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tuanyiems · 3 years

Text

To Tango

Yugyeom x Fem Reader Genre: fluff, a little angst, smut Words: 12k [Masterlist in blog description] Plot: Sequel to Take Two (Arranged Marriage AU) Part of the Marriage Life AU series. You and Yugyeom have decided to take things slow now that you are starting over on the right foot. This proves to be more difficult when your insecurities about your virginity grow larger and Yugyeom’s dance partners get prettier and sexier with each routine. Warning: gyeom and reader need to work on their communication lulz, loss of virginity, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, a brief moment of unintentional cockwarming lol

“Oh, and the sex, Y/N!” Anna let out a dreamy sigh, plopping her head against the couch cushion dramatically, her third glass of wine swirling dangerously in her hand. “I thought we were great in bed before, but engagement sex! Y/N, it’s absolutely mind-blowing!”

You giggle in response to your best friend, lips on the edge of your own wine glass as you nursed your first cup.

Anna reaches out her left hand, eyes crinkling at the sparkling ring on her finger. “I can’t wait to get married and have newlywed sex! Is it even better, Y/N?”

You cough in surprise, mouthful of wine spilling back into your glass.

“Oh dear, are you okay?” Anna reaches over, patting you on the back. She glances over cautiously. “You know, I heard most couples need time to learn each other’s bodies. Not all men can be like Jungkook. It gets better, don’t worry!”

“No!” You looked up in surprise, cheeks heating up. “It’s not that it’s bad. Yugyeom isn’t bad…or well, I don’t…he’s probably not.”

“Wait!” She shakes her head in disbelief, slamming down her wine glass on the coffee table. “I thought you and Yugyeom were getting along! It’s been a whole year, Y/N!”

“W-we are,” you stutter, looking away.

“But you’re still a virgin?” Anna asks slowly. You gulp down the rest of your glass, squeezing your eyes shut in embarrassment as you reluctantly nod.

“Aww, it’s okay…sex isn’t even that…good.”

You roll your eyes, giggling at the obvious lie. “Stop Anna, you looked like you were in actual pain just saying that.”

She grinned, flashing a row of plum teeth. “Sex is amazing, Y/N, I’m sorry.”

You shrug your shoulders, pouring more wine into your glasses. “I’m sure I’ll find out eventually. Yugyeom and I are just taking things slow.”

“Of course, there’s no rush!” Anna smiles reassuringly.

“Right, no rush.” You agree, nodding your head with conviction. Deep down though, you’re worried. After the two of you finally cleared the air of your misunderstandings last year, you both agreed to take things slow, get to know each other as friends first. Of course, this was more for Yugyeom. You had already been head over heels for him two years prior to him ever knowing your name. As time passed, your feelings for Yugyeom only grew stronger, but you weren’t sure you could say the same for him.

It took months for him to come to terms with you being his wife, you didn’t want to scare him away by asking for anything more. But a whole year has passed since then and the two of you hang out more like roommates than a married couple.

The first time you went on a real date, it got so awkward that Yugyeom literally called up Bambam to break the silence. The last time you tried to hold Yugyeom’s hand he flinched like you were going to chop his fingers off or something. Ever since then, you’ve given up, relishing instead on your casual nights in watching k-dramas and weekly grocery store runs. Those count as dates, right?

“Everyone has their own pace Y/N,” Anna adds, as if she could hear your worried thoughts. “There’s no order to when you’re supposed to get married or have sex. Don’t worry about it.”

You look at her with a pout. “Even if we’ve never kissed?”

“YOU’VE NEVER KISSED?!”

You laugh, half at her reaction and half in agony as you nod.

“What the hell is wrong with Yugyeom?” Anna yelled out indignantly.

You smile sheepishly, brushing your fingers through your hair in defeat. “Maybe he doesn’t want to kiss me. We hang out like bros. I think I’ve been friendzoned.”

“Nonsense! There’s something wrong with that boy if he doesn’t want to kiss you. Even I want to kiss you sometimes! That’s how hot you are!”

You laugh, collapsing into the couch cushions at your friend’s bug-eyed expression. “Anyways, it’s not that big of a problem. In his defense, he’s only just gotten to know me. I’m not as outgoing as you Anna, my charms are a little harder to see.”

“No way, Yugyeom’s just blind. That, or he’s a coward! You need to grab that boy by the collar and show him exactly what he’s missing out on. Just grab him and plant a wet one on him!”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I think that’s called assault, Anna. We’ll get there in due time. No rush.”

“No rush about what?” Yugyeom interrupts, entering through the front door. He had just come back from the dance studio. You avert your eyes. Even after a long day of dancing in track pants and a plain white tee, hair stuffed into a black cap, Yugyeom still looks irresistible.

“Are you two drinking again?” He asks after no answer, approaching the two of you on the couch.

You smile sheepishly, twirling the red wine in your glass.

“Yes we are! Have to get rid of our frustrations somehow!” Anna barks back, pouring more wine into both of your glasses.

“This is my second glass,” You tell him quietly when he glances from Anna back to you, questioningly.

Yugyeom raises his brow skeptically, leaning over the couch to get a closer look. You gulp, eyes trailing the tip of his nose and the curve of his cupid’s bow. He’s so close; you could smell the lingering scent of the outside air mixed with his faded cologne.

“Your second glass?” he asks, eyes trained on yours like he could read your thoughts if he stares hard enough. You pray that isn’t true.

You nod quietly.

“Then why are your cheeks so pink? I think you’re already drunk!” He declares, standing up straight. Anna laughs, looking at you with a knowing smile.

“Did you eat dinner yet?” You change the subject quickly.

He smiles down at you before stepping away. “Yeah, I’m gonna go shower and then head to bed. Don’t keep her up too late, Anna!”

“That’s your job, Mr. Hubby,” Anna mumbles under her breath, snickering when your eyes widen, and you turn back to check if he heard. Yugyeom is already down the hallway though.

You pout, sinking into your seat. “Don’t say it!”

“You’ve got the hots for your husband!” Anna sings with excitement, nudging you teasingly.

You can only groan into the couch cushions because you know she’s absolutely right.

Of course, by now everyone knows you’ve had the hots for your husband ever since you laid eyes on him as a freshman in college. You were like the Cinderella of arranged marriages on campus. You agreed with it yourself. It wasn’t every day that parents matched their daughters up with their longtime crushes.

But that was a sweet and innocent time in your life, when you’d have daydreams of cooking dinner with him and he’d help tie your apron from behind. Maybe even tuck a stray hair behind your ear. Now your daydreams are far more…mature.

So, when you send Anna on her way and turn around to see Yugyeom stepping out of the shower, striped pajama pants on, and only striped pajama pants on, you are a bit breathless, to say the least.

“Jungkook picked Anna up?” he asks nonchalantly, water droplets dripping off his wet hair and falling down his chest.

You beg your buzzed brain not to follow the wet trail. Your mouth waters anyways.

“Mhm,” you manage out after a pause.

He chuckles, his hands coming to cup your cheeks. “Are you sure you only had two glasses? You seem out of it.”

“I’m fine,” you laugh nervously, shuffling out of his grasp. “Anyways, aren’t you tired? You should head to bed.”

“I am,” he smiles. “You too? Do you have a long day tomorrow?”

“I’m gonna be in the kitchen all day. I have to practice a couple recipes.”

“I’ll help!” he grins, shoulders squeezing together happily.

You scrunch your nose, landing a soft punch on his bicep. “I sense ulterior motives. I’ll take it though!”

He laughs, patting your head good naturedly. “Then it’s settled. Just wake me up when you start.”

You smile, watching as Yugyeom turns towards his bedroom, fresh muscle relief patches stamped across his back. He had been in the studio nonstop all week. Ever since changing his major, he’s been overworking himself to make up lost time. And now he’s spending his day off to help you.

You are grateful that he no longer gives you the cold shoulders. In fact, you have a gut feeling he’s been trying to make up for his past behavior by doing favors for you. You keep telling him that everything’s been forgiven, but the boy doesn’t listen.

He’s truly been nothing but sweet.

So, it should be okay that you two sleep in different beds at night. Lots of arranged couples do. You should just be happy you got to marry such a kind man. It’s okay that he doesn’t love you, you’re lucky nonetheless. Eventually, you two will become best friends.

Best friends last longer than lovers, you’ve been told.

But when you tuck yourself into bed that night, you can’t help but feel a little bit colder than usual.

“So, how can I help?” Yugyeom asks, hands on his hips as he sports your far too small, far too pink apron.

You giggle at the sight, sliding the cutting board towards him. “Can you dice the veggies, please?”

“Yes Chef!” he salutes you playfully.

You chuckle, bringing out the other ingredients for your recipe. The sleepyhead woke up at noon and insisted on helping you before even brushing his teeth. Of course, you ushered him into the bathroom soon enough, but it was harder to kick him out of the kitchen.

You glance at the back of his hair, strands curling up in opposite directions like wild flowers. You’d think the image of Yugyeom looking the very opposite of his appearance in the dance studio would damage your infatuation with him, but instead you found his clumsiness endearing.

There are a lot of cool bad boys out there. You’re glad Yugyeom is one of the good ones. Sometimes you fear he’s too good. Like maybe he’s being nice because he feels guilty still or maybe even sorry. You bite your lip. You would hate it if he were only acting this nice because he felt sorry for you.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” Yugyeom yells, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You’re gonna cut yourself like that!”

You look down at your chopping board, fingers dangerously close to the knife. “Oh.”

“And you tried to kick me out of the kitchen. I should be the one nagging you!” he chides, taking the knife away from you. “I’ll finish up the chopping, you can start cooking.”

You nod, feeling your cheeks heat.

“How are your classes going?” he asks, popping a slice of carrot into his mouth.

“Pretty good. I just can’t wait to graduate.”

Yugyeom lets out a soft chuckle. “Same.”

“Extra year was worth it though, wasn’t it?” You grin, filling a measuring cup with water.

He answers with a wink. It makes your stomach flip.

“I never said thanks,” he starts, going back to chopping vegetables. You look at him curiously, waiting for him to continue. “For convincing me to change my major. And supporting me this whole time. I don’t think I would be here without you.”

You shake your head, busying your hands as your cheeks flush once more. “It was all you. I wouldn’t invest in something I didn’t believe in. You had it in you the whole time.”

“Ah, stop it,” he bumps shoulders with yours gently.

You couldn’t help the growing smile on your face as memories from last year floods you.

Yugyeom looked like a nervous puppy in front of his father. You were sure if he had a tail it would be tucked between his legs right now.

You never thought of the Kim family as intimidating. Although the first time you met your in-laws they were angry whispering to each other with Yugyeom over the arranged marriage, they have always been nothing but kind to you. And when you and Yugyeom started getting along, they became even more jovial, showering you with household gifts and random text messages of affection.

However, Yugyeom’s respect for his parents was immeasurable and in front of his father, he became a little boy.

So here he was, face as pale as snow, about to break the news to his father.

You reached out to him, taking hold of his hand quietly. He flinched at the touch before offering you a nervous smile back. You squeezed his clammy hands in yours.

It was the first time you truly felt like Yugyeom’s wife. The two of you were in this together and you were going to support your husband’s happiness even if it meant going against his parents.

As it turned out, Yugyeom’s parents were more than understanding. Disappointed, yes, but after you gave your reassurance that you supported his decision, they were all on board with him pursuing dance.

You chuckled to yourself, remembering how Yugyeom’s frightened face had melted back into his usual boyish excitement. There was something very pure in the way he expressed himself. It was part of the charm that drew you in, in the first place.

You glance his way, catching him bouncing his shoulders up and down to a beat only he could hear. Sometimes you wonder what goes on in that brain of his.

Yugyeom’s knife stops midair. He turns to you abruptly with arched brows. You blink back nervously. But instead of saying anything, he breaks into a big smile before returning to the vegetables, his body grooving back and forth in a little jig. You chuckle softly, shaking your head. Whatever’s in that brain of his, you don’t have to worry about it.

“Wow, this is delicious!” Yugyeom exclaims, taking another big bite of your dish. You smile, placing your hands on your hips with satisfaction. “You deserve an A++!”

“You say that about all my food,”

“I mean it this time! It’s so good.”

“Oh, so you didn’t mean it the other times?” You give a playful pout, pushing the plate closer to your side. “I’m eating this alone!”

“Aww, hey! You know what I meant,” he whines, scooting closer to get another bite.

You laugh, taking the dish into your arms as you swat his hands away. He only pushes closer, wrapping his arms around you.

“Just one more bite!” he whines, squeezing you against his chest.

“All mine!” You grin, grabbing another spoonful. You swirl the spoon around teasingly before aiming for your own mouth, but before you could bite down, Yugyeom squeezes you closer, sticking his head cheek-to-cheek against yours and successfully steals the bite.

You gasp, face flushing at his close proximity and then watch as the plate slips from your nervous hand. Almost as if in slow motion, you see the contents of your dish spill onto Yugyeom’s grey sweatpants. Your eyes double in size the liquid sinks into the fabric of his pants and the rest falls to the floor in thunderous claps.

You blink, frozen, until you take in a sudden breath and collapse to your knees.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You immediately apologize, wiping at his pants hastily.

“Oh, hey hey hey!” Yugyeom grabs at your hands, flustered. “I-I can wipe myself. Don’t worry about it.”

You look at the red flush across Yugyeom’s face, reaching towards his ears and all the way down his neck. Your palms go clammy in his as you realize your precarious position. You glance at the wet spot near his crotch and then back at his wavering pupils.

“I’m so sorry!” You apologize again, for different reasons this time, as you fumble back to your feet.

He only shakes his head vigorously, unable to meet your eyes as he lets go of your hands.

“It’s my fault,” he says, rushing to the kitchen counters to grab a kitchen towel. “I was playing around too much.”

“Yeah, you were,” you agree, taking the towel from him with a sympathetic smile. He looks at you with a pout. “I’ll clean up the mess, you should go change.”

He lets out a sigh before consenting, heading towards his room with his head low. In the privacy of his bedroom, Yugyeom lets out a deep exhale, his heart thrumming in his chest. He hopes you hadn’t noticed.

He looks down, pulling his sweatpants off. Please go down, but instead thoughts of you return to his mind. If he is being honest, it isn’t the first time he’s imagined you in that kind of position, but to have it actually happen—you, on your knees, right below him—and the way you looked up at him with your big, shiny eyes. All you had to do was lick your lips and he would’ve came in his pants.

“Fuck,” he whispers, looking back down. “Go down, go down, go down.”

You sit in Jungkook’s apartment, watching beside Anna as the two boys bicker about the latest trendy dance on TikTok. You laugh, watching as your husband grows red in the face from laughing so hard. He didn’t even drink tonight.

“What are you grinning about, huh?” Anna teases, refilling your glass with more sangria.

You point at Jungkook just as he begins rapping nonsense to the cellphone that is leaning dangerously against a half empty water bottle, off the edge of their coffee table.

“That’s the guy you’re about to marry,” you deadpan. “And that’s the man I’m married to.”

You look solemnly at Yugyeom who is now flailing tissues around as he hypes Jungkook up in the background.

Anna chuckles, clinking her glass against yours. “A bunch a fools, we are.”

You gulp down the fresh glass before breaking out into a grimace. Anna definitely put more brandy into the second pitcher of sangria. You look back at your friend with a frown.

She only laughs in response. “What? It’s not like you’re driving yourself home, that’s what the husband is for!”

“True!” You laugh, drinking more.

Yugyeom scowls, giving Anna a reprimanding click with his tongue. “You’re such a bad influence, Anna!”

She feigns offense, turning to him with her mouth wide open. “Excuse me? Who’s the one that brought you guys together, hmm?”

“Our parents,” Yugyeom retorts, a pleased grin on his face. You chuckle, earning yourself a glare from your friend.

“But I was the one that brought Y/N to the dance studio and stopped you two from divorcing each other,” Anna pouts, squeezing your arm for backup. You only giggled more, sipping on your glass of sangria.

“Speaking of the dance studio,” Jungkook starts, breaking the little spat between Anna and Yugyeom. “You’re working on that new routine with Lisa, right?”

You let out a sigh that only Anna notices. She gives your arm another squeeze, well aware of your concerns.

For the past couple of weeks, you had been complaining to Anna about Lisa. In all honesty, there was nothing real to complain about. Lisa was one of the sweetest girls you have ever met, and her dancing was some of the best you had ever seen. But that was exactly what was wrong. Lisa wasn’t just perfect, she also went perfectly with Yugyeom. The two shared an unrivaled chemistry on the dance floor and that did nothing to curb your own insecurities over your relationship.

It doesn’t help that Yugyeom is spending hours of his day to perfect his new dance routine with her.

But how could you even tell Yugyeom this? You were the one that pushed him to pursue dancing!

You stretch out your legs on the couch, wiggling your toes with a frown on your face. You really shot yourself in the foot this time around.

“Bro, don’t remind me,” Yugyeom sighs, much to your own surprise. You perk up, turning your attention to him and ignoring the snort from Anna. “I’m going to kill Bambam.”

“Why, what happened?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah, what happened?” you insist, a little too eagerly.

Yugyeom turns to you with a frown. “Bambam took Lisa ice skating and she sprained her ankle.”

“Oh no,” you mutter, pressing the wine glass back to your lips to hide the smile spreading across your face.

You feel Anna’s elbow dig into your side.

“Aww, go Bambam though,” Anna cheers. “Hasn’t he been in love with her for forever?”

Yugyeom rolls his eyes, walking over to plop next to you on the couch. His arm naturally reaches overhead, leaning on the cushion just above your head. You swallow, overly aware of his body next to yours.

“It wasn’t even a date, Anna,” he sighs, shaking his head in disbelief. He looks at you then before adding, “That’s why I’ve been at the studio longer than usual. Learning the routine with a new partner is so stressful.”

“Who’s your new partner?” Jungkook asks, squeezing himself next to Anna.

“She’s an underclassman. I don’t know if you know her. Does Chungha ring a bell?”

You watch Jungkook’s expression remain unimpressed as he shrugs. “Nope.”

Pleased with his response, you relax your shoulders and unintentionally lean into Yugyeom. If it weren’t for the alcohol and your slow reflexes, you would’ve sat back up, but Yugyeom presses back into you before you can move. When you feel his hand slide around you, you tip the rest of your glass into your mouth.

“You guys wanna come watch us practice?” Yugyeom offers, seemingly unaware of your wildly beating heart.

Jungkook and Anna agrees quickly, leaving you with no choice but to watch another woman dance with your husband. The only thing that was making you feel better though is the fact that she isn’t Lisa and of course, the additional helping of sangria from your best friend.

When it is finally time for you and Yugyeom to head home, you are completely drunk. You have no idea how he was able to get you to and from the car but when you are finally sober enough to open your eyes without feeling like the world is spinning, you find yourself sprawled on your living room couch.

“One day I’m gonna get Jungkook shitfaced and toss him to Anna. See how much she likes it,” he grumbles under his breath as he approaches you. “Oh, you’re awake.”

You giggle, still drunk enough to ignore your usual nerves. “They’d probably just have drunk sex, Yugy.”

Yugyeom blushes, sitting next to you on the couch. “Let’s wipe your makeup off Y/N,” he replies, ignoring your comment.

You turn to him with your eyes closed, laughing when the cool towelette touches your skin. He chuckles against you.

“Stop laughing.”

“It tickles!”

“Just a little bit more,”

You sigh in relief, opening your eyes again to see Yugyeom tossing the dirty wipes into the trashcan.

“Come on, let’s go brush our teeth,” he beckons.

Your lips jut out instinctively as you cross your arms defiantly. “Do it for me!”

Yugyeom lets out a sigh but a smile quickly breaks onto his face anyways. He always complained to Anna about getting you drunk, but the truth is that he could never get truly mad. How could he when your drunken self becomes a cute little monster?

You are annoyingly adorable.

Even during the early months of your marriage when Yugyeom was adamant on hating you, he could never get over how cute you became when you were drunk. While he found your normal self already quite endearing, it was a different pleasure to see your guard slip down.

Grabbing your toothbrush and spreading a pinch of toothpaste over the bristles, he smiles as he walks back over to you. Your eyes open again, feeling him approach. You flash him a bright smile, showing off your wine-stained teeth.

Chuckling in defeat, he pushes your toothbrush against your smile and begins brushing. You watch him with lazy eyes, smile still adorn on your lips. It makes his skin flush under your gaze. Maybe you are still very drunk, but time feels like it stops.

It’s not often that Yugyeom gets to see you with your guard down. You are always a little shy and always put together. Whether it is helping him talk to his own parents or waking up early to make him lunch, you are always the one helping him and rarely is it ever the other way around.

It’s why times like these, Yugyeom takes his time memorizing your features.

On normal days, Yugyeom already thinks you are perfect.

On nights like tonight, he thinks you are perfectly imperfect.

And that makes you all the more beautiful.

All too soon, it is time to put you to bed. He is surprised you’re even still awake. It’s way past midnight, which is way past your usual 10PM bedtime.

“It’s time to sleep now, Y/N. Can you walk or should I carry you?”

You glance at him, fiddling with your thumbs. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Yugyeom chokes on his own spit. “Y-you don’t want to sleep in your own bed?”

You shake your head with a pout. “I wanna stay with you.”

He lets out a breath before taking a seat next to you on the couch. It shouldn’t be a surprise that your drunk self is being clingy, but Yugyeom can’t help his thoughts from wandering to the other day when you spilled food all over his pants.

You pat his thigh, leaning closer. He gulps, feeling nervous suddenly.

“Yugy, what’s your ideal type?”

The question catches him off guard. It’s not until you squeeze his thigh again that he remembers to answer.

“I-um...”

He glances down at your wide eyes. The anticipation in your gaze is evident.

“I like someone who makes me want to know more about her,” he finally answers.

His answer is almost sobering enough. You feel your heart dropping.

“What type of wife do you want then?”

Yugyeom wants to laugh at your sudden interrogation but you look so serious. He looks away, pretending to think deeply about your question. The truth is though, he can barely think with you so close to him. The only thing he can think to respond with is you. Of course it’s you. It could only be you.

Before Yugyeom could even accept the idea of marriage, he had already fallen for his wife. Against his will and against his pride, you had snuck into his heart.

When he looks back at you, you feel a flutter in your chest. You wonder if your buzz has gotten to your head. Hope rises in your heart the longer he stares.

“I want a wife who doesn’t like wine so much,” he lets out a small laugh when you immediately frown. If only he could kiss the pout on your lips.

Yugyeom sits up, thinking you’ve finished but you’re quick to keep him seated. With the last bits of alcohol giving you courage, you throw your leg across his lap and straddle him, palms flat against his chest.

“I want a real answer, Yugy,” you pout, too involved in your own questions to see the way Yugyeom’s entire face has gone red. “What’s something I can do that you find really charming?”

He looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. The longer it takes for him to answer, the more you begin to question whether you’ve crossed a line. But Yugyeom is just trying to form a coherent sentence in his mind, anything to keep you from pressing further into him and realizing that you’ve given him a semi.

When he doesn’t answer, you bite at your lip, crestfallen.

You know you should have seen this coming, but it still hurts. He couldn’t even think of a lie to tell?

The next question leaves you in a whisper, “Why aren’t you attracted to me?”

Yugyeom’s eyes grow big with alarm. The sadness on your face is so apparent and it makes his stomach ache with guilt. Why would you ever think this? He is literally hard right now because of you!

“I am!” He shouts back immediately.

You look back at him, but your eyes say you don’t believe him.

“I am, I really am! Why would you even ask?”

“Then,” you sink into him, shoulders slouching. “Why won’t you kiss me?”

Yugyeom looks at you, then your lips, and feels the heat rise to his cheeks. He wants to kiss you right now. He has never wanted to kiss you more than now, but you’re drunk. What if this is just the alcohol talking?

Before he can say anything though, your arms are wrapping around his neck and pushing him against you. Your lips are soft on his and you taste minty from the toothpaste.

You feel a shiver in your spine when he starts to kiss back. Soft at first, and then his arms are squeezing around your waist and you’re running your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer until it feels impossible to breathe.

It doesn’t matter. You decide kissing Yugyeom takes priority over breathing.

