#to deep clean every monday like i used to do when i lived alone

[backfliips]

one day im gonna live in my own house with my own yard and my own decorations and my own furniture and my own kitchen and surround myself with only the people i want to be with and i’ll be able to sit on my porch and watch the sunrise and the sunset and the seasons come and go and things will be better

[roosterforme]

Old Habits Die Hard Part 4 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: You are a little surprised by your own response when Jeff asks you out. And you really start to wish the study room doors had locks. 

Warnings: Angst, swears, smut, maybe some fluff

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (fuckboy college student Bradley)

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Bradley texted you all day on Sunday. You made him laugh, and he hoped he was making you laugh too. He never spent this much time talking to girls, but he'd never known a girl quite like you before. 

Every time he saw his door, he smiled. Bradley was a little surprised Jeff hadn't commented on it, but then again, Jeff didn't know he called you Sugar. 

Bradley cleaned the bathroom again after Tyson and Janessa were done in there, but he didn't even mind. He was in such a great mood.

Then he alternated talking to you and working on school assignments for the rest of the day. 

He checked his phone to read the most recent text from you. 

Are you going to crash the study room again this week? 

Okay, so you wanted him to. Bradley just wished he could get you there alone. He wondered how you would respond to that request, so he just went for it. 

Sugar, when can I meet you there for a little one-on-one time?

Bradley had to wait a bit longer for your response to that one, but you did finally write back. 

On Tuesday afternoons Jeff has classes while I usually get caught up with reading. 

So Bradley told you he would meet you then. 

He realized that Jeff was still avoiding him by Sunday evening when Bradley greeted him in the living room. 

Jeff just grunted and asked, "Did you have fun with Phoebe this weekend?"

Bradley shook his head while he dropped down onto the couch. "Nah. Barely saw her. I'm interested in someone else."

Jeff just glared at him. "I told you to leave her alone. She's a nice girl. And I'm asking her out tomorrow." 

Bradley took a deep breath to keep from jumping up and shoving Jeff against the wall. "She's sweet. I like her, too. Maybe you're the one who should leave her alone." 

"What the fuck, man? You can hook up with anyone you feel like, but you just have to have her? Why?"

Bradley didn't know how to answer that, so he simply told Jeff, "Ask her out then. Let me know how that goes."

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

You were in the study room on Monday, wishing it was already Tuesday, and every time your phone vibrated, you felt butterflies in your tummy. 

Bradley had been texting you pretty consistently since yesterday, and you'd been responding like the ridiculous girl you apparently were. You had Jeff right across the table from you, but you couldn't stop thinking about Bradley. Because that kiss with Jeff was terrible. But when Bradley kissed you, it was fireworks. 

"Hey, so what do you think?" Apparently Jeff had been talking to you, but you had no idea what he had said. 

"Um... what do I think about what?" you asked, shooting him and apologetic look for good measure. 

He just smiled and asked, "What do you think about going out with me this weekend? We can skip the party on Friday night and see a movie instead?"

You swallowed down the lump of guilt in your throat. "Uh... I think I actually already promised Bradley I'd be at the party on Friday night." You had told him in a text that you would be there after he had asked. But then you thought maybe using Bradley as your excuse was a bad idea, because Jeff looked outraged. 

"Are you seriously into him?" he asked, looking like he was about to snap his pencil in half. 

You pressed your lips together. You couldn't figure out how to describe the way you felt about Bradley. "He's... "

"A douchebag? A player? Not good enough for you?" Jeff was quick to supply you with some options. 

"Don't be like this," you whispered. "We've been friends for a while." Suddenly you felt like crying as you watched Jeff rub his hands along his face in frustration. 

"Just think about it before you get involved with him, okay? I'll see you later."

And then he was gone. And you had plenty of time to think about Bradley. 

You thought about him as you met some friends for dinner, and you thought about him while you pretended to listen to Janessa talk about Tyson. And you even thought about him the following morning while you were in your extremely boring differential equations class. 

You didn't really care what Jeff thought about it, you just wanted to see Bradley again. His texting had tapered off a bit, and you wondered if he was still going to meet you in the study room. Or perhaps he was losing interest in you already. It was definitely in the realm of possibility that he was still seeing Phoebe or someone else entirely. Even someone with a visual impairment would be able to tell that Phoebe was better looking than you.

But just when you were about to text him and ask if he still wanted to meet you alone, Bradley strolled into the study room and sat down in the chair next to you, his back to the door. 

"Sugar," he said with a smirk, and you were immediately smiling at him. 

"Beer Boy." His soft laugh made your core throb. You were practically moaning for him after he had said one word to you. How ridiculous. 

"You been thinking about me?" he asked with a grin. You could feel yourself blushing. Have you been thinking about him? Only constantly, and especially while you were fingering yourself before bed last night. 

You shrugged. "A little bit. Here and there."

He nodded. "Yeah, me too. Just a little bit." But he was scooting his chair closer to yours. 

"Jeff asked me out," you blurted, and you watched Bradley rub his hand along the back of his neck, bumping his backwards cap and making it crooked.

"Oh," he said softly with a frown creasing his brow. "That's great."

"Great? I told him no."

Bradley's lips parted in a sigh of relief. "Then why did you kiss him last weekend? After we kissed?"

You knew the blush was returning to your face. "Because you're probably not a good idea, honestly. And Phoebe was calling you."

He shook his head. "She's not calling me anymore."

"Oh?"

"Sugar, I painted my door just for you. Nobody else," he whispered, and you leaned toward him until your lips touched his softly. His big palm came to rest on your knee as you slid to the edge of your seat, getting closer to him. His kisses were so soft, just like Friday night. It was like nothing you would have expected from a Beta boy. Bradley was just completely unexpected. 

He rubbed his thumb in slow circles along your jeans as he nipped gently at your lips. You licked the seam of his lips, and he opened his mouth to you. He tasted like mint, his tongue teasing yours. 

His fingers trailed up your neck and tangled in your hair, and you shivered and moaned softly into his mouth. "Damn, Sugar. Seems like you've been thinking about me more than a little bit," he said, examining your face with hungry eyes before he reached down and grabbed your chair and pulled you closer so your legs were slotted with his. 

You smirked. "I could say the same for you."

He mashed his lips against yours before kissing along your jaw to your neck. "Been thinking about you nonstop. You're sweet."

You tried to squeeze your thighs together, but Bradley's left leg was wedged between them. "Bradley," you whispered as he devoured your mouth with more of his soft and simultaneously demanding kisses. 

"Sugar," he whispered against your lips. He rubbed his nose along the side of yours as he asked, "When can I see you again? I need to see you again, but I have to get to class."

You reveled in one more press of his lips to yours as he adjusted himself before he made to stand up. 

"Thursday afternoon?" you asked, your voice sounding breathy. 

Then he kissed your cheek. He actually kissed your cheek before he said, "See you then."

And when Jeff showed up after his class to study with you, it took all of your energy to stay focused on what he was saying instead of replaying your kisses with Bradley in your mind. 

If only you'd had more time with Bradley, you were sure he would have kissed you until you sounded so stupid, just the way he liked smart girls.

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

Jeff was pissed off, and Bradley knew it. He tried to keep a straight face, but it was hard since he already knew you had turned Jeff down. 

"What's up?" Bradley asked as he passed Jeff and Tyson in the kitchen. 

"Hey man," Tyson said as he devoured a bag of potato chips. 

Jeff just grunted at him before saying, "I saw you leaving the library earlier."

"Yeah," Bradley said with a grin while he started making a sandwich. "I like it there."

"You like the library? Or you like her?" 

Tyson froze and eyed them both up as he crunched on some chips. "You guys talking about Janessa's cute roommate?" 

"Mmhmm," Bradley hummed. You were so pretty, and your lips were so soft. He couldn't stop thinking about having those lips wrapped around his cock. Just the idea of fucking your pretty face had him twitching. Even jerking himself off to the thought of you was better for him than any sex he'd had with Phoebe or the other girls recently. 

"Yeah. She's too good for Bradley, but he's going to insist on trying to ruin her anyway," Jeff said casually.

Jeff was being a dick on purpose. But really, Bradley was pretty sure you were the one who would be doing the ruining, not him. 

"You sound jealous, man. You had months to seal the deal with her," Bradley said with a smirk. "Can't perform under pressure? Too much competition?"

"Shut the fuck up."

Tyson was starting to look a little worried as Bradley assembled his sandwich and said, "She asks you to walk her home, but I'm the one who can get her in his bedroom."

Jeff was seething, but Bradley was kind of enjoying himself. He didn't specifically intend to use you as bait, but no way he was going to let Jeff act like he was better than him. Call him toxic, but Bradley was certain he could kiss you, fuck you, and be with you better than Jeff could. 

"She's too good for both of you," Tyson said as he dumped the potato chip crumbs into his mouth. 

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

You had barely seen Jeff outside of your classes since he hadn't joined you in the library at all on Wednesday. He skipped lunch with you on Thursday, claiming he needed to get to class early, so you were solidly alone when Bradley showed up. 

"Hey, Sugar," he said, pausing just inside the door and staring at you. He must have liked what you were wearing today. You'd done it on purpose, of course, and it was already paying off. He took a step closer to where you sat in your short pleated skirt and cardigan. It never hurt to lean a little bit into your nerd stereotype, especially when you figured it would make you unique to Bradley. 

"You look cute," he whispered, never taking his eyes off you as he set his bag down. "Did you wear that for me?"

You licked your lips, stood, and slipped past him to close the door. "Yes," was all you managed to say before his hands were grabbing your hips, guiding you back against the door. You tipped your head back against the wooden surface and looked up at him. 

"You look like a sexy little mathlete." His voice was soft and deep and raspy, and you felt yourself clench around nothing. Slowly he pressed himself against you, his body much bigger and more muscular than yours. "Keep thinking about all the ways I want you." 

You moaned softly, and that was all it took. His mouth was on yours, and he was gently coaxing your lips apart with his tongue. He tasted your mouth, groaning softly as you brushed your fingers along his scars and up into his hair. 

One of his hands was wrapped around you, reaching up the back of your cardigan. The other was inching down to the hem of your skirt. You let him rub his big hand up your bare thigh as he broke the kiss. He watched you, gauging your response to him as he eased his hand up along your soft skin. 

You knew you must have looked so desperate for him, pressed up against the door with your lips parted, but you didn't care. He grinned at you as he squeezed your thigh making you bite your lip.  

He kissed your neck so softly, his lips brushing you there as he asked, "Do you want me too, Sugar?"

You sucked in a breath, thrusting against the front of his jeans in response. 

"You gonna tell me?" he asked, rubbing your leg so softly with his thumb, driving you wild. 

"I want you," you gasped as his lips found yours again. Both of his hands were under your skirt, palming your ass through your underwear and lifting you up. You guided your legs around his slim waist, rubbing your wet, cotton covered pussy against his belt buckle with a loud whine. You'd never done anything like this in your life, and you felt ill-equipped to deal with that fact that you were probably about to fuck Bradley in the study room you'd been sharing with Jeff for months. 

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

You made Bradley feel a little possessive. He wasn't the jealous type, never really got attached to anything. But right now, as far as you were concerned, he needed to be the best. 

As he settled down onto the chair with his back to the door, you straddled him and held his face in both of your hands. Your fingernails were gently gliding along his cheeks, softly caressing his scars. Your lips were kissing him as your nose bumped against his in the sweetest way. But you were grinding your pussy against him like such a bad girl, he couldn't figure out what was going on. 

"Sugar," he moaned, and you tipped your head back, exposing your entire beautiful neck to him. He licked a line up from the top of your sweater to your chin and then moved his mouth to suck a mark on the side of your neck. 

"Oh!" you gasped, and he sucked harder. He reached up your skirt, gripping your hips, guiding your movements a little slower as you rubbed yourself on him. His cock was hard and straining against his jeans for you to grind against, and every time your pussy hit his belt buckle, he got to hear you gasp. 

"Feel good?" he whispered before licking the mark he had made on your neck. Such a pretty spot, he hoped to see it when it showed up darker tomorrow. 

"Bradley," you whined as you tipped your head forward to meet his eyes. He watched you, your eyes unfocused as you rubbed your soft body against his. When you started whimpering, he put his lips to yours, enjoying how desperate your kisses felt. He couldn't remember ever wanting someone like this. 

"What do you need?" he asked, easing one hand gently back inside your underwear and squeezing your ass. Everything about your body was a nice handful for him, and he wanted to wear you out until you were speechless. He thought about reaching into his bag for a condom, but you seemed like you were close to the edge without penetration.  

"I just, I need, I-" 

You were babbling now as Bradley smiled at you. "Aww, Sugar. You sound so fucking dumb right now, and I've barely touched you, baby." He kneaded his fingers into your ass cheeks and watched you get off.

"Oh!" you gasped, grabbing both of his shoulders and rubbing yourself up and down his abs while you moaned and cried out, "Oh, my God."

"Fuck, this is hot," he told you with a devilish grin on his face. "If you're gonna cum this good in my lap, I can't wait to get you in my bed."

"Oh, my God," you said once more, covering your flushed face with both hands. "I can't believe I did that." Your hips were finally starting to slow as you let out one more soft moan.

Two sharp knocks on the door, and then Bradley turned to see what looked like a pimple-faced freshman walking into the study room. You gasped and hid your face against his neck, as Bradley registered what you and he must have looked like with his hands still shoved up your skirt.

"I'm sorry! I thought this one was empty!" the younger kid said. 

Bradley just looked at him as he stood there staring. "Get the fuck out!" he yelled, and the kid spun around and rushed out the door. Bradley removed one hand from your soft thigh and reached behind him to slam the door shut. 

You pulled your face slightly away from his neck and looked up at him.

"You okay, Sugar?" he asked you softly. "You really got yourself worked up, didn't you?"

You covered your face with your hands again and whispered, "I am so embarrassed."

He tried his best not to, but he couldn't stop grinning when you peeked through your fingers and started to get up. 

"What do you have to be embarrassed about?" he asked, taking your left hand in his right one and kissing your cheek. "That was fucking hot. I'm hard as a rock right now because of you."

You squeaked and bit your lip. "That kid looked like he was twelve years old!" you said, gesturing toward the door. 

"Yeah, that was unfortunate. Next time I'll have to jam one of the chairs under the doorknob since these things don't lock."

Your eyes were wide and your cheeks were still flushed. "Next time?" you asked softly. 

"You don't want me to help you study again next week? Show you some of the subjects you haven't taken yet?"

A laugh bubbled out of you. "Bradley, I am mortified right now." When you tried to stand again, Bradley held you in place. 

"Don't be, Sugar. I'm gonna see you tomorrow night at the party, right?"

"Yes."

"You gonna wear something cute again? Just for me?"

"Maybe."

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

Ahhhhhh! Thanks for reading this fic! And thanks to @mak-32 for helping so much with this one! This is for you, Mak!

PART 5

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[from-dre]

For Three Days

Not long after my ninth birthday is when I first began hearing my father violently coughing up blood on a regular basis. Rarely did I hear anymore quiet that lasted longer than a few sparse minutes from the living room where he'd sleep alone in the fold-out bed. It'd been months since I last saw him in actual clothes as he now only wore different sets of the same bland pajamas my mom probably picked out for him in a few different colors. He'd probably never again wear a nice button-up shirt. What a non-issue that must be to a healthier man whose lungs weren't rotting of cancer. They probably wore very nice, really expensive shirts everyday, like my own dad used to do before he got sick. Now, he was on his way out. That much was obvious, even to me. So when one day after school, I opened my bedroom door to find my only aunt who I hadn't seen in years, standing there cheerfully humming to herself while cleaning up my toys for me, I should've put two and two together.

She stayed for the next six months. In three my dad would die in his sleep and it'd be her who'd hear the loud gasp in the middle of some random night, not realizing until morning it was actually his last living breath before his body finally gave up fighting. She stayed another three months afterwards to look after her now-widowed sister. I don't remember much from that period of my life. Since I was strategically sent away to live with distant relatives who owned a condo in Queens, it's not like I was around to make many memories anyway. If I try to think back now, it feels like lifetimes ago. All I can tap into is seeing a lot of black clothes and faint whimpering. It feels like the sounds of sobbing were never too far off. It's eerily ambiguous though.

Still, the days I was able to spend with my aunt seemed like miracles. Those were the only times during that period where I'd feel truly happy. Like a much-needed return to form for the younger me who laughed constantly as a child. I loved "Mamateta," and even though nobody knows why I gave her that nickname, I used it for years. She adored me and took every opportunity to prove it.

Though I left Romania when I was four, I retained many more memories of my aunt than anyone else. How she'd play with me when everyone else was too busy, or how she'd nurse the many cuts and scrapes I'd get on my elbows and knees—, these things must've left quite an impact on my single-child consciousness. I specifically remember an instance where the paper cut on my index finger was so deep that I wanted to burst into tears just looking at it. While cleaning it and putting on a bandaid, I remember my aunt saying, "it feels like there's a tiny little heartbeat inside your finger doesn't it?" I nodded. "I know sweetheart, I've had this happen to me before too."

This was her amazing charm. She was easy to talk to. Such a sweet, honest lady. Though she and my mother grew up side by side, they were different people. She took after their own mom, while mine walked in her father’s footprints out of pure admiration. They were sisters nonetheless. So when Mamateta was told that she had a tumor growing within her liver this past year, it was difficult knowing the treatment she'd get wasn't going to be the world's best by any means. As the months passed, her condition worsened and last Monday she fell into a coma. I heard the helplessness in my mother’s voice when she called to tell me. You try your best in these types of situations—, to console your loved ones and make sure they know that you'll be a rock-solid crutch for them during whatever may come. You try to think two steps ahead of whatever's currently happening, just in case. The spur-of- the-moment cross-Atlantic trips have to be every grieving family member's worst nightmare. Just the logistics of it all. And in their mental condition? Of course I was preparing to jump at any request my mom would make.

Life does its thing anyway though and so, 24 hours later, her sister—, whose real name is Rodica—, passed away.

My family isn't part of the ultra-wealthy in Romania. And because the country's still reeling from decades of deep corruption, the middle class is virtually non-existent. If you aren't part of the wealthy, you're part of the poor. And because what you do to one side of the equation, you have to do to the other, they're ultra-poor. It's a sad, sad thing.

Either way, my mom begins to explain the finer details of a traditional Romanian mourning process. It's not something I know anything about or ever witnessed in person. After the dearly departed are moved into the living room, they are generally laid down on the center table for viewing. For the next three days, while the men and other experienced woodworkers craft a coffin from scratch, the family serves non-stop coffee and treats to an army of mourners who will randomly pop in and out at all times of the day and night and next day and following night and so on. All this to a constant background flurry of crying, sobbing, sharing stories of precious memories, wails of disbelief, loud prayers, and who knows what else. It's a pure emotional rollercoaster, a dramatic play in so many scenes filled with neighbors from five villages over who you may have never met before, but who've heard the tragic news and wanted to come pay their respects. It's touching but definitely not something an outsider would feel immediately at home around.

"And is the body at least covered this entire time?," I ask my mom.

"No. For three days, they live alongside it."

"Seriously?"

"They have no other options. No ambulance comes and takes them away like they do here. Over there, you look after your own dead. And when the coffin is completed, they’ll place her inside and carry it out into the countryside to her burial plot in a procession through town."

As selfish as this next feeling was, I didn't want my mom to go. I didn't want her to be apart of it, not these days, not anymore. After so much, I wanted her to just be able to rest, not have to endure something of that magnitude. I can't imagine three hours of nonstop crying let alone three days. Somehow, the Universe seemed to hear my inner-hopes. Our entire family begged her to stay put, to stay home, that there was nothing more she could do. So instead of having to finalize last-minute plans of getting her from one continent to another, she was able to hop on an Amtrak and spend this past week here in Chicago with me. To recharge her batteries I guess. To just be able to find some mental quiet and emotional peace. Now, as I'm close to wrapping up this essay and seeing her off downtown at Union Station for her train back home, I'm sincerely trying to put myself in her shoes.

I'm sure losing a sibling you've spent a lifetime growing up with is a weird feeling to have to go through. To outlive them, to think that they could've done a bit more with their life if only they would've had more time. Maybe it makes someone think about their own mortality and where they've gotten in seeing their own personal dreams coming true. Maybe my mom’s running over all of these things in her mind to the point where there's nothing left to think about. Maybe. All I can try and do is my part as her only child, her only flesh and blood, to try and live the best life I can in her name. Time will tell how successful I'll be in doing that, but an even greater feeling though, is when we can think of our loved ones who aren't here with us any longer and not feel a bit of regret. To feel a warmth and be completely calmed by just the mere thought of their name. To feel a deep need to smile because that's what they would've wanted you to do. Like even when you want to just give in to the sadness for a second and purge yourself of tears, your body physically won't let you. A familiar presence fills your immediate space and a gentle touch directly on your heart that makes you involuntarily inhale much deeper than you have in a while. Those are the types of things I hope my mother can feel as she sits down at her window-seat and readies herself for a deep meditative trip into her inner-consciousness for the next seven or so hours.

Knowing the peace and tranquility she'll emerge on the other side of this experience with, how can anyone still harbor any doubt that our souls are indeed, things which don't adhere to either the human concept or limitations of "time?" That they transcend realms of possibility. That whenever there's even the smallest hint of real love, not even the giving up of one's own body and leaving it behind for greater vessels can break a bond between two sisters.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#257

“Hey, I see you just clocked out. Are you headed over to Ruby’s Bookstore after work? What the fuck are you looking panicked about? It’s just us talking here. The guys are shutting down the site for the weekend. No one here knows that you are a bookstore whore, at least I haven’t told them. Look, you’ve blown me three times there, and last time you backed your pussy up to the glory hole so I could fuck it. I’m looking for some more fun tonight, more than a glory hole can give. Wanna come back to my place instead?...

“It’s been one hot day, and most of the guys are shirtless. I’m so fucking turned on right now, I would fuck your hole right here and now, and I wouldn’t care who saw. I would say let’s go to Ruby’s, but I’m needing an all-night fuck session. I can go several loads. I need to slam fuck a boy’s pussy one minute and skull fuck his head the next. I need to be in control. A glory hole doesn’t cut it.

“You wanna be used like that? I should say I am always in control, and once I get going I can get rough. I’m gonna slap you, toss you around, and slam fuck you into next week. If you are up for that, let’s go.

“My truck is over here. We’ll leave your car here. It’ll be safe. Donaldson won’t mind let alone notice. Get in. Strip naked. Pussy, I give orders and you fucking obey them. You just agreed to that not three minutes ago. Look, my windows are tinted, no one will see a naked pussy boy in the passenger seat. Good. Throw your clothes in back.

“Seatbelt on…. Do you live with anyone? What about pets? No? That’s good. Are you taking any medicine? No. Well then, it’s settled, you are spending the weekend with me. I’ll bring you back here on Monday morning.

“I can see your pecker is pointing up. That’s all the yes I need. Speaking of which, that thing is off limits to you. As I said, I am in control of every aspect of you. I will tell you when you can beat off—which will be never, what you eat—my hairy sweaty ass is on that list, what you drink—my piss will be primary, when you piss and shit—I will be douching you out, and so on.

“Yeah, I clean out my pussy’s pussy. It’s always a deep clean. When my arm goes in there, I don’t want to encounter any fag mud…. What’s that look for? You’ve never been fisted before? Well, you’re not going to be able to say that on Monday morning. We’ll do that tomorrow. Tonight, it’s about my cock and your pussy.

“Here scoot over and snuggle up with your daddy here on the drive home. Get used to the smell and the taste of my body. Rest your face on my chest. Feel the hairs on my arm. Run your fingers through them. They feel great hunh?

“Well tomorrow you will hate every single one of them. When my arm goes in deep, each one of those hairs will feel like tiny razor blades slicing into your pussy hole, perpetually throughout the night.

“Sunday will be your pussy’s day of rest. You will be locked up under my rimseat eating out my hole. And if you thought my arm hairs felt like razor blades, wait ‘til your tongue gets the same treatment from the hairs around my asshole.

“On Monday you will stagger in, destroyed in every way. It will look fucking awesome.”

[worldswithoutendings]

I've found you pt.2 [eddie munson]

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female reader

warning: slight anxiety

summary: you have the first actual date with Eddie

Part 1> 

The entire day you were giggling, you woke up in a pretty good mood, knowing that tonight you would go out with Eddie again. You didn’t have to worry about an outfit, because he wanted you to wear the same dress again. The moment you got home you had put it in the washing machine to be sure it would be clean in the evening. Not that you spilled or anything, but you wanted to feel clean.

Even though you were happy, deep down it felt too good to be true. But you tried to surpress that feeling. You had to allow yourself to be happy, living in the moment that you in fact are seeing Eddie almost daily. Even though your hands were clammy and your stomach did flips the entire day out of nervousness. Because this time, it felt like an actual date. Instead of just two friends going out for dinner and then going to the hellfire campaign. Because tonight there wouldn’t be a campaign, it was Friday. And Eddie always allowed the club to just have a long weekend to wind down, and start Monday with a fresh mind he used to say. Even though you knew that he would fill his weekend with band practice and the usual dealing at parties.

You walked into the cafeteria during lunch, seeing Eddie’s face light up as he sees you “move Gareth” he said immediatly “i think i have a new spot now” he said mockingly “sorry Gareth” you giggle as you sit down, Eddie pulled the chair you sat on a bit closer to him “hello princess” he smiled “hi Eddie” you really needed to think of a good nickname for him. It felt weird to be called princess and him just being Eddie. The table started to talk again about different fantasy books they have been reading, new DnD characters they have been thinking about. But you and Eddie sat there in your own world, legs touching, his arm hung loosely around while he was munching on some almonds.

