#i just realised i never coloured the white part of his shoe actually white„ i just left it transparent—

[thegrimreepurr]

so my friend, @be-fae-do-crime , had this AMAZING idea

it was just five words but it was gorgeous and i present to you:

worm on a string!nightmare :D

ignore how i called him silly worm!nightmare in the thing, i forgot what they were called when i was drawing him

anyway, his nicknames are scill and squir, though he most often goes by scill ✨

fun fact: i sorta based his jacket off of an 80s ski jacket, since the squirmels [worms on strings] were made in 1977, which is close enough to 1980

his personality is still a work in progress, so some of the facts shown there may very well change ^^

[queenshelby]

Chemical Reactions (P. 2)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Smut in later parts, Age-Gap, Infidelity

Words: 1,867

Note: The fic is spoiler free and fantasy.

Later that day…

In the lavatory, you inspected your appearance for a moment. You were wearing an embroidered peasant blouse paired with a plain cardigan, a dark coloured skirt and a set of comfortable shoes. Your hair was pulled back in a random clip which, for the meeting with Dr Oppenheimer, you decided to remove. You looked much better with your hair being open and, just as you looked at yourself again, you felt a pang of anxiety, wondering what Dr Oppenheimer was truly thinking of you.

Did he think that you were smart and worthy his attention or did he simply took pity in you because you were a woman?

You then scrunched your eyebrows after a second of thought and adjusted your bag on your shoulder to prepare to face the beast.

For some reason, this man intimidated you and that also, somewhat, aroused you which was a combination of feelings that you never felt before.

Thus, almost hesitantly, you arrived at the lecture room at around 5 o’clock, which was almost thirty minutes after your last class for the day had finished and, when you walked into the somewhat dingy room, you saw him, standing there, looking at am array of calculations.

"You are late” Dr Oppenheimer then remarked without even looking at you at first before, finally, turning around.

"You didn't actually give me a time..."  you began to say as you walked towards him and watched him furrow his eyebrows.

“No, I suppose I didn’t” Dr Oppenheimer acknowledged before turning the chalkboard over so that you could not see his writing and calculations at all.

“Have you figured the problem with your calculation yet?” you asked almost bluntly as, awkwardly, you stood in front of him. Your lab coat was draped over your left forearm while your right hand held your bag's strap to your shoulder.

You kept your eyes forward, directly in line with where his neck met his chest before looking up into his deep blue eyes which, by this point, were full of questions.

“Who says that there is a problem with my calculations?” Dr Oppenheimer then asked almost out of the blue and a short moment passed before he took your coat and bag from your hands, laying them on the nearest table.

“I think that you took a wrong turn somewhere and…” you began to stammer just before released the nervous breath which you did not realise you were holding until he began to speak again.

“Sit, please” he gestured and, just after you complied with his request and sat down in front of his large wooden desk, you could feel Dr Oppenheimer’s presence next to you.

“Do you have a pen and some paper?” you asked and, of course, he did.

“Of course” Dr Oppenheimer said as he placed two white pieces of paper and a freshly sharpened pencil in front of you.

“Now, please show me your calculations” he then said while he stepped back but, even though he decided to give him some space, you could see him out of the corner of your eye, watching you as you worked.

You wrote down formula after formula, directly from your head and whilst this was nothing but theory, you imagined every single reaction in the back of your mind.

You were fast and Dr Oppenheimer’s mouth hung open as he watched you work, focusing intently to be sure that it all made sense until, suddenly, your mind went blank. The proximity was making you hot and you felt yourself burning up under your blouse.

“That’s it?” Dr Oppenheimer thus asked and you shook your head.

“I just lost my train of thought, again…” you said, sounding like an idiot, causing the professor to chuckle.

“Am I making you nervous?” he then asked and, as if you had not already embarrassed yourself enough, you nodded somewhat dumbfounded.

“Right. My apologies. I will just take a seat next to you” he then said before pulling another chair to the table and sitting down right next to you which did not make this situation any better whatsoever.

Of course, he was no longer towering over you, but he was now much closer to you than he was before, acting and behaving almost like an equal.

“Go on then” he said, wanting to resume your work while the heat of his body began to burn you. You squirmed uncomfortably on your stool until you had to put the pen down to take off your cardigan which, by this point, was still partially covering your blouse.

"What is it?” Dr Oppenheimer then asked somewhat concerned but you shook it off.

"Nothing, I am just hot" you said plainly before taking in a deep breath and resuming your calculations which is also when Dr Oppenheimer became more interested in again and decided that he needed a better view.

You were now getting to the point of where you assumed he made a mistake and he was intrigued by the route you were taking in your formula.

“Explain it to me” he demanded, wanting to know why you are calculating the chemical reaction in the way you were and you had no problem telling him, in scientific terms, as to how you arrived at your conclusions.

As such, you talked and talked while squirming around until, eventually, you got back into position and wrote down another formula, which was one Dr Oppenheimer had not considered before and, just as you placed pen on paper again, you felt something touch your neck. Not soft enough to be hair brushing your neck, but not enough pressure to feel entirely deliberate.

“You aren’t even looking?” you then said as you otherwise stayed completely still when felt Dr Oppenheimer adjust your twisted necklace.

“Because you did it wrong” he responded as he picked up the chain and turned the jewellery until the clasp is on the back, where he dropped it back onto the nape of your neck. If you did not know better, you would have thought you felt his fingertips linger a little longer on your skin than they should have lingered there, but you could not be too sure.

“I did? How?” you asked while thinking about the science as well as how his fingertips felt on you, raising goosebumps on your bare skin. Him moving your necklace would have been harmless and platonic if it was not for that hesitation at the end of the action. The half a second too long that his hand remained on you, brushing lightly at the skin on the side of your neck.

“Allow me” the professor then said before taring up one of your pages and giving a plain piece of paper to write on.

He then took the pen from your hand and wrote down what you had written until you took this wrong turn in your calculations, which is where he halted and prompted you to think.

“Think about implosion, not explosion” he said and, almost immediately, the penny dropped and you gently grabbed the end of the pencil he was holding while making sure to let one finger feather a touch onto one of his.

"May I?" you say quietly, feeling his eyes on the side of your face as you looked at the pencil. The whole exchange only lasted a couple of seconds before he released the utensil and you leaned down over the paper while letting your shoulder brush his.

"Is that right now?" you then asked innocently after finishing the formula, turning to look at him as you gauged his reaction. This was the first time you had really looked at him since he first started explaining where you went wrong, and you were not sure what you expected, but it was not this.

Dr Oppenheimer only had his left hand resting on the table now, his chest turned towards you as he searched your face and smiled. You smiled back and held his gaze, trying to think of something to break the moment while keeping the upper hand.

“I am impressed but…” he then began to say and, instead of saying anything to him in response, you remembered the pencil you were holding and quickly moved to hold it between you and him. Without looking at it, he reached forward and covered your hand with his, those blue eyes on the verge of pouring into you. He then slid the pencil out of your hand and leaned down one more time, changing one of your subtraction signs to an addition. In your mind, you honed in on the mistake, cursing his distraction for causing you to make a mistake in front of him.

"Now, you're perfect" Dr Oppenheimer then said nonchalantly as he stood back up.

“Hmm” you stammered while trying not to react to his comment, or the fact that he used your own tactics against you.

Considering the moment gone, you picked up the paper and retreated in order to quickly get out of there as you could not help but think that you made things almost awkward now. Not only did you have more questions now than you did previously, you feared you may have moved you both in a direction that bordered on inappropriateness.

Obviously, you were flirting with him and he was a married man in respect of whom you got no read on when it came to his intentions towards you, because you were so consumed by the moment. You were consumed to his body's reaction to yours, his eyes, his parting comment, saying that “now you’re perfect”…

You then recalled the moments when you feared that your cover was blown, that he caught on to what you were doing, namely flirting with him. Part of you hoped that he thought he was flattering himself, similar to how you have been feeling, but something about this man told you he scarcely denied his ego satisfaction.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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[lululandd]

Ok I can't stop thinking about the froggie statues in the plants. (Find all the froggie figurines!) Reader should keep a teeny tiny one in her pocket so that when (if?) Ghost eventually invites her inside, she can sneak one in his apartment. 🐸

at peace;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader

wordcount: 1205

warning: fluff, froggies, simon riley is a fucking mess, part 2 of this fic

note: also on ao3

summary: what tendy said.

The last time he felt nervous to the point of nausea was a year ago, when he learnt of Graves and Shepherd’s betrayal. But today he felt even worse than that. He saw a glimpse of her daily, sometimes once every two days. The woman saunters to his balcony, waters his plants, wipes the little frogs clean—apparently he missed a little purple one by the orchid—and goes back upstairs. 

He bought different kinds of teas the other day, not knowing what kind she would like, and now the possibility of her not liking tea at all made bile rise up to the back of his throat. Why is he feeling like this? She’s just his neighbour. He’s just being polite by repaying her for making his fire escape look decent. He’s killed men numerous times before and felt nothing, but why is asking his neighbour to come insi—

Realisation hits as he ran for the sink.

He’s never invited anyone in before. Not even Johnny knows where he lives. This would be the first time since he moved here that he would invite someone inside. He looked around the place. Is this how normal people live? Could it be too… pristine? Too immaculate? Should he have at least one picture on a shelf? He glanced at the gloomy state of his apartment and decided he needed to add a little more…. life to it. 

He was caught off guard on his way back from his third trip to the store. He had a little shoe rack and some books on the backseat of his car. 

“Hey neighbour!” He heard her speak.

Fuck.

“Allright?”

She nodded. The woman had a cup of something he can’t distinguish but recognise the café it came from. “You need help?” She gestured at his car.

“Yes.” He answered without thinking. The word just fired out of his brain like a bullet; straight out of his mouth. He didn’t need her help, didn’t want her help. There’s a very empty picture frame on the desk next to the telly and he’s fairly sure she’d be weirded out by. “In a bit.”

She visibly backed off and he thought he had said the wrong thing when she just nodded, “I’ll swing by in an hour? That allright?”

“Yeah.”

He fixed his empty frame problem, placed the books down, and arranged all the extra knick-knacks he bought to somewhere he thought would look normal and presentable. It was after spraying his living space with some air freshener that he started questioning what he was doing. Why was he doing this? To what extent is he going to pretend he is a functioning human being? Would he have done the same thing if Soap was to come over?

A knock on his balcony door lets him know if he would pass as being normal to a civilian. He was greeted with a decent sized tupperware of brownies half shoved into his face. “So what am I helping with?”

Shit.

In his daze to make his place seem normal as possible he had cleaned and put everything in its place. “Sorry, fixed it actually. Fancy a cuppa instead?”

She handed him the brownies so she can take her shoes off. She left them outside by the plants, and saw they were just like them, colourful. He gestured to the sofa as he walked to the kitchen, “Any requests?”

He was unimpressed when she skipped the sofa entirely and walked with him to the kitchen. The girl probably doesn’t trust him with her tupp—

“Any would be fine, I’m not picky.” She instead sat on the dining chair that previously held his dying plant. The plant that started all of this.

“There’s a couple. White, black, earlgrey, chamomile, matcha, as—.”

“No way. Matcha? Do you have that whisk thingy too?” She moved her wrist around.

He opened a drawer and grabbed the wooden whisk and proudly held it up. “You want matcha?”

To his dismay she shook her head, “I’ll just have whatever you feel like having right now.”

“Guest’s choice.”

“I brought brownies. Host’s pick.”

“Matcha goes great with brownies.” He lied. He just wanted to see her eyes light up like earlier.

She nodded enthusiastically, “Whatever you say, you’re the tea expert.”

Fuck. She was just being polite and leaves everything to him because she thinks he’s knowledgeable. He needs more info about tea if he— If he what, actually. Why does he keep thinking about what she wants and what she thinks of him? Would he have thought the same if it was Price thinking he knows more about tea than he really does?

He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that when he turned around to hand her the tea, she wasn’t in her seat anymore. She was looking at the books he had put on the shelf. He had to walk over to hand her the mug.

“You a fan?” She pointed at his freshly purchased Dune books, he sees the sparkle in her eyes again and he has to disappoint her for the second time today.

“Haven’t read ‘em yet. Thought the covers looked interesting.”

“So you just… bought the whole hardcover set because they looked… pretty?” He notices the many crinkles at the edge of her eyes when she smiles. He would like to coun—

“Gotta match my new garden.” He nodded at the balcony. It was utter horseshite from his part but he must admit that the books did make the view prettier. He needs to take that into consideration when buying things now.

The way her face lights up to look up at him mimics the first time he had offered his space to her. “You mean it?”

He took a sip of his tea with one hand and crossed his heart with the other. He hoped this would distract her from his face because he was sure he was blushing. Where’s his mask when he n—

No.

Ghost doesn’t belong here, not now. Ghost will be needed someday when someone bothers her. Ghost will be sorely awakened that day when she tells him she shouldn’t be coming over anymore, but for the time being Ghost doesn’t belong here.

He reminded her about the brownies and glad that whatever bollocks he spewed earlier turned out correct. Matcha did go with brownies. The girl said so herself.

“I’m Simon, by the way.”

—

He got a call from Price that night, and for the first time, he was sad he had to leave. His mind wandered to his books and wondered if he will ever even read past a quarter of the first one. As he walked over to look at them, he noticed something.

There was a skinny little frog covered in glitter—standing upright with an unamused face—hidden behind the books and the empty basket he had up there. He then moved the frog front and centre, where it really belongs.

Or, that’s where he thought it does, until a week later. The glitter caught his eye as he scans the room one last time before leaving, so he snagged it from its perch and slips it into his inner jacket pocket, comfortably held against his heart.

[mlmxreader]

Distracted By a Sharp Dressed Man | Sierra Six x m!reader

Anonymous asked: “You look… fuck, you look good” and "I thought you hated PDA" for a Sierra Six x male reader fic? Reader is maybe helping Six out on a mission and has to act like an armpiece for Six at an event. Reader clearly has feelings for him but is under the impression Six is straight and just kind of enjoys the evening pretending they’re a couple. But alas, Six is not straight and gets a bit distracted by the reader hehe.

Really love your writing!! Thank you for your work, honestly! :>

summary: while you can convince yourself that Six will never want you to be his boyfriend, he’s not so sure he can do the same, not when you’re the most handsome man in the room and when he can’t take his eyes off of you. 

tws: swearing, smoking, mentions of drinking, jealousy 

word count: 1349

You were good at your job, tracking people down and hunting them like deer but never pulling the trigger, you let someone else do that for you, the highest bidder always sent a triggerman, which was how you first met Sierra Six; your services had been bought, and he was your triggerman for the day, but even after that, you kept bumping into one another during your down-time, and neither of you were particularly shocked when you became friends. But then, as the old tale did go, you wound up falling for him like an idiot; falling in love with the Grey Man was one thing, a stupid thing, but when you knew he was straight, it made it that much more fucking stupid. Still, when he asked you to pretend to be his boyfriend for a night, you couldn’t pass up that opportunity; you couldn’t say no when it was the closest thing to what you actually wanted, even if it wasn’t exactly your type of thing. The suit made you feel claustrophobic, wishing your jeans and scruffy band shirts and Vans, and being surrounded by a bunch of fucking rich cunts and Tory cunts wasn’t exactly ideal, either. 

But then you saw him, and the breath was knocked out of you for a good few seconds; cream coloured shoes, dull-ish pink trousers, a slightly off-white blue-ish pale shirt, and a light purple blazer. He looked to fucking die for, and the closer he got, the more you felt like you were going to fucking swoon; his shirt tucked in, the first few buttons undone, you had to look away, groaning softly at yourself and biting down harshly on your tongue. 

“You okay?” Six asked, looking you up and down as he put his hand on your shoulder blade, his brows furrowed. 

You nodded, hoping that your voice wouldn’t come out as a hoarse growl as you replied, “yeah, it’s just… y’know, you look… fuck, you look good.” 

He smiled, the tips of his ears turning a little pink as he cleared his throat and put his arm around your shoulders; you figured it was part of the act, and leaned into him, not realising or noticing how he tensed a little and tried to bite back a grin. He didn’t want to say it, for fear that you would not care, but he thought you looked fucking brilliant; your suit all tailored and the colours fitted you so well and he knew, he knew more than anything, that you were the most handsome man in the room without even trying. He had to admit, though, he did prefer when you wore things you were actually comfortable in; he liked your black jeans and your old Slipknot shirt with the long sleeves and your battered and beaten camouflage Vans, he thought you looked a lot more handsome then. Still, he didn’t exactly find it easy to keep his eyes off of you. Fuck, he wished that he had a chance with you, just one measly little chance, but he knew he never would; it wasn’t exactly like either of you were in the type of career where one could get a boyfriend and settle down and live a white picket fence life in the suburbs, was it? 

Still, as he guided you through the room, he was rather enjoying himself; having you on his arm knowing damn well that you were the most handsome man there and everyone either wanted to be with you or be you, hearing you grumble and complain about Tory cunts this and rich cunts that, but watching you get jealous when a woman flirted with him was almost certainly the highlight of the night. She was employed by a different agency, sent as a honey-pot, and even though Six had no interest in her whatsoever - except the drink in her hand, as she had somehow managed to get something other than disgusting champagne - he went along with it when he noticed how jealous you were getting; that was, until you snuck away. 

Six looked everywhere, more or less, but eventually found you in the gardens; hidden away amongst bushes and flowers, you were smoking a cigarette, calling yourself an idiot and saying you were so fucking stupid. Six furrowed his brows, swallowing thickly as he dared to approach with a little bit of worry. 

“(y/n)? You okay?”

You shook your head, taking a shaky drag from your cigarette and swiping a hand down your face. “Yeah, just y’know, nerves and shit.” 

He didn’t believe it for a second, even without his training, he knew you well enough to know when you were lying through your fucking teeth at him. “Bullshit.” 

“Lay off it, Six,” you muttered, swallowing thickly as you dared to push past him, but he caught your wrist, bringing you so close that the tip of your nose was almost touching his, able to feel his breath against your skin. “You got a gorgeous woman back there waiting for you - fuck off.” 

“I don’t want her,” Six growled, looking at your lips and sighing heavily. “I want you, (y/n).” 

You scoffed, pulling away and looking around. “You’re only saying that because there’s a bunch of cunts here who think we’re dating.” 

“I’m really not,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. 

“Six…” you shook your head, licking your lips and trying not to be too brutal with your words. “You’re not into me, I know that, so just… just leave me alone, yeah? Just go back inside. I’ll cover for you, I’ll say she’s your mate or some shit. Just… just don’t fucking break my heart more than you already have.” 

Clenching his jaw, Six acted by instinct alone as he grabbed you again, his grip so tight on the lapels of your blazer that his knuckles went pale, backing you up against the nearest wall, his hands going to the back of your neck and your jaw as he crashed his lips against yours harshly, the kiss rough; you were caught off guard for a moment, frozen with shock until you eventually caved and kissed him back, grabbing his hair with one hand, the other on his cheek, his beard tickling your skin as you tried to keep up with his pace. He didn’t want to, but he had to break away, his chest heaving as he planted one hand against the wall beside your head, the other on your hip, the side of his hand against your belt as he grumbled softly. 

But you laughed, shaking your head. “I thought you hated PDA. Wasn’t that in the agreement?”

“I don’t give a shit about the agreement,” he said lowly. “What more do I have to do to show you I fucking want you? I want you to be my boyfriend.” 

You sighed, hanging your head. “You’re not just saying that because we have to act like a couple?”

“No,” he gripped your chin between his finger and thumb, tilting your head up so that you had no choice but to look him in the eyes. “(y/n), believe it or not, I want you, and only you.” 

You frowned. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” Six tilted his head to the side, brows furrowed. 

“For not telling you how I felt,” you chuckled sadly. “If I’d have known, I would have-”

“Forget about it,” he grumbled, daring to plant a kiss to your neck. “But, for the record… I wasn’t gonna get much work done tonight. Not with you looking like that.” 

You grinned, hearing none other than Sierra Six, the Grey Man himself, admit that he was distracted by you gave you a kind of euphoria you couldn’t believe; but then you pushed him away slightly, only enough to look into his eyes again as you hummed softly. “You really want me to be your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. 

“I can do that,” you whispered against his lips. “But only if you buy me a can of Red Bull on the way home.” 

Six smiled, nodding. “I can do that.” 

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

[finelinevogue]

Can you write something about when Harry and Y/N broke up but fans speculate that they got back together and they did get back together. They broke over something stupid, please. You don’t have to do this exactly it can be something like that.

let’s see how this turns out! hope it’s what you wished for?!

The last few months had been rough.

What had started as rumours of a breakup between everyones favourite couple, you and Harry, had turned into an actual breakup.

It had started by Harry spending more time with Olivia, due to press for Don’t Worry Darling. They were always hanging out with each other, even when there was no publicity stunt telling them to. You found it appropriate at first, wanting the movie to gain some form of reputation, but after a while you believed it turned South. It was becoming a definite friendship and not just because they had to. It was the way that Harry would bring Olivia over for dinner without checking with you first, or taking the dog for a walk with her not you, or even staying longer out on stunts than they needed to just because they wanted to.

So you challenged Harry on it. Hell, even the tabloids were challenging you both - claiming Harry had split from you for Olivia. You made him question whether he thought his actions were irresponsible and appropriate or not, to which he thought there was nothing wrong and thought you were being irrational. You didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day, only to find him later on the phone speaking to Olivia about how crazy you’d been acting about it all. So you showed him crazy and walked out.

Until today.

For over a half a year your sister had her wedding planned and Harry was supposed to be your guest. You were nervous about turning up without him, because your family were very judgy. Your sister couldnt help being the smarter and the prettier one, but she also didn’t have to parade it around so everyone knew of it. Your mum and dad thought you a disappointment for the longest time, but once you’d gotten a job and had moved out they were a bit more loving over you. Still didn’t hide the fact they desperately hoped for you to have a relationship. It wasn’t that you were bringing Harry along to prove that someone loved you, but more to prove that they would never fully be satisfied whether you had a boyfriend or not. There would always be a podium stand slightly lower for you to stand on.

However, they didn’t know about the breakup.

“Y/N, nice to see you. Where’s Harry?” Another guest asked you, relatives of your mum. It was the same question over and over again, no one really caring about how you are but instead whether you’re in a positive relationship.

“Oh um I think he’s just running a bit late.” Was your chosen answer to respond to said question. It was repetitive, but it kept people off your back.

The wedding was completely beautiful. It was in a beautiful church and was decorated to perfection. The theme was white and royal blue, something your sister had always dreamed of. Children played amongst the pews and family relatives mumbled to each other about gossip. There was still a heavy sadness to the event. Maybe it was because your sister hadn’t asked you to be a bridesmaid - instead, choosing her best friends instead - or maybe it was because you missed Harry so much.

He’d fucked up. He really had, but it didn’t take away that burning passion for him that spread like a wildfire in your belly. You missed him. You still loved him. Worst of all, you had to pretend everything was all alright in front of your family when actually you were breaking apart inside.

Harry hadn’t messaged saying that he was or wasn’t coming, but after everything that had happened you were confident he was going to be a no show, and you would be the embarrassment of the family once again. Your relationship had been very private and exclusive, but Harry’s fans were so investigative you wouldn’t be surprised if they knew that you’d broken up and were aware that you were at a wedding today without him. Neither of you had made a public statement about your breakup, but neither of your wanted to damage each other even more. Fans suspected though and rumours travel fast.

“Y/N how are you doing? How’s Harry?” Another aunt came and asked you, this time with your mother in tow.

“Oh he’s great, yes.” You smiled forcefully, not actually having a clue how your ex-boyfriend was doing. You didn’t keep up with his social media because you were afraid of what you might find.

“Where is he? Is he here?” Your aunt asked.

“He’s late, apparently.” Your mother answered for you, sneeringly. “You’ll be made a fool of if he’s a no show Y/N.”

“I know.”

“I hope everything goes well for you both.” Your aunt kindly said, before waiting for your mum to say something nice too. That was a mistake though.

“Well it’s unlikely she’ll find someone again!” Your mother laughed and pulled your aunt away from you. You furrowed your eyebrows and let your heart sink low.

What were you thinking, letting Harry go like that? Your mum was right, you were never going to find anyone else again. You were so lucky with Harry. He was so kind and so patient with you, but obviously he’d run out of steam towards the end. It doesn’t surprise you. You’ve always been told you’re a mighty handful and you need a lot of work put into looking after you, so you understand why you were probably too much for Harry. The showbiz life had never really been something you’d completely submerged yourself into, whereas you guess for Olivia it was rooted in her from birth. She understood Harry’s world the same way he did hers. They would match perfectly for each other, if that’s what they wanted.

You watched the room continue as usual, but you couldn’t keep yourself here. There was too much sadness welling deep within you that you wanted to just run and then keep running. So you did, only to get as far as the bench in the front courtyard. The outside felt calmer and more freeing than inside, you sat and absorbed it for a while, not realising that you were crying until your pretty multicoloured dress had grown darker with a pool of your tears.

“Shit.” You tried rubbing the tears out, but only made you cry a little harder. You thought about your makeup running and tried to compose yourself, fanning your face to calm it down from the heat now.

“And here I was thinking weddings were supposed to be happy.”

You stopped fanning your face to look at him. You couldn’t believe he was standing there, dressed in a beautiful white suit and salmon pink shirt underneath to compliment the colours of your dress - the outfit that you’d helped him pick out over a year ago. He’d remembered. He trusted that you’d still be wearing this dress. He was a sight alright. A vision of beauty and love.

“Harry?” You questioned, wiping your under eyes to clear away any running mascara, not quite believing he was standing there.

“So what was it? Bad music playing? No vodka? Or maybe there’s nowhere for you to escape to go read the book I know you have stuffed away in your clutch bag.” He stood at a distance from you, hands in his trouser pockets, to make sure you were comfortable.

“I brought vodka instead of the book.” You chuckled, reaching into your clutch to prove it to him.

“Lucky for you, i’ve come to save the day.” Harry reached to the inside of his blazer pocket and pulled out a Kindle. You’d always been debating whether or not to buy one, because the feeling of having a book to turn its’ physical pages is a feeling second to none. “Take it, it’s yours.”

Harry handed it out to you and you stood up to reach for it hesitantly. Harry assured you that it was okay and that you’d been reading too many books if you thought it was a trap of some sort.

“Thank you, Harry.” You spoke sincerely. You stroked your thumb over the cover and turned the case lid over to start up the screen. The screen lit up and it was set to a picture of your favourite quote, annotated just as you would have in your own book. You chuckled and let a few tears drop from the kindness of all of this.

“And then…” Harry unlocked the Kindle with your birthday as the password, before clicking on the library so you could discover what was waiting for you on your virtual shelves. Harry had downloaded all your most favourite books, whilst also downloading the ones he knew had been on your to-be-read list. He’d even added a few of his favourite books too, just because you liked reading his recommendations.

You smiled, but felt so lost.

“W-why are you here, H?” You asked, closing the lid and bravely looking up into his enchanting eyes. You had to control yourself not to comment on how wondrous they looked.

“To save the day.” He chuckled in repeat, until he knew you weren’t taking that for an answer. “Because I fucked up. Big league time.”

“Yeah.” You whispered, looking down at your shoes to see that they weren’t that far apart at all. He was so close to you, yet he wasn’t yours to catch.

“And i’ll never forgive myself for letting you walk out of that door. The promotion shit with Olivia? Done. I’ve finished. I explained that the movie isn’t as important to me as you. You,” Harry paused to breathe out, and took the risk of guiding your jaw up to meet your gaze with his soft hand, “you are real Y/N. You’re so important and key to my life and it bloody terrified me, still does actually, to think that you make me feel this way. I want everything with you. Marriage, kids, a home. A life. I was so worried I would screw it all up, though, to the point where I did screw it all up. I lost you and so I lost me. It’s selfish of me to ask whether any part of your heart still wants me, but—”

“Yes.” You quickly interjected before he could say something he’d later regret. “There is, yes.”

“R-really?” He stumbled over his response, not expecting you to react so soon but his words had got to you. His feelings were vulnerable and raw and it reminded you of how much you love him and feel safe with him.

“Why? Would you like me to say different.” You teased.

“No,” Harry rushed, stepping closer towards you, “God now. Stay, please. Forever, if you’ll have me?”

“I can deal with forever.” You leaned up to where his lips were, craving the taste of them against yours so badly. “Can I?” You looked between his lips and his eyes, watching his eyes coo in admiration of you. His arms snaked around your neck and cupped the back of your head, resting his ringed fingers against your skin delicately.

“You don’t have to ask, angel.” And with that you didn’t hesitate to reclaim your clips on his. He tasted as sweet and as soft as you could remember. The hint of mint sweets he kept in his car could be tasted all over his mouth, and he could no doubt taste the vodka on yours. He took no time in rushing to have his tongue exploring your mouth once mouth, biting on your lip when he got the chance to. He wanted you to remember this moment and how much love he has for you, and always will. Just as you do for him.

Hesitantly pulling away you smiled at him cheekily, feeling so much lighter and happier to have him here. With you in his arms so expertly.

“What?” He asked, leaving a quick kiss to your nose, inhaling his scent as he did.

“Just can’t believe you’re here.” You stroked his cheek with your thumb, and he leaned into your touch so comfortably. He had missed you so damn much, and it showed.

“Let you down once before and I wasn’t going to do it again.”

“So you’d have shown up even if I hadn’t?”

“Not happily, but yes.” He laughed thinking about it.

“Why?” You laughed with him.

“I’ve got to make my impression on your family somehow. Need to remind some of them how amazing and beautiful their special Y/N L/N is.”

“Some are going to need a lot more persuading than others.” You sighed, side-frowning over your words.

“No offence, but anyone who doesn’t treat you as a fucking diamond doesn’t deserve you and should watch out for kick up their backside from me.” You laughed over his empty threat and buried your head against his chest, listening to the heartbeat and rumble of laughter that came from within. This moment alone felt like home. Safe and warm.

“I love you, H.”

“Bloody love you too.”

Harry ended up returning to the wedding with you, much to your mothers surprise, and you both enjoyed the celebrations together. You shut yourselves out from everybody and just danced, talked and drank the night away.

You were so in love.

Later, photos got leaked of the wedding and it showed you and Harry dancing away in one of the backgrounds of the photos. It was supposed to be a shot of just the bride and groom, but you two have managed to get caught in it. You looked so caught up in each other that you still weren’t even aware the photo had been taken. You and Harry had determinedly avoided the camera all night, exactly for this reason, but a part of you was kind of happy that this one photo got leaked, because it showed the world that Harry was yours and you were his. It showed that you were together, or back-together as addressed by some FBI fans, and that you were stronger for it.

[shushiyuii]

Adopt a Mortal

 @smogs-0 Oh Smoggy~ Your angst is here, and only you can decide if there will be a part 2 or not~

Warnings: Zombies (which means this will contain mentions of death, injury, death and maybe other subjects. Be advised). Swearing. Apocalypse. 

Words: 1.5K+

It’s been 3 weeks since the outbreak.

He didn’t know how he made it so far, he’s barely escaped any encounters with those monsters. Zombies as the others call them, which he honestly called bullshit on.

Not to mention but food had almost become rare at this point, so many had taken it for granted and themselves, hoping to be the only ones to survive. But a majority of the population was already gone, including his own parents so no doubt that food went somewhere.

His own group was fucked up, he ended up with them by chance. They almost killed him, to begin with, but decided they could use his agility and slim figure to their advantage of tight spaces and stuff. Which he hated but it was the only chance he had at survival.

He was now on his own in a world of Zombies. Trust nobody.

…

It’s been 3 months since the outbreak.

He was shoved to the floor, kicked by another member. “Little shit! You’re just dead weight!”, “It’d be better if we left him for dead”.

They took away his belongings, leaving him unarmed. He ran away and as he did, he heard their screams. Zombies were coming and his ‘group’ just died like complete idiots. His arms covered his stomach as he limped in pain, this was going to be a difficult situation to get out of.

…

He slammed his hand over his mouth, trying to be as silent as possible as a couple of Zombies wandered around aimlessly, hoping to catch their next piece of delicious prey. if he were to get into one of their sights. He’d be dead in an instant.

He was unarmed as stupid as it was.

Whatever he didn’t want to die here.

…

 …

One month since the outbreak.

Hunger was all he felt for the longest time, he wondered. He didn’t remember who he was. Not that he cared, he had no control. He only wanted to eat, hunt. His reasoning. The thought of meat making in growl in excitement.

That all changed when he followed a horde of Zombies towards the humans. They shot and yelled, fearing for their lives. They were terrified, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered to him and the others was that their hunger was satisfied.

