hands up and down his arms. 

“Yeah, are you?” he asks.

“Yeah. I am good.” you reply, the two of you smiling. 

“It might hurt, we don’t have to do this, if you’re not ready.” he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I am ready. I trust you.” 

“Okay” he breathes, as he presses up to your center. “I am going to push my cock in now.” 

Cock. That was another new one. You don’t have long to think about it as he pushes his cock against your entrance. It takes him a considerable deal of effort to even push past an inch of you, but he stops, letting you adjust to the intrusion and the feeling of him inside of you. 

This was either hell, indicated by the pain this brought. Or heaven, due to the sparks you felt coming from your core, the warmth spreading along every bone in your body. Probably hell you think, this was a sin. Taehyung watches every breath you make, every look on your face as he pushes in another inch. Tears prick into your eyes here, but Taehyung kisses them away, his heart-shaped lips wet from the moisture of your eyes. “Just breathe,” he suggests. You had stopped breathing at some point, holding your breath in pain, but when you breathe again, steadily and heavily, the pain wears off.

“I am okay,” you smile up at him. And in the attempts to make a joke, you say “Push your cock in more.” 

“Don’t say that again” he replies, muttering something about “innocence” before doing as you instructed anyways, pushing himself in another inch. He does this a couple more times until your pubic bones are flush against each other and you can feel him so deep into your stomach it's impossible to think of anything else beyond him, beyond how good you felt. There was pain there, waiting to flare up, waiting to protrude over the pleasure, but for the moment all you felt was a tightening pressure in your core. Taehyung spends this time running his lips up and down your skin, kissing over your scrunched up eyes, and asking you every couple of seconds if you were okay, each time you replied with a breathless yes. 

He pulls out, glancing down at his slick covered cock, before starting the process all over again, this time faster. The pain flares and dwindles again, like a flame. 

Again, he pulls out, pushes in, slowly.

Pulls out, pushes in.

Until he’s not pulling out completely, his movements fluid, like the brook between your houses as he transitions from pushing to pulling. The pain was non-existent now. With your eyes rolled back into your head, and your hands gripping onto his arms, your nails scratching down his back, you never want this to end. “Feels so good” you manage to say, your breath caught on each push in of his cock. 

“It’s only me that can make you feel like this” he tells you, he looks half out of it now, his eyes distant but still loving. “Only me.” 

“Only you.” There's a surge of pressure in your stomach, a building power that you were almost too scared to let free. Somehow, your body seems to communicate this to Taehyung.

“Don’t look so scared, it's an orgasm, it’ll feel amazing.” he moans a little before speaking again. “Let it go.” 

You do. Obeying him. White light blinds you, but you can still see Taehyung moving in and out of your vision with every thrust. It's like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, nothing you will experience again unless it was with Taehyung. It’s like jumping off a cliff, enjoying the view as you fall, like a brutal ending, or a happy one. This was a fairytale, a fantasy you hadn’t known you were waiting for. The bliss of feeling so full of him, so consumed by him. You never wanted this to end, you wanted him to be inside of you forever, he fitted so well. Through your orgasm he sucks on the flesh around your nipples again, leaving red marks over your upper body. You never wanted these marks to leave, you wanted them to be an eternal product of your love for Taehyung. You are completely out of it for a moment, but when you return to clarity, even with all your limbs tingling, the sensation of Taehyung's thrusting seems to have increased tenfold, it hurts in a beautiful way. 

He smiles at you, it's a soft smile, before wincing in pleasure and thrusting faster, already you can feel another pressure in your lower stomach. “I'm close,” he mumbles, bringing one of his hands down to press onto your clit.

***

Taehyung couldn’t think. Couldn’t think beyond how good this felt, how close he was and how desperately he wanted to bring you along with him for a second time. Your face when you had orgasmed the first time was unforgettable, he had never heard someone moan so loudly in his life, face scrunched up in that tumbling feeling of pleasure. He had done that to you, and he was damned for being proud. No one would ever get this experience of you again, he knew that, could see the future now. So he sucked at your breasts again, marking you as his for everyone else to see. 

