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#also I wrote this three weeks ago so it was even before the wrap-up
jamminvroomvroom · 25 days
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no more mister shy guy.
OP x fem!reader
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in which you can’t work out why he just won’t sleep with you
i am neither normal, nor am i hinged! i hope you guys get the vision, i literally wrote this last night possessed by some feral urge bc i just love oscar sm and i’ve been needing to write for him sooo baaad. enjoy! pls lemme know what you think <3
songs to set the vibes: delicate by taylor swift, good looking by suki waterhouse, my kind of woman by max demarco, feeling myself by wolf alice
warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, pwp but also there is some plot? overstimulation, crying in a hot way, choking, unprotected sex (L bozo don’t do that!) the most minor moment of angst, fluff
2.8k words
you watch him make coffee, daydreaming, balancing your heavy head on your hand. you study him while your free hand taps against the kitchen counter, nails drumming a random beat. sunlight streams through a gap in the curtains, framing him golden. you don’t think he knows how pretty he is.
oscar is oblivious to the way your mind is ticking behind him, twisting the cap on the carton of oat-milk. you hear the plastic fall onto the counter and your tongue wets your lower lip as he reaches up into the cupboard, his back flexing beneath his shirt as he finds your favourite mug. you realise then how swollen your lip is, snapped out of the trance he had you in, the one that had you biting your lip so hard, completely mindlessly.
he’s bulked up over the winter break, filled out a lot over the course of his rookie season. he’s no longer the scrawny, anxious guy you’d met at your fathers work event a year ago, he’s broader, thicker in your hands, utterly delicious. as much as you like the way he looks, you like his mind a whole lot more. if only you knew what was going on inside it.
oscar is an enigma, quiet, hilariously dry, the kindest man you’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. you’ve been together since the start of the winter break, november, after awkward run ins and plenty of pining since the start of his first season. you’d travel to races with your dad, a mclaren sponsor, and run into the australian, stare at each other and pretend no one noticed. after months of teasing from lando, oscar finally got the kick up the arse that he needed and you’d said yes to dinner before he’d even finished asking the question.
it’s february now, a week til he needs to be in bahrain. the last three months had been serene, spent with a man made of sunshine, and you’re sad to see him go, as if you won’t be in the emirates a mere four days after him. you fear the way you’ll ache for him, having been inseparable since the dinner that started it all.
but then again, it can’t be worse than the way you ache for him now.
“sweetheart?” oscar is waving his hand in front of your face when you realise he’s been calling your name for a good 15 seconds, and you have, in fact, been staring. hm? you jump, staring at him bewildered. he looks amused. “you okay?” he coos, sliding the coffee across the island towards you.
“yeah, sorry, i, um, i just- why won’t you have sex with me?” you blurt, slapping your hand over your mouth as soon as you realise what you’ve just said.
oscar just blinks, mouth forming a little o, the permanent blush he seems to have increasing tenfold. you instantly feel guilty for ambushing him, but you were at the end of your tether. three months of nothing, nada, zilch. every move you made was refuted, ignored as if he was oblivious. you were ravenous for him, he’s so gorgeous! and you didn’t want to pressure him, but you were starting to feel like there was something wrong with you.
you’d wake up in bed with him wrapped around you, grinding against your ass in his sleep, and you’d revel in it, the rare times that he actually seemed to want you like that. you loved him regardless, of course you did, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t need to be… dealt with. urgently.
“i- um- what?” oscar splutters, and the bottom of his mug blinks against the granite.
“is there something wrong with me? am i not pretty enough?” you whisper, shy. “do you just not… like- do you not want to do that?” you ramble.
panic fills his face, and he’s rushing around the island, by your side in an instant. he takes your hands into his, finding your eyes. they’ve grown watery, a mixture of guilt and desperation swirling in them which makes him feel ill.
“baby, no, god no.” he rushes the words out, desperate to convince you that it wasn’t you. “you’re the most beautiful person in the entire world, prettiest girl i ever saw.” he promises. “i’m just… it’s scary.”
“oh, osc.” your face falls, and you want to throw yourself off of the balcony. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to pressure you. if it makes you feel better, i’m scared too. but i love you so much, i just want to feel even closer to you.”
“you didn’t make me feel pressured, i’m just sorry i made you feel unwanted. trust me, i want you like that. drives me insane. but i’ve never had sex before with someone that i love. not the way i love you, anyway. scared that i won’t be good enough for you.” he murmurs.
you’re hung up on the part where you drive him crazy, the part where he loves you like that, and then you remember how vulnerable he’s being, baring his entire soul to you, and you rip yourself from the fantasy.
your hands smooth over his shoulders, until you’re softly fisting a clump of hair at the nape of his neck.
“i love you. insanely. we’ll go slow.” you state. he moulds further against you, and you quickly realise it’s for leverage, because the next thing you know, you’re in his arms. he has his hands hooked under your thighs and he’s kissing you so, so deeply that you’re dizzy. you don’t realise that you’re halfway to his bedroom until he pulls away.
“i don’t wanna go slow anymore.”
oscar places you on your feet at the end of his bed, the large, plush king-sized mattress that is currently calling both of your names. your blouse gets unbuttoned first, his hands shaking in a way that makes you melt, and his lips trail over every inch of bare skin that he uncovers. when it finally falls to the floor, his pupils are blown wide, his hands palming intricate black lace. your jeans are stripped away mercilessly, his hands shaking less now, and you take it as a sign to crawl backwards onto the bed.
he stands there, watching you, apprehensive again. you can see how hard he is, how desperately strained his cock is through the light grey of his sweatpants, and so you switch tactics. your hand grazes your tummy, skimming up your abdomen until you reach a bra strap. you toy with the elastic, holding the kind of eye contact that makes him twitch, tugging it until it hangs loosely off of your shoulder.
“i need you, osc. i trust you.” you utter, soft and enticing. one finger runs under the cup of your bra, flicking over your nipple. he can just about see the hardened bud through the lace of your bra. it’s not enough, though, and every ounce of self control depletes when you whine, “want you inside of me so badly.”
the elastic band snaps and he’s on top of you, rutting between your legs like a man starved. you drag his shirt up and over his shoulder blades, moaning as you feel each and every muscle under your fingertips.
“just wanna make you feel good.” oscar rasps, rolling his hips even harder into your core.
“take these off.” you beg, pulling at the waistband of his joggers. he somehow musters the strength to pry himself off of you, just long enough to discard the uncomfortable material of his sweats, but as soon as he looks down, his plans change.
painted over the crotch of them is a shiny pool of your slick, and when his eyes flit hungrily to your core, he sees where you’ve soaked through your panties. you’re panting when you see the stain, and you just want to get him inside of you, but his priorities have changed. oscar collapses between your legs, head buried, tongue exploring.
he groans, carnal and needy, into the fabric of your underwear, laving his tongue over the lace. your eyes widen as he dives in, licking over the wet patch until he grows frustrated. you hear the tearing of the fabric, feel his big hands pawing at your thighs to spread them as wide as they’ll go. his tongue slides right inside of you and he whines. he fucking whines. the vibration nearly makes you scream. you can’t believe this is your oscar, the same oscar that had quivered with nerves a mere five minutes ago.
“oh my god.” you chant, rolling your hips against his face. you must be all over him by now, what with the way he’s sucking and slurping, obscene sounds of wetness sounding around the room. you’d be blushing a deep red if you weren’t so turned on, shaking against his bedspread which will probably need changing once he’s done with you.
you thought that maybe he was inexperienced and that was the source of his fear, but if he was, you never would have known. he was a natural in between your legs, nipping at your clit to get you even louder for him.
you cum faster than ever, and he’s mumbling something incoherent into your pussy when you do. you’re riding the high, midway through the bliss, when a thick finger slips its way inside of you. oscar realises that he can easily slide another in, and he does. he doesn’t thrust them in and out, he grinds them against your walls, and your mouth falls open as a silent scream forces it’s way out.
you cum a second time, in record time yet again, and he still doesn’t let up. he’s hitting that spot relentlessly with his fingers, keeping your clit between his swollen lips, and you’re begging him. for what, you’re not sure, but you’re whimpering his name like you’re going to die. and what a good way to go this would be.
his eyes meet yours, and he looks unhinged. that’s when you feel it. that all consuming, belly twisting rush.
“oscar!” you try to warn him, but it’s too late, and he knows it. he makes you squirt, because of course he does. the shy guy who was scared that he wouldn’t be able to please you makes you squirt.
he pulls his mouth off of you but keeps his fingers buried deep, eyes fixed on watching the way your pussy convulses.
“holy shit.” you cry. you’re staring down at him like you’ve gone insane. he’s smiling innocently.
“was that good?” he almost sounds shy and you want to kick him.
“are you… are you serious?” you rasp. oscar just shrugs. “get up here.” you reach for him and complies, slotting himself between your legs once more.
oscar resumes the rolls of his hips, and the friction of the grey fabric against your core makes your eyes roll back.
“please, oscar, fuck me.” you whine, his head falling into the crook of your neck. he bites down, leaving behind the sting of his teeth and a faint purple splotch.
“fucking love you.” he slurs, his accent thickening in a way that makes him sound that extra bit fucked out already.
“i love you.” you murmur, forcing his sweats down his legs. his boxers are wet, just like your panties were, and you can’t help but stare. oh, it’s big.
his boxers are peeled down and you can feel yourself throbbing. his cock hangs heavy, red and dripping, painfully hard. you reach for it, looking at him to make sure it’s okay to touch, and he’s rapidly nodding his head. your small hand struggles but you make it work, and his head tips back, exposing his thick neck that you want to suck purple. your hand works over him a few times, and a visible shiver running through his body makes you stop.
“you ready for me?” he asks through gritted teeth.
“please.” you gasp, locking your legs around his waist. “however you want me, ‘m yours.” you breathe.
oscar’s eyes roll back in his head, your words sending his brain blank, and then he’s pushing home, slow and deep.
“fucking hell.” he groans, guttural. you’re so tight, warm, soaking wet. he feels like the biggest idiot in the world for waiting so long for this.
“oh.” you gasp, your eyebrows knitting together. he’s so deep. “so full.” you pant.
“can you take it, sweetheart?” oscar’s lips bump your jaw. “want you to take it.” you nod profusely, desperate to hear him run his mouth even further. your eyes clench shut when you feel him move, just the tiniest bit, readjusting.
“move.” you plead. he’s staring down at you, watching every single micro movement of your face.
oscar pulls out the smallest bit and thrusts back in, nice and slow. the drag drives you feral, the weight of him on top of you makes you weak. you want to stay like this until the end of days.
“good?” he hisses, trying to keep composed. he’s finally inside of you, claiming you as his in the most intimate way of all. he tries not to think about how many times he could have had you begging under him in the last three months.
“so good, so good.” you repeat, pushing your hips up to try and meet his.
“so pretty like this for me. always so, so pretty.” he rambles. he realises that he never quite made it as far as getting your bra off, and he needs to see all of you. the cups are tugged haphazardly down, and oscar stares at your breasts like he’s never seen tits before. you hear him hum, low and greedy, and then you feel the wet drag of his tongue across your nipple.
the animalistic whine that he rips from you makes him thrust harder, upping his pace a bit. he can hear how much wetter you get when he picks up his pace, and he changes up his rhythm, pushing all the way in and dragging out again at lightning speed. your jaw goes slack and your eyes are damp.
“baby, what’s wrong?” oscar slows to a stop, and you want to scream.
“no, no, no, keep going.” you choke out, your throat constricting with a sob. “it’s so good. feel so good.” you sound drunk, all for him, and he loses his mind completely.
he taps into that athletic stamina, fucking into you with a newfound vigour that you didn’t think was humanly possible, and you feel things that you didn’t even know you could feasibly feel. you see stars behind your eyes, his face, and nothing else but bright white. calloused fingers find your clit, and you wonder fleetingly if he’s trying to kill you when he rubs messy shapes into the much too overstimulated bud. his teeth graze your nipple, and everything seems to come together perfectly.
thick tears run hot down your cheeks, only to be licked away by eager tongue. your belly tightens, aflame for him; he’s wound your body up perfectly and you’ve never in your life teetered so dangerously over the edge.
“can feel you, baby. want you to cum, okay? ‘n then i’m gonna fill you up.” oscar grunts. you clamp down on him even tighter, thanking god for oscar’s filthy fucking mouth and birth control, and then everything snaps.
you think you scream, you know that you’re sobbing, and your throat is raw when the wave hits. oscar keeps going, intensifying your pleasure, and when he finally let’s go, it’s the most beautiful fucking thing you’ve ever seen. it’s surreal, the way his neck flexes, eyes clenched tight, brown locks flopping over his sweat damped forehead. and the sounds he makes, god. he’s muttering into your ear, lewd and shameless, and a fifth orgasm nearly takes you under.
“gonna need you everyday like this, tight fucking pussy, all mine. can’t live without this now. fucking perfect.” he’s rambling, burrowing deep into you one last time. you feel his warmth spilling into you, feel his hot breath fanning your face. he licks into your awaiting mouth.
“fuck.” you giggle, breathless.
“good?” he raises an eyebrow, grinning bashfully.
“more than worth the wait.” you whisper, mustering the strength to lift your head just enough so that you can peck his lips. “you better not hold out on me ever again though.” oscar laughs at that and you feel the rumble in your flushed chest.
“you promise?” there’s the shy guy again.
“osc, honey, that was the best. ever. ever. need you to be mr sex god more often.”
“only if you behave for me.” he smirks down at you.
“there he is.” you sigh happily.
when he snakes his way back between your legs, lapping up the mess he’s made, and then some, you wonder just what you’ve unleashed.
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whoops? lol
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taglist
@thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @charli123456789
(run outta space on my taglist lol, lemme know if u wanna be added or removed)
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thatsdemko · 1 year
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cruel summer - a.leclerc
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masterlist
t-swift inspired works list
requested: n
pairings: Arthur leclerc x gasly!fem!reader
warnings: nsfw + not intended for minors + mentions of alcohol + teasing + mentions of flings/hookups
a/n: yes my tags are under f1 I just don’t know how many people view the f2 works tags. wrote this at 5am a couple weeks ago! feedback is always appreciated xx
《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》
Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes
you’re not looking to fall in love you’re just looking for something fun for the summer. after having dealt with a harsh break up, the last thing you need is a man occupying your mind.
that’s until the annual gasly and leclerc siblings vacation in Italy. Arthur was just facing a fresh new start after a rough breakup as well, and a month in the countryside couldn’t have sounded more appealing. he’s also not looking for anything serious.
that’s until he sees you curled up under the blankets around the bonfire, body leaning against his older brother, Lorenzo. the orangey red flames reflect your beautiful features to him, and all of a sudden any idea of a summer fling has fallen short. he’s now realizing maybe there’s a chance to fall in love again.
you’re sipping on the last of the limoncello when Lorenzo calls it a night for himself. he presses a kiss to your forehead and wraps the rest of your blanket around your body. Charles nods along saying it’s late for him, but you and Arthur could stay longer. and you do.
“you’re not tired?” he asks, watching your tipsy body sway in the chair. your brother, Pierre, takes your glass from you officially cutting you off for the night.
“don’t need to get wasted on the first night.” he shakes his head in disapproval, and it’s his turn to head in for the evening. the three older boys have a big day ahead of them, they planned to head into town and do some racing while the two of you hung back.
“I should probably go to bed too.” you sigh watching the flames dance around the fire pit. you look up to see Arthur’s fixated on the flames too. you’ve noticed the distant lost look in his eyes, you didn’t question his appearance, you’re sure you look the same. it’s a cruel summer so far, and god you’re hoping it turns around.
it’s 3am when you find yourself tending to your drunk cravings. you tossed and turned in the bed trying to fight sleep, but the liquor still in your system was craving something salty.
you’re sitting at the dinning room table attempting to make as little noise as possible with the bag of chips in front of you. the house is silent, the only thing that fills the air is the sound of light snores and now you’re loud bag of chips.
it wakes Arthur up— but to your lack of knowledge he’s already awake. he hadn’t been able to sleep, your face in the glowing lights of the fire still dance around in his mind. the words of his ex girlfriend telling him he was “unlovable” linger in too, he tries to fight the words and the pictures, but falls short.
he throws the covers off his body, deciding maybe a movie or a television show would tire him out. he wasn’t expecting to see you awake in the kitchen, crumbs of chips around your lips while you munch on them. god even half awake his heart nearly beats out his chest.
“did I wake you?” you ask, guilt washes over you watching him shake his head as he slips into the chair across from you. you tilt the bag in his direction but he declines.
“I was already awake.” he explains watching you devour the salty treat in front of you. he studies how you waste no time to chew before shoving another one in your mouth. he watches you close your eyes in satisfaction of the salty cravings being met.
“how’s your summer been so far?” you ask deciding to fill the silence between you both, growing a little irritated of listening to the light snores.
“could be better, you?” he asks reaching across the table using his thumb to wipe the excess of chip and salt that linger your lips. you nearly stop breathing when his thumb comes in contact with them, his thumb is soft and gentle against your lips. his skin just brushes your chin, heart beginning to pound like crazy over this act.
“yeah same.” your breath is uneasy as you exhale when he finally pulled away. he chuckles to himself watching your pupils dilate, mouth slightly agape, and eyes lustful. he watches you fix yourself and your tipsy state returns once again.
“happy to be out here, away from the world.” he looks out the window adjacent to the table. stars fill the sky, you couldn’t see stuff like that for days in the city. he loves his summers in the countryside; just drinking, tanning, swimming, and most importantly now you. you and your little bikinis your brother warns you not to wear, you and your tight skirts, you and your beautiful figure. he can’t wait for a whole month of it.
“it’s going to be a fun month.” you sigh relaxing into the chair finally full from all the salt and crunching. he takes the bag of chips from you beginning to munch himself.
“yeah? what do you plan to do?” he asks leaning forward. maybe you could be his summer fun, his one time thing that he’ll maybe regret later on, but he won’t now. not when you’re this stunning and so beyond out of his world.
you shrug, “I don’t know, have some fun.” you smile pushing yourself up from the chair feeling exhaustion finally hit you. “I’m just looking for fun.”
he watches you walk away, you’re almost up the stairs when he adds one more thing. the last thing to say before leaving you to dream of tomorrow, “I know how to have fun, y/n.”
“goodnight, Arthur.”
you’re laying against your towel, back facing the burning rays, while the four boys play spike ball. the noise of their laughter and grunts are disturbing of your attempt at peace.
you give in to the sound of the wave crashing against the sand and decide to take a swim. you feel a familiar pair of eyes watch you walk past the four boys. you’re wearing the tiniest of bikini bottoms, and a top that’s a size too small for your chest. arthur noticed, of course he noticed. after yesterdays conversation all he can think about is ruining that stupid “bro code” Pierre made him promise to. he promised to never date or mess with his sister.
except it’s summer time, those rules don’t apply to a fun summer, right? he just wants something to occupy his mind, and you already said you’re not looking for anything beyond fun. he’s the perfect contender for this summer job.
“focus, arthur!” Charles fakes a throw at his brothers head, the younger boy flinches in reaction. he nods along going back to the game, but out of the corner of his eye every time the game stops, he sees your body floating across the cool salty waters.
“I think I’m going to go for a swim.” arthur announces when the three others call it a day on the game. they nod along watching him make his way towards where you are. you’re standing, feet sunk into the sand, allowing the waves to crash against your body, every so often going underneath to hear the muffled sounds of the waves crash against the sand.
when you look over towards the boys you notice they are all hanging around on their towels, and one leclerc is missing. your eyes dart around the beach before feeling someone yank your leg from under the water. it’s him.
“you scared me.” you laugh watching him come up for air, wet hair pressed against his forehead. he takes the palm of his hand brushing the hairs back, chuckling at your scared state, hand over your sunburnt chest.
“that was the point.” he says, noticeably moving his eyes up and down your body. taking in the way your bottoms nearly fell down your hips, and the way your top lifted upwards exposing your under breasts.
“cannot believe Pierre let you leave the house like that.” he licks his lips shaking his head, watching your already red face become a darker shade just by his comment.
“well he doesn’t own me.” you say, his body drifts closer due to the waves, you don’t mind, you allow yourself to be taken by them nearly stumbling into his chest. he’s praying to god your brother isn’t seeing this.
“you’re right, but maybe he should’ve said something because the things you do to me. god,” he exhales, a smirk forming his lips as he shakes the dirty thoughts, “it’s unholy.”
you exhale an uneasy sigh feeling warmth spread across your chest, heart rate picking up. you want this, god you want this with him, “tell me about them.” you run your fingers down his abs, they run over every divot and peak of his body.
“why don’t I show you tonight?” he takes his index finger resting it underneath your chin, thumb stroking the side of your face. you can’t say any words just nodding in agreement.
“can’t wait.”
the dress you’re wearing flows with the wind, all five of you moving around the winery watching the sunset. you think he’d behave himself this close around your brother, but he allows his arms to slip around your waist every so often, and hand squeeze your ass in any private moment. he’s tearing your patience, and that dress of yours is testing his.
pierre leaves you with the leclerc brothers to go to buy a bottle of wine for you and your family to take back home. you nurse the last couple of sips in your drink listening in on the three boys conversation. your eyes gravitate towards him, his white linen shirt has two buttons undone exposes his cross necklace, and his sun kissed chest. he knows what he’s doing, just like you knew what you were doing when you slipped on the dress with a low v. you’re both making each other beg.
“I’m going to go see what’s taking him so long.” Charles mutters leaving the three of you alone. Lorenzo makes an excuse you can’t remember because now it’s just you two. and he’s already whispering dirty secrets in your ear.
“we are in public, Arthur.” you giggle feeling his hot breath against your ear, it tingles a sensation throughout your body that trickles down your spine.
“I want to take you in this winery.” he whispers, hands pushing the few hairs that brushed in front of your face with the wind. you want him. god you want him bad, you can feel warmth spreading against your panties.
“my brother is here, you can’t.” you hiss, you want to break gaze from him, check on the status of Pierre and see if he’s coming back. but your eyes stay glued to those beautiful thick pink lips. god, you want him to take you in this winery.
“whatever happened to having fun? you don’t want to meet me in the restroom in say five minutes?” he checks his watch beginning to set a timer, he taps it and turns away. on his way inside he runs into Pierre telling him he’s using the restroom before they all leave, and now you’ve got five minutes to make that same excuse.
you sigh unsure what you’ve got yourself in to, but five minutes pass and you’re now heading to the private restroom. softly knocking on the door praying this is the one he’s in, and to your luck he is.
he opens the door and you slip in before anybody could notice, he presses your body against the wall, hands pulling the material of your dress up your thighs while you’re undoing his belt. this is the fastest you’ve got things done, you don’t have much time knowing the three out there would get suspicious.
“I can’t stand you right now.” he mutters, when he finally rips the wet material that’s against your throbbing pussy. you could whine you’re so needy for him.
“you’re cruel, leclerc. teasing me like that.” you spread your legs for him, his fingers grip your thighs as he enters you. you’re doing everything you can to keep yourself quiet— that includes biting the collar of his white linen shirt practically leaving teeth marks.
his thrusts are quick and short, he doesn’t have much time but he’s still showing you how he feels. his tip nudging your clit, pleasure washing over you. you bite down even harder on his shirt feeling tears well against the brims, you so badly want to scream, you can feel your legs beginning to shake. he’s too good for you, he wants to take his time get every part of your memorized.
“that’s it, come on.” he whispers still edging you on, hands twisted in your hair he watches you relax against him. teeth unclenching his shirt, your body practically exhales on him. your head hits the wall when he pulls out rushing to find toilet paper to clean you up.
“such a good girl.” he mumbles, the sandy paper gently brushes against your inner thighs. he helps you return back to your normal state, combing out any knots in your hair, both of you now leaving the restroom.
“wasn’t that fun?” he asks, you have a few more feet until you’re in front of your brothers and this talk couldn’t go on anymore. you just let out a dry laugh shaking your head.
“yeah if you didn’t have to take me so quickly.” you nudge his shoulder with your elbow. Pierre catches your eye, and he knows somethings different. you weren’t this happy nearly an hour ago when you arrived to the winery, and he’s not stupid when he sees the teeth marks in Arthur’s linen shirt.
“do I need to remind you that my sister is off limits to fuck with?”
“you’re a little too late, because I already did.”
No rules, in breakable heaven
It's a cruel summer
With you
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cupid-styles · 2 months
Note
Another lactation blurb for ymls would be amazing bestie! And I would also love to see them be all domestic and fluffy!
this is fucking F I L T H and I wrote it on my phone so I’m sorry if there are any typos!!!!!!
. . .
”My tits are so fucking sore.”
Harry chuckles gently, glancing over at Y/N as she cups her breasts through the soft fabric of her sweater. His smile quickly fades into a sympathetic pout, reaching over from the wheel to wrap a hand around her thigh, squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry,” he says genuinely, pulling into the parking lot of their destination, “You’ve been doing such a good job with pumping and feeding Clem, though. I’m so thankful for you.”
It’s hard to be grouchy and grumbly when Harry says sweet things like that. His gratitude quickly melts away the irritation sitting heavy in her chest so she purses her lips instead, breathing out through her nose in lieu of a response.
It’s only their second time out without Clementine, and it’s not even anything terribly exciting. They’re just going to get lunch at a cafe they both like — they left their three month old off at Y/N’s sister’s place, but neither of them liked being away from her for too long (Harry in particular). The first time they left Clem with his parents, it was two weeks ago and it was just so they could go food shopping. They made it through two aisles before he started flexing his fingers nervously, asking Y/N if it was too early to call and ask about how Clem was doing.
(Y/N pretended like it was, but in reality, she’d been wanting to ring Harry’s mom up for the past 20 minutes.)
But having a newborn and navigating a relatively new relationship was exhausting, and Harry was insistent that they spend time together outside of her place. (He’d apparently replaced his obsession with parenting books with relationship ones.)
And that’s how they ended up sitting at their favorite sandwich spot, making quiet conversation about Y/N’s maternity leave, Clementine’s next doctor’s appointment, and Harry needing to end the lease on his own apartment sometime soon.
Everything’s going fine as they munch on their food, sharing a plate of French fries between them. And then Y/N feels it — the familiar sensation of milk dribbling from her swollen nipples, and she drops her sandwich to her plate, her eyes bulging with annoyance.
“Fuck me,” she mutters, sighing out in frustration. Harry glances up with a concerned expression and she leans closer to him, “I’m leaking. I think I need to pump.”
“Oh, shit,” Harry mumbles, “You don’t have a spare bottle or anything on you?”
She shakes her head. “No. I left all the pumping shit at home. I think I’m just gonna go to the bathroom and, like… I don’t know. Try to clean up a bit.”
“I’ll come with you,” Harry instantly volunteers, sliding out of the booth. Her eyebrows raise slightly. “I know you’re in pain right now. It’s the least I can do.”
