#me when the hair dresser asks me what kind of art i do

[emsgwenstan]

The letter

FLUFF babes, wholesome happy ending kinda fic, but if u know me there’s always a dash of angst thrown in. LOVE CONFESSION!

Words: 1.5-2k

Warnings: non just anxiety.

———

You had to do it, it was killing you not to. There you were hands trembling smoothing down your hair and picking the invisible lint of your black v-neck’s long sleeves, your vision almost blurring due to the nerves. The piece of paper that lay on the dressers surface crumpled and worn already, every night you would reread your words over and over as if trying to memorise a script, it’s been a week since you had written the letter and the only thing to come of it was nightmares of how wrong this could go.

The plan of attack is to go find Larissa, preferably in her office confined in privacy and confess the two years of emotions to her, what will happen next is beyond you. Standing from the edge of your bed and stimming your hands as if to shake away the impending panic attack you pace to the mirror to straighten your silver necklace and fix any possible discrepancies with your simple make up.

Larissa and yourself had a great relationship, well friendship. You enrolled as an art and outcast history teacher two years ago and since then the dynamic between the two of you has been nothing short of amazing and domestic, you would go shopping in Burlington once a month and occasionally go out for dinner every Friday, as well as the random night caps that prolonged for longer then they should leading into the early hours of the morning on a school night.

Larissa had been adverse to opening up for the first six months or so, never really wanting to rely or put her trust into someone who could possibly hurt or cause harm to her feelings, understandably of course, the first personal conversation she really initiated was about previous experiences with friendships and or relationships, mortica and Marilyn being just examples. You though, seemed to understand her on a different level, having shared the same kind of difficulties, ranging from friends to past lovers and many otherwise distasteful people. She caught onto how understanding and empathetic your were, the fact that you listened and heard what she was trying to say, but not in the way other staff would listen, you didn’t show any kind of frightened emotion because of her authority, instead you saw her for her, you saw her as Larissa not principal Weems.

Finally with enough courage mustered, you snatch the letter and exit your quarters making the nerve wracking trek to her office. It’s about 6:30 when you leave, having had time to get changed and prepare after dinner and settle in the meantime. You shoved your phone in the back pocket of your navy jeans and keys in the tiny front pocket, the only sounds emanating within the stone halls are the steps of your flats and the deep inhale and exhales of breath.

Once you arrive the gold plaque with her name displayed, almost mockingly showed your reflection as if to say don’t do it, don’t fuck this. But you did it, you knocked. Larissa sat hunched over her desk and rested her elbows on the mahogany rubbing her temples to release the never ending headache when her door rang with three prominent knocks. “Come in?” Who the hell would be needing something from her no- oh. “Hey.” You said slipping through the doors and gently shutting it. “Oh y/n, how are you sweetheart?” She asked straightening up and closing her laptop.

“I’m ok…” you said quietly eyes flicking about the room as an awkward silence lingered in the air. Larissa was the first to speak again. “Is there something I can help you with?…Or?” She asked tiling her head to try catch your gaze. “Yes-no, I..I don’t know.” You stuttered. Her tense shoulders relaxed a little and her mouth involuntarily twitched into a hopefully helpful smile, even though she was confused. “Sorry I’m just…” you began with a sigh trailing to one of the seats in front of her desk and slumping into it whilst shaking your head. “It’s ok, take your time I’m all ears, you know that.” She spoke clasping her hands gracefully upon the wooden surface.

In the palm of your hand rested the yet again scrunched piece of paper, your thumbs rubbed at the corner of the page with a tremble. For the first time since entering the threshold you looked at her, properly, meeting her glittering cerulean eyes and sweet expression. She was breathtaking as always dressed in one of her finest matching cream coat and skirt suits and white silk blouse, her jewellery glistening to polished perfection and hair meticulously crafted, and to top it off the signature red lipstick you were oh so fond of.

“You look wonderful, are you off somewhere?” She asked in a smooth voice. “Hmm? Oh no.” You muttered letting the silence fall yet again. “I um…” deep breath. “I want to say something, but…I would like it if you could let me at least attempt to finish before you respond, if that’s ok.” You said gulping half way through your sentence. “That’s ok, if it’s something you’ve done I’m sure we can work through it, but I must admit your making me worried darling, you’re never this formal.” She confessed.

Abruptly standing, you turned you back to let your eyes close for a moment before continuing, putting a healthy distance between you both, you shakily unravel the paper and look to her. “You know better than anyone that I like to say and do things face to face right?” You asked as a prompt to actually stop procrastinating. “I do.” She confirmed. “And no matter the circumstances I try to face every single confronting situation.” You continue. “Of course, I try to encourage you to do so…” she trailed never taking her eyes off of you. “Ok.” You whisper.

One last look before the potential disaster you’re about to cause. “Dearest Larissa.” You began reading from the page pausing every couple of moments. “For the past two years… you have been my companion, confidant, wingwoman and best friend.” You say taking another breath. “You have listened, you have learned and tolerated much of me over this time… for that I will be infinitely grateful, just as I am for all the time we have spent together.” Your eyes flitted to her for a fraction of a second to see if she was following, she was, hanging off every word.

“Your trust and faith in me is my motivation to get up in the morning and try to succeed in the job you have generously handed to me, it also gives me a sense of pride that I am the one you choose to trust with your most inner thoughts and feelings, about people, about values, about whatever you wish to share, another thing I’m greatfull for.” You pause again to collect your bearings and hold it together. “You are kind, intelligent, sweet, beautiful and all round incredible in every sense of the word. You have a talent to command a crowd to your will and a gentleness that is rare to just the average person. I’ve never once been disappointed in who you are, not once, because it’s you and anyone who meets you in their lifetime should thank themselves lucky for having that privilege.”

Larissa sat wide eyed with her lips slightly parted in anticipation of hearing the rest. “I think I should finally own up to being the one who leaves the random flowers, sticky notes and occasional hot chocolate when you haven’t the time to get them yourself, not that you should have to, I apologise if it was too invasive and if you wish for me to stop I will do so, I believe that you deserve to have something to brighten up your day with something as simple as those, because you do.” You say starting to feel the tears prick in the corners of your eyes and hands unsteadily grasp the paper.

Resuming in a breaking voice. “On that note you deserve so much, someone’s hand to hold or shoulder to cry or collapse on, an unasked for embrace and a warm bed filled with tender care. You have no idea-.” You cut yourself of by sniffing and wiping the free falling droplets rolling down your cheeks. “No idea how much it pains me to know that you feel unseen, overlooked and unappreciated by others, but you have to know how much I see what you do, I see the sleepless nights behind your eyes and the insults scared on your heart.” You said holding back sobs.

“I know that you don’t-.” You bit your lip suppressing the pain just for a while longer. “That you don’t feel what I do… that my feelings are unrequited, but at this moment I wouldn’t want to spend my time doing anything else then making sure that you know.” Tilting the paper down and raising your eyes to meet hers you spoke again. “How loved you are, how much you are loved by me, and that you will always have someone who is proud of you for everything, and is interested in all the things you have to say.” You lifted to paper back to you frame of vision and read the last part of you letter.

“Because you Larissa are cherished and held in the most sacred part of my soul and have a home in my heart. I love you with every fibre of my being my sweet girl and I hope you don’t ever forget it… yours, y/n y/l/n.” The second you finished the tightnesses in your throat felt like your breathing constricted to only the most minuscule of air. Gasping for it you dropped to your knees and held onto your chest as if it would help in some way.

Larissa’s own tears fell as you pressed on, the second you fell to the floor she sprung into action by coming to your side, she knelt on the ground and placed a hand on your shoulder to signal her presence. You looked up at her and instantly reached for her face with one hand and the other still holding onto your chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry Larissa, please, please, please don’t hate me I’m sorry, I ruined everything, I just- I…” you mumbled almost incoherently between gasps, and just like that when you truly saw her through stinging tears you yourself asked her if she was ok.

“Oh, no don’t cry! Please, no you’re ok, you’re ok.” You squeaked using your other hand to remove the mascara streaks down her porcelain skin. Larissa was stunned by the way you selflessly still even at this point managed to be more concerned about her then you own breakdown. Larissa had never in her life time experienced something like this, not a single person has ever expressed such concern and care towards her and she doesn’t know how to react. She knows that this isn’t the first time you have told someone you like them, but she also knows you have never told someone you love them, let alone that being her.

“I can go, I’ll- I’ll go and I’ll leave you be, ok? You can forget this ever happened alright?” You said sitting back on your thighs to reach the dropped letter, but Larissa stopped you by grasping your wrist and making you look at her. “Stop. Just stop… you’ll stay.” She said in a groggy tone. “But-.” “No.” She cut in. Coming back full force your body wreaked with more uncontrollable sobs. Larissa guided you into her arms and let you be broken just for a moment to release your pent up adrenaline. She held you and rocked you until you calmed and slowed with the pouring apology’s. Gently she tried to coax you out of your state by quietly shushing and running her palm over the crown of your head to the nape of your neck over and over.

Neither of you knew how long it was that you sat wrapped together, but when it felt right Larissa pulled back and cupped your face in her hand and peered into your swollen and puffy eyes. “Thank you.” She breathed. You stared back at her almost emotionless drained of any and all energy, you were confused as to why she chose to thank instead of ask you to leave in disgust. “I’m sorry that I did this.” You started. “But I’m not sorry that I fell in love with you.” You said picking at the skin around your nails. “Nor am I.” She replied. The crease in your brows deepened at her words.

Slowly Larissa lent her forehead against your own and breathed deeply. “What did I do to be graced with you?.” She whispered. “I’m the one who should be proud of you darling, you said it. You said what I’ve wished to say for a long time, and… I know that must have been very difficult to say, but I’m glad you did.” She said. Your eyes fluttered close to just enjoy this small moment. “Look at you comforting others with the words you wish to hear, y/n…” she retracted just a little. “You are the one who is loved by me. I’m just not as brave as you to say it, but I am now and I don’t know what this means, but I see how much love you have to give, I feel it when ever your around… you told me once you believe that you were only meant to give love and not receive it, but if you will let me, I want to give mine to you.” She smiled.

This isn’t how you pictured this to go, not in the slightest, but who could ever complain. You peered into her eyes so intensely to make sure there was no underlying malice or false intention, but you didn’t find an ounce. You took ahold of Larissa’s right hand and opened her fingertips to lay a palm on your chest. “Rissa…” you started, not being able to find the right words. “I know.” She said pulling her hand with yours on top and cupping your cheek, you leaned into her touch just to relish in her warmth. More tears fell down your cheeks burning from following the same tracks as previous ones. “I’m so tired.” You hummed. “I know.”

Larissa removed her heels tossing them aside before shifting herself to a grounding position on her knees. She held the back of your calves and wrapped them around her waist and moved your arms to brace around her neck. You caught on to what she was doing and almost resisted not wanting her to hurt herself by your weight, instead she leaned back putting one arm around your waist and one under your ass holding you to her as she stood. Larissa guided yourselves through to her quarters adjacent of her office and without letting you go she knelt on the bed and laid down without disturbing the position.

That bed, the same luxurious place the two of you shared so many memories in, watching movies, bickering, watching her remove her make up in the vanity’s reflection, the same place she perched her head in your lap to brush out her hair and loosely braid for her to sleep in. This was the place you knew you loved her, you saw Larissa for everything she was and only you have had the privilege of knowing who and what she really is.

Your head moved from the crook of her neck to the same pillow she occupied and breathed her in, you moved one of your arms to the little space between you and used you fingertip to trace over her face, her cheeks, nose, eyes and lips, Larissa felt peace, she felt whole like a missing part of her returned, she always felt that way when you were around, even the times she would walk past your classroom and though she couldn’t see you her stomach would erupt in butterflies knowing you were close.

“I love you y/n.” She whispered. Your gaze turned upward to her eyes and you smiled, a genuine smile that only she could bring to your face. “I love you more.” You replied. “Larissa?” You asked after a moment’s hesitation. “Mmm?” She hummed. “Would it be selfish of me to ask if I could kiss you…” you said hoping for a yes, but if she still has boundaries-. Larissa didn’t even respond, within two seconds of finishing your question she kissed you, gently but passionately, she swallowed every breath of yours and you hers.

After a while your limbs were together intertwined, soft breaths as well as shuddering ones from the after effects of crying and shy strokings from nimble fingers were what made the pain from many prior months seem to wither away. Larissa and yourself had moved off the bed to change into something to sleep in, she wouldn’t let you leave and for that you were happy because you didn’t want to.

You rested in her clothes in her bed under the sheets curled to her side as she rested against the headboard, eyes fluttering from exhaustion. Larissa played with your hair tracing the shell of your ear before reaching to her bedside table pulling out the small notebook from the draw, she rested it in her lap and opened it flipping through the first couple of pages and she began to read aloud.

“Tuesday 11th. Something wonderful happened today, something I didn’t think I was akin to anymore. It seems I have fallen into love with my best friend, I know history repeating itself, but this is far different to a teenage obsession, I love this woman, I love her far greater than anything else in this world, however I’m afraid she will never know. But I’ve waited this long to feel something like this again I’m ok with it staying like this, for now at least.” She said not stopping her ministrations the whole time of reading.

You looked up at her while she read with a twinkle in your eyes and a sleepy smile plastered to your face. Larissa tore out the page and rested it and the notebook on the table and told you to keep it if she can keep yours, she shuffled down and wrapped herself around you and together you both fell into a blissful sleep. This was the first night of many more to come, your last thought was finally, and hers was exactly the same.

[ahundredtimesover]

Title: Please Love Me Drabble Bonus (10) - I want this so much.

WC: 12,663

Tags/Warnings: foul language; alcohol consumption; talks of pregnancy, explicit sexual content (kissing, dirty talk, fingering, breast play, overstimulation, oral (m & female receiving), straddling, unprotected penetrative sex), lots of fluff; Seven JK (18+)

Series Masterlist

A/N: Hi. I’m on a break from my indefinite break. Seven JK was a burst of inspiration (so were his WeLives bc dreamy househusband alert!) and PLM!JK definitely has reasons to f*ck his wife seven days a week. So please enjoy this fluff piece because it’s happening!💕

“Babe, is the curling iron still on?”

Your husband calls out from the walk-in closet behind you, and you yell out your yes as you place the item in question on the dresser, ruffling your hair up a bit and styling it as you wish. 

You're so immersed in trying to figure out what look you want to go for that you don’t immediately notice Jungkook standing next to you, iron in hand as he curls the edges of his smooth locks. When your eyes flit to him, you’re momentarily hypnotized, your movements stopping for a few seconds before you’re able to regain your bearings and decide on a loose bun to match the low-back satin dress you have on. 

“You okay there, babe?” Jungkook asks as he picks up on your silence, with you seemingly avoiding looking at him. 

You nod in response and he smirks, feeling like he knows what’s got you acting like this. He’s known for a while that he affects you in a certain way; your trip to Busan not long ago reinforced that, given the way your body reacted to everything he did at your command. But still, knowing that he makes you flustered even with clothes on gives him that boost of confidence and that air of cockiness that he knows you adore. 

“Are you sure?” He asks again, turning to look at you while you keep your eyes on the mirror.

You finally face him and release a deep sigh. “You look really good,” you admit, your cute little frown melting all the knots in his body. 

“Why do you make it sound like it’s a bad thing?” He chuckles, flashing you that boyish smile that he also knows drives you wild. 

“Because…” you start, your arms crossed now to establish some distance. “I’m gonna have to control myself around you and behave but that’s hard when you look… like that.”

“Who says you have to control yourself and behave? You’re my wife and you have my permission to keep your hands on me any time and you know, misbehave or something,” he cheekily responds, his smug face making you want to smack his chest and pull his hair out of lust and frustration. 

“We’ll be in public, Kook!”

“Tae booked a private club, though.”

You frown at his teasing but it only urges your husband to tease even more. 

“They also have private rooms so when you absolutely cannot help yourself, we can always get one and maybe I’ll let you put on a show for me. Or I can do that, it depends if you still have yourself together by then.”

“Kook! You’re not helping,” you pout, and much as he wants to keep going, he also just wants to wrap his arms around you and that’s what he does, pulling you close and softly smiling at you. 

“I’m kidding. Sort of,” he chuckles. “But we can also just skip the party and stay in, you know? I’ll keep my clothes on until you take them off me, or until you ask me to, just like last time,” he smirks now. “And we can just do whatever we want. You won’t have to worry about controlling yourself or anything.”

“Tempting, but we did promise Taehyung that we’d come tonight,” you say, wrapping your arm around his neck while you fix the strands of his hair, knowing the style he wants to go for. “Opening an art gallery is kind of a big deal. And I am a featured artist in his collection so we absolutely have to be there.”

“I know,” Jungkook says. “I won’t hear the end of it if we skip it. But at least I’ve got a reason to swap the business wear for something different. And you know, fluster my wife because of it, make her speechless and tell me I look good.”

“Ah, is that what you expected to happen,” you arch an eyebrow, feeling called out because that’s definitely what happened. 

He’s always been a little cocky but he’s amped it up recently and you’re not complaining; he has all the reasons to be. You know he knows that you love it when he is. 

“Well, I actually expected you to be on my lap right now, marking me all over and moaning out curses,” he chuckles, his laughter increasing in volume as your face distorts in feigned annoyance once more. “But I guess the outfit isn’t sexy enough.”

“Now you’re just pushing it,” you playfully smack his chest. “You don’t even wear tight clothes like this. You always said they made you feel stuffy.”

Pulling away to fully absorb Jungkook’s look, you smack yourself internally for even attempting to take him all in, only because of all the scenarios playing in your head right now. And he’s right, being on his lap and claiming him as you cuss out your pleasure is what you would be doing if you weren’t running late. But you are, and acting out all your desires would have to wait. 

“Well, since I married you, Mrs. Jeon, I’ve become quite the observant man,” he boasts. “I pick up on what turns you on and I use it to my advantage. You loved it when I had the sleeves of my white shirt rolled up and this is just the tight fit version of it.” 

Much as you want to kiss him right now, you can’t help but soften at his words. He is observant, especially when it comes to things you like about him. You remember how he’d started buying colored and patterned tops after your honeymoon years ago because you said you liked them on him. Recently, you notice that he’s been wearing jeans for his casual wear a lot more now, and how he’s kept his hair the specific length that you once said you loved on him. 

His best friends say that Jungkook was always just content on his monochromatic sweats and hoodies because they’re comfortable and don’t require much thinking when he decides to put them on, and so knowing that he keeps you in mind when he dresses up is quite sweet, especially knowing that he doesn’t really care what people say unless it’s you. And if you show that it’s something you like, Jungkook will definitely keep doing it to make you happy. 

“And the leather pants?” You ask.

“Jimin suggested it, said it fits more with a plain white shirt than jeans for a club. Do you like it?” He wonders, looking anxious, as if there’s anything he wears that you don’t like. Maybe except for this one university shirt that has holes on them that he still wears. 

“Of course I do, hun,” you say, wrapping your arms around his waist now. “You look like the sexiest, most beautiful man alive but I also don’t mind if you just wore whatever you wanted. You’ll look gorgeous either way.”

“Well, some people dress for themselves, and some people also don’t mind, like me. I’ll wear anything that’s comfortable, as long as it makes my wife happy.”

“But this outfit makes me horny though.”

Jungkook smirks before licking his lips, and right when you think he’s gonna kiss your mouth as he leans forward, he goes for your neck instead, sucking a bit of flesh before he trails upwards with soft pecks towards your ear.

“That’s better,” he whispers, sending shivers all over you that he definitely feels, earning you a teasing chuckle. 

He turns to face you and sees the desire in your eyes, and he knows you’d both break eventually but still, he states, “I don’t wanna mess your lipstick, baby.”

“I don’t care,” you moan, feeling the wetness pool between your thighs now, and your words prompt Jungkook to crash his mouth against yours to taste the lust that’s expressed all over your body. 

He tastes of mint cherry and yearning and smells of deep vanilla and ecstasy. His hands trail down to your ass that he ardently squeezes while yours travel towards his hair, the soft pulls eliciting moans from him, as your hips meet his thrusts the same way that your tongue battles against his, desperate and impassioned, your beings melding into one. 

Time feels frozen as it’s just you and him. Until your phone starts ringing, incessantly, and it registers to you that it might be Nari, who you’d promised to pick up on the way to the club. 

You pull away, telling your husband that you both have to go. 

“Well, at least your lipstick’s not completely messed up,” he hums.

“Yeah, but my underwear is,” you groan, and it’s your pout and scurry towards your closet that lets Jungkook know that you’re serious. Your little make out session did turn you on and if it wasn’t for a disruption, maybe you would be on his lap right now just as he expected - more like dreamed. 

“I take it back,” he states, walking towards the bathroom where you now are. “I think the outfit’s sexy enough, don’t you think?”

You enter the private club that Taehyung booked for the party and spot less familiar faces than the official opening of the art gallery earlier in the week. Given, tonight is specifically for the fashion and entertainment crowd, a strategic decision for him who wants to attract patrons other than the usual from the art and business fields. It’s a good way to make use of his family’s connections, and it’s also another means of exposing your work to a different audience. 

It’s why Taehyung’s been excited to introduce you to the guests, making sure you meet all of them, as he goes around the space to greet them. You don’t mind, really. He has a great eye and a unique way of expressing and selling his art, and as he matches it to his target market, you find yourself learning from him, too. He even got one of them to commission you for a piece, someone who doesn’t mind waiting in line, given that you’ve been pacing your work due to health reasons. 

Taehyung finally states that he now wants to get on with the actual party, so he heads to the bar to order some shots while you walk towards the table where your husband and all your friends are. You take the seat next to Jungkook who promptly looks at you with a cheeky smile on his face. 

“Babe, why are you sitting there?”

“Where else would I sit?” You ask, sipping from a glass of water. 

Jungkook spreads his arms and nods towards his lap, causing you to burst in laughter, although he doesn’t seem to find it all that funny. 

“I won’t sit on your lap, honey,” you giggle. “I can do that at home.”

“Our friends won’t mind,” he huffs. 

“I would,” you respond. 

“He just wants to make a statement,” Jimin chimes in. “We can’t count how many girls have walked up to him asking if the seat - I mean, his lap - is taken. Why he’s even manspreading, we don’t know.”

You laugh along with your friends as you turn to your husband, as if asking him why he’s doing exactly that.

“I always had the image of men in leather pants sitting like this,” Jungkook answers. “I guess it fits the vibe.”

“Well, if you keep doing that, more women are gonna try their luck. And I can’t really blame them,” you say, moving your seat closer to him because suddenly, the idea of people hitting on your husband makes you just a little bit uneasy. 

“And they’ll keep getting rejected. I don’t know why they think that line would work,” Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“Why did you think it would work on me?” 

“Let’s just say, you have a track record,” he smirks at you. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten how just kissing me affected you earlier. Oh baby, you have it bad for me,” he whispers now.

You’d be annoyed at him if he wasn’t right, but of course he is. It’s the boyish charm and effortless sexiness that get you all the time, and that’s on top of all the other things that make him an amazing husband and lover. 

His wiggling eyebrows let you know that he’s teasing, and your scrunched nose tells him you’re enjoying it. 

But even then, he pulls you close and softly kisses your cheek. “And I’ve got it bad for you, too, baby. I’ll do whatever you want tonight, just tell me.”

“What about a message and cuddles?” You release a deep breath. “Meeting the guests tired me a bit.”

“Then I’ll do that. We can have a bath together and sleep in, too. Does that sound good?”

You nod in response, smiling at the thought that despite your incessant teasing, you and Jungkook could edge each other with your flirting but also wouldn’t mind if one of you decides for something soft and wholesome instead. It’s not so much self-control as it is the way your relationship has come to work - sure, sex is always good; you’d push each other’s buttons for fun or even as foreplay, but pillow talk while your limbs are entangled under the sheets are just as amazing. You’ve learned that every intimate moment with him is special as it happens; you could only hope it’s an aspect of your marriage that won’t ever change. 

Your moment is disrupted when Taehyung arrives with a server and a tray of shots, with him insisting that each person has to take one. You give in even if you hadn’t planned on drinking at all, but when you say that’s all you’ll have for the rest of the night, none of your friends question you. They know you and Jungkook are actively trying to get pregnant, and consuming alcohol does affect that, so they let you be. Jungkook orders a glass of juice right after though, but you don’t question him, even if you’d expected that he’d go for another round or at least a bottle of beer. 

As the host that he is, Taehyung urges everyone to get on the dance floor, the alcohol now kicking in after the rest of your friends downed more shots. 

“We’re good here,” Jungkook says. “You tired my wife a little over there.”

“Nah, we all know you’re the only one who can do that,” Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows, his lack of filter causing you and your husband to just laugh.

“I’m okay, Kook,” you say, reaching out your hand for him to take. “I’d be silly not to dance with you looking like this. Plus, didn’t you want to make a statement that you’re taken or something?” You laugh. 

“I do, actually,” he smirks, leading you to the dance floor where your friends have gathered. “But I’d also be silly not to dance with you looking like this,” he continues, running his hand down your bare back until it sits right on your ass. He squeezes it a little before holding you by the waist, swaying them in tandem with your hips as you dance to the music. 

You’ve got your hands around his neck and your eyes locked on his, his smile turning more sultry as the seconds tick by. You feel him grind against you and you welcome the friction, as you find yourself lost in the sounds and the weight of his stare. 

“Nothing like a song about fucking everyday to get us in the mood, huh,” he whispers in your ear, his fingers gripping your dress to control himself.

“Good thing we’re married and can do that, then,” you whisper back. “But that would also be incredibly tiring.”

Jungkook laughs. Much as he knows it’s something that his amazing stamina would allow him to do, he also knows that’s too much for you. But he’d never complain. Anything with you is enough; being with you is enough. Falling asleep with you is all that he wants, even during that rare time when he was upset. He’s learned that when it comes to you, no distance is farther than when he’s not next to you; he’d take any pain on either of your ends, as long as he has you by his side. 

He’s overcome with emotion at the thought, so he doesn’t control himself when the urge to kiss you takes over him and you let him, capturing his lips for something gentle and languid. He feels you smile against him and he does the same, knowing that amidst the lust and intense yearning, the softness will remain. It’s why he pulls away first and envelopes you in a hug, finding purchase in your neck as he calms his raising heart and hardening cock that were caused by your impassioned movements. 

He hears you giggle as you hug him tight and his heart softens now, savoring that sound even more because he was without it for weeks at one point. He’s also learned that days without your laugh and your smile are the hardest; he knows he’ll be lost in this world without them. 

You pull away now and kiss his cheek this time, and you feel him smile again at the action. With all his cheekiness, Jungkook is everything that is love at his core. He gives and takes as he should, and it may seem odd that such thoughts are what’s swirling in your mind as you’re both dancing together at a club with people making out and grinding against each other around you, but you’ve come to learn that regardless of happening outside or inside of you, he’s the only one you want to share your little world with. 

He takes your hand and leads you back to your table where your friends gather shortly after. He orders coffee while you settle for tea, knowing you’d be too tired to make one before you sleep. It’s more laughter and dancing in your seats for another hour or so before you and Jungkook decide to head home as guests start to leave as well. 

You didn’t expect to be out until 2AM but you kept thinking that one day, you’ll be too old for this; one day, you’ll have kids to care for that you won’t have much time for nights out with your friends. You savor what you’re able to as a young married couple before children get in the picture, and as you watch Jungkook in the driver seat with his tattooed arm on the steering wheel, humming to the music while saying that he had a great time, you assume that he thinks the same way.

“Yeah, tonight was fun,” you muse. “We let go of ourselves a little bit and that was nice.”

“It was. You had your hands on me for most of the night so that was good,” he teases. 

“I had to make a statement myself. Don’t think I didn’t see those two women who kept eyeing you and constantly passing by our table,” you huff. 

“I didn’t even notice,” he hums. “I was too busy looking at you. But was that really it? You were just letting them know that I’m your man and they have no chance?”

“Of course not,” you giggle, taking his free hand and kissing it. “This look is really doing something to me. Maybe I’ll start asking you to wear this at home or something.”

Jungkook laughs at your words, his head briefly rolling back before he turns to you with his scrunched nose. “I wouldn’t mind that, actually.”

There’s a moment of silence, with you caressing his hand that’s found its place on your bare thigh, before you comment that he didn’t drink much tonight, knowing that their trio of best friends enjoy their alcohol when they’re out to party.

“I could’ve driven us back home, you know?” You say. “We haven’t gone out like this in a while so it would’ve been okay if you drank.”

“Yeah but… we’re trying to get pregnant and the doctor said that alcohol consumption affects sperm health, too,” he responds, his eyes looking soft as he glances at you. “I don’t want you to be the only one cutting back on things because we’re doing this together. I mean, that cup of coffee back there was only my second one of the day. I’ve been trying to limit myself to just two a day as well since I know you’re drinking less, and I survived the week.”

“Honey…” you say, your heart melting at the thought of him making sure that you’re not doing this all on your own. 

This is just the trying phase, and if he’s committed to the pregnancy this early on, you can just imagine how present and supportive he’ll be when you do get pregnant. He’ll make sure you’re not the only one making sacrifices, and he’ll make sure to give you as much comfort and support as possible. 

“And also, I’m gonna have to change my lifestyle eventually for, you know, when we have our child,” he continues. “I can’t be going out, drinking, and then driving because who knows what could happen? Plus, I don’t wanna kiss our baby with alcohol breath when I get home. And I—”

“Kook, you can still do the things you used to do even when we have a child,” you interrupt. “I mean, you can still party and drink and—”

“I can’t be reckless, though, and that’s what I was for a long time,” he counters. “I was also pretty selfish and always wanted things my way. Being with you changed that and yeah, parenthood will change me, but I should at least be good enough to begin with.”

“And you are, honey; more than enough, actually. I mean, we’ve been to the doctor twice and you already took what she said to heart,” you assure him. “I just know you’re gonna be great, okay? And this is my unfiltered mind speaking but I’m kinda excited to get pregnant because of how sweet and loving and… hot you’re gonna be when you take care of me.”

It’s that laugh again, his playful and endearing laughter that triggers the butterflies in your stomach. Jungkook’s eyes sparkle under the dim streetlights that you pass by, and the way he looks at you makes you feel like everything good is at your reach while it’s just the two of you in your own world. 

“I’m excited for you to get pregnant because of how loving and needy and strong and fucking sexy you’re gonna be,” he says, earning him a chuckle. “But all that aside, I just want you to know that you have me. I’m obviously here for the actual baby-making but also for the massages and cravings and morning sickness and swollen everything, okay? I promise.”

“You are such a dream, Jeon Jungkook,” you giggle as you gaze at him lovingly. “I’d live through a thousand lifetimes just so I can have this one where I married you.”

He’s left speechless now, as he softly smiles and leans over at the stoplight for a gentle kiss on your lips. You think it’s enough for him to say all the things he can’t, and you kiss him back, a little more deeply, to say the things you still don’t have words for.

The rest of the ride back home is quiet, save for Jungkook’s humming along to the songs on his playlist. You’re both giggling over something silly that happened earlier by the time you’re walking back to the apartment, and taking advantage of the late hours and the empty elevators, your husband softly kisses your neck with his arms wrapped around your waist all the way to your floor. You sigh in relief; his lips are as good as his hands when it comes to relieving your tiredness. 

There were some issues you encountered in your project at the firm that you had to manage, on top of helping Taehyung with his art gallery launch. Teaching the kids is not really stressful, but handling classes of 10 children each has its own challenges. You know your body and you’re perfectly fine, which is why you didn’t mind staying up late with your friends tonight. You’d missed out on a few nights out because you opted to rest, but tonight was too important to pass up on. But still, it left you just a tiny bit exhausted and you can’t wait for your warm bath and cuddles with Jungkook. 

You pause on the idea once your phone beeps and a notification pops up. Suddenly your heart is racing, and you’re left standing in the middle of your living room as Jungkook turns off the lights and says that he’ll massage you as you both take your bath. 

Seeing you unmoving when he expected you to be walking up the stairs, he asks if everything’s okay.

“Yeah, it’s just…” you say, turning to him with a small smile on your face. “I just got notified. My, uh, my tracker says I ovulate in a few days so, uh… My fertile window starts now.”

It takes a few seconds for Jungkook to process the information and once it clicks, he walks towards you and mirrors your smile. 

Dr. Han explained in detail how things go, and Jungkook remembers that in non-technical words, having sex during your fertile window is the best way to get pregnant, and since everything is an estimate and no means of tracking can be entirely accurate, what he he really took from that session is that having sex everyday increases your chance of conceiving. The thought turns his soft smile into a smirk, and with his eyes boring into yours, he repeats your words.

“Your window starts now,” he says, earning him a nod. “I’m fertile, too,” he adds. 

You chuckle at his statement. “I know, Kook. Of course you are,” you playfully roll your eyes. 

But his gaze doesn’t falter, as he cups your cheek and takes you in.

“Do you think the bath and massage can wait?” He asks, his voice suddenly low.

“They can,” you respond, feeling your throat drying up.

“You’re not too tired?”

“Not anymore,” you answer, melting into his touch, especially as his breath starts to quicken.

“Good,” he breathes out, his mouth so close to yours. 

Your noses touch before you feel his lips, soft yet wanting at the thought of being able to make love to you tonight, knowing there’s a chance that it could result in a baby that you’ve both been wanting. You grant him the entrance that he seeks, and he’s quick to explore as your tongue melds with his. He’s intentional, with both his hands cradling your face, wanting to say so much with this kiss. You return it just as eagerly, and your hands do what they’ve been wanting to since earlier in the night - they slide down his clothed chest, and then his torso, until they reach his crotch where you palm his hardening dick, letting him know that you want this just as much. 

He moves to place open-mouth kisses down your neck, and you moan when he sucks that sensitive part of yours at the same time that you squeeze his length, earning you a groan that sends shivers down your spine.

“Can I claim my seat now,” you tease, wanting nothing more than to ride him until you lose your breath, knowing just how much pleasure that position gives you both. 

“Fuck yes, babe,” he growls, kissing you again as he starts walking back, letting you guide him towards the couch that’s experienced its fair share of your lovemaking.    