…

He got shot, in the shoulder. He didn’t feel it but he did stumble. In the distance, he heard, “You imbecile! That was the prototype!”. Whatever it is afterwards the humans got away.

He slumped against the wall of a corner shop, feeling oddly tired and fell asleep.

…

He woke up, with thoughts screaming at him. He looked around in confusion as knowledge flowed through his newly working brain. He was confused, scared. What happened? He wasn’t like this before?

He stood up, stumbling. He looked to the shoulder of his trench coat, the shot of the clothing being there but his skin had almost regenerated as if it had never happened.

He ran into the crowd of nearby Zombies, he pushed into them. Getting no reaction, he was sentient, and the others weren’t. Had that bullet done something to him?

…

3 months since the outbreak.

He’s learnt that he’s become different to the other zombies, he’s come to the conclusion that he’s more aware than them, almost as if he were a human in a zombie’s body.

He learnt his name was Wilbur by the wallet and ID in his pocket. Which was good to know, not only that but he no longer felt that hunger, nothing actually. He felt no pain, sensation or anything.

But one thing he did feel was more powerful and stronger. He learnt he could easily flip over cars and change his size at will, which came in handy for hard-to-reach places. Not only that but any wound he sustained was easily recovered from, barely leaving a scar.

He hadn’t yet encountered humans, probably because there weren’t many left.

He had managed to create a place of his own in an apartment with a broken mirror, it did him good with a desk to write on, a guitar he could surprisingly play, a comfortable bed, everything he needed.

He looked in the mirror, he was outrageously pale, but not that green colour other zombies had, he was missing an eye that his hair easily covered, and his beanie covered up parts of his exposed skull. Which left him looking rather human.

…

He wandered the streets a while since he really had nothing better to do. That was until something caught his attention, zombies were crowding around a particular shop with curiosity. It made him curious as to what was going on.

He followed them inside and wandered for a while, then he saw them. What had caught the zombies interest but had not been picked up by them yet. It seems that the human had managed to narrowly getaway and was now narrowly avoiding them.

The human stared at him in horror, his bright blue eyes striking Wilbur. His hair was blonde but covered in dirt, not to mention that the boy himself was covered in dust, dirt and dried blood. The human was barely covered in protection with just a red and white t-shirt, trousers and recked shoes. How had he gotten this far?

He crouched down to the human, “Hey…”. He whispered, “What are you doing here kid?”. The human’s eyes furrowed at the nickname. “Trying to get away here! Dickhead!”. The boy whisper-yelled. “Well, you aren’t doing a very good job at it!”. He whisper-yelled back.

He pinched his nose and sighed, “Get to the back room as soon as you hear a sound, I’ll distract them.”, “What? That’s a death sentence!”, “Don’t worry about me! Worry about yourself!”.

Wilbur then crawled his way to the other side of the shop, not wanting to get suspicion from the human. He then grabbed a pan from a nearby shelf and threw it to a nearby shelf, which caused enough noise to gain the zombie's attention, making their way over there.

He then saw the backroom door open, he then made his way over there quietly. Once he made it and shut the door. The boy was already barricading it, making sure no zombies made their way in.

“Thanks, man, had no idea how I’d get outta that one. Names, Tommy”. Interesting, the human's name was Tommy, “Nice to meet you, I’m Wilbur. What are you doing out in a place like this? You look a bit young to be on your own if I’m honest”.

“Hey! I’m a grown man! And uh- my group left me to die”. The boy seemed upset by that fact, looking away. “Well, they’re assholes. Don’t worry about em’ you can stick with me for now if you want.”. Wait- he didn’t mean- “Really?”.

“Yeah, don’t mind helping for a little bit”. Great, why did he agree? Now he was stuck with a child.

…

The human then began to rummage through what seemed to be boxes of already looted stuff. He managed to find an old backpack with some small tins of food and water left in a small crate. Not only that but a small dagger to defend himself with, he seemed quite exciting when he found it.

“So, Wil. How’d you end up in the outbreak?”, he asked as he continued to rummage through crates. Wilbur took a minute to answer, one thing was he the human- Tommy didn’t know he was a zombie, not only that but even himself didn’t know how he became a zombie.

“Uhh, kinda just ended up in the place?”. “Oh, you didn’t have family or anything”, “No?”. “Ah, well for me my parents died in a car crash when the outbreak hit, now I’m on my own since my group left me”.

“Why did they leave you?”, “said I was deadweight, which wasn’t true. I did most of the shit they wanted”. “Forget em’ they aren’t worth it”. “I realised that thanks again, for the save.”. “It’s nothing don’t worry about it”.

The two then made their way out of the building, then got stuck by a wall. “Give me a hand will you?” he asked as he clumsily tried to climb the wall. Wilbur then gave him a boost and he climbed over, not without giving Wilbur his own hand to help him up.

Wilbur grabbed his hand, “Woah! You got a good grip!”. “I- yeah. Guess so”. He then helped Wilbur up the wall and the two continued their way to safety…

…

The two ran as fast as they could from the racing zombies, perhaps the two were a little bit too reckless with noise and were now getting chased down by a horde of Zombies. They ran into alleyways, alley after alley.

Eventually, though, they got cornered. Tommy brought his knife, prepared to defend his life. “Stay behind me!”, “What? Are you crazy?!”, “STAY BEHIND ME!”. He growled as he kept the boy behind him.

[snackhobi]

pairing: namjoon x reader / word count: 9.3k / genre: pwp/smut

summary: You’ve been letting your laundry pile up for a little too long. Fortunately, your neighbour Namjoon is there to lend you a hand.

warnings: sexually explicit content, masturbation, edging (kinda), unintentional voyeurism (briefly), oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms (f receiving), bigdick!joon, dirty talk, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, overstimulation (reader gets fucked dumb), praise, aftercare (please heed the warnings, and let me know if I need to clarify/add any!)

--

For most people, Sunday is a day of rest. But not for you.

Sunday means chores. Sunday means tidying up, dusting, vacuuming. Sunday means finally doing all the Adult Things you’ve been too busy/lazy to do for the rest of the week (or even longer than that, as evidenced by your overflowing laundry basket). Sunday means work. 

You slap at your vibrating phone, fingers sliding uselessly across the screen as you fumble to cut off the chirping alarm, and then you groan. “Ugh." You bury your head into your crumpled pillow. And then, once more, with feeling: “Uggggggh.”

You roll around in your bed, thrashing a little like a child having a tantrum, before you flop on your back and stare at your ceiling with your limbs akimbo, a starfish.

“Why?” You whine out to no one in particular. “Why me?”

Fortunately you live alone, so there’s no one to witness your sulky behaviour.  You would put off getting all your errands done, but you’ve already been doing this for so long that you’re practically out of clean clothes to wear. That’s one part about living alone that’s a double-edged sword- you have your own space where you can act however you please, which is Great, but also you’re the only one responsible for keeping on top of things, which is Less Great. You can’t rely on other people to get things done for you.

You’ve never been a morning person, and the fact it’s so nice outside already does nothing to brighten your mood; it’s the perfect kind of day, the chilled bite to the air mellowed by the sun in the cloudless, pale sky, and you’re going to have to spend it indoors. Ugh. You eventually grit your teeth and pull yourself out of bed, waking yourself up with a cold shower. Once you force a cup of overly sweet coffee into your system and the caffeine hits you so that you’re fully awake and ready to go, the world suddenly feels a lot more bearable. So you’re unperturbed when your underwear drawer comes up practically empty.

“Oops,” you say. “Oh well.”

It’s practically empty, but not entirely; there, at the back, there’s that pretty lingerie set you’d bought on a whim in a sale and then promptly never worn. Honestly you’d be happy to go without, seeing as no one else is here and you have no one to look pretty for, but you find that you never get anything done if you’re not in a bra. It’s like a Pavlovian response that you've ingrained into yourself: when you get home, your bra comes straight off, no ifs, buts, or maybes. Bra off means it’s Relaxation Time. Bra on? That means it's time to get things done.

But, yeah, if you’re going to wear the bra, you may as well wear the matching thong, right? It came as a set so you’d basically be committing a crime if you didn’t wear them together. You take one moment to admire yourself in the mirror, turning this way and that to appreciate how it makes you look, before promptly ruining the illusion of sexiness by covering it up with a pair of old sweatpants and a too-large tank top. They're the only bits of clothing not in your laundry basket that you don't mind getting dirty while you clean, so, you have to make do.

The worst part about doing chores is getting the whole process started, but you’ve been doing this long enough that you have a routine. Bra on, hair up, mental checklist ready. You toddle through to the kitchen with your laundry basket, picking through for the colours and whites, feeling entirely too accomplished once you get the first load sorted. This kickstarts the whole chore procedure and once you get stuck in, you actually start to have fun; you’ve got your noise cancelling headphones on and your cleaning playlist is full of songs that get you pumped up, and you sing along to the music as you get started on your next job.

You wiggle your butt to the rhythm of the beat while you hoover, pushing your vacuum into the corners of your flat and ruthlessly sucking up the dust bunnies that have gathered there. You're in the middle of belting out one particularly long note when a spider scuttles out from under your sofa and the note rises into a little scream; you act on pure instinct and suck the spider up into the hoover, watching as all the long hairy legs fold together and get schlorped into the vacuum’s nozzle before disappearing forever. You feel immediately relieved but also immensely guilty when this happens- spiders are awful and you hate them but usually you’d try your best to catch them under a cup before flinging it outside, so the fact you’ve maybe just killed it? You really are just awful. (But thank God it’s gone.)

Maybe that's enough hoovering for now.

You empty the dust bag into the bin, mindful of the fact that the spider might still be alive and come crawling out onto your hands. Thankfully it doesn’t, but you’re not going to take any chances; you draw the bin liner shut and tie it tight, before deciding that the best course of action is to put it into your outside bin, in case the spider decides to come back with a vengeance. 

You hoist the bag up and pause for a second to glance down at how the straps of your too-loose top have slipped down your shoulders to reveal the top of bra, the intricate lace trim of the cups and extra straps that criss cross your chest- definitely an, uh, interesting outfit choice for a quick trip out of your flat. You make the executive decision to shrug on a hoodie and zip it all the way to your neck to preserve your modesty and save you from the chill outside. Once that’s done it takes two seconds to slip your feet into your (fake) Converse shoes, another few seconds to fiddle with the lock on your door, struggling with the latch- it’s been a bit janky for a while and you keep forgetting to sort it out- before you hop your way downstairs and  to the outside shed where everyone's bins are stored.

Ewch. It doesn’t smell that great in here. You make quick work of dumping your rubbish and escaping from the hut, shutting the door firmly behind you to try and keep the stench locked inside, before almost falling over when you feel the telltale sensation of a cat curling around your ankles. He’s meowing up at you but your headphones have been drowning him out, so you slide them off your ears and hook them around your neck so you can actually hear him.

"Oh, hi, baby!" The ginger stray likes to hang nearby the building, always friendly and happy to see you, even if he seems to like sneaking up when you least expect it. He meows at you again as you squat down to stroke him, butting his head into your palm as his tail curls in delight. "Aren't you just the most gorgeous boy? Yes, you are, aren't you?"

The cat ends up putting his paws onto your knee to butt his face against yours, and the next thing you know, you have an armful of cat. You laugh and continue to pet him, cooing at how cute he is as he purrs back. "Awh, baby, you're so sweet," you say. "I wish I could take you home, but my meanie landlord says we can't have pets."

“I was thinking of starting a petition, actually, so the landlord gets rid of the No Pets clause in the tenancy agreement. You’re welcome to sign it if you like.”

You glance up from where you’ve been allowing the cat to shove his nose against your chin, standing up straight to address the man who’s talking to you, cat still clutched in your arms. “Oh! Hi, Namjoon-ssi. That’s such a good idea, I love that. Stick it to the man. I’d definitely sign it. How are you today?”

Kim Namjoon, aka your neighbour from across the hall, is smiling at the cat in your arms. Namjoon’s the perfect neighbour and ideal tenant- quiet, tidy, considerate, although he does have a tendency to lose his keys and gets locked out of his flat on a pretty regular basis. 

It’s actually how you’d started to talk in the first place. When you first moved in you’d given him a small box of chocolates to endear yourself to your same-floor-friend, only exchanging small nods and pleasant greetings for a while after that, but after you’d found Namjoon waiting sheepishly on his own doorstep- “My friend has a key but it’s going to take him a little while to get here,” he’d explained- you’d invited him into your own flat to wait, rather than just in the hall. 

Since then you’ve started to have chats whenever you see each other, and occasionally knock on each other’s doors whenever you ask to borrow things like sugar or a screwdriver or whatever, and you always invite Namjoon in for a cup of tea when he’s waiting for one of his friends to rescue him from his own forgetful nature. You’re still toeing the line between Friendly Neighbours and Kind Of Friends, but one thing you already know and admire about Namjoon is his ability to actually be a mature and put together adult. Sure, you drink a decent amount of water, you have a skincare routine with multiple steps, and you usually manage to eat your 5-a-day, but a lot of that feels like you do it because you’re expected to, sort of like a child playing make-believe. 

Namjoon, meanwhile, manages to just ooze the sort of gravitas that comes with being a fully realised human being, someone who actively participates in the world around them because they’re entirely engaged with things and basically just Super Mature Adult (even if he apparently loses/breaks things on a fairly regular basis). Hence why you’re not at all surprised at the petition thing, or when Namjoon proceeds to tell you that he’s going to spend the afternoon at his friend’s uncle’s strawberry farm, picking fruit, because of course Namjoon is the kind of guy who supports local, organic, free range produce. (Wait. Can strawberries be free range? Or is that just eggs?)

“Ahh, I love strawberries! That’s so cool,” you say. “It must be fun.”

“You’re welcome to come, if you like,” Namjoon says. He’s always gracious so you know he’s just saying this to be polite, but you can’t help but think it would probably be really nice to spend time picking fruit and talking with him.

“Ah, I’d love to, but unfortunately I have prior commitments. I’m catching up on chores,” you admit ruefully. You’re still absently scritching the ginger cat’s chin as you speak, the animal purring up a storm in your arms and shedding all over your clothes, although you don’t notice or care. Namjoon is incredibly endeared- not that you notice that, either. “Hence the runway-ready outfit.”

Your hair is so messy it looks like some sort of wild possum has been nesting in it, your hoodie sleeves are so long they threaten to swallow your hands, and you’re not even wearing your cheap knock-off shoes properly- you’re stepping on the back collar of them in your bare feet so they’re basically glorified flip-flops at this point. Total fashionista. (Not.)

Namjoon, however, seems surprised at your dismissive tone. “You look cute and cozy,” he says.

You snort in an unladylike way, lifting the cat in your arms a little- you can’t gesture properly with an armful of fur, especially when the stray takes this as an invitation to crane upwards and shove his little face into the crook of your neck, knocking against your headphones. “Cute baby,” you coo at the cat, before turning your attention back to Namjoon. “You look cute and cozy,” you echo. It’s a little chilly today and Namjoon’s wrapped up, long scarf curled around his neck, beanie on his head, hem of his coat fluttering around his thighs. Super cozy, and again, a well-put-together adult. 

You muffle a sigh. He’s a well-put-together and hot adult, tall and built, so handsome in his casual outfit, effortlessly masculine. You’ve been lowkey crushing on Namjoon for a while now, as futile as that effort is- you haven’t seen any evidence of a special someone in Namjoon’s life, but there’s no way that man is single. Even if he somehow is, he’s like, a bajillion light years out of your league, hyper intelligent and kind and gorgeous, in comparison to your… um… your… well. Yeah. In comparison to that. 

He’s nice to you and he smiles whenever he sees you, though, and your weak little heart can’t help but flip flop in your chest whenever you see that dimpled little smile, even if you know you don’t have a chance in hell that he really thinks that you’re cute. He’s just being polite. 

The cat in your arms gives a little wriggle, apparently sated for the day, and you carefully squat down to deposit him onto the ground. He gives you both one last little mewl before scampering off and you fondly watch him go. “Let me know when you have that petition written up,” you say, brushing the cat hairs off your sleeves. “I better get back to my flat, I need to finish the rest of my laundry so I can continue the facade of being a functional adult. Have a great day, Namjoon-ssi, and I hope you enjoy the strawberries! You’ll have to tell me how they are.”

“I will,” he says, eyes warm as he smiles, those little dimples appearing in his cheeks. Ugh, you want to touch them so much. “Good luck with your laundry.”

Namjoon’s beautiful smile fuels you for the rest of the day, buoying you up as you scrub the walls of your shower and bleach your toilet, bright yellow gloves a size too large for your hands as you spritz your bathroom counter. You might not be a legitimate adult in the same way that your neighbour is but you can give it a damn good go; even if the rest of your life is maybe a bit more chaotic than you’d like, you can at least get your surroundings in order.

And you do. By the time you’re finished with hoovering and mopping your floors and reorganising your clutter, your flat feels brand-spanking new again, fresh and clean and airy. You’d even lit a few scented candles earlier and you give yourself a pat on the back for your forward thinking as you snuff them out, the delicate smell of vanilla lightly filling the apartment. All that’s left is to go to the kitchen and put the final load of laundry in the tumble dryer and once that’s been emptied and sorted, you’re all finished. Mission accomplished. Chores done.

Once the tumble dryer has started its cycle you reward yourself with a cup of tea, a blackcurrant and blueberry fruit infusion that you’d gotten as a Secret Santa gift at work and hadn’t used yet, saving it for a special occasion. You hum to yourself and continue to wiggle your hips to the music trickling out of your headphones as the kettle boils, watching the purple that bleeds from the tea bag once the hot water cascades over it. It looks rich and vibrant and it smells so good- but then you make a little face when you take a sip. Fruit teas never taste as good as they smell. It’s not bad but it’s a little disappointing, really, a subpar reward after a hard day of work. 

You stand in the middle of your kitchen with your mug still in your hand, eyes unfocused as you stare into space, trying to think of things in your flat that you could use to reward yourself. You’ve already used up those fancy gel eye masks that Jimin had given you for your birthday, and you’d let Jungkook have your sheet masks when he’d said his favourite brand was out of stock; Taehyung had pilfered all of your bath bombs as part of an experiment (the experiment being that he wanted to know what colour his bath water would turn if he used all your different bath bombs in it- the answer was ‘an incredibly underwhelming, if glittery, sludge brown’), and he still hasn’t gotten around to replacing them.

Pay day isn’t until next week and you’re tight enough on money at the moment that you don’t want to order out for dinner- living alone means you have to pay more rent so you have to be more careful with money- so you’re out of ideas. 

That is until motion out of the corner of your eye catches your attention. You glance over at it, pulled out of your reverie; the old tumble dryer has been in this flat longer than you and it’s showing signs of wear and tear, base warped a little from age, noisy and wobbly as your clothes are being spun inside. You pause, mug dropping a little in your hand as the thought briefly flickers through your mind, before you bite your lip and throw caution to the wind. Fuck it. You live alone and you’ve had a long day and you deserve some kind of reward. 

You abandon your unfinished mug of tea in the sink before eyeing the shaking tumble dryer. You hoist yourself up, straddling the corner of the machine, a little shiver running through you when you feel the vibrations through your legs and thighs as you settle into place; it takes time to situate yourself, thighs spreading as you tilt your hips forward and press your heat against the rumbling dryer. You shift on your hands, palms braced against the top of the machine as you wriggle into the best position- the second you get just the right angle you let out a little gasp, eyes squeezing shut when you feel how the shaking machine is sending vibrations throughout your entire body.

You keep your eyes shut as you continue to find the right rhythm. You rock your hips forward each time the machine rocks back, rolling the weight of your body down towards your clenching cunt; the vibrations are so strong that you can feel them through your sweatpants, lace of your thong rubbing against your clit in a deliciously rough way, sending little shockwaves of pleasure through you.

As you continue to work yourself up, your skin starts to feel overheated under your clothes, even with the chill spring air seeping into the flat- you fumble with the zip of hoodie, letting the material sag open before you brace yourself with your palms again. You feel how the hoodie slips down your arms, baring your shoulders, and you tilt your head back, revealing the line of your neck as you arch your spine. Each rumble of the machine rolls through you, wetness starting to slicken your folds as you grind down a little harder. It’s a steady, slow climb towards your peak- you shut your eyes to focus fully on the pleasure building between your legs, the way your clit feels swollen and almost over-sensitive from the strong vibrations from the dryer, the way your pussy clenches whenever you get the angle just right.

You start to gasp, biting back moans when you feel how your orgasm is getting closer. You lift one hand from the top of the dryer to run your hands over your skin- your neck, your throat, tracing over the straps of the bra that are digging into the swell of your breasts. It’s good, really good, but it’s not enough; every time you feel like the peak of your orgasm is about to crest, it ebbs away again, and you let out a little whine from the back of your throat. 

With your eyes still shut, you try to conjure up images that’ll arouse you and send you tumbling over the edge. Hands on your body, lips against your skin, your mouth. Normally when you masturbate you try to keep away from thinking about anyone in particular, because you feel like if you see that person in the future they’ll just telepathically know about it and you end up feeling awkward and guilty (even if you know it's illogical)- but today you can’t help it. Your mind slips to the thought of Namjoon this morning and the way he’d smiled at you, and once you start thinking about Namjoon, you can’t stop. 

Namjoon’s smile. His mouth. His tongue. His hands, his fingers. His tall, beautiful body, pressing you down against a mattress, trapping you against him. You take the hand that’s been trailing over your collarbones and lift it to your mouth and press two fingers past your lips, trying to imagine that it’s Namjoon. Imagine that it’s the weight of his cock on your tongue, hard and heavy. You bet it’s as gorgeous as the rest of him. You bet he tastes so good, hot and salt and maybe a little bitter, heady and masculine; you let out a low moan around your lips as you run the pads of your fingertips over your tongue, saliva pooling in your mouth.

All the while, your music has been playing on, heavy beat thrumming through you as you forget the outside world and focus on the reality you’re conjuring in your mind. Namjoon’s cock in your mouth. Namjoon’s mouth on your cunt. Namjoon’s skin against yours. Namjoon fucking into you, hard and deep. Your blood rises in your veins, toes curling as you can feel how your orgasm is getting ever closer now that you’re this turned on, your cunt leaking with arousal; the thought of Namjoon wanting you as much as you want him is dizzying, as unlikely as it is. The Namjoon in your mind fucks into you with a particularly rough thrust and in the real world you respond with a moan, garbled around the fingers between your lips. Fuck, you’re so close. 

Just as you're nearly there, your playlist ends and everything lapses into silence, your reverie shattered. The moment is gone. Your orgasm slips away from you again and you whimper, unintentionally edging yourself yet again. 

Your eyes flutter open briefly when your haze is broken, although you squeeze them back shut so that you can get back to picturing Namjoon and finally bring yourself to completion- but then your eyes fly open again, fingers stuttering in your mouth and hips going still as your entire body stiffens, blood turning to ice in your veins.

The very real Kim Namjoon is standing in the doorway of your kitchen. There’s a look of utter shock on his face, his lips parted, eyes so wide it looks like his eyeballs are going to pop out of his skull, frozen in place. You don’t know how long he’s been there. You don’t know if he’s just walked in on you. Really, though, it doesn’t matter if he’s been there for five seconds or five hours- he’s seen everything, the way there’s saliva dripping from your mouth around your fingers, tank top barely hiding your lingerie, the way you’ve been bucking your hips against the dryer. Utterly desperate and debauched and depraved. 

There’s a small, white plastic bag in Namjoon’s hands with a pretty strawberry logo on it, drooping further and further towards the floor as his arms go slack. You don’t notice it until it’s slipping loose from his fingers and landing on the floor. 

Berries go rolling out of the sagged plastic and across the tiles but Namjoon doesn’t seem to notice. That single point of motion in the room seems to kickstart your brain into gear, your flight or fight response screaming flight, and you practically throw yourself off the tumble dryer. Your brain is entirely empty of logical thought right now and the only thing you can think of is that you need to get away and hide forever. 

You rush past a still frozen Namjoon, stumbling down your hallway towards your open front door- you notice that the latch is stuck, not clicking into place when you’d come back inside earlier and leaving the door unlocked, you idiot. Namjoon always knocks and it must have swung open as soon as he rapped his knuckles against it, and you wouldn’t have heard it over your goddamn music. You absolute, utter idiot.

You’re not thinking about how illogical it is to flee from your own home to get away from someone. You’re just thinking about your escape. Taehyung’s flat is the nearest and it won’t take long to run there and you can survive without shoes; you’re still barefoot but you don’t have time to grab anything. You have to run. 

You’re just stretching out for the door when you feel large hands grab you from behind. You flail, door swinging shut as your fingers brush against it before you’re being pulled backwards by the arms that have slid around your waist. You start to struggle, squirming in the hold, pushing at the hands trapping you as you instinctively still try to get away from the shame and embarrassment; Namjoon’s body is warm and solid against your back, his muscles effectively trapping you in place, and you can feel how his voice rumbles through him as he speaks, audible through the silence of your headphones.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

You’ve never heard Kim Namjoon sound like this. His voice is authoritative, commanding. The part of your brain that acts on pure instinct- the part that just told you to go hurtling out onto the street without shoes- responds instantly, and you immediately go lax in his hold even though you’re still internally panicking.

“I was planning on going to the moon,” you say, unable to cover up how your voice is shaking, even if you’re trying to hide behind sarcasm. It’s your only defence right now. Your skin prickles with embarrassment. “Where else do you think?”

Namjoon lets out a chuckle, and your toes curl at how deep the sound is. “The mouth on you.” He sounds amused. You can’t look him in the eye. “Were you trying to get away from me?”

“‘Trying’ is the operative word.” You’re still staring resolutely at the door- it’s swung shut and the latch has actually clicked upwards this time. Traitor.  “As you can tell, I’m not doing a very good job. The sooner I go, the sooner I get the paperwork started for my move to Fiji.”

“I thought you were planning on going to the moon.” Namjoon’s hold on you is still firm. You’re utterly helpless. “Changed your mind?”

“Going to open a diner in Fiji to raise funds for my moon mission. It’s a long plan.” The spike of adrenaline that had burst through you is already dissolving in your system, leaving you feeling limp and strung out. You can’t see Namjoon’s face with how your back is crushed against his chest; when you glance down all you can see is how big his hands are against your stomach. Despite yourself, you shiver. As panicked and embarrassed as you are, arousal is still trickling through you, and you hate yourself for the effect that Namjoon is having on you right now. You try to sound calm and unaffected as you continue to speak, but you feel breathless from the lingering pleasure tingling between your legs. “Can you let me go now, please?”

“Is that really what you want?” You’ve had your hands on his wrists from how you’d been trying to push them away, so you feel how one of Namjoon’s hands starts to slide downwards, slow as treacle, and your breath hitches as his fingers slide under the waistband of your sweatpants. They don’t go any further than that, palm splayed over your hipbone, but you feel your pussy clench at the warmth of his hands on your skin and a whimper slips out of you. “Or do you actually want something else?”

Your fingers dig into his wrists. When you open your mouth to reply, your words fail you and instead you just let out a little breath.  You’re in utter disbelief at what’s happening right now, unsure of what’s going on- you’re not an idiot but there is no way that Namjoon is implying what you think he’s implying. Absolutely no way. Not a chance in hell. What?

As you continue to stay silent, brain trying to catch up with the situation, Namjoon doesn’t move.

“Use your words, baby,” he murmurs. “I need to know that you want this.”

Oh, fuck. When Namjoon calls you baby it feels like a switch has been flipped inside you; like he’s slipped a missing fuse into place and your entire body has lit up, full of energy and electricity from his touch. It’s overwhelming. “Of course I want this,” you confirm, trembling, and then: “I want you.”

Namjoon responds by finally moving his hand downwards. You watch as it goes, how he pauses when he makes contact with the fabric of your underwear, the unmistakable texture of embroidered lace under his touch. He drags his fingertips across the straps that cross over themselves, an arrow guiding him to his mark; your entire body goes tense when his fingers glance over your swollen folds, slick through the fabric.

You gasp. You’re still trapped against him by the strong arm curled around you, but your hands are free- you pull your headphones off and let them fall to the floor, twisting your head around so you can finally look at Namjoon’s face. His eyes are hooded and dark. He looks nothing like the cute and clumsy man who waves you good morning every day; he looks like some hungry animal, a predator who’s been waiting for the right time to swallow his prey whole.

“Namjoon,” you breathe. He gives you a small smile that’s more of a smirk, utterly at odds to his usual dimpled beams.

“You don’t have to settle for an old tumble dryer, gorgeous.” He kisses the bare skin of your shoulder, right next to where your bra strap is resting, eyes locked on yours. His lips are so soft and you shiver. “Let me help you.”

“I’ll have you know that tumble dryer was very close to getting me off, actually.” You’re so turned on right now but you can’t help the words slipping out; a lifetime of snark doesn’t leave you the second you start feeling horny. “So it’s less you helping me, and more you giving me something you owe me, seeing as you took it away in the first place.”

Namjoon’s silent for a second, and you wonder if you’ve gone too far- if you’ve run your mouth too much- when he hums. “Ah,” he says. “That’s true. You’re right.”

“Huh?” You say eloquently, surprised, but then he takes the hand out of your sweatpants and you whine. “Hey, put that back, you’re not done yet.”

Namjoon lets out a little chuckle. “No, I’m not,” he agrees. “But I want to see this pretty lingerie properly. You’re all covered up and that just won’t do.”  

He punctuates this statement by taking both of his hands to your hoodie, where it’s been caught at your elbows, and sliding it off you. He drags his large palms down your arms as he does this, cool against your overheated skin; goosebumps appear in the wake of his touch and you shiver again. You have no idea what's going on right now. Everything feels like some sort of fever dream but you're not about to start complaining.

“If you’re about to see me in my unmentionables I’d least like a kiss first,” you say, pout audible in your voice. The truth is you’ve thought about Namjoon’s plush lips more often than you’d like to admit, how beautiful his mouth is, and it’s got to be illegal for Namjoon to have been touching you for as long as he has without letting you have at least one taste of his kisses. “Please?”

“Turn around, baby.” You instantly comply, all but throwing your arms around his neck as you look at him with an innocent, bambi gaze; he still has that half-lidded set to his eyes but you can see how that ravenous hunger is softened by his smile. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” you say. You might sound like the protagonist to some cheesy romance film right now but the truth is that you’re still aware of the heat between your legs, the ebbed arousal that’s still coiling low in your stomach, and as much as you want to kiss Namjoon, you want to cum, too. “Kiss me, kiss me, kiss m-”

Namjoon kisses you. He cuts you off mid sentence by slotting his mouth against yours, open around the word he swallows, and he immediately presses his tongue past your lips; you yield to him, letting him press his lips to your cupid’s bow as you lick his lower lip, soft and full. Just as good as you thought. No- better. His hands stay steady around your waist, but yours keep moving as you keep kissing- his shoulders, his nape, his hair, his jaw. Every part of him is so warm and solid against you and you just can’t get enough.

You slant your head to get deeper, tongues slipping into each other’s mouths in a way that borders on lewd, rubbing against each other as you trade saliva, your mouth full of the taste of Namjoon. You swear there’s a lingering taste of strawberries. You feel better, a little more in control now that you know Namjoon will indulge you even if you’re being a brat, and you can finally chase the thing that got this whole sequence of events started.

“I wanna cum, Namjoon,” you murmur against his lips once you finally part, breathless from his kisses. “Will you help me cum? Please? Pretty please?”

Namjoon’s lip curls back from his teeth in a silent growl, and a shudder runs through you at the sight; seeing your usually composed neighbour act like this because of you is a heady sensation. “You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you,” he says, and your pussy throbs with need at his words.

“Jesus Christ, Namjoon.” Your eyes are wild. “I want you to fucking wreck me.”

You get no warning before Namjoon is literally sweeping you off your feet and you squeal in surprise when you feel them leave the ground, but Namjoon’s grip on you is steady as he lifts you in a bridal hold. You feel breathless at this physical representation of his strength- you’ve only seen his bare arms once (that had been a nice morning) before but you definitely hadn’t forgotten about how thick they are, as evidenced by the way he’s carrying you. 

Normally you’d probably be chewing him out for lifting you without warning, but right now there’s a very base, animalistic part of you that goes belly up at the very obvious reminder of Namjoon’s superior power. The instinctual part of you that had initially told you to run away from him now seems entirely content with the fact you’ve been caught, and so you stay quiet in his arms. You cling tight to him as he walks to your bedroom without the need for directions, your flat the mirrored twin to his; you keep kissing his neck as he nudges the door open with his foot, running a hand down his chest, feeling the flex of his muscles through the fabric of his shirt. 

