#you can lift the upper part of my laptop off the bottom part on that side....D:

[bobzora]

gonna blow myself up. opened my laptop this morning to see that the right-side hinge for the screen is fucked. its utterly fucked. also as a result the screen on that side is slightly coming off. everything works fine but for how long. it doesnt even close completely right

[skeezsbbygirl]

tmt (too much tank tops) + bang chan

hello sunshines! (◕‿◕✿)

i’m sorry it took so long for me to update :( i had some personal agendas i needed to attend to, but all is good now <3 this is for anon who requested a bang chan scenario inspired from all the sleeveless looks he’s been serving all of us lately haha. hope you enjoy!

STRAY KIDS EVERYWHERE ALL AROUND THE WORLD.

Don't do it, you thought, as you fought back the urge to bite Chris' exposed arm. The said male's attention was currently fixated on his laptop, clicking some buttons as he bopped his head with the beat that was playing in his headphones. You could faintly hear the tune due to Chris' habit of turning up the volume too loud, claiming that he needed to do that to perfect his craft.

His arm flexed, unbeknownst to him, as he rubbed his neck in attempt to ease some of the tension that was building in his muscles. Such motion made his veins even more prominent, faint shades of green and blue laced through his upper arm down to his hands.

"Chris, stop," you said as you grabbed his arm, slowly guiding it back to rest on the table. Your boyfriend looked at you in confusion, swiftly hitting pause on his laptop to focus on you.

"Stop what, baby?" he questioned as his brown orbs innocently stared into yours, a hint of concern was also displayed on his features, worrying if he had done something wrong for you to call him out.

"I'm sorry, I'll get this done right away," Chris added quickly, taking your hand into his and pressing a kiss on your knuckles. You offered him a sweet smile as you shook your head.

"No, babe. I wasn't talking about that," you explained, shifting in your seat to take a better look at him. Chris slid his headphones off, setting the gadget right beside his laptop. "Then what is it, bub?" he pressed, "You know you can tell me anything, yeah?"

"It's just," you paused as a sudden wave of embarrassment hit you. "Just what?" Chris prompted for you to go on. You shook your head, deciding to bite back the reply that was at the tip of your tongue. "Nothing. Forget I said anything, go back to work," you shrugged, flashing him a convincing smile as you reached out for your phone.

Chris eyed you suspiciously, sensing that there was something odd about your behavior. "I'm not going back to work unless you tell me what's going on," he stated. "Look at me, baby," he instructed as his finger firmly tilted your chin up. "Spill, (y/n)," he said, taking your phone from your hand as he carefully placed it on the table.

"It's embarrassing," you whined, pulling away from his grip, opting to nuzzle your face into his neck. "It's just me, babe," he chuckled, "Come on, baby."

"Exactly, it's you," you muttered, sending shivers down Chris' spine as your lips grazed the sensitive skin of his neck as you spoke. "What about me, love?" he asked as he grabbed your waist, pulling you towards him, making you settle on his lap. Your arms automatically wrapped themselves around his shoulders with your face still buried in his neck as he maneuvered you into a comfortable position.

"Youandyourstupidmuscletanktops," you breathed out in one go. "What?" Chris laughed, "What was that, babygirl?"

He heard you the first time, managing to catch your words despite how muffled you sounded. But still, he wanted to tease you.

"I hate you," you mumbled. "I hate you and your arms, and how they make me feel."

"No, you don't," Chris interjected. "Because if this is how you react when you hate them, then how much more flustered will you get when you actually love them," he teased.

You groaned in annoyance. "See? This is why I didn't want to tell you," you said as you emerged from your hiding. "So, you were ogling at my arms, huh?" Chris joked, cocking one eyebrow at you.

"Whatever, I'm joining Hyunjin in the dance room," you pouted, pushing yourself off of him, but Chris only tightened his hold on you. "No, baby," Chris whined, "Alright, I'm sorry, no more teasing."

Chris leaned in and gave you a kiss, one that lasted longer than usual. "You're the cutest," he cooed to which you responded with an eye roll. "I'm flattered that you like my arms," Chris said, "I've been working out with Bin a lot these days," he added.

"Yeah, I've noticed," you replied as you lightly traced the veins that adorned his upper arm with your fingers. Chris visibly relaxed under your touch, his eyes followed your movement, fascinated by your actions. "I'm glad you noticed," Chris giggled, suddenly growing shy from the attention he was getting from you. Not that he wasn't used to it, but it was the first time that you verbally expressed your fixation on his arms. He might have noticed your stares now and then, but he really didn't make a big deal out of it.

"Well, how can I not when you've been wearing a lot of sleeveless tops nowadays," you pointed out. Chris lifted his shoulders in a half shrug and you shook your head at your boyfriend's cocky demeanor, snuggling back into his embrace.

"I find them comfortable," Chris claimed. "And I find them distracting," you countered back. "Yeah, clearly," he teased, earning him a light smack on his right arm. "I just want to be in your arms forever," you said and Chris smiled at your response, planting a kiss on your forehead in the process.

"I'm here, baby. I got you forever."

The both of you stayed cuddled up for a while, with one of Chris' hand gently stroking your hair while the other was wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him.

"I missed you," you spoke after a while. "Like a lot," you added as you peppered Chris' neck with small kisses. "I missed you more, babygirl," he replied. "Alright, let me finish up and we'll go home," Chris released his hold on you, gently guiding you back to your seat.

An hour later, you guys were home, with you on the bed and Chris currently taking a shower. You were sprawled out on your stomach as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone, answering messages from your friends that popped up in your notification center every now and then.

Your attention was only shifted when Chris emerged out of the bathroom, clad in nothing but black sweatpants and a small towel hanging on his right shoulder, leaving his upper body bare. He sat on the edge of the bed with his back to you as you watched him dry his hair with the towel.

"Here, babe, I'll do it for you," you offered as you crawled to where he was. You tapped his shoulder, motioning for him to sit on the carpeted floor of your shared bedroom as you placed your legs on his sides. Chris' body nestled between your parted legs, crossing his own and making himself comfortable. "Thanks," he said, handing you the towel.

"You did well today," you complimented which earned you a shy chuckle from Chris. "You say that everyday," he noted, dodging your praises. "Because you do well everyday, Chris," you insisted, harshly ruffling his hair to make your point. The black-haired male whined at your sudden action, tilting his head up to pout at you. "You're such a baby," you teased, leaning down to kiss his lips. "But I'm your baby," Chris replied, catching your lips in another kiss.

"Yes, you are, so you better wear more sleeves from now on," you squeezed his arms, and then leaned down to plant a kiss on his exposed shoulder. "Aww, is my queen jealous?" Chris joked, poking your cheek. You huffed in response. "Don't worry, beautiful," he paused as he turned his body around to properly face you. "They may be out there for everyone to see, but they're only yours to touch and feel, and occasionally ogle at," he continued, a giggle escaping his lips as he delivered the latter line.

"I do not ogle," you argued, playfully hitting his arm with your fist. Chris laughed and stood up, hovering over your seated figure. He placed his hands on your sides, caging you within his arms. With Chris being so close, you could smell the all too familiar scent of his body wash -- it was safe to say that it took quite a lot of control not to pounce on him right there and then. "Yeah, sorry. I meant drool," he mocked.

You scoffed at his remark. "Forget it, I'm gonna ogle at Changbin's arms instead," you challenged and Chris immediately dropped his act. "Don't you dare," he gasped and attacked you with kisses. You yelped in surprise, throwing your head back as you giggled, which only allowed Chris to have better access to your neck.

"Alright, alright," you managed to say in between giggles, "I'm kidding, Chris!"

Chris stopped, placing one final kiss on your lips as he detached himself from you. "Good, 'cause you're mine," he stated. "I'm yours, always. I promise," you reassured as your hands came up to gently caress his cheeks. Chris melted under your touch, basking within the affection you were giving him.

You closed the gap between the two of you, connecting your lips with his once more. Chris caught you off guard for a second when he deepened the kiss. It was slow and soft at first, but things quickly turned heated when Chris nibbled on your bottom lip, and at your grant of access, he delved inside your mouth.

You raked your hands through his brown curly locks, lightly tugging at the strands as you pulled him closer, which elicited a soft moan from Chris, his own hands finding their way under your top.

"Alright, sugar lips," you chuckled as you pulled away from Chris, halting his advances, "Go put a shirt on, you need to rest."

"Don't want to," Chris insisted as he towered over your figure once again. "And why not?" you asked, raising one eyebrow at him. "Because I wanna love on you right now," he answered, "So lie back, babygirl."

[ascarimo]

After Class - [Professor!Lando]

A/N: Requested on Wattpad

WORDCOUNT: 2.2K+

WARNINGS: nsfw (teacher x student plot, unprotected sex)

SYNOPSIS: You're one of Lando's students, and he's your Arts professor. You have a question about a project, and therefore you ask if you can stay after class.

When reading the description of the extra course you were about to choose, you weren't exactly sure if it would be a good choice. Nevertheless, you thought a semester of art class would mean easy credits added to your study, and therefore you selected the course, taking it next to the other courses of your study. Art and design had always interested you, especially the designing of clothing, and it would also be fun to take this course as an extra effort. Ever since you met the professor of the course, Professor Norris, it was your favorite course. The Brit taught the class four hours a week, a lecture and a seminar. You had to admit that his good looks and his charming, bright character are the main part why you loved the course as well. The exam period was coming up soon, and for the art class, Mr. Norris gave his class the assignment to design their own clothing line.

And it was harder than you thought. Two weeks before the exam period, Professor Norris gave his students the time to work on it in class, where they could ask him questions as well. After the last seminar, all the students had three more weeks to finish the project and hand it in. You were struggling with the color scheme, yet confident about the design. You felt like you were stuck in your project, and whatever you tried, it didn't seem to work. Luckily, you had the chance to ask your professor today. You were right on time for his class to start, and with your laptop, you sat down in one of the middle rows of the classroom. The seminar group was small, which you liked, as the setting was a lot cozier with just eight students, instead of a large group. Professor Norris hopped on his desk, looking around the class. He was wearing a ripped pair of jeans, a slightly large shirt, and some sneakers he had designed and created himself.

"Good afternoon, everyone, we're just going to repeat the seminar from last week. You have the time to work on your projects and ask about anything you need help with. Feel free to put some headphones on or anything," Professor Norris told his students, which made most of them nod in agreement. You looked up at him, his lips twitching upwards when his eyes met yours. You smiled back at him before starting up your laptop, logging into your account, and selecting the file of your project. You scrolled through it, silence filling the classroom as everyone was either busy or on their phone. You looked around, waiting for the first one to step towards Professor Norris' desk, but neither of the others did. You were hesitant to ask him something so soon, just after the start of the class. You remained seated for a while, however, he seemed to notice your pondering, and when you looked up again, he stood at your table. "What are you working on?" Mr. Norris asked.

"Ehm, well..." You started with a soft laugh. "I started on this, but I don't like it a lot," you admitted, turning your laptop to show him, feeling slightly nervous. He leaned his hands on the table, and your eyes glided over his arms, the veins bulging up over his tanned skin. You were quick to divert your eyes elsewhere. "What don't you like about it?" he asked. "It's too basic. I think it needs more... me" "You." You said at the same time, causing you to laugh softly, and so did he. "Think of something that describes your life, your personality, think of symbols or sayings that mean a lot to you, and try to work that in. You have a great base, so just some more creativity is needed," Professor Norris told you, and you looked into his eyes. You nodded slowly, feeling your face growing hot under his gaze. "Thank you," you choked out, gnawing your teeth into your bottom lip as he gave you a grin. Mr. Norris was young, about your age, and he was doing his internship at your university, and he was undeniably hot.

You were continuing on your project throughout the class, yet you were still not satisfied with the current look of it. You weren't sure what kind of things to design along with it, and you decided to stay behind to ask some more. "Mr. Norris? Would it be okay for me to stay behind for some minutes?" you asked, standing up as the others did so too. "Of course," Lando replied to you, wishing the others a great day and good luck with their projects. Your eyes glided over his appearance once more. You liked that his style was different from the other professors, who were dressed in tight suits. He was young, seemed the have the same mindset as his students, which automatically caused his classes to be so much more fun. The other students now walked out of the classroom, and you picked up your laptop to take it to his desk. "To improve the design I'd like to see it in 3D, but I can't get this programme to work," you sighed.

"You do have the updated version downloaded, right?" Professor Norris asked, moving next to you and glancing at your screen. "Yes," you replied. "Some of the functions are hidden a little, let me try," Lando took your laptop, briefly watching when you leaned back against his desk. The skirt you were wearing looked very flattering on you, but Lando diverted his eyes from your figure. He was distracted by the move you made when leaning against his desk with your hands, pushing your upper body slightly forward, the off-shoulder blouse you were wearing nearly showed the swell of your cleavage. Lando cleared his throat, swallowing hard as he opened the menu on the designing program on your laptop. "Could you get the charger, please?" Lando asked then, the battery was still 30 percent, but he watched you nod and turn around to your bag.

His teeth dug into his lower lip when your skirt floated around your legs, the material riding slightly upwards from the movement when you picked up your bag and got the charger out. "Thanks," Lando muttered. "If you come on my side, I can show you how it works," Lando said then, and you made your way around his desk. He was close to you, and you could feel the heat of his body radiating off him. His long fingers were pointing to the screen, making your eyes dart over to them instead. The pull in your lower abdomen worsened each time his hands came in sight, making you squeeze your thighs together subtly. "Is it understandable?" Lando asked. "J-just once more how to activate..." Your breath hitched in your throat when his fingers brushed over the back of your thighs. "To activate?" Lando hummed.

Professor Norris rose from his seat, and you looked up at him meanwhile, words stuck in your mouth. "Tell me, darling," he ushered, making a step forward. The back of your thighs hit his desk, and you shuffled onto it. "I-I think it's clear now," you stammered. "Are you sure? You can stay a little longer if you want," Professor Norris replied while his fingertips trailed up your legs, feeling the soft material of your skirt. "Unless I make you uncomfortable," he was quick to add, and you looked into his bright eyes. You shook your head, your lashes fluttering when his lips hovered over yours. "This is so inappropriate," you muttered, feeling his lips on yours. "But you're so pretty, and we're the same age," he replied, giving you a taste of his lips. "My best student," Lando continued, his hands curling around your waist.

"That's not true," you laughed, gnawing down on your bottom lip when his nose nuzzled against your cheek, a sweet peck following. "Always so sweet in the middle row, working so hard," Lando told you, his fingers riding up the material of your blouse, feeling your bare skin. "Let me reward you, darling," his voice was husk, raspy in your ear, and you were addicted to the scent of his cologne that lingered around him. You adored the feeling of his fingers wrapped around your waist. Lando lifted his head and finally kissed your lips, humming lowly when he felt the pressure of your mouth kissing him back. His tongue glided over the seam of your lips, deepening the kiss. You joined the sway of his tongue, feeling your body heating up. Lando shivered lightly when he felt your fingers weaving into the curls in the nape of his neck.

His hands traveled over your lower back to your behind, his palms squeezing your hips before pulling you a little more forward. You whimpered softly when he kissed the corner of your mouth, down your jaw and to your neck. A shiver ran up your spine when he kissed the delicate skin of your neck, nibbling and sucking down your throat while one of his hands slipped under your skirt. "We've got to be quick, my love. Another class will be here in fifteen minutes," Lando apologized. Your mind could barely process what he said as soon as his hand squeezed the apex of your thigh, his fingertips brushing over the lace edge of your panties. You hummed softly when three of Lando's fingers moved over your clothed core. The feeling of your damp panties made him twitch in his jeans, and he started to stimulate your clothed nub of nerve endings to get you soaking. After teasing you shortly, he shoved your panties aside, and you looked down at his hand.

You bunched your skirt up around your waist, watching his fingers flex and the muscles in his arms tightening when he entered you swiftly. Your head fell back with a moan, but his lips were soon back on yours to shush you. "Sssh, be quiet, babe. It's our little secret," Lando whispered against your lips, his fingers curling up against your front wall right away, his thumb circling over your pulsing clit while he created the most delicious rhythm. His fingers stimulated the most sensitive spots, and had you trembling on his desk within a couple minutes. "Such a good girl," Professor Norris praised, watching your eyelids flutter while he felt your walls getting wetter and tighten around his digits. You cursed under your breath, trying your hardest to remain silent while your orgasm ripped through you. Lando licked his fingers clean, undoing his jeans and zipping down the denim.

His underwear was pushed out of the way, and his palm wrapped around his shaft that stood tall. The girth of his cock, the veins running over them, caused your mouth to water. Lando pulled you a little more to the edge of his desk, the round head of his length briefly moving through your folds before he bottomed you out right away. There was no time to go slow, and his pace went to fucking you into his desk with a hard, deep pace that had you nearly whining under the firm grip of his hands on your hips. It was so good, it felt so amazing, raw, hot, and the fact that he's your professor and you're his student nearly tipped you over the edge right away. "That's it, love," Lando grunted lowly when your core contracted around him, walls squeezing him tight. The tip of his cock brushed over your gathering of nerve endings each time, creating the state of frenzy you floated in.

Lando looked down at your blissed out expressions, admiring the furrow of your eyebrows, and your lips parted with soft breaths. Your hands were curled around his lower arms, your nails digging slightly into his skin. The white hot pleasure washed over you soon enough, briefly blurring your vision. The throbbing of his release against your inner walls prolonged the feeling of ecstasy. Lando reached for some tissues, helping you to clean up a little before you pulled your panties up again, and you adjusted your skirt and your blouse. Lando did the same, then moved to open some windows to let in some fresh air, which caused you both to laugh. You went to get your bag, and meanwhile Lando shoved a note your way. "This is my number, in case you need some more help with your project," he said, a grin curling his lips.

"Thanks," you chuckled, taking the note with you. "Maybe we can discuss it over dinner this weekend, you can text me your availability," he continued, approaching you again while you held onto the handles of your bag. "If you want to, of course," he added, his fingers moving under your chin and gently caressing your cheeks. "I'd love to, Professor Norris," you said, your eyes flickering up to his. His jaw slacked briefly before he grinned again. "Great, good luck with your project till then, Y/N," Lando said and walked you to the door. You smiled at him over your shoulder, walking down the hallway. Lando leaned against the door, shaking his head at himself, knowing he was crazy about you whether you were his student or not.

[pascalpanic]

Fixer Upper PART ONE (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

Summary: Nothing seems to go right in your new house. When yet another thing breaks, a certain handyman comes to your rescue.

W/C: 2k ish

Warnings: language, joking mentions of a house being cursed (it isn’t), reader has dirty thoughts bc it’s Frankie and he’s hot

A/N: this one goes out to my anons who’ve been sending me stuff about frankie as a repairman! I loved the idea and I thought it would be super fun to write! This will be part ONE of three-ish! ps idk if any references to reader’s gender are in this part but there certainly will be some in the future so.

It’s been a while that you’ve lived in this house. Since that day you hauled in the cardboard boxes, you’ve been feeling that your life is the epitome of Murphy’s law. Or rather, this damned house is.

Nothing ever goes right. The heat breaks in the winter and the air conditioning breaks in the summer. The plumbing needs work when you need it to work, and the oven only ever breaks halfway through cooking something. Seriously, you swear this place is cursed by some hex determined to pester you out of living here.

You’ve never exactly been the handy type. You don’t know much about mechanics, heating or cooling, the electricity and wiring in your house, any of it. By now, you wish you’d taken the time to learn it at some point rather than hiring someone every time.

The first sign was that the June heat seemed inescapable. You’d been outside all day, and you figured it was just your body taking its time to adjust to the cooler, indoor temperature. Then you never cooled down. When you stepped out of the bathroom after a shower and found the air to be nearly as muggy as that of the steamed bathroom, you realized that the air conditioning must be off.

Well, it was on. The problem was that it wasn’t working. You opened all the windows, and figured the night breeze would cool you, then you became worried about serial killers and crimes and promptly shut and locked all of them again. With the fan in your bedroom on, the air at least moved, but was still thick and heavy.

In the morning, when you wake with no blankets on and sweaty sheets, you dial the repair company as fast as you can. You inform them of the situation, and they tell you they’ll send someone out your way in the next hour or two.

The air is still somewhat cool outside, so you give the front porch a shot once you get changed out of your pajamas and take yet another cool shower. The heavy dew is an indicator of just how humid the air is, and you relish every little breeze that passes by and cools you down. You conduct your morning business outside, hoping to have this problem fixed before the sun reaches a height where the temperatures will rise exponentially.

About an hour after the call, the repair van rolls up into your driveway and parks. “Thank God,” you murmur to yourself.

Your focus returns to your computer, but you hear the door slam shut and look up to find the repairman there. He wears khaki cargo pants and a gray t-shirt, complete with a ball cap on top, with dark brown curls peeking out from the bottom. He fastens his tool belt around his waist as he walks up to the porch. “Hey there. I’m Frankie. I’ll be taking care of you today,” he informs you, a kind smile on his face. You already like him. “I got the basics from the boss, but can you tell me more about the problem?”

Looking up at him from the seated position you’re in, you give an awkward smile. Suddenly, you wish you’re better dressed, fixed up and looking nice. Even in work clothes, this man is beautiful. It makes you a little nervous, you in your pajamas and him looking like a god even in cargo pants. “I wish I could, but I don’t know anything about the air conditioner and how it works other than how to change the settings. All I know is that it isn’t working.”

He gives a good-natured chuckle, a soft bounce of his chest beneath the shirt. He looks down at his tool belt and his scruff brushes against the collar of the gray. “Well, let’s go give it a shot. I’ll need you to show me around, show me the control panel and the main system.” God, he’s handsome.

“Oh, of course,” you nod and stand, leaving your laptop on the small table. “Well, right this way. And please, you don’t need to take your boots off. Those look complicated,” you laugh as you look at the heavy tan boots at the bottom of his body.

Frankie nods and looks around as you lead him through the house. He doesn’t take his boots off, since you insisted, but he does give them a generous wipe on the doormat, careful not to track anything in. “It’s a beautiful place,” he tells you honestly, with a half-smile that just tugs at one of the corners of his ridiculously soft-looking lips.

“Thanks,” you shrug and show him to the control panel. “I try. Okay, here’s the button thingy.”

“The button thingy?” he teases, which leads to laughter from the both of you.

“If I knew what it was called, you wouldn’t be here,” you tease him back and shake your head.

Frankie uses the tools from his belt to take off the casing. You lean against the wall as he works, admiring the way his hands nimbly check the wires and paneling behind it. He holds a small flashlight between his teeth to look into the wall cavity.

“I can hold that for you,” you offer, and he moves his mouth for you to take it from him.

“Thanks,” he says, popping his jaw slightly to adjust from the awkward angle of holding it between his teeth. “You don’t have to. I’m just here to fix it.”

You point it at the same spot. “I might as well be some help, considering I don’t know shit about my own house.”

Frankie laughs at that, stealing a glance your way that makes your face warm before his gaze returns to the electrical situation. “Well,” he declares after a few seconds. “The wiring must not be the problem here. This all is working fine, so it must be with the actual system.”

“Great,” you groan. “The part I know even less about.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he chuckles and screws the panel back into place on your wall, making sure everything works properly and he didn’t mess with any functions.

Leading Frankie to your basement, you show him the cluttered laundry room and the central air conditioning unit. He’s already analyzing the system, and you back off to let him work. He looks focused. “Holler if you need me,” you tell him as he gets on his knees to look at something, daring to gently pat his shoulder. It’s strong, muscular beneath your palm.

Heading back to the kitchen, you open the fridge and sigh. For a moment, you allow yourself to close your eyes and just enjoy the cold air it produces. Hopefully, your house will be the same soon enough. Grabbing two tall glasses, you fill each with ice before pouring half sweet tea and half lemonade into the glasses.

You stand in the kitchen with the freezer open, sighing at the cool air it provides. Not sure how long he’ll take, you scroll through your phone. It’s surprisingly quick, you find.

“Hey, I found it!” Frankie calls from the basement.

Carrying the two glasses, you return to the laundry room to find him reorganizing his tool belt. “Here,” you tell him with a smile as you hold out the drink. “Least I could do. It’s unbearable in here.”

“Thanks,” he smiles and lifts the glass to you in a miniature salute before taking a sip. Frankie then launches into a detailed explanation of the issue with the A/C unit, using all kinds of terms you don’t understand and mentioning parts you didn’t even know were included in the machine. “I got it all fixed up, though, and it shouldn’t take long before it’s working just as good as normal.”

You sigh in relief, swallowing the sweet drink and smiling at him. “God, thank you so much. You don’t even know how awful it was in here.”

“If it’s anything like right now, I do,” he chuckles. The man takes the hem of his t-shirt and lifts it to wipe his face, revealing a muscular but soft body beneath it, with a beautiful little trail of dark hair leading to beneath his belt. Is it terrible that your first thought is that you want to lick it?

You force the image from your mind with another swig of the drink. “Yeah, just about. Well, how much do I owe you?” You ask the man, leading him out of the laundry room and into the basement that’s already feeling cooler.

“Oh, nothing right now,” he shakes his head as you lead him upstairs and to the kitchen. “I just tweaked some things for you, didn’t need any parts or anything, so it’s just gonna be labor.” He seems to remember something. “Ah, shit. I gotta have you sign something. I’ll grab the paper from the van and be right back,” he tells you and leaves his drink on the counter, half-jogging outside.

While he’s outside, you lean against the cool kitchen counter and let yourself daydream. This Frankie guy certainly is attractive, and his personality is definitely something you’re interested in. What if the situation right now played out like a porno, and he fucked you on the countertop? You certainly wouldn’t complain. You noticed his hands and feet are large. Certainly he must be big somewhere else too. “Oh Jesus Christ,” you murmur to yourself. Why did my mind have to go there? And why is the thought so hot? He’s a sweet man too, clearly goofy and sweet. Why is your mind going there then? Really, upon further pondering, you just want to hug the man, admire his strong body pressed to yours in an intimate but innocent gesture.

“Sorry, what was that?” Frankie calls out as he walks into the house again.

His voice snaps you from your daydreaming. “Oh, just talking to myself,” you say quickly and cheerfully, taking the paper from him. The top is printed with repairman name: Francisco Morales. Francisco. That makes you smile. What a cute name. The rest is filled with the details of what he did to the machine to fix it, and you sign and date at the bottom. “Here you go, Francisco.”

His tanned skin turns a little pinker on the cheeks. “Great,” Frankie smiles and takes it back.

“Before you leave,” you tell him quickly, darting to grab your purse from the entryway, “here.”

Frankie walks to you and you hand him a generous cash tip, with a stupid smile stuck to your face. “Thank you, wow,” he says, voice honest in its surprise as he notices the total of the money.

“Of course. I really can’t thank you enough. God, it’s been painfully hot in here and I really just can’t stand the heat,” you ramble, your voice speeding up. “And… yeah. Thank you. For your company, too.”

“Just doing my job,” he tells you with a smile, putting his hands in his pockets. “Oh, here.”

From his pocket, he pulls a little rectangle of paper with his name and company on it. “The shop number is on here; if anything changes, just call and ask for Catfish.”

“Catfish?” You ask with a smile, puzzled.

“My old military nickname. It’s what the guys around there call me,” he shrugs, shy at the nickname.

It makes you laugh a little, and you tuck the card in your purse. “Well, Catfish, thank you. I’ll be sure to use this next time I have some stupid thing I can’t repair myself.”

“Please do,” he chuckles, a shy smile on his face. “I’ll see you around.”

“Thanks!” You call again and cringe. That’s, what, the ninth time you’ve said that now? He walks to the van and you give him a wave before retreating back inside. God, now you can’t wait for this shitty house to need another repair. You’ll certainly be asking for Catfish.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles @queridopascal

[coloredgirlfan-fiction01]

The warm morning sunshine was the first thing you felt as you woke from your sleep. The bright light stung your rested eyes but with a few blinks it was manageable.

Looking over at your bedside table, the digital clock read seven sixteen. You had wanted to set the alarm to wake up earlier, but Michael always complained that the sound it made was annoying and gave him headaches.

So you had to learn to wake up early so Michael could get his beauty sleep, not that he really needed it.

Said blonde was still fast asleep on his back, arms on each side of his head and soft pink lips slightly parted as he took shallow breaths. His long eyelashes fluttering ever so gently on his cheeks as he dreamed, something good you hoped.

He was dressed in the red silk pajama suit you picked out for him last night, the first three buttons of the top undone which exposed the smooth skin of his chest.

He was so beautiful, unlike most men he was soft and loved to be taken cared of. There was nothing anyone could say or do that could make you any less in love with him, and he loved you just as much.

You protected him and never judged him for the way he was like those in his past had. They were so focused on what he was and what he was destined to do, that they never stopped to ask him who he really was outside of his father's dark shadow.

As you watched him sleep a fond smile crept across your lips, you leaned over the blonde and gently kissed the top of his exposed chest.

"Michael, it's time to wake up." You whispered placing another kiss just above the previous one.

You felt him stir and let out a soft groan as you began to kiss his neck.

"Five more minutes." You chuckled at how childish his whine was.

"Come on puppy, it's time to get up." You watched as his eyes fluttered open, ocean eyes seemed to almost glow as the sunlight hit them.

"Morning.." He greeted with a smile. You reached out you brush a few strands away from his face, enjoying the smoothness of his skin and the happiness in his eyes.

"Did you sleep well?"

"I dreamt about you. We were at the bottom of a clear blue ocean. I was lying on your lap, you were humming a song and running your fingers through my hair as I fell asleep. It was beautiful, peaceful."

He always had such strange dreams. Sometimes he had nightmares that were so vivid even you got chills whenever he'd talk about them, but you always loved the ones he got that made him smile in the morning.

"Your too cute for your own good sometimes you know that?" You kissed him and got out of bed to stretch your arms above your head to rid your body of any excess tiredness.

The grey T-shirt you wore to bed lifted as you did, exposing your upper thighs and ass which Michael gawked when he sat up. He couldn't help but think how sexy you looked wearing his shirt and nothing else.

Your skin always had a sort of glow when the sun washed over you. Every curve, your hips, your breasts, your long legs, your natural hair that framed your face made you look like a goddess in his eyes.

He'd never thought that after everything that went went in his life, all the blood and bad choices that he would find redemption and safety in the shape of you.

You were the first person to treat him like an actual human being with feelings and emotions instead of just the antichrist that was destined to destroy the world and remake it in his father's image. That part of him died the moment he gave himself to you.

"Are you going to stare at me all day, or are you gonna' get up and get ready pup?" Blush dusted his cheeks and he averted his eyes to stop from staring. He got out of bed and helped fixed the bedding before joining you in the shower.

After that you guided him downstairs to the kitchen and began to make a healthy breakfast for the both of you, while Michael sat at the counter and watched you.

French toast, eggs, sausages and a pot of freshly made lemongrass tea was on the menu and you took pride in the fact that you only took twenty minutes to make everything.

"So what do you want to do today pup?" You asked serving him his share. Since you didn't have to go into work on Saturdays, you always let Michael choose how you'd spend the day together. You owned your own business and it took up alot of your time, so you dedicated a day just for Michael since he hardly gets to have you for himself.

"I was thinking we could go to the park today, the weather's nice maybe we can have a picnic?"

"That sound like a g-" The loud ringing of your cellphone cut off the conversation and drew you away from the kitchen counter to retrieve your phone from upstairs.

Apparently one of your employees made an error at work and they needed your help to fix it before it caused problems for the software. You inquired about the error and thanked the heavens it wasn't something that you needed to leave home for.

"Michael I'm going to be in my office for a few minutes, finish your breakfast and watch some TV until I'm done OK?" You called out and got an 'alright' as his answer.

About an hour has passed and Michael was getting bored of watching TV. They were showing some low budget show about vampires and he was in no mood to sit through it.

What was taking you so long? You had said a few minutes and it's been an entire hour and you haven't left your home office.

He hardly gets to spend any quality quality time with you and now your work was getting in the way of his day. He wasn't happy.

Deciding he's waited enough, Michael clicked off the TV and marched up the stairs to the see what was taking you so long. He decided not to knock and just barged in ready to demand your attention but stopped himself as he saw you typing furiously on your laptop and talking sternly at whoever was on the phone.

"There is absolutely nothing you can give me as an excuse right now, this could completely crash the servers and we can loose Gigabytes of data because of this."

You always looked so fierce when you were pissed off about something. Your usually calm and collected demeanor was replaced by one of dominance and authority that always made his knees weak. Just the sound of you scolding your employee made him hard and made him want your attention even more.

He closed the door behind him and walks over to you, fully determined to get what he wanted despite knowing he wasn't allowed to disturb you during work.

"Y/n are you almost done, you promised that we'd spend time together today." He whined kneeling beside your chair. His big blue eyes looked up at you but you didn't even give his a side glance.