He pulls away to settle on his seat, his eyes not moving away from you as he asks you to undress yourself, leaving you in nothing but your silk thong.

With his legs spread slightly wide, the leather material hugging his thick, meaty thighs, and his arms laid over the back of the couch, you can’t help but moan at the sight. Your seat looks pretty comfortable, even more so when he unzips his trousers to reveal his hardened length, big and veiny for you to slide against and down on. 

He’s coaxing you, as he touches himself to get you to come closer, knowing just how much this turns you on. You surprise him, though, when you get on your knees instead and take his cock from his hand, as if showing him that you can do it better. And of course you do; your touch electrifies him, it makes him weak and pliant, it makes him give in to whatever you want. He’s a generally impatient guy, but when it comes to you, he forces himself to have self-control, to wait, to let you take your time, only because he knows how satisfying it is once you give him what he craves. 

A few gentle and teasing strokes later, you take him in your mouth and you surprise him again, as you dive in and take him deep right away, unlike your usual gradual descent that’s every bit torturous and euphoric. He’s caught off guard but it’s what causes him to obscenely moan, prompting you to do the same, the vibrations sending him close to the edge. But you keep going, bopping your head up and down as you try to fit him in your mouth, and Jungkook has to gather all his strength to not falter this quickly. There’s so many other ways he wants to feel you.

Knowing he’ll come soon if you don’t stop, he cups your cheek to get your attention. The loving way you look at him is a contrast to how ruined he feels, and just as he thinks you’d chase his finger with your mouth and suck it as well, you kiss his hand instead, tracing your lips up to his tattooed arm and it’s moments like this that make him feel alive. He’s always loved chasing a high, living for the thrill and the unexpected that pushes him to try different things, and he’s somehow found that when making love to you. You could look at him shyly, reverently, or sultrily; you can lick your lips or say vulgar things or giggle sweetly - he won’t know what he’ll get, but he’ll lose his mind either way. 

Wanting to satiate his need, he finally pulls you to sit on his lap, capturing your mouth in his that leaves no room for either of you to breathe. Flushed against his clothed chest, you wrap your arms around his neck to try to take in as much of him as you can. You grind against his throbbing cock, and the friction isn’t enough, as you raise yourself to slide down on him, and your joint moans fill the room.

It starts slow but you eventually pick up the pace, and it prompts him to remove his trousers that are now definitely limiting his movements. Once he’s free, he focuses on what he can give. Jungkook pulls you down as he pushes inside of you, the quick and erratic thrusts sending you in a whole other dimension. You’re meeting his movements, your pants turning into squeals as you feel him so deep inside you, hitting the edges of your physical being. 

You lose it when he grips your ass to keep you in place and then captures your breast in his mouth for him to suck. You feel the pleasure all over your body; it’s overwhelming and all-consuming - you feel him everywhere, and it’s exactly how you want to be made love to. 

It’s the succeeding thrusts and the bite of the sensitive part of your neck that has you mewling and arching your back in intense pleasure and you feel like you’ve lost sense for a moment, as if you’re suspended with how deep and rough he’d gone. It’s almost numbing, as you continue to grind against him as you try to catch your breath but despite the overstimulation, you can’t get enough of it, of him. You came hard but you want more. 

You kiss him as you come down from your high and he takes you in, moaning as your mouths meet again. It’s different this time, though - the kiss is desperate, it feels like; there’s the usual passion but a different kind of yearning, of eagerness. Devotion, too, it seems - towards you, towards the future child you’ll have, towards the family you’ll build - as he caresses your back, his hands gliding on your skin before clutching onto you, as if he’ll lose you if he doesn’t.

“I love you,” he mumbles against your neck, repeating it like a chant that devotees do to a being they revere. “I love you, fuck baby. I love all of you.”

“I love you, Kook, so much,” you pant, hugging him loosely, as it’s the only thing you have energy to do at this moment. 

His arms are wrapped around your waist and he leans to kiss you there, his mouth seemingly unable to separate from any part of you. 

You meet his eyes and you just know that you mirror the way he’s fondly looking at you. Jungkook boops your nose before he gently lays you on the couch, his eyes unmoving from your form as he kneels before you to remove his shirt, his perfectly-crafted torso making you salivate even more. 

Spreading your legs, he dives in your cunt, licking your lips before he sucks your clit. You still haven’t recovered from earlier but you don’t mind. You’re still somewhat in a daze, and everything Jungkook does is both mind blowing and calming, intense yet numbing. Your leg starts to shake so he stops but you don’t complain. Just like him it seems, you want this drawn out. 

“I want you inside me, baby,” you moan. “I want… I want to feel you all over me again. Please,” you beg. “I need you.”

The way you plead does things to him, so he lays by your side, slides inside you from behind, and takes you into his hold. With your body shifted and your legs raised, he cups your breast and sucks on your neck, as if cradling you while making you feel all of him - his mouth, his dick, his fingers… He’s thrusting against you so hard that you’re screaming in pleasure, asking him not to stop, and moaning out his name. You lose control of your limbs and you feel like your body now has a mind of its own but his kiss grounds you, and you hold onto him tightly for anchor as he does the same with you. 

You come again - another hard crash - and he follows soon after, abrupt and drawn out that he feels like he’s suspended as well. He stays inside you, wanting to make sure that nothing of him is wasted. 

You’re both panting from tiredness, your damp foreheads against each other, and it’s nothing but your warm breaths and slick bodies that you feel. You can’t really feel anything else, and that warm bath sounds good right about now.

Jungkook seems to read your mind, as he pulls away first and grabs your clothes. He reaches out his hand that you take, and he holds you close to him as you both walk up the stairs and into your bathroom. 

You both don’t say much; the smiles and the soft kisses on the cheek seem to say enough. Maybe you’re just both really spent, but Jungkook exerting all that effort on you does not stop him from drawing your bath, sitting opposite you, and then massaging your feet and calves. He asks you to sit in between his legs right after so he can massage your shoulders, too, and the sigh you let out tells him you’re satisfied with his as well. 

“That good, baby?” He still asks, and you lazily smile at him and nod.

“You might fall asleep here,” he chuckles, pulling you closer to him so he can nuzzle your neck. 

“I wouldn’t mind that, as long as you sleep here with me,” you hum.

“Our tub is big but it isn’t that big,” he laughs again. “Come on, I’ll wash us up.”

You follow him and head to the shower where he promptly rinses the suds off your hair and your body. He’s gentle and thorough; charming, too, as his boyish smiles appear again when he sees you look satisfied. He helps you dress up before you both head to your room, your soft linens feeling like clouds after all that you did. 

Jungkook goes under the covers and lays his head on your chest like he often does. Tired as you are, you don’t want to sleep yet, needing to have this moment with him first. 

He’s rarely quiet, so when he is, you know something’s on his mind. You comb your fingers through his hair to calm him down; massaging him like this is also your way of letting him know that can say whatever he wants, and express whatever he wants.

“Do you think we did it?” He finally asks, sounding soft and unsure. “Do you think that was it?”

With his hand caressing your belly, you feel his anxiousness and his desire.

“I don’t know, honey,” you reply. “These things are never accurate. I’m just glad my cycle’s finally regular so at least I can better estimate when I’m due to ovulate and we can work from there. Maybe we did it. Maybe we didn’t. We won't know until I show symptoms and I take a test. And that’s weeks from now.”

The silence isn’t uncomfortable despite what seems to be a million things running through his mind. You’ve wanted this for so long but you’ve learned to be patient, to be trusting, to be accepting of whatever happens. You’d like to think that for all that you went through and for all the good that you’ve done in this life, the universe will grant you this wish. But you don’t want to think too much of how much you want it. You’re scared to be disappointed; more importantly, you’re scared to disappoint him.

“I want this so much,” he says, his voice low and desperate. “I… I knew I did but I didn’t know just how much until the other month when… when we had a false alarm.”

You recall that day. It was some time after you’d come back from Busan, the conversations from that trip perhaps clouding your mind, the excitement overtaking you that you’d thought you could be pregnant despite the minimal signs. 

But you took the test anyway. It was negative, and Jungkook hugged you and said it was okay. You’d only gone to the doctor once that time, and you were both still adjusting and making changes in your respective lifestyles. He didn’t seem upset; he comforted you, cradled you that night, and made love to you softly as he whispered how perfect you are, and how much he loves you. 

“I… I didn’t want to show it but it made me sad that it didn’t happen then,” he continues. “And I guess it hit me exactly how much I wanted it. To be able to create someone who’s half of the person I love the most and half of me… that’s amazing, right? I just suddenly couldn’t wait to give all my love to that child; I couldn’t wait for us to be gifted that.”

You’re unable to form words as you listen to him. It takes you back to the time when he didn’t want to have children yet, content with just the both of you and your little adventures and time alone. Jungkook wanted you all to himself, and he wanted him to be the only one you focused on. He’d hated himself for being selfish, but you suppose you both needed to have that time for each other - to learn, to love, to fight, to forgive, to trust, and then to love even harder, even braver, even kinder. 

“It’ll happen, Kook,” is all you can say. “One day, it will. I’d like to believe that it’s meant for us, just as you and I were meant for each other after all these years.”

“I don’t want to think that I wasted so much of our time just because I wanted it to be just us,” he admits. “But sometimes, that fills my mind. What if we had tried earlier?”

“Do you think that helps? Thinking of the what if’s?”

“I know it doesn’t,” he responds. “But I guess the fear pushes me somehow, you know? I could be living a different life where I don’t have all this, and so I want to make sure that I take care of all that I have now - you, this marriage, this home. It’s ironic that I’ve always wanted to live my life without fear, only to realize now that fears could be good, too, that having something you’re afraid of means you’re actually living, because then, something’s good enough to lose.”

“And that something is so good that you can’t not have it,” you add. 

He looks up at you with an assuring smile, knowing that you feel what he’s feeling, that you understand what’s bothering him. 

“I worry, too,” you continue. “I knew when I’d fallen in love with you that I wanted a family, to have a child that bears both of us, you know? Someone who can receive the overflowing love I have for you. And not having that scares me.”

With your words, Jungkook shifts himself to face you, cradling you in his arms and kissing your forehead.

“You see what you did right there?” You ask him.

“What?”

“I tell you I’m scared, and the first thing you do is hold me,” you say, feeling the emotions overtake you. “We’re each other’s fears. I’m afraid to lose you. I worry when you’re in pain or stressed or confused or unwell. And I know it’s the same with you. But we’re each other’s shields, too. We protect each other, we gain strength from each other. That’s how we’ll get through this. That’s how we’ll get through anything. I’ll hold you when you’re scared and you’ll take me in your arms just the same. The fears are bearable that way.”

“They are,” he whispers, kissing you deeply. “We’re all we need, baby. You’re all I need.”

With your entangled limbs under the covers, you and Jungkook breathe each other in. 

“I don’t know if we were successful tonight,” you hum, slowly succumbing to sleep. “We can always try again tomorrow.”

“And the day after. And the day after that. And then after that,” he responds, his cheeky smile making a sleepy appearance. “We can try everyday. We’ll make it happen; we’ll hold each other again if it doesn’t.”

“We will,” you answer. “We always will.”

Jungkook kisses your nose then your forehead, but it’s his pecks on your cheek that fully wake you up from an incredible slumber. It felt long and it was exactly what you needed after a night of partying and fucking your gorgeous husband, who happens to be smiling sweetly at you right now with his doe-eyes and semi-mussed hair.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he giggles. “I was wondering when you were gonna wake up.”

“What time is it?” You grumble, stretching your limbs and feeling the tension slightly dissipate. 

“Almost 1.”

“Seriously?” You gasp. “I’ve never woken up this late.”

“I know. I was kinda getting worried,” he chuckles. “But then again, we did sleep around 4:30 AM so it’s fine.”

“What did you do to me, honey,” you laugh now.

“Well, you know, the usual,” he teases. “And I’m not done with you yet. I promised you days of this.”

He sneaks his hand in between your thighs and presses lightly against your cunt, earning him a low moan. 

“Hmm, you did,” you hum. “But I’d really love a hug right now.”

With your outstretched arms, Jungkook melts into your hold, burying his face into your neck like he loves to do. You smell of peony and vanilla; you feel soft and comfortable and every beautiful thing in the world. He’d live right here if he could. 

But it’s the middle of the day and you’ve already missed your morning medication.

“I love this but babe, you need to eat so you can take your medicine,” he says, pulling away now. “I bought us some lunch so can you please wash up already?”

“Fine, Mr.,” you playfully roll your eyes. “I’ll be down in a bit. I’ll see you there.”

You walk into the kitchen with Jungkook humming to a song and shaking his hips while he transfers the stew from the pot into a big bowl. He places that on the dining table before taking the heated rice from the microwave. Dressed in sweatpants and a tank top under a loose zip-up hoodie that lets his shoulder tattoos peek out - a weakness of yours, you’ve learned - he looks like the perfect husband who’s sexy in every way. 

You’ve noticed these past weeks how he’s been more keen on getting chores done. You’ve always divided the tasks but recently, he’s taking more initiative - planning meals, listing grocery items, and scheduling laundry day. Those are things you think about on a daily basis because managing a household is tough work; you can’t help but think that he’s started taking some of the load from you, perhaps in preparation for when you get pregnant, and especially when a little one joins your family. 

The thought makes you smile. It’s why when he tells you that the food’s ready and pulls out your chair, you sit on his lap instead, wrapping your arms around his neck and tucking your face in there as well. 

“Thank you, Kook,” you huff. “It smells good.”

“It does. Too bad I didn’t cook it,” he chuckles, returning your hug.

“I know. You don’t have the patience for that.”

He tickles you in response but you just hug him more tightly.

“Hey, I know I turn you on when I’m being a dreamy househusband, but the food will get cold,” he says, turning to face you now, a rare sight indeed since he’s often the hard-headed and pouty one. “Let us eat this first, and then I can eat you out after. Deal?”

You bite his cheek in feigned annoyance before you move to your chair, taking in the dish in front of you. 

“What time did you buy this?” You ask, realizing only after the first spoonful just how hungry you are, reminding you of a certain physical activity you both did just hours ago.

“Hmm, around 10,” he answers. “I was up at 8 and was gonna drink milk only to find out that we don’t have any. So I went to the supermarket and got eggs and a few other things, too. Then I passed by the restaurant on the way home.”

“Dreamy househusband indeed,” you wink at him. “But how were you up that early after last night?”

“Taehyung, that annoying child,” Jungkook groans. “He kept calling and texting so I just picked up. He woke up early and couldn’t find his engagement ring for Ailee, and he doesn’t know if he lost it or if he proposed to her but he doesn’t remember anything because he was so drunk. And she was called for an emergency at work so he couldn't find out. He also doesn’t wanna ask her himself so I said I’d ask her if my best friend did anything stupid and well, yeah, he did propose; she just doesn’t know that he doesn’t remember.”

You’re cracking up by the end of your husband’s narration and you feel for the man. “Oh, poor Taehyung. What a terrible way to go about asking someone to marry them.”

“Well, I never actually asked you, did I?” Jungkook says. 

“Well, you kinda didn’t want to, did you?” you shoot back, earning you an adorable frown. 

Appeasing him, you take his hand and kiss it. “It doesn’t matter. We said I do, you kissed me for a millisecond, and then here we are!”

“Baby!” He groans again. “Why are you bringing up the wedding kiss, AKA the most embarrassing kiss of my life?”

“Because so-called loverboy Jungkook kissed his bride for a millisecond, that’s why,” you laugh. 

“I did make up for it, though,” he reminds you. “And I still do. I mean, you can’t seem to get enough of my kisses now.”

“You’re getting cockier and cockier by the year, honey,” you tease. “Even if, yes, you are absolutely correct. I can’t imagine living without your kisses.”

“Good. Because these lips can’t imagine not kissing you,” he smirks, and all you can do is cover your face in laughter and slight embarrassment, but he scrunches his nose as he watches you lose it, and your heart softens again. 

He could be cheeky as much as he wants; deep down, he’ll always be that gentleman who loves making you laugh and smile. 

You both finish your meal then you take your medicine. You insist on doing the dishes this time and it doesn’t take long. You’re full from eating so you return to your seat next to Jungkook where you both video call with Taehyung and the rest of your friends as he presents his predicament.

“Just be honest with her,” you advise. “Honesty and communication are incredibly important in a marriage, Tae. Take it from me. Who knows? Maybe she doesn’t remember how it happened, either.”

“And then you can just propose to her again,” Jungkook suggests. “Seriously, dude. Being honest is probably one of the hardest things to do, but it’s freeing more than anything when you share things with your partner. It just sucks that you have to share your stupidity but yeah, she’s crazy about you so I’m sure she’ll still want to marry you.”

Taehyung rants again but decides that listening to the only married couple in your friend group is his best course of action, so he says he will and will keep everyone posted. 

Wanting to have your only caffeine intake for the day, you walk towards the counter to boil water for your tea and then walk back to Jungkook. You lean on the edge of the table as you watch him remain seated and mirror your smile. You think about what he said earlier about being honest. You’re also reminded of your conversation last night and how open and vulnerable he was. You recall the moments where he’s trusted you and followed your lead. You think back at the instances where you were the same. You’ve both come such a long way, and the thought sparks a certain kind of desire in you, something that he sees.

He reaches out his hand and you take it. He guides you to his lap where you comfortably sit, aligning your clothed cunt to his cock, anticipating the friction and what would come out of it. You kiss each other deeply, both your hands mapping each other out. He pulls down your nightgown; you unzip his jacket and sneak your hands underneath his top. He’s smooth and taut and absolutely perfect; his hardened nipples tell you that he’s just as turned on as you are. 

Rocking against his hips, he decides that he absolutely needs to taste you, so Jungkook nudges you and guides you to the table where you lay, your legs spread out to show him the view that he craves. 

His tongue is warm against your folds. He presses it against your clit before twirling it around, knowing exactly how you want this to go. You like it slow at first, with kisses on the sides and underneath your thighs where you’re sensitive, before wanting it fast, rough, and desperate, as Jungkook sucks and nibbles and locks your thighs in his arms, pulling you closer to the edge so he can bury his face in between them where he also would like to live if he could. 

It’s like he’s been starved as he leaves no inch untouched. Your legs are shaking now, your body begging for release and he feels it; he feels the tension in your limbs and hears your hypnotizing moans. These make him want you to wrap around him so he can feel your warmth, too, so he can be sucked into your velvet walls and drown in your essence. 

He pulls away then undresses himself and then you, leaving you both heaving and bare, desperate for more of your scent and your kisses and your touch and your sounds. He strokes himself a little before pulling you closer again, this time for his cock to slide inside your wet entrance, and the moan that escapes him is obscene yet full of want and yearning. 

With your legs suspended in air, he thrusts into you - slow at first, teasing even, as he draws it out before going rough and deep, sending shockwaves all over his body with how well you’re taking him, and how hard you’re letting him go as you ask for more and more and more.

His hands explore your bare torso - hands fondling your swell breasts, fingers pinching your pert nipples, and palms gripping your waist to keep you steady. You kiss each other for most of it all, adding to your pleasure but also tempering it, as your mouths capture your moans and the curses you both let out. 

“So good, baby,” you groan, your deep, sultry voice still surprising him after all this time. “You fit me so, so well.”

“I’m made for you, baby,” he growls, assaulting your neck with nibbles that have you ascending even more. “Fuck, you’re so perfect for me.”

Your cries of yes urge him further and he quickens his pace, knowing from your sounds that you’re close and his erratic thrusting says that so is he. With your chest heaving and your arms weakening from supporting your weight, you crash hard, and your elbows buckle from the intensity but he catches you, his arms cradling you before he lays your back on the table while he tries to reach his peak. 

You recover, propping one arm on the surface and the other, pulling him close to you. 

“Come for me, baby,” you whisper, licking the shell of his ear right after. “Want you to fill me up so good. Please.��

You meet his thrusts and then clench around him. It’s what does it for him, as he releases a long groan that almost makes you come another time. Your pants match his and he hugs you tightly before kissing your neck. 

He’s sweating and unsurprisingly so, but it makes him look even hotter, with the softness in his eyes turning into determination in seconds. He bites your lip before licking your mouth. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he smirks. “Gotta cover all bases and take you from every angle, baby.” Pulling away, he releases you from his hold. “Will you turn around for me? We’ve got the rest of the day for this.”

You’re left speechless at his words but you’re eager and pliant as you’re under his spell. You turn around as he asks and the feel of his tongue on your cunt overstimulates yet electrifies you. There’s no other way you want to spend your Saturday. You know your Sunday and every day after that will be the same. But Jungkook is an amazing lover, and you know that after all the roughness, he’ll hold you gently, pepper you with soft kisses, and tell you how much he loves you so you won’t ever forget. 

It’s weeks later when you pick up the phone and make a call.

“Hey, babe,” Jungkook’s sweet voice greets you on the other end of the line. “I’m heading to McDonald’s. The meal served on the plane was so little and I’m still hungry. Do you want anything?”

“Just, uh, just fries,” you mumble, as you pace back and forth in your living room. 

“That’s all?” He asks, knowing that you always want that with a sundae. “Do you want me to get something from somewhere else?”

“No, I’ve had dinner, Kook,” you say. “But uh, do you think you can pass by the pharmacy? I… I need a pregnancy test.”

You can hear a pin drop with the silence from both your ends. But it could also probably just be your mind going blank as you vocalize the words, a request that holds with it so much as you try to think of what will happen after the result comes out. 

“Baby…” Jungkook manages to mumble.

“I didn’t realize that my period’s been late a few days,” you explain. “But the cramps have been bearable and I didn’t think much of the nausea but, maybe… I mean, there’s a chance that—”

You only ramble when you’re nervous and Jungkook can feel your anxiety even through the phone. 

“Baby,” he interrupts you. “It’s okay. Are you feeling any pain right now?”

“No… I just… Come home soon, please. I… I need to be with you.”

“I’ll be home soon. I love you.”

He drops the call and makes his order through the window, then he asks Mr. Yu to head to the nearby pharmacy where Jungkook runs to the counter for the pregnancy test and then asks his chauffeur to quickly but safely drive to you. He wants nothing more than to be with you right now and calm your nerves, and while his mind is going haywire at the thought of a possible pregnancy, he knows he needs to be the strong one; he needs to be the one to keep you both grounded, even if another false alarm will crush both your hearts.

The time is ticking by too slowly and he opts to send you messages instead, updating you of where he is and how much longer it’ll take for him to get to you, hoping that this could at least help while you wait for him to arrive. 

Back in your loft, you continue pacing around the living room. You’d been too busy with work to take note of your tracker, which is why you hadn’t realized until today that your period is late. Jungkook’s been in Japan since Thursday and took a late afternoon flight this Monday so he can get home to you right away. You know he’s worried; even with his calm voice, you know deep down he’s just as anxious as you are. You appreciate that he’s holding the fort for both of you; he probably could tell from your rambling that you’re a little out of sorts, and for good reason. 

Since deciding on actively trying to get pregnant, there’s been an air of tension about the topic even if it’s something you both openly talk about. Perhaps it’s wanting it so much that the chance of not achieving it is a heartbreaking thought. 

You remind yourself, however, that you had a go at it not long ago; you’ve been following Dr. Han’s recommendations of cutting back on things as well so the hopeful part of you thinks that there’s a big chance it could happen. Every part of you wishes it’s happy tears tonight and not sad ones. 

Your door unlocks and you stand from the couch, meeting Jungkook, who places the food on the nearby flat surface, and hugging him tightly.

“I missed you,” he hums against your hair. “You don’t have to be scared, okay? I’m with you. We’re doing this together, and whatever happens, we’ll hold each other. We promised, remember?”

“I remember,” you mumble. Facing him, you say you’ll take the test in the guest bathroom. “We’ll wait and check together, honey. I love you, whatever happens.”

“I love you, whatever happens.”  

You exit the bathroom and find him seated on the bed, his coat removed and his tie loosened. His hair is a little mussed, perhaps from constantly combing through it as a way to ease his nerves. You sit on his lap - your safe place - and hug him again, letting your joint breaths remind you that you share the anticipation and the fear and the excitement with him.

Your alarm beeps to signal that the waiting time is over, and he pulls you close for a deep kiss before you stand up, and you drown in his taste and his scent, knowing that you’ll need all forms of his comfort tonight. 

Walking together, you stand by the counter and stare at the stick that’s been turned over. He’s hugging you from behind and you pull his arms tighter around you. With a deep breath, you turn the test over again to face you, and the way that he buries his face in your neck while he whispers I love you in your ears is what makes your tears fall.

Two lines signifying your hopes and dreams of a family that you’ll love with all your imperfect heart. 

“We’re having a little one, babe,” he huffs. “We… We’re gonna be parents.”

You finally face him, your tears uncontrollable now, and all you can do is nod. 

“Yes,” you whisper. “We… we’re—”

His chest buries your cries, as you’re unable to form words at the gift that you’ve been given. His strong arms cradle you against him and it’s all you really need - just his love, for you, for the child you’ll have, for the family you’ll build. 

Jungkook kisses your forehead before kneeling down to face your belly that’s started to nurture your baby. 

“I can’t wait to meet you, little one,” he whispers. “You’re gonna be so, so loved. Mommy and Daddy will make sure of that.”

There’s so much emotion, as you watch Jungkook sweetly smile at what’s now housing the most important being in this world right now. His glassy doe-eyes, small sniffles, and the way he caresses you give you a glimpse of how he’ll probably be starting now. He already looks at you with so much love and you can just imagine how much more affectionate he’d be with that little human growing inside you. He’ll be giving and showing love to two now; there’s something incredibly special about that. 

The low grumble of your stomach breaks the moment, however, but your joint laughter is welcomed, as he nuzzles your torso and kisses it in places before standing up to face you again.

“I know you said you just wanted fries but I got you that chicken and mozzarella sandwich you like and strawberry McFlurry, too,” he says, wiping away your tears. “I thought that if it was negative, you’d want to eat your sadness away, and if it was positive, you’d be so happy you’d want to eat more. It could also be that you’re just really hungry.”

“That’s a fair assessment,” you giggle. “But I had early dinner and I think the anxiety got to me. Thank you, honey. You already know what I need before I even say it.”

“I'm a certified dream husband and a dad-in-training,” he winks, making your heart soar. “But also… is it okay to feed our child… grease?”

You pinch his cheeks adoringly. “Just this once, I guess. And then it’s all healthy stuff for me starting tomorrow.”

“You mean for us,” he corrects. 

“For us,” you nod.

You both eat your unhealthy comfort food, with baby talk dominating throughout dinner, such as what you’ll name them, how you’ll tell your family and friends, and how the home setup is gonna be like. You both decide on waiting until this weekend for the announcement, wanting to go to the doctor first and just savoring this moment between the both of you. You’ll eventually transform Jungkook’s office space in your room to a nursery and contact Hoseok to look for houses that you’ll move into after you give birth. 

Jungkook asks you to have a shower with him, admitting that he feels quite clingy given the news. You don’t mind at all, especially when he hugs you from behind under the warm water and caresses your stomach again while he languidly kisses your lips.

He makes love to you once you’re in bed. 

It’s different from what you’d both done during your “baby-making week,” as he liked to call it, when he took you on different surfaces and on different angles all over your apartment. You’d even done it in the car in your building’s basement parking because he wanted to “cover all bases,” although you know he just wanted an excuse because that reckless part of him just liked the thrill of fucking you in a not-so-private space. You loved every bit of that week though, and even the days that followed, where despite his late nights, early mornings, and business trips, he made sure to express his love in different ways. 

But tonight, he takes it slow and simple, as he gently yet purposefully pushes into you while he looks into your eyes with so much adoration. He intertwines his fingers with yours, filling all your spaces, and cups your cheek while he whispers words of love and praise. 

It’s a gradual buildup and perhaps it’s why your orgasm is drawn out as well. It’s a different kind of pleasure, as you feel suspended in air while being pulled down before the acceleration comes when he sucks your breast, as if you’re orgasming again while coming down from it. But it’s Jungkook - some days he’s rough and teasing; sometimes he’s gentle and serious. 

Everyday it’s love though. Whatever form or pace it is, it’s the only love you want to know.

It’s tough keeping news as big as your pregnancy from your family and friends, but you and Jungkook wanted to consult with the doctor first so you can answer their questions because you know that there’ll be many of them, including when you’re due. It’s why you canceled dinner with the girls that Wednesday and why you passed up on lunch with your siblings that Friday. 

You made it to Saturday, where you and Jungkook offered to host your monthly hangouts with all your friends in your apartment and then casually said over dinner that you’re pregnant. It was silent for a good minute before they burst into screams. 

Nari and Jimin cried, which you didn’t expect. Taehyung burst into an opera-like song to express his emotions, Yeji was taking a video of the chaos, and Minhyuk was the only sane one who hugged you tightly and said that your child will be so lucky to have a set of crazy and loving uncles and aunties who will spoil them to no end.

It’s Sunday now, and it just so happens that your and Jungkook’s grandparents are in town to attend a gala this week. 

Enjoying your lunch in the indoor dining hall of your parents’ estate, the scene is a common one - lavish dishes on the table that Seokjin chows down while little  Seungjun sits on his lap, Soojin announcing that she scored 3 goals in their recent soccer game and that her twin brother Sunghoon placed first in their school’s poetry-writing contest, big boy Jihoon feeding his little sister, and the rest of the adults talking to each other from across the table, leaving the room abuzz with laughter and squeals. 

Your grandfather asks everyone to quiet down, wanting to hear how everyone’s doing, even if he’s really just looking at you and Jungkook.

“And how about both of you, my dear?” He asks. “How have things been since your visit to Busan?”

“We’ve been well,” you reply, immediately taking Jungkook’s hand. You don’t really have a plan of how you’ll tell everyone; just like how things have always been, you just want it simple. The news is a big deal, but you don’t want anything grand when it comes to announcing it. “We’re both busy with work but we’ve been making time for each other.”

“And your health?” Your grandmother asks. 

“Back to normal. The new medication has been good so I think I’m all clear,” you smile. 

“That’s wonderful,” your grandfather replies, pausing a bit, perhaps to let you continue should there be more you want to say.

You can tell he’s trying to control himself from asking something else; it’s not lost on you that your grandparents have been very vocal about their desire for you and Jungkook to have a child, considering that, in their words, they “don’t have much time left on earth.” You feel for them. This union was a dream and you hadn’t realized until the car ride this morning just how much a child would mean to them. 

Your grandfather turns to Seoyeon, ready to ask her this time but you get ahead of him.

“Actually, I’m not really back to normal,” you say, earning you worried looks from everyone. “I actually… Uh, you see. I… We—”

“We’re pregnant,” Jungkook finishes for you. You nudge him at the sudden announcement but he just chuckles. “You were rambling.”

“I…” You turn to look at your family who are all wide-eyed, perhaps still processing the words - except for the kids, of course, who are all still munching on their food, with Soojin asking why everyone is so quiet.

“Jungkook and I are expecting,” you say now, more calmly and more certain. “I’m due in the summer and we’re really excited. And nervous. But we can’t wait to meet our little one soon. And—”

The emotions overflow at this moment - both your parents and siblings are all teary-eyed, expressing their joy and excitement in so many ways. Your mother walks to you for a tight hug, and your father does the same to Jungkook until you’re hugging each member of both of your families - with your grandparents taking most of the time - including the kids who just follow what the adults are doing. 

Soojin squeals when you explain in kid language what’s happening, prompting her to hug your belly then remarking that you look the same.

“Your Auntie’s belly will grow big soon,” Jungkook says, rubbing your stomach. “Can I ask all of you to take care of her with me?” He asks the little ones now, kneeling in front of them and mirroring their adorable smiles. 

“Yes, Uncle Kookie!” They say in unison, prompting you to kneel alongside him and hugging each of the kids.

Their kisses are long and sweet. They’re much older now so they feel more responsibility when it comes to you and the baby, so they ask a lot of questions like how big they are right now, what they’re eating, and how they’ll come out of your belly. You answer each question, trying to explain as simply as you can with all the patience in the world.

Jungkook watches you, knowing that this - and all the times that you’re with them - is just a peek of how you’ll be as a mother. And he can’t wait to witness and experience all that with you. There’s so much to be excited about; he knows every moment now is precious and one you both will have to savor.

You return to your seat once everyone’s recovered, even if your mother is still crying and your grandparents still have glassy eyes.

“I know it took a while,” you say. “But Kook and I just wanted to make sure that we were having this child for our own reasons. And well, considering how we started, we wanted to enjoy ourselves first and not feel like we’re missing out on things.”

“And that’s alright, sweetheart,” Jungkook’s grandmother assures you. “We’re just glad that this happened on your own terms this time.”

“It did,” Jungkook answers. “We had a lot of growing up to do but uh, that won’t stop. I… I’ll still need help.”

“You have us,” Junghyun says now. “Min-jun, Seokjin, and I will do the big brother thing and guide you, Kook. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Seoyeon winks at you to say that you have her, Yeri, and Mina as well. You and Jungkook have such amazing people to guide you and that you look up to; you can’t wait to get to know yourself and each other in this aspect as well. 

The rest of the afternoon is spent with your parents and grandparents talking to you and Jungkook, expressing their joy and hope that everything will all be okay. Your siblings pull you both aside to talk about the next steps from parenting sessions, prenatal yoga, house hunting, and everything in between. They make it all exciting, knowing that the worries will come and go, and you appreciate them all for that. 

Later that night, you lay in bed while Jungkook stays by your side, propped up with one arm while his hand caresses your stomach once more, something he’s been doing every night before you both sleep. 

“Today was good,” you say, as you place your hand over his, caressing the fingers that wander around your bare skin. “It somehow reminded me of that lunch when they proposed this marriage and now look where we are. We’ve come such a long way, Kook. I’m glad we can finally share the joy with them.” 

Jungkook responds with a hum, his eyes glued to your stomach, traces of deep thoughts in them.

“What are you thinking about, honey?” You ask, cupping his cheek. He closes his eyes briefly to savor your touch.

“Just… everything, I guess,” he huffs. “Everyone said so many things. My brother even sent me a long text that I still have to respond to. But I was thinking about the kids. They’re still a rowdy bunch but they’re so good to each other, babe. They’re so good to people. And they have such affection towards their parents. I… I want that for our child. I want them to be good to others, to be loving to others. I want them to love us.”