He couldn’t help but look at you every so often, even though he wanted to be commited to the conversations, knowing the boys desperately yearned for his attention. You were always quiet during lunch, just being there in your own world “i wanna know what is going on in that little head of yours” he whispers in your ear, making you look down trying to hide your smile “tell me” “I’m mostly just thinking about tonight, I’m really excited” you beam.

Eddie was just as nervous as you are, he also like you never had a relationship before, let alone dating. You were both eachothers first for everything, and it all felt insanely natural. Like you were destined for eachother. Which also made him terrified that you were moving too fast. Even though you knew eachother for at least 3 years. He was terrified of losing you, as a friend, but mostly as a lover.

He thought he wasn’t good enough. His parents never showed him love, Wayne did the best he could for him to make sure he could go to school, learned him about saving money so he could buy a nice guitar. How he should make mixtapes “oh no” you let out a tiny sigh making him look up, only to notice how dark the cafeteria got “damn those clouds are dark” Jeff said, Eddie looked out of the massive windows and indeed, those clouds were almost black. You started to lightly shake next to him “i hate thunder” you whisper and immediatly Eddie pulled your chair even closer next to him that you were almost sitting on his lap “you’ll be fine, we’ll be fine” he whispers in your ear and you couldn’t help but hold his shirt tightly “i hope this really doesn’t ruin our night” “ofcourse it won’t princess, i’ll make sure of it. We will go out, have a nice dinner. Go to the arcade afterwards” “what do you do normally when it rains?” you ask, Eddie almost wanted to laugh.

Even though he never had seen you so scared, he never knew thunder really shook you to the core “i just like to watch a movie at home, i actually kinda like it when you can hear the rain on the rooftop” he says as he starts to go with his hands through your hair “what do you do when it rains?” he asks you the same question “ehm, i normally lay underneath the covers with my headphones on, i don’t know why. I’ve always never really liked it” So Eddie made it a mission to get over your fear, not immediatly. But at one point he wants to make sure you would love the rain and thunder, just as much as he does.

Luckily it had stopped raining by the time you got home from school, and the dark clouds changed into blue skies. You had put on your black dress, re-did your makeup a bit, fixed your hair and sprayed on a light mist of perfume. Just as you were ready you heard the doorbell and you ran downstairs, waving your parents goodbye as you opened the front door. Where Eddie was, and just like he promised you he was wearing the black shirt ‘my lady” he said in his best english accent “my lord” you bowed and he smiled “let’s go” he waved to your parents who waved back and you walked to his van.

Going to the same diner but a different booth you sat across from eachother again, legs touching eachother as you purposely sat a bit closer to the edge “that’s cheating princess” Eddie saw the very move you made and you giggled “i just want our knees to touch okay” you said bluntly. Making him throw his head back as he laughed “okay princess, if that is what you want” he also sat a bit closer to the edge, now both your thighs were touching “are you feeling okay now the rain is over?” he sounded concerned and you nod “i feel a lot better, i’m really lucky to have you Eddie, my saviour” you had put your hand on your heart as if you were deeply touched “well, your lord and saviour is always there for you, like you are there for me” he stuck out his tongue “i do need to be there for you way often” you admit, you had the feeling you hadn’t done anything at all for him but showing mental support, not physical. But you were afraid of showing too much physical touch would scare him away, knowing he isn’t really fond of it

“to be honest, for you i would make an exception” he said as if he could read your mind “we’re both new to this, right?” you nodded in response “so we just, have to figure out what works best for us” “we’re in this together” you said as you laid out your hand on the table and he immediatly grabbed it “forever” he beams together with you making you both laugh.

You had the same exact order as the day before. Talking about the campaign, eddie’s deals he has that weekend, which songs they are practicing, what you would be doing that weekend, you were trying out jewellery making, your mom saw that a store in starcourt mall offered workshops and without hesitation she had put you in. Eddie fully supported you in your decision, calling it awesome. In his head he was already thinking about throwing away his acessories to make place for your creations. How he should make a mixtape for just the two of you.

After dinner you went to the arcade to play some games together, playing donkey kong, pacman, gauntlet which was Eddie’s favorite as you were supporting him standing next to him. After the arcade it was already close to 11, you walked out together holding eachother laughing “you were so bad at donkey kong” he laughs “I forgot how it worked!” “lies!” he teases you and you pout “aw did i hurt your feelings baby?” he asks as he hugs you “badly” you pouted “how are we gonna fix that hm?” he asks as he leans against the door of his van “hm, good question” you stand inbetween his legs as he holds you close. Both your foreheads were touching and you give him a light kiss “aren’t i supposed to fix you?” he asks and you giggle. He kisses you back but not as light as you did, you leaned into him more as the kiss got stronger. Hearing whistles in the background, Eddie put his arm up and you didn’t know what he did but it made the whistles get louder making you giggle.

With much regret the night had to come to an end, you didn’t want to leave Eddie but you know if you stay longer, he would get in a fight with your dad. Which you didn’t want at all, cause that could mean you wouldn’t be allowed to see Eddie for a week. You sat in his van as he drove you home while he held his hand on your thigh “how about, we have a nice date next Wednesday? After school immediately” he asks and you nod “I would love that, my parents aren’t home that day so we could be at my place, I can cook some food and we could watch a movie” you say “awesome babe” he smiles as he pats your head and you pat his thigh in return. As he parks the van infront of your house you immediatly hug him and he kisses your head “I’m gonna miss you this weekend” he whispers “i’ll miss you too, very badly” “oh so badly” he smiles and you kiss jawline “i just wanna take you home with me” you whisper and he kisses your neck “be carefull what you wish for princess or i’ll climb through your window tonight” “hmm maybe i want that wish to come true” you giggle and Eddie pulls you closer to him “maybe i should cancel all my plans” “no you shouldn’t!” you explain and he smiles as you try to put in reasons why he shouldn’t cancel band practice and dealing “even though i’m kinda against the dealing, you need the money” “i do actually, i really want a new guitar” “you can do it” you smiled as you kissed his cheek “so many kisses i receive but none on my lips” Eddie whines making you laugh “come here” you whisper as you hold his face and you see how he slowly closes his eyes, you can’t help but laugh at the sight and he immediatly pouts “come on” he fake cries and you immediatly kiss him on the lips “there you go” you smiled “i want another one” “how many do you want” “1 million kisses.. a day” “a day?!” you say shocked “it’s not much!” “yes it is!” you laughed “I can give you 2 million kisses back” “then we would be kissing the entire day silly” “yeah and? You have a problem with that?” he asks hurt and you shake your head “but not today though” you whisper “I’ll give you.. 50 kisses now,” you say and he decides to lean against the door so you can crawl between his legs, ready for the 50 kisses. But the kissing turned into long kissing, the first long kiss you both had until you heard knocking on the window “hey love birds” your mother laughed “mom! You’re ruining it” you cried making your mom laugh harder “sorry ma’am” Eddie tried to compose himself “it’s okay Eddie” she said as he unlocked the door, you gave him a final kiss and crawled out of the van.

Taglist: @angelsarecallin

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[lifeofa-fangirl]

Enough Nothings

Pairing: Damiano x fem!reader

Summary: You and Damiano bond over the idea of a quiet night in

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: None, pure fluff

A/N: I saw an instagram post from the Late Late Show where James Corden talks about how he met his wife and my mind went haywire thinking that this would be such a Damiano thing to do. Written in an hour or so, not proof read. First fic in years, let me know what you think! 

“Oh come on, having a little bit of fun won’t hurt you! Here, have a glass of wine, it might help you relax. And remember to enjoy this evening, you deserve it!”

 Before you could protest, your boss had grabbed a glass of wine from a passing waiter’s tray and shoved it in your hand. You opened your mouth, but before any words were formed, she gave you an encouraging pat on the back and disappeared into the crowd to mingle.

 You sighed as you watched her start to make the rounds, shaking hands left and right. She made it seem so effortless it almost made you jealous. Almost. Because as much as you appreciated her effort, appreciated that she had insisted you deserved a night out after all the hard work you put in for the charity organization, you still felt this was the last place you wanted to be right now. You would always prefer a quiet night in, cooking dinner and falling asleep in front of the television.

 Another sigh and you finally took a sip of your wine. ‘Come on, you can do this,’ you told yourself as you remembered you did enjoy the taste of the drink in your hand, although you rarely took the opportunity to enjoy it. ‘You’re not even 30 yet, you should be out and about every night. This can be a fun Friday night. Don’t be a party pooper.’

 You almost choked on your next sip of wine as you heard those exact five last words being repeated out loud behind you. Coughing, you turned around in surprise. You would recognize that voice and that Italian accent anywhere.

 “Victoria!” you said as soon as you confirmed your suspicion.

 Victoria De Angelis spun around on her heels when she heard her name being called. “Ah, there you are! We’ve been looking for you!” she cheerfully announced. As she pulled you into a hug, you realized she wasn’t alone. You also realized that her words hadn’t been directed at you, but at the man accompanying her. You recognized the singer of her band.

 “This is Damiano, the singer of my band,” Victoria confirmed when she stepped back from hugging you. You nodded your hello as Victoria introduced you to Damiano in return. You only heard half of her explanation about how she met you when the band had stayed in London for a couple of months, and you worked for the organization that was hosting that night’s charity event. You were too distracted by the way the man in front of you was staring at you with the beginning of a smirk.

 Damiano patiently waited for Victoria to finish and then accepted the hand you offered him, pulling it up to his lips without hesitation and pressing a small kiss to it. “Hi, pleasure to meet you. You might be the most beautiful woman in the world,” he greeted you, all the while never breaking eye contact.

 “Well thank you very much.” You offered him a smile in return and slightly twisted your head to the side to give him calculating look before adding, “That sounds like something you say a lot.”

 “I’ve never said it before in my life,” he shot back at you. There was a playful glint in his eyes as he spoke and that smirk never left his lips, but you also didn’t miss the sudden rosy tint on his cheeks.

 He could easily be feeding you lies, but somehow you were inclined to believe him. You didn’t offer a verbal response, choosing to shoot him an bright smile instead. Judging by his reaction, it did nothing to hide the matching tint that you were sure was now also on your own cheeks. Was it just you, or had someone suddenly turned up the thermostat?

 Not much later, Victoria had disappeared, most likely off getting into trouble. And you sat with Damiano in a dark corner of the bar. Getting tipsy on the sound of his laugh and how his touch gave you goosebumps. It was so easy to be around him. Within an hour and a half of meeting you were jokingly planning the rest of your lives together. Kids were a must, at least two of them, so they’d always have each other. Legolas and Bidet, he had already named his cats, and you insisted that the new kitten would be called Loki. The flower beds in your garden would contain many different flowers, so there would be something blossoming every season. Your bedroom needed a balcony, so he could serenade you from below. And you would need a big kitchen, with plenty of room for all the home cooked meals you were going to prepare.

 You found comfort in how he loved the prospect of a quiet night in. Glorious, he called it, the thought of chamomile tea and going to bed before eleven. You had quickly agreed, told him that at your age, you had very much passed the notion of going out every night. He was a couple of years younger than you but took it as a compliment when you teasingly called him an old soul in a young body.

 You didn’t realize how much time had passed until Victoria eventually showed up again. “Time to call it a night, lovebirds,” she teased you both with a grin. When you finally tore your eyes away from Damiano for the first time in a long while, you realized that there were only a couple of people left in the bar and the waiters had already started cleaning up.

 As the three of you stood outside waiting for a cab, the cold night air did nothing to get rid of Victoria’s words. Lovebirds, she had called you. Away from the secluded, quiet corner of the bar, you were starting to feel anything but, and much more like a fool. The harsh streetlights burned your confidence away and you just stood there, silently waiting as Victoria chatted away besides you. Sneaking glances at Damiano, trying to memorize the sharpness of his jawline, the glimmer of the tiny golden ring piercing his nostril, the brown of his eyes, convinced that you weren’t going to see him again.

 When your rides arrived, Victoria gave a quick side hug and a “We’ll talk later” before jumping into the first cab to get away from the cold night air as fast as possible, leaving you and Damiano alone on the sidewalk.

 You took a deep breath to gather your courage and were about to pull in Damiano for a hug as well, when you realized he didn’t seem to have any intention to move. Instead, he stood next to you, staring at the pavement and fidgeting with the rings on his fingers.

 “Damiano?” you wondered, carefully reaching out to touch his arm, trying to figure out why he looked like a nervous child suddenly.

 Damiano looked up at you when you called out his name. His nervousness reflected in his eyes and he bit his lip when he just stared at you for a moment. Then, with a steadiness in his voice that surprised you, he said, “I was wondering… Well… what about tomorrow, we do nothing together. You could come over to my place and we could just do nothing. And then maybe we could stay in and do nothing on Sunday as well. And on Monday, we can go to work and afterwards we can do nothing if you’d like. And I’m thinking that if we do enough nothings, if our evenings are enough of nothing, then maybe this can become something.”

 “What do you think?” he asked as he looked at you hopefully. And while he looked so very young under the streetlights, his old soul had just pulled you in. This was it. You were in. And by an absolute miracle, so was he. “That sounds like a fun idea,” you told him with a smile.

 He beamed at your answer, before the both of you got distracted by Victoria shouting for him to hurry his ass up and get in the cab.

 “Go!” You gave him a slight push towards the car. “She has my number, text me the details for your plan,” you told him with a wink.

 Damiano was about halfway to the car and you were about to walk over to the other ride, when he turned and came running back only to stop in front of you. Before you could react, he had put a hand on your cheek, and used the other to pull you close. The next moment his lips were on yours in a gentle kiss.

 The moment was over almost before you fully realized what was happening. “See you tomorrow, bella ragazza mia,” he whispered against your lips before running off towards his ride again.

 You watched in stunned silence as their cab drove off. Left with the tingling feeling of where Damiano’s lips had just been and the exciting promise of nothing ahead.  

[jadequeen88]

A Waitress’ Worst Nightmare

A/N: Written for the BNHA Degeneracy 9-5 collab! THIS IS 18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: TW.sexual harassment, TW.oral(recieving), TW.degredation TW.nipple play, TW.Mommy kink

Pairing: busboy!Keigo, linecook!Dabi, f!waitress!Reader

You’re a college student just trying to get by. The biggest worry you should have right now is if you had enough time to finish that psych paper or when you were going to meet up with your calculus study group. Instead, you’ve got a much larger problem facing you...A problem that has permeated through every aspect of your life. Your coworkers were Grade-A-Assholes who decided making your life miserable was on the top of their to do lists.

You thought waitressing at the 24/7 diner downtown would be a breeze. Money was tight and since you were 21 and almost done with your undergrad, you wanted a little more financial independence. Little did you know when the owner hired you that you’d have to work alongside the two biggest shitheads in the city.

First there’s Keigo. To the untrained eye, he could almost seem charming. But you found out pretty quickly what a dick he was. He was working as a “busboy”, but in reality he didn’t do anything but flirt with every woman within his field of vision. Keigo would leave the tables a mess until there wasn’t a clean one left in your station and you’d be forced to do his job for him.

“What, babe? Stop getting your panties in a twist. I’m real busy these days. You know I’m practically running this place now.”

Oh yeah. How could you forget? He took every opportunity to remind you of that fact. Keigo’s dad happened to be buddies with the owner, garnering a sense of trust with the old man. He slowly weaseled his way into running day-to-day operations while the elderly owner stayed home most days.

Although the diner needed another busboy to pick up his slack, Keigo refused to tell the boss to hire another. You overheard a phone conversation between Keigo and your boss just last night:

“Nah, boss. We’ve got it covered here. No need to hire another busboy. The waitresses are just finding reasons to nag. Women, am I right?”

You were fuming.

***

As bad as Keigo was, his friend Dabi was exponentially worse. The line cook was, without a doubt, a drug dealer. The only motive he could possibly have for working there is having a place to do business with his “customers”(and of course, to help Keigo make your life a living hell). It clearly wasn’t because he needed the money since you’d seen his “friends” slip him generous wads of cash when they stopped by the restaurant. If cleaning up Keigo’s messes sucked, trying to put in customer’s orders with Dabi was pure torture. 

“Eggs over easy instead of scrambled? I dunno, Princess. Sounds like it’ll be a pain in my ass. Whatcha gonna give me if I do it?”

Then he’d lick his lips with his long pierced tongue, leering at you over the counter. Gag... You wondered if that ever actually worked in his favor. 

One semi-decent thing you can say about Keigo is that he’d never actually laid a finger on you. The same can’t be said for Dabi. You learned after your first day to wear shorts under the skirt of your uniform. You were behind the counter slicing lemons when he took his spatula and lifted the hem of your skirt. Before you realized what he was doing, he was calling out to his partner in crime.

“Fuuuuuck, Kei! Look at the ass on the new girl!”

You wondered what was going on until you felt a breeze and realized it was your ass that was on display. You’d slapped the spatula away and straightened your skirt, but not before they both got an eyeful of your black, lace panties. You cried for ten minutes in the bathroom after your shift that day.

***

The day you’d been dreading was finally upon you. No, it wasn’t a big test or project due... You had to ask off work for your cousin’s wedding. That meant dealing with Keigo (who was now in charge of making the schedule each week).

You squared your shoulders and went over what you would say over, and over in your head so you wouldn’t stumble over your words when you had to face him. 

“I need to have Saturday off for my cousin’s wedding. I can work the Sunday morning shift instead.”

This was repeated on a loop in your brain as you walked down the darkened corridor towards the office. You let out a long sigh and gently rapped your knuckles against the wooden frame. The sound of shuffling and muffled voices seeped through the thin faux wood and a moment later, the door swung inward. The thick cloud of smoke and strong, skunky smell almost knocked you flat on your ass. Instead of seeing Keigo alone working on the schedule, you saw that he and Dabi were hotboxing in the small office.

Knowing they were back here getting high while you closed the diner by yourself was the last straw. You slam the door behind you and stomp forward to lean over the desk Keigo was propped up behind.

“Listen you shit heads!” you slammed you fists on the desk knocking over a jar of pens. “I am so fucking sick of slaving away in this shit hole while you two get high and fuck off back here. You’re going to let me have Saturday off or I swear to Christ, I’m calling the boss and spilling my guts! About the weed, the drug deals, the snarky remarks, the groping, EVERYTHING! I’ve had enough!”

There was a moment of silence then the two of them burst into a fit of laughter. In a blind fit of rage, you leap across the desk and grab Keigo by the throat. When you made contact and squeezed as hard as your small hand would allow, a whimper escaped his throat and his eyes rolled back.

Now it was your turn to laugh.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you gripped your fingers tightly again to see if you could pull any more sounds from him. He didn’t disappoint. This time it was a whimper followed by him nervously mumbling.

“Heh, Kid... Seriously, knock it off. This shit isn’t funny.”

Your eyes traveled down the front of his body and when they landed on the crotch of his baggy khakis, your suspicions were confirmed. This loser who acted like a certified pussy-slayer popped a boner just from you choking him.

You leaned in close to his face, using this as your chance to get revenge for all the hell he had put you through. “Aww little Keigo... Not used to being roughed up?” you cooed. “Dumb little baby Keigo...I bet if I kept this up, you’d come in your pants like a dirty slut, wouldn’t you?”

You felt movement over your shoulder and heard a deep chuckle. “Dude you’re so pathe-”

Dabi gasped as you grabbed him by the crotch with your free hand and squeezed. He was already hard. You met his eyes and see panic etched across his features. A sadistic grin spread across your mouth as you tightened your grip. His head fell back and let out a whimper almost as needy as Keigo’s. 

“You’re both going to do exactly what I say or I swear, I will tell every girl you ever try to speak to what a couple of pathetic virgins you two are...”

***

“Ungh! Plea-please... Harder! I... I need more!”

*SMACK*

Your hand lands hard across the blonde’s face, drawing a pathetic whimper from his throat. He thrust his weeping cock along your shin whimpering, craving more pressure to relieve his suffering.

“You don’t get to tell me what you need, Keigo. Shut your fucking mouth and be grateful you get this much.”

You throw your head back against the office chair and hum as Dabi eats your cunt like it’s his last meal.

“Mmm... See Keigo? See what a good boy Dabi is being? He knows his stupid mouth is only meant for one thing... Making Mommy’s pussy feel good.”

The praise causes the dark haired man between your thighs to moan into your clit sending a pulse of pleasure through your lower body. The ball of his piercing circles your clit and you feel the familiar ache of an impending orgasm begin to tighten in your belly.

Keigo starts shoving Dabi away from you with a growl. “This is bullshit! I haven’t even had a chance yet!”

Dabi elbows him, ”Fuck off Kei! I almost had her finished off!”

Furious from being jerked back from the edge of your orgasm, you grab a fist full of blonde hair in one hand and black in the other. You pull their flushed faces up to look you in the eye.

“If you want to come at all, you will shut...the fuck...up... and get me off. Now”

Dabi wasted no time in diving back into your dripping slit, panting heavily while he ran his pierced tongue in and out of your swollen entrance. Keigo attacked your neck, whimpering as he planted sloppy kisses down your collarbone until his tongue was licking long stripes up you clothed nipple.

“I think you can do a little better than that, baby,’ you cooed into Keigo’s messy blonde tresses, sweetly tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He took that as his cue to remove the clothing between your hardening bud and his hot, wet tongue.

Keigo latched onto your nipple, nursing it with vigor while he gently grazed his fingertips over the other. You heard him mumble something into the soft swell of your breast.

“Speak up,” you pull him away from your nipple with a pop, “I didn’t catch that...”

“I-I said... I...”

Your attention was drawn to the man between your legs as he began to suck down hard on your clit. The hand you had wrapped in Keigo’s hair tightened causing him to cry out.

“Mommy! Please! Wanna be your good boy! Wanna make Mommy come...” He sobs as he starts frantically licking and sucking your neglected nipple. This pushes you over the edge and your long awaited orgasm rushes over you. 

After you come down from your high, you push them off and begin getting dressed while the two men you left on the floor look up at you with wide eyes.

Dabi, still panting from eating you so vigorously, chokes out a little half sob.

“But.. where are you goin? We did what you asked!”

“Yeah babe! what the fuck!”

You eyed both men and let the tension hang in the air before turning and walking to the door.

“Give me the whole weekend off. Then we’ll arrange something Monday,” you look over your shoulder, “As long as you don’t piss me off before then..”

You walk out of the office with the biggest grin you’ve had in a long time and feeling a lot more relaxed. Maybe this job was going to turn out better than you expected. 

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART TEN

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: THIS CHAPTER IS 18+ ONLY! sexual content (finally), pot use, alcohol use Summary:  Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place.

Notes: Okay, guys. If you missed it, this chapter is NSFW. This was the best to write, seriously. Love you all, don't be afraid to tell me what you think of it! 

taglist: @valleyd0ll​​ @satingrass-maidensfair​​ @guitarfingers​​ @thebohemianpenguin​​ @peaceisouranthem​​ @oblvions​​ @hansonobsessed​​ @myownparadise96​​ @lara-gvf​​ @anditsmywholeheart​​ @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies​​ @bigblack-catattack​​​ 

MASTERPOST 

Two weeks before the Saturday of the play, the forecast had called for a blizzard. “Polar vortex” they had called it on the tv at school, flashing graphics of a polar bear wearing a scarf. 

After classes on Friday, you had asked Kate if she wanted to go for coffee. You had been working like a dog on the play - sewing and painting to the point where your fingers perpetually hurt and the only thing you could see when you closed your eyes was the shade of green that every foliage prop was painted.

You ordered a caramel macchiato and genuinely tried to enjoy it, propping your legs up on the chair next to her. 

“So,” she started, eyeing you like she had a bone to pick. She still looked so pretty when she was coming for your life. “We’ve been so busy with Josh, we haven’t had any alone time to talk about Trevor.”

You sucked in a deep breath and relaxed your stiff neck muscles, achy from behind hunched over while sewing. “Yeah. I kind of forgot about it, to be honest.”

“I have not, however. So dish,” she requested, reaching into her purse and pulling out a tube of lipstick. She applied it carefully in her phone camera as you spoke. 

“Josh did it,” you admitted, making her eyes flick over to you momentarily. “I mean, I still slapped him, but Josh was the one that gave him a black eye.”

“And how do you feel about that?” she asked carefully.

You shrugged, wrapping your fingers tightly around your cup, half to leech the heat, and half because you were anxious. “I don’t know. I was kind of upset, but only because he could have gotten kicked out of school for that.”

She just nodded for you to continue as she cleaned up the lines around her lips with a paper napkin. 

“I mean, and for what? He could have been arrested. Just for revenge. I feel like the best revenge would be just be keeping your head high.” You rolled your eyes at the beginning of your statement, just for emphasis. 

She stared at you blankly as she picked up her mug. “Aren’t you flattered? I wish a guy would punch one of my hookups.” 

“I mean, it’s cute, but I feel like he did it more for himself - for his own pride, you know?”

Her expression changed then to something a little heavier, her features sharpening in accusation. “Are you for real? Like, for real, for real?”

You frowned at her, feeling like you were being scolded. “What are you talking about?”

She let out a long breath, looking dumbstruck. “I haven’t really pressed it because I guess I just thought it was something that everyone knew but wasn’t talking about but-” She paused, putting her hand over yours on the table just to really drive the point home. 

“That boy has it bad for you.”

You knew your expression was ridiculous by the way she looked at you with pity. “What the hell are you talking about? Josh? Are we talking about Josh?”

She closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and nodded. 

“Kiszka?” you tried again, still refusing to let her statement sink in. 