You moan against him when he slides his tongue into your mouth. When you rut against him, you can feel his hardness through his jeans. It sends a thrill through your body. You rub yourself harder against him, savoring the way he muffles a groan against your lips.

But when you slip your hands underneath his shirt, feeling his hot skin, Yugyeom pushes you away.

“Wait,” he mutters, catching his breath. “Y/N, we can’t.”

“What are talking about? Who’s going to stop us?” You chuckle, trying to sneak your hands back onto him, but Yugyeom is quick to grab your wrist.

He inwardly curses himself, cringing at the tightness in his pants, but he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he took advantage of you while you were drunk. He is not going to share your first time together when you aren’t fully sober. It is wrong no matter how much you insist on it.

With a sigh, he lifts you off of him and stands up.

“We can’t, Y/N. Come on, let’s go to sleep.”

You feel a wave of heat rise to your face as your eyes fill with tears. You stare at Yugyeom’s feet, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes.

“Come on,” he beckons, reaching for your hand.

Pulling away, you get up on your own. Without a word, you walk into your bedroom and slam the door shut.

And as you lay in bed, hot tears spill out endlessly.

You stand at the entrance of the dance studio, a sick feeling in your stomach. Yugyeom left early this morning so you were never able to talk about what happened last night.

“Are you going to open the door or what?” Anna looks at you sternly. “What happened between you two? Why are you acting so weird?”

“Yeah, did you lose your virginity or something?” Jungkook jokes.

“Anna!” You yell out, appalled.

She looks back at you with wide eyes, putting her hands in the air. “It wasn’t me, I swear!”

“Yeah, Yugyeom told me months ago,” Jungkook chuckles, a pleased smile on his face.

“Okay, I’m going home.”

Before you could march away and find a cliff to jump off of, Anna and Jungkook are pulling you by the arms and into the studio.

“Hey, you guys made it!” Yugyeom greets you cheerfully. He glances over to you and a pink hue dusts his cheeks. He rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly, unsure of what to do until a girl approaches him. You blink, breath caught in your throat when you see how beautiful she is. “Oh um, this is my new dance partner, Chungha!”

You bite at your lip, noticing far too quickly how Yugyeom’s mood changes at the sight of her. But could you blame him? In just a basic pair of black leggings and sports bra, you could see how toned her body was. Her big, bright eyes blink back at you, and you could see the fluttering of her long lashes. She looks flawless.

And then she smiles.

To think, you had been relieved Lisa was no longer his dance partner. No wonder he isn’t attracted to you. You wouldn’t be either if you were surrounded by women like Lisa and Chungha all day.

“It’s nice to meet you all!” she greets cheerfully. “I can’t wait to get your feedback.”

“Same, Yugyeom said you’re a great dancer,” Jungkook adds.

She smilsd shyly, sharing a look with Yugyeom. “That means a lot. I don’t know if I can meet those expectations though.”

“Nonsense,” Yugyeom rolls his eyes, pushing her shoulder playfully. “Stop pretending to be humble.”

As the two laugh in their own world, you finger at the end of your t-shirt uncomfortably. They have only been practicing the dance together not too long ago but they already look so close.

“Oh!” Yugyeom looks back at you, almost like an afterthought. “This is my wife by the way!”

“Oh!” Chungha exclaims, eyes wide as if she were seeing you for the first time. “It’s so great to finally meet you! When Yugyeom said he was married I was so surprised, but you are so cute!”

You force out a smile, accepting the compliment—though, you wonder if it really was. It sure didn’t feel like one.

“Well, we won’t hold you up anymore!” Anna interrupts, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “We’ll go make ourselves comfy while you two get ready.”

“Hey, it’s our sister-in-laws!” Bambam and Taehyung welcome you from their seat by the mirrors.

“Soon,” Anna grins coyly, sharing a look with Jungkook.

Ignoring the two lovebirds, Taehyung grabs your arm, ushering you to take a seat between him and Bambam.

“I haven’t seen you in forever,” he pouts before flashing his iconic square smile. You answer with a weak one of your own.

“How long have you two been here?”

“Since the morning. We had to practice our routines too,” Taehyung answers.

“Yeah, and those two have been at it since we got here. I think knowing there’d be a live audience today made her nervous,” Bambam adds, referring to Chungha.

“It’s just us though,”

“Still,” Taehyung shrugs his shoulders. “This is her first performance since starting uni.”

You glance at the two who are currently crouched over a tablet and reviewing a video of their practice. She is giggling over something Yugyeom had said and is slapping his shoulder playfully.

You frown. “Doesn’t look nervous to me.”

Taehyung smirks, bending his head to meet your eyes. “Is someone jealous?”

You frown even more, lip jutting out in a pout.

“Aw, poor baby, it’s okay Y/N,” Taehyung chuckle, patting your head. “She’s harmless.”

“Tae!”

You both look over to see Yugyeom staring from across the room. His eyes meet yours briefly before he averts his eyes to Taehyung.

“Can you come over for a second? We need a second opinion,” he says.

“We do?” Chungha asks softly.

You sigh, hugging your knees.

Bambam chuckles beside you. “It’s hard work liking someone, isn’t it?”

You turn your head, giving him an empathetic smile. “You of all people should know.”

You watch Bambam’s shoulders slump, slightly regretting your comment when you see the look on his face. But Bambam is quick to recover.

“Yugyeom cares for you more than you think.”

You have a hard time believing that, memories of last night’s embarrassment resurfacing again. Instead, you cross your arms and turn your whole body away from the three across from you towards Bambam.

“She called me cute,” you pout.

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

You sigh. “Not when it’s coming from someone who’s drop dead gorgeous. Cute sounds like an insult.”

Bambam shakes his head in disbelief but doesn’t try to change your mind.

“Sounds like insecurity to me.”

You feel a flush across your cheeks. “Yeah well! Maybe I wouldn’t be if…”

“If?”

You bite at your lip. If Yugyeom had continued kissing you last night? If you went all the way with him? If you hadn’t spent an entire year essentially being friendzoned by your own husband?

You sigh. “I don’t know.”

Bambam gives you a pat on the back. “I’m sure whatever it is, it’s just another misunderstanding. Just talk it out.”

You nod, not wanting to talk about your relationship problems anymore.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Taehyung announces, jumping to the center of the room like a TV host. “May I introduce to you, for the first time ever! Yugyeom and Chungha!”

You clap along weakly as everyone cheers. But the sick feeling in your gut only grows once the performance starts.

The dance is a passionate one. Their bodies are constantly tangled together, Yugyeom chasing after Chungha. You dig your nails into the flesh of your palm as Yugyeom presses himself into Chungha’s back side.

But more than the touching, what hurts the most is the way he looks at her. He looks like he wants her. You knew what you were signing yourself up for when you pushed Yugyeom to pursue dancing, but when did he become such a good actor too?

He’s never looked at you like that before.

It takes a room full of clapping to get you out of your thoughts. You wish you hadn’t though. Chungha is beaming up at Yugyeom and he is looking back like she is the only girl in the room.

“How were you able to watch Lisa do this dance with Yugyeom?” you mutter to Bambam, looking away from the two on the dance floor.

“Trust,” he answers easily. “Besides, Yugyeom’s too dorky for Lisa. She would never fall for him.”

“Hey,” you scold lightly.

“You can either be mad at him or defend him, Y/N. You can’t choose both!”

You roll your eyes, heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m not mad at him, he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why does Yugyeom keep looking at you like he’s sorry?”

You only sigh, too afraid to say out loud the answer you hold in your heart.

That maybe, he is only sorry because he can’t love you back.

You sit on the couch of your living room, absentmindedly spooning your ice cream that is now soup. A couple days have passed and you and Yugyeom are back on good terms. At least on the surface. Silently, the both of you seem to have agreed to pretend what happened the other night on this couch had never happened.

You decided to stop thinking about the way Yugyeom looked at Chungha or how she was so much better than you. Again, you do what you are good at, using your blind optimism to mask the hurt you are feeling inside.

“I’m back!” Yugyeom calls out as he steps through the entrance. He spots the back of your head from the living room and glances at the TV only to find that you are staring at a black screen.

“Hey,” he calls out again more softly, approaching you on the couch.

“Oh, Yugyeom!” You startle, before offering him a smile. “Back from practice?”

“Mhm,” he returns a hesitant smile.

“Aren’t you early? What time is it?” You glance over to the clock on the wall only to find that it is already 9PM. “Oh wow, look at the time! Did you have dinner yet?”

Yugyeom shakes his head, observing how your eyes never quite focus, glancing at his torso briefly before darting back to your bowl of melted ice cream and then the clock on the wall.

“I left some dinner for you in the kitchen, you just have to heat it up.” You place your bowl on the coffee table. “Want me to get it for you?”

He places a hand on your thigh, stopping you from leaving your seat. “I got it.”

He rises to his feet before pausing. Yugyeom looks at you, his eyebrows arching with concern. He stares for a moment. Ever since you guys came back from the dance studio together, you had been quiet. Everything you did and said felt a little too robotic. A little cold even, like you were keeping him at a distance. And then he thought about your lips. The way they felt against his that night—cool from the aftertaste of toothpaste, but hot against his tongue.

“Yugyeom?”

He swallows. “N-Nothing.”

You look at him for a moment longer before forcing out a smile. “Let me just heat up your dinner and then I’ll head to bed!”

Yugyeom watches as you hastily leave him for the kitchen. It is obvious that you are still bothered and this time around, Yugyeom is sure he knows why. But he doesn’t even know how to start talking about it. He can’t even think about the other night without feeling like a flustered mess.

And by the way you are smiling at him, it feels like you don’t want to talk about it either.

Were you embarrassed about it? Was he right and it was just the alcohol talking? Maybe you were regretting it now.

“It’ll only take another minute and you can take it off the stove,” you smile up at him, giving his arm a pat before you walk away.

“T-Thanks,” he mutters. “Good night.”

You smile weakly before closing the door.

Yugyeom sighs, staring at his dinner on the stove. Even when you aren’t feeling your best, you still take care of him. He wonders how he can make you happy.

His thoughts wander to Taehyung. What if it was him you had walked in on at the dance studio during your freshman year? Would you have fallen for Taehyung instead?

He had seen the way Tae looked at you the night of the party. It was the first night since the wedding that you had gotten all dolled up. He saw you as soon as you stepped through the door. He was sure everyone had their eyes on you.

Even with his own stubbornness back then, he couldn’t stand watching everyone eyeing you at the party. Although he had been determined to avoid you that night, it was the look Tae gave you that drew the line for him.

Since then, you and Tae have become close friends. It annoyed the hell out of him especially when Tae was blatantly flirting with you just to get on his nerves, but he couldn’t even complain. It was karma. He deserves it for the months of hell he put you through.

You may have liked him first, but Yugyeom wonders if you’d still like him for long. With the way things are going, it seems like you are going to realize how subpar of a husband he is and leave him for someone better.

The very thought makes Yugyeom want to hurl.

He shuts off the stove with a sigh. Why is he so bad at communicating with you?

Despite being tired from practice, that night, Yugyeom couldn’t sleep. His thoughts keep going back to you and the sad smile on your face tonight. He did that.

And now here he was, hiding in his bed like a coward. Sitting up, Yugyeom turns on his lights with a sigh. This was not okay. He was not going to repeat the same mistake again. He had to talk to you.

With a renewed purpose, Yugyeom marches over to your room, but when he stops at your door, he freezes. What is he doing? You’re probably asleep by now. He glances at the clock down the hall. It’s almost midnight.

Maybe he should wait until the morning instead.

Just as he’s about to turn on his heels though, your door opens. You both jump in surprise.

“You’re awake!”

“Yugyeom?” You rub at the sleep in your eyes. “What are you doing out here?”

He shuffles awkwardly. “Oh, I uh…”

You stiffen, anxiety creeping up your spine as you watch him fidget in front of your doorway. For you, there can only be one reason for Yugyeom to be coming to you in the middle of the night.

He must have come to his senses.

Yugyeom takes in a sharp breath, steeling himself. “Can we talk?”

Your stomach sinks. You want to tell him no.

Instead, you quietly step aside and let him through. He sits on the edge of your bed nervously. You stare at him from the doorway still.

“I-” his voice trails off before it can fully start. He bites at his lip, pulling at the chapped skin until it is wet and raw. “I…”

When no other words come, you let out a tired sigh. “Gyeom,”

He looks up at you and you can see the worry digging creases into his forehead. You wish you could push him out of your room. You aren’t ready for this conversation to happen. But Yugyeom looks at you so helplessly, you don’t have the strength to deny him.

So, with a pang in your heart, you speak. “You never answered my question the other night. Not seriously anyways.”

He looks at you curiously and you approach him. “Will you answer me now?”

“I-sure.”

You take a seat next to him, tucking your hands beneath your thighs. “What kind of girl do you actually like?”

Yugyeom turns his head your way, looking lost. “But I did answer you. Someone who makes me want to get to know her.”

You squeeze your shoulders together, staring down at the floor. “So, someone with stories…someone with experience?”

Yugyeom swallows, feeling himself fall deeper into a hole. “N-no! Not necessarily…”

“What about your exes? What were they like?” you glance at him, wanting to watch his face but scared of the honesty you’ll see.

Yugyeom’s face flushes red. “W-what? Where is this coming from, Y/N?”

Your face falls before you drop your head once more. “Nothing, it’s stupid. I just thought…maybe if I changed? Do you think we could ever be more than friends?”

Yugyeom chuckles softly. It feels unnatural in the tense atmosphere though. You wonder if he’s laughing at you. You wonder if the very idea is that absurd to him.

“Y/N, you’re my wife.”

“On paper,” you mutter. You shift on the bed, wringing your hands together. “But you don’t even want to hang out with me much, let alone date.”

“That! That’s because I’m shy!” he blurts. He tugs on your hand to look his way, but you’re too ashamed to look him in the face.

You wonder if you’re being selfish by putting him on the spot like this.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” you resign, pulling your hand out of his grasp. “I know this arrangement was never your choice. And well, you can’t control who you’re attracted to.”

“I’m not lying though. I really like you, Y/N, I’m just…I’m just really shy.”

You frown at his insistence. “You aren’t shy around Chungha or Lisa.”

Yugyeom looks at you surprised. “Chungha and Lisa are just friends! I don’t think of them like that!”

“That’s impossible! Chungha and Lisa are both so pretty and charming and sexy! They’re the whole package!” You glare at him angrily.

“Yeah, maybe for Bambam!”

“I bet you’ve talked to Chungha more times than you’ve ever talked to me,” you grumble, crossing your arms.

“Yeah, well, I could say the same for Taehyung,” Yugyeom blurts, mirroring your posture.

You raise your brows in surprise. “Tae?”

“Don’t play dumb, he was obviously flirting with you at the party.”

“What party?” you turn to him confused. “Wait, are you talking about the party where I first met him a year ago?”

“Yeah, and I bet if you met him any earlier, you would’ve liked him instead!”

You frown, sitting cross legged on the bed so you could face him fully now. “I’ve liked you for two years before you even knew I existed. Don’t try to change the subject when you were flirting with Chungha right in front of me just a few days ago!”

“That was not flirting!”

“Not saying it’s a bad thing! You can flirt with whoever you want because you’re allowed to like whoever you want. Clearly, it’s not me!”

Yugyeom guffaws in exasperation, cupping his forehead with one hand. “Goddammit, but it is you. It’s been you this whole time.”

“I’m a big girl, Gyeom, you can give me the hard truth.”

He straightens, glaring back at you. “You want the truth?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Yugyeom scoots closer to you. “Remember when you and Anna had that bachelorette party?”

You pause, frown deepening. “It wasn’t really a bachelorette party, it was just the two of us drinking wine.”

“Nope, you insisted it was a bachelorette party,” he argues, chest puffing out. “I know this because when you got wasted over a bottle of wine, it was me you called to come get you. It was me who carried you back to your apartment and tucked you into bed, but not before you tried to strip down to your underwear while announcing your virginity to the entire complex.”

You gape at him, horrified. “I did what?”

“And I have liked you ever since,” a small smile stretches across his face. “I found out the perfect, goody two-shoes girl was masquerading as a terrible lap dancer by night and ever since then, I’ve wanted to get to know even more sides of you.”

You close your eyes, pressing a thumb to your temple. “Wait, back up, Gyeom, I gave you a lap dance?”

“Yeah, and a terrible one at that,” he laughs.

You falter, anger dissipating quickly. “I don’t remember this.”

“That was only the first time, you know,” he looks at you with a small, teasing smile.

You cringe. “How come you never told me?”

He shrugs. “It happened during the time I was trying really hard not to like you. Anyways, I didn’t think it was something you’d be proud to learn.”

“After seeing all of that,” your voice comes out small, like you want to make a joke, but your tone doesn’t quite match, “wouldn’t you rather someone like Chungha?”

Yugyeom sighs loudly. “What’s with you and Chungha?”

“You two have chemistry,” you admit, lips pouting.

“Because we’re friends,” he explains.

“Then what are we?” You look up at him nervously. He meets you with an equally anxious gaze.

Without answering you, he puts his hands out towards you, palms facing up. When you tilt your head curiously, he takes your hand in his.

“You make me nervous,” he mutters, and you can feel the clamminess of his hot palms against yours. Your brows raise in surprise and you watch as a flush of pink rises to his cheeks. “You think I’m flirting with Chungha, but actually I’ve been trying to flirt with you this whole time. I guess I’m just terrible at it.”

You swallow, not sure what to say to this confession. From the way he looks at you, you know he’s being sincere, which only makes you more confused.

“And I’m terrible at it because,” Yugyeom pauses, face tomato red as he tries to compose himself. He looks away and you grip his hand tighter. “I think you have this idea about me, like I’m cool or something. You’re always saying I inspired you to pursue your dreams, but I think it’s the other way around. And it’s…it’s just a lot of pressure.”

“I-I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to make you feel this way.”

“I know,” Yugyeom looks at you softly, “because you’re you, and you see the good in everything—even me. But if I’m being honest, that cool guy you had a crush on at the dance studio? I’m not sure I’m him. I’m clumsy and childish and always cause accidents when I’m around you. The closer we get, the more I worry you’ll figure this out and regret liking me.”

You thread your fingers through his and pull his hands to your chest, shaking your head adamantly. “That will never happen!”

He chuckles, but the laughter doesn’t meet his eyes. “You can’t promise that.”

“Yes, I can,” you tell him stubbornly. “I moment I said, ‘I do’ I promised just that.”

“Can you say that after my next confession?” he scoffs.

Your brows furrow, but you don’t let go of his hands.

“Do you really want to know who my first love was?” he asks quietly.

You nod, heartbeat thrumming in your ear.

“It was dance,” he sighs, looking down. “It’s always been dance.”

You look at him confused, trying to process this information. “You mean…”

“I’m a virgin, too,” he mumbles, the tips of his ears glowing hot red. When you don’t say anything, he looks up with a small frown. “Still think I’m that cool guy?”

You can’t help the smile that stretches across your face. Without thinking, you spring from the bed and pounce onto him. Yugyeom catches you by the waist easily, his eyes wide with shock at your sudden actions, but he holds you tight in his arms anyways. You shake in his arms, giggles erupting from you and tickling the crook of his neck.

“Why would that ever make you uncool?” you laugh, fingers combing through the back of his hair.

Yugyeom relaxes into your touch, resting his chin on your shoulder. “But, what if I’m not good at it?”

You pull away to look at him. He chews on his lips timidly.

“Well, it’s not like I have anything to compare you to,” you chuckle, rubbing gently at the nape of his neck. “We can take our time, learn together.”

Finally, Yugyeom smiles, relief rushing through him. “It’s not that I don’t want to, just so you know. I just want to make sure you have a good first experience too. What if I hurt you?”

“It hurt more thinking you didn’t like me.”

He sighs softly, pressing his forehead to yours. You can feel the ghost of his breath on your lips. “Trust me, I like you a lot more than you realize.”

“Oh, I’m starting to realize,” you roll your hips tentatively against him and his lashes flutter in surprise as you feel the outline of his semi hard on through his pajama pants. His grip on your waist tightens.

“W-what are you doing?”

You can feel him shiver against you and probably for the first time in this relationship, your chest inflates with confidence.

“Starting lesson one,” you whisper into his ear as you press your core harder against him. The feeling of his hardness blooms excitement throughout your skin. Never has anyone been this close to you in this way. The thought used to scare you, but right now, you’ve never been more thrilled.

“Are you sure?” the words barely make it out of his throat as you press a kiss to his neck. You can feel his breath hitch at the slight graze of your lips, and it urges you on. And despite Yugyeom’s cautious words, his arms pull you closer and he tilts his head, giving you better access.

“The surest I’ve ever been,” you reassure him before sucking on the skin of his jugular. His pulse beats against your lips and you’re happy to know you aren’t the only one whose heart is racing.

“You’re…How’re you so good at this?” Yugyeom mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut in agonized pleasure as you roll your hips against him once more.

“I’ve thought about this a lot,” comes your breathy confession. When he doesn’t say anything, you glance at him. “Is that strange?”

He breaks out into smile, shaking his head. “I’m glad it wasn’t just me.”

You smile, “Really?”

Yugyeom nods, lips chasing yours. “You don’t know how many boners I’ve had to hide from you.”

His hot breath fans at your lips before he is pulling your bottom lip between his teeth. You can’t help the moan that muffles against his mouth as his tongue explores your mouth. When he pulls away, you are gasping to catch your breath.

Contrary to the kiss, Yugyeom looks at you with the softest gaze and wipes at the wetness of your lips with a gentle thumb. He lingers at your bottom lip for a moment longer.

Yugyeom sucks in a breath, eyes dilating when you take his thumb into your mouth. You meet his stare with hooded lids as you suck his entire thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digit. When you release him with a pop, you can feel him twitch underneath you.

There is a hunger in your core that you’ve never felt before. Your entire body aches for Yugyeom in its most primal form. You want him. The thrumming in your chest only further confirms this.

You clutch at his plain tee, heat rising to your cheeks, “Can I taste you?”

Yugyeom groans, throwing his head back. You can’t help salivating at the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing. When Yugyeom looks back at you he almost looks pained.

“I don’t think I’ll last, Y/N,” he mutters, ears reddening.

His confession makes your heart inflate and you press a kiss to his jawline.

“It’s okay, I won’t time you. I don’t know if I’ll be any good anyways,” you smile to lift the mood, but Yugyeom shakes his head.

“No, let me make you feel good first,” He presses a kiss over your smile. “I want to take care of you this time.”

You swallow, heart thrumming in your ear. “Well, what if I don’t last?”

He chuckles, kissing down your throat. You shudder, skin prickling at his breath.

“Oh, I’ll make sure you don’t,” he mumbles, sucking at the sensitive skin. You groan, threading your fingers through the back of his hair. “I’m no quitter, Y/N, and we’ve got all night.”

You shiver, stomach twisting with excitement. Not knowing what else to say, you can only nod when he sinks his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts.

But Yugyeom doesn’t move further. Instead, he looks at you again, eyes serious. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? We can stop if it gets too much.”

And although your cheeks heat up at just the graze of his fingers at your hips, you nod without hesitation. “I want you, Gyeom. I’m ready.”

He sucks in a quiet breath. “Lay down for me?”

His request is a whisper, barely audible, but you scramble to the pillows. Yugyeom follows right behind and when you sink your head into the pillows, he meets you, right above, lips finding yours once more. As his tongue explores your mouth, his thighs press between yours, spreading your legs apart. You can’t help being hyperaware of the dampness of your underwear as he does this.

But the thought quickly leaves your mind when he places a hesitant palm to your chest. To your embarrassment, your nipples are already hard with arousal when his fingers graze against them. He groans against your mouth, fingers rubbing rough circles around the peaked buds.

You find yourself already breathless at the sensation, the sensitive skin sending tingles straight to your core. You moan when he slips his hand underneath your shirt, the pleasure growing ten folds with his warm hands on your bare skin.

“God, you’re so soft,” Yugyeom groans, squeezing your breasts in his palms. “Can I take this off?”