"Today is my day with you they get you every other day, can't you handle this later?" You shot him a serious glare that shut him up but it didn't deter him from his mission. Being ignored was one thing, but you brushing him off for your work on his day was the last straw.

You didn't question him when he crawled on the floor to get under your desk. You didn't even question when he spread your legs apart to make room for himself in the tight space.

What did get your attention was the sharp tug of your panties that made them snap when he tugged them with his finger. The pull was so strong it pulled you along with it.

He could be such a brat when he couldn't get what he wanted. You didn't mind it but your work couldn't wait.

You could tell he was getting impatient as you hardly reacted to his desperate acts for attention. The way his teeth nipped at your inner thighs and the wetness his tongue left in it's wake as he licked your folds with vigor.

You'd be lying if you weren't getting turned on by his efforts.

If there's one thing that Michael excelled at was pleasing you to the best of his abilities.

It took all of your will power not to moan into your phone as his tongue slipped into you, his hands wrapped around your hips to pull your lower half flush against his mouth.

"You do know there will be consequences for this, don't you?" You said into the phone while grabbing a fist full of Michael's hair, making sure that he knew she was talking to him too.

Absolute chills ripped through you as he moaned loudly against your sex. His hot breath against your dripping sex was euphoric and you could help but grind your hips into him to get more.

"Listen to me, today is my day off and I have business at the moment to take care of. I'll deal with you and your mistake tomorrow." You ended the call and threw the phone on the desktop.

You pulled away from Michael and yanked him by his hair to get out of the tight space.

"You can be a real brat sometimes you know that?"

"You were gone for so long, and I-"

"You know the rules about coming in here don't you?"

"I know. I- I'm sorry."

You sighed and gestured to him to get out from under the table and to lay down on the floor. You followed after him and took the position of straddling his hips.

He looked so adorable beneath you, eyes full of anticipation for whatever you were going to do to him at that moment, you almost felt sorry for him.

"How do you think you should be punished puppy?"

Usually you would spank him or put him on time out for disobeying you, but he was right. Today was his day and you broke your promise.

"How about I do something we'll both enjoy, but at the same time you get your punishment. And if you're good we'll get ready to go on that picnic right after, sound fair?" You asked, which he immediately agreed to.

You slowly began to ride on top of Michael, his semi erection perfectly positioned against your sex making the friction delicious between the two of you.

The hairs on your neck stood up as a wave of chills ran across your skin when Michael let out a desperate moan as you felt him grow harder under you. His brilliant blue eyes glazed over in desperation and pleasure that motivated you to move faster.

"Y/n, I.. I want more..~" He panted, gripping your waist and meeting your humping with vigor.

"I know you do puppy, but this is all you're gonna get."

[quietmyfearswith]

where our demons hide {dark!steve rogers x fem!reader} part 3

where our demons hide {dark!steve rogers x fem!reader} part 3

status — ongoing series

warnings —  non-con, oral sex (receiving),  name-calling, swearing, porn with a bit of plot, dark!steve rogers, penetrative sex, mentions of birth control pills n plan b, somnophilia, hints of stalking, car sex, dry humping, hints of being drugged

word count — 3,181 words

a/n — u can read this as a standalone but if you want, you can read the first & second part. my askbox is open if you guys wanna talk, rant, or if u have questions abt this fic or my other fics. feedback is very much appreciated! have a great day and stay safe guys :>

masterlist

part one — tony stark

part two — sam wilson

Popping open the hood of her car, Y/N maneuvered from behind the wheel and in front of the car. Lifting the hood and propping it open with the hood prop, she tried to check what was wrong with the engine. To her knowledge, there was no issue with the car’s battery, and that the spark plugs looked intact, while there was no damage in her air filter.

Just as she was to open the radiator cap, Y/N heard heavy footsteps coming closer, peering over her shoulder, she was able to make out that it was Captain Rogers himself who seemed to be approaching her while carrying a bottled water with him. “Everything alright here?” he wondered as Steve stood a few metres away from her.

Placing one of her hands on the radiator cap, the other gestured to her car, “Not really, no. Car decided not to start so I’m left to wonder what’s wrong with it, Captain.” Steve nodded in understanding, “Want me to take a look at it? Pretty girls like you in that dress shouldn’t sweat these kinds of things, you know?”

Y/N chuckled nervously, surprised by the compliment but figured that being the gentleman that he was, Steve Rogers would offer to take a look at her car, she decided that she did not want to seem like a know-it-all or snobby, so she took up his offer, “Uh, that would be great, yeah. I’m not really knowledgeable with cars, so,” she trailed off weakly.

He smiled warmly at her, handing the bottled water, “You mind holding this for me? You can even have it if you want,” he offered, and the gleam in his eyes looked as if he really was concerned for her well-being. Nodding, Y/N took the bottled water — and in that moment did she only realize how thirsty she really was and so she twisted the cap, weirdly with ease and no hassle just like how one would usually struggle in opening a bottled water, and took a big gulp of it.

Wiping her mouth of the residual water with the back of her hand, she thanked Steve for his efforts, “Thank you for the water, by the way,” she began and she noticed how his smile widened and she was far too concerned with her car’s conditions to catch the hint of darkness behind that smile of his, “Any luck figuring out what’s wrong with it yet?”

She did not want to seem impatient or doubtful with his ability to figure out  what was wrong with her car. No, she just was eager to go home and take a bubble bath while sipping on some wine. It had been a stressful two weeks for her, not only in terms of her work. But also of the two other events that involved two of the Avengers. There was a part of her that was debating whether she should file a harassment complaint since they both had made moves to her and refused to listen to her pleas. While there was also this part of her that was extremely satisfied and pleased with the events — for they both had given her unimaginable pleasure.

Lost in her thoughts, she missed how Steve had already checked on the transmission oil, windshield washer fluid, and brake fluid — for he was now lowering the hood prop and closing the hood. “It seems like there’s something wrong with the transmission oil and there’s a leak in the container of the brake fluid.” Y/N frowned, in confusion and disappointment, the past few times she’d use her car she failed to notice that there was something wrong or leaking with her car. But then it also meant that she would have to spend thousands on repairing it and now she had to take a cab home which would delay her relaxation plans.

With a sigh, she thanked him, “Well that’s a bummer, but thank you Captain. At least I know what to say to the mechanic when he takes a look at it,” Steve wiped his hands on his grey shirt, “It was nothing, just wished I could be of more help to you. Plus, call me Steve, it’s not like we’re complete strangers, yeah?”

Y/N was grabbing her shoulder bag and laptop bag that was placed on the front passenger side as Steve replied so she missed the light and dark smirk he had when saying the last part. Shutting and locking the car, “You were a big help, Ca-Steve, thank you, really. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll now be calling a cab.”

Upon saying how she decided to go home, Steve looked at her as if he had a bright idea, “What about I drive you home? It’s not like I have anything big planned tonight anyway,” he suggested to her. She looked up at him bewildered, she knew that Steve was kind and thoughtful, but she doubted she was someone important enough for him to go the extra mile. “If you’re sure it won’t be a big hassle to yeah,” before she could even finish the sentence, the Avenger was already grabbing her hand and leading her to where his car was parked.

“You seem very much eager huh?” she chuckled, trying to hide her nervousness. Steve looked at her and smiled, “Just need to get away from the compound, you know? Had a tough meeting earlier with Stark so needed to let off steam,” he explained.

At the mention of the hero, she silenced herself since memories of the time she spent with him resurfaced; while there was also a part of her that was curious about what they had talked about. Steve opened the door for her once they reached his car — she was also surprised with how there was only a short distance they had to walk to reach his car, but in her exhausted state, she was thankful for that. After closing the passenger door for her, Steve quickly jogged over to the driver’s side. “Uh I live at 300 40th avenue,” Y/N spoke up as he turned on the engine. As Steve began driving, he smirked as he mumbled something the head of research could not quite catch, “What did you say?” A shake of his blonde hair was the only response she got, before she could further inquire, there was a ringtone that surprised them both.

Muttering a string of apologies, Y/N grabbed for her phone and read the reminder she had set out to remind her to take her birth control pills. She decided that it would be better for her to take these pills instead of always buying Plan B every time she’s had sex. Fumbling, she looked for the pill case she placed on her bag, “Everything alright, Y/N?” Steve wondered and looked at her when they were stopped at an intersection by the stoplight.

She nodded, showing him the pill case she had found, “Just need to drink these, thanks once again for the bottled water,” putting the car back on drive, Steve could only smile to himself and say how it was nothing big. From his peripheral vision, he could see how she swallowed the pill and washed it down with the water, finishing it all in one gulp. They knew how she twice bought Plan B following her sexual activities with Sam and Tony; they were surprised as well to find out that she started to be on the pill.

After taking the pill, Y/N started to feel drowsy. Which was weird considering the previous times when she’d take it and be able to carry out with the rest of her day. It must be because of the exhaustion, she thought to herself. With that, she allowed herself to close and rest her eyes.

Turning off the engine and parking in a dark and secluded spot. They have yet to reach her place, but knowing that the front of it was illuminated and had the tendency of having passersby — and Steve could not risk anyone seeing them. Unbuckling his seat belt, he turned to where the sleeping beauty had peacefully been snoozing ever since she drank all of the water he had drugged.

His left hand was reaching over to her side to lower her seat while the right one unlatched her seat belt. Once he’s done both, Steve crossed the center island of the car and straddled over where Y/N’s unconscious form was laying. Brushing his knuckles over cheeks he stared at her adoringly, “Maybe our next time together, you’ll be fully awake. And hopefully then you’ll be able to  enjoy this.”

Her face did not twitch or any part of her body did not respond to his touch and his words. Steve decided that there was no time to waste; he made quick work of unzipping the side of her dress, from there he hurriedly tried to undress her from the confines of her yellow dress that just accentuated her figure. Lowering the upper portion of her dress and freeing her arms, Steve was surprised to see how she didn’t wear a bra; and her stiff and mouth-watering nipples greeted him.

“Looks like you knew how much I wanted you, baby girl,” he muttered before dipping his head down to suck on one her nipples, while his hand toyed with the other; pulling, twisting, and pinching on it while his mouth enveloped her nipple, even her entire breast, and left his marks on it. Pulling away even to just switch —  his mouth focusing on the nipple he had toyed with his hand while his other hand further toyed with the saliva he had left on the other nipple — had proven to be difficult for him since he could not get enough of it.

Once he was sure that he had left his mark on her other breast, Steve reluctantly pulled his head and hand away, “Fuck baby, you’re so irresistible.” He then proceeded in lifting the bottom part of her dress until it rested just above her navel.

As he was sliding her beige lace, almost see-through panties, he talked to her as if she was awake, “As much as I love these panties, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to keep them, doll,” he twisted and placed it on the glove compartment behind him before facing her once more, “But I talked with Tony earlier, we agreed to change your dress code,” he slid one of his hands down to her stomach then to her clit where he began rubbing her quickly, “Starting today, you aren’t allowed to wear panties anymore,” surprised with the juices that came out of her following his actions, he decided that he needed to feel more of her and slid in two of his fingers, “The only thing you can wear down there, is our cum.”

Steve then was relentless in pushing in and out his fingers, he couldn’t get enough of how tight she was and how her body seemed to never stop producing wetness; it became to much for him to the point wherein he was now humping his hard-on her thigh as he was sucking and licking her breasts, switching between the two every so often.

“Can only imagine how tight you’ll be with my cock inside you, doll,” Steve grunted as he slid in a third finger inside her, resulting in her walls hugging his fingers even tighter which caused Steve to stop his oral assault on her breasts and grind even faster on her thigh. With the three fingers inside her, his thumb began on rubbing her clit; determined to get him to cum for him, “Come on, baby, I know you can come for me,” Steve whispered and he stopped his grinding on her for he wished to cum inside her and was determined to get her to cum first.

As if her body responded to him, even in her blacked out state, she did cum after a few more harsh thrusts and rubbing of his fingers. “You are one obedient little girl, aren’t you?” Steve laughed in surprise but was still pleased as he pulled out his fingers from her cunt and brought the drenched fingers into his mouth, and he moaned loudly at the taste of her cum dripping on his fingers, “You taste better than anything I ever ate, baby girl.”

Once he was done drinking up her juices that stuck to his finger, he began unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, not fully removing them but just enough for his cock to be free from their restraints, “Maybe next time you’ll be the one to get a taste of me, hm?” Lifting one of her legs and placing it on his shoulder, he began to tease the tip of his cock by rubbing it just at her entrance, spreading some of her cum.

Pushing in slowly, Steve let out a loud grunt at how wet and warm her pussy was. His left hand was holding on the leg that was placed on her shoulder, while the right one was grabbing onto one of her breasts. Sliding all the way in, he had to stay still for a few seconds due to how tight her walls enveloped his dick, his hand was no doubt leaving a mark on her leg with how intensely he was grabbing onto her. “They failed to mention how tight you were gonna be, baby,” he muttered as he began to slowly thrust into her pussy.

Slow and sharp thrusts were being given to her motionless figure, and Steve loved how she seemed to be welcoming it with how her cunt was clenching on his dick. Once getting the hang of he was being wrapped in her walls, Steve’s thrusts gradually became faster. His hips slamming into the back of her thigh and her body was shaking with his thrusts. The super soldier's stamina and endurance was being challenged with the way her body was welcoming him.

In between his fast and ruthless thrusts, he managed to remove his hand from her breast and put it on her other leg and lift it, but instead of placing it on his shoulder, he pushed both of her legs until they were almost by her ears and resting at the car’s headrest. Surprised by her flexibility and how her body was compliant with how he moved it around, he grunted out his praises for her, “Such a whore you are, baby. Just letting me use you any way you want huh?”

After a hard thrust, he slammed in and didn't move for a while, even then her walls were squeezing him. His mouth found her neck and sucked on it enough to leave his marks, “You fucking like this, don’t you?” he muttered as he began to move his hips in circles, not yet thrusting. “You like it when the Avengers use your body? Like being our slut, baby?”

He heard her moaning and letting out small whimpers, he smirked thinking that maybe she thought what he was doing was all a dream, but she’d be pleased to know it was not a dream and instead very much real. He pulled his cock out of her pussy, until only the tip was in her, then thrust right back in her quickly and roughly, which made Steve moan loudly for he was close to reaching his climax.

Repeatedly, he would slam how hips hard onto the back of her thighs. But now he would rub her clit with his one hand while the other busied itself with toying with her nipples. As his mouth was making sure to leave marks in her neck that would be difficult to cover up, he was whispering to her, “I can feel you squeezing me even more baby, fuck didn’t think that was possible,” her clit had already been swollen with how he was rubbing her and her pussy was clenching on him so hard he thought he was already gonna spill his seed inside of her, “Come on baby, come for me. Drench my cock with your juices. Own this cock.”

If Steve wasn’t already getting into town earlier, he was now. Both his hands now grabbed onto her raised legs and proceeded to frantically thrust his cock in and out of her like it would be his only time to fuck her. He was moving her body in a way to respond to how he was entering in her and it wasn’t long until he felt her squirt on his cock which caused him to let out a loud moan as he saw how her pussy released juices that not only soaked his cock, but also coated his jeans. “Fuck baby girl, that was good, you’re such a good fucking girl,” the super solider moaned out as he loosened his grip on her legs and thrusted all the way in as he spilled his cum inside her.

Panting and worn out, Steve lowered her legs and collapsed on top of her — but not to the point that his weight would crush her. His head was on her shoulder as he was struggling to catch his breath as his cock was still planted deep in Y/N and was being squeezed by her walls, as if milking everything he has to offer her.

As he was laying on her, he felt her move and twitch slightly, he looked up to see her slowly opening her eyes and blinking them. She looked out the window and recognized that she was at the abandoned lot near her home. Steve then sat from where he was laying and looked down on her with a sinister smile. Her eyes bulged upon seeing him on top of her, her gaze then drifted down on where her breasts were exposed and her dress was gathered at her stomach.

“What happened?” was the only thing she managed to ask the Avenger, who only laughed as he pulled out his cock out of her pussy with a hiss, “You were a good girl for me, baby. You came around my fingers like I wanted to and you even fucking squirted when I was balls deep in you.” Steve placed his cock back in his jeans and zipped it up, he made his way back to the driver’s seat and started the engine then began to drive.

Meanwhile, Y/N was shocked and frozen with what she had just found out, she slid her hand down to check on her vagina, and was indeed surprised to find that her clit was throbbing and sensitive, along with the fact that it was soaked with juices — though she wasn’t sure if it was hers or his. Suddenly being aware of how she was exposed, she began to redress herself as Steve parked in front of her apartment complex.

Turning off the engine, he turned to her with a smile, “Why don’t you show me where you live and maybe we can spend the night together, hm?”

[bakuhoes-slut234]

Kirishima x reader smut Friends With Benefits Part 1

"Hey Y/N, wanna go to the concert with us? We have an extra ticket" said Denki.

It was currently a Saturday and everyone was relaxing in the dorms.

There was a (fav band) concert but Y/N wasn't able to get a ticket since they were sold out .

"OH MY GOD! REALLY?" she beamed.

"Yeah, get dressed, we're leaving soon" responded Sero

"Who else is coming?" She asked.

"Bakugou, Mina, Sero, myself, you and Kirishima" said the walking charger.

"Awesome. I'll be back in a bit"

Y/N ran up the stairs and changed into a black spaghetti strap vest with a white skull on it, a pair of blue wash denim short shorts and some black studded platform boots.

She curled her hair and put on just some lipstick and mascara.

She ran down the stairs where the Bakusquad was waiting for her.

"Fucking finally" growled Bakugou

"OMG! Y/N, you look hot! Don't you think she looks hot?" Squealed Mina

"Damn Y/N, you look good" said Denki while Sero nodded in agreement.

"Hey Y/N. You look nice" smiled Kiri. He had his hair down.

"Aw, thank Kiri. You look good too. All of you look amazing" she said. "Let's go!" She beamed and walked out the door.

Everyone followed her out.

Y/N bounced up and down with excitement as they made their way to the venue.

"Y/N seems really excited" said Denki.

"Yeah, I wanted to get tickets but they were sold out. This is my favourite band EVER!" she raised her arms to exaggerate her excitement.

"Really? They're my favourite band too" smiled Kiri

"You and I have to get matching band shirts Kiri." She said and Kirishima nodded in agreement.

"Oh, and I have a bunch of their merch, after the concert you can come check it out if you want".

"Sure. I have some merch too. We can show each other" he suggested and Y/N bounced in excitement.

"Calm the fuck down. We're here" snapped Bakugou.

"OH MY GOD! I can't believe I'm really here" squealed Y/N and Mina at the same time. They looked at each other and then broke out into a laughing fit.

They entered the building after showing the bouncer their tickets.

Y/N looked around, shocked to her core.

The band's stuff was set up on the stage, with spotlights pointed at where each band member would stand.

Hundreds of people gathered at the front of the stage, trying to get the best view for when the concerts start.

Y/N and the Bakusquad pushed their way to the front, so that they were standing as close to the stage as possible.

The lights turned off and the suddenly, the was a blast of colour.

Red, orange, yellow green, blue, white and many more colours flashed throughout the building. Then, the crowd roared when the band came on stage.

"I LOVE YOU!" shouted Y/N

~

The music was roaring and the crowd was dancing. The smell of beer and cigarette filled their senses.

"Who wants more!?" Shouted Mina as she held up a jug of beer

"MEEE!" shouted Y/N.

Mina poured her another cup and did the same for the rest of the group.

Y/N started feeling dizzy and unstable about 5 cups ago.

Then, her favourite song started playing.

Y/N screamed and whistled with excitement.

The song started and the crowd danced to the music. Y/N jumped up and down, letting the music control her body.

Little did she know, that someone can't keep their eyes off of her.

Kirishima stood a little away from Y/N.

He watched as she danced and thrashed about with the crowd. Beer spilling out of her cup and onto her shirt. Sweat glistening on her skin under the lights, hair going in all directions and clinging to her forehead.

In his eyes, she looked absolutely stunning. Perfect.

He was so lost in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed Y/N make her way over to him.

"DANCE WITH ME EIJI!" she screamed over the music.

Kirishima blushed but agreed.

He placed his hands on her hips and followed her movements. Moving in time with the music.

She took a step closer to him and turned her back to face his front. She pressed her upper back against his chest and her ass against his hips as she swayed her hips in time with the best.

Kirishima gasped as she grinded her ass against him but didn't stop her.

She felt him grow hard and smirked.

"HEY EIJI?"

"YEAH?"

"IS THAT YOUR QUIRK OR ARE YOU JUST EXCITED TO SEE ME?" she laughed.

He gave her an answer that surprised her.

"OF COURSE I'M EXCITED TO SEE YOU. YOU LOOK PERFECT"

She gasped and spun to face him.

"EIJI, I THINK THAT'S JUST THE BEER TALKING"

"NOPE. WELL, KINDA. WHEN I GET DRUNK, I SAY THINGS THAT I'M TOO SCARED TO SAY WHEN I'M SOBER"

Y/N felt her cheeks flush.

Yeah, she thought he was hot but she was never planning on acting. But this time was different.

"LET'S GET OUT OF HERE" she said and grabbed his hand.

"BUT YOU LOVE THIS BAND, AREN'T YOU HAVING FUN?" he asked.

"I AM... I JUST WANT TO HAVE A DIFFERENT KIND OF FUN"

Kirishima blushed at her words but let her drag him away.

Y/N lead him out of the building and into a motel that was close by.

"Y/N, why are we here?" He asked.

"You'll see" she said and walked up to the front desk.

"Excuse me. Can we get a room?" She asked the lady behind the desk.

"One bed or two?" She asked.

"Well have one." She said and 2inked at the lady.

The lady smiled and typed on her laptop.

"50 dollars please"

"Here let me pay-" he was cut off as Y/N's hand covered his mouth.

She handed the lady some cash and grabbed the key on the desk.

"Thank you" she smiled and pulled Kirishima along with her.

She unlocked the door and walked into the room.

The room had a king sized bed with black sheets.

"Y/N, what ar-" he was cut off again as a pair of lips crashed against his.

His eyes widened in shock but them he melted into the kiss.

He placed his hands on her waist as she tangled her fingers into his hair.

To her surprise, his hair was really soft.

He pushed her backwards, onto the bed and lay atop of her.

She pulled away from the kiss, making Kiri whine.

"Kiri, I just wanted to let you know that we aren't going to be more than this"

"What is this?" He asked.

"I'm not sure"

"How about... Friends with benefits?"

"That's fine by me" she laughed and connected their lips once more.

His tongue swiped over her bottom lip, asking for access. She happily granted it and parted for him.

His tongue and hers battled for dominance, which he won. His tongue explored every part of her mouth.

She moaned into the kiss and lifted her hips to meet his.

He shivered and began to kiss down her neck, leaving small purple marks here and there.

She tugged on his shirt, asking for it to go.

He sat up and pulled off his shirt and pants, leaving him in his boxers.

Y/N's eyes scanned over his strong, muscular body. Down his chest, over his abs, and settled on the tent in his boxers.

She pulled off her shirt and shorts, leaving her in her bra and panties.

Kirishima smirked at the sight of her.

He leaned down and kissed the valley between her breasts, earning a moan.

He lifted her up slightly and unclasped her bra, and taking it off.

He licked and sucked her left nipple while his fingers teased the other.

"Kirishima~" she moaned.

"Call me Eijiro"

She nodded.

His free hand snaked down, between her legs and rubbed her bud through the material.

Her back arched at the sensation as she let out a shaky moan.

He pulled her panties aside and rubbed her bud.

"So wet already?" He teased.

"Only for you~" she responded.

He dipped his finger into her entrance. A long drawn out moan left her throat.

"Eiji, don't tease me"

He nodded and pulled her panties and his boxers off.

He looked around.

"Looking for this?" She smirked as she held up a fool packet.

"Yes"

He grabbed it and ripped open the foil.

He slid the condom over his length and lined up with her entrance.

"Wait Eijiro." She said.

He stopped and looked at her.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Th-this is my first time" she stuttered.

"I'll be gentle" he said and grabbed her hands. He lined up with her entrance again then locked eyes with her.

She took a deep breath and he slowly started to push in.

She winced in pain and screw her eyes shut as she felt him stretch her out.

Finally he stilled and she opened her eyes.

"Tell me when I can move" he said through gritted teeth.

After a few moments, she wriggled her hips and moaned.

Kirishima took that as a sign that he must move.

He started slowly at first, earning a few moans from the girl below him.

"F-faster" she moaned out.

He picked up his pace as he set a rhythm.

He coaxed moan after moan out of Y/N as he pounded into her.

"Bite me~" she said.

Kirishima lowered his head to the junction at her neck and bit down onto the sensitive skin.

Y/N moaned and she felt the knot in her stomach grow.

When he pulled away, he saw the perfect purple bite mark that he had left.

He sped up his pace, chasing both his and her release.

"I'm close" she moaned out and he grunted.

His hips snapped against hers at an inhuman speed and force.

"Cumming~" She just about screamed.

Her walls tightened around him as her release hit her, with Kirishima not far behind.

He released into the condom and flipped down onto her.

Y/N laughed tiredly.

"What's so funny?" He asked.

"Nothing. I just can't believe I lost my virginity to one of the hottest boys in school"

"Oh, so you think I'm hot?" He smiled.

"Yup."

"Well, you're not so bad yourself" he said and pulled out of her.

She winced, catching the attention of a certain shark boy.

"Shit, sorry. Was I too ruff?" He asked as the threw away the condom.

"Nope. Just perfect" she said and covered herself with a blanket.

The bed dipped and then a strong arm wrapped around her waist.

"Goodnight" he whispered

"Night"

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

School Girl Attitude part 3

Master List

Warnings: little cheeky smut.

WC: 1382

Enjoy x

“How do you expect me to walk in there all happy after you tell me that?” You looked at Sonny frowning,

“Babe I just wanted to give you the heads up. You know my whole family loves ya, just my Ma was being protective of her only son” Sonny squeezed your knee.

“I don’t know”

“Please babe. Everything will be fine.”

You and Sonny took your time getting out of bed that morning after Sonny waking you up from between your legs. A quick shower turned into Sonny pinning you against the wall making you scream his name for a second time that morning. You went to breakfast and started to make your way back to the City, working out that you guys would get to the Craisi house just in time for lunch to surprise everyone. After stopping at a small store along the way to pick up chocolate eggs for all the nieces, Sonny had told you that one reason he waited so long to make a move was what he mother had told him about not dating his work partner.

As soon as you got out of the car at the front of the house Sonny was around your side grabbing your hand in his. He lent down and kissed you on the lips,

“I promise babe it will be fine”

“And if it’s not?” You looked over at him tears rushing to your eyes “You’re finally mine and you could get taken away in less than 24 hours.”

“I will be yours no matter what happens today, promise. You’re finally mine, no one is taking you from me now” He kissed your forehead.

Sonny pulled you to the front door, giving it a couple of hard knocks, he squeezed your hand as the door knob turned. Bella swung it open, looked between you both, then looked down at your hands.

“Well it’s about time” Bella all but jumped on you hugging you “Glad I’ll have a sister that I actually like” you all started laughing “Come in, Ma is just bringing out the food” you both followed Bella after she closed the door behind you both, walking into the big family dining room.

“Hey Ma, Sonny has a girlfriend” Bella screamed through the house looking at you with a big smile. Sonny chuckled letting go out your hand wrapping his arm around your shoulders your arm wrapping around his middle.

“Took you long enough” Gina got up off her chair to greet you both.

“Your so slow Sonny, lucky no one snatch Y/N up before now” Theresa scoffed at Sonny giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“Bella what have I told you about screaming through the house Signore aiutami (lord help me)”

Sonny’s mum looked over at you both, seeing Sonny with his arm around you, yours around him, tears came to her eyes and she rushed over hugging you both kissing you both on the cheek. You were shocked at her reaction after what Sonny had told you earlier.

“Infine (finally)” She leant over and kissed you again

“Dominick Vieni qui, Sonny and Y/N are here”

Sonny’s dad walked out with a big plate of pasta putting it on the table and looking at you and Sonny with a big smile walking towards you,

“Sonny, took you long enough” Sonny’s Dad winked at you before kissing you on the cheek and shaking Sonny’s hand “We well celebrate later, Vieni e mangia (come and eat)

----  

“Mrs Carisi”

“Please Darling call me Ma Carisi from now on”

You smiled back at her. You were in the kitchen with her helping wash up while the rest of the family were out the back playing with the kids.

“Ma Carisi, may I ask you something?”

“Certo amore (of course love) what is it?” You took a deep breath.

“Sonny told me about how he had doubts about asking me out. I was just wondering if I had done something wrong for you to give him that advice”

“Mia ragazza (my girl) it was nothing personal, if anything it was selfish on my part. I have loved you like my own for a long time, I didn’t want anything to risk you not being here. Sonny- from the moment he saw you. I couldn’t pick someone better for my Son”

“I will take care of him I promise” you smiled at her.

****

“Y/N, Carisi- Rollins and I need to go and question that witness and Liv is still at Barba’s. Can you wait till we get back to have your lunch break?” Fin looked over at you both.

“Yeah that’s fine Fin” you smiled at him.

“We will pick up lunch on the way back then” Amanda smiled at you both as she got up off her chair walking out Fin following.

As soon as you seen the lift door close Sonny looked over at you with a cheeky smile. He got up off his chair and walked around to your desk leaning on the edge of it. He lent down close to your ear,

“Meet me in the on call room- 5 mins” You bit your bottom lip as Sonny walked away. You looked over your shoulder admiring him from behind.

You waited a few minutes, got up off you chair and walked around to the on call room. The door was slightly opened, you stepping in turning to face the door to close it when you felt arms snake around you. One hand venturing up to grab a boob through you shirt and lips peppering kisses down your neck.

“Babe, I’ am surprised you still have energy after this morning” Sonny laughed into your neck, kissing your neck again rubbing his crotch into your bum. “Sonny, so hard already?”

“Y/N Toccami ora (touch me now)”

At that point you were glad you had spent so much time with Sonny and his family and picking up the basics of Italian. You spun around in his embrace and let your hand run down Sonny’s chest, over the waist of the pants and cupped his hard clothed length. You started to rub him through his pants. Sonny undone a couple of your blouse buttons and moved it aside so he could get to your shoulder, knowing if he marked you, your shirt would cover it.

You moved your hand back and Sonny whimpered at the loss of contact. You undone his pants button and pulled the zipper down. You reached in pocket of his boxers and pulled out his hard cock that was aching for attention. You wrapped your hand around him and started to rub from root to tip, running your palm over the head smearing pre-cum. Sonny lent down and started to suck on your shoulder, thrusting is hips into your hand and moving his hands done to your ass squeezing through your pants.

“Better make it quick babe, we don’t want to get caught” You whispered into his ear.

You fastened your pace rubbing faster kissing Sonny’s neck. You knew he was close by his breathing and whimpers that were muffled from him still sucking on your shoulder.

“Does that feel good?” you said into Sonny’s neck, he nodded letting go of your shoulder moving back so he could kiss you deep. Sonny’s hips bucked forward with a groan and he came in your hand.

----

You were sitting at your desk looking over some stuff on your laptop while Sonny and Liv where setting up the white boards to run over the case with Rafael, waiting for him, Fin and Amanda to come. You had just stood up to show Sonny and Liv something when Rafael walked into the bullpen,

“Mi querida” He smiled at you before something caught Rafael’s eye on your pants “What’s that on your pants?”

You looked down to a big white stain on your upper thigh, you hadn’t even realised any of Sonny’s come had landed on you, “Oh my god” you looked at Rafael mouth opened, eyes wide “I better go change” you run to the locker room.

“Hey Barba what’s wrong with Y/N?” Sonny said walking towards him as you ran past him.

“She had a stain on her pants” Rafael smirked.

Sonny went bright red and looked down.

Tags: @detective-giggles​ @the-baby-bookworm​ @thatesqcrush​ @permanentlydizzy​ @averyhotchner​ @infiniteoddball​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @wanniiieeee @shittanyy

[beauregard-s]

Decision (Bill Denbrough x Reader)

Pairing: Adult!Bill Denbrough x Uris!Reader (18+)

Word Count: 6k (I am  s o r r y)

Warnings: Age gap (Bill is in his late thirties), inappropriate relationship, a lot of angst, language, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving) and some fluff

@avengxrs423 said: hi!! i absolutely loved your stans daughter(reader) x bill!! i would like to request a follow up where stan catches them!! it was one of my fav fics ever 💞

A/n: First things first, thank you so much! For your support and also for requesting this one because I really wanted to write it. The request is pretty self-explanatory, this fic comes as a part two for this headcanon. Hope you like it 🖤

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“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Your voice barely came out. It was more of a fragile whisper.

He was right there. Leaning against the doorframe, a dismayed half-smile on his lips and God knew how weak your knees already were to that view alone.

“Missed me?”

Also only God knew how much guilt you saw in Bill Denbrough’s ice-blue eyes.