He’s so fucking hot, what the fuck.

He’s hot, and strong, but gentle, too. When Namjoon sets you down he’s so careful even though he could easily manhandle you in any way he wanted, and you give him a kiss as a thank you. It’s a brief moment of quiet, that little kiss, but then Namjoon is pulling you back towards him and his hands are all over as he helps you strip; Namjoon’s eyes are heavy on your body as he drinks you in, finally wearing nothing but the lingerie he’s been so desperate to look at.

He sees the way the interweaving straps rest against your skin with the perfect amount of pressure, little swells letting him know that he’ll be able to trace the touch of lace on your body even after he’s ripped it off you. The lace cups of your bra do nothing to hide how your nipples are standing to attention, begging to be touched. But the most eye-catching thing, the thing that Namjoon can’t stop looking at, is how sodden the lace between your legs is; your inner thighs are slick with your arousal, shining, and you haven’t even cum yet. 

“Look at you. So gorgeous,” Namjoon says. “Gonna make you cum over and over, baby.”

His hands feel so good against your skin as he skims his fingers over your panties, but he doesn’t take them off, and you let out a needy little noise. “Please,” you whine. “I need to cum, Joonie, been waiting so long.”

Namjoon watches as you reach to fumble with the clasp of your bra and reaches for your hands, stopping your motions. You blink up at him, confused, but then he’s turning you towards the bed and bending you over it, motions firm and undeniable; not that you would try to defy him, anyway. You brace your palms against the mattress and instantly arch your spine so that your ass is pushed out, enticing as possible.

You’re wondering if you’re going to have to beg for Namjoon to touch you but it seems what little patience he had has run out; his warm palms are immediately against your ass, touch reverent as he slides his hands over your skin, and you press back into that touch, wanting more of it. His hands skim up your sides and his fingers dance along the edge of your bra before reaching for the hooks, unfastening it so that it slips down your arms and onto the bed before you shove it aside. 

He bends over you, chest broad and warm against your naked shoulderblades, arms coming around your body so that he can cup your breasts in his large hands; his palms cover so much of your skin, your sensitive nipples, and you gasp at the shock of sensation that shoots through you as he drags his hands over them before using his fingers to pinch the hardened nubs. You twist your head and make a little noise, and Namjoon obliges you with a kiss, grinning against your mouth with each desperate sound he muffles with his plush lips.

Eventually, though, he pulls away from you. You glance over your shoulder to see that he’s gotten to his knees, still staring at your soaking core, before he hooks one of his thumbs into the fabric covering your aching pussy and pulls it aside before pressing his mouth against you.

“Oh, fuck!” Your body goes weak and you slump forwards onto your elbows and shove your face into the bed, and Namjoon follows when this moves you away from him, tongue buried in your cunt as he eats you out with no mercy. He’s utterly shameless, noises slick and lewd as he drags his wet tongue over your entrance and clit, swallowing down all the arousal that’s leaking out of you, ravenous. You reach behind you with one of your hands to grip his hair, and when you grind back against his face he lets out a satisfied hum; you gasp at the vibrations against your lower lips, oversensitive from all your edging.

“Gonna cum,” you say, twisting your head so that your cheek is pressed to your rumpled blanket. “I’m so close, oh, God, Namjoon-”

He’s been rubbing his tongue up and down your clit in a particularly sinful way, and after one more particularly hard stroke, you finally, finally reach that precipice you’ve been reaching for all day. You shove your face back into the blanket as you cum, all your gasps and moans coming together in one long cry as your toes curl and you tighten your fingers so hard into your sheets you almost pull them off the mattress. Your entire body trembles as your cunt pulsates with pleasure, each ripple of your pussy feeling like it’s passing through your whole body, and Namjoon doesn’t let up for a second, lapping down each wave of cum that flushes out of you. You feel utterly weak as you flop forwards against the mattress, boneless and shaky, but Namjoon’s mouth is still on you and you let out a whimper, oversensitive.

“It’s too much,” you gasp. “Namjoon-”

He takes his mouth off you immediately. “Sorry, baby,” he apologises, pressing a kiss against the swell of your ass. You want to sag your lower body against the bed but his hands are keeping you up, fingers digging into the soft skin of your ass and hips. “You just taste so good. Can you lie down for me?”

“Yes,” you say into the blanket, your voice a muffled slur. You’re so eager to please him even though you feel so weak from your post orgasm haze, and your muscles feel like jelly as you try to lift yourself onto the bed. Namjoon obviously notices how fucked out you are because he helps flip you over so that you’re on your back, staring up at him.

You continue to stare at him as he sheds his clothes. You let your gaze shamelessly rove over his body as it’s revealed- the honeyed tone of his skin, the muscles that shift underneath it, his shoulders, his arms, his chest, the long legs, the thick thighs, the trail of hair that dips down to his-

“Holy fuck.” Your voice is reedy with desperation, and Namjoon laughs.

His cock has to be the biggest you’ve seen in real life, long and thick, fully erect even though you haven’t touched it yet- the fact that you’re apparently arousing enough to bring him to full hardness is flattering, honestly. Even as you stare at it, it twitches, a dribble of precum oozing from the flushed head, almost an angry red from neglect. You watch, enraptured, as he circles his fingers around it; it doesn’t look any smaller in his large hands. He pulls on his cock, long and slow, before he spits onto it and fucks into his fist as you watch him, spreading the wetness over himself.

“Gonna fill that hungry little pussy with this cock,” he says. “Gonna give you a reward for being such a good girl. Is that what you want?” Namjoon watches you as he thumbs at his slit, precum weeping from his tip. “Does my good girl want this cock?”

“I want it,” you beg. You do, you want it so bad. His mouth and lips and tongue felt so good but it must be nothing in comparison to how good it’ll feel to be filled up  by Namjoon’s heavy, long cock. “Fuck, Namjoon, please, I want it.”

You lift your hips so that Namjoon can slide your panties off you. He stares at the strings of wetness that cling to them as he peels them away from your core, finally bare to the cool air of the room, and you suck in a breath. He wastes no time, climbing onto the bed and settling above you, cock swaying between his legs before he grasps it and tilts it towards your entrance. 

You lift your hips again, tilting them towards him for an easier angle- and immediately cry out when he broaches you, head pressing past your entrance. You’re so turned on and flushed wet that the initial slide in is easy, but as he gets deeper and deeper you can feel the stretch, your pussy forced open for him, feeling like you’re being split open with how big he is- you’ll feel the burn tomorrow, but right now your body is ripe and ready for him to take you, cunt clenching as he bottoms out in you. You experimentally tense your muscles and the two of you gasp in a breath, shocked pleasure at the sensation.

“Fuck, baby,” Namjoon groans. “You feel so good.”

He holds still for a moment to let you adjust, leaning down to kiss you. It’s deep and slow, tongue swiping into your mouth as you part your lips for him and let him take what he wants. When he leans back, all that softness is gone- your legs fall apart as he starts to fuck you, hips snapping forward as he ruthlessly presses his cock into you. He’s so big and he’s striking so deep it feels like you can feel him in your stomach, and you arch your back into him and cry out each time he strikes home.

The pace he sets is rough and aggressive, the slap of skin against skin and wet noises from his cock driving into your pussy filling the silence of the room, every part of you hypersensitive to every sensation- Namjoon’s weight pressing you into the mattress, the shaking bed, the rising smell of sweat and sex, the firmness of his hands on you. He leans back and you catch a glimpse of his hungry eyes before he puts his hands under your knees and hitches your legs up so that you’re practically bent in half when he fucks into you again- you cry out at the change of angle, how this lets him splay his large hand over the line of your hipbone as he starts to rub his thumb across your clit, continuing to fuck into the whole time.

“Gonna c-cum again,” you hiccup between thrusts, the air punched out of you each time that hot cock spears into you. “Joonie, gonna- gonna cum aga- oh!”

Your spine arches as your orgasm rips through you, coil of pleasure exploding like a firework as you cum for the second time that day, walls tensing around Namjoon’s cock; he continues to thrust into you, even when your cunt clenches so tight it feels like there’s no space inside you for his length. He keeps forcing your body open for him even as you keep falling apart around him, and you keep taking it, loving it. The only thing you can register is the delirious, mind-numbing satisfaction, sobbing out as Namjoon’s cock continues to fill you- you feel like he’s fucked you dumb, like your body was only made to be fucked by him, sloppy and open and wet. Each time he fills you up again it forces a noise from your throat, sounds of almost animalistic pleasure spilling from your lips, all semblance of coherent words gone.

When Namjoon pulls out of you, even though your body feels weak and limp and entirely fucked out, you whine at the loss. The next second, though, he flips you over, nudging your ankles apart before sliding back into you. The change of angle has him dragging against your sweet spot, balls slapping against your clit, overwhelming off the heels of just cumming, but you just take it, drooling into the pillow as your brain gives over to the all-consuming pleasure.

“So pretty when you cum around my cock.” Namjoon’s bent over you, murmuring praises that you barely register as he litters kisses over your shoulders and the side of your throat. “Greedy little pussy takes my cock so well. Such a good girl for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Wanna be a good girl for you.” Your words are a slur, your brain foggy but eager to please, answering the question. “Joonie.”

“Gonna fill you up so good,” he says, lips pressed against your ear as he whispers filth to you, still mercilessly fucking into you. “Gonna fill this pretty little pussy with my cum. Do you want my cum, baby?”

“Wan’ it,” you moan. There’s heat curling in your abdomen again, pussy tightening as another orgasm creeps up on you, the promise of Namjoon’s hot cum filling you pulling you closer to the edge. “Want your cum, Joonie.”

His fingers tighten around your waist as he starts to jackhammer into you. His cock feels like it’s splitting you open even as his rhythm starts to falter, and after one particularly hard thrust your eyes roll back in your head as you tumble over the edge again, cumming so hard it’s a wonder you don’t pass out. You let out a strangled moan and Namjoon curses as you tighten around him, your entire body trembling under his hands as you give yourself over to the waves of pleasure crashing through you. 

His rhythm falters before he lets out a shout and his cock jerks inside you as your tightening cunt pulls him into climax. Hot cum fills your pussy as he empties himself inside you, aftershocks of your orgasm drawing his seed deeper, painting your insides. You lie there and take it, face turned into the pillow as you focus on the sensation of his twitching cock, the way your body is milking him even in your exhaustion, like it’s desperate to satisfy him even when you can barely speak.

You shiver when you feel him slowly pull out. He’s stroking his hands over your skin, kissing your shoulder blades and nape as he turns you over, gentle as he touches you. “You did so well,” Namjoon praises, smiling at you. “So good for me.”

You still feel fuzzy but you latch onto Namjoon’s words as he kisses you on your forehead, your cheeks, your nose. Words seem so hard to string together right now but you try your best, voice small and weak. “Did good?”

“Absolutely perfect, baby,” Namjoon says, and you let out a happy sigh. You stay quiet while Namjoon slips out of your bed before returning with a damp cloth. You let your muscles go entirely lax as Namjoon rolls you onto your back and gently spreads your legs; he watches as his own cum drips out of you before he gently swipes the mix of cum that’s smeared across your pussy, mindful of your sensitive clit. You bask in his touch, feeling like a cat bathing in sunlight as he cleans you up, stroking his hands across your skin.

He gathers you in his arms and continues to murmur praises between kisses and touches. You slowly come back to yourself as he keeps lavishing attention on you, skin warm against his, turning into his touch as your brain starts to flicker back on. 

Namjoon brushes his lips against your forehead as your higher thought processes continue to fall back into place, although you’re still a little hazy. “You okay, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah.” You feel thoroughly fucked out after three back-to-back orgasms and your pussy feels raw and you’re not sure when you’ll next be able to walk in a straight line, but none of those things detract from how fabulous you feel right now. “More than okay. Wow. When I said I wanted you to wreck me, I didn’t realise you’d do such a good job.”

Namjoon smiles at you, and you finally get to indulge yourself, lifting a hand to stroke a finger across his dimples that deepen as you touch them. “I’m always happy to oblige,” he says, and you grin as you brush your nose across his neck, nuzzling into him.

“You really are the best neighbour,” you say. “Did you seriously come over to give me a bunch of hand picked strawberries? That’s what that bag was, right?”

“Of course.” Namjoon’s fingers continue to rub circles into your shoulder. “I thought you deserved a nice treat after a day of chores.”

“Oh, I feel very thoroughly rewarded,” you giggle, before pulling your head back to look Namjoon in the eye. “God. I was so mortified at the beginning, though. I seriously thought I was going to have to pack my bags and move away.”

“The strawberries wouldn’t be enough to persuade you to stay?” Namjoon strokes his knuckles down your cheek before resting his thumb under the swell of your bottom lip, pushing up a little so it looks like you’re pouting at him. “After I spent all afternoon picking them and thinking about you, and how lovely you’d look while you ate them with this pretty little mouth of yours?”

You relax into his touch, letting him rub the pad of his thumb over your lip, all but kissing his finger each time your mouth shapes itself around another word. “You think about me?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Namjoon says, stroking over your lip one last time before cupping your chin in his palm.  “I don’t genuinely lose my keys as often as you think I do. Though I do still lose them a lot,” he adds, a little sheepish, and you laugh.

“So you’re saying that if I give you a spare key to my flat, I should have back-ups on hand just in case?” You tease, leaning into the hand that’s cradling your chin. “Good to know.”

“A spare key?” Namjoon looks a little taken aback, and you blink at him.

“Yeah,” you say, like it’s obvious. “Y’know, unless you want me to go back to using the tumble dryer.”

The hand that’s been on your shoulder tightens a little as Namjoon digs his fingers into your skin, possessive. That part of you that’s gone belly up for him preens at the attention, still eager to please him and make him happy, loving the sensation of being so desired by someone who you thought was out of your reach. “No.” Namjoon’s voice is a rumble in his chest. “I’ll make you cum whenever you want, sweetheart.”

“Mm.” You hum quietly before kissing his cheek, and then Namjoon uses the hand under your chin to turn you towards him and presses his mouth softly to yours. “You might regret saying that. I’m very demanding. Starting with this- do you want to go get those strawberries so I can have a taste?” You flutter your lashes at him, and Namjoon chuckles as he indulges you. 

You watch the flex of muscles in his thighs and ass as he walks from the room, still in a bit of disbelief that you’ve touched him and kissed him and been so thoroughly fucked by him. Kim Namjoon is a ten course meal (not including drinks or dessert) but here he is, naked on your bed as he feeds you the sweet, ripe strawberries that he picked with his own hands, kissing the taste off your lips between each bite.

You feel utterly pampered and taken care of, reclining against the pillows as Namjoon feeds you another strawberry. You reach out for the largest you can see and return the favour, letting him lick the sweetness off your stained fingers and giggling at the sensation. 

“The dryer’s finished its cycle, by the way,” Namjoon says after he’s finished kissing your fingertips.

“That’s nice,” you say as you carefully pick out another strawberry and rest it against the dark red flush of Namjoon’s lips. “But I’m busy feeding the world’s most beautiful man right now, so it can wait.”

Namjoon smiles at you, eyes lovely and warm as he parts his lips to accept the fruit, before leaning down to press his berry stained mouth against your own.

[writings-by-blondie]

~If The Stars Could Speak~

Soap Mactavish x F!Reader (teaspoon of Angst)

She was way too good for him and he knew that yet he couldn't forget the way her (h/c) hair fell over her shoulders, her laugh and a bit cold, but glittery look of her (e/c) eyes when their gaze met for the first time..it was like he could see universe in them.

He was in cold, gloomy, Russia, on a mission that was to be last, scribbling down words on the peace of paper, counting down hours till he get to hold her forever...

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

His most trusting man, and friend, Simon and him decided to lay back and enjoy some free time they were granted away from their ever noisy and ever busy camp.

They were at downtown, walking and talking about how tonight is their night - they will leave job at office and they will just enjoy strong alcohol and good music.

The night was a bit chilly, but nothing unusual for the late September.

That just meant that John will finally have chance to wear that nice black spitfire jacket he bought not long ago, and he looked well in it.

As the two men walked they spotted the bar they wanted to be in for the rest of the night, right outside of it, sticking out like a sore thumb was parked some expensive car that John didn't know how to indenify as. He wasn't a big car head like his friend.

"Look at this mate. Its Porsche, bet some meat heads are in this place",

said Simon chucking and eyeing the car and tilting his head slowly towards the bar.

Mactavish smirked and pushed his friend gently as he started walking in, "You have a problem with that or you're just scared of guys who drive expensive cars, eh?".

Inside of the bar you and small group of your friends were in VIP lounge. Infront of you, on small glass table was a bucket filled with ice that kept some red bulls and couple of Baltica beers cold.

You were drinking Jack Daniels, your glass half full. Being tipsy already, you fake-laughed at some perverse joke friend next to you finished telling.

Tonight, you really felt down. Truth to be told, you've been feeling under the weather last couple of months, nothing seemed to go the right way and nothing you did could change that feeling. On top of that your stupid poosh boyfriend broke up with you over text last week, and even though you understood that your friends cared for you and wanted you to forget about that fool and enjoy yourself, you still couldn't shake away the bitterness and just wanted to curl away in your bed, eat some strawberry ice cream and watch ‘Casablanca’.

But here you were, in a black dress that glittered under the light, your hair styled in lazy but not messy curls, and your over-expensive white heels. You looked like the IT girl that every man would want for them selves, to put you on pedestal and admire you.

(Y/n) leaned back in the black leather seat before she took a deep sigh that was followed by pouting and throwing down rest of the Jack that was in her glass down her throat. It burned for a bit, but the sweet flavour of alcohol made her want to drink more, so she opened the half empty bottle and poured more of the honey-coloured liquid into her glass.

She leaned in close to her friend on the left and whispered,

"I need to go and check my make up. Save a seat for me, and dont touch my bottle, I will know if you do.",

you almost groaned last words since you knew well that your friends loved to mess with you.

The (h/c) girl now stood up, taking her light coloured purse that matched with her heels, in her hands and started walking towards the washroom of the bar.

The floor was wooden, hard wood, after all the bar was made to accommodate high class people and to draw in tourists who had a lot of money to spend. Her heels making a little bit noise as her steps collided with the floor. It was a southing sound, like when rain hits the metal.

Her hips swayed as her dress didn't quite hug her whole neatly shaped figure, so it swayed with her movements, glittering under the dim light of the noisy bar.

She had to watch every step since she felt that the alcohol was indeed kicking in, but the song playing on stereos drew her attention and just for a tiny moment she forgot completely that she had heels on.

"Shit-", you muttered loudly as your purse left your hands and you could see the dark wooden floor getting close to you now, but you weren't colliding with it, instead you felt stern grip on your waist, feeling the coldness of someones hand that went straight to your skin, under the dress. You furrowed eyebrows before looking up, facing a, without any exaggeration, handsomest man you ever laid eyes upon.

His eyes, blue as the sea in mid July in the noon, almost glittering like a waves when they shine under the hot sun. His smell now invaded your nostrils touching your senses, stimulating them, wanting more of it. It was pine mixed with old brand of ‘denim’, manly but still subtle, just enough.

He smiled at you softly looking into your eyes, not breaking eye contact once.

"Careful now lass, we don’t want any broken bones yet, the night is still young eh?..", he spoke with thick and extremely attractive (for some reason) Scottish accent and she took deep breath in, as the man slowly placed the girl in front of him back on her legs, parting his hand with her waist. The girl licked her lover lip, realizing now that she was blushing way more than it was appropriate for this kind of situation and softly muttered, "Sorry.. The heels..", under her breath before she walked pass the man and disappeared into woman's washroom.

Mactavish however trailed her with his eyes, her long and subtly toned legs, and the way the subtle cutout on her dress reviled a bit of her thigh. She was clearly in distress and he couldn't help but chuckle a bit to himself as he picked up her purse from the floor and sat down in the nearby booth with Simon.

"What the hell was that?", Riley said as he took off his black leather jacket, placing it next to him.

"It was like some scene out of those old movies mate. Its like, in that one moment, universe existed to put us together.", John smiled to himself, also placing his jacket next to him, being a bit surprised at his own words, he wasn't cheesy, but romantic? He was that.

And he would never let any of his friends know that since well, it was an army and he didn't need Ghost going around the base telling everyone that their captain was softie.

"Since when are you that cheeky eh? Maybe Price doesn't make you do enough pushups at morning." Simon smirked at his friend and raised his hand to call the bartender,

"Its a quote, some of us are literate cinema vise mate", Mactavish smirked back at him leaning over the table, trying to reach for his cigars in his back pocket, "But she is bonnie, nonetheless.".

In washroom you tried to steady your breathing. You put your hand on your chest and closed eyes, but the only thing you could see was the man's eyes and his face. Girl quickly opened her eyes and looked at her reflection in big mirror that was placed on black and white tiles. (Y/n) looked at her face, noticing few spots where her make up was messed up, she pouted a bit and reached down on the sink for her purse, but her palm was met only with cold marble sink.

You quickly shot your gaze towards your hand, with your eyebrows furrowed. Eyes darting across the sink, around it and eventually around the whole washroom then the realisation hit you like a heavy boulder- you dropped your purse when you tripped, when he grabbed you.

"For fucks sake..", you muttered under the breath. It was enough humiliating that probably whole bar watched you stumble around like a new born deer and almost kiss the floor, but now you had to go retrieve your purse that was probably still on the ground and go back to washroom again looking like a lost highschool girl on the party.

You shook your head and realised that stupid anxiety attack got your judgment clouded- people fall every day, and they drop stuff everyday too.

The girl now straighten her posture, fixed her hair a bit and opened the door, exiting the cool room she was in before heading to the booth were she dropped her purse, but to her surprise the purse was not on the floor instead she heard familiar thick accent from the booth next to where she was standing,

"Looking for this lass?", the man waved with her purse smiling at her with one of his brows raised, his friend watching her, waiting for her next move.

You swallowed a big gulp, approaching the booth were the men were sitting slowly, taking your purse from the blue eyed man,

"Yes, thank you. Saving me from embarrassment.. Very noble of you.", you said with a now confident voice, not breaking eye contact with him. There was something about him, something unexplainable. It was like that with every second she looked at his face, at his slightly parted lips as a little smile formed on his face, you were losing grip on the time it was like a whole universe worked for you and him.

"Glad I could help ma'am. Those shoes do look dangerous, better watch your step.", the man spoke and she smiled at him, shyly nodding and turning around, breaking the eye contact with him, slowly walking towards her own booth where her friends were loud and drunk.

But every step you took was heavier than the last one, you didn't want to go there, you wanted to sit with him, smell that invading pine again, feel his touch again.. Was this alcohol that was in your bloodstream?

You stopped suddenly and took a deep breath, before turning on your heels and going back to the two man who were now smoking, their drinks were on their table as well.

"Oh screw it. Universe, dont make a fool out of me!", you thought internally as you approached back their booth, and both men looked up at you again.

"Do you need some help lassie? Are you feeling well?", the blue eyed man asked. You actually just now noticed that he had his hair styled as a mohawk and it suited him so nice, the scar over his eye stuck out as well.

You snapped out and shook your head in denial,

"Would you mind if I joined you for a drink?",

Ghost cleared his throat and looked away with a huge smirk over his face, avoiding John’s stern look. Mactavish moved himself to the left, leaving vacant place for the girl to sit and nodded his head down while putting out cigar that was already burned.

You sat next to him, smiling and biting inside of your cheek, leaving your purse on the edge of the table waving to the bartender to get his attention, you showed him universal sign for ‘another bottle’ and the man nod to you.

You returned your attention towards two men who were gazing at you the whole time.

"So, who wishes to start this AA meeting? How about you sir?", you pointed at men across from you. Both men cracked at your joke before the one you pointed at started talking,

"Name's Simon, that’s Soap- I mean John..", Simon barely held in his laugh looking away from the pair. You looked at men next to you and his jaw was clenched, he obviously didn't like that one.

"Y/N, nice to meet you fellas. This night needed some life in it. I was dying of boredom over at VIP's. Some fresh environment is nice..",

you smiled at John who was downing his beer, slowly he nod at the girl and the bartender finally came with your new bottle of Jack and three glasses for each of you.

"Put it on my bill, thanks.", you said and John eyed you as you opened the bottle of whiskey and poured everyone about a half of the glass, raising your own towards him as you finished. You smirked a bit, leaning towards him, unintentionally, your thigh subtly brushed against his light blue denim jeans.

"Cheers to not breaking bones and to concerned strangers.”, you said the words, slowly looking up at his eyes yet again.

John looked down at you, slowly colliding his glass with yours.

"Well, cheers to me I guess..", Simon muttered to himself and downed down the glass. You couldn't help but laugh sincerely, John joining you while rolling his eyes at Simon,

"Ghost getting ghosted, this will be the story to tell the mates back at camp for sure..".

You raised your eyebrow in confusion, leaving your glass on the table and crossing your legs, leaning back,

"Camp? What are you two like some secret agents or something?", you asked and John and Simon talked to you about their job deep into night. They explained their line or work as subtle as they could and shared some of the funniest moments from their missions with you.

John enjoyed your laugh, the way you blushed when you caught him looking at you, avoiding his gaze, how well your lips were glossed and your perfume that made him want to invade your neck and collarbone with small and soft kisses. He also noticed how soft your skin was when he "accidentally" touched your hand as you were reaching for the bottle, wanting to pour another drink.

It was about 3 in the morning when you turned around towards the bartender who was next to you, telling you and your new friends that the bar is closing in about five minutes. Your friends left long time ago, too drunk to even notice that you were gone or that you were now sitting elsewhere.

"Oh come on Gorge! Cant you see how much fun we are having here? Can’t you just lock us in or join us?", you blinked innocently at the bartender and it made man blush, ofcourse that didn't go unnoticed by Mactavish who cleared his throat subtly and put his hand around your shoulder. You turned your head, raising eyebrow at him and questioning what the hell he was doing.

"Come on lass, man has a job to do, a boss to answer to. We will get you to your hotel eh?", you chuckled at him, now relaxing into his touch, and he loved it. He softly rubbed exposed skin on your shoulder with his thumb and you inhaled sharply, smiling at him reaching for your purse and pulling out keys from your car,

"I drank a lot.. Who is driving lads?",

You closed the door of your Porsche and could hear Simon in the back seat whistle,

"It even has leather inside and tv in the back of the seat. Of course it does.. For gods sake (y/n), you could've just told us that you are rich. We would've distanced from you.", Riley made a joke and you laughed, turning around in your seat looking at Simon, as John started the car, slowly advancing towards the main street.

"I wouldn't trade time I had with you boys for nothing in this world. I haven't laughed like that in ages..",

Riley now looked at Mactavish on review mirror smirking,

"Soap, drop me off first and then take (y/n) back to her place. Base is just around the corner it will save her some gas.".

You eyed man who was driving now, waiting for his response, he groaned in response then he nodded slowly looking at you, before returning eyes to the road that was empty. The city was in deep sleep.

John parked infront of some old looking house and Simon chuckled, "Well this is my stop. I'll see ya in the morning mate, don't forget to freshen up, we will need you frosty eh?",

Simon said before he slammed the doors shut and swiftly disappeared into the house.

You looked at John and pouted a bit, he looked and you and wiggled his eyebrows playfully,

"Where to miss?", he put up his best British accent and you couldn't help but laugh at how silly he sounded.

"With you? To the stars.." you leaned on his shoulder and kicked down your heels, tucking your legs under your tights.

Mactavish took a deep breath, inhaling the sent of your perfume, before he started driving again, he reached for the radio and turned it on.

A soft tune of "Midnight" song was on it and you hummed in approval.

"You know, I feel like I should've met you long ago instead of wasting my time around, not knowing where am I going, what am I doing. I wish this night could last forever John, I wish I could be stuck in it forever.."

The man smiled and reached for one of your hands, locking his fingers with your smaller ones, his eyes never leaving the road.

"I want to show you one place, if you are not up for sleep yet lassie?"

You parted your head with his shoulder to look up at him, his face being illuminated by dim street lights, he looked so soft and like he didn't have any worry in the world.

"Aye sir, I am in your hands for the rest of this trip." you joked and he let out a huffed laugh, bringing your hand closer to his lips, kissing your knuckles, you watched him carefully, biting your lower lip as you felt the warmth spread throughout your entire body from just that tiny exchange of affection.

John parked the car, pulled the break and turned the machine off. He leaned back in the leather seat and looked at you, smile creeping around the corners of his mouth.

"Take my jacket, it can be windy up here."

He said and reached in the back seat for his jacket, handing it to you. You took it into your hands and looked around you, it was quiet and dark all around. Not single lamp post or anything was in the vicinity, only the headlights that John left on, and the soft tune of radio that still played.

"There is nothing here, and honestly it feels like a horror movie. Am I about to be murdured  and thrown from this cliff John?"

Mactavish just chuckled and opened the car doors on his side,

"Do you trust me lass?", he asked as he leaned on the car roof, peeking inside and looking at you.

"Do I trust man I just met in local bar to exit my car, my only way of escaping, and obey him to walk into my own funeral? Sure yeah, here I come.." you said with playful tone as you stepped out of your car, flinging his black jacket over your shoulders and sliding your arms into it. It smelled like him and you buried your nose into the collar of jacket, closing your eyes and getting lost in the man's perfume mixed with aftershave. You were about to close the doors of the car when John cut you off,

"Don't close the doors, we won't be able to hear the music".

He was now behind you, towering over your smaller frame and your heart skipped the beat as you turned around to face him.

He slowly reached for your hips and without any hesitation or struggle, swayed you off your bare feet and lifted you up. You instinctively warped your arms around his neck smiling at him.

"You need to stop watching that many horror movies, they will rot your pretty brain"

He smiled at you with his eyes, looking down at your parted lips. Your face being right infront of his, possibly few inches away since he could feel your breath on his skin, and you could feel his. Blush creeped around your cheeks and he put you down on the hood of the car that was still warm from the engine. Your hands left his neck, but he still remained between your legs, not letting your hips just yet. You could've swore that his eyes were shining that night, you knew it was not possible, that your brain was seeing tings the way it wanted to, but you still chose to believe that impossible was possible in that moment.

His shadow that was casted due to headlights now moved, and with deep inhale his grip left your hips and you bit your lip. You felt disappointed and empty, you wanted him to lean in closer, you wanted to taste him and to seal the deal, but he moved away, hopping on the hood with ease, next to you, and leaning down on the windshield, one hand behind his head and other stretched out across the hood. He wiggled his eyebrows at you and slowly nodded towards his hand.

You pouted but soon enough curled against him, resting your head on his arm and softly gliding your hand over his chest, feeling his heart beat under your palm.

In response he softly put his fingers in your hair, massaging your head in circular moves.

"Look up lass, the sky is beautiful tonight. No clouds, just stars blinking and shining somewhere out there, far, far away. Haven't seen this in a while."

You listened to his words and followed his gaze up towards the sky. He was right, it was indeed beautiful. Dark blue mixed with dozen blinking lights looking back at you and him. Moon was nowhere to be found however. And then it struck you, the whole moment was inscribed into your memory- his soft breathing, the glitter in his eyes, the soft music that was playing from inside the car, the murmur of water somewhere in the distance, the ruffle of the leaves and grass that were moved by soft breeze and your eyes watered a bit, you really wanted to live in this moment forever, to lie on his arm forever and to gaze at the same stars forever.

John noticed the hard breathing next to him and faced you with soft smile "Dont cry lass, I more like you smiling, it suits you better. Can't say the same for those shoes.. Those didn't work for you that well eh?" you chucked through the tears and felt his thumb on your cheek as he wiped one stray tear.

"I just want to be here forever.. Like this. With you next to me. If I had one chance to freeze the time it would be right now, right here with you so I could look at your eyes filled with thousand stars forever, counting them slowly one by one, never getting bored of you." the girl said softly pulling herself closer to him. John smiled and kissed her hair softly.

"Funny how you are telling me the words I should be telling you bonnie. Maybe this is just a dream eh? Maybe we will wake up from it feeling empty..I know that I will miss you when I am gone.. Now, tell me who broke your heart?"

John said with whisper, still gazing up at the stars, slowly closing his eyes.

"Life did. But its nothing you can't fix.." you said quietly, blushing and looking up at him. He opened the eyes and looked back at you, his eyes trailing every line of your face, trying to remember all the features of it as he leaned in and slowly kissed your forehead.

"Dance with me?" He asked and you smiled up at him.

"I dont have any shoes on." you replied as with one swift move he pulled you off the car .