You nod quickly, hands already coming to the ends of your shirt to help him slip it off. Yugyeom leans back on his heels, eyes eating you up while you laid topless in front of him, chest heaving from just his small touches.

“Gyeom,” you mutter, feeling self-conscious when he doesn’t move.

There’s a glint in his eyes as his fingers meet your waistband again. You suck in a breath, nodding silently for him to continue. He licks at his lips, pulling the flimsy fabric of your shorts off of you.

You cringe at the sight of your yellow cotton underwear, the pink heart patterns looking suddenly very childish with Yugyeom’s eyes on them now.

“I-I have better underwear-” you rush to cover yourself but Yugyeom moves your hand.

His palms squeeze your thighs, and he looks at you with a reassuring smile. “It’s cute. You’re cute, and beautiful and charming and sexy. The whole package.”

You blush, hearing your words said back to you.

“Plus,” he grins, hands sliding up your thighs and you shiver. “These ones are soaked, just for me.”

Your breath catches in your throat when he runs a finger up the wet cotton. He chuckles darkly at the sound of your whimper when he circles around your clit. It’s just a whisper of a touch and yet you find yourself careening.

Your heart feels like the wings of a hummingbird, flapping against your chest. Never have you laid yourself out, so bare, for someone. It’s scary, being so vulnerable, and yet you find yourself wanting to jump into the darkness of the unknown.

The way Yugyeom looks at you is dark and heavy, like he is trying to swallow you whole, hungry to take in every piece of you. And maybe with anyone else this would frighten you, but it’s Yugyeom, and so you are excited. Excited and eager to give all of yourself to him.

“Can I?” he asks, pulling at the edge of your underwear.

“Please,” you consent, lifting your hips.

Yugyeom groans helplessly at your bare sight, dripping wet just for his eyes to see. He lifts at his t-shirt, skin already hot. You swallow, eyes traveling down his bare torso, to the tattoo stretching across his rib cage and then the growing bulge his thin pajama pants does very little to hide. You clench around nothing, just imagining what’s beneath.

Yugyeom catches the movement and curses. You don’t even know what you do to him.

Your eyes shudder close when you feel his fingers back on you, spreading your slick in circles around your clit.

“Does that feel okay?”

You answer with a whimper, arching into his touch.

He bites at his bottom lip, watching you squirm beneath him. You are so sensitive and so eager. Nothing he could have ever imagined could measure up to this view. He could probably cum to this sight alone. The strain of his pants warns him of the very possibility.

“More,” you barely manage to croak out between a moan but Yugyeom hears you and without hesitation, he dives into your heat, eager for a taste.

Your eyes flutter open at the new feeling, hooded eyes staring down at his head between your thighs. You moan, embarrassment heating your cheeks, but your fingers thread through his hair and push him deeper.

The sting of his scalp only drives him on, lapping at you hungrily. When he moans into your folds, you find yourself vibrating with him. His tongue feels so soft and delicious against you and when he sucks on your clit you tremble at the sensation shooting straight to your core.

Sweat glazes your forehead and you strain to keep your eyes focused on Yugyeom. You can’t even see his face, but you can’t pull your gaze away. The top of his head bobs eagerly and from behind, you can see him thrusting into your sheets.

You whimper, feeling your abdomen tighten when he rolls his hips extra rough.

“Gyeom,” you squeeze around his hair strands.

He looks up at you, eyes glazed over with lust, tongue still swirling around you at an agonizing pace. Squeezing your thigh, he presses a finger to your entrance. He presses, barely entering but you find yourself clenching already.

“Gyeom,” you whine, head falling into the pillow in frustration.

You feel him chuckle against you. A soft kiss to your clit. And then he slips a finger into you slowly. You’re so wet, he slips right in easily. You close your eyes, savoring the unfamiliar feeling. Unfamiliar, but not unwanted. Your body hums for more.

He dips his finger in and out, enjoying the way your body arches, trying to chase after his finger each time he pulls out.

“More?” he asks, teasing two fingers at your entrance. You nod eagerly, squirming at his touch.

Yugyeom dips two fingers into you, dick twitching at the feeling of your tight walls squeezing around his digits. When he curls his fingers, you let out a loud moan, eyes fluttering shut. He reads your body easily, mouth back on your clit as he repeats the motion of his fingers over and over.

Your body tightens, heating up quickly. There’s a burn in your abdomen, a fire that flickers every time he sucks around your clit and curls his fingers against your flesh. You clench your fists around your sheets, feeling your heart pound faster against your chest.

Your whole body trembles, toes curling and abdomen squeezing until it feels like your soul lifts from your body and everything goes white.

When you come to, chest heaving like you just ran a marathon, Yugyeom is back on his knees, looking at you in awe. His lips are red and chin, wet with your arousal.

“Was that okay?” he asks, a boyish smile on his lips.

You chuckle, eyes rolling to the ceiling. “That was amazing.”

“Good.” You feel him lie on the bed beside you, arm coming around your waist.

You turn on your side, meeting his gaze. “Now it’s my turn.”

His eyes widen and the confidence from before quickly fades behind pink flustered cheeks.

“I-Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

Your hands travel down and land on the tent in his pants, straining to be released. You lift a brow at him, but he only gets more red.

“I want to,” you tell him. “I want to feel you inside me. I want this.”

He gulps and you feel him twitch against your palm. “I-I might not last long.”

You kiss his worries away. “That’s alright, you said we had all night, didn’t you?”

You pull at his waistband and he sighs at the release of his cock. You sit up and Yugyeom kicks the rest of his clothes off before helping you straddle him.

You look at him with wide eyes, before looking back at his cock. His tip is red and shiny with precum. Your eyes follow the vein that travels down the length of his cock. You can’t even help it, your mouth waters.

Your stomach flips nervously. Yugyeom seems to sense your worries when his hand rests over yours.

“You really don’t have to. We can wait.”

“I do!” you say quickly. “I just-,” you blink, swallowing thickly. “Will you fit?”

Yugyeom groans, hands squeezing around your thighs roughly. “Are you trying to make me cum before we even start?”

“I-no,” you feel your cheeks grow hot. “It’s a legitimate question!”

He chuckles, until your hand comes around his shaft. Yugyeom sighs at your touch, your soft, small hands feel like heaven compared to his own. Though you don’t intend to tease him, your hand rubs him agonizingly slow as you feel the smoothness of his skin and the ridges of his veins pulsing in your palm. You watch in awe as you squeeze up and a small clear bead of precum buds at his slit.

Yugyeom’s breath hitches when you dip your head down and lick at his slit. Your brows shoot up at the taste. He’s salty, but it’s Yugyeom and you find that you don’t mind it. Instead, your mouth waters for more.

“Fuck,” Yugyeom curses, stopping you when you try to dip your tongue down again. You look at him in surprise, but he’s quick to reassure you. “Next time, baby, I really want to last.”

You nod, flushing at the pet name.

You rise onto your knees, hands coming back down his cock to align him to your entrance. You shiver, feeling his tip between your folds. Yugyeom looks just as nervous, the heat of your entrance making his heart race.

It takes a few tries, his cock teasing between your folds, before he enters. Barely there, but you feel the stretch. He’s much bigger than his fingers, but the stretch isn’t the pain you always imagined. Unfamiliar, maybe a little uncomfortable, but nothing scary at all.

This realization fills you with a newfound courage and you sink down onto his cock with an extended sigh.

“Fuck,” Yugyeom whispers a strained curse, a devil’s grip on your hips as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and slips down his face as his jaw clenches. You’re so fucking tight and warm around him. When your cunt clenches, he groans, balls tightening. “Fuck, don’t do that.”

You still, falling onto his chest. You can hear his heart thrumming wildly in his chest.

“Sorry,” he heaves, hugging you tightly against him. “Just, I need a minute. You feel like fucking heaven, baby.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to his chest. When his cock twitches inside you, you shiver. To be honest, you’re no better either. You feel so full with him inside you. This feeling is so new, but so right. You can feel your walls pulsing around him. Or maybe it’s his cock pulsing against your walls. Probably both.

You close your eyes, savoring the feeling before Yugyeom finally let’s out a soft breath. And then, he is lifting his hips. You moan, the movement pushing him deeper into you. You place your palms on his chest, sitting up.

He looks at you with hazy eyes as you lift off his cock before sliding back down his length. Yugyeom’s moan is load and uninhibited. The sound sends another wave of arousal straight to your core.

“Oh god,” he moans, hips lifting to meet yours every time. “Fuck!”

You strain to keep your pace, his arms helping you out as you gave into the wave of pleasure each time his thick cock slide into you. Already, your whole body was buzzing with pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck,” Yugyeom’s desperate moan meets your ears and then you feel his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you to his chest. He groans, teeth digging into your shoulder.

And then you feel it. Hot cum shooting into the deepest part of you, flooding you with warmth. The sting of Yugyeom’s teeth sinking in your skin, the sound of his heaving breath and heart beat against your ear, the pulse of his cock thrusting into you as he rode out his high—you feel like one body against his and the feeling makes your eyes wet.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his jawline as he softened inside of you.

He let out a satisfied sigh as his cock slipped out and you felt his cum slide out of you. “I’m sorry,” he finally says. “I told you I wouldn’t last long.”

You shush him with a kiss.

“I couldn’t have asked for anything better,” you smile.

His hand on your waist tightens. “You’re really the best thing to ever happen to me.”

You giggle, tension breaking. “I could get used to this Yugyeom.”

He smiles, hand coming to your cheek. “I mean it.”

He looks at you quietly. It’s a fleeting moment, but the feeling lingers. You feel warmth blooming in your chest.

You kiss him again, “I know, Gyeom. This time, I really know now.”

#got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 reactions #kim yugyeom #arranged marriage au #marriage au #marriage life series #fluff #angst #smut #fanfic

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bisexualdaemon · 4 years

Text

Quarantine Day 26

a/n: in which Shawn gets a haircut

yeah...I couldn’t help myself. I watched so many youtube videos for this 😂

warnings: 2.6k of fluff and like a whisper, A HINT of smut

“That sounds nice…”

Shawn’s fingers paused against the vibrating strings. He leaned back against the couch toward your disembodied voice rounding the corner. You walked into the living room with a glass of red wine, your cheeks already fully flushed from the alcohol, wearing one of his Givenchy sweatshirts and a pair of little hot pink sleep shorts.

“Just working on something to record later,” he smiled, continuing his strumming and plucking, little head nods on heavy beats to mark the time. “I’ll send it to Teddy later...she misses the studio.”

He’d been shacked up with you for twenty-six days in your tiny apartment. When the stay-at-home order came down from the city, he’d rushed over, just an overnight bag full of clothes and his guitar case, not wanting to be alone and not wanting to be in chaos at his parents’ house. Aaliyah was doing remote school and whining about college applications everyday, he’d said, not a place he wanted to spend an indefinite amount of time. Sometimes you thought it was a lie, seeing how easily he fit into your life. He belonged here with you. Especially when he’d come up behind you while you waited for your morning coffee to suck on that place behind your ear. It always ended up with the two of you back in bed for an hour longer than you should have been. It had happened again this morning. Thank God it was a holiday.

Now, he was stretched out on your L-shaped couch, the only luxury you’d allowed yourself when you moved out of your parents house. It was the dominant feature in the room, heavy and royal blue, one of those couches that you sank into when you sat down. His legs were propped up on the ottoman in front of him with his acoustic in his lap.

You sat down next to him, pulling your knees up to your chest and using one as a makeshift coaster for your stemless wine glass. He stopped playing again and shifted closer to you, patting his lap for your legs. You smiled at him, stretching your legs out across his thighs, and let him rest his guitar on top. When he started plucking the strings again, you could feel the vibration of the sound against your skin.

He hummed random words and noises to the melody with his eyes closed, lost to creating but content to be here touching your skin. Your legs rubbed comfortingly against his own bare ones. He’d taken to just wearing t-shirts and boxers around the apartment, no need to get dressed if he wasn’t running to the grocery store or to the door to get the food delivery. You reached out and ran your fingers through his floppy curls, one of them getting caught in a tangle.

“Baby,” you said, causing him to strum slower, “you need a haircut.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, changing to a minor chord to amplify his woe, “it’s been bugging me for awhile but I don’t have anything to cut it with. Not even at home.” You rolled your eyes, knowing he hadn’t had anyone but Anna touch his hair in five years.

“I can cut it.”

He stilled immediately, his eyes bugging a little as he loudly swallowed.

“I….I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on,” you swung your legs out from under the guitar excitedly. The instrument protested with discordant vibrations. “I have some clippers left from my last dumbass boyfriend who was obsessive about his stupid sideburns. I can watch a YouTube video. This could be fun!”

The reticence in his eyes was screaming at you, but you were on a mission now. You sprung up from the couch, half sprinting over to the closet in the hall to dig out the gray plastic box that held the clippers and all the attachments.

“See?!” You showed him the case, already turning on your heels toward the bathroom.

Shawn sighed again, knowing it was a lost cause now. At least my hair grows fast. He would probably be able to hide out for as long as it might take to grow back. He leaned his guitar against the couch cushions and pushed himself to stand, following you to the bathroom. When he got there, he had to swallow a chuckle.

“I’m trying to find some hair cutting scissors!” You yelled, digging underneath the sink, even though you were only a couple of feet away from him. He bit down on his fist, his shoulders shaking. You were bent over, hot pink shorts stretched over your gorgeous ass just tight enough to see the black lace hugging your curves, but the hood from his sweatshirt had come up over your head so you looked like a sexy burglar.

“Take your time,” he snorted.

“Shawn!” You whipped around, missing scissors gleaming in between your fingers, “so help me God, I will cut off your favorite curl if you laugh at me.”

“Okay, okay,” he straightened, gulping, “where do you want me?”

You grinned, “well, I always want you between my thighs, but for now can you grab a chair from the breakfast table?”

He nodded and disappeared back down the hall, his curls shaggy and swaying with his walk. You plugged in the clippers and set the scissors on top of the set of towels you’d pulled from the linen closet. Satisfied that everything you’d need was accounted for, including the overgrown mop you’d be cutting as Shawn returned with his chair, you pulled out your phone and opened up YouTube.

“Sit,” you said, pointing to the chair but not taking your eyes off your phone. You pulled up a quick video about cutting tools and how to use them, running through clipper sizing and how to blend. Simple enough.

“Okay, okay, this seems pretty easy,” you nodded, staring at Shawn’s reflection in the mirror. He looked….petrified. He was breathing shallow. His shoulders looked like they were glued to his ears. Your eyes widened and you leaned over him, “honey, are you okay?”

“I don’t know why I’m freaking out, it’s just hair,” he looked up at you like a lost puppy.

“I know you don’t want me to fuck it up, and I promise I’ll stop if you don’t like what I’m doing, okay?”

“Okay,” he exhaled in a rush, his shoulders relaxing down to their normal position. “Have you done this before? Like used clippers ever?”

“Once or twice,” you said, not inviting more questions on your qualifications. You didn’t want to tell him that you’d done this exactly once on your best friend in high school who wanted an “alternative” haircut when she came out to her parents. It looked basically like the picture afterward, think Hayley Williams but a lot shorter...and half buzzed. The 2000s were weird.

“Now take off your shirt,” you instructed, pointing the scissors at him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he couldn’t help but smirk as he stripped his vintage Sting tee off. His skin was still just barely freckled from his Mexico holiday vacation. You traced them with the tips of your fingers until he shivered, moving your hands down, through the unkempt hair there and back up to squeeze his shoulders. He melted in your hands, dropping his chin to his chest and moaning.

“Good,” you said, “now turn and lean back.” Turning on the sink, you reached for a comb, “we’re doing this salon style.”

He did as you asked, dipping his head almost all the way under the faucet. You combed through it, making sure the whole mop was wet. He looked a little like a water spaniel wading through a lake. You grabbed his expensive shampoo that smelled like bergamot and patchouli and lathered it into his hair.

With everything going on in the world, outside, in their city, the act of washing his hair was soothing. Simple, task-oriented, clean. You understood why people did this for a living. Shawn let out a moan when your fingers dug deep into his scalp and your knees buckled a little. You washed out the suds and applied conditioner, turning off the sink to let it sink in.

“This is nice,” he whispered with his eyes closed like it was a secret. You wiggled your fingers above his face, letting little droplets fall, giggling when one fell on his nose. He scrunched his face up and let it fall down the side of his face.

“Did you know,” you said as you flipped the water back on to give him a final rinse, “that I’m very happy you decided to come quarantine with me? I would have gone insane.”

He opened his eyes and smiled one of those big Mendes toothy smiles, “I didn’t even really think about it. I just packed my bag.”

You grinned back at him, turning off the water and grabbing at a towel to dry his curls, but before you could get back to him he shook his head, sending a shower of man-smell infused water everywhere.

“SHAWN, WHAT THE HELL?!”

He doubled over laughing, catching the towel you launched at his head. He scrubbed vigorously at his hair while you toweled off, slipping off his sweatshirt and revealing the bralette you had on underneath. It barely concealed your nipples. If he was gonna distract you, he was gonna get distracted. When he out from under the towel his curls were frizzed out, sticking out from his head at all angles. His breath stopped on a quick inhale and his face immediately flushed.

“Honey, I,” he stuttered, “I can’t focus with you like that.”

“Oh, good thing I’m the one with the scissors around here,” you quipped, pushing him back in the chair and draping the damp towel over his shoulders.

You grabbed a random hair tie from the counter and parted out the top section of his hair, the part that would stay longer after you trimmed the back and sides. His eyes were closed again, probably to block out the anxiety of watching you in the mirror. You took a minute to say a little prayer. Please, God. Don’t let me fuck this up. The fucking fangirls will murder.

You flipped on the clippers.

His hair fell to the floor in little tufts, coloring the floor with dark clouds. You used the second longest setting, making sure he wasn’t losing the wave in his hair at any point. The reference picture in your head was from around the Seoul show last year. It was a good length. Curly all around but not too unkempt. It was your favorite hair.

You stopped about three-quarters of the way to the top section, switching to the longest setting to blend up to the top of his head. There was something to be said about hair just long enough to grab onto. You’d test it out later.

The top was going to need scissors. You flipped off the clippers, returning them to the case, and picked up the sharp shears. Shawn gulped again, his Adam’s apple bobbing heavily.

“I saw that,” you chided through the comb in your teeth. If you were being honest, it looked pretty good so far. No weird lawn mower tracks or weird chunks missing. The waves were still there. A whisper of labradoodle but not full on sheepdog. That was the goal. Nothing crazy.

You took his hair in inch wide sections from right to left, trimming about an inch off everywhere, a little more in the wilder areas. He reached up to run his fingers through it before you were finished.

“Hey!” You swatted his hand away, “let me finish before you check my work!”

He snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and bobbing his knee up and down. Impatient bastard, you thought, snipping a few more curls. The only ones you didn’t really touch, maybe a quarter inch here and there, were the curls toward the front. The ones that dropped down into his face and across his forehead. You liked those, loved to push them back in the morning when he looked down at you, naked and pressed against his chest. You ruffled his damp hair to see how it might curl and retract.

“Shawn,” you leaned down to whisper in his ear, “you can look now.”

He slowly peeked with one eye, then with the other, his eyes growing wide when he saw it fully. He got up out of the chair to lean up to the mirror, inspecting and combing his fingers through it about fifty times. You grabbed some oil off the side of the sink and ran it through the top, letting it soak in and tame the frizz drying into the curls.

“So,” you needled, “do you like it or what?”

“I…” he rifled around in his toiletry bag, pulling out a little black box of hair paste, “I think I love it.” He smoothed some of the cream between his hands and fingered it through the ringlets. They snapped and bounced back on top of his head.

“Holy shit, thank God,” you exhaled in a rush, sitting on the lid of the toilet while your heart rate slowed.

He stopped and looked over, his big green-brown eyes asking questions.

“I mean, I wasn’t worried,” you backtracked, stopping when he lifted an eyebrow. You huffed. “Okay, I was a little worried...the fans...they’re vicious! And it’s your hair! You could probably trademark it for fuck’s sake!”

He tipped his head back and laughed loud and long, some stray cut hair falling from his neck to the floor.

“You know, I thought about halfway through that it’s good I look so sexy in backward baseball caps.” He waggled his eyebrows at you, obviously suppressing a laugh at his own bad joke. You got up and shoved him in the shoulder, crossing the hall to your bedroom. He followed closely behind.

“I don’t give a fuck what the fans think about my hair, you know that,” he leaned on the door frame and watched you dig for a dry shirt. You pulled out an oversized Maple Leafs tee and bent to throw it on.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he stopped you, catching at the shirt and letting it fall to the floor. “You gave me a haircut, so now it’s my turn to give you something.” He threaded his fingers with yours and led you to the edge of your bed, setting you down and stepping back.

“Now, do you like my hair?” he asked, kneeling in front of you, busying himself with untying your shorts. He mouthed at the inside of your thighs, pausing only to grip your shorts and panties in one hand and drag them down your legs. His lips returned to your skin, closer and closer to where you wanted him.

“Yes,” you moaned, widening your legs and combing your fingers through his still damp hair.

“Yes, what?” he smirked against your pubic bone. His hand slid up your belly and pushed up the barely-there bralette, pushing you back to lay against the rumpled sheets. He traced your lips with the tip of his tongue, not dipping inside until he got his answer.

“Yes! Oh, God,” you fisted the waves at the nape of his neck. Perfect. “Yes, I love your hair!”

“Good,” he reached up to kiss you just once before returning to his throne between your legs, licking a long stripe from your entrance to your swollen, aching clit, “that’s all that matters.”

Words were lost to moans and shaking limbs and muffled curses. It turned out his hair was, in fact, just long enough to grab onto.

taglist: @justanotherfangurl272 @siennarossi @trustfundshawn @alone-in-madness @harryandmolly @thatindiannerdygirl @mendesromano @fromthicctosticc @esoltis280 @softmendesss @sinplisticshawn @nedthegay @september-lace @itrocksmysocks @disaster-rose @mendesoft @luvluvxx @i-play-video-games @ihearthemcallingforyou @gentleshawn @kitykatnumber @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @ijustreallylikeshawnokay @shhhawnmendes @shawnsblue @imaginashawnns @mendesficsxbombay @shawn-youth

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fluff #shawn peter raul mendes #quarantine fic #my writing

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bittys · 5 years

Text

dads slutty new shorts are really a bear magnet - seirei - 1/3

READ ON AO3

Pairing: reigen arataka/serizawa katsuya

REBLOGS > LIKES

Summary- Reigen decided to make his new highly attractive neighbor a pie as a "welcome/thanks for waking me up at six in the morning/sorry for your ugly house" gift. And it was a good idea at first, he thought, it coming out of the oven lopsided could have been the only problem. Until it turned out that the new neighbor, while highly attractive, was also allergic to almonds. Yikes. Seriously, who doesn't consider nut allergies?

...At least he gets a date out of it.