“What are you doing here?” You muttered. He gnawed on his lower lip for a second.

“Came back for you.”

-

“Taking me so good, princess. So damn good…” his voice was hoarse under the sound of rain pouring against the metal of his car and under the way you rolled your hips against his.

Little, weak moans left your lips and that was all. You were unable to talk since he first guided himself into you in that backseat, stretching you out, filling you up just perfectly. His stubble scratched the sensitive skin of your neck while he kept his face nuzzled in there, grunting against you. You held tightly onto his arms while his hands grabbed your hips, teaching you how he liked it.

“You’re gonna cum, won’t you? I can feel you clenching all around me.” He pulled back to look at your fucked-out face, smirking and panting. He looked down right at where you’re joint to him, hand dropping, middle finger tracing slow circles over your clit and making you whine.

“Just like that. Cum for me, y/n...”

-

“Bill…”

“No, please. Give me the f-fucking benefit of the doubt, y/n.”

You felt the urge to smile at the transient appearance of his stutter at the same time you wanted to throw something in his face. He was clearly nervous, knocking on your door past midnight, out of nowhere, when you were already in your sweats and ready to head to bed.

“My parents-”

“I know they aren’t home.” He cut you off. Cornered you, avoiding any excuses you had.

You breathed out, a battle in your mind because you truly didn’t know what to do with him standing there. He had dark circles that didn’t match his eyes’ color very well, in your opinion. He looked tired, bummed maybe, but still handsome like hell. Just like he looked when you last saw him, but more fidgety now.

“Let me guess, do you want to explain yourself?”

“Of course-”

“Yeah, but you don’t owe me any explanations, Bill.” You were the one cutting words off now.

His only immediate response was to sigh. “Could you at least let me in?”

You did. Stepped back and let him inside, practically slamming the door right after. You didn’t intend on putting a show, but that came along with the slow-burning anger that built up inside you. You turned on your heels to face him and couldn’t tell who looked more defensive. You and your tightly crossed arms or Bill and his hands stuffed in his pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them, standing right there in your living room.

He didn’t say anything at first, maybe waiting for you to yell at him or something, but you didn’t. You couldn’t because it still hurt where he left you although you hated to admit it.

You were doing good until Bill came into your house smiling kindly at you, telling you about how little you were when he last saw you. How your father would carry you around on his shoulders by that time. He was supposed to stay for a month, something about going through a very troubled divorce. In the meantime, he’d meet you late at night in the kitchen when you woke up for late snacks, talk to you in a soft voice, pay attention to you whenever you were in the same room. Too much attention. To the point where his eyes discreetly leered at you so much you’d swear you could combust anytime.

He did that until you fell apart. You, who claimed to be a very steady, hard-to-get and hard-to-trust being. Bill Denbrough hunted you down, his best friend’s only daughter, in your own house until you broke. He feasted on you in the backseat of his car, in your own room, in the shower before your parents came back home…

And you let him because you couldn’t help your heart from racing since the first time you saw him. Couldn’t help smiling whenever he talked to you. Couldn’t help leering him just like he did to you. You fell for the man faster than it’d be decent to do.

“I didn’t do it. Didn’t accept asking for the divorce dismission.” Bill said, lowly.

It’d be an outright lie if you told your heart didn’t skip a beat to his words, the frown between your brows relaxing.

“Really?” He finally smiled at the subtle soft tone of your voice.

“Of course I didn’t.”

“Then why did you leave?” You were still sharp but it didn’t keep him from maintaining that gentle smile on.

“Because your dad told me so. Stan told me it’d be better if I tried to solve the problem face-to-face.”

You shook your head slowly, remembering how your core ached the day he told you about it. How his goddamn wife called and begged for him to give up on the divorce process that she had started in the first place. Your eyes had filled up just like they did again because you had fallen for a man that, legally, still belonged to another woman.

-

“So are you flying to meet her?” You sounded proudly tough, but your sight was a blurry mess and you couldn’t sniff the tears away without denouncing yourself.

“I have to, y/n.” Bill, on the other hand, sounded heartbroken but you couldn’t catch it under your own silly broken heart. You typed wrong words for an assignment you had to return in a couple days just so you could pretend you were barely paying attention to him. If you had at least turned to him, you’d be able to see the distress in his whole body language.

“Great. Those are good news, then.” You hit the space key too hard for someone who sounded so cool. “It was great to see you anyway, Mr. Denbrough.”

It was his warning shot. Bill gave up because he knew you were hiding your cards. He knew exactly what he had done to you but he chose to leave. He didn’t want to hurt you even more. He left silently and you crumbled down as soon as you heard the door softly being closed. You let yourself fall back on the chair, cried silently, shutting your laptop because you knew nothing would come out of your blank mind.

-

“I never intended on giving up the divorce, y/n,” Bill stepped towards you and for each inch he walked closer, you walked another one away from him.

“Then why didn’t you tell me that, you big asshole?”

“Because you didn’t let me!” He stressed his words, hands running nervously through the gray strands mixed in between his brown hair. “You couldn’t even look at me when I tried to talk to you, y/n! I understand I hurt you, but I didn’t want to, princess…”

How cliche it was that your escape route ended and your back hit the door behind you when he scooted dangerously closer, arms around you trapping you right there. “Please, believe me when I tell you I never wanted to leave like that. I tried, but you just didn’t let me put things in their place.”

You truly didn’t. You kept avoiding him, skipped meals so you didn’t have to face him until the next day, when he hopped in the first flight. That was two weeks before and now he was there, eyes so intensely on yours that made you want to look away, but you didn’t do that too. You kept your chin up, looking at Bill. Trying hard to not let yourself get carried by his lips that close.

“I was a brat, wasn’t I?” His hands cupped your face gently at your bitter words, thumbs softly running along your cheekbone.

“No...” He soothed you down. “Who could blame you?”

He was making you dizzy, enough so he could sneak under your skin again, press you against the door. He leaned in, but left for you the choice of going ahead or giving up. You closed the gap in between your lips without thinking twice. Your fingers grabbed his dark shirt tightly like you were afraid that he left you again.The scent of aftershave that was unmistakably ‘Bill’ hit you and he tasted like mint as ever, like those candies he always had whenever you found him writing somewhere in the apartment.

His hands left your face and grabbed your thighs fiercely, lifting you so you could wrap them around him while he carried you away from there, into the dark hallway.

“How I’ve missed you, babe...” Bill whispered, lips still pressed on yours, a blissful smile on. “Did you miss me?”

You nodded frenetically, kissing him again. He stepped into your room, kneeling onto your mattress before laying you down your back. You were sure that too much wetness was already pooled in your underwear when Bill towered over you, pulling his shirt off immediately.

His hands went for your waistline, assuring you he wasn’t messing around when he pulled down everything that covered your bottom half at once, harshly. His fingertips traced a line from your knees to your upper inner thigh, making you expose yourself to him. The way he smirked to the view still kneeled in between your legs like that made your cheeks heat up immediately.

Bill crawled on top of you and for every kiss he’d plant on your shivered skin, you’d let out a quiet whimper. He slid up your body slowly, lifting your shirt to find every part on your flesh he was aiming at. From your hip bones and stomach, all the way through the valley in between your breasts, gently licking your hardening nipples and delivering rough, hungry bites all along your collarbones as soon as he took the garment off you, softer ones up your neck to tease you until he finally reached your mouth. And when he did, he swallowed a weak moan that slipped out of you.

You loved everything about him. How ruling his weight felt on you, how he pinned your wrists to the mattress and still kissed you so softly. He was in between your legs, hips shoving against yours here and there making you feel how hard for you he already was under his pants, making you clench around nothing for him every time your needy heat brushed against the roughness of his jeans. The feeling made you buckle underneath him, greedy for more and he noticed. One of Bill’s hands alone was strong enough to keep yours pinned together above your head, the other dropping to push your hips down and still.

“What are you doing? Do you need me that bad?”

You purred to that husky tone of his, no needs to look at him to know how darkened in lust his eyes were. You also knew how helpless you looked by now, all putty under his will and touch like you were since he very first time.

“Please, Bill…”

Your pleads always made him act up. “One more time, princess. What do you want me to do to you?”

Bill knew what you wanted and how you were aching for him to touch you somehow, but he wouldn’t do it unless you begged.

“I want you to touch me,” you mewled. “Please.”

His hand went from your hips to where your thighs met, fingers slowly caressing your folds and earning himself a deep moan.

“Dripping,” he groaned, thumb circling around your clit before two fingers entered you carefully. You arched to his touch, feeling the known shockwaves hit you when he curled his fingers up, moving them at an agonizing lazy pace.

Bill watched every single reaction of yours closely, how your lips parted and your breath hitched. You were about to close your eyes in pleasure after he started drawing figure eights on your clit, but you remembered how many times he had demanded you to keep them open before. So you did. Kept your eyes on his while he increased his pace, feeling you clench more and more around his fingers. Bill got so carried away by your whimpers he let his cuffing hand loose, so you were free again to held onto his shoulders, digging your nails in his skin, while your body tensed more and more… Until he stopped.

You had no time to complain once soon enough he was laying n between your thighs, eagerly mouthing your inner thighs before feasting on your heat.

“Fuck-“ Was the last coherent word that left your lips.

His large hands held your thighs apart as your fingers messed his hair. It drove you insane how easily and fast he could have your legs trembling and body contorting in pleasure while he sucked your clit and tasted your slit on his skilled tongue. You were biting on your knuckles because you were used to keep things low, but Bill pulled your arm away, remembering you didn’t have anyone to be worried about that night. So you moaned for him, loud and obscene, feeling like you’d reach your peak anytime soon. And you did, pulling his hair lightly as he held you still so he could lick you senseless through your high.

As soon as your spams soothed down, you eyed him not even remembering at what point your eyes had sewed shut. He was there, kissing all over your wetness and grinning before he stood up from the bed.

“Where are you going?” You whined, propping yourself on your elbows. He chuckled at your pout, hands undoing his belt.

“Not going anywhere,” Bill said softly. “Just taking these off so I can bury myself inside you.”

You bit down your lip at his words as he unbuckled his pants and pushed everything he had on to the floor after kicking his shoes away. Then you were at a lost of words to the sight of him, and he took advantage of that. Pulled your legs near to the edge of the bed and your thighs up so they were apart and squeezed in between your chest and his as he laid fully on top of you again.

The passionate way of his kiss couldn’t have warned you to what was about to happen. Bill slid his tip down once, from your clit to your slit, and pushed in. He let you moan into his mouth as he filled you up slowly, inch by inch, letting you take your time to adjust to him like he always did. He was groaning very quietly, one hand steading himself over you as the other gripped one your thighs. You cursed under your breath at how he stretched you out, coming apart underneath him when he started to move his hips against yours.

It was heaven and hell put together. Heaven because every time he pulled out and pushed back in, you arched your back more and more, the knot in your lower stomach growing tighter with every thrust. Hell because the way Bill kept you in a tight mating press like that, grunting against your lips was completely unholy.

Didn’t take much until he placed his arms by your head and his paced sensual thrusts turned into rough pounding. Bill fucked you into the mattress while you couldn’t do anything but digging your nails all over his back, moaning in pleasure. The only word that fell from your lips was his name, moaned over and over as he kissed and marked your neck. Still so sensitive from your first orgasm, you easily drove into the second one, clenching so hard around him that had him cursing into the shell of your ear.

You were a complete mess, but he didn’t stop. Bill kept his pace through your climax and after that, kissing your temple while his fingers softly caressed your hair or ran down your sides and cupped your breast.

“You feel so fucking good around me,” he whispered, “you’re gonna make me cum this way, princess.”

His hand sneaked down in between his hard thrusts and when he touched your sore clit it was more than enough. Bill wanted you to give him one more, and you did. You came undone for him and a couple of thrusts later he followed you. He buried himself into you just like he told he’d do, both of you fucked-out in between exhausted whimpers, growls, and sweaty skins.

Both you and Bill remained still until your heavy breath calmed down enough, until he stopped spilling inside you. He kissed you lazily while that, on your lips, your cheeks and forehead, while you were still wrapped around him, arms and legs holding him close.

He didn’t ask if you were okay when your eyes met because he knew the answer through your tired out smile. And he smiled too, kissing you once more before pulling out. But instead of rolling over to lay next to you as he did, he got up and started to gather his clothes from the floor because your parents were at a dinner with some of Patty’s friends and he hadn’t forgotten that.

Still, you were too done to do anything other than lay there and watch him. How his hair was sex-messed and falling down to his eyes, chest still quickly wavering and, the best part, the reddish trails he had on his well-built back when he turned around to grab his belt. You smiled at those a bit devilish, but knowing you already had his marks on you as a payback. And probably you’d have a lot of trouble hiding them the next day.

You wanted to call his attention, ask what would happen from that moment on, but instead, you forced yourself to get up and walk all the way across the room so you could get new panties. As soon as you started moving, the familiar soreness washed over you. You felt Bill’s eyes following you all the time you strolled around naked, picking up your shirt from the floor. There wasn’t a thing you had or wanted to keep from him from now on, so the words slipped off your lips when you were in your way to the en suite bathroom.

“I fell for you,” you said, quietly, but loud enough to gain his immediate attention as he finished buckling his pants on again. “I fell in love with you and I know I shouldn’t, but I did.”

Bill’s lips parted like he was about so say something, but his brows furrowed and nothing came out so you left before it got too embarrassing. As you cleaned yourself up and got partially dressed again you were pretty aware of how much you had exposed now. A risky step because out of all the stuff Bill had told you, he never mentioned feelings even if sometimes he sneaked into your bedroom while you were studying so he could only steal a kiss, or got lost in his thoughts while looking at you when you had a late meal together at the dinner table, when your parents weren’t around.

You knew he once had a college girlfriend that turned into a wife and that when she begged for him to go back to her, he said no. Bill denied his lifelong ‘lover’ so he could come back to your door in the middle of the night. But still, you didn’t want to overthink it.

And didn’t have to.

Bill himself let everything as clear as water when you opened the bathroom door and he was there, enlacing your waist in his arms and kissing you breathless. You even stubbled back on your weak legs, but he held you tightly, smiling wide when you parted away.

“I did too, y/n.” He said it like he was explaining something too obvious and you were adorably silly to understand it. “I f-fell in love with you.”

It was the second time he stuttered that night and you were speechless, reactionless. You never fell in love before, just had had momentary, casual hookups through college years. You never heard someone tell you they fell in love with you either. So telling it for the first time and getting told the same right away was overwhelming. Surprisingly good.

Bill brushed a hair strand off your face, ready to lean in for another kiss but the sound of the door closing a a distance stopped him.

“Holy shit...” You hissed.

A meltdown was unavoidable and you could see it happening practically in slow motion in front of you. Both you and Bill reacted fast. You ran into the room and got your sweatpants on as fast as a lightning while Bill put his shoes on, but he couldn’t get to his shirt fast enough. And if he could, there was no way to hide what happened there when the sheets were that messed.

And that was the first thing that Stan Uris laid his eyes on when he reached his daughter’s bedroom.

“Y/n, I brought you some-”

There was a door but no time to close it and try to find a plan. Stan got cut off by his own astonishment. His eyes trailed quickly from the messed bed, to you standing by its side, and to Bill shirtless in the middle of the room.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Bill?!”

You never heard your dad shouting like he did and that warned Patty at the kitchen and soon enough she appeared at the door too, eyes scanning around just like Stan did. Putting the pieces together. What happened next was barely a blur and loud arguing in your head. Bill tried to calm Stan down, you tried to calm him down but nothing worked.

“What the fuck are you doing with my daughter, Bill?! Did you-”

“Stan, for God’s sake!”

Not even your mother could stop him. He was screaming*,you and Bill were screaming explanations over him and even Patty had to raise her voice. It was a whole pandemonium.

“What did he do to you, y/n?!”

“Nothing I didn’t let him do!”

“Can you cuh-calm the fuck down, Stan?!”

Stan didn’t punched Bill, not in front of you at least, because as soon as Bill was fully dressed again he was told to to ‘get the fuck outta there’. And he did. Bill took a quick glance at you from the door before disappearing through it and your heart sank under how worried he looked. Stan followed him and so did you tried to do.

“No! Stay here, y/n!” And your mother followed them too.

You could hear them shouting at each other wall the way through the apartment and the door slamming shut.

And then there was silence. A disturbing silence as your head stung and your stomach felt like it had been twisted.

You let yourself fall down onto the mattress, tears starting to fill your eyes. All the bliss you felt a minute ago gone, its place filled with what the hell you felt. Fear, anger and whatever came along.

“Y/n!”

You heard your mother slightly upset calling before she came through your door again. Patty never ever raised her voice at you, neither did Stan. Not like that. They had their ways to show you they were disappointed when you did something bad, but they were never so harsh.

Of course they find out about you and Bill in the worst way possible, before you had a chance to explain yourself and warm them up to it, so when you looked up at your mom, you expected her to yell at you too.

But it didn’t happen.

As soon as she put her eyes on your pitiful self, her shoulders dropped and she sighed.

“What happened here, y/n?”

You could barely keep looking at her, so you just shook your head.

“Exactly what you’re thinking that happened, mom.”

You kept your eyes on your bare feet all the time while she walked closer. The mattress wavered when she sat by your side and took a while before she talked again.

“What exactly happened between you and Bill?” Patty asked once more.

Of course that your hurt expression made her heart shrink. Patty didn’t look angry anymore, just… Confused. Not that disappointed. Your full eyes flooded as soon as you tried to talk, so you cried instead. You cried into your hands because you’ve messed up things, again. First you pushed Bill away and when he came back you couldn’t make him stay. Because you were sure it was an end line. Bill and you dad were friends since they were kids and you didn’t think Bill was up to break it. Stan clearly wouldn’t accept his daughter and childhood friend to end up together, either.

You cried while thinking about what was happening somewhere right now. Maybe Stan had punched Bill, yes, although it’d be extremely out of character for him. But there was a chance. One thing was for sure, he was demanding Bill to stay away from you.

“Dove…” Patty scooted closer. “If you don’t talk to me, I can’t understand what happened.”

You understood she was asking for the “how”, so breathed in a lot of air at once and when you finally spoke, it was barely a mumble.

“Me and Bill, we… We were together.” You confessed. “Some times…”

Patty nodded, taking in the information, trying to remain impassive.

“Since when?”

“Since he came here.”

You rubbed the tears away, tring to put yourself together but sure it wouldn’t happen. You were for sure all red swollen eyes and nose, while your mother looked at you seriously, but also tenderly.

“So, let me get this straight,” she started. “When Bill came to escape from Audra until ther divorce process was done, you slept with him? ‘Some times’?”

“Yes.”

“And you did it tonight, too?”

You chuckled, bitter as gall. “Yes…”

“So he didn’t give up on divorcing Audra?”

Her question made you frown. “No…”

Patty sighed in relief. “Well, then Bill is on his way to be a divorced and free man to date another woman. That maybe makes things less… Messy.”

You just looked at her in utter confusion and she cracked a half-smile.

“Listen,” she sat sideway to face you. “I can’t tell you this is an… Appropriate thing to do, you and Bill, for several reasons that I know you’re aware of and understand. But I also can tell you’re already an adult, even if your father doesn’t see it sometimes.”

You snorted quietly and saw her smile widen.

“We tried too hard, waited a lot for you to happen, y/n, you know that. You know how overprotective your dad can be sometimes because of that, and how you’ll always be a little girl to his eyes. To mine too, of course, but I can see the reality better than he can. I can see you grew up and that you’re now a woman.”

“A woman who apparently makes bad decisions...”

“No, a woman who makes HER decisions. Decisions are never bad. They’re good or ‘for learning purposes’ ones, but never bad.”

You shook your head, helpless.

“So are you telling me that having sex with my dad’s best friend was a ‘for learning purposes’ decision?”

“No,” she also shook her head. “Only you can tell that.”

Now the sting in your head had turned into a full headache.

“What I’m telling you, dove, is that you make your own decisions. Your dad can’t deal with it sometimes and that’s one of the reasons he’s probably arguing with Bill somewhere right now, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a full grown woman now.” Patty stood up.

“I can help you to soothe your dad, but nothing beyond that. You know everything has consequences, and you must be ready to deal with them. Bill is a good man, y/n, but he’s a decision.”

Yeah, Bill was a hell of decision. Your mother didn’t get into the matter of how inappropriate that actually was. She didn’t called you out for the twenty-year difference and all the obvious rest and you were utterly grateful for that. She went deeper than the moral aspects and later you knew that she was trying to prepare you for what was about to happen.

When Stan came back you could barely see him. Your father walked fast past your door, took a quick glance inside but that was all and you heard when he went to his bedroom with your mother. For the whole sleepless night you hoped she was tried to calm him down like she told you she would. The next morning you could tell it somehow worked.

Your father didn’t yell at you either, but he also didn’t look at you.

Stan didn’t look, nor talked nor interacted with you in any way for a whole week and that made you wonder if you’d prefer him to yell at you. He had never gave you the cold treatment before and you would never expect it to hurt like it did. He didn’t give you a single chance to talk and solve things and under his dead looks you couldn’t even try to do it yourself.

That almost made you physically sick. That and being apart from Bill. Your thoughts insisted in drifting towards him and you waited for him to call or text you, but nothing happened. You felt too pathetic both to try to talk to your dad and to try to talk to Bill again. You considered numerous possibilities for his vanishing, from your dad breaking bounds with him, to he being mad at you for ruining their friendship and choosing to step away himself. That only made you sank more into your disgrace.

You mother was of course stepping in eggshells in between you two, but it was clear that, past the shock, she had chose to stood for you in her own passive way. And you could tell it was hurting her to see you and your dad shattered apart like that. She tried to initiate small talks at the dinner table but nothing made you and Stan warm up again. He acted like you weren’t even there until a week later, when the doorbell rang.

You heard it lowly through your earphones in your room but the noise became louder and you pulled them off. Hearing Bill’s voice made you rush into the living room just to find him still by the door clearly defensive while your dad argued with him, and your mom tried to reason. Argued, pointed a finger and everything, but not shouting.

Bill’s eyes ran from Stan to you as soon as you reached the room, but he didn’t smile at all. Not under you dad’s hostility, whose eyes followed Bill’s to see you standing there, knees weak for a reason you couldn’t understand very well. Something between fear and awe.

“Y/n, go to your room.” Your dad demanded, strictly.

“No,” Patty, intervened surprisingly firmly. “She’s staying here. I called Bill and told him to come and you’re all gonna talk like mature people, Stanley!”

“I won’t-”

“You’re being unreasonable, Stanley Uris!” She cut him off for your and Bill’s astonishment. “You’re gonna hear them, both of them. Right now.”

Your father snorted in anger, starting to walk in circles like you knew he did when something pissed him off.

“Okay!” He taunted. “Then explain to me, Bill, why did you sleep with my daughter! Why, when I offered you a place to stay, you went for my daughter behind my back!”

“I already told you but you’re pretending not to listen or understand, Stan!” went Bill. “I fell for her Stan!”

“Bullshit!”

You already felt dizzy in the middle of such chaos, so dizzy you leaned against a wall and squeezed your eyes shut.

“I love him!”

You didn’t perceived you were the one shouting now until you did and the silence came in. You opened your eyes to see all the other on you. They fluctuated from your dad’s disbelief, to your mother’s tenderness, and to Bill’s infatuation. And you looked straight at him when while you built courage enough to say it again.

“I’m in love with Bill, dad. And I’m putting my foot down.” You turned for him. “I love him, and I staying with him.”

Stan’s frown relaxed and you couldn’t read it as a good or bad signal, but he didn’t yelled again, nor even when Bill spoke up.

“I love her too, Stan.” He reasoned. “I know I’m not what you thought for her, but I love y/n.”

Your mother glance on you tried to remain neutral, but you could see her proudness hidden there. Bill was your decision and she seemed proud you stood for it.

“And, if you let me and please let me, I’m staying with her.”

Your dad seemed to be about to pass out or something like that, but he didn’t. He breathed deeply, taking his glasses off so he could squeeze the bridge of nose and relieve some tension.

“I-” he looked from you to Bill. “What do you expect me to think about this whole fucked up situation, Bill?”

Bill shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not asking for you give me p-pats on the back, Stan. I’m just asking you for a chance. I love your daughter, yes, and I promise you I’ll take care of her if you let me.”

“Mom’s parents didn’t like you, you told me once.” You said, standing straight again. “They didn’t accept you dating her for ages and I know you felt like… Like shit for that. Don’t you realize you’re acting exactly like them?”

Now you seemed to catch him off guard. His shoulders dropped when Patty agreed with a quiet hum.

“I’m not a child, dad. I can decide for my life alone if you let me. If you trust me enough to do that.”

You dad thought to himself for a while, remained silent and looking at you, but you didn’t dare to look away until he sighed.

“Yeah, fine.” He still sounded bitter, but a lot of weight seemed to be taken off your back instantly. “You can… Do whatever you both want with your lives, but please don’t ask me to act like I totally agree with it for now. And you,” he pointed at Bill. “Don’t you dare messing things up.”

“I won’t.” Bill said right away.

Your dad didn’t say any final words to you, but he looked at you at least before withdrawing himself to his room. You knew he wasn’t cool with everything at all, but it was progress. You wanted to think like that.

“I’m gonna.. Give you two some time.” Your mother said, before following him, and you couldn’t show her more gratitude through a smile than you did.

And then there was you and Bill, standing across from each other. He now seemed less stressed, but you noticed how the dark circles became darker.

“That-That was…”

“Don’t even try naming it.” You chuckled. “Seriously, did my mom call you?”

You approached each other and he had a smug smile on his lips that gave you those cheesy butterflies inside.

“Yes, she did. I always adored Patty.”

“Yeah, she’s the best.”

Bill leaned back so he could check the hallway before having his arms around you again. “So do you love me?”

You shoved his shoulder lightly and he laughed at your fluster while on your tiptoes, passing your arms around his neck.

“Shut up and don’t make me regret throwing a whole damn tantrum for you.”

“It’s okay, bratty. I love you too, y/n Uris.”

That made your heart skip a beat, for sure, but when Bill leaned in for a kiss you placed a finger between his lips and yours.

“No. You better don’t. Not here.”

He pulled back, nodding and mocking disappoint.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

[diorthesuperior]

Skype calls

junhao smut + reader

oral, guided maturbation

[ come back soon pls >:( ]

That was the last text you had sent Jun.

He had been promoting in China for the past few weeks and you missed him more than you could have imagined. You were sexually frustrated as you had been use to the routine of his “daily punishments" and love. You craved nothing more than to be touched and hear his voice talk you down like old times.

You shifted in your bed, latching onto the cushion that smelled of his cologne. You hugged onto it tightly looking blankly at the wall.

You lived with Jun, Minghao, Hoshi and Dino in a flat. The other units lived in separate flats next door for space. Your double bed was empty because Jun wasn't there. Though you and Jun were in a relationship the members really believed Jun was the lonely kind who valued his own time. Little did they know he was busy fucking you and doing all the sexual desires you had and his. He was experimental and liked trying new things. You really had became too use to it so the absence of him made you so frustrated.

You continued staring blankly at the wall until the memory hit of when he fucked you against that wall.

“UGH” you pressed your head into the cushion deeply, not a care in the world if you suffocated.

It wasn't fair. You needed him.

[JUN]

[JUN]

[I want you]

[Are your promotions nearly over?]

[I saw your recent photo]

[I wish you were fucking me with your fingers]

[Jun?]

[ >:'( ]

The door creaked and Minghao walked in abruptly. You didn't really know why he was there but it took your interest. You sat at the upper side of your bed and questioned his moves. He lifted your MacBook onto the bottom of you bed and sat there with it, opening it up.

“What are you doing? "

" Minghao what the fuck you can't just barge in on me like that”

“Get off my laptop”

“Are you fucking listening ugh”

You give up with the lack of response and fall back onto you mattress. Even though you wearing pajama shorts and a shirt you felt heated up, unsure if the source sparked from minghao or your need for Jun to abruptly enter the room and fuck you into oblivion.

Suddenly, a familiar sound rang through your ears. You glanced up at Minghao and then at your MacBook. A Skype call was connecting up.

A black square appeared and loaded a face.

“Hey Jun” Minghao greeted with a hint of smug to his voice.

Your head shot up and your eyes layes on the screen. Your boy. Jun. Dressed in his MC outfit from his earlier schedule, a white silk shirt and black jeans. The frame showed his smiley bright face with his prominent cheeks. His skin was glowing with his home melanin. The way his hair was styled was hot, his forehead showing.

“Junhui! I-”

“Ah ah ah” Jun stalled you from finishing your sentence waving his finger and nodding his head from left to right.

“Minghao told me you were acting off, is that so?”

“N-No?”

“You know better than to lie”

"I don't understand" you stretched out your legs with a confused expression.

“I saw your messages by the way”

“Oh.. yeah.. those”

“So something was definitely off. Luckily Minghao was too considerate and went ahead and messaged me about his concern regarding you"

“If not this wouldn't be happening”

“This?” you asked.

Minghaos hands grabbed your lower legs dragging and spreading your legs down towards him.

Your face turnes a light shade of red, your ears heating up.

“w-w-what”

“Hey Jun, she's been really missing you, look she even has her legs spread for you infront of this cam, have you done this before?” Minghao says in a teasing voice winking at Jun, turning his head to look back at you.

“no..”

“That's a lie, she's called me once or twice as I guided her through masturbation, she's quite a slut for these things”

You squeezed your knees together in shame.

“So Minghao that's what you're gonna help me out with, sadly I can't be there to play with my needy whore”

“No need to further explain, I understand” Minghao spoke out adjusting the position of the laptop for a better view.

He pulled you down lower on the bed, bringing his hands from your lower legs to you upper inner thigh gently rubbing at your flesh in slow circles.

“Now baby girl you're gonna put that head back and listen to daddy's voice while minghao helps out, got it? ”

You nervously look at Jun on the screen in shame of the situation but you can't help but follow his commands. Being so desperate and horny quickened the decision.

“Yes daddy”

The idea of Minghao being there also turned you on even more. Being so needy and exposed infront of someone other than Jun really made you heat up. Jun was right after all. He knew you had an exhibitionist side and said how he'd prove it one day. Here you were, legs spread infront of Minghao and a laptop that showed Jun.

“That's right slut spread them legs, help Minghao and remove those short shorts of yours. I hope you haven't been wearing them to show off your ass to the others.”

“No daddy I wouldn't I-”

“Remove them sweetie”

You fidget about and remove your shorts and thong throwing them aside.

“Such a slut, Minghao move me closer so I can see her pretty cunt”

His words went straight to your core. The two of them were looking at your exposed body and damn did it make you want to cum right there.

“Daddy please don't leave me exposed say something”

“Needy eh? I was going to go slow but because of how much of a whore you are I have to change plan. Minghao go over to the drawer I told you about”

You shiver knowing damn well what the drawer was and had inside.

“Jun no please”

“Oh its only to warm you up”

Minghao walked over with a nearly intimidating stance, holding a toy, a pink bullet.

“Slut close your eyes and imagine I'm there”

“Mmm" you moan half because of his degradation and words and also because Minghao clicked on the vibrator and sat down beside your entrance.

“So spread those legs so I can rub your lips with my long fingers, so I can spread your wetness, you're so wet for me.”

Minghao followed along with Jun's words, making the experience realistic. His long cold fingers met your lips and spread them, the cold sensation making you shudder.

“Mm minghao fuck”

“Eh? Don't be such a slut, remember who your daddy is” Jun interrupted in a low tone turning you on further.

Part of you would have liked to disrespect him more and hear that sweet voice that would make you cum in and instance. But you didn't want to go against him today.

“Sorry daddy just feels-so-good”

Minghao placed the vibrator against you're core and pressed it up against your clit making you moan out. You lifted the cushion to your face to hide your vulnerable self and loud noises.

“Don't hide your face I want to see your expressions of neediness. The flat should be empty so let me hear those noises whore.”

Minghao grabbed the cushion from you with his spare hand and threw it away. You were on display and you were Minghaos canvas to work on.

He switched the intensity of the vibrator to the max and watched you whine and shake as he held your legs apart with his spare hand and side.

“Daddy I'm so close” you cry.

“My sluts so desperate and sensitive. You're weak.”

Just as you are about to cum Minghao completely edges you, removing the vibrator and all contact with you.

You whine in response, so needy to be fulfilled.

“That's not fair”

“You don't get a say on this whore deal with it”

Minghao gathers your wetness onto his fingers and easily eases two inside of you slightly curled. The moan that emerged from your throat was truly pornographic. It even got Minghao harder than he already had been. Jun watched as his bestfriend pulled whines from your body. It was hot. The pace of Minghao fingers nearly doubled in speed compared to when he started, making you cry out.

“Do you feel good? crying out daddies name so loudly? I would hope the windows are closed so the other units can't hear”

You gasp in shame again but also the idea of being heard made you wetter.