“Yes,” she said through a laugh. “Yes, your roommate Josh. Curly hair, hippy bullshit - that guy. I swear to God I thought you knew. I mean, there were times when I was like ‘does she actually know?’ but then I thought ‘there’s no way she lives with him and doesn’t know that’. You’re telling me I was wrong?”

You were struck silent for a few long moments. “Are you sure?”

Thankfully, she was looking at you like you were a puppy with its head stuck in a peanut butter jar. “Look at me. He punched a guy in the face for you.”

You closed your eyes and tried to suppress a smile. “I don’t know.”

“Okay. There’s supposed to be a huge snowstorm this weekend. Now that you’ve heard me say it, return to me on Monday - after spending all weekend in the same place as him - and tell me you don’t see it then,” she said simply. 

“Okay, I will,” you challenged. 

“Okay, you do that,” she quipped with a smirk, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest confidently. 

+++

In preparation, you had gone grocery shopping together, picking out everything you’d need to be stuck in the apartment together. He had even made you take him to a thrift store, just so he could see if there was anything fun. In the end, he had come out with a card game in a box, still wrapped. 

Saturday morning the snow started falling, this time in huge, fluffy flakes, and it wasn’t supposed to stop until Monday evening. 

While Josh was in the shower, you decided to get everything ready for the evening’s festivities that you had planned together. You had gone to find a good cheese board at the market until you found out they were too pricey for your (nearly nonexistent) budget, so you ended up laying out different crackers and cheeses onto a circular pizza pan. 

By the time he got out of the shower, you had grapes, pickles, olives, and chocolates laid out on the coffee table, and he caught you just as you were pouring each of you a glass of wine. 

The charcuterie was his idea - actually, the first thing he suggested when you said you wanted to have a fun night in on Saturday. The three different kinds of alcohol had been your idea.

“Okay, it’s all yours,” he informed as he trotted out from his bedroom, dressed in a fresh set of clothes. 

The shower was still warmed up, the mirror still steamy. You got a towel out and stepped in under the spray. 

You took the time to enjoy washing and conditioning your hair - your mom had been sweet enough to send you some of the expensive kind you love. Once you had hinted over the phone that you were homesick and the smell of it reminded you of home, she was already googling it. 

Once you felt sufficiently clean, you stepped out and dried off. The clothes you had taken into the bathroom weren’t anything special - you had chosen comfort over aesthetic - but they were warm, which is what you really needed as the snow fell outside. 

When you joined him back in the living room, Josh was waiting patiently on the couch.

“Ready?” he asked, handing you your glass of wine. 

“You didn’t have to wait for me.” You gestured down at the untouched food. 

He smiled at you. “I know.” 

You sipped at your drink as he gestured to the tv. 

“Movie for background noise?”

You hummed in thought. “Maybe music?” 

He nodded in agreement. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Whatever you pick will be perfect.”

By the time he had made a selection, you had nearly finished your glass of wine. “So, the costumes are coming along well. I got the cutest lace for the trimmings of Alice’s dress. I’m not sure you’ll even be able to see it from the audience, but she’ll look adorable in pre and post-performance pictures.”

He shot you a beaming smile. “That’s some master craft. Your attention to detail is unrivaled.”

You knew that he was just playing, but it still made your stomach flip.

“Should we play our card game?” he suggested, padding over to the kitchen and snatching the bottle of wine off the counter.

You watched his movements as he poured your glass full again. “Thank you. Yeah, we can. Or did you want to be drunker first?”

He hummed. “One shot each?” 

“Of vodka?” you inquired as you picked yourself off of the couch. “Where are the shot glasses?” 

“I don’t think I own any,” he admitted as he watched you rifle through the cupboards. 

You shot him a shocked look. “You’re a college kid; why would you not own a shot glass?”

“Well, we haven’t needed it thus far. I don’t throw a lot of parties if you haven’t noticed.” He gestured around the empty room. “We’ll each just take a pull from the bottle?”

“Okay, you first,” you agreed, thrusting the bottle at his chest. He took it from your grasp with a smirk and then pressed his lips to the rim. He drank until the count of three before swallowing hard and passing it along. 

You followed suit, except with more difficulty. He had made it look so easy, you had almost forgotten how vodka tasted. You swiped your thumb across your lips, wiping them dry in the process. 

You took your seats back on the couch next to each other as the music played through the room. 

“Charcuterie?” you offered, gesturing to the coffee table full of food. 

“Yes, of course.”

As you watched him make a cracker sandwich, you spoke. “So, should we crack this game open?”

After he nodded excitedly, you ripped into the plastic wrap. 

“Okay, it looks like it’s essentially just a questions game. We just draw one at a time and the other person answers them,” you explained after skimming the inside of the box. “And you have to finish your drink if you can’t answer it.”

He laughed. “Okay, ladies first. I’m ready.”

You pushed the stack of cards over at him. “No way, you ask me first,” you stated with a cheeky smile.

He raised his eyebrows at you but relented. As he plucked a card from the deck, he took a sip of wine.

“What is your favorite color?” he asked, leaning in and squinting like the information you were about to provide was essential to his existence. 

You snorted. “Really?” He nodded, prompting you to continue. You hummed as you thought about it. “It’s blue.”

“What kind of blue? Like navy or sky?”

You shook your head. “No, more like that blue that’s so blue it hurts your eyes. The one that was a new pigment discovered not that long ago - so bright it hurts.”

He gave you a sincere smile.  “That’s a good pick.”

“What’s yours?” 

“That’s not how this game works,” he said through a breathy laugh. 

You frowned at him. “Yeah, well. Then I’m asking you as a friend. Josh, what is your favorite color?”

He pursed his lips as he considered his answer. “It’s hard for me to pick, but maybe either red or orange.”

You nodded in agreement as you reached for the deck. “I could see that. Okay, your turn.”

You stared at the card in your hand that read, WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU SLEPT WITH?

“Are you alright?”

You snapped your eyes up to him, quickly nodding as you realized that he had been waiting patiently for you to read it. 

“Okay,” he agreed cautiously. “That’s good. What’s the question?”

You couldn’t suppress an awkward smile as a heat rose to your face. 

“It says, ‘who is the last person you slept with?’,” you informed in a humored tone. You even held it up for him to see.

He stared at the card like it just accused him of a heinous act. “You really got to answer the color question and I have to answer this?”

His intensity made you snort a laugh, though you were trying to hold yourself together so you didn’t spill your wine. “Okay, okay. I’ll answer it too. Maybe we can play the game where we both just answer it.”

“Do you just want to hear me talk about sex?” he prompted with a shit-eating grin. 

You gave him a disbelieving look. “Are you- You’re the one that picked this game out!”

Your overreaction was clearly exactly what he had been looking for. You were anticipating his ribbing to continue, but it didn’t. 

“The last person I had sex with,” he started, pressing his lips against the rim of his glass as he took a swig. “Was from my music theory class.”

“When?” you quickly asked, shocking even yourself.

 “Is that part of the question?” he teased smugly, picking a kalamata olive off of the tray and piercing it with his finger before popping it in his mouth. 

You licked your lips nervously. “No, it isn’t,” you admitted. “You don’t have to answer that, I was just curious.”

“You wanna get high?” 

He was staring directly into your eyes when you looked up at him again. 

“I feel like it’ll make it easier to answer these.”

You nodded at him, biting your bottom lip. “Yes. Yes, I do want to.” 

“My room?” he asked, picking up both of your glasses as he stood. 

“Your room,” you confirmed, following suit. 

Through the slats in his blinds, you could see that the ground was completely covered in a white blanket of snow. You spent some time watching it fall from his bed as he packed a bowl. 

“Here,” he said gently to get your attention. “You take the first hit. I’m going to light it and you’re going to suck in and hold it in.”

You nodded in understanding. 

“Not too much though,” he warned. 

The glass was cool in your hands as you took it from him. When he held the flame to it, you did as you were told before exhaling with care. He was looking at you with a proud expression when you met his eyes. 

You handed it back over to him, waiting until he was in the process of taking a hit before you spoke. 

“Tell me when you slept with her,” you demanded calmly, biting back a smirk at the way his breathing faltered. 

It had turned into a game of chicken as you held each other’s gazes silently. 

“You haven’t even answered the required question yet and you want me to do the extra credit?” he quipped. 

“The last person I fucked was a guy from tinder back home, and it happened a couple of months before I left,” you informed him confidently. “I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and he was a prick, so when we broke up, I went on a tinder bender just to feel something.”

A small smile spread across his pink lips as he listened. 

“Now you.”

“She was my girlfriend last year. We broke up in April and I had a hard time saying no to late-night texts until the end of June.” His tone was sincere as far as you could tell, as were his eyes. 

You were starting to feel the hit you’d taken by then, and you took a pause from the conversation to lean over the side of his bed and grab the bag of suckers you knew was waiting there for this very occasion. 

The high washed over you in a gentle, pleasant manner, leaving you feeling a little dreamy. 

“Sucker?” you asked, holding the bag open for him. He breathed a laugh - probably at you offering him his own candy - and then plucked one from the bag. 

After he had it unwrapped, he held the bowl out to you again. “Want another? Or am I going to have to smoke the rest of this myself?”

“Yes, I’m sure that would be very rough on you, poor baby,” you teased. 

He huffed a laugh, sitting up a bit straighter in his position. “You want another one or not?”

You stared at him wordlessly for longer than was socially acceptable, but when you finally spoke, it was with conviction. “I’ll have another baby hit.” You pulled the cards from the pocket of your pajama pants. “But then we’re playing another card, right?.”

He glanced down at the bowl and then back up to you. “When you say ‘baby hit’-”

“I mean I want you to blow it into my mouth with your mouth,” you explained cheekily, making him huff a laugh. 

“You liked that, huh?” he asked, risking a dark glance up at you through his long lashes as his fingers played along the glass piece. 

You knew exactly what you wanted to say - could hear it in your head, but your body felt tight with nerves at the thought of actually saying it. “Not as much as you did, I’m guessing.”

Oh, damn, you said it. 

A smirk played across his mouth, his eyes half hooded. If you hadn’t been paying attention, you would have thought he was completely unaffected by your teasing, but you had been listening to his breathing, so you were perfectly aware when it changed slightly. It was just the smallest difference in sound like he was pulling in air through tighter lungs. 

“Be careful with what you’re accusing people of.” A warning, definitely, but almost more of a challenge. In the months that you’d spent with him, you’d never seen him like that, but you suppose you wouldn’t have unless- Unless you were about to make him do something truly reckless. 

You bit your bottom lip out of an anxious, excited energy. “Oh, my mistake then.”

The ball was in his court, and you could tell that he was expecting him to continue pressing him. A look of slight disappointment flashed behind his eyes, but you weren’t done yet. 

You nodded toward the bowl, prompting him to glance down at it like he had forgotten what he was doing in the game he was playing with you. He kept eye contact with you as he brought it to his mouth and lit it. You watched the white smoke circle the inside of the globe before he sucked it into his lungs. 

You tilted your chin up in invitation and tried to relax your muscles as he leaned in, his throat looking tight. 

You felt his nose brush yours first before you realized you had closed your eyes in anticipation. The smoky smell hit you first when you realized you were supposed to be taking it from him. You opened your eyes and tried to breathe it all in, but most of it was lost to the room. 

He had a tiny smirk playing on his features until you reached out and wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, pressing his forehead against yours in an abrupt motion. You could tell he had his teeth clenched by how tight his jaw looked. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from playing your fingers along the sharp line of it. 

“Do you want me?” you whispered, voice barely there at all. 

Through a labored breath, he responded with a smoky sounding, “What would give you that impression?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, but unsurprisingly, it came out sounding raw. Your fingers brushed across the short hair on the nape of his neck, the pleasant feeling causing his eyelids to flutter. 

You leaned forward until you pressed your cheekbone against his, lips right by his ear, and pointedly asked, “Do. You. Want. Me?”

“Fucking of course, I do,” he spat through clenched teeth, sounding distressed as his hands wrapped around your waist, thumbs pressed into your hipbones on either side. 

“Should we?” you asked, pulling back so you could see his face. 

“Probably not.” His words were humored, a melodic laugh accompanying them, but still somehow managed to not sound any less strained. 

You considered what he was saying for a moment, relishing in the idea that this was the last moment before the point of no return. “Just one hookup,” you reasoned. 

He smirked at you, looking all too smug and disbelieving. “Okay,” he agreed. 

Patiently, you waited for him to make the first move, your heartbeat bouncing around like a basketball in your chest. When you felt his hands move from your hips, your body tensed, trying to predict where they’d end up next. 

As he cupped your jaw with both hands, you melted a little, muscles noticeably relaxing. 

The kiss was tentative at first - just a brushing of his lips on yours like he was testing the waters. He held your face like he was afraid that you were going to vanish into thin air - like your presence was the key to his existence. 

You could hear his shallow breaths as he opened his mouth, pressing it against yours. His tongue tasted like the orange sucker he’d abandoned on its wrapper on top of the dresser next to his bed. You lapped at it, body rising as you shifted to crawl into his lap. With the way he was sitting, cross-legged on his bed straddling him was a bit of a strain on your inner thighs, but the feeling was oddly pleasing - like a warm-up for the workout you were about to endure. 

He let go of your face to place his hands back on your hips, pulling your body as close to his as it physically could be. Before he could situate you too firmly, you started to unbutton your pajama shirt, and bless his heart, he couldn’t help but watch your fingers work. 

“Is this really happening, or this just a super high fever dream?” he asked, shaking his head as he frowned like he wasn’t sure he could trust his eyes. 

You wanted to laugh at him, but you could hardly blame his disbelief. If someone had told you even earlier that week that you’d be in this position, you would have rolled your eyes at them. You hadn’t realized how much you wanted this until it was about to happen.

The last button undone, you let the garment fall, the pink and white striped fabric slipping off the bed and to the hardwood. 

The cool air was shocking on your bare skin at first, causing it to tighten - well, that and you could practically feel his eyes raking over your chest. 

“It’s happening,” you assured, leaning in until you were speaking against his parted lips. 

The feeling of him brushing the pads of his fingers over your nipple made your breathing shudder. When you tipped your head back, he ducked in and pressed his mouth to your throat, dragging a stripe across your skin with the flat of his tongue. Every part of your whole body felt hot, but none more than between your legs. You tried to grind yourself down on him, but couldn’t seem to get a good angle - luckily, he seemed to notice, and halted your movements with his hands on your hips, stretching his legs out straight.

He pulled back just far enough to see your face when he ground you down onto him, the outline of his cock slipping against your core. Even with all the layers between you, the feeling still made you crumble against him, a whine escaping your lips of its own volition. It was clear that he felt it too as he bit his lip, his eyes fluttering. 

You seized the opportunity to get your fingers under his shirt, lifting it over his head as he held his arms up for you. Before he could prepare for it, you pressed closer, pressing a kiss to his temple and then nipping at his earlobe. The cool metal of his earring was pleasing against your tongue, and you reveled in the moment as he sucked in a sharp, shocked breath. 

His hands snaked around your sides, palms wide as he cupped your ass and used the leverage to pull you against him again. Burying his nose in the crook of your neck, he let a shaky breath escape him.

You could feel his thumbs hook under the elastic band of your pajama bottoms as he started to slip them down the cleft of your ass. Once it was bare, he ran his fingers over it, movement stalling as he looked at you with an eyebrow raised. 

“Are you not wearing panties?”

You scoffed. “Not to bed, obviously. Are you implying that you wear something under those loose pants?”

The corners of his lips tilted up in a wicked smirk. “I encourage you to find out.”

You giggled at his confidence, sweetly nudging your forehead against his, so he didn’t expect the swift movement of your hand as you tugged the tie of his sweats down. The answer to your previous question was “no” - he hissed as you grabbed his erection, swiping your thumb across the head, glossy from the dim light through the blinds. It was just a tease though, because a split second later, you let go of it in favor of wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your mouth against his again. 

As you pressed him back, he tried to hold you, but once he realized you weren’t just leaning on him for support, he relented. You laid him back on his bed, pulling back as you slipped your bottoms off the rest of the way. 

“Jesus,” he breathed as his eyes took in the whole of your naked body above him. “Hang on.” 

He reached to the bedside table and grabbed the bowl and lighter. After he sucked in another hit and set the piece back down, he tugged you in roughly, depositing the smoke directly into your mouth. You tried to hold it in like he had taught you, but you were much more interested in getting your tongue into his mouth. 

Still, you were plenty high, so much so that looking down on his bare form had tears threatening your eyes. He looked so soft and sweet despite the position he was in, his eyes half-lidded and one hand behind his head, one on your bare hip. 

You shifted until you could grind your core against the length of him, the wetness letting it slip through easily. 

“Fuck.” You had thought it was an exclamation of pleasure until you opened your eyes and saw a scowl painted across his face. “I definitely don’t have a condom.”

You hummed through a smile. “I don’t blame you, I definitely didn’t expect this.”

He frowned up at you. “We can just try something else if you want,” he offered.

“Well, I’m on birth control, and given the length of time between our last sexual encounters, I’m guessing we’re both clean - I know I am.”

He stared at you for a long moment before really realizing what you were implying, but once he did, he licked his lips in consideration. 

“Come here.” You weren’t sure what he was requesting until he grabbed onto your thighs and guided you up until you were straddling his face. 

The thought of it made you blush, and surely your cheeks were hot to the touch. 

He started with broad strokes of his tongue, just dragging it through. You briefly wished he had a headboard for you to brace yourself on, but your thoughts quickly became completely incoherent. You decided you were going to lean back instead, placing your palms flat on his bent knees. When you were completely comfortable and situated, he started pointedly flicking his tongue against your clit directly, first very soft and teasing, but building to something rougher and more deliberate. 

You thought you were actually going to shake apart when he sucked your clit right into his mouth, rolling the bead of it around on the flat surface. When you could feel yourself getting close to the edge, you threaded your fingers through his curls, keeping him close. 

The moment you lost it, everything in the room melted away from you - just a black expanse with flicks of color littered throughout it. 

You took a moment to catch your breath, trying to bring yourself, at least partly, back to reality. When you pulled away from him, you were met with the sight of him - the entire bottom half of his face slick with your come. 

He only let you watch in fascination as it dripped from his chin for a second before he was pushing you back, your head laid at the foot of the bed. He slipped his sweats off the rest of the way before crawling over you. 

There was no way you could have blamed him as he pushed in, seemingly not having any time for a slow entrance - you did make him sit there, untouched, for god knows how long. You certainly couldn’t name even a rough estimate for the amount of time passed. 

The spark of pleasure that shot through you made you throw your head back, your spine arching as you let out a whine. 

“I’m sorry, are you okay?” he breathed, through tight teeth.

“Yes,” you hissed as you ground yourself down onto him. “Keep going.”

Your eyes were closed, but you were sure he was wearing an awed expression. You grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him in until your foreheads were pressed together. When he started to move his hips, you let out a long, pleased hum, pressing your nails into the skin on his shoulders. 

Your whole lower half was still incredibly sensitive, so every time he brushed you, it made you writhe a bit beneath him. “Mm, fuck,” you growled as he intentionally reached down and pressed his thumb into your clit, the feeling resting somewhere between “just perfect” and “way too much”.  

He was biting his lip as he watched your reaction intently. You felt his hand snake down your outer thigh, gripping it from the bottom. He lifted it up, near-forcing you to wrap it around his hip.

The new angle was a different kind of feeling - something hot deeper in your gut like someone placed a smoldering ember in your belly.  You weren’t paying attention to anything but your own impending orgasm, so you didn’t expect it when he sucked your nipple into his mouth. He raked his teeth over the bud, causing your hips to jerk against him. 

When you opened your eyes and met his, you took a moment to absorb his expression - like he was seeing another dimension through your face. 

You could tell he was close when his lips fell open, but that was perfect because he was taking you with him. You hitched your legs around his hips and squeezed, letting your head tip back. 

When you came a second time, it was with his open mouth pressed to your throat, his hot breath hitting your damp skin. You let out a low whine, fingers tangled in his hair, probably a little too tight.

You suspected it was probably your muscles clenching in orgasm around him that set him off, a string of expletives falling from his kiss-swollen lips. His hips shuddered as he fucked you through it. 

The other side of your collective climax was warm and fuzzy, like watching home videos from the ‘60s. When he was able to hold himself all the way up, you ran your fingers through his damp curls affectionately. 

He was clearly trying to get his bearings, his breath flowing in and out of him like a tide. 

“Are you okay?” he whispered, sounding like he might not be able to speak any louder than he currently was if he wanted to.

 You hummed through a smile. “So good, Maybe never better.”

He rubbed his nose against yours, the smallest hint of an upward tilt to his lips. “I’m high as hell, so I’m not sure what’s acceptable for our situation right now, but can I kiss you?”

“We probably shouldn’t,” you admitted, making his expression fall slightly. 

He nodded at you in reluctant agreement. “You’re right.” 

You bit your bottom lip. “Ah, fuck it, we’ll start going back to normal tomorrow.”

[chocosvt]

⚬ pairing: joshua x reader ⚬ word count: 5040 ⚬ warnings: mentions of alcohol ⚬ genres: FLUFF, shallow angst, guitarist/bandmate!joshua, some annoying neighbour tropes, a little bit of pining, wintery pizzazz, joshua is a hopeless romantic :( 

✧✎ synopsis: somebody new just moved into the upstairs apartment. they’re loud, irritatingly sweet, and unfortunately, very pretty. but you’re not looking for a new relationship, even if it comes in the form of joshua hong. 

✧✎ a/n: oooUUooouu YES! this is a gift to my lovely secret santa, @luvshuas !! ♡ in my first ask, i learned that dani liked using paint by numbers, AND I THOUGHT THAT WAS ADORABLE so i helped use it to create this fic! dani, you are such a joy to talk to AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS XOXOXO !! :D

Last week, someone new had moved into the empty apartment one floor above yours. You didn’t know who. Not their name, not their face, just that they occupied the once vacant space of room 24D. Supposedly, their next-door neighbours had already brought them some housewarming gifts. A watering can filled with flowers, a wreath of white candles, and an old sewing tin now converted into a container for oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

All closely resembling the gifts you received during your first week at the apartment complex. It made sense though, considering most rooms were home to very elderly couples. At first, you planned a brief gap in your day to visit this stranger and welcome them to such a small complex. Find out if they were old or young, endearing or irritable, sensible or flat out crazy. But you never visited room 24D, because you were currently in a moat about your ex-partner.

An extremely deep, inescapable moat.

Not only had they broken up with you on the day you planned to introduce them to your parents, they decided it would be most efficient to do so through a stupid text message. From Monday to Friday, you’d been moping in a curled-up ball on the couch, blowing into tissues and flicking through the holiday romcoms even though they were all so cookie-cutter and dull. To make matters worse, it had been snowing all week, shutting you indoors as a draft built up outside the windowsills.

You had completely forgot about the newbie who’d just moved in upstairs. Until one day, when they decided to make their presence known in the most jarring way possible.

That particular morning, you were finally feeling stable enough to not eat dry, stale cereal straight from the box. You were feeling well enough to avoid another twelve hours moulding into the couch. While a cold wind blew against the windows and rattled the glass, you poured yourself some tea with the new teapot your mother parceled as an early present. And that’s when you heard it: an eruption of electric sound from the floor directly above yours. It sounded like a guitar, if that guitar were plugged into a massive amp and its chords were being plucked by one thousand fingers.

Coincidentally, you spilt tea, scalding and runny, all over the countertop. It started dribbling down your cupboards and creating blotches on the tiled flooring. At random, the sound stopped.

By lunchtime you were unwinding in the shower, your eyes shut as the water poured onto your face and streamed toward the drain. When you squeezed out some shampoo onto your fingers, you heard the chord progression again. This time louder, if that was even possible. The bottle flung from your wet hands and crashed against the floor, startling you half to death, a trail of wasted shampoo then painted to the wall. But the sound didn’t stop immediately. Unlike last time, the stranger railed on their guitar for half an hour at least.

Yet the last straw didn’t come until evening.

Sitting at the kitchen table with a water jar next to your elbow, you were using your new paint by numbers kit. You had been waiting all day to try it, brushing in the mesmerizing colours of a watery-purple landscape. For the last time that day, you were jolted by the riff of an electric guitar, causing you to jerk a huge, thick streak of black paint right across the paper, effectively ruining it. How horrible. How Terrible.

And you were not going to let the incident slide.

Room 24D. 

The room directly above yours. After banging your fist rather inhospitably against the door, you couldn’t lie that the face which greeted you was a definite shock. A young man probably in his early twenties, with curly, brown hair styled neatly yet in disarray, and these wide, glass-like eyes that felt so penetrating you were afraid to glare him down. In fact, you were a bit nervous.

“I don’t know where you stayed at last, b-but at this complex, people don’t usually slam on their electric guitars.”

But so what if you were nervous? You had grown accustomed to sharing this complex with seniors. The thought of someone this young (and admittedly – quite beautiful) had somewhat stunted your brain. The stranger looked at you as though he had nothing to say. He started bobbing his head and shrugged.

“Yeah, well, I’m guessing it doesn’t happen ‘cause everyone here is over seventy and crochets scarves until bedtime. It’s not my fault you’re the only one who’s still got decent hearing.”

Your eyes narrowed; your brow heavily creased.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

 He hesitated at first, then replied, “Joshua.”

“Okay, Joshua, I’d rather have everyone in this building crocheting scarves out the damn window if it meant not listening to a stupid electric guitar all day. You ruined my paint by numbers kit.”

Joshua laughed. “Your what?” He then flashed a grin which suggested he was holding back a satirical comment.