Saturday morning, Reigen awoke to the sound of a buzzing truck engine and soft laughter. The frame of his bed was vibrating softly with the noise, the first time it had moved with such expeditious energy in a while. He groaned. It was early, he could tell as he carefully slid his eyelids open to the bronze sunlight that peaked underneath the cracked window and brought in the smell of last nights rain and early sunrise dew. He lolled his head over to the clock that shone in red, 6:37 A.M. Who was awake, causing this much noise, at 6:37 in the fucking morning? Oh how he’d love to meet the bastard. He rolled back over to the empty space next to him, stared for a moment, and then swung his legs over the mattress. There was no use in trying to sleep again, not with the constant vibrations of the truck parked but yet to be shut down out front. Beside the noise that seemed to come through louder when his bedroom door shut, the rest of the house was silent; Absent of the screaming, annoying kids that he loved so dearly. He shoved the curtain at the window by the front of the door aside, and squinted past the sun rays that painted across the pink and orange horizon, to see a large moving truck. The house that been for sale since they had moved into the neighborhood six months ago had finally been sold, apparently, with a cost that wasn’t the absurdly high mortgage price. It was downright ugly. At first, Reigen had thought that it perhaps had been haunted or something, it couldn’t of been that bad. But the more he had to live next to it and look at the damned thing when he was parking, the more he realized that even the dead had to have taste. The dreary green topped off with the growing moss on the shutters was enough of a sight to make him want to go over and paint and clean the entire thing himself. There was only one simple moving truck outside, the name of the company printed in bright orange on the side. A few movers came back and forth from the house to the truck, doing what you’d think they’d be doing, carrying boxes to-and-fro. But absent of the generic beige outfits the movers wore, was a taller man, thickened around the edges of his body, wearing a pair of track pants and a white sweater. By the ruffle of his dark hair and the shadow on his face, he looked as equally as tired as Reigen. But hell, if he wasn’t attractive. Reigen pulled the curtains shut and turned to the kitchen with a sudden need for a cup of coffee. He poured his cup. Straight black, as always. And he sat on one of the leather stools at the island. The house was quiet without the kids up to make trouble. It made him shift awkwardly in his seat, like he didn’t know what to do with himself. Usually, when the kids weren’t up to bother him, he’d be talking with Ekubo, or sharing smiles, or ignoring the chatter on the television because they're too distracted with their own gossip and gentle kisses. But in the end, he did what he did best and left the house with a deafening silence. Reigen sipped his coffee. He thought about the new man living next door. Perhaps he should strip his bitter mood with a bit of sweetness; he could make the new neighbor a pie. That wasn’t something he’d normally do… and hell, did neighbors even welcome each other with sweet pies and casseroles anymore? He wasn’t sure. But he was sure of the thoughts of disgraceful men in his head, how tired he was, and how maybe a bit of good karma would help him out. It didn’t have to be of good nature, did it? As long as he made it with kindness and love, he could totally write in pink icing: Sorry about your ugly house! Or say something along the lines of: Thanks for waking me up at six thirty in the morning and ruining my entire day! Whilst handing the man the pie. Okay, so Reigen didn’t know much about how that worked. And that man was far too attractive to get something with such ill-mannered intentions. But he did know that there was an overwhelming amount of strawberries growing from his and the kids’ strawberry bushes planted in the pots in the backyard, and a package of almonds he’d bought a few months ago before he realized he absolutely did not like almonds. The kids could pick the strawberries, he could make the pie and bring it by during lunch later. It was a rare, yet good, idea. For the good karma, not the hot men. Of course. He pushed himself up from the barstool, leaving his coffee half-drunk. He pulled open the pantry door and located what he needed: Flour, sugar, salt, cornstarch, extract, shortbread cookies, and of course the opened bag of almonds with only one almond missing. He towered them in his arms to carry to the island and lay them out in the order they’d need to be in— not including the refrigerated items. He then slapped his hands together to brush off the stray flour accumulated on the bag and transferred to his hands from carrying, and turned to the fridge to do the same with the rest of the ingredients: butter, milk, and whipped cream. It was 7:16 A.M by the time he began baking, and 8:40 A.M once the boys had awakened from their slumber. They came padding out of their shared room, eyes lazily half-lidded. “Smells good,” Mob mumbled as he rubbed a small fist against his eye. Breathing in the sweet scent of the almond crust, Reigen pulled out the pie pan from the oven. The crust was baked a perfect golden brown, small cracks around the curve of the pan but smooth over the thick bottom. “Pie!” Reigen exclaimed, twisting to place the pan on the counter. He pulled off his pink mitts and kicked the oven shut with his foot. “Do you boys wanna go pick some strawberries for me? We’re gonna go visit the new neighbor today and I need it for the pie.” “Only if we can have a slice,” Ritsu responded. He was already walking to the back door to flip the lock. “If he offers it, sure. But don’t be spoiled,” Reigen said. “Mob?” Mob shrugged. “Sure.” Reigen gave them a smile and watched as they left to the backyard. It was a small deck surrounded by the limited greenery of the yard, but it was enough to carry a few medium sized planters pots for their growing fruits and vegetables. They didn’t get into the gardening hobby until Ekubo left, leaving them with less funds for food and outdoor activities like beaches and parks. Despite that, it was fun and good for bonding. So far, they had plenty of cucumbers, melons, tomatoes, strawberries, and other sorts of foods that they enjoyed better than store-bought. They came back inside a few minutes later with strawberry stained fingers, pink around their mouths, and handfuls of dark red strawberries. They release them onto the counter, watching them roll across the surface before losing interest and scrambling up onto the barstools to watch Reigen instead. The both of them are in sync, leaning their cheeks onto their tiny fists. Reigen collected the strawberries off the counter. In the cup of his hands, he rinsed them of the soil and— a contribution from the children— stickiness, cut the leafy green tops off, and threw them into a bowl. He mashed them, poured sugar and a couple other ingredients in, and stirred. “We have a new neighbor?” Ritsu asked. “Do you think they have kids?” There only seemed to be a man present, but Reigen wasn’t sure. He found himself hoping that there weren’t any kids, that it was just a single man living on his own in an ungodly green house. “We’ll have to find out, won’t we?” He said as he poured the mixture on top of the crust. As soon as the mixture emptied the mixing bowl and filled the pan, apart of the crust crumbles. “Shit.” He frantically tried to push the crust back into place with the tips of his fingers, but he was far too shaky and the crust was already too hard to shape. He sends a prayer to the Gods and simply covered it with the strawberry mixture and a spoon. “You messed it up, Daddy,” Mob pointed out. Reigen rolled his eyes and shoved it into the oven, annoyance prickling at his chest. “I did not. This is fine. It’s fine.” He clicked the button on top of the oven to start the baking again. Brunch went by quickly, and the house was beginning to fill with the scent of bitter sweetness. After he cleaned up his mess, he poured himself another hot cup of coffee, and made bacon and eggs for the boys and himself. They ate with some chatter here and there, but it was mostly a comfortable silence until they finished eating. “Will you marry the new neighbor, daddy?” Mob suddenly asked. Reigen almost choked on the sip of his coffee. “Not in the foreseeable future,” “But you’re making him a pie~” Ritsu chimed in, a song to his voice. “Why don’t we go get dressed and decide on that when we bring it by?” Reigen set down his cup and smiled awkwardly, a tight grip at the sides of the stool to push himself down. The kids jump out of their seats with a clap to their feet as they run to their bedroom, apparently delighted by the idea of another marriage. With Reigen’s own luck, the man is going to wind up married with five children. Or maybe 70 years old with a great skincare routine. Reigen rinsed the plates and set them into the dishwasher, then retreated into his own bedroom to pick out clothing. It shouldn’t of mattered what he wore, but he found himself pulling things out of his drawers carelessly until he decided that nothing was right for the matter of occasion. He decided simply on a t-shirt and a pair of new pink shorts that reached barely mid-thigh. He’d recently bought them on sale at a thrift store. The kids didn’t hesitate to make fun of him for them. They exposed the coarse hair that rose to his thighs, and the fact that he never really went outside. Mob and Ritsu are dressed when Reigen leaves the bedroom. They’re bouncing excitedly on the couch. “Are you ready to go?” Reigen asked as he moved to the kitchen to pull the pie out of the oven. The thickly filling had seemed to cover the collapse for the most part, but it was still evident in the way the red leaked out and snuck between the crust and the pan. Yikes. He pulled it out, wrapped the pie in foil, and they left the house. The sun beamed down on their skin as they walked. Reigen was already sweating by the time they were half way down the sidewalk, an uncomfortably damp residue beneath his armpits. The moving truck was gone, and the outside of the ugly green house was absent of any other person. There’s a couple of small boxes on the concrete patio. They walk up the dusty pathway, Mob and Ritsu trailing behind. Reigen used his hand free of the intense heat seeping through the tinfoil to ring the doorbell. The walls of the house are thin enough to hear the echo of the ring from the inside, and the sound of approaching footsteps. He straightened his back and checked the tinfoil that covered the pie to make sure of no flaws like a rip or a hole. The doorknob twisted and the door swung open. No woman or small child, it was the same man that he had seen out front earlier. This time dressed down to a white t-shirt, and the same tracksuit pants with white lines at the sides. He looked more rugged up close, but daringly attractive at the same time. His hair was a sweaty, ruffled mess. His beard far more lighter and sparse than what it looked to be through the window, and there are prominent bags under his eyes that could not have been visible from so far away. “Oh! Company. Hello!” The man smiled through his tired look. Reigen swallowed down the dryness working its way up his throat. The resent for his early rising was suddenly gone, replaced by heat buried deep in his chest. “We’re sorry to bug you, you must be busy unpacking and stuff. But we made you a pie to welcome you to the neighborhood.” He shoved the pie outwards with a lopsided grin. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. With the short pause in the conversation, Reigen scrambled for a grip on his introduction that was being pulled away by new infatuation. “Reigen Arataka, by the way. These are my two sons, Mob and Ritsu.” The man looked down at the tin foil, then up from Reigen’s pink shorts to the two children behind him. Under the glaze of the sunlight, a flush creeped up his cheeks. “It smells great, thank you! I’m Serizawa,” He paused just as Reigen did, and then, “Katsuya. Sorry, Serizawa Katsuya. Hah, It’s been a long morning moving in this heat all alone.” He scratched the back of his neck. Reigen doesn’t want to think it, but, score! “If you ever need any help, I live right next door.” He doesn’t exactly mean the offer, because really, who willingly moves and unpacks boxes unless there was something in it for them like money— or in his case— an attractive man. Serizawa Katsuya reached out and grabbed the pie carefully. The thicker tips of his fingers brush over Reigen’s as he did so. “I think you’ve done enough already, nobody would ever do this in Tokyo.” He gestured with the pie. “But if I may, would you like to come in and help eat some of this? I live alone, it wouldn’t be respectful to let it go stale…” While Ritsu did tug on the back of Reigen’s shorts as if to say yes, yes! he’s already hastily accepting the offer. They followed Serizawa into his home. It was nicer on the inside than it was on the outside, with a similar layout to their own home. Boxes were strewn out across the living room, some opened, some still sealed. The couch, a mustard color with a soft looking texture, sat covered in plastic in the middle of the room. There was a television already on a glass stand, unhooked. But besides that, unopened boxes, and a few paintings hung on the white walls, the place was practically empty. Nobody else was around, it seemed. The house was just as quiet. They were lead to the kitchen. There were two chairs already pushed underneath the island, a different colored marbled top than their own. Serizawa set the pie down and began dismantling the tinfoil. Reigen’s heart skips a beat or two. If only he could turn back time for a few minutes and bake the pie just two minutes longer. It wouldn’t look like the lopsided mess that it was now. “Ah… The pie is a bit…crumbled. Amateur here.” He stared down at the way Serizawa’s hands slow to intricate movements across the foil, nails sliding carefully underneath as so not to cause more destruction. “No worries,” He got most of the foil off but kept it beneath the glass pan to rewrap with later. “Do you bake a lot?” “Sometimes. The kids and I garden, so we have lots to make sometimes.” Serizawa bent down into an open box, and pulled out four glass plates and a wrapping full of utensils. Apparently, the utensils were more important than the glass dishes. He set them out on the island. The kids each grabbed a plate and held it close to their chests, eagerly awaiting a taste of their fathers baking. He doesn’t bother with the collapsed side as he cuts it, and Reigen doesn’t feel the slightest offended. The strawberry filling floods over the sides and collects in a puddle at the bottom of the glass, steaming with a sweet sent. “So is it just you and the kids?” Serizawa asked and then stopped his movements, “Sorry, that was rude.” Reigen opened his mouth to speak, but proving to be listening, Mob chimed in. “Daddy is thinking about marrying you! You can be our new dad also!” Ritsu slapped him on the arm. “Ow.” Reigen’s eyes widened, heat flushing across his cheeks to match the newfound coloring on Serizawa’s. “O-Oh.” “No, no, no, no!” Reigen waved his hands in front of himself frantically. It suddenly felt hot in the room, all across his body. He wanted nothing more than to slap the shit out of his child. Or maybe himself, because he did say that in a way. “No. I did not say that oh god—Mob!— I am so sorry. K-kids, you know?” Beneath the island looked far more comfier than beneath the sight of surprised eyes. But then, he laughs and goes back to cutting. “Oh gosh, that’s okay. I can take that as an answer to my question, yeah?” With a quick nod, Reigen grabbed himself a slice. He considered not giving the kids a slice so not to fulfill their hyperactivity again, but Serizawa placed each of them a sliver of a piece before he could object. “Thank you, Mister,” Ritsu said. They ate in silence. It’s unsettling to not know if it was because his kids had big mouths, or there just wasn’t much to talk about. At the very most, the pie was delicious. A smooth filling, bitter but sweet with the soft chew of melted down strawberries. Serizawa threw a few compliments his way, and that made up for the lack of conversation until their plates were empty with leftover crumbs and jelly-like spots. Eating was a great first date, because you didn’t have to talk through the awkward parts. You could simply just fill your mouth with savory foods until you pile up your dates bill and leave, or find something else to talk about. But this— to Reigen’s misfortune, anyway— wasn’t a date, just a welcome made awkward by a seven year old. The idea, he supposed, still counted. Serizawa was on his last bite when he coughed out the barely chewed forkful. It landed disgustingly on his plate, a splat. Was it really that bad? He dropped the fork next, his hands flying up to his throat. The kids jumped up from their squeezed spot in the chair and run to Serizawa. They pull on his shirt. “Woah, woah. Are you okay?” Reigen followed behind and started clapping his hands against his back. He struggled. His shoulder blades quivered beneath the frantic touch of Reigen's hands. As his own hands awere wrapped tightly around his throat as if to help the choking somehow, he managed out, “What was in the pie?” Ritsu let go of his shirt and looked at Reigen accusingly. “Dad, did you poison the pie?” Reigen pressed his eyebrows together. “What? No. There’s uh…” The memories of the ingredients fall short in his memory. He didn’t do good under pressure. “Uh, strawberries…sugar…almonds…butter-“ “Almonds!” Serizawa choked. “I’m- a-allerg-“ He coughed more. He didn’t need to complete his sentence for Reigen to realize what was happening. He dealt with it all too much when Mob was little. Fish, peanuts, you name it, he couldn’t have it. He was having an allergic fucking reaction, all due to his shitty, sloppily made pie. Who makes things with nuts on the first day of not knowing someone? That was purely idiotic, a thought that had escaped him due to the need of wooing a man. He stopped and pocketed his cellphone to dial an ambulance. The hospital waiting area was stuffy, the air carrying an undertone of strengthened bleach. The few people that sat in the dull grey chairs didn't look like they needed to be there— one had a cough, the other sat on their phone, bored with half-lidded eyes. Quick moving nurses took Serizawa immediately. By the time the ambulance had arrived, his face had grown purple and puffy, and disregarding of the thousands of fumbled apologies Reigen gave while they wheeled him out. Mob and Ritsu played at the small children’s corner with a bead rollercoaster and a couple of small toy trucks, when a nurse came out. She was pretty, long black hair tied into a ponytail, with the same dull look on her face as the people in the waiting room. “Mr. Serizawa seems to be holding up okay. He’s awake and has been treated. You’re free to visit him now if you’d like. Room 203.” She explained before she walked off to tend to another, her ponytail flipping onto her shoulder. Reigen nodded as if she could see him and he walked over to claim Mob and Ritsu. They walked down the hallway, where the scent of bleach only grew stronger. It had about as much personality as the rest of the hospital; opened doors exposing bored-stricken sick patients, dull blue floors and dove walls with paintings of oceans and lakes and trees. The place certainly isn’t run by risk-takers such as Reigen, baking pies for people with nut allergies, and he guessed he should be grateful for that. Amongst the various slates with numbers besides the doors came room 203. Reigen knocked gently and twisted the knob. The kids stumbled through the cracked doorway into the room, excited to see Serizawa in all his swollen glory. Except, he looked rather fine now. “Hey, Serizawa…” Reigen cracked an awkward smile. Serizawa lay covered by the thin hospital sheet, a pillow perching his head up to view the television, turned to a news broadcast. His face, unlike before, was slimmed down again with only a flushed tint around his eyes. “Reigen,” He greeted. He pushed himself up, sheets falling into a bundle atop his lap. The kids moved to sit on the two visitors chairs pushed against the wall by the counters. “Thanks for following me here,” He sounded sincere, not sarcastic. Reigen perched himself on the mattress with precision as to not sit on Serizawa’s feet and cause even more damage than before. “I’m really sorry, this has been an awkward meeting from start to finish. I hadn’t considered the possibility of an allergic reaction…I-I—“ Serizawa cut him off. “Oh, Reigen. Don’t worry. I’m fine! How could you of known? You did the right thing, I don’t even have an Epipen in my house.” He chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his neck. “It could have been worse, really.” “How can I make it up to you?” Reigen ran his hands down his face. Glancing from the kids to Reigen, a soft pink blush matches the red around his eyes. “Tomorrow,” He said, “You can take me on a date.”

#serirei #seirei #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #reigen arataka #serizawa katsuya #DILF REIGEN BABEY #my writing #bittys txt #writing #writeblr #fanfiction #ao3 #reblogs are appreciated #idk how to layout writing on here but we'll figure it out eventually fellas

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heroacademiasstuff · 5 years

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Contact

Also available on my ao3 account dolphins.

Music rattled the rain-spotted windows like a whirling hurricane. Red, blue and gold lasers of light cutting the smoke-stuffed darkness. It smelled like liquor and sweat- Aizawa despised the place, but it was Mic's birthday and he was trying to be more... sociable. A decision he already regretted. Yagi was there too, the two of them sharing a similar distaste; Midnight, who seemed in her element, dancing around with the smush of bodies like a nymph and Hizashi's friends from the radio show, who seemed to absorb the mind-blowing airwaves like much-needed nutrients.

"Come on, guys!" Hizashi slung his arms around Aizawa and Yagi, screaming into their already-beaten ears. "Have some fun!" he shoved two nuclear waste coloured drinks into their shocked hands and darted away, fluttering among people like the sociable butterfly he was.

"Do you drink?" Aizawa asked, leaning close to Yagi's ear. "I shouldn't," he eyed the concoction nervously, "But I suppose one or two couldn't hurt... my stomach has been behaving itself recently."

"Probably the change of medication," Aizawa noted. It had been a struggle to get the man to visit the hospital again, worried about stressing Midoriya before his provisional license exam, but it had been for the best and they had gave him a different mix of meds that seemed to work better with less side effects. "Cheers," he clinked their glasses unceremoniously, both of them looking far too miserable to be at a party.

Midnight was swaying on the dance floor with a curvy, red-haired beauty, moving in time with the music and grabbing at each other. "I didn't know Nemuri was attracted to women," Yagi nodded towards the pair, his nose practically skimming Aizawa's cheek. "She is bisexual, I believe," Aizawa confirmed. Remembering the many conversations Midnight had attempted to pull him in about his own sexuality, to which he had shot down. He didn't feel any kind of label stuck... and sex was the furthest thing from his mind, most of the time.

Yagi sunk back the drink, pale face lit up fiery-red under the lights. Wincing, he coughed, wiping his mouth and letting his slim face slip into a smile as he noticed Aizawa staring. "Try and keep up," he quipped. "With an old man like you? Easy," Aizawa dead-panned, following suit and sinking his drink in a second- the pit of his stomach burning on impact. "Tastes like death, doesn't it?" Yagi laughed at him. Apparently his face gave him away.

Hizashi was dancing with Midnight now, swinging her round and they were both flushed and cackling. A slim hand grabbed at Aizawa's waist, jolting him from his thoughts. Spinning round, his eyes met a bright, green gaze. A brunette with the body of a fairy, hair folded into mythical braids and a flowing gown tracing her curves. "Can I buy you a drink?" she practically purred, pulling him by the scarf so he was pushed against her, perfume suffocating his senses.

"I-" he choked out in surprise. "No- no thank you," he patted her shoulder lightly in attempt to wriggle away. "Well then, come and dance with me!" she grabbed at his hand, the other hand pressing against his chest in a way that made him feel like a trapped animal. "Excuse me," Yagi tapped her shoulder and she pulled back like she had been burned. "Oh, sorry!" she looked between the two of them with a expression Aizawa couldn't place. "I didn't realise!" she covered a growing blush and darted away, disappearing into the sea of shadowed bodies.

"Realise what?" Aizawa scratched the back of his neck, Yagi blinked, shrugging, "I don't know either. I was just going to ask her if she wanted to an autograph... you looked a little stuck." Aizawa hid a slight smile, "Well, not that I needed your help or anything- but thanks." Nightclubs were strange places; Aizawa was having this confirmed second after second. "Okay, come on," he grabbed Yagi by the shirt sleeve. "I am not drunk enough for this shit."

Bum-bum-bum of the bass music radiated across the surprisingly large building and they trailed in between bodies, caught between couples dancing languishly or engaging in some kind of kissing, towards a far-too-lit-up bar, shining bottles of iridesent glass bottles hung like potions. Aizawa ordered for them as Yagi hung back, staring around and feeling far too old to be at such a place. It made him think about young Midoriya. God, in a couple of years he will likely be frequenting such places. The thought made him frown.

Aizawa handed him a short glass, glistening dark liquid and beads of ice splashing inside. "Whiskey," he explained. "What is with the look on your face?" Yagi blinked, he hadn't realised he was even making a face. "I suppose I am thinking about when it's time for the students to come to places like this," he glanced around. Aizawa let out a dry chuckle, the sound unfamiliar and bizarre. "Don't be such a mother hen," his eyes crinkled at the corners. "I'm not!" Yagi began to argue, stopping short when Aizawa raised his eyebrow incredulously.

"Okay, okay," he conceded, holding one hand up and tipping back half of his drink with a fluid motion. "We are at a party and here you are worrying about the students," Aizawa still found it awfully amusing. It wasn't exactly at the top of his worries- the kids growing up and having fun, instead it was if he had sufficiently trained them all to protect themselves well enough not to die in combat. Yagi probably worried himself sick.

"There you are!" Midnight threw herself between them, drinks sloshing. "Why are you both hiding away over here? Come on, dance with me," she laid sloppy kisses on Yagi's cheek, he wriggled. It was tickley. "Fine," the blonde finished his drink, making both of his friends raise their eyebrows in surprise.

Yagi allowed himself to be swallowed up by the crowd and Midnight led, a fast-paced dance song resonated in the sharp speakers, an ethereal female voice calling out and Midnight took his hands, leading their movements. Oh God. His head begun to swim. It had to have been years since he had drank more alcohol than a couple of sips. Allowing his body to fall in sync with hers, she fed off the energy of the crowd, but Yagi was just happy for the physical support as his muscles deflated. Blinking around, he spotted Aizawa taking shots with Hizashi at the long booth they had booked opposite the dance floor. This was a situation he didn't ever think he would be in, Yagi laughed into Midnight's bare shoulder.

He supposed he was having fun.

Aizawa located Yagi in the corridor after a bit, the music muffled like they were under the sea. He was stood by a huge fish tank, neon back-lights making them look like small aliens. Bubbles mirroring shooting stars. "We thought we had lost you," Aizawa slunk up beside him, cheeks pink and sweat damp hair. "Sorry, I just needed a breather," Yagi apologised, fixated on the tank, "I didn't do much of this sort of thing when I was young."

"Busy off saving the world," Aizawa moved to stand beside him, finger tracing the creatures through the glass, "I didn't either," he added. They made eye contact and Yagi felt a weird, choking feeling in his chest. Idly he hoped the alcohol had not started to kill him. Almost immediately, Aizawa gave him a look. "Are you feeling okay? Do you want to go home?"

"No," he grabbed Aizawa by the cuff of his black sleeve. "Let's go and find the others."

More alcohol seemed to follow, sweaty bodies, the buzzing music and the all-too-loud singing of Hizashi and his friends. A press of lips on lips and then a aching darkness in his skull. Aizawa opened his eyes the following morning, blinking around at the familiar sight of his apartment living room... completely trashed. Oh God. His head. Had he been knocked out during the night? Hissing, he tried to push himself up off the sofa, only to find a body laying on top of his, face on his chest, but thankfully fully clothed.

"What the-?" he rubbed his eyes, rolling the blonde head over to see Yagi drooling all over his jumper. Lined up with his body exactly mirroring Aizawa's, long feet hanging off the end of the sofa. A raging blush began to bleed into his pale cheeks, the skinny man was fucking heavy. "Yagi," he hissed, trying to wake him up.