“I hope that one spot is getting hit repeatedly inside of you, I want to hear those uncontrollable moans you use to do when I was back home with you”

Minghao took this as a message and eased another finger in, curling them even more and pumped in and out. He hit it. The spot. The sounds you made were desperate and full of pleasure.

“I don't think being heard is any problem to you, whore you love it”

“Yes daddy”

“I bet you'd like my tongue and lips on your pussy right now”

You squirmed, closing your legs but were stopped by Minghao.

His head lowers closer to you core, inches away from your sensitivity.

“I bet you smell so good” Junhui remarked, smirking at you who was looking down at Minghao at your entrance.

He pointed his tongue and used the tip of it in a way you longed for. He licked a stripe up your core making you moan Jun's name.

He let the absence of his title slip because he was intrigued by your fucked out expression and noises.

“That's it moan for me, cum on my tongue”

Minghao sped up the speed of his tongue and paused to suck on your clit slightly humming on it making you pull at his mullet and throw your head back.

“I'm close so fucking close”

“Ask nicely”

"Daddy can I cum”

You look at the screen and see Jun nodding with a smirk, you also see yourself in your frame with minghaos lips at your exposed pussy.

Everything was becoming too much and you reached the edge. You came hard on minghaos tongue but he continued lapping his tongue around your clit as you rode out your orgasm. You were sensitive but he kept going, humming on your clit and even slipped his fingers inside you at the same time. Without much work another orgasm waved upon you. You came all over his long fingers and tongue. Minghao licked you clean making you shiver from sensitivity.

“Such a good slut. Minghao can you show me your fingers. I wanna see how much of a mess my slut made”

Minghao showed his fingers to him, your cum covered them. Jun grunted when he saw.

“I wish I could taste you baby girl, come over here, closer to the camera so I can see you better”

You shuffle forward to the cam where minghao was.

“Now suck his fingers clean while looking at me”

Without hesitation you wrap your lips around Minghaos fingers, sucking them and bobbing your head as if it were dick, tasting yourself.

“How did she taste?”

“Sweet” Minghao replied with a smirk as he watched you suck his fingers.

You let go with a pop sound, keeping eye contact with Jun.

“I admit you're a slut but you're hot. I wish you could've helped with the problem in my pants”

“oh?” you looked through the screen, realizing he didn't show his bottom half but he was sat back looking pretty sweaty.

“Check your snapchat”

“Oh and Minghao thank you for telling me about her mood today and helping out with her desperate self, you're the best”

Minghao smiled at Jun kindly and nodded. The call ended and Minghao looked back at you. You felt a little awkward.

“T-thanks, you're really good with your hands”

“Not the first time I've been told that”

He smirked over at you and the mess you are.

“He said check snapchat, he sent some videos and pictures.”

“Oh yeah-”

“Here you'll probably want this” Minghao propped himself off the bed standing up and dropped the object in his hand onto the bed.

The vibrator.

He smirked at you and you threw the cushion from earlier at him, completely missing. He giggled so cutely for someone who had just done all that. He continued giggling and zoomed towards the door smiling.

“zàijiàn”

“oh and before I go” he said peeping his head at the side of the door into your room beaming.

“He's coming home on Saturday, be ready for a threesome. Wear sexy lingerie”

Before you could question anything he had left.

“Some welcome home party”

[atlafan]

My Everything - Part One

A Take it Slow Sequel

What happens with Harry and Y/N after he proposes? How will the two navigate the engaged life while also continuing to juggle their jobs, friends, and families? Let’s find out. 

Warnings: Fluff and Smut. 

a/n: I only proofread like half of this so keep that in mind. 

Masterpost 

“I love you so much, Y/N. Can we have this adventure forever? Will you marry me?”

Harry was down on one knee in front of you, holding up the ring he had gotten for you. You both had tears running down your cheeks. Happy tears of course. You beam at him and try to get the words out.

“Oh, Harry.” You squeeze the hand of his you’ve been holding the entire time. “Yes, yes of course I’ll marry you!”

He smiles big at you and slips the ring on your finger. He stands up, wraps his arms around your waist and swings you around. He sets you down, dips you, and kisses you. Your hands lace through his hair and you kiss him back. He sets you back straight and rests his forehead against yours.

“I love you so much, Harry.”

“I love you too, thank you for sayin’ yes.” You can’t help but laugh.

“Did you think I’d say no?”

“No…but I nearly wet myself anyway.” He hooks his arm around your waist. “Alright, Nan, come on out.”

Your face lights up even more when you see your Nannie and Buster come out from behind one of the trees. Louis comes out as well, and your jaw drops.

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t have this documented did you?”

“I…I’m so overwhelmed.” You give Louis a big hug.

“Filmed it and took pictures.” He gives Harry a hug as you hug your grandmother.

“You knew about all this?” You ask her as she helps wipe your tears away.

“Of course I did. When he called me and told me he wanted to marry you, and ask you here, he told me he wanted me here too. We were trying to figure out the best weekend to do it, and when I realized when the New Year was, I knew that would be the perfect excuse for me to come up here.” She takes yours hand and looks at the ring. “Jesus, this is just gorgeous, well done.” She says to Harry.

“Thanks for all your help.” He gives her a hug.

“I can’t wait to tell everyone tomorrow.”

“You’re not gonna call everyone yeh know? El did that like two seconds after she said yes.” Louis laughs.

“No, I just wanna enjoy the moment.” You walk around the playground. “I can’t get over these lights.”

“Someone’ll come take ‘em down too.” Harry says.

“Let me take some more pictures, yeah?”

You stand with Harry so Louis can take some shouts. He takes a close up of your hand over his to really showcase the ring. You take one of you and your grandmother, and one of the three of you. Lastly, you take some with you, Harry, and Buster.

“Alright, what do you kids say to some ice cream?” Nannie asks.

“I think that’s a great idea.” You hold Harry’s hand as you walk.

The four of you enjoy an ice cream. Louis drives your grandmother back so Harry can ride in your car with you. He of course insisted to drive.

“Where’s El and the baby?”

“Oh, they’re both home. Lou drove in today for this. He’s gonna spend the night at Niall’s and then drive back early tomorrow. Niall knew about all this by the way. I only told a couple of people. And I had a drink with your dad last night.”

“You did?!”

“Yeah.” He puts his hand on your thigh. “This is a really pretty dress, don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear it before.”

“Thanks, babe.” You put your hand over his. “What did my dad say?”

“He’s excited for you to send him a picture of you wearin’ the ring.”

“Wow, I’ll send him a picture tomorrow then.” You look down at it. “Where did you even get this?”

“I designed it online from that store in London we both like. Picked it up this summer.”

“You’ve had this since July?!”

“Mhm.”

“Where were you hiding it?!”

“At work.”

“And your mum and sister know?”

“I need to call the both of them to let them know I finally asked, but Gem was with me when I picked it up. They’ve known.”

“I can’t believe how much you planned this out…I feel so special.”

“Well, you are special, Y/N.”

“God, you’re gonna make me cry again.” You gasp. “Is that why you insisted she and I get our nails painted? For the pictures?”

“I didn’t know how much you’d care, but I-“ You lean across and kiss his cheek.

“You really thought of everything, thank you. I can’t wait to watch the video later. I want that right away.”

“Lou’s gonna come in and load everything onto my computer, don’t worry.”

You wrap your arms around his and lean your head on his shoulder for the rest of the drive.

“I can’t believe we’re engaged. You’re my fiancé, Harry.”

“And you’re mine. Oh! I almost forgot, I got the ring engraved, take a look.”

You slip it off and squint at it.

“My everything…oh my god, Harry.” You sniffle as you slip it back on. “That’s so sweet.” He kisses your hand.

“Glad you like it, darlin’.”

“I love it.”

//

Louis loads the video and pictures onto Harry’s laptop. You couldn’t stop watching the moment. It kept bringing tears to your eyes. You were so thankful you’d always have this moment to look back on. You give Louis a hug before he heads across the street to Niall’s.

“If you kids wanna go see Niall, don’t feel like you need to babysit me.” Nannie says.

“He’ll be over tomorrow. All our friends are coming over for dinner. It’s weird, but I don’t really wanna celebrate with anyone just yet. I wanna keep this moment ours a little longer.”

Nannie gives you both a hug and kiss goodnight. You were pretty tired too, and you also just wanted to cuddle alone with Harry.

“Wanna get into bed?” You ask him.

“Yeah.”

You both say goodnight to Buster and go into the bedroom. You both go into the bathroom, you close the door and turn the fan on. You lean back against the door and look at him.

“What?”

“I…I need your dick in my mouth.” Both of Harry’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Babe, your Nan-“

“For five minutes, just forget she’s here. I need to suck on it.” He can feel his cock twitch. “You look so handsome, and I just wanna feel close to you right now, physically. So can I?”

“Yes.”

“Can you sit up on the counter so I don’t have to get on my knees?”

Harry smirks and sits up on the sink counter. You stride over to him and stand between his legs.

“You know I love these pants on you.”

“Mhm, that’s why I wore ‘em.”

He cups your cheeks in his hands and kisses you. You press your hands on his thighs as you lean into the kiss. He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth and you moan softly. You start to unbuckle his belt and undo his zipper. You reach into his pants and palm him through his boxers. You groan when you feel how hard he already is. You take it out and lick your lips. You grip him with your left hand and smile.

“Looks pretty, doesn’t it?” You look up at him smirking.

“You’re gonna get it all dirty.” The tone of concern doesn’t match the grin on his face.

“I’ll be real careful.”

You spit into your right hand and use that to pump him up and down as your left hand dips further into his boxers to cup his balls. You dip your head down and suckle on his tip as you continue to work his shaft. His head rolls back as you sinker further down on him. You place both your hands flat on his upper thighs and you squeeze gently. One of his hands goes to the back of your neck as he thrusts into you a little. You gag on him for a moment, but it passes. You swallow around him and he groans. Your left hand drags up his torso and finds itself at the base of his throat. You rub your thumb over his Adam’s apple, and then you get a good grip on him. You look up at him quick to make sure it’s okay, and he looks down at you. The look in his hooded eyes tells you it’s all good, and you go back to giving him an absolutely sloppy blowjob. But you knew he liked it like this. What was sexy about a clean blowjob?

You had spit dripping down your chin, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was the way Harry’s cock was twitching in your mouth. Your grip on his throat had to be sending him with the way he was fucking into your throat. You try to bob up and down on him with the same rhythm. In a swift motion he grabs you by the back of your dress and yanks you off of him.

“Hey.” You whine. “I wasn’t done.” He grabs your hand and take it off his throat.

“Yeah, and neither am I.” He hops of the counter, and lets his pants drop the rest of the way. He steps out of them. “I’d like to-“

“I got my period this morning.” You pout. “You can come on my-“

“I don’t really give a fuck about your period, Y/N. I’ll put the towel on the floor for us to stand over.”

“Please, it’s gonna be so gross, and-“

“I’d really like to fuck my fiancé.” He caresses your cheek. “Can I please do that?”

“Okay, but I’m lighting a candle, and you need to leave the bathroom for a second so I can…clean myself up.”

“Fine.”

He waits outside the door until you’re ready. Your panties were off but your dress was still on. Your legs were clamped to together. You put the towel on the floor like he said. He grips your hips and turns you around.

“Please use the condom.” He sees the foil packet on the sink counter. He rolls his eyes and grabs it. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” He mumbles while he rolls it on.

He lifts your dress and bunches it around your hips. He slides into you easily, just like he thought he would. He looks in the mirror and sees your face all scrunched up.

“Is it that uncomfortable for you? I can’t do this if you’re not going to enjoy it.”

“No, I just don’t like looking at myself in the mirror…and it’s a little gross.” You open your eyes to look at him through his reflection. “How do you not think this is gross?”

“Just feels like you’re really wet, that’s all.” He says into your ear.

“Jesus.” You take a deep breath. “I’m good, go ahead, I want you to.”

“Are you sure, we don’t have to…”

“No, I really do want to. I wanna fuck my fiancé too.” You smile reassuringly.

He sighs happily and starts to move. Your head rolls back against his shoulder. It did feel really good, and you really did want it. You wanted him the second you saw him standing there at the playground. He rocks in and out of you and you try really hard not to make a lot of noise. You look down at the beautiful ring on your finger, and you’re still amazed he got your style down to a T. You were really engaged, someone genuinely wanted to marry you. You hook your arm up behind him to grip at his hair. He peppers kisses on your jaw and neck. He was close already, you could tell. He reaches one of his hands around to rub your clit, but you swat it away.

“No, that’s too gross.”

“So, I’ll wash my hands after. Lemme rub that litte-“

“Okay, okay, go ahead.”

Your face is completely flushed, and you whimper when he starts to rub circles on you.

“Fuck.” You groan.

“Like that, babe?”

“Yes, shit, Harry.”

You weren’t going to last much longer yourself. He spills into the condom just as you’re getting your release. You both stay there for a moment before he pulls out.

“Barely anything on here, you had nothin’ to worry about.” He throws the condom away and kisses you quick before washing his hands.

“Still yucky.” You sit on the toilet and clean yourself up.

You grab a pad and some underwear. Harry leaves to give you some privacy. You get into bed with him and sigh.

“I don’t wanna take it off, but I’m afraid it’ll get lost while I’m sleeping.”

“I could get you a little ring dish like how I have for mine, then you’d have a nice, safe spot for it.”

“You know, I think I have one of those packed away somewhere. I can look for it tomorrow.” You reluctantly take the ring off and set it on your night table. “I love you.” You kiss him and settle on your side.

“I love you too.” He turns over and you slot a leg between his so you can spoon him properly. You hear him laughing to himself.

“What is it?”

“Nothin’, I’m just excited. We’re engaged.” He looks at you over his shoulder and you smile at him.

“Yeah, we are.”

//

The next morning you get up and take a shower with Harry. You put your ring back on the second you got up. You both admired it as you stood there in the water.

“It really is beautiful, Harry.”

“I saw you lookin’ at a similar style when we first went to that store together. Noticed on the other few rings you have that you prefer a thicker band too.”

“Why the three diamonds? I feel sorta bad, this must’ve been really expensive.”

“The one diamond just looked weird to me. Plus…it’s like our little family, you, me, and Buster.”

“Oh, Harry.” You turn to face him and wrap your around his neck. “You always think of every little detail.” He puckers his lips and you happily kiss him.

After another few minutes you both get out. He leaves you to dry your hair, and so he can take Buster out. Your grandmother was sitting in the kitchen, sipping on some coffee. Harry made sure to have his joggers and a t-shirt on this time.

“Buster.” Harry whistles to him, and sets some food in his bowl. Then he goes to make his own coffee. “Sleep well, Nan?”

“Yes, dear, thank you.” She smiles. “Ahem.”

“Oh!” He walks over to her and gives her a good morning kiss.

“Don’t worry, you’ll catch on soon.” She laughs. “Where’s Y/N?”

“She’s just blow drying her hair. I’m gonna take him out in a minute, just wanted to let him eat.” She hums her response. She watches as Harry sips on his coffee.

“My granddaughter made us all breakfast and coffee yesterday.”

“Yeah, she does it every day f’me, it’s really nice.”

“So…”

“So?”

“So, don’t you think it would be nice for her to come out to some coffee before you take that little prince out for a walk?”

Both of his eyebrows raise. He was ready to give her some smart remark, like how you both take turns making coffee, or that there are plenty of other things he does for you, but he decides against it. Instead he just grabs your favorite mug, favorite coffee, and presses the K-cup into the machine for it to brew.

“Good boy.” She smiles.

He shakes his head and whistles to Buster to follow him out. You come into the kitchen shortly after and smile when you see your coffee made with your creamer already in it.

“Morning, Nannie.” You give her a kiss and sit down next to her with your coffee.

“Does he do that for you often?”

“Oh sure. We take turns a lot. I tend to cover breakfast more often though just because I get up earlier than he does. He makes dinner a lot of the time. He’s a really good cook.”

“Well that’s nice.” She looks down at your ring. “Even better in the daylight, huh? Look at the size of that thing.” She points to the middle diamond.

“I know, it’s a lot bigger than I was expecting. Like, it’s still modest, but it certainly isn’t tiny. Makes me a little uneasy knowing he probably spent a lot of money on it.”

“Don’t be uneasy, honey. You’re more than worth every penny. Besides, if he wants to spend his money on you, let him.”

“But I don’t want him thinking my affection can be bought.”

“I’m sure he knows that.”

“He’s always getting me jewelry and stuff. Like these earrings, and my watch.”

“Again, let him if he wants to. If it makes him happy to get you those things, let him be happy.”

“I suppose it makes sense, I love buying him stuff too. Like the pearls he wears? Got him those for his birthday, and he was so happy he cried. He never takes them off, same for the ring I got him.”

“Didn’t he get you that nice chain for the ring you wear too?”

“Mhm.” You twist it between your fingers. “He’s very thoughtful.”

You both finish up your coffees. Neither of you wanted to eat much with all the food you’d be having later. You preheat the oven, and get the brisket re-set up. Harry comes back with Buster.

“God, it smells so good in here. I can’t wait to eat that kugel later.” He kisses you on the cheek and peaks into the oven.

“A lot of stuff is warming up in there.”

Nannie is getting string beans together, cutting off the ends and throwing them into a pot.

“When’s everyone comin’?”

“A little later this afternoon.” He nods and looks at your grandmother.

“Want me to do that, Nan?”

“No, honey, I can do it thank you. Why don’t you set the folding table set up next to the dining table, and set up the folding chairs too.”

“Sure thing.”

He goes out and does so. He even puts the table cloths on so it looks nice. He comes into the kitchen.

“I just realized we don’t have, like, nice plates to put everything on.”

“It’s okay, we’re just going to use those sturdy paper ones we have so we can throw everything away later.”

“Besides, nice plates are things you can put on your wedding registry.” Nannie winks at the both of you.

“Good point.” He says and grabs all the paper plates out of the cabinet. “Do you want these like set on the table, or do you wanna leave all that in here like a buffet?”

“Let’s leave it like a buffet, but if you want you can stick the wine and the wine glasses on the table and the bread. Easy stuff like that.”

“Alright.”

You go out to the dining area and approve of how Harry put everything.

“Suppose I should get dressed.” You say to him.

“Same here.”

Harry follows you into the bedroom. You pick out a nice pair of capris to wear with a cute top. Harry decides on some loose fitting, but nice jeans, and a short-sleeve button up. The apartment smelled amazing, and you were happy with how everything looked. Nannie was sitting with Buster on the sofa and you loved being able to have her here with you.

There’s a knock on the door, you assume it’s Niall since he has a key to your place. Harry opens the door and sure enough, it’s Niall and Sarah.

“Shana tova!” Sarah says to you, and you say it back giving her a hug. “I brought over some extra challah.”

“Oh thank you so much! My Nannie’s over there.”

“Nannie!” Sarah squeals.

“Sometimes I forget that Sarah and Rachel are Jewish too.” Harry says to Niall.

“I know, technically Sarah’s only half, but her mom is the one that’s Jewish so they just went by her.”

“I’ve heard that’s how it goes.”

“Niall.” Your Nannie says with a smile. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too.” He gives her a hug and a kiss.

“So, you snatched up this lovely young lady?”

“That’s right. Y/N introduced us almost a year ago.” He smiles at Sarah. “We just moved in together.”

“That’s great! How did you meet?”

“Um…we were having a girl’s night, and the boys came.” You explain. “Is Rach on her way?”

“Yeah, her and Mariah should be here soon.”

“When’s your family gettin’ here?” Niall asks.

“You know them, never on time.” You roll your eyes.

“They’d all be late to their own funerals.” Nannie says, making everyone laugh. “So, Rachel has a new girlfriend, that’s nice.”

“Yeah, it’s Harry’s friend and coworker, Mariah. She’s really nice.”

“Look you all, setting each other up with friends.”

Rachel and Mariah show up a few minutes later and greet everyone.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Harry says to Rachel.

“Mhm, what’s up?”

“Remind me, you all met at an even for Jewish students on your campus?”

“So, Y/N and Kate met first because they were roommates freshmen year. Sarah and I both had random roommates. I met Y/N at a film club meeting, and then we all met Sarah at a Jewish students meeting. I think they put on an event for the new year. Then Y/N and Sarah roomed together sophomore year and I roomed with Kate because we couldn’t all get an apartment yet, and we wanted the chance to live with other people. Then obviously I went to California with Y/N, so Kate and Sarah lived together. Then our junior and senior year all four of us lived together. That’s how we met Seth too.”

“Seth’s Jewish?”

“Um…Seth is a very Jewish name.” Rachel laughs.

“So, Y/N could’ve ended up with a Jewish guy, and she chose not to?”

“Harry…it would be really fucking weird to date someone solely on the fact that you’ve both been chosen.”

“What?”

“Have you never heard that before? The Jewish people are the chosen people.” She chuckles. “Anyways, I thought you were over being jealous of Seth?”

“I was never jealous of him in the first place…I just still can’t believe she’s really choosing me over anyone else.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Uhhhh.”

“Hey everybody, before my family gets here, I just wanted to share something with you, especially since you all were too oblivious to notice when you first walked in.” You smile and stick out your left hand.

The girls squeal and race over to hug you. Mariah gives Harry a hug. Niall hugs you next, and slap his shoulder.

“And you knew the entire time.”

“You did?!” Sarah slaps him too.

“Oi, I was sworn to secrecy! I’m really happy for you both.”

“Look at the size of this thing, Jesus, Harry.” Rachel says to him.

“I thought it was pretty modest.” He says.

“It’s perfect.” Sarah says. “Just beautiful.”

“How did it all go down?”

“Why don’t I show you? Louis filmed the whole thing and he took pictures. Harry, grab your laptop for me.”

He does so and you all sit on the sofa to watch.

“That’s why he stayed with us last night?” Sarah asks Niall.

“Well, yeah.”

“Sneaky.”

You all watch the video and the girls tear up, and so does Harry.

“That was so beautiful! Does your family know yet?” Sarah asks.

“Nope, you guys are the first people I’ve told. Once they all get here we’re going to announce it. Oh! Apparently my dad knows, so I should send him a picture of the ring. I need to text him Happy New Year anyways.” You take your phone and snap the shot to send him.

“What do you think they’ll say?” Rachel asks.

“I think they’ll be very happy for her.” Nannie says. “These two already have a good set up, it all just makes sense.”

“Do you think Erica’s gonna get annoyed?” Sarah asks.

“I really don’t care. She’s been with him for ten years, it’s not my fault they just got engaged a few months ago. They’ve set a date for next summer, so that’ll be when that happens for them. I’m really not too worried about it.”

“Lou and El’s wedding is gonna be next summer too. We’ll be busy.” Niall says.

You hear the buzzer for your door. Harry gets up to let your family in. Everyone sort of showed up at once. Your mom, Bridget, Erica, Kyle, Lily, Michael, your aunt and uncle, your great aunt and uncle, and your cousins with your kids. Everyone was really happy to see your Nannie.

“Excuse me, everyone!” You say as everyone gets settled after greetings. “Before we sit down to dinner we have an announcement to make. Last night, Harry asked me to marry him.” There were gasps all around. “And I said yes!” You hold your hand out so everyone can see, and there were tons of cheers and squeals and hugs and kisses. Your mother was in tears, happy ones.

You show them all pictures, wanting to keep the video a little more private. You could show your mom later. Everyone was really happy for all of you.

“This is amazing! Two of my daughters engaged in the same year.” Your mom says hugging you. “Please, don’t stress each other out.”

“I don’t know why you’re looking at me, she’s the crazy one.” You laugh.

Once everyone goes through the buffet line in the kitchen, you all sit down at the table. Your great uncle does the blessing over the wine and the bread, and you all dig in. You only took a little piece of brisket, not wanting to upset your stomach. It was just too good to pass up. Harry are the carrots and potatoes that were in the sauce. He at least wanted to try some of it, but there was no way he was going to eat the meat.

“Okay, Y/N, I want the full story.” Erica says. “How’d he do it?”

“Well…I don’t know exactly, I sort of just walked into the scene.” You giggle. “Harry, you tell everyone, you’re the mastermind.”

“Um.” He was just swallowing some food. “Well, at the beginning of the summer we went to Castle Island, and Y/N explained how special that place was to her as a kid. So I spoke with Niall about it a little more, and that’s where I knew it had to be done. And then I called Nan here to see if she could be here for it since we’d be going to the place that was most special to Y/N as a kid. She was the one that recommended we do it this weekend to use the holiday as a cover.” Everyone laughs. “It worked out great, you really had no idea.”

“Clueless.”

“So then I told her I had to work yesterday, but really I was off settin’ everything up. I put up all these lights, and I was actually able to rent out the playground.”

“That’s when I got suspicious that something was happening. I didn’t quite know what, but it was weird that no one was around on such a nice night. And Nannie was so slick, she had me keep walking while she took Buster to the bathroom with her. I’m getting closer to the playground, and I hear our song playing.”

“Which is what?” Your mom asks.

“You Make Me So Very Happy.” You both say the same time, and you both giggle.

“And there he was standing there, and he started his little speech, and then he got down on his knee and he asked me.” You beam at everyone.

“Wow, Harry, a lot of thought and planning really went into that.” Your uncle says.

“She’s always puttin’ so much thought and planning into everything else, thought I’d give it a go.”

“And that ring, my god.” Sarah says. “Sorry, I’m not over it. Did you see it in a shop and just know?”

“There’s a jewelry store in London we went to back in December, and I noticed the styles she was lookin’ at. So I worked with a jeweler online to design it.”

“He’s had it since July!” You say. “Can you believe that? Keeping such a secret from me for so long, and Nannie too! Because when we went away for my birthday, part of my present was him flying her up here.”

“Pretty much made it so she couldn’t say no.” Niall jokes.

After dinner, you get most of the table cleared for all of the different desserts people brought. You were full to the brim. Everyone was having such a wonderful time, it was nice to have your entire family over. You also felt even more comfortable having all your friends there.

Eventually everyone leaves, and you’re able to just lounge on the sofa with Harry and Nannie.

“You did great honey, good hosting.”

“Thanks, Nannie.” You look at Harry. “Well, should we update our Facebook statuses?”

“Think it’s about that time. You’re not gonna post the video are you?”

“No, just some of the pictures.”

“Okay.” He kisses the top of your head and you both update your Facebooks.

“Holy shit!”

“What?”

“It’s blowing up!”

“Already?”

“Yeah! Look.”

You show Harry you’re phone. You get tons of likes and comments. Harry was getting them too. His phone starts to go off.

“What the…why is she awake?”

“My sister, excuse me.” Harry stands up to take the call. He goes down the hall to your bedroom.

“Lot of people happy for you on there?” Nannie asks.

“Yeah!” Your phone starts to go off. “Oh my god.”

“What is it?”

“Kate’s calling me…” You sigh. You really didn’t want to answer, but you didn’t want to be rude. “Hello?”

“Hi Y/N…I didn’t want to just send a text…congratulations! You’re engaged, that’s so exciting!”

“Oh, thanks! Yeah, he asked me yesterday.”

“I’m really happy for you…” There’s an awkward pause between the two of you. “How’s everything else going? You never texted me back after I wished you a happy birthday…”

“I know.” You sigh. “I’m sorry about that, I was busy all weekend.”

“So I saw.”

“Things are good, Kate.”

“Things are good with me…I finished school, and I moved-“

“Kate, I appreciate you calling to congratulate me, but…you’re not my friend anymore…you’re not in my life.”

“I thought at some point we would try to be friends again…”

“Just in time for you to be a part of my wedding? Yeah, right. You were such a bridezilla yourself, I don’t need that kind of energy around me. Also, you slapped me, there’s really no coming back from that.”

“I understand, I guess I was just hoping you’d change your mind.”

“Not this time.”

“Sarah and Rachel still won’t talk to me.”

“I never told them not to, I hope you know that. Maybe they just saw your true colors and-“

“You got caught up in my shit, and I took it out on you.”

“By slapping me.”

“As if you hadn’t lunged at me a second before.”

“But I didn’t actually do…you know what? This is pointless. Thank you for congratulating me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.” You groan as you hang up. Your phone goes off again.

“Just ignore it honey, it’s getting late.”

“It’s my friend Seth.” You swipe to answer the phone. “Hey.”

“Hey! Congratulations! I’m so excited for you guys, also Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year.” You giggle. “And thanks.”

“You sound tired.”

“I’m exhausted.”

“Why?”

“Kate just called me.”

“Ew.”

“I know!” You stand up just as Harry’s coming back. He sits down where you were.

“Is your sister alright?”

“Yeah, she just got mad because I never sent them the photos so she was like oh my god it was gorgeous, you know? Who’s she talkin’ to?”

“That nasty girl Kate just called, and now she’s talking to someone named Seth.” She shrugs.

“Ah.”

“Wait so what did she say to you?” Seth asks.

“She called to say congrats and then turned it into something about us being friends again…I do feel bad that her three best friends stopped talking to her, but I’ve been so much better without her.”

“She changed for the worse, Y/N, she’s not worth it.”

“I know.” You sigh.

“So, you pick a date yet?” He laughs.

“Ha! Good one. We haven’t exactly had a chance to talk about it. I have no idea how soon you’re supposed to planning all of this stuff.”

“I think you have to find a place you like and see what dates they have available, and then work backwards.”

“Makes sense. How are things with Isaac?”

“They’re still going well.”

“Did he come with you to family dinner?”

“No, I didn’t ask him. It’s a little soon to be bringing him around, you know?”

“Do your parents know you’re seeing him?”

“Oh, sure. I’ll take him to meet them at some point, I just didn’t think an even with my entire family was a good time.”

“Yeah, I get that. Although, the majority of my family met Harry at Thanksgiving.”

“It’s different for me, Y/N. My family is supportive, but it’s still hard to bring a guy around. It’ll be easier in small groups. Isaac hasn’t exactly jumped to have me meet his family either.”

“Right.” You knew Isaac was estranged from his family, but it wasn’t your place to tell Seth that.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your fiancé, I just wanted to say I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks, Seth.”

You hang your phone up and just turn it off. You appreciated people texting and calling, but you were too tired to respond to anything else.

“I think I’m ready for bed.” You say to them both. “Nannie, we need to be at the airport by 11AM tomorrow.”

“Alright sweetheart.” She yawns and gets up. “Think I’m ready for bed too. Goodnight, precious girl.” She kisses you and Harry and head into the guest room.

“I’m just gonna bring Buster out quick and then I’ll come to bed, babe.” Harry says to you and you nod.

You do your nightly routine and crawl into bed. Harry comes in shortly after and gets into bed with you. You snuggle up close with him and he throws his arm around you.

“How’s my fiancé?” He asks.

“Amazing, how’s mine?”

“Wonderful.”

[bubmyg]

lost - knj

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre/warnings: travel!au, roommate!au, bookstore owner!namjoon, strangers to lovers, ft platonic reader x taehyung, fluff, lots of angst regarding uncertain futures, namjoon has a cat named marie

word count: 16,451

summary: taehyung’s warning was simple: stop and you’ll never want to start again or the one where you’re left alone in a loft apartment above a bookstore owned by a man with the sweetest dimples you’ve ever seen.

a/n: my first fic in three months omg...i hope u enjoy it as much as i did writing it :-(

Tiny succulent leaves spiraled outward from a central lobe rooted somewhere in the limited space provided by it’s miniature clay home. The pot rattled with the dips of open road, contained mostly to the corner of the dash and the dusty van window yet a victim of the unforgiving lack of traction still attached to the tires that had carried you for miles up until this point. 

One thousand, two hundred and thirty-one miles. And counting. 

You tucked your knee into your chest, lounging so the seatbelt started to cut into your neck as your head lulled to the side, eyeing Taehyung’s profile. 

“You’ve kept that one alive,” You commented absently. 

A noise of surprise broke the hard line of Taehyung’s clenched jaw. He glanced at you, genuine innocence shining through his confusion. It mirrored in his blunt, “Huh?”

You nodded toward the bouncing plant, “If you think about it, killing aloe vera would be kind of ironic…”

“Oh,” Taehyung wrinkled his nose, adjusting his wrist where it laid languidly on the top of the steering wheel, “I think succulents are more my speed. Or at least, the speed of traveling. My daisies didn’t appreciate the darkness of the bedroom. The sunflowers protested the living room on day one.”

“At least if a succulent spills it doesn’t immediately shrivel up and disintegrate…”

By bedroom, Taehyung meant the front section of the shades of beige van he’d acquired in high school, the area with a barely functional bed nailed to the floor of the “trunk”, with windows covered by tattered pieces of flannel you’d hand sewn to resemble curtains. By living room, he meant the back half, where a tiny, rainbow rug sat in the center of splintered wood and a few fold out lawn chairs, matching flannel curtains from the bedroom drawn open to allow sunlight to push through the thin layer of grime gathered in each corner of the windows. 

