#also i never noticed this shirt has a cutout in the back but it does which is why i included that gif of her turning | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lavenderbexlatte · 3 years

Text

a handful (or two)

stray kids 3.9k words female reader insert Thick/Chubby!Reader x Lee Felix EXPLICIT/NSFW

🖤 warnings: DISCUSSIONS OF WEIGHT/BODY IMAGE/INSECURITY, unprotected sex 🖤

connect with me! / masterlist

Sitting at your kitchen table in the early evening, you feel more like a soldier walking into battle than anything else.

You’ve got a list of your body measurements scrawled on a piece of paper beside you, as you scroll through an online shop on your phone. Ruffled blouses, wrap dresses, raw-hemmed jeans, tiered skirts, fitted cardigans. The clothes are cute, and your Likes list has no shortage of garments, but you’ve reached the worst part of clothes shopping:

Finding things that are actually in your size.

Korean online malls are not known for their variety of sizes, even though obviously, the people in any country who need to buy clothes have all different kinds of bodies. The cute clothes, the mainstream ones, the clothes that YouTubers and Instagram models promote, are mostly one-size. And that one size…is small.

Too small for you.

It’s a regular debate that you have with yourself. You shouldn’t even give your patronage to shops like these ones, where you have to filter through every single item and look at the detailed measurements to find the rare pair of pants that you could squeeze into. You shouldn’t play into a system that makes you hate yourself.

But you need new jeans. And in your heart, you want cute jeans from the online mall, like everyone else.

You pull up a pair of jeans in exactly the style that you want and scroll down to the measurements. You have to steel yourself as you look at the numbers.

Waist…hips…thigh…rise…length…

They’re too small.

You pull up another pair, and another, and another. They’re all too small.

“No,” says a small, dark voice in the back of your mind, “You’re just too big.”

You’re so caught up in this game of finding cute things to wear and discovering exactly how much the seller doesn’t want them to fit on people like you, that you don’t even hear your boyfriend until he’s right next to you.

“What are you doing?” comes a deep voice, right in your ear.

You jump in your seat, fumbling your phone for a second and catching it before it falls. Catching your breath, you look up at Felix, stood beside your chair gazing down at you.

“Jesus, when did you get here?” you ask, putting your phone down before anything else happens.

“Just got in,” he answers, nodding toward the door. “I called hello. You didn’t answer.”

Felix has a key to your place, free to come and go as he pleases, so it’s not exactly unusual for him to turn up like this. He’s dressed in a big t-shirt and joggers, practice clothes, obviously fresh from the studio with the rest of the guys.

“I was distracted,” you murmur.

“I guess so,” he grins at you.

You offer a halfhearted smile in return, feeling stupid for your bad mood, caused by something so out of your control. Shopping shouldn’t ruin your day. Felix pulls out your other dining chair to sit across from you at the small dining table, and you can’t help but stare at his body as he settles down.

He’s so…skinny.

You’re envious. You shouldn’t be, because your body is plenty good enough as it is. But you are. With a body like that, you could wear anything.

“What are you doing?” he asks you.

You hesitate, but Felix pays no mind to your internal struggle, reaching across the table to pick up the scrap of paper covered in your measurements. You want to snatch the paper out of his hands, which is ridiculous. He knows what your body looks like. Seeing the numbers that describe it isn’t going to scare him off.

But still, you feel that sick self-consciousness rising up as he glances over the paper, and sets it back down.

“I’m trying to buy jeans,” you say weakly.

“Trying?” Felix prods.

“Trying and failing.”

You pick up your phone, unlock it, and shove it at him, the screen still open to the last pair of too-small jeans. He peers at the listing, at the chart full of centimeters, and then down at your measurements scrawled out in your handwriting.

“They call that a large?” Felix says, amazed, and you cringe. “It’s like a half-centimeter difference.”

You know he’s just surprised since shopping for women’s clothes isn’t something he does often, and you’re sure he doesn’t know how common this problem is for you. But his words still sting a little.

“Yeah,” you say, “I think I’m done for tonight.”

You try not to let your deep-seated disappointment in the situation, and in yourself, show too much. Felix watches as you stand up and stretch. You can tell he’s thinking hard, can see that he wants to say something. But you really don’t need his commentary on this. You spend enough time thinking about your body, wanting to change your body, hating that you want to change your body…

“Do you want dinner? I went to the store earlier,” you say, determined to change the subject.