The second he touched your clit he knew you were close again, tightening around him like a vice. “Together” he manages to say, refraining from going too fast and hurting you. When he orgasms, his essence shooting into you with each sloppy thrust, he contemplates the use of his seed, beyond pleasure. As he watches you writhe under him, twisting and turning in the sheets as you orgasm again, shocked with the feeling of his cum inside of you, he’s shocked to realise he wants to get you pregnant. Wants to see your stomach rounded with the product of this, have versions of you and him running around in his life. He had never wanted this before, been too scared to have this before. Tears well up in the corner of his eyes, tears that you brush away as they fall down his cheeks and he goes soft inside of you. He should be embarrassed, men shouldn’t cry. But you didn’t judge him, he felt safe.  

Damn the knees and the rings. He thinks as he falls against you, smothering you in his weight, but remaining inside of you, plugging his seed into you until it could take root. He tries to speak, but it comes out inaudible, something like “mazer ze.”

Which only makes you laugh. “Sorry?” you ask, a massive smile on your face.

This time, his words came out right. “Marry me.” 

Your smile drops, eyes going wide. “My father-”

“Don’t think of him, we’ll find a way around him, only think of me.”

[enidsinclajr]

here are the fics sitting in my drafts (and by drafts, i mean outlines and ideas that are collecting dust for most of these. some of these have a decent amount written tho hehe)

bookstore au - enid works in this giant 24 hour bookstore where wednesday is a regular who comes to read all the time and so enid leaves her notes in books. yoko is a barista at the attached cafe lol (working on this one - it's like halfway done)

band au - enid's in a band and wednesday is a writer who writes an article on them. enid goes on tour and they start talking through emails/texts while enid is on the road

teen wolf au - popular girl enid gets bit by a werewolf and the only person who can help her is wednesday

other teen wolf-ish au - follows the show except no laurel/crackstone and enid doesn't wolf out. because she can't wolf out, something like the nogitsune possesses her and we get an evil/dark enid

begin again au (suggested by a commenter) - enid meets wednesday in a cafe post ajax breakup (ALMOST DONE WITH THIS ONE)

high school au (non like, supernatural or whatever) - where enid is the popular kid who is forced to work with weird, loner wednesday after her senior year goes up in flames

detective/fbi au - fbi agent enid is sent to the small town of jericho to investigate a serial killer, and her number one suspect might be detective wednesday addams

white streak in wednesday's hair au - idk what to call this but basically wednesday gets this white streak in her hair from goody. she asks enid for help to get it out and it's just fluff LOL

pizza delivery driver au - where enid is the only pizza delivery driver brave enough to deliver to the addams residence. then her car breaks down or something LOL

they both die at the end au - based off of the book it's obvious what happens to them but the buildup of them getting to know each other one night would be great and i feel like the two of them would slot into this universe well with their opposite opinions on dying/how they cope with it

infinity train au - if you haven't seen this show HIGHLY recommend. basically people get trapped on an otherworldly train and the only way to get off is to make the number they get assigned go to down to zero, which usually involves going on some journey about growing as a person. SO much potential here for the two of them working on themselves, you could have them arrive together or meet on the train, etc. it would be sooo dope

wednesday addams guide to living with a werewolf - a bunch of random out of order one shots kinda case file style of things wednesday learns about enid being a werewolf. it's just a bunch of fluff with werewolf lore because i love werewolves lol

[insomnia-moon]

i care IMMENSELY and need to know the teams the gyms the story and all of it my hands are open my listening ears are on please please please 🤲🏻

kendy, kendy, kendy!! sorry, that this took so long it has been an absolutely wildly busy/burnt out point in my life!!!

@reveluving idk if you’re a big pkmn girly, but i feel like you would love this too 👉🏾👈🏾

i actually made teams for like 8 characters for my batman fics so let me know if you want to see another one for my damian/oc wip. 🥺

for jason and my self-ship oc, bella

jason would be a dark-type gym leader by day, and definitely the leader of a violent criminal organization by night.

but what he’s doing isn’t too bad! he controls nightclubs, underground battling rings, and casinos like the ones in the game. just like in canon though, he never lets anybody harm children and he’ll hunt down any trainers in his area that are found to be abusive.