His daisies had spilled fresh potting soil into your clean pillow case, one you’d shaken free of debris by holding it out the open window of the van while Taehyung shrieked with laughter. His sunflowers wouldn’t even balance on the tiny lip between the window and the inside, ceramic pot tumbling through Taehyung’s clumsy fingers and shattering onto the rug. A glittering piece of the white pot still sat lodged between a space in the wooden floorboards. 

You grunted in acknowledgement, unfurling your legs to heave yourself forward, snatching the tiny plant from its place on the dash. You turned it gently in your palm, “This would have been nice to have a few weeks ago.”

The tiny seaside town you’d rumbled into by accident of the lack of fuel in the van’s tank lead to three nights of camping in crab infested sands, gorgeous sunset photographs you’d clipped to the twine string zigzagging through the living room, and a horrible ripple of blisters sun stained into Taehyung’s shoulder blades. 

He gestured to the scarf you’d prematurely yanked from your luggage shoved into a compartment on the bottom of the vehicle, knee directing the steering wheel as he balled the fleece and tossed it at you. “Good thing it’s almost winter. Put my aloe down.”

You unfolded the pleats of the scarf once you settled the pot back against the windshield, curling it around your arms to settle back into the seat. Your eyes drifted to the scenery beyond the plant, coming first in the fashion of a neon highway sign advertising the next town. You glanced at the tiny red tick on the fuel tank meter. 

“Are we stopping tonight?”

Taehyung’s gaze met the places yours rested on. He sighed, palm pressing into the steering wheel first until his fingers gradually curled around the leather. “At least to get gas and dinner, yes. Look and see if there’s any hotels around, please? And then maybe how far we are from our next stop? I don’t want to hang around too long and miss the harvest festival…”

The tiny tag clipped on the digital map of your phone showed a tiny motel with a singular Yelp review from someone named Min Yoongi within walking distance of the gas station Taehyung had turned into. Your legs crossed where you sat on the edge of the blow up mattress in the bedroom, eyes squinted as you twirled around the general vicinity of the tiny town with the tip of your index finger. 

“Status update, copilot,” The van rocked as Taehyung took a running jump into the open back, momentum causing him to crouch in the center of the living room. Your mouth parted to respond in time with a tinkling crash to your left. 

“There’s a motel across the street,” You uttered in an unimpressed monotone, locating the source of the crash as three similar aloe plants to the one on the dash tumbling off your tiny bookshelf to the rug below. Three sad aloe plants a mess between the sprinkle of potting soil in between grains of rainbow. 

A sheepish look crossed the geometric edges of Taehyung’s smile. “I’ll clean it up,” His cupped palm swept over some of the more elevated piles of soil as if to prove his point, “Will you go see if they have anything available?”

“Got it, boss,” You stood, crouched still due to the proximity of the top of the van to your head, and began to edge your way outside. 

Your hesitation came near the very bookshelf, the sign of the crime, sole of your shoe squashing into the center of the limited pile Taehyung had created by scraping his hands across the rippled weaving of the rug. You stayed crouched at the waist, fingers thumbing through the titles, titles a cumulative collection from your own personal belongings and the various shops you’d stowed away in the growing months of your journey. Their dusted and rough covers slowly transitioned into the item you were looking for, a slick yellow folder bursting at the pockets with the mixture of paper clipped, stapled, typed, and handwritten papers curled within. You squeezed it’s outer edge, thumb feeling into the tiny rip that was begging to form on the spine of the folder. 

“I can’t clean if you don’t move,” Taehyung’s hand wrapped around your ankle, startling you to do a hop step into reality. 

The imprint of the ripped folded scratched at the crease in your thumb where you rubbed your palms together, quick strides weaving you down a deserted sidewalk to cross a deserted street where a three story, house shaped structure sat. Your palm flexed into the ends of your scarf still dangling from around your neck, tucking it tighter to you to avoid the stream of words that began to ink across the forefront of your subconscious from the simple touch to the folder. 

The interior of a structure whose exterior gave off the impression of outdated was instead rather modern, like stepping out of a deserted movie from the eighties to step into a fifties diner in the twenty-first century. Sleek tile in patterned squares wrapped around a black, raising desk, one that had a tiny stack of business cards and a credit card reader clipped to either side. A man was hunched over a laptop placed on what appeared to be a second level to the desk, it’s lid plastered in various hand drawn stickers peaking over the countertop as fingers continued to audibly hack away at a keyboard. 

His black curls bounced when the screen door clattering shut behind you, wide eyes either perpetually surprised or simply shocked at the presence of a person in the otherwise desolate area. You assumed it was a little bit of both once his shoulders relaxed into the black polo hugging his toned upper body but the circular innocence to his eyes remained. 

“Hi!” He chirped as you squinted at the gold plated name tag strapped on one side of his shirt. Jeongguk. “...how can I help you?”

“Do you have any rooms available?”

The surprise traveled into the rise of Jeongguk’s eyebrows into his shaggy fringe. It was short lived this time, though, movements instead turning frantic as he lifted the sticker covered laptop to the top layer of the desk, resuming his furious hacking with his tongue poked between his cheeks so that a dimple appeared to the side of his lips. 

“I do,” He said after a moment, glancing up at you as his fingers continued to work, “Plenty, actually. Just trying to, uhm…”

“There!” Jeongguk cheered finally, voice an octave louder than before and there was a twinkle in his crinkling eyes as he directed his full attention to you, “How many nights and how many beds?”

“One and two,” You rested your forearm to the counter, thumbing one of the business cards out of its plastic tray. A fond smile curled onto your lips when you noticed the tiny logo was the same doodled design gracing a sticker pasted to the center of his laptop lid. GCF Motel and Design. “Please…”

“Of course, absolutely. Coming right up…” His index finger tapped hard at the touch pad a few times before a different color illuminated the stars in his eyes. He blinked, nodding once to himself before he cupped the credit card reader and dragged it toward you. “It’ll just be fifty for the night. Card reader is here—it works, I promise—or I can take cash. And make change for you, if...you know.”

“I have a card,” You said gently, plucking the plastic from the tiny holder stuck to your phone case. The chip reader clicked to life after a few passing seconds of your card sitting idle in the slot, taking longer in its processing that left you in a silence with the bouncing man across from you. 

“Have you been busy lately? There’s that harvest festival a few miles from here this weekend, so I wasn’t sure…”

“No. No, uhm,” Jeongguk glanced at you under the shadow of his bangs, “You’re actually my first guest in two weeks.”

“Oh.” Two tiny electronic beeps signaled you to take your card but you were still delayed in doing so. You smiled warmly at the man across from you instead, “Well, then I’m happy we stopped here.”

“We means you’d like two room keys, right?” The tiniest of red dusted the apples of his cheeks, gaze cutting away to the level of the desk you couldn’t see. 

“Please. Tae should be here any minute—”

The screen door clattered harshly when your tall best friend tripped through the threshold, loud in his, “I got the living room clean!” while Jeongguk’s perplexity amplified ten fold. 

“Uhm, here’s your room keys. It’s on the third floor. Stairs and elevator are behind the desk,” Jeongguk passed over two green cards, holding them separately to each of you. You accepted yours with a gentle smile, Taehyung with a sleepier confusion that almost mirrored Jeongguk’s. His movements grew jerky again as he rustled behind the counter, presenting two sheets of paper in your direction now. “...and here’s a sheet of stickers. They’re mine. I hand draw them and sell them...I have my own website, it’s listed on the logo sticker in the center.”

You fondly assessed the page as you drew it closer to your nose, eyeing the etched star shape and the shaded in hues of a tiger flower. “Thank you, Jeongguk,” You said gently, holding the stickers to your chest. 

“Of course!” He chirped while Taehyung continued to squint between the room key and the sticker page. “I hope you enjoy your stay...don’t hesitate to come find me if you need anything. My room is the only one on this floor if I’m not here at the desk.”

You were gentle in turning the door knob to a close while Taehyung flopped dramatically onto the nearest bed corner, still clutching his sticker sheet that he stretched above his face. 

“Motto out the window tonight?”

Taehyung hummed, twisting the sheet to the right and then to the left, “For one night only—” He blinked to the side of the paper at you, “—did you look at these?

The motto hadn’t applied for three nights of your travels, the sleepy town with the sticker making motel owner included, the motto Taehyung’s sentiment that if your head ever touched a real pillow again, you’d want to cease your travels. A just keep going, arbitrary reason for continuing to blow through your college savings to travel the country. The first night had been in a storm when it was simply too dangerous to board up in the back of the van. The second night had been after Taehyung had contracted a cold from sneaking into a resort pool in a downtown tourist center. The third seemed to have no other motive than genuine exhaustion. You blamed the third potted plant spill of the month. 

Mention of the motto made your mind drift to your travels as a general cloud of thought, one that generally evaporated into the back of your conscious so that you were able to focus on the paper map Taehyung had shoved into your grip from the last rest stop or the delayed play by play instructions on your phone due to the limited signal or simply forgotten due to your laughter at whatever ridiculous song Taehyung had decided to blast over your carefully wired auxiliary cord. 

Just like you ignored your dwindling funds in the debit card you’d just mindlessly shoved into the barely functioning card reader, ones that funded the purpose of the sparkly eyed boy perched on a plastic stool in the lobby. Your purpose remained nothing but the ghost feeling of the rip in your yellow folder still digging into the crease of your thumb. 

“You should order some from him. It’d make his week,” You said gently. 

Taehyung laughed, “I don’t think he delivers to a traveling address, kid.”

You tried to manage the panic in your voice. 

“Tae.”

He didn’t answer, just a grunt from outside the van where he was currently pumping air into the front driver’s side tire. Panic could only manage itself for that one call. You tried again, louder and with a slap of your hand against the nearest open door. 

“Taehyung.”

The van rocked again and he answered verbally this time, agitated. A peek of one half of his face became visible, “What?”

“Where’s my folder?”

Taehyung blanched, full features coming into view, “What?” 

Your hand did a dramatic sweep across the bookcase, collecting your tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice in your wake to let it drop unceremoniously to the floor. “Where is my folder?” Another book, a title you didn’t recognize but a cover you connected with the flea market Taehyung had insisted on visiting near the beach, dropped to the floor from your grip. “It’s not in its spot any longer.”

“I had to take everything off the shelf to get all the soil up,” One foot made it inside the van as your stack of discarded books continued to grow. “I swear I put it right back but it may have fallen—”

“Fallen out? Of the van?” Two more books plopping audibly to the pile. You thought about Jeongguk and his stickers and what would happen if someone threw out all his sketches. His sense of purpose suddenly gone due to someone’s recklessness. 

“—behind something,” Taehyung finished, nudging you aside to retch the shelf away from where it was bolted to the wall. It only came a fraction of the way, barely enough for Taehyung to lodge his fingertips down it and effectively rule out any possibility of your folder being there. Instead, every book still clinging to the shelf flopped sadly to the floor. 

The miles you’d traveled up until that point seemed to rush by in your peripheral, every open stretch of rolling road, the glittering nightscape of lively cities, the blackness of the sea current swallowing up ruts in the shore, the decades old gas stations that drained your cash from your wallets into the tank to the freshly renovated rest stops that had patterns pressed into the concrete intentionally and not just because a local raccoon decided to test his luck with some half dry concrete. It propelled you back into the moment, thousands of miles ago, where you’d stood in the same spot in Taehyung’s parents driveway with a cardboard box at your feet filled with things still labeled from when you’d moved out of your college apartment. 

“Why did you keep this?” Taehyung had teased with a wrinkled nose, handing over your tattered textbook from your world literature class freshman year, the second volume in a group of three you’d paid a month's rent for. Highlighter bled into the outer edge, marking the thin off white pages appeared a mirage of rainbow that contrasted a shade more neon than the rug you’d stretched out below your feet. 

“I paid for it,” You defended, settling the paper back between one side of the shelf and a heavy, dolphin shaped paperweight that you’d stuck felt on the bottom of to keep in place on the road. “Besides, it has full, translated classics in here.”

Taehyung pretended to understand the fascination of literature that came with your education with a raise of one eyebrow and a single, gentle nod that shifted his gaze back to the remaining contents in the box. He ruffled for a second before retrieving one of the items draped on the bottom. 

“Okay—” He stretched your manuscript folder up in two hands so as to not let the contents on the inside spill out the sides. “—explain why you keep this.” 

You snatched it from him, holding the yellow protectively to your chest. It looked a bit comical, the whole situation, you hovering over the disorganized stack of papers that you’d written off, figuratively, of course, chin resting on top of the folder as you stared hard at the worn spine of the text book you’d just placed to the shelf. 

“If anything…” You moved slowly with the folder in hand, stretching it toward the felt dolphin and textbook. One hand clutched it while the other brushed aside things to make room for it, tight palm effectively dragging the weeping edges of the folder apart so a tiny rip formed in the yellow near the top of the makeshift spine. Gradual movements turned frantic as you shoved it onto the shelf, pushing the dolphin to hold it in place as your thumb remained on the newfound rip. 

“...I paid a lot of money for the printer and pen ink it took to write all of that. It’s like keeping a twenty dollar bar of gold that can never be converted into usable currency.”

The dolphin was the only thing remaining on the shelf, staring at you while you stared at Taehyung, blank, not moving. Somewhere, up on the dash, the unharmed succulent rattled with the gust of wind that curled against the outside of the van. 

“We’ll find it, it couldn’t have gone too far. There isn’t much space to search anyway—”

“Why did you touch it in the first place?” Your sharp cut in didn’t register in your mind as unreasonable, not at first. Instead, your mind drifted to all the times in which he’d be apprehensive of your unwillingness to throw away the folder, to, as he put it, simply transfer all the handwritten files into digital versions to zip away with the ones that were already locked in a cloud somewhere, all the times you’d caught him staring, perplexed as you pulled out the folder and flipped it open to make sure none of the pages had shifted order. “You know how much it means to me.”

“This would be different if I was intentionally trying to sabotage something of yours. I moved it to clean. It has to be somewhere in this general vicinity,” Taehyung held his hands palm up to you. Penance. Until he ruined it with a sighed, “Besides...don’t you think it’s time we throw it out anyway. I don’t think a constant reminder of rejection is—”

“Go on with your trip,” You said suddenly. 

He paled in front of you, knuckles and all where they grew tighter on the edge of the unhinged bookcase. “Our trip…” He corrected, drawing out the silence at the end as punctuation.

“Your trip,” You shoved yourself off the floor, stepping past him to hurdle to the cracked concrete outside. “Help me get my luggage.”

Taehyung spluttered, lips foaming like a puffer fish out of water, eyes narrowing like you’d just grown a third hand from the tip of your nose. “Dove, we’ll find your folder. We can keep it up front so it never gets lost again. I wasn’t trying to insult your situation, I just care about you and—”

“Tae,” You said his name gently, the calmest you’d managed to spit it out in the entire ordeal, calm like the ghost of a smile that dimpled into your cheeks, “It’s not about the folder.”

“Go on. Go to the harvest festival. Hit the next few cities. I’ll be fine here.”

His eyes bulged now, “You expect me to leave you here? There’s nothing here and I’m no stranger to how our funds have been dwindling.”

“There’s a motel. And a cafe somewhere according to the map. I’ll find a job. Maybe I can rake someone’s leaves when the seasons start to change,” You smiled, “I’ll figure something out.”

“And when I come back? Will you want to go with me?” A bit more forceful, Taehyung set his eyebrows and added, “I will be coming back for you.”

You shrugged, opting for simple, “I don’t know.”

The tension sagged from Taehyung’s person, all the confusion and frustration and bubbling anger, returning him to the default of your best friend complete with a tiny half smile. A loaded inquiry in the way he tilted his cheek into his curled fist.

“Why, dove?”

“The motto,” You stretched out a hand toward him, “I quite liked the bed in the motel.”

“...so I think I’m going to stay around a little longer,” You finished your, shortened albeit, story to the pouty lipped cafe worker, offering a tentative smile. 

The man who’d introduced himself as Yoongi and the owner of the tiny building, removed a hand from where it had been perched on his hip, gently plucking the wad of bills you offered to him. The register opened with what would have been a small puff of dust if the space around it weren’t so meticulously clean, the sleek black counter top and the checkered floor free of any imperfections. Yoongi had swept away the little particles of gravel you’d tracked in after he’d handed over your carefully crafted club sandwich. 

“So, are you planning on staying at Jeongguk’s place?” 

You blinked, a useless piece of collected information about the town in your short twenty-four hours there slipping out. “Are you the Min Yoongi who left a review on his motel?”

A charming smile crossed over the man’s gums, shoulders bouncing silently as he began to pool your change in his cupped palm for you. You took his nonverbal answer, leaning closer on your elbows, “Is Min Holly some of your relation? They left a review, too…”

Yoongi’s nose wrinkled when he laughed a second time, plopping your change down in a small tin next to the register when you motioned him to keep it. “...something like that.”

“It’s a fine place to stay, by the way. Just a dumb joke we have going,” He fished behind the counter for a rag, rubbing it over the places in the counter that had been touched. Dark eyes assessed you playfully from under white fringe, “There’s a review hidden in ours that says we make grilled cheese sandwiches without cheese.”

“Are you...in need of any help making those bread sandwiches?” You panicked when one of his eyebrows disappeared into bangs and a snort racked his shoulders, “Sorry, that was really forward. I just...my travel funds have been running low regardless of me stopping here. I really need a way to make money during my stay.”

“I don’t think Seokjin would appreciate having to split his already limited tips,” Yoongi continued to wipe at the counter, shuffling down the row of bar stools you sat at and back up.

“...you said you have a background with literature, right?” You nodded. “You could check with Namjoon and see if he has any odd jobs for you. He owns the bookstore on the next block over…”

“If anything, he could have you paint the outside,” He meticulously began to fold the rag, shaking his head, “The place looks like it just time traveled from the eighteenth century.”

Yoongi wasn’t wrong. All the buildings in the town seemed to be situated in a similar fashion, curled into strips of three or four businesses about three or four blocks long yet, it appeared that the majority of the buildings were abandoned or at the very least, not functioning businesses any longer. You pinpointed the specific building you were in search of on instinct that the one centered in the middle of a strip of buildings that appeared completely out of place had to be the one Yoongi teased about the exterior. Chipped cream and dark brown lined the paneled walls and thick frames around doors and windows, two stories of windows coated in a visible layer of dust and webs on the corners.  As you strolled closer, you could make out the beige pink hue of plastic letters pasted onto the inside of the left display window, Monie’s, with a looping cursive font displaying a phone number and a website. Propped up in the thin stream of dust and crumpled window stickers was a sign, black coated in specks of brown with neon orange advertising help wanted. 

You wrapped your fingers around the door, pulling it open to step inside. 

The first thing you registered was the temperature difference, winter chill just starting to nip into the air outside but the bookstore was coated in something that somehow bordered the favorable side of cozy and unbearable. Minimal lighting added to that ambiance, bulbs caged in thick metal where they were screwed in planned intervals above the bookshelves. Plants littered the empty spaces in between already crowded furniture, bonsai trees to be exact, curling in their awkward shapes out of hand painted pots. Any decorations that maybe could have been placed on walls occupied by floating bookshelves instead littered the displays in each of the front windows, a massive plastic snowman, fake holiday grass plopped on top of fake winter snow, a myriad of specialty figurines ranging in sizes and shapes and colors all centered around a wooden table that appeared as though it had been made directly from a fresh stump. Perhaps, judging by everything else, it had. 

The books were another thing, appearing more like library shelves than those you would see in chain bookstores or in the aisles at various department stores. Titles varied in size, in their positions in how they laid against each other. In fact, there seemed to be no reason to the way they were organized, obscure children’s books tucked in between used biographies of a fourteenth century royal and three new copies of the first book in the latest dystopian young adult series. 

You turned down the last aisle, one that seemed to harbor anything from an entire encyclopedia set to preschool board books, to find a steep staircase at the end of the shelf. The dark wood matched that of the outside of the building, leading upward into a shadow until you could no longer see where it went. Careful footsteps carried you across creaking wood covered in various colors of woven rugs, testing a hand onto the rail of the staircase. One foot on the first stair and it creaked worse that the floor, the second a wail just as bad. 

Nothing, however, could have prepared you for the tiger striped cat that bounded down the stairs past you. 

You yelped, clinging to the staircase as your knees gave out in your brief moment of panic and had you sinking to a crouch. A deep swallow into you cradling the posts between the stair railing and you managed to get your heart rate to calm by pressing the blunt end of your palm against your chest. 

A voice acted like the pull start of a generic lawn mower, kicking the roar of blood in your ears back to life.  

“Where are you going?”

It was spoken kindly, a genuine inquiry in which the tone matched the man who stood within the row of books. Namjoon, your conscious presumed. He was tall, a long navy coat fluttering against his khaki jogger covered ankles. A deep maroon t-shirt showed off the glitter of a pendant necklace dangling between the defined planes of his chest where the terror of a cat was now cradled. Thick rimmed glasses rested on the very tip of his nose, deep set brown eyes magnifying when he nudged the frames up with the tips of his index and middle fingers. A gentle smile indented permanently into his mouth, showing off dimples that became deeper set the more his laughter grew at your prolonged silence. 

“Oh, sorry I...I was just—”

“Unfortunately, my business is not enough to harbor a second floor,” His nose wrinkled with his smile as he dropped his gaze enough to place the cat onto the floor before effectively shoving bracelet covered wrists into his pockets, “Can I help you with something else?”

“I’m looking for a job,” You blurted, still standing firmly on the second stair while the cat, calmer this time, scurried past you once more. It creaked again with the two movements, the cat and the nervous shift of yours, and you allowed yourself to wince this time.

The man tilted his head, dark brown locks sticking behind the glass and frames. “And why would you come here in search of that?”

“Yoongi sent me,” You blinked, “Uh, Min Yoongi. The guy that owns that cafe up the street? I’m going to be staying in town for a little while and I’m in need of something...I have a literature background, if that makes my case any more compelling. At the very least I could reorganize your shelves or something—”

“My shelves stay as they are,” He cut in absently, waving a hand. Go on. 

“—besides,” Your finger pointed dumbly toward the window display behind him, “You have a help wanted sign in your window.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the trajectory of your finger, shaking his head, “No...I don’t think I do.”

You clambered off the staircase, pointed in brushing past the tall man to stalk determinedly for the opposite window display. The sign stuck to the window in some sort of build of debris that you didn’t particularly care to question but instead made it hard for you to pull up when you were straddling a tiny train set and a mountain of fake snow in an attempt not to harm any of his decorations. It came in a cloud of dust, coating your fingers and glittering in the baths of afternoon sun that cut through the window. 

You found that he’d trailed after you, close enough that when you stumbled out of your awkward stretch position you could press the sign just spaces from his chest. 

“See.” 

He took it from you, that trace of a smile still prominent as he squinted at the object in his grasp. His sleeve curled over his fingers, gradual in clearing away the grime build up over the printed words. 

“Oh,” He simply, “I suppose I do.”

More than the confined heat of the sun through the windows warmed your body from his gentle carmel stare, something that curled your toes into your shoes as your hand had the opposite reaction in jutting out towards him. Quietly, you offered your name. 

“Namjoon,” He settled his free hand in yours, giving it a firm shake without pulling away. Instead he tilted his head, “What’s your story?”

You tilted your head in the opposite direction, “Is this my interview?”

His smile grew warmer when his teeth appeared under his lips, “And if it is?”

“I’ve been traveling with my best friend for the past few months. We started after our university graduation and didn’t look back,” A halfhearted laugh followed the slip of your hand out of his, “Truthfully—” kind of, “—I was starting to run out of money. Your town seemed to be about my speed,” You set your shoulders, “...so I told Taehyung to leave me here. Now I’m in your store asking for a job.”

“Where are you staying?”

“The motel, Jeongguk’s right?” You brushed your foot into the floor, “He told me I didn’t have to pay for anything until I left, or at least built up enough to afford his rates, but—”

“That won’t do,” Namjoon dismissed. Curtly, he turned, stalking off between the shelves with the sign tucked to his chest. 

You were sure you looked like a personified exclamation mark wrapped around a question mark but you allowed yourself to stumble after him anyway, trailing him between the awkward route of shelves you’d yet to explore in your short venture through the store. Finally, you arrived at a small desk, one with a clear glass top with flyers and charts and business cards lodged underneath it. A register, the most modern item of the entire store, took up most of the desk space, placed directly next to an illuminated desktop computer that displayed a background of a light blue koala character etched out in a vaguely familiar art style. You noticed the cat from earlier had wandered back into view, now perched on a red leather stool that was placed behind the counter and let out a particularly discontented mrow! when Namjoon shooed it aside to take a seat. 

Ring clad fingers began to clack away at an outdated keyboard for the modern monitor, features scrunched at the center. Namjoon’s glasses slipped down the length of his nose, this time purposely, as he leaned closer to the screen, mouth parted as eyes darted over the contents. His entire expression shifted when he leaned away, soft smile returning as he gestured for you to join him on the opposite side of the counter. 

“Have you ever worked with any type of cataloging software?”

You blinked at the foreign objects on the screen, a whirlwind of passwords and edit options, and ISBN numbers that you didn’t understand other than how to finesse the cheapest textbooks when you were still in university. His whirlwind explanation that hadn’t allowed you any time to answer the initial question ended with a single syllable laugh. 

“I’ll help you,” Namjoon promised, spinning on the stool to face you. His gangly legs crossed, elbow meeting the thickest part of his thigh as he cheek settled into his palm. “And dusting? How are you with a rag?”

A smile broke out of your tense uncertainty, “That I can definitely do.”

He hummed, drumming his fingers against his cheek, “I think I can find plenty for you to help me with here, if you’d like. I can’t promise much pay.”

“But no staying with Guk. You can stay here as part of your payment.”

You subconsciously glanced outward around the store, to the crowded shelving and potted plants and lopsided books, as if maybe a bed would manifest somewhere that you hadn’t seen it before. To that, Namjoon laughed, louder and so that his face scrunched up around his eyes. 

“I live in the apartment above the store. That’s where the staircase leads. I have an extra bedroom…”

“But that’s only if you’d like,” He rushed suddenly, voice growing an octave as his hands flailed, “I know we just met so if you’re not comfortable living with me, you can absolutely continue to stay at the motel. I just thought it might be easier on you financially and travel wise if you were already here, you know. The bedrooms are on opposite ends of the apartment. There’s two bathrooms, too—”

“Thank you, Namjoon,” You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, waiting until he relaxed under your touch, “That sounds like a wonderful idea. I accept your offer, if you don’t mind having me, of course.”

He started to shake his head only to be interrupted by a strangled meow from below your feet. You watched as the cat curled in between your legs, butting into your shin while an audible purr rumbled into its next meow. 

“You’ll have to bargain with her for use of the bedroom, actually. It’s unofficially hers at the moment,” The tiny cat continued to nuzzle into your jeans, tail curling happily each time she threw her body weight into you, “It seems like you’ve passed the Marie test.”

You crouched, allowing her to inspect the curl of your fingers before she happily began to settle her chin into the crevices of your palm, rubbing back and forth until you began to flex your fingers in her fur. 

“Miss Marie, can we be roommates for a little while?”

She mewled in response, bypassing your hand to jump into the open space on your thighs. You adjusted her in your arms instead, stretching back to a standing position to smile at Namjoon. 

“First task complete.”

Namjoon cocked an eyebrow, “Which was…?”

“Befriend the cat that ratted me out,” You grinned, bouncing her a bit in your arms, “What’s next, boss?”

“Why don’t you two start by cleaning out those window displays while I go to retrieve your things from Jeongguk,” He slipped his glasses off between the pinch of his fingers, allowing them to twirl back and forth for a moment, “Who knows what other hidden treasures are in there.”

You found your things stacked in a neat pyramid on a bed. Your bed. You clutched the ‘treasures’ you’d uncovered in the window displays a bit tighter to your chest. 

It was a modest room, full size mattress squeezed into a vast majority of the room, leaving just enough room for a dresser and closet doors that folded open to one side. Your things looked massive in the center of the bed, particularly with how they’d been stacked in awkward, Jenga like angles. You frowned until you found a slip of paper dangling off the very top piece of your luggage. You cradled Namjoon’s things, a curly haired teddy bear and a miniature pair of leather shoes, into one arm to pluck the note. 

It was another sheet of stickers, different from the first, with a handwritten note in swirling purple marker scrawled to the blank side. 

Come back and visit me! Or maybe I’ll come into the store more now...Here’s some of my newest designs as thanks :)

“Jeongguk insisted I bring you those.” You crinkled the edge of the paper in hand, startled by the soft voice. It was Namjoon, now without his long coat, arms folded across his chest where he leaned against the doorframe. He nodded toward the other contents in your grasp, “What are those?”

“Oh!” You passed aside the paper to grip the bear and shoes in separate hands, stretching the items toward him. “Just some things I found hidden in the displays…”

He pushed himself up off the door, pulling the bear into his grasp first. Long fingers tucked into the wirey fur of the toy, scratching gently as a fond smile slowly worked upwards into his cheeks. Crinkles formed underneath his eyes as he pressed the bear underneath his arm, cradling the two tiny shoes next, raising them up above eye level for inspection. 

“You’re right, I forgot about these,” Namjoon passed the shoes into one palm, closing his fingers to hold them at the center of his chest. “Thank you for doing that, by the way. It looks wonderful.”

You returned his grateful smile, unsure of how to accept a thanks for a task assigned to you as an employee. It was the first time since the morning that you’d allowed yourself to think of the yellow folder, one that symbolized the exact opposite of the gracious, polite expressions Namjoon had yet to fail to provide. 

It’d been less than twelve hours, but you had no reason to assume he would offer anything otherwise. A less than conventional situation with a less than conventional job offer with a less than conventional boss with less than conventional job benefits.

His mouth fished once, twice, gawking at the shoes in his hand before his gaze settled back on you. Lips pressed together, head tilting. 

“...would you like some tea?” 

The disarray, library aura the maze of shelves in the store provided came as a result of the equally disorienting ordering process from Namjoon, so you learned. He avoided section titles, author groupings, or series shelving. Instead, there was some mental list of steps all based around bogus marketing techniques that accounted for the haphazard strew of books to the point where you weren’t quite sure he had meaning to it anymore and was simply doing it to stay to some imaginary regiment he’d convinced himself of. 

Best selling young adult dystopian novels were on the far shelf, the one closest to the desk, and hidden behind the busy leaves of a bonsai in the back left corner. There were three copies of the first and second books but only two of the third book. Children’s books were placed backwards on the shelves, spines facing inwards, the shapes giving them away. Biographies were always placed on the third shelf from the bottom, eye level. 

No romance made the cut to “easy on the eye” locations. 

“I’d be replacing them every day,” Namjoon explained as he gave you the third tour of the store with a third set of instructions for shelving. You weren’t sure how to politely tell him that he wasn’t in the position to assume he had that much patronage daily. 

In the end, he’d left you isolated to cataloging month old shipments, boxes piled high with novels at the top of outdated best seller lists scattered in between obscure titles of obscure genres with obscure authors that you often found yourself squinting at in wonder with their unfinished tab open on the blinking monitor in front of you. Cataloging meant updating the system first so that when your second customer of the eight hour day came in, you could properly run their crossword puzzle booklet or copy of the town newspaper through the bar code scanner without having to employ the help of the tiny red calculator hidden within the contents of the desk. 

Eventually, you convinced Namjoon to let you update the website too, starting with the boxes you still had left to do and moving onto those things already existing on the shelves when a customer appeared for something new on the shelf simply because they had seen it online. Namjoon had eyed the customer like they were leaving with a third arm rather than a newly acquired how-to manual on toothpick crafts and promptly requested you do whatever that was. 

Your reorganization of the window displays had done a number in themselves, cleaning away the cobwebs to make the neatly arranged scenery, now free of any cheap decorative foliage or precipitation, visible from the sidewalk. Three different individuals had appeared with comments about such, one in question of if the newly cleaned window decals had always been there, one asking if that was the current working phone number, and the third asking if the store was under new management due to the “new changes”. 

Aside from updating the website and reorganizing his conglomeration of acquired decorations, you couldn’t get Namjoon to budge on anything else.

Especially not ordering some more romance novels. The best sellers in your short time as an employee. The genre tab you were constantly updating on the website.

You tried to mention it casually over a cup of tea one evening, your feet propped up on a wooden coffee table similar to the one you’d placed fresh flowers on in the shop. 

“Okay, former literature student,” Namjoon swung his feet off where they had been resting across from yours. The patchwork red recliner he sat in creaked as he leaned forward, white mug cupped in two hands with the rim resting on his smiling bottom lip, “...and I can’t believe I didn’t ask you this already. What are some of your favorite authors? Go.”

You hesitated. Of all the classics, the literature tailored for a specific class genre, the novels you’d exhausted class discussion after thesis on, you’d still honestly answer that easy to read, cliche romance were your favorite, especially when written by a select few authors you’d claimed to some sort of unspoken circle you trusted. 

