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aliwritesfic · 3 years

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Rainy Morning (Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader)

Second part to this which I posted last night. I really hope you all enjoy it, and I might add more to this story is inspiration strikes but for now I kind of like where I left it

Summary: It’s the morning after your first date with Frankie

Tags/Content warning: fluff, morning sex, breakfast

Word Count: 1.7k

You awoke to the sound of rain slamming heavily on the roof. The room around you was unfamiliar, even in the soft pre-dawn light, but after a few groggy moments you remembered. Last night. Frankie. Your body flushed with the memory of his touch, the barely-there ache between your legs a gentle reminder of him.

Rolling over, you saw he was still asleep, his lips parted slightly and his eyes moving rapidly under his lids. You smiled slightly and moved yourself closer, the warmth of his body and the sheets around you creating a perfect cocoon to listen to the rain in.

As if sensing you near, Frankie reached an arm out and draped it across your waist, drawing you closer. You allowed yourself to relax into his embrace, breathing in his scent of soap and sweat intermingled with something else . . . mint, maybe? Whatever it was, you liked it.

You and Frankie had spent a few extra hours talking last night, about everything and nothing. You told him about the people you met while travelling, laughing about the trouble you and your best friend Adri got up to when you were finally able to meet up after months of separation, pointing out a small scar you had on your ass from when you decided it was a fantastic idea to ride down a steep hill on a child size scooter. When Frankie asked how much alcohol was involved, you cringed and told him you’d stopped counting after the sixth shot of vodka. You avoided the topic of your ex and how emotionally scarred he had left you. Frankie told you a little about his army days, about the men he called his brothers, his face lighting up especially when he mentioned that the closest of them, Santiago, had convinced him to download the app you met on.

You made a mental note to thank Santiago for that if you ever met him.

A few hours passed, you slipped in and out of sleep, annoyed that when you finally had a day off to sleep past 6am, it was nearly impossible. Eventually, Frankie began to stir, the first signs of waking showing on his face. His thick lashes fluttered, and his breathing lost the quality that only deep slumber brought on. He felt you next to him, his fingers traced along your spine raising goosebumps along your arms.

“Good morning,” his voice was thick with sleep, which you found incredibly sexy.

“Hey sleepy head,” you whispered, kissing his jaw. He smiled and opened his eyes, fixing his gaze on you. Your stomach fluttered, and you could feel your desire for him dampen between your legs. The rain started coming down harder, drowning out all other noise from outside.

“How’d you sleep?” Frankie moved a strand of hair away from your face as he spoke.

“Really good, this bed is ridiculously comfortable,” you said, moving your leg so it hooked over his hips, hoping he would get the message.

Frankie made a noise of agreement and pressed a kiss against your forehead, then another on your cheek, and a third on your lips. You felt his cock stir and twitch against your leg, sending a new wave of lust through your body.

Frankie deepened the kiss and rolled you both, so you were on top of him. You moved so you could feel the tip of his cock lined up with your entrance. You kissed him once more before slowly, teasingly lowering yourself onto him until his full length was inside you. Frankie moaned your name as you moved your hips, relishing at the feeling of him inside of you.

You set the pace, slowing, and quickening at your will, enjoying the feeling of him. Frankie held your hips, his deep brown eyes never leaving your own until he sat up and moved his face to your breasts. He caught a nipple between his teeth, biting down with gentle playfulness. You let out a quivering breath as his tongue worked at the tender nipple, sending waves of pleasure through your body. God, would he make you cum again? You were so close, and Frankie seemed to sense this, taking over so he set the pace moving in a quick rhythm beneath you.

You cried out as the orgasm moved through your body, leaving your mind blissfully blank of all thoughts except one: Frankie.

His own release followed quickly after yours, like he was holding off until he knew you were satisfied. His breathing became laboured, his eyes squeezed shut and his grip on you became tight as his hips buckled slightly. You slumped over him, taking deep steadying breaths.

“Ah shit,” Frankie muttered, “I’m so sorry.”

“What for?” You asked, confused. You hadn’t said the word ‘yes’, but surely, he knew you were a very willing participant.

“I didn’t put a condom on,” he explained, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you almost laughed, relieved that that was what he was worried about. “I’m on birth control and I got tested last month. I appreciate the apology, though.”

Frankie nodded, looking a little more relaxed. “I’ve still made a mess though. Here, roll over and don’t move til I get back.” You did as he instructed as he sprung up from the bed and pulled on a pair of boxers and left to the bathroom.

Sex with Frankie that morning was different than the night before, more sensual, and gentler than the night before. Maybe it was the throws of sleep still on you both, or maybe it was the sound of the rain outside, or maybe it was the feeling of already knowing each other’s bodies better than you did the night before. Whatever the reason, you found yourself craving more of him.

Frankie returned with a damp cloth and set to work, cleaning your area with a care you didn’t realise was possible from a lover. When he was finished, he looked up at you from between your legs with a shy grin.

“You hungry?”

Your stomach gurgled in response, making Frankie laugh. “Have you got eggs?”

“How’d you like them?”

“Scrambled,” you said, knowing that it was nearly impossible to mess up scrambled eggs.

“Perfect,” Frankie stood up and handed you some clothes. “You don’t have to wear them, but I thought they might be a bit more comfortable than the dress.”

You thanked him and he left to cook for you, giving you privacy to dress. You took this as an opportunity to get a better look at his room, taking in everything from the photos on the dresser of Frankie in his army days with his brothers around him, to the half folded pile of clothes in the corner. You picked up the photo on the dresser and squinted at it, wishing for the millionth time you’d had the sense to bring your glasses with you when you’d failed miserably at putting your contacts in.

In the photo Frankie stood with four other men in what you presumed was the Afghan desert, all in their army fatigues. Frankie was younger here by a few years, his face unlined by time and stress, his hair cropped shorter. You tried to pick out his friends in the picture, the brothers Benny and Will were obvious, you guessed Tom was the slightly more serious looking one, and Santiago the one next to Frankie. You set the photo back in its spot and ventured out into the kitchen, Frankie smiling as he gestured for you to sit at the counter stool.

“I haven’t had to cook for anyone but myself in a while,” he admitted sheepishly, “so I hope this is up to standard.” He handed a plate of eggs and toast to you and started on his own. You took a bite and nodded at him.

“It’s really good,” you said taking another bite. You didn’t tell him that anyone had cooked for you had been about a year and a half before your ex, Jonas, left, not wanting to dampen the mood, but the fact that Frankie seemingly cared enough to make you breakfast after one night made you almost giddy.

You and Frankie ate in companionable silence, stealing glances at each other. You hadn’t imagined when you agreed to meet him for a date that it would go this well. Hell, you hadn’t imagined ever agreeing to a date again after the shit Jonas put you through, but something about Frankie seemed . . . trustworthy was the best way to put it. You were going to ask him on a date, agonising over FaceTime with Adri on how best to ask, when he had asked you. Adri, who believed in fate, told you it was meant to be.

You didn’t know if you believed in fate, or soulmates, or anything like that, but even you had to admit the coincidence had been freakish. After Frankie’s message came in, you instantly set to work clearing your schedule, sending a message to your Friday night study group that you’d suddenly come down with a stomach bug and wouldn’t be able to make it. Adri had stayed on a little while longer, giving you advice as you tried on what felt like a thousand different outfits, discarding each one in a slowly growing pile. You wondered if that’s what the pile of clothes in the corner of Frankie’s room was – a mess out discarded outfits.

“I wanna do this again,” you said looking at Frankie in the eyes. “I don’t know if you’re feeling it too, but I uh, I feel something with you.” It was the most direct you’d been with almost anyone, but you needed to say it, to at least put it to him so that if he wasn’t feeling that connection, then he could shoot you down quickly and painlessly.

“I was thinking the same, actually.” At his words, you felt tension you didn’t even know you had been holding roll out of your shoulders. “When are you free next?”

“The only time I’ve got free for the next week is when I take Lola for her walk,” you grimaced. School was kicking your ass with all the assignments and working in a bar didn’t exactly afford much free time.

“What time and where?”

“Usually around 4, along the dog beach.”

“I’ll see you there on Wednesday, then?”

You felt yourself grin, “it’s a date.”

“It’s a date,” Frankie repeated, his dark eyes lighting up.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie fluff #frankie morales fluff

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suzumenokakimono · 4 years

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I was here first II

Pairing: Namjoon / Jimin x reader

Genre: AU, smut, fluff, angst, roommates to lovers, fwb, friends to lover

Summary: Jimin was your roommate, best friend and in love with you so bad it wasn’t even funny. His friends knew this all along and were surely surprised you’ve never noticed. But you didn’t. You were oblivious as the Earth was round. Now, Jimin decided it was time to finally confess to you. He asked one of his closest friends, Namjoon, to help him. But what if you end up liking Namjoon instead of Jimin?

Word count: 7k

A/N: Thank you, N.

While I was writing this, I realized what’s ‘wrong’ with my writing style but then also it hit me: not gonna change it.

Also, there is stuff going on in my head, hence the plot. * flies away *

Namjoon though.

Tagged: (as requested 💜: @ jinnfires)

Masterlist | Chapters: One | Two | Three (incoming)

-------

That was your favorite mug.

You remembered how you got it, actually. Jimin had broken your mug. The only mug you had brought with you when you’d moved in. It was really stupid, it was not even special to you. You just never bought anything more, never needed it to, to be honest.

Before you started to live with Jimin, your previous roommate had had a lot of stuff and she’d always let you use it. It was really convenient and you gladly took advantage of that. When she moved out, you were left with just your stuff, which was not a lot. Jimin always said you could use anything you wanted from his kitchen but it was nice to have something of your own. So when he broke your only mug, he immediately bought you a new one. He was feeling very bad about that and kept sending you tons of links to internet shops, asking what you would like. To finally make him stop crying over the whole situation, you’d picked one and you used it ever since. After those two years in this apartment, you got yourself more things, that you could call yours, but this one stayed as your favourite.

And now it was broken. You were standing in the middle of the kitchen and looking at the shattered pieces on the floor, not sure how that had happened. No. That was a lie. You knew exactly how it had happened, you just weren’t sure… how.

The morning started pretty ordinarily. It was a weekend so both you and Jimin didn’t have work and stayed at home. He was trying to convince you to go to the cinema or something, but looking at the weather you weren’t sure it was the best idea. You just wanted to stay inside. You decided to make yourself a nice tea and finally start reading that book you’d wanted to read for so long.

Jimin’s face leaned out from behind the door frame to check what was going on. He had heard the noise and wanted to make sure you were alright. He saw you standing in the kitchen and started to think he had misheard but then he noticed the mess on the floor. He didn’t have any issues with recognizing your mug. Or what was left of it.

“Did you just…?”.

You hadn’t even noticed him. When he spoke you turned around, surprised by his presence.

“Huh… what?”

“Did you just break the mug from me?”

For some reason he was pretty amused by this. Knowing what happened with the previous one and seeing what you did with the one he got you, was a little ironic.

“I can’t believe you broke THE MUG!”

He chuckled to himself but then he saw your face expression and just burst into laughter. You looked so surprised and out of place, for what the reason he assumed, was your accident with the mug. He started to help you clean up, since you were barefoot and could step into some smaller pieces and hurt yourself.

“What happened?”

“Um… sorry. I… got distracted. Shame…”

You really were sorry about that. One of the reasons you liked the mug was how you’d actually gotten it. The story was simple but there was a story and that’s what counted. You can’t say that very often about your everyday life’s items.

You helped Jimin with cleaning, making sure nothing stayed on the floor and took out one of his mugs from the cabinet. While doing so you were holding your phone in your other hand, looking intensely on its screen.

“So, what about the movie?”

“... movie? What movie?”

“Are you still not going?”

“No…”, you looked at your phone again. “Something came up.”

-------

When Jimin opened the door, it was around 6am. It was already getting bright outside but all he was thinking about was to sleep for the next week. He was exhausted and kind of dehydrated. Not being entirely conscious he went to the kitchen and just turned on the tap to drink some water. He twisted his head to the side and leaned over the sink. Cold, clean water ran down his throat and felt a little more alive than a few seconds ago. He promised himself, not for the first time to be honest, not to drink that much next time. Let’s face it. He was not going to quit drinking entirely. He just wanted not to feel half dead each morning after a fun, long night. That was never fun. The only plus of those situations was you, you taking care of him when he was in a state where crawling on the floor seemed like the only possible way of moving. You always complained but never denied helping him. It also gave you many possibilities of making fun of him.