he’s tall, tough and scary but he’s sweet to his pokémon. if a kid loses to him at the gym, he won’t even take the prize money, he’ll just buy them ice cream! if teenagers or anyone older loses to his gym, he’ll just donate the prize money to local homeless shelters and places that house less fortunate children and pokémon. (not like he needs it with all of the money he makes.)

i will leave whether or not he kills people to how dark you interpret the universe to be; he would never harm a pokémon, though. anybody else remember when lance straight up murdered a team rocket member in gold/silver?

anyway this is his team!!

shiny duskull; it’s less of a pokémon he uses for battling and more just his constant companion. it’s his partner, despite being a ghost type because it’s red, masked, represents the grim reaper/death, and is a symbol of scared, crying children.

houndoom: also carries the imagery of death/hell, but it represents and his love for dogs, especially ace the bat-hound!

scrafty: it’s based on street fashion and being a delinquent, rebellious hoodlum, which fits pretty well given jason’s upbringing. duskull is his partner, but scraggy was probably the first pokémon he had.

absol: it’s a protector especially to children but is misunderstood constantly because people think it’s a bad omen of destruction, which reminds me of his reputation :(

honchcrow: it’s a mob boss, there’s not much else to say.

bisharp: wears metallic red armor and the pokédex calls it ruthless and unchanging in expression when it hunts and kills. it also usually has an army of smaller pokémon that do a lot of fighting and cutting down for it.

my oc isabella works at a bookstore, which is where her romance with jason blossoms. she’s down to earth and represents the every day people of gotham in a way that the batfamily can’t, so she would definitely be a normal type trainer; similar to how lenora in bw runs her normal-type gym out of a library in the back of a museum.

the bookstore however wouldn’t be a certified gym by the league, rather it’s more of a training space for people who want to research and practice more - she’d probably limit herself to one battle a day at the very end of her shift as a way to destress and if you win, you can get any book of your choosing for free!

jason won several times and still paid ‘as a tip’ when they first met, just so she would like him more. When she tried to return it, he only agreed to take it back if he could use it to take her on a date :(

here’s her team:

maushold: while in my actual stories, she’s comically afraid of mice, she and jason end up having a set of twins girls! plus maushold is just an inside joke with my sister who helps me develop a lot of my batman fanfiction ideas. 🥰

lopunny: because of the way it looks, people forget that lopunny can kick your ass. which is the same as isabella, who isn’t a trained fighter, but could absolutely sock you out. plus, especially with its mega evolution, lopunny takes a lot of inspiration from dancing, and isabella represents the latin side of my heritage, by being a bachatera/salsera! again, this is a love letter to my sister who’s 2nd fav is buneary!

eevee: she’s adaptable! plus, like jason, she loves puppies!

blissey: for her calming, motherly influence! (if trainers were allowed to 7 pokemon, i’d give her a kangaskhan for this too!)

cyclizar: come on. you can’t marry jason todd, without loving motorcycle rides. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

noctowl: her partner! represents her love for books and she’s a night owl, like everyone in gotham!

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

I got caught shoplifting a few weeks ago so Im gonna have a court proceeding (? if thats what you call it in english idk) in a couple hours and Im a little bit nervous but the shit I stole was only worth 7€ and it was my first time getting caught so I dont think it'll be too big of a deal. Honestly Im just glad I didnt get caught while I was stealing ~85€ worth of acotar books, because my punishment would not only be wayyyy harsher it would also just be embarrassing, imagine stealing sjm books when theres so many good books you could steal from a bookstore

Anyway, speaking of acotar books, its livebloggin time. Last time, Feyre and Rhysand came to this cabin in the woods/inn in the middle of nowhere and stayed in a room thats so small that you couldnt even have sex in it and then they had sex. not penetrative sex, they just fingered each other. Which is to say Rhysand fingered her vagina and Feyre fingered his wings because god forbid a man be on the receiving end for anything other than a blowjob. Also, I guess Mor, Cassian and Azriel are somewhere else? I didnt wanna say anything about them being gone bc I just kinda assumed they were staying with Feysand but they seem to be gone. whatever I dont care about those guys anyway

Chapter 49

Feyres internal declarations of love and wanting to be with Rhys forever feel very shallow when you consider the fact that 1) theyve only had like 3 months worth of non-traumatic interactions with eachother, and 2) she thought the exact same way about Tamlin and then she DIED FOR HIM and then she left him after barely half a year

'"You know exactly that I would do anything for my people and my family."' 'Your people' consisting of one (1) city

Feyre's pussy feels slightly raw from getting fingered hours ago?? thats not a good sign.