"Be quiet!" A voice across the room groaned. Hizashi was curled up inside Aizawa's sleeping back beside the fireplace, pizza box lying beside his head. What the fuck? A dark-haired figure was curled up on the armchair, a red-haired girl in their arms. Midnight. Why on Earth was all of his colleagues in his apartment?

"Go home," Aizawa moaned back, his head felt like he had been Texas-Smashed right in his skull, stomach queasy and pinned to the sofa, unable to move. The warm body on top of him wriggled and mumbled softly. He was far too old for this. "Yagi," he said again and the blonde blinked, waking up to similar confusion more than likely. "Where am I?" he coughed out dryly, wriggling around until he ultimately must have realised the embarrassing position he was in, curled up like lovers with his friend and colleague.

Sputtering out some English curse-words, Yagi made a bolt to tear his body away, his lanky limbs getting trapped in the throw blanket slung across them, ending up in a pile on the carpet.

Hizashi groaned at the ruckus, hypocrite that he was and Midnight, silently awake, hiding a grin as Yagi made a dash to the bathroom to puke, Aizawa trailing behind him tiredly.

Idiots.

#all might #bnha #bnha fic #eraserhead #erasermight #erasermight fic #toshinori yagi #aizawa shouta #erasermic #contact part 3

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emeraldfic · 5 years

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06:

Chris:

Miami: Sunday April 28, 2018 1:49 PM

Mimi’s flight gets in at three this afternoon and I’m not sure I’m really prepared for this. I’ve telling myself that I was just going to sweet talk my way out of this hole but now I’m starting to feel a little more in over my head than I thought. I feel like a complete piece of shit knowing what I’ve done, but there’s part of me that doesn’t regret it. I know there’s no excuse when it comes to cheating, but, being lonely is a shitty feeling... especially when it feels like you live on the back burner of your other half's’ life...

Stormy has been a recluse today and I didn’t much mind it. I needed the peace and quiet and it gave me time to get the house in order, and I even deep cleaned Em’s new room and was able to put up a few coats of the pink paint. It was slowly coming together, and aside from all of this bullshit, her coming home was something I could really look forward to.

Time has been passing fairly quick today and I wish it would slow down just a little... but weather I liked it or not, Mimi would be home soon. I was hungry, tired and overdue for a shower so I ordered in for a few pizzas and headed off to the bathroom for a hot shower. The second I was stripped and ready to get in my phone dinged with a message.

Mimi: hi. i landed a few minutes ago... didn’t want u to worry... but letting u know i’ll be at dej’s. talk soon...

I thought maybe I was misreading something so I read it over a few times just to be sure. Why isn’t she coming home? And what would I have to be worried about?

To Mimi: WTF do u mean?? y r u going there and not home???

I jumped in and did my best to relax under the hot water for a few minutes before I washed up. I had a lot bouncing through my thoughts, but for some reason, Stormy kept making her way into my head, and when I couldn’t get the idea of her in the shower with me out of my mind, I had to cut thing short and get out. Now I was frustrated mentally and sexually.

By the time I was dried off and fully dressed, I had a missed call, voicemail and a text waiting for my from Mimi. I was afraid to open the message but I had to know why she wasn’t coming home.

Mimi: just listen 2 ur voicemail. call me tomorrow...

Voicemail: I don’t know the full story, and I don’t what to know Chris... just know that I know enough okay... When Deja saw you walking out of the gym with a neck full of hickies she called me right away...You know I love you Chris, and we’re going through some things right now, but I want us to work on ourselves... I want to be better together so we can find the couple we used to be and continue to grow with each other. I know it’s best to have some distance so we dont argue and make things worse.I love you, and I miss you. Call me tomorrow.

Well, I didn’t have a migraine, bur I sure as hell do now. Deja has always hated me and she’s always looking for ways to butt into our business so of course she was quick to call her and stir shirt up. I let out an aggravated groan and went rummaging through the kitchen junk drawer for my stash of Advil and washed a few down with some cold water. Could this day get any worse?

The buzzer went off making me jump and I swear I could feel my irritation growing by the second. I knew it was the pizza so I buzzed them up and waited by the front door for the knock. When I answered the door my attitude was so high I just tossed him forty buck and slammed the door in his face. At least his nice tip will make up for me being an asshole...

After eating and letting my attitude simmer down a bit, I realized that it was almost five and I still had yet to hear a peep from Stormy. She hasn’t eaten all day and didn’t have much last night so I know she had to be starving.

“Storm?” I sent a few knocks to her door but didn’t get any response “Stormy? Are you awake?”

I pushed open the door and turned on her light. My eyes grew two sizes seeing her naked body lay there peacefully...

I shook her a few times to wake her. She blinked open her still sleepy eyes and smiled up at me. Her cheeks turned red when she realized she was naked and she quickly wrapped herself up in the blankets.

“What time is it?” she asked sitting up

“Almost five. Are you hungry?”

“Starving!” she chuckled “Are you gonna feed me?” she asked grinning

“Well yeah. That’s why I’m here. Come on and eat.”

“I could tell you the same thing...” she murmured

“What?” I asked raising a brow

“Nothin’.” she shrugged

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t tempt me with a good time Storm.”

“Well what are you waiting for?” she asked wearing a sly grin

I returned the grin as shed pulled me down onto the bed with her. As soon as I was down, she was quick to sit up in my lap. She kissed me lightly a few times and made her way to my neck. I could feel all of the aggravation fully leaving my body and I was really relaxing beneath her... and as horrible as it may seem, Mimi was the last thing on my mind now.

“Do you always glow after you get laid?” I asked shoving a bite of pizza in my mouth

“Only if it’s good.” she winked. “Where’s Mimi?”

“A friends.” I shrugged.

“Oh. Well you better shower up before she comes home.”

“I don’t think she will be home anytime soon.”

“Why’s that?” she asked with a brow raised

“Because her big mouth ass friend put her nose where it didn’t belong so she heard that I cheated from someone else.”

“What? Really?... Did she break up with you?”

“I don’t know. I guess you could say we’re taking a break”

“So what we just did is fine then?”

"Look, I’m gonna do what I want no matter what. Okay? And it’s clear that I can’t get you out of my head and I obviously can’t keep my hands off of you so if she chooses to want space from me then that’s on her...”

Stormy:

“Shit, baby.” I moaned lowly. Chris has an appetite and he’s been sure to show me all night.

“You taste so good.” he murmured bringing himself up to kiss me.

A knock on the door interrupted us making me suck my teeth, I pulled up my pants and Chris dressed and went to answer the door. I had to fight my attitude off when he walked around the corner with his friend Niko. I heard them talking lowly and I could tell he was grilling Chris.

“We’re taking a break. I don’t care about all that right now.” Chris muttered

“Well anyway... We’re off practice for our long weekend and we’re damn sure not wasting our time so what are the plans for tonight? Are we going out of what?”

“You really feeling a buzz right now?” he asked

“Man hell yeah. We deserve that shit.”

“I guess.”

“I’ll be back in like twenty minutes for you. Ya’ll better have your asses ready.”

Well I was looking forward to spending the night with Chris, but I guess I can’t be too bummed if he wants to go out, especially if he has a long weekend off of practice.

“Move your ass girl. He’s gonna be right back.”

“What?”

“He said he was coming right back. Hurry up, his impatient ass will bitch the rest of the night if we make him wait.”

“We?” I questioned “He came her for you, not me.”

“You know the invite was for you too, quit playin’. Get ready, I promise you’ll have a good time.”

“I have nothing to wear.” I protested with a shrug.

“Follow me.” he grinned.

He walked me to Em’s room and my eyes lit up to see the beautiful paint job he had done... but when he pulled out all the shopping bags my eyes bulged. As much as I wanted to cuss him out, I just couldn’t. I’ve never had anyone think of me like this so it actually meant a lot, and when he pulled out the bafs for Em, I seriously almost cried...

“Pick something out. I’m going to change.” he kissed me on my forehead and left me to get ready.

There were so many nice things that it was hard for me to chose, but I quickly settled on an outfit and hurried off to my bathroom to fix myself up. I felt so good getting dolled up I almost forgot what it felt like to have some self confidence. When I was finally all put together, I met him in the kitchen and the look on his face was enough to make me blush.

“You look amazing.”

“Thanks.” I grinned “You look good yourself.”

The bar was hopping and full of life for a Sunday and we were having a good time. Niko brought out his girl and we were all dancing and tossing back drinks. After I had a few drinks in me I was really starting to feel good. My buzz made me want to dance but I wasn’t sure what the boundaries were with Chris so instead of dancing all over him I welcomed the cute guy next to me when he came up behind me. We were dancing to the beat for a good minute but he was good looking so I guess I didn’t mind, but I guess Chris did because as soon as he saw us, he puled me away.

“Mad disrespectful.” He muttered licking his lips. “You know damn well I’m feeling you and you’re just gonna dace with dude in my face like that?”

He didn’t even give me a chance to respond before he started kissing me roughly causing a moan to flow from my lips.

“Come on hermits, they got dollar shots going on.” Niko called bringing us back to the bar, and after the second round of shots, everything went black.

When I opened my eyes, I was naked in Chris’ bed. I sat up and looked over at the clock that read 3:57 AM

Oh my God.

#chris brown #chris brown fanfic

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mcdoogly · 7 years

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Cutting-Hedge Fashion

Howdy guys! For the final day of Asgoriel week I wrote a good old fic that was the prompt from day 2 and I wrote it on wednesday about the goats and Undyne going shopping at the mall since to get them more “Surface Friendly” fashion.

I had a lot of fun with this one, so I hope you guys enjoy!

Asgore, Toriel and Undyne walked into the air conditioned entryway of the shopping center. Ever since the monsters were freed, the indoor mall that was nestled comfortably in the town below Mt. Ebott had become the big hotspot for both monsters and humans alike. Undyne had convinced the other two to come with her and finally update their wardrobes-- Toriel was all for it, but Asgore clearly had cold feet. Still, his complaints were completely ignored by Undyne.

The two boss monsters looked around in wonder at the almost pure white inside of the ginormous shopping complex. Despite coming here a handful of times with the rest of their ragtag family of different monsters, the idea of a mall packed wall-to-wall with customers and goods was still, in some ways, a sight to behold. They followed along with Undyne as she led the two to a modern looking clothing store. Mannequins showing off the newest styles and trends were placed in the front windows, though both of the goats were not quite sure if they could stomach such new apparel.

Undyne grabbed them and flung them through the door, chuckling as she saw the two scrambling around in awe. So many new clothes and patterns filled their eyes, and culture shock hit them like a brick. Toriel was obviously taking it better than Asgore, adjusting her eyes and starting to pick out new outfits that she thought would fit her.

Asgore rubbed the back of his head. “Undyne, is this really necessary? I don’t really feel like Tori or I need any new clothes.”

“You can’t just wear jeans and button ups for the rest of your life!” Undyne rolled her eyes, laughing at his severe lack of fashion. “I think Toriel deserves a little better than that, don’t you think?”

“I agree,” the ex-queen added, giving Asgore a slight nudge and a smug look, “A little change of wardrobe never hurt anyone, dear.” Asgore looked at her smirk defeatedly, realizing a lost battle when he saw one. The other two monsters shared a giggle at his dejected expression as they all gravitated towards the women's section of the store.

Toriel already fell into the swing of shopping, her eyes spotting new dresses and color combinations that she felt would fit her, even though she felt a pang in her heart since they were marked plus size for humans. Despite her desire to change things up, a lot of the pile ended up falling under the spectrum of dark blues, purples and lavenders that she was used to, as well as a few white pairs of pants to accompany them. Asgore snuck away and dabbled in the store’s Hawaiian shirt section before getting dragged away by Undyne. He spent some time glancing around, deciding on what clothes he liked, before Toriel stole him away to see his opinion on her new finds.

Undyne followed the two as Toriel got a fitting room and Asgore sat down next to the sizable pile of clothes. “While you two do that, I’m going to look around to see if there are any other stores we should hit up while we’re here! Though it does seem like queeny here found enough clothes for the both of you.” The two monsters shared a giggle as Toriel fished for a new outfit to try on.

As Undyne left the store, Toriel walked into the fitting room with her new clothes, eagerly wanting to try on her new outfits. Asgore sat on a bench at the end of the hall, waiting for Toriel to step out so he could be the judge. He heard the doorknob turn and looked up, spotting her in a dark blue blouse with thin white stripes and a bright white pair of shorts.

“Well,” she said, slightly bashful, “how do I look?”

Asgore leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked her up and down, a smile curling onto his lips. It fit her like a glove. Of course, there was a bit of bias, but he didn’t think much of it. “It looks nice on you, dear. That blouse is very cute.”

“Aw, thank you, dear,” she said, blushing slightly. “OK-- let me put on the next one.”

Asgore heard the commotion in the booth until he heard the door again, looking up at her new outfit. This time she had on a pastel pink t-shirt and dark blue denim jeans. “What about this one?” It seemed as if she was more embarrassed about this particular outfit than before, her growing blush and posture giving her away.

“I like it! That pink really brings out your eyes,” he said, smiling a dopey smile as Toriel blushed at his compliment.

“Sure, sure,” she said, faintly bashful, and spun around. “But do these jeans make my butt look too big?”

Asgore didn’t move from his previous position, though his smile got just a smidge wider. “No comment.”

Toriel laughed and gave him a playful bat as he chuckled at his own joke, her blush turning a fearsome shade of crimson. “Oh, Asgore Dreemurr, you are awful!”

“You asked the question!” he said back, blocking another mock smack, “I was just simply answering it as best as I could.”

The queen retreated back to her dressing room to put on her next combination, after they got over their fit of giggles. Asgore watched and gave his comments again and again as Toriel kept trying on her new bountiful amounts of apparel. In his eyes, she looked smashing in any form of dress she tried on, no matter the style or color. She would occasionally get him to retrieve a smaller or larger size depending on the article of clothing, but for the most part everything she picked out suited her.

As she was changing again, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He reached in and looked at his screen. He tapped on the new message he had just gotten from Undyne, reading the short text she had sent him:

“What size underwear does Tori wear?”

Asgore’s eyes nearly bugged out from his head at the offending message. He quickly typed back. “Undyne, that is completely inappropriate! We are here to get clothes!”

The little picture of a laughing Undyne popped up to show that she was typing, her giggling portrait almost mocking Asgore. “Lingerie is a type of clothes.”

Asgore could hear Undyne’s characteristic ‘Fuhuhuhu’ from all the way in the store she was at. He glanced back down, hastily typing “No” back before looking back up at the sound of the dressing room opening. Toriel was back in her usual robe, though she was holding out a lavender color bikini out in front of her chest.

“I see you slipped this into the pile, hmm Gorey?” she smirked, giggling as Asgore turned beat red.

“N-No! Of course not!” he stammered, watching as Toriel’s expression only got more smug. “That was Undyne!”

Toriel giggled at him, before turned back into the dressing room. “Of course it was, dear.”

He opened up his mouth to respond, but realized there was no point. Instead, he plopped back down as Toriel laughed and gave him a reassuring hug, before hurrying back to retrieve her new clothes. Eventually, Toriel burst out of her dressing room with her arms full of the clothing she wanted to keep. As if on cue, Undyne came back into the shop, though with a bag from a different shop in one of her hands.

Asgore blushed, realizing what she had done. “Undyne, I told you not to get those.”

The fish monster chuckled, and walked over to Toriel. “Yeah but after you said no I texted her and she told me everything I needed to know.” The two women shared a high five, much to Asgore’s dismay. “And don’t worry, there’s a few for you in there as well. Queen’s orders.” Asgore was left flabbergasted as the other two monsters giggled at his expense. As she laughed, Toriel took a peek inside the bag at what Undyne had gotten her. Her smirk only grew, knowingly making Asgore all the more squeamish.

“Alright, back on topic.” Undyne pointed at Asgore. “Do you own a suit?”

“What?” Asgore asked back, looking almost offended, “Of course not. I have my regalia.”

“Nuh-uh, that’s not good enough,” She stated, turning him towards the door. “Go and get yourself a suit!”

“But why do I need a suit when I have my kingly robes? Isn’t that enough for any formal situation?”

“Nope,” Undyne stated bluntly, pushing him towards the exit of the store. “You never know when you need a suit or tux, and you stick out enough with your stupid horns. Bright purple and golds are for showing off and looking like a weirdo, not acting formal!”

“But what about my new clothes?” He said, trying his best to get out of being fitted. “Don’t I need to try them on?”

“We’ll find ya some new stuff, you old worry wart.” Undyne laughed, giving him a punch to the shoulder.

“But you don’t know what size I wear.”

This time Toriel spoke up, “I used to hem up your old work shirts whenever you worked them to death, silly. Now go and listen to your daughter.” She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “And I think you would look dashing in a suit, Gorey.”

Asgore blushed as he realized how much of a pain he was being, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, when you put it that way, how can I say no?”