She doesn’t fight him on the offer, instead following him to the single stall bathroom. With an annoyed expression, she locks the door behind him and hikes her sweater up over her nursing bra. There’s already faint stains over where her nipples are, making her sigh. She goes to reach for some toilet paper to clean off her breasts when Harry’s hand wraps around her wrist, stopping her.
“Don’t,” he murmurs, glancing down at her covered breasts, “Can I?”
They haven’t done this since she leaked for the first time, back when she was still pregnant. They hadn’t even really spoken about it, but if Y/N was being honest, she thought about it frequently. It had been one of the hottest things she’d ever been on the receiving end of.
Parting her lips anxiously, she nods, straightening her posture and subconsciously pushing her chest out. He smirks and unhooks her bra, a low groan sounding from his mouth when his eyes meet her milky breasts. It’s a mess he’s dying to clean up.
“Fuck,” he mumbles, “Let daddy have a taste, yeah?”
Maybe it’s the heightened post-pregnancy hormones or maybe it’s just Harry, but Y/N’s eyes flutter shut at the honorific, nodding quickly. It’s not a moment more before his lips latch around her nipple, sucking with an enthusiasm she’d only seen once before. Her fingers curl themselves into his hair, gripping roughly as she whimpers, her pussy instantly growing slick from the dirty sight.
“You’re so fucking incredible,” Harry mutters against her skin, nipping just below her nipple before switching over to the other one, “Feeding our perfect baby with this. You never let daddy have some though. Bit selfish, I think.”
“Y-you can have it whenever you want,” she mewls, tugging at his hair, “Fuck— touch me, please?”
She barely finishes her sentence before he’s pushing his hand down her pants and underneath the cotton fabric of her panties. They haven’t had sex since she gave birth, even though she’s been cleared. Harry still knows her body like the back of his hand, though, deft fingertips rolling over her wet, swollen clit as he sucks every last bit of milk she has to offer.
She doesn’t know what pushes her closer to her orgasm; if it’s the sight of Harry drinking her milk or the sensation of him rubbing tight circles into her clit, but it doesn’t take much for every muscle to clench itself, breathy whimpers falling from her lips as she comes all over his hand.
“There you fuckin’ go, mama,” he croons, glancing up to watch her fall apart. It’s his favorite view, but maybe he’s a bit more partial to the sight when her milk is dripping down his chin. “Cum for me, baby. Dirty girl, obsessed with daddy licking your milk up.”
He works her though it like it’s his job, her eyes only fluttering open when her peak has finally tapered off. The first thing she sees is Harry’s smug smile, an involuntary, shocked laugh sounding between them.
“You’re pretty kinky.” She teases. He rolls his eyes, clipping her bra closed and fitting her breasts back inside.
“Right, like you didn’t just come from all that.”
“Shut up,” she says, smacking his chest playfully. “I wanna finish that sandwich.”
343 notes · View notes
j-u-u-z-o · 10 months
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“Sorry, We’re Opening Later!” (Kisuke x F.Reader)
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Synopsis: It was supposed to be a regular normal store opening but due to certain staff circumstances, they’re opening later. Sorry! AN: Hi everybody! Surprise, it’s me! It’s been a while since I’ve written a fic. About three weeks ago, I had a fever for a week and felt like crap. Which ultimately led me to having a writers block for another two to three weeks. 🙃
*please wear a -more-durable jacket when it’s pouring rain outside! :/
I’ve been trying to get back into what I love doing - writing! So here’s a fic that I wrote I while I was at work (which is when my writers block ended) two days go. I thought of this before I got ready for work but i think it was for weeks (cuz the title was what I only drafted lol). So this story might be long but hey… I tried to get it to be more “interesting” and funny! Anyway~~it’s done and I hope you guys enjoy it ❤️🥹 Also I think about this tricky man a lot - show him love!!!
Please like/reblog or comment! It would be greatly appreciated!
Warning: teasing, foreplay, dry humor humping, mirror kink, slip n slide, eventual smut, penetration, Grammar
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it’s a bright and quiet morning in the Urahara Shōuten. The kids, jinta and ururu, were dropped off to school by Tessai. After he sent them to school, he them to school, he texted you to let you know that he’ll be coming back to the shop a bit later to do groceries and then window shop in the local markets. You woke up early to help kisuke with the store opening operations but the said man was still sleeping next to you, in bed. What is he tired of? You thought. But you decide to take on the task while he is asleep.
You walk out of the bedroom after doing your morning routine and headed to the register. The shop consisted of candy, sundries and products from soul society; The morning operations consisted of counting the money in the register, updating it, replenishing the candy and other items and lastly, cleaning up the store. theres natural sunlight in the store so you didn’t have to turn on the lights, even when the front door is open, but the store doesn’t open in the next few hours.
As you’re standing by the register, in the naturally lit room, counting the money, you randomly take note on how old the register is. Probably over 50 years old you think. The shop owner wouldn’t buy the most up-to-date technology but he’d build anything by hand that would be useful for the business. He’s a cheapskate but that’s what you love about the shop keeper, who is also your boyfriend, nevertheless.
While you’re counting the “dull” money in the register, you also thought about how does the store even make money until you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and a stubbled chin rub against your neck. It was none other than Kisuke. The owner of the “Urahara Shōuten”.
“Good morning, Mr. Scientist.” You smiled and while still counting the funds. The owner smirked at your remark. “Is that how you speak to a manager, miss?”
“Hmm. Probably. Because I’m the one doing your work while you were sleeping.” His arms tighten a little around your waist. “Plus, it’s inappropriate flirt in a workplace, kisuke.” You added. He hummed in agreement and leaned forward to feel your form. You can feel his chest against your back. He’s so warm that it feels like a hug from your favorite blanket.
“Maaa…there’s nobody here in the store, y/n-chan” he said. “Also, the store doesn’t open in two hours.” He remarked as his hand caresses your stomach, slowly. “Plus…” he smirks “are you supposed to be in only your tank top and panties at work?” He teased. You can feel his lips turn into a smile on your neck.
“We have work to do, Mr. Shopkeeper.” You emphasized but there’s no tinge behind it. Besides, his slow caress on your stomach gives you butterflies that it made you slowly back your covered behind on his covered member. “Hmm?” Kisuke raised his eyebrows and looked down at your boldness. Your covered behind rubbing his member all around in circles that you feel how hard he slowly gets every second. Meanwhile, kisuke is still admiring the view from behind - his -already hardened- covered member getting all the attention this early in the morning.
You noticed how quiet he is and looked back at him. His lower half leaning towards your ass, his mouth is lopsided; you can’t see his eyes because of his long blonde bangs under his straw hat. Kisuke began to slowly roll his hips up to your covered behind to not lose your warmth which is hugging his member in between your ass - it almost feels like a thick stick now, you think.
A few minutes passed and kisuke makes an open mouth groan while you ripped the receipt off from the register after updating it, and placed it inside the drawer to keep for store records. The shop keeper is still keeping himself busy even though there’s still more work to be done before the store opens.
Just as he was about to move his hands down to your hips to keep you at the counter, you broke the “small connection” by turning to the stock room to pick up two boxes of candy and headed to the front of the store. “Kisuke, you need to do your work.”
The man whines at the “lost” intimate moment and reminder. you should’ve looked back to see what he looked like. A sad puppy? maybe.
“that’s not fair y/n-chan.” He whined. “We aren’t open yet and it’s just the two of us.” He reminded you again while watching you from the counter - hiding his hard-on in his green pants. “Well…at least, I know I’m the hardworking one.” You said while unpacking the candy. He gasped in contempt. “Hmm…you got me, y/n-chan~~.” He walked to the other side of the store and started organizing the sundries.
A few minutes passed, you sighed after finishing up stocking the bottom shelves and then got up to raise yourself. Of course, the old-perverted shopkeeper was watching you get up from your knees. You turned to grab the broom but you got intercepted when said man grabbed your wrist from behind and pulled you to his chest. He turned your head and his lips met yours. The sounds of his and your lips smacking against each other in the middle of the store makes you feel hot. He suddenly dips his tongue into your mouth and you suck it, gently. “Mmm…” you moaned.
“I think you should finish what you started, y/n-chan.” he cooed close to your ear. “Maybe I can help you with that.” He said deeply. Your eyes widened when he walked you to his bedroom and gently pushed you down to the edge of the bed. You were automatically on all fours and felt the bed dip when kisuke got on it.
“You owe me for doing your job, kisuke.” You said as his hips met your covered ass while he untied his green kimono. “That’s what I’m going to do, honey~.” You looked back in response to his sudden endearment and slowly looked up at his toned upper body, especially his deep pelvis. “It rude to look at me like that, y/n.” He teased and gently grips your hips and slowly grinds his hips up to your ass. You’re still looking back at him - this time in disbelief. You were about to protest…At his audacity, but you are the one who started this. So you turned your head and looked down at the sheets.
Kisuke chuckled at how silent you are. “cat catched your tongue, y/n~?” You feel his finger tips tighten on your hips so you can’t move away. He’s a tease, yes. But also childish at times. “I can change my mind, kisuke.” You taunted.
“Maaa…you know that I’m just being silly~.” He laughs as he puts his hand on your back and gently pushes you down against the bed. Your covered ass is in the air and your nipples feel the cool sheets under your tank top. “You know I love you.” He admits while taking off his green kimono top and gets back to rolling his hips on your covered ass.
Moments pass and the room is quiet, except his groans, the sounds of the sheets moving under his feet. You can feel his covered member rub against your covered slit. You moan softly at the sensation. Especially when he starts to buck his hips against you. Your covered nipples are rubbing against the sheet due to his change of pace - from rolling to bucking.
“this has to go.” He points out as he easily pulls down your panties. He hummed in satisfaction when he sees the wet lines of your arousal stretch when he pulled it down. “Yare yare…y/n, I have a lot of work to do, then.” He teased. Kisuke leaned one hand beside your head and leaned over to kiss you. You snapped your head up from the sheets to deepen the kiss when you felt his fingertips rubbing your pussy, slowly and gently.
Your clit throbs each time he circles it and goes back to rubbing it entirely; you lose the rhythm of the heated kiss whenever he flicks it. Kisuke chuckled and dips his tongue to meet yours. You’re both circling each other’s appendages. especially the tip of your tongues which sparks your arousal in you.
You manage to lay on your elbow while the other arm tries to wrap around his neck. You rolled your hips backwards to get more friction on his finger until he dips it inside your pussy. “Oh…” you breathed in his mouth at the sudden intrusion and moaned in the kiss when he curled it. “You like that,baby?” He whispered while thrusting his finger in your wet pussy. “Mmm…” you whimpered. He breaks the kiss “Good”. His leans back while he pulls down the front of your tank top. Your tits spill out and your nipples rubs against the soft sheets.
He pulls out his finger and you whine at the lost connection. He rubs your arousal against his finger and thumb. He licks the fluid around the fingertips and hummed deeply. You throb at the praise. Kisuke then sits on his knees while he untied his green pants and pulled out his slightly curved cock. He strokes it while looking at your wet pussy. “Y/n…” he said. “Where’s that…little mirror you have?”
You lift your head up and looked back at the man curiously and then at the wooden dresser. Kisuke follows where your eyes are looking at and gets up and grabs the medium circle-shaped item from the top of the dresser. “What are you going to do with it?”
“I want to give you a show!” He said proudly that you almost rolled your eyes but your curiosity gets the best of you. “First row for my lovely lady~” he smiles. He gets back on the bed and slides the mirror between your legs. You look down and you can see the reflection of your pussy. “I see. This better be a good one.” You mumbled. Kisuke leans down in the reflection to give a cheeky grin and puts up a “peace sign” next to it that you giggled.
“Yes, yes, only for you~” he strokes his cock once more and you see it in the reflection and spreads your legs a bit more. Your eyes widen when kisuke shifts closer to you. You feel his big hands on your waist to get into a good position. “Don’t look away y/n-chan” he commands. Suddenly, you felt his cock slide in between your wet pussy lips and the tip rubs against your clit.
You gasped at the feeling and titled your head when he slides it slowly. “Ah…” you breathed. Kisuke slowly rolled his hips to feel your warm lips hug his cock. His girth is coated in your arousal -just wet. You moan when it rubs your pussy entirely. Thank to the curve of his girth. Kisuke breathes shakily due to the warm and wet feeling surrounding his cock between your lips. “Feels good?” He looks at the back of your head tilting side to side - knowing that he’s getting you all lost in thought.
Your clit throbs at the wet sounds from your pussy due to kisuke’s slow strokes. “Go…faster..” you murmur. He submits and spreads your legs wider and grips your outer thighs and bucks into your pussy lips. The skin slapping sounds makes him hot that he bucks faster so that he closes that small gap between his pelvis and your ass. “Ah…shit.” He hissed and smacks your ass.
You manage to keep looking down at the reflection - his cock thrusting quickly between your lips and your thighs jiggling. The sound of kisuke open- mouth groans behind you and your breasts bouncing uncontrollably makes you feel all the fluttering sensations in your lower stomach. “K…ki…kisuke!” You breath skips when he moves faster. He hisses and grips your hips tightly - pulling you to his girth . The friction from the curve of his cock makes your hips gyrate until you cummed in seconds.
Your body freezes and your face is planted on the bed sheets. You moan heavily when kisuke slowly flicks the tip on your wet throbbing pussy - you can even hear its wet sounds and his groans. Kisuke stops and takes the mirror from under you and tossed somewhere in the room.
"Yaaa~" he said breathlessly. "I'm a good boyfriend don't you think, y/n-chan~" he leans over your form and kisses your temple. You turn and lay down on your side in response. Kisuke chuckles and does the same - grinning. You looked at the man across from you.
"You didn't cum...yet."
“Eh? Me? You're too kind, y/n. I owed you." He reminds you. You rose up and slid a hand down from his chest to his cock and stroked it. He moans and caresses you breast.
"We have a few more minutes left for the store to open" you said as you straddle the shopkeeper and lowered yourself - chest to chest. You reach down to position his cock to your entrance. You're still wet, so it's easy to slide it right in.
You look down at the man and see his mouth shape an "o". He spreads his legs open to get in deeper. You place a hand on his chest and begin grinding on his girth, slowly. Just how he likes it as your lips meets his, passionately. Moments passed and kisuke pushes his feet in and rolls his hips in circles - in sync with your pace. "Mmm." You moan heavily in the kiss when he grinds into your pussy - his tip hitting the right spot. Eventually, you lifted your self. Both hands on each side of his head and you rolled your hips while looking down at him.
Heavy breathes, moans, the sounds from the bed sheets of your guy's movements fills the bedroom. Kisuke is enjoying the view - your breasts, In fact. He moves his hands up to caress them while looking down at his cock entering your pussy. "Y/n....chan." he said breathlessly. Kisuke then wraps an arm around your waist and the other hand on your upper back and pulls you down. His lips meets yours again while he bucks up into your pussy. The light sounds of skin slapping begins - his thrusts gets harder when your warm walls clenches his girth that his toes curl.
"Ah..kisuke" you moaned in the kiss when he brought a finger down to slowly rub your rear in circles. your clit throbs at the touch as well as the feathery feeling of his pelvis rubbing against your clit, simultaneously. He feels it all of that inside of you. As a result, he moves his hands up under your arms and grips your shoulder, lifts his hips up from the bed and thrusts deeply into your sobbing pussy - making sure every inch of his cock gets gripped by your walls and the warmth hugging it each time it enters your pussy.
Your skin slapping against his and your moans are music to his ears. He knows exactly what your body likes and how not to rush through sex. Just slow and steady.
He groans deeply as he starts to thrust fast in the deep valley of your pussy, the white rings are showing on the end of his cock. His grip on your shoulders moves down to your waist to anchor you by his controlled thrusts. "Ungh!" He moans shakily.
You moan at his deep unrelenting strokes. "Ohhh!" Your breasts are bouncing around while kisuke hisses when your walls start to pulsate uncontrollably. Oh..that's it y/n...so tight." You whimper at the praise and you start to squirt on him and he keeps going.
The sounds of your fluids are obvious each time his thighs slaps against yours. "Right there...good girl...agh." he mumbles.
“Agh!” He quickly pulls out his cock and cum up shoots on your lips. You kiss the breathless man passionately as you rub your clit against his length. You both moan in the kiss.
Post orgasm hits the both of you and you lay on him. “We open in 5 minutes, y/n.”
You ignore him and his your face under his chin. “Hardwork pays off in the end.” He chuckles and eventually falls asleep.
Epilogue:
“Hmm?” Tessai walks up to the storefront and sees that the shop isn’t open. “What going on? It’s 10am.” He opens the sliding door and puts down the groceries at the genkan, concerned. “Kisuke-dono?”
“Oh. Tessai-san!” Kisuke waves his fan at the man. “I’m glad you made it back.” He smiles behind the counter.
“Why isn’t the store open?”
“Ah! About that, I didn’t get to finish the store operation in time so we’re opening later today.” He answered.
“How come? Did something happen while I was gone?” Tessai frowns. “Maaa…no need to get all worked up, Tessai-san.” Kisuke grins behind his fan. “We sorted it out, safely.” He expresses. Tessai is still frowing. “We? Y/n”? He refers.
“Correct!” Kisuke opens his fan cheerfully. “Let’s finish the rest of the tasks before we open.” He picks up the groceries and walks to the kitchen.
“Yes, urahara-dono!” Tessai begins sweeping around the store.
Note: that is the only task left.
End.
476 notes · View notes
mrsensitive · 1 year
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4 times everyone else caught on before the 1 time you and quinn finally did
a good old 4+1 ft. best friend beau & a couple other cameos, some mutual pining and also reader is a costume designer . kind of an elaboration of a lil blurb i wrote a while ago so if it seems familiar no it doesn't 😋
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1
You’d never been more grateful for Friday to roll around. You’d had what felt like the longest week from hell and just wanted to take your mind off everything, so when your new neighbour turned best friend Beau texted you to meet him and a couple friends at the bar, the thought that you wouldn’t know half the people there wasn’t enough to dissuade you from joining.
When you arrive, you’re quick to spot the group - Beau hadn’t lied when he said it wasn’t just the team, but he might’ve stretched the truth when he said you already knew some of the guys. A quick once over is enough for you to realise the only other person you really know is Brock. Sure, you had heard of the others from Beau’s stories and the fact that you sometimes watched the games, but you were starting to wonder if you should’ve just gone home to your bottle of wine instead.
Beau is quick to welcome you though, flooding you with the names of everyone you’d yet to meet and pushing you into the seat he’d just vacated.
“Wait here, I’m getting the next round,” he beams at you, a good few drinks in already. “Brock come give me a hand, bud.”
You try to get your bearings a little, looking around trying to commit names to faces since the only two people you knew had left, and you realise mostly everyone is in their own conversations save for the guy on your right. You pause, staring at him trying to remember his name as he watches you struggle, clearly bemused.  
“It’s Quinn,” he offers after a moment or two. He’s laughing lightly and you relax in your seat a little. “Don’t sweat it.” 
You breathe out a smile, “Thanks. I was getting there, y’know.” You pause, taking a moment to get a better look at him. “Hughes, right? I’ve seen you play before. You’re a great skater.”
“Oh uh…thanks.” He shifts a little in his seat. “Beau’s talked about you a couple times actually. So it’s nice to meet you finally.”
You can’t help your eyebrows from shooting up, both of you are equally surprised and amused that you’re even aware of the other. You’re half expecting Quinn to elaborate, scanning his face for any hint that what Beau’s said about you was any level of incriminating, but somehow, you find yourself a bit distracted by the way his hair is curling over his forehead. 
Before either of you can say anything, Beau’s dropped a glass in front of you and inserted himself back in the conversation.
“So what was so terrible about work this week? What’s the drama this time?”  
You let out a sigh, remembering why you’d dragged yourself here in the first place. “Oh, nothing new. They just decided to reschedule all our fittings so we barely had the right costumes prepared - which is just an embarrassing look for me, you know, even if it literally wasn’t my fault. I was running all over the place trying to make it work - and then on top of that I find out they’ve put our costume truck about three states over from where the set is so I’ve got to hassle someone about that and-”
“Costumes?” Your rambling is cut off by Quinn who looks much more interested than Beau, who, to his credit, has heard some variation of this story just about every other week.
“Oh, yeah. I’m a costume designer,” you explain, “I’m working on a movie at the moment.” For some reason you feel rather embarrassed that you didn’t clarify this to him before and you’re hoping the dim lighting is hiding the way you’ve started blushing. 
“I’m going to take this as my cue to leave.” Beau says, already standing up to move across the table, “You tell Quinn the whole back story and I’ll come back when you’re done with that, okay?”
Beau, in fact, does not come back for the rest of the night but you’re so wrapped up in your conversation with Quinn that you don’t particularly notice anyway. Usually you hate talking about yourself, but the drinks have loosened you up and he seems so genuinely curious and intrigued about you. He asks how you met Beau, so you tell him the story of how his 7’s look a little too much like 1’s and you ended up getting so much of his mail that you had to go and confront him about it. You try to ask him about hockey but he seems rather adept at deflecting the conversation back to you every time. You can’t help but bask in the full attention he’s giving you and the more drinks you have, the more you find yourself quietly admiring his bone structure. You’re a little surprised to hear yourself laughing so much and how easily the conversation moves that you can’t quite remember how you ended up discussing how you both think roses are overrated. 
You’re so caught up in each other that neither of you catch Brock nudging Beau and nodding his head towards you across the table.
“You reckon?” Brock asks, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.
“Oh, easily. I’ve been watching them all night.”
2
You pick up Beau’s call almost immediately.
“Hey, what’s up? Do you need something?” There’s a tinge of confusion in your voice.
“What? No, I just- I have an extra ticket to the game tonight and I was going to offer it to you if you weren’t being so snappy.” Beau teases.
“Oh,” you let out a chuckle, “Sorry, you just never call. I do happen to be free tonight though, if the offer’s still on the table...”
“Great, I’ll send you the ticket,” you can hear him smiling through the line. “Don’t drive, I’ll give you a lift if you wait a little after the game. Stick around and say hi to some of the other guys too.”
“Sure,” you reply, “I’ll see you later then. Maybe score or win or something? I dunno, make it worth my night?”
“Yeah ok,” you can hear him laughing now, “Will do, just for you. See you soon.”
And even if you were only joking, the team does deliver on your request. You hang by the exit as you wait for Beau, congratulating some of the other guys on the win as they start to trickle out. When Quinn catches sight of you, he can’t help the way the corners of his mouth quirk upwards and you can’t help the way you mirror it.
“Hey Quinner, congrats on the game,” you greet him, “Big win!” 
You’re mildly aware of the way your heart rate has picked up slightly since he stopped in front of you. You want to believe that it’s just because the handful of times you’ve seen him now have always been aided with a bit of liquid courage, even if you’re currently fixating on his slightly damp hair and the way his bag is slung over his shoulder. Quinn, however, is severely aware of the way his heart rate seemed to stop upon hearing the nickname leave your mouth.
He clears his throat, “Yeah, thanks. I didn’t realise you were going to be here?”
“Beau said he had an extra ticket last minute - enticed me with a ride home, so I’m just waiting for him now.” 
“Yeah, he should be done with the interviews soon - you know, three point night and all,” he laughs, glancing back at the doorway in search of a sign of his teammate.
“Coming from you, mister record breaker!”
Quinn whips his head back around to you, eyes wide as he starts to mumble something to try and downplay his night. He knows he’s blushing from the way he can feel his cheeks burning but he’s hoping it could be disguised as some sort of postgame flush.
You can’t help but let out a laugh at how off guard your comment seemed to catch him. “Surely you’re going out to celebrate?”
“Oh, I don’t know… we’ve got an early start tomorrow…” He rubs a hand at the back of his neck and your eyes flicker to his bicep briefly.
“Hmmm boring,” you tease, “All work and no play I guess.”
Something in your tone has him grinning now. “No rest for the wicked,” he quips.
Unbeknownst to the two of you, you’ve had an audience for just about all of your conversation.
“Is this what he looks like when he’s trying to flirt?” Petey asks, raising his eyebrows.
“I guess. Or trying to, at least,” Brock answers, still eyeing the scene in front of him. “How long do we think til they do something about it?”
Beau’s appeared next to them at the door now too, smirking as he watches you and Quinn completely oblivious to everyone else.
“Wanna take bets?”
3
Quinn’s nervous. He’s already texted you to let you know he’s arrived but he’s expecting that you’ll have to turn him away last minute. He’s still in disbelief that he’s even here, despite the fact that you’d offered to have him visit you on set several times already, but he always thought it was just a throw away thing you would say to be nice. He only tells you this about the fourth time you’ve asked, the arrival of the post season working out with one of the quieter days of your schedule, and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing in his face about it.
“Quinn. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t mean it. Most of our conversations are about movies, so I just thought you might find it cool to see what it’s like,” you shrug. "I've watched you play games before so it feels kind of fair, right?’
As much as he protests that it’s different, you are kind of right, naturally. He thinks it is extremely cool that this is what you do for a living, and even cooler that you’d even considered to bring him along and show him a part of it. At least, cool is what he’s trying to convince himself he’s feeling about it all. 
When he sees how excited you look, running out to meet him, he once again can’t help the grin that weasels its way onto his face. He holds out the second coffee cup in his hand to you.
“Hey,” he greets, “I brought you a coffee. I stopped on my way here but I didn’t really know what you usually get or if you prefer, like, hot or iced? So I just got you what I get which is-”
You’re pleasantly surprised and amused, letting him ramble a little before you cut him off, thanking him and groaning when you take a sip. “God, thank you. I’ve already had one today but I truly needed this.”
He’s relieved to hear it, immediately relaxing. “Hectic day then?”
“Kind of, but like… A controlled hectic you know?” You pause, giving him a once over, realising he’s a little less jittery than a minute ago - and also that he looks good. You’ve only ever really seen him in very weak bar lighting, or after a hockey game - but definitely never before lunch. The sun looks good on him you think, and you’re rather charmed by the outfit he’s picked out for the occasion but you’re quick to snap yourself out of your thoughts.
“Let me show you around!”
You give him a tour of the set, proudly pointing out how you managed to convince them to move your trailer closer, talking him through your designs you have pinned up and showing him some of the final costumes.
Quinn’s already wide-eyed, kid in a candy store at all of this, staring and asking if he can touch things. He almost doesn’t believe you when you say he can watch them film a scene or two. He’s amazed by the whole set up of it all, the cameras, the monitors, all the people who seem to be constantly walking places very quickly with a lot of purpose. You lead him to your little costume camp in the corner, letting out a chuckle at how impressed he is. 
“Okay, look so I do kind of have to do my job and leave you alone here, but just stay where I tell you to, don’t get in the way and you’ll be fine.” You’ve barely finished your sentence when someone calls your name, so you’re pushing Quinn into an empty chair, wincing a smile at him and scurrying away.