“My paint by numbers kit!” You repeated, feeling your nervousness dissolve into irritation. “It’s ruined, and I’m blaming it on you because it’s your fault. My whole week has been awful and you just made it even worse. So there. I hope you’re happy.”

For some reason, Joshua leaned his shoulder against the doorframe like someone who had all the time in the world. He appeared way too comfortable. Something about it irked you while simultaneously pulling this weird, fuzzy string in your chest. The boy folded his arms and raised a curious eyebrow.

“Why was your week awful?” He questioned.

There was a sweetness to his voice which hadn’t been there before, and you absolutely weren’t going to fall for it, even if it sounded like he ate a spoonful of honey and might taste just as good.

“No. Forget it,” you sighed, waving a dismissive hand, “I said what I had to say. Just be quieter, please.”

You turned around sharply, making your way toward the elevator based at the end of the corridor. Those magnetic eyes of his seemed to be glued to your backside, an almost palpable feeling.

“Okay!” He called out. “Great chat! Nice to meet you too!”

The boy was being wholly sarcastic of course. After returning to your apartment, you cleaned up the kitchen table, sweeping away your paint by numbers kit into a drawer just in case you were one day struck with the motivation to fix it up. Probably not.

“Uh—excuse me? You called me, remember? So don’t go shifting the fault like always. I just can’t believe how immature you are! And, you know what, I’m hanging up now! Don’t call back!”

Smashing your finger against the phone screen, you ended the call, silencing the aggravated voice that had pounded through the line just a second before. An unfortunate misdial resulted in your ex phoning you at the supermarket. The interaction immediately turned south, prompting you to hurry outside into the snow, wedging the brown paper bag of produce underneath your arm and against your chest, all while you barked into the phone with the other hand.

Snowflakes were brimming the edge of your wool hat; your fingertips numb and stiff. Your pacing, impatient footsteps were stamped across the white ground. Things had been difficult enough without your ex invading even the most boring parts of your life, and now a mundane stop at the market had left you intensely unsettled.

As you huffed a web of your breath into the air, you spotted something unexpected: Joshua helping Mrs. Akané load the groceries into her small silver-bullet car. She lived alone on the bottom floor of the apartment complex, one of the kindest old ladies in the whole building. Every winter she had knitted you a pink pair of mittens. When Joshua opened the car door for her, she gave him a gentle pat on his shoulder and her patented rosy-cheeked smile.

Since you scorned him for his abrasive guitar playing, it only happened less often, though it was never any quieter. You realized that he belonged in a band. From time to time they would take the stage at the downtown bar, engendering a space so packed it was nearly impossible to wriggle to the counter for a quick drink. Joshua invited you to his Friday night gig – which was tonight – and while you had contemplated the decision to attend, the disheartening encounter with your ex had officially soiled the mood.

Joshua noticed you, probably looking cold and mad.

“So,” he began, “are you coming tonight?”

Adjusting the groceries underneath your arm, you shrugged, meanwhile the hollow nature of your eyes screamed a blatant no. If anything, you wanted to be back on that living room couch, eating an entire tray of frosted shortbread cookies and dabbing at your tears.

“Seriously?” Joshua frowned. “You’re gonna pass? It is ‘cause you’re still mad about the guitar playing? I’m sorry, okay.”

“No,” you shook your head, “no, no. It’s not because of your disruptive, loud guitar playing. I’m just not having a good day.”

Bits of snow began to powder Joshua’s brown hair. His cheeks were blushed and his nose rosy.

“No offense,” the boy laughed, “but it seems like you’re never having a good day.” He then shook his head, scattering the snowflakes from between the fibres of his hair. “How about you come to our little concert shindig thing, listen to our set – which is great, I promise – then we can talk about it, back at my place.”

For a moment, you paused, and this perplexed expression briefly eclipsed your features. Did he just subtly attempt to persuade you into some sort of… Date? No, it was too soon for anything like that. He was probably joking anyways (despite his straight face).

“I don’t know… I’m tired. Maybe another time.”

You started carrying the brown bag of produce to your car, parked just down the street. Joshua chuckled and tagged along at your side, the snow crunching softly under your feet.

“When’s another time?” He asked.

Throwing open the car door and sliding the bag inside, you sighed. “Another time is another time. It’s self-explanatory.”

“So you’re not coming?” Joshua questioned in finality.

“No.” You replied, rubbing your cold fingers together, attempting to spark some warmth. “I’m not.”

It was then that Joshua took your hands in his, a gesture that completely flicked you off your axis, and started to squeeze them, kneading your skin with his thumbs until you felt the uncomfortable stiffness gradually wear off. He brought your hands close to his face, pursed his pink, very pretty lips, and started to blow on them. A sensation fizzled to life in your lower tummy. Not only were you heating up significantly, but you felt too hot. Scary hot.

“That’s a shame.” Joshua said, releasing your hands carefully, like he’d just touched gold. “But I can wait for another time.”

You couldn’t sleep that night.

Most likely because you were regretting the decision to not attend Joshua’s gig at the bar. The fact that no matter how hard you pushed, memories of your past relationship would still linger like a heavy mist, preventing you from being happy, from detaching, from forming new connections. Wet drops of snow tapped against your window. And then, at around one in the morning, you heard a knock at your apartment door.

Joshua. Evidently intoxicated. His guitar case slung over his back. A foggy sort of look disrupting his usual countenance.

“Hey there,” he mumbled, rubbing at his eye, “couldn’t get into my room. Think I could crash—” the boy stopped midsentence to yawn and hiccup, his face flushed pink, “crash here?”

“Did you walk home from the bar?” You asked, disregarding his inquiry. 

“No, Jihoon drove me.” Joshua answered, bracing his hand against the threshold. “Pretty please? Can I stay?”

“Fine.”

You took the dark green guitar case from Joshua’s back, stamped with numerous luggage stickers that made it seem as though he’d flown all over the globe. After settling the case beside the couch, you helped Joshua lie down, though he flopped rather ungracefully with his face squished into a pillow.

For an awkward moment, you were just standing there, twiddling your thumbs as Joshua squirmed onto his back.

“Do you want a glass of water?” You proposed.

Joshua carded a hand through his brown locks and further dishevelled them. His face seemed to glow and the manner in which his eyes softly shut had you feeling oddly sympathetic. Like you needed to take care of him.

Rather than answering your question, Joshua sighed.

“I can’t believe you flaked on me.” He said. “I looked forward to seeing you there all week. I told my friends about you.”

Your toes dug into the carpet; teeth fastened into your bottom lip. You couldn’t tell if he was rambling drunken nonsense or being wholly truthful. Joshua titled his head to the side, nestling his cheek comfortably against the pillow.

“Like I said, there’ll be another time.”

“Can I have a blanket?” He mumbled sleepily.

Disappearing into your bedroom for a moment, you grabbed Joshua a spare blanket which often lied next to you on the bed, just in case it got a little too cold at night. Your heating was fairly shabby.

“Here you go.” You said, dropping it on him.

After pulling the fabric up to his chin and spending a minute getting comfy, Joshua started smiling, lashes long against his cheeks.

“Appreciate it.” He replied. ”Kick me out early if you want.”

When Joshua scheduled his next gig at the bar, you made sure to be there, settled near the back at the cocktail counter. As you anticipated, the space filled up quickly, and you kept tucking in your legs whenever someone scooted by to use the washroom or find a better vantage point. You didn’t mention that you were coming. It was supposed to be a surprise which had oddly excited you. Like you were someone important to him, even though you probably weren’t.

You enjoyed his band’s performance. While sipping at something syrupy and a little too cherry flavoured, you couldn’t help but smile behind the glass, shake your foot even, as Joshua strummed down on the electric guitar. There was a pink-haired drummer seated behind him, and a bassist with a dashing, heavenly smile. Eventually, the tone of their music shifted near the end of the set. Joshua exchanged his electric guitar for the acoustic one kept in that dark green, stickered case. And when he started to sing a slower, more sentimental song, you felt something cotton-like in your chest.

How could his voice be this soft? How could it turn so sweet? How could his eyes switch from a powerful ripple to calm water? And why were you heating up all over? The glass hit your knee as you continued to watch Joshua sing, as though you’d fallen into a trance, like a sailor caught by the lullaby of a siren.

But then, as your eyes scanned the crowd for a brief moment, they attached to some who looked awfully familiar.

Goddammit. Of course.

Why did your stupid ex have to be everywhere? 

Why did they have to invade every aspect of your life? Especially the enjoyable parts? Once the stage ended and Joshua began thanking the crowd for an energetic reaction, they turned around and grabbed their friend excitedly. Yet, the thrill on their face disappeared the second they noticed you, glaring bitterly, angrily, still clearly hurt. That’s when you decided to leave.

You were halfway down the block when you heard your name being shouted. Pausing beneath a street lamp, you attempted to peer through the heavy flurries sweeping down from the night sky. A silhouette began to take shape. Joshua finally pressed through into the light, without his jacket, his equipment, or even a damn sweater.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” You questioned him, wondering how cold he must be feeling in that white t-shirt.

Joshua took a few more steps forward. “I saw you there,” he replied, still trying to catch his breath, “but then you just stormed out. I nearly threw myself down the back entrance trying to catch up with you, y’know. How do you walk that damn fast?”

“I just—I wanted to beat the crowd home.” You lied.

Joshua took in another big breath, then nodded his head. “So, what did you think? You like the music?”

“It’s cool… Why did you leave without a jacket? I mean, it’s snowing like crazy. You’re gonna get hypothermia or something.”

“Well, I didn’t want to let you get away.” The boy laughed, brushing off some flurries compiling on his shoulder. “It was great to see you there. But, why didn’t you tell me? Why the secrecy.”

You shrugged. “Why should I tell you?”

At that, you weren’t expecting Joshua to have a response. Maybe he’d be a little puzzled and have to think about it. Instead, he seemed to be formulating a surprise of his own.

“Because I have a song for you,” Joshua revealed, “I wrote it with Jihoon. It’s an acoustic thing. But I could turn it hard rock too.”

It felt like someone had turned the table. Ironically, you were the one struggling to reply, your brow furrowing in the dim light as you stared at this boy with his glowing cheeks and his hair disrupted by the flakes of snow. You sniffled, cold air hitting your lungs.

“Why would you write a song about me?”

No one had ever done such a gesture for you before. Not that you had been acquainted with many musicians or lyricists. You felt strange, but also warm, and heart-fluttery, and like you were possibly falling for someone harder than ever before. Joshua approached you tentatively and grabbed your hand, his eyes soft.

“Probably because I like you.” Joshua murmured. “A lot.”

Your heart started to pound, and it felt like someone was banging their fists against your chest. Even if you had denied it in the beginning, the truth was that you liked Joshua too. And yet, those reciprocating words somehow fell to the bottom of your feet. Because as much as you wanted it, you still weren’t ready for someone new.

“Joshua…” you squeezed his hand and looked into those endearing eyes of his, “I-I can’t right now. I was in a relationship not too long ago, and now that’s over, but I’m still trying to get over it. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

The boy shook his head. “You don’t have to be sorry.” Joshua answered, running his thumb between your knuckles. “You’re not ready, I get it.”

Breathing out slowly, you smiled at him. 

You were yanking open all the drawers in the kitchen, trying to remember where exactly you had stuck that little metal whisk. A bowl of unmixed cupcake batter was waiting to be stirred. Each year that it was open, you signed up for the Complex Gift Exchange, and it just so happened that sixty-five-year-old Miss Dupont really liked vanilla cupcakes. You pulled out the drawer that had been hiding the ruined, stained paper courtesy of your paint by numbers kit.

Rolling your eyes, you slammed it shut, only to realize you’d left the whisk sitting behind the big bag of flour on the counter.

Even though you had turned down Joshua that one night in the snow, he didn’t act spiteful or weird about it. And somehow, you two had grown closer since. Joshua was very easy to talk to. He was a good listener. No matter how many times you ran into each other on the elevator, or at the supermarket, the letter boxes in the lobby or at the car lot, Joshua always made time to listen to whatever mishap had bothered you that day. He still railed on his electric guitar every now and then, though you were beginning to accept it. Baby steps.

Apparently, one of his bandmates was visiting today. 

You knew exactly when he’d arrived too, because as soon as you pulled the cupcakes out from the oven to cool, this wave of intense sound; drumming, symbols, guitar, everything, exploded from the floor above, like someone had just thrown a clump of instruments into a hurricane. You stared up at the ceiling winsomely and sighed.

Dressed in a long, thick winter coat, you went outside the complex to visit the garden, now blanketed by snow and sparkling white. You brushed off the bench that had once sat before a fiery pink row of petunias and took a seat. It was much quieter.

“Hey!”

Or so you thought.

Turning around, you gazed up at the apartment complex, spotting two familiar faces hanging out from a fourth story window.

“What?!” You shouted back.

Joshua grinned, then cupped his hands around his mouth as an amplifier. “Were we being too loud?!” He asked.

“Yeah!” His friend yelled. “Were we too loud?!” You had learned the other face was Jihoon, the band drummer, his hair now a rusty shade of crimson. He helped write most of their music.

“No, I’m just sitting out here in the wind and snow and below zero temperatures because I want to!” You replied at the top of your lungs.

Waving at you apologetically, Joshua kept smiling. “Sorry! I’m gonna kick him out soon!” He pointed at Jihoon. “If you want, you can come up here and listen to our last rehearsal!”

Jihoon shoved Joshua’s head out of the way.

“Don’t come up here!” The drummer exclaimed. “It’s not even close to ready yet. He’s just saying that because he’s in—”

A hand clamped swiftly to the boy’s mouth, muffling the remainder of his sentence like it was top secret. Joshua then dragged him away from the open window. Quirking an eyebrow in confusion, you stared at the vacant space until Joshua reappeared a moment later, scratching the back of his head and looking sheepish.

“Sorry about that!” Joshua called. “We’re almost done!”

“I’m in no rush!” You answered, turning back around.

It was true. There weren’t too many pressing things you needed to get done today, besides making the buttercream frosting for Miss Dupont’s cupcakes. The weather wasn’t even as terrible as you made it seem. The wind was light, and the shining sun helped mitigate the usual bitterness of winter. It was quite nice out.

Until about ten minutes later, when Joshua threw a snowball at your back. You spun around quickly, glaring at the boy who was dusting his hands clean of snow, standing near the complex doorway. In that moment, you wanted to be angry at him. But, to be honest, you felt like laughing instead.

“Shouldn’t I be the one throwing snowballs at you?”

Joshua shrugged. “If you could even hit me.”

“Keep your eyes open tonight, Joshua Hong.” You comically threatened him. “Where are you going, anyways?”

“I have to get my person a gift for the exchange thing.” He said, pulling a hat over his hair. “And a new guitar pick.”

“Have fun with that.”

Then, waiting for him to turn around, you hastily packed together a snowball and threw it against the back of his coat.

Miss Dupont somehow figured out who was responsible for her gift. She asked you to give her the cupcakes early, because she swore, she was had been able to smell them baking through the air ducts. Maybe you added too much vanilla. Everyone was supposed to exchange their gifts tomorrow, leaving them by the door or delivering them in person. You didn’t have a clue as to who could be preparing your gift. As long as it wasn’t another candle wreath to collect dust in your closet, you figured you’d be fine with it.

Tonight would be your last opportunity in a long while to watch Joshua’s band perform at the downtown bar. You’d missed their last show, ruminating over the possibility of encountering your ex again; feeling those horrible emotions which were nothing more than poison in disguise. After the New Year, Joshua was planning to visit South Korea with his bandmates for a few weeks. It would be awfully strange to not hear another symphony from his electric guitar, or Jihoon’s drumkit. Jeonghan never really stopped by much.

It was at least an hour or so before Joshua was scheduled to perform. So, you decided to walk down the street to the lane of trees now wrapped and curled with lights. There were small, twinkling white lights. Large, blue lights shaped like hanging icicles. Some blinked in a specific pattern while others morphed colours. At night, it made quite the spectacle. Many people had stopped, much like yourself, to admire the aurora and pull their significant other a little bit closer. You huffed, hating this lonesomeness inside you.

But then you felt a quick pair of fingers dance up your back, and immediately recognized his eyes shining like stars.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you at the lights.” Joshua remarked, zipping up his jacket. “They’ve been up for a while now.”

“It’s always a magnet for couples.” You told him, glancing around at all the handholding and heads leaned adoringly on shoulders. “And I am—well, I was, standing here alone.” Inside your coat pocket, you played with a piece of lint, realizing that perhaps you finally felt ready and significantly healed to consider another relationship.

Looking at you from the corner of his eye, Joshua nodded.

It seemed as though the lights were a place he visited frequently, even amongst all the couples. To you, Joshua seemed like someone who was inspired by love. The not so subtle nature of awkward yet enamored eye contact which made people giggly. Holding onto the very tips of someone’s fingers because you couldn’t let go of their hand even for a second. Pressing an ear to a comfortable chest, listening for a rhythmic, thumping heartbeat. You bet he liked kisses too. Quick kisses on cheeks and gentle kisses on noses and slow, warm kisses to the mouth which could set a fire in your belly.

Out of the blue, you asked him something personal.

“How fast do you usually fall for someone?”

Joshua’s eyes traced the twinkling lights of the tree, all the way to the very top.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I’ve never thought about it.”

Kicking at a lump of hard snow, you sighed. “I think I fall too quickly. Maybe that’s why my last relationship ended the way it did. I just… I don’t know, it could be that I jumped in without knowing what’s beneath me. I don’t want that to happen again.”

The boy glanced at you, snowflakes already beginning to stick in his hair. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with taking things slow. I mean, there’s always going to be some chance in a relationship. You don’t know until you’re in it.”

“I guess so.” You replied. “When I think about it, anything’s better than getting text message-dumped right before a family dinner.” Joshua wasn’t a stranger to the humiliating affairs of your past relationship. One night, after one too many beverages at the bar, you introduced him to the entire story.

“Bad luck.” The boy said.

“Bad taste, more like.” You sighed. “I mean, what was I thinking?”

Joshua shook his head, his hand rubbing your shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up. Seriously, the right person will come along.”

Short laughter burst through your nose, and you looked at him with a knowing, lighthearted grin. “Are you supposed to be that person, Joshua Hong?”

“I’d like to think I am.” He chuckled, his cheeks getting rosier. “But I know you’re not ready. I can be patient, though.”

“So, you’re going to wait for me?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Joshua nodded. “For you, and you only? Of course.”

At that, something deep in your chest began to stir. The feeling robbed you of your words and left you breathless. Afraid of what you might do in the silence between you, quickly, you changed the subject.

“Am I going to hear that special song you wrote? Or have you scrapped it already?”

“You’ll hear it.” Joshua said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out an ivory guitar pick. “Save your applause for the very end, though. I know you might be tempted to start cheering, come up on stage in front of everyone and try to kiss me or something.”

Rolling your eyes, you started to laugh, your breath becoming a thin cloud in the still coldness of winter.

“You wish, Joshua Hong.”

He sighed, a faint smirk on his lips. “You’re right. I do.”

At approximately five o’clock in the morning, you were awakened by a fist banging at your front door. For a moment, you believed it was nothing more than part of a fuzzy dream, and simply tossed over in bed as your arms dug further under the pillow. However, the banging resumed almost instantly, and though it was very muffled, someone was calling your name.

Groaning, you dragged yourself from between the sheets and into the washroom, taking a quick sip of water before splashing some to your face. In a loose pair of shorts and a poorly adjusted tank-top, you stumbled to the front door, throwing it open while yawning.

“J-Joshua?” You mumbled, rubbing circles to your eye.

He stood on the opposite side of the threshold with a glimmery-red gift bag in his hand. For some reason, he was dressed in his jacket, those dark brown locks of his seeming damp or partly soaking as they were brushed back from his forehead. His cheeks and mouth were rosy, eyes glistering, and he was breathing deep.

You thought he looked gorgeous.

“Hey!” He exclaimed a little too loudly, as though he’d forgotten how early it was. “So, uh, weird news. Turns out we’re leaving for South Korea today, and we have to catch this seven-am flight. We’re kinda pressed for time. Jeonghan’s been helping me throw all my shit into these suitcases and—anyways, besides the point.” Taking in another breath, Joshua then held up the pretty red gift bag. “I got you for the Gift Exchange. Well—not really. But I made Mrs. Akané switch with me. This is for you.”

The sudden splurge of information had for feeling even more disorientated than when you first awakened. Joshua had to leave already? Had he been packing ever since you walked home together from his show? He pulled strings to get you for the Gift Exchange?

Reaching into the bag and pushing around some tissue paper, you pulled out a rectangular-shaped kit. It felt fairly heavy.

And then you realized just what he’d gotten you.

“Really?” You smiled, letting the bag drop to the floor because all you cared about was the project in your hands. “Another paint by numbers kit? I didn’t even know they sold these here!”

Joshua nodded, brushing some melted drops of snow off his cheek. “It wouldn’t have arrived on time if I ordered it online. Trust me, it was a process. I had to get Jeonghan’s grandma to make some calls because she’s friends with this craft store lady.” He half-sighed, half-laughed. “I just remembered you were so upset about it when I met you. About a lot of things. And I never stopped feeling sorry. I know I laughed at it and everything, but I thought it was cute.”

You brought the project to sit on the dinner table. Looking outside into the street light, you were shocked at how heavily it was snowing. Huge, fluffy clumps. No wonder Joshua’s hair was so damp and his skin so flushed. You couldn’t believe that just a few hours ago, you were sitting on that barstool near the back of the dim room, listening to him sing and feeling like you were starting to love all over again. Now, Joshua was being whisked away.

“I should really get going.” Joshua said, rubbing his pink nose, “Jeonghan and Jihoon are waiting for me down there.”

“W-Wait!” You exclaimed before the boy could disappear.

Joshua paused, though you could read the look of urgence coloured to his face. It was merely a few seconds you stood in that spot, fiddling anxiously with your fingers and struggling to take another step, yet it felt as though time had stretched itself out like plasticine. 

And even though it was slightly terrifying, you had never felt so warm and full of thrill until you had crossed the space to kiss him. Your hands pushed against Joshua’s chest, searching for stability, as you experienced the soft sensation of your lips pressed so desperately to his. Joshua grabbed your cheek in his cold hand to tilt your head a little more left. He stared at you with a hazy, sort of dreamlike look, just for a moment, before kissing you again.

“Am I making you late?” You laughed breathily in between the heated breadth of another kiss.

Joshua shook his head, taking your face in both his hands, moulding his mouth against yours in a smile.

“They can wait just a minute longer,” he answered, “I can’t believe you’re doing this right when I have to leave. You’re really screwing me over, here.”

“Then finish it when you get back.” You smirked.

This time, you were certain of something: you hadn’t jumped too soon. You weren’t going to crash. You were falling in love.

✧✎ a/n: the end the end!! happy holidays !! <3 honestly think it’s kind of the dream to get joshua as ur apartment neighbour xoxo. HOPE U LIKED THIS DANI AND THAT IT GAVE YOU SOME SMILES heheh. i actually haven’t written for joshua in quite a while so i rly appreciated getting to experiment with this. i also love the idea of joshua in a band and being a sappy romantic who always writes abt his future muse ;_; i’m not a huge fluff person BUT I WILL GLADLY GIVE UP EVERYTHING FOR THAT! 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

From Eden: Three

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, mentions of mental illness, grieving, trauma, panic attack; tags to be added throughout series

This is dark!Bucky. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The mc suffers from agoraphobia. After a new neighbour moves in across the street, her home becomes even more of a prison.

Note: I know it’s been a while...

Thank you so much for your patience! And support!!

As always, if you are so inclined, please like, reblog, and comment. <3

Transcript:

Sunday

When Dr. Tisha and Lorena left last night, they were still angry with me. I didn’t care much as both of them lectured me again over that man. I told them the same things I had before. I don’t want to know him.

 They suggested at least that I save the money I made for a day out. Lorena said it would be good for me to try to go into town and do some shopping myself, for myself. The thought made me choke but I just smiled and said, “we’ll see.”

 Now I’m awake, early again. I keep hearing things in the yard. I tell myself it’s a raccoon or something else, maybe even a bat! One got in the house last year and I locked myself in the bathroom until I was brave enough to grab the broom and chase it out. Looking back, it’s sort of funny.

I looked out the window but I just saw shadows that made me nervous. The bird bath was eerie in the dark and the shed looked decrepit. I thought I saw something move along the wall but I’m sure it’s only me being tired.

 I did try to go back to sleep but then I started thinking about things I haven’t thought of in a long time. About the things I told Tisha I never want to think or talk about ever again. 

Then I thought about grandma and mama. Why did they have to leave me?

Later

I was in the garden when it started to rain. It started with a big crack of thunder and I almost screamed at how scary it was. It came so fast I barely got inside before I was soaked through. Then I giggled at myself as I stripped out of my muddy jeans and wet tee shirt.

When I was a kid, I used to love to dance out in the rain, or just stand and let it wash over me. When my mother died, it stormed and I sat in the downpour until I got sick. The drops hid my tears and numbed the pain of that lonely ten-year-old. I’m older now but sometimes I still feel like a kid.

 I watched the sky darken through the window and the smell of the rain in the dirt was comforting. I made tea and kept watching. The sky would flash, a cacophony of awe, and I felt as if I was living in an old Hitchcockian shot. I liked to think there was a camera there to catch the perfectly framed scene, the frightening and frantic swell of the storm that reflected the suspense of the human catastrophe about to take place.

 Then the horror was no longer just in my mind. I cleaned my cup and turned. As I passed through the dark hall I saw a shadow flash at the window of the door. I gasped and rushed forward to check the latch but the figure was gone. I peeked out and there was nothing.