'"I'm not gonna turn away from you. Not from you," I promised him quietly.' honestly, i can believe that, if you can fully forgive someone for physically torturing and sexually assaulting you after like a month or two you can forgive them anything, I have no idea why Rhys would be worried about that

can you imagine if Rhysand got shot with poisoned arrows and he just died right here. Life could be a dream but alas, I live in a nightmare world

I actually really like Feyre going feral over her love interest like this (even if that love interest is Rhys) I dont we're gonna get much more of that in this series so I shall savour it

Yeah, now that she mentions it, how come one ash arrow was enough to straight up kill Andras but Rhysand gets hit by like a dozen and hes just fine after this. I guess it could be that Feyre shot Andras in the eye so it was more lethal than Rhys getting shot in the back and wings but still, afaik there are no longterm consequences from this, like hes not even gonna have to deal with idk, his back hurting at certain points or something

Im not a fan of Feyre being so murderhappy now when she was reluctant to even kill animals at the start of this book, like at a certain point Im not so much bothered by Feyre's character being retconned from ACOTAR but her character from start of ACOMAF

Damn I didnt think the sex would be anything other than a pointless diversion, but here it is, being plot relevant

How come these guys have been torturing him by just stringing him up and leaving the arrows while they whip him, if I was an evil torturer and had just gotten my hands on a guy with wings Im sawing those badboys off immediately. or should i say batboys ahahahha.hahha

Oh, just a splinter of ashwood can he deadly but of course Rhysand is gonna be pretty much fine after being impaled with seven whole arrows

'"And Elain would love [Velaris], I'm sure of it. Although she would probably cling to Azriel the whole time, looking for safety."' smth about that line feels icky to me, I think its the fact that I dont think Elain actually properly interacted with Azriel at this point and also, Velaris is a perfect paradisical city what on earth would she need his protection for there

ughhhh all this bullshit with the dresser is so unbearably annoying

I guess I'll see how this all actually pans out next chapter, but right now I gotta say I dont like the fact that Rhysand's wounds just heal on their own, I couldve used some good whump with him. And Im not just saying that because I dont like him and Im a sadistic little bitch, even though both of those things are true, Im saying this because I think seeing him in a vulnerable position for an extended time would make me like him more

[midnightstay-blog]

🌙🌹 Stranger from that night. 🌙🌹

Romance🌹 | Scenario✨ | Cliffhanger☄️

Here's a little something for Valentine's Day. I wrote this sometime last year. Maybe I'll make this into a longer story later.But idk 🤷🏿‍♀️

Happy Valentine’s Day! 🤍 🥰

Rating : G

Words total: 606.

Sitting off to the side she watches as everyone dances in the middle of the ballroom. One by one. Person by person everyone finds themselves on the dance floor. Eventually, it is just her and a few other people near the set of tables. That is until the person of the hour finally makes an appearance. Walking into the room they slowly look around until their eyes land on her. Making their way over to her they take a deep breath before extending their hand out to hers. She takes a moment to examine the hand before reluctantly taking it. They make their way to the center of the dance floor as everyone begins to stare in their direction. As the two come together and begin their dance she leans in and whispers. " I'm sorry if I step on your feet " "Admittedly I'm not much of a slow dancer" she confesses. They smile at her words and lean in placing their hand on her waist and pulling her closer in the same motion before responding. " don't worry about it too much" "Besides you could always stand on my feet" She smiles to herself before she is lifted into the air briefly and set on top of their feet. The music begins to play and the two move swiftly around the room. Eventually, they are so wrapped up in their dance that they don't notice that everyone else has stopped and pulled out their phones to record the moment. After some time the song comes to an end and the two part. Not wanting the moment to end they grab her hand and make their way out of the building to the courtyard. "Thank you for the dance," she says as she smiles glancing at the ground. "No Thank you" he replied. "For what?" she asked confused. " That was the first time in a while I've danced with someone and just felt like myself" they reply grinning a little. "Felt..." "Seen" she finished. "Yeah.. exactly". Their grin widened a little. They walked for a while in a comfortable silence before they broke it. " I never did get your name," they asked her But before she could reply they were interrupted by who she could only assume was one of the mystery person's friends. "Yo there you are everyone is looking for you" They look at their friend with a grimace before replying. "Hey I'm kinda in the middle of something can it wait" The friend looked between the two before continuing. " Sorry but the head of the brand is looking for you and your manager asked me to come find you" The mystery person's grimace grew deeper before turning back to her and apologizing. "I'm so sorry but I have to go but I would love to see you again" Before she could reply they were dragged back into the party. Not too long after that day, she was in the local bookstore and her phone began to bing repeatedly. Checking it she noticed an influx of notifications. Clicking on her social media she noticed that she had been tagged in a post with the mystery person from the previous night. However, they wear not just a regular person but an international celebrity. Seeing the name across her screen she stood in the middle of the store in shock until her phone began to ring. Answering it a voice came through from the other end. The same voice she had heard that night. "Hi" She paused for a moment examining the screen before placing the phone back to her ear. "Hi..."