“I knew you’d agree.” Toriel said, as he left to the tailor.

~~~

With one final mark, the tailor stood up and set down his pencil. “There we are, Mister Dreemurr, just give me a week and we’ll get this suit right to you.” Asgore looked himself in the mirror and sighed as he realized the measuring was finally over, though he did have to admit that he did look rather spiffy in his new suit, despite it not fitting him properly yet. He wasn’t used to form fitting clothes that weren’t armor, or anything close to shoes, but he still thanked the man and gave him a hearty tip before heading his way back to the store where Toriel and Undyne were.

They watched him as he walked in, each of them with a bags in their hands. Asgore walked to them, smiling as he did so. “I see you are rather confident in your knowledge of what size I wear, honey.”

“Of course, it’s not like I would forget,” she joked, nudging him, “especially since you’ve worn the same shirts that you’ve had when we were first married.” He chuckled, grabbing his bag of clothes from Toriel as they started to leave. “I was able to grab a few button ups for you, even though Undyne did not approve, but the rest should be rather different that what you are used to.”

Undyne bumped her shoulder against Asgore’s, snickering at her goat-dad. “I told ya that shopping wouldn’t be as bad as you thought it would be! You gotta learn to relax and trust me more.”

“Yeah, you are right,” Asgore admitted. He peered into his bag, but a flash of aqua caught Asgore’s eyes. He reached in and pulled out a bright blue speedo, his eyes widening in shock, shifting his focus between Undyne and the fluorescent article. “Undyne! I told you-”

“Actually,” Toriel interrupted, drawing Asgore’s attention away from his fishy daughter and taking the offending swimwear from his grasp, “I grabbed that for you as well. Though I don’t know if it will fit you, so…” She grinned as Undyne cracked up laughing. “I think you might need to try it on as soon as we get home.”

#undertale #asgoriel #asgore #toriel #undyne #torigorey #doogle writes #another asgoriel week

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winedwords · 7 years

Text

Pete| Lingerie |Dunne

Title; Lingerie

Pairing; Pete Dunne/Reader

Words; 2669

Summary; The way you’re wrapping around me is a problem.

Warnings; NSFW. Smut. Public sex. Lingerie. Latex free. Choking. Smut for smut’s sake. liiiggghhhtttt dom/sub.

A/N: repost from the old blog

“They sell this shit online now.”

I turned at my boyfriend’s grumbled words, a wide and playful grin on my face. Pete had been shuffling behind me in the lingerie boutique, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoody and his eyes firmly on the ground. The only hint of his discomfort was how bright the tips of his ears were.

Pete… had a thing for lingerie. Especially when it was me, in said lingerie. He wasn’t picky either. Stockings paired with garters, teddies, corsets, crotchless panties, it didn’t matter. He loved to see me wearing lingerie.

It was getting to be an expensive habit too. Pete had a tendency to get a little carried away, always seeming to tear the delicate undergarments to shreds. Satin stood no chance under his eager hands, practically disintegrating at the seams. Delicate lace was shredded by his tightly clenched teeth and torn from my body. There were days where I pondered if his taste for destroying my lingerie was just an excuse for me to go and purchase new pieces.

I moved languidly from table to table, Pete following me the entire time like a shadow. He hovered as I sifted through the neat spreads of every cut of panty imaginable, the man behind me shifting uneasily from foot to foot. I had an inkling as to why he was shifting, as my hand was gliding over different cuts of panties. His decision to wear the gray sweatpants out shopping with me today was not his wisest decision, but the store was practically empty, except for the bored woman popping her gum and texting at the register.

“Grab the white ones.”

My hand paused over the white lace boy shorts at the low, rumbled words.

“And those red ones next to them.”

I bit my lower lip, lust coursing through my veins, and grabbed the two specified panties. When Pete got bossy like this, it was practically my kryptonite.

“How do you feel about these black ones?”

I picked up the black satin French cut thong and let it dangle from my index finger as I turned to Pete. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, eyes dark and intent, clearly imagining what each would look like being worn.

“Yeah… Get those too. I owe you a couple pairs anyway.”

I giggled coquettishly.

“A couple? I’m down to one pair, Pete. One last pretty pair and then I’m left commando.”

Air rushed out of him audibly and a half feral smirk tore across his face. The next thing I knew, he was crowding into my space, with his hands on my hips and the hard ridge of his cock pressing into the small of my back.

“That’s the exact opposite of a problem, luv.”

His growled words in my ear and the insistent press of his hips had me squirming from the lightning bolt of arousal to my core that left me close to panting and weak.

“Pete… I have to try these on and then I promise we can get out of here.”

He huffed, clearly disappointment in my answer. I shuffled over to another table, Pete’s hands still on my hips and his body stayed close to mine, every step causing his hips to bump against me suggestively.

“Are you finding everything alright?” The young woman at the register called disinterestedly, never once looking up from her phone.

“I’m doing great, thank you!”

My voice was a little too breathy to have been inconspicuous but the cashier didn’t look up from her phone.

“The blue ones to your left,” Pete growled as his hips ground into mine, the ache between my thighs ratcheting up to exquisite, almost painful levels. His hot breath against my ear made me shiver.

“Then the pink ones below that. Grab two pairs of those red ones there.”

The rawness and edge to his voice made my panties uncomfortably wet, coupled with the fact that his fingers had slipped just underneath the waistband of my jeans, stroking at the soft and delicate skin there robbed me of my breath. My hands flipped through the slips of fabric shakily to grab the requested items as Pete’s head dropped down to press kisses along my neck and shoulder.

He whirled me around, his lips still gliding along the sensitive flesh of my neck. There in front of us were a series of colorful teddies and corsets on racks and matching garters and stockings on a nearby table.

“The dark green thing there. The red corset and grab the matching stockings.”

His words vibrated along my skin and I shakily moved to grab the emerald colored teddy and the under bust fire red corset with attached garter belt.

“Now, kitten, go try them on. Make it fuckin’ quick too. I need to take you home and fuck you through the mattress.”

He pushed me towards the dressing rooms with a firm slap to my ass. I turned to give a weak glare at him, only for my knees to threaten to give out at the heated look on his face. It was on shaky legs that I entered the dressing rooms, entering the one the farthest down the small hallway, and locking the door behind me.

I tossed the pile of underwear onto the plush zebra print chair that was inside the dressing room and hung Pete’s selections from the chrome hook on the wall. I slipped my clothes off, down to my last pair of decent and pretty panties and I thought about Pete, who I knew was waiting for me outside sporting a major erection.

My phone buzzed as I slipped on the dark green teddy.

Pete: Do you need a hand?

A wicked grin tugged at my lips as I snapped a selfie in the mirror and sent it back in response to Pete.

Pete: For fucks sake woman.

I peeled off the dark green satin garment and laced up the red corset, the attached garters tapping against my thighs, and snapped another selfie.

Pete: You fuckin’ tease.

I unlaced the corset, before sliding on a navy form fitting, sheer chiffon and lace slip before sending another selfie.

Not twenty seconds later, there was a knock on the door.

“I’m doing fine!”

The knocks continued, more insistent. I sighed heavily and opened the door.

“I said I’m ok- oomph!”

Pete pushed the door in, grasped my head firmly with his hands, and pulled me in for a mind melting kiss while he kicked the dressing room door shut with his foot.

“You’re not supposed to be in here!” My words were mumbled, my mind still recovering from the kiss and his sudden appearance, as he dropped down to his knees to slide my panties down to my ankles.

"That’s what’s gonna make this so good.“

I steadied myself against his broad shoulders, gazing down at him with half lidded eyes as he helped me step out of my underwear.

"Y'better hold onto these.”

He pressed my panties into the palm of my left hand, with a self satisfied smirk on his face. I clasped them tightly in my hand as he slipped the navy silk number over my head and flung it to the corner of the dressing room. Pete took a moment to admire all of my exposed skin in the mirrors that lined the walls of the dressing room. Not to be outdone, I palmed the bulge in the front of his sweatpants.

He jerked at the touch, his blue gray eyes hooded and staring at me hungrily as he peeled off his t-shirt. As soon as it was thrown to the floor, Pete backed me against the wall, pressing himself into my hand.

“This is not a good idea Pete. What if someone comes to see what’s going on?”

He rumbled his pleasure as he ground himself into the palm of my hand even harder.

“Then you’ll just have to be quiet, because I’m gonna fuck you right here right now. Bet you thought you were bein’ cute with those texts.”

My arms twined behind his neck as I pulled him into a filthy kiss, the throbbing between my legs growing slicker as he nibbled at my lower lip and I felt his sweatpants slide down. His hands reached for the back of my thigh, then he lifted me up against his solid body. I gripped him tighter as he pressed me against the cool surface of the wall mirror, the combination of the shiver of the sudden cold and the roll of his hips causing my nipples to pebble into stiff peaks.

A growl rumbled through him as I reached a hand down between us to carefully guide the head of his length between the slick lips of my core. He drove himself into me so forcefully that I was concerned, at the back of my mind, that the mirror behind me would crack as the breath was being driven from my lungs.

Then, there was only Pete. The grumpy, surly champion who’s now sole focus was getting me off. The man with a hidden gentleness to him, that I was realizing a little bit more every day that I couldn’t live without. And right now, he was a wall of twitching muscle, caging me in, filling me to the absolute brim.

“I never get tired of the way you fuckin’ feel.”

His words were breathed against my lips as his hips grinded against mine. My fingers were beginning to tingle, as my wrist was caught between our bodies, and I tried to get it free.

“Touch yourself.”

The words were a rumbled command, as Pete leaned back slightly to take in oour reflections from the corner of his eye. I reacted almost instantaneously to the order, my fingers moving to the taught bundle of nerves and rubbing in quick circles as he continued to drive himself into me at a punishing pace. My jaw dropped at the combined sensations and Pete rumbled his appreciation as I writhed against him.

“So damn pretty when I fuck you. You like this, don’t you?”

Words were evading me, my hips moving of their own accord, and I only could nod rapidly in response to his question. He snapped his hips again in rapid succession, smothering my cries with his mouth. The clever work of his tongue against mine only made my fingers work faster.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” she loudly gasped as he snapped his hips. He smothered her cries with the soft warmth of his mouth, kissing her senseless and her fingers moved faster as he continued to thrust himself into her, chasing his release.

I yelped at a particularly deep thrust, breaking the kiss and turning to press my cheek against the cool glass.

“Shhh, gotta be quiet,” he chuckled, his cock still pistoning out of me at a ruthless pace. “If you can’t be quiet, your panties are going into your mouth.”

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!” I panted helplessly as the white hot knot of tension that had been building inside of me coiled so tightly that I thought for sure that my brain might start leaking out of my ears.

“Fuckin’ put them in your mouth. Do as you’re told. Now.”

I bit into my lower lip as I struggled to remain silent. Pete drew back, his face growing increasingly impatient with me. My eyes met his dark blue eyes as my head rolled back to the smooth mirror and I swallowed heavily, trying to remain silent and ignore the loud rush of blood in my ears. His jaw clenched and the muscle to the left side jumped as I brought my hand up to my mouth and I pushed the black scrap of satin into my mouth, an erotic slip of fabric peaking just beyond my lips. Pete’s eyes widened, the pupils blown out completely at the sight, and he ground out a rather impressive series of curses under his breath.

He pulled out completely and I made a muffled noise of protest at the loss of his touch. I blinked and then he had tossed me onto the zebra print chair, maneuvering me so that I was on all fours. I grasped the back of the chair with a squeal as he dragged the chair into the center of the dressing room.

Then his hands were back on me, one on my breasts and the other on my hip, and he was filling me again.

“Right where I want you. Hang on tight.”

I ground back into him, to dare him to do his worst. His hand on my hip tightened to the point I know I was going to have fingerprint shaped bruises. Pete draped himself across my back, his words and breath soft against my ear, “Mine.”

His other hand traveled from cupping my breast to lightly grasping at my throat. He stood straight up and brought me up with him, using the pressure against my airways to guide me. One of my hands went to grasp his wrist at my throat and the other went back to touching myself, the combination of my restricted airflow and the sight of ourselves fucking in the mirror almost too much.

I leaned against him, letting him take over completely. Our eyes met in the mirror and I was caught in his possessive and adoring stare. “Mine.”

He tilted his head down, never breaking eye contact, to press his teeth into the skin at the juncture of my shoulder and neck. I gasped, my fingers picking up speed at the pleasure-pain of his teeth on my skin. He hummed appreciatively, and I lifted my hand up to him, in an offering.

“Mine.”

His soft mouth closed around my slick fingers and he sucked at them with a groan, his hips continuing to drive himself into me.

The room was filled with the lewd and wet sound of skin slapping against skin, as he lit into me without mercy. The knot that was the herald of my orgasm was tightening in my lower abdomen and my internal muscles fluttered around Pete.

I withdrew my fingers from his mouth to start touching myself again, chasing my release. His hand around my throat tightened, his eyes desperately boring into mine as his pace picked up into something wild and frenetic.

“Cum for me,” his words were growled before his teeth began to bite into my flesh again. “Not gonna last much longer.”

My vision was getting a little fuzzy at the edges and I was so, oh so close.

“Do as you’re fucking told.”

I bit down on the panties in my mouth and my eyes screwed shut as the tension released, ecstasy filling my body. Pete buried himself deeply, releasing his grip on my throat and holding onto me tightly as I let out a long muffled shriek. The trembling of my body was uncontrollable as I writhed against him, my veins filled with white hot pleasure. He continued to fuck into me, my orgasm being drawn out, before he himself groaned and gasped my name, heat filling me.

I opened my eyes just in time to watch him come undone in the mirror. It was a good thing that he was supporting my weight, because the look of pure and unbridled pleasure on his face would have made me swoon. His hips jerked against mine, once then twice, before stilling and his forehead was resting against my shoulder. I could see the barest hint of a dreamy, content smile on his face in the mirror.

“Are you still doin’ okay hun?”

Our bodies both went rigid, the soft haziness of our afterglow breaking. I quickly pulled out the black panties from my mouth and I could feel the snarl on Pete’s face from our post-coital moment being interrupted.

“Yeah, I-I’m fine! I loved everything!”

I could practically hear the retail worker’s shrug as she walked away. Pete pressed a kiss against my shoulder, before withdrawing. I shuddered as his cock left me and he smirked.

“Get dressed. I want to see you in the green at home.”

#pete dunne imagine #pete dunne fic #pete dunne smut #repost from the old blog

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elrosiafic · 7 years

Text

Frustration

It was the hottest day they’d had all summer. The sun blazed down on the misshapen structure of the Burrow, where Hermione was spending her holiday with the Weasley clan. Harry was due to arrive next week, but Hermione had opted to come early. She and the younger Weasleys had escaped outside into the garden in search of some cooler air.

Fred and George were huddled in the shadows beneath an apple tree, discussing in low voices something that was concealed between them. Every now and then they cast a glance towards the others to make sure they weren't eavesdropping. They needn’t bother being so secretive, thought Hermione, rolling her eyes. It was far too hot to be concerned about much of anything, least of all whatever mischief the twins were up to now.

Ginny was lying in the grass in the small shade beside the hedges, with one arm flung over her face. Hermione thought she might be asleep except that every now and then she moaned something about melting in the heat.

Ron and Hermione were sprawled out beneath an old oak tree, each vying for a spot in the shade. Mrs. Weasley had sent them all out with glasses of ice cold lemonade. Hermione watched the condensation drip from her glass as she lay in the shade, not even able to summon the energy to take a sip. She closed her eyes and prayed for a hint of a breeze, but the air was still and heavy.

Hermione heard the tinkling of ice against glass as Ron took a drink of his lemonade. She opened one eye to peer at him from her vantage point on the ground. She watched him tip his head back as he drank, exposing his long neck. As he finished, her eyes were drawn to his mouth as he licked his lips and she watched as a drop of lemonade trailed down from the corner of his mouth. Hermione felt herself getting irritated at him for some reason. Did he have to be so- she struggled for an adjective- so messy? His fingers ran through his hair, rumpling it as he brushed it back from his face. She watched the muscles in his arms and chest flex and grow taut as he stretched and then settled back against the tree trunk. She huffed to herself in annoyance and pulled her hair above her head to get it off her neck. Was it possible that it was getting even hotter outside? He took another swig of lemonade, smacked his lips and let out a satisfied sigh.

“Ron,” she snapped, “do you really have to do that?”

Ron looked over at her, bewildered. “Do what?” he asked.

She struggled to find an explanation to justify her irritation. She blamed the heat for making her thoughts all muddled. “Drink like that,” she said, lamely.

“How am I meant to drink?” Ron asked defensively.

Hermione sighed. “Just forget it,” she said irritably.

“Mental,” Ron muttered quietly to himself. Hermione closed her eyes again and pretended not to have heard him.

Ron looked over at where she was lying in the grass. He looked at her messy hair splayed out above her head, suddenly wondering what it felt like, and noticed that a strand of it fell across his leg. For some reason this bothered him. Couldn’t she keep her hair to herself? His gaze moved down, taking in her bare feet resting on the ground, his eyes running over the angle of her legs and her drawn knees, then moving up the length of her body and down the line of her arm stretched out on the grass to her small hand clutching her glass of lemonade. He watched the glass sweating, dripping water across her fingertips. He suddenly felt thirsty and took another swig of his lemonade, unconsciously smacking his lips again.

Hermione took a sudden deep breath, and Ron’s eyes were drawn to her mouth as her lips parted and she sighed it out. He swallowed, a feeling growing inside him which he quickly defined as annoyance. Why does she have to make so much noise? And who is she to tell me how I should drink a glass of lemonade?

“Hermione,” Ron said and she opened her eyes. “Can’t you keep control of this mess?” he demanded, gesturing to the hair that was lying against his jeans, but for some reason still not bothering to brush it off. Hermione sat up and rolled her eyes.

“Maybe if you didn’t take up all the space, then my hair wouldn’t get in the way,” Hermione said accusingly as she attempted to tame her wild mane with a hair tie. He watched her fingers running through her hair and it only irritated him further.

“Me take up all the space?” Ron snapped back, “You’re the one all stretched out like a…a…” he faltered, trying to come up with an insult, but getting distracted by the mental image of her lying out on the grass.

“A what?” Hermione demanded.

“Nothing,” Ron muttered lamely. Feeling foolish, he added, “Just keep to your own space.”

“I will if you will,” Hermione said maturely.

“Fine,” he replied. They each turned slightly away from each other and glared out in opposite directions.

Ginny looked over at the pair of them and rolled her eyes before throwing her arm back across her face. Luckily, neither Ron nor Hermione noticed this.

All was silent for a while, aside from the occasional exclamation from Fred and George, where they still sat whispering together.

As the sun moved across the sky, the shade began to shift underneath the trees. Hermione noticed first as she was furthest from the trunk. She felt a sliver of heat against her leg and edged closer to the center of the tree. Ron, leaning against the tree trunk with his arms folded, noticed this movement, but said nothing. After a few more minutes, Hermione shifted closer again, trying to move as casually as possible. As she did, Ron caught the scent of her shampoo and closed his eyes, breathing in. Suddenly feeling awkward, he cleared his throat, looking at her a little uneasily. She glanced at him, but he hastily looked away, pretending to be watching a gnome sneak through the garden gate. He felt his heart rate speed up as Hermione moved closer to him yet again, her arm slightly grazing his. He tried to push down the nervous buzzing he felt in his stomach. Did she have to sit so close to him? His glass was now empty except for ice cubes, and he tipped one into his mouth in order to have something to do.

Hermione peered at Ron sideways as he worried the ice cube in his mouth, occasionally licking his lips. He glanced over at her. Caught in a stare, she quickly looked away and embarrassingly felt a blush creep to her cheeks. “Ron, do you really have to do that?” she snapped at him, trying to cover the awkward moment.

“What is it I’m supposed to have done now?” he demanded a little too loudly.

“Chewing on that ice...it’s...it’s irritating!” she shouted.

“Well maybe if you didn’t sit so close to me you wouldn’t notice it!” he shouted back.

“Well maybe you should--” Hermione started, but suddenly Ginny’s voice cut into their argument. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, will you two just snog already and have done with it? The rest of us would like a little peace.”

“Seconded,” chimed in George.

“Hear, hear!” cried Fred.

Hermione felt her face go hot while the tips of Ron’s ears turned a bright red.

“Wha…that’s…you…” Ron spluttered incoherently for a minute before finally managing to get out, “Mind your own business, Ginny!”

Ginny just smirked and went back to lazing, throwing her arm back across her face.

Hermione jumped up and ran back into the house. After a moment Ron, glaring at his siblings, stormed back into the house as well.

Ron found Hermione in the kitchen, sitting at the table with her face in her hands. Feeling a bit awkward, he sat down next to her. “Don’t mind them. They’re just a bunch of gits,” he said.

She looked up at him, cheeks still tinged with pink, and mumbled, “It’s okay.” After a pause, she lifted her shoulders and added with a deprecating smile, “I’m sorry I’ve been so short with you today. I suppose it’s just the heat.”

Ron was looking down at Hermione, taking in her wild hair and pink cheeks, and the small smile turning up at the corner of her mouth. You’re staring, he told himself. “Yeah…the heat…” he mumbled, realizing he should say something. “I mean, it’s not as if we would…” he trailed off.

Their eyes locked, and Hermione saw his blue eyes grow a shade darker. She felt all the irritation of the day building up pressure inside her. Sometimes he annoyed her so much she just wanted to strangle him. Is that really what you want to do? a traitorous thought whispered to her. She licked her lips unconsciously, and suddenly his eyes were drawn to her mouth. Without thinking, he reached out, cupping her cheek in his hand and slowly rubbing his thumb against her skin. She drew in a sharp breath and his eyes met hers again. She tilted her chin slightly up as he dipped his head towards her.

There was a sudden noise as the door banged open. Ron jumped back from Hermione as if he’d been burned. Mrs. Weasley bustled into the kitchen humming a tune.

“Oh, hello dears,” said Mrs. Weasley as she noticed them sitting at the table. “Are you hungry? I was thinking we could have something cold for dinner. I just can’t see cooking in all this heat.”

“I’m not really hungry,” muttered Ron.

Mrs. Weasley turned to look at him. She put a hand to his forehead and asked, “Are you feeling well, dear? You look flushed. I hope you’re not coming down with something.”

“I’m fine,” Ron said as he pushed her hand away, “Stop fussing.”

“Alright, alright,” said Mrs. Weasley, turning to rummage in the pantry. “I suppose we’re all a little out of sorts with this heat wave.”

“Yeah,” mumbled Ron, glancing sidelong at Hermione, who was looking a little flushed herself. “It’s the heat.”

#romione #romione fanfic #ron x hermione #hermione x ron #fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter

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winter-soldier-writer-blog · 7 years

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You Need A Maid? Chapter 2

Fandom: Avengers / Marvel Rating: PG13 Warnings: Swearing Disclaimer: I don’t own Marvel, blah legal stuff. Don't sue me, I'm poor. Songs: Next Year - Two Door Cinema Club

Chapter Menu

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The ride over was as awkward as you had expected it to be. You shifted uncomfortably, the car door handle wedged into your side. Somehow you had managed to get the 'best' seat in the limo. The small space buzzed with idle conversation, ones you were all excluded from. Tonight was about you? You glanced around. Even Sam was occupied. You cleared your throat, loudly, and looked around again. No one even glanced your way. An Avenger after all, you had developed the amazing ability to blend into the seat cushions. Cue enthusiastic jazz hands. Huffing you slid deeper into the foam and pressed your ear to the speaker, listening to the low hum of music.

Maybe someday, You'll be somewhere Talking to me As if you knew me, Saying, I'll be home for next year, darling. I'll be home for next year.

In between the lines Is the only place you'll find What you're missing That you didn't know was there. So when I say goodbye, You must do your best to try And forgive me this weakness, This weakness.

The restaurant was the nicest place you had ever been. The napkins probably cost more than your shoes. Tony insisted on ordering piles of food and copious amounts of alcohol to match. You sipped on a cosmopolitan, avoiding the possibility of even getting tipsy. The last thing you needed to do was get drunk and embarrass yourself.

"What do you think?" Tony asked, waving a glass of amber liquid around, gesturing. Before you could answer, Bucky cut in, "Well, it isn't shawarma." Tony shot him a glare.

You couldn't stop your eyes from wandering to Bucky, who had been forced into a nice button up shirt. Black, as always. Someone had even made him comb his perpetual bedhead. With the hair out of his face, you could actually see his eyes for a change. How could you have missed how brilliantly blue they were? "Need something?" His eyes caught yours and he stared back at you, unimpressed. You looked away, at the floor, the ceiling, Sam, who just shrugged.

You brought your eyes to Tony and gave him a small smile, gesturing with your own glass of alcohol. "It's very nice Mr.Stark I--"

"I told you to call me Tony, my father was Mr.Stark."

You took another small sip of your drink, letting the burn of alcohol hit the back of your throat before continuing. "Tony. I've never been anywhere so fancy. It's lovely."

You saw Natasha lean into Bucky and whisper. They laughed and you couldn't help but feel like it was about you. You tried to shake it off. You brought your glass to your lips again. Why was it already empty?

"Looks like you need a refill!" Tony quickly replaced the glass with a full one, and soon you're halfway through another drink.

"So Tony, why are we celebrating me exactly?" You finally ask. "I didn't do anything." They had more to celebrate than you did. Fighting off dust bunnies was hardly heroic.

"He likes excuses to get drunk." Natasha snorted, motioning to all of the liquor on the table as if she wasn't holding a drink herself. You smirked. Tony did love his Laphroaig. He took a swig of his drink and shook his head, ignoring Natasha. "You've been with us for six months. That's something to celebrate."

The table was silent, everyone suddenly more invested in the design on the silverware than the conversation. Your cheeks grew hot and pink. You took a large gulp of the frozen pink alcoholic concoction Tony had suggested you try. You felt dizzy. How many drinks had you had?

"Come on guys, she's done a great job!" He was so enthusiastic compared to the others. Did they really notice you that little? You’re less than furniture, you're a bug. Sam cleared his throat and spoke up. "I like that you cook for us, you know. When we're home and not on missions." You know he's just trying to make the situation less awkward, but it still helped a little. "You're just saying that because you've got the hots for her." Natasha joked and you felt your blush grow hotter.

"You haven't destroyed anything," Steve mentioned. Well, that is a plus, and also true. Already a win against your predecessors, the MaidBots. You started to feel a little better. Maybe they do appreciate you. You go to lift your glass to your lips again.

"Tony's just smug he found a solution that hasn't destroyed anything, tried to kill us, or died yet." Blurted out the ever eloquent Bucky Barnes. Everyone froze, their eyes all on you.

You were stuck for a moment, glass in your hand, mouth agape, trying to process exactly what had just happened. Tears welled up in your eyes, even though you were begging them not to. You were certain everyone in the restaurant could see how red your face was, it matched the crimson of the tablecloth at that point.

Finally putting your glass down, you cleared your throat a little, sticking a smile on your face as tears threatening to cascade down your cheeks. "Thank you, Mr.Star--Tony, everyone. It's been an honor to work for you." You made a point to stare directly at Bucky, hoping he would spontaneously combust. "If it's okay, I would like to go home now." You pushed your seat away from the table, standing. "Please, enjoy your evening without me."

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

You held your composure long enough to make it outside, and even long enough to hail a taxi home. No one had come outside to get you, stop you, say I'm sorry. You weren't surprised, though. The Avengers didn't say I'm sorry. You gave the driver the address home, and before the restaurant was behind you, tears were streaming down your face.