 Now I’m still awake and I think I just got carried away with my imagination. I’m watching The Wizard of Oz but the colours aren’t as bright as they used to be. At least, they don’t seem like it.

🖊

Monday

I don’t remember falling asleep. It must’ve been late, or early depending how you look at it. I woke up to the blue screen as the VCR had stopped and rewound the tape. It was still dark, the sky hungover from the wild night.

 I made blueberry tea. It was too sweet after I let it steep for too long. I watched the morning birds bask in the full bird bath and slowly the sun began to shine down. It’s brighter now and I’m going to try to fix the shed window.

🖊

Tuesday

I couldn’t write anymore yesterday. Not after what happened.

I can’t.

🖊

Wednesday

I 

On Monday, I

He was here.

 I was hammering the board back into place and I hit my finger into the nail. The metal left a painful blister and my knuckle split and bled. I cried out and dropped the hammer as I held my hand and tried not to tear up.

“You alright?” he asked and I looked at him, afraid.

He was at the gate. Had he been there, watching me? I nodded and wrinkled my nose in pain. I couldn’t bend the top of my finger. I hid my hand and left the mess on the ground as I rushed to the front door to hide inside.

“Hey,” he called as I whimpered, dumbly trying to turn the handle with my hurt hand, “you’re hurt. I can help.”

 I shook my head as my finger throbbed. I looked at it and cringed. It was really bad.

“I just want to help.”

“Why are you here?” I watched the door creak open and didn’t look back at him, “why are you bugging me?”

“I was just walking by and I heard you,” he said, “I know how to set your finger… or I can take you to the hospital.”

I didn’t want to go to a hospital. The thought makes my stomach hurt. I hate hospitals.

“I can deal with it.”

“You’re bleeding a lot,” he insisted and I was getting really annoyed.

“What do you care?” I don’t understand him or why he kept bothering me and hanging around my gate!

“Well, I won’t lie to you, your friend, Tisha, she told me to keep an eye on you,” he said through the bars, “so yes, I was watching you.”

“She’s not… not my friend,” I was so angry. Why would she do that!? She doesn’t even know him, I don’t know him, “she’s my doctor.”

“Can I help you with your finger? I’ll stop watching but you need to get it set and soon.”

“I don’t care. I got nine others.” I was mean and didn't care.

“Then I can call your doctor? She gave me her number in case--”

“No, no,” he couldn’t call her. She’d be mad at you and she’d make you go to the hospital, “don’t call her, please. Just… stay here.”

 I went inside and with one hand, I searched under the counter for the dinged old white chest. I pulled it out by the thin metal handle and went back outside. The way he watched me made me nervous even though he was so calm.

“If I let you in, you have to leave right after,” I said as fearsomely as I could, “and this is the only time you’re ever coming in.”

“You’re shaking really bad, that must hurt,” he looked at my hand and ignored my warning.

“Do you get it!? You have to promise to leave after.”

“Sure, just let me help,” he nodded.

 unlocked the gate and slowly opened it for him. We sat at the patio table as he searched through the old box of first aid gear. He took out gauze and found two straight sticks from the garden. He tested their strength and sat back down.

“Give me your hand,” he said.

 I reluctantly put my hand on the table and hissed at the pain in my finger. He cleaned it carefully and I looked away as he went about his task. It hurt less not seeing it. When he finished wrapping it up, I pulled away and stood.

“Good, now go,” I pointed to the gate.

“That won’t be good for more than a day,” he stood, “I have some real splints at my house. I could come back-”

“I told you, no,” you jabbed your hand towards the gate, “out.”

He was quiet and he looked around. His jaw set as he considered the thick garden and his eyes narrowed.

“The flowers are doing good,” he said.

“Please, leave,” I begged, he was making me nervous. 

I was still shaking but not from the pain. I remembered that night, it wasn’t just one, it was several, and they laughed as they stood over me. They were smaller than him, just teenagers, like me, but they still hurt me.

“Go!” I shouted, “go! Go! Go!”

 He grabbed my shoulders as I began to hyperventilate. I hadn’t been so worked up in a long time and I could stop as the fit began. I chanted the word over and over as my body shook so violently and my voice became only deep and painful breaths. My chest burned so bad.

 I didn’t remember what happened after that. I only remember him in my house. I was on the couch and Dr. Tisha was there too. 

When I could speak again, I asked her to make him go. She ignored me and said that he helped me, that he had kept me safe by calling her. 

 But I saw his smile and how he looks at me. I saw the way he paced around the house and noted every inch of it. I watched him as Tisha fed me chamomile tea.

 She didn’t want to leave me alone, she said. She thought I should go to the hospital for my finger and for a mental evaluation. I sucked up the panic in my chest and told her I was okay, that I remembered the exercises and it wouldn’t happen again. I could tell she didn’t really believe me.

“I’ll stay with her,” Bucky offered and my eyes rounded.

“I’ll be fine,” I told Tisha before she could respond.

“You’re not fine,” she said, “in good conscience, if you won’t go to the hospital, I need someone here to monitor you.”

“Lorena--”

“She’s off-the-clock. I can’t expect her to come here right now, she has other clients.”

 I frowned and crossed my arms and crushed my injured finger, “why can’t you stay?”

“Well, I left a session for this and I have others waiting on me. I would stay if it was an option. Listen,” she sat and spoke to me like I was a child, “this man is a public servant. He is a good man, in fact, I think he’s a lot like you. Now it would be wrong of me to go into detail about his experiences but I have it on good authority that he knows better than even me what you’re going through.”

 I shook my head and pouted, “I won’t hurt myself. Not again.”

“I wish I could believe you,” she said, “but recently you’ve shown some serious regression. If you keep arguing with me, I will be obligated to have you escorted to the hospital and kept for seventy-two hours...

Or Bucky can stay until Lorena comes by tomorrow and I can return.”

“I didn’t do anything. I got nervous.”

“I won’t ask again.”

“Fine, fine, he can stay,” I gave up. The thought of another hold at the hospital was enough to make me give in. I couldn’t do that again.

So Bucky stayed and I didn’t sleep. Again.

And I didn’t write and I can’t anymore. I don’t feel good.

🖊

Thursday

There’s a lot to catch up on but I don’t want to write about it. I never want to think about it again.

Bucky’s gone, Lorena and Tisha made their visit on Tuesday, and I’m fine.

I’m fine.

🖊

Friday

 feel him still. He’s watching me. I know he is! 

 He was in my house, he slept on my couch, he walked through my halls. I smell him still and it makes me sick.

 I see him through the gate, he doesn’t try to hide anymore. I called Tisha for my daily check-ins. I’m back to those again. I told her he was watching and she told me he was only concerned. She said I was exaggerating. She thinks I’m crazy!

 The walls used to protect me. I used to hide behind them but now I just feel trapped.

 He’s watching again. I see him through the window. He’s at the gate, his metal hand on the bar as he searches for me. I’m going away before he sees me. I’m turning out all the lights and locking the doors.

🖊

Saturday

The gate is broken again. The face of the lock fell off and one of the bars is bent through several others.

 The lower hinge is busted and I found footprints in the dirt. There are tulips missing from the garden, the pink ones. I got those bulbs from grandma, her last gift to me. I’m sad.

 The doors are still locked and all the curtains are closed. I can’t even turn on the TV.

Later

He was in the house! I know he was! The window to my bedroom was open and the blankets on my bed were all messed up. I woke up on the couch as I usually do. I feel asleep reading a book with only a candle. The candle was out and the pages of the book were bent.

 I got up to go to the bathroom. I felt weird. My shorts were damp with sweat. The house is so hot with the windows shut. I stopped when I noticed my bedroom was open, I always closed the door.

 It’s really hard to write because I’m still shaking. It wasn’t just the window or the blankets. There were pink tulips on my pillow. 

I know it’s him. He’s playing a game with me, a game I don’t like.

 I’m scared and I hear someone in the garden. I can’t remember if I locked my bedroom window. I was so afraid, I can’t remember.

I can’t remember.

I can’t~~

[acknowledgetheabsurd]

“Monday evening, my love, I spent the end of my day trying to throw away a huge ball somewhere deep inside me that was choking me to death. I did not burst. I held on tight. I thought you'd be proud to know I was brave and I held on - "Dora" alone knew everything that was inside of me; she was enriched by it to the last corner of her heart and soul. On my way home, once I got into bed, I made drastic arrangements for the next few days. Only one thing had to count for you, for me, for us: not to let myself go, and on this idea I worked out a busy schedule. Since then, I've forbidden myself a single minute off.

I barely finish one work that I'm already thinking about preparing for the next one. And, for the moment, that's how the hours go by. Tuesday morning I finished some details in my rooms, I cleaned up, I went out for two errands, I updated my mail and in the afternoon I went to the radio. Yesterday, I filed papers, I finished my mail, I placed the blinds, I arranged in the library the beautiful books I received (Proust and Montherlant) and in the afternoon I went to the radio (Hélène and Faust de Gœthe) where I stayed until 7 o'clock.

In the evening on my way home, I read manuscripts (Brainville* and another) and turn off the lights exactly at 2 o'clock in the morning. I get up at 10 o'clock. And I have lunch at 2 o'clock. At Hébertot everything goes well - less people but very, very hot and the rental is already going up for the next few days. Jamois**, Villars, have come. Packed. From tomorrow, I have radio on radio until the end of next week, but you'll know the details.

Tonight I start my little diary that I'll send you every three days. The weather is grey, flat, dull like me. I'm waiting for you to live again. I have a project in store for me that would interest me if it were done under the conditions I dare to dream of from time to time. I'll tell you about it tomorrow in detail. This morning I received your first letter. I was waiting for it... You speak of "mugs" and "boiled"!!!! Oh! My darling!

I think of you all huddled up against me, all supple, all warm, and tenderness suffocates me. I think of you serious, of your beautiful clear eyes, of your forehead that I would like to have under my hand, and love suffocates me. I think of your hard legs, your arms, around me, and... But I stop.

Be as calm and as happy as you can be, my love. Rest, take care of yourself, work, enjoy the peace and quiet that you've been given. Don't think too much about our separation, but rather about our meeting in this world, about our waiting, our trust, our love, the sunny days that await us in all those minutes of eternity that we still have to live. Think that everything I do, I do with you, for you, in view of your coming presence.

Forgive me for not resting yet. I don't feel ready to do that. More later, to be beautiful when you return; later, when hope finally allows me to be alone with myself, alone and naked. I am yours forever. Marie-Hélène Dasté asks for your address to write to you. Shall I give it to her? Tell me, is Corsica beautiful? Ah! If my project could come true... We could even go to Sicily afterwards... But I'll tell you about it tomorrow. Rest, my love. Take all you can from what's under your hand. Forget about me enough to live a little happy - think of me enough to be happy altogether. I love you.”

Maria Casarès to Albert Camus, Correspondance, January 5, 1950 [#114]

* The actor Yves Brainville, born Yves de La Chevardière (1914-1993), husband of the actress Léone Nogarède. He played the role of Annenkov in the creation of Les Justes. He is also the author of L'Obstacle, a play that he directed himself at the Vieux-Colombier in 1951.

** Marguerite Jamois (1901-1964), actress and director, director of the Théâtre Montparnasse from 1943 following Gaston Baty. She will play the role of Caesonia during the performances of Caligula at the Angers festival in June 1957.

[bubblesuga]

Turning Page - Part 1

Summary: Sometimes you find yourself in the right place at the right time and unknowingly, you fall in love. Min Yoongi certainly didn’t expect that when he met eyes with you one fateful night in late July. Nor did he expect to end up naked in your apartment while you drew his body.

w/c: 7,302 genre: struggling producer!yoongi au, new relationship, fluff, smut warnings: oral (m receiving), dom!yoongi, switch!reader, raw sex, spanking, reader has a praise kink, yoongi has a dirty mouth (but lets be honest, what else is new?), slight exhibitionism, jungkook is too nosy for his own good

It’s not often that you find yourself at a 24 hour diner in the middle of the night with an insane amount of papers splayed out in front of you as eat your waffles while answering emails and trying your hardest to copy the manuscripts sent to you but for some god-awful reason it’s happened to you on more than one occasion this week alone. 

The manuscript, which the author unabashedly decided to hand write instead of type in this day and age, was way too long and had way too much detail. Unfortunately for you, your boss only reads typed manuscripts and insisted that you copy every word and type it for her by Monday. You know for a fact that your boss is going to get three chapters into this absolute mess of a story and toss it but you have no choice but to listen to her. 

This is definitely not how you expected being an intern to go yet here you are, wondering and waiting for the day that you can move on and start your own company like you’ve wanted to for practically your entire life. 

“Can I get you a refill on your coffee?” A voice asks, and you glance up to see the waitress, an older woman with a smile that could light up a thousand suns. 

“Yes please,” you smile, holding out your mug to her as she pours directly from the pot, “thank you.” 

“No problem, I always see you working so hard so I figured you could use the energy boost.” she grins, patting your shoulder lightly as she begins to walk away and help the other few tables which also happen to be hosting tired college students and early risers or late sleepers. 

Without even realizing it, another half hour passes by you quickly. Your eyes burn, but you count the remaining pages and try to push through. Quickly though, your ears spot the sound of dishes clanking together and you can’t help but pull your attention in that direction. 

A man with blond hair and dark eyes is cleaning the table in front of you. He adorns an apron around his waist and a white t-shirt with black pants. The busboy wipes down the table, and you admire his side profile as he does so. His features are soft, a rounded nose and down-turned lips held almost in a pout. You have never come across a man so stunningly beautiful, it nearly causes your breath to be caught in your throat. 

You’re staring for so long that the man catches on to your watchful eye, glancing over in your direction with a raised eyebrow. You smile sheepishly, “Sorry.” 

The man smirks, shaking his head before hauling the bin of empty cups and plates towards the kitchen. Your heart sinks for a moment, but you shake the feeling to the best of your ability and try to finish typing. 

A few more moments pass, and you hear someone sitting across from you. You glance up and see the man sat across from you, apron gone and a black jacket now covering his torso. 

“Can I help you?” You question softly, clasping your hands together atop the table. 

He bites his bottom lip, “I feel like I should be asking you the same thing.” 

“Pardon?” 

“You were watching me earlier, just curious what was on your mind was all.” He shrugs, his hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets. 

You swallow, the way his eyes scan you causes your face to flush. Carefully, you stack up your papers and clean the table slightly while you try to think a way to dance around the answer to his question. He waits patiently, which only causes you to panic internally. 

“I was thinking that you would be nice to draw.” you finally settle on, and it’s true. He looks like a work of art, and you’d love to have had him as a model in your art class when you went to college. 

He doesn’t seem to expect that answer, his eyes widening slightly as his head tilts, “So draw me.” 

“Ah,” you immediately wave your hand dismissively, “I haven’t drawn in a couple years and I was never any good at it anyway.” 

He leans forward, mirroring your position from earlier, “But if that was your first thought then surely you still have an interest in it.” The smooth cadence of his tone intimidates you to no end, yet it entices you and pulls you in even more. How can a stranger hold so much power over you?

“I’ll tell you what,” you say after a moment, suddenly gaining a brush of confidence when you see a twinkle in his eye, “you come to my apartment tomorrow night and I’ll draw you.” 

“That sounds like a trap to murder me.” He remarks, a gummy grin stretching across his face and you have to hold back a small ‘awe’, your chest twisting at the sight. 

“You want to get drawn or not?” you bite back, just as teasingly. 

He shakes his head, a small chuckle leaving his pink lips, “Give me your phone.” 

You raise an eyebrow, reaching into your bag and pulling out your phone. You unlock it for him and he takes it immediately, keeping the screen just far enough away from you that you can’t see what he’s doing. Soon enough, he stands abruptly and sets your phone down onto the table.

He smirks, “Text me the address, I’ll be there.” 

The stranger wanders down the isle and towards the front door, and you watch in awe at his broad shoulders and shapely figure. Something about the way he carried himself made your mouth water. 

Breaking out of your trance, you quickly unlock your phone and and see a newly added contact. At the top of the screen is a simple ‘Yoongi ;)’ titling the contact. 

You blush, gnawing your bottom lip gently as he passes by the window and sends a wink your way.

~*~*~

He’s going to be here any moment. He’s going to walk through your door with his stupid fucking smirk and attractive eyes and he’s going to be in your living room, posing for a while so you can draw him. 

And you’re freaking out. 

After he left you immediately sent him your address, and since then the two of you have been talking non stop. It was mostly about small things, jobs, favorite foods and favorite colors... Although it may have only been a day, you feel like you know him pretty well. He’s funny and charismatic and oh so charming, no wonder you were so drawn in to his beauty because he’s gorgeous from the inside out. 

You haphazardly through your jackets and shoes into the closet by the front door, only recently becoming aware of how much clothes you leave strewn throughout your home. 

Just as you light a cinnamon scented candle in the center of the room, your doorbell rings. 

You rush over to the door and glance in the mirror to fluff your hair and wipe away any runny make up. Exhaling a deep breath, you open the door and greet Yoongi with a smile. 

“Hello.” you say simply, opening the door wider and motioning for Yoongi to come in. He’s dressed in a black button up and tight fitting black jeans, a stark contrast to his work attire. He carries with him a back pack and a bottle of whiskey. 

He notices the way you eye the bottle, and he flushes slightly, “I figured it could help with your nerves. A- and mine, because I’m a little nervous as well.” 

“Nervous?” you trudge into your living room with Yoongi following closely behind, “why are you nervous?” 

“Well, I’m not exactly sure if you expected this to be a nude drawing or not so I wore nice clothes but I’m also willing to take them off.” He scratches the bottom of his chin, watching as you set up the easel. 

You pause your movements, eyes widening, “N- nude?” 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, twisting open the bottle of whiskey, “isn’t that what you do in those fancy art classes? Draw nude people?” 

“I- I mean, we did,” you stutter, your throat going dry, “but they were always women because I went to an all female college.” 

“Ah, so you could use the practice,” he grins confidently, but it drops suddenly, “unless you’re uncomfortable with that. Then, fully clothed is fine with me.” 

The thought of being able to see the gorgeous man nude excited you more than you’d like to admit, and seeing as you two were in the safety and comfort of your own home, you had no problem with him doing it so long as he wanted to, and by the way his fingers are itching to undo the first button of his shirt, you figure he is. 

“Go ahead. You’re right, I can use the practice.” 

Yoongi smiles and with trembling fingers he begins to take his clothes off. As he does so, you focus on setting up the rest of your supplies. The charcoal set sits idly on the table beside you and you finally sit down with a sigh. 

As you turn your eyes back to Yoongi, you see that he is splayed across your couch with the bottle in hand. 

Holy fuck, his body is just as gorgeous as his face. He’s lean, but you can tell he definitely works out his arms and his legs are long, a pinkish tint holds itself to his skin and you’re unsure if he’s being shy or if the alcohol has already taken affect on him. Eventually you let your eyes land on his hips, his pelvis presenting itself neatly between his legs. It takes everything in you not to drop what you’re doing and let him fuck you into oblivion. 

“(Y/N)?” you hear, and you’re brought back to the current situation. Yoongi’s face holds a knowing smirk, and he leans forward to hand you the bottle of whiskey. 

You take it gratefully, your heart thudding harshly in your chest as you take a sip. 

“Is this position okay?” he questions, one leg bent at the knee and resting on the other one. His right arm rests extended on the back of the couch while his left hand plays dangerously close to his pelvis. 

“Y- yes.” you breathe, picking up your pencil and beginning the sketch. 

It doesn’t take long for you to get the basic sketch down, your love for drawing coming back in droves as Yoongi sits silently, watching your face as you continue to sketch across the paper. He smiles, your nose crinkling before you erase a line or your tongue poking out as your concentrating on a specific area. 

After a little bit of silence, you speak up, “Do you want me to draw, uhm,” you pause your sentence and gesture towards his hips, to which he responds with a little laugh. 

“My cock?” 

His use of the word shocks you a little bit, but you silently remind yourself that you are a grown woman and are completely capable of listening to a man talk about his anatomy, even when you’re immensely attracted to him and have to continually swallow the drool that threatens to fall from your mouth. 

“Yeah, your- your cock.” you nearly whisper, noticing the way his cock twitches slightly at your voice. 

Okay, he’s getting just as much enjoyment out of this as I am. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, shifting a few inches, “I want you to draw my cock.” 

You nod, turning back to your drawing and beginning the last details. 

Yoongi doesn’t take his attention away from your face, gauging your reaction to his body. He likes the way you’re so attentive, and it’s taking everything in him not to harden, though he’s unsure how much longer he can hold off. 

His mind reels with the possibility of you riding him right on this couch. After spotting you at the restaurant he knew that he wanted you. It’s been far too long since he’s had sex, and his pickiness has become more and more evident, especially to his roommates. However, the moment he saw you, he could nearly imagine the way you would feel around him and when he saw you staring he knew that he was in the clear to come over and talk to you. 

This definitely wasn’t how he expected it to turn out but he has no complaints. 

“I’m almost done,” you murmur, your brow furrowed in concentration, “you can move now. All I have to do is shade a little.” 

Yoongi lets out a small breath, his fingers dancing across his hip bone as he lays comfortably on his back, “Do you need me to get dressed now?” 

You glance up, your face mostly hidden by the sketch pad, “If you would like to.” 

Slight disappointment hits Yoongi as he realizes that he’s not going to be able to touch you today. He sits up and reaches for his boxers, but you stop him. 

“Or you could give me a minute and I’ll undress too.” you say casually, shrugging as you pick up a black pen and sign the bottom of the drawing.

Yoongi’s jaw drops, and there’s no stopping it now. He instantly feels blood rush to his cock and watches intently while you spin the easel around and show him your work of art. 

Across the page, Yoongi sees himself displayed and detail lining every area of the sketch. He notices the way his eyes twinkle even in the drawing and if there were ever a time to think of himself as attractive, it would be now that he’s been drawn by you. 

“Do you like it?” you ask nervously.

Yoongi grins, “I love it.” 

“Good,” you whisper, and you stand up. You take a careful step over to him, and Yoongi doesn’t take his eyes away from you. As you’re about to slip your shirt over your head, he stops you. 

“Let me, please.” he begs gently, and you nod. He stands up quickly and hooks his fingers around the hem of your shirt. You lift your arms and allow him to slip the material over your head. His movements are slow, tantalizing and teasing you but also drawing you into him. 

He places his hand against your side, drawing small circles before leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

It lasts no more than a few seconds, but you instantly miss the contact. He smiles, his nose crinkling as he does so and your heart can be heard from inside your chest, singing as he looks you in the eyes. He unhooks your bra, tossing it to the side and suddenly his lips are back on yours. 

It’s much more feverish than before, the taste of the whiskey and his strawberry flavored lip balm mix together on your tongue. The combination is harmonious, and he tastes exactly like you thought he would. 

Suddenly, he grips your shorts and pants, slipping them down your legs and softly commanding you to step out of them. You steady yourself on his shoulders and do as he says, your legs trembling with anticipation. 

“Last chance to back out of this if you don’t want it.” Yoongi says, his hands cupping your jaw and using his thumb to swipe gently at your cheek. You smile, “I want this.” 

He nods, “On your knees.” 

You instantly listen, dropping to your knees in front of him and licking your lips hungrily at now being eye level with Yoongi’s now hard cock. He smirks, “You can touch.” 

You nod hesitantly, then reach forward and pump him up and down a few times. Instantly, Yoongi’s head falls backward and a moan falls from his lips, gloriously loud and deep. 

The sound sends tingles straight to your heat, and you tentatively stick your tongue out to lick the tip of his member. His hips flex and you open your mouth automatically to accept him into your mouth. He goes a little further than expected and you gag as you feel him hit the back of your throat. 

“’M sorry,” he moans, “fuck your throat feels so good.” 

He looked heavenly, sweat begins to line his forehead as you use your tongue on the underside of his cock, paying special attention to the pulsating vein. 

His hands gather your hair up in his hands, “There we go, wanna see your pretty face as you suck my cock.” 

Fuck. 

You take him as deep into your mouth as you possibly can and hold him there, moaning at his dirty mouth and feeling yourself grow wetter by the second. 

“Good girl,” he feels your hands begin to roam his torso, his muscles flexing beneath his fingertips, “gonna cum.” 

With that, you pop off of him and see his eyes fall to you incredulously. “I was gonna-” 

“I know,” you grin, “but wouldn’t it feel better inside of me?” 

“You are so fucking hot.” he says, pulling you up to his level and slamming his lips to yours. You tug him down as you fall onto the couch, his cock brushing ever-so-lightly between your legs and causing both of you to gasp. 

It doesn’t take Yoongi long to line himself up at your entrance, your legs wrapped carefully around his waist and guiding him in slowly. Yoongi watches the way your eyes roll backwards as he bottoms out, a moan falling from his lips as he steadies himself.

He had never felt as much pleasure than in this moment. 

The eroticism of the entire situation made everything feel more sensual. Despite barely knowing him, you felt a connection to him stronger than anyone ever before. The way his cock seems to fit perfectly within you, stroking and massaging your velvety walls, immediately has you reeling beneath him. 

“I’m not gonna last very long,” Yoongi starts, his arms shaking as he holds himself above you, “what can I do to help you out?” 

“That’s okay, just fuck me.” You gasp.

You feel him reach a point inside you that sends waves through your body, your back arching off the couch. Yoongi catches the way your breathing has grown ragged, and reaches his hand between the two of you. 

His thumb manages to find your clit, collecting your wetness and rubbing over it gently. His thrusts stay slow and steady, but even so you’re unable to hold back. As your orgasm approaches, you bring Yoongi down to your mouth and feel the way he nibbles at your bottom lip. Suddenly, he speeds his thrusts up and his thumb swipes fast and sloppy circles across your clit. 