“Honey, they will,” you smile, “because we’re raising them. You have such a big heart, Kook. I just know that’ll be enough to make them kind and loving people.”

“I just… I just want to be a good dad,” he admits, revealing another layer of his vulnerability. “I want them to have fun with me, to trust that I’ll protect them always. I want to be someone they’ll be proud of; I want them to be happy that I’m their father. I want to do right by them, by you.”

“I bet as they grow up, they’ll want to do the same with you. That’s how loved they’ll feel,” you say, turning to your side so you can face him and he can focus only on you. “You’re already doing amazing, honey. They’ll feel how much you love them by how much you love me. And you love me so beautifully. That makes all the difference.” 

“Thank you for making me so happy,” he responds after a beat of silence, his heartfelt words piercing through you. “I didn’t think I could feel more for you than I already do.”

“Me, too,” you smile, kissing him deeply. “We’re gonna be okay. Things will start to change but I want you to know that I’ll love you through it all, okay?”

“And I’ll love you through it all just the same,” he kisses your forehead now. 

With you cradled in Jungkook’s arms as you listen to his steadying heartbeat and soft snores, you know that however hard this journey is gonna be, he’ll hold you no matter what, and you’ll be strong for each other through it all.

Series Masterlist

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[whumpinthepot]

Hamster Interactive Story

Chapter 12. Decision

Prev - Masterlist

Content: Giant/tiny, tiny whump, pet trope/whump, kidnapping, cages, loss of mobility aid (prosthetic leg), solitary confinement (non descriptive), manipulation, power dynamics, fear, female cast

Ashley’s Pov

Poll winner: Let Hamster decide what to do with Soap Scrub. 

ART, WRITING, AND POLL UNDER THE CUT

-

A row of ideas fills your mind on what to do with this pest. Just as you’re thinking of chucking the whole jar out, you look at your little girl's face. Hamster’s eyes are full of worried tears and it dawns on you to get her input on the matter.

Placing the jar with the tiny man inside in a different room, you return to converse with Hamster. Admittedly you sway the options in your favour when speaking to her. Picking her up, you wipe her tears and brush back her curly hair. “Do you want him gone sweet pea? I can get rid of him for you,” you roll the words slowly, “Or, would you like a new friend?” A careful smile spreads across your lips while you rub her back gently. “I think he could warm up to us. He could be a new model for our blog. Who knows, if we got rid of him he could get hurt again. He would be safer with us don’t you think?” 

Hamster frowns slightly with pressed lips. You can only guess her worries and reassure her. “Don’t worry honey bunny, I would never let anyone hurt you. Ever. If he’s not nice we can make him go away after all.” 

Hamster hums and then nods her head. She smiles some, and dare you say she’s starting to get excited by the idea. You give her a little kiss on the cheek and explain that it might take some time to become his friend. She’ll have to be patient with him. You also tell Hamster that she gets her cast taken off in the next few days, giving her more to look forward to. 

Once that's settled, you go into the room where the pest was left alone. He’s there in the jar with his head slumped against the glass. He becomes alert when you get closer. 

You rest your arms on the dresser with your face close to the jar to talk to him. “I know it was you who scared her before. Tell me what happened.”

The man reacts exactly how you want, and goes rigid. “I- I never hurt her. Ask her. When she fell off the counter a mouse was going to attack her, and I scared it off.”

“And then?” You raise a thin brow. 

“And then, what? That's all that happened,” he defends quickly. 

You watch him for a second as his eyes dart around, then break the news to him. “I’ve decided to keep you. It's that or I sell you and who knows what could happen to you then. I won’t hurt you as long as you never upset Hamster. M’kay?” 

“You have to be kidding me…” Tears well up in his eyes and he cradles his bandaged hand. “Can’t we make some soft of deal? I- I can do what ever you want if you let me go after. Then you’ll never see me again, I swear.”

Furious, you pull the jar closer just to startle him, who does he think he is trying to negotiate as if he has any leeway. “That is the deal, little boy. You’ve caused a lot of stress to my pet, and now you’ll pay it back to her with nothing but kindness. Do that and I’ll make sure you’re comfortable, well fed, and I won't hurt you. If you don’t, well… I’ll sell you and who knows where you’ll end up. Snake food? Some kids live Barbie doll? Neglected, starved, forgotten in a tiny. Little. Jar?” You tap the glass with your long nail between words. “The choice is yours.” 

The man is left speechless with his mouth gaped open and his hair sticking out everywhere. You take a second to breathe deeply to calm down. The thought that you're taking this overboard clouds over you - but he really did cause a good amount of grief for you last week. "So, tell me your name or I'll come up with one." You smile, feeling just slightly sadistic. "Maybe Rat, Pest, or maybe Hamster can choose."

“It’s Soap.” He chokes out in a tiny voice.

You snort at the strange name, but wild pets are usually an odd bunch so you don’t hound him on it. 

“It's nice to meet you, Soap.”

The next few days you set things up as a precaution. Making sure there are no other wild pets in your home, getting Hamsters cast off, setting up an escape proof cage for Soap, and isolating him just enough for him to crave the company of yourself and Hamster. On the fifth day of leaving him in the dark alone, you enter the spare room to check in. He’s sulking, hidden under a toy that you’ve given him in his cage. 

“Soap?” You use a softer tone than the last time you two spoke, “Are you ready to come out? What would you like to do?” You give him a few options to choose from and offer to give him his doll leg back if he cooperates. 

—-

(Multiple options may be used depending on the top poll winners)

Thank you @alittlewhump for looking over my chapter <3

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[missbunmuffin]

More punch out head canons

Tw: talk about weight issues

Less serious tw: ocs and cringe

What me putting my shitty ocs in these posts is like. I made posts about both of them probably gonna say this kind of stuff every time I post these kind of things but I don’t want people to be too confused.

Glass Joe

- Grew up in a catholic home but now as an adult doesn’t practice the religion really. He will eat meat on a Friday during lent. He doesn’t know what the fuck he is now he just considered himself spiritual or just a really bad catholic(not self projecting lmao)

- His family wasn’t really religious they only went to church sometimes but his mom wanted to do the no eating meat on Fridays during lent thing for some reason

- His sister just drops her kids off at his house randomly most of the time on Wednesdays because apparently French children only have like half a day of school those days(could be wrong) he loves his nieces but he hates when his sister just drops them off without warning because he has a life too.

- He loves silk textures. I feel like his boxing shorts are just really silky too

- Deadass walking around the locker room in a robe with a towel over his head after he’s done in the shower I drew an example back in like December

Yes that’s the same robe he’s wearing in the pity party drawings I made

- Protective over his hair but he doesn’t mind if people touch it as long as they ask and are gentle

- His hair is also pretty soft and he takes good care of it to prevent further damage from when he bleached it himself and a chunk fell out.

- Into Rococo art. I took a humanities class at the beginning of the year and looked into the rococo art movement a bit and apparently it’s French so I always thought he would like that kind of stuff.

- uses a lavender sleep spray

- tries not to get too angry in public. Sometimes he just needs to leave the room to just pout and let it all out sometimes even crying out of anger

- has quite the collection of sweaters and cardigans.

- Loves baking cookies for his girlfriend Eleanor. Shes a baker herself but she loves his cookies more than her own

Von Kaiser

- Cuts his own hair this fucking video is literally him

- secretly a cross dresser I mean this one might be kind of canon because of the weird chibi drawing of him in a Japanese manual for the nes game. Some of the other ones were so racist though ;-;

- Wasn’t really interested in working with children it just sort of happened

- Either way he cares about his students genuinely even if it doesn’t seem like it

Disco kid

- got banned on Roblox for a day for saying suck toe(totally not based on my cousin who is like the same age as him also getting banned for that) yes I’m sharing this drawing again

- Singing as loud as possible in the locker room showers

- If he has kids they aren’t going anywhere near the mall Easter bunnies and Santa’s he doesn’t trust them and neither should you

- He never hits the villagers with nets in animal crossing

- Has two sisters one older one younger

Aran Ryan

- Afraid of needles

- Has weight issues. He’s too focused on numbers on the scale. He knows nothing is wrong but I think some things the people around him said growing up affected him.

- I mentioned his sister Freya also has body issues in my post about her and Aran tries to support her because he doesn’t want her thinking that way about her body like he does. I imagine a lot of the women on his father’s side are naturally more curvy and he doesn’t want his sister to be ashamed of her natural body type.

- Still visits his grandmas house on his dad’s side even as an adult. He’s one of the only things she has of his dad that she has left.

- Plays Roblox with Disco kid and forces Narcis to play with them. He also bullies kids on there

- His mom was struggling fanatically a bit when his sister was about to go into secondary school. He just got into boxing at that point and was getting paid well so he paid for her school uniforms so she didn’t have to be stuck in his old ones that were too big and had rips in the pants that would probably fall down on her. He insisted he’d at least buy her some skirts because she’s not walking around school like that. He also felt bad because she literally cried at the thought of wearing a “boys uniform”

Narcis Prince

- Was like one of those rich British kids in tv shows and movies.

- He snoops in people’s shit all the time. Looking through drawers and reading peoples diaries.

- Would say British schools are crazier than American schools and than flip out at the stories in American schools and regret what he said instantly

- Tries to look after Freya to get on Aran’s good side. They have a complicated relationship. Deadass tries to put her to bed at 8:00 saying some shit like “young ladies your age need to be in bed by 8:00”

Okay this is getting long I’ll stop now

[theanonymousopossum]

Elriel Part 5: Darkness and Light

Just in time to post this-enjoy!

TW: none, just fluff

Word count: <1K

I let out a sigh. I had been painting for hours now, had been working on this particular piece for weeks. Nyx sat on the floor beside me, babbling happily. I smiled at him. He truly was the greatest joy in my life, and I had found motherhood to be such a gift. I scooped him up to prevent him from knocking over my paint bottles, gave him a swift kiss on the forehead, and then set him down on top of the dresser where he could see my painting. "What do you think, my little one?" I asked him. He laughed, and fluttered his tiny wings. Rhys had said he would be able to fly by the end of the year, and I smiled ruefully at the destruction that was sure to come then. I looked back at the painting. I didn't know why I'd decided to paint it, but it felt...right. On the left side was Elain, gorgeous as ever, surrounded by a golden light. Her curls were illuminated by a halo of shimmering sunlight, and around her flowers bloomed, all different kinds-roses, lilies, irises, hydrangeas, daffodils, and some I couldn't even name, had only seen her tending to in the garden. On the right was Azriel, wreathed in shadows, his massive wings unfurled, and around him, broken weapons, bones of all shapes, and pools of blood decorated the canvas. But in the middle...in the middle their hands were joined, and the shadows and light melded together. I thought back to when I had first seen them together, and had believed that Elain would cling to Azriel, and that her light would compliment his darkness so well. Elain needed someone who would not underestimate her, who would believe in her, who would truly see her as no one else had. And Az...Az needed a friend, someone who was kind and gentle, unlike the rough upbringing he was given. He needed someone who could care for him, and would not be scared of the power he wielded, nor put off by the scars he bore. We of the inner circle loved him, of course, but he needed something-or someone-else. And I thought Elain to be that someone, and my mind never changed.

I packed away my art supplies, set out my painting to dry, and scooped Nyx up. I considered going straight back home, but I remembered that Elain had asked me to stop by and help her taste some new recipes. I looked at the clock. I would be about an hour earlier than intended, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind. I winnowed swiftly, leaving Nyx in Mor's care, then directly into the living room of the townhouse. I inhaled deeply. It smelled lovely as always, with the scent of freshly baked cookies, warm buttery pastries, and the sweet scent of fresh jam. Elain had recently gotten into jam making, after Nuala and Cerridwen had pointed out that particular use of the fresh fruit she had harvested from her trees. I walked to the window and looked out at the orange grove. And...there. Elain was on the ground, carefully mulching the trees, and flying on the top, picking oranges from the trees, was Azriel. I watched them for a minute, Elain telling some story I couldn't hear, and Azriel listening with rapt attention. As the shadows drifted down, swirling through her hair, dancing around her fingers, evening out the mulch, she smiled, and blew a kiss to the small black wisps. Az landed next to her, and set down the baskets. They walked over to a bench, Elain still talking. They sat, and Elain was almost glowing with excitement, her joy nearly manifesting in physical form. And Az, he was the reason she shined so brightly. I was sure that Elain could have told that story to any one of us and not been as happy as she was telling it to him. I thought back to my painting, of their joined hands, and if I had had any doubts before, none still remained, for I knew that Azriel's darkness let Elain's light shine, and her light brought out the best of his darkness. I smiled, for I knew that they would be happy, happy just like Rhys and I were, and I was so joyful that they would be the next match in our happy family.

Taglist: @elriel-month

A/N: This one was super duper short, but I really loved it and enjoyed writing from Feyre's POV. Thank you all for your support so far, it means a lot <3

[screamingsappho]

First Love

I don't recall what movie we saw, but I do recall his hand finding mine on the armrest between our seats tentative at first, then firm warm and calloused from woodwork, metalwork, careful everywhere he touched me.

At twelve we walked around the lake stealing shy glances under the moon. At thirteen he gave me a Viking ship necklace with "I Love You" etched in Nordic runes in a lovely painted wooden box. I wonder, did he make that, too? It smelled like crushed mint leaves inside (when I smell mint I still think of you).

I confess I didn't treat him well. I listened too much to shallow friends, pushed him away until he gave up and swiftly came to regret it when at fourteen he moved to another state. But at seventeen he was back in town for a week, and asked me on a date. I never considered turning him down. Fifteen and sixteen had not been kind to a lonely girl with a head full of romance who had to learn to hide behind a mask to even be given a chance (but you stole a kiss from me under the moon and danced with me though I couldn't dance and liked me just fine with no mask at all writing poems in my notebook next to diagrams of plants).

I'd missed his lazy hazel eye and unruly brown hair, the freckles arranged across his nose like an artist painted each one there. The last thing he gave me was a hammered rose, burnished so the metal was a glowing red as if it was magic, lit from within. I wore it despite what my friends all said, and I swear it always felt warm against my skin.

That kiss he stole at the lake when we were twelve under the moon as we said goodnight, lips to my cheek just before he ran away so soft and quick I wonder if I'm remembering right was prelude to the ones we shared at seventeen tucked away in my car in the parking lot warm hands making me glow like his metalwork art after the movie whose name I forgot.

I still have the Viking ship, though the runes wore away over the years. The painted box sits on my dresser still. If I close my eyes, the faintest trace of mint still lingers. And of course I kept the hammered rose. I think of him often, and wonder if he knows.

[muuum-am-i-adohhhpted]

Stormy Weather (Empires SMP)

summary: hermes is stressing out about the future where he'll eventually have to choose between his papa or his dad's empire to rule. this causes him to secretly weigh the pros and cons of each empire and try to sit in on meetings. at his week in sanctuary, hermes realizes he might be able to control the weather which is another thing to worry about. all of this stress cumulates to one evening when a powerful storm hits sanctuary.

ao3 link

word count: 3659

warnings: light angst, mention of bungee jumping, worries about the death of a friend, reference to running from a threat, unconsciousness

~~~

"Since you’re the son of two empires, which one do you think you’ll rule when you’re older?" It was a throwaway question from one of Hermes’ classmates but it was one that stuck with him long after he had presented his "All About Me!" presentation.

He went back home to Stratos with new eyes. The floating islands were dangerous for regular people (Hermes’ winged shoes made it easy for him to get up there but they were unique since they were a gift from his dad). The buildings were delicate—filled with rare and breakable vases and gold flaked art pieces. His dad wasn't any kind of art person, but he was very intent on keeping "the vibe" of Stratos. And that meant Greek and kinda-Greek decor all around the floating islands and in the village below.

And yet…the open air. Relentlessly, it called to him, tugging at his soul to lift off right now or else. The wind running through his purple chiton, through his fluffy brown hair. Being in the air was nothing like being chained to the earth. He could go wherever he pleased, not bound by mortal laws. He could fly with the birds, give himself a beard of clouds and pretend to be his dad. ("I am tall. I am handsome. Lore, lore, LORE.")

In contrast, Sanctuary was friendly and homey. With colourful buildings of terracotta and brick, Hermes played tag with the other kids when school was out and helped care for the animals in the barn. He didn't have to care about breaking things—he could just let loose and race his friends up bamboo stalks. His papa would take him fishing and sneak him cookies and, in certain moments, he could forget the longing to take flight in his dad's winged shoes.

It didn’t take long, though, for the need to fly took him over and he eyed his winged shoes on the dresser. But flying in Sanctuary was a hard task in general. The bamboo made for hard obstacles. In the night, they were nearly invisible. Not to mention the thick jungle. On top of that, his papa always seemed hesitant to let him fly. On the rare occasions Hermes was allowed to, his papa was always right there, glancing around like, at any moment, something might jump out from the jungle trees and swallow them whole.

"Anything on your mind there, son?" Hermes' dad asked at the other end of the long dining table up in Stratos. His dad took a couple of grapes from a nearby bowl and popped one in his mouth. He looked at Hermes curiously.

Hermes had to hand it to his dad, he could really pick up on what a person was thinking or feeling based on their face. Perhaps it had to do with all the looking in the mirror. Either way, Hermes felt his face flush and he shook his head. "Nothing. Just thinking about…stuff." He tried to come up with a sufficient lie but couldn't think of one.

Hermes' dad awkwardly coughed and ate another grape to busy himself. "Your papa and I were talking the other day. He told me he took you fishing. I was thinking…while there are no good fishing lakes near Stratos, what if I took you bungee jumping?"

Hermes sat up a little straighter. "Really? Papa wouldn't mind?" Hermes' dad often called his papa a "safety rabbit". Papa wasn't just a little strict about flying, he often wouldn't let Hermes near average-sized cliff sides or allow him to partake in water skiing without intense, and often embarrassing, amounts of supervision. On their fishing trip, Hermes was forced to wear a life jacket and floaties around his arms. Not to mention the dozens of whistles attached to his person.

Apparently, the only way papa would allow Hermes to spend time in Stratos was if Hermes was given some kind of flight tool in case he managed to fall off one of the floating islands. And that was how Hermes' winged shoes came to be.

Hermes' dad gave Hermes a conspiratorial look and winked. "He'll never have to know. So…what do you say? It'll have to be tomorrow sometime, though. I have a meeting with my advisors tonight."

"What will you be talking about?" Hermes asked slowly. "Could I join you?" If he was to choose which empire to eventually rule, he would have to learn the inner workings of each one if he was to make an informed decision. And it would all have to be done in secret. Hermes would feel bad if they knew since this choice might be seen as him choosing a favourite parent.

His dad raised his eyebrows slightly. "Really? You've never really been interested in government before."

It was true. And Hermes still wasn't all that interested. But a future emperor had to make some sacrifices. Besides, maybe when he was older he could get someone to do that job for him. Plenty of people would love to be a stand-in ruler. "So, can I come?" He didn’t know how to explain his change of heart to his dad.

His dad shrugged. "Of course. We aren’t talking about much—it's mostly going to be about the new building I want to build." At this, Hermes’ dad’s eyes lit up. "We've got the new island up and running so now it's just a matter of what to put there. What do you think we should build?"

Hermes gnawed thoughtfully on his lip. The new island wasn't the largest one they had in Stratos but it was a nice shape. It wasn't too perfectly round or had weird long parts that would be impossible to build on. He thought for a second longer and was highly aware of his dad watching him with interest.

"I—I don't know," Hermes finally said with a sigh, slouching in his chair. He cast his eyes downwards and could feel a stinging behind his eyes. Don't cry, he told himself and he reached over for a slice of bread and some jam to hide his excessive blinking.

How could he ever become a ruler if he couldn't even decide what he'd like to be built on an island? Rulers had to make hard decisions almost daily. They had to take into consideration every angle of every issue and had to make what they thought was the best decision even if others didn't believe so.

"It's okay, kid," Hermes' dad said. "That's why we're having this meeting." He stood up from the table and gestured for Hermes to do the same. "C'mon, let's head out."

Hermes was hoping the meeting would be somewhat interesting. And it very well might have if he had understood anything they were talking about. The meeting quickly spiralled into arguing between Hermes' dad, his multiple advisors, and a couple of citizens from the village below.

Their sharp voices overlapped and moved from one argument to the next way too fast for Hermes to keep up with. How Stratos managed to get anything done was beyond him.

Eventually, as they finally decided on what to build (was it a church dedicated to his dad or a hotel?), everyone's voices died down and Hermes unknowingly fell asleep in his chair.

~~~

Hermes was grateful for the week to be over as his dad brought him to Sanctuary. After sitting in another boring meeting, he was looking forward to a change in pace. He could already smell the masas de cerdo frita his papa always made when he came back from Stratos.

"Hermes!" His papa exclaimed, running towards him, picking him up, and spinning him around. "Welcome back!"

"Papa!" Hermes laughed before his papa placed him down.

"How was your week at Stratos?" He asked, glancing over at Hermes' dad.

"Good, good," Hermes said, glancing back at his dad with a small grin. While the meetings had been a bust, the bungee jumping hadn't. They had dropped off of any possible high up building: the Stratos Sphere, the fountain, the new island where a Church of Joel was currently being built.

His dad gave a discreet wink in Hermes' direction.

Laughing, his papa patted his shoulder. "Alright then, start unpacking. I'll be there to help you in a bit."

As Hermes' dad and papa walked off for their weekly parenting meeting, Hermes rushed off to his bedroom in his papa's house. He greeted Eddie who was hovering in the kitchen, his rabbit ears pulled back with a bandana so no hair would get in the food.

Hermes was nearly unpacked when his papa poked his head through the door. "Need any help?" He asked.

"Sure!" Hermes exclaimed. "How have you and Eddie been?"

"Doing good, we're all doing well," his papa responded but Hermes could hear the familiar strain in his voice. Hermes wished he knew what was constantly causing his papa stress but, no matter how much Hermes prodded, his papa would always reply that it didn't concern him. Even Eddie sadly shook his head when Hermes asked about it one day.

All Hermes could do was try his best to keep his papa's spirits up whenever he was in Sanctuary.

"Can we go fishing again sometime this week?" Hermes asked as he set his winged shoes on the dresser. He had really enjoyed the last time they had done it. Just he and his papa on a little boat. The waters had been peaceful and Hermes had never seen his papa look so carefree than when he had been focussed on catching fish and treasure from the bottom of the ocean.

Hermes' papa grinned and messed up a bit of Hermes' hair. "Of course."

"It'll have to be in the next few days," Hermes said, the words almost coming out of his mouth without his permission. "A storm's coming." Hermes clamped his mouth shut in confusion. 

His papa stared at him, equally as confused. "How…how do you know?" He asked, eyes wide. Hermes could practically see the cogs turning in his head.

"I—I don't know," Hermes murmured. "It's kinda like a feeling. It's going to be bad, too. It's going to last for three or four days."

"It must be some of your dad's magic within you," his papa said in awe. "You'll have to tell your dad next week. Maybe you can learn to control the weather."

"Control the weather?" Hermes repeated. "You think I can do that?"

"It's entirely possible. I guess we won't know unless you try." Hermes' papa smiled and then clapped his hands. "Alright, well, you hungry or what? We'll finish packing after supper. I'm starving."

As Hermes and his papa made their way down into the kitchen, the table in the corner was set for three. Eddie entered into the kitchen from the side door, his brows furrowed. "Sausage," he said in a slow voice, giving a pointed look towards Hermes, "Alejandra just came by. She told me that they're having an emergency meeting tonight."

Hermes' papa and Eddie seemed to have a conversation just with their eyes. Hermes glanced between the both of them, trying to decipher what was going on. Eventually, Hermes' papa nodded, his shoulders tense at his sides. "Okay."

There was a long period of silence which Hermes broke by asking, "can I join you?"

The two adults looked at one another again. Hermes already knew what his papa would say before he said it. "I'm sorry, Hermes. Your dad did tell me you've grown an interest in government and sitting in on meetings, but this one," he shook his head, "it's…it's not for kids." He shared another look with Eddie.

Hermes did his best to smile. "It's okay. I understand." Throughout the meal, Hermes used all his willpower to keep his tone upbeat until Sausage and Eddie left for the emergency meeting, leaving a farmer, Jorge, to babysit Hermes.

Jorge stayed on the bottom floor which Hermes was grateful for. The villager wasn't within earshot to hear Hermes curl up in his bed and begin to cry, his curtains drawn.

A future emperor and now he had the burden of being able to control the weather? What would happen if he couldn't learn to control the weather? What if he accidentally started a drought? His empire would starve to death without any food. And what about flooding? And snow storms? Hurricanes? He could wipe out entire empires with or without trying. Hermes had to get his powers under control as soon as humanly possible.

On top of all of that, what if he couldn't mediate between arguments outside and within his own empire? He could start wars and civil wars and it would be entirely Hermes' fault. There would be no one else to blame except the person making all the decisions—him.

It was all too much in such a short period of time. Not to mention he had to choose his dad's or papa's empire before ruling anything in the first place. How could he ever learn all he needed to know in time if his papa wouldn't even allow Hermes in on whatever secret he had? He needed to know. He could handle it, he was sure.

CRACK. THUD.

Hermes was up out of his bed and he pulled back the curtains. The sky was a dark grey, menacing clouds hiding the sun and sky. Bamboo stalks and jungle tree branches alike were blowing aggressively in the wind and, in the middle of town square, a large jungle tree lay in the path. Thankfully, it looked like no one was hurt except a couple of barrels and a cart of wheat.

Still, Hermes burst into more tears. This is my fault. He had to stop this storm before anyone got hurt. What if the tree had landed on a house? What about the meeting room where his papa and Eddie were? Hermes' heart pounded as he flung open his window and crawled out of the house, careful to stay away from the windows where Jorge could see.

The wind snapped at Hermes' clothes and hair, loose debris flying around in circles before being thrown to the side. And that was when the downpour began. Fat droplets of rain began falling from the sky, instantly turning everything slippery. Dusk was beginning to settle into Sanctuary, the already hazy visibility turning even worse.

Hermes ran to his papa's favourite fountain. He didn't know much about his papa's past but he did know that the fountain reminded his papa of the hometown where he grew up. He climbed to the top of it, a small square platform that just managed to have the space for his two feet, and raised his hands above him. Hermes wasn't exactly sure how to stop storms, all he knew was that it had to go away.

"Leave!" Hermes shouted, his voice instantly taken by the wind. "Settle down!" He bellowed with even more intensity. The wind grew even more powerful, the raindrops now pricking his skin. "Stop! Please!" He begged, his voice cracking, soaked to the bone but he could feel new tears forming in his eyes in desperation. Hermes' arms dropped to his sides, his hands turning into fists. I can't control it. His entire body drooped, exhaustion finally taking over as the fight left his body.

An especially forceful gust of wind nearly knocked Hermes off his feet and he quickly tried to right himself by stepping his left foot backwards but there was nothing there but air. He tipped backwards and it felt like he was falling in slow motion.

"Hermes!" The wind carried his papa's voice and it was the last thing Hermes heard before the world went dark.

~~~

"I—I think he was trying to stop the storm," a voice wept, sounding like it came from Hermes' left.

"Shhh, shhh," another male voice said, gently. "If anything, you should blame that horrendous babysitter you hired. He should have been keeping a better eye on Hermes. Here, drink this."

There was the sound of slurping and then the clink of some kind of ceramics or glass. "But I was the one who told him he could probably control storms. If I hadn't said anything, maybe he wouldn't be here."

~~~

"I'm afraid the tyrant king has killed Araceli and consumed her power. She used to have the gift of weather and I met with her a couple of years after I fled my hometown with Bubbles." The voice that was speaking was quiet—just above a whisper. "She didn't live very far from our village and I think the king might have found her and used her powers to send storms our way."

"I can ask around about this woman, if you'd like. I know plenty of smaller weather deities." The second voice went silent before saying, "if you think it would be best to leave…"

"No, I can't do that again. I can't leave my family again. I just found Eddie. We have Hermes to care for. If the king manages to find Hermes—"

"What about you?" The other voice raised just slightly. "What do you think your king could do if he could converse with animals? What if he respawns the Ender Dragon and convinces her to destroy our world? It would be like the Rapture all over again."

"The Rapture? But that's just an old folktale."

There was some awkward laughter. "Of course, I'm just saying it could be like the Rapture again. End of our empires and terrible earthquakes and all."

~~~

"You'll have no choice but to leave if your king gets too close to you, you know. I can take Hermes in. The king wouldn't try to kill a god, would he?" The voice was slightly joking, as if trying to lighten the mood.

There was a too long pause. "I don't know anymore."

~~~

Hermes peeled his eyes open and he instantly closed them again, the light too bright. "Ugh," he groaned, trying to bring his arm up to block the light still breaching his eyelids but his arms felt as heavy as lead.

"Hermes!" His papa and dad exclaimed, jumping up from their spot in the corner of the room. They were instantly at his side, worry etched on both their faces. They were all in the Sanctuary infirmary. He could hear no wind or rain—just how long had he been out for?

"Are you feeling okay?"

"The doctor said you thankfully didn't break any bones but you've got a pretty bad bruise on the side of your right arm."

"Don't you dare try that again! You should've known the fountain would've been slippery in the rain!"

"I can help you with your powers if you'd like. It's difficult but I know you can do it. Well, after you rest and all."

Hermes burst into tears, trying to hide his face under the blankets in shame. "I—I'm so sorry," he blubbered as his papa gently pulled down the covers. "I didn't mean to bring the storm, I was just feeling frustrated about everything."

Hermes' dad was sitting on the edge of the bed, playing with Hermes' hair and scratching at his scalp like he would a cat. "You didn't conjure up the storm, Hermes." His dad smiled down at him. "To put it bluntly, you'd need to train a lot more in order to create a storm of that size. Don't worry, it's not your fault."

Hermes took in his dad's words and breathed a big sigh of relief. "Really?" It's not my fault. It's not my fault.

His dad nodded.

"What were you feeling frustrated about?" His papa then asked.

"I'm going to have to choose between the two of you when I grow up!" Hermes finally exclaimed.

The sentence hung in the air. Both Hermes' dad and papa glanced at each other, their eyebrows drawing down. Hermes' dad was the first one to break away from the gaze. "What on earth are you talking about? You go to each of our empires every week. You hardly have a choice in having us as your parents."

Hermes' papa glared over at Hermes' dad. "Shhh, Joel." He then looked down at Hermes. "Please explain what you mean. Why will you have to choose one of us?"

"When I'm older," Hermes said. "You're both my parents and you both rule empires. I'm going to have to choose which one to rule eventually and I don't want to choose between the two of you. I don't think I even want to be an emperor."

"Oh, Hermes," his papa said with a little chuckle. He kissed Hermes' forehead. "You don't have to rule anything. We aren't going to force you to take that burden if you don't want to." Hermes had fuzzy recollections of his dad and papa speaking about…something while he was going in and out of consciousness from the fall from the fountain, but he waved it off for now. He'd ponder on that later when his memory was sharper. "Your dad and I wouldn't make you choose between us and, even if you did, we wouldn’t blame you for choosing the other. That would make us awful parents."

Hermes felt like a massive boulder had just been lifted off his chest. He took a big breath and a large smile grew on his face. "I don't want to become a ruler of any empire."

"Great!" His dad exclaimed. "You'll have less grey hair than your papa."

"And hopefully less ego than your dad," his papa said with a playful glare.

Hermes settled into the cot he was laying on. His eyelids began to grow heavy and, after a second, his eyelids fluttered closed. Dreamland was calling and Hermes was more than happy to go. "I love you," he said through a long yawn.

"Love you."

"I love you too."

[jadedlavendergemini]

Summary: a sequel to part one. After waking up in Eddie Munsons bed, you two have a long conversation about what had occurred.

Part one here!!!

Warnings: none, just fluff.

This is not my room….

When you awake the next morning, the first thing you notice is the atmosphere of the room you’re in. You are laying on your back in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room.

You run a hand over your eyes and groan quietly. Your heart is just beating a little more fast and your head is slightly pounding.

Looking around the room once more, you are trying to piece together all of what had happened the night before. Whoever’s room this was, they needed to clean ASAP. There were clothes thrown everywhere on the floor, strange hand drawn art work and posters of metal bands hung on the walls that you did not recognize, the windows were covered up and a guitar hung by the dresser mirror that sat opposite in the room.

You brought back to your thoughts. Who brought you here? Where was here? Where was Nancy and Steve? What happened last night? You tried to recall what had happened but your mind was drawing blanks.

Pulling back the covers, you were relieved to find that you were still wearing the dress from the night before. You quickly swing your legs off of the bed and pull yourself up.

You’re cautious as you pick up your abandoned sneakers that sat next to the old mattress and tip toe through the messy bedroom. Navigating the hallway wasn’t hard as it led you to the living area and kitchens.

Entering the living room, it was hard not to notice the amount of mugs and hats the lined the walls on shelves. And just when you thought you were alone in this strange home, the sound of crunching drew your attention to the kitchen. There stood Eddie Munson leaning into the kitchen counter and helping himself to a box of honeycomb cereal.

He wore the same ripped black jeans and that old Hellfire club shirt, his hair an absolute mess as always.

“Mornin’ princess.” He says. “You’re up earlier than I thought you’d be.”

“How long did you think I’d be out?” You asked, your morning voice pretty small and trying to ignore the constant pounding in the right side of your head.

“Well,” Eddie shrugs and places the cereal box on the counter before pushing off the counter. “It really depends on what those jackass jocks gave you. I’d assume you’d be out until like twelve.”

You just nodded and wrapped your arms around yourself self consciously. Jocks. Chance. You slowly remember excepting a drink from him. “Gave me what? Oh god, they drugged me? Fuck..”

“Unfortunately, yeah it kinda looks like it. Or maybe you know, it was just too much alcohol?” Eddie waved his ring clad hand in the air before moving it to the back of his neck. “Just, you know, pour your own drinks next time.”

It stays quiet as you awkwardly look around the trailer some more. The boy clears his throat as he fully abandons the cereal box. “If you’re ready to go, I can take you to your place.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You replied, carefully slipping your shoes on. “Thank you.”