“Sure,” Felix agrees easily.

You cross your little kitchen and fling open the cupboard to dig out groceries for your meal. At least this is a task to take your mind off everything.

You don’t even notice as Felix takes the slip of paper from the table and folds it into his pocket.

--------------- Some days later, you all but trip into your bedroom after work, exhausted but hopeful.

Felix’s shoes and jacket were both waiting by the front door when you came in, which means he’s here waiting for you. He was nowhere to be seen in the rest of your small apartment, so that leaves this.

Of course, you’re not disappointed; Felix is lounging on your bed, playing on his phone and looking like the epitome of comfort in lounge pants and messy blonde hair. He smiles like the sunrise when he sees you.

“Hi, angel,” he says, as you drop your bag on the floor.

Instead of replying, you let yourself fall onto the bed beside him, flat on your back, and stretch out your poor sore limbs like a starfish.

“Long day?” he asks.

“The longest,” you agree.

“You’re in luck, though,” he says, “I have a surprise for you.”

You turn your head to look at him. “Really?”

He nods.

“Then gimme!” you quip.

Felix laughs brightly, and unfolds himself to retrieve a small gift bag from the side of the bed, tucked out of view. He hands it to you, and it’s surprisingly heavy and dense for its size. Today isn’t a special day by any means. Just a weekday, a work day, and you wrack your brain to figure out exactly why your boyfriend decided tonight was the night for presents.

“Can I open it?” you ask.

“You’d better,” says Felix, settling back down to watch you.

So you unceremoniously rip out the tissue paper packing, and when you’re met with a small pile of folded fabric, you upend the whole bag onto your bed.

There are four things inside.

A soft, oversized t-shirt, loose and comfortable and your favorite color, to boot.

A pair of thigh-high stockings.

A single thigh garter, in bright white.

And a pair of panties, also white. You unfold the underwear, to reveal a heart-shaped cutout on the back, and at the bottom…

“Crotchless?!” you ask, flustered.

Felix shrugs, his expression mischievous, “I thought they suited you.”

“What’s all this about?” you ask.

“I wanted to prove a point,” he says.

“What point can you prove with lingerie?”

“I’m proving pretty clearly that plenty of stores sell things to your measurements,” he says cheekily, “Just not that one store you were on the other day.”

Oh, my God.

You’re equal parts mortified and absolutely melting with the sweetness at the heart of this gesture. You didn’t realize that he was paying this much attention to you that day. You didn’t realize he knew how frustrated you were, how discouraged.

“They’re pretty,” you admit, turning the panties over in your hands.

“Then try them on for me.”

Felix’s tone is suggestive and low, lower than usual, and you know for certain that he didn’t just buy these things to cheer you up. He’s got an ulterior motive here.

“What’s in it for me?” you tease.

“Dress up for me and find out,” Felix replies.

Never one to turn down the prospect of some fun, you gather up the clothes and dart across the hall into your tiny bathroom. If Felix wants you to dress up for him, you need to do that alone and make a spectacle of it.

You dump the armful of clothing onto the counter. There’s no bra or anything, so you assume that Felix means for you to wear only the t-shirt. And that’s exactly what you do, stripping out of your work clothes and pulling the shirt over your head. You put on the panties, noting exactly how well they fit. The elastic doesn’t dig, and they don’t ride up, just smooth fabric and lace against your skin, hugging the curve of your ass. You try to forget about the opening at the bottom, baring you to the world; you already know Felix fully intends to use it, but you can’t believe he’s done this. It’s bold, even for him.

The thigh-highs come next, and while these also fit more nicely than any pair of tights you’ve ever owned, you have thick thighs, and the soft skin dimples around the top elastic band. You slide the thigh garter onto one leg, settling it at the top of the stocking. It only makes that indent more pronounced, soft flesh giving way under the thick white band. But you try your hardest not to feel self-conscious about it.

Felix picked these things for you. That means he wants to see you like this.

You pluck up all your courage, and walk back into your bedroom. Felix is waiting eagerly, and when you come into view, lingering shyly at the doorway, he smirks.

Honest-to-God smirks.

“Oh, angel,” he says, his deep voice nearly breaking over the syllables, “Oh, yes.”

You can see plainly on his face how much this little outfit is affecting him, and it sends a little thrill down your spine. Because truly, these clothes aren’t too out of the ordinary. The thigh-highs are new, and the panties aren’t something you would have picked for yourself, but it’s hard not to feel like you’re just wearing…a t-shirt and underwear.