You feel your breath catch in your throat as your orgasm washes over you, a mewl of content leaving your mouth as Yoongi soon follows after, strings of hot cum coating your walls and adding to the sensitivity of your heat. 

He collapses on top of you, his lips peppering kisses across your exposed chest while your hand caresses his hair. 

“I would have been able to last longer if you weren’t so fucking good at giving head.” Yoongi nearly whines, his chest heaving while he attempts to catch his breath. 

“It’s okay,” you smile, pushing his hair back and exposing his forehead, “we both got there in the end.” 

Yoongi shrugs, making no effort to move off of you as he buries himself in your chest, “If you hadn’t, I would have no problem making you cum on my tongue.” His words are slightly muffled by your breasts which only causes you to giggle. 

“Hm, I’m open to experiencing that on another day,” his lips turn up against your skin at your words, “but can I give you some pointers?” 

Yoongi’s head pops up, his eyes looking at you incredulously, “you just said that we both got there in the end, what more do I need to do?” 

“Be louder,” you whisper, his tone teasing, “I like when a man is vocal.” 

His eyes glare jokingly, “Okay, you’re on. I’ll be as loud as you want.” 

You giggle, pressing a light kiss to his nose and watching the way his face scrunch up at the contact. 

His chin rests on you, his thumb stroking your cheekbone, “I like you a lot.” 

“Are you basing this solely off of the fact that I made you cum?” 

“That plays a part in it,” he chuckles, “but I want to see you again for sure. You seem cool, and I’d really like to take you out to dinner some time.” 

“Ah,” you click your tongue, “we did it backwards.” 

Yoongi laughs, a melodic sound that instantly makes your heart speed up. 

The two of you lay there for a little bit, your hand stroking his hair as you talk about the most mundane tasks. He tells you a little bit about his job, how his friend owns the diner the two of you met at and Yoongi likes to help out every once in a while for some extra cash. 

His real passion lies in music, which is why he was so hellbent to see you make art again. He loves encouraging people to create, to take charge and express themselves in the purest forms. 

After what seems like hours, Yoongi hears his phone ding. With a groan of disapproval, he climbs off of you and reaches into his jeans for his phone. 

You situate yourself on your side, watching the way Yoongi runs a hand through his messy hair and checks his phone. 

“Seokjin wants me to come serve tonight,” he says with a sigh, “I’ll text you after I get off, yeah?” 

You nod, “I need to finish up some work anyway.”

Silently, Yoongi begins to dress himself for the first time since he entered your apartment. You pout visibly as he slips his boxers back on, standing up and following suit by dressing yourself as well. 

As soon as you’re both dressed, you carefully tear Yoongi’s drawing out of the sketch pad and reach out to hand it to him.

“You’re giving it to me?” He questions, taking it with a raised eyebrow. 

You nod, “I don’t feel right in keeping it.” 

He shakes his head, “You should keep it for a rainy day.” 

Your eyes turn to slits while you inspect the drawing. You quietly slip it back into the sketchbook while Yoongi lets out another laugh. 

You lead him back to the front door, your arms crossed over your chest. Different from previous hook ups, you didn’t feel dirty after everything that you did. Instead, you felt comforted by the fact that he didn’t just leave as soon as he finished. He seemed like he genuinely wanted to take care of you and that wasn’t something you came across often. 

As he shuts the door behind him, you can’t help but touch your lips while you remember the feeling of his. 

~*~*~

“Hey Seokjin,” Yoongi greets as he enters the diner through the back door. 

Seokjin flips some sauteed vegetables in a pan and glances over at his younger friend, “Hey Yoon-” he pauses, setting down the pan, “you got laid didn’t you?” 

Yoongi throws his head back, muttering a small ‘damn it’ knowing that he’s going to get grilled until Seokjin is happy with the amount of details he’s received. 

“Yeah I did.” he sighs. 

“Hm, well you don’t seem too happy about it. Was she awful or something?” 

Yoongi whips his head towards Seokjin, “What? No, god no. She was fantastic.” 

“Then why the long face?” 

“Because I had to leave her to come help you.” Yoongi shrugs, chuckling when he feels Seokjin shove him lightly. 

Shaking his head, Seokjin plates up the food while he talks to Yoongi, “Was it the cute editor you were talking about last night?” 

Yoongi feels a twinge of jealousy hit his chest when he hears Seokjin saw you too, but it’s quickly replaced with triumph once he realizes that he got to you first. 

“She’s an intern, not an editor quite yet, but yeah that’s her.” 

“Good man,” he praises, “does that mean you’re back on your game?” 

Yoongi scoffs, “Just because I fuck one girl doesn’t mean I’m immediately going to try and fuck every girl I’m attracted to again.” 

Sure, Yoongi admits he went through a phase of... being well known. Especially in college, Yoongi was known to be a man of many special talents. After a while of random hook ups and making girls scream his name, he lost interest. He assumed it was because he got bored of it, but now he’s realizing that he was much more interested in having a relationship. Ever since he realized that, he had been waiting for someone to fall into his lap. 

For some reason, the moment he saw you he felt some indescribable feeling that drew him to you. Like all that waiting had finally paid off and he needed to talk to the girl with laser focus and a cute smile. 

“Oh, so you like this girl?” Seokjin says, glancing at the screen as another order comes in. 

“Yeah, a lot. She’s an artist.” He grins, calling back from the locker room connected to the kitchen. 

“Awe, did she draw you a picture?” Seokjin coos, a loud laugh following his teasing words. 

Yoongi’s cheeks blush as he suddenly flashes back to the events of today, “Yeah, you could say that.” 

Seokjin glances into the locker room, “I’ll question further later, for now you need to go to section A and help out Hwasa because she is drowning in tickets.” 

“Yes sir!” Yoongi mocks a salute, walking out to the dining area. 

~*~*~

From: Yoongi (received 16:34)

Be ready in 20.  Dress comfortably.

Your jaw drops as you stare at your phone, rushing upward from your position on your couch with a bag of chips and blankets surrounding you. 

You glance your at your reflection in passing and practically run to the bathroom to comb your hair. 

It’s only been two weeks since the two of you met. Your comforted by the fact that your phone always has a good morning text and a good night text from Yoongi. The two of you have yet to have a dry conversation and even if Yoongi is stuck at work or working on one of his secret projects, he makes sure to send a text that he’ll respond as soon as he has the chance. 

Previously you had never had someone so attentive, especially even in just the talking stages. At one point he called you, his voice rough and laced with sleep but the entire time he seemed lively and excited to talk to you. Your heart swelled with adoration the entire time and you’re safe in thinking that Yoongi feels the same. 

Because you haven’t seen Yoongi since the day you drew him, you find yourself regularly looking at the drawing. 

For the first time in what seems like years, you felt proud of something you had created. A constant rut that collapsed in on you like a black hole, drowning you in a state of constant despair, disappeared in half a day. Since then, you’re brain is reeling with creative thought and you couldn’t wait to show Yoongi what you’ve been drawing in your free time. He encourages you in a way that makes you feel like you can be whatever you want to be. 

One thing you were most proud of was your self-portrait. Your legs laid spread in front of a mirror for hours while you tried to perfect a drawing for Yoongi, to give back since he allowed you to keep his. 

“Why do all my cute bras disappear when I need them most?” you whine outwardly, your phone dinging again. 

From Yoongi (received 16:48) 

Oops, I’m early. 

You smile. 

To Yoongi (sent 16:49) 

You’re lucky you’re cute Be out soon

Quickly, you slip on a simple blue laced bra and t-shirt with a red skirt. Hoping that you were still cute in your comfortable clothes, you let out a nervous breath and head to the door. You grab your sketch book before you lock your door, Yoongi’s car parked at the end of the breezeway. You spot him before he spots you, a black beanie adorned on his head with his gorgeous blond hair peaking out beneath. 

You open his door and Yoongi immediately puts his phone away, “Hey.” 

“Hi.” You greet, slipping your sketchbook into the back seat. Yoongi leans over the center console and holds your face in his hand, and he kisses you. 

It’s short and sweet, not as feverish as the first one you shared but it made you realize how quickly you had fallen victim to missing his kiss. 

“I have wanted to do that for weeks now.” He states as if he read your mind, his eyes closed in bliss. 

“Why’d it take you so long then?” You tease, kissing him again. 

Yoongi smirks, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” 

“Does that mean you’re fonder of me?” 

He watches you pull the seat belt over your torso before he responds, “Definitely, I was thinking about you last night before I went to bed.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Oh?” 

“Mhm,” he hums, a hand moving over to rest on your knee while he backs out of the parking spot, “you’re very talented with your tongue, even in my dreams.” 

You don’t respond, instead you look down at his hand on your knee with a blush.

The drive consists of soft music playing of the speakers of Yoongi’s 2003 Kia. A choice of car you wouldn’t expect him to drive but it oddly fits his personality. It’s quiet and gets him just where he needs to be, a simple thing that Yoongi tells you he takes pride in. 

It isn’t a long drive, but you take the time to admire the way Yoongi looks as he drives. The windows are rolled down and soft summer air breezes throughout the car while you drive across the countryside. The evening sun shines across Yoongi’s face, those soft facial features that drew you in still prominent, his nose curling upward while he laughs at a joke you told. 

“Alright,” he says after about 15 minutes, “we’re here.” 

Yoongi parks near a beach, where you spot a group of people around a fire. You tilt your head, “Are we meeting your friends?” 

“Yeah, I hope that’s okay. It’s just a small get together to celebrate a friend’s promotion.” Yoongi scratches the back of his neck and lets out a nervous chuckle. 

You survey the crowd, cases of soju surrounding them while they laugh among each other. One of them seems to spot the car, waving at the two of you enthusiastically. 

Butterflies swarm in your stomach as you draw your bottom lip between your teeth, “Sure, I’d love to meet your friends.” 

Yoongi rushes to the other side of the car to open your door for you, wrapping his arm comfortingly around your shoulder while he leads you to the group. 

A log was left empty that had just enough room for the two of you. As you approach, Yoongi calls out, “Shut up everybody! This is (Y/N), be nice to her. I like her a lot,” instantly everyone quiets down, and Yoongi points to the tallest first man, “That’s Namjoon, Seokjin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jimin.” 

“Hyung, why’d you say my name last?” Jimin pouts, his voice already slightly slurred. You giggle, following Yoongi to the log. 

Namjoon reaches over, sticking his hand out, “It’s nice to meet the girl that Yoongi’s mentioned.” 

“Mentioned?” Jungkook scoffs, “He doesn’t shut up about you. You’re all he ever talks about and it takes a lot to get this man to stop talking about music.” 

Yoongi leans over and smacks his friend on the arm, his cheeks turning red at his admission. 

You giggle, “If it’s any consolation, I talk about Yoongi all the time too.” 

“Ah great, they’re both crazy about each other.” Seokjin jokes, a laugh unlike you had ever heard falling from his lips. His laugh causes you to laugh, and you quickly cover your mouth once you realize what you did. 

“Yah! She’s already making fun of my laugh!” Seokjin remarks, his bottom lip jutting outward cutely while Jimin shakes his head. 

“Take this and shut up.” Jimin reaches a drink out to Seokjin, who laughs and sends a wink your way to ease your mind. 

The night continues on gleefully, exchanging stories among each other and getting to know Yoongi’s friends - and Yoongi - more and more. 

At one point you could tell that Yoongi’s friends were grilling you in an attempt to see if you were a bad person. They were quite bad at it, though, seeing as Jungkook asked if you had ever killed a man and Taehyung was hellbent on trying to get you to say you liked country music. Though, you did admit that Carrie Underwood had a few good songs. Taehyung took this as a win and threw his hands up in victory while Namjoon told him to settle down. 

Now that you were more than a few drinks in, you listened intently to every story that the boys were telling. 

"Just wait until you hear about Yoongi’s parenting diary for Holly.” Hoseok spills, laughing so hard that he leans into Jimin who sits beside him. Jimin eyes disappear behind his smile, and everyone begins to chuckle. 

“No way!” you gape, turning to look at Yoongi who holds a beer tightly in his left and draws circles in your back with his right, “Min Yoongi, you never told me you were such a softy.” 

“I’m not a softy, I’m mean and scary,” Yoongi retaliates loudly, then he leans closer to your ear and whispers, “and I bite.” 

A chill runs down your spine and you immediately turn away, rubbing your hands together in an attempt to conceal your chill. Yoongi chuckles low enough for you to hear, his fingertips reaching beneath the base of your shirt and massaging gently. You didn’t realize how rough his fingertips were, callouses from hours of guitar playing evident on his hands. 

“Alright, children. I think it’s time for us to head out.” Yoongi says suddenly, interrupting a conversation between Hoseok and Namjoon. 

He stands and pulls you up with him. You smile and wave, “It was nice meeting you all.” 

“It was nice meeting you too,” Namjoon waves back to you, “excited to have you back around.” 

As you say goodbye to the rest and walk away, you hear a patter of footsteps walking behind the two of you. “Hyung! Can I get a ride?” 

Jungkook stumbles towards the two of you, and Yoongi glances at you in question. You shrug, “I don’t mind, it’s your car.” 

Yoongi waves Jungkook over, the three of you walking towards Yoongi’s small car. Yoongi opens the door for you, bowing gently and humming while he walks over to the drivers side. In the few short seconds that you and Jungkook were alone in the car, Jungkook leans forward and rests his head on the back of Yoongi’s seat. 

“I haven’t seen Yoongi this happy in a while,” he pats your shoulder, “thank you.” 

You don’t get the opportunity to respond as Yoongi opens the car door and hops in. You swallow, smiling and biting your lip. Your chest swells with the thought that Yoongi is just as affected by you as you are by him. 

The drive is quite, but suddenly Jungkook speaks up. 

“Is this yours, (Y/N)?”

You turn your head back and instantly your eyes widen, Jungkook glancing through your sketchpad. You spot the edge of your Yoongi drawing sticking out, Yoongi’s face visible but Jungkook had yet to spot it. 

“Y- yeah.” you say, praying that he stops flipping through the pages. Yoongi glances over to you, his eyes just as wide as yours. He simply shakes his head as if to say ‘stop him’. 

“These are really goo- oh! You drew Yoongi!” Jungkook’s fingers begin to pull at the piece of paper which causes you to unhook your seat belt and take the entire sketchbook out of Jungkook’s hands. 

He seems lost for a second, “Can I see the Yoongi drawing?” 

“No!” you and Yoongi respond simultaneously, panic lacing both of your voices while Yoongi pulls into an unfamiliar neighborhood. 

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, “You two doing something freaky?” 

Yoongi coughs, “I was just a model for (Y/N) to practice with.” 

“A nude model?” Jungkook asks in a sing-song voice, noticing the way you glance at Yoongi.

“Cool it with the questions, Kookie.” Yoongi scolds gently. 

“Hey, I don’t judge. I posed nude for a sculpting class once, those girls got to look at my bits for hours and I’m sure they enjoyed it as much as you enjoyed looking at Yoongi’s-” 

“Wow would you look at that, we’re home! Get the fuck out of my car.” Yoongi turns around, gesturing for Jungkook to exit. Jungkook holds a smirk on his face, “Be safe.” 

As soon as Jungkook gets out of the car, you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. Yoongi rests his head on the steering wheel, laughing quietly to himself in both embarrassment and joy. 

“Why did you have that drawing in the sketchbook?” He questions as he reverses out of the driveway. 

You shrug, “I don’t know... I just wanted to show you what I’ve been working on since that day.” 

“Like what?”

“A self portrait.” you shrug, opening the sketchbook and flipping to the most recently filled in page. You hold it up so Yoongi can glance at it while he drives, but you didn’t expect his eyes to bulge out of his head while he slams on the breaks and pulls off to the side of the neighborhood road. 

Instantly, he reaches and takes the book from you, his eyes scanning over the drawing repeatedly. 

“Gorgeous,” he breathes, “you’re so fucking gorgeous.” 

You smile gently, pointing your finger to your chest, “I drew my boobs more even than they actually are so I’m not that gorgeous.” 

Yoongi’s eyes turn to slits, “Well this is tainted now. How will I ever be able to hang this up when it’s not accurate to the real thing?” 

You giggle, pushing Yoongi’s shoulder gently. His joking tone diminishes once his eyes fall back on the drawing, the smile dropping from his face while his finger traces the curve of your hips. “Gorgeous...” he whispers again, “Fuck, I love this so much. Thank you.” 

He leans across the center console and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

That’s just not enough, though. 

You slip the sketchpad out of his hands and close it, “You want to see the real thing?” 

Your lack of touch from Yoongi these past couple weeks didn’t seem to bother you but now that you have him alone, you want to jump his bones. 

Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to nod, unhooking his seat belt and leaning his chair back a little bit. You grin, slipping the t-shirt over your head and pressing a harsh kiss against Yoongi’s lips. He welcomes your lips, drinking you in while his hands begin to roam your now bare skin. He slips his grip down to your thighs, pulling you over the center console and causing you straddle his thighs. 

Not breaking the kiss, you begin to grind yourself down onto Yoongi’s quick-hardening cock. He moans into the kiss, his hands kneading your ass roughly. You gasp when you feel his hand lay a hard smack against your ass, the sound resonating throughout the car and causing Yoongi to smirk. 

“Oh, you like being spanked?” he peppers kisses across your neck, “have you been a bad girl?” 

“Mhm,” you moan, “I’m your bad girl.” 

“That’s right,” Yoongi growls, spanking you once again, “my bad girl.” 

You toss your head back when you feel Yoongi’s hips begin to twist beneath you, his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans. You reach between the two of you, unzipping his jeans and threading his cock through the hole. 

Yoongi sucks in a breath through his teeth while your small hand pumps him up and down carefully. 

“No time,” Yoongi groans, “ride me.” 

You didn’t have to be told twice. 

The feeling of the slick between your legs was enough to show that you were ready, so Yoongi’s fingers push your panties to the side while he holds his cock and lines it up with your entrance. It doesn’t take long for him to slip inside, his hands gripping your hips and lifting you up and down while you moaned above him. 

“You like my cock, don’t you baby? You’re gonna cum so good for me, aren’t you?” His voice is gruff, the encouraging tone causing your body to jolt with pleasure. You nod quickly, your mouth opening to respond but the only noise to leave your throat was a whisper of his name. 

He feels the way your walls clamp down on him, leaning forward and nibbling across your breasts. “Fuck,” he curses while you speed your hips up, “your pussy feels so good around me.” 

Yoongi’s words cause your orgasm to creep up on you, his name falling from your lips like a mantra as you pulsate around him. Yoongi bears his teeth as he cums, growling low and deep while his fingers grip your hips hard, sure to leave bruises but you didn’t mind. 

You both sit for a moment while you catch your breath, Yoongi’s tongue licking a long stripe from your collarbones to your jawbone before he kisses your lips. 

“Did so good for me,” he rubs soothing circles in your burning thighs, “was I vocal enough for you?” 

You laugh, “Yes sir. Please keep it coming.” 

You both wince as he lifts you off of him, falling into the passenger seat and sighing happily. 

Your feet rest in his lap after the two of you are cleaned up, his hands gently massaging them while he tells you about a new song that he’s working on and how he hopes that someone will be interested. 

It’s then that you realize that this is going to extend past the need for sex, because the two of you were both genuinely interested in each other’s lives. He speaks animatedly about his interests and listens intently to yours. It doesn’t take you long to begin imagining waking up beside him every morning with the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen. 

As he drops you off at your apartment for the night, Yoongi walks you to your doorstep.You unlock the door and turn to give him a goodbye kiss but he stops you, grabbing your hand and stroking across your knuckles. 

“So, do you think you’d be interested in being my girlfriend?” He asks nervously, “I- I wasn’t sure if you were just thinking of this as a friend with benefits situation so I figured I would ask before one of us gets hurt.” 

You nearly coo at the man, watching the way his eyes dance across his feet. 

You bring your arms around his neck and pull him down to your level, slamming a kiss onto his lips one more time. His hand grips the back of your shirt tightly, his tongue exploring your mouth while you lean against the wall. He pulls away with a grin, resting his forehead against yours. 

“Is that a yes?” 

You smile, “Of course.” 

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

Like You Want To Be Loved

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my fic for my @starkerfestivals summer BINGO “body worship” square & my @peterparkerbingo “carry you to bed” square. This one is short and sweet, so - I hope you guys enjoy the cute little verse I created (that I’ll more than likely revisit soon!!). Here’s my bingo card (x & x)  - if you see something on there you might want written, shoot me a message!!! Word Count: 3K Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case? Summary:

By Friday, Peter was clingy in all the perfect ways – there wasn’t any physical need for release, just the underlying necessity of being close to one another. When Tony was cognizant enough, he made a warm bath and spent most of the morning showering Peter with kisses while the omega got them clean. For the rest of the day, they lingered on the couch, watching Netflix and alternating between making out languorously and eating the rest of the snacks they had in the house. By the end of the night, Peter was passed out against his shoulder, out like a light.

Though Tony attempted to rouse him, Peter was asleep and after such a long and tiring week, Tony couldn’t blame him. It took little effort to heft the sleeping omega into his arms, Peter snuggled into him without fail, his nose going right to Tony’s neck, the fingers of his right-hand lingering on the flatness of his belly.

Or: the one where Peter goes into heat after years of suppressant use and Tony is more than there for it.

Read on AO3 here.

It’d been a long week.

Halfway through Tony’s Monday morning lecture, Peter called with a heated panic laced through his voice. Earlier in the year, Tony convinced Peter to stop his suppressants. They’d been mated and married for more than two years. After spending so much time alone, learning how to love each other, it finally felt right to start sharing that love with others; especially those with the dark chocolate of Peter’s eyes and unruly curls coming from either one of them.

When he first met the omega, Tony never imagined wanting kids. Having such a young mate was more than enough. Upon first getting to know each other, Tony was finishing his fifth year of teaching, finding himself up for tenure already. Until Peter stumbled into his lab by accident, Tony wasn’t sure he’d ever take a mate. Adjusting to the upbeat lifestyle of being with someone so young took a while, but Tony soon found himself liking the extra time they spent out amongst the world. In his sappiest times, Tony would easily admit that he’d follow Peter anywhere – as long as the young omega was there, a good time was guaranteed to be had.

It was Peter who first brought up the idea of expanding their family. They were enjoying Tony’s winter break in the Parker’s small family cabin in upstate New York, sipping on Mama Stark’s cocoa recipe. Firewood was crackling, setting the perfect atmosphere for Peter to stutter out – “how do you feel about kids?” without any preamble.

Looking up from his place at Peter’s side on the couch, Tony stopped the rubbing motion over the sole of Peter’s foot. Despite being mated for a while, Tony still felt the need to always be touching his omega. Peter took advantage of that by throwing the random, achy body parts he wanted touched in Tony’s greedy hands – that night it was his right foot. Tilting his head at the thought, Tony snuggled into Peter’s side a bit more, sucking in a deep breath. “I think I might like one or two. Especially if they look like you,” Tony replied, leaning his head against Peter’s shoulder. Though the omega didn’t say anything, Tony felt a soft kiss to the top of his head – then Peter’s foot was pressing back into his hands in a less than subtle demand.

It didn’t take long for Peter to bring up the arduous process of coming off his stimulants. When they spoke to the doctor, she mentioned one to several months of the body working itself back into its natural state. For a while, Tony could tell Peter was miffed by the timeline. If his young omega got something in his head, there was no stopping Peter from getting what he wanted.

Of course, the omega was young and healthy, his body more than ready to step up to the plate and work a little biological magic. Tony was surprised when Peter was moaning on the other side of the line, frantically telling Tony to get home that very second. As awkward as it was to take the call in the middle of a lecture, Tony was seconds away from popping an ill-timed and completely pheromone driven erection. He stayed behind the podium as he less than subtly kicked everyone out.

The drive home was longer than ever before – five minutes felt like a lifetime when he recalled the breathy way Peter said his name, the way he mumbled ‘alpha’ into the phone so restlessly. Really, the simple fact that he had to drive home at all was a terrible inconvenience.

Keeping his briefcase on the seat, Tony tore his seatbelt off, practically running into the house with little thought. By the time he got to the front door, Tony could smell the intoxicating scent of Peter Parker-Stark in the midst of his heat. Thinking back to the weekend, Tony remember the little pre-heat signs – Peter’s nesting, the clingy way his mate stuck to his side seemingly every minute of both Saturday and Sunday. Tony momentarily felt foolish for not recognizing the signs. It’d been over two years since they spent a heat together and the signs were subtle.

Those thoughts were out the window the minute he walked through the door. Peter was sprawled across the couch; the flannel shirt Tony wore the day before the only stitch of clothing on his entire body. The usually chocolate-colored eyes were a rich gold, flaring the moment Peter recognized the addition of Tony’s scent. Though he didn’t move, Peter became all the more enticing.

Quickly stripping off the sweater he wore to teach that morning, Tony peeled the cashmere off his skin, following seamlessly by his pants, boxer briefs, socks and shoes. He was more naked than Peter before either could truly take a deep breath. Tony took his time making his way over to Peter then – his hand drifted down the center of his chest to wrap around the base of his cock, the view of Peter and the delicate mingling of their scents all the sudden overpowering. If he didn’t stroke his cock, Tony felt like he might spontaneously combust.

Tony allowed himself a handful of strokes before his hands became otherwise occupied with the smoothness of Peter’s skin. Finally, what felt like ages since he stepped in the door, Tony was close enough to reach out and touch, to feel the pulsating warmth of Peter’s heat humming just under the surface of his skin. The flannel parted just right to show off the omega’s interest; Peter’s cock was stiff, and a trickle of slick slid shamelessly down his right leg. As much as Tony wanted to dive into the cleft of Peter’s beautiful ass, the last place he wanted to spend his husband’s first heat since their mating was the living room couch.