You don’t really get a chance to check back in on him for a good hour or two, but Quinn’s barely noticed the amount of time that’s gone by. He’s shocked at the fact that he’s so close to actors who he actually recognises, but he’s even more in awe simply watching you in your element. He knew you’d downplayed your role to him but even so, he’s mesmerised at the way you’re handling everyone’s questions, how you’re there in between takes to fix collars and ties and things he hadn’t even noticed, at how almost out of nowhere, you suddenly seem to have this commanding yet gracious air of authority around you. He’s never seen or even pictured you like this but he’s completely caught up in it, not realising that one of the makeup artists has been watching his laser focus on you this whole time and sidled up to him.
He doesn’t quite hear her at first.
“I was just asking if you were the boyfriend?”
Quinn’s immediately blushing furiously and he’s only glad that you aren’t there to see it. “No- no, um. Just, uhh, just a friend is all.” 
His response appropriately earns a raised eyebrow.
“Ahhh, okay. Gotcha. Sorry, was just asking,” she pauses, entertained by his spluttering, “She’s rather amazing, you know? Really great at her job and just incredible in general.”
“Yeah, I, uh- I know,” he answers, glancing at you briefly. There’s something in this stranger’s tone that has him slightly confused, wondering why he’s being told this.
She only hums in response before walking away, leaving him to try not to overthink the interaction. He quickly pushes it aside when he sees you making your way over.
“Hey,” you grin, coming to a stop in front of him, “Been having fun?”
“Oh yeah,” he perks up immediately, “Heaps.”
“Great, because we’re starting to wrap up. I’ll take you back out to the entrance, save you all the boring stuff, y’know?”
Quinn’s surprised that it’s already heading into the late afternoon when you exit the studio. He turns to look at you, shoving his hands into his pockets and mustering up as much sincerity as he can.
“Thanks again for having me. It was, um, it was really cool watching you do your thing.”
“Well thanks for finally taking me up on my offer,” you counter, “and thanks for the coffee. I’m glad you had fun, really." You pause, cocking your head slightly, “We’ll go watch the movie together when it’s out.”
This, Quinn is sure, is a throw away line, at least he thinks. You’re not completely sure if you meant it either, but you know you only said it because you knew he would take it as one.
A couple days later you get a text out of the blue from Beau, and then Brock.
Beau: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU TOOK QUINN ON SET???? I’VE KNOWN YOU FOR HOW LONG AND YOU’VE NEVER ASKED ME?!!?!?! 
Brock: I like movies too :))
4
For whatever reason, Beau’s apartment had become the designated gathering spot. You’d already found yourself there a couple times already with the rest of the group, so you didn’t really question it when he ropes you into the games night he’s hosting, claiming they need another person to even out the numbers. It doesn’t occur to you to ask why he couldn’t have asked literally any of the other guys instead, so you don’t realise he has a whole catalogue of excuses ready to cover the fact that he’d been orchestrating a reason to get you and Quinn in the same room again.  
If anyone were to ask Quinn why he was late, he also had his own list of excuses ready to rattle off before he’d admit the truth. He’d spent an embarrassingly long amount of time switching between three shirts knowing that he’d see you - and so what if you’d done the same, as long as nobody else knew? 
Currently, you’re all way too many drinks in, lining up along the couch in preparation for the final tie breaking round of charades. Beau’s couch is definitely not big enough to fit six of you but you all squish in anyway, mostly too drunk or too determined to win to care. You should have expected this level of competition from a group of professional athletes; you've done a good job of keeping up all night, but you’re suddenly very acutely aware of how close Quinn is sitting next to you. You take another hard swallow from your drink before turning your focus onto Beau flailing his arms in front of you.
You manage to keep your cool through several rounds, but eventually you realise Quinn’s thigh has, at some point, ended up pressed firmly against yours. Immediately your whole leg is tingling and your face is flaming up, but Quinn doesn’t seem to show any signs of pulling away, or simply even realising. You blink, trying to refocus, but the only thing your brain seems capable of processing at the moment is the feeling of Quinn’s leg against yours through your jeans. If it weren’t for Beau’s overly dramatic reaction, you probably wouldn’t even have noticed that your team had already lost. 
You move to lean back against the couch - which was a mistake, considering now your shoulders are brushing too, and someone might as well have set your entire body on fire. Your head is starting to spin - must just be the shots catching up, you try to convince yourself - and you’ve drawn your lips into a thin line in an effort not to combust. 
Brock lets out a laugh, clocking your expression. “Alright, no need to be such a sore loser, princess.”
You can feel Quinn turning to look at you, even if you’re desperately avoiding his eye contact. Beau is looking at you now too, eyes flickering over the way you and Quinn are pressed into each other’s sides. He grins, gears already turning in his head.
You hope your laugh sounds convincing. “Yeah, didn’t realise I’d get so into it, huh?”
“We’ll just have to have a rematch another time,” Beau reassures you, well aware losing wasn’t the reason why you looked so distressed. He fakes a look at the clock as you stand up from the couch, having decided you wouldn’t have survived much longer if you didn’t move.
“Well I guess it’s getting a bit late. I think we’re all pretty far gone at this point so everyone’s welcome to crash for the night if you want," Beau offers.
“Dude,” Quinn pipes up, “There’s no way you have enough space for all of us.”
“Well, lucky a certain someone just so happens to live not so far away!” Beau is already shepherding the two of you out of his apartment, still wearing the biggest grin on his face.
Before you can even begin to protest, you’ve already found yourself standing next to Quinn in the hallway. A beat passes, the two of you staring at the shut door incredulously before you finally catch Quinn’s eye, both unable to help the fit of giggles that escapes when you catch each other’s expressions. 
In hindsight, you think this is the exact moment where you lose the ability to deny to yourself that you see him as just one of Beau’s friends. His eyes are a little glazed over from the alcohol, and his lips are flushed the prettiest pink to match his cheeks which are pulled into the widest smile you’ve seen him wear to date, and for the first time you notice exactly just how full his eyelashes are.
“I guess I do have a free couch,” you breathe out once you’ve both calmed down. 
“No it’s fine really, I can just get an uber home, don’t worry about it,” Quinn argues, the slight awkwardness of the situation finally hitting him.
“Quinn, don’t be ridiculous. Your car’s still here, isn’t it? I literally live down the hallway,” you pause, “... like Beau said.”
He swallows, blinking at you for a good while. “Yeah, okay. If you’re sure then.” 
He waits for you to tell him that you’ve changed your mind, that actually the boyfriend you’ve never mentioned before wouldn’t like it if he stayed, or anything along those lines - something that would make the whole thing feel a little more believable, but instead, he just finds you looking at him. He doesn’t think he can handle that much longer without buckling at the knees, the way your eyes are searching his face, so he turns and starts walking down the hallway. He goes to ask what number your apartment is when he suddenly feels your soft hand slip into his.
You don’t know what it is. Maybe how nervous he suddenly seemed, maybe the way his hair looked perfectly dishevelled, or maybe in your intoxicated state you’d just finally decided to throw caution to the wind.
“I’m back this way, idiot,” you laugh at him before tugging him down the other way to your door. 
Quinn is sure that his heart is thumping so loudly that you can hear it echoing through the silent hallway, or that you can somehow feel it where your fingers are laced through his but you’re being nice and saving him the embarrassment by not saying anything about it. He’s also hyper aware of how you didn’t drop his hand until you were both inside, even when you were rummaging in your pockets for your keys.
He glances around your apartment, following suit as he watches you kick off your sneakers. He’s overtly aware of the quietness compared to the chaos of just earlier, and the overwhelming sense of domesticity as he trails behind you into your home. 
You watch him as he looks around, trying to find something to do in order to not get distracted staring at his nose. “Want some water?”
“Yeah actually, thanks,” he feels like he’s whispering, like if he speaks any louder you might realise that he is, actually, in fact, standing in your apartment and decide to kick him out. 
He watches you reach on your toes to grab an extra glass from the cabinet and he finds himself endeared by it all - the way your shoes were lined up in the hallway, the sweater left draped over the couch, the lone mug left on your kitchen counter by your coffee machine.
He gestures at what he’s guessing is an open script left on the table next to an array of pens. “New project?”
“Yeah, I’m almost done reading through it,” you answer, “I won't be working on it for several months still, but I haven’t completely decided yet.”
“Is it shooting here as well?”
“Only bits of it. Looks like it’ll be mostly in LA though. And a couple other locations but it’ll be fun,” you shrug, handing him the glass.
“So you’re gonna do it?” 
“Yeah, I think so. Script’s pretty good so far, and it’s an exciting team. Kind of like why not, you know?”
Quinn only manages to mutter out some sort of agreement. He’s surprised by his own disappointment at the idea that you could be moving out to LA, when in the grand scheme of things he’s only known you for about half a year. Thankfully, you interrupt him before he can think about it much more.
“Anyway, I’ll go get some blankets for you. Bathroom’s down that way, there’s extra toothbrushes in the first drawer.”
When he’s back, he almost crumples at the sight of you in your pjs setting up the couch for him. He notices you’ve refilled his glass before you turn around and shove a pile of clothes into his hands.
“Sweats for you, they should fit, I think,” you crinkle your nose. “My room’s down that way, just let me know if you need anything.”
He only manages to get out a small thanks in response. He’s staring at you, he knows that, but he can’t help how soft you look in the dim lighting.
You tilt your head, giving him a small smile. “Night, Quinn.”
“Yeah, goodnight,” he mumbles.
He makes a mental note to both punch Beau and then thank him in the morning.
+ 1
Nothing ever happened after that seemingly eventful night. It’s now well into the next season and you’re thinking that this is just what the dynamic of yours and Quinn’s friendship is like. You’ve gone back to trying to convince yourself that it’s normal - like you also think Beau’s good looking, right? You had a bit of a crush on him too when you first met him, even if that came and went awfully swiftly and you don’t get anything even close to the same kind of head spinning giddiness when he talks to you. Quinn thinks he’s been less subtle about it all, and you think you’ve been dropping hints but apparently your efforts have only been evident to everyone else but each other.
You know that the team has a gala coming up soon. Beau’s mentioned it to you a couple times in his attempt to gauge how you would feel if he forced Quinn to take you as his date. When he tells Quinn his master plan to finally get the two of you together, Quinn almost chokes on his own spit.
“Ask her as my date?! You’re kidding right?” he practically screeches.
“No.”
Quinn stammers, trying to formulate some kind of reply. “I don’t- We’re not- … I’m not doing that.”
Beau groans. “You guys are both such idiots, I’m sick of it. It’s so obvious that you like her and I don’t know how you can’t see that she’s head over heels for you too!”
Quinn only stares at him in response.
“Why won’t you just ask her? The world isn’t going to implode.”
There’s a good minute of silence, the two of them staring at each other waiting for someone to break. Quinn finally sighs, taking a seat on the couch.
“Isn’t she leaving for LA soon?”
“Are you being serious right now? Please tell me you’re not actually this stupid.”
Quinn blinks. “I don’t know. Vancouver and LA are pretty far apart.”
Beau is just about ready to physically knock some sense into him.
“You’re not even in Vancouver half the time anyway. Plus she’s not moving away forever. Don’t be such a drama queen.”
When Quinn doesn’t say anything in response, Beau doubles down.
“If you don’t ask her, I will for you. I’m not lying but you can test that out if you’d like.”
Beau doesn’t believe that Quinn will do anything, but he doesn’t give him much time to prove him wrong anyway. He’s calling you that evening.
“What are you doing Saturday night in two weeks time?”
“What? Nothing, I don’t think.”
“Okay, great. You’re coming to the gala as Quinn’s date then.”
“I’m what?!”
“You heard me.”
There’s a pause.
“Are you home right now?”
“Ye-”
You hang up on him before he can finish the syllable and you’re storming down the hallway until you’re banging on his door. He looks rather calm when he lets you in, but you don’t miss the mischievous twinkle in his eye.
You point an accusing finger at him. “Explain it to me again. You want me to do what now?”
Beau rolls his eyes. “You’re free. Quinn’s free. Why not? It’s painfully obvious that you have this massive crush on him.”
You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “No I don’t. And you’re asking me instead of him because?”
“Because he’s being an idiot, like he has been for almost an entire year now.” Beau looks at you and he can tell you could be convinced. “Just say yes. I’ll be there, the other guys will be there, there’ll be free food and drinks. Plus you’ll get to dress up! You’re always telling me you want to have an excuse to dress up yourself instead of other people!”
You can’t deny his last point. Literally just the other week, you’d sent him a link of this drop dead gorgeous dress you’d found whilst sourcing for your next project and complained to him about how you wanted to get it for yourself but had nowhere to wear it to.
You narrow your eyes at him. “What’s the catch?”
“There is no catch. Just say you’ll come as his date. That’s it.”
You pause. Beau finds himself in his second stalemate of the day, but he knows you’re going to give in more easily. He listens to the tick of the clock in his living room, patiently waiting for you to cave.
“Fine.”
You don’t give him a chance to properly react before you’ve flung open his door, marched back to your own apartment and screamed into your pillow about what you’ve said yes to.
Beau should’ve known you were going to be insufferable leading up to the actual night. You spend the entirety of the next week pestering him about what the dress code is, how you have nothing to wear, what to expect, who else is going to be there. He gives you the same answers every time you ask and he promises to go dress shopping with you on Thursday. You’re only the slightest bit more relieved at this, but as soon as you agree, Beau’s texting Quinn that he has about a week to deliver.
Quinn had called you as soon as he saw Beau’s message, apologising and saying that he wished Beau had given him a little more warning so he could have asked you himself (he knows he wouldn’t have) and telling you that you don’t have to go if you didn’t want to. You were barely done freaking out about it yourself, but the way he sounded so completely flustered about it all through the phone was somewhat reassuring. 
When you make your way up the stairs to your apartment on Wednesday evening, you find yourself actually excited to go pick out a dress the next day. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t pulled together some inspiration images, but in your defence, you were just good at your job. Your steps falter a little when you notice a package at your door, but as you get closer, you notice there’s a post-it note over it. 
Been a minute since our mail got confused again :)
– Beau
You’re confused because you don’t remember ordering anything, but it’s definitely been addressed to you. You head inside to open it, brows furrowing when you start to recognise the fabric. Needless to say, your jaw is definitely on the floor when you pull out the same dress that you had sent Beau not too long ago. You’re scrambling to grab your phone to yell at him when you remember they’re currently playing a game at the moment, so you settle for a borderline blasphemous string of texts instead.
Hours later, when you’re still reeling, you get one single message in response.
Beau: Wasn’t me. Was all huggy :)
It feels like the last days left until the gala had gone all too quick yet also taken way too long. You felt like you’d been pulling your hair out about it nonstop, and it didn’t help that the guys had gone away on a roadie in between. 
You’d started getting ready way too early. You couldn’t do up the clasp of your necklace since you weren’t used to having your nails done, leaving you too much time to start wondering if you’d maybe gone a little overboard with it all. You’d been pacing around your apartment for the past half hour trying to occupy your hands with something else instead, waiting for a more appropriate time to get changed. You think you must look like a deranged housewife, washing your dishes and folding your laundry with a full face of makeup and maybe too much diligence.
You’re so caught up in distracting yourself that the buzzer ringing makes you jump. 
“Hey, come on up. I’ll unlock the door, I’ve just got to get changed,” you say over the intercom. 
You run back to your room to pull on the dress you’d been fawning over for weeks, still not entirely sure how either Quinn or Beau had managed to work out the right size for you. You hear the door being opened and Quinn calling out your name just as you’re spraying your perfume. 
“In my room!” You yell back, “One sec!”
When he rounds the corner and lays eyes on you, Quinn’s certain he’s turned completely into putty. He’s never seen you so dressed up and you look so breathtakingly stunning that he almost drops the bouquet in his hands.
You’re equally breathless when you turn around to face him. You didn’t realise that he’d gotten a tie to match, and you wouldn’t know that he’d dragged Petey to help him pick a new suit in an attempt to impress you. You’re both staring at each other for what feels like forever before either of you can manage a word.
“Um, hi,” he breathes, barely audible, “You look- you look really beautiful.”
You can’t hide the blush that’s creeping up your neck, but you don’t try to anyway considering his cheeks have gone a rosy shade to match. 
“Thanks, Quinn. You look really good too.” You don’t notice how he flushes even deeper because you’ve finally noticed the flowers he’s holding, and even more so, how there’s not a single rose in the bunch. “Are those…?”
Quinn suddenly feels embarrassed about the fact he got you flowers. “Yeah, I um, I got- they’re for you.” He feels like a school boy all over again, mentally kicking himself for not being able to get a proper sentence out. He looks down at the stems, rubbing at his stubble. “Did I overdo it?”
You laugh, you’d been fidgeting with your nails the entire time.
“No, I think it’s really sweet.” You take the flowers from him, laying them down on your vanity when you remember your necklace.
“Oh, can you help me with this? I can’t seem to get the clasp.” You hand him the chain and turn, moving your hair out of the way. 
You can smell the waft of his cologne and feel his focus on the back of your neck, suddenly incredibly aware of how close you’re standing. Your mouth has dried, you're pretty sure your ears are ringing and you think you’re fully frozen in your spot.
“There,” Quinn mumbles, barely even able to get the word past the lump in his throat. He’s still thinking about how unreal you look and fighting the overwhelming urge to spin you around and kiss you right then and there. 
You’re both snapped out of the moment when his phone starts ringing. It’s Beau, asking what time you guys are going to arrive.
“Yeah, we’re just about to leave. See you soon, dude.” Quinn answers, turning his attention back to you. “Ready to go?”
On the way there, you’ve somehow recomposed yourself to manage a somewhat normal conversation. You’re not sure exactly what it is that sent your nerves into haywire in the first place. The fact that you’re so done up, that you’re technically his date, or the fact that he seems just as antsy as you. He tells you he’s a little nervous about the speech he has to make, so you squeeze his hand in reassurance and try to reel your nerves in for both of you.
It’s a lot easier when you get there and see everyone else. You’re reminded that they’re your friends and that this is just another time you get to hang out, even if it’s a lot more fancy and official than what you’re used to. But when you finally go to take your seats after doing your initial rounds of mingling, you still manage to somehow knock your fork to the floor. You bend over to pick it up and you don’t realise Quinn’s covered the edge of the table with his hand until you bump your head into it. Before you can even say anything or just thank him for it, he’s offering to swap forks with you.
“Oh, don’t even worry about it,” you laugh a little breathlessly, “Five second rule, right?”
“Yeah, sure,” he replies, but he’s already replaced the fork next to your plate with his anyway. 
Brock and Petey have watched the whole exchange and share knowing smirks from across the table.
Everything else seems to go smoothly. Maybe it’s the soft touches on his arm or on your back, the blushing smiles and longing glances across the room, but something about tonight feels like tomorrow you won’t be able to pretend nothing happened.
Quinn’s speech goes well, and now everyone is up and moving around again. You hang back and let the long line of teammates and attendees go to congratulate him first.
Beau approaches Quinn, interrupting his train of thought.
“Now that the business part is done, you gonna finally make a move or what?”
Quinn’s eyes almost pop out of his head at the idea of this and also the volume at which Beau is speaking.
“Shut up,” he hisses, “She’ll hear you!”
“Doesn’t matter - she’s going to notice anyway with how hard you’ve been staring all night!”
“No I haven’t,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah ok, sure buddy. Just- no time like the present!” Beau claps him on the back and leaves Quinn to shift his gaze back to you. He’s starting to get lost in how at ease you look, talking to some of the other wives, when he realises Beau is right and you’ve caught him staring.
You make your way to him, prodding him gently in the shoulder.
“Told ya you didn’t need to be so worried.”
He’s blushing again. He can’t seem to get a handle on the effect you have on him.
“Yeah, it went alright, I guess. Made it out alive.”
“Well I, for one, think you spoke really well.” There’s a slight teasing in your voice, but you hope he can tell you mean it.
Quinn finds himself lost for words in front of you for what feels like the hundredth time that night. He’s scanning your face and tries not to think too hard before he opens his mouth again.
“Can I kiss y-”
“Please.”
His hands are quick to find your waist and pull you closer as your hands find a place against his chest. The kiss is quick and rushed and almost all teeth from how big you’re both smiling, but you don’t mind it. You feel like the ground’s been pulled out from under you in one fell swoop and you’re free falling but somehow it feels like exactly what you needed.
When you pull away, Quinn’s wearing the goofiest lopsided grin you’ve ever seen and you can only imagine that you look the same.
“I, uh-”
“You’ve got lip gloss on you.”
You’re both giggling as he swipes over his lips with his thumb. 
You’re so lost in him that you almost don’t register all the hollering and clapping from your table. Usually you would hate the idea of so many eyes watching you, but it all feels like such a long time coming that you can’t seem to be even remotely embarrassed about any of it.
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Text
Chords of Desire | Part One
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Jake x Danny x Reader
3.8k words
18+ Minors DNI
Warnings: spanking, crying, slight voyeurism, brief mentions of alcohol, BDSM themes, M!Doms/F!Sub, praise kink
Author's Note: I wrote the bones of this fic a few years ago with a different pairing in a different fandom, but I wanted to rewrite it completely because I could not get this idea out of my head. I also had to rewrite basically all of the smut because I originally wrote this about three guys. I’m telling you this because some of my old writing style is still lingering and it makes me want to rip my hair out!
Summer has always been an awkward time for you. Your job as a teaching assistant is inactive during the summer months, and you’ve always taken the summers off school to recover from university classes, so the empty months of June and July are always a difficult adjustment. You’re hoping this summer will be different though.
Just over a year ago, you began a relationship with two beautiful boys, Jake and Danny. Your one-year anniversary was just last month, but you hadn’t been able to celebrate much since the boys were wrapping up their tour and you were busy with finals. Now though, they would be coming home to spend the summer with you, cooped up in the house doing whatever you all please. Or at least that’s what you’d thought would happen.
It's been two weeks since Jake and Danny have been back from their tour, and you have barely seen them. They jumped right back into writing and rehearsals as soon as they got back, and they rarely spent time in your shared apartment. They would leave early in the morning and wouldn’t return until late at night. You would be asleep by then. That is if they came home at all, instead of opting to sleep somewhere closer to the studio.
You understood that their work was important, and not only did they pick up most of the bills, but it was also their passion, so who are you to tell them not to work so much? Even so, you couldn’t help but grow lonelier as the days passed without the comforting touch of your boys.
~~~
Jake arrives home around one in the morning. After wrapping up at the studio earlier, he had gone out drinking with Josh, so he wasn’t surprised to see Danny’s shoes next to yours by the door. Even though it had only been a few hours, he was still just as eager to see his boyfriend as he was you. He kicked his own shoes off, placing them gently next to yours before tiptoeing further into the apartment, being mindful of his volume so he wouldn’t wake you.
As he made his way down the short hallway to your shared bedroom, he sees Danny standing outside the door, leaning against the frame as he peeked in. Curious, he furrows his brow and chuckled slightly as he approaches the taller man from behind. “Danny?’ he finally calls out.
The taller man quickly whipped his head around and brought his index finger to his lips. “Shh, she’ll stop if she hears us.” He stepped aside, carefully pushing the door open a bit wider so Jake could take a look for himself into the dimly lit bedroom. There, he saw you, naked, laying on your stomach, humping a pillow, and with three fingers working their way rapidly in and out of your entrance. You let out soft, lewd moans as you worked yourself, and quietly, but desperately were begging for both of your boyfriends to fuck you.
Jake was furious. There was one strict rule you were expected to follow: NO TOUCHING YOURSELF WITHOUT PERMISSION.
Yet, there you were, very obviously breaking that rule.
Jake was about to storm in and stop you, but Danny held him back, shaking his head and placing a hand on Jake’s arm. “No, she’s almost there, just let her finish,” he said with a smirk.
Jake didn’t want to let you get away with breaking the rules, but the look on the gentle giant’s face stopped him in his tracks. He reluctantly stood back in his spot, watching intently as you came all over your fingers and the poor pillow you had been violating. You collapsed onto the bed, trembling as you continued to let out little whimpers while coming down from your high, soon rolling over and falling into a deep sleep.
When Danny deemed the coast clear, he signaled Jake to follow him, instructing him to get rid of the pillow while he went to grab a washcloth to wipe you down. They worked meticulously, side by side, to clean you up and tuck you into the covers of your shared bed. In the process, they discovered a pile of mini liquor bottles scattered around the floor around the bed, leading them to believe you were drunk off your ass.
Once they were done, they headed out of the bedroom to talk.
Jake entered the living room first, Danny close behind, and they both settled into the couch cushions, Jake throwing his head back in exhaustion. “What’s gotten into her? She knows better than this,” he states, shaking his head and replaying the image of you with your fingers deep inside of yourself, mumbling their names.
Danny chuckled, pulling him closer to his side, mindlessly running a hand across his scalp. “We haven’t been doing our jobs, Jakey. Really think about it, we haven’t been around to even hold y/n lately. Our girl is feeling neglected.”
Jake couldn’t deny the truth of his boyfriend’s statement, but that still wasn’t any excuse in his book. “You’re right, but y/n could have-“
Danny already knew what was coming and he didn’t want to hear it. He leaned down and connected his lips with Jake's, effectively cutting off his sentence, and kissed him lazily for a few seconds. He began to pull away but was stopped by a hand making its way into his curls and pulling him closer to Jake’s face. They fought for dominance in the kiss, but it was no use as Danny easily took control, setting a steady pace. Danny swallowed all of the whimpers being pulled from the man next to him and reached back to knead the clothed flesh of Jake’s ass as the kiss continued.
Jake finally pulled away looking like a hot mess. Danny trailed his eyes from Jake’s, down to his lips and back up again, before pulling him into his chest again. “When was the last time we did that to each other?” Danny asked, resuming his previous motion of running his hand through Jake’s hair.
He opened his eyes, still doing his best to hold himself together after that unexpected kiss. He wanted to give Danny a definitive answer, but he couldn’t. He was drawing a blank. They hadn’t had a lot of time alone during the tour, and since they’ve been back, they’ve basically been with Josh and Sam every day as well.
Danny gave him a soft smile, already knowing Jake wouldn’t be able to answer. He could barely remember himself. “Exactly. So just imagine how y/n feels, always being here alone every day. At least we are with each other when we’re not home.”
Jake thought carefully about the situation, wanting to see things through your eyes just like Danny was able to. He’d been so caught up with the band that being intimate with his lovers didn’t even cross his mind, not once. And he suspects it is probably the same for Danny, the way he gets so involved in the band as well; everything else ceases to exist. They had promised you they would care for you and give you the love you needed, but lately they hadn’t been fulfilling that promise. Jake felt a wave of guilt begin to wash over him. Although your actions were inappropriate, they were justifiable.