"That is nothing I can't fix." he smirked a bit and lifted you up from the car, telling you to stand on his shoes.

"John no, I am heavy." you chuckled as his hands held you close to him, his hands under his jacket, one placed on small of your back and one firmly held your hip, your feet now on his shoes, and he started moving slowly in tune of "Gloria" by Midnight that was on radio station at the moment.

"Bollocks, you are light as a feather, I can't even feel you. Do you even eat something or you just drink every day?" He joked and you laughed, throwing your hands over his head, locking them behind his neck.

"Captain Mactavish, stop teasing me and kiss me. I demand that action." you ran your hand over back of his head, feeling the tingles on your palm from his fresh shaven hair cut.

He looked down at you, lingering his eyes on your lips that were smirking a bit, slowly closing distance between the two, teasingly.

He pressed his cold lips on yours and you closed your eyes, wanting to remember every single moment and every move he made.

He slowly moved his hand up and down your back, inviting you to deepen the kiss which you accepted. He kissed you slowly, with passion with every move. He was spilling all of his emotions right then and there, he held you like was afraid that you will disappear from his arms, like he wouldn't be able to touch you or feel you. Your heart feel heavy, and you swore he could hear it since it was crashing against your ribcage. 

John slowly parted with your lips, looking into your eyes, his forehead resting on yours,

"After I am done with next mission, I will steal you and take you away so we can count all of the starts together, alright?" He asked and you nodded in approval slowly.

"Promise you wont forget?" You blinked up at him and he softly leaned in and kissed your lips again, kiss that was assuring and warm.

"I will be back in two days, wait for me here and be ready for a trip.", he softly brushed his nose on yours and you smiled wide at him, the universe was on your side, fate was on your side. It gifted him to you, to keep him and to cherish him, that whole night was like a fever dream, it almost didn't feel real- but it was. He was there and you were with him, swaying to the music slowly, kissing and feeling each other praying that sun wont come up just yet..

In two days you were at the same spot, your truck filled with all your stuff you needed.

You paced around the car excited, wanting to have his arms around you again, wanting to kiss him again... But he never showed up.

You never saw him again. You visited the bar often, you went to the house where you left his friend that night but the house was not there, it was demolished not long ago.

John disappeared without the trace, just the way he came into your life, unnoticed.

You never heard from him again. It was like that whole night was just a distant dream you had, and you would believe it if it wasn't for his jacket that was in your closet, his smell still lingering on it.

Years have passed, you never quite moved on, settling for a man who was nothing like John, but he cared for you, he really did.

Treating you right, bringing you flowers for every 14th of February, never forgetting anniversary or your birthday.

He didn't have stars in his eyes, he never took you to that place, never made you fall in love with him in bare hours, but he was enough. You had a nice house in nice neighbourhood and you lived a nice life with him.

You were at kitchen, preparing a lunch for your husband and you, when you heard a bell ring of your doors. You swiftly cleaned your hands and rushed to open the door.

"Yes?" You said as handle turned and the door opened.

Man who you never met before stood before you. He had small blue eyes, his beard was a bit weird but it suited him nice. He had a brown hair, and looked like life never treated him with ease.

"Can I help you sir?" You questioned the stranger and he nodded affirmative

"You are a hard one to find (y/n). Took me long enough.. Name's John Price, I have something for you.", he said and pulled white small envelope from his pocket handing it to you

"What is this sir? How do you know my name?" He smiled sadly at you and turned around being ready to leave when he stopped in his tracks, not facing you still.

"I am sorry. Wish I did more." .

He said and you were more confused than ever, you watched as man left your property and you closed the door, looking at the envelope that was in your hand. It was a bit heavy, but only on one side of it.

You rushed to the living room, where you sat down and opened it.

Dog tags fell out from them, they were cleaned recently, but the rust on them was noticeable still.

"John Mactavish"

ARMY

Some numbers and rest were scribbled from them.

Your heart dropped and your lips parted, eyes already filled with tears that slowly left your eye, falling down your cheek.

In the envelope was also a paper, it had blood stains on it. You tried wiping your eyes and reading it.

"I want to invite you for a walk,

To a quiet place; In the moor.

When the breeze sings midnight,

One if those nights- the moon is full.

A restless pounding invades in my heart,

When I think of my confidants-

The stars.

If they could only speak ,

What would they say?

If you could hear them talk.

For they know of my fondness for you,

And that in my thoughts

There is no other one.

If only the stars could speak

They will tell you that I love you,

They would ask you,

To love me back."

You hugged the peace of paper like it was John himself and let your tears fall freely whispering to yourself and to the paper like he could hear you, like he was the one in your arms instead of this bloody peace of paper.

“I do love you John.. I never stopped.”.

A soothing closure fell over you. Now he was the star somewhere up in the sky, looking over at you every night you faced the sky, waiting for you to join him one day.

[thisbeatchachinglikemoney]

Moonlight

Part 1 of the Boys with Luv series

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (eventual), Yoongi x BTS, dom!Yoongi x sub!Taehyung x sub!Jungkook

Summary: One night when Yoongi is out for a moonlit stroll, he finds a girl dancing in the park all alone. When he approaches her, his whole life changes forever.

Warnings: There is some mention of mental and physical abuse in this chapter, as well as some a theme of depression and mention of self-harm.

Tags:@calling-dips-on-j-hope​, @fic-recs-by-moon​, @luvtaeha, @aretha170​, @xicanacorpse​, @kookieebangtan, @fangirl125reader, @seoul9711​, @channiespup, @lindsayjoy444​​ 

Part 1 | Part 2

Y/N POV:

He was drunk. Again. This time it was worse than the others though. The other times he was drunk enough that he was tired and could not stay awake long enough to actually hurt me anymore than a couple of hits poorly aimed and a handful of harmful words thrown at me. But it was enough for me to fall further into a deep, black void that seemed to have no way out. It was inescapable. I could hear him banging and shouting to himself downstairs. I was in our room, pretending to be asleep. I rarely slept when he was around, scared of what he would do to me when I was unaware. 

That was why I slept while he was out during the day, and then would sneak out at night once I knew he was sleeping. I would go to a park nearby and just sit there and collect my thoughts. Sometimes I would let myself taste the sweet release that I got when I danced, but that was very rare. He banned me from dancing, saying it was like I was cheating on him by showing off my body to other people. And of course, I believed him. 

I guess the only good thing was that he wasn’t my soulmate. Everything was still black and white and all the shades of grey in between for me. But I just couldn’t find the courage in myself to get help to leave him. When I was in the park, I loved to listen to BTS to help myself find the courage to get through the next day. Just enough that I would want to survive. But that didn’t stop the want to die from slipping through some cracks. Small scars littered my wrists. They all looked almost silver to me, but I knew that if I could see colour, they would be red. The colour of blood. 

He laughed when he found out. Said I deserved it. Said I should do it more and maybe, just maybe, if I was lucky I would cut deep enough to end it. 

I could hear his footsteps thumping up the stairs now. I gulped and nestled under the blankets, trying to even out my breathing and slow it down to give the impression I was asleep. I almost flinched when I heard the door open, but I managed to stay still. 

“I know you’re awake.” He said, his voice dangerously calm. His footsteps grew louder until I could feel his breath fan over me. It stunk of cheap whisky and other alcohol. He scoffed. “Of course you’d ignore me. Stupid bitch!” He slapped me across the face, causing me to jolt forward and gasp in pain as red hot sparks shot across my face. I curled into a ball, protecting my face with my arms. “Worthless, good for nothing slut.” He pulled me off the bed and kicked me in the stomach, making me cry out in pain. I began to back away from him, pushing myself along the floor with my hands and feet as he walked towards me. 

My heart was pounding in my chest, my breathing erratic. I was scared. He could kill me. He lifted his foot as if he was going to stamp on my outstretched leg, but I rolled away just in time, earning myself a kick to the side. I whimpered and stumbled to my feet. I looked around for something, anything I could use as a weapon, as something to defend myself. My eyes zeroed in on a lamp. It was a gift from my mother; a metal base that had little knots of the material jutting out from the sides. I knew it was heavy. I knew that it could possibly knock him out.

I ran over to it and picked it up, yanking the plug out of the socket. He walked closer to me, scoffing. “You think you can hurt me with that?” He chuckled. “Sweet,” He began to undo the buckle of his belt and was about to pull it from its confines when I swung at him with the lamp. It was as if the gods were looking down upon me when the metal end connected with his head, knocking him out cold. 

I stared down at his unconscious body, breathing quickly. I tried to calm myself down as I grabbed my phone and shoes, quickly disabling my location services. I had to leave him. Next time, I may not be so lucky. I looked around and stuffed some clothes into a backpack, grabbed a charger and my toothbrush and ran out of the house.

I didn’t have a car. He never let me, since he was under the impression that I could get away with it. Guess he forgot I had two legs and could walk. I shivered slightly, wrapping my arms around myself in an attempt to warm me up. I was only wearing a light hoodie, not realising how cold it was.

But I’d be fine. I could just huddle up underneath some of my clothes - use them as a blanket. I didn’t have any friends I could go to - he had made me get rid of them as well. I suppose it was safer for them; he could have threatened to hurt them to get me to do anything. I looked up at the sky, seeing the moon glowing a bright white light, the beauty of it making me feel calm. The moon was full and round, the streets being illuminated by the moonlight as I made my way to the little park that was my safespace.

Yoongi POV:

“No, no, no, no!” I groaned as my computer froze, the coloured pinwheel spinning around as if to mock me. I slammed my hand down on the desk in frustration, knowing that there was a good chance that all my hours of hard work on this song would be deleted. 

I pushed my chair back harshly and got up, kicking at the chair in annoyance. “Stupid thing. Can’t even work properly.” I glanced at the screen, letting a small sliver of hope through, hoping that the work had been saved and that it was still there, almost at the point of completion. My heart sunk, the screen was black. There goes eight hours or more of hard work for nothing.

I picked up my phone to check the time. It was almost midnight. There was a miriad of texts from my hyung and dongsaengs, urging me to come eat. Hobi had said he had come to get me but I clearly didn’t or wouldn’t hear him so he left. There was food for me in the fridge and Jungkook was waiting up for me. Of course he was, the boy could not sleep without knowing that everyone was in the dorm. 

All seven of us were in a relationship with each other, yet we were not soulmates since it was not allowed between people of the same sex. Stupid homophobic system. But if Kookie was waiting for me, I guess I should stop working now. The boy would force himself to stay awake, which would make him grumpy the next morning. Sometimes he acts like a baby, but who can blame him? He is the maknae after all.

My phone dinged, signalling a text for Taehyung.

Tae ❤️:

Hyung, when are you coming backkkkk? The bed is empty and I’m colddddddd. Pleaseeeee hurryyyyyyyyy

I love youuuuuu

But hurryyyyyyy

I shook my head and chuckled at Taehyung’s cuteness. I decided I would not text him back, but rather call him as I collected my stuff. I clicked on his contact name and put the phone against my ear as I shut off the computer and walked out of Genius Lab, locking the door behind me. 

“Hyung! When are you coming back?!” Tae asked as soon as he picked up the phone.

“Tae, baby. I am on my way, okay? I’m just a bit stressed though, so I may have to have even more cuddles.” I said. Even though I never showed it, I loved having and giving hugs to the members. But only behind closed doors. I could never do it in front of the cameras. It would ruin my bad boy persona. 

“Cuddles!” Tae gasped. “Yay. Hurry, please, hyung.” He pleaded, dragging out the end of the ‘please’, making me chuckle.

“I’m just getting in the car now baby boy. I’ll be back soon. Give me five minutes.” I said as I unlocked my car and got in, throwing my stuff over to the passenger seat. 

“Okay, hyung.” Tae said, smiling. I could hear it in his voice. “Oh, and hyung?”

“Yes baby?” I said as I set the phone in its holder and put it on speaker so I could start driving.

“I have a surprise for you.” He sang, giggling after. “I think you’ll like it a lot.”

“Oh, I look forward to it, baby.” I said as I reached a traffic light that was just outside the building. As I looked around, I caught a glimpse of lace stuffed by the seat. I frowned and reached over, pulling at it to get a closer look at what it was. I smiled and shook my head as I realised that it was a pair of Tae’s panties. He had obviously hidden them in here, seeing how they were strategically concealed.

Wearing lingerie was something Tae loved to do. He wore it all the time, not that any of us complained. He looked so cute, but so beautiful and breathtaking at the same time. My personal favourite was when he wore one of my oversized shirts with a pair of panties underneath, the lace framing his ass perfectly. Tae was the subbiest out of all of us, with Jimin and Jungkook a close second. Jin would sometimes sub and sometimes dom, but me, Joon and Hobi were the doms. I wondered if this is what his surprise would be.

“Oh, baby, I have something of yours.” I said.

“What is it?” Tae asked curiously. I could hear the duvet covers moving around as he shuffled on our bed. Each of us shared a room. It was me and Tae, Jimin and Hobi, and Joon, Jin and Kookie. Some nights, there would be more of us sleeping together, and some nights we would all sleep with each other. That was usually if one of us was really stressed or really upset and needed comfort from everyone. I wouldn’t need that tonight. I knew Tae would be able to cuddle away all my worries. I would be able to make it up tomorrow. I could get one of the others to help me.

“I’ll let you guess, baby. It was in my car and they are lacy.” I hinted. I heard him swallow before he took a deep breath.

“Am I in trouble?” Tae asked, his voice a lot quieter. “I’m sorry, I put them in there as a just in case, you know how you like to rip them off me.” He added quickly.

“I’m not angry at you baby boy.” I said, keeping my voice calm. “It was a nice surprise.”

“It was?” I could hear the smirk in Tae’s voice. “Then you’re going to like what I have for you here in bed... Master...”

As soon as he said this, I felt what could have been all my blood rush to my dick. “I’m almost home, baby.” I said, clearing my throat and palming myself to relieve the feeling I had. I let out quiet and breathy moan.

“Are you touching yourself, master?” Tae asked. “Are you getting your big cock nice and hard for me?”

“I want you ready for me when I get in, puppy.” I said as I pulled the car into the driveway of the apartment complex where our dorm was. 

“I’ll be waiting for you, Master.” Tae said excitedly, ending the call.

I turned off the engine of the car and sat there for a few moments, trying to calm myself down slightly. I would give him a slight punishment - he knew not to leave things in the car, no matter how arousing it would be for me, and he had also teased me slightly.

I walked into the house and spied Jungkook sat on the sofa, mindlessly flicking through the channels on the TV. So, he had waited up for me. Might as well if he wants to join in the fun with me and Tae.

“Kookie, baby.” I said, walking over to squat down in front of him. As I came into his line of vision, a bunny smile formed on his face.

“Hyungie, you’re back.” Jungkook flung his arms around my neck and kissed my cheek.

“Hey, bunny.” I stroked his hair and turned my head to kiss his lips gently. “Baby, TaeTae and I are going to be having some fun in a second. Do you want to join us?”

Jungkook looked at me, his chocolate eyes sparkling. He hummed in agreement and nodded his head. “Bunny wants to help please Master and TaeTae.” He said, instantly slipping into his subspace. 

“Okay, bunny.” I said, standing up with him still wrapped around my neck. He whined when I tried to push him off so I could walk upstairs. “Do you want me to carry you?” My cute little bunny nodded eagerly, so I picked him up and carried him towards mine and Tae’s bedroom. “Alright, bunny, let’s go say hi to TaeTae. Master has to punish him a bit though, first. You can go freshen up first if you want.” I suggested.

Jungkook nodded before leaning forward to kiss me. I reached down and squeezed him through his sweatpants, causing him to let out a shaky whine. “Master, please.” 

“Go freshen up baby. When you’re done you can come straight in.” I said, setting him on his way with a pat to his bum.

I pushed open the door to Tae’s room and saw him kneeling on the bed. But what really took my breath away was what he was wearing. It was a lace bodysuit that had bows decorating it. I couldn’t see his ass, but I already knew that there would be nothing covering it. There were small bows fastened to the tops of his thighs, holding the bodysuit in place. To top it all off he had a collar fastened around his neck.

“Fuck, puppy. Look at you. So beautiful for me.” I said, walking over to him and tracing his lips with my finger. “I believe these belong to you.” I pulled the lace out of my pocket and tossed it at him. He caught it with one hand and smirked at me.

“Did you like your surprise, master?” He asked coyly, looking up at me. I moved my hand to hold his face in place, cupping his chin. 

“I love it, puppy, but you know the rules. You don’t leave things in my car, do you?”

“No, master.” Tae looked down in shame. “‘M sorry. I just wanted it to be there as a backup.”

“Puppy, do you wanna know why I rip them off you?” I asked, kneeling down in front of him. He tilted his head at me in confusion. “Because I love the idea that you are wearing nothing beneath your clothes and that if you have one slip up, you would be exposed.” I trailed my finger down his chest and circled it around his tip.

“Master, please.” He begged. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. It was a mistake.” I could see that he was almost fully hard, his cock was straining against the fabric of his bodysuit.

“You wanna make it up to me? Turn over and on my knee.” I ordered, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Yes, master.” Tae leant across my lap, his stomach resting on my knees. I smirked when I saw his exposed ass, all round and ready for me.

“Now, puppy. Kookie will be joining us soon, so we’d better make your initial punishment quick.” I said, kneading the globes of his ass. It wasn’t as big as Jimin’s, but Tae definitely had a beautiful ass. “How many do you think you deserve, pup?”

“At least 20, master. I was naughty.” Tae almost moaned out.

“Yes you were, puppy. Very naughty. You also teased master when he was coming home.” I sighed. “But, I guess my puppy likes being punished, doesn’t he?” Tae was silent. I smacked his ass hard, causing the flesh to jiggle. “Doesn’t he?” I repeated.

“Yes, master.” He said after he had yelped. I could feel how hard he was pressing against my thigh.

“I think I may give you 25, how does that sound?”

“Good, master.”

“And after each one, you thank me. You need to learn to obey, don’t you puppy?”

“Yes, master. I do.”

“Count, dumb pup.” I began to slap his ass. Each time he counted and thanked me. At 25, he was sobbing in pain and pleasure, rutting against my thigh. I pulled him up so he was straddling my lap. “Such a good boy, taking your punishment so well.” I praised him, making him smile at me lazily. “So I think my puppy deserves a reward?” Tae nodded excitedly so I pushed him down so he was kneeling on the floor.

I stroked his hair out of his face. “I want you to suck me off, pup.” I said, tugging on his hair gently. His hair was always curly and floppy, always soft to the touch. I stroked my fingers through it lazily as he played with the zipper on my pants, before tugging at them to pull them down. I quickly stood up and allowed him to pull them down with my boxers before I sat back down.

His eyes widened when I came into his eyeline, his mouth instantly watering. His hand cautiously reached out and wrapped around me, giving me a few strokes. I inhaled sharply and hissed at the feeling of his calloused palm wrapped around me. “No hands, baby. Just your mouth.” I said after a few seconds, batting his hand away. 

He set his hands on my thighs and sat up a bit so he was level with my dick. His mouth opened eagerly and before I knew it, the tip of my dick was engulfed in his warm, wet mouth. I tilted my head back and groaned, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging, earning some quiet moans from my puppy.

I looked down and saw his big eyes staring up at me as his mouth took more of me in. “Fuck, you look so pretty baby.” I cooed, tracing his lips that were stretched around me. “All stuffed full of my cock. I know you can take more though.” I gently pushed at his head, making him take more of me in until my tip hit the back of his throat. He gagged slightly as tears sprung from his eyes. “Now, you can stay just like that until Jungkook comes and then your real punishment can begin, hmm?”

Taehyung nodded, choking on my dick as it went further down his throat. “Careful pup. Don’t hurt yourself.” I said, wiping away the tears that were trailing down his face from the intrusion in his throat. He always looked so beautiful like this. 

After a couple of minutes, Jungkook came into the room, his mouth opening slightly as he took in the sight in front of him. “Hey bunny.” I said, beckoning him over. “Doesn’t TaeTae look so pretty?”

“TaeTae always looks so pretty, master.” Jungkook said, his voice barely a whisper. 

I took Jungkook’s hand and pulled him on the bed as I pushed Tae off of me. “Okay, here’s what is going to happen. Tae, puppy, you are going to sit on the other side of the bed and watch as I play with Koo until I decide that you can join us.” Taehyung nodded and scrambled to the other side of the bed, his cock hanging heavily between his legs, begging for release. It was a dark colour, signalling how desperate he was for release, but I wasn’t going to let him have it. Not yet. He got himself comfortable and was about to start stroking himself when I added the next part. “And no touching yourself, pup.”

Tae’s bottom lip started to wobble slightly. “Oh, please, master. Please. I need to cum so bad.”

I looked at him and smiled as I helped Kookie undress. “No, dumb pup. You’ve been naughty. You need to prove that you deserve it.”

Tae looked like he had been slapped. “O-Okay, master. I’ll be good.” He said, trapping his hands between his thighs and the mattress. Once I was sure that he wasn’t going to disobey my orders, I turned my attention back to a now naked Jungkook.

“Look at my beautiful boy.” I smiled as I stroked my hand down his chest, feeling his abs, before travelling down to his thighs to squeeze them gently. It was known that Jungkook had a thigh kink. He would always have to have his hands on someone’s thighs, squeezing them and sometimes sucking at them if we were having fun with each other. “He has such big thighs.” I bent my head down to suck at them, causing a whiny moan to spill from his parted lips.

“Master, please.” He looked at me with his doe eyes shining. 

“Please what, bunny? Do you want master to touch you here?” I traced my finger along his dick, earning a quiet groan from him. His dick was long and pretty, the mushroomed head a darker shade than the rest of it. It twitched as I traced the vein along it. I trailed my finger down to his ass. “Or here?” I circled his hole, earning a moan and a breathy yes from him.

I hooked his legs over my shoulders and wrapped my lips around his hole, stroking my tongue over his puckered hole, making him jolt forward slightly. “Ah, Master.” He moaned as I licked at him. He tasted musty and his shower gel and something that was distinctly Jungkook. I prodded at his hole with my tongue before pushing it into him, licking at his walls, coaxing high pitched whines and moans out of him. “Master, I’m so close.” Jungkook cried out, so I pulled away, leaving his hole shining with my saliva.

“Bunny, do you want me to stretch you out first, or can you take me?” I asked, as I kissed him, slipping my tongue into his mouth so he could taste himself on my tongue.

“I can take it, master.” Jungkook said eagerly. I nodded and kissed him again as I pushed my dick against his hole. The head pushed past the ring of muscle with some resistance until I was fully sheathed inside of him. “Ah,” Jungkook had his mouth open in pleasure, beautiful sounds spilling out of me as he adjusted to my size. “You’re so big master. You stretch me out so good. Feel so full.”

He was so warm, wrapped around me, and so tight. He was always tight no matter how often we fucked him, or with how many dicks he was fucked with at once. I moved my hips back before snapping them back in, causing the both of us to moan. Each thrust got faster and harder until Jungkook was a moaning mess, writhing around beneath me. 

There was a whimper from next to us and I looked up to see Taehyung, watching us while tears poured down his face. “Yellow.” Tae hated to be left out when he was in his subspace. He always had to be doing something and not just watching. “Master, please.” He begged when he saw me watching him. “Please, I’m sorry. Just let me join in.”

I looked at Jungkook who had been watching me and him carefully. “Shall we let him join us?” I asked the boy underneath me. He nodded eagerly.

“I wan’ him to ride me.” Jungkook requested. “While you fuck me.”

“Okay, bunny.” I said, stroking his hair. I pulled out of him carefully to get Tae and comfort him. “Hey, puppy, you’re okay. You took your punishment so well. Master is so proud of you.” I said, hugging him tight. “Such a good boy.” I kissed his lips gently as I wiped away his tears. “Especially for telling me you didn’t feel comfortable anymore.”

“Thank you, master.” Taehyung smiled at me, his eyes still slightly teary. I reached down and pumped him a bit, smearing his precum around his dick. 

“Look how wet you are, puppy.” I cooed as he crawled over to Jungkook. He leaned forward to kiss Jungkook. While he did this, I squirted some lube on my fingers and pushed two into him, making sure he was properly stretched out. I thrusted them into him for a bit before adding a third. Once I was sure he was ready, I nodded at him. “Go sit on Kookie’s cock baby.” I said. He lowered himself down slowly, causing both of them to moan loudly. Once Tae was fully seated, I pushed myself back into Kook, making him moan again. “How are you feeling, bun?”

“Feels s’ good.” Kookie said, looking kind of spaced. “Please, ‘m green.” I began to move inside him, making him grip onto Tae’s thighs and moan out loud. Tae began to bounce on his dick, moans coming out of his mouth. I reached around and started to stroke Tae’s dick in time to my thrusts inside Jungkook. Tae’s moans got louder and louder, signalling he was getting very close. I could feel my lower stomach tightening, signalling I was about to come.

“Master, I’m so close.” Jungkook whined, earning a noise of agreement from Tae.

“You can both come.” I allowed, stroking Tae even faster. He began to shake as Kookie began to buck up his hips due to how close he was. I knew Tae would come extra hard if I talked dirty to him, so I did. Jungkook was already close to cumming, but as soon as Tae came I would finish so I didn’t want him to be overstimulated by it all.

“Tae, puppy. Get off Kookie a second.” I said, tapping his bum which was now starting to bruise. Tae looked over his shoulder at me, looking as if he might cry. “You still get to come, puppy. I just wanna see you. Get back on Koo facing me.” I explained. Tae nodded and got off, turning himself around before lowering himself back down. I caught sight of his beautiful face, his mouth open and eyes squeezed shut as Jungkook’s cock split him open. “Now lie down so your back is against Koo’s stomach.” Tae obeyed and let him lie back. “Koo, bun, lift up his legs so I can see your dick going into his pretty hole.” Kook obeyed, wrapping his arms around Tae’s thighs and almost folding him in half. I almost came at the sight in front of me. Tae’s hole was so stretched around Jungkook’s cock, making it become slightly swollen.

I smirked at Tae before stroking around his hole and Kook’s dick with my thumb. “So pretty, puppy, letting bunny stretch you out like this. I bet you can’t wait for him to fill you with his cum, painting your insides white. Or maybe you’d like both of us in there. Imagine how it would feel, both of us splitting your pretty hole open, gaping you out so much all our cum would just come back out of you. Both of our cocks rubbing against your walls.” I reached out and began stroking his cock, seeing his face scrunch up and his body tense. He was right on the edge. “I bet it would make you come instantly. We’d have to maybe put a cock ring on you to stop you cumming too early. But you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, master. I’d love it.” Tae was breathless. “Oh, I’m so close.” He whined, letting his head tilt back on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“But we’d have to stretch out your little hole even more.” I smiled, pushing my thumb into his hole alongside Kook’s cock. Tae let out a scream, his body going still.

“You sound so pretty, TaeTae.” Kook said, stroking up and down his thighs. “Bet you’re so wrecked down there.” He reached down and pushed one of his fingers into Tae, next to mine. “Master, can we plug my cum inside him?” Kook asked.

“Of course we can bunny.” I said. “But we need this puppy to cum first.” I looked at Tae, whose body was jerking. “Aww, look at him. He’s going to come so hard.” I stroked him even faster before leaning down and taking his entire length into my mouth. I sucked hard, hollowing out my cheeks. Tae let out a silent scream as he came hard, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm.

I swallowed some of his cum, loving the salty tang of it before leaning over him to kiss Kook, transferring some to his mouth. Kook moaned at the taste, making Tae whine. Of course he wanted to have some. I moved to kiss Tae, transferring the last of it to his mouth. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. 

“You’re such a cumslut, pup.” I chuckled, now starting to thrust hard into Kookie, chasing my own orgasm. Kookie’s breaths started coming out as short, high-pitched moans as his own orgasm drew nearer and nearer.

“I’m gonna cum, master.” Kookie warned as his hole clamped down on me, making me unable to move. The pulsing and constant contracting of his walls made me spill into him as he spilled into Tae. Both of us moaned as we released. I fell forward and leant my head on Tae’s stomach as I caught my breath. 

“Both of you did so good.” I said as I carefully pulled out of Jungkook. “Koo, do you want a plug?” The boy nodded so I moved over to my bedside table and pulled out one of the four plugs I had in there. One for each sub. I walked back over to the pair who were still connected to each other. I pushed the trail of cum that had come out of Kookie back into him and pushed the plug into him.

“And me!” Tae exclaimed. I chuckled and got his out of the drawer. 

“Alright, baby. Let’s get you off Koo, hmm?” I gently pulled him off Koo and pushed the plug into him. “How are you both feeling?” I asked, looking at both of them.

“Tired.” Tae replied.

“Good.” Jungkook replied at the same time. He had a sleepy smile plastered on his face. 

“Okay, that’s good. Tae baby, you gotta stay awake for a bit longer. I need to clean you up, and put some lotion on you.” I said, gently stroking his hair as he looked at me with his eyes half shut. 

He whined slightly, moving so he was sat on my lap. I could feel the plastic of the plug nestled between his ass cheeks pushing into my thigh.  “Can I have a bath?” He asked, his head laying on my shoulder. 

“Sure baby.” I said. “Do you and Koo want to have one together?” I looked at them both as they nodded their heads. “Alright babies.” I stroked Tae’s hair gently. “Let’s take these plugs out of you, okay?” Kook nodded and bent over slightly so I could pull it out of him. He hissed as his hole stretched around the bulbous plastic, followed by the dripping of my cum out of him. “Okay, KooKoo, why don’t you go and start the bath and I’ll get Tae ready.”

“Okay hyungie.” Jungkook pressed a quick kiss to my lips before padding into my adjoined bathroom and starting the bath. 

“Okay, Taebaby, I need you to stand up.” I said softly to the sleepy boy on my lap.

He groaned and looked up at me, his eyes narrowed. “Why?” He asked. 

“I need to take your plug out, love.” I said. “It’s going to hurt you later otherwise.” He opened his mouth to protest but I pressed a finger to his lips. “No buts baby, I’m taking it out.” I laid him down on the bed and gently pulled it out of him, allowing Jungkook’s cum to spill out of him.

“Want some.” Tae whispered, looking at me. I sighed and swiped some of the cum onto my fingers and let him suckle it off.

“Now, bath time.” I said, pulling him up so he was standing on his own two feet and leading him into the bathroom.

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A few hours later, we were all cuddled up in bed. I had had trouble falling asleep - the stress from losing all my work was still looming in the back of my mind. I had told my manager, but he must have been asleep when I sent the message. 

Tae hummed in his sleep as he curled into my side even more, Jungkook spooning him from behind. They both looked peaceful as they slept, not a hint of worry on their perfect faces. 

My phone began to buzz, cutting through the silent atmosphere like a hot knife through butter. I unwrapped Tae from around myself and sat up answering the phone. “Hello?” I asked in a hushed voice as I disentangled myself from the blankets.

“Yoongi-ah? I need those tracks by 8am in the morning. You’re going to have to keep working on them.” My manager said, sounding quite annoyed. My heart began beating faster as I felt the stress and anxiety begin to build back up inside of me. “You should have stayed later and fixed your mistake.” I slipped out of the room and closed the door.

“My mistake?!” I was pissed. It was not my fault that the systems crashed and deleted everything. Do I control all the computers at the company? No! If anything they should be badgering IT to see if they can recover some of the files. “The computers crashed as I went to save it. Can’t IT recover them? That is eight hours of work lost!”

“No they can’t. That’s why I’m calling. I need you to come in right now and try to redo them the same.” He requested. “I’m sorry about this, but I just need those otherwise you will miss the deadline and your mixtape will have to be delayed further.”

“I think we need to get better computers. Those ones are getting kind of old and slow.” I said. 

“Don’t blame the machinery Yoongi-ssi.” He said shortly. “Come in now or no mixtape this year. And you wouldn’t want to disappoint ARMY, would you?”

I scoffed. Now he’s guilt-tripping me. “I’ll be in in about half an hour. Let me get changed and get my stuff together.” I said.

“Okay, I’ll be waiting.” He hung up the phone and I let out a noise of frustration before going back into the room, closing the door as quietly as I could so I wouldn’t wake up the sleeping babies. I looked over at the bed and let a fond smile ghost over my face. Taehyung’s hair had now flopped in front of his face and his arms were outstretched to the spot where I had previously been sleeping.

I felt bad for leaving them alone, but I really didn’t have a choice. I walked into my wardrobe and pulled out a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants and quickly changed into them. I pulled on a beanie and grabbed my lyric books before grabbing a pair of shoes and sliding them on.

I must have been a bit too loud because there was rustling in the bed and I saw Taehyung patting around with his hand. He sat up and squinted at me sleepily. “Hyungie? Where you goin’?” His voice was heavy with sleep. “What time is it?”