He turned off the water and dried his face with a towel. He needed a shower but was too tired to care about that. Soft bed was calling for him. While passing by your room, he saw the door not entirely closed, so he quietly stepped closer to check up on you. You were sleeping in your bed, wrapped in your comforter like a burrito and snoring quietly. Your pretty dress was on a chair and shoes discarded separately on the floor. He saw your hair pointing out and this way he was sure you were okay. Namjoon did what he was asked to. He went to his room, feeling a little heavy, remembering again what had happened in the club and how his whole plan didn’t work out at all. He knew it was his fault that he backed out and just left you. But for him, the price was too big. What ifs were killing him this whole time and he decided he would not take this risk. He needed more time.

He closed your door behind him and went to his room. He had a lot of stuff to think about. Maybe a new plan to figure out. But not this morning. The only thing he needed and also wanted to do was sleep.

-------

It had been a week since you, Jimin and Namjoon went out. None of you mentioned the night very often, if at all. When you woke up the next day, you just wanted to die quietly without any distractions and minding silence in Jimin’s room, he was already dead. You both spent that time separately, doing your own stuff, doing everything that was necessary to survive. After that, you just got back to the normal life routine. You hadn’t found out what the meaning of that night was anyway, so you didn’t pay much attention to it.

No. That was a lie. You didn’t care much about the situation with Jimin. Sure, he’d acted weird and left you for some random girl in the club, but he was your friend and apparently he’d gotten back home safe. You did care, however, about the other guy. The one you met that night.

Namjoon didn’t give you any contact information, no phone number, no messenger options. When he’d left your room, he’d just disappeared and never tried to reach out to you. He’d left you with just a memory of him, him on top of you in your bed, groaning low in your ear. This image stayed in your head rent free and didn’t want to move out anytime soon. You didn’t remember everything. You lost a little track of the events after you both left the cab. But you were definitely sure you’d held his dick at some point. That was unmistakable.

Having this vividly in your mind, you tried to find him. The best way and probably the only way, was through Jimin. You’d started by asking him how work was, hoping he would mention his friend at some point. But he didn’t. So’d you tried to nonchalantly talk about your night out but it somehow ended up even worse. He’d changed the subject immediately, without any reason and had been avoiding it since then. You didn’t understand that, but nevertheless, you understood you wouldn’t get any information this way. Sighing heavily, you dropped it for a moment. You really liked Namjoon and wanted to see him again, but apparently you had to wait for something to happen or him to find you, because the universe was telling you to wait. So you waited.

It was Friday evening. You were looking for a movie to watch and you wanted to watch it in the living room. Jimin was writing to you the whole day how one of his annoying co-workers had a birthday and was insisting on going out later to a bar. He was nagging how he didn’t want to, but had to and was asking you for some good excuses to go back home. You liked the idea of spending the evening alone in your apartment so you refused and laughed at his response, when he realized you enjoyed his suffering. Sitting wrapped in a blanket on your living room couch, you were ready for tonight's film show, knowing very well your roommate wouldn't be home anytime soon.

-------

Jimin was sipping his beer without any enjoyment. He was forced to come to the bar and drink, and that took all the fun from being at the bar and drinking. He thought maybe pouring all possible alcohol straight down his throat would be a good solution to survive this ‘birthday party’ but then again he promised himself not to drink that much. At least, not as much as last time. Oh fuck, last time… Just thinking about it made him anxious and he immediately took a big sip. It’d been a week and he couldn’t get over it. He didn’t talk to anyone about that, he was embarrassed and so pissed at himself. He thought maybe hiding everything deep, deep inside him would just make it go away.

Namjoon sat next to him, pushing him to the side, forcing Jimin to make more space. He also got invited for the party, but was a little merrier than his friend. He was drinking some dark beer and looking around the crowd. One of their female colleagues tried to talk to him, he was pretty sure she was flirting, but after a few moments he found an excuse and ran away.

“She has nice legs.”, Jimin mumbled from his glass.

“Yeah, then go and talk to her. I’ll save your spot.”

“I don’t think she likes me. I think she likes you.”

“Bummer.”

“Why are you so defensive? You’re not madly in love with your friend, like me. Or are you?”

Of course Jimin had to mention you. He was drinking and was in a bad mood from the moment they’d entered the bar. This was the first time they actually talked with each other, since your night in the club. Jimin never got back to Namjoon, like he said he would. They were avoiding one another, for their own reasons, which they kept for themselves. Namjoon was seriously scared that everything that had happened between you two was perfectly noticed and his friendship with Jimin was ruined. He really didn’t want that but at the same time, he couldn't blame Jimin. So, when he’d come to the table to finally break the ice, he wasn’t sure what he was going to find. It had surprised him that Jimin didn’t seem to be angry.

“I’m not in love with you. You’re not my type. Too much penis.” Jimin snored at that excellent joke and got back to his drink. This was a good sign.

This past week hadn’t been easy. Avoiding his friend and distracting himself with anything that’s possible just to not think about you was pretty exhausting. He was actually happy someone had come up with the idea of going out to the bar. He needed to chill.

“I fucked this up, didn’t I?”, Jimin spoke out of the blue.

“No. Because you haven’t done anything.”, Namjoon said, without even thinking.

Jimin looked at his friend with an unspoken question, not sure what he meant. Namjoon swallowed hard. The fuck he’d just said that and started the whole conversation? He didn’t mean to say that! How the hell was this supposed to help to not think about you? This was already not going well.

“You’ve never actually tried, you know… talked to her…”, he started to sweat.

“Yes, exactly. I fucked this up, because I have no balls to try.”

“But… why?”

“I thought… maybe…”, he started to mumble. “I should first make her jealous, you know? By picking up someone else and she… would…”

“Make… her jealous? How the hell was she supposed to be jealous if she had no idea what was going on?”

“You know… She sees me with some hot chick, thinks, oh that could have been me…”

Namjoon smelled bullshit from a distance. Jimin was too smart to actually think this kind of shitty strategy would work. Plus, that had never been his plan for that night in the first place..

“Oh, cut the crap!”, Namjoon lost his patience and probably shouted too loud, Jimin looked at him, surprised. “What the hell really happened that night?”

Jimin stopped sipping his beer, trying to collect his thoughts. He was torned apart. He wanted to forget about everything and at the same time, needed to say everything that was eating him alive.

“I panicked.”, Jimin’s sight was glued to the table.

“That… I would call an understatement, at least.

“Remember when we were talking and… we started to look back on the day we met… She mentioned how I was drunk and falling from my chair… She turned to you…”

Namjoon froze in place. This was it. Jimin was about to say how him, his friend, stole the girl of his dreams. There was no turning back.

“She was talking about me like the biggest dork. She was laughing, not taking me seriously…”

Namjoon took a deep breath and wasn’t sure he understood. His mind was completely lost in connecting the dots.

“She’s seeing me as her friend. I was trying to be with her that night, like with the other girls, you know? I was flirting and touching her, she didn’t care at all. We both were drinking and yet… it wasn’t enough. That’s why I ran away.”

Jimin got back to sipping his drink, not looking at Namjoon. And if he had, he would’ve seen an absolutely blank page. Namjoon felt like his brain got a reset and he was sitting with a blue screen displayed for everyone watching. He never doubted that what he did back in the club was wrong, however he was certain Jimin had seen it and was about to kill him. Not noticing how he had been drooling all over you was pretty impossible. And yet, here he was, safe and sound. He narrowed his eyes in that moment, finally connecting the dots. You both were pretty dumb and blind when it came to feelings and reading someone else’s emotions.

“So… you got scared because she was laughing at something you did three years ago?”

“It sounds stupid, I know. But I felt really weird. Like, me doing that is all she can see. Like, that night defined me in her eyes. She sees me as a dork… nothing serious…”

“You’re not a dork.”, Namjoon sighed heavily. This conversation was pretty weird and was making him nervous. However, what made him slightly relaxed was that, one problem was already solved: Jimin was absolutely oblivious about that night.

“I know I am. And she knows I am.”

“Maybe she likes dorks?”, why the fuck did he say that?!

“I actually don’t know what her type is.”

I’m her type.

“Did she date anyone, after moving in with you?”

“I’m not sure… I think there was a guy or two… nothing really serious.”

“You’ve never talked about this? Never gossiped about your lovelife?”

“We did, but she was always more curious about mine, since I did bring some girls a few times. She was always asking why a handsome guy like me doesn’t have a girlfriend”, Jimin smiled to himself after a word handsome. He liked when you called him that.

“She thinks you’re handsome.”

“And she doesn’t like me.”

But she likes me.

Namjoon mentally slapped himself for that.

“What about the other girl?”, he desperately wanted to change the subject.

Talking about you, in a perspective of you liking Jimin or not, was killing him. You were on his mind all the time anyway, since you’d met. And he had to hide that. He started to have problems with being a good friend and supporting Jimin with his crush and his efforts to win you over.

“What girl?”

“The one you were making out when you left us. Y/A saw the two of you at the bar.”

“There’s not much to talk about.”, Jimin looked flustered. He turned his head away.

“Why? Did you go with her and something went wrong?”

“No… it’s….”

“Did she laugh at you? You couldn’t do it? You were too drunk? You fell asleep in the middle?”

“Are you having fun?”

“Yes, yes I am!”

Jimin looked at Namjoon, waiting for another assumption about his night. But none of them came, he stopped making stuff up after seeing his friend's expression.

“It’s nothing like that. I didn’t go with her.”, Jimin sighed.

“I’m a little confused now. You ditched Y/A for some random chick and then you just… came home?”

“No. I… “

“What? What the fuck happened?”

“I went to the internet caffe and played Overwatch.”

Namjoon snorted so much his beer came right through his nose. However, he admitted it was worth it. He would have never expected Jimin to say something like that.

“I’m sorry, you did what?”

“Ugh… Yes, we made out a little but I wasn’t in the mood. I was thinking about Y/A the whole time and it… it just didn’t feel right.”

“You were thinking about Y/N while making out with another girl?”

“I forgot how big of a dipshit you can be, you know?”

You have no idea.

-------

The doorbell woke you up from the deepest moment of your dream. When you lifted your head you weren’t sure where you were, what was going on or who you were. You needed a moment to recover and another ring to finally get up. Blindly you reached out to your nightstand and grabbed your phone.

2:05 am. Who the fuck was that?

You had gone to sleep some time ago, knowing Jimin had his own keys and he would help himself with opening the door. You were not expecting anyone, especially at this time, so while still being a little asleep you were very hesitant to open the door. You looked through the visor on the door but it was too dark to determine anything. But there was someone there, for sure.

Another ring made you jump in place. Someone was really stubborn and didn’t want to let this go. So, hoping nobody doing this kind of noise would try to kill you, you slowly turned the locks and looked at what was waiting for you in the corridor.

First you saw Namjoon. He was standing right in front of the door, basically leaning into it. He barely looked at you because all his attention was on another person hanging on his shoulder. And that person was Jimin.

You looked first at Namjoon, then at your roommate, then again at his friend. Many questions were growing inside your head, you were fully awake at this point.

“What…?”

You tried to articulate one of them, but it died before it left your mouth. Was Jimin unconscious? You just pointed at him, which was worth a thousand words.

“I’m sorry… I couldn’t find his keys. He said they’re in his pocket but… I’m not gonna…

He moved a step forward, trying to get to the apartment, without bumping into you. You shook your head, realizing you were blocking his way. You moved away to make the corridor clear but Namjoon didn’t go any further.

“Can you… help me?”

You immediately got to the other side of Jimin and put his arm on your shoulder. You felt his weight on you and a second after that you smelled all the alcohol he drank at the bar. He was indeed unconscious. His body felt like a ragdoll, it was really hard to get him into his room, but both of you somehow managed to. His feet were dragging along on the floor while you pulled him through the corridor. You threw him on his bed, which was a little too rough, but he didn’t react in any way.

“I think this time he might be dead.”, Namjoon was standing next to you.

“Possibly.”

You sighed heavily. You knew what was coming so you jumped out to the bathroom and brought a big plastic bowl. You put it next to Jimin’s bed, just in case he woke up and decided he didn’t like all the alcohol he had in his body. And food. And his insides. You assumed him waking up would be a very dramatic moment.

“That’s clever. I don’t think he’ll aim for that anyway, but at least we tried.”, Namjoon didn’t fool himself. If Jimin woke up, he would be half dead and puking into the bowl would be the last thing on his list.

You both left the room. You were trying to act quietly, even though there was no such force that could have woken up Jimin in this state. You closed the door behind you and looked at Namjoon. Before, you smelled alcohol because of your friend. He drank like there was no tomorrow, for sure. But Joon did not say no to drinks as well. He was not as drunk as your roommate but he was swaying in place, not able to focus his sight on you.

“Are you feeling ok?”

“I’m fine… I just need to lay down…”, he was a little embarrassed and wanted to go home and sleep.

“Do you want some tea?”, you asked, already being on your way to the kitchen. On your way you brushed your hand on his arm, trying to pretend that was an accident, didn’t mean much.