Jake brings Danny in for another kiss. He smiles, “Thank you, Daniel, you always know how to put things into perspective.”
Danny caressed his boyfriend’s tan skin, grazing his fingertips over his cheekbones. “I love you, Jakey.”
Jake wrapped his arms around the back of his neck, pressing their foreheads together. “I love you too. Now we need to show y/n we love her just as much.”
They stayed cuddling on the couch for a while longer, before deciding to call it a night and cuddle in their bed with you. They were going to make up for their behavior towards you very soon.
~~~
You were pacing back and forth outside of your boyfriends’ home studio biting your nails nervously (really just the second bedroom but still). You needed to come clean about what you did the other night. You had to tell the truth, or it would eat you alive.
Your memory was foggy about the details, but you remembered enough. When you woke up the morning after, you were naked, squished between your boyfriends, and the memories started flooding in. You could remember drinking, but you couldn’t remember how much. Then as you started replaying the events of the night before, guilt became the dominant emotion. You had touched yourself. You’d touched yourself without either of your lovers there. Sure, you had been feeling a little lonely and sad, but that was no excuse to do what you did.
You felt tears begin to form at the corners of your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away and took a few deep breaths. You needed to keep it together if you were going to tell Jake and Danny what happened.
When you awoke this morning and heard music coming from down the hall, the first thing you felt was relief that your boys were going to be home today, but that feeling slowly faded into lingering anxiety about what you and done and the need to tell them. You were so happy they were here, but you thought you might have more time to come up with an excuse, or even forget about it completely so you didn’t have to face it.
You took one last deep breath to calm your nerves before opening the door slowly and taking a step inside the room, preparing yourself for whatever may happen. You shut the door behind you, turning to look at your boys, completely immersed in whatever riff they were working on that it took a minute for them to notice you standing there. Jake was the first to realize your presence. “Hey, pretty girl,” he said, pausing his playing and setting his guitar down on a stand near where he was seated. “What brings you here?” he attempts to lightly joke, but his demeanor changes slightly once he takes in the sight of you.
You still stood in front of the door, nervously fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt that hung to the tops of your thighs. Jake eyed you curiously, raising an eyebrow as if to say what's wrong?
Danny is next to speak up, noticing your nervous fidgeting. “Babe? Is everything okay?” He starts to stand from his drum kit and move around to the front of it, but no closer to you.
Your mind drew a blank at the worst possible moment. Your throat felt dry, and your stomach flipped upside down as you fumbled for anything to say. You felt like a wreck.
Danny, now concerned about your lack of response, walked across the room and took your hands in his. “Hey, you’re okay. Take a deep breath and tell us what’s going on. You’re safe.”
You looked up to meet his gaze and saw the worry written all over his face. You stole a glance behind him at Jake who wore a similar expression. Then you heard Jake’s voice, “Hey, you’re okay. Like Danny said, just breathe,” he paused inhaling loudly while indicating for you to copy him, then exhaling for a few seconds.
Again, Danny spoke up, squeezing your hands once, “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“Did something happen?” Jake interjected.
You took in as steady of a breath as you could manage, before letting it go and looking back to the floor. You couldn’t possibly face them while telling them this. You nodded your head, “I… I touched myself without permission,” you whispered into the room, hoping the noise would slip past their ears, but nonetheless, they still heard you in the quiet room.
At this point, you couldn’t hold back your tears; it was just too much for you to handle. You felt the tears start to slowly drip down your face, but made no effort to stop them.
The already silent room seemed to grow quieter as the seconds passed. Now that they knew the reason for your nervousness, Jake and Danny gave up on fighting the sly smirks that were threatening to spread across their faces since you walked in earlier. They never wished for you to cry, but this kind of cry… the kind that comes when you’re confessing to doing something naughty, was their favorite one. They got off on it.
Danny dropped your hands after a few moments. “Y/n, you didn’t!” he dramatically exclaims, a smile creeping along the corners of his lips.
“You know better, y/n,” Jake wore a similar expression.
You were upset; with your eyes trained on the floor beneath your feet, you missed the sly expressions on your boyfriends’ faces, and you were so overwhelmed with guilt that you couldn’t pick up on the exaggeration in their tones. You just heard their words and felt them cut through you like sharp knives. The only thing you hated more than anything else in the world was disappointing the men you loved. It hurt every fiber of your being.
You were sobbing now, unable to calm down enough to explain yourself properly. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to… I- I was lonely, and I missed you so much, and I- I uh,” you couldn’t finish. Your emotions were running wild, and you didn’t have the strength anymore to get them under control. This kind of reaction might seem excessive to anyone else, but to you, this was your pride. You loved it when your boyfriends called you a good girl, a pretty girl. But your behavior the other night was anything but good. You were bad, and you know how much your boys like you to be their good girl.
Jake smiled, rolling his chair over to you and pulling you into his lap, making you straddle him as he began to rub circles into your lower back. Danny crouched beside you both, taking your hand in his and bringing it up to his mouth to gently kiss your knuckles. You couldn’t fully understand what was happening, just giving in and burying your face in Jake’s neck, allowing their soothing touches to calm you down.
After a minute of waiting for you to calm down, Danny looked up at you from his crouching position with a compassionate smile, rubbing soothing circles on your palm with his thumb. “Y/n, guess what?”
You had stopped crying, finding solace in Jake’s lap and Danny’s hand on yours. You came out of hiding from Jake’s neck and rested your temple on his shoulder, sniffling a few times.
“What?” you croaked out, throat already a little hoarse from crying, blinking away any remaining tears from your eyes.
Jake kissed the top of your head before nuzzling your hair with his nose. “We already know.”
You popped your head up, eyes wide in disbelief. “You do?” you asked in a surprised tone.
Danny giggled, reaching up to wipe another tear that had spilled from your eye. “That’s right, baby, we saw you.” He pulls your right hand towards his face. “We saw these naughty fingers shoved deep into that greedy little hole of yours,” he said while slowly tracing each finger with his lips.
“And this needy little thing,” Jake added, “coming all over our poor pillow.” He moved his hand off your back and began trailing around to your front, hovering his palm just above your now throbbing core. You whimper out loud, slightly rocking your hips forward to chase the feeling of your boyfriend’s hand on you.
Although it was amazing when they were nice to you, you knew it wouldn’t last long. It never did. Your punishment was sure to come soon, whatever it was.
The last time you broke the rules, they edged you for hours. It hurt so good, struggling not to come until they said you could. It was a feeling so intense you can’t even begin to find the words to describe it properly.
“Are you going to punish me like last time?” you asked, still sitting comfortably in Jake’s lap.
Danny tilted his head at your question with a small pout on his lower lip, looking like he was in deep thought. He looked over at the man beneath you, who raised his eyebrows, signaling that it was up to Danny. He looked back at you with a devilish smile on his face. “I guess we could.”
He took your hands in his once again, helping you up from your seat in Jake’s lap to a standing position, but still between Jake’s knees. You felt him move behind you, leaning in to brush his lips against your ear. “Bend over for me, put your hands on Jakey’s shoulders.”
His hands disappeared from yours, instead running up your arms to the middle of your back, gently pushing you forward to Jake. You put your hand out to catch his shoulders and met his gaze for the first time in a few minutes. Your faces were so close to one another, Jake couldn’t help but pull you in for a kiss. You were already incredibly turned on, not really knowing what was going to happen or when it would strike. You trusted your boys to take care of you though, leaving everything in their hands.
Danny had left the room briefly to retrieve a few items he kept out of your line of sight, placing them on a table somewhere behind you.
He stood behind you, pulling your shorts down, allowing them to land around your ankles. The cool air in the room blew over your bare skin, sending a chill up your spine. Jake took notice and gently ran his hands up and down your arms resting on his shoulders. You heard metal clinking as Danny started unbuckling his belt, slowly sliding out of the loops on his shorts.
Jake and Danny normally use their hands when they spanked you, but the belt came out when you did something really bad. The first time, you were nervous and thought it was going to be the worst thing in the world, but once you felt the first strike from the leather strap, you were convinced.
Danny folded the belt in half, running his hand over the smooth skin of your ass, barely tracing the edge of your cheeky panties. “Ready?” he asked, making sure you were still up for their play.
You felt your heart swell, another reminder of the love you shared with the two boys touching you. “Ready,” you whispered, already lightheaded from arousal.
Jake grabbed your chin, pulling your face so you were looking him in the eyes. “You’ll get two strikes, then maybe you get a reward,” he explained to you, giving you somewhat of a heads-up on what to expect.
You were losing your grip on reality, eyes fluttering shut as Danny teasingly rubbed the leather of the belt over your cheeks. “Okay,” you somehow managed to get out.
Once it was confirmed you knew what was about to happen, Danny took a step back and landed a single strike over both of your ass cheeks. You let out a yelp in surprise, knees buckling from the impact. You leaned forward to catch yourself, burying your face in Jake’s neck, suckling his skin for comfort. The strike wasn’t hard enough to cause severe pain, but it did sting, and you were trying to distract yourself as best as you could.
Danny grabbed a hold of your hips, pulling you back into position for his second strike. He gripped the flushed flesh firmly, causing you to whimper slightly. He couldn’t stop himself from palming his clothed cock as he admired the view of your reddened ass under his hand and the soaked wetness of your panties. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he breathed out, barely audible for anyone to hear.
However, you heard it, moaning as you sucked on Jake’s neck harder, one of his hands coming up to lace through your hair to pull your mouth away from his skin. “What do you say, sweetheart?”
You licked at the reddish, purple mark you left on Jake’s neck, “Thank you, sir.”
This was music to both Jake's and Danny’s ears. “Such a well-behaved girl, aren’t you?” Danny complimented, knowing you thrived when praised for doing something right.
You preened, wanting to receive more acknowledgment from the men you were sandwiched between. “Yes, sir,” your voice clearer than before, hoping that would win you another praise.
Instead, with no warning at all, Danny landed the second and final crack of the belt on your ass. Jake acted fast, swallowing the scream from your mouth as you lurched forward from the force of the leather hitting your backside. He kissed you passionately, wiping away any stray tears on your cheeks with his thumbs.
You weren’t crying because it hurt, you were crying because you were overwhelmed with pleasure. You’ve grown to enjoy this type of impact play, maybe more than you should, and your boyfriends knew it.
While you and Jake continue to make out, you could hear Danny drop the belt on the ground before returning to his place behind your slightly bent-over figure.
Jake grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled it in exactly the right way, just enough to move your head to the side an inch. He put his lips to your ear and nibbled at your lobe before whispering, “If you’re a good girl for Danny, maybe I’ll give you an extra little treat.”
Your knees felt like jelly when you registered his words.
“Can you do that for me?” Jake pressed on. You felt Danny grab you firmly from behind, digging his fingertips into the fronts of your hips, likely leaving bruises. Unable to form any coherent words, you nodded your head eagerly at Jake’s question, but that didn’t seem to satisfy him.
“I need you to say it y/n…” Jake whispered again in your ear, starting to kitten lick his way from your earlobe to the middle of your neck. You shivered at the feeling of his tongue on your skin, and Danny’s lingering touches on your hips.
“Yes, please, I’ll be so good, please just do something, I need you so bad, please-” Danny cut you off by pulling your hips harshly against his so you could feel just how affected he was by watching you like this. “Well, how am I supposed to deny you when you beg all pretty like that, sweet girl?”
Falling deeper into a state of arousal at his words, you knew it would be a long night.
~~~
{Author again: AHHH what do we think???}
Also reply, DM, or literally anything if you want to be added to the tag list for this story :)
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ladykailitha · 4 months
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Royal Pain: Epilogue
I know I said I would hold off posting until the Christmas story was completed, but this one literally had one chapter left and it felt rude to make you wait for it.
Happy boys!
Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13 Pt 14 Pt 15 Pt 16 Pt 17 Pt 18 Pt 19 Pt 20 Pt 21 Meta Pt 22 Pt 23 Pt 24|Pt 25|Pt 26|Pt 27|Pt 28
****
Six months later:
They were having a holiday plus everyone celebrating something awesome party.
It was held at Steve and Eddie’s new house. Steve had decided to move out the apartment and buy a house now that the business was so successful. And on their six month anniversary, Steve asked Eddie to move in with him.
It had two studios. A music one for Eddie, where he could write songs and the boys could practice so that they no longer had to rent out that garage.
The second one was for Steve to get his art degree. He was still running Royal Pain, but wanted to learn new styles and techniques that would help him become a better tattoo artist.
Chrissy, Robin, and Vickie had also moved into together, but into a bigger apartment that had three rooms so that they could all have their own space, but still remain a committed polycule.
Argyle and Chrissy were both full time tattoo artists, leaving time for Steve to go back to school.
Robin was going back to school, too. To become a translator.
Eden and Argyle were still a couple and expecting their first child in the summer.
Nancy and Jonathan remained broken up, with Nancy in therapy and Jonathan dating a friend of Miranda’s.
Jeff and Miranda were getting married in February, the reception to be held at the Nightmare Holes.
Mike and Will were official now, too and were in talks to move in together. They were trying to decide to move to Will’s apartment, Mike’s, or a find another apartment all together. One that was both their space.
Erica had moved to New York to be with Max and Lucas. But all of them were in town for the party. Having planned it around when the Knicks would be in town.
Hopper was loving Eden as his apprentice, hers almost being up. He was eyeing the first of the year to promote her.
Brian came out as ace and that Cecil was his platonic life partner and had been for the last couple of years.
Gareth and Gethin were still sharing the apartment, but they were still single. Gethin was always looking for the next Mrs Hughes, but Gareth was content to find out more about himself before diving into a relationship.
Dustin and Suzie were also expecting, but they had just found earlier that week.
The Binghams were so excited that two of their daughters were pregnant and were planning to come up in the summer to help with Eden’s baby and help Suzie get ready for hers.
They were all gathered around in the kitchen with a package that Murray had sent over that morning.
“Come on, Ed,” Wayne said softly. “Open ‘er up.”
Eddie nodded and tore the brown paper off the gift. He let out a choked out sob.
Steve put his arm around Eddie’s shoulder.
“Oh sunshine,” Steve breathed. “Show everyone.”
Eddie nodded and lifted it over his head so everyone could see.
There in a black frame and nestled in a white background was a gold record for their song, Pretty Boy Under Bright Lights. The first love song Eddie ever wrote for Steve. And it had just sold its five hundred thousand copy.
They all started cheering.
Steve kissed Eddie’s cheek fiercely. “See? I knew you could do it on your terms, Eds. You are a rockstar now.”
Tears ran down his cheeks nodding his head. Then he was surrounded by his band. They were hugging him and cheering.
Sometimes it really does work out for everyone. Even if didn’t happen the way they thought it would.
Eddie thought back to that day so long ago when Max had called him to let him know that she was leaving. He never thought that losing a tattoo artist would change his life forever.
Later that night, he pulled her aside.
“I owe you big time, Red,” he said, wrapping his arm around her.
Max grinned. “Hell yeah you do.”
“Anything you want, you’ve got,” Eddie promised. “My left kidney. My first child.”
She laughed. “When you two get married, I want to do matching tattoos on both of you.”
Eddie blinked. “Deal!”
Steve wandered over just then. “What’s a deal?”
Max grinned up at him. “Eddie just promised me that I get to do wedding tats when you two get married.”
Steve looked at Eddie and then back to Max. “Yeah, that’s fair.”
Max nodded once. “Damn straight it is.”
“Oh, honey,” Eddie teased. “There ain’t nothing straight about this relationship.”
She smacked his arm.
But Eddie just giggled.
“Come on,” Max said. “I want to see it.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “You saw it on my Insta.”
“It’s not the same and you know it,” she growled. “I want to see Steve’s masterpiece.”
Steve blushed. “Come on, Max...”
Eddie looked at his blush and then turned to Max. “Fine. But here and not out there where everyone can gawk.”
“Well, duh,” she said. “That’s why I asked now.”
Eddie took off his shirt and turned around.
“Oh shit,’ she hissed. “It’s even better than the pictures give it credit. Steve, this is incredible. There’s no way I could have done something like that.”
Steve ducked his head. “I really really like how it turned out.”
Eddie put his shirt back on. “Yeah. Me too. I just don’t like showing it off, because it’s so personal. Between me and Steve.”
Max nodded. “Yeah. Absolutely. Thanks for showing me.”
Eddie nodded back and wrapped his arms around, Steve. “Thanks for everything, Red.”
She waved them off. All she had done was leave. But they didn’t see it that way. So yeah, they owed everything to Max, for choosing to live her life on her own terms.
“Before we go back to the party,” Steve said. “I wanted to give you another present before we got to the main one later.”
Eddie’s shoulder sagged. “Babe you didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” Steve said scratching his cheek. “In fact it was something I’ve been meaning to give to you for a long time.”
He pulled out a brightly wrapped package the size of baseball.
“This isn’t a baseball, is it?” Eddie asked playfully.
Steve laughed. “No. It’s not that.”
Eddie removed the wrapping paper to find a small black velvet box. He opened it slowly.
“Babe, you can’t give this to me,” he begged. “This is the only thing you have left of your grandpa.”
Steve took it out and slid it on Eddie’s middle finger on his right hand. It fit perfectly. “I’ve been wanting you to have it since you gave me your lucky guitar pick. I wanted to give you something that was on the same level of importance to me that this was for you.” He tapped the pick gently that was under his shirt.
“It’s not–you’re not–”
Steve shook his head. “I will propose. Just not yet and not with that. You’ll get a ring on your left hand, sunshine. Make no mistake.”
Eddie nodded. “I love you, babe.”
“Steven Courtney Alexander Harrington you better not be making out in there!”
Eddie and Steve laughed and kissed deeply, then they walked back to the party, arms wrapped around each other.
“Right names, wrong order,” Eddie teased as they rejoined the group.
Robin blinked. “Wait, really?”
Steve nodded.
“I can’t believe you told him before you told me!” Robin hissed. “I was here first!”
“But I liked watching you guess,” he said laughing. Then he turned to the rest of the crowd. “Who told?”
Robin wiggled her shoulders smugly. “No one told me. I looked up your grandparents. They’re both pretty famous, after all.”
Steve sighed. “Again which of you told her to look it up?”
Robin’s jaw dropped and Vickie’s hand slowly went up.
“Traitor!” Robin said in mock outrage.
Eddie leaned down to see that Steve was pouting about her learning his middle name.
“Don’t worry about it, babe,” he said kissing Steve’s cheek. “We can make her guess my middle name.”
Steve immediately brightened up. “Oohhh. Yeah, okay. It’ll take her years to guess yours!”
“It’s Wayne,” Robin said confidently.
Wayne snorted from the corner. “You really think my deadbeat brother would name his son after me, the responsible one?”
She frowned.
Steve turned to Eddie gleefully. “You’re right, sunshine. Best game ever.”
Robin started shouting out names and it wasn’t even Eddie correcting her. It was Jeff, and Miranda, and Gareth, and Brian and everyone else who knew Eddie’s middle name.
And of course Steve knew it too, but he liked watching their friends and family laugh and try to guess. Because the truth was, Eddie didn’t have a middle name. Robin could guess forever and never get it right.
Steve curled up against Eddie’s side and sighed happily. It was his best year yet. And as long as he had Eddie by his side, they would all be great years to come.
END
****
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miss-tc-nova · 4 months
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Stubborn - Azul Ashengrotto x Reader
So this is more what I originally wanted to write when I wrote Safe Space.
Premise: Azul's darling refuses to leave the octopus pot
Words: 446
~~~~~
               Azul stands in his room, arms folded, lips pursed, glaring at the pot in the corner.
               His voice is stern. “Darling, come out of the octopus pot.”
               The voice echoes from within. “No.”
               Azul would normally indulge his beloved in every silly endeavor—he even found this pouty hiding kind of cute. Three hours ago. Since then, Azul has attended a housewarden meeting, taken care of the lounge’s shifts for next week, and completed most of his homework. He thought by now this minor mood swing would have passed but clearly, he was wrong. He doesn’t even know why his darling is upset other than that it has to do with one of the other first years—so it could be anything really.
               “You can’t stay in there forever.”
               “Watch me.”
               “What are you going to do about dinner? What about your homework?”
               “Screw it.”
               “What about me?”
               “Get in here.”
               Shoulders drop. Yes, the octopus pot made for his true form could definitely fit the two of them with only a bit of squishing, but this is just getting silly. Strolling forward to peer into the container, Azul spies his beloved, bunkered down with his duvet and a pillow as fingers scroll the phone “borrowed” from the headmage.
               “You’re just being stubborn now.”
               “Don’t care.”
               “Darling, you have to leave eventually.”
               Suddenly, those eyes turn on him, sparking with a determination and anger that actually strikes fear into the young man. He should’ve left right then and given his darling the space, but it appears all sense has left him. In that hesitation, a pair of hands fly from the pot to snag his jacket.
               The scream that leaves his lips is not flattering at all as Azul is unceremoniously abducted into the octopus pot. There’s some flailing and squirming before he’s situated, sitting across the prefect’s lap, arms wrapped around him.
               Fire surges across his back at the proximity. From here, he can see every sparkling shade in those gorgeous eyes, the soft smell of shampoo lulling him into a trance. Hell, he’s pretty sure he can hear his darling’s pounding heartbeat. No. Wait. That’s his. Sure, they’ve been just as close before, but Azul has never been able to build an immunity to intimacy with his darling—and he probably never will.
               With a huff, the prefect snuggles up against the housewarden, pulling up another video on the phone.
               So…he lost. And now, Azul is also confined to the octopus pot for who-knows how long.
               Yet as he sighs, settles in, and resigns to his fate, the young mage admits that maybe stubbornly pouting in the octopus pot isn’t such a bad thing.
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steamberrystudio · 7 months
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27/08/2023
So now that Gilded Shadows is wrapping up, I am promoting When Stars Collide from "Spare time project" to "Part time project"
What is the difference? Well, when I work on something in my spare time, that means it is late at night or the weekend. Literally when I am not doing anything else and just feel like tinkering with it. 
As a part time project, this means that I will be spending an hour or two each day during the work week to do things for this project. It will start making more steady progress even if I'm not focusing on it full time.
This is basically taking it from me spending 0 - 4 hours on it a week to 8-10 hours on it a week. 
My goal is to have the draft complete before the end of the year (by 'draft', I mean 'rough draft'). But more on that below.
Summary
Finished all scenes for the new chapter three
Finished Yren chapter 6 scenes
Started catching Kav's route up to the others
Edited Asher's CG to account for the new conference room BG
Small adjustments to Wil's first CG
Ramble
This week my big focus for WSC has been on writing. As I mentioned, I really want to get the rough draft completed by the end of the year. Currently the draft is nearly 70% complete (for those following updates in multiple places, when you see different percentages....it's because I've written more since then. Rofl).
Now, the draft was nearly 70% in the past as well but I added another route since then, so I lost some progress due to the increase in target word count. I'm also calculating things more precisely now as I created a newer and fancier writing spreadsheet to track my progress and keep myself on track.
I went back and wrote in the new chapter 3, reorganising all the existing chapters and scenes to accommodate it. 
I finished Yren chapter 6 (which catches him up to Noel and Raif). 
And now I'm working on catching Kav, the new character, up to Yren, Noel, and Raif. (Remember, Daaz and Asher's routes are already fully drafted).
I have written about 15000 words since my last update here. I don't expect to write that much every week and my goal is actually a fair bit more modest than that. Gilded Shadows is not 100% complete yet. I still have multiple KS related things to finish and, of course, I will be making corrections and focusing on its beta testing once testers have had a bit more time with it. 
WSC is still a part time project. This was just a particularly good week for it.
I have also worked on a few other things for WSC - mostly UI related and some art related things.
I received a new BG since my last update, and realised that...I have to revamp all the existing CGs. Or at least update them to change the background elements. I've only edited one so far but I don't think it'll be too much effort to fix the others.
And I continue to streamline and adjust the UI to make it look nicer and be more efficient.
So...
Kav. The new character. Kav'isari Tiaine, a Ka'mérian crew member who works in the space labs most of the time and specialises in identifying alien technology (what species it belongs to and what it does).
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To explain where Kav came from, he actually popped into my head months ago. And every so often, I would contemplate whether or not I wanted to add him. I would say I first had the idea in January or February of this year. I would repeatedly think about it and dismiss it.
I then mentioned it to a friend sort of off-handedly back at the very beginning of June. A month and a half later, I mentioned him on a voice call on my server knowing full well that if I really talked about him and had a conversation about him, I would probably end up doing enough character brainstorming that he would become "real." And I talked about him anyway.
And that's exactly how he became an actual character. I think I had his sprite sketched out by the end of that day.
But he had existed as a concept long before that. The main reason I was willing to add him instead of ruthlessly telling myself no is just that I felt there was a gap in the cast for a gadfly style character who has a little mystery to him. And I just knew I could manage another route based on the length of Asher and Daaz's routes.
So...yeah. That is how Kav came into being. His introduction into the story has caused a few minor changes to standing lore or things in the prologue (just mentions of him, etc). But the changes to the currently public content of the game are pretty minor.
Kav won't actually appear in the game until Chapter 3. He gets mentioned a few times up to that point. There are some logistical considerations to his route but I have talked about those more on Patreon.
Speaking of Patreon, now that WSC is moved into "part time" status, I will be starting to slowly release some Patreon-exclusive lore posts for this game there. Like most games monetised through Patreon content, the lore posts will not be critical to having a full and complete game experience. Rather, it is going to be comprised of additional and extra lore content.
Some of the lore content released on Patreon will be in the game (such as character back stories) but Patrons will get to see it early and will get it presented in a different format.
Much of the content can be considered "extras" rather than necessary.
I will also be updating on the development progress weekly there (available to all patrons) rather than bi-weekly, and my updates there (going forward) will tend to be more detailed than the ones here.
Once episode releases start, Patrons will be able to access them before they the public releases. But backing on Patreon is not necessary to be able to play the game and get a full and complete game experience. It's just how this particular game will be monetised as I'm looking for more sustainable release styles so I can continue to make games.
That is all for this update. I will see you in a couple of weeks to talk about WSC again!
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mia-tiny · 1 year
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Unexpected Company Part Four | P. Seonghwa
⇒ pairing: p. seonghwa x fem!reader
⇒ smut, angst, mentions of past cheating, mentions of drinking, drunk psh, oral (both receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (big no no), cumming inside
⇒ word count: 8.1k
💖 read part one here, part two here, and part three here
💕 view my masterlist here
🖤 view my Kinktober ‘22 masterlist here
⇒ author’s note: When I first started this series as the first thing I wrote on Tumblr, I honestly didn’t expect to make a full story out of it, so trying to wrap up all the loose ends was so hard. Hence why it has been more than a year between part one and this final part. Thank you to everyone who has enjoyed Unexpected Company and waited patiently for this release!