Back at the facility, you gave the driver a big tip, feeling sorry that he had to listen to your sobbing the entire way there. You watched the headlights until they were specks in the distance, before turning to face the facility. It loomed in front of you, almost mocking you in light of the night's events. You gripped your key tight, digging it into your palm. You couldn't go back in, not just yet. Your heart was still heavy from pain and head still fuzzy from alcohol. Instead, you peeled the heels off your aching feet and laid down on the well-manicured lawn.

The sky was clear that night, no clouds. The moon was a charming crescent, just a sliver in the expansive black sky. You brushed the hair out of your eyes, wiping away the rest of your tears with it. The night air was cool and refreshing against your face, the light breeze making the leaves in the nearby trees rustle softly. You started picking out constellations in the sky, naming them off in your head. You could feel yourself finally relaxing.

Suddenly there was the familiar sound of tires on gravel, and headlights swung over the lawn and driveway. Oh shit. What would they say now, finding you in the fucking grass like this? You heard car doors open and shut. Their laughter filled the air. The only thing that didn't fill the air was their gasps and exclaims of shock at finding you, laying like bugs do, on the lawn. Instead, the front door open and shut, silence returning to the yard.

You waited a few minutes, letting them settle in the house, before getting up and making way inside. You let the front door slam behind you, echoing through the house. You could hear their voices in the living room. Great, just great. You would have to pass them to get to your room. Shoes in hand you began to walk to the hallway, determined to make it to your room without breaking down in front of them. You kept your eyes forward. Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foo--

"Y/N."

Bucky. No. You were done tonight. Especially with him.

"Hey, Y/N."

You turned slowly, looking at him.

"You've got a huge grass stain on your ass."

"AUGH!" You threw your shoes down on the floor and they bounced hitting the back of the couch. He eyed them before looking back at you, confused.

"Buck..." Steve sighed, hand over eyes. "That was not damage control."

You focused your laser charged glare at Steve. "Damage control?" You hissed, taking a step closer. Steve lifted his hand to look at you, surprised. None of them had ever seen you angry. Natasha looked impressed.

"Y/N, it's going to be okay." Steve made an even poorer attempt at 'damage control'. You felt something inside you snap.

"No, it is not going to be okay, Steve Rogers. I am not okay, Captain fucking America." You could hear Tony snorting in the background, absolutely losing his shit.

"Y/N, let's go calm down." Sam came over, placing his hands gently on your shoulders. You shrugged them off, giving the room one last nasty glare before turning. "I can handle myself, Sam. I don't need the Avengers to take care of me." You turned and walked to your bedroom, letting the door slam behind you.

#you need a maid?#avengers #avengers fanfic #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #sam wilson #the falcon #natasha romanoff #black widow #tony stark #iron man #avengers x reader #reader x avengers #winter-soldier-writer

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meggybetho924-blog · 7 years

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Laxus and Lucy Ship Week 2017: Day 3

I said repeatedly to myself that I would not write any angst for this prompt. I had a plan and everything for it to make it this big ball of fluffy garbage to make up for yesterday. (Laxus was going to cry while cutting onions and Lucy was going to tease him relentlessly) Not to say I don't like fluffy garbage, because let's face it, everyone needs fluffy garbage. It's like crack. Crack-ship crack. Will that happen? Nope. My brain did its brain thing and was like "I'm so disappointed in you. Where is your creativity? Because you suck so badly, you are now going to write a medium AU. No exceptions. And you know what? I'm going to be a dick and make you continue this in another prompt. You're welcome." The last thing I will say in this huge author's note, is that you can thank my brain for this, because I had no intentions of writing it. At all. This will continue on in the last prompt of the week 'Father'. Day 3: Tears. ___ "Here's your change, sir. Thank you so much for choosing Celestial Café!" The petite blonde heaved a tired sigh as one of the few costumers she'd had that evening left the establishment, the little bell above the door chiming as it shut behind him. She glanced around, the few employees working their shifts were doing their jobs diligently. Everything was in order, so she decided it was time for a quick break. Lucy Heartfilia was the proud owner of the small red-brick building. It was nestled in between the town's only library, which so happened to be run by her very best friend, and a new dojo that had opened up just a few days ago that was oddly named Fairy Tail. She was quite young to own her own business, and it was hard at times, but it was so worth it. The blonde found it ironic that the business lessons forced upon her by her father became so very useful later in life. She'd detested them back then, but now she was grateful. He may not have been the best father to her, but in doing what he did, he unknowingly helped her achieve her dream. And it was her dream. Her mother had been a culinary genius when it came to cooking, especially pastries. Growing up, Layla would always prepare the meals, even if her father thought it was servant work. Like her mother, Lucy knew that even though he always acted as though it bothered him to no end, he secretly adored her cooking. Being raised by a professional chef, Lucy was often right by her mother's side. The woman taught her everything she knew, and Lucy came to love cooking just as much. She continued cooking whenever she was able to sneak into the kitchens after her mother died, becoming fast friends with the chef hired by her father. The man, Bero, was amazed at her gift toward cuisine seeing that she'd only been eight at the time. That was when she discovered she had another, more unusual gift. Realizing that her thoughts had gone completely with the wind, Lucy lightly smacked her own cheeks in an effort to focus. "Aries." The blonde called to one of her employees, catching her right when she was coming back inside from her break. The timid woman walked around the counter to stand beside her, tucking a stray strand of cotton candy pink hair behind her ear. "Y-yes, Miss Lucy? I didn't take too long of a break, did I? I'm sorry!" The blonde gave her a soft, reassuring smile. "No, not at all. I was just wondering if you would mind manning the register while I took a break myself." Aries relaxed slightly, nodding enthusiastically, already entering her personal code into the register. "Of course I don't mind. Take as long of a break as you need, Miss Lucy!" A tall, ginger haired man leaned up against the counter beside the pinkette. He adjusted his tinted glasses on his nose, before giving her a charming grin. Not giving him the chance to open his mouth, Lucy thanked the woman before retreating to her office where she grabbed her purse and her water bottle. She left out the back door, walking a little further down the narrow alley that separated her café and the dojo, taking a seat in one of the fold out chairs she'd placed their for her employees. Setting her purse on the tiny iron table next to her, she dug through the chaos within its depths to find her lighter. With a victorious internal cheer, she finally found the damn thing and took a cigarette from her pack. Taking in a deep drag, she leaned back in the chair, tipping her head back and closing her eyes. Smoking was a nasty habit, she knew. But she needed a convenient way to take the edge off. Recreational drugs were off of the table, and other than the rare joint she had shared with friends in college she refused to touch the stuff. As much as day drinking appealed to her, some days more than others, she had a business to run and she needed to be coherent enough to keep it afloat. Her gift, as one might call it, was also her curse. It was a constant hum, one she'd once thought everyone experienced, buzzing within the depths of her mind. Depending on where she was or who she was near, it ranged from a barely there vibration to a violent jackhammering in her skull. Then there were the whispers. Whispers only she could hear unless the spirit was strong enough to make their presence known to others. Even then, that person would have to have a decent sensitivity to the paranormal. Yes, she said spirit. Lucy Heartfilia, proud business owner at the age of twenty two, was a medium. She talked to the dead on a daily basis. After graduating high school early, she went to college to get a degree in business. She hadn't needed to go to culinary school. Even after death, her mother continued teaching her everything she knew. Layla had stayed with her until the café's opening day, at peace knowing her daughter followed her dream. Her employees knew about this gift. They'd picked up on her seemingly odd quirks, and only thought her strange until Aries came along. Damn Loke. He was an annoyingly persistent entity. She'd tried ignoring him at first, but he just kept finding new ways to pester her. And when that didn't work, he tried again. And again. And again. And again. Until one day, she just snapped. In the middle of cleaning up the café at the end of the day, she'd whirled around while attempting to count the register - over his obnoxious voice shouting out numbers at random to make her lose count - and yelled for him to shut up. They'd all looked at her like she'd grown a second head, wondering if she'd finally completely lost her mind. Catching herself, she'd told them to get back to work. But Loke had the tenacity of a lion and wouldn't have it. He'd finally gotten her to talk to him, and he wouldn't let the opportunity escape his grasp. It was then that Lucy found out he had more power than any spirit she'd ever encountered. Everyone had watched, stunned into silence, as the lights surged above her head. The tip jar, tray of assorted cookies, and sample jars of homemade jams she made and sold went sailing off of the counter, crashing to the floor and shattering. Afraid he would get violent, she had no choice but to do as he wished. She'd explained what was going on and passed his message to Aries, who happened to be his girlfriend from when he was alive. Apparently, from what she gathered, Aries was raised by abusive parents. When they'd started dating, and he'd found out, he'd been livid. Confronting them had gone horribly wrong. Her mother, Karen, was completely unstable, her father a drunkard. She'd threatened to burn the entire house down if he didn't leave and never come back, but he'd refused to leave without Aries. She'd left the room, and thinking the fight was over, he had Aries wait outside while he packed up some of her things. What neither of them knew, was that Karen was in the kitchen cutting the gas lines to the stove. Karen, Loke, and her father who had been passed out in the living room, died in the explosion. Debris knocked out Aries in the front lawn, and she'd woken up in the hospital three days later to find out they were all gone. Loke just wanted to let her know that she needed to stop blaming herself. Surprisingly, the entire staff was cool with her ability, and accepted the odd occurrences that would sometimes happen in the café. Because no, she couldn't get lucky, and instead of moving on, Loke decided to stick around. It wouldn't even surprise the small blonde if he only did it to agitate her further. She'd even reconnected a few more of her worker's lost loved ones. Scorpio's wife Aquarius was glued to his side. She was a joy. Not. She flooded the bathrooms on a daily basis. Aiden's father, Horologium, kept watch over him in relative silence. He was a nice spirit, though the man constantly tampered with every clock or watch in the place, as he had crafted them by hand when he was alive. Lyra was followed by Virgo, who was the maid that basically raised her from a small child because her father was some sort of Duke and was rarely around. There were a few more, and they had all tethered to Lucy to keep them from becoming wandering souls before they wanted to move on. And that was fine, it just wore her out sometimes. The sound of a door opening and shutting near her snapped her out of her thoughts, and made her realize she'd been zoning out for so long that her cigarette went out. The blonde stuck it in the bucket of sand meant for butts and fished out a new one. It was a waste, but she hated nothing more than the taste of a relit cigarette. Even the thought of it made her cringe. Just as she took the first inhale, a large sigh was heaved and a person was plopping down heavily in the chair beside her. And she immediately started drooling. This man…was a god. Thick chiseled muscle everywhere. He was so tall and just large that the folding chair he was sitting in groaned with his weight. Thanking the Gods that he was shirtless, her eyes studied the tribal tattoo etched into his muscular pectoral and shoulder in black ink. Amongst the thick black design was the same symbol used by the dojo he had just exited from. She had seen several other members sporting the same mark, and often wondered if it was a requirement to join. It resembled an oddly beautiful cross between some sort of bird and a fairy. 'Do fairies have tails?' She mused internally. Stormy blue eyes glittered in the lamplight, spikey blonde hair just a shade or two darker than her own. Defined jaw. Slightly crooked nose, but it didn't hinder his attractiveness in any way. The thing that stood out the most though, was the jagged scar that cut through his eye. It looked like a lightning bolt, and just fit his appearance so well that she couldn't even picture him without it. "You done checking me out now?" A deep, smug voice asked. Heat crept up the back of her neck when she realized she had been ogling him. Refusing to stutter like a fool in front of this Adonis of a man, she rolled her eyes and took a lazy drag. "Yeah right. Can I help you with something?" The much larger blonde arched a thick brow. "What makes you think I need anything?" She gestured to the seating area with the hand holding her cigarette. "Well, seeing as these are my chairs and tables, I had a right to assume you sat here with me for a purpose." "Sheesh. If you're gonna be stingy about some cheap folding chairs, then I'll just go." He huffed and rose to leave. Without fully understanding why, she reached out and grasped his wrist, tugging him back down in his seat. Though, she had a feeling that if he hadn't wanted to sit back down, she wouldn't have been able to move him at all. "Wait. I never said you had to leave. Just make sure that if you or anyone else use these chairs, that you leave room for any of my employees if they want them." He smirked at her. "Deal. Now, can you quit holding my hand?" This time, the blush lit up her entire face, and she snatched her hand back to fast that it slapped against her bare thighs. Fidgeting with the hem of her skirt, she mumbled out an apology and tried to ignore his amused chuckles. "Mind bumming me one of those?" He asked when his mirth faded. Blinking at him in surprise, she reached into her purse and then offered him the open pack. "You smoke?" He just seemed so healthy and in shape, and not the usual type to do such a thing. After using her lighter and taking the first drag, he slouched a little in his seat, suddenly seeming exhausted. "Only sometimes. When the time calls for it." He looked at her and she was stunned to see the sadness swirling in his gaze. "Today was just one of those days." Before she could respond, a deep sigh sounded next to her. A ridiculously tiny man was now standing in between them. She had never seen a grown person so small! He wore an orange tracksuit, the dojo's symbol printed in a contrasting white on the breast pocket, and a funny little hat. His white hair poofed out on the sides of his head, the color matching the mustache on his upper lip. And he was gazing at the brute of a man with so much grief that it made her heart clench involuntarily. The little old man shifted to look at her, and his eyes widened almost comically. "You can see me?!" He shouted in disbelief, and a stray cat startled from further down the alley, bounding away like a bat out of hell. When she noticed that the man sitting next to her was looking in the direction the cat came from, Lucy gave the spirit a miniscule nod. After a beat of surprise, the spirit scrambled closer to her and she fought the urge to back away at the intrusion to her personal space. "Please! You have to help my grandson. He's not coping well with my death, and I don't want him ruining his health or everything he has worked so hard to achieve. Please, I beg of you, child. Help him find closure!" His face was serious, and his voice was pleading and urgent. She wanted so desperately to respond to him, but the other blonde was looking at her again. "You alright there, Blondie? You look like you've seen a ghost." He teased. Lucy forced herself to turn to him, and the urge to laugh hysterically at how true his statement was bubbled up in her throat. She pushed it down, instead focusing on the name he'd called her. "In case you haven't noticed, you're blonde too. But yeah, I'm alright. Just zoned out for a minute there." She waved him off and extended her hand to him. "I'm Lucy, by the way. I own Celestial Café." He shook her hand with a small grin. "Laxus. I run the dojo. Gotta say I'm impressed, you're a bit young to own your own place like this. Either that, or you look way younger than you are." She stuck her tongue out childishly and put out her finished cigarette. "I'm twenty-two, thanks." Standing up, she gathered her purse (and her courage) and smiled at him. "Well, it was nice meeting you. This might sound odd, but I actually have something I need to discuss with you. Stop by tomorrow night after the café closes and I'll treat you to some free dessert." Laxus looked at her strangely before smirking smugly. "Huh. Only known me for all of ten minutes and you're already asking me out. I think that's a new record, Blondie. But sure. I'll be there." Resisting the urge to smack the smirk off his face, the blonde only huffed and walked back into her café. She had no idea how to go about bringing all this ghostly stuff to a stranger, but she knew for a fact that she was not looking forward to it. }{}{}{ The next day, unfortunately, flew by. She now found herself compulsively wiping down all of the tables for the fourth time since she'd closed up shop. Having already prepared scones with fresh berries, a small platter of assorted cookies, and would ask him what he wanted to drink when he got there, all that was left to do was wait. Gods, she was nervous. Normally when confronting someone about a spirit, which she tried not to do often, she would never really have to see that person again so it wasn't that big of a deal. With Laxus though, it was different. He worked right next to where she did and would probably run in to him often. If this went south for any reason, things could get sticky. The last thing Lucy needed was for him to spread it around that she was a freak. The door chime rang behind her, and she forced herself to stop furiously scrubbing the pristine table and face him. "It smells pretty damn good in here, Blondie." The large blonde said as he casually glanced around the café. Taking in a calming breath, she tossed the rag in the sink behind the counter and gestured to a booth where she had placed all of the snacks. "Go ahead and take a seat over there. Is there anything you'd like to drink?" Laxus walked to the booth and sat down, examining the deserts with interest. "What's your favorite?" The petite blonde gave him a sheepish smile. "Well, even though I know how to make all those fancy drinks, my favorite is just plain coffee with soy milk." Picking up a scone, Laxus raised a brow at her, but nodded. "I'll have some of that then." "Okay, it'll be right up." Taking two mugs off the drying rack, she filled them with freshly brewed coffee from the pot before retrieving the soy milk from the fridge. As she was putting everything away, a surprised grunt reached her ears. "Holy shit. That was the best scone I've ever had." Striding to the table, a mug in each hand, she watched in amusement as he reached for another. A sorrowful sigh alerted her of the tiny spirit sitting in the space beside the hulking man. "Lucky bastard. Those look delicious." He grumbled enviously. Lucy stifled a giggle, placing the full mugs in front of each of them and sat on the other side of the booth. "Thank you! They're one of my favorites. And they're very good with the berries." She suggested, blowing gently at her hot beverage before cautiously taking a small sip. They sat in silence for a while, well besides the spirit's grumbling, nibbling on the snacks and sipping at their drinks. After they'd eaten their fill, Lucy cleared her throat, squaring her shoulders. "I assume you're wondering why I needed to speak with you." Laxus straightened in his seat at the change in her demeanor and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, I was pretty sure this was a date of some sort, but going off the look on your face I was clearly wrong." Too nervous to be bothered with his teasing, she took another deep breath. "Yes well… let me ask you something. And you have to promise to keep an open mind and to hear me out until the end, ok?" His thick brows furrowed. "Why do I feel like I'm about to get grounded or something?" Rolling her chocolate eyes, she huffed. "Just promise." He raised his hands in mock surrender before crossing his arms once more. "Alright, I promise." Tucking her hands in her lap under the table when they began to tremble, Lucy hoped he couldn't tell how nervous she really was. "Do you believe in ghosts?" "What?" He asked, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. "Do you believe in ghosts?" She repeated. "Are you serious?" At her pointed look, he sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. "No. Not really. They're just spooky stories invented to scare children." This was going to be harder than she thought. Why was she even hoping that she would get lucky and he would believe in their existence? She sighed. "What if I told you that they are, in fact, real?" "Then I'd sincerely hope you get the mental help you need." He said, but she could tell that he was only half joking since he was looking at her like she was wacko. A little angered, and actually kind of hurt, by his statement, she glared at him. "I do not need mental health. It's not like I asked for any of this. And here I was just trying to help you." "Help me?" A look of sudden understanding washed over his face and she gulped as he suddenly looked incredibly intimidating. "Oh, I see what this is. Let me guess. I have an evil ghost attached to me, and with the right price you'll get rid of it. Am I right?" Stunned at his accusation, she gaped at him for a moment. "Never would have thought a person like you would run that kind of scam." He spat, reaching to throw some Jewel on the table and leave. Her hand darted out before he could even pull the Jewel out of his wallet, and she looked at him pleadingly. "Wait, no. That's not it. You promised you would let me explain until the end. Just let me explain. Please?" Contemplating for a full minute, Laxus heaved an exasperated sigh and sat back down. "Fine. Start talking." He growled, shaking off her hand. "O-okay." Lucy looked down at her hands that were clasped together on top of the table, unable to meet his harsh glare. "I… I have this gift." He snorted, but otherwise kept quiet. "Sometimes it feels like more of a curse, but I try to help people with it." She finally lifted her head to look him in the eye. "I can speak to the dead." "And what does that bullshit have to do with me?" He scoffed. Glancing at the quiet spirit as he watched his grandson disapprovingly, she tried to muster as much courage as she could to get through this. Looking back to the dojo owner, she saw he was eyeing the empty space next to him out of the corner of his eye. When he brought his attention back to her, she spoke, cursing herself at the slight tremble of her voice. "You have a message from someone who cares for you very much." "Bullshit!" He roared, and she flinched back, half expecting him to strike her. Seeing her reaction, he tried reeling back some of the anger that surged through his veins. There was a few things he hated about people, and this was one of them. People like her, doing this, preyed on others by using their grief. It was disgusting and cruel. It angered him to no end, and he would've already left if he hadn't promised her he wouldn't until she was finished. One thing he prided himself on, was keeping his word. "Prove it." He bit out, ignoring the slightly disturbed feeling he got while watching her cower away from him. "I bet you can't, right? You've probably looked me up, and will tell me some generic shit to get me to believe this bullshit. Then you'll ask me to pay you to deal with the problem, right?" Lucy shook her head rapidly, willing the sting in her eyes to go away. Why was this so hard? She was used to people reacting this way. Treating her like scum because of something they didn't understand. The only people who had ever accepted her had been Bero, and her employees, plus some of the random people who had actually believed her throughout her life. But everyone else treated her poorly, thinking she was a freak of nature or a cruel liar. So why was this any different? How was this, the same situation she'd been in more times than she could count, hitting her this hard when she could usually just brush it off? "You heard me, Blondie. I said prove it." He said coldly, leaning back in his seat to express that he was waiting. Movement caught her eye and she watched as the spirit made a hand gesture. "Show him this, and he will understand." He said, looking at her sympathetically, as though he really didn't like putting her though this. She nodded minutely at him and turned looked at the expectant Laxus. Sucking in a shaky breath, she raised her fisted right hand above her head, turning it so that the back of her hand was facing him. Slowly, and almost cautiously, she uncurled her pointer finger and her thumb and watched his face. His response was immediate. He lurched in his seat, face draining of all color as he stared at her raised hand with shock and disbelief contorting his features. "How do you…" He trailed off, voice cracking. Lucy lowered her hand and gave him a gentle understanding smile. "Like I said, I have the ability to speak to the dead. I'm a medium. Your grandfather wanted to talk to you." Laxus stared at her for several minutes, deep in thought, and she jumped as he unexpectedly lurched to his feet. "Never speak to me again." His voice was low, threatening, and he never looked back as he left the café, disappearing into the night. Dumbfounded, she turned to look at the tiny spirit. He shook his head sadly. "Thank you for trying, child." He said softly, before hurrying off after his grandson. Lucy sat there for a long time, staring at the door, before she burst into tears. Laying her face on the cool surface of the table, the salty streams poured down her cheeks and on to the table as she sobbed openly. Sometimes, her gift was more of a curse. }{}{}{ Months passed, and besides spotting glimpses of him as he went to and from the dojo, Lucy never saw or spoke to Laxus again. Her coworkers knew something was wrong, as did the spirits who frequented the little café. They all took it upon themselves to do the majority of the work so that she wouldn't have to worry about it, and she was grateful. She just couldn't get over it. Never once had she been this bothered by someone rejecting her abilities. It was always at the forefront of her mind. She'd berate herself constantly over how she handled the situation, thinking of many different ways she could have done it differently. If she had done it another way, would it have turned out better? Would Laxus have accepted her gift and listened to what his grandfather had to say, so that he could finally be at peace and move on? It bothered her to no end that she would never know. So, imagine her surprise when the man himself came barreling into the café as she was just about to lock up for the night. "Laxus!" She gasped, as he easily towered over her small frame. "Let's say that you were telling the truth. That gramps really is here and wants to talk to me. What would be so important that he would stick around after death? Huh? What would he say?" He demanded, gripping her upper arms tightly. He looked haggard, exhausted. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy as though he'd been crying hard about all of this. Over-all, he looked desperate for answers. She smiled softly at him, despite the pain from his strong grip. "How about we sit down and ask him, Laxus." Laxus stared at her for a moment, before his eyes widened and he ripped his hands away from her body as though he'd just realized what he was doing. Lumbering past her, he plopped down at a booth and ran a hand through his disheveled blonde locks. Rubbing her arms, wincing at the tender flesh, she walked to him and lowered herself into the seat adjacent to his. The tiny spirit made himself comfortable on top of the table so he could face them both, sitting with his legs folded and his hands in his lap. "Get on with it." Laxus grunted. Ignoring his demanding tone, she turned to smile at the spirit. "I never got your name." He returned her smile. "It's Makarov, child." "It's nice to meet you officially, Makarov. I'm Lucy." She introduced, aware that Laxus was looking at the empty space where his grandfather was sitting rather skeptically. "Now, would you mind sharing what you wished to tell your grandson?" Makarov gazed at the imposing man with sorrowful eyes. "I need for him to know that I would do it again without hesitation. Anything to keep him safe." She relayed the message, heart clenching when his stormy blue eyes glazed with unshed tears. "Can he hear me?" He rasped. At her nod, he looked to the empty space. "Gramps, you senile old man. You should have never done it in the first place." Makarov scoffed. "And what? Left you with him? What kind of grandfather do you take me for, brat?" "Yes! Then at least I would still have you." He said angrily. "You left me alone, gramps." When there was a lull in the conversation, her passing along what the spirit was saying, she cleared her throat delicately. "Would you mind explaining what happened?" She asked them respectively. Laxus remained silent, glaring at the ceiling, so Makarov sighed and began the tale. "My son, Laxus's father, was a problematic man with a raging drug addiction. He wasn't always that way. As a child and into his teens, he was actually a very kind boy. Very smart too. For reasons I still do not know, he dropped out of college in his second year, often getting into trouble and having me bail him out of jail. A year or two later, he showed up on my doorstep, a little bundle in his arms. Apparently, someone had left the child on his porch with a note stating that the baby was his son and that his name was Laxus. "Ivan wanted nothing to do with any of it, so I took the child in. I didn't see Ivan again until a few months later. He was sober, said he got a job and that he wanted to raise his own son. So I let him. A few years later, when Laxus was three, Ivan moved back to town in search of a new job. He moved in to a house down the street and everything was fine for a while. But then, when Laxus was four, he fell back in with the same crowd and started doing the drugs again. I waited for him to realize that what he was doing was wrong, and I often checked up on them to make sure that Laxus was being cared for properly. This went on for years, somehow Ivan managed to keep his job, and I never noticed the signs until it was too late." Makarov took a deep breath, before he continued. "When Laxus was about ten years old, I took him swimming. That's when I saw the bruises. Ivan had become abusive, and I hadn't even known. I thought that confronting him was a good idea, but it made everything spiral out of control. It made Ivan spiral out of control. "He lost his job, refused to let me see my own grandson, and started making and selling the drugs himself. I was conflicted. He was my own child, and I didn't want to report him to the authorities, but he needed to stop. One night I went over and broke into the house to speak with him. One look at the state of the house, and the still healing gash over Laxus's face and I was filled with rage. Ivan was already pissed because I was there, but the situation grew out of control. When I knew things were about to get violent, I told Laxus to run down the street to my house and call the police. Ivan panicked, grabbed his gun and shot me before shooting himself. We both died that day." Lucy couldn't stop the tears streaming down her cheeks even if she tried. Gazing at the irritated blonde man in front of her, she couldn't believe all that he'd been through. She thought having a neglectful and verbally abusive father was tough, but she couldn't even imagine how hard it must have been for him. "The hell are you blubbering about, Blondie?" He grumbled. She sniffled, snatching a napkin from the dispenser on the table and dabbing her eyes. "I'm just sorry you had to go through all that you did, Laxus." The larger blonde tensed briefly, before huffing. "I don't need your pity." Giving him a sad smile, she nodded. "I know." Makarov gazed between the two, something mischievous in his eyes. She gave him a questioning look, but he waved her off and grew serious once again. "Tell him that it was never his fault. He didn't need to be strong enough to handle it on his own at only ten years old. He was just a child." His gaze watered and he cleared his throat. "Tell him that I love him dearly, and that I'm so proud of him. He's taken my place at Fairy Tail and doing such a wonderful job. Let him know that I've seen how the dojo is thriving at this new location." The petite blonde relayed the message, and Laxus hunched forward, pressing his palms over his eyes. His shoulders trembled and his jaw clenched from restrained sobs. "Tell him that he needs to stop killing himself over it. To stop with the heavy drinking at home, and that he needs to take better care of himself. He is the only one I want carrying on Fairy Tail's legacy, and he can't do that if he's dead." Thick streams slipped past his hands, and he nodded his head. "Okay, old man." He croaked. The mischievousness returned to the elderly spirit. "And quit wasting time, you brat. You're twenty-seven. Find a pretty lady who, oh I don't know, is blonde and sees dead people, and give me some damn great-grandbabies!" Lucy relayed the message, and it took Laxus's strangled laugh for her to realize what exactly she had said. Her entire face flushed, the spirit's cackles only deepening the blush and embarrassment. Laxus wiped away his tears with the sleeve of his black dress shirt, an amused smirk playing at his lips. "God dammit, you old perverted geezer. You've been hounding me about making babies since I was seven." Lucy giggled despite her own embarrassment, but the way Laxus was now looking at her made her blush for a whole new reason. Makarov wiped a tear of mirth from his eye and smiled at the two blondes in front of him. It was time now, he could feel it, and from the knowing look the small woman was giving him he knew she felt it as well. "Laxus, it's time to say goodbye." She said, reaching out and placing her hand on top of his large one. He surprised her by flipping his hand and lacing their fingers together, giving it a small squeeze. "I love you, grandpa. Thanks for everything. I'll never forget you, old man." He said evenly, his voice only trembling at the end. "I love you too, brat. Keep making me proud." Makarov closed his eyes, and his body began to glow a faint white. After a moment, the light pulsated and he completely vanished. Laxus's eyes shot open wide as a large gust of warm wind blew past them, rustling their hair along with the napkins at their table. He looked at her for answers, and she smiled sadly at him. "He's at peace, and moved on." He nodded slowly, closing his eyes as a fresh wave of tears threatened to flow. He forced them back, gently squeezing her tiny hand. It was unreal, how light he felt now that the huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. It wasn't as though all of the feelings of shame and guilt were gone, that would take time. But he felt like he finally had closure after all of this time. He had hope. Peace. And it was all thanks to the woman he'd treated so poorly before. Stormy blue opened to meet chocolate brown and he smiled. "I don't even know how to thank you for this." He started. "But I do want to apologize, for how I acted before. I shouldn't have been so cruel." Lucy shook her head and squeezed back. "No, I understand." They gazed at each other for a long time, similar feelings of warmth blooming in their chests. After a while, Lucy reluctantly retracted her hand. "Are you hungry?" Laxus thought about denying it, not wanted to ask anything more of her in that moment, but the sudden roaring in his stomach betrayed him. Smiling brightly, Lucy stood and made her way to the kitchen. "I have just the thing!" And as Laxus watched her walk away, all he could think was that he could get used to this. Ghosts, tears, and all. ___ Fucking fin. Why do I do this to myself? This was supposed to be a short fluff piece, and instead it turned into an angsty, 6,000+ words piece about ghosts. Now I have to rush to write tomorrow's prompt, but even if it's a day late I will post it. Thank you all for everyone's kind words from yesterday's post. I didn't realize so many people would get so emotional over it. Sorry if I made you cry! Also, a big thanks to everyone who gave condolences for my friend. It was appreciated! The next one will be all fluff. Even if I have to hold a pillow to that voice inside my head that feeds me ideas until it passes out. See you all tomorrow for Protect!

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mariemary1 · 5 years

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Why Isn’t Anyone Talking About Live Video Anymore? The Current State of Live

Live video remains a core feature of the top social networks, but have you noticed that the live video buzz may have cooled?

Why isn’t anyone talking about live video anymore?

How should you be thinking about live video and your social media strategy in 2019?

We believe there are still significant opportunities to use live video to your advantage. This week on the Science of Social Media, we hope to give you some fresh perspectives and ideas on what live video could look like for you and your brand in 2019.

The State of Live Video in 2019

If you think back three years ago to 2016, live video was everywhere.

Facebook Live had just debuted, and you had platforms like Periscope and Meerkat making waves as well. Live video seemed destined to be a huge focus for social media and for marketing strategies.

An emarketer study showed that one in every three Internet users had watched a live video in 2016, and that number was double for the much-coveted millennial demographic. Live video was going to be the future of how we interacted on social media.

Live streaming video in 2016 (via emarketer)

What a difference a few years make, right? Live video seems to have gone from front-of-mind to back-of-mind for marketers and for the social networks themselves. Case in point …

Facebook has de-emphasized live streaming from its platform, and its upcoming pivot toward privacy seems to preclude the abundance of live video for its future.

And Instagram has rolled out IGTV, which seems to run counter to the idea of live. Polished, rather than off-the-cuff.

And the stats seem to point to a shift as well — or perhaps to a signal that live video never really took off in the way we thought it would. According to the annual State of Social Media report that we conduct at Buffer, 25 percent of brands had posted a live video in 2016, and the number only grew to 30% in 2017. Far from the rocketship growth that people expected.

What’s more, in our latest State of Social study, live video wasn’t even mentioned. Instead, brands seem focused on their overall video strategy … “live” included: 85% of brands posted at least one video last year, and the majority of brands used Facebook, YouTube, and Instagram.

Video stats from the 2019 State of Social Media report

Instead of doubling down on live video in particular, brands now consider live video as one of many different types of video distribution methods. You have live video alongside Stories and video ads and YouTube and so much more.

Video remains one of the most engaging, best converting types of content.

Live video has become one of many tools in your video toolbox.

Almost all of the major social networks have live video in some form. Facebook Live is still going strong, as is Instagram live. Twitter continues to use live video really successfully with its Periscope product.

Plus, you have places like YouTube and Twitch, where livestreaming is huge.

Video game streaming alone has become a major attraction with the rise of e-sports, and beyond video games there are creators and influencers who have amassed giant viewership numbers for their streams.

There’s even talk of Instagram testing out a co-watching feature on the app, which would be a way to live discover Instagram videos together.

So the live video experience continues to be one that is valuable and in-demand for social network users. It might just end up looking a lot different than the live-everything world we predicted a few years back.

3 Strategic Use Cases for Live Video in 2019

It may be the case that fewer people are talking about live video — it may have never reached the critical mass that everyone predicted, or it may be on the backburner compared to newer social network features and strategies — but it is not gone forever, not by any means.

In fact, live video is thriving for particular niches and strategic use cases.

Historically, people watching videos on social media will stick with a live video for 3x longer than other videos, so it’s no surprise that social networks continue to keep this feature going.

Here are three specific strategies you could try in order to take advantage of live video in 2019.

1. Live video is a go-to tool for influencers.

Live video is a very personal medium, which caters perfectly to influencers and individuals who are growing their personal brand. This group has a huge range: from teenage YouTuber stars to marketing personalities to rising politicians. Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez recently livestreamed herself building IKEA furniture, for instance.

Screenshot of congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez streaming live on Instagram (screenshot courtesy of Elle)

Many networks are even moving to make live video a lucrative choice for influencers by allowing donations and tips during livestreams of things like gaming and AMAs.

2. Use live video for a Q&A with your audience

Because of the personal nature of live video, there is some real power behind the ability to converse directly with someone.

This makes for an ideal outlet for a Q&A. Picture a fireside chat. There’s an intimacy and an immediacy to those chats which live video does a great job of replicating: it makes it feel much more real-time than many other mediums.

Brands can take advantage of this by holding Q&A sessions with company leaders or get-to-know-you sessions with teammates.

Quick tip: When you’re running a live Q&A we’ve found it to be really helpful to have an extra set of hands on set. We will often have an additional teammate looking at the comments to make sure everyone gets a response and to surface questions for the presenter to address on the video.

3. Live video is great for anyone who is just getting started with growing their presence on social media

One of the very best features of live video is its visibility in the interface of all the different social networks.

Take Instagram, for example. When you stream a live video through your Instagram Stories, your Stories avatar gets moved immediately to the front of the line. Typically, the order of avatars is determined by the Instagram algorithm. But with live video, your Story gets immediate access to the first spot.

Samples of what Instagram Live video looks like and how live videos get prioritized in the Stories interface

Similarly on YouTube, live sessions receive additional promotion with a noticeable, red LIVE badge in the main feed and in recommendations.

Because of this increased visibility, live video can be great if your brand is just getting started on social media. Not only would you be able to get priority placement, but you’d also be harnessing a powerful brand connection with your audience.

Getting started with live video: Where to begin

Now let’s get into the details. For marketers, the main social networks for live video are the ones you’d expect: Instagram, Facebook, YouTube, and Twitter.

To get started on Instagram, you can follow these steps:

Swiping from left to right in the app, which opens up your camera.

At the bottom of the camera screen, you’ll see a list of options. Scroll to the left and choose “Live” — its the one right next to “Normal.” Instagram will tell you how many of your followers are online, which will give you a good sense of the ideal timing for your livestream.

When you’re ready to start your steam, hit the big white button.

You’ll be able to tell that your stream is running by the little pink “Live” icon in the top left corner.

Bonus tip: Be sure to check your Instagram settings beforehand, too. Once an Instagram Live video ends, it won’t appear on your feed unless you toggle “Save Shared Photos” on. This saves your content to the Stories section of the app, where you can share them with your audience.

On Facebook,

You can click or tap the “Live” button right next to the primary text box on your profile or page.

This will open a new screen with all the live options. You can stream from a computer or from the app.

In the Twitter app,

you can swipe left to right from the home feed to open your camera. Then you’ll scroll right to switch the camera from “Capture” to “Live”. This will give you options to get your livestream started.

And for YouTube,

from your computer, you can click the recording icon at the top right menu. This will present the options to upload a pre-recorded video or go live. The next screen will help you get going with the full dashboard of live options for YouTube streaming.

3 Quick Tips for Live Video Streaming

Run your live video for at least 10 minutes. Many live videos go for 30 minutes-plus.

Promote your live video beforehand. You can do this with posts on Twitter or Facebook, or use the new countdown sticker on Instagram Stories to promote the time.

Consider sneaking in giveaways or exclusive info into your live stream as an incentive for people to join and listen in. Be sure to plug these goodies in the promotion you do beforehand.

How to say hello to us

We would all love to say hello to you on social media – especially Twitter!

Heather-Mae on Twitter

Dave on Twitter

Thanks for listening! Feel free to connect with our team at Buffer on Twitter, Buffer on Facebook, our Podcast homepage, or with the hashtag #bufferpodcast.

Enjoy the show? It’d mean the world to us if you’d be up for giving us a rating and review on iTunes!

—

About The Science of Social Media podcast

The Science of Social Media is your weekly sandbox for social media stories, insights, experimentation, and inspiration. Every Monday (and sometimes more) we share the most cutting-edge social media marketing tactics from brands and influencers in every industry. If you’re a social media team of one, business owner, marketer, or someone simply interested in social media marketing, you’re sure to find something useful in each and every episode. It’s our hope that you’ll join our 27,000+ weekly iTunes listeners and rock your social media channels as a result!

The Science of Social Media is proudly made by the Buffer team. Feel free to get in touch with us for any thoughts, ideas, or feedback.

Thank Why Isn’t Anyone Talking About Live Video Anymore? The Current State of Live for first publishing this post.

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modernflowerarrangements-blog · 6 years

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You Will Never Believe These Bizarre Truth Behind Modern Flower Arrangements

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thattahoeecojournalist · 7 years

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The Sentry

Title: The Sentry Word Count: 2,810 Project/Pairing: Amanda/Aaliyah Genres: Mystery Warnings: A little cussing Canon: Yes Notes: I'm very excited to start on this new journey for Saint Bellamarre despite it being a side project in comparison. Amanda and Aaliyah lead the story of Saint Augustine and I want to use this place to highlight myths and legends that are less euro-centric. So this is like the pilot episode of a new series of short stories featuring two different protagonists.

The bugs were out in full force tonight, singing various harmonies and punctuating the natural sounds of wind. The sounds bounced off the marble walls and made it equally difficult and easy to sleep at night. Luckily sleep was not on the agenda tonight. Toes on the rug. Hand on my weapon. Head down. The light was off and Aaliyah wasn’t moving. I pursed my lips and got closer, doing my best not to trip over unseen obstacles in the dark. She has a habit of reading heavy fantasy tomes before bed so the lantern sits permanently on her bedside table. I need that lantern. I licked my lips and crouched down to seem stealthier. I reached out and wrapped my fingers around the iron ring of a handle on top of the lantern. It was a lot heavier than I thought. I frowned and lifted it up a few inches. Something flashed in my vision and Aaliyah’s hand gripped my wrist, long fingernails digging into my skin. I yelped and let go of the lantern. It crashed back onto the desk and the handle smacked the glass sending an echo throughout the room. A crackle of blue light danced around Aaliyah’s free hand and I could see her face. The glow of electricity only lit up our faces but it was plain to see she was not pleased. “I am trying to sleep,” she said. “Must you disturb me at this time as well as during the day” I wiggled my wrist around but freedom was a futile goal. “Trying to sleep, huh?,” The cool touch of a gripped battery rolled against my wrist as I resisted her grip. She had her thumb pressed firmly against a battery terminal. The blue glow intensified, lighting up the whole of her bed. She wasn’t even dressed for bed. “More like you were trying to be as creepy as you goddamn could” “Language,” She retorted digging her nails further into my skin. Her gaze flitted from my face down and back up. “Why do you have my flute” she asked, her voice growing more frustrated. I motioned back at my closet. “It’s a temporary thing,” I said quickly. “I’ll give it back after tonight, I swear” She let go of me and whipped the covers off her body, leaping out of bed. I leapt back right into my backpack. My legs got tangled in the straps and I went down, landing on my back. Even if I was standing, she stood nearly a head taller than me. From here, she was massive. “You’ll be a temporary thing if you don’t give it back right now,” she threatened, pointing at me with a dangerously crackling finger. I scooted back on my arms until my back hit the closet door with a thud. She got closer still and I gasped, putting the flute between me and her. I opened my mouth and shouted, “Oolong”. The crackling stopped immediately plunging us into darkness. “Are you serious?” she asked, one hand on the flute. “I literally couldn’t be more serious right now,” I retorted, chest heaving. She sighed and knelt down next to me, letting go of her instrument. Fights between us were frequent and rarely we see eye to eye. We always resolved them over a cup of Oolong tea. It was how we managed to not kill each other. Eventually we decided if the fight needed to stop for any reason, we use a safe word. “Why do you need to borrow my flute” she asked. I took a breath and put the flute on the ground between us. “Forget it,” I said, grimacing. “I’ll just buy new equipment” I muttered. “That didn’t answer my question” she said, sitting down next to me with a thud and taking her flute in her hands. I looked away from her and rolled my hands into fists. “I accidentally left my swords at practice and I wanted to get them back before morning practice steals them,” I clenched my teeth and continued, “The flute was gonna be in case I run into anything” She didn’t speak. For a whole minute. “There’s nothing out there,” she finally said.I groaned and leaned my head back against the door. Now she’ll just tell me how paranoid I- “However. If it would make you feel better, I’ll come with you” What? “Really?” I asked, looking her in the eye. She nodded and shook her flute. “Never steal my flute again though or I will murder you” she said. She stood up and helped me to my feet. She stood up tall and rolled her shoulders, taking a breath. “Let’s break some rules” she said, letting out a breath of air. I peered out into the hallway, looking both ways. Empty in both directions. “We’re clear” I said, waving at Aaliyah. She rolled her eyes and walked into the hallway. “What am I gonna use as a weapon” I asked, following close behind her. “You won’t need one,” she snapped. “Because there’s nothing out here” Tough talk for someone I saw throw a whole roll of batteries into her bag. She kept her hand in that pocket, her whole hand aglow with light. We walked down the stairs with portraits of Noctis alumni on the walls. They were definitely watching us. “Rita says she saw a Nagini in the gardens,” I said, creeping quietly alongside Aaliyah. She scoffed and opened the door for me, looking behind us. I walked out into the quad, a giant tree shading us from the moonlight. The gym complex was across from us. “From how you and Rita smell after your art sessions, I’m not surprised she sees such things” she said in a mocking tone. “I resent that comment” I muttered indignantly. The gym doors creaked open and I crouched down low. We were getting close to the practice room. Toe first, heels never touched the floor. I crept along silently, hugging the wall. Aaliyah followed behind, walking down the middle of the hallway, hand crackling noisily. “Can you please just get your equipment?” she snapped. “There’s nothing to be sneaky about here” The hiss of air and something akin to the sound of paper being cut ripped through the air down the hall. The entire space lit up in a brilliant pink emanating from a tear in the wall opposite us. Something huge crashed through the wall into lockers on the opposite side, leaving a sizable dent. “Wha-” Aaliyah began before I slapped a hand over her mouth and dragged her to the wall, opening the door in front of us so we were completely hidden. The figure growled, standing up. It extended a fist, something in its hand, back toward the tear. I could barely see it through the window of the door. Aaliyah struggled against me and threw me off balance. I leaned against the door for support and it creaked loudly. The creature looked toward us, growling turning into an eery clicking. Our cover was blown. It scampered away from the pink rip in the wall toward us, climbing along the wall. I let go of Aaliyah and made a break for the door opposite us into the fencing practice room, pushing her in front of me. “Move it” I shouted. She threw the door open and flung herself inside, with me following right behind. Blinding white light barrelled down the hallway and hissed as it barely missed me. Aaliyah stood her ground in the middle of the room, her arm extended, and one hand holding as many batteries as one palm could hold. It scampered into the room and screamed, opening its mouth to reveal rows of sharp teeth and lit up with white light from within its body. It extended its hand, that stick glowing brightly. A burst of color rocketed toward Aaliyah and she shot it out of the air, electricity leaving a trail of blue. Another burst of color, another electric shot. “I’m gonna run out of power at this rate,” she shouted, panicked. I looked around quickly and found my duffle. I dove for it and ripped open the zipper, breaking it with my vigor. I plunged a shaky hand in and took out my sharpest sabre. I shouldered the duffle and whirled around sabre at the ready. Aaliyah shrieked as electricity fizzled only a foot from her hand. A red bolt from the wand hit her shoulder and wrenched her body hard with the impact. She spun once and landed face down on the floor. In an instant, it was upon her, arms pinning her shoulders to the floor, teeth bared. It leaned down, white light dripping from its mouth. “Hey!” I shouted, swords clanging around as I ran toward them. “Get the bloody hell away from her” I aimed the tip of my sword at it. Upon closer inspection, it looked like a feral human, dressed in ragged cloaks, hair rotting and messy. It shrieked loud enough to shake the walls and scrambled off Aaliyah and toward me. I took a step backward and gasped, fear flooding my senses. It stiffened and crouched up briefly before launching itself at me, arms outstretched. I screamed and shut my eyes when it collided with me, flinging spittle into my face. He toppled me over, knocking the wind out of me. Then nothing. I opened my eyes wide. My sabre had penetrated it to the hilt, sticking out of his back, slick and shiny. Its eyes were already hollow, the light fading from within. I used both hands to push him off and turned onto my stomach, coughing and doing my best not to throw up. I took in greedy breathes of air and crawled toward Aaliyah. I stopped when my hand landed on something. The wand. The tip glowed and it buzzed like a power line. I picked it up. The sabre clattered to the floor and I jolted, aiming the wand toward the creature. It was gone. In its place, a completely clean sabre. Like it was never there. I looked around wildly, it could’ve gone anywhere. I ran to Aaliyah, wand in hand and kept it raised, looking around the room. I didn’t even know if I could use it, but hoped that much like an empty gun, it’d convince intruders to turn around. Her breathing was steady but her shoulder was in an awkward position. “Ali, wake up,” I ordered. She didn’t stir. “Wake up,” I tried again, with that persuasive tone. She was definitely out cold. “What an interesting development” a sultry voice spoke. I knelt over Aaliyah’s body, safeguarding it from the new intruder. The wand tip glowed in my hand and I used it to light the darkness. Just in front of the door, stood a black man, head shaved bald, with brilliant pink runes carved into it. He strode toward us, feet not making a sound. Every time his shoes touched the floor, pink light formed circles with strange symbols, like stepping stones for him to walk upon. “I am The Sentry” He said, bowing slightly. “You’re very brave,” he nodded toward the wand. “And very lucky” I grimaced and held up the wand, aiming it shakily. He chuckled. “And very over your head” “Leave us alone” I threatened, keeping the persuasive tone. He smirked down at us. “Leave the room. Close the door. Do not come back” “You’re a very rude girl” he held out his hand. “Give me the lich’s wand and I’ll forget that we ever met” My breath caught in my throat and my hand involuntarily thrust outward, opening for him. I stared at him in horror. “You think you’re the only one that can use that power?” He asked, reaching for the wand. “You are meddling with magicks you couldn’t possibly understand” he said. Within inches of touching it, his hand stopped. He frowned and tried again, once again halted by some sort of force. I looked from him to the wand and back at him. His lips curled into a sneer. “If you don’t give to me,” he began, his hands spreading apart. At the tip of each finger, circles appeared in the air surrounded by symbols, “I will destroy you before it gets the chance to destroy you and everyone around you” The wand sent a jolt of energy up my arm and through my spine. I curled my fingers around it and stood up, feeling magic flow through my body and flooding out every pore. This was true power. “I’ll be sure to give it back after I’m done with it then,” I said, smiling. The Sentry gasped and slammed his hands together. I pointed the wand at him at the same time. Every fingertip emitted a screech. The wand’s tip exploded in a prism of colors, overtaking everything in its path. I locked eyes with The Sentry and he was aflame with anger and concern. He struggled to bring his fingers up and the circles grew. “Stronger the light, the longer the shadows” he uttered. With that he crossed his arms, and disappeared in magenta mist, blown backward by the force of the wand. I lowered the wand and it faded. We were alone in the room. No Sentry. No creature. Just me, Aaliyah, a bag of swords, and a wand. Now that the prism of colors were gone, everything was dark and appeared in greyscale. I knelt down beside Aaliyah and felt her face. She was clammy and cold but her eyes fluttered and opened. Her hand reached out and took firm grasp of my shirt collar, yanking me down until our noses barely touched. “Get me out of here” I winced and helped her up by her free hand. She favored her right shoulder tenderly, curling it into her body. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and turned on the flashlight. Her eyes widened and she looked me up and down. “What happened to your clothes” I looked down, stretching out my shirt. It was like the color had faded away. Something caught my eye when I looked down. “Give me the phone” I said. She placed it in my hand and I looked around our feet. On the floor around us was a colorful circle of reds, vibrant purples, and tan. Around the circle were intricate blue symbols. I scanned further looking at Aaliyah’s clothes. They’ve gone greyscale too. Scanning upward I looked beyond the circle. From the circle grey lines and spikes spread out. Like we were at the epicenter of a massive explosion, eating up all the color within the area. Grey infected the walls and one streak reached all the way to the ceiling. “We’re never going out at night again” Aaliyah said, stepping out of the circle gingerly. I grabbed my duffle and ran to catch up with her. By the time I caught up with her she had already reached the gym door. “Ali, this wand saved us” I said, holding it up for her to see. She recoiled from it as though I were going to touch something hot to her skin. “Get that thing away from me,” she snapped. “It nearly killed us” I clapped a hand to my forehead and pondered. “What if other people go out at night and come across monsters like that” I said, motioning back at the building. She waved me off and shook her head. “What if those monsters happen because people go out at night, Amanda,” she said, crouching low as we made our way across the quad. “We’re going home” “We can save so many people with this power” I snapped, whirling her around by the arm. She squealed in pain and clutched it. I winced. “You don’t even know what that thing does,” She looked elsewhere. “And I was able to control only three bolts. I can’t even protect myself” she grimaced and turned so I couldn’t see her face. “What’s the point of trying” I stammered and my hands shook, rolling the wand between them. “We can train up. I’ll study. You’ll work on your power consumption,” I took her hand in the dark. “But don’t fucking tell me that there isn’t a point to trying. Because we got this” She huffed and turned, giving my hand a small squeeze. “Mind your language” she said, the barest hint of a smile on her face. “But you know what your plan means right?” she asked, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “What’s that?” I asked as we began walking back up the stairs toward the dorm. “We’ll have to break a lot of rules” she said, her face flushed. I smiled and pocketed the wand, re-shouldering the duffle bag. “Let’s break some rules, then shall we?”

#saint augustine #Saint Bellamarre #Original Work #original rp #amanda lascelles #Aaliyah Abubakar #cussing

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