Eddie grabs his keys and the two of you make your way out to the old van. Thankfully this time you managed to click in your own seat belt.

You watched as he slipped into the drivers seat and buckled in himself. You hadn’t really spoke to him before now and found yourself thankful at how kind he truly was. Of course Steve had referred to him before as a freak and yes, even the jock squad themselves. But he was the exact opposite.

You were shook out of thoughts by his voice. “Um, so where do you live?”

“Uh, just go towards the hiking trails near Pinewoods?” You replied as he nods.

“You live out there?”

“Yeah, my dad has a cabin out there. We moved back out there recently.”

The sound of heavy metal is low from his van speakers as you two make your way out of the trailer park. You casually pull down his mirror to look half yourself.

You were a mess. Your eyeliner was slightly smudged into your lower lashes. Your eyeshadow was completely gone and whatever blush you wore was only visible one side. How were you going to explain this to Hop?

Eddie sees this and gestures to the beaten up glove box. “There might be some napkins in there if you need them.”

You thank him quietly before looking. There were two napkins jammed in there, most likely from a fast food place. Grabbing them, you try and clean up your face.

“So you think your dad is gonna kill you or?” Eddie chuckles. “The guy is terrifying.”

You roll your eyes as you continue to clean yourself up. “Maybe some yelling. But honestly at the end of the day he’s like a giant grumpy teddy bear.”

“A giant grumpy teddy bear?” Eddie laughs. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind if I ever run across him, although I can’t promise I won’t laugh if I do.”

You smiled, lifting the mirror away and looking down to the napkins still clutched in your hands. Without hesitation, your hand moves to the radio and gently turns the volume up.

“So what does Eddie Munson listen to?” You casually ask. The answer was immediate when you hear Metallica playing. Not surprising.

“Oh don’t act so surprised.” He snorts, looking over to you. “And you? What does y/n Hopper like to listen to?”

You shrug. “A little of everything. I like Stevie Nicks a lot. Let’s see… Tears for Fears, Abba, Queen, David Bowie.”

“Abba? Queen? Really?”

“Yes,” you let out a small laugh. “I love Abba! And Freddie Mercury has one of the best voices. And occasionally AC/DC, maybe even the Eagles.”

“Hold on, you listen to AC/DC?” He questions, his voice slightly rising in shock.

You just nod. “My dad used to listen to them a lot so it kinda grew on me.”

“Alright. Favorite AC/DC song?”

“Hells Bells.”

“Nice. So you’re kinda the opposite of what I’d thought you’d be.” He sounds as if he were debating whether or not he should have said that. “Not that I think that you’d be boring or anything. We just haven’t really spoke much before.”

“What did you think I’d be like?” Now you were interested in this.

“Well you’re normally super quiet and your like best friends with Nancy Wheeler. So I’m just gonna go with an exact copy of Wheeler, but like more quiet.” He snickered. “You’re also a cheerleader so I figured you know, you were more into like all that Madonna and that Cindy Lauper shit.”

You listen intently, at least it wasn’t anything bad. “Okay, well my grades are decent, except for Mrs. O’Donells where I have a D. And it’s not like I don’t want to have a social life, but when your dad is chief of police, well I don’t think that really attracts most people to invite me to parties. And as for the whole Madonna and Cindy thing, really?”

Eddie snorts. “You’re failing O’Donells too? Okay we’ve got some more things in common I see. And yeah, I’m sorry for just assuming those things.”

“You’re definitely different, Eddie.”

He nods. “I know, I know. Freak Munson, right? This scary, mean kind of guy? Or is there a new name that I didn’t know about?”

You stay quiet, glancing at him. “Eddie, no. You’re not a freak, or mean, or even remotely scary. When I said different, I meant a good kind of different. There’s nothing wrong with liking metal music or playing a game that you enjoy.”

Eddie looks at you for a moment. Your e/c eyes connecting with his brown ones. You watch as his lips pull into a small smile and you can feel your heart begin to slightly beat a little harder.

Looking away back to the window, you notice that you’ve already arrived at Pinewoods. “I guess this is me. Thank you again, Eddie, really.”

You unclick the seatbelt and begin to open the door. Just before you can hop out, you feel his hand reach for your arm. Looking back his way, you’re met with that smile of his.

“You know, I’m trying to actually graduate this year and I know you probably don’t want to have a D in Mrs. O’Donells class. So I was thinking maybe, if you wanted, we could get together sometime and like help each other out? Like I said, only if you want to.”

You gave a sweet smile back. “Yeah, I’d like that. Um, maybe this weekend? You know, if I’m not grounded?”

“Works for me, sweetheart.”

“Okay then,” you move slowly out of the van. “Bye Eddie.”

He gives a small wave as you close the door a trek down the trail and into the wooded area. Did he just set up a study date with y/n Hopper? Yes. Was he more excited for the study date than for any campaign he’s set up? Definitely. And for you to be sober and confirm that you didn’t believe him to be an actual freak like the others, well that had him smiling like an idiot for the rest of the drive back to the trailer park.

——————————————————————————

I hope you enjoyed part two! I think I’m going to just stick with the drabbles, they are too fun.

[mr-m-murdock]

to be human

| natasha x bucky | 18+

warnings: kind of smut at the end :) MINORS DNI just to be safe sorry babes

a/n: the cutest anon request I've ever received. I’m soft for them. the only m/f ship I will allow

bold = Russian

1.

When he emerges from the shower, Natasha is sprawled across his bedcovers with her dust-smeared face pressed into the white cloth.

"Are you serious?" Bucky asks, tucking the towel in securely around his waist. One of Natasha's hands raises limply to beckon him over. "I just showered. I'm clean, he protests.

Natasha raises her head, an affrontedly quizzical look on her face. "So you don't love me," she says. She dumps her face back onto his bed.

“Nat, come on,” he says, as he crosses the room to his dresser. He makes the mistake of passing too close to the bed and Natasha grabs him by the back of the towel and pulls him down on top of her.

Bucky makes an undignified grunt, but he goes willingly, and allows Natasha to wrap her arms around his waist and dump her dirty face into his shoulder. He combs wild strands of hair back from her face. “Wonder what the others would say if they could see you now,” he teases, and Natasha pinches him sharply in the ribs. “Ow!”

She mutters what sounds like half a threat into his skin.

“You would never,” Bucky says. He runs a palm down the length of her spine and feels her relax into him, her arms loosening. It’s been a long day.

2.

Natasha curses in frustration as she misses the tiny piercing hole again, flicking her hair irritably out of the way.

“You alright?” James calls, from the other room. She hears him flip open a box.

“Fine.” She stabs herself accidentally in the neck. “Fuck!” Natasha exclaims. She flings the earring onto her dresser and it skitters away under the mirror. She crosses her arms over her chest. 

James appears in the doorway and Natasha glares at him through the mirror. He approaches her with mild amusement on his face, reaches out and combs a hand carefully through her hair. "You look incredible," he says. He tucks her hair behind both ears, untucks it. His hands settle on her shoulders.

"I'd look even better if I could get my damn earrings in," Natasha grunts. "And don't touch my hair," she adds half-heartedly. "I haven't done it yet." He sifts through her hair again as she reaches defeatedly for her earring, the frustration fading to embarrassment

"Let me do it."

Natasha's eyes meet his in the mirror. "Pardon?"

"I'll braid it. Here." His fingers trail up her crown to the top of her head, arranging her hair into a strict parting. Natasha waits, until it's too late to speak, too late to pull away: and anyway, she wouldn't want to. James' hands are skilled in her hair, careful not to tug or pull as he gathers strands and feeds them into the growing braid.

The room slides into silence save for the rush of hair on hair.

"Done," James says. He reaches for a hair tie, binds the end of the plait and drapes it over Natasha's shoulder. His fingers brush the nape of her neck, then drop away. "Beautiful," he says, proudly, softly. He steps back, and turns to leave the room.

Natasha stares at herself in the mirror, fingers running the length of the plait.

"Thank you," she says. Too quiet, but she knows he hears it anyway.

3.

"What is that?" Sam exclaims, lunging bodily across the table and snatching up Bucky's paper pumpkin decoration. Sam stares accusingly at him.

"That's funny, you'd think more people would know a pumpkin when they saw one," Bucky replies. He tugs it out of Sam's hands. "Specially a guy who's got one for a head." Sam swipes at him, accidentally knocking over the glue.

"No fighting!" Morgan calls, from the head of the table where she's covered in glitter and bits of orange paper. Bucky settles back into his seat.

"I meant why is it so good," Sam says, almost accusingly. "Since when can you draw?"

"Since I went to art school," Bucky fires back.

"Huh." Sam tries hard to hide how impressed he is, but he wears his emotions on his sleeve. Always has.

"Huh," Bucky mocks, instead of taking the compliment.

"Be nice," Natasha admonishes him. Clearly, she's become bored of the crafts, as she's pulled Bucky's metal arm into her lap and is doodling little bats on it with a marker.

"Is that dry erase?" Bucky asks, reaching for the glitter glue.

"Kate brought them," Natasha says, with a distant shrug.

"Bishop! Are these dry erase pens?" Bucky yells, craning his neck down the hall.

"No!" comes the distant reply. Natasha's pen pauses.

"Oops," she says, hiding her grin in her shoulder.

4.

"Four cups of flour," James says. He's sitting on the counter, whacking his heels against the cupboard doors, egg sticky on his fingers and the recipe book in hand. His hair is tied back, concentration evident on his face as he reads.

Natasha smiles at the batter, her hand going astray and missing as she reaches for the flour. She knocks some accidentally onto his thigh, and he blinks dolefully at her.

"How dare you."

"I'm sorry," Natasha says untruthfully. She grabs a pinch from the bag and sprays it into his face. James jerks backwards, spluttering and flapping at the air.

"You devil woman," he growls, and he upends the bag of flour on her head.

Natasha freezes for a second, shock kicking in. She blinks the flour away, hands up in a position to protect herself, far too late.

"Asshole," she grinds out. "Oh, I am so getting you back." She grabs an egg, and with a laugh, James hops off the counter and dashes around the opposite side of the table. He makes a face at her and Natasha launches the egg. Lightning fast, James dodges and the egg smashes against the opposite wall. "Fuck you," Natasha says, hurling another egg at him. It explodes on a cupboard door and James sprints out of the kitchen door, laughing still.

Natasha grabs a spoon full of batter and makes chase.

5.

Her hand has been resting high in his thigh the whole evening. He's been struggling to keep still, to stop himself leaning into her, and he knows she can tell. She's got a tiny, tiny smile on her face that means good things, disguised as apprehension and a deep breath in his chest.

They break for dinner when the speeches are over. Natasha eats with one hand, very purposefully not looking at him.

"I know what you're doing," Bucky mutters, in Russian, his voice low.

"Oh? What am I doing?" Natasha replies, her voice light and casual. Steve tilts his head curiously at the two of them from across the table and Bucky fixates his gaze firmly on the white wall behind his blond head as Natasha's fingers explore the seam of his trousers.

He takes a breath, one that shudders in his throat. "If you wanted to get in my pants, you could just ask," he says. He can't look at her. He won't. He can tell she's got that look on her face, those sharp eyes and that sharp smile.

"But this is more fun," says Natasha. She tugs lightly at his belt. "Besides, I get to tell you exactly what I want to do to you, and no one's the wiser."

"You're a sadist," Bucky says, shifting into her touch subtly.

"Just wait until you hear how many times I'm going to make you come," Natasha says. She groped between his legs with one hand and forks chicken into her mouth with the other and Bucky stiffens, bites the inside of his cheek hard to keep a sound from falling out. "You love it," Natasha assures him, grinning at her plate.

Bucky swears into the backs of his teeth. "How much longer are we here?" he asks, attempting not to sound petulant. All he really wants to do is touch, have her touch him, kiss him-

"If you're that desperate, I can pull you to the bathroom and have you right now, as many times as I want until you beg for mercy twice," Natasha replies, utterly cool.

Bucky takes a breath in. "I've never begged for mercy in my life," he says, braver than he feels. Natasha squeezes him through his trousers, and Bucky's spine straightens involuntarily.

"Twice," she says, her voice low.

When it ends, Bucky stands far too quickly. And when the journey back ends, they barely make it out of the car. They reach the bedroom with their hands on each other and Natasha strips him of his blazer and shoves him down onto the bed.

She tosses her hair to one side, golden-red in the warm yellow lamp light, reaches for the zipper on her dress and drags it down. The dress slides off her body like water and Bucky allows his gaze to drift: she's perfect. Every dip and stretch of skin, each curve smooth as marble.

She's not wearing underwear. Bucky's mouth goes dry.

Natasha swings a leg over his hips and mounts him, grabbing him by the tie with a wicked smile on her face. She knows the effect she has on him.

"You were dressed like - that - the whole evening," he chokes out, and Natasha presses her forehead to his, raking her nails down his chest over his shirt.

"Don't dwell on it, your head might explode," she says, and she kisses him. She tastes like wine, all bitter and rich. He arches into her touch, runs his hands carefully up her sides. Her skin is hot and she gasps at the cold of his metal hand. He palms her breasts and she presses into him with a pleased hum.

She yanks his zipper down so ferociously he's scared it might break.

"Now fuck me like you mean it," she whispers against his lips, and he tightens his hold.

requests | masterlist

notes: I don't know if y'all on the taglist wanted to be tagged for just x reader or for others as well so I played it safe, but I hope you enjoyed!

[chrisbitchtree]

The One Where Steve Asks Himself "Well, How Did I Get Here?"

Harringrove Week Day 2

Prompt - Once In A Lifetime by The Talking Heads

3.3k

***

“You tell anyone about this, and I’ll kill you,” Billy told Steve, popping the tape into the player. They’d been making out in the driver’s seat of the Camaro, and Steve had asked if Billy had anything a little less loud than Metallica. At first, Billy had insisted that metal and hard rock tapes were all he had, but then he’d grumbled and pulled a cassette tape from under Steve’s seat. Remain In Light by the Talking Heads.

Steve teased him for going soft, and he threatened to throw the tape out the window. “I’m kidding,” Steve said. “I’m just surprised. It doesn’t really seem like your type of music.”

Billy shrugged, leaning back, and closing his eyes. “I dunno, I just really like the beats.”

Instead of replying, Steve leaning forward onto Billy’s chest, wrapping his arms around the other boy and closing his eyes as well.

When the first side was done, Billy flipped the tape, and they drifted off to ‘Once in a Lifetime’.

***

When Steve awoke, his head was no longer pillowed by Billy’s chest. Instead, he was drooling onto a silk pillowcase. “Ugh,” said a voice next to him. A distinctly female voice. “Again, Steve? You’re going to stain the pillowcases.”

He opened his eye to find a decidedly beautiful, if unknown blonde woman laying next to him, giving him a look that was half fond and half disgusted. The blankets were down around her waist, so Steve could see that all that she wore was a little pink silk negligee. Her nipples were hard underneath, and he averted his gaze, still unsure of who she was or whether he was allowed to look.

Instead, he glanced down at himself and found that he was only wearing black briefs. He also noticed that he had a lot more chest hair than he’d had when he’d fallen asleep. The woman reached out as if to run her hands through it, and Steve flinched, backing away from the touch.

“Is everything ok, baby?” she said with a frown, giving him a confused look.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve replied slowly. “But who are you?”

“Oh,” she said with a sly grin. “It’s a little early for games, baby, but I’ll bite. What kind of scenario is this? Amnesia patient and their caretaker?”

Panic started to rise in Steve’s chest. He had no clue what was going on, but clearly, he and this woman were in some type of relationship. “No, no,” he replied, trying to sound casual. “I was just kidding. I think I’m gonna go out and get a coffee.” He had to get away from this woman and figure some shit out.

He hopped out of bed and walked over to the large wooden dresser against the wall and started pulling open drawers, looking for clothes. Where were his sweaters? His Hawkins High sweatpants? They mustn’t exist in this alternate reality. He grabbed the first men’s clothes he came upon, a white golf shirt and black slacks, throwing them on as he walked out of the room.

“Why would you do that, baby?” she asked, her confusion growing. “We have a state-of-the-art coffee maker right downstairs!” She started following him out of the room, throwing on a black silk robe as she went.

“Uh, I just need some fresh air.” He started walking down the stairs, hoping he was heading in the direction of the front door. He took in the house as he made his way down. It was huge, and opulently decorated, much like his parent’s house. Who the fuck had picked this garbage out? As he entered the front foyer, he noticed a large portrait framed on the wall. It was a wedding photo, featuring himself and the woman posing together, grins plastered on their faces.

“If you insist on going out, wait for me!” the blonde said, catching up with him. “I’ll go with you!”

“Oh no, it’s ok, I’ll bring you something back” Steve replied, pulling a set of car keys off the key rack in the coat closet. He looked at the logo on the keys. He exited the front door before the woman could protest further, hurrying to the large, ostentatious automobile.

Finally alone, he pulled down the mirror and had a look at himself. He was visibly older, but not by a lot. Just enough to be noticeable. He was more confused than ever. What had happened? He went flying out of the driveway, and it was only as he turned to leave it that he looked back and realized he was staring at the house next to his parents. It was beautiful, but not at all his style. At least if he was still in Hawkins, he’d know his way around.

Dustin. He had to find Dustin. He would help Steve make sense of this all. He quickly drove over to his house, banging on the front door. Dustin’s mom opened it, smiling, with a layer of confusion underneath. She looked older as well, more noticeably, given her age. “Hi, Steve, how are you?” she asked, opening the door so he could enter the small house.

“I’m good, I’m good. How are you?” He barely waited for her to reply before asking where Dustin was. He was poking his head around corners, looking for the curly haired boy. He noticed that the kitten adorned calendar hanging in the kitchen said it was September 1995. So, ten years had passed.

“Dusty just headed back to school for his final year! If you’d like, I can give you his number? He’ll be so happy to hear from you! It’s been so long!” She pulled out a piece of paper from a small notebook and wrote down Dustin’s number, handing it to him.

He thanked her, taking the number, and pocketing it. He was surprised to hear that he hadn’t kept in touch with Dustin. The boy was like a brother to him. What had happened in the last ten years? He said his goodbyes and headed out, looking for a payphone. He found one, at a gas station a few blocks away, fed it some change, and quickly dialed Dustin’s number.

It rang and rang, and he almost gave up hope before he heard his best friend pick up. Or former best friend, apparently. “Dustin!” He shouted into the phone.

“Hello?” Dustin replied, sounding confused. Steve found that he was confusing everyone today, including himself.

“Dustin!” He said again. “It’s Steve!”

“Oh,” Dustin said. “I have nothing to say to you Steve. Goodbye.”

“Wait!” Steve shouted into the phone, drawing the attention of the gas station patrons around him. He tried to do his best to ignore them, heat rising on his cheeks. “Dustin, I don’t know what happened, but I need your help. Please, just give me three minutes to explain.”

Dustin sighed. “I’ll give you two.”

“Ok,” Steve said. “I don’t know what’s going on, but one minute, Billy and I were in his car, listening to the Talking Heads, and then I fell asleep, and the next thing I know, I’ve woken up and it’s been ten years, and I apparently have a wife and a home, and a big car and I have no clue how I got here. You have to help me get back, man. Please.”

Steve didn’t know if it was his pleading tone, but something had changed slightly in Dustin’s voice when he replied. “Meet me at the Starbucks at the corner of Rush and Oak in Chicago at 1pm. You’re late, and I leave.”

Steve looked at his watch. It was only 11. He could do 1pm. “I’ll be there,” Steve promised. “But wait, what’s a Starbucks?”

Dustin hung up the phone without answering.

Steve found the place, which was apparently a coffee shop, and found Dustin sitting on a plush chair in a corner. He didn’t exactly look happy to see Steve, but he didn’t sound as annoyed and upset as he had on the phone, so Steve counted that as a win.

“Hey, Dustin,” he said, trying to go for friendly and casual. Dustin just looked at him, fiddling with his hat.

“I’ll take a Venti dark roast, black. Then we’ll talk.”

Steve was eager to get to the talking part, so he joined the line of customers eager to get their caffeine fix. When he got to the front of the line, he repeated the words Dustin had said to him. “A Venti dark roast, black?” It came out like a question, but the employee just nodded. “Name?” Steve gave it, and with Dustin’s drink finally in hand, he made his way back over to him.

“So, start from the beginning,” Dustin said, taking the drink from Steve.

“Well, like I said, what I remember from right before is Billy and I were in his car, and we were…” He lowered his voice. “…making out. I had asked him to put on some softer music, so he pulled out a Talking Heads tape and put it on. I fell asleep on his chest, and next thing I know, I wake up in a strange house with this woman I don’t know next to me, and there’s a ten-year gap with no memories! I want my life back! I want Billy back!” He knew he sounded near hysterical, but he had to get his life back. “Where is Billy anyway, if not with me?”

“California. San Diego,” Dustin answered, taking a sip of his drink. “He owns some auto repair shops. He’s doing pretty good for himself, from what Max says.”

“I need to see him,” Steve answers, standing. Suddenly, he feels like he can’t wait another second to see Billy. “Will you come with me?”

Dustin looked him like he was nuts. “Steve,” he sighed. “Even if what you’re saying is true, and not some kind of weird quarter-life crisis, you can’t just go marching back into our lives. You’ve hurt a lot of people over the years, Billy especially. How would you feel if the boy who broke up with you suddenly, over the phone, so he could be free to date Stephanie, suddenly walked back into your life and tried to tell you that he doesn’t remember having done that?”

He says the name Stephanie in a mocking tone, leading Steve to believe Dustin isn’t a fan. Steve wonders if Stephanie is his wife. Stephanie and Steve Harrington. He decides he likes the sound of Steve and Billy Harrington-Hargrove a lot better.

Steve can’t believe he did that, that he’d acted like such a monster. “Wait,” he said. “You said I hurt a lot of people. What did I do to the rest of you?” He feels sick, but he needs to know.

“Well you told the party members that you were too grown up to keep hanging out with us, and you just stopped taking Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan’s calls altogether. You haven’t spoken to any of us in almost ten years.”

Ten years. Almost as long as Steve’s memories are gone for. When he fell asleep, it must have changed something. He suddenly remembers a conversation that he and Billy had had that day. Steve’s father had been pressuring him to go to school and join the family business, which judging by the disgusting pile of excess that was his life, was the path he’d chosen. Billy had asked him to move to California with him. They didn’t have a plan, but Billy had promised to make him happy there. Steve had said he’d have to think about it, and Billy had been hurt when Steve hadn’t readily agreed.

“I’m so sorry, Dustin, I promise never to hurt you again. Any of you. I love you all. Please just help me get Billy back.” He was ready to get on his knees and beg when Dustin stood up.

“Let’s go,” he said, throwing his paper cup in the garbage. “We’re going to San Diego. But you’re buying my plane tickets and you’re taking me to the San Diego Zoo.”

“Aren’t you a little old for that?” Steve asked, following him out the door of the shop.

Dustin glared at him. “Dou want help or not?”

They drove to Dustin’s, so that he could grab some clothes and throw them into a suitcase, and then Steve asked him where the nearest mall was. He needed to buy some clothes.

“Don’t you have enough clothing in that giant house?” he asked.

“It’s all so terrible,” Steve groused, plucking at the golf shirt he had on. “I can’t wear this shit.”

They headed to the mall, Dustin guiding Steve from store to store, charging all sorts of plaid flannel and torn jeans and t-shirts with jokey sayings to Steve’s credit card. Steve changed into one of the outfits in the food court bathroom, then they went to the luggage store. When they got back to the store, Steve threw all his purchases into his newly purchased suitcase, and they headed to the airport.

Steve charged two first class tickets to his credit card, and once they boarded the plane, Dustin started to ask questions. “So, tell me any details about that day that you can remember. Anything at all that might help me figure out what happened.”

Steve told him about his and Billy’s argument about their future, and about the song that was playing when they fell asleep.

Dustin looked at him, his eyes wide. “Steve, do you realize what that song’s about? It’s your life! Your sad, pathetic, materialistic life!”

Steve gave him an offended look, but maybe Dustin wasn’t wrong. That could be it. The song could be the key.

As soon as they’d landed and rented a car, they purchased a map and looked up a music shop in the phone book. They bought the last copy of Remain in Light, and Steve fast forwarded it to Once in a Lifetime, waiting for something, anything to happen. Nothing did. So maybe it wasn’t the song.

The next stop they made was Billy’s, as they’d looked up his address when they’d looked up the music shop. The map brought them to a small, ranch style home on a tree shaded street. It looked peaceful, exactly the kind of place that Steve could picture himself and Billy living.

He jumped out of the car the second he parked it, and ran up to the front door, banging on it and repeatedly ringing the doorbell. “What the fuck is going on out there?” Steve heard from the other sie of the door. Steve barely got a glimpse of Billy, looking much the same, broad, and muscled, with shiny blond curls and a deep golden tan, before he was slamming the door in Steve’s face. “Nope, nope, nope,” he said. “Not fucking happening, Harrington.”

Steve didn’t know why he’d expected Billy to act any differently, but it still hurt. “Please, Billy! I know I’ve hurt you, but I need to talk to you. I’ll explain myself. I swear! Pleas just give me five minutes.” He waited, hoping Billy would open the door, but he didn’t, and eventually, as it started to get dark out, Steve had to give up and go.

He and Dustin checked into a hotel, then went in search of dinner. They wracked their brains the whole time they ate, trying to think of how to get Steve back to the proper timeline.

“You know,” Dustin said, finishing off a second piece of pie, “Maybe it’s not just that tape, maybe it’s Billy’s copy specifically.”

Steve smiled around his milkshake straw. “Dustin, you’re a genius. I bet that’s it. But Billy won’t talk to me.”

Dustin grinned. “How much experience do you have with breaking and entering, my friend?”

***

The next morning, they waited in Billy’s bushes, the car parked a couple blocks away, until Billy left for work. They checked under rocks and planters, hoping for a spare key, but no such luck. Finally, they managed to find a window that was opened a crack and slid it open. It was a tight fit, as it was a small bathroom window, but Steve finally managed to get through it. He ran out of the back door and let Dustin in.

They each took a side of the house, looking through drawers and boxes and cabinets, looking for tapes. They found a large collection of them under Billy’s bed, but that particular tape wasn’t there. They took a break for lunch before they resumed their search. At about 2pm, they heard the front door opening. They were in Billy’s bedroom, and they made a break for the window, but couldn’t get it open, no matter how hard they tried.

They were at the end of the hall, and they could hear Billy approaching. There was nowhere to go. Steve’s heart was beating a hundred miles an hour as he just waited for Billy to discover them.

What the fuck, Harrington!” He said, furiously, as he walked into his room. “What are you doing here? You had a million chances to apologize and now that I’ve moved on and I’m happy, here you are. You have five minutes to tell me what you need.”

Oh, thank God. Steve let out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding. “Can we go sit in the living room?”

Billy shook his head. “Nope. Here’s good. Time’s ticking away.” He crossed his arms, waiting for Steve to talk.

Steve told Billy the same story that he’d told Dustin the day before, making sure to emphasize how upset he was when he realized he wasn’t with Billy anymore. “So basically, we need your Talking Heads tape,” he said, waiting for Billy to digest all that he’d said.

“You’re fucking cracked, Harrington,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m supposed to believe this crap?”

“Please,” Steve said, getting down on his knees and begging. “Please, Billy. Just trust me. I need to make my way back to you. Please.”

Billy sighed, walking over to the closet. He shoved some larger boxes aside and pulled down a small shoe box labeled Steve. From it, he pulled out the tape. “I used to play this all the time. It reminded me of the last time I held you.” His voice cracked as he said it, and Steve’s heart cracked in return.

He handed Steve the tape. “Just take it and go, and please don’t come back here.” Steve accepted it gratefully. “I’m so sorry, Billy,” he said. “I promise that I never meant to hurt you. I’ll make this right.”

He and Dustin ran out the door to the rental car, popping the tape in the player. David Byrne’s voice filled the car, Steve closed his eyes, but again, nothing happened. Tears of frustration started to fall from his eyes. He had to get back to his old life, he just had to.

Suddenly, a light bulb went off in his head and he hit rewind on the tape, then again closed his eyes, praying for a miracle. A moment later, he was blinking awake, his head pillowed on a warm chest, strong arms encircling him.

He looked up and there was Billy, the same as Steve had left him, ten years before. Steve pulled his t-shirt up, checking out his chest hair, much to Billy’s confusion. “You alright there, baby?” he asked, laughing softly at Steve’s ridiculous behaviour.

“Yes, I’m more than alright, Billy! I’m amazing!” He peppered his boyfriends face with kisses and hugging him tightly. “I have you and we have our whole future together. I changed my mind. I want to go to California with you. I love you.” It was the first time he’d said those words to Billy, but he didn’t care. It was true.

“I love you too, Steve,” Billy replied, hugging him back. Maybe Steve’s future wouldn’t hold a large automobile or a beautiful house, and it certainly wouldn’t hold a beautiful wife. Steve found himself more than ok with that.

[kyberphilosopher]

Fensterln

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me.”

Warning(s): some allusions to sex, explicit-ish language, fluff, reader has a whole ‘Black Cat’ thing going on. Word Count: 3273

Notes: This is a requested work. This is a headcanoned canon version of Superboy, meaning he is no version in particular and simply the character I figure as a whole. Reader can be any gender.

“Fensterln is when you have to climb through someone’s window in order to have sex with them, without their parents knowing about it.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You know, most people think that climbing up the side of a building is easy. Like it’s nothing. They see it on TV, and in the movies, and in cartoons even, and they think, “That doesn’t look so bad!” because it doesn’t. Cartoons and actors don’t have to deal with the wind whipping their hair, constantly pushing their whole body all around, the butterflies of anxiousness making their heart thump, threatening the scenario of falling to their death. It’s terrifying. It takes a lot of skill, a lot of courage, and a lot of luck. 

“Shit.”

Your right hand releases from the glass, arm slowly swinging back until it’s at your side. The same sides foot follows this pattern of rotation, until only your left fingertips and toes are stuck to the wall of the building, suctioning you to life. Below you, hundreds and hundreds of feet, is an island of grass and sand, encompassed by a large body of water. Over the tidal waves chip chopping away, there’s a distance. And in that distance, is the city, just under the inky blackness of the midnight sky. 

Jump City, it’s called. You’re not too familiar with it. Most of your time is spent in Metropolis, or Gotham. Luckily, both of those cities have plenty of skyscrapers to practice scaling. One could say that you’d perfected the art of this sort of thing. The finger pads on your suit are sophisticatedly sticky, seamlessly letting you latch onto anything with grace. Your feet are the same. 

The wind hits your face like sharp needles, amplified by the cold air and the incline. Your hair whips around wildly, also different from how it flows, softly, in the movies. The harsh breeze roars in your ears, louder than the thousands of explosions you’ve heard in your lifetime. Although dangerous, nothing beats the view. Those thousands of lights in the distance, the cars, the buildings, this building that you’re on now. Titan’s Tower is far larger and closer and more important than anything else at the moment. 

“Okay then,” you mutter, twisting your body over to the right twice more, until finally both hands and feet are connecting against the glass in a stealthy, perfect crawling position. 

You work your way up, one foot and hand at the time. You resemble that of a spider, or perhaps a cat. One, two. One, two. 

His room is on one of the top floors, if not the top floor. From the two other times that you’ve done this, you remember the number of steps, the distance, the little cracks in the glass panes to look for so you know you’re close. Even from the outside, hundreds of feet up, hanging above death tantalizingly, you know exactly where you are and where you need to be. And you know, of course, that you are close. 

Your right hand leaves the wall once more and reaches down to the belt on your hips. “Coming, my love,” you mutter as you flip open a small pouch attached. From the inside you pull out a slim switchblade, made specifically to cut through glass walls like this- designed it yourself. 

The knife springs open. In a circle big enough to fit your entire body, you trace the blade in a wide arc from up to down, left to right. Then you flip the blade back inside, place the whole thing back into the pouch on the belt, and shove your left elbow against the middle of the glass in front of you. 

It pops free immediately. The circle of wall falls forward into the room, with you not far behind.

Landing like a gymnast on your toes with your arms overhead, you are immune to the sharp pain in your femurs that comes from a sudden pressure like this. The glass pane is still intact on the floor ahead of you, which is coated with a red carpet that you recognize so well. It’s much warmer inside than it was outside, although you can still feel the night wind from behind you.

“Silent,” a voice remarks from beside you. It’s not an amused tone, really. It’s genuine and full of awe, surrounded by something casual. 

You hum as you stand before throwing a look over your shoulder. Sure enough at your back, splayed casually on a bed against the wall you just broke through, is your favorite boy toy. Dark, curly hair framing his classically handsome face, nose scrunching slightly on instinct. He’s wearing the black and red super shirt he always does, coupled with the plaid pajama bottoms you’d gotten him as a gift in spring.

You want so badly to quip something back, but you both know you can’t right now. Not when you’re so close to the door. And yeah, that’s partially Conner’s fault, if not all. Too much noise would attract the attention of his team mates, the Titans, and then something probably not that great would happen. Maybe they’d throw you out. Maybe they’d fire him. Maybe things would just get weird. It’s not as if you and Connor are an official couple, even after all this time. You could stop sneaking around to see each other at any sense of danger.

You take a step towards the bed he lays on, noting the big, bright smile that lights up Superboy’s face at the motion. “Can you fix the hole?” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

Conner’s eyes go wide and the smile gets bigger.

“In the wall.”

The smile turns into an eye roll. “Yes,” he sighs, almost dramatically, pushing himself up. The boy crosses to the center of the room a few feet from you and begins picking up the perfect circle of cut window- wall while you look around the area.

You’ve snuck into Conner’s room before. Twice, in fact. It’s not clean, not horribly messy. His leather jacket is usually hanging off the dresser or door handle. Sweatshirts of different colors are littering the floor in a collective pile. It looks like a normal teenage boys room, really. It just feels very ‘Conner’.

First, he pushes the glass back into place in the wall, then he takes a few steps back. You throw him a smirk, nudging your head to encourage him to do the thing.