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This week has been the week from hell. Besides it starting with Seonghwa seducing you and then sneaking out before you wake, you’ve had to also deal with Wooyoung’s incessant meddling that started the moment he found out about your affair with his roommate. He has been trying relentlessly to convince you to talk to Seonghwa, but you feel it’s very clear that the man in question has absolutely no intention of speaking with you unless it is to get in your pants. You can’t even complain to Wooyoung about the situation and how upset you’ve been, either, since there is a high chance he will willingly share the information with his roommate and make the circumstances even worse. 
After Seonghwa ditched you in the morning five days ago, you spent the day moping and pitying yourself before deciding you are done letting him play you like a fiddle. You officially swore to yourself to stay away from him and all the trouble he brings along, so you’ve made no attempt to contact him.
Seonghwa hasn’t contacted you either since Sunday evening and you hate that it disappoints you so much. You wish you could care as little as you pretend to, but you can’t help secretly hoping he will message you and explain everything. After five days of radio silence, however, you realize that the chance of that happening is slim to none. At this point, you just want to be done with the situation and move on with your life.
After such a shitty week, you are thankful to be spending your Friday evening just melting into your couch and watching some mind-numbing television. Of course, Wooyoung had invited you to party tonight, thinking it would be the perfect thing to get your mind off Seonghwa, but being around all that chaos sounded like the very last thing you wanted. You also know Wooyoung too well to believe he wouldn’t spend the whole time meddling, so you quickly rejected the invite in favor of being a couch potato. He has tons of friends he goes out with anyway, so he likely just found someone else to get wasted with.
By one in the morning, you now having become one with the sofa, your eyes begin drooping heavily as your exhaustion finally sets in. Figuring it is about time you go to bed, you force your sluggish body to move for the first time in hours, groaning dramatically as you stretch out your stiff muscles. It doesn’t take long for you to get ready to sleep, and you are soon sinking into your freshly washed sheets, the lavender scent lulling you into a state of relaxation as your worries leave your mind.
This tranquility lasts for all of two minutes before you are jumping at the sound of heavy banging on your apartment door. The sudden noise has your heart skipping a few beats as you listen to the lethargic but resounding beating that beckons you. Confused, you quickly check your phone to see if Wooyoung said he is coming over, but you have no new notifications.
The sound continues, so you cautiously slip out of bed and gently tip toe closer to the source as if they’d be able to hear you over the racket they are making. On your way, you grab an empty vase to use as a weapon just in case the person hammering on your door at this hour isn’t a welcome guest.
Your heart races at a mile per minute as you inch closer, the relentless thumping never letting up despite how lethargic it is. Gathering your courage, you unlock the deadbolt and grip the knob in your hand, taking one steadying breath before flinging the door open to reveal the visitor.
You yelp in surprise as the person, who was about to bang his fist on the entrance once again, flies forward into your arms listlessly. In your effort to catch them, you drop the glass vase that subsequently shatters at your feet. The weight of the man’s lifeless body has you staggering back as you attempt to hold him up despite his uncoordinated movements.
The glimpse you had of his quaffed silver hair, along with the smell of his expensive cologne that now overtakes you, alerts you to the fact that this is exactly the person you don’t want to see.
“Y/N,” he slurs in absolute delirium as he tries his best to stand on his own.
Great. He is also wasted.
“Seonghwa,” you grunt in annoyance as you try your best to help him in his awkward movements. “Stand up.”
“Y/N,” he just calls in response, much softer this time, as he finally finds his footing and is able to hold at least some of his weight, though still relying on you to keep him steady.
You carefully reach around him to push the door closed, making sure to avoid the broken glass scattered across the floor in the process. As you move closer to him, he drunkenly assumes you are going in for a hug and wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you flat against his heated chest as he rests his chin on your head and sighs.
“Seonghwa, let go,” you whine as you pull out of his grasp, only able to do so because of his concerningly inebriated state. “Come here.”
Despite your overwhelming irritation, you carefully guide him to the couch where he plops down with a large huff. His eyes are only half open and his head keeps drooping lazily to the side, but he somehow still looks exceedingly handsome in his all-black clubbing attire. He smiles languidly up at you and you snap out of your daze, annoyance again overtaking you.
Why the fuck is Seonghwa stumbling into your apartment drunk at this hour after not contacting you all week? As if he has ever sought you out for anything other than sex. And if that is truly what he came here for, then he is going to be sorely disappointed.
If he is here for another reason, though…
No.
Stop.
You can’t start letting your hopes up just to be burned again by his casual seduction and aloof attitude. You are going to make Wooyoung come pick him up and then sink back into your comfy bed without having to worry about this jerk.
With a bothered huff, you march off to take care of the broken vase before one of you ends up hurting yourselves on it, but Seonghwa whines childishly as you leave.
“Y/N, where are you going?”
“I need to clean up your mess,” you sneer with a roll of your eyes while deftly collecting each shard of glass for disposal. “Why are you even here, Seonghwa?”
He chuckles giddily, courtesy of the alcohol in his system, and lets out an obnoxious hiccup.
“Because you’re here,” he slurs as if that clears things up, and you scoff.
“And what makes you think I’d want to see you?” you retort as you finish tidying, shooting him a look of disbelief to get your point across.
The smile he just had drops into a frown immediately and he stares into the distance as if pondering your question. After a minute of silence, you assume he’s lost track of the conversation entirely and stomp off to your bedroom to collect your phone. You come back and take a seat a couple feet away from him, but he plops himself down so that his head rests in your lap.
“Seonghwa,” you gripe as you try to squirm out from under him, but he grumbles out a melodramatic whine that convinces you to let him be for now.
Ignoring the slight fluttering in your heart, you dial Wooyoung’s number and wait patiently while the line rings… and rings… and rings… until finally sending you to voicemail. Frustration bubbles in your veins as you call him three more times, never getting an answer. Now what the fuck do you do?
While you debate your options, Seonghwa stirs beneath you as he drags his legs up onto the sofa.
“Y/N,” he whines softly, sounding like a pouting child as he turns to lay on his back. His bloodshot eyes gaze directly up at you and you feel a pang of sadness as you take in his expression. “Do you hate me?”
His voice sounds thick, as if he is fighting off drunken tears, and you notice the way the edges of his lips tilt downwards. You don’t know what could possibly be going on in his mind, but seeing him like this forces your fiery attitude to soften. You’ve spent all week despising him, but it is difficult to feel the same level of hatred as you gaze at his innocent flushed cheeks and puffy eyes.
You don’t know how to answer his question. Up until this moment you fully believed that you hate him, but now you realize your emotions aren’t that simple after all. Even if you were sure, it’s not like telling him that would do either of you any good right now.
You decide it is probably best to just avoid the question altogether.
“You can sleep on the couch tonight, but you’d better not do this again,” you reprimand, trying to change the subject as you accept the fact that he isn’t going anywhere tonight. “The bathroom is over there if you need it.”
You begin to slide out from under him, but he reaches up and grabs your wrist to silently beg you to stay. You know it’s dangerous to look down at him, but you can’t avoid it. You gaze into his watering eyes and don’t resist when he brings your palm to cup his cheek, as if he needs the comfort despite it being forced. His skin is burning hot against your palm.
“I’m sorry I’m so selfish,” he murmurs softly as his eyelids grow heavier and he fights against their instinct to close. “I wish I could be better for you.”
Following his mysterious words, his eyes finally shut, a couple tears being pressed out in the process. His breathing settles into a steady rhythm as he falls asleep, his grip on your hand releasing when his arm plops down at his side.
You simply continue to stare at him, your mind in utter chaos as you process everything. He looks so peaceful as he rests despite the couple tear stains left on his skin. Your thumb gently wipes the nearest one away as you continue to cup his cheek much longer than necessary.
This is the first time you have ever seen a crack in Seonghwa’s aloof exterior, the one that is confident and seductive without showing a single ounce of vulnerability. He’d honestly maintained it so well that you’d begun to view him as a bit cold-hearted, but now you realize how much more there must be hidden behind the mask.
More than anything, you can’t shake the image of his desperately forlorn expression as he uttered his last line.
I’m sorry I’m so selfish. I wish I could be better for you.
His voice was clearly laced with regret as he admitted this, but why is he suddenly apologizing to you late at night after showing up wasted? Especially when he has never shown any sign of uneasiness or remorse about your sexcapades before. In general, he always seemed to be one step ahead of everyone, so sure of what he wanted and knowing exactly how to get it, but now you wonder what other mysterious emotions he must be harboring.
In fact, when you think about it, not even Wooyoung has ever really known the deep, dark intricacies of Seonghwa’s mind. Just how much is Seonghwa bottling inside? How much is he guarding from others with his lone wolf facade?
His drunken words echo loudly in your head and, even though you know it is stupid to pay them any attention, you can’t help but try deciphering them. Surely if he is apologizing for being selfish, he must have some idea of how difficult he has made this for you, but what does he mean he wishes he could be better?
The only conclusion you can clearly draw, though you try your best not to invest too much stock in it, is that he truly does care for you, but there is something holding him back. And by the trembling sound of his voice, along with the truthful drunken tears he shed, it seems to be eating him up inside.
Sleeping softly in your lap, he looks so defenseless and innocent, like a lost child who just needs someone to tell them everything will be alright. You wonder if he came to you tonight because he truly has no one else to do that for him. To just hold and comfort him until he feels okay.
While you can’t immediately forgive all of his elusive actions thus far, you suddenly feel sorry for Seonghwa as you ponder the breadth of his unspoken pain. You doubt he will remember any of this in the morning, if he even sticks around long enough for you to see him. And while one part of you hopes he forgets so that you can move on from him, another part wishes for him to remember and, just maybe, allow you to see this vulnerable side of him without the assistance of alcohol.
Seonghwa stirs in his sleep with a grumble, bringing you back to reality where you still sit with your hand against his cheek. As carefully as possible, you try to sneak out from under him, but he must sense your impending absence since he yet again responds with a desperately sad whine that makes you freeze. With a heavy sigh, you acquiesce to his unspoken request to stay a bit longer before heading to bed.
You delicately reach towards the other end of the sofa to grab your throw blanket, spreading it over his body to keep him warm. You try your best not to get too wrapped up in your thoughts, your fingers instinctively brushing his hair back in a calming, repetitive motion.
At some point you must have dozed off because you awake in the morning in the exact same position as before, your neck screaming in pain as you lift your head from its awkward placement for the first time in hours. You glance down at Seonghwa to find he is still sleeping soundly, his lips parted slightly as he lets out steady soft breaths. Without thinking, you let your fingertips brush along his cheek, your thumb just lightly grazing across his bottom lip as you admire his beauty.
Both of you startle, however, when he suddenly opens his eyes and sees you staring down at him affectionately. You gasp and pull your hands back at the surprise and he quickly jolts straight up in embarrassment.
“Oh, I- uh, you’re awake,” you stutter awkwardly as he repositions himself to sit normally, his eyes still wide in shock though he avoids looking in your direction. You hate the tense silence that befalls the room as he fails to reply, surely trying to make sense of the situation he has put himself in. “Do you feel alright?”
As if your question suddenly reminds him that you are there, he peeks over shyly and nods. “I’m okay, I’m just-”
“Hungover?”
As you cut him off, he nods again, dropping his head in his hands and gruffly rubbing his eyes to wake himself up. His typically neat hair is disheveled and his cheeks are still tinted pink, indicating the groggy state he is in.
You wait for him to say something more, to say something - anything - about last night, but he seems too dazed to make conversation just yet, so you take initiative before you can stop yourself.
“Do you want to take a shower? No offense, but you kind of reek of alcohol,” you admit, halfheartedly expecting a chuckle from him that never comes. “I can make breakfast in the meantime.”
He takes a moment to think before nodding again and groaning in discomfort as he stands from the couch with you following suit. Even while you fetch him a clean towel and direct him to the restroom, he says nothing and dares not make eye contact. As soon as he has shut the door, you let out a deep breath that you didn’t even realize you were holding.
You aren’t sure what to make of his demeanor and it’s unclear whether he remembers the events of last night or not. On one hand, he could be acting bashful just because he woke up in your lap to you caressing him. On the other hand, though, he may be embarrassed because he recalls exposing his more vulnerable side while under the influence.
The anxious tension in your chest has your heart beating strangely and you figure you should stop overthinking for now, instead opting to focus on the menial task of cooking eggs and toast while you wait for Seonghwa. By the time you are finished and setting the table, you hear his footsteps plodding closer and steel yourself mentally for however this meal may go.
He rounds the corner dressed once again in his clothes from before but now with damp hair that he has attempted to fluff up with a towel. He stops across the room from you before bringing himself to glance in your direction, his shy demeanor a full 180 from his usual disposition.
“I hung the towel on the rack in there. I hope that’s okay,” he mutters.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” you awkwardly reply as you try your best to act normally and be inviting enough to make him less uncomfortable. “Come sit. Do you want some coffee?”
“Ah, no thanks. Just water is fine.”
He shuffles over and you both take your seats across from each other at the small round table. As he glimpses at the food you laid out, he also notices the pain relievers you put next to his plate and allows a minute smile to appear on his lips before it quickly fades away.
When acting so strangely like this, Seonghwa seems almost like a skittish cat that will dash if you make any sudden movement or prod him, so you gently pass him the bowl of eggs so that he can serve himself. He accepts it with a meager “thank you” and takes a small amount before handing it back, but makes no movement to start eating. Figuring he may be waiting for you, you bite off a small chunk of toast, and only when you go to swallow does he startle you by speaking.
“I’m sorry I showed up drunk last night,” he mumbles while pushing his food around with his fork, never actually picking it up. You nearly choke, but thankfully manage to avoid making the situation that much more awkward.
“It’s okay,” you offer pleasantly even though you definitely did not think it was okay at the time. It’s not like telling him off right now would do any good anyways.
“And I’m sorry I broke your vase.”
There is a beat of silence as he finally makes eye contact and studies your expression.
“Oh… so you remember?” Your heart races at the notion of having this conversation right now, but he just nods. “You seemed really upset.”
The words come out of your mouth before you can stop them and you practically kick yourself at how nosy you sound. He chuckles humorlessly and drops his fork as he leans back in his chair with a sigh.
“Yeah, I guess I was pretty upset,” he mutters. “I just– Basically, I– I mean–”
“It’s alright,” you interrupt as he struggles to find the right words. “You don’t have to explain.”
But you want him to. You so desperately want him to.
“Even if I don’t need to, I want to. Or I guess want isn’t the right word. But I should.”
He has you on the edge of your seat, the meal entirely forgotten as you hang on to his every word with a flurrying mix of fear, anxiety, and curiosity. Your uneasiness only increases as he takes time to think about how he should state this.
“I don’t know where to start,” he admits.
“Anywhere is fine. Just, whatever you want to say.”
He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly as if preparing himself. He then leans forward again to rest his elbows on the table as he gazes at you earnestly, his affect more confident than before as he has become determined to get through this conversation.
“Let me say this first,” he prefaces, making your heart drop as you dread the worst. “I like you. And I mean I really like you… but I don’t think it would be good for you to… fall for me.”
‘Too fucking late’ you want to tell him, but he continues before you get the chance to say anything.
“And I know I’ve given you a lot of mixed signals, but a relationship… I just… can’t.”
The silence echoes throughout the room and you attempt to fight off tears. Whether they are out of anger or out of sadness, you are not entirely sure, but thankfully you are able to suppress them along with the lump in your throat.
“You just can’t? Why? Can’t be bothered to tie yourself down to one girl? Can’t help but want to be a playboy who toys with people’s feelings?” you sneer as annoyance bubbles up inside you at the thought of this being his bullshit explanation, but he looks at you with an abhorred expression.
“God, no. That’s not it.”
“Then what is it?”
You cross your arms and wait expectantly as he restlessly runs his hands through his damp hair with a shaky exhale.
“I never meant to give you so many mixed signals. This whole time I was telling myself that things between us are only casual so I wouldn’t feel so bad about seeing you– because I kept wanting to see you –but after we truly slept together… I realized how much more it is, at least for me.”
Your heart tingles with excitement for a moment before you remember that this is simply the preface to whatever reason he has for dumping you– or, you guess, technically pre-dumping you.
“When I woke up that morning, I started freaking out so I left and I’ve spent all week going crazy over it. Then when the weekend came, I was desperate to get it off my mind, but somehow ended up at your door.” He pauses and looks away as he gathers his thoughts momentarily. “I’m just so afraid that I can’t be the person you’ll want me to be.”
His heavy words catch you by surprise, leaving you slightly confused as to where this is coming from. “What do you mean?”
You can tell this is extremely difficult for him to talk about by how fidgety he is getting, but you can’t just let him end his explanation so cryptically, not when you are finally seeing this truthful, vulnerable side of him. Surely there must be more to his reasoning.
“My last relationship, about five years ago, was an absolute disaster,” he admits despite his discomfort. “We had been together for three years until one day I came home to find her in bed with another man. I know, so cliche, right?”
He scoffs sourly at his own remark.
“I found out she had been seeing him behind my back for months. Of course, she had no remorse. She said it was my fault for not paying enough attention to her, or for working too much, or because I hadn’t proposed yet. And the more she went on about it, the more I actually began to believe it was my fault.”
Your mouth hangs open in shock at what he has experienced, the drama of it sounding like a perfect Lifetime movie. His fear and anxiety around commitment suddenly makes perfect sense.
“Since then,” he continues. “It has just been easier to not care or feel. Someone who doesn’t invest in anything doesn’t have anything to lose, so that is what I did. I thought I could just fake it until I make it, and it had been working just fine, until…”
He glances back up at you to imply the rest of his confession without actually having to say it out loud. Your stunned brain rushes to process the many emotions you’re feeling, but your mouth acts before you can stop it.
“What a fucking asshole!” you exclaim in a rage, surprising Seonghwa, who now looks at you dumbfoundedly.
“What?” he asks, perplexed.
“Sorry, not you, I just–” you pause shortly to calm yourself before continuing. “It just makes me so mad that someone would do that to you and have the nerve to place any of the blame on you. I mean, it’s just ludicrous.”
“Well, it’s not like I was the best–”
“Seonghwa, stop,” you interrupt sternly, causing him to shut his mouth in obedience. “Regardless of what’s going on between us, you need to realize that no matter what you did in that relationship, you did not deserve that and you did not cause that. If she really had all those qualms then she could’ve broken up with you, but she made the choice instead to hurt you like that. That is on her and her alone. Cheaters never cheat because they have problems with their partner; they cheat because they have problems with themselves. So I refuse to sit here and listen to you talk shit about yourself over someone else’s mistakes.”
It is now his turn to fall speechless after your rage-fuelled rant. The anger you feel just from imagining how lonely and hurt he must’ve been alerts you to how deep your affection actually runs, but you do your best to push the thought aside for now. You at least find the irony somewhat comical that all week you’ve been pissed at Seonghwa and now here you are defending him.
Honestly, you only realize now just how two-dimensional you have perceived him as up to this point. For a long time, he was just Wooyoung’s hot and mysterious roommate. And recently, you’ve only seen him as horny, arrogant, and a bit cold-hearted. You feel a pang of guilt for never granting him the decency of considering he runs any deeper than such a superficial level. Between last night and now, it has become clear that he feels and thinks much more than he has ever let on.
Silence still echoes awkwardly throughout the room, and you assume you may have been a bit too brash. You clear your throat stiffly and straighten in your seat. Your heart sinks heavy in your chest as you fear this will really be the end before you’ve even started. Still, you can’t let him go without saying what is on your mind one last time
“Seonghwa,” you call softly, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I know you’re afraid, and I know you’ve been hurt, but I really hope that you don’t let that keep you from finding your own happiness… even if that happiness isn’t in me. Of course, I really like you too, but if you don’t want–”
“No,” he interjects rapidly. “I do want this. I want you, but I also don’t want to disappoint you and make you deal with all of my insecurities and baggage. I don’t know when– or even if –I’ll be able to feel normal about love again. I don’t know if I can be the perfect boyfriend you’d want.”
“I never said I wanted you to be a perfect boyfriend,” you quip immediately with slight annoyance at just how self-critical he is being. “I don’t want you to be anything… I just want you. Even when I was pissed at you and wanted to write you off for good, I was secretly hoping you’d come back with an explanation or an apology or a confession– with anything even though it may have been pathetic of me.”
“I don’t think you’re pathetic,” he states seriously. “Can I ask you a question, though?”
“Of course.”
“What if it doesn’t work out? And what if I can’t bring myself to trust again?”
His expression shows just how anxious and sullen he is, his head and heart likely overwhelmed from trying to navigate this situation and fight the fear he has harbored for so many years. As much as you want to assuage his concerns, you know it isn’t fair to guarantee that everything will come up roses, especially since it could just make his insecurities worse if it doesn’t.
“Honestly, Seonghwa, I can’t 100% promise that it will work, but that is both the joy and the pain of relationships. Yes, sometimes you get burned, but sometimes you find something incredible, and that incredible thing suddenly makes all of the past hurt worth it,” you level. “And if you did want to take that chance, I am fine with moving as slowly as you’re comfortable with. I wouldn’t have any expectations or rush your timeline to heal, but I’d always be willing to support you through the process. I’m not going to push you into a relationship you’re not ready for, though, so the choice is always up to you.”
He stares into the distance as he processes the many conflicting emotions brewing in his heart, having to decide which one he is going to let dictate his happiness from now on. As time ticks on with you staying silent to let him ponder, you begin to prepare yourself for rejection just in case he decides the risk isn’t worth it. As devastated as you would be, you just hope that he will make the decision that is best for him.
Seonghwa is taking so long considering his options that you are about to tell him he can think about it for a few days when he finally speaks.
“Okay,” is all he says in a quiet voice. Your heart automatically races as your hopes shoot through the roof.
“Okay?” you question, wanting to make sure you aren’t misunderstanding his response.
“Let’s go slow and see where it takes us,” he states more confidently now. “I know I can’t make many promises to you, but the one thing I will promise is that I’ll try.”
You can’t help the tears of happiness that rapidly spring to your eyes and glide down your cheeks, the tension of the entire morning beginning to fade away. In fact, the burden of the anxiety and anger that you’ve experienced over the past few weeks has suddenly lifted from your shoulders, resulting in the emotional reaction. Seonghwa, though, is instantly flustered.
“What happened? Why are you crying?” he babbles in a panic as he gets up and walks over to you. He easily slides your chair away from the table and kneels next to you so that you two are level.
With him this close, your hand automatically reaches to caress his cheek, but you stop midway as you remember you might make him uncomfortable. Seeing your hesitation, however, he reaches up and guides your hand to his face, a silent message of approval. You smile in response despite your tear-stained skin.
“I’m just happy,” you chuckle, his face now lighting up to match yours as he absentmindedly rests his hand on your bare thigh. You do your best to ignore the way your body reacts to his touch, but it becomes much harder when he thoughtlessly lets his thumb rub back and forth against your skin in a comforting motion.
“Seonghwa,” you call gently as your tears stop and you wipe away their traces, removing your hand from Seonghwa’s face in the process.
“Hm?” He looks up at you innocently with so much concern that you visibly gulp.
“If we are going to take things slow, then you’ll have to keep things like this to a minimum.”
Your eyes flick to his hand and he follows your line of sight. Realizing what you mean, he releases a genuine chuckle that is music to your ears.
“I mean…” he starts off mischievously. “Maybe we take it slow starting tomorrow? And today we move fast one last time?”
“Move fast?” you question quietly, your brain only catching up when you see his seductive smirk that you’ve gotten so used to. “Are you horny right now?”
You’re shocked that after that long and heavy conversation, this is still what is running through his mind, but he seems so relaxed about it that you let out an amused laugh. 
“Should I not be? It’s not my fault you look needlessly cute when you cry.”
The lightened mood has you feeling weightless at last, and with his suggestion to be reckless one last time, you are quickly leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. He is slightly surprised at first, but melts into your embrace with little hesitation.
The kiss is nothing like last time. Instead of being fueled only by lust, it is noticeably more passionate and emotional, a physical outpouring of all the feelings you’ve both been desperately suppressing until this moment.
He stands up slowly and grips your waist to bring you onto your feet as well before pulling you tight against his body, the proximity making you dizzy with yearning. Wanting to feel the heat of his skin against yours, you tug at the hem of his shirt and he pulls away briefly to reach behind his head and pull it off in one swift movement. God is it hot when he does that. You let your eyes linger on his toned abdomen, your fingertips gently running down its ridges.
“Like what you see?” he teases, making you giggle as you are reminded of that first rainy night you two spent together when he asked the same exact question.
“You know I do.” Your fingers meet his belt and you grip it to tug him back against you, his playful grin returning at your forwardness.
“Well haven’t you gotten feisty, baby?” he taunts, and you palm him over his jeans as you nod. “Missed my cock that much?”
Fuck. There it is. That sinful fucking mouth of his that has you biting your lip just to keep from moaning, your panties now sticking to your wet core. All you can do is nod enthusiastically before standing on your tiptoes to press your lips against his again. You hold him close by the back of his neck while his hands travel down to roughly grab your ass, making you squeal. He pulls away just momentarily to mutter “cute” before grabbing the backs of your thighs and hoisting you into the air.
Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips as he swiftly carries you off to the bedroom, your hands tugging at the hair on the back of his head. You are desperate to have him as close to you as possible now that you can do so without spending days afterwards feeling like shit.
Seonghwa plops you down on your mattress unceremoniously and makes easy work of your top and pajama shorts, tossing them mindlessly on the floor. He grabs your ankles and playfully tugs you to the edge– another surprised yelp escaping your lips –so that his face is level with your core once he gets on his knees. You hold your legs up and open for him as he runs his fingertips gingerly across your underwear to feel your wetness through the fabric.
“This pussy is going to make me go crazy,” he purrs, your heart fluttering out of control. “I’ve been dying for another taste.”
“Be my guest then.”
After a devilish glance in your direction, he pulls your panties aside and moans at the sight of your sex. You feel like you might just pass out and die right here from how turned on you are with every little thing he does, especially when he leans in to lick a flat stripe up your slit, flicking his tongue playfully against your clit in the process. He just smirks at your pitiful moan.
Compared to before, the way in which he eats you out is a little less desperate, but much more sensual. He sucks and laps at your sensitive nub erotically and brings his left hand up to interlock his fingers with yours. He may be diving face-first into your cunt right now, but there is something about the simple romanticism of holding hands that has butterflies erupting in your stomach. Honestly, you have typically dreaded guys going down on you because they are always so overconfident and then can’t deliver, but Seonghwa– He is nothing if not extraordinarily talented.