With little prompting, Tony got Peter to wrap his muscled thighs around his hips – with so much testosterone and mating pheromones coursing through his veins, Tony had no problem carrying the young omega up the stairs. He tried to deposit Peter on the bed lightly, but the omega had other plans. Long arms wrapped around Tony’s neck, tugging until their lips were meeting in a scalding kiss.

Peter’s hands were everywhere, sliding down Tony’s back, in his hair, even up his sides and across the front of his chest. While his hands quested, Peter’s lips sipped at Tony’s, their tongues tangling wildly as adrenaline and that certain something that was completely them and their connection lingering in the air. Tony took his time enjoying Peter, here shortly, coherency would be the last thing on either of their minds.

Their hard cocks were grinding against each other with every movement, Peter was slick everywhere, making the move easy. Each time Tony felt Peter pick up his hips, Tony’s control over things slipped a little further. Before long, he broke their kiss to bury his nose into the side of Peter’s neck; Tony pressed kisses across Peter’s mating bite, taking the rich scent of iron and fire and sweetness with gasping breaths.

Tony forced himself away from the spot he could easily get attached too – sentimentally, so many memories resided in the scar that marred Peter’s skin. The fact that Tony smelt himself on Peter the most there only played into it somewhat (or a lot). Shaking his head of the thought, Tony trailed his lips further down the long length of Peter’s neck, across his shoulders, and down along shapely pecs. Each nipple was bathed with affection, Tony brought the delicate nub into his mouth, tonguing at it until the skin was pebbled, the peak warm in his mouth. Peter’s moans at every touch only worked to drive Tony on.

Further down Peter’s chest, Tony took his time tracing the outer rim of Peter’s belly button, the sides of his shirt parting after he fumbled with the buttons one by one. With both hands, Tony traced over Peter’s sides, his fingers tangling in the hair covering Peter’s belly. As he aged, the omega got a little furrier. Surprisingly, Tony liked the slowly thickening hair, it felt amazing under his fingertips. Tugging ever so slightly, Tony toyed with the softness of Peter’s skin until restless hips made themselves known.

Tony wasn’t about to spend time teasing either of them. With a quick move, Peter’s legs were spread, making room for Tony between them. Both his hands slipped between slick cheeks; Peter’s hole clenched in subconscious anticipation. Grinning at the sight, Tony wasted no time diving into the fragrant wetness. Peter’s looseness spoke of heat that was further along. Tony glanced up, suddenly proud of the man writhing above him. Heat colored eyes met his then, an easy grin on Peter’s lips. “Alpha,” Peter moaned, his eyes flashing.

Unable to stop himself after that, Tony dug in, nosing first at the gap of Peter’s cheeks and then further into the crevice, his lips barely kissing at Peter’s hole. A gush of slick slipped out onto his tongue, Peter’s hole clenching without any prompting. Tony felt his cock harden, in a few moments, Tony wouldn’t be able to enjoy the little details nearly as much. Conscious of that, Tony worked hard to make Peter whimper. His tongue and fingers worked until Peter was muttering ‘please’ and ‘Tony’ on a loop. Another couple of licks were all Tony was capable of before he climbed helplessly between Peter’s legs. He couldn’t resist the call any longer.

He grabbed at Peter’s thighs, picking them up until they were around his hips. With a quick move of his hips, Tony’s cock was pressed against the teasing wink of Peter’s hold – Tony knew the omega couldn’t even help it, not when need was slowly creeping in. Tony could tell, simply by breathing in, that the very worst was about to begin. The stirring of his knot had him ducking his head, pressing his lips against Peter’s with heat. “Ready?”

Peter’s answer was his hips lifting and the tilt of his head. Without having to move, the head of Tony’s cock slipped into tight heat, the drenched slide unlike anything the manufactured lube they normally used provided. Tony sunk into the hilt, his hips stopping his movement before Tony could himself. Peter tightened the grip of his thighs, keeping him there. For just a second, Peter ran his hands restlessly over Tony’s skin, mapping out the feel of it. That move, Peter’s recollection of everything Tony, was old hat. Every time they came together, Peter traced him like that – like he needed the tangible reminder of the way Tony felt under his touch. Sighing into the contact, Tony waited until those restless hands were buried into his hair, tugging lightly.

“Fuck me, Alpha. Please.”

Tony didn’t hesitate to comply – his hips were moving on their own accord, anyway. Wrapping his arms around Peter’s shoulders, Tony kept the omega close as he used his hips to satiate the fire that slowly burned along Peter’s existence. Every move was in sync, Peter rolled his hips to meet Tony’s thrusts – the easy motion kept each one deep, the tip of Tony’s cock enticingly brushing against Peter’s prostate; every move was expertly aimed. Little by little, Tony and Peter took each other apart, husbands, alpha and omega – moving together.

When the end came, Peter clung helplessly to Tony, his nails uselessly running over abused skin in an attempt to hold on. Peter was whimpering, every sound hitting Tony in the gut with the need to sooth them, to finally give his mate a knot and that sweet release Tony felt building up with every brush of his stomach against Peter’s cock. Leaning down to first nose of Peter’s bonding mark, then lip over the omega’s ear, Tony whisper lightly, his voice gravely.

“Cum for me, Pete. I’m so close to giving you my knot. I want to thrust in with that tight clench around me, to claim you again, omega.” Tony kept his words low, each one tangibly hitting Peter – the younger man’s skin pebbled under Tony’s touch. With another hard thrust, Tony felt Peter clamp down around him, Peter’s orgasm pulling Tony’s knot almost immediately. Biting down on the mark he placed all that time ago, Tony nuzzled into the spot, moaning “Pete” helplessly.

The rest of the week went a lot like that. There were increasingly more lucid moments where Peter asked for slow touches mixed into the desperate moments where Tony took his omega in a pheromone induced haze. Regardless of whether they were successful in creating a little life together, they gave it their all.

By Friday, Peter was clingy in all the perfect ways – there wasn’t any physical need for release, just the underlying necessity of being close to one another. When Tony was cognizant enough, he made a warm bath and spent most of the morning showering Peter with kisses while the omega got them clean. For the rest of the day, they lingered on the couch, watching Netflix and alternating between making out languorously and eating the rest of the snacks they had in the house. By the end of the night, Peter was passed out against his shoulder, out like a light.

Though Tony attempted to rouse him, Peter was asleep and after such a long and tiring week, Tony couldn’t blame him. It took little effort to heft the sleeping omega into his arms, Peter snuggled into him without fail, his nose going right to Tony’s neck, the fingers of his right-hand lingering on the flatness of his belly.

As Tony tucked Peter into bed, the young omega wrapped his hands around Tony’s neck, giving him a sleepy kiss. “I love you, Tony,” Peter mumbled, burying himself into the blankets. Smiling, Tony stripped out of his shirt and joined his husband on the bed. He slung his arm around Peter’s middle.

With a kiss to the back of the neck, Tony mumbled the words back, settling into all the spaces that were meant solely for him. Before falling back to sleep, Peter grabbed his hand, placing it on the warmth of his belly. Spreading his fingers, Tony pictured what their little peanut was going to look like, swelling the thinness of the beauty in his arms. His lips were stretched out into a grin when sleep found him.

[sunaswife]

Summary: It’s been five years since you’ve seen your ex, Rin. He’s still not over you and you’re not over him. When he finds out you have children he thought he didn’t have a chance. Then he finds out they’re his? All of a sudden you’re teaching Suna how to be a single dad.

note from denise: hi hii 🥺 I’m so happy and i love this chapter even though it’s all over the place so I’m sorry plz forgive me 🙇‍♀️

Warnings: Fluff, angst I guess, drama, and cuteness twin overload

Previously Up Next Masterlist

Chapter eight

You heard Hana and Jamie bickering in the living room as you took the burnt part off of the bell peppers you roasted. You were looking out the window in front of the sink every once in a while to check up on the kids. They were having fun playing with their father and uncles. You’ve never seen them smile brighter.

You were happy that they finally had their father, Tobio was a good figure but obviously not their real father. Earlier Rin gave his first scolding to your son for shoving Akira and he also told Akira that calling people idiot wasn’t nice. You couldn’t help but snicker behind your cardigan since he was obviously nervous and a bit awkward but it all worked out in the end. The twins and your best friends were peering through the door at the scene and they were in awe.

It just looked so natural. You, Rin and the kids. All that’s missing is a pet dog or cat. Jamie thought if you and Rin really try then you both could fall in love again and be a nice family all together. She grew up with divorced parents so she knew how tough it could be. She doesn’t want to hear you and Rin fighting in the future about upcoming holidays. Or maybe eventually having to separate the twins.

“Hana do you think you could ask the guys if they want to stay for dinner?” You said from the kitchen. “Oka-“ “No y/n, I think you should do it.” Jamie popped in. “Huh? I’m literally cooking.” You said as you reached into the bag of roasted peppers. Your fingers were stuck onto the black crisps. “You’re trying to avoid them.” She squinted and you rolled your eyes. “No I’m not.” You defended yourself. “Yes you are.” She deadpanned. “You never say no to setting for your kids. Even if you’re busy you tell them to give you five or ten minutes but when Rini asked you straight up said no since you needed to cook. I think that stung him a bit. He probably wanted to show off his skills to his dad.” She said and you frowned slightly. “I mean it’s fine, she’s probably uncomfortable which makes sense. The worst people in the world are just chilling in her house. It makes sense that she’s on edge.” The familiar voice said and you turned to see Atsumu leaning against the breakfast bar between your kitchen and living room. You didn’t want to say he’s right..but I mean..he’s right.

“...would you like to stay for dinner?” You asked awkwardly as Jaime sighed and walked away. “Mmm depends, what are you making?” He teased to try to help you ease up. “Food, either take it or leave it.” You said plainly as you flipped the pepper on the stove. “I miss your cooking so I think I’ll stay. Let me call Osamu so he can help.” He said and you immediately protested. “No it’s fine, you guys are the guests. I’ll feel bad.” You said and he chuckled. “Y/N-Chan..” he started, “Osamu owns his own restaurant, all he does is eat, cook, and work out. He would want nothing more than to help you cook. It’s in his DNA.” He said and you rolled your eyes. “Fine ask Rin if he wants to stay too.” You said. “Oh he’ll want to stay, plus we all carpooled together.” He said and you nodded and he left.

“Yo, we gotta go.” Jamie said from the doorway. “Did you say bye to the kids?” You asked and she nodded. “Sorry Y/N, we have a doctors appointment.” Jamie frowned slightly. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll call you later.” You smiled and she nodded sadly. After a quick goodbye hug they were out the door and Osamu was waiting in the kitchen to help you cook.

“Alright boss, let’s get started.” He said as he washed his hands and you chuckled.

Dinner went good, the kids mainly talked and were the stars of the show. After dinner they wanted to show their uncles and dad their Minecraft worlds on their tablets, courtesy of Tobio.

Suna offered to help clean up but you insisted it was fine and to spend as much time with the kids and he reluctantly agreed and you were left alone.

Your phone buzz after you sat on the breakfast bar to enjoy yet another cup of tea and you almost spilled it when you saw who was calling. “Holy shit, holy shit.” You muttered and the guys immediately turned to you from their spots on the couch. “I’m going to take this phone call I’ll be right back.” You said leaving Rin in charge and you answered while you made your way down the hall.

“Hello?” “Hi is this Y/N? This is Natsuo, the songwriter and director for the soundtrack for Kimetsu No Yaiba. From my understanding you are voicing Nezuko and Shinobu, correct?” “That is correct, sir.” You replied, “Well I stumbled across your portfolio and resume and I phone called your old vocal coach and he said some things about you.” He said. “Well I hope they’re all good.” You chuckled nervously.

“Yes they’re more than good actually and I wanted to offer you the opportunity of singing the opening for the anime, if not then maybe the outro. Would you be interested? Of course you’d have to come to the studio and sing for us and we’ll decide but I wanted to ask first since I know you also work as a volleyball commentator as well.” He said and you gasped.

“Yes sir of course, I would be honored...” you said happily. “Great! I see that you come in the studio on Monday for the read through of the script. Can you come earlier to audition?” He asked and you agreed and set up a time.

Normally any other person would want to audition after but if it’s singing, you can’t eat or drink sweet stuff before because it messes up your throat and you can accidentally burp and embarrass yourself. So you’d rather do the singing audition before and eat whatever is at the snack bar during the read through.

When you hung up the phone you squealed and did a little happy dance. You quickly took a deep breath and you made your way out of your office back to the living room. “Um...where are the twins? The Miya’s I mean.” You asked when you saw that only Suna was chilling with a kid on each side of him. “Osamu needed to check up on his shop and Atsumu had to go to the gym. I decided to stay behind because I didn’t know how long you would take.” He replied.

“But didn’t you all carpool?” You asked and he nodded. “I can Uber. Don’t worry.” He said and you nodded and sat next to Rini. “Kids guess what.” You said happily and they both looked up from their tablets. “I go to the studio on monday—“ “THE STUDIO CAN WE GO?!” They immediately asked with bright eyes. “Uh—I don’t know guys, I’m working and Jamie has work too i don’t know if someone can watch you guys at the studio.” You said. “What time and I’ll go. I can keep them entertained.” Suna spoke up.

“I’m gonna be there for a few hours..I’ll have a read through of the script and a song audition before that..” you told him. “Wait what do you do anyways?” He asked curiously and the kids gasped. “You don’t know what mommy does for a living?! She’s the coolest mom in the world.” Rini exclaimed with extended arms to emphasize the world. “Listen to the voice of the narrator.“ Akira said and shoved the tablet in his hands. It was Peppa pig. Honestly they couldn’t find a cooler role you played in? Even the side characters were fine, but Akira had to choose peppa pig.

Rin listened to peppa as she scolded her little brother Georgie. And finally he heard your voice narrate what happened and his eyes widened. “No way, you’re a voice actor?” He asked and you nodded. “Wow imagine that. You were always so shy and now your voice is heard by millions across the world.” He teased and your face tinted.

“Well when you put it like that it freaks me out!” You snatched the tablet from his hands and the kids looked at each other with raised brows. “I’m only kidding. But it’s pretty amazing that you do that. Any big roles you’re playing soon?” He asked. “I may or may not be acting in Kimetsu No Yaiba.” You said which was a manga series you both were obsessed with when you were together. “Say sike right now.” He gasped and you gave him that I’m serious face.

“Congrats Y/N. That’s freaking amazing. May i ask who you’re voicing?” He asked and you shook your head. “That’s a secret.” You said and he sighed. “Man got my hopes up for nothing.” He muttered causing your kids to giggle.

“Momma we invited dad to the field trip tomorrow he said yes.” Akira spoke up and your eyes widened. “Wait what—“ “I didn’t necessarily say yes. I wanted to make sure it was cool with you, first. They told me that they were homeschooled and you take them to different places for field trips all the time.” He tried to correct Akira and you nodded.

“Well...I mean..if you want to go then it’s fine. We’re going to an aquarium.” You said and the kids gave him puppy dog eyes. “Alright I’ll go then. It’ll be fun and you guys can show me what you’ve learned.” He smiled softly and the kids cheered. Is this really a good idea? You don’t know. But if your kids are happy, then you’re happy.

“Rin It’s getting late they have bath time and then they need to sleep.” You told him as the kids ran up and down the hall racing with Rini’s toy cars. “Alright then I’ll leave.” “I’m not kicking you out of anything-“ “No it’s fine I get it. I’ve intruded in your territory long enough.” He chuckled and you nodded. “Children of the corn! I’m leaving.” He called and immediately the kids emerged from the hallway and began whining and protesting. “You need to take a bath then go to bed. It’s late. I’m seeing you tomorrow anyways.” He knelt down on his knee to be of eye level with the kids.

“But we don’t want you to leave. I won’t sleep if you don’t read me a story.” Rini pouted and Akira nodded and you both sighed. “Fine, I’ll read you a bed time story and you will go sleep.” He told them and they nodded.

You rounded up the kids for a bubble bath and Rin was sitting on the counter as you explained what kind of kids soap you use and such. But he was mostly watching the kids play with the bubbles. “Hey Akira do you think I’ll look cool with my hair like this?” Rini asked with his messy wannable mohawk, he looked more like the grinch. Akira looked at her brother and snorted. “You look like a troll.” She muttered causing Rini to pout. “You’re so mean.” He mumbled. You got the shower head and told Akira to close her eyes as you finished washing her hair and body and she was finished. “Do you wanna try to finish Rini while I change Akira?” You asked Suna and his eyes widened. “I only know how to bathe my dog, I don’t know how to bathe a kid.” He protested. “Weren’t you watching me?” You asked. “I was distracted with the bubbles, okay.” He deadpanned and you sighed. “Rini help your dad.” You said plainly and left despite Suna’s protests.

“Alright princess, let’s get you dried up and ready for bed, yeah?” You asked the shivering girl in your arms and she nodded. You placed her on the bed and dried her hair a bit and you began to put on her lotion. You helped her into her underwear and she wanted to wear her fox onzie so you began helping her feet in when Rini stumbled in naked with Rin chasing after him with a towel. They were both soaking wet.

“Oh my god.” You sighed. “Boys.” Akira mumbled and you nodded. “You’re worse than washing a dog.” He said as he held him and dried his hair. “Woof.” Rini snickered and Suna flicked his forehead. “I’m soaking wet now.” He deadpanned to his son. You zipped up Akira after successfully placing her in her onzie and you moved on to your son. “Stop giving your dad such a hard time, he’s new to this whole parenting thing ya know?” You told him as you began to rub his face with lotion. “Akira go brush your teeth.” You told her and she pulled her dad along with her. “What do you want to wear to sleep?” You asked. “Can I wear my Fox onzie too?” He asked and you nodded. “Of course.” You replied and helped him into it too.

Rini went on his way to brush his teeth and you were met with the view of Rin helping his daughter floss and you just wanted to melt. This was so freaking cute. You don’t know if your heart could handle the cuteness. “Alrighty next victim!” Rin said and picked up Rini. He began to help him brush his teeth. You helped Akira down from the counter and she went off to look for a good book. You decided it was best to get one of Tobio’s shirts and shorts he had lying around for Rin so he wouldn’t get sick.

When Rini finished brushing his teeth, he went out to help Akira search for a book. “Are you still soaked?” You asked and Suna nodded. “Here wear this so you won’t get sick.” You tossed him some gym shorts and a random T-shirt. He gave a small thanks and you closed the bathroom door to leave him to change. “Alright where are my little foxes?” You hummed and you found your little demons kids jumping on your bed and patiently waiting to read. “Why aren’t you both in bed?” You asked and they stopped jumping and turned to you. “We wanna sleep here with you and daddy!” Rini said and you almost choked on air.

WITH RIN?! ARE THEY CRAZY OR CRAZY?

“Baby he’s not spending the night. He’s only going to read you a bedtime story then leave. You’ll see him tomorrow when you wake up.” You told them and they both had the saddest look on their faces. “But we wanna sleep with you and daddy. Please can he spend the night. Please please please!” Akira begged.

“I don’t mind if you don’t. It’s only for the night.” Rin almost whispered in your ear and you turned your head to him. “Are you sure? What about tomorrow? What are you going to wear?” You asked, “We can stop by my apartment in the morning before we head out.” He said and you raised a brow and turned back to your kids they were already comfy on the middle of your bed and you released your nth sigh of the day. “Fine, one night.” You answered and grabbed your pajamas and left to the bathroom to change.

When you returned Rin was on the left side of the bed with Rini right next to him. Akira patted your spot on the right side and you sat against the headboard of the bed. The twins had two books they wanted you both to read but they all fell asleep while you read the second one. You looked to see Rin, Rini and Akira sleeping and you can never get over how similar they looked like Rin. You quietly hopped out of bed and put the books away and turned off the lights.

You woke up to the sun shining on your face and arms around your waist. You felt a weight on your chest and you sighed and opened your eyes. You blinked a few times to make sure you weren’t seeing things but sure enough, Rin was sleeping on your chest. Just like old times and you tried to control your breathing. You don’t want to be the type of ex who yells and they fall off the bed. You realized the kids were not on the bed too and if Rin was cuddling you, then they must have been gone for a while.

“Rintarou—the kids—WAKE UP!” You quickly shook him and he opened his eyes and quickly moved away. He felt around him and he noticed the kids weren’t there. You both paused in silence to see if you can hear them but when you didn’t you quickly yeeted yourself off the bed with Rin following right at your tail. You opened the door to the twins room and you saw them in their own bed hugging their plushies. You held a hand over your chest and you leaned against the doorframe. “My heart literally dropped.” You turned to Rin.

“Mine did too. Do they usually do that?” He asked. “No, never.” You sighed and closed the door.

The twins opened their eyes and they looked at eachother from across the room. “I told you mom would get a heart attack. We’re lucky she didn’t cry.” Akira whispered. “Whatever at least they cuddled together like a nice married couple.” Rini whispered back and Akira nodded. “I hope mommy and daddy get back together.” Akira said. “They will, our plan is perfect.” Rini whispered mischievously and Akira smiled.

TAGLIST IS CLOSED

🏷: @therealwalmartjesus @differentballooncollection @aaesuki @atsunflower @dope-squish @prettysetterboiss @june-phantom @tomo-uwu @austriasmariazelle @xrnia @katsulia @aprettyfruit @shut-your-eyes-kiss-me-goodbye @tvbiio @sun-daddy-yoriichi @kamenoyaki @ppangiiroo @loeyprivvv @kmskj92 @lovinnoya @sarahvvictoria @tris-does-stuff @mokkeguts @sunaluvr6969 @bara-rose-would @sempiternal-amour @volleybloop @leykyuu @bokutoichigo @stfucanunot @iloveanime69 @tpwkatsumu @ohshirabu @shoutosimp @mqrinqcele @bokutosdivineass @anngelllla @toworuu @hidden-otaku-stuff @seijohiselite @caxsthetic @aquariarose @hhwanggu @bakuhoetoedoroki @yoozuku @osamus-onigiri @akaashi-todorki @donica95 @kakaokenma @airheadpillar

[inskz]

lucky charm - lee minho

pairing - lee minho x reader

genre - college!au, best friends to lovers, very cliche fluff (lucky girl starring lindsey lohan kinda vibes???)

words - 4k

note - this is just a cute little drabble i wrote while im still waiting for my covid test results to come back so that i can leave my room and see the sun again 🤪 pls be careful everybody take care of your health 💚 enjoy!!!

- - - - -

“You must be kidding me,” you sigh when you see Minho’s hand has turned into a fist, his rock crushing miserably your scissors. Once again, you lost at rock, paper, scissors. And once again, you’re the one that is going to wash your best friend’s dishes that have piled up in is tiny kitchen sink throughout the week.

“Fuck that. This is so unfair,” you grumble, throwing the dishtowel in Minho’s stupid yet perfectly chiseled face.

You make a beeline for his bed, which is actually only a few steps away from the kitchen. Being a broke college student definitely doesn’t allow him to rent a spacious studio, let alone a two-room apartment. You throw yourself headfirst onto his uncomfortable mattress, whose springs always poke your back at night.

“Life is so unfair,” your friend mocks you, dragging out every vowel of his sentence dramatically.

No doubt, you would be strangling him at that very moment if you weren’t so busy playing dead, hoping he would forget about your pitiful existence.

But there is no way mister Lee Minho would miss out on an opportunity to have his gross plates cleaned by someone else. Grabbing onto your ankle, he drags you out of bed until you plop down on the dirty carpeted floor (Minho has the unfortunate tendency to procrastinate vacuuming too). At this point, you are fake crying, throwing a literal tantrum, like a 6 years old child would.

“Life is unfair!” you yell, your feet kicking in the air in pure anger.

At least it is to you. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been lucky. The only instance you got remotely close to it was when you found a four-leaf clover last summer. Well, only if you disregard the fact you stepped into dog poop  on your way to picking it. Oh and that you were wearing brand new white Converse. 

On the other hand, it seems like the boy has the whole crew of the Olympus gods on his side. Not one day goes by without his guardian angel manifesting its presence. 

Minho has always been the lucky type. The type to get an extra nugget in his box of 10. To find 20 dollars bills on the ground. To win every single Instagram giveaway he participates to (and lord knows how much he likes participating to them). 

But how can you be mad at him when he always happily shares his food with you, invites you to the restaurant without you even asking, and gives you his prizes, pretending he doesn’t need them? You don’t believe him when he says he see no use in a panda onesie or a waterproof bluetooth speaker. Deep down, you know it’s his way to silently love you. 

But well, you can still blame him for occasionally taking advantage of your misfortune to make you do his dreaded house chores, just like right now. 

Everyone thinks you are a bizarre duo. Even you can’t fathom how in hell you two became best friends, considering how awfully your first encounter went three years ago. 

On orientation day, he asked you for the time, probably because his phone was dead (or maybe because he was dying to talk to you?)

Without hesitation, you lifted and rotated your wrist so that you could see your watch. Little did you remember; you never actually owned a watch and you were holding a fancy 7 dollars iced coffee, which, of course, did not have a lid on because plastic is bad for the environment (duh). 

Minho couldn’t help but burst out in hysterical laughter when the whole drink spilled on your jeans. For your defense, you didn’t sleep at all the night before  since you were terrified of being alone in your new dorm room the first few days (weird stuff happens all the time in dorms, okay?). If he had asked you for your name, you probably wouldn’t even have been able to tell him. 