Conner’s eyes heat up. Little at first, as a soft yellow. Then into an all consuming scarlet that hisses out in two beams meeting in the middle between them. They move in a circle around the pane until you can’t even tell it was ever not there, and the wind you once heard no longer exists. The wall is perfectly in tact.

“Thank you, Superboy,” you tell him, tone laced overly sweet. Your hands, freezing from the cold even through the gloves of your costume, wrap around Conner’s upper arm.

“Yeah,” he tosses, back, voice low. His cheeks are turning pink.

You unhook your arms and saunter over to his mattress. As you throw yourself on and relax as you sink into the pillows, you let your eyes close. “You’re lucky I like you so much,” you tease. “Mm, do you know a lot of people who would climb up the Tower for you? I don’t.”

Upon hearing him take a single step forward, one eye pops open. “I know you missed me,” you continue.

Conner lays himself on the bed beside you, hands behind his bed with his arms bent. You turn to face him, propping your head up with your palm.

“You never answer my texts,” Conner says, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You text me?” you smirk, watching Superboys eyes sink close as he releases a sigh of defeat.

Your left leg slips over Conner’s hips. Then you pull your whole body up and over into a straddle over him, looking down at him. He’s handsome in the way nobody can argue with, so perfect and soft and structured. When you squint, he looks like Superman. But Conner’s not Superman, he’s better. You can’t explain why, or how, but he just is.

You place your palms forward on his chest at first, then backwards, behind your back, on Conner’s thighs. Your chest puffs out at the slight change of position.

Below you, the boy bites his lower lip softly in thought for a second. “What if I got you a phone?” Conner asks you. His light eyes holding yours through thick, dark lashes. “Just so you can text me back sometimes?”

“Us?” you gasp with wide eyes. “Talking? During the daytime?”

Conner glances away. “Message received. Very funny. Forget it.”

“I’m messing with you,” you promise with a smile. “Loosen up Super-Annoy.”

“So you’ll let me get you one?” Conner pushes himself up with a snap, eyes wide with some kind of excitement.

Well… would you? You haven’t had a lot of long term partners, if any. Your time with Conner has been the longest with anyone, and he’s not even really your boyfriend. He’s just… you know… the guy you kissed on a rooftop one night. The guy who once surprised you with a cone of ice cream, again on a night time rooftop, whilst you were sitting on the side of the building to watch the city below. The guy who remembered your birthday, the guy who keeps sending you the many, many texts reminding you that you can watch your favorite show on the TV in the tower. The guy who once lied to get you to ice skate with him.

Something about Conner has been enough to keep you hooked for months and months, always coming back. Sneaking into the Tower, taking more and more trips to Jump City, keeping notes of events throughout your week to tell him about when you see him. 

How silly. Never giving the time of day to any other partner of yours, but for Conner? Conner has gotten at least eight months of it. 

“I’ll think about it,” you roll your eyes. 

“You promise?” Conner urges. 

“Yes. Jeez, I promise. I will think about letting you get me a phone that only you have the number to.”

“Please don’t laugh at me about this.”

“I’m not laughing at you.”

“It feels like it.”

“Connor,” you clasp a hand on his shoulder, pushing back laughter. “Have I ever laughed at you?”

“W- Is that- is that a serious question?” Conner’s eyebrows raise. 

“Get up,” you roll your neck. “I want to change positions.”

The boy below you shifts. For a quick moment, something pokes between your hips from underneath. Your pupils dilate in response, but by the time they finish, the movement has ceased. “Tell me about your day.”

“I want to lay down,” you say as you stretch. “I just scaled up the side of the skyscraper-”

“You love it.”

“-and it was oh, so cold. I’m tired.”

“That’s not your day.”

You just stare at him expectantly, not quite sure what it is you’re waiting for. 

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me,” Conner concedes. “You chose to be up there.”

“Prove it,” you challenge.

“Yeah, yeah,” the boy below you hisses as if annoyed. “I get it,” he says, but his arms are already snaking around your torso to pull you close and slowly pull you into a new position. 

You lay on your side, back against Conner’s broad chest. His arms stay wrapped around your middle as he curls up against you on instinct, legs quick to tangle with your own. You know he must really be interested in you if he’s not going to mention that your ‘work’ shoes are still on while in bed. 

“You’re an ass,” he mutters into your hair. 

“What was that?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Ha,” you chuckle once. “Douche.”

“Please tell me about your day now?” you hear Conner almost plead. “Please?”

One of your hands, your right one, rests on top of Conner’s against your stomach. “Oh, you know. The usual. I helped out a small jewelry store today, snuck into a big building, currently hiding from Nightwing- you know how it is.”

“There wasn’t much crime today. I mostly just stayed in. You know that big building you snuck into?”

“Such a douche,” you breathe.

“Jealous much?” Superboy rumbles against your ear. 

“I’m gonna tell Dick,” you tell him. “I’ll send an anonymous tip that one of the Titan’s is a big poop face.”

Conner puts his whole face in your hair. “Shiver me timbers.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not fair you guys get a whole building to yourselves. What are you even using half these floors for? People in Gotham are struggling.” You frown. “Well, except for Wayne. But you know what? He’s a douche too. You’d get along.”

Conner squeezes you once. Then you feel him still from behind you, not even breathing. And then-

“Move in then.”

At once, your brows furrow. “What?”

Your companion squeezes you once more. “Move in. Move in with me. In the Tower.”

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times, eyes looking around. You can’t see Conner, but you can feel him out. His eyes are closed, still inhaling the scent of you shamelessly. It’s hard for people to catch you off guard, not just like this, but at all. You just have that sarcastic, witty, sultry reputation. And for him- Super-Annoy, of all people- to just throw you off so easily?

“I’m not a Titan,” you decide on explaining, almost asking. 

“Become one, then.”

“I don’t have the money to move in. The rent must be crazy.”

“I’ll pay for you.”

“Conner,” you swallow. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking.” His head pops up. When you turn yours a little, you can look up at him, and he can look down at you. “Move into the Tower.”

Now your eyes are wide, and his are relaxed. No, Conner’s are focused, drilling into your own. “I’m... hardly Titan’s material.”

This was true. You’ve been skirting the gray line far longer than you’ve known Superboy, and he’s been super since the beginning of his creation. The first time you’d met was about ten seconds before you’d robbed a bank and sent him a wink before disappearing. 

“You just told me, not five minutes ago, that you helped a small business. Helping people is what heroes are all about. You can do this, Y/N. You are Titan’s material.”

Shit. He’s right. 

“Why not?” Conner questions. 

“I... um...”

You’ve never lived with another person before. Your family, once upon a time, sure. Not friends. Not Dick Grayson, or Kori, or Rachel fucking Roth. And certainly not Superboy- Super-Annoy. Not someone you have a ‘thing’ with. What would that mean for the two of you? And when things go terribly, terribly wrong, what then?

Gotta’ think fast. 

Your face is wiped clean, replaced by your signature smirk. “Get me a phone first. Then I’ll consider it.”

Conner doesn’t budge though. You wonder if X-Ray vision can see through lies too. “I mean it,” the boy tells you. “I want you here.”

“I have to survive the night in the building with boy prodigy and star flame.”

“Starfire.”

“Whatever. I have to do that first. There’s a reason we sneak me in, you know.”

Your free hand reaches up and cups Conner’s cheek without you telling it to. You ask your brain why, but yet, your palm doesn’t move. It feels over Conner’s cheekbones, encouraging you to look deeper into his somehow soft eyes. Your fingertips can even feel his hair, which is in need of a wash, as they get comfortable. 

“For you,” you finish the sentiment, voice now genuine- also not predicted. “Sneaking in for you.”

“I don’t want you to feel like a secret,” the boy above you whispers, pouring his entire heart into it. 

You answer with a snort. 

If anything, Conner’s the secret. If he had his way, the two of you would probably be on your honeymoon at this moment. Hell, your whole relationship and subsequent marriage would be a honeymoon. You’re the one letting him follow you around. You’re the one never giving him just what he wants. 

But then again, you’re the one who keeps coming back. Conner’s the one that never left. 

“Trust me,” you nod with a humored grin. “I don’t.”

Conner sighs and falls back down to rest behind  you. “Good.”

Besides his breathing, then there is silence. 

Really? Telling you to move in? Of course it doesn’t seem like such a big deal to him. Of course he has the solution to all the reasons why not. Your fairly certain that Conner hasn’t thought about this until mentioning it, but even then, how did he have all the answers so fast? Where would you stay? With him? Sandwiched between Conner and Wally West playing video games for the rest of your life? Dying after Donna Troy catches you accidentally stealing her lunch?

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Conner begins, “but you should really stay the night.”

In response, you practically burst. “You hate being told what to do!” you say as you squirm in his arms. “Now you’re giving me suggestions?”

Conner sits up again so he can look down at you with a little frown. Luckily, it’s too nice of a view to be really scared of anything he could do. “Shh! You’re gonna get caught, Y/N.” Then Superboy’s eyes widen a little. “If you lived here, you wouldn’t have to be so quiet, either. You could just come through the front door.”

“Oh my God,” you squeeze your eyes closed. “Conner...”

One battle at a time. 

“Fine,” you begrudge. “I’ll stay the night.”

Conner tightens his grip around your form happily in response. “Will you need any help in the morning?”

“No. No, I got it.”

Silence. 

Say it. Say it. Say it. 

“Conner? I, uh...”

Say it. 

“I don’t have any sleeping clothes,” you lie. 

“Sleeping?” you hear the boy behind you whisper. “I didn’t think we were going to be sleeping.”

“Now who’s going to get us in trouble?” you smirk. “Seriously though. I’ve been wearing my suit all day.”

“I can get you out of it.”

“You can’t just see through it?” you question. “Don’t you have X-Ray vision?”

Conner groans. “You’re ruining it.”

You smile. Conner’s the only partner of yours you realize you’re actually happy to be around. “I think you just want us to get caught.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Yayyy. Request finished. Next I have a Reverse Flash request, and then I should be good with the DC requests for now. Other than that I have some Jason Todd things, something for Damian and 2 fics for a character I haven’t written for before but are looking pretty good. I hope this satisfied the prompt that I was given in the request. Let me know anything you want or whatever. 

[wazzupmrstark]

instead of you [part sixteen]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut

word count: 3.1k

series masterlist

smut warnings: female masturbation, porn, mentions of choking

“‘We’? Like, you and me?” you clarified, hoping you had misunderstood.

“Yeah, it’ll only take a second,” Tom assured you.

You looked to Sam for help, but he looked just as lost as you were. “I’ll go try and find a microwave to heat up your leftovers,” he offered and took the container back from you. “I’ll be right back, babe.”

“Okay...”

You watched him shrug past both you and Tom and then disappear into the hallway with a sinking feeling in your chest, knowing he trusted you completely. He had no reason not to, and that’s what consumed you. 

“What do you want?” you muttered, reluctantly stepping to the side to let Tom in. 

He didn’t answer right away, giving you a moment to collect yourself. His eyes followed you around the room as you found your pants and tugged them on. He averted his gaze when he realized you were getting dressed mumbling a “sorry” as he trained his eyes on the carpet. 

You sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain why he was there. 

“You weren’t there today,” was all he said. 

You blinked. “Yeah?”

“Was it because of me?”

“I wasn’t feeling well.”

Tom’s tongue poked at the inside of his cheek. “Is that all?”

“I had a lot to drink last night,” you reminded him. 

“So you don’t remember anything?”

“I never said that.”

“So it was because of me?”

“I never said that either.” You sighed. “If you’re here to ask me if I told him you kissed me, I didn’t. And you could’ve just texted me to ask.”

“No that’s not why- I don’t have your number anyway.”

“I’m in the trip group chat with your family.”

“Oh, right. I’ll save it to my contacts.”

The tension in the room was palpable. It felt like all of the air had been sucked out and replaced with thick, suffocating silence. Arbitrarily, you wondered who the most famous person in his phone was. He was a Marvel actor, he probably had Simu Liu’s number, right? Who would your contact information be sitting in between? Maybe if you ever forgave him for what he did you could ask him. 

“Is something funny?” The firmness of Tom’s voice cut through your train of thought and brought you back to the present. “Why are you smiling?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said despondently. “Sam’s gonna be back soon. What did you want?”

“I just wanted to check up on you. Sam said you were sick.”

“Oh, so you wanted to see if I was lying?”

“No! God, why is it so hard to believe that I’m genuinely concerned about you?”

“Because last night you only seemed concerned about yourself.”

Tom pursed his lips and shoved his hands in his pockets, expelling a breath harshly. “Okay, I deserved that.”

You hummed in agreement, and let your eyes trail down the veins of his arms to where they disappeared into his pockets. It looked like he was fiddling with a coin or something small, but you couldn’t tell. 

“Are you feeling better?” he said the last part through gritted teeth.

“Yes, thank you. This chat has helped considerably.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Well, lucky for you I’m not your problem to deal with. I'm Sam’s.”

He flexed his hand in his pocket and sighed. “Okay, well, I also wanted to apologize again for...” the word kiss seemed to die on his lips, poetic irony at its finest. “Being a dick.” Less poetic. 

He finally fished his hand out of his pocket, holding a delicate piece of paper between his pointer and index fingers. He shifted uncomfortably where he was leaning against the dresser. “We went to the Academic Gallery today. I saw this in the gift shop and thought of you.” He presented you with what turned out to be a postcard, creased down the middle unevenly and smudged with pen ink.

You turned it over to look at the front first, admiring the artwork printed on it. It was a picture of Michelangelo’s David drawn in swoopy black lines and filled in with watercolor paint. Instead of a museum, the statue was in the middle of a garden, the centerpiece among dozens upon dozens of flowers. 

 “Sorry it’s folded,” he mumbled. “It wouldn’t fit in my pocket.”

You flipped it over to read the back only to see iou scribbled in his handwriting and nothing else. You turned it over again to see if you had missed something on the front, but there was nothing.

You looked up at him in confusion. “Iou?” 

“Yeah, you know... I feel really bad about last night, and I don’t really know how to make it up to you so I’m letting you decide.”

“That’s not really how it works.”

“I think that this counts as an exception, since we’re kind of in uncharted territory.”

“Maybe for you. My boyfriend’s brothers make out with me all the time.”

“Fuck you, I didn’t make out with you- it was barely a peck.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “It was more than a peck.”

His cheeks were beginning to grow pink with what you couldn’t tell was either embarrassment or frustration. He cleared his throat awkwardly and changed the subject. “Anyway, if you ever need a favor or anything, just let me know. Think of it as me owing you one.”

“And do I have to give back the postcard when I cash in this ‘favor’?” you asked.

“No, you can keep it.”

“Good, because I was going to keep it anyway.”

He chuckled in spite of himself and shook his head. “Knew you’d like it.”

You flattened the card on your lap, smiling as you tried to iron out the little crease with your fingers. 

“It’s pretty, thank you.”

Tom nodded in acknowledgement and straightened his posture. “I should get going. I just wanted to give you that, and see how you were doing since tomorrow’s a travel day and I know you get a little motion sick sometimes. I didn’t want... whatever you’d come down with to make it worse.”

How did he know that? Had Sam told him? You didn’t have time to ask because he was already walking towards the door. He paused when he reached it and turned his head towards you, hand already on the knob. 

“Good night, y/n.”

“Good night, Tom.”

  He opened the door and let himself out into the hallway, catching it suddenly on his foot as he saw Sam coming off the elevator. Tom held the door for Sam, since his hands were full, and then said goodnight to his brother as he finally left.

“Sorry, I couldn’t find the microwave,” he explained. “I had to ask the night manager and they heated it up in the break room for me.”

“Oh, Sam, you didn’t have to do that! I would’ve eaten it cold.”

“I know you would have, and that’s why I’m not letting you.” You gave him a look, which he ignored and handed you the container of food. “It’s carbonara, it’s one of the things Rome is known for. I couldn’t have you eating it lukewarm.” 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He ran a hand through his hair and took a seat next to you on the edge of the bed, pulling the ottoman closer to use it as a makeshift table. He watched as you tried the first bite, gauging your reaction. It was something he did whenever he cooked for you, especially if he was trying out a new recipe. He always needed your approval, and valued it above anybody else’s. But he hadn’t even made this, and as his eyes searched your face you found yourself wondering if they were looking for something else. 

“Do you like it?” 

You breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Your paranoia was starting to get the better of you. “It’s delicious,” you assured him. “I’m sad I missed dinner.”

“I’m sad you missed the whole day. Spending time with my family without you was hell.”

“Oh come on, it’s probably good that you got some real family time.”

“It’s real family time when you’re there. It felt like something was missing.” 

You let a small smile slip past your lips despite the guilt that bubbled under the surface. You pushed it down and took another bite of the carbonara. 

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you? It can’t have all been bad. Tell me about the good stuff. I wanna hear that.”

Sam nodded and pushed his curls back again, grinning like he’d been caught. “Fine, maybe there were some okay moments.”

“And what were they?”

“We went to the Accademia Gallery today. I think you would have really liked it. They had a whole wing of instruments from some of the most famous inventors and musicians from history. They even had pianos from Bartolomeo Cristorfori, the inventor of the piano.”

“Wow,” you said, impressed. “I bet it was beautiful.”

“Of course if it was played, it wouldn’t sound anything like the piano we’re used to hearing today, but I’m sure it would still sound incredible.”

“Even if it hasn’t been tuned in a few hundred years?”

It was his turn to give you a look. “Yes, of course.”

“Sorry.”

“And they had a Strativerius, I don’t even want to know how valuable that thing is. It must cost millions. I took some pictures for you, but I know they won’t compare to the real thing. The lighting in museums never does the art justice.”

He handed his phone to you to scroll through. You swiped the photos, smiling whenever you came across a selfie he’d taken with a statue or painting. You reached the pictures of David and couldn’t help but zoom in on-

“Hey!” Sam yelped and grabbed his phone back from your hands.

“What!”

“Michelangelo would be so ashamed of you! I bet he’s rolling in his grave right now.”

“No way! If anyone appreciated good dick, it was Michelangelo.” 

“Unbelievable.” 

“If you don’t want me to judge these statue’s penises, don’t take pictures of them.”

“I didn’t take pictures of their penises! I took pictures of the whole statue- you’re zooming in on- you know what, nevermind. Arguing with you about this is pointless.”

“Smart boy.”

Sam rolled his eyes at you and put his phone in his back pocket. “Oh yeah, did Tom give you that postcard?”

“He told you about that?” you asked, suddenly panicking. Sam hadn’t said anything about last night so far, but maybe Tom had-

“Yeah, said he wanted to give you an iou for the limoncello last night.”

“What?”

“He said you paid the tab for it since he left his wallet in the room and that he wanted to pay you back for it.”

“Oh. Right.”

Another lie. You had very much not paid for the drinks last night. Tom had. And you knew he had to make an excuse for why he was buying his brother’s girlfriend something from the gift shop, but to add another lie to the ever-growing list made your throat burn with regret. You wouldn’t be able to keep the secret forever, and it was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down around you. 

-

In the morning you took the train from Rome to Naples, and then took a taxi to Sorrento to spend the last bit of your week in Italy by the sea. The atmosphere was much more relaxed than it had been in the busy cities of Rome and Florence. Even though there were still hordes of tourists, they were far more dispersed and less overbearing than you expected. The whole town seemed slowed down, like it had escaped the chokehold of time. 

Sam’s parents took everyone out to lunch by the water and went over the schedule for the next day and a half. 

“So, you’re on your own after dinner tonight, and then tomorrow morning we’re going to take the ferry to Capri for the day before our flight that night,” Nikki explained as she read through the spreadsheet on her phone. 

“There’s an Irish pub down the street from our hotel,” Harry said. “Do you guys want to go after we eat tonight?”

“I’m down,” Sam agreed. 

“Sounds good,” Tom chimed in.

The boys all looked at you for your answer, but you hesitated. Thinking about what happened the last time you drank didn’t make you eager to do it again, and you were already exhausted from travelling.

“I’ll pass.”

“What? Why?” Sam asked, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder with a sigh. “I’m tired, and I’d rather go somewhere Italian... since we’re in Italy.”

Harry shrugged. “Your loss.”

“We’ll have a shot in your honor, babe,” Sam said and pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“Please don’t. Something tells me you’ll have plenty to drink without an extra shot for me.”

“You know us so well.”

After dinner, you walked back to the hotel with the Hollands and said good night to Sam’s parents before parting ways to your separate rooms. Sam went with you to change into clothes for going out while you changed into pajamas. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to go?”

You nodded from where you were on the bed and yawned. Sam didn’t push any further, instead resolving to finish getting ready in silence. He paired his black jeans with a pair of converse and a dark green button up over a black t-shirt. 

He turned to you for approval.

“Fake girlfriend approved?”

“Fake girlfriend approved,” you repeated and gave him a thumbs up. 

“Okay, well I’m headed out,” he announced. 

“Have fun! Don’t kiss any cute girls without me!” 

It was something you always said to each other, but it sounded strange since it was supposed to be coming from his girlfriend. Sam just chuckled and blew you a kiss as he let himself out. 

You heard him greet his brothers outside and then listened to their footsteps fade into the distance before pulling up an incognito window on your phone. It had been weeks since you’d been able to get off and it was killing you. The amount of stress this trip had given you only made it worse. You were wound so tight that you were sure you’d snap soon if you didn’t get some relief. 

And you thought that maybe if you rubbed one out it might help you forget about... the confusing feelings you had for your best friend’s brother. 

Seeing as you had the night to yourself, you figured you might as well take advantage of it. You copied a link from your notes app and pasted the url into the address bar. You didn’t feel like digging through your luggage to find your earbuds so you set the volume low enough for only you to hear. 

The video started playing and you let your hand wander from your side up to your neck, brushing your hand lightly across your collarbone. You traced the curve of your breasts with a finger before squeezing one of them gently, feeling your nipple harden under your palm. You only had one hand to use since the other was holding your phone, but you made do. 

The video was one of your favorites, one you found yourself watching at least once a week. It was one of the few videos of hetero couples you had favorited, and it started with the guy going down on the girl before fucking her...

You admired the muscles on the man’s back, watching intently as they flexed whenever he moved his head. The woman moaned, struggling to keep her legs open while he brought her closer and closer to orgasm. 

You let your hand travel down further until it was sitting at the waistband of your pajama shorts. You knew you had a while before Sam would be back, but you were too impatient to wait. You propped your phone up on a pillow next to you to free your other hand as you started to play with your clit. 

You pictured someone’s head in between your thighs, imagining them moaning against your pussy as they tasted you for the first time. 

The man was taking his pants off now and lining himself up with his partner’s pussy. You tried to follow along, putting yourself in the moment with the couple. You gathered your own wetness on two of your fingers to lubricate them and slid them inside yourself, sighing in relief. Your entire body tensed as it accommodated to the stretch and you gave yourself a few beats before moving your fingers. 

When you finally did, you felt yourself relax and sped up your pace so that it matched the actors on screen.

The angle the video was shot at hid the man’s face and you found yourself wondering what he looked like. If you squinted you could almost picture Tom- no. You tried to shake the thought from your mind, but it was already there. 

Closing your eyes didn’t help either. You just imagined Tom’s fingers sliding in and out of you instead of your own, imagined the veins on his arms becoming more pronounced as he tightened his grip on your thigh. 

“Fuck,” you cursed, knowing you should stop. 

You were too close to stop now, and the pleasure was clouding your judgement. Suddenly the man brought his hand up to the girl’s throat and began to choke her, sending her hurtling into her own orgasm. You moaned accidentally, thinking about Tom’s hand around your throat. You curled your fingers up so that you were hitting your g-spot and whimpered pathetically.

This was wrong. This was bad. Not only were you fantasizing about your best friend’s brother, but you were confusing yourself even further. 

You tried to fight it, at least that’s what you told yourself, but all you could hear were Tom’s moans echoing through the speaker. You pictured the way he’d look on top of you. His eyes would be so dark and he’d be smirking like the cocky asshole he was, chain hanging down in your face- just inviting you to take it into your mouth. It didn’t take long before you felt your orgasm begin to build. The video was still playing in the background, the man still chasing his own high and bringing his partner to her second orgasm, but you’d tuned it out by now. You came around your fingers thinking about Tom’s hips snapping into yours. 

You were fucked.

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[dem-obscure-imagines]

Stealin’ Hearts

George “Digger” Harkness x Reader

Fandom: DC Extended Universe

Summary: You’re a superhero and you just found out your soulmate is the notorious diamond thief, Captain Boomerang. You want to trust him, but you’re not sure you can just yet, so…now what?

Note: This is the sequel to He’s a Challenge. I really wanted to write a second part lol so here you go!

Warnings: Alcohol mention.

Word Count: 1.5k

Reader is: Female (but I would be willing to rewrite another version for a male or gender neutral reader.)

When the jet landed, you let go of Boomer’s hand and led him out onto the roof of your family’s secluded forest mansion. He looked down at the sheer size of it, his eyes wide.

“What?”

“Nothing, just…It’s not what I expected.” He admitted, hauling his duffle bag full of his few belongings over his shoulder. You led him in through the door and down the stairs to the balcony that overlooked the lower level of the house. You saw your siblings were congregated there, River looking particularly anxious, his arms across his chest. Rose and Ryan were sitting on the couch, talking, but their discussion stopped when they noticed you and Digger standing there, looking down at them.

“We’re here.” You called awkwardly.

“I see that.” River said, his eyes guarded as he looked the notorious Captain Boomerang up and down.

You led him down the stairs to where the others were and he hesitated, but followed after you anyway, a sheepish look on his face.

“So, Mr. Harkness, I’m not sure if (Y/N) told you why you’re here.”

“Well, I know we’re soulmates, so…” he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, obviously anxious about the whole situation. “I kind of figured that was why.”

“Well, yeah, but also no.” Rose laughed, motioning for everyone to sit down, so you . “(Y/N), why don’t you explain?”

You exhaled a long breath, nodding. “Yeah, I guess I can.” You looked up at Digger and he smirked. “Yeah, so, uh, our mom is the queen of an alien planet. So like…we’re royalty. And because of that, through our laws, you get diplomatic immunity because you’re my soulmate. I mean…unless you do something super fucked up and then I can’t help you.”

He was quiet for a long moment, his expression confused, but also evaluating what you had just said. “You mean to tell me my soulmate is a princess.”

“Yeah.” You shrugged.

He grinned. “Wicked.”

***

With every room of the mansion you showed Digger, the more and more impressed he became, taking everything in. He was still expecting you to take it all back at some point, tell him it was all a big joke and he wouldn’t be living in your giant mansion for the rest of his days.

That was strange to him, too. This weird sense of security. He’d had a rough upbringing, that much was for sure. He wasn’t used to stability, even in his adult life. He’d been constantly on the run, in and out of prison, doing whatever he could to make ends meet and try to establish something for himself, and…here it was. It had fallen right into his lap.

You pulled open a door and led him into another bedroom. There were a few generic pieces of art on the wall. The comforter was charcoal gray and there were a few navy throw pillows on top.

“I’m sorry it’s so empty in here.”

“Why are you…?” He paused for a second, looking around the spacious bedroom. It was nice, clean…way better than the tiny, dingy jail cell he’d been in for the past few years. “Is this my room?”

“Yeah, is that alright? It’s next door to mine, so I figured…”

“It’s perfect, princess.” He smiled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe this is happening.”

“Well, believe it.” You chuckled, stepping further into the room and opening the drawers on the dresser. “We didn’t know what size you were, so we guessed, but we picked you up some basics. I didn’t know what all you had…”

Digger was silent, watching you with careful eyes. You barely knew him and yet you’d done all of this for him, going out of your way to get him clothes and bedding.

“And this is your bathroom.” You opened the door to what he had assumed was a closet or something, but no, he now had an entire bathroom to himself as well. “I know the shower can be a little confusing, so let me know if you need any help with anything.”

You blinked up at him, waiting for some kind of reaction. “You good?”

“Y-yeah, I just…” He chuckled and shook his head. “This isn’t what I was expecting.”

“What, did you think we’d throw my soulmate in the dungeon?” You smirked, watching the way he couldn’t help but crack a smile at that.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you for it.”

You were both quiet for a moment before he asked, “Do you mind if I take a shower real quick? I haven’t had a warm shower in…” He didn’t finish the thought. You both knew it had been a while since he’d had a bathroom to himself, let alone water that wasn’t already cold by the time he got to it.

“Go for it. I’ll be down in the living room when you get out.”

***

When Digger came back downstairs, you were almost shocked, looking at him. He’d trimmed his beard, combed his hair, and he was wearing one of the cozy gray hoodies you’d picked out for him. He looked nice. You couldn’t help the heat that rose to your cheeks when you took him in.

“What, princess?” He raised an eyebrow, walking over to sit down next to you.

You set the book in your hands down on the coffee table. “Hmm?”

“What’s that look for?”

“You look nice, is all.” You shrugged.

He grinned. “You think so?”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded. Once he was closer, you could smell the eucalyptus shampoo in his slightly damp hair. You leaned in the tiniest bit, terrified of moving too fast, but he leaned in a bit too, only to be interrupted by—

“GIRLS’ NIGHT!”

You looked up at the sound of the voice with wide eyes, chuckling when you saw none other than Harley Quinn standing there with a bottle of wine.

“Boomer? What are you doin’ here?” She asked, looking at him.

“I found my soulmate, Harls.” Digger said, smiling as he did.

She looked between the two of you, her eyes widening in realization. “Wait, are you two…?”

“Yeah, we are.” You confirmed, slipping your hand into Digger’s. He embraced it quickly, giving it a proud squeeze.

“But I thought your soulmate was some dude named George…?”

“Digger is just a nickname, mate.” He chuckled. “My real name is George.”

“Ohhhhhh.” Harley nodded. “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.”

“You know it’s Wednesday, right?” You said, glancing down at your phone to double-check.

“Oh, is it? I thought it was Thursday.” Harley laughed. “My bad.”

“You can hang out if you want to, though.” You offered, motioning to the couch.

“Don’t mind if I do.” She ran over and hopped onto the open end of the couch next to you, setting the wine bottle on the coffee table before crawling over to whisper in your ear, “He’s a keeper, (Y/N). You’re in good hands.”

“Oh believe me,” you smirked, “I know.”

***

It was a few months later. Much to your surprise, Digger stuck around. Part of you had expected him to leave that first night with all of your family valuables in his duffle bag, but he…hadn’t. Instead, he’d been coexisting peacefully with your siblings, spending significant amounts of time trying to get to know you better, reading, cooking on occasion, and helping with chores around the house.

He remembered in vivid detail the first time you’d trusted him enough to fall asleep with him. It had been innocent enough, one of your first times cuddling together. Your other siblings were all out of the house, so you and Digger had the house to yourselves. Naturally, you had popped in a movie. One thing had led to another and you’d ended up fast asleep on his chest.

He took a long moment to look at you, something he had never felt before welling up inside of him as slow breaths worked into and out of you.

Something changed then, and since that moment, he had been pretty attached to you. Not that you minded. It felt natural. He was your soulmate, after all.

“Princess, have you seen my—” Digger popped his head into your bedroom, frozen in his tracks when he saw you there, laying on your bed, reading a book.

“What?” You asked coyly.

“Nothing, I just…” He smirked and stepped into the room. “Would you like some company?”

“Weren’t you looking for something?”

“Yeah, my heart, and it seems you’ve been hiding it in here with you.” He replied, walking over to your bed and climbing on next to you. He gently guided your book away from you and took its place on your chest instead, looking at you with his sparkling eyes, his weight comforting on top of you.

“And here I thought you were the thief.”

“Reformed, darlin’.” He said, unable to keep the smile off of his face. For one of the only times in his life, not only did Digger feel safe, but he finally felt happy, and he knew as long as he was by your side, that feeling would never fade.

[yoongiseesawmp3]

just about perfect - seonghwa

howdy folks, back with another fic but i’m switching it up on ya! i might start writing regularly for ateez as well so y’all are cool with that right? right.

summary: this is NOT inspired by seonghwa saying he watches nevertheless. why would you even think that.

warnings: not the kind of warning u were expecting but there’s no smut (i know its based off a show abt friends with benefits so that’s why i’m warning u. do not get ur hopes up) a little cussing, a lotta me waxing poetic abt the perfect man park seonghwa. also slight tomfoolery from the teezers

word count: 10.6k

the bookstore just off campus is your current go-to study spot, mostly because the cafe inside has a drink special where you buy one coffee and get a voucher for the new bakery next door. so, let’s just say the past few days you’ve been well caffeinated and well fed. you’re on the way there now, already planning out what your treats are going to be. 

today you were supposed to meet your “study group” after your last class of the day, but it looks like you’re the only one here so far. and you say “study group” loosely, the professor for your music theory elective encouraged everyone to make a study group for the upcoming final and your group of friends chose to work together. there’s been no studying going on, though.

especially not when hongjoong’s new friend seonghwa has been flirting with you literally nonstop. he’s apparently friends with everyone else in your group too. san knows him from an art class they took together last semester, meanwhile wooyoung and yeosang claim they lived on seonghwa’s floor freshman year and he always bought them booze. seonghwa denies it, only because hongjoong would slap him if he admitted to buying alcohol for underage kids. 

tasteful delinquency aside, seonghwa is a fine person. you mean personality fine, not like, fine fine even though san would beg to differ. he knows you’ve developed a thing for seonghwa despite trying not to, and he’s secretly trying to get you two together. 

which is why san suddenly texts you and says he can’t make it, and neither can yeosang or wooyoung. they decided to ditch studying to practice for the final in their dance class instead, so it’ll be just you, seonghwa and hongjoong. and little did you know, hongjoong was trying to do the same thing as san. so we’ll see how this goes. 

- 

“y/n, you can’t do that,” hongjoong warns you, referring to the scale you were trying to fill out. 

“why not?” you ask, looking down at your work and wondering what’s wrong.

“because it’ll sound like shit,” seonghwa replies before sipping his coffee. 

“what he said,” hongjoong agrees, grabbing your paper and erasing some of the notes you had scribbled out. “it should look more like this.”

you glance over at what he’s done on top of your old work and sigh. you took this class because you like music, and you thought learning about how it works would be interesting, but it’s hard. 

“can’t you just do all my work for me?” you plead. at this rate, you don’t think you’ll be able to pass the final. 