There were things to learn in even the cheesiest of cliches, in generally the most ideal situations that were few and far between the reality you’d seen, love could and would prevail. Love was the start, the middle, and the end to the spines of worn romance novels, ones often criticized for having the same plot hidden under ten different covers plastered in warm pastels and photographs of flowers draping over bicycles and down the sides of beach side houses. 

But just because it’s ideal and not realistic doesn’t mean it shouldn’t exist in what you strive for. At least, that’s what you stood by, particularly when your pencil or your fingers moved to creatively express that very mantra in the plot of your own romance story lines. They were romance at the surface, or at least hidden underneath the flaps of your tattered and lost yellow folder. 

The tear itched at the bend of your thumb and you rubbed it as you squinted at Namjoon, pretending to be in thought. “That’s a hard question.”

“Is it?”

He’d garnered enough information about you in the last weeks to understand you were well versed, at least enough to recognize, to understand, and to adapt. Lying could work but would be virtually useless in the face of your almost stranger roommate. The laymen’s, internet speak resting in the deepest recess of your conscious cooed to you quietly. 

It’s not that deep just tell him you enjoy the occasional Nicholas Sparks novel. 

Instead, the cursed part of your conscious blurted, “Have you ever read Twilight?” 

Namjoon didn’t laugh at you but with you. “I have, actually…” His lips puckered to take in enough tea to coat is tongue, another gentle laugh shaking his shoulders, “Is this your way of saying Stephanie Meyers is your favorite author?”

“No! No, I mean...not necessarily,” You shrugged, “I enjoy the occasional cliche. Even in the easiest cliches there can be a lesson to be learned. Just with some padding. Like bumpers on a bowling lane, you know. You still make it to the pins just with some extra help.”

“Right,” He lounged again, taking the natural rock of the recliner with him before releasing his foot so it swayed his relaxed stature, “That makes sense.”

“The artistic value isn’t lost simply because it’s popular or it’s based on something popular, you know,” You glanced behind his head, to one of the various artwork pieces he had nailed throughout the apartment. This one was a canvas coated in navy birds, ones that grew sloppier in shape the smaller they grew towards one corner. “It wouldn’t be popular otherwise…”

“I don’t disagree,” Namjoon narrowed his eyes but they crinkled on the edges, “I also wouldn’t fire you if you told me the Twilight franchise was the peak of literary and cinematic history. I just would...respectfully disagree.”

“Would you fire me if I told you I write romance?”

“Is it about vampires that sparkle?”

“No.”

“Then no,” He grinned this time, “If you can’t answer your favorite author question then who inspires you when you write? Most art is modeled after that of which we’ve already consumed so I can’t imagine you’re any different.”

No thought of the yellow folder burned through the itch on your thumb as you rattled off your extensive list of ever evolving authors, ones you adored in middle school then reread in college to find new light (or some glaring darkness you missed in the naivety of your uneducated youth. See: the glitz and glamour of The Great Gatsby) within, those young adult novels of dystopian future in which you’d always wanted to teach your own university course on all the way down to the grossest cliches that had you and Namjoon wrinkling your noses. 

“They’re still wonderful,” You bargained, “In every sense of the word. Wonderfully awesome, wonderfully terrible. Refreshing to read, refreshing to pick out eyebrow raising and quite frankly glaring issues that high school teachers choose not to point out in their lessons.”

“Have you ever thought about ordering more for the store?” 

“There are plenty of popular titles in the store,” Namjoon resisted immediately. His mug of tea was empty now, nothing to divert his attention from staring directly at you. For a moment, you feared you’d imposed on something like when you’d offered to reorganize the shelves. 

Gently, you tried to express your point and correct him, “Yes, but not that’s currently popular in the last five years, or even the last decade. It would be a good selling point, at least to garner a bit more profit—”

“No.” He wasn’t harsh. Just firm. “I’m content with our current inventory.”

“However, if you would like for me to order you something to read, I would be happy to do so. You know where the catalogs are.”

That’s not the point. You sighed in the defeat of your changed window displays and online catalog update. 

“That’s okay, Namjoon. Thank you anyway, though.”

“So, what do you think?”

There were two expectant pair of eyes blinking at you, one the curator of the dish placed just beneath your nose, the other wholly hoping for your features to be unable to hide the disgust of whatever cheese, tomato, and bread contraption currently resting on the part of your bottom lip, ready for a taste. 

“I haven’t even taken a bite yet, Jin,” You laughed, testing the warmth of the sub bread against. You turned the sandwich in one hand, wincing when some of the cheese spilled out and singed at the skin of your palm. “It’s hot.” 

“It’s delicious,” He argued, dragging the bar stool closer to you. 

“It’s already on the menu,” Yoongi mumbled. 

“It’s not,” Seokjin slapped his palm on the counter, ears growing red as he fumed at his boss, “This stromboli has nacho cheese instead of mozzarella. Instantly better.”

“If it’s good, you can make it for everyone who orders it,” You eyed Yoongi as you gave it another temperature test and he smiled shyly, “The nacho cheese gets too hot...I don’t want to have to handle it.”

Tentatively, you jutted your teeth out to take a nibble off the corner of the steaming sandwich, managing to acquire a mouthful of bread, pepperoni, and of course, the seeping nacho cheese. Yoongi was right, it was scalding, but it burnt your taste buds enough to mask any horrid taste that may exist and you managed to swallow it down with a minimal wince. 

“Amazing right?”

“They can’t even speak—”

“They can’t speak because it’s so amazing,” Seokjin nudged your side while you tried to digest the burning coals currently sliding down your throat, “Right?”

“It’s not too bad,” You croaked finally, making prolonged eye contact with a viscarly annoyed Yoongi as you dragged your ice water closer and downed two, three, five gulps. “Would probably be better if it weren’t the temperature of the sun.”

“That’s not a yes—”

“Maybe, but it’s also not a no,” Seokjin happily clapped in the seat next to you, making a full rotation on the bar stool in victory before he swiped the plate from under your nose and went to take a bite for himself.

His high pitched screams muffled by the way too large bite of yeast and runny cheesy came in time with the ding of the cafe door that had Yoongi straightening and you snorting. 

Namjoon ignored the way Seokjin’s palm began to rapidly slap against the counter top as he waddled directly for you, a large cardboard box cradled to his chest as he happily chirped your name in time with the slap of his sandals against the tile. He deposited the box to the empty bar stool on your opposite side, only then allowing his gaze to deviate to a violently coughing Seokjin. 

“Is he okay?” He asked simply, that same comforting calmness etched deep in his tone. 

“Loaded question,” Yoongi grumbled. 

“He’ll be fine,” You dismissed, waving your hand over your shoulder. Seokjin coughed in outrage. You placed both hands on either side of the taped lid, tilting your head, “What do you have here?—” After a second, you perked up, “—Is it this week's shipment?”

Namjoon’s hands covered yours, soft with the vanilla pine lotion you knew he kept on the bottom shelf behind the counter in the store. Gentle thumbs nudged your appendages aside, instead tucking his nail underneath the tape and flicking across it. 

“You reviewed my final order list, right?”

You nodded, “Yeah, you were going to order some extra crossword books and replace those couple copies of encyclopedia that Marie...had an accident on…”

“Right, but—” He balled the tape when it reached the far end of the box, still holding your eye contact as he began to fold open the flaps on the box, “—I added a few more things before I sent it in.”

“Oh yeah?” You couldn’t help but grin too, “And what did you order?”

“Well, first of all…” Namjoon shuffled around, trying his best to shield the contents inside from you until he retrieved what he was looking for. An exclamation point coated his features when his fingers wrapped around the desired book, drawing it out with a giddy grin.

“Is that Gatsby?” You gaped, reaching for the paperback book in his hand. You took in the horribly refurbished cover, sighing blissfully as you looked at Namjoon. At the same time, you each breathed, “Hate Gatsby.” 

“I bought ten copies I think,” Namjoon took it back from you, flicking it back into the box like a frisbee, “If anything, we can put them to Marie’s litter box. Lead her there.” 

“I like this already. Show me more.”

“The next one I bought for you, if you want it,” He shuffled a bit longer this time, eyebrows meeting his hairline when he finally latched onto the item yet seemed to struggle a bit more with lifting this one. The veins in his arms strained, bottom lip tucking under his teeth as he threw his shoulder into it, letting the heavy hardback hit the top of the counter with an audible thud that silenced Seokjin’s moaning behind you. 

“Twilight?” You laughed, stroking your fingers over the raised text, “I can’t believe you brought yourself to write this on an order.”

“I can’t believe I did either,” Namjoon beamed, glowing in the rays of your praise, “I thought you’d like it and I wasn’t sure if you had a copy of it so…”

“My copy is in the van,” You flattened your palm to ignore the itch on the bend of your thumb, forcing the rush of emotion down past the sudden lodge in your throat, “This is a nicer copy than mine, anyway.”

“Isn’t that the book about vampires?” Yoongi deadpanned. You slid it toward him, letting him turn the heavy text over to read the soft pink cursive that curled a summary across the back cover. He eyed Namjoon, “You...ordered this?”

“I got a few copies for the shop too,” He ignored Yoongi, addressing you as he instead shoved a stapled packet of paper toward you, bits of other paper and an envelope fluttering to the top of the box in the process. “And I...consulted some of the newer best seller lists and ordered the things that sounded interesting from those. I’ll let you shelve them, if you want.”

“You haven’t read this, have you Joon?” Yoongi continued to gape at the cover, flipping it back over to stare open mouthed at the table of contents. 

“I could help you next order too,” You flipped through the list, running your index finger over the highlighted titles, “...if you like.”

“Uhh…” You heard an excessive amount of extra fluttering, peering over the top of the packet in your hand to see him ruffling at the papers and envelopes that had slipped out of his grasp when he passed you the list. You watched as he pried open the singular envelope with crooked index finger on the flap, wincing as he did so. “Yeah...yeah maybe.”

“What?” You asked gently, trying to laugh, “Is that the bill for all this fresh content?”

“Yeah—” Yoongi had stopped where he’d been rubbing at bits of nacho cheese Seokjin had spilled over the counter, watching Namjoon carefully. A smile met his lips, one that never even touched the crinkle around his eyes or the sparkling softness in his irises, “—something like that.”

“Can I tell you something?”

You paused where you’d been mid chopping vegetables, a task you’d handed off to Namjoon only for him to show sizable difficulty with. You tasked him with dishes instead, handing off each new soiled piece for him to dunk in the basin piled high in bubbles. He hesitated with his wrists hidden underneath the suddy mess, fingers holding onto the wire edges of one of the charred racks from within the oven. 

After a second, you started again, allowing the slice of metal through the onion slices under your moist fingers to fill the cramped kitchen once more. “Of course,” You glanced at him once you’d finished the row you were on, absently sweeping the pieces back and forth across the cutting board underneath a cupped palm, “What’s up?”

“I’m not very good at ordering books for the store,” He held up a palm when you tried to suppress your reaction, “I know you know this, but I’m just...acknowledging that it’s always been like this. I don’t like to think of myself as pretentious, but I suppose my ordering and stocking habits are a bit on that side.”

“In the beginning, I had a reason for it, or at least, what I convinced myself was a viable reason. I’d purchased the shop after living in the apartment above a quickly failing bakery for far too long. I wanted it to be something that thrived in this secluded little town.”

“Like a bookstore,” You nodded without any sort of teasing or malice. You were a book person, after all. You craved the homey feel of a locally owned bookstore in any crevice of the Earth, probably contributing to some twisted fate in the universe to how you ended up in one particular place in one particular line of employment after being lost on the road for so long. 

“Right, but not just any bookstore. I wanted to give the place something unique,” White bubbles gathered and slipped down the length of his knuckles when Namjoon drew his hands out of the water, letting them grip on either side of the sink as he leaned into it, “A scavenger hunt of sorts sounds appealing, right? Once you find the book in the store, there’s some sort of satisfaction to it. Especially if you don’t really know what you’re looking for and you end up stumbling upon an extensive history of stuffed animal fur.”

You wrinkled your nose, “We have that?”

“Somewhere,” Namjoon nodded gravely, cracking a smile at your indignation, “I would have no idea where it is.”

“And to an extent, that business plan works. Keep just enough popular titles to appease to the general public. Keep more obscurity to draw the crowd craving originality. Garner revenue from individuals on any spectrum of literature pretentiousness,” He shrugged, letting his shoulders roll up to his ears as his chin dropped, “It worked for maybe five months. Then the newness wore off.”

“I’ve never really been able to recover even with our normal patronage. Now that there’s appeal for business in neighboring towns, all of us have started to suffer. People would rather stay in a Hilton next to a Panera and shop at the three story Barnes and Noble than tour our locally owned amenities that provide damn near the same thing.”

“Jeongguk and Yoongi have been able to adapt, though,” Namjoon’s shoulders relaxed again, letting his hands dip down into the water to grab at the wire rack. He passed the rough edge of the sponge over the edges now exposed out of the water, soft enough that the fibers barely pulled any of the grime from the utensil. “I can’t seem to find my way out of a rut.”

“Have you tried?”

Namjoon laughed, “I ordered Twilight, didn’t I?”

“But did you order New Moon too? Or the other two books in the series? What about the DVD adaptations?” You started to dice the onion now, speaking to the tiny pieces you nudged aside with the tip of the knife, “Did you put them in alphabetical order? Or did you at least consider creating a young adult section? Or a vampire romance section? I can offer more recommendations—”

“I can’t afford to pay the bills,” Namjoon said gently. “Not...not anymore. Way before I hired you, even.”

You grew silent, letting yourself sink into the lip of the counter top. 

“I had to start using my monthly order funds to pay rent on the store. And my personal rent. And the light bill. And…” He sighed, dunking the wire rack a few times in silence to rinse it of the bubbles. 

“That’s what those envelopes were today. Notice of eviction.”

Your mouth fished, pursing at the seam of your lips and puffing your cheeks out as you pondered the terrifying thought. Never mind that this was your temporary home and temporary place of employment but this was Namjoon’s livelihood, his greatest accomplishment, his love. 

Behind convoluted marketing strategies and a quietly picky selection in what he read in his personal time, there was a man who absolutely adored the power of literature in its simplest form, tangible, physical books. You’d witnessed the way his eyes lit up when the tiny bell at the front of the store tinkled with the arrival of someone new, his long legs and eager persistence quick to beat you out from behind the counter to assist the customer, whether that be to point out a general area as to where something may be located, to recommend something of his own, or to simply offer a casual conversation over a cup of coffee he offered in a floral paper cup from the tiny room underneath the staircase. 

“So, what do we do?” 

He was puzzled only for a moment, the furrow in his eyebrow traveling upward with the smile that appeared as he dragged his hands out of the water. Massive palms dabbed to his thighs as he backed away from you, bumping into the edge of the counter on his way but he found his target, the massive stack of sliced open mail. Some ruffling with semi damp hands that splattered visible water droplets over the counter later, his pinched fingers appeared triumphant holding a mint colored envelope with a red printed logo stamped on the return address corner. 

“There’s uhm…” Namjoon’s fingers pried inside, drawing a folded piece of paper out. Through the back, you could see the same red logo, bold and in the center of the page this time. “One of the companies I order from sent this not too long ago. I don’t know if it’s a sign but it kind of seemed like a sign.”

You abandoned your chopping to accept the paper, now doused in vague water spots, from his grasp. He voiced the contents your squinted eyes began to scan. 

“Basically, if we can get sales above a certain threshold by the end of the month, I can apply for a grant worth—” He was in front of you now, reaching his index finger over to hover above a bolded monetary amount, “—that. That would give enough time for you to help me implement some of your ideas…”

“And if none of it works,” Namjoon shrugged, folding the paper back into it’s neat little pamphlet, letting it dangle to his side, “then I guess this wasn’t really meant to be.”

A small part of you envied him in that moment. Perhaps there was more than what presented itself outwardly, but Namjoon was frustratingly calm about simply giving up something he worked so hard to achieve simply because of a couple of setbacks. The yellow folder that triggered you to step off the trunk of Taehyung’s rickety travel van certainly could not relate. 

Instead, you blurted, “You want my help?”

His normal composure fractured a bit, longer pauses, hums even, stationed between stumbled words, “If you’d like to, yes, I’d love to have your help. Outside perspective is the only way I’m going to change my ways. I don’t think I could do it, not productively, by myself.”

“And of course, if you’re still around by then,” Cautious brown irises met your own, swimming in something unreadable, a guard almost, “I know you’ve said you aren’t sure when Taehyung will be back. If he does come back—”

“He’ll be back,” The skin behind your neck grew hot with how quickly you assured that, a statement mostly spoken to sate the tiny nagging part of yourself that was left lost with your entire situation as a whole. Namjoon blinked, unwavering, chin twitching just enough to nod. 

“But I’d be happy to help for as long as I’m here,” You allowed yourself to smile even if the line wobbled a bit. You resumed your chopping in silence, only long enough to finish off the vegetable underneath your palm before you were sweeping your work space clean, dusting your fingers off in the process. 

“Where should be start, boss?”

You were tasked with reorganization while Namjoon took to his computer, conjuring up flyers dedicated to those few events you’d agreed upon after exhausting a list of potential, quick ways to garner attention and profit. Aside from making the store more navigable for the average person (as well as setting aside some funds specifically to order the missing books in series), bringing people into the store seemed like an obvious answer to gaining short (or long) term interest in the store. 

An easy way to bring people into the store was to host events. 

Armed with three massive stacks of flyers in the basket on the front of Namjoon’s spare bike, you took off on an advertising run. You stopped at Yoongi’s, watching Namjoon wallpaper flyers to the glass windows outside the cafe while Yoongi looked disgruntled between the spaces in the fluttering paper yet made no attempt to remove any of them and quietly took a stack you handed him to hand out to customers as they came in. Jeongguk barely let you get the question out of your mouth, appearing with a sheet of thick, round, metallic stickers of his own design that he used to plaster the various event flyers over the front of his desk and a promise to photocopy the flyers and post them to every gaming community he knew online. 

The first event advertised was in connection with the local elementary school, parents pouring through the doors one Wednesday after school while their beaming teacher brought up the rear. You settled them in with fresh baked cookies and hot chocolate while Marie made her rounds, resisting gooey chocolate off of chubby fingers and happily deciding upon a small girl in the corner who was completely enamored with a dinosaur themed pop up book she’d discovered with Namjoon’s help. 

You’d watched quietly where he knelt next to her on the shorter shelves, one’s you’d specially arranged for the event and as a way to pinpoint the location of the children's books previously scattered aimlessly about. He’d murmured gently too her, offering books on the shelves she couldn’t quite reach until she made grabby hands at a slightly disgruntled stegosaurus when Namjoon had flipped open the first thick page. 

Hoseok, their teacher, drew you out of your fond trance. His arms were filled with educational books, ones a level between the ages he taught and that of high school, glossy pages filled with just enough text and just enough pictures to appeal to all ages. Wavy red hair parted down the middle, fluttering against shining apple cheeks as he beamed giddily at you, rainbow cartoon smiley faces in a repeated pattern on his shirt almost blinding you all the same. 

“I did some shopping while you two watched over them,” Hoseok admitted bashfully, a slight pink tinting his ears as he glanced at the book on top of his stack, a midnight blue cover with an abundance of jungle animals spilling across the surface. “I hope they weren’t too bad.”

“Not at all,” You softened, pulling your gaze away from Namjoon when the little girl proudly parked herself in his lap and began to chatter absently about the next dinosaur that popped into view, a triceratops by first glance. “I could give you a discount since they’re for the school?”

“Oh no, I couldn’t—” Hoseok’s eyes widened, tossing his fringe as an absent habit, “—I’d like to support anyway. I feel as if I don’t do that enough lately.”

“It would be no problem.”

He brushed past you to place his towering stack on top of the counter, already digging deep in the pocket of his bright purple jeans. A wad of cash was pushed across to you before you could even begin to swipe barcodes through the system. 

“Consider it a donation.”

The dinosaur popup book sold during the event along with a dozen other children’s books that Namjoon assured you were relics, books he’d forgotten were on the shelves at all let alone ones that would sell instantly upon being relocated to an easy to find vicinity (whether that be grouped or closer to the ground where two foot tall humans could scan at eye level). 

Other things started to leave too, filling the space in between scheduled events. You saw a fair amount of hand sized romance novels leave the door, ones you plopped randomly onto a singular turnstyle you assembled from multiples hunks of plastic in a dusty cardboard box in the room underneath the staircase, flowery covers with fraying spines shoved into purses and jacket pockets. Magazines started to go, new and old issues alike after you ordered them in stacks on Namjoon’s wooden table as it sat in the front window display. Series started to go as a whole, limited in quantity but at least as a whole rather than in the first and third book with the second book to be ordered from an online delivery or serviced from a nearby chain. 

You sold out of crossword puzzle books when the second event came, murder mysteries and a fair few of the popular horror authors leaving the store too when the local florist used the space to teach a beginner’s bouqet workshop. The blonde headed man, Park Jimin in all his charming giggles and devastating smile, brought in his self written gardening manual, giving Namjoon a sizable check to be able to sell them while he did his workshop. 

You had every reason to believe it wasn’t the atmosphere of the bookshop that had elderly women kissing red lipstick stains into his blushing cheeks and selling out his small stack of green pamphlets but Namjoon wasn’t one to turn away the check. 

“What do you know about daisies?” 

Jimin’s expression immediately grew amused, glancing at you from under shaggy fringe as he hunched to untie the cat covered apron pressed to his stature. He freed the knot at his spine, straightening once more as he shrugged it over his head and began to meticulously fold it. 

“A lot,” His eyebrow cocked, letting the apron fall to his now empty table, “What are you wanting to know?”

“Let’s say you were trying to grow a plant in a moving van—” You crossed your arms, “—could you do it?”

His nose wrinkled at the bridge, “With a lot of finesse, probably. But if we’re talking about a plant that’s good with traveling...succulents might be a good bet.”

The dip between your thumb and palm itched and you rubbed it at your hip, smiling, “That’s what I figured.”

Locations around the store were progressively growing blurrier each time you glanced up from the harsh lighting off the computer monitor in the shop. There was a soft glow from the moon where it reflected on the floor panels at the front of the room but it didn’t quite reach through the rows of thick shelves (you’d rearranged books, not furniture. Namjoon wouldn’t budget on layout) but otherwise, you worked in the dark, fingers working on muscle memory around the keyboard as you continued to plug in information to the online application. 

The events worked, giving the store a two month boost in sales that granted you, at the very least, a chance to save the store. It was just that, a boost, nothing that could sustain long term even with newfound organization and aggressive attempts at community engagement. Even with all that, you lacked the funds to properly distribute across all things that needed tending to, particularly the ordering that would require you to keep up with the amount of product that went out the door after the first event. 

It was a curve, one with a sharper downfall than the first. 

Creaking on the staircase alerted you to Namjoon’s presence, phone flashlight outlined Marie where she sat cradled in the curve of his elbow. He placed her on the floor when he reached the bottom, allowing him to properly balance the basket curled on his opposite forearm. 

“...alright?” He murmured. The wicker container was slid to the counter top next to you as he slid onto the free stool. 

You hummed, flicking your index finger up and down the scroll to send the typed text whirring by. “Just about done,” You placed your chin on your shoulder, gaze cutting away from his gentle smile to nod at the basket, “What do you have there?”

“Oh!” Namjoon thumbed at the lid, digging inside to present you with two plastic wrapped sandwiches. He placed those aside, returning with a metal thermos next, followed by two paper plates and forks you recognized from the utensil drawer in the apartment. “I packed us a little paperwork picnic.”

You dragged one of the sandwiches closer, careful in picking apart the wrap to discover sliced tomato, floppy lettuce, and careful strips of bacon stuck between two fresh buns. Lemonade was dunked into two plastic cups by the careful hands of Namjoon, his smile growing when you shot him an inquisitive glance. 

“I said packed for a reason,” He teased, nudging you when you pinched at one of the ranch drenched piece of greenery, “Jin insisted I take them when I was picking up lunch earlier.”

“Was the picnic part your idea?” You accepted a glass from him, drawing it to your bottom lip without taking a sip. 

His gaze remained unwavering as his hand dipped back inside the basket, tripping it across the glass counter top a bit but managing to retrieve the checkered strip of fabric at the bottom of the basket in the end. It fluttered from its folded position when he lifted it higher, showing that it wasn’t a full checkered blanket but instead a strip of fabric, sheared at the edges and appearing to be a leftover from something sewn.  It was just big enough for each of your glasses to sit with a comfortable distance from each other, something Namjoon completely by gently drawing your cup out of your grasp and settling it next to his. 

“Maybe,” He watched as you continued to squint at the end of the sandwich, “...that means the food is safe to eat. Promise.”

You let yourself take a sizable bite, chewing thoughtfully through the crunchy bacon. You swallowed, serious into the next nibble you tested, “You have more trust in Seokjin than I do.”

It was quiet as the two of you began to dig into your meals, the first of any sizable food you’d had the entire day as a result of being cooped up in a mountain of tax papers, profit spreadsheets, generic online bell curve generators, and the daunting application that hung on the thread of an accidental click to send its incompleteness spiraling into the cloud of uncertainty for the store. 

Your typing resumed in silence too, scrolling rather as you simply scanned over the answers you’d provided for the longer answers, open ended questions reminiscent of essay portions of school applications. The words by themselves registered but the combination of such into sentences didn’t comprehend in your mind, subconscious elsewhere as the pixels flashed through your blurred peripheral by means of your own flicking fingertip. 

“So what’s your story?”

The screen stalled at your command, shoulders sagging. Softly, you wiggled the mouse to click out of the screen at hand, bringing up the smiling koala cartoon whose name you’d learned was Koya. “Is this another interview?”

Namjoon’s fingers warmed your wrist, pulling your hand toward him until your stool spun on its own accord. He continued to hold onto your wrist, thumb traveling upward to brush across your knuckles. 

“No,” His voice grew warm, quiet for the ambiance created in the quaint shop near the midnight hour, “I only know a fraction of your story, the rising action, maybe? I’m not too sure. I don’t have enough information to even begin to plug it into the imaginary literary equation.”

“You graduated with a literature degree and you have questionable yet defendable taste in books read in your free time,” Namjoon squeezed your skin, “What else am I missing?”

“I write sometimes,” The words came so quick that your conscious had to pause to gather your next thought, trailing your gaze over Namjoon’s head. You squinted, blurring the darkness of the children’s shelves a bit more as you corrected, “I’m a writer.”

“I had a book deal right out of graduation, something I’d worked ages on. Revised three different times to appease to different agents, none of which ended up signing me. Self publishing was an option I just saw the other side. Heard too many pitches that made me a bit too hopeful.”

“And then finally I found someone who wanted to take me on. Who assured me that I could make big waves within their agency. Said they’d never quite seen anything like my writing style, something that didn’t quite fit in my declared genres,” You laughed bitterly, letting your hand drop from Namjoon’s to rub across your lap, “Said they’d never quite heard anyone as headstrong about my particular beliefs either. Said it was a good thing, made me memorable.”

“I got all the way to their corporate office in the city to sign off on the rights. I even went to the effort to type up my notes and my drafts and whatever else I could find—” You offered a smile, “—I prefer handwriting—” sighing, you spread your fingers apart, pressing at the bend in your thumb, “—Had it all stapled and put together in a nice folder.”

“Then they told me they couldn’t sign me. I don’t remember the exact reason. I think I stopped listening to them after my potential agent was called out of the room for a phone meeting with another prospective client.”

A shaky inhale kept the mist of tears that involuntarily gathered in your waterline at bay, gaze darting to your wringing fingers, “Have you ever played that jelly bean game? The one where half the blue ones taste like raspberry and the other taste like disinfectant wipes or something? It kind of felt like that. Going in expecting one thing and leaving with the exact opposite.”

“I didn’t know I could feel that lost,” You admitted out loud, further elaborating, “I had no plan other than that. It seemed like all my other friends were graduating with a perfect bridge into their new lives,” You let yourself smile, “...even Taehyung. He was always planning on traveling after graduation.”

“He never really understood what I was going through. I didn’t expect him to. Like I said, he had his own plans, one that hadn’t included me until a week or two before they were to begin. I don’t blame him for not understanding how to handle me. And in a way...I feel guilty for placing that kind of responsibility on him. He didn’t need to feel obligated to care for me but he did and he always had and for that I’m sorry.”

“I guess I thought doing something impulsive would give me a purpose again. At the very least, maybe it’d renew my purpose. Maybe I’d want to start a whole new book. Maybe I’d want to try self publishing if I forgot about the horrors I endured through the other process,” A tear appeared now, slipping down the bridge of your nose as your lips wrinkled into a shriveled petal and you shook your head, letting your palms lift and fall back into your lap with an audible slap, “Nothing.”

You startled when something scuffed on the floor, gaze focusing on what you could see in front of you once more. Namjoon had shuffled closer, bringing his stool with him until his knees bumped into yours, close enough for the warmth of his palm to cup your cheek this time soft in using the curve of his thumb to collect the stream of tears as they began to fall more freely. 

“Can I tell you something?” You murmured, waiting until his silent gaze met yours. 

“This gave me a purpose again. You gave me a purpose,” You grinned, some of the excess tears spreading over your tongue, “At first it was just wanting to figure out why this strange man with a cat wanted to arrange his bookstore like that.” 

“Old dog new tricks,” Namjoon insisted, voice gentle for the first time since his initial question. 

You let both your hands cup his wrist, holding his hand against your face, “You reminded me of my initial purpose. What I grew so far from...that there’s so much warmth in literature and books and the written word.”

“There’s always worth in spreading that type of love to the community,” Your lips curled in the edge, not quite reaching your teeth, “It’d be a shame if you didn’t get to continue to do so.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” The intimacy expanded outward, encasing your statures in a safety bubble when his forehead touched yours, holding you there by means of his hand on your cheek and your fingers around his forearm. He waited until he no longer felt new splashes of tears underneath his diligent thumb before he spoke again. 

“Have you ever thought about trying again?” 

Namjoon was so close, the warmth bleeding off his dark irises giving your uncertain heart a squeeze. It didn’t cut into your confusion, “Try what?”

“To get another book deal,” He straightened just enough to pick at your opposite cheek with his free hand, placing stray hairs aside in a meticulously soft way, “Just how far have I inspired you, honey?”

You swatted at him, squawking until he held up a hand in surrender. 

“I haven’t, not with...that book anyway. Truthfully, I trashed everything but my handwritten notes that day. I think I even impulsively deleted the files or if they’re still out there I wouldn’t know where to find them.”

“I suppose my next question as to if I can read anything by you is moot now.”

“I’m sure there’s some embarrassing poems out there on my undergraduate literary magazine website…”

Namjoon cocked an eyebrow, “That’s a scavenger hunt I’m willing to have.”

“And it’s one I’m willing to help you with—” You giggled, managing to catch his hands when they went to do grabby hands around your body at the computer mouse, “—after we submit this paperwork.” 

“Ah, right,” Warm hands landed on your hips, spinning you to face the monitor while a heavy chin settled on your shoulder, “The whole save my passion thing. I suppose the poems can wait.”

You wrote a poem in undergraduate about a divorce as told by the family cat, the detached perspective of an animal who has no conscious understanding of anything in the human world, yet is still watching his life crash before his eyes. He’s not getting food as often. Everyone is always yelling. Suddenly, dad isn’t there anymore. His tiny human, the child of the family, comes and goes in a confusing schedule. But he still has to be a cat.

The script on that section of the university page barely functioned any longer, drawing your poem into mismatched fonts with spacing that surely wasn’t what you’d originally intended. The flit of your gaze over the up and down scroll of the page fit the same detached sense that the cat in the story had. 

Life still went on around you as the crippling rejection email for the store grant hovered in the next tab over from your poem. Namjoon’s absent restocking of the shelves at the front of the store proved that. 

You clicked out of your poem, letting the etched red logo at the top of the email cover your vision once more as you sighed. A bitter tap of your index finger later and the image was hidden, just leaving the wall of text that was just several different ways to say you didn’t receive the grant. You’d opened all their resource links, those hovering in the next browser over while Koya watched on behind them. 

None of those would work, either. You didn’t buy from their partner supplier. Your store square footage wasn’t enough. You didn’t specialize in one specific genre. You didn’t offer library-like services alongside the business aspect. 

One tab had the generic question plugged into a search engine, easy ways to make money. You felt like you were applying for school again, scrounging for scholarship opportunities on survey websites that did nothing but implore armies of viruses into your hard drive. Some of those resources still sat in unorganized folders in your email, ones you mindlessly scrolled past with your cheek scrunched into your curled fist, fingernails pressing crescents into your palm the harder you squeezed. 

University emails changed from graduation subject lines to assignment subject lines to personal sprinkled within, exchanges with members of group projects or monthly subscriber updates from clubs you participated in. 