Namjoon didn’t say anything. He just watched you going, focusing on how you were swaying your hips, followed you and after a few seconds.

“Tea sounds perfect.”

He was watching while you were jumping around and making him and yourself a tea. Yet again he saw you in a different light than before. When he stood still, holding the door frame for support, he focused on the way you looked. He remembered you in your pretty dress and makeup. Well, also without a dress. But this time you were just in your pajama shorts and a simple loose T-shirt. Your hair was tied up on top of your head and you were definitely not wearing any makeup. Even though his vision was not the best at that time, he decided you looked very pretty with a bare face.

When the tea was ready, you grabbed both mugs by their handles and just took them to the living room, giving him an unspoken direction to do the same. Namjoon followed you again and you both sat on the couch. He felt much better sitting, it made him feel more sure he wouldn’t fall down. Or at least from his seat, there was a much shorter trip to the floor.

“Party was that good?”, you asked.

“Afterparty, maybe.”

“After-what? Why did you need that?” “It was Jimin’s idea. He… didn’t have much fun at the birthday party, so we went somewhere else just to… well, drink. We didn’t plan to stay long… and that part of the plan worked out.”

Namjoon seemed a little tired. He leaned his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. Was he falling asleep? You took that opportunity and looked at him. He wasn’t wearing his beanie this time. His natural dark hair was short and dyed to a blonde color, shaved at the bottom and slightly underneath into a nice undercut. It really suited him and you were fighting with the urge to brush your fingers through his hair. You imagined how it would feel under your fingertips. Probably very soft. His grey hoodie was a little loose on his body, you’d noticed he liked a little baggier clothes. He’d matched it with light jeans and red converse.

Somehow, you missed him and wanted him to stay. Even just to talk with you. You were pinching yourself to start a conversation, any conversation, you didn’t want him to leave.

“You know, after that fun night in the club you disappeared… I haven’t heard from you… ”

Namjoon opened his eyes and looked at you. It definitely helped him wake up.

“I…”, he wasn’t sure what to say.

He had been avoiding you. Not that you’d had many occasions to actually meet. But he was trying to forget about a pretty girl that he really liked but very well knew, his friend was in love with. He had to remind himself of that all the time. The whole evening with Jimin was not helping at all. Getting in touch with you, after all that had happened the night you met was a very bad idea.

“I didn’t want to bother you. We’ve barely met and I thought that… we’re not that close, so it doesn’t matter.”

“What does that mean?”

“We’re not friends… we don’t have to hang out… you know... “, he had no idea what he was talking about.

“We’re not but you’re Jimin’s friend. You can’t run away from him.”

“I didn’t run away from you.”

“But you did avoid me?”

“Yes. NO!”, his brain was malfunctioning. He pulled himself up, grabbed his tea and took a sip. It burned his tongue a little but was a great distraction.

“You don’t like me?”

“NO!”, he almost jumped in his place and spilled his tea on his legs. “What? Of course not! I do!”

You laughed at his reaction.

“I like you too.”

You smiled at him, blushing a little. You took your mug from the coffee table to distract yourself from the embarrassment that was attacking you. He didn’t miss that. He was still a little buzzed but you talking to him was keeping him awake. He was watching you intensely, trying to remember how you’d looked that night. He put his mug away, to avoid spilling tea anywhere and leaned his head back on the couch sliding down a little in his seat. He wasn’t sure if he was getting sleepy again or whether your presence was affecting him this way. Whatever it was, a nice warm feeling spread through his body after your small confession. He smiled back at you, which made you even more flustered and you almost hid your face in your mug.

“Ah… you know… after all that happened, I was pretty sure you actually don’t want to see me.”

“But, why? Did I do something stupid? Did I… fall asleep while we were…?”

“No, we didn’t do anything! When I put you into bed you were already sleeping.”

“I actually wanted to ask, did I fall asleep while we were kissing.”, you giggled. You remembered Namjoon left before anything happened.

“Oh, then, my answer would be yes!”, he smiled with his cute smile, showing his dimples. A shy blush also showed up on his cheeks.

“Huh, I think I drank a little too much.”

“That’s fine. It’s not like I was sober. I was there too.”

“Yes… yes, you were.”, you looked into his eyes. “I was drunk, half naked and you rolled me into my comforter and left.”

Namjoon’s breath hitched for a second. Your straightforward statement made him remember how that had actually happened, that everything he had in his head really took place.

You on the bed, him on top of you. He tried to get up, you held him. He was trying to leave, you took off your dress. Later he was trying to convince himself that it didn’t happen, he didn’t see you naked waist up, that his hard dick wasn’t…

“... yeah, you took that dress off…”, he drifted off for a moment, looking in your direction, but not at you. Images were flashing right in front of his eyes.

Then he heard you laughing.

“I did take my dress off”, you hid your face in your hands. Your expression changed in one second, again.

Namjoon snorted right after you. Talking about this was making him a little nervous. He felt his hands starting to sweat. You were sitting close to him, with your legs on the couch, one arm spread behind his head. Your shorts riled up your thighs showing even more skin. Loose T-shirt hanging on your shoulder, making your collarbone very much visible.

You put your mug back to the table and moved closer to him.

“We were both drunk, but I do remember most of it.”, you knew you were blushing, but didn’t want that to stop you.

“... I… maybe half of it.” he lied. He remembered everything.

“I can’t stop thinking about what if…”

He swallowed hard. He looked at your lips. Your hand behind his head found his hair and played with it nonchalantly. He was pretending he didn’t notice. You scratched your neck with your other hand and glued his sight to your skin. He remembered everything.

“What if what?”

“What if we slept together? It’s not like we’re in relationships, so we wouldn't be doing anything wrong… right?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend…”, he shook his head a little to emphasize this.

“Me neither. Or a boyfriend.”, you smiled.

You were getting closer and closer. He felt a hint of a fruit scent. Was that your shampoo? Your finger touched his neck. Very lightly, but a shiver went down his spine. Your touch was hot on his skin and he immediately started to want more.

Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.

You took your hand away, like you realised what you were doing and that was way too far and too fast. For a second you panicked, a train of thoughts was attacking you and you felt like you were the only one that was trying to do something there. Like you were the only one who felt the spark and wanted to use it. Like he didn’t want you anymore.

He raised his head a little, he looked straight into your eyes, his mouth was slightly open.

You were wrong. You were so fucking wrong.

You leaned into him and you kissed him without another word. He didn’t oppose at all. After all, if you hadn't, he would have done that himself. He cupped your face and pulled you closer. One of his hands wandered to your neck. He also felt yours on his, it went straight back to its place where it had been before. He tasted like beer and tea at the same time. You felt the alcohol in his breath but didn’t care much. You took his lower lip between yours and sucked. You felt him smiling, he liked that.

One of his hands grabbed your T-shirt and pulled you closer to him. It made you lose your balance and you put your hand on his chest for support. He didn’t stop though. He was trying to get you as close as possible.

Without thinking much, you straddled his lap, putting one leg on each side of his hips. His hands were immediately on your bare thighs. Kneading the flesh he moved them up, right on your ass. Grabbing you shorts, he pulled them right up, putting both of your ass cheeks on display. Holding them, made you move closer and spread your legs wider. You sat right up above his crotch, feeling his hardening dick under your thigh.

Grabbing his hoodie and by pulling it up you urged him to raise his hands, to take it off. He was wearing a simple white T-shirt beneath it. Tight enough to show his slim body and wide shoulders. He didn’t give you much time to appreciate it. Both of his hands were on your neck and pulled you back to him. He was kissing you like crazy, with his tongue exploring your mouth, not giving you any moment to take a breath. One of his hands slid down your shoulder and was going down, until he found the hem of your T-shirt. You felt his fingers on your stomach, shyly first. He was tasting the waters, making sure you were ok with that. Shortly after his whole hand was holding you around your ribcage with his both hands. Circling his thumbs under your breasts, he was slowly moving them up after he found your nipples.

“I want to see them again.”, his voice was so low, you barely recognized it.

You whispered a soft “OK” to him and he moved his hands up. T-shirt hooked on his wrist moved up with them. He put it through your head and hooked it on your neck. He didn’t have to do more. He got what he wanted. When he was undressing you, you lifted your hips up and he made you stay that way. Your breasts were right in front of his face and without hesitation he attached his lips to one of them. He licked your nipple, making his tongue flat he slid it up and down, making you moan. He looked up to you, wanting to see your facial expression, wanting to see how much you enjoyed that. He pinched your second nipple which made you whine even louder and his cock even harder. He remembered those sounds, now even more vivid to him, when he wasn’t that drunk.

While still working your breast with his mouth, his hand moved down, across your thigh, slowly getting closer to your center. THe loose hem of the leg of your shorts gave him easy access to you. His fingers found your core, still covered with your cotton panties, circling it, trying to get inside. Moving them to the side he finally felt how wet you were.

“Oh fuck… baby, is this all for me?”

You felt a heat rushing through your body. His words made you flustered for some reason, like saying it made it even more real and undeniable. You didn’t know what to say so you blindly shifted your hand to his crotch and found his cock. You started to palm him through his pants, which made him groan. You felt his hot breath and tongue on your skin. But it wasn’t enough. His fingers found your clit and started to slowly move up and down. You made a noise which gave him the perfect confirmation he was doing a good job. Without any further delay you unzipped him and shoved your hand into his pants. He was already hard and precum was gathering on his tip. He slowed his movements when he felt your hand on him, a little unsure what your next move was. You slid his pants and boxer shorts down and freed him. His hard dick slapped into his stomach and you immediately grabbed it and started to pump him. Your hand was sliding on his soft skin, smearing the precum all over him. He started to breathe loud and move his hand on you again.

You were so wet, you felt it on your thighs. He was touching your clit, sometimes circling it, something sliding up down, left and right. One of his fingers slid inside of you, feeling no resistance. After that the second one joined him, making you stretch a little. You barely felt it. When he started to move them in and out of you, your hips joined them, copying his pace. You didn’t forget about this cock in your hand. He bucked up into your fist when you sped up. He wasn’t able to focus on your nipples anymore. His face landed between your breast, his hot breath made a drop of sweat gather right there. He was whispering sweet nothings to you, you didn’t even understand them.

You were already chasing your orgasm. The very well known feeling started to build in your stomach and you were desperate to feel it. His fingers were doing wonders on you, circling your clit in a steady pace. You moved your hips closer but his other hand grabbed your hip and held you. You leaned towards him, hid your face in his neck, kissing and sucking the skin. You were focusing on the pleasure he was giving you but still wanted to return the favour. You speed up the pace of your own hand, squeezing his dick hard and making him moan right into your ear. He was getting close like you. You focused on the tip, circling with your thumb on his slit, wanting to make him cum. He was starting to breath faster and louder, squeezing your hip, digging his fingers into your flesh.

Then you heard it. A loud noise, which snapped you from your bliss and made your high disappear in a blink of an eye. He’d heard it too. His hand between your legs froze, but still stayed in place.

“Was that… from Jimin’s room?”, you asked, completely confused.

Sweat on Namjoon’s face ran down his cheek and ended up on this neck. He was as confused as you were. He’d heard it too and had no idea what that was.

“I-I need to check that.”

When you moved to leave his lap, he whined and grabbed your hand. He didn’t want to stop, he was so close. His own hand was still in your panties, fingers wet with your arousal ready to get back to work and get you off. You were so tempted to go for it, ignore the noise and forget about everything. But you heard it again. This time you were certain it was from Jimin’s room. He probably woke up.

You had no other choice but to leave Namjoon’s hard dick alone and stand up. He didn’t like that idea but he finally let you go. His hand left your center and went straight to his mouth. He put his fingers inside and sucked them clean, while looking into your eyes the whole time. This time you whined loudly and cursed Jimin for this.

When you were on your legs again, you put your T-shirt down and went to your roommate’s room. Before you opened the door, you felt Namjoon behind you, his hand landed on your shoulders. You both got inside and discovered Jimin was nowhere to be found. His bed was empty,

“... da fuck…”

And for some reason, Jimin’s pants were on the floor. You had no memory of undressing him, or Namjoon doing that. Did he wake up and take them off? What for? And how? You both were shocked, until you went around the bed and found him on the floor. He was laying on his stomach, with one hand twisted in a very uncomfortable angle, wearing his T-shirt and boxer shorts. The plastic bowl you left for him was pushed away, but still empty.

You kneeled next to him, checking if he was okay. He was still breathing, but he left unconscious. Namjoon came to you and helped you to put him on his bed again. You rolled him on his back and covered him with a comforter. He was safe again, although you were really puzzled about what had just happened. You were pretty sure Jimin would not remember this, he was way too drunk, so there was no chance you’d find out anyway. You sighed, put the bowl back to its place and left the room, with Namjoon following you.