It’s the intimacy, you decide. The fact that Felix carefully chose items in your most precise, comfortable sizes, and built you a sexy little dress-up kit that makes you feel as good as you look…God. Overwhelmingly intimate, you realize, and hot as hell.

“Let me see you, come here and give me a little spin,” Felix teases, twirling his finger in the air to mimic the model turn he’s demanding.

Smiling, squashing down a touch of embarrassment, you comply, coming to stand before Felix and turning around slowly on the spot. You can feel his eyes on you, and as you turn your back on him completely, you hear your bed creak.

Hands land on your waist as Felix pulls you flush against his front, and you can feel how hard he is already, filling out the front of his sweatpants. He’s always eager, always relishes the time you get to spend lost in each other, but he seems especially brazen tonight, as he grinds his clothed cock against your ass and slides his hands under the t-shirt to cup your bare breasts.

“You don’t even know what you do to me,” he murmurs.

You turn around in his arms, letting his hands drop back to your waist. He’s grinning at you with no small amount of lust in his eyes. You’re sure that you look similarly affected; you can already feel wetness gathering between your legs. His undivided attention, especially when you’re dressed up like this just for him, has you going out of your mind with want.

“Then show me,” you say.

He huffs out a laugh before diving in to kiss you, his pouty bow-shaped lips moving against yours roughly. Felix kisses like he’s starving and you’re one of the desserts that he loves to bake, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he stops ravishing you. His hands wander down to your ass, pinching hard enough that you squeak.

“Easy on the goods!” you chastise, as the spot aches deliciously.

Felix just pinches you again, harder, and guides you back toward your bed. You lay back on the mattress with Felix right behind you, settling between your spread legs. He sits back on his heels, just looking down at you beneath him in your skimpy panties and stockings. He runs his hands down your thighs indulgently, sliding a finger under the garter on one side and pulling it back so that it snaps against your skin.

“Angel, I should’ve thought of this a long time ago,” he says.

There’s no time for you to tease him, because Felix pulls his shirt over his head and discards it over the side of the bed, and you’re taken in by his gorgeous lithe body, his tiny waist and the rippling lines of his abs. No matter how many times you see him like this, it’s still exciting, that you can have someone so beautiful. He takes hold of the hem of your t-shirt next, and coaxes you upright so that he can take that off, too.

Your body is the exact opposite of his, soft where his is hard, sloping curves instead of the sharp cut of his ribs and hips and shoulders. But he leans right down over you and begins to kiss and nibble his way down your body, starting at the juncture of your collarbone. He trails his mouth over your chest, down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. You gasp as he grazes his teeth over the bud, and he laughs gently.

Felix continues his slow ascent as you grasp at the sheets, mouthing over your stomach, soft like the rest of you. His hands hold your legs open wide for him as he moves down your body. He skips over your core entirely, choosing instead to bite sharply into the exposed skin of your upper thigh, above the band of the stockings.

“Lix!” you gasp, unable to help how your hips twitch forward at the sensation of his teeth.

He hums in response, leisurely delving forward to press a single lingering kiss to your folds, on full display in these deceptively pure white panties that hide absolutely nothing.

“Fucking love your legs,” Felix all but growls against the soft skin of your inner thigh, “Fucking love-”

Your hand flies down to grip at Felix’s hair as he bites a second bruise, this one on the tender inside of your leg. He’s never been this singularly-focused before, and you marvel at the way he’s worshipping your thighs, your waist, his hands roaming your ass and tweaking the fabric of the thigh-highs. You’ve always known that Felix liked your body – he’s your fucking boyfriend, after all. But this…

“Felix, I can’t,” you whine, “I need you, I need…”

“Oh, believe me,” Felix says, “I need it more.”

He draws away from you to push and kick his sweats and underwear off, and you watch hungrily as his cock bobs free, painfully hard and already leaking precome.

“You want – like this?” you ask, as Felix drops back on top of you, the head of his cock already nudging up against your pussy.

Felix likes it from behind, likes being able to grab your ass and watch your back arch as he drives into you. He likes you on top, so he can watch you bring yourself to orgasm using him. This is uncommon for you, missionary, you sprawled underneath Felix as he bends your knees up for better access and strokes his fingers down the length of your legs.

He nods, breathless. “Wanna see your face.”