“no, i don’t want you dragging me down in this class,” hongjoong replies. “my grades are great.” 

“i hate you.”

“what are you struggling with, y/n?” seonghwa asks as he finally looks up from his laptop. he had been working on an assignment for another class this whole time because he, like hongjoong, is great with music theory. so maybe this study group was a good thing. 

“here, you can switch seats with me,” hongjoong says as he clears the spot next to you on the weathered loveseat. “i’m going to look for a book i should’ve started reading two weeks ago.” 

before you can protest, seonghwa is sliding his laptop across the coffeetable and slides himself into the spot next to you. when he sits you notice your thighs are touching, which is weird because there was plenty of space when hongjoong was here. you don’t know that seonghwa is doing this on purpose, that hongjoon really left so he could flirt with the cute cashier in the cafe to give you and seonghwa some alone time. 

“so,” seonghwa starts once he’s settled. “what are you struggling with?” 

“hmm, all of it?” you reply. your answer makes seonghwa smile, and you like the way his eyes sparkle when he does.

“then i guess we’ll be here a while.”

-

about an hour later, seonghwa has walked you through all the major and minor scales you need to know for the test and you’re starting to understand a little more. you’re still having problems with the back of the study guide where you have to come up with note combinations that can apply to those scales, but you have time to work on that since the final is two weeks out. right now, your brain is fried and you need a break. 

“do you mind if i go get a coffee?” you ask seonghwa, who was in the middle of sending you the minor scale cheat sheet he made. he looks up from his laptop and shakes his head before he speaks.

“i would only mind if i can’t come with you.”

“it’s literally right over there, why do you need to come with me?” you question.

“i think i would just miss you too much,” he pouts, and you roll your eyes. seonghwa shuts his laptop and stands up. “what if i need coffee too?”

“you already had one,” you remind him as you stand.

“yeah,” he nods. “but teaching you is exhausting, so i need another. c’mon.”

he walks ahead of you to the counter, and you’re too busy searching for your wallet to notice he took his jacket off, revealing a sneaky tattoo on the back of his neck. it isn’t until you’re behind him in line that you get a look at the hand drawn star right on the nape of his neck, and you have to refrain from reaching out to trace the lines.

“i didn’t know you had a tattoo,” you decide to say. he turns around and instinctively rubs his hand across the tattoo, smiling at you with those sparkly eyes again.

“yeah, i have a couple,” he replies. “but this one is my favorite.”

“why?”

“because my name means ‘to become a star’, so i like knowing that i have a reminder with me all the time,” he explains.

“nice. it’s really pretty.”

“thanks, so are you.”

“sir?” the barista calls, pulling seonghwa’s attention from you. he steps up to give his order as you stare at the tattoo again, noticing alongside it a couple of freckles that almost make it look like a constellation.

“y/n?” seonghwa’s voice draws you out of your thoughts and you realize he’s finished ordering. “what do you want?”

“oh, i can get it,” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“no, my treat,” he insists, and you sheepishly walk up to the counter to give your order. seonghwa makes a mental note of what you get, and he also snatches the bakery voucher from you before you can put it in your pocket. you make a confused sound and seonghwa laughs. 

“why’d you do that?” you whine.

“you only get to use it if you come with me to the bakery later,” he teases. “say yes or i’m drinking your coffee and getting myself an extra cupcake.”

“fine,” you huff. “but i have an assignment due at midnight, so i can’t stay long.”

“it’s 4pm, that’s not enough time for you to finish it?” he asks while you step out of the way for the next customers.

“i haven’t started yet,” you admit. 

“you like saving things until the last minute, don’t you?”

“what makes you say that?”

“well, it looks like you haven’t been studying music theory at all, and now this,” he shrugs. 

“not everybody can be perfect like you, park seonghwa,” you grumble as the barista places two coffee cups on the bar. you hear seonghwa giggle shortly, and you give him a questioning look.

“so you think i’m perfect?” he smirks.

-

it’s the next day, almost midnight, and you really need spray paint. 

why? well, you’re stressed because you have so much to study for your finals and you don’t know where to start. yes, seonghwa helped yesterday, but he’s not in all your other classes, so you’ve decided you need a break from tearing your hair out over the material you can’t comprehend. the best way to distract yourself from that is to finally paint that dresser you got from a garage sale a few months ago, hence the spray paint. 

thankfully, san is still awake, and he has a car, so you ask him to pick you up for a quick run to the art supply store that’s surprisingly still open. a bonus of going to college in the city, you can get anything almost whenever you need it. 

“thanks for coming to get me,” you tell san as you hop into his car. 

“no problem,” he replies. “i was bored and hongjoong said he needed paint pens so this is a win-win situation. plus, i get to hear about your date with seonghwa yesterday.”

“it was not a date,” you groan, choosing to ignore the suggestive way san is looking at you right now. 

“but you spent the whole afternoon together,” san starts. “he bought you coffee and you went to the bakery together and talked about, like, your favorite colors and stuff. sounds like a date to me.”

“how do you know all that?”

“seonghwa told hongjoong and then hongjoong told me,” he explains as he turns onto the street that’ll take you to the art store. 

“well tell hongjoong that i’m still mad at him for ditching us,” you reply. “and i’m still kinda mad at you and the other two for bailing in the first place.”

“hey, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have had your first date with seonghwa,” san points out.

“it was not a date!” you cry. “we studied most of the time we were together, then he bought my coffee and bullied me into going to the bakery. i couldn’t stay long because i had a paper to write, so we talked about stupid shit until i had to leave.”

“it sounds like the beginning of true love to me,” san sing-songs. 

“stop the car, i’ve decided to walk.”

-

when you get to the store, san separates from you quickly because he sees his friend mingi behind the counter. they’re busy talking while you search the store for the paints, and you’re so busy looking up at the aisle names that you don’t notice you’re about to run into someone. 

“hey-” you start to complain, but you recognize the man you almost bumped into. “oh, seonghwa.”

“y/n,” he smiles at you. “what are you doing out so late?” 

“uh, distracting myself from how small my brain is,” you explain. “what are you doing here?”

“hongjoong needed paint pens,” he says, and you’re about two seconds away from finding san and slapping him. did they really plan this too? 

“why didn’t he come get them?” you ask as you remember what you’re here to find. your eyes scan the aisle behind seonghwa and you spot the paint cans at the end, but he’s in your way.

“i offered,” he says with a shrug.

“you must be a really good friend, then.”

“well you did call me perfect yesterday, so...” he trails off, smirking. you roll your eyes at him but can’t help the blush creeping up your neck. he interrupts his new favorite activity of staring deeply into your eyes (just to fluster you, of course) and he sees that you’re looking past him at the shelves of paint. “you need something down here?” 

“um, yeah, the spray paint,” you reply, awkwardly trying to skirt around him to get into the aisle. he steps aside to let you through, but still follows you as you search for the color you want.

“what are you making?” 

“i’m painting a scuffed up dresser i’ve had for a while, so i want something simple that’ll go with the rest of the things in my room,” you explain as you stop walking and crane your neck to scan the bottles on the top shelf. seonghwa stops behind you and places his hand on the small of your back as he reaches for a can just out of your reach.

“what about this one?” he offers, handing you a can of light blue paint. it’s really pretty, and it’ll stand out with the white furniture you already have, but you really like it.

“oh, that’s perfect!” you say as you take the can from his hands.

“there you go again,” seonghwa teases, and you shoot him a questioning look. he smiles as he responds. “calling me perfect?”

“i said the paint was perfect, weirdo,” you snap. “but thank you for finding this.”

“anytime,” he tells you. “you said your favorite color was blue right?”

“right...” you mumble, thinking back to the conversation you had at the bakery yesterday. “how’d you remember?”

“ugh, i’m hurt!” he exclaims, hand flying to his chest in mock surprise. “i can’t believe you already forgot that it’s my favorite color too.”

“hm, guess i was too distracted by how perfect you are,” you joke. seonghwa laughs at that, a sharp sound that seemed to catch him off guard. he covers his mouth to stifle the sound, but you’re close enough to the cash register now that it draws attention from san and mingi.

“find what you need?” san asks with a shit eating grin.

“hm, just about,” you say as you place the paint on the counter. “couldn’t find a hammer big enough to drop on your head, though.”

“wow, harsh,” san scoffs. “and to think i brought you here out of the goodness of my heart.”

you’re too busy half-bickering with san to notice that seonghwa has paid for your paint and the pens he promised hongjoong. he mumbles something to mingi, who then hands him a piece of paper. he scribbles his number down for you before handing you the can and his number. 

“i gotta go, but i’ll see you later for study group, right?” he confirms. you’re still processing the fact that he keeps buying things for you and you can’t respond in time, so san steps in.

“yeah, y/n will be there,” san assures seonghwa. he nods and shoots you one last smile before he excuses himself and leaves. you’re stuck with san and that stupid grin again. he looks at you and then checks the paper with seonghwa’s number on it. “yep, i think you got what you needed.”

-

even though seonghwa very willingly gave you his number, you’re still afraid to text him. it’s kind of hard to believe that he’s into you the way you’re into him, so you’re fine with just seeing him for study dates. or, uh, not study dates. study gatherings. with just the two of you. because the other guys have bailed, again.

this time, though, you’re not working on music theory. you have an assignemnt due for your ethics class, and you need family and friends to read about your results from this morals test. you wanted san to do it, but he’s currently “chasing a sweet piece of ass,” whatever that means. he’s probably bothering his lab partner that he claims descended from greek gods. you would usually tease him for saying something like that, but it’s a thought you’ve had about seonghwa, so you kept your mouth shut.

anyway, you know you need someone to answer these questions for you, but you can’t bring yourself to ask seonghwa. he kept up his “perfect” demeanor again today, showing up at the bookstore before you so he could get you the coffee you like. you would ask why he keeps doing things like this for you, remembering your favorite color and your coffee order, but you’re afraid he’ll stop if you bring it up. little do you know, every time he learns something new about you, he writes it down in his notes app, keeping a running tab of the things you like.

“y/n?” you hear him ask. his voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve been staring at him this whole time. the smirk you’ve become so familiar with makes another appearance as he gets ready to tease you. “something on your mind?”

“no, i...no,” you stutter. “i’m just thinking.”

“about what?” he questions as he lifts his coffee cup to his lips. you watch the way he slightly pouts them before taking a sip and you have to stop yourself from staring again.

“just this ethics assignment i want to finish,” you explain. “sorry, i didn’t realize i was staring at you.”

“must be an important assignment,” he nods, leaning forward to put his cup back on the table in front of you. you get another glimpse at the star tattoo on his neck as he does. “because i was definitely staring at you too, and you didn’t even notice.”

“oh?” 

“yep,” he confirms. “i was giving you my best puppy dog eyes and everything.”

“puppy dog eyes?” you ask, unsure of what’s coming. “do you need something?”

“eh, not really,” he shrugs. “i’m just worried.”

“why?”

“you never texted me the other night.”

“after the art store?” you ask incredulously. 

“isn’t that when i gave you my number?” he smirks. 

“i didn’t think you wanted me to text you immediately...”

“well, it’s been three days and i still don’t have your number,” he pouts. 

“hold on a second,” you mumble, reaching for your bag. you fumble around in there, searching for the piece of paper with seonghwa’s number on it as he watches you fondly.

“what are you doing?”

“looking for your number,” you reply like it’s obvious. seonghwa laughs a little and places his hand on your arm to stop you. 

“you do know i’m right next to you, and i could just put my number in myself?” he asks, eyes sparkling as he half-smiles at you. you blush, because no, you weren’t thinking about that. you sheepishly hand him your phone and watch as he adds his number and then texts himself. he gives your phone back and replaces it with his own before asking, “what’s your favorite emoji?”

“um, the smiling cowboy?” you offer, not sure why he’s asking. he laughs again, like he did in the art store, but this time it’s harder for him to quiet the breathy giggles coming from his chest.

“why that one?” he asks, typing something quickly.

“it’s funny,” you shrug. “why?”

“needed something cute to put next to your name, but you’re a weirdo, so it’s not as cute as i was imagining,” he explains, showing you the contact card in his phone. your number is saved as “y/n 🥰🤠” and you can’t help but laugh. you look up at seonghwa, warmth in your eyes, and he starts laughing too.

“see?” you giggle. “it is funny.”

“whatever, at least now i have your number.”

-

after exchanging numbers with seonghwa, you’re starting to let yourself believe little by little that he might feel the same way you do. it’s not anything serious, but there’s definitely something there. the texts he sends are always flirtatious, and it has your heart beating faster every time you get a notification, hoping that it’s him. you’re in the middle of studying for your spanish final when you feel your phone vibrate on the bed next to you, and you smile when you see who it’s from.

seonghwa 🥺💫, 6:28pm: are you busy rn?

you, 6:28pm: not really, just studying

seonghwa 🥺💫: can’t be studying too much if you replied that quickly 🥸

you: what do u want

seonghwa 🥺💫: be nice :-(

you: sorry

you: hi seonghwa, how are you? what do you want.

seonghwa 🥺💫: come get dinner with me? 

you: right now?

seonghwa 🥺💫: no, in 30 years. yes right now 

you: but i’m studying ://

seonghwa 🥺💫: liar!

you: fine, when and where?

seonghwa 🥺💫: i’ll pick you up in ten 🤠

- 

“you sure like staying close to campus, huh?” you ask seonghwa as he walks you about a block from your usual hangout and to a little hole in the wall restaurant that looks like it could seat maybe 20 people, uncomfortably. 

“i know what i like,” he responds with a shrug. “speaking of things i like, you look nice.”

“oh, thank you,” you semi-laugh. you’d been close to panic trying to figure out what to wear (because you’re not sure if this is a date) so you went with something simple, but you’re glad seonghwa likes it. not that you wanted to impress him. but you did, a little. anyway, he looks...well, perfect, wearing black ripped jeans and a velvet-y navy shirt. you continually have to stop yourself from reaching out and stroking his arm just to feel the soft fabric (and maybe his muscles). 

“so i take it you’ve never been here before?” he asks as he hands you a menu. you shake your head no in response. you can’t tell if he’s doing it intentionally, but seonghwa leans closer into your side as he explains. “you pick a main entree, but each dish comes with these sides. they say no substitutes, but i know the guy behind the counter so you can ask for more of something else if you don’t like one of them.”

“i might do that,” you say. “i don’t really want dumplings, so could i get extra sweet potatoes?”

“of course,” he nods, noting the way you smile slightly. it makes your eyes light up, and his heart does a little backflip knowing that he’s the reason for it. well, the sweet potatoes probably are, but he’s the one getting the sweet potatoes, so he’s taking that win for himself. once you both confirm what you want, he places his hand on your back and guides you to the counter.

“hey seonghwa!” the tall guy with a lopsided smile behind the register greets. “long time no see. who’s your friend?”

“hey yunho,” seonghwa smiles back. “this is y/n, a vip, so make sure you give us the good stuff.”

“extra sweet potatoes?” yunho laughs. you and seonghwa both nod as yunho continues taking your order, and you find yourself comfortably leaning into seonghwa as you wait for yunho to calculate the price. before seonghwa can even think about taking his wallet out, you’re handing yunho cash for the food, which makes seonghwa sputter.

“what? y/n, i was going to pay,” he whines, and you simply shake your head.

“nope, my turn,” you tell him. “you’ve bought me coffee too many times.”

“but i asked you out! i don’t want you to pay on our first date if i’m the one who brought you here,” he continues to complain.

“so this is a date?” you confirm, right as yunho asks suggestively “oh, this is a date?”

“yunho, give y/n’s money back,” seonghwa says, ignoring the two of you. “i’m paying.”

“yunho, if you give me that money i’ll be forced to leave and stand seonghwa up for our date,” you say, emphasizing the last word. now you’re glad you wore clean pants.

“seonghwa, why don’t you let y/n pay for this, and then you can get the next one?” yunho suggests, sending you a wink before he turns to the kitchen to share your order with the chef. you’re left with a flustered seonghwa, which is a sight you’re not used to, and it makes you laugh.

“c’mon,” you say as you pull on his arm. “let’s go find a table.”

you’re the only ones in the restaurant, so the food comes out pretty quick, and you have to stifle a laugh when you see that someone has arranged the sweet potatoes on a separate plate in the shape of a heart. seonghwa blushes at this, and you’re taken aback by how shy he’s suddenly become.

for some reason, seonghwa showing signs of nervousness puts you at ease, and you lead the conversation to something stupid san told you about the boys and their shenanigans at their dorm. the story has seonghwa laughing, and he confirms that yes, yeosang does have a sword by the tv, and yes, hongjoong did threaten to use it on him after he lost an intense match of fifa. 

“in hongjoong’s defense,” seonghwa begins, “i do think yeosang cheated. wooyoung was definitely helping him.”

“it still sounds ridiculous,” you tell him. “why does anybody need a sword?”

“yeosang is just...yeosang,” seonghwa replies. “he’s weird but he won’t admit that to anyone.”

“i’m just saying, if i went to someone’s house and there was a katana by the tv, i’d haul my ass outta there.” seonghwa giggles at how serious you look, but this conversation reminds him...

“you never showed me your room,” he says bluntly. you pause for a moment, spoon halfway to your mouth, and seonghwa realizes how that must sound. “i mean, the paint, your dresser. you never showed me a picture once you fixed it up.”

“oh,” you breathe out. “let me grab my phone, i can show you.”

“show him what?” a familiar voice suddenly asks from the seat next to you. when you notice that san, and some of your other friends, have snuck their way into the restaurant, you have to keep yourself from groaning.

“why are you here.”

“i’m hungry,” san replies, then turns to seonghwa. “you didn’t tell us you were getting dinner.”

“i didn’t want to,” seonghwa deadpans. “ i wanted it to be just me and y/n.”

“too late for that, pal,” honjoong says as he slides into the seat across from you. “hi y/n.”

“hey hongjoong,” you grumble. “please tell me you’re getting your food to go.”

“we were, but then we saw our good friends eating all by themselves and thought we should join them,” hongjoong teases. by now, the rest of the boys have sat down around you, some at other tables, and one of them you don’t recognize. that must be jongho, their younger “roommate” who technically lives in first year housing but doesn’t get along with the other guy in his room. you’ve heard seonghwa complain that jongho eats all of his snacks. 

“well, i hope you enjoy your food, but seonghwa and i were just about to leave,” you lie, looking at seonghwa with a stare that pleads ‘please go along with this.’

“where are you going?” wooyoung asks, one table over.

“my apartment,” you respond quickly, standing up as seonghwa follows your cue with a stupidly adorable look on his face.

“oh, perfect!” san chirps. “we’ll come with you!”

- 

so much for your date with seonghwa. it was hard to stop the boys from insisting they all join you at your apartment, especially after yunho said his shift was over and he could really use some destressing. and by destressing he meant booze, so you currently have 8 tipsy boys scattered across your living room. if you thought they were loud before...it’s amazing that your neighbors haven’t complained yet. 

it started off innocent enough, you were just playing card games at first and the loser of each round had to drink. then it turned into never have i ever, and each time you put a finger down you had to drink. then yeosang suggested shots, and it really went downhill from there. san tried convincing everyone to play a round of spin the bottle just for the chance of making you and seonghwa kiss, but mingi and wooyoung were the only ones down, so majority ruled there. 

“san, stop pouting,” you laugh, noticing that he’s upset over his evil plan not working out.

“it’s fine,” he lies, duck lips on full display. 

“spin the bottle is such a tween-y game too,” jongho pipes in. “and we’re adults, so it would be kinda stupid to play it anyway.”

“says the baby of the group,” yeosang scoffs. 

“what about truth or dare?” hongjoong suggests. “still immature, but we can make it fun.”

“yes!” san shouts, suddenly back in a positive mood. 

“i’ll start,” mingi volunteers. he takes a deep breath as he looks around the room, eyes narrowing when he looks at you and seonghwa. you’re currently smushed into your armchair together, not really by choice, because the couch is completely full and neither of you wanted to sit on the floor (you know how dirty it is, and seonghwa has a bad hip). thankfully, mingi has mercy on you and directs his gaze to his best friend. “yunho, truth or dare?”

“truth,” yunho slurs out. you’d say he’s the opposite of stressed by now.

“did you sleep with that girl you met at the party last week?”

“no,” yunho replies quickly, cheeks turning a knowing shade of red. “i just walked her home.”

“and went missing until the next morning?” yeosang asks. he gets a few snickers, and you laugh a little too because you remember san and wooyoung talking about their friend who disappeared for a few hours last weekend.

“whatever,” yunho groans. “yeosang. truth or dare.”

“dare,” yeosang chooses confidently. 

“kiss wooyoung on the cheek.”

“no,” he replies, just as confidently. 

“then take another shot,” yunho concedes, waving his hand at the stubborn boy. wooyoung mumbles something about how kissable he is as yeosang downs what looks like more than just a regular shot.

“this is boring,” jongho whines, which makes him the next target. he chooses dare, and you have to detach yourself from seonghwa so you can go into your kitchen and find the lemon juice in your fridge so jongho can chug what’s left. he’s sputtering after a few sips and gives up, grumbling up to you, “ i hate you for that.”

“hey, it wasn’t my dare,” you defend yourself. “you owe me lemon juice.”

“i’ll give it to you if you choose dare,” jongho challenges. you roll your eyes and take the bait, earning a round of ooo’s from the boys around you. 

“make her kiss seonghwa,” someone hisses.

“or me!” wooyoung chirps. jongho looks over at him with a death glare, and wooyoung shrugs. “i just want someone to want to kiss me.”

“i think you’re cut off,” hongjoong says as he leans across your coffee table to move the bottle away from wooyoung.

“everyone be quiet!” san shouts. “jongho has to give y/n a dare.”

“hmmm,” jongho starts, tapping his finger on his chin. “what should i do?”

“for someone who said this was boring, you’re really milking this,” seonghwa says under his breath. you’re perched on the arm of the chair, close enough to hear him, but thankfully no one else does.

“what’s that other childish game called?” jongho wonders aloud. “seven minutes in heaven? i think you should do that with seonghwa.”

“do i have to?” you pout, and your reluctance makes seonghwa stiffen. he thinks you said that because you’re uncomfortable, and not because you don’t want the boys pressing their ear up to the door while the two of you make out.

“rules are rules,” hongjoong concludes, nodding his head toward your room. “go have fun. i’ll keep the kids from bothering you.”

you look to seonghwa, who isn’t looking directly at you. you tentatively take his hand, giving it a squeeze before you stand up and lead him to your room. there are so many catcalls, whistles and cheers coming from your friends that you barely hear san say “take your time! it doesn’t have to be just seven minutes!”

once you get to your room, you let seonghwa go in first and then you lock the door behind you. he quirks an eyebrow at that, and you shrug shyly. 

“don’t want one of them bursting in,” you explain. seonghwa nods, and you both fall silent. it’s not necessarily awkward, just tense. you both want to do what seven minutes in heaven is meant for, but you’re not gonna make the first move and seonghwa still isn’t sure you even want to be in this situation. so he takes this time to turn around and take your room in, pointing to your dresser.

“is this it?” he asks. you hum out a yes in response, and he runs his hand over the freshly painted wood. “it looks nice. whoever picked out the color sure knows what he’s doing.”

“eh, he’s just lucky,” you joke, and you both laugh. you move to stand next to him and place your hand on top of his. “sorry we couldn’t finish our date.” 

“sorry my friends are so annoying,” seonghwa adds. 

“sorry san pushed me into your lap earlier,” you continue, and seonghwa smirks.

“well, i didn’t mind that,” he says. “i wanted you to sit with me, but i didn’t want to draw attention.”

“oh,” you squeak, feeling a blush on its way to your cheeks. a heavy silence falls over you, and seonghwa is the first to break it.

“listen, if you don’t want to kiss me, that’s cool,” he begins. “i kinda got the vibe earlier that you didn’t want to do this, and that’s cool. if you don’t want to do this we’re still cool.”

“you don’t sound very cool about it,” you chuckle, and seonghwa’s face flushes. “but i was only nervous because i didn’t know if you wanted to kiss me.”

“oh i want to kiss you,” he says firmly. “have for a while.”

“why don’t you do it then?” you challenge. seonghwa takes a step closer to you, and before you know it he’s pinned you against your dresser. you balance your hands on it and the cool wood helps you ground yourself as your body heats up from having seonghwa so close.

“are you sure?” he asks, only a few inches from your face. you nod and whisper out “i’m sure” and seonghwa quickly cups your face and smothers you in a kiss. it starts off slow, and your face warms at his touch. once you relax into it you move your lips against his, nipping at his bottom lip slightly and earning a groan from the man before you. you take the chance to slip your tongue past his lips as you bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, slowly brushing through his soft hair. his hands find their way to your waist, gripping tightly but not too hard, and he leans in to get as close to you as possible. you keep kissing for a few moments, but eventually you need to breathe so you lightly tap on his neck. he pulls back, breathing heavy, and his smile shines like the most beautiful stars in the sky. “so?”

“so?” you repeat, equally out of breath.

“that was nice.”

“it was.”

“the boys are gonna know we made out.”

“of course they are,” you laugh. “your lips look swollen.”

“so do yours,” he counters. 

“but wasn’t that the whole point of us coming in here?” you ask. your hands have fallen to his chest, and you finally get a chance to smooth out the soft velvet of his shirt. and you notice his chest is very, uh, firm, too.

“we didn’t have to kiss,” he says with a shrug. “we could’ve just talked.”

“about what?” you ask with a smile.

“my keen eye for interior design,” he replies. “how sexy you look in low lighting.”

“so you think i’m sexy?” you tease, and seonghwa rolls his eyes.

“i just had my tongue in your mouth, does that answer your question?”

another silence comes over you both, but this one is lighter than before. you’re subconsciously rubbing your hands over his shirt, and seonghwa brings a hand up to cover yours, stopping it right over his heart.

“we don’t have to tell them,” you offer. “i mean, they kept it a secret from us that they were trying to get us together this whole time.”

“oh no, i was fully aware of that,” seonghwa tells you, and you scoff. “do you think i really wanted to get out past midnight just to buy hongjoong some expensive markers? he never even paid me for them.”

“well now i really don’t want to tell them we kissed,” you whine. “how could everyone be in on this except me?”

“it was more fun that way,” seonghwa teases before pecking your lips. “but we can keep this between us, for now.”

“i think we should,” you say with a nod of finality. “it’s more fun that way.”

“c’mon, let’s go back out there before they send a search party.”

you return to the living room before seonghwa (so he can sneak into the bathroom and fix his hair) and you find most of the boys asleep on the floor. you sigh as your eyes meet hongjoong’s, and he shrugs.

“at least they didn’t bother you,” he says. 

“can you help me find pillows and blankets for them, please?” you ask, and he nods before jumping into action. he throws one of the couch pillows down to yeosang, who takes it and hugs it to his chest. you have a couple extras in your hall closet and you pass them to yunho, who’s sitting up when you come back. he places one under mingi and another under jongho and keeps the last one for himself. san and wooyoung are on the couch, and hongjoong tells you he’s fine with the armchair. seonghwa is out of the bathroom by now, and, like the perfect man he is, he’s carrying blankets in his arms. the three of you work on getting all the boys covered before you realize that seonghwa doesn’t have a place to sleep.

“i can take another spot on the floor,” he assures you. “do you have another pillow i can use?”

“let him sleep in your room, y/n,” san mumbles from underneath wooyoung. you pause and look at seonghwa, who’s looking back at you with something you can’t read in his eyes. 

“it’s not a bad idea,” hongjoong pipes in from somewhere within the blanket cocoon he made for himself. “he was just there. you can put him on the floor.”

“y/n?” seonghwa asks, pulling your attention back to him. “i don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.” 

you would try to fight it, so you could hopefully ignore taunts from the boys in the morning, but you’re suddenly really tired and you just want to lay down.

“i’m ok with it if you are,” you yawn. “take the rest of those blankets, we can use those for your bed.”

“make good choices,” honjoong mumbles as seonghwa leads you back to your room, and you hear san going “oooooo” as you close your door a second time tonight. this time you don’t lock it though, and when you turn around you see the blankets on the floor and seonghwa sprawled out on your usual side of the bed, so you tell him.

“well why don’t you come join me then?” he teases with a grin. you blush and shake your head.

“scoot over.”

he does, but only by an inch. he still looks at you with that flirty glint in his eyes, and you can only shake your head again as you crawl into the tiny space next to him. he immediately wraps an arm around your waist and gives you a tight hug, placing a kiss on your shoulder.

“thank you,” he whispers into your back.

“for what?” you reply.

“for not putting me on the floor. and for liking me.”

-

you just woke up from maybe the best night of sleep you’ve ever had. seonghwa’s arms and legs are draped over yours, so you can’t get up without waking him, but having him so close is a welcome source of warmth. your apartment is quiet, and the sun is peacefully filtering into your room through your curtain. it’s the perfect moment, with your perfect boy, until- 

“i think they’re still asleep,” you hear someone whisper from the hallway.

“wooyoung, leave them alone!” another voice hisses. there’s silence for a moment, and then a smack, followed by someone jiggling the doorknob to your room. you quickly untangle yourself from seonghwa before you watch as the door cracks open a bit, revealing wooyoung in all his bed-headed glory. you close your eyes as much as you can while still peeking at who’s sneaking into your room, and you see jongho close behind him. he must’ve been the one who got smacked. or did the smacking. either way, they’re both staring at you and seonghwa in your bed, but you notice wooyoung smile and pause.

“i knew it! they definitely got together last night.”

“how do you know?” jongho asks. “maybe y/n let seonghwa sleep on the bed because of his old man hips.”

“whatever. they’re in the same bed, so that’s at least something,” wooyoung replies. “lame, but still something.”

“what did you expect?” jongho asks incredulously. “you thought we would catch them doing it?”

“i mean, not exactly, but couldn’t i get a little cuddling maybe?”

“you want me to cuddle you hyung?” jongho deadpans.

“yes, actually-”

“hey!” a third voice whisper shouts. you hear footsteps and then you see hongjoong pulling wooyoung out of your room by the neck of his shirt. “leave them alone. and you, jongho, i’m surprised you’re playing along with this.”

“well...” jongho mumbles.

“well what?” hongjoong asks, sounding like the mom-est mom to ever mom.

“they’re the only ones that know how to make breakfast.”

“both of you, out! now!” hongjoong semi-shouts, and you feel seonghwa stirring behind you. hongjoong doesn’t realize you’re both awake and closes the door as he leaves.

“what time is it?” seonghwa grumbles out, and your heart skips a beat hearing how deep his voice is when he wakes up.

“early,” you reply, turning around to be face to face with him. his arms slowly snake around you as you look up at him and share a sleepy smile. “how can you look this good when you first wake up?”

“weird, i wanted to ask you the same thing,” seonghwa replies, leaning in to kiss you but you touch your fingers to his lips and stop him, so he pouts. 

“uh uh, not until i brush my teeth,” you say as you try to get up, but seonghwa’s grip on your waist keeps you down.

“please,” he pouts again, sparkly eyes on full display as he pleads with you. it takes about half a second for you to cave and kiss him quickly, catching him off guard. he shifts to pull you on top of him and deepen the kiss, but he loses his grip on you and you’re able to slip out of bed before he can stop you. a noise comes from deep in his chest that almost sounds like a growl, and you shoot him a glare.

“hey, you got your kiss,” you warn. “now i’m going to make breakfast for the gremlins. do you want to help me?”

-

after the intrusion into your bedroom, wooyoung obviously told the boys what he saw. but, like jongho said, most of them thought it was just because of seonghwa’s hips that made you share a bed with him. there wasn’t enough evidence otherwise, and none of them really expected either of you to make a move despite their efforts. but they’re starting to get suspicious.

little do they know, after the set up fell into place, seonghwa wanted to take you on a real date. the only way to do that without your friends knowing was to sneak around without them, which was kind of fun. it was nice having this bubble with seonghwa, just the two of you, but it was getting harder to avoid your friends. seonghwa lived with them after all, so they pestered him about how often he was out and who he might be out with. 

“san keeps asking if you’re a good kisser. i told him i didn’t know, and then he asked if he could find out for me. should i be concerned about that?”

“we need to be more careful, yeosang said he saw us at the taco place yesterday, and he said we hold hands weird.”

“hongjoong has been saving seats for us at the bookstore, and each time we don’t show up i think he steals something from me.”

you have been ditching study group lately, but that’s more because you need to do some deep studying for your other finals and your friends are too much of a distraction. seonghwa can be distracting too, but at least he can take a hint and back down when you really need to focus. it’s been nice actually, just spending time in his presence. you were so nervous around him just a few weeks ago, and now you feel like you could trust him with just about anything.

today, you don’t get any personal study time, though. your music theory final is coming up and seonghwa wants you to get all the terms memorized before the review session in class tomorrow. he’s motivating you with a kiss for each right answer and the promise of him making dinner once you’re done. you’re currently cruising on five wrong in a row, and you’re getting frustrated. 

“c’mon y/n, you know this,” seonghwa encourages you, but you just whine in response. “we did this like four minutes ago, and i told you the answer so you could remember it.”

“yeah, well i obviously didn’t,” you snap, and seonghwa fakes being hurt. “sorry. can we skip this and come back to it?”

“sure,” he agrees quickly. “but first you need to write down the circle of fifths for me.” 

“i hate you.”

“hm, wrong answer,” he hums. “but kiss anyway. maybe that’ll keep you from getting so grumpy.”

“i am not grumpy,” you defend after kissing him gently. “i’m stressed.”

“you know what you need?”

“hm?”

“you need to go on another date,” he begins. “with me, obviously.”

“damn, i wanted to know if yunho was free,” you tease, and seonghwa doesn’t think it’s funny. “now who’s grumpy?”

“ignoring that,” he scoffs, but you can tell he’s trying not to smile. 

“when would we go? i’m really busy the next few days.”

“what about after class? we could both clean up and do something nice before we get some dinner?” seonghwa suggests. “why don’t we go to that art exhibit you told me about?”

“ugh,” you groan as you learn your head on his shoulder. “that sounds amazing, but we both said we’d be at study group tomorrow, remember? hongjoong practically begged me to be there, and i said i would ask you to come.”