Junk emails continued to pour in on the daily even if your email was virtually untouched since you’d sat out on the road which meant the folder continued to dump an unprecedented amount of data into your deleted file never to be cleaned out where you used to diligently empty it. You did that with a clear conscience, a small victory in your hazy consciousness as your finger misjudged and you found your drafts opening.

There was a singular email, the body text left blank and the subject line half typed. Manuscript...A tiny paper clip indicated that something was attached. 

For a second, you feared you’d overloaded Namjoon’s system with the file size until the PDF materialized across the screen, blank at first until the last of the near eighty pages downloaded and you found yourself face to face with the typed contents of your lost yellow folder. 

Your laughter drew Namjoon from his task, his silhouette shadowing over what was already dark in the store, another late night venture between the two of you when the news of rejection had the both of you searching for something to do that wasn’t nothing. He was smiling at first until he caught a sheen on your cheeks, laughter slowly materializing into sobs before he could properly reach you. 

He uttered your name, hip catching on the edge of the counter as he lunged for you yet reeled back at the glaring title on the screen. The initial hug his instinct wished to provide stalled, hands instead landing on your shoulders as he squeezed. 

“What’s this?”

“I think this thing is haunting me,” You groaned miserably, “Either that or your computer itself is haunted.”

Namjoon kept a firm grip on you as he shook the mouse, minimizing the tab and all the others until Koya’s smiling face spread across the screen. Gentle pressure turned you, hands leaving to spread palm up, fingers wiggling. 

Softly, Namjoon encouraged, “Let’s go to bed.” 

Marie’s meow managed to piece some of the scrambled pieces together once your slow advancements at the lead of Namjoon’s hand paused, leaving you to realize this isn’t your room. 

“This is your room,” You audibly expressed, flinching away from one of the two foot tall character’s he had curled in the doorway. 

He let go of your hand to allow you to make your decision, assuring that his searching gaze ducked to find your own. “Is that okay?”

Your whimper welcomed the stretch of one of his hoodies across your torso, snug to the fresh coffee ground and fresh rain scent that clung to his duvet as long fingers tucked it around your body. He settled in next to you, just close enough to stroke at your cheek with his thumb and the flat of his mouth. 

“Hey Namjoon?” 

He shifted closer, curled knees encasing yours as his fingertips began to stroke down the back of your head. “Yeah, love?”

“Do you want to try again?” You regarded him with just your eyes, mouth and nose hidden underneath the hem of his sheets. “To keep the store?”

His lips lingered on your forehead this time, cradling the back of your head until the shaking of your shoulders subsided. The tip of his nose pulled back to brush where yours would be underneath the blanket, nodding so the skin brushed accidentally a second time. 

“What else is there to do?”

You found a warm bagel and a handwritten note on a napkin in place of Namjoon’s stature when you woke. Raw eyes found it difficult to decipher the shapes he’d quickly scrawled with a blunt tipped marker but somehow you made out store. You abandoned the plated bagel and headed for the staircase.

“If that’s not Marie I don’t want you down here,” A laughing voice ordered your descend when you’d barely made it to the fourth stair. 

“Why?”

“Did you not read my note?”

“It said that you were working in the store.”

“And that you’re not allowed down here yet.”

You continued your descent a few slow stairs at a time, “I won’t look.”

Namjoon snorted, an image you saw when you already broke your promise to find him seated at the counter completely swamped in crafting materials. Strips of construction paper, jagged cardboard, stacks of printer paper still half hanging out of their packages. 

“What are you doing? DIY decorations?”

He looked up where he was furiously spinning a shard of pipe cleaner, “I thought you said you wouldn’t look.”

“Oops,” You shrugged, bare feet chilled all the way up your legs to where your sleep shorts began as you shuffled toward him, squinting at the mass chaos he’d created. Your gaze trailed upward from the browns and purples and metal utensils, starting to offer a generic question once more until you found your manuscript still open on the computer monitor. “What are you…Namjoon what are you doing?”

He grunted into the last spin of his fingers, securing the last, electric blue pipe cleaner in the poorly jabed hole through the top of the object he held in whitening knuckles. An audible breath slipped through his lips, hanging ajar for a second before his lips drew upward into a smile. 

“I, uhm,” Namjoon thrust the object toward you, “I made you something.”

It appeared to be made of three separate pieces of cardboard, a front and back cover with a sizable strip bent to accommodate either, acting as a mock spine. Purple construction paper was glued over the brown substance, dobs of glue staining some of the edges but flat otherwise. A trio of electric blue pipe cleaners sat in neatly spaced, tightly spun balls on the far left side, binding the ball of pages instead that had already begun to bend at the cardboard covers.  The same messy handwriting that covered the napkin now forgotten in Namjoon’s bed graced the front, the title of the novel larger than your name. The back held similar penmanship, the synopsis you’d provided to various companies scrawled just above a tiny, attempted portrait of you. 

“I know you said you got rid of the other one but if you ever wanted to try again, you know, to get it published—” Namjoon smiled, tucking his arms between his legs shyly as he leaned toward you, “—now you have a potential mock up to show them, too.”

You kissed him with your palm pressed into the pair of scissors he’d dropped when he heard you descend down the stairs, body leaned awkwardly over the counter until he stood to intercept you. His palm held onto the side of your neck while you clutched the book to your chest, breathing into the open seam of his lips. 

“Thank you so much.”

“I’d make you ten more copies if you wanted me to.”

Your laughter stopped just a hair short of kissing him again when there was a knocking at the front door, gentle at first and then frantic when you jumped away from Namjoon. Through the spaces in the shelves, you could see Jeongguk, his over exaggerated waving growing smaller as you and Namjoon approached. 

“Was I…” Jeongguk’s gaze flashed to Namjoon’s flushed cheeks when you pulled the door open, “Was I interrupting something?”

Namjoon did an astounding job of holding in his irritation, “What do you need, Guk?”

“Oh!” He perked up again, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. A sheet of paper was thrust against your chest, “Special delivery. You need to look at it now.”

“What—”

“No time to explain,” Jeongguk shot you a thumbs up, taking backward steps that had him stumbling over pieces of gravel on the sidewalk as he went to dash in the opposite direction of the hotel, “See you later!”

Namjoon went for the sheet of stickers while you came to inspect the tiny piece of notebook paper balanced on top of it. 

“Are those tiny aloe plants?” He continued to awe, pointing at the characters on the sheet. 

Hey dove, good news! I found your folder. If you want it uhm...look up. I guess. 

Taehyung stood across the street, hair entirely longer than how’d you’d left him, adorned in a matching baggy grey sweatsuit with your yellow folder clutched against his chest. 

He braced for the impact of your arms throwing themselves around his neck yet still managed to stumble back two or three paces in a fit of laughter as you clung to him. “Hey there,” He greeted, nose in your hair as he managed to properly weave his arms around your waist and squeeze. “How’ve you been?”

The initial joy seized in your heart as you pulled away to look at him, softening, “I’m not going to go back with you.”

Taehyung’s grin grew wider, all geometric edges and bouncing fringe as he nodded. A gentle understanding, leaning in closer to murmur, “I didn’t think you would, kid, not from the second you stepped out of the van—” After a second, he said a bit louder, “—and besides. That’s not what I asked you.”

You hummed thoughtfully, glancing over your shoulder to where Namjoon continued to regard the interaction fondly. You smiled, turning back to Taehyung. 

“Have you had breakfast yet?”

He shook his head, gentle in sliding his hands down your arms before taking your hands, shaking them gently between your bodies, “I’m not going to stay much longer,” One hand left you to take the folder he’d shoved underneath his arm, “Just wanted to bring you this.”

You took it gently, rubbing thoughtfully at the old rip in the spine. A few more had joined it from whatever turmoil it had endured in the last months. “Where did you find it?”

“I’d put it underneath your seat when I cleaned. To keep it safe,” Taehyung’s smile was regretful and amused all the same, “Forgot I put it there…”

“Are your succulents okay?”

“Mhm…” His hand cupped yours where you held the folder, “You still haven’t answered me. Are you okay?”

Another involuntary glance behind you to Namjoon who offered you a thumbs up this time. “Yeah,” You nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, Taehyung, I’m great.”

Taehyung’s smile was equally as fond, nodding once to your rapid ones, “I’m glad…” He trailed off, patting the folder in your grasp, “Well I, uhm, just came to return that to you so—”

“Can you keep it?”

“What?” 

“Can you keep it safe for me?” You pressed the folder back against his chest, “I don’t think I need it anymore.”

“Yeah, yeah I can…” Taehyung gradually pulled it closer until it was hugged against his chest, taking a step backward, “Yeah. I’ll keep it safe.” He made prolonged eye contact with you, smiling, “I’ll see you?”

“Of course,” You touched his chest, “And hey, Tae?”

“Hmm?”

You patted him and then your folder. 

“Don’t get lost out there.”

[gingerwritess]

Ok so first of all just read your latest installment of predating idiots and OMG IM IN LOVE, as always when I read your fics!😍 you were asking for ideas and my brain spit out a random piece of crap, feel free to hate it.... maybe Loki/Laing has another patient, that requires a LOT of magic to heal, and he uses so much effort in that his illusion starts to fade and reader sees his scars again and patches him up I guess? Angsty, soft, want to trust each other but afraid? Feel free to hate it😂

GASP i love it !!! thank you for sending this in! (combined with a request for “fingertips trailing over a bare shoulder blade” from @grufflepuff !)

part 15 FINALLY of predating idiots, featuring much idiocy, lots of cluelessness, and slow progression towards understanding

warning: includes mentions of Loki’s past abuse, descriptions of injuries, blood

—   —   —   —

Robert Laing, as you are slowly finding out, has gathered quite the reputation among Stark employees.

Scattered whispers of saving a life, curing a disease, even reattaching limbs float among the break rooms and bathroom sinks, following you everywhere you try to escape.

Whether any of that is true or just a rumour started by the “doctor” himself, you don’t care.

Loki is…confusing. Not someone you should be worrying about when rebuilding your life is looking up, your professional life seems to be doing well, and someone even left a gift card for the bakery you frequent on your desk.

You’re guessing Marcus, one of your guards. The one who holds the doors for you—“not because you can’t,” he’d assured you, “just because I can.”

Your romantic life can’t possibly be on the rise, too, when everything else is going so well, right??

The rumours about you have started circulating, too.

Popular opinion decided that you and Dr. Laing never broke up in the first place, so you find yourself back in that fake little relationship—without having talked to the other member in nearly a month.

That does make it easier, though.

Acting is much simpler done solo.

Until, of course, someone comes up and asks you how skydiving over Paris was last weekend and you realise that oh yeah, this fake-relationship has to go two ways.

One of these days, one of you will screw this up.

You just weren’t ready for it to be today, and you always figured it’d be you who screws it up.

—

“I’ve made a mistake.”

You’ve heard that before—and in that case, you were the mistake he was referring to.

“I don’t care,” you reply, not bothering to look up from your laptop.

“Please.”

Figures that he chooses now to come taunt you.

“I’m sick of you, Loki, I’m not joking. Leave.”

All you hear in response is a heavy thud.

“Get out,” you repeat, slamming your hands on the desk as you stand. “I swear to god, I don’t want to hear—oh, my god.”

Fallen to his hands and knees, Loki’s covered in blood.

“What the hell—”

It’s not Loki, but it’s not Laing, either.

You slam the door shut and drop to your knees by his side. “What happened to you?”

“Messed up,” he grunts, eyes squeezed shut. “Can’t go to anyone else.”

Yeah, clearly; he’s half-and-half, right now, if anyone else saw him, there’s no denying who he is. Dark eyebrows furrow in pain over Loki’s blue-green eyes, but his hair is as short as Laing’s—though still as dark as Loki’s.

If he weren’t bleeding through his lab coat, you’d surely make fun of him for it…and desperately ignore how short, curly hair really suits him.

“How do you—uh, what do you want me to do?”

He winces, smashing a fist against the floor with a grunt of pain. “I need a cloth,” he says hoarsely. “Extra shirt, towel, something. Stop the blood.”

Nodding quickly, you hurry to the nearest bathroom and grab a handful of paper towels—they’ll have to do.

For a split-second you pause at the door. Déja vu sends your mind reeling—you’ve been in this situation before.

Loki has crawled to you before, bruised and bloodied, and here he is again.

“If you’re looking for gratitude, mortal, look elsewhere.”

You hear a grating cough from behind the door and steel yourself.

Compassion doesn’t come with gratitude.

You’ve already almost killed him twice now; the least you could do is not make it thrice.

“I need you to sit in a chair,” you say when you slip back through the door, shutting it behind you. “Come on, I’ll help you up.”

Setting the paper towels on the desk, you crouch beside his slumped form and sling his arm over your shoulders, heaving him as best you can into one of the chairs in front of your desk.

His weight falls limp onto your support—like a dead weight. Slumped and defeated.

The bleeding is coming from his back, no doubt from the cuts you saw all those days ago.

“Loki?”

Another grunt.

“I’m going to help you.” You crouch in front of him to meet his pained gaze. “But. You cannot threaten me, wipe my memory, kill me, or anything else to undermine my help after this.”

Slumped forward and gripping his knees to his chest, his eyes remain fixed on yours, silent.

“Is that clear?” Placing a tentative hand on his shoulder, you raise an eyebrow at him. “I don’t trust you, I need to hear you say it.”

He grits his teeth, but croaks out a quiet “I understand” all the same.

“Great,” you smile dryly. “I’m gonna have to touch you, too, I hope that’s okay.”

All you get is a quick nod.

“Can you take your shirt off?”

Coat caked with blood, you take it from him and gingerly dump it in the trash before helping him carefully peel the soaked button-up from his torso.

“No questions,” he chokes, immediately going back to hugging his knees to his chest.

You can’t bring yourself to respond.

This is worse than you could’ve imagined.

“What happened?”

Ignoring his request completely, you quickly whet some of the paper towels and set to work wiping the blood off any unopened patches of skin, as few as there are.

His whole body jerks with each touch, every gentle press on a cut, and he ignores your question just the same.

“Loki,” you say again. “Just tell me what happened this time.”

Something awful, clearly, but surely not as bad as whatever made these scars in the first place. Blood trickles from each of the countless reopened wounds, and he just sits there, silently shaking as if the pain he must be feeling actually feels like nothing at all.

Your heart pounds, and you fear you can’t be soft enough for how badly he’s broken.

“Please, tell me something.”

“I made a mistake.” His voice cracks and wavers, like it might die altogether. “As usual.”

“Did you…blow your cover?”

“Nearly.”

“What happened?”

You know there’s a first aid kit in the bottom drawer of your desk, so you hurry to retrieve it when the blood flow slows, and Loki quietly answers.

“I tried to take another patient. Shrapnel lodged behind the ear, nothing I can’t handle. But people were watching, I–I had too many illusions, I couldn’t—”

“Loki,” you interrupt with a wince, the couple bandages from the kit in hand. “Get rid of all the illusions you’re using.”

“What?”

“I, uh, don’t know how your illusions work.” You tap the back of his head. “But your hair is still short, and that means you’ve still got one on. We should be treating you, just you. No illusions, then maybe you can actually heal.”

You hold your breath—he’ll either do it, or that’ll be the straw to break the camel’s back…

“No questions,” comes the quiet reply.

“No promises.”

He’s silent as the last bits of his energy wash over him.

“Loki.”

“I said no questions.”

Black and blue and purple and yellowed, he’s pale, bruised and lashed to pieces, slouched in front of your desk with his head on his knees, his spine protruding much too prominently from his skeletal frame.

Minutes from death, manifested in a human form.

“Oh, my god,” is all you can manage. You can’t wrap the bandages fast enough, shaking hands holding gauze to the cuts and wrapping the bandages tight around his chest and stomach. “Oh, my god.”

Securing the last bandage, you stumble away from him, still staring in horror at the barely alive form struggling to breathe.

“Don’t look,” he rasps.

You don’t want to, in all honesty, but you round his chair and crouch in front of him, cautiously laying a hand on his arm. He flinches as expected, but slowly lifts his head to look at you.

This isn’t a god.

“Oh, my god.”

“Stop,” he hisses, shoving your hand off his arm. “Stop pitying me, stop, stop it—”

“Shut up,” you order, still gaping at the state of his face, and surprisingly, he does.

Bloody, dotted wounds line his dry, cracked lips, his eyes sunken and bloodshot, lined with yellowed flesh that seems as if it’s been blistered from too much heat. You stare, shamelessly.

“Are you quite done—”

“No.”

Stuck in a horrified trance, you lift a hand towards his face and carefully, gently trace your fingertips along the wounds lining his mouth.

Those ones are peculiar. Small and precise, matched perfectly along the upper lip and under the lower.

Your mind jumps to the worst and you try not to entertain the possibility of needles, but Loki gives a grim laugh.

“Had to silence the silvertongue somehow.”

Your stomach churns just at the thought.

“Who did this to you?”

“That’s not of any importance.”

“This isn’t okay,” you say, a finger moving helplessly to trace down his nose, bruised and looking as though it’s been broken a couple times. “Oh, my god, Loki, you have to tell someone.”

He shakes his head, that same grim smile on his grotesque face. “People only listen to what they want to hear.”

“I–I think they’ll want to hear about this!” You gesture incredulously at, well, all of him. “Obviously someone was using you, tell Thor.”

“No. They wanted an origin story, so I gave them one.”

“But it’s a lie,” you plead, pulling yourself to unsteady feet.

“God of lies.” He points a bony finger at his chest.

Caught up in the shock of his horribly beaten state, you don’t catch the confession.

“Well, y-you need help,” you decide, voice shaky. Your hand ghosts along his shoulder, bringing a wince to the god when you reach his bruised neck. “Can I take you to a hospital?”

“Absolutely not.” Closing his eyes, he takes a couple deep, steadying breaths and the wounds start to fade, some stitching themselves shut. “Please, move your hand.”

You do, quickly pulling your hand back from his neck.

“At least tell me what’s going on.”

“I messed up,” he slowly replies, still focused with eyes closed. “Bit off more than I could stomach.”

“Learning your limits is good,” you offer quietly.

He gives a dry, breathy laugh, hands starting to shake as his skin returns to a normal, healthy colour. “I’m the only one keeping myself alive, at the moment,” he explains. “Between trying to heal, keeping up a facade, and now trying to treat your wounded kind, I’m losing strength.”

You hesitate, unsure as to why he would be admitting that to you.

“Losing the double was a relief.” He’s still talking, eyes shut and a trembling hand brushing over the the needlepoint wounds lining his mouth. “I couldn’t have kept it up much longer anyways.”

“Can’t you talk to Thor?”

“No, I—”

“Why not?”

He shakes his head. “I can’t go back to Asgard.”

“But Thor will understand,” you press again, meeting his gaze when he finally opens his eyes. “He’s your brother, all you have to do is explain what happened to you…don’t laugh.”

Loki just keeps laughing, shaking his head and leaning back in his chair. Cold and humourless, but now falsely stronger.

“He’s not my brother.”

“What do you mean?” You laugh, too, just once and puzzled. “Of course he’s your brother, he talks about you all the time and calls you his brother—”

“I am not of the house of Odin,” Loki whispers, and a sick smile works it’s way onto his face. “If you knew what I am, you would have killed me when I asked you to.”

You steel yourself, gaze hardening against his own.

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not doing this again.”

His eyebrow lifts—you glare back, no backing down this time.

“Doing…what, exactly?”

“Anything that has to do with you,” you snap.

It’s just more illusions, you know, but he gets so cocky and mean and cold when the facade is up. Always after you finish patching him up and send him back on his way.

The god smiles.

“I’m sick of you taking advantage of me,” you quickly blurt before he can say anything. “A–and I don’t get why you won’t just help yourself by talking to someone.”

“No one wants to hear my story,” he says simply. “Trust me.”

“You’re wrong.”

One of the bandages slips out of place, the end of it falling onto his thigh.

With a sigh, you trudge behind him again, grab the bandage, and start winding it around him, sure to make it more secure this time. “Kindness isn’t some myth,” you huff, tugging tighter than may be necessary. “Some people actually care about others and actually want to help other people on their journeys, but the universe hates you, hm?”

Loki doesn’t respond anything more than a grunt when you yank the bandage tight against one of the cuts.

“I get it though.” The bandage secure, your hands come to a stop just below his neck, staring at one of the scars streaking along his shoulder blade. “It’s a lot easier to feel sorry for yourself than to ask for help.”

“Don’t belittle me.”

You try not to roll your eyes. All that, and that’s how he interprets it.

“Well. If you ever get around to swallowing your pride, just know that there’s people willing to help you.”

Your gaze drops from the scar to his shoulder blade, half covered with a bandage but still adding a lovely dip to the planes of his battered back.

Without thinking, you touch him one more time.

“People like you?” He asks sharply, tensing under your touch.

Your fingers trail ever so softly, barely there to begin with, along the edge of his shoulder blade.

“Yeah.”

―   ―   ―   ―

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[sillyrabbit81]

Her Heavy Cross

Summary: Three years after tragedy hits, Lana she decides to start dating again. She meets Will through a dating app and they begin an online romance. After months of constant requests, Lana relents and agrees to meet and go on an irl date with Will. But is Will who he says he is? Lana is quickly pulled into an intense relationship forcing her to confront her tragic past. Will Lana face it or will she close her heart forever?

Pairing: OMC x OFC

Word Count: approx 3.6k

Warnings: smut, swearing, Dom vibes, dirty talk

Authors Note: The story started as a Henry Cavill fanfiction but I changed it to be an original character, but shades of Henry are still there. Hope you enjoy the story and thanks for reading.

Part 14 Part 16

Part 15

After lunch, Liam took me on a tour of his house. We skipped the ground floor as I had already seen pretty much everything.

The first floor was a complete mystery to me. First, Liam showed me his study. It had two desks; on one, Liam had a fancy-looking PC, the other had a laptop and scripts and other paperwork scattered around. It had a large built-in bookcase with only a few books in it, most of them mine. I frowned at this. For an avid reader, he had a small collection. There was also a tiny bathroom, a guest bedroom which Liam says sometimes Ryan stays in.

The last room was a cinema room, all painted black with three rows of reclining chairs set on raised platforms with a projector screen. "This is fantastic," I said. There were cupboards, also black to store discs. When I opened them, I saw Liam's movie collection was also surprisingly bare. "For someone in the film industry, you don't have a lot of movies."

"I do, but most of them are back in London. It's the same thing with all my books and half my wardrobe. I don't know how long I'll be here. If the show is a success and gets picked up for another series, I might ship some of it here."

I let his words sink in. I don't know why, but it never really occurred to me that he may pick up and leave in six months. I felt myself close up and shut down. Regret started to set in. I tried to ignore it and tell myself to cross that bridge when the time comes. I forced a smile as I closed the cupboards and said to Liam, "What's next?"

We went up to the second floor. Liam's bedroom was there with another two bedrooms and a sitting room. The final floor was where the real master bedroom was. It had the gorgeous bathroom we were in last night and a huge bedroom that took up nearly the whole space. It had an even bigger wardrobe than Liam's, split in two with distinct areas for each partner. The bedroom had its own lounge area, and the whole room was arranged like a hotel suite complete with en-suite balcony and city views. It was exceptional. I was so blown away by the house, mansion really, that for a while, I forgot to worry about the future.

"Why didn't you use this as your bedroom? It's amazing."

Liam shrugged. "I did when I first moved in. But it was too big for just me. I felt lonely up here, and it was that bit harder for Cole to come and see me. I almost moved down to the first-floor bedroom, but it doesn't have a dressing room, so I went to the one I'm in now. What do you think?"

I was leaning on the balcony railing, looking towards the city. The trees were a colourful mix of green, red and gold. A few were starting to lose their leaves. It was so pretty. I felt Liam come up behind me and wrap his arms around me. He put his chin on my shoulder, and we both looked out towards the city. "Of the house? It's amazing. I don't know how else to describe it. I mean, it's a bit much for me. I'd cry if I had to clean it. But I assume you have cleaners?" Liam nodded. "Yeah, I wouldn't live in a place this big without a cleaner."

"I'm glad you like it. I want you to be comfortable when you come over."

I interlaced my fingers with his and held them against my belly. "I'm definitely comfortable right now." We stood there for a while and relaxed into each other. Thoughts of Liam leaving reared it's ugly head a few times, but I ignored it. Instead, I focused on now. All I could do was enjoy the time I had with Liam and make the best of it.

Soon the wind started to pick up, and I grew cold. Liam took me back inside.

"I've got to work out for a bit," Liam said as we took the stairs down. "Do you think you can keep yourself occupied for an hour or so?"

"I could join you if you want? I didn't go to the gym yesterday so I could do with some exercise."

"Yeah, ok, let do it."

Liam went into his dressing room, and I changed in his room. I put on a pair of white and black ankle grazer tights and a white sports bra. I felt good in it and knew I looked good too. I went over to the chair to put my shoes and socks on and caught Liam looking through the door.

He was dressed already in shorts and a singlet. Guys always seem to get dressed so quickly. It takes me ages to dress unless I'm in a rush. Liam leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching me. I ignored him as I did my shoes up.

"You look good in that." He said. I caught myself straightening my back, and a warm tingle flowed through me. I liked his little compliments.

"Thanks," I said, getting up. I put my hair in a ponytail, deliberately sticking my chest out as I did.

"Is that what you normally wear to the gym?"

"I usually wear a singlet over the top."

"But not today?" A smile spread over his face.

I smiled and said airily, "Nope, not today."

"I know what you're doing, Sweetheart." He walked past me, patting my bottom as he did. I tried to look innocent. "Come on. Let's go."

Liam put some music on and got started. Cole heard the music and came in, plopping himself on his mat in the corner. I blocked both of them out as much as I could and focused on the music. I was not going to get caught looking at Liam. I was going to make him look at me.

I got on the bike to do a bit of cardio. After warming up, I spent 10 minutes doing some interval training and worked up a decent sweat. I went over to the barbell, removed several weights, muttering "fucking hero" under my breath. I started my weights with a few sets of deadlifts. I noticed Liam in the corner of my eye with a kettlebell. He was sweaty too and looked amazing doing his lifts, but I pulled my eyes away. He was watching me. Good. I tried hard to keep the smirk off my face, but it was bloody difficult.

I focussed on my next exercise. I changed the weight again for the overhead press. These were hard for me, as my upper body was weaker than my lower body. I did these as quickly as possible because I hated them and only did them now because I knew they would drive Liam to distraction.

I did some goblet squats with a dumbbell before moving to my favourite, the weighted hip thrust. I got the barbell again, sat with my back against a bench, and brought the barbell to my hips. I planted my feet, and exhaling, I leaned back onto the bench, squeezing my glutes until my upper body and hips are straight. Then I lowered and exhaled again and repeated the exercise. When I had finished the set, I lowered myself to the floor and rested.

"Do you do that at the gym?" Liam asked.

I didn't look at him, knowing I would smile if I did. "Yeah. Why? Am I doing it wrong?" I knew full well I was doing it right.

"No, your form is lovely," I ordered myself not to blush. Liam paused and asked, "Are there men at your gym?" Got him.

"Yeah, it's usually 75% men."

"Lucky bastards." I looked at him and giggled. I wanted to smack myself. I was trying to be sexy, not a fucking child. He was sitting on a bench press. His legs were on either side of the bench, and his elbows rested on his knees. He was still sweating, his curls plastered to his forehead. His arms glistened. I wanted him to fuck me so badly.

Composing myself, I said. "I have another set to do."

"I'm finished." He said, "Go ahead. I'll wait."

I got back into position and repeated the set. When I finished, I lowered myself back to the floor. Liam asked. "Done yet?" Liam was standing now. He had moved closer and had his hands on his hips.

"One more." I was excited. My heart rate was raised, not just from the exercise.

Liam growled impatiently.

I started my last set, and my body was trembling. I didn't know if I could do the full set. I was too excited, too turned on. Liam entered my field of vision, watching me as I worked. I wasn't going to be able to do it with him watching. I closed my eyes, found my focus, and continued.

As I finished and rolled the barbell away, Liam lifted it and put it away. I laid down on my back and stretched out my muscles.

Liam stood over me. "You did that on purpose." It wasn't a question.

Still trying to play innocent, I said, "I don't know what you're talking about. I was just working out."

"Get up."

"I'm stretching."

"You're done. Get up."

I smiled at him and put my hand out. "Help me up?"

He grasped my hand and lifted me. He pulled me close and kissed me hard. "You're a fucking tease." He said. He didn't let me go. He held me tighter, his hand resting on my arse.

I started to protest that I didn't know what he was talking about, but he spanked me and said. "Don't deny it." He said, lifting me and wrapping my legs around his waist. "You know you were trying to get me hard." I could feel him against me. It had worked. "Since it worked, you can deal with it." His voice had taken on the gravelly tone he used when he was turned-on. It thrilled me. I put my arms around Liam's neck. Kissing me again, he walked out of the room. His lips tasted salty as I kissed him back.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked.

"I'm giving you what you want. I'm going to fuck you."

"I didn't say that I wanted that," I said. Oh, but I did want that.

"You didn't have to," Liam said. He pushed me against the wall in the elevator as he pressed the button. "You know what to say if you want me to stop." He looked me in the eyes, "Anytime you want me to stop, I will. Don't hesitate or do anything you don't want to." I nodded to show him I understood. "Good."

When the lift opened, he took me to the bathroom we had used last night. I chuckled when I saw his clothes were still in a pile on the floor. He had let the water out of the bath and replaced my robe.

Liam took me over to the shower. "Shoes off," he said, and I took my shoes and socks off while he did the same. "Let your hair down." I pulled the band out and shook my hair until the curls fell around my shoulders. "Take your pants off." I lowered my tights slowly and stepped out of them. Liam did the same I could see how hard he was now. He continued to tell me to undress as he did the same until we both stood, our bodies bare.

He was beautiful standing there naked and hard. His arms looked more impressive than usual because of his work out. I wanted to touch him. I stepped closer to him and put my hand on his bicep. I felt my way up his arm, over his shoulder and across his collarbone. I stood on my toes to kiss his neck while I felt his chest. I reached my hands around his back and pressed myself against him. "Get in," he said. "Hurry."

I let him go and got into the shower. The temperature was perfect, and I let the water run all over me. I ran my hands through my hair to make sure it was all wet before turning around and facing Liam. He turned me around until I met the wall and used his body to shepherd me until my whole body was against it.

The tiles were cold, instantly making my nipples grow hard and tingly, sending ripples of pleasure down to my sex. My arms were pulled behind my back, elbows bent and forearms next to each other. Liam's body pushed into me, holding them there. In this position, I was helpless, and at his will, he could do what he wanted. It excited me. My whole centre throbbed. I wanted him. He was taking too long.

Liam's knees forced my legs apart, and I could feel my slick arousal on my thighs. He tilted my hips so my bottom jutted out. I thought of how I must look, arse out, legs apart, arms behind my back with my breasts and face pushed into the wall, his huge body covering mine. He leaned his head on the tiles next to mine, and his teeth nipped at my ear. I shivered in pleasure, in desperation and need.

I cried out in shock and relief as I felt Liam's fingers reaching around and parting my slit. "Fuck," he growled into my ear. "You feel so fucking good." He found my clit and played with me.

I cried out. I was so aroused I was almost too sensitive for his touch to feel good. I tried to pull away, but Liam's hold was firm. His fingers followed my every movement, not willing to let go until their mission was complete. He kissed and bit my neck and shoulders, adding more sensations to my already overwhelmed body. I didn't think I'd be able to take it.

Then it felt good, better than good, and I was able to stay still and let him have me. Liam's fingers danced over me. My cries quickened, and my body felt tight. I knew my climax was fast approaching.

Liam knew too. "Are you going to cum, Lana?" He stopped kissing me and watched my face. I couldn't say anything. I was too strung out, too close. I nodded as best I could. Liam put his hand into my hair and pulled my head back.

"After you cum I'm going to stick my cock into your tight wet pussy and fuck you until I cum. Is that what you wanted, Lana? Is that what you wanted when you got dressed in your skin-tight clothes? When you wore that bra that pushed your perky little tits together? When you lifted those weights, and I had to watch you thrust your arse and hips around? Is this what you wanted?" I tied to say yes, but instead, I came undone.

Liam kissed me, his mouth consuming me, his tongue owning my mouth as little aftershocks rippled through me. He took what little breath I had, and I was left gasping. The sound of the shower was suddenly thunderous in my ears as my senses returned. The stream of water was hot against my cooling skin, but it felt good. I was still gasping when I felt Liam's cock at my entrance. He stood up straight, releasing my hair and arms. Although they ached, I put my arms against the wall to brace for what I knew was to come.

His hands steadied my hips as his cock parted me, opening me up to him. I heard him groan as he entered me. I was tight from my orgasm, but I was so wet and relaxed he slid in quickly. His size stretched me until I was full, and he had sheathed himself completely. He wasted no time and immediately ploughed into me. Each thrust was rough, almost reaching the point of painful, but always just shy. I pushed back into him, arching my back further to give his movements more room.