When both of you were outside, you quietly closed the door yet again. You felt Namjoon’s hand on you, how he grabbed you by your shoulder and turned you around to him. Your back hit the wall and his body was pressed into yours immediately, pushing air from your lunges. He grabbed your breast and squeezed it, pushing you even harder into the wall. His kiss was long and passionate but when he detached his lips he just stayed like that, looking at you through his lashes.

‘Why the hell do you have to be such a good kisser?”, he whispered into your lips.

You felt his boner on your stomach and reached out to touch him again. But he moved away. He kissed you one last time and took a step back. Still looking at you, took a deep breath and turned to the living room. Your mind was still hazy with the intense make out, so you didn’t follow him on the spot. But when you did, he wasn’t sitting on the couch but standing in front of the coffee table. He took his tea and started to drink. In one take, he finished it and put the empty mug back. After that he took his hoodie, walked past you, opened the door and left.

It was the second time he was leaving you like this.

------

“What came up?”, Jimin put a bag of tea in your mug and poured boiling water. You both smelled the scent of green tea. “I thought you’re free today.“

“I am. I-I just don’t want to leave the house tonight.”

“It’s barely noon. You can still change your mind.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

You started to rummage through another cabinet, looking for some cookies. But you couldn’t stop looking at your phone’s screen. Jimin was watching you and noticed how much you were distracted. No wonder you'd broken THE MUG.

“Why are you staring at your phone like that?”

Automatically you did it again. Unread messages’ thumbnails looked at you, asking why you hesitate to read their whole content.

With a loud crash you closed the cabinet, took your phone and headed to your room.

“I’m going to my room. I need to take care of this.”

Without any more explanation, you took your tea, left the kitchen and locked yourself in your room. When left alone, you took a deep breath and finally unlocked your phone.

Messages on your phone manifested in front of you and at the point you were certain you read them correctly at the first time.

Unknown [12:36]: You know, I’ve been thinking… We should drink some tea together again

Unknown [12:36]: I’d love to see what next is gonna happen with us in one room

Unknown [12:40]: It’s Namjoon btw

雀

#bts #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagine #bangtan #bangtan smut #bangtan x reader #bangtan imagine #namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon imagine #jimin #jimin smut #jimin x reader #jimin imagine

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sadaboutniall · 4 years

Photo

Without Fear

masterlist | tag | wattpad

hiya! since tomorrow is thanksgiving I thought it would be better for everyone if I posted this week’s chapter today! hope you like!

Chapter Two. February

give me moonlight, and a smile from you that I can // that I can barely believe — dancing under red skies, dermot kennedy

It comes on slow, the way waves lap up against the shore late at night, when there aren’t many boats out to disrupt them. Over and over, bit by bit, it settles in. The first wave of it bites at Lu’s ankles when her toilet overflows at 6am, leaving her standing in her socks in the bathroom, soaking wet, worrying about the water leaking into the shop below, while Ruairí meows in concern from his spot atop the sink. Frantic, Lu calls her dad, and it goes to voicemail twice before she remembers it’s 1am in New York.

Accompanied only by a YouTube tutorial and the rising sun, Lu manages to fix the mess, shower, and start the day all on her own. Her dad calls back five hours later, and Lu feels like she’s lived a whole lifetime between then and now.

The second wave of it has more venom. She sleeps in on a Sunday—the only day the shop is closed—stirring around 10 because Ruairí is relentless, screeching in her ear, kneading at her belly, desperate for something to eat. Mindless, she feeds him, freshens up his water, makes herself a cup of coffee, pulls out a pastry leftover from Siobhan’s bake the day before, and settles into a spot by the window of her flat, overlooking the sea, all before thinking to take a look at her phone.

Even if she goes 12 hours without looking at her phone, Lu finds she doesn’t miss much these days—she left home on a whim, without a ton of fanfare, and knows full well that she isn’t putting in the effort she should to keep in touch with friends from home. She also knows that’s why she left.

So, most mornings, she wakes up to a few messages in the family group chat, a message or two from her best friend Georgia, and not much else. This morning, it’s different.

208 texts. 12 missed calls.

Lu’s stomach sinks like a stone. Her whole body heats up at once. Her hands start shaking and her heart starts hammering, all before she even manages to swipe open a single notification.

She doesn’t even have the wherewithal to cycle through possibilities. Her brain, hitting overdrive from the start, has no question that it’s bad.

In WhatsApp, Lu finds that her family group chat has 206 messages. She has one separate text from her dad, and a final separate text from her brother. Nothing from her mom.

Shaking, she swipes open her dad’s first. On the counter, Ruairí is sniffing at a banana.

Hi, love, his message says. Figured the number of messages in the group chat is overwhelming. We’re at the hospital with Sam now. All is well, the appendix is out and he’s resting. Mary’s with us, she got back from Honduras yesterday. Good timing. Give us a call when you get a chance.

From her brother, Lu finds a selfie. He’s in a hospital bed, gown around his shoulders. He looks pale, dark circles around his eyes, but he’s okay—he’s smiling, giving the camera a thumbs up. Underneath, the message says I lived, bitch.

Relief coursing through her, Lu lets out a shaky laugh. It’s scarily on-brand for Sam to pull out a meme at a moment like this.

Slowly but surely, Lu’s heartbeat slows to its normal rate. As it does, she scrolls back through the messages from the night before: her brother raising the alarm that he had a pesky pain in his side, their mother, a doctor herself, urging him to get it checked out. There’s a moment where Sam says the doctor is sending him home, and another where their mom urges him to demand an ultrasound, just in case. He does, and they find the appendicitis. Lu shudders to think what would’ve happened had her mother been the one sleeping soundlessly an ocean away.

It’s five am in New York. Lu figures they’re all shattered. Rather than call and risk waking everyone up after what was surely a late, long night, Lu shoots off a text to her dad, asking him to call her when they wake up and sending lots of love. She turns her ringer up all the way so she won’t miss anything else. She feels a million miles away.

####

On February first, Lu wakes up in a cold sweat. It’s still dark outside, but that doesn’t mean much in a place where the sun doesn’t rise until nearly 9am. Still, Lu doesn’t even need to look at a clock to know it must be early: perched on the pillow next to her head, Ruairí is snoring gently, dead to the world, not yet ready to demand breakfast.

Heart hammering, Lu gropes around the bed until her hand closes around her phone, cold. She squints, then sighs, as she checks the time.

4:45am.

Lu is no stranger to waking up mid-panic attack. Sometimes, it feels like choking—like she can’t get a breath down deep enough, to pool in the bottom of her lungs. Other times, it feels like an unavoidable urge to get up, move, get as far away from the space she woke up in as physically possible. Right now, it feels like a stomach ache, period pains, itchy skin, her body trying to tell her that something, somewhere, is going terribly wrong.

Logically, she knows it’s not. She holds her breath, five, four, three, two, one, and checks her phone as her heart jackrabbits away. Nothing out of the ordinary: her mom texted a picture of her glass of wine with dinner to the family group chat, her dad reported the score of a soccer game, her brother sent that he’d managed to run a full two miles today, his furthest since the appendectomy. Everything is fine.

Except for Lu.

There’s no use trying to go back to sleep; Lu knows herself better than that. Heart still working overtime despite reassurance, she slips out of bed as gently as she can, praying that she won’t wake Ruairí. She’s silent as she gets dressed and silent as she tiptoes out of her bedroom, out of the apartment, and down the stairs. The morning is still and dark, but you can hear for miles and miles on Inis Mór, and as she begins her walk the soft, familiar sounds of tractors roaring to life, cows mooing for their breakfast, sheep and goats bleating, remind Lu that she’s not the only one—that others are here too, alive, beginning their day, pushing on. Home. And underneath it all, there is, always, the sound of the waves, constant, crashing against the shore.

####

Lu doesn’t get a chance to nap. She walks, balancing on the edge of the cliffs that overlook the Atlantic, breathing in the sea air and thinking about how the water here, crashing, violent against the cliffs below her is the same water that once lapped up on the shores of Long Island, of Coney Island, of the Rockaways, of home. Seagulls swoop, low and graceful, over her head, over the ocean, and Lu thinks that if she asked her dad to drop a floatie into the Atlantic for her it just might make it—just might wash up here, on the edge of the Earth, the way she has.

She walks and walks—you can walk all the way around Inis Mór and back in under five hours, but she doesn’t have that kind of time. She walks along the cliffs, the white, blinding, otherworldly geology of the Burren, through the grass and the mud and the cow shit, until she’s back at the cafe, windows glowing golden against the rising sun, condensation clinging to them from the inside. Siobhan is pulling pastries out of the oven when she opens the door around 6:30, and Ruairí, curled up on the counter, looks at her, bitter.

Siobhan smiles, “There you are. No worries, pet, I’ve fed him his breakfast.”

She wobbles through the day, exhausted from the panic, the walk, the lack of sleep. She messes up at least two orders—gives Mrs. Duffy whole milk instead of skim, drops Mr. Kennedy’s sandwich on the floor while she’s bringing it over to him—but, as always, no one bats an eye. They touch her arm gently, lull “oh, it’s no bother, darling, we’ll make it right, now,” and the cadence of their laughter carries as she does exactly that. There’s no venom, no rush, nothing to give Lu the adrenaline she so badly needs to make it through the day.

Somehow, she almost forgets that it’s Niall’s first day. But all of a sudden it’s twelve hours later and he’s bustling inside, bringing a rush of cold air with him. The door swings shut behind him and Lu, who had been curled up at the cushioned window seat with Ruairí on top of her in a moment of quiet, jumps. The cat’s only just forgiven her for this morning, and her movement causes him to stalk off in anger. She sighs after him.

“Oh, no,” Niall laughs a little, “sorry, did I interrupt something?” He looks soft and sweet in his dark jeans, his hat pulled low over his forehead. He’s shedding his puffer jacket to reveal a navy blue cable knit sweater and his cheeks are flushed from the cold. His eyes, bright and blue as Lu remembers them, find hers. He smiles.

“Yeah,” Lu just about manages. “He just forgave me, you totally ruined it.”

Niall barks out a laugh, head thrown back, shoulders hunching up. “What did you do?”

“Forgot to feed him breakfast this morning,” Lu sighs. “Siobhan did it, but he held it against me anyway.”

“Ah, well,” Niall shrugs. “I’d be mad too, if I were a cat.”

“S’a good thing you’re not, then,” Lu smiles. “I’m not here to feed you.”

Niall’s still giggling. Lu wonders if he ever stops.

“I’m thinking I might make him pupcakes or something as an apology…” Lu is rambling a bit now, but she’s so tired, and Niall’s so cute, and nothing is real here, anyway. “I know they’re for dogs but I can’t imagine they’re bad for cats? I bet he’ll like those—honestly, I bet he’ll just like knowing I slaved over a hot stove for him. It’s like he can tell, you know?”

It wasn’t meant to be that funny, but Niall is fully cackling, crinkles by his eyes on full display, one hand clutching his tummy. “You’re funny,” he says between laughs. “A bit looney, me da would say—hey, Lu, looney, Looney Tunes. It all makes sense.”

“Isn’t ‘looney’ offensive?” The banter with him comes so easily, Lu doesn’t let herself overthink it. “Think we’re supposed to stop using it.”

“Ah, well,” Niall’s pulling his guitar out to tune, now, “You’re in Ireland now, love. All good nicknames are a little offensive.”

####

The night is mostly quiet, a dozen customers at the most, which Lu thinks is probably good for Niall’s nerves. He’s just as stunning as he was the night Lu first met him, pulling out an arsenal of covers ranging from Bruce Springsteen to Post Malone, somehow making them all work for his voice, for the vibe, for everyone, but he’s shaking—she can see it when he pushes his hair off his forehead, or when he drops his pick on the floor between songs, laughing awkwardly as he bends to grab it. Even with the mistakes, the dropped pick, the few stumbles over lyrics, he’s endearing, engaging, all-consuming. Lu’s meant to be working, but she can’t find it in her to look away.

From her spot at the counter, Lu watches how Niall keeps his eyes trained on the window across from him. He doesn’t seem to be looking for anyone or anything, but Lu suspects it’s easier than looking his audience in the eye—despite the fact that she can see for herself just how captivated they are. It shouldn’t take an hour and a half to drink one coffee and eat one slice of chocolate cake, but that’s how long old Mr. Kane spends in the shop anyway, eyes closed, listening to Niall play.

For two full hours, Niall keeps the shop warm and alive. Everyone is so captivated that Lu barely has to work after all; she leans up against the counter instead, cradling the mug of hot chocolate that Siobhan made her before she left for the night, and taking him in. She barely knows him, and yet.