His soft, honest admission makes your heart flutter even as you swear you can feel the arousal thrumming in your veins. You need him, need him so badly you could cry –

With a shift of his hips, Felix lines himself up and pushes into you. He’s agonizingly slow with it, just letting the head split your walls before he drags back out. He’s teasing you, absolutely doing this on purpose, and you can’t handle it. You untangle one hand from the sheets to cling to him, as he just dips the head of his cock in and out of you.

You whimper your frustration, and Felix leans in to kiss your cheeks, your nose, before pushing back in deeper, and deeper again, and finally he’s buried in you to the hilt.

“So gorgeous,” he groans, his deep voice reverbing in his chest, “You’re so good, angel, so good.”

He has one hand gripping your thigh tightly, holding your leg up beside your torso in a position that tests your flexibility more than a little bit. The other hand is digging into the curve of your hip, hard enough that you think there will be bruises.

Felix has those dancers’ hips, and core strength that lets him drive into you like he’s doing now, smooth long strokes that you arch up to meet as well as you can in his grip. He’s holding you at an angle that lets his pelvis grind against your clit every time he bottoms out. It’s not enough stimulation to let you finish, but it’s more than enough to drive you out of your mind.

“Lix, Lix, please,” you beg, not even sure what you’re asking for.

He says something, quiet enough that you can’t really pick it up, and when you move your hand from his dip of his spine to the back of his head, Felix fixes his gaze right on you. He’s still speaking, rambling in his deep voice.

“-Let a fucking app make you think you’re not perfect cuz their fucking jeans don’t fit you,” he’s saying, “So soft, so pretty, like fuckin’ heaven, look at you.”

You can’t look at yourself all that well, but you can look at Felix, glance down to see the way he’s burying his cock in you again and again, holding himself up to look you in the eye as he fucks you into the mattress.

“Perfect,” he swears, “Taking me like a dream, angel…”

He’s never this vocal, either, and the talk has your head spinning almost as much as the brutal pace he’s maintaining. You can hear the obscene sound of your wetness around him. The desperate, weak first stirrings of an orgasm are starting to creep up on you, but you know yourself. You’re going to need more than this to finish.

Even so, you clench around Felix as he works himself into you again, and again, and he laughs breathlessly at the feeling of it.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” Felix asks, low and sweet.

You shake your head desperately, “Not enough – Lix, please, I need-”

“Not enough?” he echoes, amused, as his hips snap against yours in perfect time, “What, is this not good enough for you, angel?”

“So good, so good, just, please,” you whine.

Felix doesn’t answer you, but he does let go of your leg to bring his fingers up to your face. You’re so far gone, so hazy with lust and the orgasm that’s building but just isn’t close enough, that you barely notice him until his fingers are pressing at your lips.

He has small, beautiful hands, and you open your mouth to let him slip two dainty fingers into your mouth. You suck on the digits, knowing how much Felix likes having your mouth on him, or his on you. He’s not picky, as long as someone is licking, biting, sucking…

“So dirty,” he sighs.

Only for him, you think to yourself. You can’t summon the words to say to him out loud, but you certainly think them. Only for him.

“Don’t hold back on me now, angel,” Felix says.

He retrieves his fingers from your mouth, and snakes his hand down between your bodies to press them feather-light to your clit. You can’t help the gasp that escapes from you as he touches you, gentle and precise. The slide would have been wet and easy enough even without the extra help, but the combination of your saliva and your wetness as it seeps out around Felix’s thick cock makes his fingers glide over your clit with friction so good it’s almost painful.

Under your breath, almost like a prayer, you’re murmuring, chanting, “Please, please, please, please, oh-”

“You first,” he says, “Come on, are you gonna give me one?”

You want to, God, do you want to. You writhe in his hold, torn between rocking away from the steady delicious pressure on your clit and into the press of his cock splitting you open. Felix throws his head back as you tremble around him - your peak is so close you can fucking taste it - and groans.

“Love you,” Felix gasps, “Shit, love you, love your body-”

That’s what does it.

That view, Felix above you, so fucked out, working so hard to make you feel good. Physically and mentally, that’s what he’s trying to do. He saw you being upset for like fifteen minutes the other day and he’s putting in all this effort to build you up. He just wants you to feel good –

“Felix!”

His name passes your lips, just once, before you’re cumming hard with a strangled moan. Felix fucks into you hard once, twice, and then thrusts into you fully with a cry of his own as he cums against your walls. He’s quick to drop down and meet your lips in a messy kiss, pressing your bodies together, skin on skin.