But Minho thought you were the funniest person on campus, and he really needed a clown like you to entertain him throughout his endless college semesters. That’s what he told you anyways. Not that he thought you were the cutest human being he had ever seen. 

Why would he when you are the literal definition of a mess: always having toothpaste stains on your sweater, bags under your eyes, messy hair, tripping and falling, missing buses, breaking things, losing stuff. 

Most of the time, you just forget your keys and Minho lets you crash at his place since he hasn’t got any roommate and he isn’t used to sleeping alone, especially without his cats. It surely isn’t because he loves waking up next to a very groggy but adorable you every single morning, no.  

Minho manages to bring you back to the countertop despite your reluctance. Positioned behind you, his arms trapping your body to make sure you can’t run away from your duties, he dips your hands into the soapy water, and you can’t help but squirm at the touch of an unknown substance sticking to a plate that has probably been soaking here for a week. You despise doing the dishes and your friend knows it.

You hear him giggle in your ear while he is playing with your arms like you are some type of marionette, making you to take the sponge and squeeze dish soap onto it. 

You’ve never been the kind to like proximity nor seemed to be Minho, but for some reason, you always end up glued to each other. You hate public displays of attention and pet names a little less when it comes from him. Or maybe you don’t hate it at all and actually crave it every single minute that goes by.

Before he has the time to come up with the Machiavellian idea to soak your pajamas in dirty water (because you know he would inevitably have at some point), you yank his hands off of you and start scrubbing angrily the dirty cups. 

Minho stays behind you anyways, observing your every move, his chin propped up on your shoulder like a curious little bird. To be honest, his presence is kind of getting overwhelming. But whatever, it’s not like his slightest touch makes your heart warm up in comfort or that he smells like fresh linen drying out on the porch of a cottage house on a sunny Sunday morning or anything. 

“You missed a spot. Here” he murmurs teasingly, his lips almost touching your earlobe, while he points at the handle of his hideous ‘world’s greatest dad’ mug Jisung gifted him last christmas. 

You know he has noticed the way you shivered violently at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin because he starts snickering loudly. 

“I swear to god if you don’t shut up and go seat on the couch, I’ll slap you so hard with this spatula you’ll regret you were even born,” you say, turning around suddenly to menace him with the plastic utensil. 

Of course, he isn’t afraid one bit. Right now, you really wish you could make the smug, but oh so attractive, look on his face disappear. 

“Alright, ma’am” he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll let you do your thing”. He lets himself fall onto his dingy couch. 

You can hear him humming one of his favorite songs above the sound of the water running. It would probably be getting on your nerves if his voice wasn’t so pretty.  

“Chan’s sick, so we’re not going to the gym tomorrow night. Do you wanna eat tacos? El Huero has even better deals than usual” he asks you, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. 

“Aren’t the deals supposed to be on Tuesdays?” You frown and scrub a little harder the frying pan Minho has burnt the night before while trying to make chocolate chips pancakes for diner, because why eat savory food when you can have dessert for every meal, right? It is one of the few advantages of living without your parents you both truly enjoy. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Tomorrow,” he yawns, probably exhausted after what you put him through last night. You forced him to catch up on the entire season of Love Island because you desperately needed someone to bitch with, and what better partner than Lee Minho.  

You take a quick glance at him and see him stretching himself across the cushions like a cat. You always thought there was something feline about his features. While you’re drying the mugs with the dishtowel, your mind wanders uncontrollably, thinking about his piercing eyes, his delicate nose, the corners of his lips that curl up a little… 

All of the sudden, your hands freeze. Minho is too immersed in TikToks to notice the stupor on your face. “Wait. Today is… Monday?” you stutter. 

Alarmed by the sound of your voice, his eyes finally leave his phone’s screen to look up at you. “Yeah” he repeats slowly as if you are the dumbest person he has ever encountered. 

And you truly are. You are pretty sure your heart has stopped beating. Minho’s “world’s greatest dad” mug you’re holding slips between your fingers and comes crashing on the floor with a deafening sound. The pieces are now scattered all around you, making you unable to make out what’s written on it anymore. Not a big loss, if you ask. 

“Y/N, you know that’s my favorite mug!” he exclaims, leaping up from the couch. “I’m sure you did it on purpose,” he mutters while he’s trying to collect the small fragments, in vain. 

But you’re too shocked at this very moment to pay attention to the glare your friend is giving you. To be honest, Minho has only two moods: glaring at you or teasing you.  

“My interview,” you finally manage to say, and Minho’s eyes go wide as he realizes the critical situation you’re in. 

You check the time on the microwave: 10:45. In 30 minutes, you’re supposed to be on the other side of town, being interrogated by boring businessmen that are going to decide whether or not you’ll be accepted for a paid internship in one of the most reputable music label of the country. Basically, decide whether you’ll live a happy and fulfilling life, working in the sector you’ve always dreamed of or end up miserable with a boring office job and a massive college debt. 

“Holy shit,” Minho whispers. You can see a wave of panic washing across his face for a split second, but, as always, he manages to find his composure back immediately. 

He has never been the kind to lose his cool, except to scold you when you forget the names of his cats and their respective coats’ color (which you unfortunately often did forget). 

“What are you doing? Get dressed!” He tells you when he sees you’re still standing there dumbfounded in the kitchen, like the famous Robert Pattinson meme, wearing an oversize Kermit the frog shirt with a dozen holes in it and his favorite Adidas sweatpants you always stole from him.

“No, it’s too late. I can’t make it,” you mutter, your breath short. You’re paralyzed, as if there is a 20lbs rock sitting at the bottom of your stomach, pinning you to the ground. 

This isn’t bad luck, you think. This is karma. This is what you get for skipping classes to watch telereality shows in your bed with your best friend and not even realizing it isn’t the weekend anymore.

“Miss me with that bullshit.” He runs to his closet and rummages through his drawers, throwing every piece of clothing that’s on his way to find an appropriate outfit that would fit you. 

“You’re gonna go do this interview even if I have to drag you all the way there.” He pushes you into his bathroom since you still haven’t moved an inch. 

You manage to brush your teeth and your hair, fighting through the nauseous feeling that is building up in your tummy. 

When you come back to the living room, Minho has found dress pants and a sweater that might not look utterly ridiculous on you. He lets you change in a corner, while he runs around the room collecting all your essentials. 

“You’re coming?” you ask him when you see he is already wearing his puffer jacket.  

“You really think I’m gonna let you go all by yourself when you’re literally not even able to put your shoes on properly”. You are, indeed, struggling with your laces, as if your fingers are suddenly made out of butter. 

Minho ties them up for you and you literally feel like he’s your babysitter. You know you’re gonna hear about this for months – what are you saying- years! But all you can think about at the moment though, is the fact that sneakers are definitely not appropriate for an interview. 

He throws your warmest coat at you, grab his keys, and by some type of miracle, you’re both out to the door in less than 10 minutes. 

You try to call the elevator, but Minho grabs your arm and leads you to the staircase. His hand never leaving yours, he runs down the stairs and you have no choice but to follow him as fast as you can. 

You can’t count how many times you missed a step and fell at this particularly slippery spot, between the 5th and the 4th floor, but weirdly enough, it doesn’t happen today. 

When you finally reach the ground floor, you exit the complex and Minho hops on his old and rusty bike that he had attached to nearest tree the night before.

“There’s no way I’m riding behind you on this death machine,” you laugh nervously. The memory of that one time Minho convinced you to seat into his bicycle basket (as if you could even realistically fit in it) and you both fell seconds after he started to pedal is coming back to your mind.

Sure, it was after a long night of drinking, you were both tipsy and it was the only way to get you home since you had spent all your uber money at the bar, but still! You’re pretty sure the bruise on your butt hasn’t disappeared to this day.  

“Hurry up,” Minho groans, ignoring your complaint. You unwillingly seat on his flimsy pannier rack and wrap your arms around his torso. 

You haven’t even left, yet you’re already holding onto his puffer jacket for dear life. A giggle escapes your friend’s mouth (which you think is very inappropriate in such a desperate situation) before he lifts his feet off the ground and starts pedaling. 

You try to ignore the loud squeaking of the bicycle drive by shutting your eyes tighter and rehearsing your introduction you have prepared over and over in your head. No matter how hard you are trying, you can’t remember what you are supposed to say just after your age (which, as you can imagine, isn’t really far into your monologue). 

By the way the wind is lashing your face, you can tell Minho has picked up the speed. His breathing is getting louder, his heartbeat faster and you can’t help but think you’re probably way too heavy for him to bike you around like that. Maybe he shouldn’t skip his gym sessions with Chan so often. Or maybe you shouldn’t have eaten the leftover pancakes for breakfast after all.

You find the courage to open your eyelids and are pleased to see you’re already halfway there, probably because every single one of the traffic lights you encounter is green, and your friend is going surprisingly fast. Is luck finally starting to smile upon you? 

Your mad race comes to a halt when you reach the address of your interview. You hop off the bike and so does Minho who, by the way, is a panting mess. He’s barely able to catch his breath, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he’s beaming at you when he realizes you’re just on time. 

“Go” he gasps, pushing you in the direction of the building’s hall. 

You walk up to the glass door but as your hands are about to push it, you pull a 180. Your friend sighs loudly, already knowing what’s coming next. 

“Wait. No. I can’t do this. I’m not prepared” you tell him frantically. “I’m freaking out. I think I’m gonna pass out.” You are now walking in circles, mumbling incoherently. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Your heart is racing in your chest and your hands are getting clammy at the simple thought of failure. But guess what? You can’t fail if you don’t even try! One more good reason to just go back to bed and forget about your sad life for a good 8 hours, right? 

“Y/N, you’re the most talented person I know, you’re gonna do just fine” Minho catches you in his arm to stop your endless pacing. You would probably think this gesture is endearing if it wasn’t just meant to make sure you couldn’t run for your life.  

“No, I’m not. What if I throw up in front of everybody like that one time during the Romeo and Juliet musical?” You look up at him and his face is only inches away from yours. You’re sure you would be swooning at how beautiful he looks if you weren’t so terrified at this very moment.

“You were nine,” your best friend says, and you swear you have never heard him speak to you in such a sweet tone before. His voice is like honey and lavander but it doesn’t soothe you like it should. 

You manage to break free from his embrace to crouch down, in an attempt to slow down your breathing. If only you had data left, you could be watching those short relaxing videos on your phone. They always work. But no, you had to spent it all on online games, just one week into the month. You really are beyond help.  

“Y/N I know you’re scared, but if you miss out on this opportunity, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.” Minho is lowering himself so that you can hear him, even though you’re curled up in a ball. 

“And I’m warning you, I won’t want to hear you complain about it,” he adds, this whole situation obviously starting to get on his nerves. 

If you were him, you would have probably left a long time ago. But this isn’t your best friend’s way of behaving. You know he would never abandon you no matter how annoying you could be (and you could be very annoying sometimes). After all, he is always the one holding your hair while you puke in the toilets when you had a couple too many drinks.

It takes all your willpower to stand up but there is no other way, you have to do it. You can hear the time ticking dangerously in your mind, as if your brain had turned into a clock.

“You’re right. Slap me,” you say, looking at him straight in the eyes, dead serious. 

“Wha -“

“Slap some sense into me. They do that in movies when people are panicking. It’s like throwing a bucket of cold water in someone’s face. But clearly we don’t have a bucket and we don’t have cold wa- “ you start blabbering. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not gonna slap you!” Your friend isn’t usually that horrified at the thought of beating your ass. In fact, he has felt the desire to rip your head off more than once, especially when you’d steal all the duvet at night, but at this moment he is just scared you might have actually lost your mind.  

“Just fucking do it Minho!” you scream, your hands clenching the front of his grey hoodie he always looks so divine in. 

Minho has never obeyed you, and this is not the day he is going to start. 

He puts both of his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips onto yours. 

You would be lying if you said you have never imagined the day your best friend would kiss you. It happens pretty much every single time you look at his cute pout a little too long. But one thing is certain, it isn’t like you pictured it to be at all.

You were convinced your heart would go so wild it would burst out of your chest and your head would spin so furiously you’d lose your balance. You thought your stomach would fill with butterflies to the brim and your whole body would be on fire.

But none of that is happening. On the contrary, every single muscle in your body relaxes under his touch. The way his soft mouth presses gently against yours makes you calmer, almost at peace amongst all this turmoil. 

Minho is kissing all your tension and stress away and you catch yourself letting a sigh of relief escape your parted lips.

As if you have kissed him already hundreds of times in your past life, Minho feels like home. He’s a safe haven you can always take refuge in during troubled times. Ever since the day you met, he has never left your side.

When he breaks away from the kiss, you notice your breath isn’t so ragged and your mind isn’t so foggy anymore. You’re serene. His cold hands are still cupping your face, slightly squishing your cheeks, and you feel like an idiot sandwich for asking him to slap you seconds before.

“That can work too, I guess…” you mutter.  

“You’re okay?” he asks, staring at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You just nod, unable to say one more word, and sprint to the entrance, not wanting to make your interviewers wait any longer than they already have.

“Good luck!” You hear him yell just before the door closes behind you and you can’t help but grin from ear to ear.

- - - - - 

Thirty minutes later, you finally step out of the fancy lobby to find a very bored Minho leaning against a tree, patiently waiting for you.

“You’re still here?”

“Of course, I am,” he says, his mouth full of croissant. He gives you a large iced coffee he probably went buying to kill time. Your lips unconsciously curl up into a smile when you notice it comes from the same chain that the one you spilled on your lap on the day you first met him. 

“How did it go?” he asks you, sticking his buttery pastry into your mouth so that you can take a bite.

“Way better than I thought” you answer, right after you swallowed. You hate the way flakes would always get stuck between your teeth. But Minho is always there to warn you about it before anyone else notices, and even pick them for you if you can’t manage to, which, when you think about it, is kind of gross. 

There are two things the boy knows about you: you’re the greatest pessimist on earth and you’d rather die than admit you were wrong (especially if it meant he was right). So for you to even say it wasn’t that bad, means it went phenomenal. 

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ but I told you so.” He smiles so wide you can barely see his eyes anymore. You have to look away, otherwise you know you might become instantly blinded by love.

“Maybe I could use some more of your luck” you mumble, staring at your shoes and kicking the red leaves that were surrounding your feet on this sunny autumn morning. 

“Really? And what makes you think I’ll share it with you,” he teases you, leaning forward to incite you to look at him in the eyes. 

“That.”

Your hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him in, in order to close the space that is still left between your mouths.

At first, Minho stiffens, taken aback by your bold move. But soon enough, he caves into your touch. He kisses you back fervently, like he means it. 

His fingers entagle in your hair, his arm wraps around your waist and his chest presses against your body. You’re melting in his embrace, submerged by a wave of bliss which he alone seems to know the recipe. 

It feels new, yet so familiar. Like it was supposed to happen, like it was written in the stars. 

He tastes like croissant and Americano. Like fortune and fate. 

And you can’t help but think you’re the luckiest person on earth.

Who cares about winning the lottery when Lee Minho is your lucky charm? 

[nobodycallsmerae]

Hey, I hope you’re well! 🙃Can I ask #7 and #32?

Hi hi!! I'm fine! I hope you're doing great too!! I've written another shot based on prompt #32, (which im quite proud of) and you can find it here. You haven't mentioned a pairing, so I'm just gonna write for bbrae :)

I humbly tried to dabble into the holy world of office romance. You should see my manhwa reading list. My last 6-7 webcomics are filled with office romances XoX

____

'What? But I've been working overtime for the past twelve days!' He whined, practically on the verge of tears.

'Well that's tragic,' The vice president rolled her eyes. 'But you are my secretary now, and you have to be competent in what you do.'

'But..!'

Raven Roth had no idea how she'd gotten herself into this situation.

She was the vice president of a successful company, an accomplished and respected 28-year-old woman, but now she was stuck here, in her office, arguing pointlessly with a man-child.

Her old secretary (and only friend) Kory Anders, was on her honeymoon, leaving Raven with.. Him.

‘No “buts” Mr. Logan,’ Raven cut him off. ‘The company is going through a critical time now, and I want every employee to give their hundred percent. And you-’

Sometimes she wondered why she didn’t just fire him, but, truth be told, even if he was messy, and lazy, and was definitely not used to working behind the table, 27-year-old Garfield Logan was actually quite good at what he did.

And also that her old secretary had personally hired him, and Raven did not want to deal with an angry Kory Anders.

‘M-Mr. Logan are you…?’ She looked at her now secretary, who had slumped shoulders and was looking downwards.

‘How do you expect me to work like this?!’ He finally snapped, looking up at her and walking closer to her desk. ‘I get sleep for a grand total of three hours a day, I haven’t had a proper meal and have been practically living on caffeine and I don’t have any plants in my new apartment!!’

‘Plants…?’ She raised an eye-brow.

‘I just needed a third thing, okay?’ Gar cried out. He took a few deep breaths and with his chin touching his chest, his shoulders began to shake.

‘Mr. Lo- Logan are you… cryi-’

‘Yes! Yes, I’m having a mental breakdown right now!’ He exclaimed, looking up at her with tears in his eyes. ‘You may be perfect, Ms. Roth, but I am not! I’m nowhere near perfect, and I’m trying my best to keep up with you here. I’m trying my best, I swear, but I can’t anymore. You’ve ought to give me a break. If I had a girlfriend, I bet she’d want me to quit.’

‘..Well, you don’t have a girlfriend…’ Raven quietly muttered, feeling kind of guilty all of a sudden.

‘Because I’ve been working for you the whole time!!’ Gar yelled, watching her wince as he did.

He finally exhaled, and calmed himself. He stepped back, and suddenly, a professional aura surrounded him, which made Raven blink twice.

‘..I’m sorry Ms. Roth.’ He regarded her. ‘I’m sorry for behaving in an-’

A quite peculiar, but not not-good sound made him stop in his tracks, and in front of him, he could see his superior…. Laughing?

Gar had worked for Raven Roth for almost a month now, and he had never even seen the sides of her lips turning upwards, often making him wonder if they were fixed in a slight frown. But now, in front of him at 10 pm, The Raven Roth was laughing her heart out. Gar blinked, and even rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was hallucinating, because, truthfully, the scene in front of him was… making his heart flutter.

‘I-I’m sorry Mr. Logan..’ Raven said between laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. ‘But no employee has ever talked to me like that before… I would say that you’re almost being… cute.’

‘Well.. of course they haven’t,’ Gar coughed, trying to hide his obvious blush. ‘They’re practically working zombies…’

‘Heh, well you know what,’ Raven sighed, rolling her stiff shoulders into her plush chair. 'You can go home for today… But, I need those papers present on my table by next Monday. Understand?'

'Yes, Ma'am!!' Gar happily exclaimed, saluting her.

‘I may say… you’re being quite perky for someone who was whimpering not two seconds ago.’

‘Heh.. yeah, about that..’ He blushed, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. ‘Can we just pretend the last five minutes of our lives never happened?’

‘Even the time I told you to wrap it up for the day?’ Raven slyly played along, not knowing what had gotten into her… but not disliking it either. ‘Okay, then, get the files from-’

She looked at him, pouting like a cute little puppy which was kicked in the- wait…

...Cute?

Raven Roth didn’t think things were cute, let alone other humans. She didn’t go around swooning over other men like some women, but what had invaded her thoughts right now?

Well, she did say that the puppy was cute… that had to count for something, right?

‘It’s okay, Mr. Logan, you may go. I was just messing with you.’

‘Phew.’ With a hand on his fine chest, the secretary let out a sigh. Wait, fi- ‘And also, now that we’re off the clock, please, you can call me Gar, Rav-’

‘And you may call me Ms. Roth.’

‘Ms. Roth.’ He smiled. He slightly bowed his head as a silent greeting and walked out of her office.

Raven thought about continuing her work, like she’s been doing every single night-

‘Mr. Garfield?’ She called out, surprising herself as she did.

‘Si?’ Gar immediately popped his head back into her office, almost as if he’d been standing in front of the door the whole time.

Now that he was looking oh-so intently at her, she blushed. And the last time the vice president had blushed was probably(?) when she was in kindergarden…

‘I.. J-just.. I wanted…’ Raven stumbled, making Gar raise his eye-brows with disbelief. ‘Just.. ah, thank you. I.. I needed this. This may seem a little out of character for me-’

‘A little?’ He teased.

‘Okay, well,’ She huffed. ‘This may not seem like myself, but..’ She sighed, almost bashfully fingering the folders on her table. ‘You know I don’t have many friends, everybody knows that. There are only people who are more-or-less fearful of me because of my designation. And ever since Kory went on her… vacation, I have just been working without a care in the world. But… this, whatever weird little confrontation we had right now… it was refreshing. I really needed that laugh, honestly,’ She chuckled. ‘So.. thank you.’

Gar’s face was colored red, and she was almost sure it mirrored hers, but he just smiled. ‘Anytime.’ He winked. 'And.. I'm your friend now! So don't hesitate to come to me anytime you're in need of a pal.'

Raven awkwardly smiled and got back to the task she was doing on her computer.

‘Umm.. Ms. Roth, aren’t you gonna go home too?’

‘Huh, me? No.’ She shook her head, stifling a yawn. ‘I have this presentation to be tak-’

‘What? But today is Friday.. You have the whole weekend ahead of you! You should take a break!’

‘No, Mr. Loga- Garfield, it’s okay.’ He'd taken a seat on one of the chairs in front of her table. ‘You should go ahead...’

‘Oh, Ms. Roth..’ He sighed. ‘If you take a break now, and get a decent good night’s sleep while you still can, you’ll be refreshed and will be more energized to do your work later on; which will make your work even better! So.. what do ya’ say?’

Gar smiled at her, but he seemed dumbfounded once he saw the expression on her face. She was blushing, very heavily, and Gar wasn’t sure if he’d done something which made her face flush. He raised an eye-brow, to which Raven shyly responded by pointing towards her desk with her eyes. As he looked down at where her eyes were pointed, he saw that his hands were covering hers, almost in an affectionate way.

‘Ahem.’ He pulled back at once, his face flushed with shock and embarrassment.

Raven tried regaining her composure, flattening the front of her suit as a distraction and trying to not concentrate on the warmth that was still lingering on her usually cold hands.

‘Well, Mr. Logan, I thank you for your concern, but…’ The VP sighed, eyeing the files on her desk, thinking back on what had happened a few moments ago. Raven wasn’t the kind of person to reconsider things; She had a schedule and she followed it accordingly. But she also wasn’t the kind of person who’d be easily flustered around people, blush (so many times!), or have such… inappropriate thoughts about a co-worker. (Raven believes “cute” is highly inappropriate.) She also made a mental note to go for a health check-up soon, because she wasn’t sure if her heart was supposed to be beating so fast. Or be missing beats.

‘..I’m going to say something and regret it real quick.’ She mumbled. ‘Okay.. have it your way!’

‘Sweet!’ Gar laughed. ‘Seeing as we’re the only people left, let’s head out together!’ He suggested before walking out.

Raven looked dazed for a moment, but then quickly sorted through the files and folders. She organised what she needed and what she would take a look at later, and sighed at her empty table.

Rummaging through her bag, she looked for her car keys. ‘Shit.’

'You okay?' He called out to her. 'Whoa, that was so cool!' She heard him say to himself as his voice echoed through the empty office.

'Nothing, just..' She exhaled. 'I locked the keys in the car, and my spare keys are at home...' She looked frustrated.

'Oh man...' Gar stood at her door, looking down. 'Uhh, can't you just call up your butler or something?'

'It's almost 11 at night, Garfield.' She let out a long sigh.

'Wait.. but can't you rich people like, call your butlers anytime and they'll be present?'

'What do you think this is, a no-budget fanfiction?' Raven rolled her eyes. Her head was laying on her clean table, and Gar couldn't help but blush after seeing her look so laid-back in front of him. 'Well, I can call them, but I wouldn't want to disturb them. Besides, I can just call a cab for now.'

'Or I could give you a ride!' Gar abruptly suggested.

'Umm?' The woman awkwardly raised an eye-brow, not able to find her words to reply to him.

'I mean..' He started, scratching the back of his neck. 'I was the one who suggested we wrap up for the day, and I'm here with you now. If anything were to happen to you, it is really unsafe now, late at night, I wouldn't help but feel responsible. So let me-'

'Garfield.. I-' Raven blushed. 'I don't think it will be suitable for me to accompany a co-worker like this... And also if people think there's an ulterior motive-'

'I don't have any ulterior motives, Rae.' He smiled. 'I'm just a concerned guy looking out for a friend.'

'Very well... Thank you, Garfield.' She looked down at her table, trying to hide her flushed face. 'Also, nobody calls me "Rae".'

'Yes ma'am!' The secretary smiled and walked out to his cubicle to get his things, leaving Raven alone in her office.

Right then, Raven Roth knew something had changed. Be it the atmosphere or herself, she wasn't sure, but something had definitely changed between her and this Gar Logan.

Maybe it was just one-sided; maybe it was because nobody had made her laugh like that, (even though he didn't do it on purpose.), maybe because no one else had ever suggested her to leave her precious work and get sleep. It could be because for the first time, someone had talked to her as Raven (...or Rae) and not “Vice President, Miss. Roth”. Or probably because it was the first time somebody had cared for her enough to stay back and offer a ride.

She wasn't sure why (or what exactly), but she knew something had changed... and in the deepest, darkest corners of her mind, Raven selfishly hoped it didn't change back.

‘You ready?’ He reappeared at her office, bowing a little melodramatically as he caught her eye.

'Yeah…' Raven smiled. 'I'm ready.'

____

Believe it or not the whole meltdown-in-front-of-lady-boss thing is based on a real incident lmho.

Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed this!! Please share your thoughts :>

[send me a prompt]