Lu has seen plenty of nervous first-timers performing in front of apathetic crowds—it was practically her job, after all. She’s also seen more than her fair share of world class performers stunning crowds that want to eat them up, keep them on stage forever, bottle their energy and carry it through the rest of their lives. Working in the music industry, even just as an assistant, for five years turned her hard and jaded, made her feel like she’s seen the seedy, rough, rude underbelly of it all—but she’s never seen anyone perform like Niall before. His unadulterated, all consuming love for music is tangible, even from across the room. This is now Niall communicates. This is how he understands the world. This is how he sees life. Half of Lu feels lucky to hear it—the other half feels sick knowing that his talent is wasted here.

It almost makes her sad to have to close up at 9. Niall’s good about it—he’s designed his set to last exactly two hours, finds a climax in the middle with “Dancing in the Dark” and tapers his song choices toward a slow but steady ending, letting everyone know, without having to say it, that it’s time to head home. Lu doesn’t even have to ask him if he knows how to play “Closing Time.”

Mr. Kane is the last to leave, sticking around a little after nine to shake Niall’s hand and tell him he had no idea how talented Maura’s son is. He talks about Maura—Lu assumes she must be Niall’s mom—while Lu slowly, quietly begins putting dishes away. She likes the routine of this already, Niall’s quiet voice, his booming laugh, his warm presence keeping her company while she settles down for the night. It’s something she could get used to. It’s something, the first thing, she thinks she could miss, if she left.

Niall masterfully leads his conversation with Mr. Kane toward goodbyes, shaking his hand again as he shuts the door behind him. Lu looks up from where she was rinsing a cup to watch as Niall watches through the window to make sure Mr. Kane gets in his car. He waits for the car to start before turning around, leaning his back up against the door, dragging a hand through his hair, and letting out a long sigh.

“Alright?” Lu asks, gentle. Niall’s got his eyes closed, his head back, neck exposed to her. It’s thick and littered with freckles, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. In her chest, Lu’s heart does something funny. She presses her thighs together, tight.

Niall opens his eyes halfway, exhaling a little laugh as he meets Lu’s gaze. She hopes he can’t tell—how could he?

“Yeah,” he says then, standing all the way up and shaking his head. “That was mad.”

“It was amazing,” Lu counters. She gently places the mug back into the sink, bracing her hands against the edge. Part of her is afraid of what she’ll do without something between him and her. “They were so into it. No one could look away from you.”

Her cheeks flush, and Niall catches it. The corner of his mouth pulls up in half a smile as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “Ya think so?”

“I know so,” Lu presses her lips together, but it doesn’t do much to prevent her smile. “‘Dancing In The Dark’ was my favorite one; it’s perfect for your voice.”

“Thanks, Looney Tunes,” Niall hums, making his way back over toward her. “Can I help ya clean up? I wash, you dry?”

“Oh,” Lu stills. She’d half forgotten about the dishes still left to clean, the floor to sweep, the leftovers to toss, the counters to wipe down. Her mind stumbles over the best way to go about this: it would be rude to keep him, but, God, she wants his company. She realizes, with a slight swoop in her belly, that she hasn’t felt homesick in two hours. She needs him to stay. “I actually—I have a dishwasher. I just like to rinse everything before I put it in.”

Niall smiles. He comes around the counter to stand next to Lu at the sink, knocking his hip against hers. “Sensible,” he says. It’s quiet. Just for her. “I’ll rinse and put ‘em in. You’ve been stood here all night. What else do you have to do?”

“Uh,” Lu feels like her whole body is vibrating. Her mind turns over itself like an engine that won’t start. “Sweep the floors, wipe down the counters, lock up.”

“Alright,” Niall is so close that Lu can smell his aftershave. Warm, soft, mixed with sweat from his nerves and the smell of his skin. “Let’s do it.”

####

taglist: @missy14us @antisocialsocialclub5 @coconutdawn @ficnarry @bopbopstyles @okaaayniall @theresnooneheretosave @niallgolden @tinyfelthat @adoremp3 @thelifeofbo @crocodileniall @niallsguitarthings @kara-246

Join the tag list here.

#one direction #1dff #one direction fan fiction #niall horan #niall horan fic #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan imagine #niall #without fear

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zip-drawings · 4 years

Text

Based on this fic :

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24710677

As soon as i read it I had to make something even if its an ugly mess lol. It was 6am ok

Written by @gothlexluthor

(I'm sorry for tagging you again)

#Lexjokes #joker #lex luthor #Fanart #Fic #Conner kent

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apatheticanvas67482 · 4 years

Text

50 Questions Tag

thank you for the tag @mischiefandi sorry it took me so long to respond but this looks like fun ❤️

1. what is the colour of your hairbrush? black, but I've also got a multicoloured bristle one for fun somewhere

2. name a food you never eat: im allergic to pineapple and kiwi

3. are you typically too warm or too cold? too cold, brrrr

4. what were you doing 45 minutes ago? trying to find my psychology teacher to hand in an essay assignment :/

5. what's your favourite candy bar? snickersssss

6. have you ever been to a professional sports game? yup yup I love going to see rugby, such great atmospheres

7. what is the last thing you said out loud? does anyone actually understand what's going on in chemistry at the moment (the answer was no)

8. what is your favourite ice-cream? mint cuz I'm weird but pistachio is my second, such a good shout

9. what is the last thing you had to drink? strawberry squash

10. do you liek your wallet? yes love it, it's pastel-y blue and got a little dog on it, lots of pockets

11. what is the last think you ate? bacon pizza

12. did you buy any new clothes last weekend? nope currently riding the broke-mobile

13. what's the last sporting event you watched? Everton Vs Liverpool, draw

14. what's your favourite flavour popcorn? sweet and salty all the way

15. who is the last person you sent a text message to? school friend who isn't in today

16. ever go camping? used to go every summer with my parents and best friend til covid broke the tradition

17. do you take vitamins? yup yup yup

18. do you regularly attend a place of worship? nope

19. do you have a tan? nope I'm as white as they come, burn burn burn, sad

20. do you prefer chinese or pizza? chinese whenever I can

21. do you drink soda through a straw? only from mcdonalds

22. what colour socks do you usually wear? grey

23. do you ever drive above the speed limit? y

24. what terrifies you? honestly not much, I panic all the time but retrospectively I'm like lol why did I care.

25. look to your left, what do you see? entrance hall of school, my coat

26. what chore do you hate the most? ironing

27. what do you think of when you here an australian accent? that episode of 8 out of 10 cats does countdown with adam hills and jon does impressions

28. what's your favourite soda? dr pepper

29. do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? drive thru

30. what's your favourite number? 4

31. last person you talked to? my bestie

32. favourite cut of beef? I don't really eat beef much

33. last song you listened to? I wanna be yours - arctic monkeys

34. last book you read? traces by patricia wiltshire

35. favourite day of the week? friday bc I only have to do 1hr of psychology and then I have the rest of the day for free study

36. can you say the alphabet backwards? ... I have now done it once in my life

37. how do you liek your coffee? If I'm being fussy I have one sugar, one spoon of hot chocolate, and two spoons of coffee, with abt an inch of milk

38. favourite pair of shoes? my black platform ankle boots :) they're pretty trashed by now

39. time you normally get up? 6am kmn

40. what do you prefer, sunrise or sunset? sunset is such a vibe

41. how many blankets on your bed? one duvet and one massive fluffy blanket

42. describe your kitchen plates? white with a dark blue rim

43. describe your kitchen at the moment? uh pretty spacious square but kind of a mess and its sort of a dining room too because we don't use our actual dining room

44. do you have a favourite alcoholic drink? peach snaps and pink lemonade

45. do you play cards? yeh with my mom and her side of the family if we visit - demons run is fun

46. what color is your car? blue

47. can you change a tire? In theory, never had to tho

48. favourite state? not american so no clue

49. favourite job you've had? I volunteered at a cat sanctuary which was fun

50. tagging: @usercasss @nyamafriend @snowfea @aka-its-called-whiskey idk

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chuffyfan87 · 5 years

Text

Growing Pains. Part 1a (NSFW)

Cowritten with @disastrousintention. Sequel to Hiding. Set appropriately six years after the end of that fic.

-x-

It was Christmas morning in the Fairhead household but it wasn't just any Christmas - today was special for another reason. Christmas meant it was also the twins' birthday. It was a special birthday for the girls, they’d finally hit the age of thirteen.

Despite now being teenagers they still got up at the crack of dawn, running upstairs and banging on their parents' bedroom door.

"Mum! Dad! Wake up!"

“Urgh!” Charlie groaned loudly as he rolled over and cuddled Duffy’s naked body, “Girls! Its... 6am!”

"But it's our birthday!" Tilly replied excitedly.

“I know but your mum’s nice, warm and naked.”

“Urgh, Dad that’s gross!” Lottie replied, pulling a face.

"Charlie!" Duffy gasped.

“We’re gonna go back to our room, we’ll give you ten minutes to finish whatever you’re doing.” Tilly and Lottie went back to their room.

"They'll be very disappointed to know that I'm just going to go back to sleep!" Duffy chuckled, fluffing her pillow.

Charlie's hands roamed her body, “Just sleep?”

"I was up late last night helping Santa unload his sack." She giggled before stretching like a cat.

“And not just the one on his back either, I seem to recall.” He smirked, his hands cupping her breasts. “Five minute quickie?”

"Oh you're such a romantic!" She giggled as she rolled onto her back.

He moved over the top of her and was about to enter her when the door handle began to rattle. “Mummy!” It was Paul.

"That lock was the best idea we ever had!" Duffy chuckled as she moved to get up. She grabbed her nighty from the floor and threw it on before going to see what Paul wanted. "Morning sunshine!" She smiled at the six year old.

“Certainly was.” Charlie began to get changed, throwing on some pyjama bottoms and his dressing gown.

Paul smiled at his mum, “Santa been?”

"He has, shall we see what he got you?" She asked, taking her dressing gown from the hook behind the door.

“Lots of toys.” Paul replied with a giggle.

"Just what we need - more toys!" Duffy chuckled.

“More toys!” Paul grinned and dived towards the stairs. “Everyone awake!! Everyone up!!” He began to shout.

"Paul! Shush!" Duffy urged but it was too late. The twins and Oli came bounding out to join them.

“It’s our birthday!” The girls loudly declared.

"Now you're both the same age as me again." Emily grumbled sleepily as she joined them all on the landing.

“Cheer up Em! Won’t be for long.” They playfully nudged each side of their sister.

"Where are Jake and Louis?" Oli asked, noticing that his big brothers hadn't joined them.

“Here.” They both grumbled as they came out of their rooms, rubbing their eyes and yawning.

“It’s far too early!” Louis complained.

"Its alright for Peter, I bet he's still asleep in his flat right now." Jake grumbled.

“Doing god knows what with girls!” Louis laughed loudly.

"Boys!" Duffy chided.

“Sorry.” Louis replied with a smile.

"Peter will be joining us for lunch later. Alone as far as I'm aware." Duffy replied pointedly.

Charlie knew Peter was seeing someone, well several girls in fact. He’d heard the rumours.

Whilst at uni Peter had thrown himself headfirst into the social aspects of life away from home. Despite this he had still graduated well and was now working full time.

And Charlie couldn’t have been prouder of the fact he’d graduated in Chemical Engineering and was doing a job he loved. “Come on then rugrats, let’s go and see what Santa’s brought.”

The lounge was full with stacks of presents each wrapped in a different colour of paper with a name tag on the top to indicate the recipient.

“Santa did good.” Charlie replied as he lent against the door.

"He did very good indeed." Duffy winked.

Charlie kissed Duffy’s cheek as they moved to sit on the sofa and watched the children fight for the presents.

What had taken hours to buy, wrap and stack descended into chaos in a matter of minutes!

The girls whistled, causing everyone to stop arguing.

Jake stared in amazement at his youngest sisters. Who knew they could whistle that loud?!

“Can we dismantle this pile a lot quieter?” Tilly asked.

"Since when did you not like noise?" Emily asked, her eyebrow raised in perfect imitation of her mother.

“When it gives me a headache.” Tilly answered back. Only for Emily to roll her eyes, once again in Perfect imitation of her mother and response with a mutter, “God thats got to be a first.”

"Emily be nice." Duffy smiled, shaking her head indulgently at Tilly.

Emily pouted. “Ok mama.”

Reaching behind the sofa Duffy then handed a wrapped package to Charlie. "Merry Christmas handsome."

Charlie smiled as he took hold of the present, “I may have forgot to buy you one.” He teased.

She stuck her tongue out at him and turned back to watch the children, pretending to be in a huff.

The children couldn’t stay in a huff for long and soon it was all forgotten about as they opened their presents. Charlie took the wrapping paper off his present.

"I hope you like it. I wasn't really sure what to get you."

“I’ve got everything I ever need.” He smiled brightly.

"Your legendary charm won't save you if you really haven't gotten me a present!" Duffy giggled.

“Of course I’ve brought you a present. Would I not?” He kissed her cheek.

"Where is it then?" She pouted playfully.