You gaze down at him as he works on you and man is it a sight to see. His silver hair, still not quite dry, has been mostly pushed back from his face, but a few stray pieces fall across his forehead. His eyes are closed as he gets lost in pleasing you and his cheeks are flushed from how heated he is getting. When he feels the intensity of your stare and makes eye contact, he moans wantonly with his lips around your clit, the vibrations making you gasp and reach down to card your fingers through his locks. The sting he feels in his scalp from your grasp only spurs him on more, moving his free hand just below his mouth to glide his middle finger deep inside your hole.
“Oh fuck,” you moan shamelessly as he curls his digit to rub against your g-spot.
With how wet you are for him, he wastes no time in slipping a second finger in along with the first to start stretching you out for his dick. The pleasurable intrusion, along with his expert mouth, has you arching your back dramatically, your hand squeezing his tighter and tighter as the tension builds in your core.
“Hwa, don’t stop!”
“Call me that again,” he growls, loving how it rolls off your tongue. As soon as he laps at your clit once more, your climax hits and you cry out his nickname as your legs shake from the intensity. His movements are relentless as he savors every last bit of euphoria he can give you, not stopping until you are whining and squirming away from his touch. Only then does he remove his fingers, sucking them clean with a hungry look in his eyes and then licking along your folds one last time.
Despite your heaving chest from the mind-blowing orgasm, you are still ravenous, so you rapidly sit up and tug him onto the bed with you. With a bit of skillful maneuvering, you get Seonghwa to lay on his back, your hands making quick work of his belt to pull his bottoms off altogether. His impressive cock slaps against his stomach as soon as it escapes its confines, the tip already leaking with precum.
Once he is fully naked, you also slip off your bra and playfully toss it onto his face, making him laugh as he chucks it aside. He can’t stop himself from sitting up and attaching his mouth to one of your nipples, his tongue swirling around it while one hand gropes your other boob. As amazing as it feels, it is now your turn to please him instead, so you push him back down onto the mattress and wrap your hand around his length to start stroking.
“You want to suck my cock that badly, baby girl?” His smug expression says it all.
“You act like you didn’t just eat me out like your last meal,” you quip before bending down to circle your tongue around the head of his cock.
“I can’t help that you have such a delicious little pussy.” His words have you blushing.
“Well I can’t help that you have such a delicious cock.” He chuckles down at you and brushes your hair out of your face as you place small kisses up his shaft.
“Touche,” he says before immediately groaning as you finally bring him past your lips and hollow out your cheeks.
With how big he is, you’ll have to work yourself up to fitting much of him inside, so you start off by using your hand to stimulate the parts you can’t reach yet. You glance up at him to see him watching you with his mouth agape, enamored by the view he has. It takes everything in him not to buck his hips up, but thankfully you are able push him past the back of your throat.
“Just like that,” he coos as he gathers your hair in one hand to keep it out of the way and guide your movements. “Good girl.”
Upon hearing his praise, you start bobbing up and down, your throat flexing around him in a way that has him hissing in pleasure. You let your hands glide up his body to caress along his abdomen, his muscles tensing instinctively when you brush over anywhere sensitive. You can see goosebumps forming on his arms and you love the way his body reacts so visibly to your touch.
With his grip on your hair, he encourages you to take him further and you oblige. Obscene sounds escape you as you try your best to please him and the noise has him moaning even louder. Seeing him this worked up, your insatiable cunt once again cries for attention, desperate to be filled by his massive cock. You impatiently release his dick with a pop and stand up to pull off your panties, Seonghwa watching you the entire time with a lust-filled gaze.
“You gonna let me stretch out that cute little pussy again?” he hums as you straddle him and line his tip up with your hole.
“I’m not just sitting on you for nothing,” you tease right back, earning you a flirtatious smack on the ass as you slowly take every inch of him.
“I didn’t realize you were such a brat in bed,” he says through a moan. “I’ll have to take note.”
“You have a lot to learn, Hwa.”
After your snarky comment, you promptly choke on a gasp as you finally sink all the way down, your walls fluttering to adjust to his considerable size. You can feel him pressing against every spot inside you, the sensation already dizzying without even having to move, but patience has never really been your middle name.
Resting your hands on his chest to keep yourself steady, you grind against him and throw your head back as pleasure tingles through every inch of your body. His hands dig into your hips to spur on your movement while curses fall from his mouth in the form of moans.
“Yes, baby. Ride my fucking cock,” he growls, your cunt clenching around him in response, which does not go unnoticed. “Such a dirty girl.”
“Only for you,” you answer, intending not only to continue the dirty talk, but also to subtly assure him that you are now his and his alone. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.
In search of even more intensity, you start bouncing rhythmically on his dick. His eyes fixate in your tits as they jiggle in front of him, clearly transfixed by the sight. Seeing you work so needily for his dick is something that will surely be replaying in his dreams from now on, perhaps even in his “daydreams” of sorts. 
“Show me you fucking want it,” he commands to motivate you, a moan falling past your lips at his domineering tone.
He grabs your hands from his chest and once again interlocks his fingers with yours, holding them up a bit higher to help support your movements. You’re not sure if you can handle Seonghwa being a hand-holder during sex when the simple act affects you this much. Nevermind that fact that he feels so amazing when filling you up to the brim. Without even trying, his cock constantly pokes at your g-spot in a manner that makes it feel like electricity is running through your veins.
Despite how euphoric you are feeling, your thighs start getting tired from bouncing on him and your pace starts faltering as you fight your shaky muscles. Noticing your struggle, Seonghwa uses your held hands to tug you down against his chest, letting go just after to cup your face and gaze affectionately into your eyes.
“You are going to be the death of me, I swear,” he mutters, smiling at the way you blush timidly. “I could spend all day complimenting you if you always react like that.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it then.”
You press your lips against his once again, just enjoying the taste of him on your tongue and the warmth of his embrace. While you are lost in the passionate kiss, he pleasantly surprises you by beginning to gently thrust up into you, the both of you moaning into each other at the new angle.
He glides his hands down the sides of your body, stopping at your ass and roughly gripping your cheeks to hold you just how he wants you while snapping his hips against yours. After gliding in and out of you a few times to test the waters, he bends his legs to plant his feet firmly into the mattress and starts mercilessly pounding into you.
“Holy shit!” you exclaim at the suddenly overwhelming sensation, your face just inches from his as your eyes stay locked on each other. The act feels extra intimate as you watch the pleasure unfolding in each other’s features.
You can’t control your lewd moans that fill the room as the tension starts building in your core once again. When you bite your lip to try and stifle the sound, Seonghwa shakes his head without ever faltering in his pace.
“Don’t hold back. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”
You do as he asks, your pathetic whimpers and whines getting increasingly high-pitched as you teeter on the edge of euphoria. The way your pussy starts constricting around Seonghwa has him also flirting with release, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make you cum on his cock first.
Wanting to feel you release around him, he gathers all his energy to ruthlessly buck into you even faster than before, the sound of skin slapping against skin reverberating pornographically off your bedroom walls. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if you end up with a noise complaint from your neighbors.
Seonghwa lets out pants mixed with vulgar moans in time with each thrust, trying his best to hang on until you’ve been taken care of. With the way your cunt tightens around him, though, he can tell you aren’t too far off.
“Hwa– please– yes!”
“Let go, baby.”
As if flipping a switch, your body immediately reacts to his command and your orgasm hits you at full force. Your nails dig into Seonghwa’s shoulders as you hold on for dear life, the feeling threatening to send you straight to heaven, never to return. It is shocking that he could even make you cum this hard without you having to touch yourself, but then again he has already proven himself as quite the sexpert.
The vice grip that your satisfied pussy has on his cock is more than he can resist, his own high following shortly after yours. He stills inside you and kisses you passionately once more as you both bask in the bliss of your climaxes. Only when you start coming down from cloud 9 do you detach and rest your foreheads together, trying to catch your breath from the intensive activity.
Being this close to him, both physically and emotionally now, has your heart feeling warm and fuzzy. While you know things won’t just magically be perfect between you two, and there are still many things to work through, you are excited to take the risk and work through them together. It will surely take time and mistakes will be made, but perhaps you can exercise some patience this one time.
To think that this all started because of a random storm and you being too lazy to fetch an umbrella.
“You know,” Seonghwa murmurs as he caringly tucks your hair behind your ears. “We said we would start going slow tomorrow, so that gives us the rest of the day to make the most of this speed.”
You laugh at his coy smile. “We’d better get busy then.”
Damn does this man drive you crazy.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Taglist: @minkysmilk @annaflwrs @han8ul @whatudowhennooneseesyou @aishidaishi 
@ja3hwa​ @btsreader12​ @mingkyway​ 
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sevcasejay1chicago · 5 months
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Welcome home- Matt Casey x Darden!Sister
Authors note: Sorry that it’s been so long since I posted!!! It’s been a crazy few weeks and I honestly just haven’t had the motivation. This is a continuation to a story I wrote a while ago containing these two love birds.
Summary: Kelly and Stella finally bring you back home.
Warnings: NONE; possible spoilers maybe.
———————
You and Matt Casey kept your relationship going even through your move to Portland to be with your nephews, the Darden boys. When Matt had the weekend off, he would often fly over to Portland and help you out with whatever you needed. Sometimes, all you needed was him.
About three years later, Stella called you and told you about her engagement to Kelly. You were thrilled. You always knew that they would get married. You never knew Kelly to love someone and to be so devoted to them like he was to Stella Kidd. That woman had Kelly Severide wrapped around her finger.
When you got a call from Matt later on in the night, you were surprised to find that this FaceTime was filled with many familiar faces.
“Hey Darden!” Kelly yelled over Matt’s shoulder.
Clamoring could be heard as Jay Halstead, Mouch, Hermann, Sylvie, and a few others from intelligence and 51 tried to get in the frame to say hi. You giggled as you watched Kelly take Jay in a headlock and demand your attention. Everyone was clearly VERY drunk.
Matt chuckled as he watched the scene unfold on his end, but most of his attention was on you and your giggling self. He has never heard a sound more beautiful than your laugh or seen anything brighter than your smile.
Once Matt was able to break away, he stepped outside and sat at a picnic table far from the outdoor bar. He stared at you for a moment as you wrote something down, biting your lower lip in concentration. All he wanted in that moment was to rub the knots, that he knew were on your shoulders from stress, away and catch your bottom lip in his.
You noticed him staring after a minute or two and immediately blushed, hiding behind the sleeves of the hoodie Matt left you the last time he came out to Portland. “What?” You giggled, pushing your reading glasses up while you hid behind your hands.
Matt shook his head and chuckled. “Nothing. Nothing. You are just too damn adorable.” Matt smiled shyly at being caught, but he was also doing his best to hide what you were doing to him just by being you. “God. I miss you.” Matt breathed, leaning against the picnic table and setting his phone against the napkin dispenser to rub his hands together in an effort to warm them back up.
You smiled sweetly back at him. “I miss you too honey.” You whispered, flopping back into your pillows. “Sooooo, did Kelly ask you to be his best man?” You asked, wiggling your eyebrows.
Matt chuckled, missing your antics. “Of course he did! Who else would be able to deal with Groomzilla?!” Matt joked, causing you to burst out laughing.
“True. True.” You said, struggling to catch your breath. “Stella asked me to be a bridesmaid, but I don’t know what things will look like around the time of the wedding, so I had to decline.” You explained, pouting slightly.
Matt hummed. “Well, I’m sure it’ll all work out. We have time.”
You nodded in thought before flipping onto your side and settling in for the night. You placed your phone on its upright charging port as you stared at Matt. “If you can, leave me on. It’ll be like I’m part of the fun.” You whispered, hiding a yawn behind your sleeve.
Matt knew you wouldn’t last much longer, so he easily agreed, standing up and carrying his phone around as he re-entered the crowded bar filled with your family.
———————
The day was here. Stella and Kelly were finally getting married. As far as Matt knew, you had to stay in Portland because Ben got himself into some trouble. Matt was kinda thankful for you not being here in this moment as everything seemed to be falling apart and he just knew you would be frantically trying to fix everything if you were here.
“Hey guys! A party boat just opened up and we can have the wedding there!” Cruz yelled from halfway down the block.
The wedding party all went running, eager to get there and get everything arranged. Once they arrived, Matt was pleasantly surprised and confused with how nicely the boat was decorated in line with Kelly and Stella’s wedding theme. That was, until you popped up behind him.
“Hey handsome.” You whispered, wrapping your arms loosely around his waist.
He knew those hands and that voice anywhere. He immediately turned in your arms and lifted you into his own, twirling you around. “Oh my God!” Matt yelled, chuckling as he spun you around. Once he sat you down, he swooped in to kiss you deeply. He only pulled back when he was desperately in need of air. “Wha- how?!” Matt asked, still trying to understand how you were here.
“Welllll.” You drawled out, leaning back slightly to get a better look at him. “I was really busy moving my stuff back into your apartment while you were at Kelly’s last night. Stella held her bachelorette party there while we unpacked my stuff.” You smiled, proud to have pulled one over on him.
Matt gawked at you, absolutely speechless.
“Then, when I went to start decorating this morning, I realized that the church was double booked and had this set up. Everyone helped get you here. We figured you deserved some good news after the tough year you’ve had.” You explained, smiling as everyone around you agreed.
“Plus, this is like the best wedding gift EVER. THE BAND IS BACK TOGETHER!” Stella yelled, pumping her fist in the air.
Everyone chuckled and immediately agreed.
Matt wrapped his arms tighter around your waist, burying his face in your hair. After a few moments, Matt pulled back and kissed you on the forehead before shouting, “LETS GET KIDD AND SEVERIDE HITCHED!”
As everyone began to walk to their seats or to their places, Matt pulled you into his side and gave you one more kiss. “Welcome home baby.”
———————
At the reception, Matt has you sitting in his lap with his arms wrapped around you. “So, where are Griffin and Ben?” Matt asked, kissing the side of your head.
“So, here’s the thing.” You began, turning in his lap to look Matt in the eyes. “Griffin got accepted into Northwestern and Ben was okay with moving home with you, so I brought Ben with me and Griffin is staying on campus.” You explained, toying with your necklace as you spoke.
“Wait, so Ben is here?!” Matt asked, immediately ecstatic.
You chuckled, calming down now that the biggest secret was out. “Yeah. Griffin is at the apartment with him now. He will be staying for the night before going back to his dorm so that we can have the night out. He expects Uncle Matt’s famous eggs in a basket tomorrow morning.” You chuckle, shaking your head at the fact that Griffin remembered his favorite meal that Matt made him as a kid.
Matt beamed, kissing you on the temple. “He can have anything he wants.” Matt assured, smiling proudly at the fact that Griffin remembered things from their time together. For the first time since you left, Matt was finally content.
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thestarkerisobvious · 7 months
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Screwed
a story I wrote and forgot about
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“I want you inside me, I want to feel you inside me,” Peter was whispering in that tiny, choked voice, and Tony, god help him…
… Tony could not say ‘no.’
But then again, would Tony EVER say no to The Kid?  
Wasn’t that always the problem?
And that’s why they were here, making out like teenagers on Tony’s sofa instead of analyzing that alien weapon.  Instead of getting ready for the briefing before Fury and the others arrived.  
Not that Tony Stark was exactly afraid of getting caught, exactly.  FRIDAY knew what to do in these situations.  If they weren’t done by the time the elevators were headed to the penthouse - well - FRIDAY was very good at delaying the elevator.  
Of course if anyone arrived by helicopter…
…well then that someone was going to get quite an eyeful.
This was supposed to be a quicky - actually Tony and Peter were supposed to be TAKING A BREAK from the physical stuff, but that ‘break’ seemed to have lasted an entire week (wait maybe it had been less than that??  Didn’t they snuck one in one last time before the break began?  For ‘old times sake?’)
Sneak one in - that’s what they were trying to do now.? Tony knew it was inevitable, knew it the moment the kid swung up to his window two hours before the others arrived.  Tony tried to talk himself out of it.  Tried, and failed.  
He didn’t even try to talk Peter out of it.
He wasn’t very good at talking Peter out of things.
Just like he wasn’t good at saying ‘no.’
But gods, who could blame him??  Ever since he had been stranded on an alien planet, feeling The Kid turn to dust in his arms… well…  that part of his brain just didn’t seem to work anymore.
You know?  That part of his brain.
The part of his brain that tried to say “No, seriously?  You’re legal, but “Legal” does NOT mean “Good Idea.”
The part of his brain that tried to say “No.  I’m damaged goods, Kids.  We’re not doing this.”
That tried to say “Okay, we just did that, and maybe it was inevitable, but we’re clearly NOT doing it again.”
The part that tried to say “Okay we did it twice… okay technically three times… but seriously kid??  We aren't a thing.”
The part that tried to say “Okay but even if we WERE a thing (which we aren’t!) we could never ever ever let anyone know about it.”
That part of his brain - that part that seemed to dissolve away all those years ago along with the young adult in his arms - THAT part of his brain just didn’t work anymore.  
Which was why he had agreed to a quick session on the couch.  Even though they had also agreed to stop for a while.  Even though the others were due to arrive soon.  Even though one of the ‘others’ that would be arriving soon would be one Avenger Pepper Pots, the mother of his child.  The woman he was still, technically, married to.
But Peter had offered.
…more specifically he offered to let Tony go down on him.   He had also promised it would be quick.  “You know I don’t last long.”  But that promise was calculated.  He knew Tony couldn’t resist going down on him.  In his old age Tony had developed quite the addiction.
Of course, that was because Tony suspected that any time might be their last time…
Or because that kid tasted so.  Damn.  Sweet.
Tony knew it wouldn’t be ONLY oral, of course.  It never was.  And that’s why they had slid down to the floor.  That’s why his trousers were around his knees and Peter’s were nowhere to be found… that’s why Peter's legs were wrapped so tight around his waist and that sweet, breathless, innocent voice was pleading in his ear…  
“I want to feel you inside me.”
—————
He was so totally and thoroughly screwed.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t fallen for boys like Peter before.  He had.  Not that Tony Stark ever thought about coming out as gay (it was a big deal in his time.  Hard to explain to Peter, who’s generation barely saw that as a thing anymore.)
But that was different.  Those boys… those handsome young twenty-somethings off on their own adventures, their own conquests, they were different.  Tony was just another notch on their own young bedposts - just another tourism spot on their roadtrip across America.  There was no worries about catching feelings, about sticky relationships.
Besides, if he DID find himself in danger of said, he always had friends to pull him back from the edge.  Friends who knew the warning signs, friends who knew how to talk him down…
He didn’t have that anymore.  Peter was his secret, his deadly secret.  
He was good at keeping secrets.
------------------------
“Come inside me, Tony, make me yours.”
Mentally Tony was counting down the minutes in his head.  They would need a shower after this, at least.  He should hurry (but he wasn’t going to hurry.  He couldn’t help but take his time.  There was just no such thing as a ‘quickie’ for them.  Every time he felt that boy’s lips part for him, every time he felt Peter’s thighs part for him…
…every time Tony felt Peter’s body accept him, well, Tony just had to impress.  Had to take his time.  Had to show off his skill.
“Come inside me, Tony”
Again that breathless whisper.  Maybe Tony should hurry it up.  Get done.  Get it over with before the kid started saying things like…
“Come inside me.  Make me yours.”
Things like that.  
That was the thing that he was trying to discourage.  We’ll, he was SUPPOSED to be discouraging that.  
Logically, he should.  
And he might get around to that, after a while.
Only currently he was too busy coming his brains out.
“Mine” the boy was growling but Tony could hear the grin in his voice.  
…and… 
“...yours…” Tony was saying stupidly.  Helplessly.
Hopelessly.
He was so totally, so thoroughly screwed.  
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forevamark · 1 year
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preview! time lapse (l.mk)
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remember when i said ‘would be posted tomorrow.’..? 
... and that was months ago? well i lied. LOL life has been rough lately. but here’s the preview of what i’ve been working on very very slowly.
genuinely, trying to post by next week i swear this time yall hehe
Pairing: mark lee x fem!reader
Tags: pre idol debut to idol au, christmas and new years time line, slice of life moments, college student reader, substantial plot leading to smut, very dialogue heavy, angsty moments, slow burn, relationship struggle, lovers to exes to lovers
Intended for 18+ readers, minors do not interact.
Preview Word Count : 2k+
Projected Word Count: 10k+
Summary: Mark has always had the dream of becoming a big music star, meanwhile your aspirations lied with academics and coexisting with Mark. Mark struggles with telling reader that he will be leaving for Korea to pursue his music career very soon, in fear of losing what they have.
warnings are under the tab.
Warnings: cursing/swearing, teasing, oral male receiving, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), breeding kink, possessive domination, spanking, slight choking, praise
not really edited- so sorry.
--
“What do you think about this?” Mark asked as he sat above you strumming on his guitar. You were sat on the floor between his legs focused on your eight page paper.
“In a sec,” you reply while wrapping up the sentence you were on.
“Take a break…” Mark whined trying to pry the laptop from your speedy fingers.
“Mark, it’s due in two days. I will listen in a sec.”
“Mhmm.” He sulked, leaning back into the sofa continuing his chord progression.
Days like this were stressful- due to the plethora of assignments that piled on- but soothing in a way. Your schedules never aligned this often, but Mark was so entirely enamored with you he’d do anything to spend his free time just being with you. 
“I can’t believe it’s been three hours and I only have my thesis done,” you sighed while resting your head on his knee.
“You got this,” he replies while running a hand soothingly through your hair while the other wrote something down on the notepad next to him, “I believe in you.”
“Do you need anything to help you focus? Am I being too loud?” he asks while going to the kitchen and lighting your favorite candle, “I can make you a snack?”
“Do you mind getting me some fruit? I feel like I need some brain food.” You asked while cracking your knuckles and continuing to type away.
Mark nods and walks back over, handing you a cut persimmon with the skin peeled off. He always knew what you needed before even saying it out loud.
Humming in appreciation you immediately start chewing on the sliced fruit.
Eyeing him from the corner you see him looking out of your apartment window. It was raining hard outside, Mark’s favorite. 
“Anything else you need to work on?” you ask. He shrugs his shoulders. 
“Not much else, I want your opinion on what I have then I’ll see what I can add from there. Don’t worry though,” he turns to look at you with a small smile, “I can wait.”
Mark has always been supportive of your dreams and aspirations. It was a shock when he told you he wouldn’t be joining you at university, but rather pursuing music instead. Although an adjustment, you supported him and he rooted for you. It seemed to be working out, he passed the first two rounds of auditions for a big music company and it looked like things were finally looking up for him. 
Some days you wouldn’t see him at all, and some days he picked you up from class and would stay glued to your side. He claims that he ‘soaked up inspiration from you’ hence the constant quality time and skinship. He knew you were working hard, pursuing a higher education was so important to you and your family, and he wanted to be present every step of the way. 
Unbeknownst to you, Mark also had a dark cloud overlooking him just like the city in front of him. He hasn’t yet told you that he passed the third and final round of auditions for his company and would be slated to move to Korea before the end of the year to begin his training. He couldn’t bear to break the news to you, not yet. Not when you were so close to finishing one of your hardest semesters yet.
“I think I can pull you away from that screen now y/n,” he says while tugging you away from the black and white screen.
“Hey! I’m not finished yet! I thought you said you could wait” you pouted trying to get loose.
“You’ve been working non stop, you aren’t being as productive anymore.” He chuckles while slotting you to the seat across from him.
“Hi.” he smiles at you.
“Hi.” you respond back.
There’s a moment of silence shared between you two. The only sound being the soft pitter patter from outside hitting the patio. Mark stares at you lovingly, you can tell something is wrong but you can’t find the words to ask him just yet, too entranced by the current hold he has on you.
“So, the song, yeah?” you finally whisper aloud. 
“Hold on,” he replies, licking his lips and searching every inch of your face, memorizing this very moment to inspire him for what he’s about to play.
“What’s the hold up? Don’t get stage fright in front of me now Lee,” you lightly say while giggling.
“I, I just want to make you proud, okay?” he finally says with sad eyes.
“You always will, Mark.”
Guilt washed over Mark. Things were great, perfect even. But he just had to aspire for more. He should be satisfied with what he has now, he’s close to home, a stable music career here in Canada, and most importantly, you. But just like you, he had the moon but he wanted every damn star in the galaxy. He didn’t want change, but nothing could satiate the hunger for something more. He was leaving, because he knew that this life, now, isn’t enough.
“Okay.” he takes a moment to gather himself, taking in some deep breaks and shaking his nerves out through his hands.
“Let’s hear it!” you shuffle sitting up straight in your chair.
Mark lets out one final breath before starting a low strum on his guitar. Flashes of memories over the course of your relationship flashes before his eyes. Your first snow day in Canada when you couldn’t get the ice off of your windshield, to the countless nights of watching reruns of Glee in your small shared apartment. 
He hits the chorus for the first time, opening his eyes to look around the room, unable to look at you just yet. Pictures of you two littered the walls, filled with your smiling and laughing faces. 
Mark mumbles small noises of nonsense to fill in the parts he doesn’t know what to put in between, sometimes trying out some lyrics at the top of his head. He shakes his head and chuckles when words don’t rhyme or quite fit, in return you share a smile enjoying him delving into his craft.
It’s something about the way that Mark is able to lose himself completely, in his own little world and for brief moments you’re able to enter his mind, envisioning every note in a flow of synesthesia. He’s able to create color and landscape through sound, and what’s crazier is that he doesn’t even realize the extent of his art.
“And… I guess that’s it. What’d you think?” He asks as he lets out a final strum. The warmness of his music is still palpable in the room, despite the cold and dark weather that demands to be let inside. 
You take another moment staring at the man in front of you. Mark bit his fingers in anticipation. His large white tee hung loosely on his shoulders, his ripped jeans bounced waiting for your feedback.
Everything is perfect.
Nothing can take this moment away from you two. 
No words could exactly encapsulate how you felt so you decide to throw your arm around him. 
Mark lets out a sigh of relief as he sets his guitar to the side, “so I guess you liked it?” then reciprocated by pulling you into his lap.
“I loved it, Mark. I can’t wait to hear it all together, I really liked that chord progression, I can definitely hear it on the radio one day,” you mutter into his shirt.
The pitter patter of rain outside was accompanied by the soft whimpers from the man whose chin sat upon your head.
“I’m always going to be here for you y/n,” he jaggedly says.
You two sat in each other's embrace for what seemed like eternity. 
“Let me show you something,” he says, breaking the silence and adjusting your position to where your back was flush against him.
Mark sat the guitar in your hands, “Let’s start from the top, yeah?”
That night Mark taught you the song on his guitar, sometimes you filled in lyrics that felt right.
“They know we got the chemistry…” Mark sings.
“Love how your body feels on me, when you get back let me get that…” you finish with a small laugh.
“Yo!” he jumps up, lifting your laughing frame into the air, “That’s a bar!”
“Are you jealous that I may be a better rapper than you?” you giggle back.
“You’re coming for my career, babygirl!”
Six more hours.