“It’s early, love. Go back to sleep. I need to go in to the studio.” I said, walking over to him to kiss him goodbye. “Come on lie back down.”

“But you were there all day yesterday.” He complained, whining slightly.

“I know, baby, I know. But all my work got deleted so I need to go back in to redo it.” I said. “And if I don’t meet the deadline then my mixtape will get pushed back even further and that wouldn’t be fair to ARMY.”

“But these songs aren’t even for your mixtape! They’re blackmailing you!” Taehyung exclaimed. “I wanna come with you.”

“Baby, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” I said, pushing his hair back out of his face.

“No it is! I could help you, and you always say two brains are better than one. We can get it done faster.” He argued, sounding determined. “And we can tell Kookie so he won’t get confused when he wakes up. We can leave him a note. Pleaseeeeee.”

I sighed. “Okay, fine. But get dressed quickly.”

Y/N POV:

I shivered under some of the clothes as I lay on the bench. I was too scared to sleep. He could appear at any moment and drag me home to give me the beating of a lifetime, and this time he could actually kill me.

Every time I heard footsteps I would freeze and not move, hoping that it wasn’t him, and that if it was, he wouldn’t see me. It was getting colder though, and I knew I would have to move in order to keep myself from getting hypothermia. 

I knew there was one thing that would be able to calm me down, and it would also keep me warm. I rifled through my pockets, trying to locate my headphones. My fingers wrapped around the wire and pulled it out. I groaned. They were all tangled and knotted. I began to pick them apart, finally freeing the individual earbuds. I plugged it into my phone and scrolled through my music until I picked a song that I wanted to dance to. Spring Day. It cheered me up a lot, and I loved the dance.

The notes flowed through my body, twisting and turning to the tips of my fingers and the ends of my toes. My body moved like the waves in this ocean of music, bending and stretching at the crests and troughs. I loved it. As I danced, I allowed my thoughts to

I had started dance when I was three. My mother had insisted that I was going to be a prima ballerina, or a professional dancer in a company, so she had me enrolled in any kind of dance you could think of. Baby ballet, baby tap, baby jazz, baby contemporary, baby street dance, baby modern, baby music theatre. Most of my life was spent dancing. As I got older, she put me into singing, art and drama classes. I dropped some of the dance classes: tap, modern and jazz. I was happy.

Then came the arguments. My mother and father started arguing over the amount of money that was being spent on me. We were quite a well-off family, both of my parents has respectable jobs with a decent salary. Income was good, and there was even some wiggle room for nice holidays. That was, until my dad became addicted to alcohol and spent all of our savings on the drink until there was barely anything left. 

My mother had to put some away secretly just to be able to pay for bills and my extra curriculars. But he found out, and that’s when the arguments started. I was eight at the time. He would accuse her of not trusting him, and she would accuse him of being an alcoholic and how that wasn’t a good environment for me to be in. 

The arguing would last for at least three hours each night and would end with one of them storming out the house. Most nights it was my father - probably to get even more drunk. My mother would slam the door to their bedroom and dissolve into tears. I would hear her sobbing herself to sleep, but I was too scared to comfort her.

One day, after a year or so, my father stormed out that door and never came back. My mother said it was for the best; in my mind, though, it was my fault. I was the one who had all the dance lessons and singing lessons and drama lessons and art lessons. I was the one who was using all their money. He liked to tell me that when my mother would storm out. He also liked to hit me. When my mother found the bruises and cuts, she lost it. That was what caused the arguments to get worse.

Things got better after he left. My mother got happier, found a new boyfriend. He was nice, buying me the latest iPhone or laptop. We were all happy.

And then I met him. He was the perfect boyfriend: kind, loving, everything you would want. But that’s the thing about love. It’s blind. It would be a few months before I realised who he was behind the mask he put on everyday. I should have realised that the relationship was moving too quickly. He asked me to move in with him after we had been together for just three months. As soon as I set foot inside that house, the door locked behind me, and the key hidden somewhere I could never find it. 

After a couple of weeks, the verbal abuse started. The name calling and insults and threats over something unimportant, like slightly burnt potatoes. I brushed it off as something normal. After all, it was my fault. I was the one who turned the oven up too high. 

Then came the physical abuse. At first it started off as slaps and small beatings, but it eventually lead up to him getting out his belt and whacking it across my face every night before beating me up with his fists. I don’t know what exactly caused him to do it. Sometimes he said it was me looking at another man, and other times it was just because of my presence. Either way, it was my fault and I deserved them. 

I tried to leave him. But he caught me, and I almost ended up in hospital from the force of his beating. My skin was mottled blue and purple for weeks. It was then I started self-harming. It was my fault.

I twirled as the song came to an end, catching sight of a figure standing in the shadow of the trees. My breath hitched in my throat. Had he found me? If he had, he was going to kill me for sure. 

Yoongi POV:

Just as I had thought Tae had fallen asleep on my couch, bundled up in my hoodie about an hour after we arrived at the studio. We had already retrieved the majority of the songs though.

He had got to work immediately, perching on my lap as he sang the demo song over the backing music, which thankfully I had saved. I loved Taehyung’s voice - it was deep and sultry, which was actually something that contrasted greatly to his personality he showed in private. After we’d been working for about fifty minutes, he began to yawn, curling up and leaning against my shoulder, watching me put together the backing tracks and the vocals and moving things around to create the songs. His favourite was ‘Black Swan’. 

“‘M sleepy, hyungie.” He mumbled against my collarbone.

I reached up and stroked his hair gently. “You can go and sleep on the couch. I’m almost done, baby.” He looked up at me through sleepily squinted eyes.

“You sure? I think I can stay awake a bit longer?” He said, yawning again. When he yawned he sometimes looked like a baby puppy. 

“No, baby, you’re tired.” I said, rubbing his back. “Go on, do you want my hoodie?” I asked.

“Mhm.” He nodded his head. He slid off my lap and made grabby hands at my hoodie. I pulled it off, leaving me in my white v-neck top, and handed it to him. He pulled it on and lay down on the couch, closing his eyes and almost instantly falling asleep. I smiled at him fondly before turning back to my work.

I only had one song left to do - my solo song on the album. I searched through my files, only to realise that my work on it had all disappeared. I groaned and saved everything before shutting my computer down. I needed to go for a quick walk to clear my head. I turned to look at Tae, who was curled on the couch in a deep sleep. The park I would go to to clear my head is only a five minute walk away from here. I would be thirty minutes tops. He wouldn’t wake up hopefully, and if he did, I was only a phone call away. 

I grabbed my extra hoodie and pulled on my jacket, gently closing the door to my studio. I walked out of the building and made my way to the park.

It was cold outside. The air bit at my exposed cheeks and nose as I walked. I pulled a mask on to insulate them. The park was calming and whenever I went there, it was quiet and if there was anyone there, they were elderly and didn’t know who I was. 

I walked through the gate of the park, pushing the squeaky barrier open. It appeared deserted, which wasn’t surprising considering that it was four am. But I still kept my guard up; you never know what crackheads will be around.

I was walking through the trees towards my favourite thinking bench when I saw her. She was dancing to some very familiar choreography. I stopped in my tracks. She was a beautiful dancer. I watched, awestruck as she flawlessly twirled and flipped and turned. It was then I recognised it. It was Jimin’s choreography in Spring Day. She must be a fan. She twirled one last time and stopped, facing me. Her face twisted into a look of terror as she ran to gather her things. On the bench I noticed, was a backpack and a pile of clothes.

“Wait!” I yelled after her, chasing her to talk to her. It was clear that something was troubling her, and I wanted to help her, not caring that she was an ARMY. “Let me help you! Please!” I caught up to her at the bench, where she had slightly calmed down. As soon as we made eye contact, something strange happened. All the greyscale colours in my world that I had grown used to melted away. My eyes were filled with dark greens and blues, clearly because of the darkness, but the moonlight shone down on her.

She was breath-taking. Her hair was a shiny, vibrant, Y/H/C, and her eyes shone like Y/E/C gems. She was holding her breath in surprise, probably recognising who I was.

“You’re Min Yoongi.” She said. “You’re my soulmate. This can’t be happening.” She was shocked and confused.

But I didn’t know what to do. Now that I had found my soulmate, did that mean I had to leave the others? We had never discussed the possibility of this happening. I looked at the girl in front of me and decided that I couldn’t leave her. Not like this. She looked scared, and from the looks of things, she was homeless. I had to look after her. And I swore to myself that I would. Until the end of time.

[captain-josslett]

Broken Melody - Part Thirty Three

Masterlist

Summary: Grammy Award winning Emma Danvers is the first to say she has a pretty good life. But what happens when it implodes around her and it looks like things will never be the same again?

Words: 8.8k+ (DANG IT! I tried not writing as much... Ah well.)

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, PTSD moments, smut...ish more mentions of?

Pairings: Emma Danvers x Lena Luthor, Alex Danvers x Sam Arias

This Part: A week before the surgery and Emma sees Alistair for an appointment.

Ek! So close! Please, please, please, let me know you thoughts and opinions. I literally have no anons 😅 @aznblossom thank you for always leaving a comment!

Thank you for reading and let me know if you wanna be tagged or any general feedback will be greatly appreciated. Please! I like knowing your thoughts.

Taglist: @finleyfray, @life-is-hella-unfair, @natasha-danvers, @supergirl-writingz, @camslightstories, @thinking1bee, @aznblossom

A Week Before The Surgery

Emma’s feet pound the pavement as she runs along the waterfront by the city, with Robyn’s partly completely album blaring in her ears.

Emma can’t help but feel pride with how good everything sounds as she passes unsuspecting members of the public. Weaving around the couples and families going for a gentle stroll in the warm April, Saturday sun.

Her face starts to feel slightly uncomfortable from the sweat rolling down her face. The face modifier causing a strange sensation and a tightness due to her heated skin. After finding this happening whenever she exercises with the modifier on, Winn and Brainy decide to develop a new model, one that will  hopefully be more lightweight and comfortable for the wearer. Including more options and will be able to change the wearer's hair and colour.

But, Emma hopes the time will come soon where Lucy gives her the go ahead where she won’t have to wear it anymore. By Doctor Hamilton’s assessment it should be another month or two before that can happen.

Emma had ventured out without it on, but that was under Lucy’s strict orders and guidance. The lawyer had organised a little outing where Emma sat in a wheelchair with a nasal cannula, giving the impression she was getting oxygen and sat with her sisters at Noonan’s. Bruises and prosthetics were applied around her face and neck to create the illusion that Emma was still healing.

Emma did query whether it would be a good idea but she had been reassured it was. Emma even asked if she still needed the prosthetics but Doctor Hamilton explained that with the severity of the trauma done to her body, she suspects the swelling would have stayed around longer than normal.

As soon as Alex rolled Emma through the restaurant's doors it spread like wildfire that Emma was out in public. Social Media lapped it up and soon a crowd of paparazzi, well wishers and fans gathered outside the restaurant. Emma stiffly waved and played her part but was grateful when they left and she could get rid of the itchy makeup and prosthetics.

Lena was meant to have joined them at the outing, but per usual, Lena had been too busy to attend.

Emma lets out a heavy breath as her heart clenches at the thought of her girlfriend. The Sunday after Nia’s party had been utter bliss with Emma waking up in Lena’s arms. The raven haired beauty had already been awake and kissed Emma’s forehead as she greeted her. The couple then laid there for a while, planting soft kisses on each other's lips until Emma needed to pee. The blonde had come back expecting Lena would want to start the day. However the raven haired beauty had not moved.

“Didn’t you mention about spending the whole day in bed?” Lena asked in a husky voice, dripping in sex. She pulled the covers back and revealed she had removed her pajamas.

Emma didn’t hesitate in flinging off her own clothing and jumping right back into bed. That day had been magical while they moved as one, the feeling of-

Her watch bleeps, pulling Emma out of her thoughts and alerting her to another mile she’s completed and calculating what her pace is. She glances down at it to check but notices the time instead, her eyes widen and immediately she turns towards Alistair's office.

‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’ Emma screams in her head as she starts running faster and berates herself for being in her own little world. Not realising she had gone further then she originally planned.

Currently she was twenty minutes away from Alistair’s office and her appointment was in ten minutes. She’s going to be late and Emma hates being late. The blonde pumps her arms and wishes she could call out for people to move or apologies when she makes people jump as she sprints past.

Finally Alistair’s building comes into view but Emma doesn’t slow down until she slides in front of the building's door and presses the buzzer four times to alert the alien she has arrived.

“Come on up Emma!” Alistair’s warm voice calls through the speaker and the buzzing of the lock follows, allowing Emma to push the door open.

The blonde races up the stairs two at a time, putting her wireless headphones in their case and turns into the hallway towards Alistair’s office door. Finding that the red headed alien was already standing in the doorway and gently smiling at her.

‘I’m so, so sorry! I’m so late! Time got away from me and-’ Emma’s mind screams out as she quickly approaches the therapist, automatically reaching up and deactivating the modifier.

“Emma, it's okay! You’re actually right on time!”

The blonde halts and frowns, immediately lifting her arm up to look at her watch. She notices the running app is still on and quickly ends the session before looking at the time.

Alistair was correct… She was right on time.

‘Huh… I must have read it wrong.’ Emma muses as she tries to visualise what she saw as she was running.

“Possibly.” Alistair agrees and moves out of the way to let her in.

As soon as she enters the office the patter of paws makes her look up from her watch as Lily excitedly trots over to her.

‘Lily!’ Emma drops to her knees and affectionately strokes under Lily’s chin. The snowy white german shepherd greets her in kind with many licks to her face and arms, lapping up the light sheen of sweat covering them, causing Emma to release a few voiceless laughs.

“She’s always happy to see you.” Alistair says cheerfully and moves towards his chair, motioning for Emma to sit on the sofa.

Straightening up Emma makes her way over with Lily right beside her.

“The water is for you as well. Did you have a good run?” Alistair asks, as Emma sits down, takes her trainers off and sits crossed legged. Lily instantly hops onto the sofa next to her and rests her head on the blonde’s lap.

Emma glances at the coffee table in front of her, on it was a box of tissues, a few books and a glass of water with a lemon slice and a few cubes of ice.

‘Thank you and yes it was good.’ Emma thinks gratefully as she carefully leans forward to get the glass, not wanting to jostle Lily too much. Seeing this, Alistair helps by getting the glass first and holding it out for Emma to take.

“Great and thank you for being willing to move your appointment to today. I am sorry about having to rearrange our time together.” Alistair says sincerely.

‘It’s okay.’ Emma shrugs, she normally sees Alistair during the week. ‘Not like I had much planned for today anyway.’ A small twinge hits Emma’s heart.

“Okay, how’s the last few days been?” Alistair asks as he leans back against the leather armchair and studies her. Emma takes a few gulps of the cool water as she thinks.

‘Yea, it wasn't too bad.’ Memories of the week flashes through her mind, who she saw, the smells, her heart clenching whenever she’d wake up in an empty apartment-

“Ah, I take it Lena is still working a lot?” Alistair asks with a sympathetic smile.

‘Yea.’ Emma answers softly in her mind, her shoulders slump and Lily licks her hand, making the blonde slowly stroke her head. ‘I understand these new investors are important, I know how important her work is but-’ Emma stops her thoughts and looks out of the window at the sea in the distance.

“You miss her.” Alistair finishes for her and Emma lowers her head.

‘Yea.’ Emma thinks weakly and can’t help but visualise their early relationship. How excited Emma was to get back to her hotel room to spend some time with her girlfriend, no matter how exhausted she felt after a gig. ‘I love her so much, I’d give my life for her but I just miss what we had when she wasn’t so busy. I mean we made it work when I was on tour and I’d call her even with the different time zones and it would be early in the morning for me.’

“That is understandable.” Alistair comments as he rests a finger beside his cheek as he ponders what Emma revealed. “You have both been through some major changes. Has she given you a time frame for when things look to be getting back to normal?”

-- -- --

During the week - Lena and Emma’s apartment

Emma checks her phone for the umpteenth time as she gets ready for Lena. On Sunday they had planned to have a date during the week and go out for dinner. Something they haven’t been able to do recently.

Emma voicelessly sighs while putting the finishing touches on her makeup, thankful that her hard work transfers through the modified face.

Standing up from the dressing table the blonde heads towards the walk-in wardrobe and takes the dress, she had spent hours deciding on, off the hanger. The dress was teal coloured, elegantly pleated and Emma had fallen in love with it as soon as she saw it. Also finding she was loving the dress even more when she zipped herself up and admired the way it hugged her toned body. She then steps into her trusted black high heeled shoes and opens her jewelry box.

For a moment she looks for her layered necklace her sisters got her. Only to feel a devastating pang when she remembers Kara crushed it.

‘No… Not Kara.’ Emma shakes her head and closes the lid. She heads out into the living area and glances at her phone again.

No new messages from Lena.

Emma flops onto the sofa, ignoring the dull ache in her head that hasn’t disappeared since leaving the DEO. Naturally when anyone asks her about it the blonde shrugs it off, not wanting to worry her friends and family anymore then she already has.

Laying down on the sofa Emma opens her phone and scrolls through social media to pass the time. She yawns and starts to feel her eyes grow heavy and eventually they close as she falls into a deep sleep.

So deep that even when the apartment door opens and closes, Emma doesn’t stir. Or when heeled shoes click over to her.

What does wake her up is a hand gently shaking her shoulder. Emma jumps, her eyes fly open as she takes a sharp intake of breath.

“Sorry love.” Lena apologises softly and strokes Emma’s cheek with the back of her fingers.

Emma nuzzles her face into Lena’s hand and kisses it before sitting up. Which causes her to become face to face with the raven haired beauty as Lena sat next to the sleeping blonde.

Emma smiles and goes to kiss Lena, until she sees the time on the oven clock. Her eyes widen and she pulls back.

“Em?” Lena pouts at the halted kiss.

“The reservation! We’re late.” Emma moves to jump off the sofa but Lena places a hand on her shoulder, halting her movements.

“I cancelled it.” Lena says hesitantly and Emma blinks at her. “I’m sorry, it got so late and you weren’t answering your phone and-”

Emma places a finger on Lena’s lips, sensing the rising guilt and panic in her girlfriend. Reaching out she unlocks her phone, noticing the messages but instead goes into Hope’s app and turns the lights up from a soft glow.

Lena’s eyes squint at the sudden light and Emma studies her properly.

Despite the make up Lena was wearing, Emma can see the dark circles under her tired, reddened eyes. Emma opens her arms and Lena immediately falls into the hug and kisses her cheek. Slowly Emma leans back into the corner of the sofa, pulling Lena up with her.

“Emma!” Lena giggles and Emma feels Lena settle on top of her and snuggles in. The blonde slowly rubs circles into her girlfriend’s back and eventually feels Lena twitch, signalling she’s fallen asleep.

Carefully grabbing her phone, Emma opens UberEats and decides to get Lena’s favourite food. Seeing that it will be delivered in half an hour, Emma rests her head back against the cushions and enjoys the feeling of holding her girlfriend. Grateful that even though they haven’t gone out on a date, Lena has still come home and given Emma this time with her.

When the food arrives Emma carefully lifts the snoozing CEO off her and quietly runs to the door. But no matter how careful Emma is at keeping quiet, when she turns around Lena is sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

“Em?” Lena’s husky voice calls out.

Emma lets out a huff of frustration as she wants to tell her dinner is ready. She wants to speak the words of love she is longing to say.

Instead Emma strides over to the sofa and places the bag on the coffee table.

“Hmm, you know me so well.” Lena smirks at the sight of the logo on the bag.

The couple settle on the sofa and listen to a playlist of soft acoustic music as they eat.

“I-” Lena starts and hesitates. Turning her head Emma gazes into regretful green eyes and watches Lena swallow before she continues. “I just want to apologise for ruining our date tonight. Time just got away from me and… there's no excuse.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it's not.” Lena tries to implore Emma to listen. “Just- this won’t be forever. I promise you that. I’m taking time off for the surgery and afterwards to look after you. It’s one of the reasons I’ve been working nonstop, so my sole focus will be on you.” She reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind Emma’s ear.

Emma beams at her, taking Lena’s hand and kisses it.

“What have you been working on?” Emma asks and Lena explains the many projects she’s been developing with the investors and her team. Emma’s eyes widen at how complex it all sounds and nods along.

Soon they finish their meal and despite how tired they both are, they head to bed for a different reason than sleep.

-- -- --

Emma comes out of the memory before she shows anything risque to her therapist. But she cannot help but smile softly at the feeling of Lena’s arms wrapped around her.

“Interesting. So there wasn’t a set time frame, just that it won’t be forever?”

‘Yea.’ Emma looks down and runs her fingers smoothly through Lily’s fur.

“Have you tried asking Lena further?”

‘She apologises and says the same thing she’s been saying for a while. Now isn’t forever.’

Alistair nods and looks down at his notes as he jots down a few more. “How are you sleeping?”

Emma hesitates, causing Alistair to look back up at her. Feeling an unease emit from the blonde.

“Emma?” Alistair asks, his eyes imploring her to be truthful with him.

‘I haven’t been sleeping well. I’m finding I-’ Emma pauses, not wanting to admit what's been happening. Taking a deep breath her mind shows him instead. Horrible nightmares that have Emma jumping awake in a panic, drenched in sweat, only to find she is alone in bed.

“You’re still experiencing nightmares?”

Emma nods.

“More than usual, less or about the same?”

‘I-’ Emma lifts her head as she tries to remember. ‘It feels about the same.’

“Okay, that is something that we will still work on and honestly I’m not surprised you are still having them.” Alistair says compassionately, trying to help Emma see she is doing nothing wrong.

“What about your sisters? How are things going with them?”

‘It’s going well. Things almost feel back to normal.’

Emma’s mind brings up the memories of Alex chasing her around the beach, laughing as she tries to catch her until she finally jumps on Emma’s back.

And memories of Kara come forward where she’d fly into the apartment bearing gifts of Emma’s favourite food, like Cadbury chocolates from the UK. The pair would snuggle up on the sofa and watch a film while they gorge on the treats.

‘I know she still feels guilty, but she doesn’t flinch when we hug or touch anymore.’

“That's a good improvement for sure. But it seems Kara is still not as open as Alex yet?” Alistair enquiries, causing Emma to pause as she reflects.

‘No?’ She answers unsure. ‘I mean, Alex still holds back in certain areas. I still catch her looking at me with such a sad expression. They both do.’ Emma plays with her hands as her sisters’ mournful faces fill her mind, that is until Lily nuzzles her nose into her fiddling hands, allowing Emma to stroke her instead. ‘Maybe it's due to Kara’s trauma?’

“Most likely.” Alistair nods in agreement. “The thing is, each of us are different, we have different likes, different dislikes and our brains are wired uniquely. Therefore we can react differently to the same events, depending on who we are.”

Emma nods and rests her head against the back of the sofa as she thinks. ‘That makes sense. So, for Alex, she has trained to be a soldier, her natural instinct is to fight and follow orders. To lead and protect. But for Kara she grew up on another planet, with a particular upbringing, she witnessed that planet being destroyed, all she had known, gone in an instant.’ Emma’s heart pangs in sympathy, remembering how shell shocked Kara had been when Clark brought her to the Danvers. A new family and a new way of life. ‘She had to be so careful, even when walking, to not put her foot through the floorboards or hurt any of us.’

“Like a god among mortals.” Alistair nods in agreement. “From what you’ve told me before, it sounds like fear was instilled in her as soon as she arrived, that she could easily hurt anyone she came in contact with.”

Emma nods.

“So, Kara broke that promise when she hurt you-” Emma immediately interrupts in her mind but Alistair holds his hand up, halting her. “To Kara, she did hurt you and I know you keep repeating that she didn’t, but from Kara’s point of view it was her hand that crushed your neck and broke your bones. She hurt someone she cares deeply about and using the powers she had sworn would protect people.”

Emma lowers her head and pinches the bridge of her nose. Feeling the pounding in her head intensify.

“Like Supergirl, you can’t protect and save everyone.” Alistair says softly, imploring for Emma to understand.

‘I know.’ Emma admits sadly, she feels Lily move and nuzzle her head against Emma’s cheek, as if sensing her pain.

The pair sit in silence for a while. The ticking of the clock being the only noise in the room.

“How are you feeling about the surgery next week?” Alistair looks up at the clock. “You’d have just gone into the theatre.”

‘Honestly, I can’t wait for it.’ Emma thinks softly and the familiar sense of butterflies start fluttering around her stomach.

“How are you feeling about that?”

‘Nervous. Excited. Terrified.’

“Terrified? About the procedure?”

Emma hesitates. Lily, seemingly sensing her tension, lovingly licks Emma’s cheek and nuzzles her head into Emma’s hand. Causing Emma to continue stroking her.

“Emma?”

‘I am terrified about the operation not working, that it's going to make things bad again.’

“How so?”

‘It seems to be a constant reminder when I have to sign or when I go to laugh or make any noise, but all that comes out is breath.’ Emma thinks mournfully and glances out the window, memories of her sisters’ guarded eyes fill her mind. ‘I know this will take time before things can go back to normal. I just don’t want the progress we’ve made to be destroyed because the op didn’t work.’

“And if that happens?”

Emma’s stomach drops at the thought. But her mind focuses on those around her. Her family, friends and Lena. How would they react?

“Emma.” Alistair softly sighs, placing his book on the coffee table and leans forward. “You need to focus on yourself. Which you have been doing and I am pleased with our progress with your PTSD. We both know this isn’t a quick or an easy road. But you need to focus on how you feel about your voice not returning right away or, possibly ever.”

Emma swallows deeply at Alistair’s words, her throat feeling like it’s going to close over. ‘I understand.’

“Good.” Alistair picks his notebook back up and settles back into the seat. “Is there anything else you wish to discuss?”

Emma pauses and focuses on Lily as she runs her fingers through the soft fur.

‘There is something else.’ Emma admits quietly. Almost as if she’s too scared to present it.

“Which is?” Alistair asks kindly, but Emma keeps her mind closed off. “Emma, you don’t have to share if you don’t want to-”

Images start filling his mind, of the world blurring and morphing around Emma. How one second she’s at one end of the apartment and the next she’s at the other end, normally crashing into something or stumbling. How she easily lifts items others seem to struggle with, lifting Lena and Alex like they were light as a feather. Her headaches and heightened senses, especially her sensitive hearing and being able to hear a whisper across a room. How overwhelming the noise can become when she’s in a crowded place.

Alistair also feels fear and confusion pour off the young woman.

“Emma, you have nothing to fear here.” Alistair implores the blonde. “And thank you for showing me. How long have you noticed these- moments?”

‘Only recently when… erm.’ Emma’s cheeks colour in an intense blush as she remembers the moment she heard a crack from the headboard during an intense orgasm on Sunday while she rode Lena’s strap. Looking down she noticed the wood was splintering and cracking under her hands.

Once Lena was asleep Emma had sat up and felt the cracks again. She stayed there for a while as pieces started to click into place. Something was wrong with her.

“Nothing is wrong with you.” Alistair says firmly, his eyes imploring Emma to listen. “Can we test this theory that something is happening to you?” Alistair asks as he straightens up.

Emma nods and watches as he gets up and goes to one of his many bookcases. The redhead picks something up and strides back over to her. In his hand is a small, shiny ball.

“Squeeze this as hard as you can.” Alistair says while handing her the ball and moves her empty glass to sit on the coffee table in front of her.

Lily sits up, intrigued by the object Emma is holding.

‘Okay.’ Emma starts squeezing and applies more and more pressure.

Nothing happens.

“Keep a hold of it but look at me.” Alistair instructs and Emma lifts her eyes and focuses on his kind crystal blue ones.

“Have they gotten any closer to finding those responsible?” Alistair carefully asks, his eyes searching Emma’s hazel green ones.

‘No.’ Emma’s face and eyes darken and she clenches her jaw.

“Are Kara and Alex putting up the right precautions to not get taken again? I imagine they are prime targets as they are close to you? Maybe someone like Winn or Lucy or maybe your Mom or even Lena could be taken next?”

The thought of her family, her friends, her loved ones being forced into what Alex and Kara have already gone through fills Emma with a powerful rage.

She grits her teeth and her hold on the silver ball tightens.

Alistair’s eyes flick down to her hand. “Emma, look.”

The blonde lowers her gaze and gapes at the hand imprint she has made on the now disproportionate ball.

“This is a ball of titanium.” Alistair says as he picks the metal up out of Emma’s hand. “Or was.” He mutters as he turns it around in his hands.

‘What’s happening to me?’ Emma thinks, terrified at what this could mean.

“I don’t know.” Alistair truthfully admits. “Maybe it’s to do with the serum they gave you?”

‘But it was a healing serum? Not a super soldier thing!’ Emma’s mind shouts, her panic starting to build.

“That may be the case, but you need to communicate with Lena, Brainy or Doctor Hamilton about this.”

‘Do I have to?’ Emma apprehensively asks.

“Yes. Because this-” Alistair holds up the distorted piece of titanium. “Is not normal.”

Emma nods but her face scrunches up in emotion.

‘You always like being the center of attention! I hate you!’ Alex’s teenage words scream within Emma’s mind, causing her to hide her head in her hands.

“Emma?” Alistair tilts his head and Lily nuzzles her nose into the side of the blonde’s face.

‘I’m just Emma, plain, simple Emma.’ Her thoughts come out weak and feeble.

“Emma, there is nothing plain or simple about you. You are one of the most talented people I know. Your voice reaches and touches millions of lives and gives them hope.” He says passionately and before Emma can respond a buzzer goes off. “And that’s the end of our session for this week.” He says apologetically. “But we’ve made some really good progress. Emma-” Alistair says to get Emma to look at him. Slowly she lowers her hands and lifts her head. Her eyes swimming in anguish. “I really recommend that you tell someone what is happening. Anyone you feel comfortable sharing with. Maybe Lucy or Sam?” Alistair gently offers. “Just don’t keep this to yourself.”

Emma nods and gets up, making Lily jump off the sofa and trots with her to the door.

“Did you want to meet up on Wednesday like usual? Or did you want to come here on Friday instead?” Alistair offers as he follows behind her with his diary.

‘Yea Wednesday sounds good.’

“Great! I’ll see you then! Have a good weekend and remember what I said.” Alistair opens the door and smiles at her.

Emma nods but feels slightly frustrated that the appointment ended just as they were getting somewhere. She quickly rushes through, feeling like she has more questions than answers.

What’s going on?

Did she have powers?

How could that be?

Over and over these questions cycle through her mind as she makes her way down the stairs.

She passes a mirror and suddenly remembers to put the face modifier on. She chooses the face with the Marilyn Monroe beauty mark that is quickly becoming one of her favourite to use.

As she exits the building Emma starts to get her headphones out and plans a route to run home. That is until a car quickly pulls up beside her and honks loudly. Causing Emma to jump high into the air.

“Get in loser we’re going shopping!” Alex yells across Kara who beams at Emma from the open passenger window.

But the blonde momentarily stays frozen, trying to process what just happened and her sisters’ beaming faces.

“Em?” Kara’s smile fades and a frown replaces it, making Emma quickly open the back door of Alex’s car and dive in.

“Seatbelt.” Alex orders as she turns to study her baby sister. ‘She must have had a hard session.’ Alex thinks and her eyes snap to Kara’s who looks to be thinking the same thing as she bites her lip in worry.

Once Emma is belted in Alex pulls back into traffic. “Hope you didn’t mind us picking you up?” She calls back to Emma and watches her shake her head in the rearview mirror.

Kara twists around so she can see Emma properly. “We thought we could have a sister’s day and have a movie marathon?”

“Sounds good.” Emma signs and tries to smile convincingly.

“Plus it's your turn to choose!” Alex says trying to sound more upbeat than normal and wants to remind Emma. Normally her blonde sister would clap loudly and take a while to choose. Going back and forth between many classics and their favourites. Even discussing pros and cons between the choices she has.

Instead, Emma simply nods in response before gazing out of the window. Making Kara and Alex exchange worried glances as they continue towards Alex’s apartment.

Soon they are parked in Alex's parking space and the sisters get out. Emma goes to walk towards the elevator when Alex stops her.

“Do you mind giving us a hand?” Alex asks while she pops the boot open. Bags upon bags of food are revealed, causing Emma to raise an eyebrow at her sisters.

“I know! I was hungry!” Kara whines and immediately grabs a donut from one of the bags and chomps on it.

“Kara!” Alex yells and swats at her.

“Sorry! Do you want one?” Kara says with her mouth full and offers Alex a donut.