He whispered something rude into her ear that caused them both to laugh.

"You wouldn't?" She giggled.

“Is that a challenge, Mrs Fairhead?”

"Sounds like one to me!"

He smirked. “You’re on.”

"Oh I'm looking forward to this!"

He chuckled softly.

A little while later the Christmas presents were all unwrapped and the twins were begging to open their birthday presents.

“Go on then, knock yourselves out kiddos.”

"Woohoo!" Tilly and Lottie yelled with excitement.

The girls began to open their birthday presents. There was a series of delighted shrieks and giggles as the girls tore open their birthday presents.

“Yes! Mum, dad, thank you so much!”

"We got the right thing then?" Duffy asked with a smile.

“Yes!”

"Phew! I nearly sent your dad to get it but decided better of it." Duffy giggled.

“Dad would’ve got the wrong one.”

"More than likely." Duffy teased, nudging her husband playfully.

“Well, that’s just rude.” Charlie answered and pouted.

Seeing his dad's face Oli ran over and gave him a cuddle.

Charlie picked up his son and hugged him tightly, “Love you.” He said quietly.

"You're the best daddy!" Oli grinned.

Charlie's heart wanted to burst. “I’m glad you think so, little man.”

"Santa got me a remote control car daddy!" Oli continued excitedly.

“Did he?” Charlie grinned, “How did he know you wanted one of those?”

"I wrote it in my letter!" Oli replied giggling.

“The letter you sent to Santa?”

"Yeh! You were there when I wrote it daddy!"

"Funny that!" Louis smirked.

“Was I? I don’t remember you writing a letter to Santa.”

"Daddy you're so silly!"

Charlie began to tickle Oli gently.

As always it took longer to tidy up the mess made my unwrapping the presents than it did to unwrap them in the first place.

As he looked around the living room at every single child, bar Peter, Charlie found himself feeling emotional. He was so lucky to have such a wonderful family!

Though they often fought and teased each other it was clear that kids loved each other deep down. All the children, even Louis, had grown closer the older they’d got.

Leaving the children to play with their presents Duffy headed into the kitchen to make a start on lunch.

Charlie crept in the kitchen behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Hello again, gorgeous.”

"Have you come to help or distract me?" She giggled.

“Let me think.” His tongue ran against her earlobe, “Distract. Definitely distract.”

"Lucky I've gotten used to your distraction methods isn't it?"

“Well after x amount of years, I’d like to think so.”

"I'm not even going to dignify that by giving you the right number!" She shook her head indulgently at him before leaning back into his embrace as his hands started to wander.

“Twenty six years officially, isn’t it?” His hands moved towards her breasts.

"That's how long we've known each other yes."

“And you’re still just as sexy.”

"Do we need your eyes testing again?" She teased.

“No.” He cupped her breasts, “You are so sexy! You haven’t changed.”

"Hmm, I'll just have to take your word for that." She smiled as she arched her back slightly into his touch.

“Yes you will.” His hands moved from her breasts and slightly undid her dressing gown, his hands going under her nightie. “Would appear Charlie Jr still finds you incredibly gorgeous too.”

She wiggled her bottom against him. "He does indeed."

He groaned feeling her bottom wriggle. “I’d bend you over this counter and screw you right here.” He whispered in her ear.

"I'm not sure the kids would appreciate that!" She laughed.

“Probably not.”

"Shame coz I like the idea very much." She mused, grinning.

“We could always sneak off for ten minutes."

"You are a bad man..!" She purred.

“And you, Mrs Fairhead, are a bad, bad woman.”

"You wouldn't want me any other way."

“No. That’s true.”

Despite Charlie's best efforts to distract her Duffy managed to eventually get the dinner prepared and cooking.

Everyone had just about finished getting washed and dressed when Peter arrived to join them late in the morning.

Emily opened the door, “Thought I could smell you.” She said to Peter.

"And its lovely to see you too Emmy!"

She hugged her brother, “Nice to see you! You look well. Got a girlfriend yet?” She laughed as she began to move into the hall.

"Who are you? Mum?" Peter teased.

“Narr, not that old.” Emily laughed.

"Excuse me young lady?! What was that?" Duffy remarked as she entered the hallway. "Peter!" She grinned, pulling her eldest son into a hug.

#chuffy #charlie and duffy #charlie fairhead #lisa duffin

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tmarie82 · 6 years

Text

Best Christmas Ever

Pairing: Damien x MC (Camille Park)

Book: Perfect Match (Future)

Word Count: ~2,300

Rating: PG

Author’s Note: Camille Park is definitely my spirit animal … the girl loves the holidays, enjoys a good pun and she has excellent taste in Damien men. This is a little fluffy holiday fic that also documents a very special occasion for Damien and Cami. I hope you enjoy. 😚

This also is my first submission for @dancetothestoriesinyoursoul’s wonderful idea for Fluffy Friday and fulfills a very old fic request.

Please let me know if you would like to be added to my tag list. You can find all of my fics in my Masterlist on my homepage.

~~~~~~~~~~

“A little to the left … no, too far!” Camille spouted out commands to her live-in boyfriend, eliciting a muffled groan of frustration from Damien as he adjusted the tree on its base in their tiny New York apartment living room. “Okay, steady … perfect!” Camille bounced up and down excitedly clapping her hands when Damien shifted the tree to just the right angle, centering it perfectly in the corner of their soon-to-be extremely festive room. “Ah, it looks great, D!” She sidled up against his side when he finally stood upright to observe his handiwork, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as he admired the seven-foot fir tree he’d just lugged up three flights of stairs.

“Yeah, it doesn’t look half bad.” He released a long exhale of relief, thankful to finally have a moment to relax after their strenuous morning. Although it was still November, Camille always insisted on beginning their Christmas preparations on the Saturday following Thanksgiving. So the pair had woken up at 6am to drive to the Christmas tree lot just outside the city (thankfully making a pit stop at the coffee shop to get caffeine for the extremely groggy non-morning person Damien first), then spent over an hour marching up and down the rows of freshly delivered fir trees until Cami found the “perfect one.” After trekking back into the city with the tree fastened to the top of Damien’s car Griswold-family-style, carrying it up to their apartment (with little help from the petite Camille, but don’t tell her that!), then twenty minutes of situating the tree in their living room … well, it wasn’t even lunch time yet and Damien was already exhausted. While he thought Camille’s extreme affinity for the holiday season was adorable, he sometimes missed the days when he had been able to enjoy her holiday spirit as an observer and not a key contributor.

“Yes, it really does …” Camille beamed up at the lush green tree, a wide smile of childlike awe spread across her face, “just think how gorgeous it’s gonna look after you string the lights on it!”

“Yeah, I bet it will be- wait, what?!? After I string the lights?” Damien shook his head in dismay as he realized what Camille had just said. “Why am I stringing the lights?”

“Well I have to go bake the gingerbread to make the gingerbread house, so … “ Camille gave him a nonchalant look and a shrug, before jutting out a hip and tilting her head defiantly. “Unless you’d like to do the baking …” she asked in a mocking tone.

Damien grumbled again, his face falling into a scowl. “No … I’ll do it.” He let out a long sigh, turning to go retrieve the box of twinkling lights from the top shelf in their hall closet. He returned a few minutes later, arms filled with a worn cardboard box full of Christmas lights, to an empty room. The sounds of Camille clanking around in the kitchen signaled to him that he was officially on his own in this endeavor. He sighed before opening the box of lights, begrudgingly pulling out a tangled mass of wires and bulbs. “Cami?” He called to the kitchen, studying the jumbled mess with a frown. She poked her head around the corner as she tied an apron around her waist, eyebrows raised in question. “Check out this tangled mess! Do I really have to do the lights today? I mean, what’s the rush?” He dangled the ball of wires and chaos in her direction, making his most pathetic pleading face at her.

Camille grunted and stomped over to where her boyfriend was whining, grabbing the lights from him and quickly weaving them untangled with her tiny hands. After a few short minutes, she handed him back rows of neatly folded string lights with a satisfied look on her face, then cocked her hip and folded her arms across her chest. “Of course we need to do the lights today, Damien. You can’t half-ass Christmas! Now stop complaining and get to work so we can actually enjoy this, you curmudgeon!!!”

Damien’s eyes widened at his girlfriend’s playful outburst. “Sorry, a Kermit the wha???”

Cami chuckled, leaning forward while waggling a finger at him before poking him in the chest. “I said a curmudgeon! Cur-mudg-eon.” She repeated, exaggeratedly slow. “You know, a huge grump, a crusty old miser … like the Grinch. Do you want to be a grinch, D?” She quirked her brows at him, waiting for his reply with a coy smirk on her lips.

“Uhhhh …” Damien fumbled, dropping his eyes and rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “No, I guess not.”

“Good.” Cami replied in a sing-song voice, a smug smile pulling at her lips. She raised up on her tip-toes and placed a single kiss to his cheek with a loud smack. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go finish this gingerbread while you work on the lights.” She turned on her heel and skipped back to the kitchen.

Damien watched as the bouncy blonde sashayed away, unable to fight the triumphant smirk tugging the corners of his mouth upwards. “Curmudgeon, indeed.” He mumbled with a low chuckle before turning back to the task at hand.

~~~

An hour and a half, two beers and a tuna fish sandwich later, Damien stood back to survey the glistening Christmas tree. Despite the rocky start, the time had surprisingly flown by quicker than he’d expected. It definitely helped that Cami had started busting out lyrics to her favorite Christmas tunes, singing along to the music and swaying to the rhythm as she stirred and rolled and then proceed to clean up her gingerbread. The beer helped too, but the occasional peek of his giddy holiday-loving girlfriend in the kitchen gave him a happy sense of pride in his work. Damn if that woman didn’t bring out the goofy side of him … and make him enjoy it along the way.

He heard the clatter of a pan and slamming of the oven door in the background before the soft footsteps approached. “Oh wow …” he heard Camille murmur as she came up behind him, tucking her arm into his as she stared at the tree. “Great job, Detective … are you ready to decorate now?”

Damien groaned audibly, glancing over his shoulder to the couch calling his name. “I’m guessing that can’t wait until tomorrow?”

“Damien …” Camille’s voice dipped as she gave him a look. The look.

“Alright, alright … I kind of figured.” He exhaled a long sigh. “I went ahead and grabbed all the ornaments anyway, just in case.”

“See, you know the routine. But nice try anyway.” Camille gave him a quick peck on the cheek and a wink before she started digging through the boxes of ornaments sitting on the coffee table.

“You know, I think I’m gonna need another beer for this.” Damien tried to escape to the kitchen swiftly, but was caught by a hand on his forearm before he could make it.

“Absolutely not … I got us some egg nog. You can’t drink beer while you trim the Christmas tree.”

“But Cami-“ Damien started to argue.

“And I got you a big bottle of spiced rum to go with it.” Camille gave him a knowing grin.

Damien chuckled deep in his throat, nodding his head in assent. “Fine, deal … it’s almost like you know me or something.”

The pair worked together to hang all their ornaments, Camille continuing to sing along to the Christmas carols and both of them drinking several glasses of egg nog along the way. By the end of their decorating, they were both feeling the holiday spirit in more ways than one. After hanging the last ornament, Camille took a step back and nestled into Damien’s arms as they gave their finished product a once-over. She let out a breath slowly, her jaw opened wide in amazement. “D, it looks amazing!”

Damien grinned proudly as he glanced over to her beside him, his heart warming at the sight of her eyes sparkling as they reflected the lights. “Yeah … not bad if I do say so myself. But I think we can do better.”

Cami furrowed her brow in confusion and looked over to him. “What? What are you talking about? It looks great.”

He gave her an amused look, gesturing towards the top of the tree, bare and unadorned. “You forgot the best part, didn’t you?”

Her mouth formed a tight “O” as it dawned on her. “Of course, the star! Will you help me put it on?” She scurried over to the last remaining box, Damien’s eyes following intently as she delicately unwrapped the layers of tissue paper. When she reached the last layer and tugged it away, delving her hand into the box- “Hhh!” she gasped, tugging her hand away quickly as if frightened. She stood still for a moment, her gaze never leaving the contents hidden in the shadows of the box. Finally, she dipped her hand back in and curled her fingers around the tiny blue velvet box, holding it precariously in the palm of her hand as she swiveled to face him. “Damien?” Her eyes, filled with hope and shock and a joy unlike anything he’d ever seen before, flitted upwards to meet his.

Damien stepped forward nervously, his heart beating loudly in his chest. He had pictured this moment so many times in his mind, never a doubt in his mind since the first moment his lips had met hers almost two years ago … but now that it was here, now that it was actually happening, it was more intense than he could have imagined. “I hope you like it.” That was all he could think to say as he reached into her hand to grip the small box, prying open the lid to expose a modest engagement ring.