His fingers dug deep into my hips as he forced them back to meet his. Each push seemed to elicit a deep exhale from Liam's throat, a growl that grew more shallow with each moment. I heard him bellow as his hands reached up for my shoulders. He pulled my shoulders down as he pushed so hard into me, I thought I would split in two. He held me there for a moment as he let go into me, and I cried out, unsure if it hurt or felt like heaven. I felt him release inside me, pulling me down while he pushed into me. I almost cried no more, but it would have been a lie because the hurt was too sweet.

Liam's head lulled onto my back as he released my shoulders and regained his breath. He lifted his head to turn me around. With my back against the tiles, he once more leaned into me, this time just to hold me, his head buried in my neck. I held him to me, wanting his comfort, and he kissed my neck softly, moving up to my face and kissing my lips.

He was smiling as he brushed my hair off my face. Then he moved me under the water. He found the body wash, couldn't find a sponge or anything so he just used his hands to wash me. He ran his hands all over my body, and it felt heavenly. He rubbed my shoulders, massaging deep into me, his thumbs moving so deeply they almost hurt. Any tension I had left fell away, and I felt light and free. He gave himself a quick wash before he stepped out and brought me a robe and slipped one on himself.

"Finally, you decide to cover up," I said as I watched him use a towel to dry his hair. His curls were a cute little mess on his head almost fluffing up like a duckling.

"Yeah, righto mate." He said, using my slang back at me.

I laughed. "Seems I'll make an Aussie out of you yet."

"Pull your head in," Liam said, complete with a halfway decent accent.

"What the hell? I don't think I've told you that one!"

Liam smiled and kissed me on the nose. "That one I learned from Boyd."

"Who's Boyd?"

"Boyd McCarthy. He is going to play my best friend. He's helped me out with a few phrases. However, I don't entirely trust him. He tried to get me to believe in drop bears."

"I like him already," I said as I gathered my clothes.

"Well, you'll meet him on Thursday."

"I still don't know what to wear to that."

Liam had his clothes, and we went downstairs. "I can take you shopping tomorrow if you'd like."

"I wouldn't even know where to start."

"Usually, high-end fashion boutiques or department stores."

I thought for a minute. We had arrived in the bedroom, and Liam went into his dressing room.

"Ok. I think a department store. They will have everything I need, shoes and a bag. We won't have to go to a million places."

"If you want to go to a few boutiques as well, I don't mind. We can take as long as you want."

I shook my head. "I don't like clothes shopping. I order most of my stuff online. I'd rather spend a day online shopping than dealing with crowds in shopping centres. I'm only agreeing to go into a shop because I have no idea what's in fashion or if I enough time to get the right dress online." I looked at my bag, "Hey Liam, what are we doing for dinner? Are we staying in?"

"What does it look like?" Liam came out in his tracksuit pants.

"Fair enough, tracky dacks it is."

Part 16

[loudsuitlover]

Doctor Harry XIII. El Pájaro Azul

A/N: This is smut, filfthy and meaningful because that’s a thing; and some angst but some fluff too. 

Thanks for all the support and the time you put not only on my story but also on talking to me, you guys are awesome! 

INDIE’S POV

Something stirs me awake. I don’t know when I fell asleep but through sleepy eyes I can see Harry tucking me into bed. He’s left my laptop on my desk too and the only light on is the one coming from his phone screen on the bedside table.

“What are you doing?” I croak.

“Tucking you into bed, Sleeping Beauty. Fell asleep on your Brad Pitt” he jokes “seems like you don’t like him that much to me.”

I smile at his silliness and feel him press a chaste kiss on my cheek.

“Don’t leave.” I let my sleepy mind take over.

“I won’t. I’m just not sleepy yet.”

“Well, cuddle with me.” I pout with my eyes closed and feel him getting into bed next to me.

I rest my head on his chest and let him invade my senses. His scent, the sound of his heartbeat, his warmth…

“Harry”

“Yes.”

“Next time we could watch Ad Astra.”

“Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“I like that movie. You know Roy McBride actually reminds me of me.”  

“Okay, I guess this is the kind of silly things you say when you’re falling asleep.”

“He says ´so many times in my life I screwed up: I've talked when I should've listened, I've been harsh when I should've been tender´ and I’ve done that a lot.”

I feel his hands holding me. I like being this close to him.

“I am focused on the essentials, to the exclusion of all else. I'm unsure of the future but I'm not concerned. I will rely on those closest to me, and I will share their burdens, as they share mine. I will live and I will love.”

I fall asleep.

I’m cold. I shimmy to warm myself up and notice my quilt covers me up to my forehead. I finally open my eyes and realize I’m alone in my bed. Checking the time on my phone, I realize it’s four am. I remember Harry telling me he wasn’t going to leave before I fell asleep but he might have if he didn’t manage to sleep himself.

I can finally breathe through my nose without a single bother but my mouth is dry, probably because of the salty popcorn. I get up from my bed decided on drinking from the tap on the bathroom but when I make my way back towards my bed, my heart almost stops beating.

Harry’s sitting on one of the chairs on my sitting room holding his head on his hands and his elbows on his knees. He almost looks like a statue, a very sad one too, like he just lost a beloved one and it breaks my heart to see him like that.

“Are you okay?”

Harry jumps on his seat and lifts his head. I’ve scared him.

“Go back to bed.”

But I walk towards him wrapping my arms around my body. When I’m close enough and he looks up at me. I can see his eyes bloodshot and tired. He hasn’t managed to sleep.

“Leave me alone, Indie. Go back to bed.”

He’s getting mad. I can tell by the tone of his voice, harsh despite the low volume, and his tensed shoulders.

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

I confront him but still take a seat on the chair in front of him. I hug my knees to my chest to fight the cold and when I rest my temple on my knees, I see his laptop closed on the table.

When I look back at him, he’s staring at me with a hard superior gesture, as if he didn’t need me nor want me here, but I can still see the desperation or even the pain in his eyes and that’s enough for me to stay. I don’t know why he’s seems so anxious or why it’s so hard for him to sleep but I guess I don’t need to.

I think about what he told me before dinner, about him wanting me to open up and tell him things and I open my mouth to tell him about my own nightmares as I bring my hand to his hair so I can remove it from his forehead.

“Can you just leave me the fuck alone?”

I freeze on the spot.

“I’ve said it once but I’ll say it again. No one talks to me like that, much less at my own home so either you stop or you get out.”

He sighs and drops his head on his hands again, tangling his fingers on his hair and contributing to the messy look.

“Sorry, Indie… It’s just…” I can hear how tired he is. “Shit, I’m sorry, baby.”

It must be terrible, to be tired and not to be able to sleep and my heart aches for him.

“You can’t sleep?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” His tone gets harsh again but he regrets it the second his eyes meet mine. He looks like a lost puppy. “I left the fucking pills at home.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Are you a living diazepam?”

I dodge his curt behaviour. I think I deserve it but I also think this might help him understand me. We’re curt when we’re not good.

Standing up from my chair, I slowly walk towards him and feel his surprised eyes study me as I place my hands on his shoulders and push his torso so that he’s opened to me instead of closing off. His lips part and I know he’s as lost as I am. I feel his eyes calmly study me, they roam my body up and down from my neck to my feet and then back up. He takes more time in some parts than in others, but in general, it’s a complete examination of my body still in my winter pyjamas.

I can’t quite read him but it scares me that I have this effect on him. He already seems to be more calmed and the only thing I did was stand before him motionless as if I was just another piece of furniture on my sitting room. He takes a deep breath and when our eyes meet, I know what that gaze means, I know what he wants. It’s the same eyes that melt me.

With a confidence I didn’t know I have and without really knowing why, maybe to satisfy the desire I can read on him, I cup his cheek with one hand and my pulse relaxes when, not only does he not pull away, but leans into my touch. He closes his eyes and sighs and when they open again I see something in them I’m scared to describe. Not that I would know how.

Feeling brave after his acceptance, I cup his other cheek and seeping in between his legs, I lean in to kiss him. I do it like I’ve never done it before; with a softness I didn’t know I had for him, letting the shape of his lips tattoo mine. There’s no tongue, no bites, no wetness. Just a kiss, a simple kiss, yet deep but calm and reciprocated. It’s the first time we kiss like this and even though it’s literally the most superficial kiss we’ve shared for it stays on the lips, somehow it flaps around the pit of my stomach and speeds up my heartbeat.

When we pull apart, I don’t know what to do with myself so I just stare at him not knowing what that was and I don’t know whether I am curious or embarrassed sut I try to read him. Maybe if I find out what he’s feeling I can understand what I’m feeling too.

“I don’t deserve you.”

I frown. Why would he ever say something like that? I told him nasty things last night, and even though I don’t think my opinion is that important, for all I know that must be the reason he’s staying up. I don’t tell him nice things, I don’t think that’s what he needs from me right now and instead I straddle him and press my lips against his again.

The mood has completely change again. This kiss is hungry and desperate and we both are gasping and fighting for air as his hands squeeze the back of my thighs. His tongue pushes inside my mouth but this time I don’t let him have control. I bite his bottom lip hard as a way of letting him know and he moans on my mouth. I don’t know why I want to bite him but I just can’t get enough of him.

“Baby, you’re gonna make me bleed.” He groans against my mouth.

He’s right, if I don’t stop now I just might so I pull away from his mouth and unfold a spate of gentle kisses along his jawline and down his neck. I lick a stripe of his tight, soft skin from the crook of his neck to the spot below his ear as if I could take his concerns away with my mouth and feel him gasping over me. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I’ve never wanted someone like this before but it’s like I need to be closer to him, to have him in any way I can and I can never get enough.

His hands caress my body under my sweater with a gentle touch but I know he’s going to let me be in control now. I take this opportunity to get drunk on him and to learn his body like he seems to know mine. My hands caress his bare thighs behind my own as I keep kissing every inch of his skin on his neck and upper chest. I love how hot he is and how I can feel his muscles with my lips.

I kiss every freckle and lick the ink of his tattoos and feel myself getting wetter just by watching the soft hair on his chest. He’s so sexy it’s ridiculous. I want to touch myself so badly, my lips clench out of their own accord as I just drink him in but he’s so perfect and so warm and he’s here in all his glory just for me.

I get off from his lap and his green eyes shoot me a hint of panic but his lips part and his breathing gets worked up when I sit on my knees between his legs. I want to suck him off so much and it surprises me that the idea of having a dick in my mouth can be so enticing. I don’t know why I’m feeling like this but I’ve never been more turned on in my life and it doesn’t really make much sense to me because objectively, what do I get from sucking him off?

He's so quiet and I can’t read the way he’s looking at me. If I didn’t know any better I’d think he’s scared of me but when my eyes look down at his crotch, my breath catches in my throat when I see how hard he is for me. I lick my lips, my mouth is getting dry.

I bring my hand to his harden length and am surprised at my own confidence as I start pampering him through his boxers while my trail of kisses guide my hungry mouth to his arousal. I look up into his eyes as my fingers tangle with the hem of his boxers on either side of his hips, silently asking for his permission to put them down and I love the way he looks with lips parted and eyes wide opened as he lifts his hips for me to undress him.

My eyes still widen at his perfect erection. It’s everything I think about when I think about sex. Healthy and hard and wet and blood red. I wrap my hand around the base of his manhood and kiss his skin before I lick my way to the top. I look up at him and am gratified with a imagine of Harry biting his bottom lip, his chest wildly inflating and deflating every time he takes a breath.

I caress his length with a warm hand a few times before really holding him from the base and licking him like a kitten would lick an ice cream. I keep the eye contact and almost laugh when I remember what Olivia guessed about me. This is turning me on more than it should, I’m sure.

I wrap my mouth around his length and every time I bow my head I get him deeper and deeper, moisturising him with my hot saliva until I fill my throat with his tight, hot, throbbing length. Watching him I understand the thrill he gets every time he does this for me. It’s delightful to see the other person’s reaction.

Harry’s gasps, moans and grunts seduce and claim me as he fills my mouth. My sole purpose is keeping his sex as moisturise as possible as my hand massages the soft pearls crowning the baseline. I relax my jaw and try to keep my teeth to myself as he slips inside my mouth once and again, in and out, forth and back. My bowing is aided with his gentle thrusts but his intrusion only arouses me even more. His hand reaches out for my head and he whispers something I miss. I’m completely consumed by the way he sounds inside me.

He pulls from my hair and I supress my moans until I can’t hold them in anymore and let out a long throaty moan over him. He growls and curses and his fingers, tangled in my hair, slow my bows down.

“Go slower, baby.” He pleads. “I’m gonna cum otherwise.”

Isn’t that what this is all about? With a popping sound, I get him out of my mouth and admire how shinny he is with my own saliva covering his slick skin. It surprises me that it doesn’t look disgusting to me. Moreover, the thought of him, this wet, stretching my tight walls is driving me crazy. I suck his balls into my mouth as I pump him.

“Shit.”

I can tell he’s holding back again. I want to confront him about that because I don’t like when he holds back with me. He’s had me hard before and only picturing him fucking my mouth without any inhibitions, holding my head as he intrudes my throat in and out, brutally, choking me has me dripping down my thighs.

I start devouring him faster, sucking him inside my mouth and letting my tongue lick his precum as he grunts and pulls from my hair. A thought flashes through my mind, I want to see him and so I look up at him from behind my eyelashes and I see his jaw clenching and he frowns.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum.”

I only suck him harder, bobbing my head frantically as I help my mouth with my hand in the part I can’t get inside and within seconds I feel hot, creamy spurts of his cum hitting my throat. I swallow it instantly for it shot deep enough for me not to have a choice and I feel my pulse down my lower lips as I lick my own lips and sit on my bottom, watching his chest go up and down in a frenzy whilst he calms down.

I’m out of breath too and my walls are tighter than ever because I can’t seem to relax them and I feel like I have my own fluids all over my inner thighs. I don’t know in what perverted way I’m looking at him but the way his eyes twinkle tells me he knows.

Very calmly and without saying a word, as if I had not just sucked him off, he offers me his hand and pulls me up from the floor and then he stands up from his chair so that he’s taller than me again.

I look up into the green of his eyes and he just stares at me for the longest time and there’s not a trace of a smile on his face but somehow he doesn’t seem serious either. I don’t know how to explain it. He seems… Intense, I guess that’s the only thing I can tell. His eyes never leave mine as he pulls from the hem of my pyjama pants with one hand and the other sticks to my belly, snaking down underneath my underwear until he touches the place I want him the most. He lets out a nervous giggle when he finds out how wet I am but I am so turned on I don’t even have it in me to feel embarrassed. He chooses not to torture me as he presses three fingers against my clit and starts fondling me with just the right pressure and my eyes roll to the back of my head as I moan out loud for him.

It's like the intense, serious Harry that let me have him in my mouth just minutes ago is suddenly gone and I can’t say I miss him when this cheerful, careless Harry is smiling at me. My hips start lifting from the table he pushed me at and they find his hand on their own accord, amusing him.

I gape and try to hold his gaze fighting my own eyelids and when I’m afraid my legs are going to fail me and I’m going to fall, I cling onto his bare shoulders with my hands and he rests his forehead on mine. Intense Harry is back. Our breaths mix together between our parted lips and as much as I want to see him my eyelids cover my eyes and I don’t fight them, feeling him is enough. When two of his fingers slid inside me while his thumb still massages my clit, it takes him less than a minute to have me arching my back and screaming.

His hand stays pressed against my dripping core as he kisses my opened mouth trying to give back some of the calm he took from me and he holds my low back with his other hand pressing my body to his. He tenderly bites down my plump bottom lip and pulls from it until it slips from his white teeth.

I think something just disappeared. I feel like he saw me naked for the first time and I’m still wearing all my clothes.

I pull away from him. Not in a rush way or even in a bad one, but I’m overwhelmed. I close the bathroom door behind me and rest my open hands on the marble sink and stare at myself in the mirror. It’s happening again. I need to lie down and put an order to my running thoughts but right now all I can do is cry.

It surprises me that he gives me this minute to myself so quietly and when I open the door, after having washed my face and remove my dripping underwear, I find him still sitting down on the chair I found him at first but now he’s got his sweater on. I open a drawer and get fresh undies on before I go look for him.

“Come here.” I tell him.

He sighs and gives me a look as if saying a blowjob is still not diazepam. He opens his mouth to protest but I don’t let him.

“Come on” I insist “let me help you.”

“Are you going to tire me out with sex?” He smiles.

“No, you idiot.”

He shrugs feigning disappointment before he follows me inside my room and watches me as I get under the blankets holding them up for him.

“Lie down on your stomach.”

He stands very still, cautiously watching me as if I was some sort of dangerous animal, but after some hesitation he chooses to trust me and does what he’s told. He’s watching me as I lean over his body and pull the cover up his bottom before I slip my hand under his sweater and start drawing figures with my nails on his back.

I don’t know if this will relax him as much as it relaxes me but this never fails to calm me down and get me sleepy. I think everybody likes these fingertip caresses. He can’t be that different to the rest of us. Plus, he’s wasted, he’ll fall asleep sooner or later.

After a couple of minutes, he suddenly sits up and it saddens me that he put up with my pampering for so little time but I try to supress my smile when I realize he’s just taking off his sweater so I have better access to his skin. I don’t want him to think I’m only doing this for him, I like touching him just as much as he likes to be touched, not just on the place that makes him a man.

He doesn’t take his eyes off him and he’s the most serious he’s been all night. I want to ask him what’s troubling him but I just cried myself a few minutes ago, who am I to judge him? I feel his muscles relax under my fingers and it’s so nice to caress him like this, he’s so soft it’s pleasurable to touch.

I take this moment of silence to try and unravel my own messy thoughts. I feel terrible for doing this to Dylan and I am scared shitless for doing this to myself but the truth is I care about Harry more than I dare to admit. I don’t want him to be sad or worried, not because that makes things bad for myself but because I just don’t want him to suffer.

He's so quiet and still I have to look up at him to check whether he’s asleep but his eyes are opened and still studying me.

“What’s on your mind?” I whisper.

“Nothing nice.”

I frown, but this time it’s not out of anger but out of concern. I guess he could have asked me the same thing and the answer would have been the same.

“Is it because of something I said to you?”

He doesn’t answer but that’s all the answer I need. It surprises me that my opinion can give him such a headache. I didn’t know whatever I could think about him was so important to him. He didn’t strike me like the kind of person who would care about what the rest of people thought of him what with all the times he’s tried to convinced me that I shouldn’t care about what people thought about us, and how naturally he just says whatever is on his mind and all that.

“Listen, Harry, I was mad and I’m such a bitch, you gotta know this. When I’m mad I say these things I don’t even mean just because-”

“It’s not about what you said before dinner.”

That surprises me.

“Then what is it?”

“Do you remember when I told you to stop beating yourself?”

I remember that night perfectly fine. That was the night he had his anxiety thing and I went home with him. That was also the night this whole thing really started.

“And every time I’ve told you to just let go and enjoy life?”

I nod. I also remember when he told me there was not enough Indie on my heart and how many times he’s pointed at the lack of life in me, knowingly or not. I swallow.

“Well that’s something that happens to me too and a lot more often than you think.” He smiles as if he knew perfectly fine what I thought of him and also how wrong I am. “I don’t know if you remember but before you fell asleep you started reciting these Roy McBride’s lines and it just got me thinking about a lot of things.”

I instantly blush. That I recited what? Nobody even knows how I secretly feel about Roy McBride and how identified I felt with some of the things he said during the movie. Oh, God, I hope I didn’t tell him that.

“About what things?”

Our voices are low even if no one can hear us.

“My life.” He starts as if I should have known better. “My thesis really did open so many doors for me but then I kind of just started working like that was all that mattered because somehow it was.” He pauses and his green eyes give me a look I don’t understand. “I got myself crazy busy with work so that I didn’t have to think about how… I had nothing else to… Worry about.”

I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before but I don’t like it. It’s like someone punched me on the stomach and I want to cry and tell him he never can say those words again but he’s opening up to me and I bet telling me this is not easy on him so I won’t shush him and make him feel as if his feelings are wrong. Yet this is breaking my heart.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love my job and I love actually knowing who my patients are and hearing them out and giving them the time they deserve but… Sometimes I do worry that’s not enough and when you said all that shit to me about relying on those closest to you and sharing their burdens and letting them share yours and living and loving I just… I don’t know how long it’s been since I don’t do that.”

My fingers stop their movement on his back. I’ve been so unfair to him. I had no idea he had all these cloudy thoughts on his mind and that the reason he couldn’t sleep was because at night he sets them free like a snake. That has me thinking. Does he have a burden too? Is he afraid of sharing that too? Does he feel as lonely as I do?

I don’t know exactly from where I’m getting the strength is taking me to stay out of this and focus on him. I guess I’ve become so good at tiptoeing over my own feelings without getting in that I don’t even have to think about it so as to do it. It just comes natural to me.

“Have you never had like a turning point in your life? Where you had to reconsider what you were doing and if it was what you wanted or not?”

I watch my own fingers dancing over his back and nothing happens I don’t know how long for. Nobody says anything and nobody moves so I wonder if he even heard me but when I look up at his eyes, I feel like my throat is going to close and I’ll choke on my own woe. Crystal tears blurry his eyes and I want nothing more but for them to never spill out. It’s affecting me enormously to see him like this but it’s just too vulnerable, too close, and I can’t do nothing to take that away from him. I have no idea what my words have brought to his mind but he’s just passing it all on me. I hate that my own eyes fill with tears. God, this is not about me.

I don’t know what to do so I just wrap my arms around his shoulders and press him against my chest and he hugs me too. If he had done this to me, if he had made me talk until I ended up bursting my own protection bubble and crying, I would never forgive him so all of a sudden I feel so terribly guilty I want to scratch my own face until I bleed.

“I’m so sorry, Harry” I whisper on his ear as I hug him tight “Forget it, forget what I said and sleep, love.”

He slowly pulls away from me so he can rest his head on his pillow and closes his eyes and thank God the tears don’t roll down his cheeks, but I can see them on the inner corner of his eye next to his nose.

My fingers continue their voyage across his skin and I’d pay to have that frown removed from his beautiful face. I comb his hair out of his forehead praying to God he won’t pull away from me. To my relief, he doesn’t react to my touch and lets me pulls his hair away from his troubled face. We don’t normally do this, this cuddling in a non-sexual way, but I guess we don’t normally cry to each other either.

I let my head fall on my own arm and keep caressing his back until I fall asleep. I hope he falls asleep too.

[the-genesis-caveat]

i’ve been listening to way too many creepypastas.

@irrelevant-proxy-bitch as promised, my creepypasta sona/oc origin story. hopefully it meets the standards, heh

Genesis Caveat Origin

or, How I Became a Proxy

That thing is watching me again.

I first noticed it after a particularly boring day of school. I hadn’t paid attention in most of my classes, instead opting to scroll through Tumblr, mess around on Discord, and listen to Creepypasta readings on Youtube. I’m probably failing most of my classes at this point. I can’t bring myself to care. I can’t bring myself to care about much of anything these days. Fiction is the only thing that piques my interest, those made-up worlds are so much more entertaining than the boring one I’m stuck living in. That’s probably why I like writing so much, I can create and destroy whole worlds with no consequence to me, I can control everything and nothing, and it can be as entertaining as I want it to be.

I’m getting off-track. Sorry.

I’d been ignored all day, as per usual, so when I was walking home and felt someone watching me, I was confused and more than a little curious. I normally walk at a fairly quick pace, but I slowed my steps a little when I felt I was being watched. I turned to look behind me, but no one was there. The sidewalk was empty. Actually, the whole street was empty, which is what caused my anxiety to spike. There were no people, no cars, even the storefronts looked empty. I turned back forward and picked up my pace again, walking quickly all the way home. It wasn’t until I’d reached my front door that I realized the feeling of that stare had vanished the instant I’d turned around.

Since then, I’ve felt that stare every time I walk home from school.

After the first day, I didn’t bother looking back. Something told me I wouldn’t be able to see anyone if I did. I was more than a bit creeped out by the whole thing. Why was someone spying on me? How long had they been watching me before I noticed? I was half-convinced I’d been singled out because I’m a textbook wallflower- no one at school would know if I went missing, and they definitely wouldn’t care. If someone snatched me while I was on my way to school, my parents wouldn’t find out until I was late getting home, and by then their frantic calls to the school and police wouldn’t do a thing- I’d probably be long gone.

I guess I was right about that part, heh. Just not for the reasons I thought.

. . .

I’m getting ahead of myself. Where were we? Ah, right.

It’s the seventh day of me being stared at as I’m walking home from school. For the past week, caution won out over curiosity, and instead of trying to spot whoever’s stalking me, I’ve just gotten home as fast as I can. I also made a habit of texting my parents when I leave school- they know how long it’s supposed to take me to get home, so if I get kidnapped they’ll know sooner. Same as when I head to school in the mornings, because I’ve been feeling the gaze on me then too.

I think part of me always knew it wasn’t human.

Shit, sorry. Focus.

Anyway, walking home. Seventh day in a row. Blah blah blah. Only this time, my curiosity outweighed my caution. Maybe I was just so damn bored of the life I had, that I’d do anything to mix things up. Actually, I’m sure that’s what it was. Suffice to say, as I walked down the eerily empty street, this time I slowed my steps instead of speeding them up. Then I slowly turned my head to look behind me. And saw it. The thing that was stalking me. I only caught half a second’s glance before it vanished, but that was enough. The details flashed in my mind. Tall, freakishly so. Black suit, torn sleeves. Something like tentacles raised up behind it. And the face- no face. At least not that my mind allowed me to see.

Then it vanished.

I spun back forwards and sprinted the rest of the way home.

The minute I got home I locked myself in my bedroom, drawing the curtains closed and booting up my laptop. A barely comprehensible entry in the Google search bar was autocorrected in seconds, and with a shaking hand, I moved the mouse to click on the images tab. Photoshopped pictures, fanart, and blurry photos stared back at me.

“I knew it.”

Like I mentioned at the start of this narration, I listen to a lot of creepypasta readings on Youtube. So I’m familiar with some of the stories. Laughing Jack. Jeff the Killer. Lost Silver. So many others. And of course, the one that started it all.

Slenderman.

“Holy fuck.”

I was being stalked by Slenderman. Why? And why hadn’t he killed me? I needed answers. Luckily, the internet is a magnificent place. I curled up in my swivel chair and started typing away, searching up everything I could about Slenderman and his proxies. Even the stuff I already knew, I read or listened to again. I took in as much information as possible. It’s said that knowledge is power, and for some things, the more you know, the more danger you’re in. But in this case, well. I’d seen him. He knew I’d seen him. What did I have to lose?

The next time I look at my clock, it’s nearly five in the morning. I’d done about all the research my brain could handle, even with my hyperfixations running at full throttle. More info probably wouldn’t matter anyway.

I’d made my decision, my plan.

Now, to execute it.

I empty my backpack of school supplies and pulled out a Sharpie. Lowering the felt tip to the fabric on the inside of the backpack, I let out a slow breath. With things like this, power always came from belief, at least that’s what the stories told me. I’d seen him, I knew it was real, it was all real. Now that I knew that, anything was possible. The line between fiction and reality is blurring.

As an author, it’s my job to break it.

I scribble a phrase on the inside of the backpack and capped the sharpie. Then I reach over to one of the books I’d stacked in the ‘bring with’ pile and drop it in.

The book hit the bottom of the bag and vanished.

I grin and reach in, hand passing through a cool sort of veil. I feel around, grabbing the book, and pull it out. It worked. It worked! I giggle, flapping my free hand in excitement. Pocket dimension backpack, success!! I start piling the books into it, all the stories I will carry with me. Then my sketchbooks and drawing supplies. My laptop, chargers, wallet, phone, anything I think I might potentially need. Even some of the food and drinks I’d snuck into my room. My blankets and pillow. Some clothes I’d grown attached too. Hell, let’s bring my stuffed animals and collection of keepsakes too, why not? It can all fit! I empty my shelf of little knick-knacks into the backpack. Nearly everything that I can lift in my room has gone into that pack.

Now… to wait.

7am. I make my move.

I stand in front of the mirror in my room, looking myself over. I’m wearing an outfit I wear almost every day. Grey jacket with a red upside-down heart on the chest, grey shorts with red on the edges, boots, a long red scarf, and a pair of fingerless gloves. The only difference is that now, all my clothes have been altered by my newly discovered ability. I’m calling it “author powers” because that’s the closest I can get to properly explaining it. Now, my entire ensemble is fireproof, waterproof, and much harder to cut through that ordinary cloth. My boots are much more comfortable and molded to my feet. Everything fits just right.

Oh, one more thing. I pick up the blue-light glasses I’d left on my desk. I don’t even have to write on them to alter them, but it’s a fun little gimmick so I might just keep doing it. A couple lines on the glasses, and they’re suddenly much more useful. They’ll function as sunglasses now too, as well as a night vision and heat-seeking mode. And they’ll stay on my face without falling off. I push the glasses up my nose and look back into the mirror.

I guess the function wasn’t the only thing I altered. My ability has a lot to do with intentions.

Instead of glasses, I’m wearing a black mask with turquoise lenses. The mask only covers the upper half of my face. But that’s not the only thing that’s changed. Instead of my hair being the usual dirty-blonde and down to my shoulders, it’s pink, shorter and sorta spiked up- at least that’s the best way to describe it. Not spiked, that’s too sharp. But I can’t find another word right now, so we’ll stick with it. It was a transformation I hadn’t anticipated, but one that I’m sure to keep. I grin, showing teeth sharper than normal.

“This is gonna be fun.”

I hear someone in the kitchen. My dad, getting ready for the day. It’s Saturday, so he doesn’t have work. We don’t have a foster kid at the moment, so mom will be sleeping in. And my sister is still asleep in her bedroom. Perfect.

I raise a hand, seeing the black claws that now extend from the ends of my gloves. I’d been wondering how I’d get to a knife, but I guess now I won’t need one. I tighten the straps of my backpack and step out of my bedroom.

“Heh. Time to raise hell.”

~

Six days later. Thirteen days since this all started.

It took me for-fucking-ever to find the mansion. Even longer to get there with the burden I’m dragging along. But here I am. It looms over me, giving off the same creepy vibe I got from my stalker. I know he’s there, and he knows I’m here. Someone will answer the door soon, I don’t even have to knock.

The smell of blood isn’t as bad as I thought. I’m glad I made my clothes stain-proof, I’d hate to have to throw away my gloves. As I’m waiting, I tap my foot idly and inspect my fingers. I have a nasty habit of biting the skin around my fingernails, which shows even with my claws. Oh, there’s blood on my claws. Not quite dry, so I just lick it off. Huh, doesn’t taste that bad either.

Someone’s moving inside. I straighten up slightly, hand dropping to my side. I nudge one of the bodies next to me with a foot, then take a half-step away when an arm flops to the ground. I look back to the door, arms crossed (carefully, to avoid cutting myself) as I wait. The door finally creaks open, revealing someone I don’t recognize. I assume it’s one of the proxies, but it’s not one that I’ve read anything about. Only one way to find out.

“You’re one of his proxies, I assume?” Even my voice is different, with the mask. I like it.

The proxy laughs. “Fuck yeah, I’m the number one proxy bitch. But you can call me Irre.” She pronounced it like ‘eerie’, which I thought was fitting.

I snort with amusement and take a moment to look the proxy up and down. She has pale blue skin, long hair that faded from black into red, and silver eyes. She’s about my height, maybe an inch shorter, with a healthier-looking build than the almost-too-skinny twig stature I see every time I look in the mirror. She even looks to be about my age too, give or take a year. She gives off a chaotic sort of presence, but in a way that’s almost difficult to perceive. I’m reminded of my school days, blending into the background. After a few people told me my stare was creepy, even though I’d just been looking at them, I didn’t meet anyone’s gaze. Apparently I had an intensity others found unsettling, but only if they noticed me. I’m reminded of that with this proxy, only with chaotic energy instead. I smile slightly. We might just get along.

“Well, nice to meet you, number one proxy bitch,” I respond with a chuckle. “Speaking of proxies. Where do I sign up? I brought a peace offering.” An idle hand gesture draws her attention to the bodies sprawled next to me. Two bodies, carved up with precise markings, and very much dead. What remains of my parents. My claws had marked them, turned their corpses into a work of art. I’d saved the blood, bagged it and put it in my backpack. I might need it later.

Irre looks the bodies over and grins. “I think you’ll fit in just fine here. Course, that’s not my decision.” She glances back at the house. “The others will get curious soon. Last chance to turn back.”

“I’m not going back. Besides, he sought me out first,” I admit. “Took me awhile to figure it out. But I’m here now.”

She nod in understanding. “In that case… what’s your name?”

I grin, showing sharp teeth. “I am Genesis Caveat.”