The two of you shudder and murmur your way through your orgasms, as you marvel at how quickly he was able to bring you crashing right over the peak with him.

Once your voice comes back to you, all your can manage is another squeaking, “Felix.”

“Yeah,” he answers, decisive, like you’ve just revealed the secrets of the universe to him. “Yeah.”

He pulls out and gingerly moves off of you, but not without stroking his hands from your waist all the way down your thighs as he goes. You laugh quietly as Felix collapses onto his back beside you, wiping his brow dramatically like he’s just gotten off a hard day at work. His cum begins to drip back out of you as you sit up, which is gross, but you just want to be close to him. You curl against his side, head on his chest, and Felix accommodates you easily, cuddling into you just as eagerly.

As you readjust on the bed, settle into a more comfortable position, you notice the bruises. Tender new bruises on your hip, and along the side of your thigh where Felix had held you so tightly. It’s the perfect shape of his fingertips, fanning out along your skin.

“Jeez,” you murmur, touching the spots and secretly relishing the way they hurt.

“Sorry,” Felix grins, though he doesn’t look very sorry at all. “Just…your thighs. Your body. Love it.”

#stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #lee felix #lee felix smut #stray kids felix #stray kids felix smut #reader insert #chubby reader #she thicc #kpop fanfic #stray kids fanfic #tw weight #tw body image

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awake-dearheart · 3 years

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it took me a couple days but here’s a rundown of things sebastian said during the zoom call with his trainer don saladino and the march challenge group. he was on for an hour and three minutes total. keep in mind this challenge was fitness oriented so most of the questions revolve around that. this will also be LONG.

first of all he had trouble unmuting himself which was hilarious

he had a carboard cutout of the falcon with him which made everyone laugh

he loved being able to support ronald mcdonald house and he was sad they couldn’t go this year. sweet baby

when he was asked what he struggles with in his fitness he immediately said body dysmorphia. like no hesitation. he said he felt like he could stand to be less hard on himself.

he prefers cardio over other kinds of workouts.

he mentioned a role he’s getting ready for that’s “a lot different” but he laughed it off and said he couldn’t talk about it. i’m thinking it might have been tommy lee?

he tries to workout even just a little before he goes to set even when his schedule is crazy.

when he started training he had NO idea what he was doing. it took him a while to get into a routine and figure it out. he credited don with working a lot with him and finding a routine that works for him.

he feels better when he can do something physical every day. he said it really helps him mentally because the two go hand in hand for him.

someone said they were learning romanian and asked him for phrases to learn in romanian he said (in romanian) “oh my GOD why would you do that?” he also said he thinks people learning romanian because of him is “one of the sweetest things.”

he was asked how he balances training to look good vs training to feel good and he said if he’s training to look good he’s never 100% satisfied. training to feel good and setting short term goals has been better for him.

don praised him for working hard to pivot his focus on the overall vs the day to day. seb said it was a lot harder when he started than it is now.

someone asked him if the workouts or the nutrition was harder and he immediately started talking about pizza and how much he loves a good cheat meal. the chat blew up talking about his cheat day video for men’s health.

seb asked don his favorite cheat meal and they went on a tangent about burgers and fries and vodka that had us cracking up. seb said he went through a period where he was eating some kind of chocolate every day.

someone asked if he found it mentally difficult to go from one body type to another for roles and he said absolutely. he said if he has a shirtless scene to do then a month before he cuts out ALL sugar. fruits, carbs, everything and he turns into a very irritable person for about two weeks.

he was asked how the pandemic has changed his training and he said of course it has. him and don worked together to create a program for him to do from home with dumbbells and they had to get inventive. he’s been running a lot too.

someone asked the strangest item he’s used for weights and he said he’d go to the grocery store by himself without uber or anything. he tried to do one big shopping trip to last him for a week and half and he’d be laden with bags and it took him an hour and a half to walk home.

he told a story about using a towel and a bar in his house and he said “you probably know it because some “super fans” love to leak my address. so kind. lovely people.” the chat became v enraged.

he’s never had to get in shape on super short notice. marvel usually gives him about a 2 month heads up before he has to shoot things.

someone asked if he was a dog person. he said he loves dogs and he’d love to have one but he travels too much to give one the right kind of attention. he said if he could have a dog he’d have a bulldog or a husky.