Camille didn’t respond, just exhaled softly while she processed the gravity of this moment. She studied the ring, a simple princess cut solitaire on a white gold band embedded with tiny diamonds along the sides … perfectly classic, perfectly her, perfectly them. “Damien, I … I …” she shook her head, trying to focus her fleeting thoughts until one obscure thought nestled into her conscious mind. “But, you were being such a grump today?” She asked quizzically, still unsure how this day had taken such a turn.

Damien’s head fell back as he laughed, a deep rumbling laugh that made Camille giggle in return. “Yes, well … I had to keep you on your toes, you know. I wanted this to be a surprise.” He grinned wide, relieved to see a relaxed smile on her face.

“You definitely surprised me!” She chuckled, nudging him roughly on the shoulder. “And here I was giving you shit about being a curmudgeon!”

Damien caught her hand and pulled her close, wrapping his other arm around her lower back. “Well I guess now you’ll just have to call me Curmudgeon Claus …” he smirked and dipped his head, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. Camille snaked one hand around his neck, lacing her fingers in his hair as the other one held tightly to the blue velvet box nestled between them.

Damien stopped mid-kiss, arching his neck to peer down at her face. “So was that a yes?”

Camille giggled happily, pulling him down to press his forehead against hers, her eyes closed as she basked in the beauty of this moment. “I don’t think I ever heard a question.”

Damien guffawed, stepping back with an embarrassed smile on his face as he ran his hand across his jaw. “Right, you’re right.” He reached down to grasp the box from her hand, retrieving the ring between his thumb and index finger before tucking the box in his pocket. He stepped forward and held the ring directly in front of her face, ducking his head to gaze into her eyes and tracing her cheekbone softly with the thumb of his other hand. “Camille Park, I never in a million years thought I’d be lucky enough to find one person I’d want to spend the rest of my life with. But when I met you, I knew I had met my match and I never wanted to let you go. Will you do me the great honor of being my wife?”

Camille placed her hand on top of his, nuzzling her face against the palm of his hand as the happy tears began welling in her eyes. “Damien Nazario, there is nothing in this world that would make me happier than being your wife.” She let out a gleeful sob and felt the tears begin falling down her cheeks as Damien released a relieved laugh. They both watched in awe as he slid the ring onto her left hand, beaming at each other before he reached down to wrap his arms tightly around her in a warm embrace. He picked her up and twirled her around, the joyous sound of their laughter mingling with the chords of “White Christmas” playing in the background.

When he finally set her down, after tucking a loose strand of blond hair behind her ear and gently pressing his lips to her temple, he leaned back to observe her basking in the afterglow. “So what now?”

Camille shrugged, her light eyes dancing with glee. “I don’t know, honestly. I’m sure we’ll figure it out. But for now … “ she nodded towards the empty treetop, “I think you owe me a star and a boost.”

“Yes ma’am.” Damien said with a wink. It may still only be November, but this was already the best Christmas ever.