Emma can’t help but smile at the pair and reaches down to take a few bags.

“Wait! Em they are-” Alex pauses as Emma effortlessly lifts them up. “Heavy… Guess not.”

Emma momentarily freezes and remembers what she had Alistair had discussed, instead she shrugs and smiles at the red head instead.

“I got these!” Kara announces and takes the rest.

“You left me with one.” Alex says unimpressed while closing the boot. “Emma, give me a few.”

The blonde looks down and hands her sister the bags full of light goodies.

“I can take a few more.” Alex raises an eyebrow at Emma and holds her hand out. But Emma responds in a shrug and strolls towards the elevator. Alex turns her head towards Kara who repeats Emma’s shrug and follows.

As soon as they enter the apartment Emma places the bags on the island and quickly disengages her face modifier. Silently sighing in relief as she massages her cheeks.

Kara places her bags on the island and pulls out a small USB drive from her jean pocket. “Winn kindly let us borrow his drive with all the films past and present. Wouldn’t let me borrow films of the future though… Especially those based on real events.”

“Wonder why?” Alex laughs and places the last of the bags on the island. She looks to see Emma’s response, but the blonde is too busy unpacking the bags. “Em?”

Hazel green eyes shoot up and an unusual blank look accompanies Emma’s face.

“You okay?” Alex asks with a frown and takes a step towards her baby sister. But Emma takes a step away from her and around the island.

“Can I have a shower? I still feel a bit gross from my run.” Emma signs while barely looking at her sisters.

“Sure! You know you don’t need to ask!” Alex utters and watches Emma nod before zipping into the bathroom.

“Shall I get you some clothes?” Kara calls out while giving Alex a concerned look, the redhead mirrors it with a frown.

Emma pops her head around the door and nods, giving them a grateful smile before quickly disappearing again.

Kara approaches Alex’s closet. “Kara, wait!” Alex yells but the blonde has already opened the door.

“Huh, Alex-” Kara tilts her head and slowly turns back to her sister. “Why are most of your clothes not in your closet?”

“Er, laundry day?” Alex says not too convincingly and can tell by Kara’s face, she doesn’t believe her.

“That’s a question.” Kara places a hand on her hip and studies the redhead.

“Okay I can explain, but I want to tell both of you. Together.”

“Okay.” Kara grins at her sister and turns back to the closet to find something for Emma to wear.

“There should be a bag of Em’s things by the right?” Alex says while getting glasses and bowls for the drinks and snacks for the marathon.

“Found it!” Kara hollers, takes the bag out and places it on the bed. She opens it and tries to find the comfiest clothes for Emma to wear.

“Do you need any help?” Kara asks after getting Emma’s things ready.

“Can you move these to the coffee table please?” Alex asks and then gives Kara a hard look when she grabs two huge bowls filled with treats. “Do not start eating until we are all sitting on the sofa.”

“Yes ma’am.” Kara deadpans and starts transferring the stuff over from the island to the coffee table, while Alex gets the microwavable popcorn ready. Finding they all prefer fresh, hot popcorn to normal bagged ones.

Kara hears the shower turn off and super speeds over to grab the clothes she has chosen for Emma and practically skips to the door, knocking on it in a quick rhythm.

“Hey Em, I got some comfy clothes for you to change into.” Kara calls through the door and hears Emma moving around the bathroom. The door opens and Emma’s hand appears to take it. “There you go!” When the door closes again Kara heads to Alex sitting on the sofa. Her sunny attitude fading as her face morphs into one of worry. “Do you think she had a hard session today?”

“Yea maybe. I mean she hasn’t seemed the happiest the past few days.”

“Mhmm, do you think it's mainly due to Lena? She’s working way too hard.”

“When doesn’t she?!” Alex takes a sip of her drink. “Shall we order or wait for Em to decide?”

“Let’s wait.” Kara nods and sits back into the sofa cushions.

“But how is Lena, like, have you gone to see her recently?”

“Yea, I saw her last night on patrol. Actually had to forcibly remove her from her office but we had a good chat. She just holds onto what her damn family says too much.”

“Yea.” Alex says softly in agreement. She’s grown to really care for Lena, despite the rocky start. “But she’s taking time off soon for the- you know.”

“Yes, that's the plan.” They both ignore the word surgery and both feel their nerves bubbling up about it. “Are you taking any ti-”

The bathroom door opens, making the sisters drop their conversation and look at their baby sister.

Emma feels more relaxed after the warm shower but the sudden stop in her sisters’ conversation when she leaves the bathroom fills Emma with an uneasy feeling.

“Were you talking about me?” Emma signs with a tilt of her head as she continues to dry her hair with a towel.

“Just about what food we fancy.” Kara smiles too brightly. “And as usual we want the complete opposite and I was asking Alex what she thought you would want.”

“Yea and I didn’t get to answer cause that’s when you came in.”

Emma stops drying her hair and looks between her two sisters, her eyes darting back and forth. She doesn’t believe them but decides to go along with their explanation. “So what are the options? I mean, we can get different things right? Not like it will go to waste?”

“Now that is an excellent idea.” Alex nods in approval and gives Kara a bright smile as she unlocks her phone to open UberEats. “So Kara you wanted-”

“Potstickers.” Emma signs at the same time Kara enthusiastically yells the word out.

“You know me so well little one!” Kara laughs, making Emma pause, realising Kara hasn’t called her that in a while.

But she carries on drying her hair before flinging the towel towards Alex’s hamper.

“Em-” Alex starts to complain, thinking the towel would flop part of the way there. But the screwed up towel lands perfectly in the laundry basket. “Ma- huh, good throw.”

Emma bows and approaches where she normally sits in the middle of the sofa.

“Peanut, what do you fancy?” Alex looks up from her phone after putting in her order too.

Emma shrugs and grabs a handful of popcorn.

“That’s for the film!” Alex hollers and slaps Emma’s hand, causing her to jump. “Which you also need to choose what you want to watch.”

“I’ll do it!” Kara super speeds to where she left the USB, plugs it into Alex’s tv and hands Emma the remote to scroll through.

“But first I need to know what you want to eat.”

Emma shoves the rest of the popcorn in her mouth to sign. “What have you already ordered?”

“Chinese and pizza.”

“I’m happy with that. Not feeling overly hungry.”

“What?” Kara blinks in shock especially when Emma can eat a decent amount of food.

“What have you eaten today? Did you have a big breakfast?” Alex enquiries, also knowing it was unusual for Emma not to demand her own food.

“Yes Doctor Danvers, I have already eaten something today.” It was only a banana but Emma wasn’t going to admit that. Her session with Alistair has unsettled her stomach.

“Yea but what was it?” Alex presses but Emma ignores her by focusing on the tv and trying to decide what to watch. Making Alex narrow her eyes. “Emma.”

But her eyes move from Emma to Kara when her other sister motions for her to stop by signing. “Can’t you see something is wrong?”

“I know but I want to find out what!” Alex tries to sign out of Emma’s peripheral vision.

“Leave her alone Alex.” Kara warns, making Alex huff which causes Emma to look over at her and Alex gives her a soft smile.

“So, any idea what we are gonna watch?” Alex asks casually and Kara rolls her eyes.

“Lord Of The Rings Extended Editions?” Emma signs hopefully, knowing the full run time is nearly twelve hours long.

“I’m up for that!” Alex beams at the TV as the menu screen for ‘The Fellowship Of The Ring’ comes up.

“Me too!” Kara claps and settles back into the sofa. Emma smiles at both of her sisters and grabs the blanket draped over the back and places it over their laps.

“Thanks Em.”

The sisters watch the opening scenes fold out, explaining the lore of Middle Earth, the darkness and the moment all things were almost lost.

When the whistle of the Shire plays, Emma’s eyes well with tears and she sniffs. Always finding this piece of music touches her. She feels a hand on each thigh as her sisters reach out to comfort her at the same time and Emma hesitantly takes each hand. Warily to not harm them and being frightened to do so.

‘Rao, is this how Kara feels all the time?’

But Emma tries to push her earlier discovery away and gets lost in the film again.

The loud ringing of the apartment buzzer makes Emma almost jump out of her seat.

“Food!” Kara yells as she flies to the door and down the stairs to grab it from the delivery person.

Emma pauses the film and turns to Alex to sign with a raised eyebrow. “Do you think Kara is secretly a Hobbit?” Emma signs, causing Alex to almost spit out the drink she was sipping. “I mean, she has what, four breakfasts?”

Alex cackles loudly and Emma smiles at the sound.

“What are you laughing at?” Kara asks as she super speeds into the room with the food perfectly balanced in her hands.

“Oh, we were just comparing you to a Hobbit.” Alex teases and grins at the blonde.

“Alex!” Kara looks outraged. “I do not have big, hairy feet!”

“It was Emma’s idea!” Alex motions at Emma.

“Emma!” Kara shifts her focus to her baby sister but Emma shrugs and grabs her pizza off the pile.

“I mean, she’s not wrong.” Alex says as she opens a tub of potstickers for Emma and her to share.

“Alex!” Kara yells outraged.

“Kara!” Alex yells mockingly back.

“Emma!” The blonde signs and the trio start laughing. Alex rests her forehead against the side of Emma’s face. Emma turns her head to nuzzle Alex’s and smiles when she feels Kara lean over and hug both of them. Emma twists to place a kiss on Kara's shoulder.

Alex clears her throat and pulls away. “Shall we press play?”

Emma nods and grabs the remote, continuing the film.

The sisters watch the first film and immediately go into the second one, which to Emma, is her favourite. Especially the scenes with Arwen in.

When they get to the scene with Arwen talking to her father, Emma swallows deeply.

“There is still hope.” Arwen whispers back.

Emma’s stomach clenches at the words. Hope.

“Little one?” Kara turns to look at Emma, hearing her heartbeat changing.

Alex immediately grabs the remote to pause the film when she sees tears fill her sister's eyes and how Emma is desperately trying to hide them.

“No, I’m fine. Please continue the film.”

“Actually I need to use the bathroom!” Kara zips up and Alex pauses the film anyway.

She watches Emma closely as she rubs her eyes, trying to force away the tears. “Em? You know you can always tell me what’s going on? Right?”

Emma nods but doesn’t look Alex in the eye, knowing she’d break. “It was a hard session today, sorry.”

“Oh Em, please don’t apologise.” Alex says and pulls her sister into her lap, hugging her close. She feels Emma stiffen but slowly relaxes in her arms.

Kara comes back and Alex gives her a sad look.

“Everything okay?” She asks while sitting down next to them.

“It was a hard session.” Alex answers softly.

“Oh little one.” Kara places a gentle hand on Emma’s back and Emma can’t hold the tears back anymore as she buries her head into the crook of Alex’s shoulder.

Alex and Kara sadly gaze at each other, unsure what they can say or do as they listen to Emma’s hard breaths and sniffs.

Kara swallows and shuffles closer, hugging Emma’s back. “We got you little one, you're safe.” Kara feels Emma shift and move her hand over her shoulder to grab a hold of hers.

They don’t know how long they stay in this position but Kara and Alex do not move until Emma feels ready. They whisper words of love and encouragement and hope she hears them.

Suddenly Kara’s head snaps to the apartment door as she hears two sets of footprints approach. The door opens before she can do anything as Sam and Lena walk through. They both halt at the sight of the sisters.

“What's wrong?” Sam whispers quietly as she places the takeaway food on the coffee table and goes to Alex’s side, perching on the edge of the sofa.

“Hard session.” Alex answers softly and kisses Sam’s lips.

“Has she mentioned anything else?” Lena asks quietly and watches as Emma immediately lifts her head up and twists her neck to find her. Lena swallows as she sees the tears streaming down Emma’s reddened cheeks, her eyes puffy and bloodshot. “Oh love.” Lena says brokenly and goes to comfort her girlfriend, but halts as she doesn’t know where she can go.

Kara immediately moves out of the way, allowing Lena to sit next to Alex and hug Emma’s back. But Emma has other ideas as she twists and moves her upper body onto Lena and holds her close, burying her head into Lena’s neck but her lower half stays on Alex’s lap.

“We got you love.” Lena soothes while stroking Emma’s damp hair and back. She feels Kara scoot close and Lena signals that Kara can join the hug. Immediately Kara wraps an arm around Lena and places a hand gently on Emma’s lower back.

The four women quietly console the broken woman in between them and each other. Wishing nothing more than to heal Emma’s pain.

In time Emma loses steam and slowly lifts her head from the crook of Lena’s neck and sniffs heavily.

“Hi love.” Lena says gently and Emma nuzzles their foreheads together and breathes deeply.

Emma feels truly exhausted, not having cried like that in weeks, well, since she found out about her paralysed vocal chords.

“Is this the time though?” Emma’s ear picks up Alex quietly whispering to Sam.

“Maybe it will make her happy?” Sam offers back, making Emma turn her head towards the couple.

“What will make me happy?” Emma sloppily signs and Kara shifts so she can see the couple too. A small smile gracing her lips.

“Well, erm…” Alex pauses. “I’ve found I’m not really living here anymore because I’m mainly around Sam's apartment.”

“So, we’ve decided that Alex will move in with Ruby and I.” Sam finishes with a huge grin.

Emma blinks and her eyes dart around Alex’s apartment. She had noticed little trinkets and items missing but thought nothing of it.

“Congratulations!” Kara yells happily and jumps to her feet to hug her sister and Sam.

“Thanks Kara.” Alex hugs Kara back and turns back to Emma, who still looks like she’s processing. “Em?”

She watches as Emma’s eyes refocus and a small smile tugs at the corner of her right lip. She lifts her hands and holds one hand with the other and firmly shakes them. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks Em.” Alex smiles back.

“And, you can totally come crash at ours anytime, use the spare room and have sister nights.” Sam smiles at Emma and Kara.

“Well, not ANY-time.” Alex burrows her nose into her girlfriend’s cheek and Sam blushes and bites her lip.

Emma raises an eyebrow and smirks at Lena. She takes a shuddering deep breath as her body calms down from her breakdown.

“Do we want to finish the film and watch the third one another time?” Kara asks while looking through the takeout bags.

Missing the way Emma whips around to gape at her.

“But then it's not a movie marathon!”

“Kara.” Lena says to get the alien’s attention out of the bag containing burgers and french fries.

“Hmm?” Kara’s eyes are wide as she looks to see what her best friend wants.

“Emma was signing to you.”

“Sorry little one.” Kara says apologetically.

“But then it's not a movie marathon.”

“I agree!” Kara nods and shoves some french fries in her mouth. “Shall we get comfy?!”

“I need to pee.” Emma signs and carefully moves off her sister and girlfriend. But as she takes a step away from them the world morphs around her.

‘Please! Not now!’ Emma’s mind yells and she tries to halt her step, ultimately causing her to trip over her own feet.

“Wow careful Em!” Alex laughs. “Rao you are getting more clumsy than Kara!”

“Hey!” Kara yells back offended, making Lena and Sam chuckle in response.

Emma smiles back at them but moves cautiously to the bathroom door.

“Did she mention anything else?” Emma hears Lena ask as soon as she closes the bathroom door.

“No, she’s been quieter than normal.” Alex sighs heavily, making Emma’s heart clench.

“Like she wasn’t here.” Kara agrees.

“Well therapy sessions can be tough sometimes and it’s good Emma is obviously opening up.” Sam tries to reassure the group while plating up everyone's food.

Emma tries not to listen but her ears can’t help but pick up her loved one’s voices. She finishes what she is doing and washes her hands. Briefly pausing and leaning against the sink.

‘Should I tell them?’ Emma wonders and her eyes lift her to her distressed expression. Immediately she wipes her face and adopts a more neutral expression. ‘They have enough to deal with anyway.’

Suddenly she feels a piercing pain in her head. So severe that if she had her voice, Emma would have screamed out as she scrunches up her eyes. Emma then feels a droplet fall from her nose and her eyes shoot open. Her nose is bleeding. She quickly grabs some toilet paper to stem the flow. But, finds nothing more comes out, the nosebleed seemingly stops before it had even begun.

Confused, Emma repeatedly wipes at her nose a few times to make sure it had indeed stopped.

‘Weird.’ Emma mutters in her mind as she stares down at the blood on the tissue. Her head tilts as she assesses the colour and her eyebrows knit together.

“Emma?” Sam’s muffled voice calls through the door, making Emma recoil away from it. “Are you okay in there?”

Throwing the bloodied piece of tissue into the toilet, Emma flushes it, quickly washes her hands and moves towards the door, opening it to a concerned looking Sam.

“You okay?” She asks as her warm brown eyes seemingly studies the blonde in front of her.

Emma nods and gives her a small smile before moving past her to get back to the sofa.

Sam follows, watching Emma closely and sits on Alex’s turquoise chair. Emma hesitates, not sure where she can sit due to the sofa looking full with her sisters and Lena already on it.

“There’s room for you on here too, it will be a tight squeeze but I think we can manage.” Lena pats the small gap between her and Alex. Emma carefully wedges herself between the two and gratefully takes the plate Kara hands to her. Already feeling a bit hungry.

“Ready?” Alex asks while grabbing the remote.

“Ready!” Sam and Kara yell back and the room is again filled with the sights and sounds of Middle Earth.

-- -- --

Later that night Kara, Emma and Lena glide through the air towards Lena’s apartment.

“I mean, why couldn’t Gandalf have just got the Eagles to fly Frodo and the ring to Mount Doom?” Kara argues with Lena while Emma listens and smiles, enjoying the debate between the two.

“Because they are their own beings plus Sauron had the Fellbeast and the Nazgûl would have seen the eagles coming!”

“Huh, I guess. But! Then why didn’t the fellowship prepare for that? Have a few more elves firing arrows? Problem solved!” Kara declares as they touch down on the balcony.

“If you say so, Kara.” Lena beams at her best friend as Kara gently places her feet on solid ground and Emma lets off her sister.

“Well, goodnight.” Kara opens her arms and hugs Lena tight before turning and giving Emma a hug too.

“Night.” Lena yawns out and opens the balcony door with Emma following behind her and waving goodbye to Kara.

They get ready for bed together and Lena can’t help but notice the far off look in Emma’s eyes. Like her girlfriend was somewhere else.

When they slide into bed, Lena gently takes Emma’s hand and lies on her side to fully look at her girlfriend.

“Hey.” Lena gently whispers.

Emma slowly turns her head and her eyes focus on concerned green ones.

“Are you okay?”

Swallowing deeply Emma turns to lie on her side to face Lena. Her mind races with what to communicate. Should she tell her everything?

“Love, please don’t lie to me.” Lena says, seeing the clogs working in Emma’s mind, and the worry within her eyes. But suddenly Lena is yawning again. “Sorry.” She blinks and widens her eyes more to keep them open.

Emma gives her a small smile and watches her closely. ‘She’s exhausted. Tell her a half truth.’

“I’m nervous about next week.”

“That’s understandable. But we are all with you.” Lena nuzzles her forehead against Emma’s and gently kisses her lips. Her hand slowly trails down Emma’s body.

But Emma pulls back and her smile widens slightly. “Time for sleep.”

“But I want to make you feel good.” Lena yawns out, even though her eyelids start drooping from exhaustion. Emma slowly reaches out and softly runs the back of her finger down the bridge of Lena’s nose.

“No sleep.” Lena whines but feels her eyes closing anyway and a tender kiss being placed against her lips. “Lve yu.”

Emma squeezes Lena’s hand three times and watches her girlfriend fall into a deep, peaceful sleep. She stays there for a while, admiring how serene and stunning the raven haired beauty looks.

Slowly Emma rolls over, picks up her notebook and pencil and faces Lena again. She sits up against the headboard so she can sketch Lena, wanting to capture the moment and take in every detail of her love.

Once her task was done Emma places her things on the bedside table.

“Hope, can you turn the lights off please?” Emma signs and carefully slides down the bed to lay back down. Emma closes her eyes and breathes deeply, willing herself to go to sleep.

But in the dark, sinister voices start playing through her mind. Digging up her fears and dread.

Emma blows a frustrated breath through her nose and turns back towards Lena, opening her eyes to focus on the raven haired beauty. Emma’s breathing becomes heavy as she tries to stay calm, but ultimately her stomach clenches and thoughts begin pouring in of what will be happening this time next week. What will the outcome be of the surgery? Will it succeed?

As if sensing Emma’s distress in her sleep, Lena shuffles closer to her girlfriend and latches on. Unknowingly calming Emma down and relieving the ache in her heart. Emma gently kisses Lena’s head, pushing aside her fears and worries before closing her eyes, to fall into a peaceful sleep.

(Part Thirty Four)

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct Chapter Nine

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6500

Warnings: Language as always, warning of racist language (Nush talking about her mother's experiences), yearning, fluff to second base (yes, my darlings- IT IS ON!), alcohol is mentioned, food, anxiety attacks.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

People often think artists

Create with their hands

But really they create

with their hearts

So please be gentle

For we wear our vulnerability

On our sleeves

And freely give all we have

Hoping someone will fall

In love with the parts we offer

R. Evelyn

Chapter Nine

The sharp buzz of the door startles you out of your daydream. Laden with roughly the entire contents of your spice cupboard, vegetables, meat and prawns, your hands are crisscrossed with creases from where the weight of the totes has gouged at your skin. A smart-looking kindly gentleman greets you, “You must be Ms Pierce. Mr Pike has asked for you to wait here for him.”

Wow! Marcus’ place has a concierge - who did he have to blow to get a place like this?!

Throwing the bags onto one of the hotel lounge-like chairs, you slump into another as you rub soreness from your hands. A small ping tells you that the lift has arrived - you look over in the direction of the noise, a tremor of excitement rippling through you. An adorably scruffy Marcus, wearing old jeans and a t-shirt, steps out - his face utterly beaming on seeing you. “Hey! How are you doing?” he leans in to kiss your cheek twice - hang on, when did this start being a thing?

“Why didn’t you let me pick you up? You’ve carried so much over- lemme see your hands,” his brow knits on seeing the rapidly reddening welts as he takes your hands in his, brushing his thumbs gently across your palms.

“You live four roads away from me - they’re not that bad! And anyway, you can help me now- which floor do you live on?” You outwardly roll your eyes at the sweetness Marcus shows you, secretly enjoying the stroke of his fingers and the ghostly press of his lips still burning a hole in your cheek.

Marcus takes all of the bags from the chair, refusing point blank to entertain you helping him to take them upstairs - you watch as his arms twitch under the weight, enjoying the mixture of confusion and shock at your strength across his face, “you carried all of this?”

Nodding at him, you try to take a bag again, but he dangles it just out of reach, “Watch it - you do realise that I have two other brothers apart from Ads? I will think nothing of rugby tackling you to the floor and pinning you down,” you warn, enjoying the flush brought to his cheeks.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Marcus flusters as he calls the lift, handing you the smallest, lightest bag.

✪✪✪✪✪

Exiting at the top floor, you’re taken aback by the amount of light and quiet that washes throughout the building. Feeling so removed from the shadows cast from the tower blocks and the hustle and bustle of the streets below, the broad daylight offers a sense of serenity, a peace that invites itself into the soul and makes itself at home. As Marcus unlocks the door to his flat, you kick off your shoes at the entrance, “You don’t have to do that,” he offers through the keys in his mouth, holding the door open with his elbow, still refusing any help from you.

“Oh believe me, if I didn’t, my mum’s radar would go off and I would be cruising for a bruising,” you giggle, taking in the glorious spaciousness of his apartment, “I promise my feet aren’t too stinky and that I put on clean socks.”

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Marcus’ eyes crinkle at you, “Can I get you something to drink or eat?”

“A coffee would be ace - strong and black please,” you reply, your gaze drinking in the details of his home. Books line the shelves along one wall - such a mixture of titles ranging from airport bestsellers to obscure art catalogues - the relief to see actual paper and hardbacks adorning the shelves rather than trinkets and plants when so many keep their books electronically in their pockets.

A couple of large canvases lie propped against another - long hours preventing them from being hung - their bright colours sure to bring joyful hues to quite a stark room. There are a few photo frames dotted around - mostly pictures of a moment in time rather than poses - of people you assume are friends and family from back in the States. Handing you a steaming mug, Marcus looks over your shoulder as you look at a photo of an older couple dancing and laughing at a wedding, “That’s my mamá and papá at my oldest sister’s wedding. It was such a magical day - just so much love in the air.”

“You can feel the joy radiating from them,” you offer, lowering your gaze from him to grab the frame next to the picture of his parents, “Are these your sisters or cousins? You all look very alike.”

“Yeah, my little sisters,” he grins proudly. “This one is Beth - she’s two years younger and is a paediatrician in Texas. Has two kids with her wife, Sophie. And this one is Cat - she’s doing her own thing out on the West Coast as a musician. They definitely inherited all the clever and cool genes.”

“Hah! You’re kinder to your sisters than I am to my brothers,” you grin, “They’re all total idiots but due to some weird genetic and biological insistence, I still love them.”

Taking a gulp of your coffee, you turn back towards him, “Come on you, we’d better get to work if you want a curry this evening.”

He pouts, looking more like a sulky little boy than a middle aged man. You can’t help but laugh at the sad puppy dog eyes he is conjuring at the thought of work, “Oh poppet, what’s wrong?” you teasingly mock.

“I kinda hoped you were a magician who could just magic a curry outta nowhere so we could watch films til the others arrive,” Marcus grumps shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Well, there is UberEats for that but you horrible lot put me up to this so you’re going to help,” you wag your finger at him, “But as you’re the only one here, you get the honour of being the chief taster,” you add, tapping him playfully on the nose.

With a soft huff and a furrow of the brow, Marcus guides you into the kitchen where, whilst he was making your coffee, he has helpfully already put all the fresh produce in his fridge as the sides are delightfully blank apart from the bags of spices.

“What are we making today, Chef?”

“Ok, meat dishes are a spiced yoghurt leg of lamb, a keema - don’t you give me that look, a cardamom butter chicken, and, a prawn and courgette curry,” you turn to Marcus’ fridge to find the lamb, “Needs to come to room temperature before we cook it.”

“My tummy is rumbling already,” Marcus adds, his eyes glinting excitedly as he licks along his lower lip, the skin glistening damply. You have never quite figured out whether your love of his lips is due to their fullness or the association with the kindness of his words.

“Hah- you’re not getting away without having some veggies, too, mister,” you cluck as you hand him a bag of onions and several bulbs of garlic to skin, chop and crush for the various dishes.

“Ok, Moooom,” Marcus dramatically rolls his eyes at your dictate, “I admit, I’d rather eat sugary or salty things over green stuff but I can make an exception for curried veg.”

The arch of your eyebrow virtually reaches your hairline at him teasingly calling you mom, so you reach for the towel, twist it and flick him hard on what you’d hoped would be his hip but catch him square on his arse instead.

A yelp of pain and wide eyes greet your action, “Did you just…? Oh, it is on.! You might think you’re tough from your brothers but my sisters taught me sneaky tactics.”

“Come at me, bro!” you taunt from the other side of the kitchen, putting up a boxing stance.

Brandishing the hand without the paring knife in your general direction, he answers, “Nope, gonna use the element of surprise and attack when you least expect it!”

Tutting your tongue at Marcus’ weak ass response, you grab the spices you need to prepare under the power of your pestle and mortar. With the waft of roasting cumin soaring through the air and your battle with your boss at a supposedly declared ceasefire, everything starts to feel comfortable and easy again. You could be six years old and standing on the chair next to your mum, watching like a hawk as she lovingly prepared meals for your family with an ever burgeoning belly. It was then, during those hours shared in the galley kitchen that became your time with her when normally it felt pretty split between her work as a GP and your brothers.

What the fuck… You jump out of your skin when a warm, solid wall presses you out of your nostalgic reverie, “Hah! Pinned ya! Sneaky tactics- told ya they worked,” a deep, soft voice whispers in your ear.

Your heart flutters like a bird trying to escape its rib cage with the closeness of Marcus, the heat rising through your body from your proximity to him - a visceral response to the glorious cocktail of masculine smell from his aftershave and body wash.

What do I do next?

Why can’t I bloody think straight?

Wiggling yourself around so that you face him, his face now so close that you can feel his warm breath upon your cheeks. Your eyes playfully catch the steady gaze of Marcus’ deep soulful pools. It would only take the smallest of movements to reach forwards and kiss him right on that stupidly gorgeous, plush Cupid’s bow and crease. But… what if he doesn’t want that? He’s my fucking boss - that would be a stellar move to make…

Instead of the tiny incline forwards to press your lips against his as every inch of you screams to do so, you drop to the floor and crawl out from between his legs, “Not pinned well enough it seems,” you tease haltingly as your tongue sticks in your dry throat.

As you check the browning of the cumin seeds, out of the corner of your eye you see Marcus’ head drop sadly, hearing a small sigh - his hands still upon the work surface and feet not having moved from the position he had pinned you in moments earlier.

Did he want to...? No, surely not.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Nush,” Marcus humbly apologises, pushing himself off the side, “I hope that I haven’t made things awkward.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” you softly say, pouring the roasted cumin into the mortar, ready to be ground, “I was the one who flicked you on your arse - I am the one who should be apologising.”

You beckon gently to Marcus, who has now taken refuge in the furthest corner of the kitchen from you - wringing his hands instead of chopping the onions, “Come over here - I want you to experience one of my most favourite smells of childhood. These are roasted cumin seeds and when you grind them, they release the most heavenly scent.”

After a few grinds, you offer the bowl towards Marcus’ face as he closes the gap between you, “I… Wow! I wouldn’t have thought it would make such a difference but it’s almost like you’ve entirely transformed it. See,” the dimple deepens in that right cheek of his, “you are a magician.”

“I love how spices - a bit like paint - can take on completely different characters depending on how you treat them. Leave the spice whole and you have this mild and fragrant taste. If you crush them, then their attitude comes back tenfold with a vengeance. Toast them, and they may as well be Clark Kent in a phone booth.”

Looking up you see Marcus gazing at you with a sweet half smile on his face - could he like me… like that?

“Sorry, you don’t need to hear me blathering on,” you fluster, waving your hand in a dismissive gesture as the heat rises through your face.

Shaking his head gently without dropping your regard, “No. No, please don’t ever stop. Your passion for things is beautiful.”

“Growing up, I didn’t realise that other people didn’t have whole cupboards filled to the brim with herbs, spices and seasonings. I mean, for all the damage the British Empire reeked, you’d have hoped that the spices would have entered more of their culture, but no! Apparently, my family was the weird one for having food with a flavour,” you shrug your shoulders at some of the ridiculous things you’d heard as a child - accusations of differences you’d never thought to be of note.

Marcus chuckles at your indignance, “It’s funny you should say that. I didn’t realise that my mamá had an accent until it was pointed out to me when I was a kid.”

Noting your slightly confused expression, Marcus explains, “She’s Argentinian- came to the States as a political refugee as she was a journalist following the disappearances during the Dirty War. Met my dad, and I came along very soon after, and the rest is history..”

You can’t help but laugh at the flush on Marcus’ cheeks as he recounts his personal history to you, “Love can’t be held back when it hits and it’s obvious that they’re still crazy about each other now from that photo.”

“Exactly, no point in wasting time when you know what you want,” Marcus grins, looking at his feet.

“My parents have a similar story. My dad is as English as they come - I mean we’re on a freaking island so there’s no true thing as being completely English. My mum is from Pakistan - Karachi - it’s in the South.”

“She came over due to the fighting between East and West Pakistan - the two countries that are now Pakistan and Bangladesh. It kept interrupting her studies to become a doctor so she came to England and restarted her degree here.”

Marcus’ brow creases in thought, “Why did she restart her degree? Could the credits not just be transferred to the college she moved to in the UK?”

“Hah- yeah. It was the seventies, during a time where all Southern Asians were P*kis - no matter where they were from on the Indian subcontinent- and thought of as dirty, lesser beings. There were constant race riots for anyone who wasn’t ethnically white or English. She would never have been taken seriously with her mediocre medical training from some Adobe hut in the middle of a jungle,” you fume, pounding the seeds into fragments. The mortar being threatened with the same fate too.

Marcus’ fingers wrap around your wrist to try and prevent your rage at the ignorance of others from causing you an injury, “I am so sorry,” he pulls you into a warm, tender hug, tucking your head under his chin, “How long before food can take care of itself so we can put a film on? I think we both need a rest.”

“Hmmm, ten minutes and then most things can simmer or be switched off ready for a reheat or proper cook this evening,” you say, leaning reluctantly out of his comforting arms to go check on the bubbling saucepans of food.

“‘K. I’ll go get things set up so you can flop for a bit,” Marcus touches you gently on your shoulder as he goes to set up the front room. You go to squeeze his hand but it’s removed from your shoulder too quickly for your response.