Six more hours until this paper is due, and you’re almost done with this last page. 
Six more hours until the hell that was this semester is finally done.
Six more hours until you can crawl into bed with Mark and take a long deserved nap.
“Almost there baby,” Mark says while massaging your shoulders.
“I got this,” you say while typing furiously.
“Hell yeah you do.”
Your train of thought was interrupted by Mark’s ringtone going off from behind you.
“I’ll be right back, when I come back you better have this paragraph done!”
Sending him a stiff salute you continued to trudge on as he stepped into your bedroom and closed the door.
“Mark! What’s going on my man! Happy holidays!” his new manager cheered into the phone.
“It’s going well, just spending some time with family and friends while I can,” he replies while laying down on your bed and grabbing a stuffed My Melody to hold against him.
“Well, I’m glad you have been enjoying your last moments of freedom while you can. Speaking of which, I do have an early Christmas present for you!”
“Awesome! What is it?” 
“Well, the company wants you to start as soon as possible. I played them your audition and they think you can finish your training in less than a year!”
“That’s amazing!” Mark shoots up and runs his hands through his hair, “when do I fly out? Next year I hope?”
“Mark, I did say Christmas present didn’t I? You’ll leave the day after the 25th. I bought you some more time to spend with your family, but you’ll be spending the new year here, in Korea!”
Mark felt his heart drop. That was in two weeks. 
Two weeks to eat all the food he can.
Two weeks to brush up on dancing.
Two weeks to say goodbye to his family.
Two weeks to erase all traces from his friend groups’ antics.
Two weeks till he has to leave you.
“Uh… two weeks… wow that’s really soon.” 
“Absolutely! Now rest up Mark, this year is going to be the craziest experience of your life!”
His manager kept going on about the potential future he had coming for him. But Mark couldn’t seem to focus on all the new found information. Slowly feeling the aroma of you envelope him fully, being surrounded by you everywhere, it was suffocating. 
How is he going to tell you?
“I finished it!” he heard your jumps of triumph in the distance, echoing all the way to the pits of his empty stomach, “I’m finally done with this God awful semester! One more year till graduation!”
You burst through the door interrupting Mark’s pensive state, wrapping yourself into him.
“You okay babe?” you realize pulling away slowly, eyeing his sweating frame, “you look a bit sick, want me to make you some ramen?”
“Oh no I’m fine, just fine really,” he shallowly laughs pulling himself away from you and moving to turn on the fan, “just got a little warm is all.”
“Who called?” you asked before flopping on the bed and sighing, “was it your manager? Did you get the job?”
“Uh yeah…” he shuffled, not meeting your eyes, “It was my manager, he had some good news…”
“Oh my God, did you pass?” you pounced on him awaiting the news.
“Uh… yeah, I did.” he lied.
“Markie!” you showered him in kisses and tight squeezes, your love for him unfaltering, “When do you leave?”
“Not for another year,” he smiled, not looking at you.
“Hopefully you’ll still be here for my graduation…” you sighed, “but nonetheless I’m glad I get to keep you to myself for a bit longer.
---
anddd that’s it for now! see yall in a week! any and all comments appreciated, and as always, tag list is open! 
xoxo, eva <3
288 notes · View notes
sweet-lover-girl · 1 year
Text
Feeling Sick
This is just about how the reader is having a rough time with her anxiety and has a tummy ache.
Reader also has OCD and is slightly autistic.
PLEASE DO NOT READ if it may cause you to panic, this does involve reader having a small panic attack and it talks about having OCD. This is okay, I saw it in my drafts and decided to post it. Honestly I'm nervous to post this not gonna lie, just because it does talk about mental health, I wrote this based off of how my OCD is, I'm not saying this is how OCD is for anyone who suffers it. This is just how mine sometimes fucks with me. So with that begin said...
I hope y'all enjoy this!
(Not proofread..)
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You laid in yours and Abby’s shared bed, wallowing in self pity as your tummy ached and felt sour. Wrapping your arms around your self and cradling your stomach, you wait impatiently for Abby to walk through the door.
Your tummy has been hurting for some time now and you already got some medicine from Nora plus some advice on things that might help you feel better, sadly though all you’ve been able to do was lay in bed with a heating pad that Abby had snagged on a patrol mission three weeks ago on your stomach and wait for it to soothe.
You finally hear the door open and Abby’s heavy industrial boots hit the floor with her step. You hear her drop her heavy bag on the ground and her sigh softly and some shuffling before there was a pause,”Baby? Are you awake?” Abby whispered, in case you were indeed asleep. No wonder way she did ask though, as you were covered in blankets and turned to lay on your right side facing away from her, curled up into a fetal position.
“I’m awake.” You say still laying there.
You hear Abby’s footfall as she makes her way across the room and comes to stand in front of you, she pushes your hair back softly from your forehead before her hand comes to a rest on your cheek, her thumb rubbing over the swell of it slowly. You sigh as she does this, feeling better now that she’s here with you.
“Are you okay pumpkin?” Abby asked.
“No, I’ve felt bad all day.”
“Where do you feel bad at?” She asked as she kneeled down in front of you and placed her lips softly on your forehead to see if you where running a fever.
You let out a huff before ranting,”I felt faint so I came and laid down, that and my tummy had been hurting and I feel sick, plus I have a headache and-“ you abruptly stop talking because you remembered she’s the one who just got back from running around and fighting all day, and here you were complaining about feeling bad. You suddenly felt very guilty.
“Honey, do you need the bin?” Abby began to reach for the bin next to the bed but you stopped her.
“No, no I’m okay, I just..” you stopped talking.
“What is is love, do I need to go get Nora or Mel real quick?” Abby was so sweet it made your heart physically ache, she was so worried about you not feeling good she forgot how tired she had felt from her long day. Now focused on taking care of you instead.
You were quick to grab Abby’s hand as she stood up, getting ready to leave and go to medical to get you some medicine. Stopping her and saying,”No! Please don’t leave.”
Abby paused looking down at your pitiful form with a confused look.
“Just—stay please. Don’t leave..” You begged her.
“Okay love, it’s okay. I won’t leave.” She replied. Still holding your hand, she lifted your hand up and kissed your knuckles.
“How was your day?” You asked, trying to pull the subject off of you, still feeling guilty.
“It’s was surprisingly good today. Manny and I didn’t run into any Scars and only a few infected. We even found an old store that looked like it hadn’t been looted so we marked the map for the scouts to go look at tomorrow.”
You smiled at the information she gave you, happy that she had such a good day. Lately she’s been over worked by Isaac, he was putting her on more missions and even had her do night watch just a few days ago. He was feeling Paranoid about something but wouldn’t say what, won’t even tell Abby. So she’s been stressed about this and has been pretty restless as well.
“I’m so glad you had a good day Abs.”
“Yeah, it was a pretty damn good day.” Abby smiled down at you.
“Now, tell me what I can do to help you feel better.” She said kneeling in the floor once more.
You lay there not really sure on what to say. You didn’t want to make her do anything, you just wanted her, just wanted her near you or hold you but you were afraid it was to self centered to ask, even though you genuinely felt like shit, you already feel bad for venting to her about how you feel.
“Baby?” Abby asked as you stayed quite for to long.
“Huh? Oh sorry, no there’s nothing you have to do.” You say quickly, rubbing your eye with your blanket covered hand.
Abby hummed softly at the reply you gave her, not really liking how you were neglecting your needs. She stood up and went to get you some water and more stomach medication. She also had picked up dinner on the way up to your room, it was soup with some bread.
She walked back over to you with a tray that had a cup of water, a bottle of medicine, and a bowl with broth soup and bread on the side next to it. Abby placed the tray down onto the side bed table and gentle helped you sit up and propped a pillow behind your back, keeping the heating pad on your aching stomach.
“There, think you can eat something for me love?” Abby said as she softly creases your cheek in her large warm hand. You nodded and she smiled, picking up the tray and placing it in your lap.
You honestly didn’t want to—you felt almost to sick, but maybe some warm soup would help. So with a heavy heart you picked up the spoon and lifted it to your mouth. Slurping up the warm broth—the taste was overwhelming to you, making your tummy feel funny, you just held the soup in your mouth, looking up to Abby and shook your head.
She gave a soft sigh, she hated when you felt sick, knowing you usually suffer from stomach cramps on a regular basis because of your anxiety, but she wasn’t going to focus you to eat, not right now anyways, she’ll just trying again later with crackers or something like that.
She picks up the trash bin and lets you spit the soup into the trash bag before placing it back down, then picking up the tray and placing it back on the side table, she turned to you before saying. “Is it okay if I go shower really quick? I really wanna cuddle but I refuse to do so while this dirty.” She was indeed dirty, though it was mostly mud from the rainy day.
“Yeah, of course you don’t have to ask Abs..”
You really didn’t wanna be left alone with your anxiety of being sick, but you knew she needed to shower.
“Okay, I’ll be right back love.” She then kissed your forehead and went around the room grabbing her clothes and towel, plus her special bar of pine soap before walking to the door, looking back at you to make sure you were still okay, and walked out.
You sigh as the doors closed, suddenly feeling very anxious. You lay back down slowly as to disturb your upset stomach even more. Grabbing the pillow that was Abby’s, you cuddled it to your chest as you felt tears begin to swell in your waterlines. Stop it, you though.
You’re fine, she’ll be back in like ten minutes. You nuzzle your face into her pillow, smelling the scent of her still on it, Dewy earth and pine, it was so comforting to you. You didn’t really realize it but you began to doze off with your face buried in her pillow.
Then suddenly—your tummy turned and you sat up quickly with wide eyes. You breath picked up as you felt sick again. No please just, stop it. You though. Not tonight please.
You were use to stomach aches as you get them when your anxiety is bad, and lately your anxiety has been pretty bad, no really specific thing you were thinking about but just feeling anxious. That’s just how it worked for you.
You throw your legs over the side of the bed as you felt a lump in your throat, quickly grabbing the bin and holding it to your chest as you let out a cry. You hate feeling like this, anxious and sick. You began to tremble as you try and take deep breaths like Abby taught you too.
Where was Abby? It feels like it’s been forever since she went to shower, she should her been back by now.
Tears falling from your eyes as you finally hear the door open and hearing a gasp as Abby’s footsteps hitting the ground, your eyes were closed as you felt two warm large hands grab your cheeks. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay.” Abby also know how much you hated being sick like this. She hated seeing you like this—so miserable with nothing for her to do to make you feel better.
“Abby,” you cry out.
“I’m here pumpkin.”
She begins to rub your back and you follow the slow movement, matching your breath to it. After about a minute of this your breathing was back to normal and your tummy felt a little better. “Can I take this baby?” Abby asked grabbing the lip of the bin, you squeeze it tighter to your chest—afraid that if you let go you’ll get sick. You start to tap your foot, repeating the rhythm and number counting in your head. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, nine, nine, nin—
“Baby,” Abby stopped the cycle,“Come back to me.”
You sigh out of frustration as your relief was short lived. People at the WLF didn’t really understand your mental disorders, having OCD and being autistic, well you were slight autistic, but it was still autism never the less. Abby, bless her heart, she tried her hardest to understand and to help you however she could; when she saw you doing a repetitive act she knew that was your OCD in play, and you were just doing what it told you to do. Even if that was knocking on your forehead seven times with both hands. She knew that you hated how it was a form of relief to do this actions, your OCD would tell you, You will get sick if you don’t step on the same rock three times with your right foot, you tried your hardest not to listen to it, to not do the movements—but sometimes it would bring Abby into the mix.
Hold your breath till you cross that line, or Abby will get bit, but don’t step on it. It would whisper nastily into your ear, echoing in your mind—so you would hold your breath till you’ve crossed that random line, taking a large step as to make sure you don’t touch said line, people looking at you funny, making you blush with embarrassment. You knew it was all just lies and intrusive thoughts at play, fucking with your mind and trying to make you feel fear—as that’s what it wanted, it wanted you to be afraid and to hide. To be it’s fucking prisoner.
Abby could see you were in your thoughts, so she gently grabbed the bin and placed it near the bed in case you needed it, before walking around to the other side of the bed quickly and got into bed slowly, once she was in bed she had realized her pillow was gone, noticing you had it on your lap. She sighed softly at the cute sight, her heart melting at the thought of you needing it to help you calm down. She rubbed at your back—pulling you from your mind.
You look over your shoulder and see that Abby is in bed, the lamp on her side still on, she knew that having light helped calm you down as well. You hadn’t realized how late it has become. You slowly lay back down once more now that your tummy felt a little more at ease, giving Abby her pillow back as you curled up against her chest, almost in a fetal position, subconsciously protecting your stomach.
She placed her arm under you head, you using it as a pillow, it was somehow more comfortable then your actual pillow. She then placed her other hand over you hip, rubbing it softly with her thumb.
“Where were you?” You asked quietly as your eyes began to close, feeling tired after such a quick and sudden panic episode.
“I was with Manny, he wanted to know if I was on the same patrol with him tomorrow.”
“Are you?” You yawned.
“No pumpkin, I’m off tomorrow, it’s just you and me, okay?” Abby said and she brushed her lips against your forehead to give you a small sweet kiss.
You hummed at the good information you just got and nuzzles your face into her arm, despite it being pure muscle, it was soft to lay on, that and her smell was so much stronger now that you were in her arms.
Abby could see you fading, falling into a hopefully good slumber, so she said her good nights quietly and a little, I love you.
You were already asleep at this point in time, and Abby could feel her eyes begin to close as well now that she was finally in bed with her baby girl, her favorite place to be.
It fell quite in the softly lit dim room of yours as you both finally fell asleep in each other’s arms.
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magicshopaholic · 7 months
Text
Aphrodite (Namjoon x OC)
Summary: You and Namjoon consider all the reasons you shouldn’t be together.
Pairing: Namjoon x OC
Genre: Fluff, some angst, some smut
Word count: 7.1 K
Rating: 18+
Warnings: language, alcohol, making out, fingering, allusions to sex
A/N: Wrote this in a word coma. Set over a period of three months, beginning a week after Voice of an Angel. Can be read standalone.
Special thanks to this anon who casually dropped this idea in my inbox and bounced, leaving me to be plagued with heart-stoppingly beautiful scenarios that I wrote on my phone in a full-day seminar because I was incapable of thinking about anything else. Well played, anon.
(The song rec is also one I've been waiting to use and one of Daniel Ricciardo's biggest contributions to my life; apropos in these turbulent times)
Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)
Listen to: “wake up with you” by emerson leif
namjoon masterlist | main masterlist
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The first reason is brought up on the last night.
Seoul shouldn’t be this empty this time of night, thinks Namjoon. But they’re near the suburbs now, the apartment building mostly with families, so maybe it’s always like this? Either way, he should count himself lucky, for if Kaya’s last night here was punctuated with camera phones being secretly pointed at him and his manager hissing at him to be careful, he might have thrown something.
As it is, it’s peaceful. Their fingers linger next to each other as they walk back to her aunt’s house; Namjoon doesn’t know if she expects him to take her hand. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous, but after what they’ve just done at his penthouse, is this really where the line needs to be drawn?
“Good call to walk.” Kaya turns to him slightly and raises her eyebrows. “Instead of taking a car.”
“The weather’s too nice for it,” he lies, noting how his shirt is already sticking to his shoulders slightly and how she’s swept her long hair off her neck and tied it up, despite the light sundress she’s wearing.
It’s embarrassing to think that the reason he’d proposed to walk was so he’d have a little more time with her before she left forever. He feels ridiculous for even thinking this way - when did he become so dramatic?
“It is,” she agrees. “It's nicer than Amsterdam.”
Namjoon’s stomach settles slightly. At least he’s not the only one lying through his teeth.
“Do you need to pack tonight?” he asks hopefully, wondering if they can take another detour before he drops her back.
“A little,” she admits, “but mostly I just need to close out some stuff for work that’s due the day after tomorrow.” 
Namjoon frowns. “Because… you’re preparing for jet lag?”
“Yeah, exactly. It’s a really long flight,” she adds, groaning softly in anticipation. 
The sound makes his stomach flip and he tries not to think about the same sounds an hour ago, in his bed, against his skin.
“Tell me about it.” It occurs to Namjoon that unlike him, she won’t be flying business class. “Can’t blame you for not visiting more often. Jieun, I mean,” he adds quickly.
“Uh-huh.” Kaya gives him a small, knowing smile as they reach the building. “It’s also really expensive,” she says, turning around to face him.
“It is.” He swallows and puts his hands in his pockets, looking at the ground. He hadn’t realised how much he’d been dreading this moment; nothing he wants to say would be appropriate for saying goodbye to a week-long summer fling.
She touches his elbow, holding the newspaper-wrapped package in the same hand. Whatever it is, it’s definitely not a book, she’d joked when he’d given it to her and asked her not to open it until he left.
“Namjoon.” Her voice is soft, the foreign accent making his name sound so special. “It’s probably a good thing I can’t visit that often.”
He presses his tongue into his chin and nods, hating that she’s right. It’s too far and it’s too expensive, so maybe a week-long summer fling was already the bonus that fate had given them. It takes him a moment but he takes a deep breath and looks up at her, thinking once again that she has such Disney princess eyes. 
He silently steps forward to hug her for the last time.
The second reason is brought up nearly a month later, in the middle of the night in Amsterdam. 
Kaya groans at the sound of her alarm, feeling distinctly as though she just fell asleep. She reaches for her phone and frowns when she sees the time: she did just fall asleep. It’s also not her alarm, but her phone ringing.
The call is from Namjoon, though; it makes her slightly less annoyed at being woken up. She clears her throat and answers.
“Hello?”
“Hey!” He sounds hurried, as though he’s on his way somewhere. “I’m so glad you answered.”
“Okay?” Kaya can hear her voice sound thick with sleep. “Uh… why?”
“Because of last night. Because - wait, were you asleep?”
“Was,” she can’t resist saying, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to hold onto some remaining sleep. Tomorrow’s schedule is chock-full of classes. “It’s two am, Namjoon.”
“It’s -” There’s a shuffle. “Did I calculate the time difference wrong? Why did I think I was ten hours ahead?”
“I dunno,” she mumbles into her pillow. “What’s wrong?”
“I just wanted to apologise,” he says, sounding incredibly guilty. “For last night. I… I kind of fell asleep.”
Nothing he’s said makes any sense to Kaya. Sighing, she turns over slightly and frowns. “What are you talking about?”
“Earlier,” he clarifies. “In the evening for you, I guess. We were talking and I…”
“You fell asleep.” She remembers now. 
Despite parting in Seoul on a bittersweet note, with the mutual but unsaid knowledge of their dalliance ending, they hadn’t been able to cut ties fully. Namjoon had messaged her late the next day asking if she’d landed safely, she’d sent him a picture from her cab in response, and the conversation never ended.
It was still restrained, for the most part. Kaya, at least, was aware that an emotional connect had been built in Seoul - but they’d said goodbye and gone back to their lives. Anything further should be nothing more than friendly, like pen pals who kept each other updated on their lives.
Earlier this evening, they’d been talking on the phone about something extremely mundane. Kaya was in a pub with her friends, but knowing that Namjoon probably didn’t have a lot of time, she excused herself for a few minutes and went to a spot away from the music, near the washrooms. She was leaning back against the wooden wall and talking about her thesis but every time she tried to change the topic to something less boring, he asked her to continue, sounding genuinely interested in a very operational aspect of her work.
He was tired - that much she could hear. He still kept the conversation going, at first with questions and eventually progressing to occasional exclamations, until suddenly, he went completely silent. Kaya guessed he may have fallen asleep; a quick calculation reminded her it was three am in Seoul, so on some level she was actually glad he was finally resting.
“Yeah,” he says, sounding apologetic. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”
“No, don’t worry about it,” she murmurs, brushing her hair off her face. “It was really late for you.”
“Yeah, but I could’ve said good night,” he points out. “Sorry about that. And… I’m sorry about waking you up right now,” he adds, audibly wincing. “For some reason I thought I was ten hours ahead.”
She chuckles sleepily. “Happens to the best of us. Timezones are always a pain.”
“Not something we need to worry about, right?” Namjoon says after a moment, and she thinks his half-chuckle sounds a little forced.
“Nope. Good thing we quit while we were ahead.”
There’s silence on the line for a few seconds while Kaya, in her half-asleep state, imagines what it might be like to fall asleep with him in person. She’d almost considered it on her last night in Seoul; they’d been under the covers, naked and talking about nothing in particular when he’d softly offered for her to stay the night. 
Had she been a more impulsive person, she may have said yes, but it seemed too intimate to do with a person she’d technically known for a little more than a week. Now, she wonders idly if she’d been too hasty with her decision.
“You should sleep,” he says after a moment, still sounding a bit guilty.
“You woke me up, you put me back to sleep,” she retorts softly.
“Yeah? You want a bedtime story?”
“Sure, why not?”
Namjoon laughs, and the sound makes her toes curl inside her blanket. “Wait, are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.” She pulls her covers up to her chin and curls up into a comfortable position. “Hit it, music producer.”
He chuckles a little disbelievingly. “Um, okay? Here goes nothing.” He takes a deep breath and starts, barely getting four words out before she interrupts him.
“Wait. Joon… you know I don’t understand Korean, right?”
The nickname is a first for her, and it sounds as though he’s picked up on it, too. “Yeah, I know. But you want to be put to sleep and I thought it might actually help.”
It’s genius. Kaya grins to herself, knowing somewhere deep down that she’s just setting herself up for heartbreak someday. She should stop this, quit while they’re ahead.
Instead, she hears herself tell him to continue.
The next reason comes up the day Namjoon learns about Damien Herjavec.
He’d made the executive decision to give Kaya his private Instagram handle a few days after she’d left Seoul. She’d never brought up following each other on social media until he did because despite how much he liked her, giving her access to something this personal required thought. It wasn’t until he went back to the bookstore where they’d bumped into each other for the first time, and he realised he wanted her to know that without him having to actually tell her, that he decided to do it. 
He searched her name on Instagram and followed her, trying to restrain himself from checking if she’d followed him back. She did eventually, a couple of hours later, and to a genuinely embarrassing amount of delight, she commented on his picture: Careful in the English section.
Kaya didn’t seem to use Instagram very often other than to put up very random pictures on her story of ordinary city shots: a street outside her campus, her own legs in faded jeans, a unicycle in the park in the distance. It was whimsical and cute, but also highlighted the few times she did post something else - such as a picture of her and three other people, sitting at a table with name cards in front of them and smiling into the camera.
Namjoon doesn’t immediately register the male in the picture. His focus is on Kaya, in a blazer and slinky black trousers and beige heels, her long hair straight and framing her face as she smiles. His heart skips a beat at the thought of her like this earlier today, in real-time, and he suddenly feels closer to her than he has in weeks. It stays all day, the lingering feeling, as though she’s finally in reach and he hasn’t been imagining her all this time, that he realises it's longing. He’s missing her, and the discovery immediately terrifies him.
He decides it’s officially time to end this transatlantic pseudo-fling and resolves not to call her or text her anymore, knowing they need to phase this out of their lives for both their good. It lasts a whole five hours until she texts him, with nothing more than a Hey.
Namjoon swallows and closes his eyes, knowing he’s in so much trouble. Hey, his fingers type out, as though of their own accord.
I think God sent me an angel today.
Yeah? Wings and everything?
Chinos and Vans, but I’ll take it. As long as he gives me an extra set of hands on this research project, I’ll worship whoever sent him to me.
Oh, your professor finally brought in someone else? That’s great!
Yess, it is. Maybe now I’ll remember to eat a meal and get more than a couple hours of sleep. Oh, and focus on my actual job.
I get that. I’m happy for you. You should be getting more sleep.
I know, right? Damien might just be the answer to my problems. Even staying up late in the conference room and checking survey results is better now because at least I’m not alone. I shouldn’t be complaining to you though - I know you have a worse workload.
Not true. I was in the studio till dawn but at least it has a comfortable couch.
You’re right. I have it worse.
Not now that you have Damien. The reply is out and sent before Namjoon can stop himself and he immediately cringes.
Yeah, well. I don’t know how long he’s going to be around for. Once this project is over, maybe I’ll refer him to Professor Llyod so he doesn’t keep tapping me to grade his papers.
Sounds like a plan. I’m sure Professor Lloyd will be happy.
His happiness isn’t really my concern, if I’m being honest. I wouldn’t mind if Damien stays. He actually has more than a few braincells and - get this - showers. 
Namjoon stares at his phone for a second. He sounds like the complete package.
You joke, but it’s a serious epidemic on a college campus. Having a colleague who smells good is a bigger bonus than you think.
How long do you think this project will be?
A couple of months? Hopefully? I don’t know - the professor heading it keeps adding problem statements constantly so it feels endless. I’m just really really tired.
Namjoon wants to offer words of comfort but he can’t think of any. In fact, all he can think about is how he, too, has a ridiculously long day ahead of photoshoots ahead of him tomorrow, where he won’t be allowed to eat much or drink any water, followed by filming.
He remembers about how he’s been thinking about her all day and knows he needs to at least try to nip this in the bud.
You know the worst thing about being a workaholic?
What?
Dating somebody who’s also a workaholic.
Kaya’s reply takes a few moments. Haha, point taken. Good thing that’s not a problem for us.
The next few reasons come up around the same time, and some of them are just downright silly.
Despite his best intentions to keep a distance, the moment he finds out he’s needed in Amsterdam for a collaboration, Namjoon not only says yes instantly but he also works his schedule to plan leaves and invent meetings around the same time, eventually extending his total trip to ten days.
He knows he’ll be working for some of that time; it’s the only reason he doesn’t feel desperate and clingy when he informs Kaya of the trip, asking as calmly as possible if she’d like to meet.
Kaya, for her part, feels like her heart might explode. It takes every bit of her willpower to suppress the smile on her face during the mid-term she’s invigilating; the undergrads, barely younger than her, don’t need to know anything about her personal life.
Oh, that’s great. Sure, we should catch up.
He’s coming for work and she already has a lot of it on her plate, but somehow it still feels as though every moment that can be squeezed out from their schedules is spent with each other. A lot of the deliberate distance that they tried to maintain while apart seems to have also gradually evaporated. 
It starts on his first night with dinner at a riverside cafe, where they greet each other with a casual hug like they’re classmates from high school. They walk back to her apartment with a respectful distance between them where she invites him for a cup of horrid instant coffee, like it’s the end of a blind date. 
It’s only when they’re actually indoors and alone and it’s dark because Kaya hasn’t even switched on the light yet that some of the pretence is dropped. She sees his tall silhouette come closer and smells his cologne; her hands go up automatically to rest on his shoulders as he kisses her, his hands large around her waist as he gently backs her up against the door.
They hang out in her apartment when they’re not outside; Namjoon says he’s sick of hotels and she can imagine (and she secretly doesn’t want him to leave), so she doesn’t mind much. Her apartment is small but the location is convenient and the sight of him in it, casual and comfortable, is something she feels she can’t get enough of.