[yusuke-of-valla]

Insane thoughts about non-SEES characters

You've brought up Mamoru before but I just think the fact that he ultimately drops out of high school to go work in a factory would raise a lot of question in Minato's head about what he should do in order to take care of the siblings.

The kids Yuko coaches in her Social Link are about Yusuke's age.

Hamuko misses Minato's summer track/kendo/swim meet because she's in Inaba with the volleyball/tennis team.

Maiko is everyone's friend. She can be pen pals with the younger kids after moving away.

You have the really funny opportunity to have Naoto cross paths with Rise while she's in town for the show that ultimately gets canceled due to the Hermit Shadow.

The Temperance Link is shared but the fact that Hamuko can actually make items during it and Minato can't leads me to believe that he just sucks at sewing. Hamuko makes little dolls and purses for the kids.

Bunkichi and Mitsuko give them even more snacks for the rotating cast of children that they keep bringing to the bookstore.

One of the Culture Club options - and the only option in Reload - is Art Club. Keisuke, Minato, and Fuuka can all be in Art Club. (Keisuke does show up as president of the Photography Club in Junpei's link but can be easily replaced.)

Maiko and Bunkichi are both among the people who get lost in Tartarus.

I knew about Maiko and Bunkichi! I remember thinking that's a really cool way to tie your social links into the main plot

Maiko also ends up friends with Ken I think during the Kyoto trip and while the teens are in summer school they have their own little weird adventure.

Wait hold on we can combine these Maiko getting kidnapped happens during the Kyoto trip and the kids+Koromaru stage a potentially ill-advised rescue trip (they're fine)

I love the implication that Minato just sucks at making things. There's probably a gendered analysis to be made about how Hamuko can cook and sew in her social links but Minato can't but in my heart it's just because Minato's cringe (speaking of, Sumire deserves to be the unofficial third memeber of Fuuka's cooking club)

Speaking of unofficial club members I think Yusuke hears that Minato and Fuuka are in the art club and is just fucking vibrating but doesn't say anything because he doesn't want to impose and then Minato invites him along and he is soooo excited to be able to make art with Minato and half the time no one understands what he's saying because he's been devouring art theory textbooks since he could read but he still takes the first thing Minato drew and gave him and keeps it under his pillow for good luck (idk how much of an Art Nerd Keisuke is but I feel like even without Madarame's influence Yusuke talks like an art history grad student at age 8 so he may or may not be able to follow.)

Club trip to the art museum you have never seen a child more excited outside of a candy store

Kasumi and Sumire train with Yuko even though her kids are a little older because they can keep up and Kasumi really wanted to

Naoto and Rise meeting early on would be so funny I think Naoto should do something incredibly embarassing and after Naoto is a complete badass In Persona 4 because he already has a Persona Rise is like "wait didn't you fall into the fountain at Pawlonia Mall two years ago"

I do think Minato and Hamuko being worried about not doing enough to support their siblings is a part of their arc because. You know basically being in charge at age 8 and having a really unstable home life but I have not narrowed down a vibe I like for both of them. I think Minato seeing Mamoru and thinking maybe he's been too happy to be distant and let the others do their own thing would def be interesting though