✪✪✪✪✪

“You ready?” Marcus calls through the wall as you turn off the heat from the final pans.

“Mhm,” you mumble in response to his question - double, triple checking that everything is off. Too many fire alarms ruining perfectly lovely meals or moments.

“What did you pick?” You ask, curling up on the other end of the sofa to Marcus, “Do you have no cushions?”

“Shit, no -I’m a guy, what can I say? - lemme grab the pillows from the bed,” Marcus jumps up, calling through from his bedroom, “Bet you have loads on your couch.”

“A fuckload, but, mainly to hide the fact the springs have gone. It’s like a precarious balancing act of comfort on there,” you surreptitiously sniff the pillow, inhaling the smell of Marcus’ shampoo, “Did you give me your pillow?”

A confused look is shot at you from the other end of the sofa, “Whaddya mean?”

“Smells of your hair,” you say as you squish it into the perfect comfy shape, “Like a mixture of lemon and eucalyptus.”

“That’s a sharp nose you’ve got. I gave you the other side though,” Marcus huffs through a chuckles he shakes his head at your somewhat strange comment, “Guess I’ve been sleeping across both sides then.”

“Best thing about sleeping alone- getting to starfish across the bed. Unless of course…”

Marcus can’t help but laugh at your awkward dig to find out whether he’d brought home the goddess from Friday’s antics, “So you wanna know if I brought home Kemi?”

“She was very beautiful. You’d have been mad not to,” you try to school your expression as best you can, keeping your eyes glued to Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly singing about true love, desperate to hide the jealousy coursing through your veins.

“Must be mad then. Didn’t even kiss her,” Marcus honestly answers whilst copying your tactic of staring at the tv, “She could see that there was someone else I liked so it would have been cruel to have done anything.”

You mull this over in silence, trying not to speak, to ask a million questions.

“Nush.”

“Mhm?”

“Can I talk to y…”

You both jump as an alarm goes off on your phone to remind you to turn the lamb down in the oven.

“Oh shit. Hold that thought,” you jump up from the sofa, heading in the direction of the kitchen with zero thought of what the man at the end of the sofa is desperately trying to tell you. Fiddling with Marcus’ ridiculously swanky oven until it looks like it is doing what you want it to do, you walk back in with two ice cold beers from his fridge.

“Raided your fridge,” you cheekily grin, holding one out to Marcus, the condensation running, down your fingers, “Hope you don’t mind!”

“Good thinking, Batman,” Marcus nods in appreciation, “Any more alarms set to scare us both?”

“Only due to go off when the film is done, so…” you yawn widely, “We’ve got a while yet.”

Marcus’ hand that was slung over the back of the sofa, lifts to stroke your shoulder, “You sleepy? C'mere, you.” With a soft tug of your t-shirt sleeve, he pulls you into his side - your willingness to sink into his broad chest very apparent. Your ear is pressed against him, his heartbeat singing a lullaby to you as his fingers stroke and caress the silken waves of your hair. You wonder at how this man - a total stranger a week ago - has seemingly knitted himself into becoming a cocoon of safety for you, his gentleness and calm offering a haven of tranquility in your otherwise cacophonous world, as the light in the room slowly fades to black.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Uh oh.”

“Hey, welcome back, sunshine!” a gentle pair of fingers stroke back the hair that had drifted into your face as you dozed.

“Sorry for falling asleep. Again,” trying to finesse your way through the heat flaming your cheeks, you offer an awkward grin towards your chuckling pillow, “Guess we’d better start getting things finished as we’ve only got a couple of hours until everyone arrives.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Marcus! I don’t want to move either but this curry won’t finish cooking itself.”

“Spit spot, there’s work to be done,” Marcus trills as he adopts his best attempt at a British accent.

“What the fuck was that? Did you just turn into Dick Van Dyke or something?” You tease mercilessly at the appalling sound coming from those lips, choking back laughter at his mock offended face.

“C’mon, you’re right. We’d better get moving,” Marcus stands with a stretch and a creak before reaching back to tug you to your feet.

Back under the glowing lights of Marcus’ kitchen, his presence is now constantly close to yours as you glide together around the space - stirring, chopping and checking. Every time he passes, above the general aroma of cumin and coriander, the onions and garlic, you can smell the cedar and amber upon his skin- a deliciously masculine scent that only seeks to entangle your senses further.

“Here, try this,” you hold out a heaped teaspoon of mince curry to Marcus, “This is the keema - I promise that I only put in the two chillies you chopped for me, this time.”

“Mmm, that’s so good,” he says thickly between chews, stealing the spoon from you as he dives in for a second, third, fourth spoonful.

“Hahaha! Leave some for the others- and you need to try it with some raita and fried onions too,” you check through your dog-eared, yellowed and slightly sticky recipe book that your mum had handed you the day you’d left home at eighteen - a memo of all the times you had cooked them together.

“Shit, I’d better start the chicken,” going through the spices in front of you, you search for the cardamoms that would make the butter chicken sing, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Marcus’ head snaps up from the green beans he was preparing towards you, “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I can’t find the cardamoms for the butter chicken - gah I knew I’d fuck this up!” you cry, scraping your trembling hands through your hair, eyes flashing around the room wildly as your cortisol rises, making you want to run and scream at your failure to feed your friends.

“Whoa - where’s this coming from? C’mon, look at me. Look at me, Nush,” Marcus has his hands on either side of your shoulders, squeezing them gently, “There’s enough here to feed our whole office for the week with the daals you prepared yesterday, the vegetables we’re about to make and the meats that we’ve cooked up already here. Andy is bringing all the rice and naan, Kiri is bringing beers and Dian is on gin and tonic duty. You have done more than enough and I will not allow you to get this upset over one missing ingredient especially when there is a small store downstairs that I’m sure will have it, if we cannot find it after we look for it together.”

After seeing your numb nod as an agreement, Marcus moves his hands to the side of your head to focus your gaze on him rather than the panic seeping through you. As he strokes his thumbs across your cheeks, you allow your eyes to close and your breathing to regain a normal pattern.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?” Marcus searches your now open eyes.

“My reactions are ridiculous. Most people tell me to stop being so stupid and that just whips the storm inside my head even more,” you whisper, “But you. You know how to slow everything down and stop the spinning.”

The corner of Marcus’ mouth twitches, “D’ya wanna know a secret?” You nod at him, “As you know, I was married before. When it ended, I totally spiralled. The world kept spinning too fast and I experienced constant anxiety, very nearly burning out of my role.

“I was lucky. My boss was understanding but made me promise to get some support. He knew of someone mental health trained within the FBI who was there for mainly hostage negotiations - not part of the true psych team but someone who could help without it turning up on your record.

“Kwame worked with me for almost a year - pretty much to the point my decree absolute came through. Our sessions were done on a track - by running with me, he was teaching me the skills I needed to control my fears. By my feet hitting the tarmac, he was grounding me. By going over running techniques, he was teaching me how to control my breathing- taking longer and deeper breaths. And running is just repetition. A mindful repetition that allows your brain to have a bit of a break.

“So when I see you start to spiral, I try to give you the same steps he taught me. Get you grounded, opposite me so you copy my breathing and hope that gets you on the right track.”

“Thank you,” you drop your head forwards, relaxing onto his chest. He feels so - safe.

“You don’t need to thank me. Well, okay maybe you do as look what I’ve just spotted,” Marcus holds the offending spice aloft.

“Oh my god, I could fucking kiss you. You have just saved the curry,” you dramatically declare, clutching the cardamom jar to your heart before placing it next to the other ingredients on the counter.

“Go on then.”

What?

His comment makes you snap your head over to catch Marcus’ tremulous gaze, his eyes darting between the floor and your lips. He takes a small step, closing the small distance between the two of you, threading his fingers between yours. Each slow movement offers an unspoken opportunity for you to step away. To tease him and move on with the day.

But why on Earth would you?

With your heart racing faster and faster, you lure him ever closer with your eyes, soft but absolute in their conviction of what was about to pass between you. A small part of you understands that when you kiss him, something will change forever. That within his lips you may find the place to call home - the aching in your stomach may cease and life could start to make sense again. The anxieties of the week washing away, the pain of your collective pasts and the hint of a brighter, happier future before you.

When he doesn’t move again, you seize the moment. Pushing up onto your socked tiptoes, you tilt your chin, inclining your face until your lips come to rest upon his in the sweetest, chastest kiss. Drawing back slightly to check that Marcus is okay with a raise of your eyebrows and widened eyes, he holds your gaze steadily, similarly stunned - a mirror of each other with racing hearts and slightly parted lips. It’s like in that moment everything around you ceases to exist as anything other than extraneous nonsense - all the noise inside your head silenced by that one touch.

A small dumbstruck smile creeps across Marcus’ lips before he lowers his head to press another gentle kiss upon you. Then another. Then another. Each press of your lips a little longer. A little deeper. Your lips part to allow his tongue entry as every single thought is quietened by the taste of him. Dropping hands for his to cradle your face and yours to thread through his hair as your bodies press together tightly.

Oh the taste of him is utterly exquisite! From where you’ve been using him as chief curry taster, there’s an element of spices with the tiniest hint of mint. And how you have missed having that beautifully solid warmth of his body next to yours. Inhaling his breaths that fall upon you, your hearts match each other’s rhythms as your lips explore each other, every sensation drawing together to create a humming ball of energy, like you are standing at the point where lightning strikes the Earth.

✪✪✪✪✪

Hands fisted tightly in each other’s clothing - both stuck in the quandary of wanting to tear the fabric from your bodies but also frightened of pushing the other too far. Finally pulling apart, you gaze upon Marcus - all lust blown pupils and dopey smiles. Your foreheads come back to rest against each other, unable to quite let go just yet, not wanting to break the spell and return to reality.

“I have wanted to kiss you since perhaps the first time I met you,” Marcus murmurs as his lips gently ghost over your cheeks, “Maybe even from seeing the photo in your file when Andy drove me here from the airport.”

“Was the person, me?” You quietly ask, finally with the confidence to finish that conversation, “The reason you didn’t kiss or sleep with the goddess?”

He drops his eyes as he gives you a small nod, “Normally, I’d have just asked you out but I was scared of fucking up. It’s been a long time since I felt a spark with anyone.

“You’ve entered my life in this whirlwind of intelligence, beauty and tenderness - I didn’t want to frighten you or make you feel uncomfortable if you didn’t reciprocate.”

A thousand thoughts flood your mind as Marcus says those words. All at once, you want to tell him how safe he makes you feel. How much now that you’ve started kissing him, you never want to stop. How the cruel critics of slumber, silence themselves when you feel his heartbeat against your cheek.

Instead you stand there, silent.

Trying to stroke out the creases you’ve created in his t-shirt as you attempt to find words to put into a logical order, you notice his face twitching when the material under your fingers makes contact with his sides, “Oh Marcus, are you ticklish?”

“Um, no,” Marcus tries to deny breezily as he takes a small, hesitant step back from you, pretending to steady himself.

Making a small movement towards him, your hands at the same level as the point of the bunched fabric - you ask, “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah,” Marcus is now eyeing you suspiciously - desperate to kiss you again but also a little worried as to what havoc your fingers might reek.

“Then, why are you moving away from me?”

“No reason…” his usually deep voice now a little tighter and higher, “Nush… What are you about to ARGH!”

His knees crumble beneath him as you attack his sensitive sides, “Gah! Quit it, woman,” he weakly commands between wheezes and hoots of laughter.

Taking full advantage of Marcus’ prone and vulnerable position, you take the opportunity to straddle him - effectively pinning him to the floor, “This is how you pin someone.”

“I let you pin me,” Marcus corrects you with a wink.

“Oh really?” you contest, entirely unconvinced by his bravado.

“Yeah,” he says with a small wiggle, bringing his hands to the back of your head, “Cos y’see, I can flip our positions quite easily.”

Suddenly, you find yourself flat on your back in Marcus’ kitchen with zero air in your lungs to form any sensible thought other than to kiss him hard. His large hands cradle your head as he props himself gently above you on his elbows. You feel his entire body covering yours. Deliciously pressing against every single inch of you and oh how it takes every bit of the minutismal amount of self control you have to not beg him to fuck you senseless into that floor.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Shit, is that your door?”

“Fuck,” Marcus pushes himself up to kneeling between your legs, “Can we pretend we’re not in?”

The harsh realisation of an evening with your colleagues, albeit lovely people, sinks in to you both.

“Nope,” you groan, popping the p with a deflated gusto, “Hang on, don’t buzz them up until I’ve tucked my boobs back into my bra.”

“I dunno, makes for easier access,” Marcus lopsidedly grins with a wink as he heads for the door.

“You certainly didn’t seem to make hard work of it earlier,” you mumble at him, before you affix a smile to your face, “Hey! How are you all doing?”

A sea of never ending hugs envelopes and separates you from Marcus as everyone piles into his apartment. The stupid grin still firmly in place on your face since you’d first kissed, you find that every time you look over at him, he’s gazing right back, mirroring that lovestruck smile.

“Oh my god, it all smells so amazing,” Dian waxes lyrical, squeezing you tightly as she inhales a lungful of exotically scented air, “What’ve we got?”

You take her by the hand into the kitchen to show all the different things you had bubbling away. Andy ducks into the kitchen behind you, laden with bags filled with pilau rice, naan and chapatis, and a beautiful small bunch of spring flowers in his other hand - tiny tête-à-tête daffodils with multiple heads along each stalk, brilliant yellow and red tulips standing like soldiers and the otherworldly looking stems of hyacinth, wickedly scenting the air under your nose as he thrusts them under there.

“Hey pretty girl, here’s all the bits you asked for. You deserve a much bigger bunch for what I’ve roped you into but I know you love the early blooms,” he offers by way of apology, sticking a kiss to the side of your forehead, “Smells fucking good though as ever. Hope you don’t mind but I’ve brought a box to take some home for Greg - he was a jealous arse this evening so I suppose I should share.”

“You know the way I cook, enough for several small armies,” you wonkily grin at him, truly thankful for the part he’d had to play, “‘Fraid there’s no easy way to say this and you will have to be the one to break it to Greg, but there’s no butter chicken tonight.”

“You’d better have a damn good excuse for this slatternly behaviour, madam,” Andy gives you a serious side eye for this infraction.

“Well…”

“Initially Nush couldn’t find the cardamoms but then we ran out of time. Plenty of food here, though,” Marcus answers for you, his hand gently holding your hip as he reaches around you to grab a couple of beers from the fridge.

You see Andy catch Marcus’ hand lightly stroking your side as he walks back to Kiritopa, but are entirely grateful when his expression and mouth say nothing. The light chatter in the kitchen, whilst Dian dips a teaspoon into all the pots, is interrupted by a small knock at the door. Sticking your head around the kitchen door, you spot Marcus opening the door to a nervous-looking Harper. Andy sidles past you, to pull her into the main room, rather than her previous position of standing on the doorstep, utterly awkward and obviously feeling quite out of place.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind me coming. I know I wasn’t there Friday but I don’t really do large crowds and drinking.”

You walk over to her amidst the chorus of “not to worry”s and “lovely to see you”s, “Fancy something to drink now? Got plenty of soft options and I think I’ll stick alongside you as I’ve got to make sure I don’t burn stuff.”

“Including yourself, this time,” Harper retorts quickly with a small smile and a raise of her eyebrows.

“Hah, chance’d be a fine thing,” Andy laughs, slapping your shoulder before turning back to clink bottles and talk with Kiri and Marcus.

✪✪✪✪✪

Through the full length doors of Marcus’ balcony, evening spring sunshine streams through, bathing the group of your co-workers in a gentle, diffused light that flows around the room coating you in a golden glow. You all eat your fill and then some, with full tummies and tired eyes - the kitchen still full of half eaten dishes.

“Can we make this a weekly thing?” Kiritopa asks through a mouthful of food, hopefully.

“Not unless we take it in turns or get a take away - I don’t have the physical or emotional energy to make this level of curry every weekend,” you pointedly remark, looking up from your coke to meet Marcus’ eyes.

You’ve spent the evening barely speaking to each other for fear of alerting the others but surreptitiously brushing past so that you can sneak touches. Tender hidden strokes that feel like the kindest stitches on hidden, gaping wounds.

Marcus stands up to help usher the evening to an end and get you to himself again, “I have some boxes for y’all to take food home as otherwise, I’ll be eating this for weeks - delicious as it is.”

Everyone thankfully takes their boss’ hint and head into the kitchen to grab platefuls to reheat after long days. Slowly saying their goodbyes, your friends drift off in the direction of their homes as you throw yourself in an exhausted heap of bones on his sofa. Two strong hands grip you under your arms, to drape your torso across his lap.

“Hey tired girl,” you slightly open your eyes to spy a smiling Marcus gazing down at you. His fingers draw lazy patterns over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“I’d like to take you on a proper date this week. Wanna do this properly. Make a bit of a fuss.”

“Yeah? Not just pin me down and ravish me on the kitchen floor?” you grin widely at him.

“Well, I’d hardly call that a ravishing…” your eyes widen, eyebrows raising at Marcus’ comment, excitement pooling in your tummy, “Yeah, I saw there’s an Argentinian restaurant in Blackheath so how about steak, Malbec and homemade ice cream before I bring you back to either yours, or mine, for another, even better ravishing?”

“That sounds amazing, although with the amount of food in my belly, I may never have to eat again,” you give your stomach a rub, “But the ravishing…”

Hauling you up to sitting across his lap, you protest loudly, “I am going to crush your legs.”

“Stop making ridiculous comments and c’mere,” Marcus demands as he gently turns your head towards him, stealing a delicate kiss from you.

“I...should… - argh! Stop kissing me for a second,” you beg halfheartedly, “I should go home.”

“Stay.”

“Please stay,” Marcus desperately entreats you, “I’m not expecting anything but I’d love it if you stayed. I know you’ve got nothing here but give me two minutes and I can have a spare toothbrush for you. I’ll drop you home early tomorrow morning so you can grab some clothes and then we can go into work together?”

It feels as though the wind is knocked out of your lungs with the depth of Marcus’ need to be around you.

How does he do it?

“There’s no games with you, are there?” you twist in Marcus’ lap so that you now straddle his thighs, placing your hands on either side of his ridiculously handsome face.

“No,” he shakes head slowly, all the while holding eye contact with you, “I’m too old and I know what I want.”

“What’s that?”

Stroking his hands up and down your sides as he nuzzles your neck, he clearly and confidently declares,

“You.”

Tag list of glory (as ever, please ask to be put on or dropped from the list): @astroboots @silverwolf319@sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @pedropascalito-deactivated20210 @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @lunaserenade @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

[interstellarflare]

Bend and Break || Homelander

-PART FIVE-

Warnings: Gore, violence, course language, angst.

Summary: People can only bend their morales so far before they break. Homelander is the world’s greatest superhero, and you, a tech analyst, somehow become entangled in his world when he learns that you provide intel to The Boys. He makes it his personal mission to find out exactly what you know, but he never expected such resistance from someone as damaged as you. But broken things can be mended, sometimes in the most unexpected ways possible.

Author’s Note: As a bit of a disclaimer, I have only seen snippets of The Boys. I haven’t actually watched all of it, so forgive me if there are some details that are wrong, as well as the many spelling errors that will undoubtedly be in this series. There is a tag list open for those who wish to be added. I apologise for the long chapters. Gif by @theseymourbirkhoff

|PART ONE| |PART TWO| |PART THREE| |PART FOUR|

“We’ve been at this for hours, and you still haven’t managed to break into Vought’s servers”.

“Well by all means, you are more than welcome to try and hack through dozens of impenetrable firewalls yourself...” You replied, bitterly, running your tongue over your bottom lip “or would you rather that I get through them undetected?’.

The two of you had been arguing for hours and hours, neither if you coming up with a solution. Max sat beside Noir on the couch, the two of them exchanging wordless and annoyed glances in relation to your constant bickering. Homelander groaned, rolling his eyes as his head fell back against the back of the armchair. “There has to be something you can do” He whined, folding his arms over his chest as he began to pout. You glared at the Supe before breathing deeply. There was no point in yelling and screaming at each other. You figured that the leader of The Seven was just as stressed as you were. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you grimaced as your headache began to worsen. “Maybe you’re right, there has to be something else I can do”.

You sighed heavily, trying to come up with a way to retrieve the intel you so desperately needed. You stood up from you seat at the dining table, stretching your legs as you paced about the living room. You bit your lip in deep thought, ignoring Homelander’s ever-watchful gaze as his eyes followed you about. You were completely stumped, clueless as to what to do. Then Homelander laughed. It wasn’t a laugh of amusement, oh no. It was a mocking laugh, one that made the Supe smirk evilly. A shiver ran down your spine, the hairs on your arms standing on end as you turned to face him. “What?” you asked slowly, not liking the way Homelander’s expression changed to a shit-eating grin. “If I’m correct...” he began, standing up from the couch with a small groan “it’s easier to obtain the intel we want from inside the building, right? It just so happens that Vought is holding a Gala to unveil a new...something, I wasn’t really paying attention to what. But the Gala is tomorrow night”. You nodded along to his words, taking in what he said without really listening. Then you caught his suggestive stare, and you froze. A Gala at Vought International...a Gala!?

“Oh no, fuck no!” You shouted, pointing accusingly towards the man in front of you “I’m not going to a stupid fucking Gala. Have you seen my closet? There is not one expensive thing in there!”

“Y/n, come on now...” Homelander cooed gently, recoiling sharply as you swatted his hands away “we need to work together on this-” “And when I get caught, what happens then? That is a stupid idea, we’re not doing it”. The room fell into a deadly silence as both you and Homelander stared each other down, neither of you wavering. But when Homelander’s serious glare suddenly contorted into a teasing smile, your eyes widened in horror. “The Gala starts at seven tomorrow night. I’ll send a car to pick you up at six”. Before you could process what had actually been said, Homelander bolted for the open window before you even had time to retrieve a plush black cushion from the couch. You chased after him, throwing the cushion out of the window and towards the Supe’s retreating form. You missed horribly, of course, as the cushion bounced into the overgrown vacant lot next door. “You’ve given me very little time to find a dress!” You shouted angrily, your knuckles turning white as your hands clenched the windowsill in fury. Homelander laughed obnoxiously, no doubt thankful for the safe distance between you as he replied “I’ll take care of that, don’t worry your pretty little head about anything”.

Gritting your teeth in frustration, with an annoyed growl escaping your lips, you slammed the window shut to hide the growing blush on your cheeks. Taking a long and exasperated breath, you turned around to face Max and Noir, your eyes widening slightly as you shamefully realised that you had forgotten that they were even there. “He still doesn’t know about about the accident, does he?” Max questioned, his eyebrow rising in emphasis. When you nodded your head slowly, Max scoffed. “He will never find out. Understood?”. Your nephew grumbled. Noir, confused and unsure how to respond, merely shrugged awkwardly.

You groaned loudly, storming into your room and slamming the door harshly.

When the dress arrived early the next morning, accompanied by a box of expensive high heels, you tossed both boxes onto the bed and refused to look at them. You didn’t want to know what horrific thing Homelander had chosen for you. You didn’t have the nerve to even enter your room until three in the afternoon.

The curiosity of knowing had been eating away at you for hours now, the nerves in your chest growing as you finally gave in. With two hours left until you were whisked away to the worst night of your life, you hesitantly entered your room and begrudgingly opened the box containing the dress.

The dress was beautiful.

You marvelled at the beaded lace bodice, running your fingers gently across the fabric fearing that it might tear at the slightest increase of pressure. The dress itself was a deep royal blue, a fraction off the same colour as Homelander’s suit you realised with an amused roll of your eyes. It was the prettiest thing you owned, by far. And the shoes, a spectacular glittering silver that matched your dress perfectly. You were left in awe. But the question now was, would they fit?

You ignored all of the negative thoughts as you entered your bathroom, beginning the tedious task of applying your make-up. You didn’t want it too heavy, but light enough so that you were bold and noticeable, but just another face in the crowd. You had to apply enough make-up to completely cover your dark circles, which had become prominent due to your prolonged experiment creating a device that would hack into Vought’s servers all last night. You chose a light smokey eye and bold deep red lips, a deep crimson, almost burgundy. Perhaps a little darker. You allowed your hair to fall in loose natural waves, to complete the look, leaving you with a few minutes to spare to put on the dress.

You felt sick to your stomach as you slipped through the gown over your form, not liking the way the fabric stretched and tugged. The shoes fit no problem, then you moved to the bathroom to see the final product...and your mouth fell open in a stunned gasp.

You looked absolutely gorgeous.

The dress fit perfectly, hugging all the right curves and all the right places. You hadn’t realised how revealing the dress actually was, entirely backless with the base of the lace bodice stopping at your lower back. It left you completely exposed. But you felt powerful, you felt incredible. 

There was a loud knock at your door, and you released a string of unladylike curses as you realised that the time was now six. Stuffing your newly invented device, disguised as a pager, into a black clutch before walking out into the hallway of the building, locking the door to your apartment behind you. You were met by a man in an expensive-looking tux, who motioned for you to quietly follow. The elevator seemed to move agonisingly slow as you couldn’t wait to reach the lobby floor.

The man led you out to an awaiting limousine, opening the door for you as you stood on the curb completely dumbfounded. ‘He’s really pulling out all the stops, isn’t he?’ you thought to yourself, nodding your thanks to the man as you clambered inside the limousine. Sooner than you thought, the limousine pulled away from the curb, and you were on your way. Your stomach backflipped with butterflies, and your palms became sweaty as countless thoughts raced through your mind. What if everything wen wrong? What if your little device couldn’t break into the servers? What if...this was a trap?

You were so consumed by your confusing thoughts, that you hadn’t realised that you had arrived at your destination. The door to your left flew open, allowing a chorus of excited cheers to flood the interior of the limousine. Your eyes widened as your (eye/colour) hues landed on the luxurious red carpet leading up to a horrific staircase that belonged to the architectural wonder that was the Town hall, lit up in the colours of red, white, and blue, with banners of The Seven illuminated by individual floodlights. For a brief second, you hesitated on staying the car. Away from prying eyes. But you forced yourself to move, out into the open, where you found yourself shying away from the flashing lights of photographers and the microphones of journalists.

You weaved your way through the crowd of famous celebrities, politicians and high-end government officials, smiling an awkward greeting if your if your gaze met their own. you had just reached the middle landing when you heard them, the ecstatic shouts of ‘there he is’ and ‘Homelander’ taking the crowd by storm. You turned, careful not to step on your dress as your gaze followed that of the crowd.

And there he was. The Homelander, The World’s Greatest Hero, descending from the sky and onto the red carpet below. The crowd loved him, they cheered for him. They loved him. A sad smile formed on your lips as you watched him indulge the crowd with glorious waves and Hollywood smiles, stopping to give the occasional  interview with the odd reporter here and there.

Whilst in the middle of talking to a blonde bombshell of a reporter, her hair a stark contrast to the blood red dress she wore, her lips a little too red for his liking, Homelander’s eyes wandered over the a-listers gathered here tonight...until his gaze met your own. He stopped short, his words catching in his throat as he stared up at you, two flights above him in dumbfounded awe.

You were breathtaking.

To him, you stood out amongst the crowd, and not just because you looked slightly out of place. You outshone many of the women here tonight, highlighted by the numerous flashes of cameras left right and centre. The dress complimented your figure well, and he felt his chest tighten in a rush of unfamiliar emotion. Not bothering to excuse himself from the infatuated reported beside him, Homelander scaled the next two flights to stop on the landing in front of you.

All eyes were on the two of you now, and you could feel them burning holes in your gorgeous dress. You swallowed thickly, timidly casting your gaze to the carpet below as you spoke teasingly “That was quite an entrance”. Homelander’s smile was genuine as he stared down at you brightly. “Anything for you...” he spoke quietly, quiet enough so only you could hear “shall we?”. With your heart leaping into your throat and a bright blush covering your cheeks, you nodded. Homelander ushered you up the remaining stairs, his hand resting on your lower back as he guided you through the crowd and inside.

“Town Hall? Bit of a weird place to hack Vought International from” You spoke lazily, to which Homelander laughed. “There is a direct line to HQ from here. It would be easier for you to get through here than there”.

You laughed bitterly, finding slight amusement in the situation. “Why am I not surprised?”.

Tag List: @lauraaan182​ @tardis-23 @freshmakertaco @shilsvampsinger @cynthianokamaria  @delicatetimetravelarcade @coloursunlimited @clean-soap @themarch-oftheblackqueen @soft-hargreeves @kennedywxlsh​

[dreamescapeswriting]

The Birds And The Bees ~ MYG [Request]

WORD COUNT: 2.3K

GENRE: Non Idol Au, Family Au, fluffy, 

PAIRING: Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader

A/N: I hope this is okay for you! I know we spoke about putting the two of your requests together so I hope I did this some justice for you sweetie!

Jae shook his head at his best friend as they walked up the long paved driveway to their house. Jae and his twin sister had been out all day at their friend's house, having lunch together while their parents were out. They were supposed to go straight home to bed but the twins decided to have a sleepover instead, inviting their best friends Kayla and Derek over.

"I told you, my parents aren't even home," Jae laughed as he looked to his twin sister who was telling her best friend the same thing. Their friends were worrying that their parents would find out and get them all in trouble. The twins weren't normally the ones to have a small get together when their parents weren't home but with you and Yoongi gone they had free roam of the huge house you all lived in. They figured it would be no harm in having a small sleepover, they normally have them under your supervision anyway so it didn't seem like a big deal.

"Where are they anyway?" Kayla asked as she threw her long blonde hair up into a ponytail, shifting her bag from one shoulder to the other. Ara rolled her eyes as she thought back and on what you and Yoongi had told her that morning. 

"A romantic getaway, they haven't been spending enough time together." Jae couldn't help but fake a gag as his sister told them where they were and at the thought of his parents still being romantic together. You were always all over one another as if you were still two young teenagers in love, which is cute for the both of you but embarrassing and cringeworthy for both of your kids.

"You want to be careful you don't get another younger brother or sister," Derek joked as he shook his head at the thought. The twins stopped walking when they reached the front porch of their house and stared at their friends who were both laughing uncontrollably. 

"What? What's so funny?" Ara questioned, raising her eyebrow as she looked at her best friend who was starting to turn red in the face from laughing so hard. Kayla covered her mouth to try and silence her giggles but it was hard when Ara seemed so innocent in comparison to everyone else in their academic year.

"Do you have any idea where babies come from?" Kayla questioned this time, looking between them both as they thought it over. The twins were 13, almost 14, of course, they knew where babies come from. They'd spoken to their parents about it plenty of times but never the full birds and the bee's talk.

"Our mum? When they spend a lot of time together...Then mum-" Jae stopped him from continuing on when he saw their friends laughing even harder at them, he could sense that what he thought happened was wrong. There was a pit growing in his stomach as he felt embarrassed in front of them Kayla could see how it was upsetting them so she stopped laughing. 

"You guys should really ask about that sometime," Kayla told them as they all walked into the house, taking off their shoes and coats as they stared around the place in Awe. It didn't matter how many times they came here they would still be in shock as they saw how different it was from normal homes. It helped that Yoongi, the twins' father and your husband, worked as a huge music producer. He wasn't famous but he worked alongside a lot of famous influences which paid well. Then there was you, the twins' mother, you worked as a bridal fashion designer which meant you got to work from home most of the time and get paid to draw, model and design gowns for people. 

The house wasn't huge but it was bigger than most family homes, the small porch area they were now standing in had high ceilings with a fake crystal chandelier hanging down above them. The whole of the house was painted white and had marble counters in the kitchens and bathrooms. All the floor lined with different coloured flooring panels, Ara always made the same joke that it looked as though her mum had created the place in a Sims game and their father paid to have it recreated.

"Do you want another sibling?" Derek asked as they began to walk through to the living room, the lights were dimmed lower which made Ara frown as she searched around for the dimmer switch. As soon as the lights turned onto the full mode a scream came from the sofa and Yoongi rushed to cover you. The two of you weren't indecent but you were making out on the sofa, 

"MUM!" Ara screamed covering her eyes as she turned around to face away from the scene before her, 

"DAD!" Jae yelled out following his sisters' actions, their friends both laughing as they turned around and covered their eyes. 

"We're clothed kids, I just wasn't expecting you here," You told them disapprovingly as you moved away from Yoongi and looked at your daughter, she was avoiding all means of eye contact with you. That meant she knew she wasn't supposed to have friends over and was trying to avoid getting into trouble with you. 