“It’s an amazing view,” he says one morning, sitting sideways on the bench in her balcony. He’s got his glasses on and is sitting with a book, having woken up almost an hour before her. “I can even see the river from here.”
“It’s pretty great,” she admits, coming over and sitting next to him, leaning back against his legs. “The rent also takes a decent chunk out of my paycheck,” she adds dryly, shrugging, “but it’s worth it.”
“Don’t you get a place on campus? I thought all students do.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“So why didn’t you take it? Wouldn’t you save a lot?” he asks curiously.
Kaya bites her lip, still looking at the view. “I don’t like living on campus.”
“Really? You’d live right there - you’d probably save a ton of time on commute and everything, no? Plus, it would be safer than returning in the middle of the -”
“It’s not really my thing,” she interrupts him. “Do you want to go to Stedelijk today? If you do, we should leave soon.”
Namjoon nods and she smiles, patting his leg and going back inside. They leave in an hour; it’s a Sunday and it’s beautiful outside. The museum is just as incredible as she remembers from the first time she visited it, except now Namjoon is here, too, his fingers lingering right next to hers and brushing them every few seconds. 
They’ve had sex several times, they’ve fallen asleep together, they’ve even showered together once, but this - holding hands - still feels too soon. It feels like admitting something, something she knows by now that they’re both trying to deny because it just makes more sense that way. They can’t hold hands, for that’s the beginning of a very slippery slope.
“Hey, your view is so much better than mine,” says Kaya after a while, when they’re having lunch at a cafe near the museum. She’s looking at a picture on his phone of his gigantic window, the Han river flowing majestically outside it. “The river from my balcony is a speck in the distance.”
“I do have a good view,” he says fairly, taking back the phone. “But I mostly use my balcony for company. It feels too depressing otherwise. But yours honestly just feels like a bedroom with no roof,” he points out, something she’d never considered. “It has the mattress, the lights, the coasters. It’s like a haven in the middle of the city.”
“Really?” She’s both proud and slightly confused. “My mum’s been pestering me to get some plants in there but I just know I’m going to make a mess and forget about them and then they’ll eventually die. But, hey, who needs plants when I’ve got a whole haven?” 
Namjoon grins. “You want me to help you pick out some plants? I have a ton.”
She pauses mid-bite, a little disbelieving at how he continues to surprise her. “Seriously? You - you plant stuff?”
“Yeah. Why is that surprising?”
“Oh, it’s not -” She doesn’t know how to say that she can’t quite reconcile the posters of him that Jae-lin has shown her and the music videos she’s watched here and there of him rapping in oversized clothes, with someone who could tend to a garden. “It’s just… unexpected.”
“I plant a lot of things,” he informs her, cutting his steak and dipping it in the sauce. “For example, right now, I’ve just planted an idea in your head.” He smiles, his dimple popping. “So? Want to go plant shopping with me?”
Kaya watches him wince as the piece of steak breaks and falls in the bowl of sauce and he fishes it out, swearing under his breath. This is about the plants, she decides, trying to subtly place her hand over her mouth and cover her smile. He’s perfect but he’s not hers, and that’s the way it should be.
“Sure. I’ll go plant shopping with you.”
They look up the closest nursery and head there after lunch, pulling their caps over their heads in the afternoon sun. The desire to slip her hand into his is getting stronger; she imagines how big it would be around her own, the pressure both comforting and playful. To save herself from the temptation, she hooks her fingers around the strap of her sling bag and settles for just feeling his bicep brush against her shoulder.
The nursery is quaint and unbelievably colourful, looking like a kaleidoscope on the side of the road. They step into the shade and begin examining the small pots, reading the description underneath each.
“Definitely the tabebuia, if I may suggest it,” says Namjoon, pointing to a pretty pink plant. “It blossoms in the summer and it’s just gorgeous. It’ll be the highlight of your balcony.”
“Duly noted. What about its support acts?”
“Well -” He walks slowly towards her and points at another sapling. “The poppy is always nice. And - oh, dude, they have orchids here,” he adds in wonder, peering at the card underneath it. “I have one just like it - hang on -” He pulls out his phone and begins tapping on it.
Kaya surveys a few more saplings and turns to him slightly. “What about this one? It says it’s conducive to warm weather and grows even in harsh conditions such as -” She sees a movement out of the corner of her eye and looks to see Namjoon turning around and walking away. For a moment she thinks he’s going towards another plant but he just keeps walking until he’s passed the nursery, head still bent low over his phone.
Something stings in her heart, insulted at being cut off mid-sentence and ignored. She’s about to call his name when she hears the gasps.
“It’s RM!” 
There are two or three voices, accents foreign. Kaya freezes and turns away slightly, her mind working out why he abruptly walked away the way he did.
“I think it was him!”
“RM? Are you sure?”
“We can check…”
There’s some scuffling and words in a language Kaya can’t place in the moment, taken too off guard by the sudden interruption. She tries to breathe, willing the annoyance in her chest to go away. From a little way away, she spots what looks like a family with two teenage girls and a third one slightly older, gravitating towards the direction in which Namjoon left. 
She tries to look casually; he’s much further away by now, ducking into a coffee shop. The girls, in their minor confusion, seem to have lost sight of him. As they trudge away, disappointment evident in their voices, Kaya begins walking in the same direction, passing by the coffee shop as well. She texts him and continues down the path, stopping after a few minutes and waiting for him in a less crowded area.
She spots him sooner than expected. Even from a distance, she can see his lips pursed and his forehead creased, looking apologetic.
“Oh, my God,” she gasps softly when he’s within earshot. “It’s RM.”
Namjoon shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says, coming over and wrapping his arms around her waist before kissing her softly. 
“M-hm.”
“I didn’t want them to see you. That’s all.” He takes a small step back and tilts his head. “All it takes is one picture on the internet and then…”
“I know,” she says finally, patting his arm comfortingly. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah?”
Kaya nods. “It’s not your fault. Besides, I’m sure it would be way worse for your girlfriend. You know, if… whenever…”
It’s his turn to nod knowingly, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah. So you don’t need to worry.”
“I’m not worrying. Not about you, not about your fans,” she lists as they resume walking. “Not about your girlfriend… none of it.”
“Good.” Namjoon bumps her shoulder gently.
She doesn’t say anything. After a moment, she slips her hand into his.
Later that night, Kaya’s forgotten all about it, the only coherent thoughts in her mind being the feel of her sheets underneath her, Namjoon’s lips at her neck and his fingers inside her, moving right at her g-spot.
“F-fuck,” she stutters, knowing she’s close. Namjoon is a wizard with his fingers, she’s discovered. They are long, slender and move with a grace she hadn’t expected, and his hands find ways to elicit pleasure that even she hasn’t been able to unearth yet.
“Your pussy is so pretty,” he murmurs in her ear, his deep voice making her moan softly. He nips gently at her earlobe. “Open your legs wider for me, baby?”
Kaya obeys; she can’t imagine not doing so. Her head is starting to spin. “I - I can’t,” she breathes, panting. “Oh, my God…”
“You want me to stop?” he asks, slowing down slightly.
“No!” she exclaims, eyes snapping open. “I just - oh, God - I can’t take this on a regular basis,” she explains tightly, fists clenching around the sheets. “I think I might die…” She flashes a dreamy smile, eyes fluttering shut. “Good thing you’re not my boyfriend, huh?”
Namjoon nods, coming up slightly and moving his fingers slightly faster. “Uh-huh. Lucky you,” he says, brushing his lips lightly over her nipple.
Kaya moans loudly at that; she’s got seconds before she probably passes out from the intensity of what he’s doing. At this very inopportune moment where it’s just her, him and their clammy, naked bodies against each other, her phone pings.
Namjoon swears softly in Korean but thankfully doesn’t stop. “Ignore it,” she mutters, squeezing her eyes shut. “I don’t care what it is.”
“What if it’s something important?” he murmurs calmly, pressing kisses down her jaw. “You sure you don’t want to answer it?”
“Yeah,” she breathes, biting down on her lip now. “It’s probably just - just Damien texting to confirm if - oh, God!” Her mind goes blank the moment he flattens his hand and rubs his palm over her clit. “Oh, God, baby - don’t stop, don’t - oh, my -” 
Unable to form words any longer, Kaya drops her head back on the pillow and moans loudly as her orgasm hits her, her back arching on the bed as Namjoon whispers low words of praise, voice so deep she can feel it in her stomach.
His fingers slide out slowly, her ears still ringing slightly. Her heart is going  a mile a minute and she drops her head to the side into his neck as she tries to breathe normally before she opens her eyes and looks up at him.
Namjoon brushes her bangs off her face affectionately, his dimple appearing faintly. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “You were saying?”
But she shakes her head. “I don’t remember,” she mutters, heart skipping a beat at his satisfied grin.
The next day, three days before Namjoon is to leave, they decide to plant her saplings.
“Somehow, I expected this to be more technical.” Kaya steps back and tilts her head, observing her handiwork. She’s still potting the tabebuia, while Namjoon seems to have already finished two and is working on his third.
“What do you mean?” he asks, gently picking up the poppy plant and lowering it into the pot. He steadies it on the low ledge where five newly purchased pots sit, soil littered around them. 
“Just.” She tosses a loose lock of hair out of her face, her hands muddy with dark soil. “You always see people with a ton of gardening tools and gloves and… you know. Outfits,” she adds. 
“We’re just potting plants,” he points out. “Your outfit is cute.”
“It’s pajamas.”
“What’s your point?”
Kaya smiles but then groans. “I suck at this, though. All your plants look perfect and mine looks like something that got trampled by a herd of cows.”
Namjoon snickers, neatly finishing with his plant. “It’s always messy at first, but it’s worth it at the end.” He gathers the spilt soil into a small mound and moves it to the corner before coming up to her. “Alright, what’s wrong?”
“I think I’m holding the plant wrong or something because it keeps falling over,” she mutters, bending slightly to examine it. “Look, I think it’s - oh.” She breaks off when she suddenly feels his torso against her back and sees his arms come up in front of her, reaching for the tabebuia plant.
“Okay, so you need to hold it here,” he says calmly, as though the casual intimacy of their position isn’t causing explosions in his stomach like it is for her. “And then -” He pours a handful of soil into the pot. “- it stays still. Here, try it.”
If he notices her hands shaking, he doesn’t say anything. He takes them in his and places them in the correct position and they quietly pot the plant, the pale pink buds peeking through the leaves. Once they’re done, they stay there, and Kaya feels her chest start to contract, like she might suddenly cry.
She’s falling for him.
From behind her, Namjoon rests his hands on the ledge, encasing her. He gently bumps her head with his chin. “Should we name them?”
She nods like this was obvious, exhaling. “That one’s Fitzwilliam,” she declares, pointing to the one at the end.
“I’m sorry - what?”
“Fitzwilliam,” she repeats. “Like Fitzwilliam Darcy. Look at him - he’s right in the corner, not even on the same ledge as the others.”
“Yeah… because there’s no more space on this one.”
“It’s also the only plant that’s not a flower.” She folds her arms across her chest. “Fitzwilliam.”
“Fine. You freak,” he mutters, bumping her head again. “What about that one?”
They name the next three together, teasing each other with each one. Finally, they get to the tabebuia.
Kaya strokes one of the leaves. “This one’s easy. She’s Aphrodite.”
Namjoon nods. “I get that. A heavy name to live up to, though.”
“It makes complete sense. She’s the prettiest one here.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “It’s probably a good thing we’re not together,” he says finally. “I don’t think I could handle not seeing her every day.”
Kaya swallows. Despite her heart feeling heavy again, she leans back against him, memorising his strong chest behind her. She wonders if she’s imagining his heartbeat. “You’re talking about…”
“Aphrodite,” he murmurs, partly against her hair. “Who else?”
She can feel his nose press against the side of her head. Don’t do it, she thinks desperately. Don’t do it, don’t do it. It would open up a pit of emotions she doesn’t want to face. 
“Maybe we can share custody,” she suggests half-heartedly. 
She can feel him smile slightly, but he doesn’t say anything. Don’t do it. But it doesn’t work; he takes a deep breath and presses a kiss to her hair, and the dread settles deep in her stomach.
Kaya knew this day would come. After all, the only reason they even got this week was because Namjoon had work in Amsterdam. If it weren’t for that, this would’ve ended in Seoul. 
The last two days were spent largely apart; Namjoon had to fulfil his actual professional obligations and despite wanting to make the best of his time here, Kaya was glad to have some space for she wasn’t sure she was doing a good job hiding how she felt about his impending departure.
But the morning of his flight, she’s finally forced to face it.
It’s early, and Kaya has a class in two hours. She can’t think about that, though - which is worrying, because she always thinks about work. She sits on one of the dining chairs, the same one she sat on the first night he’d spent here, feet up and hugging her knees as she watches him speak to someone on the phone. In his hand is a shopping bag, half-filled with stuff he’s left here over the week.
“Yeah, okay,” he says vaguely, nodding. The phone is tucked between his shoulder and his ear as he ties his shoelaces. He replies in Korean before hanging up and slipping the phone into the pocket of his jeans.
“My cab will be at the hotel in an hour,” he tells her.
“Okay.” Now that his attention is on her, she finds she can’t look at him. It occurs to her that she might be sulking; it’s just another embarrassment on top of the stupidity at feeling this horrible about Namjoon leaving. “Sure you have everything?”
“Yeah.” When she still doesn’t look at him, focusing intently on a pattern on her tablecloth, he sighs. “Kaya? Are you okay?”
No. But she’d rather die than admit that.
“Yeah.” She swallows and forces herself to look at him. “This just… really sucks. That’s all.”
Namjoon nods, and she wonders if he really knows how much. It would be too good to be true if they actually ever see each other again. The reasons not to are plenty and they’ve been laid out, several times, but all that’s needed is a single distraction in one of their lives, and they will be strangers again. Her heart shouldn’t hurt this much over someone who’s going to be a stranger.
He clears his throat. “Imagine if we were -”
“Yeah. I know.” She holds his gaze this time until he looks away. “Good thing we’re not.”
His phone pings then and they’re snapped out of the moment. “I need to go,” says Namjoon in a low voice. “Can I…”
Kaya nods, because of course he can, and gets up from the chair to walk over to him. He looks a little relieved that she came at all and gives her a small smile.
One kiss. That’s all. She steels herself, determined not to go beyond a quick, nice kiss that would be appropriate for a one-week fling that turned into two weeks. Namjoon tilts her chin up slightly and presses his lips to hers, their mouths opening together for a simple last kiss.
But then her hand goes up to his face and his arm comes around her waist and before they know it, they’re locked together in her living room, desperate to keep the moment going a little longer.
Namjoon loves London. It reminds him of his favourite weather in Seoul; the rain, the grey tint, the cloudy sky. It’s thoughtful, inspiring and romantic, and he honestly doesn’t understand why everyone complains about it so much.
Today, however, the weather has been worrying him. Throughout their interview, the radio show, the live performance and the retakes, he’s had one eye on the window, hoping the rain will ease up so Kaya’s flight can finally land. 
It feels like a miracle that she even said yes to coming. Ever since he’d left Amsterdam, he thought he could feel her becoming a bit distant. He wasn’t sure what it was; they still spoke, but topics stayed neutral and casual. She texted more than she called and one of their few common timeslots - her night and his morning - no longer worked because she said she was working late more often now. He tried not to think about it as Damien Herjavec stealing his time with Kaya away from him.
Maybe Namjoon was imagining it, or maybe it was everything he’d been dreading and they were finally, finally drifting apart. It hurt more than he expected it to and he was surprised at his reluctance to accept the fact, persevering in his efforts to stay in touch. 
She didn’t even confirm this trip immediately, citing her calendar and other conflicts, the entire time leaving Namjoon to imagine every possible reason on earth that she wouldn’t want to meet him. Finally, after nearly a week, she agreed out of the blue.
Let’s do it, had been her message, curt and to the point.
“For God’s sake,” says Yoongi dryly, his eyes not leaving the television in their shared hotel room, “just call her and ask her where she is.”
It’s a thought and an obvious one at that, but Namjoon has his reasons for not doing so. Her shortened replies and guarded conversations continued even after she accepted his invite; it’s confusing and worrying all at once, for now he has no idea what to expect when she finally arrives.
Kaya’s been texting him en route, though, so he knows her plane landed a couple of hours late, after which it took her a long time to get a cab, followed by a ridiculous amount of traffic throughout London. Namjoon taps his foot impatiently on the floor until Hoseok stares at him from across the room, and he relents.
Not bothering to change or tell his manager where he’s going, Namjoon takes the elevator downstairs and jogs out of the lobby and outside the hotel. It’s almost ten pm and this particular street seems to be largely empty. He’s glad; he’s still in the suit he was wearing all day and the last thing he needs right now is to worry about being recognised.
Kaya hasn’t responded to his last message; he tries not to worry, for she’d told him that her phone would probably die soon. It’s cold - freezing, actually - but the anxiety is superseding it to the point where his hands are actually feeling clammy.
Namjoon doesn’t want to think about the other reason she could be pulling away. Ever since Amsterdam, their conversations have started including more and more mentions of Damien, Kaya’s research partner. They’re random and harmless on the surface, but the name jumps out at Namjoon each time.
He doesn’t know if it’s just that she’s working more with Damien now or if she’s doing it on purpose, trying to hint at a development and giving him a kind way out of this. Or maybe he’s overthinking it; from all accounts, Damien seems to have made her life easier and is a good colleague, so it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for her to bring him up.
Then again, the possibility of it being something more is enormous. Kaya is beautiful and intelligent and thoughtful; Namjoon can’t imagine that if she were to send even the smallest signal, that she would remain single for long.
One night, with his self-respect somewhere around his ankles, Namjoon resorted to looking up Damien on Facebook (he wasn’t on Instagram), huddled in the dark under his blanket. Damien seemed to be in his late twenties at best, with reddish blond hair and a tall, lanky frame. The stalking exercise didn’t result in anything conclusive, except that Namjoon now had a face to put to the name of this individual who seemed likely to steal his girl.
His stomach twists. He hates how much he cares, hates how much mind space it’s taking up for him. But mostly, he hates that it might be true. 
When Kaya had agreed to come to London, his nerves had eased slightly. But the curtness of her response still stayed in his mind, as though she had suddenly decided to do something. It’s occurred to him more than once that she might be coming just to end this in person. It doesn’t seem like something she would do, but he’s also been forced to admit that he doesn’t know her well enough to be sure of that.
The traffic is crazy.
Namjoon exhales shakily at her text and is about to reply when another message pops up.
Should be about twenty minutes now.
Damn there’s a road closure.
Might be quicker to walk.
Okay, I’m walking.
See you in a few.
The messages appear in rapid succession and Namjoon scans them quickly, realising that she’d probably lost signal somewhere along the way. Based on the time stamps, she should be arriving any minute now.
His head snaps up to look in both directions in front of the hotel. It’s started to drizzle now; Namjoon runs a hand through his hair and feels the hairspray having faded away, leaving damp strands of hair to fall on his forehead. He exhales; if she’s coming to end this, he’s not ready. If she isn’t, then he knows, finally, what he’s going to do.
It’s only about two minutes later, but it feels like a lifetime that he’s been waiting to see Kaya again. He spots her at the end of the street, dressed in jeans and a slim, grey blazer. Her boots splash softly in the tiny puddles as she walks and her head is tilted up at the buildings across the street, as though looking for a landmark. Behind her is a compact suitcase being pulled on wheels, rolling smoothly on the concrete.
Namjoon’s heart leaps at the sight of her. She’s frowning, though; he hopes it’s out of concentration and tiredness. As she gets closer, he notices her long hair slightly wavy, as though wet in the drizzle. She must be cold; he makes a mental note to offer a hot shower as soon as they go inside.
Kaya looks straight ahead then - and her face breaks into a smile. It lights up and Namjoon knows he isn’t imagining it. He tries to ignore the hope igniting inside of him and tugs at his tie to loosen it. It’s now or never; he can’t risk feeling like this for a moment longer or he’s afraid it might kill him.
Four feet away from him, she pauses momentarily to straighten her suitcase and let go of it, continuing her stride towards him. The smile has faded and her expression is blazing, Disney princess eyes locking onto his. She looks more determined than ever and all other thoughts leave Namjoon’s mind.
“Please tell me you’re not dating this Damien person,” he blurts out desperately, noting how she flashes him a breathless smile.
“No,” she answers, a moment before she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him. Namjoon’s arms go around her automatically, memorising her exact shape and feel against him. It takes him a moment to remember to be relieved; it’s just her lips and her hair and her beautiful, familiar, incredible form back in his arms and in his life.
Kaya pulls away first, panting a bit and tossing her long hair out of her eyes, her arms still around him. “Why? You want to date me instead?”
“Yes,” he says instantly. His heart skips a beat at that smile again, almost blinding him, and he takes it. “Yes,” he repeats, bringing one hand to her face and kissing her again, murmuring the same word against her lips. “Yes, yes, yes…”
Thanks for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)
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sirowsky · 1 year
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Day 3, and this one is a panicked rewrite because I was in a mood when I first wrote it. So, please bear in mind that I wrote this in an hour and that it's not proofread, and thank you so much to @lowlights for the prompt, which was "Did you just break my door down!?"
Rating: Explicit 18+ONLY Warnings: Pero Tovar x female reader, reader has no description except wearing a dress, anger, heated argument, smut, modern AU. Word Count: 1200 Sirowsky's Masterlist
--Anger Management--
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   He’s in the shower when he hears heavy banging on the front door of his house, but it’s been a really long day and he’s in a bad mood, which for Pero Tovar means that he shouldn’t be around people.    So, he ignores whoever’s out there and carries on scrubbing himself clean of the engine oil that’s soaked into his skin through his clothes.
   But just seconds later, a bang so loud that he fears half the house is coming down, suddenly thunders through the structure, and he all but leaps out of the stall.    He grabs a towel without slowing down, sloppily wrapping it around his waist as he leaves the bathroom and goes looking for the source of what he’s almost certain must’ve been an explosion.
   Instead, he finds his front door hanging off of just the lower one of the hinges, along with scattered debris of what had been the doorframe around the lock-mechanism, all over the hallway floor.    And in the middle of all that, is you. Standing just two feet inside the house, panting hard and with your fists tightly closed against the sides of your thighs.
   You’re quite clearly fuming, but that’s not what Pero is most immediately concerned about.
   “Did you just kick my door down!? Are you out of your fucking mind!?” he berates you, almost screaming as his anger builds, but you’re not the least bit intimidated.
   “Yeah, I did!” you scream back, taking a step closer. “Because you’re a god damned coward and I’ve had it with you!”
   “You broke into my house to call me a coward??” he demands, but he’s actually truly shocked at this entire situation.
   Because while he does know that you have a temper, he also knows that it takes a lot to set you off, and he can’t think of anything that he’s done recently that could’ve triggered you.
   “When you stand me up for the third fucking time, you better believe I’m calling you chicken!!” you retort, and suddenly he wants to kick himself in his own balls.
   You’ve been friends for ages and watched each other go through one failed relationship after another, until you both eventually just sort of gave up.    That had then led to over two years of both of you being mostly miserable, until you’d suggested that maybe it was fate and that you should go on a date with each other.    And once that idea came into his head, Pero had started looking at you differently.
   He had realized that you were pretty much perfect in his eyes, and it had astounded him that he’d never seen it before.    So, six weeks ago, you’d made plans to go hiking your favorite trail together and stop for a picnic at a gorgeous viewpoint at the highest section of it.    But he’d had to cancel at the last possible minute because of work.
   Two weeks later, you’d tried again, keeping it simple with dinner and a movie, and he’d accidentally left you sitting alone in the restaurant for an hour before he’d remembered to call and cancel.    Not because of work that time, but because of a very drunk colleague.    You’d been understanding, but also very disappointed in him.
   So, this time, you’d made plans to meet at your place, which was just a five minute walk from his, and you were gonna make him his favorite dish.    He hadn’t remembered to cancel at all tonight, because he hadn’t even remembered that you’d made plans.    Not even before his car had decided to start leaking oil and distracted him.
   A quick glance at his waterproof wristwatch tells him that you would’ve had dinner ready at least three hours ago.
   “Fuck…” he sighs, knowing that nothing he says is gonna make up for this one. “I’m so sorry, hermosa.”
   You throw your arms out in exasperation, and he can’t blame you.
   “If you’ve changed your mind then just say so,” you growl, but he can hear how the anger is being replaced by the hurt. “I’m a big girl, I can take it.”
   “No, I haven’t… I’m just an idiot,” he says, shaking his head at himself.
   You seem to agree with him there, but you also look like you’re contemplating something.    Then, from one second to the next, all the hurt vanishes from your frame and something determined and strong takes its place.    And in the next moment, you’re crossing the hallway with long and powerful strides, not stopping until you crash into him, grabbing his head and harshly pressing your lips to his.
   Bewildered, he kisses you back, and every inch of his body is suddenly sparking to life.    He wraps his arms around you, ignoring that the towel drops to the floor when he lets go of it, because now that he can finally taste you, he’s instantly bewitched.    Whatever it was that had him in such a bad mood earlier is completely forgotten, and all he wants is just to get lost in you.
   He quickly pulls your dress over your head, finding you already naked underneath, which only stokes his hunger.    Somehow, the bedroom seems a mile away even though it’s just down the hall, so he slips a finger into you while you’re still walking, needing you to be ready for him as soon as you reach the bed.
   You try to wrap your fingers around his hard length, but he stops you, because if you touch him, he’s not gonna make it.    Thankfully, you take the hint and leave him be, and when he slips another finger into you, your pleasure makes you quiver, forcing your hands up onto his shoulders to steady yourself.    Reaching the bed, he pulls his fingers out and quickly licks them to taste you, because there just isn’t time to do it properly right now.
   He pushes you down on the bed and you eagerly climb back into the center of it, spreading your legs for him as he chases after you.    There’s no hesitation from either of you, no question that this needs to happen, that it’s right and good and perfect, so once you’re settled, he finds the heat of your core and dives right in.
   It’s all a little too hard and a little too fast, but he can’t help it. He needs to have you.    And he can feel that same need from you, spurring him on with your heels against the backs of his thighs and your fingers digging into his back.    But that urgency takes you both to your peak within just a couple of minutes, and all too soon, it’s over.
   Still, as he lays there on top of you, trying to find his breath again, feeling that wonderful boneless sensation spread through every part of him, he’s happier than he’s been in a long time. Perhaps ever.    And he smiles to himself when it occurs to him that without your temper, you never would’ve dared to make that first move.
   “Thank you for breaking down my door, querida,” he whispers in your ear, hoping that you know that he’s not just talking about the door, but about his own walls.
<<<<<<<THE END>>>>>>>
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