“what about not letting them know we’re a thing?” he pouts. you don’t tell him about the youngest two that saw you all cuddled up, but instead you assure him that you inviting him to study group wouldn’t look unusual to the boys.

“plus, if we both cancel last minute, they’d know for sure we were up to something together,” you continue. “so yes, we need to go on another date, but just not tomorrow.”

“fine,” he mumbles. “now i am grumpy.”

“would something from the cafe make it better, my little boba ball?” you ask in a baby voice.

“ooh, actually, boba sounds good,” seonghwa smiles. “let’s go.”

-

the next day you get to the bookstore late because your professor gave a pop quiz at the end of class and you’ve been so busy studying music theory you forgot to study for anything else, so you needed all the time you could get. when you finally arrive, all of the boys are there, surprisingly. since you’ve never seen yunho, mingi and jongho here before you’re a little confused, but happy to see them nonetheless. 

as you walk up to the usual spot, you notice a coffee cup sitting in front of an empty chair, and you point to it as the boys greet you.

“is this for me?” you ask, placing your bag on the ground before grabbing the warm mug. “thank you, coffee angel.”

“you’re welcome, actual angel,” seonghwa replies, and you almost choke on your first sip. what is he doing?? you’re supposed to be sneaky sneaks and keep your relationship quiet, but here he is flirting with you in front of everyone!

except, that’s what he did before you started dating too, so it’s not out of the ordinary. in fact, no one pays any mind to it, so you’re left with a burnt tongue and blushy cheeks while seonghwa looks at you with a stare that only you would understand. you quickly shoot him a wink before you put your mug down and reach for your notes.

“um, hello? what are you guys doing?” you ask yeosang next to you, who’s rabidly tapping at his phone, just like everyone else. if they weren’t distracted they might have picked up on the vibes between you and seonghwa, but thankfully they’re the oblivious ones now.

“playing a game,” half of them respond, just as hongjoong says “writing lyrics” and jongho mumbles “texting my mom.”

“aren’t we supposed to study?” you ask. “or did you already learn everything in the world while i was gone?”

“well you’ve missed a lot of study sessions, y/n,” san begins. “so yes, we have learned everything. now we just come here to hang out.”

“so then why did you insist on me being here, joong?” you ask newly orange-haired hongjoong. it’s been a while since you’ve seen him, he must’ve dyed it recently. 

“we missed hanging out with you,” he says simply, eyes peeking up from his phone. your heart constricts at this, and you catch seonghwa’s eyes again. you might have to rethink the whole sneaking around thing if they really do miss you.

“yeah, we missed you AND we had to make sure you and seonghwa are still spending time together,” wooyoung adds, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“where have you been anyway?” yeosang asks. “you don’t have other friends.”

“yes i do,” you scoff.”

“give me names and numbers.”

“ignore him,” yunho tells you, and you nod.

“i always do. but i’ve been really stressed about finals, so i had to do some soul searching on my own to decide if i need to graduate or not.”

“seems fair,” mingi agrees. “i almost had to drop a class.”

“because he forgot he was even enrolled in it,” jongho clarifies, and you laugh.

“but seonghwa has been missing a lot lately too,” san starts. “i wonder what he’s been doing.”

“or who,” wooyoung snickers, and hongjoong reaches over mingi to slap him.

“i haven’t been feeling well,” seonghwa says with a shrug. “i’ve mostly been in my room, or at the pharmacy to get medicine.”

“oh, so you could’ve bought new paper towels for the dorm then, huh?” hongjoong asks, and as the two of them start to bicker, yeosang nudges your arm.

“i saw you two,” he says quietly. “at the mexican restaurant.”

“i know,” you whisper back. 

“so i know you’re dating.”

“are you gonna say anything?”

“hmmm, no,” he thinks. “but you have to buy my silence.”

“with coffee?” you offer, and yeosang smiles. he stands up and puts his phone away before speaking, looking directly at seonghwa.

“my best friend y/n is gonna buy me coffee, we’ll be back,” he says as he loops his arm around your shoulders. seonghwa watches as you walk away (and stares at your ass) but he’s mostly thinking about how he’s a little jealous right now. like, he knows you wouldn’t do anything, he trusts you, but he doesn’t want his friends thinking you have a thing for anyone but him. so while you’re gone, he talks.

“i haven’t been sick,” he admits. “i’ve been seeing y/n.”

“we all knew, dude,” hongjoong says casually, and everyone agrees.

“then why didn’t you say anything?!”

“because YOU weren’t saying anything,” jongho replies.

“yeah, we figured that we did enough trying to get the two of you together, so if you didn’t end up dating then that was your fault. we were just waiting on you to make a move,” san explains. 

“then why did you let us lie to you like that?”

“it was fun,” wooyoung shrugs. “by the way, did y/n let you sleep in the bed because of your hips, or because you wanted to cuddle?”

the red tint on seonghwa’s cheeks gives him away, and the boys start laughing and ooo’ing so loud he’s afraid you’ll hear it over by the coffee counter.

“ok, ok, just. keep this quiet for now,” he says. “y/n may still want this to be private.”

“but you just told us about it,” yunho says. “why would you do that if you knew y/n wouldn’t want you to?”

“well,” seonghwa begins. “i need your help with a date.”

-

seemingly by an act of god, you have time this weekend to go on a date with seonghwa. little did you know, he’s the reason your plans suddenly freed up. san said you could critique him and wooyoung for their dance final another day, hongjoong said he would send you his music theory notes from the review and save you hours of studying and then yeosang found the exact spanish book you needed to finish your performance final ahead of time. it was the perfect circumstances, orchestrated by your perfect boy and his perfect-adjacent friends, who all agreed to help him with this (hopefully) perfect date. 

it starts with seonghwa picking you up from your apartment, coffee in hand. 

“you’re the man of my dreams, you know that?” you say in passing as you grab the warm to-go cup. even if you were only saying it lightly, it made seonghwa’s heart soar. you notice he hasn’t said anything to you, so you meet his eyes to find them full of stars like always, but this time there’s something scheme-y in there. he’s up to something.

“are you ready for the best date of your life?” he asks with a smile that puts the stars in his eyes to shame.

“yes, i think,” you respond, grabbing your keys and locking your door. “but i don’t know what we’re doing.”

“and it will stay that way until we get there,” seonghwa says firmly as he laces his hand into yours. you squeeze his hand and sigh.

“i guess i just have to trust you then.”

“but that won’t be hard right?”

“wait, didn’t you say something earlier about going to that art exhibit? is that it?” you question, even though you know he won’t budge. seonghwa just shakes his head no and punches the button for the elevator. a moment of silence passes before you guess again. “a movie? you rented out a movie theater, like you said you wanted to?”

“i tried, but it was expensive,” he admits and you have to laugh. “funds are tight right now.”

“i watched you buy a couple hundred dollars worth of legos the other day babe. maybe that’s why the date fund is lacking.”

“you’re not coming between me and my collectables, y/n,” seonghwa scolds. the elevator pings to open to the parking garage under your building, and you’re confused for a moment before he explains. “i want this to be a nice date, so yunho let me borrow his car. it would be no fun if we show up all sweaty because we were walking.”

yunho’s car, which is actually pretty nice thanks to all the tips he gets from flirting with clientele, is parked by the elevator. seonghwa leads you to your door and opens it for you, revealing a basket of flowers and candies in the seat. you coo as you pick it up, and seonghwa looks on proudly. you lean over to give him a kiss, and you whisper your thanks as you pull away.

“that was mingi’s idea,” seonghwa tells you, smiling brightly “i got all your favorites.”

“i see that.”

“but look around the flowers,” he guides you. “there’s something else.”

you hold the basket up to eye level, noticing the silver sparkle around the stems of the flowers. is it glitter? you tug at a flower and realize it’s a chain, and attached is a hand drawn star charm to match the tattoo on the back of seonghwa’s neck. 

“seonghwa, this is beautiful,” you say breathlessly. “we’re gonna match! that’s so cute. who’s idea was this?”

“would you believe me if i said it was mine?”

“no.”

“that’s what jongho said too,” seonghwa laughs. “it was his idea.”

“tell him thank you,” you say as you play with the charm. “mingi and yunho too. it’s a good date so far.”

“oh baby, it hasn’t officially started yet.”

-

in the car, seonghwa plays a mix of songs that he really likes, and he’s mixed in some of your favorites too. he has to keep convincing you that the songs aren’t clues, because you ask every time a new song plays.

“so are the songs just distractions?” you ask, finally giving up on getting any information out of him. 

“why do you ask that?” he smirks as he turns down a familiar road.

“because i can tell you just took the long way to the record store,” you explain. “are you stalling?”

“me, what? why?” his response does nothing to manage your suspicions, and suddenly you remember how your friends have helped with the date so far. are they all in on this? you need answers.

“seonghwa, i swear to god, if san or wooyoung jumps out to surprise me wherever we’re going-”

“that won’t happen,” seonghwa laughs while he parks the car. “we’re here anyway, and i promise this is the last surprise of the night.”

“the record store?” you question, looking up at the shop you’ve been to countless times to shop and to bother hongjoong while he works. 

“yeah, you said there was a new album out you wanted to get, right?”

“yeah,” you blush. “but i just said that in passing, i didn’t expect you to remember.”

“y/n, i want to know everything about you,” seonghwa says seriously. “so of course i remembered. wait, don’t get out yet. i’ll open the door for you.”

as seonghwa helps you out of the car, you quiz him on the other things you’ve said around him that you didn’t think he remembered. sadly, he does remember you saying your favorite disney movie is ratatouille and you’ve always wanted to try the mushroom/cheese concoction remy makes in the first scene.

“that’s a little embarrassing,” you sigh as you reach for the door. you’re going to complain some more about how seonghwa doesn’t need to remember everything about you, but the sight in front of you makes you stop mid-breath.

the record store has been decorated from floor to ceiling in fairy lights, and there’s more flowers all over the place. as you look around, you notice the flowers are tucked in the shelves next to your favorite artists. next to the door is the album you were talking about, and a little further down you see your favorite album of all time with a few extra flowers next to it. you’re still taking everything in when you notice hongjoong behind the counter.

“did you help him with this?” you ask breathlessly, and hongjoong nods. 

“yeah, but the flowers next to the albums was my idea,” hongjoong explains. “we’re running a new special called “y’n’s favorites” so everything that’s marked with a flower is yours, if you want it. everything is on the house.” 

“i...i don’t know what to say,” you start. you turn to seonghwa and there are those starry eyes that you love to see. you reach out to cup his face and smile. “thank you. this is...perfect.”

“it’s even more perfect now that i’m here!” wooyoung shouts from the front door of the shop, followed by san and yeosang. you look at seonghwa and all he does is laugh.

“what? at least he didn’t jump out and scare you,” seonghwa teases.

“oh, i would never,” wooyoung nods with a half-serious look on his face. “but i definitely wouldn’t do that when i have your dinner in my hands, i can’t let all this hard work spill.”

“especially not on my clean floor,” hongjoong warns. 

“you made dinner for us?” you ask wooyoung, but you’re looking at seonghwa, who simply shrugs.

“yep, i made one of your favorites and then threw in a couple recipes i thought you’d both like,” wooyoung says as he and the two other boys place food down on the counter by the register.

“and what did you two help with?” you ask san and yeosang.

“who do you think made this place so beautiful?” yeosang asks incredulously.

“yeosang did the lights and i bought all the flowers,” san explains with a smile that makes his eyes turn into happy half moons. “you’d be surprised how many places i had to go to get all your favorites.”

“i really don’t know what to say,” you whisper in disbelief. “i can’t believe you all did this for me.”

“it was all seonghwa’s idea,” san tells you. “we did it for both of you.”

“yeah, we’re just his little minions,” yeosang jokes, and wooyoung giggles. 

“you tell me how that food tastes, got it?” he asks as he backs out of the store. “don’t say anything mean though. i only accept compliments.”

“wooyoung,” seonghwa smiles tightly. “please leave.”

wooyoung holds the door open for san and yeosang as he gives seonghwa a thumbs up. san waves goodbye sweetly and yeosang gives you a knowing smile before the door closes behind them.

“well, i think that’s my cue to go,” hongjoong says, handing the keys to seonghwa. “don’t make a mess. if i get fired, i’m selling all the stuff i stole from you when you were sneaking around with y/n and not telling us about it.”

“i’ll keep him under control,” you assure hongjoong, who nods as heads to the door. you don’t see him leave because seonghwa has stepped in front of you, and he places his hands on your waist to pull you closer.

“so,” he begins.

“so.”

“what do you want to listen to while we eat?” he asks, pulling you by the waist over to a row of records. you stand there quietly, looking over the albums hongjoong pulled to the front for you, and you just can’t believe how much work went into this date. you can’t believe how sweet it is that each of your friends helped, and you put your hand on seonghwa’s and give it a squeeze.

“hwa,” you whisper. he hums in response, but you place your hand on his cheek and guide his gaze to yours.

“thank you,” you tell him. “thank you for this.”

he smiles at you with a look in his eyes that can’t be anything else but love, and you smile back with that much love, if not more, in your own face. you use the hand on seonghwa’s chin to guide his lips to yours, and you lose yourself in the kiss, in seonghwa, for who knows how long.

“mm, y/n,” he mumbles against your lips before detaching. “the food will get cold.”

“you’re right,” you sigh. “but we didn’t pick any music.”

“how about this?” he asks, pulling an album out from the top shelf. you smile at the cover, knowing exactly what song seonghwa wants you to hear. 

“perfect,” you agree. “i’ll put it on while you get the food?”

and that’s how you end up eating the perfect meal, on your perfect date, with all of your favorite things around you, sitting right next to your perfect boy.

[talkfastromance4]

Flowers 4+1// ashton irwin oneshot

A/N: this is my first ever 4+1 fic so I’m kind of nervous, thank you Angie @littledrummerangie for the idea! This is also SUPER indulgent as being a birthday fic for me and a birthday fic with Ashton😅 since mine is the day before his. This has everything I love in it, flowers, hot tubs, a cabin, christmas, love… This is 4 times Ashton gives you flowers and 1 time you give him flowers

Word count: 6k

Masterlist

Enjoy!💕

*****

One

The first time they met was when Andy and Sarah invited Ashton to help her move into her new place. The movers basically set all the boxes and furniture into her house and then left her to her own devices. She called Andy and Sarah for help and if they had any reinforcements it would be greatly appreciated. 

She was trying to find wine glasses when there was a knock at the door. When she opened it she had to look up at her guest. His copper brown hair fell in waves and necklaces hung perfectly down his neck, his hazel eyes were bright and friendly.

First, she noticed how good looking he is and the second thing she noticed was the mason jar filled with orange and peach flowers. 

“Uh, hi can I help you?” she asks suddenly feeling very self-conscious of her ratty t-shirt and paint splotched shorts. 

“I’m Ashton and I’m your honorary mover,” he smiles. “Andy called me. You must be Y/N.”

“Must be. I mean--yes, I am! And oh, right, wow. Sorry, please come in and thank you for helping,” she says, moving aside to let him in.

“Yeah, of course. These are for you,” he holds out the mason jar. “A housewarming gift.”

“Thank you so much,” she smiles, taking the flowers with both hands. Their fingers brush. “I’ve never gotten flowers before.”

“Really?” his eyes bore into hers and she’s momentarily frazzled. 

“Apart from my mom or grandpa but...um, I’ll put these in the kitchen. Andy’s in the bedroom putting the bed together if you’d like to help in there.”

She escapes into the kitchen where Sarah is wiping down the fridge. 

“Who was at the door? What pretty flowers!” 

“Your friend Ashton and he gave me these,” you touch one of the roses before burying your nose in the plumage. The petals tickle your nose and the scent is wonderful. 

“He’s sweet like that,” Sarah smiles. “Did you find the glasses?”

“No,” Y/N huffs, setting the flowers on the counter by the sink. “They’re probably in the bathroom or something.”

“We’ll find them.”

The four of them continue working on unpacking and it isn’t until about 10 o’clock when Andy and Ashton enter the living room.

“The bed, vanity, and dressers are all assembled,” Andy announces wiping at his brow. 

“We’re the poor man's Avengers,” Ashton laughs. “We put the bed in the middle of the wall and the vanity next to the window. Best lighting to do make-up.”

“That’s...perfect actually, thank you guys,” Y/N smiles, balling up the newspaper and shoving it in a large garbage bag. She just finished placing her books on the shelves, she’ll sort them later in the week. 

“We were thinking of getting pizza,” Andy says.

“Pizza sounds great! Here, I’ll give you some money--”

“No, my treat,” Ashton says, “you’ve been working hard.”

After eating pizza they all went back to unpacking and Ashton made comments about the art pieces she has. He asks where she wants each one hung up. 

“You don’t have to do that, I’ll put them up later,” she waves her hand at him. 

“It’s my job as honorary mover,” he grins. 

Midnight came upon them sooner than she would like. Andy and Sarah headed out because of Pebbles, she’s been cooped up all day so it was just Ashton and Y/N. He asked questions while unpacking to get to know her better and he was very open to her questions. 

He stayed until 3 in the morning but he made sure to get her number before he left. She took a photo of the flowers on the counter before going to bed.

Two

She changed her outfit about a dozen times. Her bed was covered in discarded clothes and she still had to put on her makeup. The clock on her wall ticked reminding her that Ashton would be here in a little less than an hour. 

It’s been six months since he helped her move in and in that time, they became close. He showed her all of the best coffee shops and bookstores he knew of. He introduced her to the rest of his band and they accepted her kindly. 

She accompanied them on outings, parties, and Ashton always made sure to stick close with her. He knew she was shy around new people so he always made sure to include her in conversation. 

One night when he was walking her back to her door after going to dinner with the band and their significant others, he was acting strange. He was unusually quiet and she’d find him staring at her across the table. 

“So, I’ll see you Monday, right?” she asked, shuffling through her purse for her house key. 

“How about Saturday?” 

“This Saturday? I thought we were going to try that new restaurant Monday with Andy and Sarah?”

“I mean, we can do that, too but I was thinking...Saturday could just be us. You and me.”

The air changed between them and she stopped looking for her keys. She turned to face him but she couldn’t quite read his expression. 

“Oh, okay. Did you want to watch that new movie on Netflix?”

“Y/N, I’m trying to ask you on a date here,” he laughed nervously rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Ask me on a...you are? Oh God, and I’m ruining it. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize--”

“You could never ruin anything,” he smiled. “But, would you like to go on a date with me this Saturday?” his hazel eyes were hopeful and Y/N couldn’t believe this was actually happening. 

“I’d love to Ash,” she smiled. 

And now here she is, half naked and indecisive on what to wear. She shouldn’t be freaking out like this, it’s Ashton. But it’s also *Ashton. Ashton who can always make her laugh and he makes her feel safe and they always have fun together. But it’s also Ashton who gives her butterflies whenever he touches her lower back and her heart race when he gives her a hug. 

Her phone buzzes and it’s Ashton letting her know he’ll be there in forty-five minutes. She lets out a loud groan and goes back to her closet, maybe a new article of clothing she’s never seen will just reappear. 

To her astonishment, there was a maroon dress that she wore to a wedding. 

“Might as well,” she sighs and puts it on. It really doesn’t look half bad as she looks at herself in the mirror. 

She rushes to put on her makeup and by the time she spritzes on her perfume, the doorbell rings. She checks that she has everything in her clutch and moves to the door. 

It’s like a deja vu moment from six months ago because he’s handsome as ever and holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand. His necklaces are perched perfectly in the V of his white button up shirt and it contrasts nicely with his skin. These flowers are full of pink and white flowers with a hint of peach thrown in there. The ivory paper crinkles when his fingers squeeze it, his eyes widen at the sight of her. 

“Wow, you look...wow.”

“You’re pretty wow yourself,” she giggles then glances at the flowers. “Are those for me?”

“Um, yes,” he holds his hand out, the flowers bumping your chest. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she laughs, taking them from him and buries her face in the center of it. “They smell wonderful, thank you so much. I’ll just put them in water and then we can go.”

He follows her into the house, she doesn’t see him glance down at her ass in the dress. He’s rubbing his neck again when she looks at him getting a vase from the counter. She fills it with water and arranges the flowers. 

“So, where are we going?”

**

They’re sitting outside the restaurant, it’s a warm breezy summer night. The rustic atmosphere feels comfortable but when she flicks her gaze at Ashton over the drink menu, he’s drinking his glass of water heartily. His other hand is tapping against the table, it’s a thing he does when he’s nervous. 

“Thirsty, huh?” She tries to ease his unusual activity and he shakes his head.

“Yeah, throat’s a little dry,” he clears his throat just as the waitress comes by. 

She takes their drink order and Ashton requests a pitcher of water if it’s available. Their roles are reversed, she’s the one doing most of the talking and he’s the one who’s listening. She can tell he’s still being reserved so she takes out her phone and points it at him.

“Smiiile!” She sings turning on portrait mode. 

“Why?” He laughs nervously but it makes him smile so she snaps the photo. 

“Because, the lighting is perfect and you look cute,” she flirts with a smile.

Ashton laughs again but it’s his real laugh, the laugh that always gets her laughing. She snaps as many photos as she can and it seems to have done the job of making him act like himself. Even though they’ve hung out nearly everyday, the evening still had the air of a first date. 

They even tried each other’s food. She stabbed her chicken and noodle with her fork, blew on it, and fed it to him across the table. 

“Wow, that is really good,” he hums in approval. He swirls his own noodles on his fork and feeds her slowly. 

“That sauce is amazing,” she moans, loving the lemon flavor. 

They share a dessert of chocolate mousse and split the strawberry. After dinner, he took her to the art museum. They're open later in the summertime. There were only a few people meandering in the open space and standing stagnant in front of pieces. 

“This is why I wanted to bring you here,” he says, taking her hand easily in his own. 

Her butterflies returned and he lead her all the way to the back. It was a Claude Monet exhibit and she tried to look at the paintings but Ashton was on a mission to a certain piece. He stops in front of it and she stares in amazement at the painting. It’s of Claude Monet on his boat. She gasps, staring at it and Ashton is staring at her. 

It’s the painting she tried to replicate when she was younger in her art class. It’s the painting that introduced her to Monet because the style was similar and it always stuck with her. She told him she wanted to find the painting when they first met and stayed up until 3 in the morning.

“You remembered this?” she asks, stepping closer to it. She makes sure their hands are still locked together, his thumb is rubbing her skin in soothing circles. 

“Your eyes always light up when you talk about things that matter to you. They’re always so bright when you talk about him...and when I give you flowers.”

“Ashton this is…” she shakes her head at a loss for words. She gazes upon the painting, loving the visibility of the palette strokes and the blending of the colors. Tears formed in her eyes. “This is the best thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” she wipes the stray tear that slipped from her eye.

“Hey,” he says softly. His fingers graze her cheek tilting her face towards him. 

His thumb rubs at the leftover tear, his own face inching closer to hers. She closes her eyes, exhaling when his lips brush against hers. He squeezes her hand, his lips controlled and gentle yet also hesitant. As if he’s testing the waters. 

They unabashedly makeout in front of the paintings and in her mind she’s thinking of what they look like to an outsider. Still life man and woman lost in each other.

Three

The holidays arrived faster than she wanted them to. She still had a ton of shopping to do for her family but at least her flight is scheduled. Ashton is accompanying her on the trip and she’s so excited for him to meet her family. 

“Make sure you aren’t doing anything the weekend before the holiday,” he tells her unravelling lights from her box of Christmas decorations. 

“How come?” she asks searching through the tv for the claymation movies she loves to watch.

“That’s when I’m going to give you my present.”

“You need a whole weekend to do that?” she laughs. 

“I won’t say anything more than that,” he smirks at her. 

“I can help with that--”

“I got it sorted,” he waves her off, “you enjoy your movies.”

“Have I told you you’re the most amazing boyfriend?” she wraps her arms around his waist. Ashton shifts the lights into one hand so he can hold her against him with his free hand. 

“You’ve never told me that,” he grins and kisses her. 

“I’m sure I have,” she mumbles between kisses. Her hands slip under his shirt, thumbs grazing over his warm skin causing Ashton to grunt at the contact.

His hand rubs up her back and into her hair, he breaks the kiss with a shaky breath. “Let me finish putting these lights up and we can get back to this, baby.”

“We could get to this faster if you let me help,” she stresses, pinching his skin. “You never let me do anything.”

“You do plenty, baby,” he smiles, kissing her forehead. 

She sighs and retreats to the couch curling up to watch the movie and Ashton wrap and weave the lights around her tree. Two and a half movies later he was finally finished and turned the lights on. The white light reflected on her wooden floor and she beamed at his job well done.

“It’s perfect! Thank you!” she throws her arms around his neck in a big hug. 

“My pleasure,” he chuckles and kisses her temple. She starts to give small kisses to his neck, featherlight and ticklish on his skin. “Get outta here, you know I’m ticklish.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” she teases continuing her small attack of affection. 

Ashton shifts her in his arms making his way to her couch and drops onto the cushions. She situated herself so she’s straddling his waist. His hands smooth over the curve of her ass while his lips suction kisses along her jaw and to her neck. She shivers at the contact, tugging at his curls when he sucks a mark.

“This is what I’m gonna do about it,” he says gruffly and rocks her against his hips. 

“Okay,” she sighs, enjoying his mouth on her neck and the bulge in his pants rubbing against her core with each rock he makes her do. She moans when his hands move to her thighs and gives her a squeeze. 

Needing more of him, she drags his head away from her neck so she can feel his lips on her own again. She rolls her hips against his without his help and his hands slip under her shirt, moaning when he feels she’s not wearing a bra. 

“Damn, baby,” he growls cupping her breasts together. He tweaks her nipples and she squeaks in his mouth. “You like that?”

“Feels good,” she nods nipping at his lip. His phone rings and buzzes in his pocket, the vibration adds another element to her arousal.

“Leave it, they can leave a message,” he pants, sucking another kiss from her. 

His phone stops ringing only for hers to start on the coffee table behind them. She breaks the kiss and turns around trying to see the caller ID.

“Leave it,” he repeats, squeezing her breasts again.

“It could be an emergency,” she reaches for her phone to see it’s Sarah calling. “Hello?” She picks it up staring at Ashton and he smirks, lifting her shirt up. He takes her nipple between his lips and she scowls at him. “Oh, that was tonight? Um, yeah he’s with me. We’ll be right over. Okay, yeah…” she sighs when his teeth tug on her nipple. “See you soon.”

She tosses the phone to the couch and tosses her head back relishing in his mouth on her sensitive bud for a moment longer. Their physical relationship is progressing slowly, they’ve almost had sex three times (now four if Sarah hadn’t called) but she likes the pace they’re going at. 

“We need to go to Andy and Sarah’s,” she strokes his cheek curling his hair around his ear.

“Why? I’d rather stay here,” he shifts his mouth to her other breast, his tongue rolling over her nipple salaciously. 

“Mm, me too but it’s their Christmas party tonight. And we’re late by two hours,” she snickers, fingers still tangled in his hair. She has goosebumps from what his mouth is doing to her.

“I’m sick, can’t go.”

“Ashton!” she laughs pushing his head away from her chest. “We won’t see them until after the holiday. Come on, let’s go.”

She crawls off him, turns her tv off and changes her top, and puts on a bra. When she comes back Ashton is still sitting on the couch. She leans over the back of it next to his head. 

“Do I have to drag you off this couch?” she murmurs in his ear.

“I need a few moments,” he huffs, shifting his legs. 

“Oh,” she giggles, seeing exactly why because he still has a prominent bulge in his pants. “I’m sorry. Can I help?” she kisses down his cheek to the corner of his mouth. 

“You helped make this problem,” he laughs, turning his head to kiss her lips. 

**

The Christmas party was a hit and it’s the weekend before Christmas. Y/N was awakened by Ashton petting her hair and kissing her cheek, he used the spare key she gave him for emergencies.

“What a way to wake up,” she smiles, pulling him on top of her. His strong arms are caged around her head and his body weight makes her feel protected. 

“Your coffee is all ready, now you just have to pack and we’ll be on our way.”

“No breakfast in bed?” She traces his eyebrows. 

“I can make you breakfast in bed tomorrow*,” he nuzzles his nose against hers. “There’s a present by your coffee mug if that will help you get  your cute ass outta bed.”

Then his weight is off her and she’s left scrambling out of bed to follow him into the kitchen where her coffee is already in her to-go mug with a card and a bouquet of red roses and cranberries inside to make it more of a holiday special. He’s standing next to the small gifts with a grin on his face. 

“I love these, they’re so pretty,” she gushes, lifting the bouquet to her nose. She loves the sweet smell of a rose. 

“You’re so pretty when I give you flowers,” he comments, lifting up the red envelope. 

She holds the flowers against her chest and unfolds the envelope. Inside is a white card with writing formed in the shape of a Christmas tree, a star placed on top. The words read:

“TO A 

KIND

STRONG

BRILLIANT

SO BEAUTIFUL

AND TRULY AMAZING

GIRLFRIEND”

Ashton wrote his own inscription inside in his nice loopy script:

‘The past year with you has been one of the best of my life. Our friendship was the perfect foundation for a relationship and I can’t imagine what my world would be like now if you weren’t in it. So this weekend, it will just be me and you in our own little cabin, no interruptions. xx Ash’

“A cabin?”

**

After the 2 hour and 40 minute flight to Seattle, she and Ashton arrived at the cabin where a dusting of snow covered the ground and a wreath was on the door. Y/N was floored at how beautiful it was and Ashton took her hand leading her up the wooden steps. He took a key out and unlocked the door. 

It smelled like cinnamon and Ashton with cozy couches and armchairs, a large rug in front of a stone fireplace and a massive kitchen with a grill attached to a chimney. A Christmas tree was set up with presents scattered underneath and there was a large bouquet of roses on the kitchen table. 

“Ash��” she begins and then can’t find more words. 

“There’s more, c’mon,” he smiles, leading her up the winding staircase and into a loft area where a futon was and empty bookshelves. There were a few guitars on stands placed in the corner and some incense sticks. “What do you think?” He leans against the railing and Y/N ventures into the room.

“I think it’s wonderful, but there aren’t any books. Is this someone’s cabin and you’re renting it? I can chip in--”

“No, no. It is someone’s cabin...mine.”

She whips around from looking out the half circle window overlooking the backyard where she saw another grill and some chairs. 

“This place is yours?”

“Yep. I come here when I need to get away and just let my creative ideas flow. You can fill the bookshelves if you’d like.”

“Ash this is…” she shakes her head then launches herself into his arms for a hug. “This is incredible. And we’re here the whole weekend? Just us?”

“Just us, angel,” he nods, rubbing at her back. “There’s also a hot tub.”

His voice changed at the mention of the hot tub because she didn’t bring a suit. 

***

Ashton’s plan for Friday evening was to unpack and go into town for a nice meal. After dinner, they changed into their sleep clothes and snuggled on the couch with hot chocolate watching the first Home Alone movie because they’re her favorite movies. Her mind was on that hot tub and her stomach twisted with excited nerves at the thought of using it. She wanted to use it now but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth each time she tried to bring it up. 

She was also thinking of how this would be their first time sleeping together. Ashton never stayed the night because he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression. She found it sweet but it also increased her infatuation for him even more.

When she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore, he had her lean on him while they walked to the bedroom. The bed was huge with a large comforter and even fluffier looking pillows. It looked heavenly and she slipped inside willingly. She rolled over and became awake again at the look on Ashton’s face. 

She tossed over the blanket on his side of the bed and patted the space below the pillow inviting him in. He crawled in carefully and shut the lights off and they were in darkness. Ashton remained sitting against the headboard and Y/N reached out for him in the dark. His forearm was warm and soft.

“Are you going to sleep like that the whole night?” she whispers, giving his arm a squeeze.

“No,” he whispers back, sliding further down the bed. Her hand now rested on his chest, she could feel his heart beating. He turns on his side clutching her hand in his. “Is it weird I’m nervous? I feel like I’m fifteen.”

“You first slept with a girl at fifteen?” she laughs.

“No, I meant--being around girls at that age made me nervous,” he chuckles. 

“I’m nervous, too. But in a good way. Just warning you, I’m a kicker so I apologize in advance.”

“Why are we still whispering, we’re the only ones here,” he says, raising his voice to a normal level. That only makes her giggle more. 

“I don’t know, it fits the mood with you regressing back to fifteen years old. Our parents could walk in at any moment.” She scoots closer to him, so close that she can feel his breath fan on her face. 

“I hope they don’t,” he murmurs, inching closer in the dark until he finds her lips. It’s a tender kiss, the kind of kiss that took her breath away slowly and made her heart smile. 

She keeps him close with her hand pressed to his cheek. They kiss and talk in hushed tones until she falls asleep and Ashton tickles up her back until sleep finally finds him, too.

Saturday morning did indeed include breakfast in bed. Ashton made pancakes, bacon, coffee and a small bowl of fruit. His itinerary for the day consisted of lounging around the cabin watching holiday movies and then he was going to make her a steak dinner. She insisted on helping him in the kitchen amidst his protests.

“I’m not a good cook but I’m a very good listener. I’m your sous chef.”

“What does ‘sous chef 'even mean?” he asks getting the ingredients out of the fridge. 

“It means ‘under.’”

“Ah, so you’re under me, huh?” he winks. 

“Let me help you cook and I just might be,” she challenged with a smile. Ashton shakes his head, a slight blush rising on his cheeks. 

She followed his instructions with the garlic and mashed potatoes. The dinner was exquisite paired with a delicious white wine. They each had a full glass, their bellies full and face warm from the wine, they were extra giggly and extra flirty. 

“How about that hot tub?” he asks, circling the rim of the wine glass with his finger.

“Did you pack a suit?” She raises her eyebrows. 

 “Nope.”

“I didn’t pack a suit either,” she points to her chest.

“Must have slipped my mind,” he gulps the last swallow of his wine, eyes on her.

“What a shame.”

He sets his glass on the table and takes her hands in his, his eyes looking almost apologetic. “You can wear a t-shirt and shorts. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” He kisses both of her hands. 

“Go get the water ready.”

Twenty minutes later, she walks out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel and Ashton is already in the water. His arms are resting on the sides of the tub, his face even redder from the steam, his eyes hold hers steadily. 