"You were supposed to come home-" You checked the time realising that both you and Yoongi should have called them before now but you'd both been so lost in one another to have noticed. 

"Hours ago, I thought we said no sleepovers," Yoongi said as he was doing his best to stay mad at them but he knew that he did the same thing at their age so he couldn't be mad forever. Neither could you since you knew what it was like to be their age and have the house all to yourself, 

"You were supposed to be on your 'romantic getaway'," Your daughter grumbled as they all walked further into the living room and sat down on each of their seats in the living room. They already knew they were in trouble but if they could keep their friends there for long enough you and Yoongi would cool down. You'd never shout or tell them off in front of company. Kayla sat down beside Ara on one of the two-seater sofa's and Ara was still turning a bright red at the thought of their friend's seeing all of this. Her parents acting as though they were kids,

"The hotel cancelled on us last minute. Double booked us," Yoongi mumbled as he looked at Jae who was sitting with Derek on the beanbags in the corner of the room. Derek was turning away whenever they meet their eyes, feeling slightly shy in front of you both now.

"Mr and Mrs Min..." Kayla said slowly as she looked at the both of you, ignoring the look she was getting from Ara. Ara knew what was going to get asked and she wasn't looking forward to it.

"Yes, darling?" You questioned, raising your eyebrow as she stared at you trying to gather the nerve to question you.

"How did you and Mr Min meet? We've always wondered but the twins won't tell us," It was the talk of the school, or rather their school year on how the two richest parents meet and what their story was. 

"Well...We met in college, I hated him actually. He was so stuck up and cocky." You giggled at the thought of it and Yoongi wrapped his arm around your shoulder, drawing your body closer to him as he kissed your cheek. 

It wasn't a huge deal now as it seemed back then, The twins' groaned at the sudden display of affection coming from you both, they hated whenever you would get like this around them.  Poor Jae still believed that girls had cooties and that if he kissed one his teeth would fall out, they were so young and innocent that it made it hard for both you and Yoongi to tell them the truth. 

"He was a player in college, never went out with the same person twice...Then one day he asked me out, I told him no and I guess-"

"The chase was fun," Yoongi cut you off as he looked at you. Love filled in his eyes as he looked at you, the same love he felt for you back then still there in his heart. There wasn't a day that went by when he didn't think about how much he adored every part of you, he would go through it all over again. Every second of college if it meant he could start your story all over again, back to that moment his eyes first landed on you. The first time his heart skipped a beat which it still did to this day.

"You had the twins right after getting married...Was there a reason you wanted them so early?" Derek asked this time, he seemed to be just as engrossed in this story as much as Kayla was which made Jae and Ara groan. They'd heard all of the stories so many times that they could recite them if they felt the need to but they didn't want to. The thought of their parents still acting as though they were young and in love was enough of a cringe experience for them. 

"Well we discussed having a large family, we had to start early." You laughed softly as Yoongi lifted your hand to his lips and gave you a small gentle kiss, 

"Do you want more?" The room fell into a deadly silence, all five pairs of eyes were on you as you thought about it. 

"We do want more," You answered softly, looking at the twins' who had discussed the thought of having siblings but they'd never given it a real thought before.

"In the future maybe, depending on the twins and how they feel about it all," Yoongi answered as he rose to his feet. 

"I'll drive you both home, you two go and do your homework," Yoongi told the twins as they nodded at him, walking their friends out of the house to say goodbye.

Later that night the twins were getting ready for bed while you and Yoongi cleaned up after the late dinner you'd had together, 

"Mum?" You glanced over your shoulder at Jae who was looking at you shyly, 

"We have questions." You stared from him to Yoongi as you could already sense where the conversation was going. You'd walked past the study when you heard the twins debating on who was going to ask where babies really came from, 

"Sure, s-sit down." You stuttered out hoping that Yoongi would take over the conversation since he was supposed to have the talk with Jae while you were supposed to have the dreaded talk with Ara who was now walking into the room in her PJ's. Sitting beside her brother and waiting for him to pluck up the courage and question you both on it, 

"What's on your-"

"Where do babies come from?!" It came out as a yell from Jae who was now sinking into his seat as you both looked at him and then to one another. Debating if you were ready to ruin their childhood and tell them the truth.

"They're going to find out soon, school teachers them a lot..." You whispered slowly as you held back the tears, the thought of your kids growing up so fast was bothering you. Taking in a deep breath you turned to look at your husband, his ears were burning a bright red and he nodded at you. 

The twins had different reactions, your son was staring at his father with a disgusted look on his face, his mouth hanging open at the thought of it all. Your daughter was staring at the table as she tried to erase the image from her mind, neither of you had gone into detail about it because they were your kids and it would be wrong but you told them the basics of how babies were made. 

"I think I'm going to need therapy." Your daughter whined as she shook her head as if it was somehow going to get the image of her parents together out of her head. 

"I second that," Jae mumbled as he stared at his father who was finding the whole thing quite funny, 

"Well there was no other way and it was a lot of fun doing it," Even you groaned at the crude way he was speaking in front of your kids, you playfully smacked his arm and got up from the table. Going to make a cup of hot chocolate for each of you as you got ready for bed that night. The twins grumbled as they got up from the chairs and agreed to one another that they would never look at you and Yoongi the same way again for as long as they would leave. 

"So do you want siblings?" Yoongi chuckled as both of the twins rushed off to their rooms, ignoring Yoongi as he kept yelling the question out to them. 

"They're no longer our babies," You whined out as you wrapped your arms around the back of Yoongi's neck and brought him down into a kiss, whining as he tried to pull away from you. 

"We can make new babies," He smirked, reaching around and grabbing your ass but you slapped his chest with the teatowel. 

"When we get a hotel room, I don't want to while the kids are home." You laughed softly, laying your head on Yoongi's chest as you both stood in silence together, swaying to no music but just enjoying being together with one another.

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @fan-ati--c​ @rjsmochii​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​ @bisexualmess007​ @innersooya​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​ @justfanonfan​

[geminil0vr]

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 !

the masterlist -> part two

summary ✰ your relationship with your boyfriend, ben, has been a little (a lot) rocky from the start. back from a session of him not even trying to help you finish, you run into pansy in your dorm room, and it's safe to say she has some suspicions.

tags ✰ @partr1dge <3

wc ✰ 1.7k

content ✰ fake moaning, toxic relationship, a little smut, sexual themes galore, cumming (not just yet for our dear reader), (constant) mentions of shitty sex experiences, lying, endless cursing, reader is h word, getting dressed, mentions of homework (this one should be classified as a warning), snooping/stealing

a/n ✰ this is pretty much just a short intro, some backstory and all that !! i hope you like it. and be careful, past the read more it pretty much goes directly into some smut/sexual themes. okay, happy reading :))

with a few final thrusts, your boyfriend comes inside you, quickly pulling out and rolling next to you on the bed. you laid there, as usual, fake moaning, pushing back onto him. and he went quick, not doing anything to make you feel good, and pulling out before you've even come (though, when the only thing he does is piston in and out of you like a personal fleshlight, that's unlikely to happen). this is how all your sex happens, usually.

ben turns to smile at you, cupping your cheek in the palm of his hand. "did you cum?"

ha, did you fuck. he's not even done foreplay. "yeah! like, twice. didn't you notice?"

you've found that the only way to entertain yourself is by making even more outlandish statements each time you fuck. well, he fucks you. well — no, it isn't really fucking. he actually has the nerve to ask why you make him use lubrication every time... perhaps it's because he refuses to eat you out, or even play with your clit for more than fifteen seconds, or finger you to prepare you. in the early days, he tried, and you repeatedly went to tell him what you liked. and, not enjoying being told what to do, he did it how he wanted, and now consistently leaves you in a confused state of 'how can i be so horny when he did the bare minimum?'. ben calls it domination. you call it ignorance.

another way you've found to entertain yourself, is by making sex a performance. see, when you first started off, you were a virgin, and although well-educated on sex and the things you might like, you didn't feel inclined to fake anything. now, you've been with ben for around six months, but in your first one he put up this façade of a romantic, so you had gone and fallen (tripped, stumbled, collapsed, grazed your fucking knee) for him. you'd fallen for roses, and dates, and... well, that was it. your standards were pretty low back then — christ, you were sixteen! and when you two finally did anything, two months into the relationship (despite his relentless begging), the glass window was shattered.

ben is selfish. once you sucked his dick, and let him fuck you (the definition of fuck is still on thin ice, really), the romance came around less often. you thought it was just a typical couple thing. you mean, your past relationships lasted about a month or two. you thought this was the average.

until your friends, well, they got boyfriends and girlfriends, and now they're always grinning, and they have little spats that are easily resolved with communication, and they're in love. and the way they speak about sex, merlin, it's like a fantasy out of some erotica book. 'he did this', 'she did that', 'it felt so good', 'it's like they know exactly what i want'. so when your friends turned to you about your sex life, you put all your walls up, and you told them some phoney story about how he's your best lay (... your one lay) and how he's so bloody good at taking care of you.

you still feel bad for lying to them. but it's been four months, now. you don't want to go back, not that they would be mad at you, but you're almost embarrassed about how long you've stayed. you know they'll make you break up with him, considering what an arse he is in and out of the bedroom, and you're scared to get into drama, and you're scared he'll be upset, and you're scared that a little part of you still clings onto your old, false perception of him, so you stay. you know it isn't healthy. but you stay.

and you make sex the greatest show of your life, you arch your back, you moan, you gasp, you refrain from telling him that when he cups your breast it feels like nothing, you curl your toes, you remain submissive. in bed, you're a porn star of a very vanilla, one-man show. and you give yourself a five-star fucking rating. of course, you only started this when you realised he would never listen to you. ben just reckons he's got really good in bed all of a sudden.

"you alright?" ben is already in his trousers, buttoning up his school shirt. you're still in only your bra on the bed. 'course, no aftercare.

"yeah, sorry, dazed off." hurrying to get dressed, you kiss him on the cheek (he doesn't like kissing on the lips once he's come in your mouth) and rush to your dorm, tie hanging underneath your collar. class is in forty minutes. when you two started, you were five minutes into a free hour.

the slytherin common room is moderately empty, most people being in class already or making use of their free hour, and when you drag your shoes all the way to your dorm room, you definitely don't expect to see pansy parkinson flipping through a magazine on top of her emerald duvet.

see, you've known pansy since first year. she isn't much involved in the slytherin girl group, but she gets along quite well with everyone, sometimes participating in sleepovers if she feels like it, and always cracking clever and bitter jokes. pansy's a nice girl, though relatively bitchy with the gryffindors, and you quite like her, and she quite likes you. it's a mutual agreement, you say 'hello' in the mornings, and she'll ask you for a quill from time to time, and you'll hand it to her, and when you two are drunk out of your minds you do challenges to see who can drink the most, in your dorm room, as all your other friends giggle and watch on. it's a good, solid, friendship, albeit not super close.

and just as you would feel with any friend, your dishevelled appearance (undone tie, messy hair from your 'performance', untucked shirt) immediately embarrasses you as you stand in the doorway.

"oh. hi, pansy." you give a tight smile, shutting the door behind you and going to do your tie, before giving up because, well, you're shite at doing ties, and tossing it on your bed. "what're you still doing here?"

she's not stopped eyeing you since you came in. "gee, lovely to see you too, y/n. and, couldn't be bothered to socialise. draco's being a dick." she looks over your appearance critically, raising a sharp brow. "had fun? good lay?"

"y—es. 'course." you swallow, diverting your attention to your school bag, attempting to disguise the fact that you certainly did not have fun. nor a good lay; couldn't be more the opposite, actually. well, you were lying down?

she pauses, clenching her jaw before tossing the magazine to the side and narrowing her eyes, one leg crossed over the other, arms crossed over her chest. head tilted. lips parted. "you okay, there?"

taking a deep breath, you kick your shoes off and turn around with a gentle smile, passing a comb through your hair. "yeah, why?"

"just, you look more like you've been dragged through a bush than been fucked." her face is completely blank, and your cheeks grow hot from her crude vocabulary, but nonetheless you chuckle. looking down, you notice that one of your thigh high socks is rolled to your mid-calf. thank god the hallways from the ravenclaw tower to the dungeons, and your common room, were pretty much empty when you walked through.

you roll it back up and begin tucking in your shirt. referencing to your sock, you grin. "stylistic change. and yeah. ben, well, he's quite the animal in bed." more like a tortoise. not because of speed, but have you seen how they mate?

"hmm." she hums, tucking a strand of short black hair behind her ear, and nodding before picking back up her drama magazine to look over different pages as you quietly put your clean clothes away. a comfortable silence settles in the room while you take the time to get out your homework, sitting on your bed and correcting a few of your grammar mistakes. it's a long while before pansy speaks again, not looking up from the pages. "gilderoy lockhart still hasn't got back his memory."

"awful shame," you smirk, finishing up your work and putting it away before bounding over to her four-poster bed. sitting down, you fold one leg under the other that remains firmly planted on the carpet. your eyes gloss over the painfully colourful magazine with wizard celebrities plastered all over it, "tell me, why do you read such trashy things?"

"found it in daphne's drawer." she shrugs, rifling through some more pages.

"you went through daphne's drawer?"

"was bored. 's not really interesting in there." pansy deadpans, "doesn't even have any sex toys." then she grins cheekily, pearly whites on display. you suck at your teeth and shake your head in amusement, chuckling and getting up.

"dickhead. put it back before she notices!" you exclaim.

"alright, then." she rolls her eyes playfully, and bounces up, smoothing out her short, school skirt and slipping the magazine back into daphne greengrass' bedside table.

with only ten minutes to get to your transfiguration class, you start to clean up your appearance, leaving just the top button of your shirt undone and attempting to do your tie. pansy slips on her high-top converse (mcgonagall will have her head for that), doing the laces and glancing over at you every few seconds as your fingers fumble with your dark green tie. how many years at hogwarts, and you still can't do it right? you squint in the mirror hung up on the wall, once more wrapping the thicker part of the tie around the thinner part, tucking it under, making a loop, tucking the — wait, how did it go again?

"here, let me do it, since you're so bloody incapable." pansy storms over, exasperated from watching you fail, grabbing you by your shoulders to twist you around and taking matters into her own hands. she does it expertly, because of course, she's a pureblood, and purebloods just have to be bloody good at everything. tightening it up just a little, she folds down your collar and smooths her fingers over your shirt, before coming up behind you and getting up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around your shoulders and make sure the tie is well situated. you hold in a breath as her fingers brush against your neck — really, that dumbarse boyfriend of yours leaving you high and dry makes everything get you worked up.

finally, pansy works some of her fingers through your hair, smoothing out the messy strands framing your face and placing her hands firmly on your shoulders. "perfect." and she's gone, grabbing her bag and swinging out the room before you can even utter a 'thank you'.

[aprilsrant]

Honey Honey! | Oliver Wood x Slytherin!Fem!Reader.

PAIRING: oliver wood x slytherin!fem!reader.

SUMMARY: (Y/N)’s friend takes his plan one step further, determined to get the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and the overthinker slytherin together. 

WORD COUNT: 2,032.

PREVIOUS PART: Lay all your love on me.

NEXT PART: When I kissed the teacher. 

REQUEST: literally one person asked for a part two and I had to do it. I have in mind another part, and possibly last one, so if anyone is interested let me know!

WARNINGS: I don’t think so.

A/N: Please remember English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes, you can always correct me and I’ll fix it. And yes, the title is another ABBA song because why not? 

I still can’t believe the first part got like 150 notes. Thank you so much! 

Masterlist.

Gif below it’s not mind, credits to the person who made it.

Three days after the party in the Ravenclaw Common Room, that same one in which she almost killed one of her best friends, the unexpected happened.

His mouth lifted in a grin, white teeth showing, eyes sparkling with excitement and, at the same time, craziness; Dorian, the one who barely escaped his early death, sat beside them, leaning his body on the big root of a tree near the Black Lake, orange and brown leafs beneath him. The other tree exchanged glances. 

The afternoon was about to take an interesting turn. It’s not like he was never happy, but this particular kind of happiness came with blaring red lights, screaming and alerting everyone close enough.

Silently agreeing to ignore the boy’s strange, but not new, behaviour, (Y/N), Isla and Ethan kept working on their assignments. Before any of them could write something on the pieces of parchment, Dorian fakely cleared his throat. None of them looked at him, suppressed smiles on their faces.

(Y/N) had finished writing a sentence for her Charms essay when he tried to catch his friend’s attention again. But now using a different strategy. After the third long sigh that left his mouth, Isla, with lips pressed in a thin line, finally turned her head in his direction.

“Yes, Dorian?,” she said. Her harsh tone rivaling Professor McGonagall’s. 

In an impossible way, his grin grew larger, resembling the Cheshire Cat from the classic Alice in Wonderland. Dorian fixed his position, making himself more comfortable against the root, legs stretching (a few inches away from Ethan’s ink bottle), eyes closed and fingers gently hitting each other, taking that typical stance of someone who’s planning something. 

“What is it?,” asked Ethan impatiently.

“I come here bearing good news, no, excellent news and you treat me like this?” Always the exaggerated, Dorian feigned a hurt expression, right hand going to his chest and grabbing the part where his heart was placed.

Having enough of his games, (Y/N), who wanted nothing more to finish her paper and take a nap before dinner, decided to step into the conversation. “What excellent news?”

Dorian dropped the wounded act and smiled at her, glaring at the others as if he was saying ‘this is what good friends are supposed to be like’. He changed his posture once more —he really couldn’t stay still—, now sitting closer to them with his legs crossed, hands playing with one of the chocolate sweets Ethan had been trying to transform. The corner of his mouth never lowered. 

“Nice to hear you’re interested, my dearest (Y/N), because this concerns you directly.” She regretted ever asking him the minute that answer rolled from his mouth and his dark brown, almost black, eyes shined with mischief. Ethan’s and Isla’s confusion showed through their faces. “I just, like just, saw you know who and he,” Dorian stopped talking when he saw his friend’s disturbed expression. Rolling his eyes —how could they be that dumb?—, he explained. “Not that You-Know-Who, the other one… Ugh, I’m talking about Oliver Wood.” 

Their mouths took the shape of an O, realisation finally coming to them.

“He asked me what day you would be free to tutor him, so now, thanks to me, you have a date with Oliver this Saturday morning.”

(Y/N) and the other two stared at him. While Isla and Ethan broke into a fit of thrilled laughs and big smiles, high-fiving Dorian for his “work”, she was trying to control her anger and the words —the majority of them being insults— ready to leave her throat.  

Why was he so keen on her and Oliver being together? Why couldn’t they understand that she was not the kind of person who would act on her feelings? 

Yes, she had made it obvious that she liked the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, but that didn’t mean she wanted to do something about it. She had always been awkward and, of course, situations with strangers (did she consider him one?) tended to go that way. The girl knew that if something, anything, went wrong with him she would overthink nonstop.  

Saying nothing, (Y/N) quickly grabbed her things —a dark blue bag with white dots forming the constellations, the parchment on top of it and the quill on her hand—, stood up and left with a quick step carrying her body, ignoring her friends screaming her name to come back from near the Black Lake’s shore. 

Entering the castle, bustling with cheerful students making their way outside to enjoy the warm and sunny afternoon, she decided this was the perfect moment to take that much needed nap, even if she hadn’t finished her assignment yet. 

The Slytherin was walking down one of the corridors, this one less transitaded, when she saw the particular crimson fabric of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team’s robes. She lowered her head, hoping it was one of the Chasers or any other member that wasn’t him.

Noticing the person wearing the uniform passed right beside her and didn’t say anything, she sighed in relief.

“(Y/N)?” said a disembodied and sweet voice from behind her. Even if she couldn’t actually see the person calling her name, she knew perfectly who it belonged to. 

Bloody hell.

Before turning around to face him, she closed her eyes, preparing herself. She’d never mind his presence, or him calling for her —hell, (Y/N) dreamed of that happening every now and then—, but now was definitely the wrong time for this. She was angry with Dorian for trying to set her up, exhausted from not being able to get used to the routine again and annoyed because of the amount of homework. 

Finding his black shoes extremely interesting and intriguing, she murmured a small response.

“Fancy to see you here, I’ve been trying to talk to you since the party but I didn’t want to bother you in class, you always look so focused on the lessons, and with Quidditch practices I couldn’t find you in your free time,” Oliver continued. He had been trying to reach her? Her? “I found Dorian instead and he said you were free to tutor me on Saturday morning. If you can’t or don’t want to or whatever, you don’t have to. I know I should have talked to you first, but I didn’t see you anywhere and I was getting desperate because I can’t lose this opportunity and… and I’m rambling a lot, sorry.” He stopped tapping his thumb against his broomstick’s handle.

All at once, the feeling, more like an intuition, that he could be nervous around her engulfed (Y/N), spreading a warm sensation through her body. 

She wanted to say no, even when this was the chance she’d wanted for too long but (Y/N) knew herself. The endless overthinking that she’ll have to endure before, during and after their “study date” —what if she was a horrible tutor?; what if he didn’t understand anything she’d said?; what if she wasn’t good enough?; what if he never wanted to speak to her again after it?; what if he failed and blamed it on her?; what if all this was a big and cruel joke?, would he do that to her, to anyone?—.

She really did want to say no, but how could she when he looked like that? Upper lip biting nervously on the bottom one, his cheeks of a rosy colour, constantly shifting his body’s weight, fingers fidgeting. 

“I, um, of course, no problem,” she assured. 

Why did she have to be such a people pleaser? 

And why did she have to like him so much that when he smiled, relieved because of the answer, her heart stopped for a second and her stomach turned upside down?

|||

(Y/N) was sure Oliver had never wanted to revise Transformation so early on a Saturday, especially when his team was just a few hours away from playing their first Quidditch match of the season. She wasn’t so thrilled either, weekends were the only days she had to sleep till lunch, her roommates knowing that waking her up before one in the afternoon would lead to a pissed (Y/N) and no one liked that version of herself.

“Look, we can reschedule if you want,” she said after watching him fail once more at conjuring birds from the tip of his wand, “you are worried about the match and that’s making it impossible for you to focus on this.”

The Gryffindor glanced at her through his eyelashes, a frustrated look in his eyes —(Y/N) couldn’t figure out if it was because he was losing his time here with her while he could be training with his team one last time or because the only thing coming out of his wand were yellow feathers—. 

Running both hands across his face, he replied, “I-I don’t want you to waste your time, but I suck at Transfiguration and we haven’t even started with Potions, which is worse, and you make it seem so easy because you’re amazing at this. But I’m not and Professor MgGonagall said that if…”.

For someone who had a brave and confident exterior, Oliver Wood did ramble quite a lot.

“I know what MgGonagall said,” (Y/N) interrupted, choosing to ignore the part where he complimented her, “and you are not wasting my time, Oliver. I agreed to help you, remember?” He nodded his head slowly, watching his hands. (Y/N) thought he looked like a kid getting reprimanded. “Now, try one more time.”

And one more time he failed, yellow canary feathers falling down to the floor,  joining Oliver’s past attempts at mastering the Bird-Conjuring Charm. 

She saw him scratch his forehead with his eyes closed and lips barely visible because of the way he was biting on them. 

“You’re not doing the correct hand movement, I think that’s why it isn’t working,” (Y/N) noticed, “look, give me your hand.” She grabbed his right hand, the one holding his wand, delicately, fingers barely touching the skin. Taking his wrist and positioning herself on Oliver’s side, she showed him how to do accurate motion. “And you just say Avis.”

The next time he did the incantation, a loud blast, pretty much like the sound of a gun being fired, resonated throughout the place. Once the smoke dissipated, several yellow birds flew from the tip of his wand to the empty classroom they were practising in. Twittering and chirping filled the room, but as quickly as they did, they became background noise when Oliver let out a loud laugh at his achievement. 

He turned around, a big grin on his face and brightness in his eyes, now a completely different person. She smiled at him, his excitement starting to feel contagious.

“See, you don’t have to be so hard on yourself,” (Y/N) murmured. If only she’d take her own advice. “I think you’re good to go and-and do whatever you do before a Quidditch match.”

“Thank you, for agreeing to this.”

She shook her head, the corners of her mouth slightly going up. “No problem.”

Oliver walked towards the door and before he opened it, the boy asked, “will I see you at the match?”

“Maybe.”

“Nice, it’ll be good to see you there,” he’d smiled at her one last time and left the unused classroom. 

Biting down the nail on her thumb, (Y/N) let out a silly giggle, one of those that only escape people’s mouth when they are drunk or can’t get that one person out of their minds. Perhaps she was reading into this situation the wrong way, but for just a tiny moment she didn’t care. She enjoyed the warm feeling on her stomach, as if a ton of thestrals had suddenly decided to fly across it, and the erratic pace of her heart every time Oliver would glance at her or say anything remotely kind. 

Then the realisation came and with it, tangled like some kind of broken and dark creature, her severely damaged pride. She had to admit to Dorian’s face that he was, in fact, correct and that his ridiculous plan may actually work.

TAGS: @peeves-a-legend​ (amazing person and writer, read all of her work!).

[spideymarvelws]

Peter Parker fluff- as friends or on a date, the reader and Peter go to target and cuteness, flirting and a lot of fluff happen 🥺

Some ideas ( if you don’t know what to do )

- Peter picks you an outfit to wear

- your in the makeup section shopping and Peter either gets into it or he gets bored

- in the food isles Peter says that you both should bake together

Even tho i’m not taking requests... i still wanted to do a little hc cause this idea was to cute to pass up that and i was feeling in a fluffy mood

Main Masterlist 

I could see it just being something happening out of the blue

Well for Peter at least

He was ready to just chill at your place

Maybe get some last minute work down

But for the most part he was just excited to goof around with you like he did almost every afternoon

Maybe also gather the courage to confess his feelings to you

What he didn’t expect was to be attacked with your puppy dog eyes, asking him to come with you to target

You were already planning on going with a MJ but she bailed last second

For reasons unknown 👀

Definitely not because the constant pinning was getting on her nerves😀

And since it was a last minute decision to go, you didn't have the time to tell Peter your plans

So once he reached you immediately asked him to go with you

He ‘reluctantly’ agreed, coughing away the red all over his face when you grabbed his hand and dragged him out the apartment

Now where I live we don’t have target and I’ve only ever been there once so bare with me here

Peter doesn’t know jack shit about shopping for clothes

His waredrobe consists of the same jacket, two pairs of jeans he just washes every week, maybe a sweater or two and an entire draw dedicated to tshirts with science puns

And while you found the silly puns and jokes cute, especially when he looked so proud and went on little rambles when someone pointed them out

You couldn’t help but wonder how you could do so much better...

Queue the fashion show montage

The classic black jeans, white shirt combo for starters

Definitely trying out the bad boy look with a fake leather jacket over top

Does target sell plaid pants?💀 cause if they do thats a definite yes

We’ve seen how good Tom looks in them

And maybe- possibly you slipped in a crop top 

The second best thing you’ve ever done after embarrassing him in front of the avengers 

And as much as he didn’t want to admit, he liked it too

Quite a lot

But he couldn’t let you know that

Especially since he was acting done with the entire situation, he had to keep up with the facade

Not that it was believable when his face was the shade of the target logo itself

Subtly slipped the top into the cart 

“I thought you didn’t like it?”

“shutup.” 🧍🏻

Picking out some clothes for you wasn’t any better

Because of course you picked the most revealing outfits

Constantly asking how he felt about it, if he liked the colour, the way it made you look

He always answered with the generic answer of you look beautiful in everything or just a quick, high pitched ye-yeah you look great!

Which was true, you could make a potato sack look amazing

But he wasn’t about to call his best friend sexy in the middle of a Target

Nor did he want to get turned on in the middle of a Target

So calling you beautiful seemed like the next best thing

After the absolute torcher mostly on his part in the in the clothes section

It was off to the makeup 

And boy, did you take advantage of him

Using him as your brand new canvas

Countless swatches of eye shadow, lipstick, you name it, littered his arms with the first aisle

Honestly anything that caught your eye and had a free sample you used

Ofc this is after covid

Very pouty boi every time you grabbed his arm

But still looked at you like you lite up the sun

Which was always his downfall

Willing to help

But at what cost?

At some point, you managed to reach to his face

Manz do be looking like a full on clown afterwards🤡

But he was your clown 🥰

*cough cough*

Best friend clown ig 👀🙄😒

Luckily you kept makeup wipes in your bag

Because you were cruel, but not that cruel

And while Peter was relieved, he had to make a mental note to ask if you could do his face properly when you reached back home

Maybe it was because he actually quite liked how he looked with coloured eyeliner or maybe it was because of the close proximity of your face to his

Ig we’ll never know🤷‍♀️

At that point you thought you’d put him through enough

So you rewarded him with going to the toy aisle next

Because you can’t convince me that Peter Parker is not a man child by heart

And that is not the first place he would run too anytime he’s taken to any store like target

You’ve never seen him smile wider that day

Probably because all you’ve been making him do was blush and mumble words under his breath 😇

But he was especially pulled to all the spider man toys

In fact as you both entered the aisle there was already a small boy there, giggling with his parents as he held up packaged web-shooters and playing superhero, adorning a plastic spider-man mask on his face

Peter almost burst into a million pieces of confetti

And as the family left, he turned to you with a bright smile

“Can we get some?”

“THE CHILD??!!”

“WHAT!? NO! Not the child, the TOYS!”

such a weird sentence out of context lmaoo

Fast forward the next thirty minutes, the both of you are giggling and laughing, chasing each other around the aisles with plastic swords and shields

Peter having to hold you back from jumping into a crate of plushies

You making sure he never got any silly string cans in his hands

Just pure chaos

How you both haven’t gotten kicked out? Only bingus knows

Having that moment where he sneaks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him, just muttering boo in your ear to scare you

Him laughing at you

You trying to calm your racing heart

Then realising how close both your faces where

The area becoming quiet

Feeling his breath against your face

His body close to yours

All Peter saw was you and all you saw was Peter

The both of you slowly leaning in, gaze switching from his lips to his eyes, making sure that this was something that he wanted

Feeling his lips brush along yours, reading to fully press them against-

“eXUsE mE? But do you knew where the shampoo is?”

👁👄👁

🧍‍♀️🧍🏻

🦗 🦗 🦗

Peter stepped away and politely guided the lady to the aisle, earning him a pat on the head while you stood awkwardly by your cart

You both strolled to the food area in silence, immediately separating to ‘divide and conquer’ but in reality it was to fully process what just happened

While you were overthinking near the pastries, Peter was working over by the fruits, hating that the moment was ruined and wondering what would’ve happened if you weren’t interrupted

He kept thinking about the fact that you didn’t pull away

That you leaned in with him

That he felt your lips even if it was for a split second

He wasn't about to let his opportunity go to waste

And his sudden burst of courage

So as you both checked out and walked out of the store, he was quick to pack everything in the trunk of the car, pushing the cart right in front of you and blocking you from climbing into the drivers seat

“Get in.”

“Heh?”

“Get in.”

You blinked

“As in, get into the cart?”

“Yes.”🙂

hehe 

you’re in danger😀

But nevertheless you got into the cart, trying your best to find a comfortable position 

You mind immediately went to Peter rushing you across the carpark, sending you both flying into a hospital bed

But you didn’t expect him to pull out a camera along with a bouquet of flowers you didn’t know he bought

He delicately gave it to you, blushing when your fingers brushed along each other

“I just- I just wanted to get some photos for memories.” 

His hand rubbed at the back of his neck, eyes locked on his shoes that tapped on the floor repeatedly

You bit your lip, relaxing into the cart with your leg thrown over the thin plastic and flowers held to your chest

“Like one of your french girls?”

“Okay. Just because we watched Titanic last week does not give you the right to use that line everywhere,”

“Just shut up and take the pictures Parker.”

After a few moments of Peter circling the cart, making sure to get the perfect angles that captured the sun set behind you but kept you as the focus point of the picture, you started to zone out

Instead of focusing on making a certain face or direction, you took in his appearance

Hair tousled and glowing brown, moving perfectly with the wind

His face fully concentrated on taking the pictures

It was a perfect picture

He was a perfect picture

“If this is for memories you gotta get in here too Peter.”

You smiled, waving your hands and ushering for him to come closer

“I- okay.”

He walked behind the cart hesitantly, leaning over with the camera to get the both of you in frame

He had to lean a little bit closer, his face right next to yours

So as his finger pressed the button to take the photo, you took the courage to turn your head to give him a kiss on the cheek

But he turned his head to do the same thing

Resulting the both of your lips connecting, a quick peck that sent to both of your head spiralling and smiles growing

“Never thought our first kiss would be in a target carpark.”

“Can out second one be there too?”

“Damn right it can.”