END

~~~~~~~~~~

Perma-Tag: @akrenich @alesana45 @asprankle @bella-ca @blackcatkita @blackwidow2721 @catlady0911 @choices-fanatic @choicessa @choiceswreckedme @christopher-powell @clarissafics @cocomaxley @crookedslimecreatorpasta @darley1101 @debramcg1106 @diavolosprincess @domainoflostsouls @drakelover78 @eileendannie @enmchoices @flowerpowell @gardeningourmet @hhiggs @hopefulmoonobject @innerpostmentality @jadedpixiescribbles @kamilah-sayeed-xoxo @kinkykingliam @lizeboredom @lolablackwrites @laniquelovely @marikagia @mfackenthal @mind-reader1 @mrswalkerwrites @mymandrake @parkerattano @simplyaiden-blog @snyggflicka @speedyoperarascalparty @stopforamoment @sweetfluffyunicorn18 @the-everlasting-dream @viktoriapetit @walkerduchess @walkerismychoice @writtenbycandy

PM (Damien) Tags: @butindeed @choices-sideblog @foghedgehog @kamybelen-blog @nazariobae @pilitella @too-poor-to-buy-keys @walkerxnazario

#fluffy friday #damien nazario #damien x mc #perfect match #tmarie82 fanfic

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aphrodites-law · 6 years

Note

72 please!

Lexa was leafing through a magazine when the front door of the Kane Inn opened. A young woman came in soaking wet, wearing only an oversized blazer over a yellow dress. Her knuckles were white from gripping a suitcase as equally waterlogged, and her hair was an absolute mess, more out of its bun than in, with dark-blond strands sticking to her cheeks. Lexa had seen that it was raining buckets outside, and clearly this woman had walked her way through the storm.

She stepped toward the reception desk and slid her credit card on the counter.

“I just need a room, thank you,” she said, shaking from either cold or sadness.

Lexa could now see that she had been crying; her eyes were puffy and her cheeks tear-stained. It was unfortunate that Marcus had such a strict policy on asking personal questions. (It wasn’t in their business to ask why someone was crying; it was only in their business to book them the room to cry in.)

“Yes, of course,” murmured Lexa.

“It’ll be for an indefinite amount of time,” the woman added.

Lexa saw on the card that her name was CLARKE CLAIRE GRIFFIN and had to bite the insides of her cheeks from making a comment. It was a tongue-twister of a name and those usually had a good story. Clarke did not seem to be in the mood for stories, though. Lexa gave her room 214, which was at the end of the second floor corridor and only had one neighbor. She took the key from the key box and walked around the reception desk.

“Let me take your luggage,” she said, reaching for the handle. Clarke let her with a mere sniffle.

Lexa found the suitcase very heavy but bore on regardless. They walked past the dining room, where tables covered in white tablecloths were already set for the morning. Lexa felt her brain tickle and suddenly remembered her rehearsed lines:

“We have a breakfast buffet from 6am to 10am. Our room service is all day until midnight, but the last order must be made before 11:30pm. You can call reception any time of the day or night – that’ll be me or Aden speaking to you.”

“That’s very kind, thank you,” Clarke murmured behind her.

They went up the staircase and down the corridor that led to room 214. Lexa opened it and set the suitcase inside before handing Clarke the key. Clarke took out a bill from her purse.

“Thank you…um…?”

Lexa discretely pocketed the money, only realizing a few seconds later that Clarke was asking for her name.

“Lexa. Is it not on-” She looked at her name tag and sighed in relief upon seeing it was indeed still in place. Sometimes Aden took it from her and hid it in gnarly places like the chimney.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t see it,” Clarke said with another sniffle. “Thank you, Lexa.”

“Of course. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“I… I’m not sure. No, I don’t think I need anything.”

Lexa felt an inexplicable desire to put a smile on this woman’s face.

“You need sleep,” she blurted out. “A good night sleep helps me with anything. Well, that and a warm bath.”

Clarke let out a soft chuckle. “Yes, that’s true.”

Lexa offered a small smile. “Goodnight, then. I’ll be on call should you need anything.”

“Goodnight, Lexa.”

Lexa waited until Clarke had closed the door to make her way back to the reception desk. Her night shift felt longer than usual tonight, and not even her pile of magazines could distract her. She stared at Clarke’s signature on the register, wondering what brought a woman like her to a sleepy little town like this in the middle of a storm.

#asks #w #clexa

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coxinyoface · 6 years

Text

i usually don’t do this but it’s 4am, i’m cramping/anemic/generally in pain and out of it, i’m procrastinating, and it’s been like. probably 2 years since the last time i did one of these? so why not since i have new followers after my acpc obsession! (the reason why not is... i write too much, sorry. a couple others have tagged me recently with similar questions and i stopped myself but hey i’ll let it go this time and try to be social)

i’m not sure who else to tag. i see the top three ppl i recognize often in my notifications lately are @lonelylittlewarlock @betumbledpolaritis @lavender-aquarius so how ‘bout you guys? feel free to ignore if you’re not up for it tho

anyway:

Get to know me tag! got tagged by @sundaycrossing and @lilcasshole

Nickname: on this account most people just call me CIYF and that’s fine. i haven’t had a proper nickname in a long time and i try to keep this acc separate because. coxinyoface is not the best name to reference offline or with work/art stuff lmao.

Gender: nonbinary. they/them preferred.

Starsign: taurus.

Height: 5′3″/1.6m-ish? i’m short and fat and friendshaped i like to think.

Hogwarts house: ravenclaw or hufflepuff. when i was little i’d insist ravenclaw bc i’m a nerd who tried to persuade themselves they like school, but i’m likely hufflepuff bc i try too hard n am painfully stupidly loyal. idk. hp house discourse frustrates me.

Favorite animal: this changes frequently bc birds but today... potoo. potoos are often my favorite bc they could be my fuckin fursona and i relate deeply.

Favorite color: grey. stormy grey i think.

Current favorite song: зын зын by jokeasses. i found this through a random video of someone dancing in nosferatu drag to it months ago (thanks internet) and it’s still stuck. i keep switching between looping this, boogie by brockhampton, or yellow ferrari by mystery skulls. i can loop the same song for 10+ hours at a time. i do this bc i can have up to 5 songs stuck in my head at the same time and this somewhat cures that. it’s bad.

Ways to get creative: well. listening to music until my brain melts is one way. it’s easy to get creative but difficult to be productive, so i’d say just. trying to really really enjoy an activity, whether it’s reading, watching, or playing something, and trying to hold onto that feeling when i work on something. and then 4am binges of researching random shit that i can use to inspire myself later.

What do you do when you’re home alone: i’m either on tumblr, watching youtube, reading fanfic, or working on work art or art prints. acpc became a thing bc of lack of sleep and bird cult aesthetic n distraction. i’m currently stuck in a fic cycle of interest, it switches a lot. current fandom is HP (again) but i’ve gone into fic hell for naruto, opm, mcu, fucking anything that makes me hate myself. but then, i’ve also been reading a lot of bnha and some of that shit is actually so healthy and wholesome i cried. i want to get back into anime.

Average hours of sleep: hooo boy. it used to be 2 hours, consecutively, with maybe 4 total a day, while in college. i’m trying to fix that and i think i’m getting 3 hours consecutively and 5-6 total? i was doing great at some point last year and was somehow getting 5 consecutive hours up to 8 but. well. sleep’s a bitch and i have sleep paralysis and insomnia. today i managed to sleep maybe 5 consecutive and 15 total holy shit because i dreamed i had a heart attack and was dying and believed it (bc sleep paralysis)! in reality it was anemia fuckin me up today thanks google

Cats or dogs?: cats. sorry dogs, i love you but you have too much energy. besides i feel like cat people are dogs and dog people are cats, and i’ve worked very hard to earn my cats love so i’m loyal now lmao

Numbers of blankets you sleep with: i’m going to say pillows instead, because i live in a warm area and blankets are the mortal enemy. so--four. one to make sure i don’t smash into the wall, one for my head that i will never use as i slowly rotate like a flailing turtle on its back, one for my legs to make sure i don’t kick, and one to hug so i don’t punch.

Dream job: honestly my standards are so damn low i’d probably do any digital illustration/graphic design art job that (1)pays decently for my area where (2)the clients weren’t from hell and (3)i could work from home. like. i used to have specifics like ~concept art~ and shit but i had a good couple of work months (before some very bad ones) where one really good nonprofit client made me realize i genuinely don’t give a fuck what i do so long as it genuinely helps someone/somepeople and also helps me exist.

Dream trip: i. don’t actually want to travel much. tbh, i did japan, korea, and the philippines in one week somehow, and it killed my interest in traveling due to over-planning. if i could go back in time and do it again, maybe i’d spend more time chilling in japan? i just want lipton milk tea in those lil cartons. why can’t they make those here. and omurice. and katsu. and... ok i’d travel to japan again just for food fuck it.

Sexuality: It’s Complicated but for simplification, grey ace. i say aro-ace but go back and forth using that label because it’s useful but i can’t tell if i’m aro or just too anxious to function bc i feel like i’m somehow tricking people if they like me, and have no idea what i find attractive in the weird range of people i’ve been attracted to or to what degree i am attracted. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ tbh, QPRs seem way more appealing to me because i’m just that kinda grey gay. none of this matters unless i maintain a healthier lifestyle that isn’t a hot mess or somehow get the fuck over myself tho. idk one day i’ll be more socially active again.

When did you make this account?: shit, like... 6 years ago i think? oof. a lot changes over six years. if i wasn’t lazy i’d make a new shitpost account so i could pretend to forget what an ass i was but i can’t even separate most of my interests by blog.

Number of followers: 3,050, around. it hovers back and forth due to i assume bots and ppl getting very confused. those of u here for youtubes, thanks for sticking around all these years and i’m sorry; those of u here for acpc, i’m sorry and hope you enjoy me being really mad abt acpc. i have no idea how accurate follower count really is, though; apparently my highest activity was back in 2015 and i had less than 2k then i think? fuck if i understand tumblr

anyway if you’ve somehow read through all of that thanks for listening to the ramblings of a madman hopped up on pain at 6am you’re a champ and this random online stranger loves you and wishes you a good day

#coxtalk #god this is genuinely so long looking at it i'm sorry i should never talk abt myself lmao

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trekficsandbobs · 7 years

Text

Jim the Housemate (Academy!Jim x reader)

Summary: You take the days stresses out on Jim, but he always knows how to cheer you up.

Pairing: Jim x reader (Academy!Jim)

Warnings: language

a/n: I would like to thank my housemates and university for the inspiration behind this piece. If you replace the hug with a tenderly offered shot of vodka and the towel for nerf guns you essentially have the last two years of my life. More of a best friend pairing in this one but platonic love is just as important as romantic.

Words: 905

“JIM KIRK GET YOUR ARSE DOWN HERE NOW!” Jim was in trouble. Obviously.

It wasn’t really in your nature to get angry, but seeing the state of your shared kitchen made your blood boil. It was a small space, in a small house, with small rooms and small doors. Your housemate Jim was a big mess. Right now you were staring at a pile of dishes which had seemingly begun to develop their own eco system.

“You called?” Jim said, appearing round the corner with a tentative smile on his face.

“Either you’re participating in a science competition or you’re taking the piss.” You snapped at him, pointing at the impressive mess he had cultivated.

“Ah yeah… I meant to do those” he rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed “Sorry y/n”.

You looked at him and sighed. It wasn’t his fault that you had such a bad reaction to the mess, in truth he was just a scapegoat for your day’s frustrations.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped, I’ve just had a really shit day and…“ You put your face in your hands, biting back the tears which threatened to fall. You’d been stuck in the lab since 6am working on your latest assignment, and nothing had gone right. Firstly, the materials you needed had been moved. Then you’d had the instructor breathing down your neck, then you’d spilt a highly corrosive acid all over your handwritten notes and results so you had to start again. To top it all off your lab partner on the assignment hadn’t bothered to message you that he wasn’t turning up.

Jim watched you as you seemed to implode before him. Moving quickly across the floor he pulled his you into a tight embrace, kissing your forehead gently, telling you: “It’s fine y/n, I understand… and I am a messy bastard I’ll never deny that” he drew back from you, holding you by your shoulders.

“You think I’d have a chance in a science competition?” he asked, a grin forming as you began to laugh.

“Thanks Jim” You sniffed, “you wash I dry?” you asked, turning your attention back to the dishes on the side.

“Sounds good, and you tell me about your day see if there’s something I can do” he agreed, rolling up his sleeves, filling the sink with hot, soapy water.

“If you’re offering to beat the shit out of my lab partner or a vile of highly concentrated corrosive acid then I accept” You laughed, accepting the first plate from Jim.

A few minutes later, you had exhausted the topic of your day. A neat stack of plates had been created, eco system free.

“How about your day?” you asked, throwing the wet tea towel onto the side.

“Nothing to complain about I guess… you remember that girl Helen? She’s been on my case all day about not taking her out for coffee. I’ve never offered to take her for coffee.” He replied, squishing the bubbles between his hands. “Women eh?” he flashed a quick, playful smile at you.

“Oi!” you exclaimed, quickly grabbing the tea towel from the side hitting him with it.

“Ow! I’m joking y/n, Jesus” he laughed, rubbing his arm where you had dealt your blow. A mischievous looked flashed through his eyes, and suddenly you were soaked with warm, soapy water.

You stood there for a second, mouth wide open in shock. Jim held onto the counter for dear life as his laughing threatened to send him to his knees.

“Now you’re in for it Kirk” You warned, grabbing the tea towel from the side, twisting it to create an effective weapon.

Jim dodged your first hit, diving around the dining table, a grin on his face. He moved left and right to no avail until he saw his chance to dive past as you ran into the leg of a chair which was stuck out slightly.

“I’m unarmed!” Jim shouted as he ran up the stairs, with you hot on his heels.

Manic laughing from the two of you filled the small house as you chased him around the house with the towel. Until all of a sudden Jim hit the floor. He’d forgotten that the bathroom door stood a little shorter than the others, and without ducking he inevitably hit his head at full speed.

“Oh shit Jim you ok?” You stopped, dropping your weapon as you knelt by him, worried about your friend.

Jim lay still, his breathing shallow. A red lump had already begun to form on his forehead.

“Shit! Shit! Shit” you breathed, as you searched for signs of consciousness.

Suddenly Jim’s eyes flew open and a large, toothy grin spread across his face as he grabbed the tea towel from its place on the floor and flew to his feet.

“Better run y/n” he winked at you before pouncing.

It was this scene your other flatmate Leonard McCoy stumbled upon that evening: furniture pushed out of place, cushions thrown about the small living room. The kitchen floor was wet and the table had been moved a foot to the right. The sounds of thundering footsteps and loud crazy laughing filled the house.

He smiled to himself as he placed the food he had picked up on the side, removing three clean dishes from the pile and returning the rest to their proper cupboard. A crash sounded from upstairs, a bookcase maybe.

“Idiots”

tags: @youre-on-a-starship @feelmyroarrrr

#jim kirk x reader #jim kirk imagine #star trek imagine #star trek aos #jim kirk

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chan-chanyeol · 7 years

Text

first impressions // college!au baekhyun drabble

its still his birthday for me rn so im posting this! i dont have his other thing done yet oops. also, its my birthday tomorrow, he and i are practically twins lmao.

First impressions are forever.

You work at the coffee shop on the west side of campus. You were so ecstatic to snag a job close to your dorm, that pays well, and that understands you’re a third year college student. Sometimes, when you take a night shift (since your coffee shop is open 24hrs) you get to lounge around with some homework until a customer walks in. You often see people who live in your building, and it’s a great way to make friends.

But now it’s finals week and your shop is slammed.

You don’t really mind, this isn’t your first rodeo, but you’re worried about your psychology final and you haven’t had much time to study. You’re not stressing about any of your other finals, you’ve had a pretty easy workload so far, so you’ve managed to cover a couple extra shifts to make some more money before you go on break. If you could only get maybe half an hour to look over your psychology notes, but people keep coming in.

However, it’s nearing 2am, and the amount of people are waning. You lean against the counter, peering over at the two other people in the shop. One is aggressively highlighting her textbook and the other is falling in and out of sleep as he reads through his notes. You pick up your psych notebook and start flipping through the pages, leaning against the counter. You manage a good twenty minutes of studying intelligence and social psych when the boy with his notes finally calls it quits and trudges out, and another half hour until the girl slams her textbook, orders another coffee to go, and leaves.

Now the shop is empty and you hop up onto the counter and read your notes intently. You read over the old psychologists, the idea of behavioral psych growing into something more, about aggression and altruism and—

Thwack.

You look up at the door and see a guy on the other side cradling his face, mumbling and whining to himself. Did he just walk into the glass door? You stifle a laugh, closing your notebook and tossing it aside. You hop off the counter and go to the door, opening it.

“Hello,” you say.

The guy peeks through his fingers at you, his eyes slightly watery. “Hello,” he croaks. “I ran into your door. I’m sorry.”

You let out a laugh and step aside, inviting him in. He stumbles forward and you follow him in, slipping behind the counter again. He finally releases his face, a red spot on his forehead and nose, stepping up to the counter and looking up at the menu.

You unabashedly admire his face, his soft look features accented his ruddy brunet hair. Which, was a mess, but you can’t blame him, it’s nearly 3 in the morning on the third day of finals. He was dressed in a plain white t-shirt and some sweatpants, flip-flops on his feet. You’re thankful the weather has decided to be nice this week, allowing students to dress more comfortably. All he has with him is a small bookbag slung over his shoulder, maybe a notebook or two in there.

He looks back down to you and you give him a smile, which he returns. “What can I get you?” You ask, finger poised to press buttons on the register.

He hums and shifts his weight side to side, and you notice his eyes glance down to your name tag. “A medium macchiato with no whipped cream but extra caramel?”

You nod and type it in, then grab the medium cup. “And your name?”

“Baekhyun,” he replies.

You write his name on the cup and mark out what he wants, then go over to make it. The quiet coffee shop is momentarily alive with the sounds of the machine, and you make sure to slather the drink with caramel. You pop a lid and a sleeve on the cup before handing it back to him.

“Here you go, Baekhyun,” you say, smiling at him again.

“Thank you,” he says, taking the drink and returning the smile. “I haven’t paid yet.”

“It’s on the house tonight,” you say, clearing the order on the register. “A pity drink since you ran face first into the door.”

His smile turns bashful and holds the drink closer to himself. “I appreciate it,” he mumbles, reaching into his pocket for a couple of small bills and shoving them into the tip jar. Baekhyun turned around and found a table, setting down his coffee and grabbing a notebook out of his bag.

And thus he began studying, so you returned to sitting on the counter and studying, too. A half hour flew by before you knew it, and you hopped up to make yourself a small hot chocolate to keep you cozy in the last couple hours of your shift.

“Aren’t you in my psych class?”

You look up from your notebook towards Baekhyun across the counter. “Am I?”

Baekhyun props his elbows up on the table and rests his cheek on his hand, staring at you intently. “I think you are. I feel like I recognize you.”

You hop off the counter and close your notebook. “I think I would recognize you, especially if you’re clumsy enough to run into a door.”

Baekhyun droops his head and lets out a laugh. “That’s seriously just the first time I’ve done that since I’ve been here!”

You laugh with him, grabbing your hot chocolate and notebook, coming out from behind the counter and sitting down in front of him. You open back up your notebook to where you left off; aggression and altruism. “Who’s your professor?” You ask.

Baekhyun sips his coffee, bright eyes focused on you and not his notes. “Professor Park, with the hair that’s half grey, half black, and the glasses that are way more circular than they should be.”

You let out a laugh at his description and nod. “Apparently we do have the same psychology professor. Same class and everything?”

Baekhyun smiles at you, glancing down at his notes. “Yeah, I see you sometimes, you always sit at the front. I sit in the back.”

“That’s why I don’t see you,” you note. “It’s a bummer the class is ending, we could’ve studied together or something.”

He tilts his head in an endearing way, watching you closing with a small smile on his lips. “Yeah, it’s a shame. We could study right now though, unless you’ve got work to do.”

You make a show of looking around the empty cafe, then back to him. You shrug. “If somebody comes in, I’ll help them, but I have a couple more hours in my shift I’d love to spend studying with you.”

He brightens up even more, sitting straighter in his seat and flipping through his notebook. “Awesome. Since you sit at the front of the class, you must be smart, so can you help me with the subsets of the nervous system?”

And thus began your cram session of the entire psychology textbook before your shift ended. You and Baekhyun passed questions back and forth, filling each other in or supplying whatever decent answer either of you could. It was nice to study with somebody else, and talking about the concepts out loud really helps you grasp them. And, now Baekhyun understands biases and meta-analyses, which apparently were giving him a run for his money.

But 6am comes too fast, the sun breaks the horizon and you’re both too busy to notice the sunlight seeping through the windows. You only glance up at Baekhyun every now and then to make eye contact during a very intense discussion of a definition, or a study that changed psych, or something like that, and you nearly miss the fact that the red mark on his forehead has faded away.

The bell on the door rings and draws both of your attentions away from your notes, from each other, and you crane your neck to see your coworker waltzing in, bedhead a beautiful mess and her undereye bags designer.

“What’s up?” She asks you, finding her way behind the counter and started herself a coffee.

“Just studying,” you inform, closing your notebook. Baekhyun watches you with big eyes. “My shift is over, so I better go sleep before our psych final this evening. You should, too.”

Baekhyun heaves out a sigh, closing his own notebook and nodding. “Good point. So, I’ll see you then?”

You give him a smile as you grab your notebook and slip behind the counter, collecting your things. You slip on your jacket and sling your bag over your shoulder, watching as Baekhyun stands up and grabs his own bag.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Maybe I’ll sit with you in the back so we can cheat off each other.”

He gives you a sly smile, eyes sparkly as he opens the door for you. “It’s a bummer we didn’t notice each other under the end of the semester.”

“I know,” you sigh. “But, I guess that’s college.”

“Yeah,” he says, stopping a few feet in front of the coffee shop. He gestures back to it. “You work here often?”

You nod, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “Yeah, usually just Tuesday and Thursday nights.”

Baekhyun bites his bottom lip for a second before giving you a stunning smile. “Then I’ll see you around.”

You return the smile brightly, feeling your cheeks heat up a little. “Yeah, see you.”

And you both turn and go your separate ways, but you know in the back of your mind that you’re going to be seeing a lot more of him in the near future.

#exo #baekhyun #writings #baekhyun scenario #exo scenario #happy baekhyun day!#hbd!#lil bean #drabble

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