The confidence she had in the bathroom is gone. She wanted to come out here and just get in the water completely naked, but now she’s nervous because what if she was reading the signs wrong? What if he doesn’t really want to have sex with her?

“Um, can you close your eyes while I get in?” she asks.

“‘Course,” he closes his eyes.

She takes a deep breath dropping the towel. The air kisses her skin and she climbs up the steps carefully. The water is hot as she descends into the tub, she bends down so only her head is exposed above the water. Ashton remains still and she inches closer to him until their knees touch.

“Hi there,” he smiles softly.

“Hi.”

“Can I open my eyes now?”

First she nods then realizes he can’t see her so she clears her throat. “Yes.”

He opens his eyes slowly, and they look so pretty in the nighttime sky. He’s looking at her like he’s staring into the full face of the moon, his eyes are full of wonder and adoration and her confidence starts to rise within her. 

The longer he looks at her, the more bold she becomes and she rises up from the water. Her breasts are completely exposed. Ashton licks his lips, his eyes lowering over her wet chest. She doesn’t want to break the spell that’s cast between them so she moves towards him slowly, her hands rest on his shoulders. His arms remain on the sides of the tub. 

“Ashton.”

“Yeah?” 

“Touch me.”

In a flash, his lips are on hers and she’s pressed to his chest. His large hands cover her back, one dips over her ass and she gasps when she feels his hard-on against her thigh. He lifts her effortlessly in the water so she’s straddling him. 

Instinctively, she rubs herself against him groaning at how he rubs against her most sensitive area perfectly. 

“Need you,” she whispers against his mouth.

“Bed,” he gasps.

They exit the tub excitedly, drying off as quickly as they can and she presses herself against him in front of the bed. Their bodies are warm from the tub and he lifts her in his arms again. She loves feeling his muscles wrapped taut around her, he knees onto the bed and stays there. Their arms are wrapped around each other and they remain kissing.

“Do you have something?” she asks, pulling away to catch her breath. She twists his chest hair in her fingers.

“Um, yeah. Shit, hang on,” he sighs, slipping her back onto the bed. She watches him appreciatively as he skimpers to the kitchen pulling his coat off the hook.

“You have a really nice butt,” she compliments when he returns with a condom in hand. 

“Thanks, babe,” he laughs then stops at the foot of the bed staring at her.

“What’s wrong?” she asks suddenly self-conscious. 

“Nothing. You’re perfect.”

She smiles and pulls him on the bed with her again, connecting their lips. He rips open the condom and rolls it on his length. He kneels on the bed again and she’s quick to climb on top, moaning at his shaft rubbing between her folds. 

“Such a pretty moan,” he praises, grasping his cock in his hand. He teases her hole with his tip, nudging it inside a few times. Her lower body meets his in a desperate way, small gasps coming from her each inch he goes in deeper.

“Please, Ash...want all of you,” she knocks her forehead against his.

He takes a deep breath and pushes all the way in, his eyes watching her as her mouth opens and her eyes close at being filled. Their bodies tremble together and they remain still, experiencing being connected for the first time. 

“Good?” he asks, rubbing her nose affectionately.

“Mhm,” she nods and starts to roll her hips against him. “Ohhh…” she lets out a shuddering breath.

He follows her rhythm easily, arms wrapped around her, enjoying the way she rides on top of him. He kneads her ass as she moves, her breath picking up and when he can’t take it anymore, he rises on his knees, her legs fall on either side of him and she gasps. 

He rests her on her back gently, resting his chest against hers so that they’re still touching and rocks his hips in even thrusts. He slips his tongue in her mouth just as her legs wrap around his waist. She moans when he picks up the pace, her lower half meeting his thrusts perfectly. 

“Are you close baby?” he pants feeling her walls start to flutter around him. “So good for me...so perfect...taking me so well.”

“Don’t stop,” she moans tilting her head back. Ashton pounds into her faster, each time he thrusts in she clenches around him a bit more tightly. 

“Fuck…” he hisses when she clenches and stays that way. Her moans are loud in his ear and he always wants to be the one that makes her sound like that. He can’t hold his climax off with her sounding like that and he’s coming with her. “I love you,” he groans loudly in her neck.

When they recollect their breathing she holds his face in her hands.

“What did you say?” she gasps out, eyes wide with lust and surprise.

“I love you,” he breathes, stroking her temple with his thumb. “You don’t have to say it back, but I wanted to tell you that this weekend, too. It’s hard for me to say out loud and with just us--”

She kisses him fiercely. 

“I love you, too.”

Four

When she went to work there was a flower arrangement at her desk with a note from Ashton wishing her a great last day before her vacation for her birthday and his birthday. Hers was the day before his and everyone wanted them to do a joint party when they found that out. 

“No, that’s weird,” she scrunched her nose at the suggestion.

“Yeah, we aren’t siblings. That’s gross,” he agreed.

She took the week off for their birthdays so they could maybe go to the cabin or even rent a house on the beach. She loved her birthday but whenever she made plans, they always fell through or people never showed up.

She texted him that the flowers were beautiful and she couldn’t wait to spend the day with him the next day. When she got home, he was already there wearing an all black outfit with his shirt open. He knows how much she likes seeing his chest. 

“Thank you for the flowers,” she holds up the vase of pink peonies showcasing them. “Why are you all dressed up?”

“Kiss me first,” he puckers his lips at her.

“Oops, sorry,” she giggles and steps on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. They always kiss each other hello. 

“Now, go get changed. We’ve got plans,” he grins.

“What kind of plans?” 

“Look on your bed and see,” he nods to her room down the hall. “I’ll put these in the kitchen for you.”

She shakes her head and does what he says. On her bed is a dress she always ogled when they were at the mall, Ashton clearly bought it for her. He spoils her too much. Next to the dress is a black satin blindfold. She narrows her eyes at the blindfold but quickly changes into the dress.

“What is this for?” she asks, stepping out into the living room with the blindfold in her hands.

“For your eyes. Turn around.”

“Are we roleplaying?” she asks, turning her back to him.

“No,” he laughs, placing the fabric over her eyes. 

He helps her walk to his car and she’s asking him so many questions. He refuses to answer them and laughs at her outlandish predictions of taking her away to a private island. 

His hand is firm in hers when they’re walking to wherever they’re going. She stumbles a little because she doesn’t know the terrain but it feels like pavement under her feet. 

“Are we there yet?” she asks.

“Almost. Okay, there’s a few steps. Up, up, up, up, and last one. Good. Okay, I’m going to take it off you now.”

She feels him move behind her. He unties the blindfold slowly and it drops from her eyes. She blinks slowly to get used to the light and is met with all of their friends and family before her. There’s flower arches behind them and they’re all wearing flower crowns on their heads. 

“SURPRISE!” They shout and she gasps when they start to sing Happy Birthday.

Sarah wheels in a cake with flowers sprawled over it and her name in the middle. Y/N grasps Ashton’s hand in her own, tears forming in her eyes. His other arm wraps around her waist, his chin rests on her shoulder as he sings softly in her ear.

“...dear Y/N...Happy Birthday to you…”

She wipes at her eyes overcome with emotion from the surprise and that Ashton went through all this trouble.

“Make a wish, angel,” he murmurs in her ear.

She closes her eyes, thinks of a wish, and blows out the candles. Everyone cheers and she twists around to give Ashton a big kiss. There’s even more cheers for that and then she’s whisked away for hellos and hugs. Flowers are hanging from the ceiling like vines and she’s never been surrounded by so many flowers. 

“Were you surprised?” Sarah asks as a waiter starts to cut the cake.

“Totally surprised. But my birthday isn’t until tomorrow,” she gives Ashton a side eye.

“You told me you wanted to spend it with me, so your party with everyone else is today,” he smiles. 

“And all these flowers? I love it all so much, thank you.”

“Your eyes will have that shine all night,” he grins, kissing her nose. 

One

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Ashton laughs behind her as they trek through the woods by the cabin.

After her surprise party, on her actual birthday they spent the first half watching movies and the second swimming at the beach. They had a late flight to go to the cabin. Upon arrival, Ashton spent the last hour of her birthday pleasuring her with his mouth and fingers. When the clock struck midnight, she flipped him over with a smirk.

“Happy Birthday to you,” she whispered and slid down his body so she could please him. 

She loves hearing his moans just as much as he loves hearing hers. She loves how one hand is fisted in her hair and the other rests behind his head watching her go down on him. 

“Yes, I know where I’m going. Come on birthday boy.” She ducks under a branch then sees the clearing ahead. 

“I’m twenty-seven, I’m not a boy,” he grunts.

“Sorry, old man,” she teases and he smacks her ass playfully. 

When they come into the clearing, there’s a red and white checkered blanket in the grass with a large basket in the center. Wildflowers surround it in purples, yellows, oranges and a few reds. It’s a magical place. 

“Did you do all this?” he asks seeing the set up. 

“I did. Come on, there’s more.”

They kick off their shoes and sit on the blanket. She opens the basket taking out his favorite foods and a wrapped gift. 

“I told you, you don’t have to get me anything,” he sighs while taking the gift. “You’re more than enough.”

“I know, but it’s part of my love language. And it’s homemade anyway,” she shrugs. “Open it up.”

He unwraps the corners before tearing the paper all the way off. He stares at it in his hands for a long time. She made him a shadow box frame with a picture of them when they were at the beach during sunset. It was their favorite picture and surrounding it were dried flowers. 

“Do you know what these are?” she asks, pointing to the flowers.

“Flowers?” he chuckles touching the glass. 

“This one is from the first flowers you brought me when you helped me move in, these are from our first date, this is from Christmas and the small cranberry. These are from work and my birthday, and these are from Valentine’s Day. These are all the flowers you’ve given me,” she smiles and he looks at her stunned.

“You kept them all?”

“You’re the only one who ever bought me flowers and I loved them all so now you have them, too.”

“This is incredible, I love it. Thank you,” he reaches over to give her a kiss. 

“Wait, there’s more,” she grins and reaches into the basket again. She pulls out live flowers arranged in a pretty bouquet. “These are for you.”

“Baby,” he stressed in astonishment and set the picture frame next to him. 

He pushes her back on the blanket kissing her with all he’s got. The flowers get crushed and some stick in her hair but they’re surrounded by love and the sweet smell of flowers and kiss with passion.

“Happy Birthday my love,” she gazes up at him and sticks a flower behind his ear.

Taglist: @calumance​  @in-superbloom​ @calpalirwin​ @karajaynetoday​ @wiiildflowerrr-blog1​ @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie​ @suchalonelysunflower​ @hoodhoran​ @Fobodob @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt​ @sunshineeashton​ @ashtonsunflower​​ @mymindwide​​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​ @seanna313​ @fivesecondsofonedirection​

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part II (x reader)

Summary: Spencer and reader spend a lot of time together. And then he spends some time away.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: typical CM violence, Spencer gets hurt but there’s no graphic descriptions 

Word count: 5k

a/n: This chapter is a little bit of a different style, because it had a lot of ground to cover! So we’ve got a few different vignettes of their first few months together— first dates and sleepovers and Spencer’s first long case away. I also worked some requests into this chapter.

———

Y/N stretched out across the bed, humming and burying her face into the pillow. She sighed and then drew in a deep breath. Her eyes blinked open as she recognized the new scent on her sheets— cedar and spice and a hint of floral. 

She moved her hand across the bed to find the sheets were cool, then raised her head to see the room was empty. The apartment was quiet, but the aroma of freshly brewed coffee crept in through the bedroom door left slightly ajar. She ran a hand over her face and reached for her phone on the bedside table, tapped the screen to check the time and saw a missed text from Anita.

Anita: How did it go???????

Y/N: Good! We talked a lot. And he spent the night.

Anita: W H A T

Anita: 🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

Y/N: Calm down. It was just a sleepover. Emphasis on the sleep. 

Anita: Sure it was 👀

Anita: 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Anita: 🍆🍑🍒💦

Y/N: I’m going to mute this thread.

Anita: You’re such a prude!!!!!!!

Anita: But also

Anita: This mf is still on THIN ICE with me

Anita: So tell him to sleep with one eye open 

Y/N swiped the message thread to mute the notifications and sat up to drop her legs over the side of the bed. She stood and did a cursory once over in the mirror above her dresser, retrieving the sweater hanging on her closet door and slipping into it. Then she padded to the doorway, pushing the door open and quietly moving into the living room.

Spencer was on the couch, still in her shirt, with a book in one hand and her favorite coffee mug in the other. Roald was curled up in his lap, fast asleep. Spencer turned the page of his book, then brought the mug up to his lips. The simple domesticity had her chest tightening, and she let out a small, contented sigh. 

Spencer lifted his head at the sound, a smile stretching across his face as soon as he saw her. “Morning.”

“Morning.” She shuffled toward the couch, and he closed his book. She peered over the couch and gestured to Roald. “I see you’ve got a friend.”

“Indeed. I kind of feel like I can’t leave now.” He looked up with a small crease in his brow. “I made coffee. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” she assured with a smile. “Nice mug.”

“I didn’t want to wake you up, but I didn’t want to go through your cabinets,” he explained, looking a little nervous. “This one was on the dish rack, so I figured it was okay to use, but I can—”

“Spencer.” She leaned against the couch and smoothed a hand over his hair, meeting his eyes and smiling gently. “Is there more coffee?”

He nodded and looked down at the cat on his lap. “Yeah, I— I’d get up, but I don’t want to disturb him.”

Y/N laughed and pressed a quick kiss to his hair before retreating to the kitchen. “Oh, of course. We wouldn’t want to disrupt the king.”

…

They spent the morning on the couch, reading quietly and sipping their coffee and trading the occasional smile. She tucked her sock covered toes underneath his thigh as the sunlight crept across the floor. He brought his hand to rest on her knee and turned to the last chapter of his book, and she wondered if he was consciously slowing himself down so that she could attempt to keep up. 

Eventually, Roald yawned and stretched across Spencer’s lap, standing and hopping down off the couch in search of food. Spencer ran his hand down Y/N’s leg and circled his fingers around her ankle, rubbing his thumb lightly across the skin. She looked up from her book with a soft smile, wiggling her toes under his thigh. 

She closed her book and sat up a little closer to him on the couch. “So. I’ve been thinking.”

“Sounds dangerous,” he teased. 

“Ha, ha.” She rolled her eyes, and then her gaze shifted back to him and she chewed a little at the inside of her lip. 

No matter how hard she tried to quell it, the idea continued to nag at her subconscious— that even though he’d poured his heart out to her, even though he’d said that he loved her… that somehow she was still building him up in her head, seeing things that weren’t there, and making this into something it wasn’t. She was well aware that getting too comfortable too quickly was a surefire way to scare people off. 

“Our tea dates weren’t really dates,” she hedged. “So we haven’t really had a first date.”

He gave her ankle a quick squeeze. “No, I suppose we haven’t.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I don’t want you to think I’m in the habit of inviting men that I’m not dating to spend the night.” 

He set his book on the coffee table. “Of course.” 

“So, um.” She tilted her head and drew her brows together. She needed to hear it, directly from his perspective. “Are we— do you consider us to be, um.” She closed her eyes. “Are we dating?”

She felt him lean toward her on the couch, felt his warm palm cupping her cheek and his thumb stroking across her skin. She opened her eyes slowly to see him looking at her with a tentative smile. “I hope so,” he breathed. 

She barely stopped herself from letting out a relieved sigh, slightly embarrassed to have needed the reassurance. He didn’t seem to notice, instead closing the rest of the distance between them to press a soft kiss to her mouth. Their noses bumped together awkwardly, drawing a laugh from them both. 

He withdrew from her mouth, pressed a kiss to her bumped nose, and then sat back a little, considering. “If you’re free today, we could knock ‘first date’ off the checklist.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You have a checklist?”

“Well, a metaphorical one,” he clarified quickly. “I’m not, like, keeping track in a journal or anything.”

She laughed, bright and loud and almost carefree, and then swung her legs over the side of the couch. “What did you have in mind, doctor?”

…

Spencer Reid’s idea of a perfect first date was the Smithsonian National Postal Museum, and it was just about the most Spencer thing Y/N had ever heard. 

“I should have put two and two together with the no technology thing,” she surmised.

“I know letters have sort of gone out of fashion with the advent of phones and email, but— letter writing is an art form!” he defended, waving his hands. “And think about how incredible it feels to get something in the mail. You don’t get that same rush with a text message.”

She thought back to receiving a perfectly wrapped package with his handwriting scrawled across the brown paper. “Mm, you do have a point there,” she conceded.

He led her through the exhibits, explaining the various displays with more facts than the placards themselves could ever contain. She watched with a smile as he gestured wildly about with his hands, his eyes wide with the joy of sharing the information— of sharing it with her. She nodded, and mmhmmed, and asked the occasional question. But she was mostly just so unbelievably content to listen to him talk about anything and everything. 

He stopped mid-sentence in the Serving the Cities exhibit, dropping his hands and looking at her sheepishly. “Sorry, I— I’m boring you.”

She drew her brows together in genuine confusion. “What? No, you’re not. I’d never heard of the, um— new— no. The— new tubes?” 

“New York City's pneumatic tube system,” he offered. 

She smiled gratefully. “Yes, the pneumatic tube system. Underground mail tubes moving at 35 miles per hour? That’s kind of amazing.” She shook her head. “Why don’t they use it anymore?” 

“The Post Office Department suspended the service to conserve funding during World War I,” he explained automatically. “They restored partial service in 1922, but it eventually just became too costly to continue.” He seemed to catch himself, shaking his head and continuing, “But I— I’m sure it’s all here in the exhibits, I should just let you—”

She grabbed his hand, and he closed his mouth to stifle the rest of his rambling. She used her free hand to gesture around at the displays. “There’s a lot of information here, but to be honest, I— I haven’t really been looking at the placards.” She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as he stared at her. “I, um— I’d much rather hear it from you.” 

She watched his eyes alight with surprise and wonder, and she wanted to personally fight anyone who had ever made him believe that he was boring. He took a step closer, eyes flicking down to her mouth, and her lips twitched up into a smile. He leaned down to meet her halfway in a sweet kiss, mostly just upturned mouths and huffed breaths. 

He lingered slightly as he pulled away, still studying her with a little bit of shock. She intertwined their fingers, pressed their shoulders together, and nodded toward the next display. “So, what else can you tell me about the history of the mail system, Dr. Reid?” 

The pair of them continued through the museum, their fingers threaded together and Spencer murmuring facts into her ear. They spent three hours walking through the exhibits, pausing here and there to gaze quietly at the details of a particularly interesting display. When they finally completed their circuit, Y/N insisted on visiting the museum gift shop. 

There were postage stamp tote bags, mail carrier t-shirts, mailbox ornaments and more— all incredibly overpriced and generally ridiculous and not of interest to either of them. But the stationery display caught her eye— sets of parchment with embossed letterheads, fancy letter openers, and wax stamp kits. She ran her finger over the raised design on one particularly intricate stationery set, and Spencer peered over her shoulder. 

“I’ve always enjoyed letter writing. Partly because I tend toward the arcane, but also because it feels… intentional and personal,” he explained. “It takes time, and energy, and care.”

“It’s a very deliberate and lovely way of showing that you care about someone,” she agreed.

“Mhm,” he hummed, smiling softly. “I still write a lot of letters to my mom. When she was still in Vegas and I didn’t see her very often, I wrote the letters because she didn’t always recognize my voice over the phone.” 

He drew his brows together and ran his fingers along the top of the stationary display. “Now I write them so that she can have a— a sort of record of my life, I guess. So that hopefully when the memories aren’t there anymore, she can still read them and feel like she’s a part of the story.”

Y/N reached for his hand again, and he accepted it with a bittersweet smile. “We did the same thing for my grandma,” she told him, returning his melancholic smile. “Lots of letters and photos. I never thought of it that way, but it was sort of like keeping her in our stories.” 

She turned back to the display and picked up the package of stationery, turning it over in her hands. He gently plucked it from her grip, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. “I think you need some nice paper for the next few chapters.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to—” she started. 

He cut her off with a press of his lips. She grasped a little at his waist as he kissed her and wondered if she would ever get used to kissing Spencer Reid. When he finally pulled back, she had to catch her breath. 

“I’ll take half,” he murmured. “I was hoping I could, um— help you write them.”

She squeezed his waist gently, heard the chains of insecurity clinking and breaking as he chiseled away at them piece by piece. “I’d like that.”

…

Two weeks later, Y/N convinced him to try painting— specifically, Paint & Sip Night at the art studio around the corner from her apartment. 

“I’m going to be terrible at this,” he warned her, looking over his shoulder at where she was tying the strings of his smock. 

She tugged the strings around his waist to gently pull him back toward her, leaned up on her tiptoes, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. She knotted the strings tight and barely restrained herself from sneaking a little squeeze of his bum— although she did not stop herself from looking. 

“It’s not about being good at it. It’s about having fun.” She used her hands on his waist to turn him around. “And if you’re not having fun, then we can go home,” she shrugged. 

He smoothed a wrinkle from her smock. “I always have fun with you.” He smiled and scrunched his nose at her, and she returned the nose scrunch with a laugh. 

“All right, everyone!” The instructor clapped her hands together. “Are you ready to paint a masterpiece?”

Forty five minutes later, Spencer peered over at her canvas and huffed out a breath. “God, look at that texture. How are you actually good at this?”

Y/N turned and looked at his painting. “Yours looks good, too,” she insisted. 

“Michael could— and has, actually— done better than this,” he scoffed.

“Well, I like it.” She tilted her head. “It’s giving me... Monet vibes. It’ll look perfect in my living room.”

“You are not hanging this in your living room,” he laughed. 

“I’d like to see you try and stop me,” she teased, turning back to her work to follow the next instruction. 

She watched him as they worked— his tongue slipping out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, his fingertips tapping across his thighs in consideration, his huffed breaths here and there when a stroke didn’t look the way he wanted it to. She finished a little bit before him, adding her tiny signature to the bottom of her canvas before standing to move to his side. She slid a gentle hand around his waist and looked over his shoulder at his work. 

He sighed and gestured to the corner of his canvas. “This whole section looks… weird.” 

She studied it for a moment. “I think maybe it’s just because it’s sort of one note?” She pointed to the rest of the painting. “Like, you played with layering the colors everywhere else. Here it’s just the blue. You could add some purple maybe? Or green,” she mused. 

“Yeah, I guess I can try that.” He shrugged and leaned over to the paints, gathering some purple on his brush.

She moved out of his way but rested her chin lightly on his shoulder as he worked. He moved the brush meticulously in small strokes, layering and creating dimension in the corner of the piece. When he finally set the brush down, he leaned his head to rest on top of hers. 

“Okay. So it looks much more…” he trailed off. 

“Cohesive,” she offered. 

She could feel his smile. “Yeah,” he agreed. He lifted his head to look at her. “Seriously, how are you so good at this?” 

She moved her chin from his shoulder and gave a nonchalant shrug. “I guess my many years of finger painting experience had to pay off someday.” She nodded to his finished painting. “I don’t know what your going rate is, but I have to have this.”

He swiveled on the stool to capture her hands in his, lacing their fingers together and pulling her in between his legs. “It’s yours.”

She feigned shock. “For free?”

“I didn’t say that,” he corrected with a sly smile. He dropped her hands to bring his own to her hips, pulling her in closer. “But it’s sort of an on-going payment deal. I’m asking at least 30 kisses per month.” 

She pressed her lips together to avoid breaking out into an absurd grin. “You drive a hard bargain.” 

“Take it or leave it. That’s my final offer,” he shrugged. 

She pretended to mull it over, lips pursed and eyes on the ceiling. He huffed out a laugh, and she cracked a smile, bringing her fingers up to tangle in his curls. “Deal.” 

…

Y/N: I don’t even know if your phone is capable of receiving pictures, but look what I hung today!

Spencer: It receives pictures! I wish I hadn’t received this one though. I cannot believe you actually hung that horrific thing on your wall.

Y/N: I’m going to commission you for a piece for the kitchen ;)

Spencer: You’re hilarious.

Y/N: You love it.

Spencer: I do. 

Spencer: I wanted to tell you... I have my first therapy appointment tomorrow afternoon. 

Y/N: Spence!!!

Y/N: I am so proud of you. It’s going to change your life. 

Spencer: You’ve already done that, Miss Honey. 

…

Y/N: How did it go?

Spencer: I cried? A lot.

Y/N: That happens to me, too! Good therapy will do that. Other than the crying, how do you feel? 

Spencer: I feel… amazing. Lighter, I think? I’m actually kind of bummed that I have to wait two weeks to do it again. 

Y/N: I know I said it already, but I’m so incredibly proud of you. 

Spencer: I quite literally would not have done it without you. 

Y/N: Happy to give you a little nudge whenever you need it, doctor. <3

...

The BAU’s caseload had been uncharacteristically slow, and the two of them took advantage of every moment. On one particularly gloomy Saturday afternoon, they were sprawled across Spencer’s couch and sipping on their umpteenth cups of coffee. He scribbled notes in the margins of his students’ latest essays, while she typed out her lesson plans for the upcoming week. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him set down his pen. He stifled a sigh and she held back a smile as she typed out a short vowel word chain. She could feel his eyes on her, could practically smell the smoke coming from his overworked brain. 

When he didn’t break the silence, she looked up over the top of her laptop. “Can I help you?” she teased.

His cheeks colored with a very pretty flush— the same one she’d pulled from him in the carpool loop all those months ago. “Two of my students just… aren’t getting it.” He gestured to the papers in front of him. “I’ve tried extra office hours, extended time for work completion, and it just— doesn’t seem to be helping.” He looked at her with pursed lips. “I was, um— I was wondering if you had any ideas? That I could try.”

Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. “You— you’re asking me for help?”

“Well, yeah.” He shrugged. “You’re the best teacher I know.”

Now it was her turn to blush. “Oh. Well, um…” She set her laptop on the coffee table and sat up, considering. “Have you tried differentiating your lectures?” At his raised eyebrow, she continued, “Like— having a PowerPoint or a recorded version that they can revisit? You’re kind of a fast talker, so it’s possible that they’re struggling to retain the information because they can’t keep up with your delivery.”

“Huh.” He tilted his head with a furrowed brow. “I... didn’t consider that my oratory speed could have an impact on student achievement. But of course— that makes total sense.” He gave her a sheepish smile and his best puppy dog eyes. “So… how much coffee do you think you’d require to, um— help me make a PowerPoint?”

She sighed dramatically but couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “At least another two cups. And one of those peanut butter sandwich cookies from Soho.”

He set the papers aside and leaned over to plant a kiss on her upturned mouth. “I’ll buy you a dozen.”

…

In late May, their luck ran out. 

First there was a case in Arizona— brutal and ritualistic murders scattered through the desert with almost no cooling off period. On the eighth day that he was in Phoenix, Y/N��s phone rang on the bedside table. She reached across to pick it up, smiling at his name on the screen.

“Hey,” she answered, moving her computer off her lap and getting comfortable. 

“Hi,” Spencer murmured. 

“How’s the case going?”

“It’s, um— it’s going okay, actually,” he assessed. “We’ve made a lot of headway in the last twelve hours, and I think we might be narrowing in.”

“That’s great.” She stifled a yawn behind her hand. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.” 

His tone of voice had her sitting up a little straighter in bed. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he insisted, but his tone didn’t shift. 

“You don’t sound fine,” she prompted. 

“I just—” He blew out a breath, and she could almost hear him running his hand over his face. “I miss you. And maybe that’s weird, because we’ve only been together for seventy four days, but—”

“Spence,” she interrupted. He sighed, and she continued, “It’s not weird. I miss you, too.”

“Eight days isn’t even that long, but I just— I’ve never, um.” The line was quiet for long enough that she almost thought the call had dropped. And then his voice came back, softer than she’d ever heard it. “I’ve never had someone to miss.”

Her heart physically ached for all the time he’d spent without someone to miss— and without someone to miss him, and cherish him, and— well, love him. She still hadn’t said it back. She wanted to say it right then, but it felt wrong to say it for the first time over the phone. And there was still that nagging little fear— of his inevitable reconsideration and rejection— keeping her from pulling the metaphorical trigger. 

“Well. I’m happy to fill that position,” she settled on— and hated how inadequate it sounded. She leaned back against the pillows, prepared to make him feel it even if she couldn’t say it. At the very least, she could help him take his mind off the monsters— if only for a few minutes. “Teach me something, doctor.”

He laughed a little through the phone, and she knew her plan was working already. 

“Okay,” he started, and she could hear the muffled crinkle of the hotel duvet. “Um— did you know that the Sonoran Desert is the only place in the world where saguaro cacti grow?”

“Wow. No, I didn’t,” she smiled, ready to learn everything there was to know about the giant, prickly plants. “Why is that?”

“Experts believe there are two main factors that limit the cacti from expanding into the Mojave — temperature and rainfall. It’s also possible that...”

...

On his tenth day away, the letter showed up. 

Y/N,

I’m writing from the balcony of the hotel room overlooking the desert— well, more so the parking lot of the desert— and I’m reminded of the duality of this landscape. The arid climate and rugged terrain can make it a mercilessly hostile place. Yet at the same time, this environment is one of the most enigmatic and enchanting, and it’s teeming with life if you look close enough. 

This job can illuminate the cruelty and brutality of humanity, but it so often reminds me of the resilience and the goodness of people, too. The duality of the desert parallels the duality of man, I suppose.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been out here. I think you’d like it. I’ve thought of another poem that makes me think of you, and of the way that I finally feel like I can breathe. 

With thee, in the Desert –

With thee in the thirst –

With thee in the Tamarind wood –

Leopard breathes – at last!

       - Emily Dickinson

Love, 

Spencer

…

They had barely deplaned after the culmination of the case in Arizona before they were called back out to Colorado, this time for six days. She barely heard from him at all, save for the occasional text, and even then, it was never more than ten words. She spent her waking hours worrying and dreamt the same terrifying dream every single night— being chased until her legs gave out, never sure of what she was running from and never able to slow down. 

It was 2:27 in the morning when her phone rang, rousing her from her restless tossing and turning. His name on the caller ID had the worry jumping into her throat, but she answered as calmly as she could. 

“Hi.” She yawned into her hand and let out a little sigh.

“Hi.” The tenor of his voice was quiet and weary. “I know it’s unbelievably late—”

She sat up and interrupted, “Are you okay?” 

He was quiet for a moment, and her worry intensified. “I, um— I’m… I’m downstairs.” 

She turned on the bedside lamp. “Like, right now?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed quietly. “I— I’m sorry. I should have called first before just— showing up at your door.”

She was already climbing out of bed. “No, no, honey, don’t be sorry. I’m coming to buzz you in.”

She shuffled through the dark apartment, fumbled for the intercom to press the buzzer. She could hear his feet on the stairs before she even made it to the door, unlocking the deadbolt and pulling back the chain. As the door swung open, he was rounding the top of the stairs and turning the corner of the landing. 

It took him five strides to cross the threshold, and then he was tumbling into her arms and burying his face in her shoulder. The impact knocked the breath out of her, but she recovered quickly, bringing her arms around him and holding him tight. 

He didn’t speak, just breathed into her hair and clutched a little desperately at her back. She stroked a soothing hand over his curls and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” she murmured. “You’re safe, Spence. I’m right here.”

She shifted her weight slowly back and forth, rocking him gently and petting over his hair, steady and rhythmic. He burrowed his face into the crook of her neck and let out a shaky breath, and Y/N felt his tears on her skin. She brought both arms around his shoulders then, squeezing him tightly. “I’m right here, honey,” she repeated. “I’m right here.”

He cried quietly into her shoulder as she ran soothing hands over his back. She knew this was more than just missing her— it was the cruelty and brutality of man that he saw every day, the layers of hurt that would probably always be there. But she knew the resilience was there, too. And she was determined to always show him the other half of the chasm of humanity.

After a long while, he pulled back, still sniffling. Y/N reached out to grasp his face in both her hands, sweeping the tears from his cheeks with gentle thumbs. Her heart panged at the way his eyes were shining and ringed red, full of complete exhaustion and raging emotion. 

“What do you need?” she asked. “Water, tea, a snack, a shower?”

He shook his head. “Just you,” he mumbled.

She felt the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “You’ve got me. Always.” She pressed one, two, three chaste kisses to his chapped lips. “Let’s get cleaned up and changed and into bed, hm?”

She had him wash his face and brush his teeth, and then she moved him to sit on the closed toilet lid. “Close your eyes,” she said softly. 

He could barely keep them open as it was, and she didn’t even want to think about how little sleep he’d had over the last three weeks. She cupped his face in her hands for a long moment, rememorizing every curve and angle. 

First, she swiped a cotton pad soaked with cucumber toner across the high planes of his cheekbones and along his nose. She allowed it to dry, and then dropped gentle kisses to his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, his chin. Next, she took a dab of moisturizer on the tips of her fingers, rubbing in circular motions along the path her lips had traveled. Finally, she pressed a few drops of her favorite lavender and chamomile face oil onto his cheeks, soothing away the last, damp remnants of agony. 

When he opened his eyes again, they were already a little clearer, a little calmer, a little lighter. He let out a long, slow breath and laced their fingers together. She squeezed his hands, and then pulled him up and into her side.

She led him into her bedroom, stripped him out of his cardigan and button-up and trousers, and helped him into the soft, oversized school fundraiser shirt that had become his. And then she took his hands in hers once again and pulled him toward the bed, getting him settled and tucked in on his side before coming around to shut off the bedside light. He whined at the loss of contact, and she shushed him gently as she climbed in next to him. 

“C’mere.” She lifted the duvet, and he moved to lay his head on her chest, wrapping his arm around her middle and pulling her impossibly closer. She tucked the covers back around him, and then brought her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. 

She stroked his hair quietly, listening to his breathing as it evened and slowed. He was asleep in minutes, snuffling gently into her chest. His grip loosened with every breath, and he settled more comfortably against her side with each exhale. 

She let the tears she’d been holding back slip over her lash line and pressed a soft kiss into his hair. The faint snores vibrating from his chest muffled her quiet voice as she whispered the trio of words she couldn’t quite bring herself to say in the light of day.

———

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