he was asked his favorite nyc cheat meal and his first answer was “seeing all of you there” and we all cracked up. his real answer was a pizza place called rubirosa. he specifically likes their white pizza. (who wants to go to new york and get pizza with me?)

who would win in an iso squat challenge? him or don? (iso squats are when you drop into a squat and you hold it. it’s been the most hated exercise throughout the challenge). his face was HORRIFIED when he remembered what they are and he said don would definitely win. “don you have thighs of glory” the group is contemplating making shirts.

he played some sports in school but he wasn’t a super athletic kid. he struggled in school a bit because he had an accent and people were picking on him. it took a long time for his confidence to build.

celebrate victories where you can. he talked about when he posted that shirtless picture from the gym as an example. he said it’s more for motivation and pride in his achievements than about showing off.

he mentioned the documentary “the weight of gold” as something he watched recently. he said it’s a good example of people who are gold medal olympians struggling with the same things as everyone else when it comes to fitness. he comes back several times to not being too hard on yourself.

he hasn’t lifted any weights in about a month and a half but he’s been running. he’s surprised at the amount of muscle he still has because he thought he’d lose a lot of it.

taking breaks when you’re working on fitness is so important. he says taking a week off sometimes is ok if that’s what you need.

they have talked about pizza at least 5 times at this point (32 minutes in) and it’s HILAROUS honestly.

he hates leg day. he knows how important it is because you need strong legs but he prefers doing arms and chest. “the squats can be so annoying UGH.”

someone asked him his advice for people who are starting an acting career and he laughed and said “quit all social media.” he walked it back and said you have to find a way to quiet the noise.

this mfer went to theatre camp when he was 15 and he did MUSICALS. we tired to get him to sing. it didn’t work.

“you gotta do you. you cannot lose you as you’re going. and you cannot care what people think.”

he talked about imposter syndrome in terms of getting reviews and stuff. he said when he gets bad reviews it hurts but sometimes when he gets good reviews he can think “oh my god they made a mistake” or “oh my god i have to deliver like this every time.” he said if you’re starting out ask yourself why you want to do this and make sure this is what you want to do day in a day out. make sure when you face rejection and obstacles you have the energy to push you to get back up and say “fuck you i’m doing me.”

recommended the book “the subtle art of not giving a fuck” as something he loves.

“there’s creativity in everything. you don’t have to be a pianist or an actor or a writer. there’s creativity in all functions. as people we’re all creative.”

he went back to instagram for a minute and said to use it for the right things and follow the things that you like or are inspired by. he loves that social media can be used to reach people but you have to filter through the negative stuff.

someone asked the meanest thing don’t ever said during training and he said don’s never been mean but he’s always been inspiring and motivating for him. cute lil bromance moment.

he was asked if it’s harder to get into shape physically for the winter soldier or mentally. he said now it’s more of a head thing than it was in the beginning. the physically part was challenging for him in the beginning because he wanted to feel strong to build his confidence. he felt he couldn’t be bucky without being strong.

civil war was his real hair but when they started filming it wasn’t long enough so he had extensions. by the end of the shoot it was long enough to cut the extensions out.

the line between overtraining and not being motivated to train enough is hard for him sometimes. things tend to come all at once or not at all and it can be a struggle.

he meditates and does some kind of physical activity every day at the start of his day. it makes him able to do the things he needs to do for the rest of the day better.

he thanked everyone for their support of tfaws and “making us look pretty good.” he’s very grateful for the turnout.

don says falcon weird. that’s not important but i wanted to mention it.

running is his go to thing. he feels like it’s a good meditative thing for him. his go to pandemic workout was 100 pull ups, 100 push ups, 100 sit ups, 100 squats and alternating with running. we all panicked and were like “100 PULL UPS AT ONCE??” and he was like no no no no no no no no space that shit out during the day.

he loves breakfast but he doesn’t eat it at breakfast time. he joked he was going to eat breakfast after the call (which ended at 7PM). he likes anything with eggs and avocado.

there are still directors he wants to work with that he can’t get to see him for parts. he did three audition tapes, two in person auditions, and a screen test to get bucky.

he just recently learned what “thirst pics” are (he figured out from the chat it’s thirst traps). when someone told him that picture from the gym was a thirst trap he was like “oh great well that sounds terrible.” men’s health didn’t call him until after that pic. he had reached out to them before that but that was the thing that made them call.

“make fun of yourself. you have to not take yourself too seriously.”

they both talked about how being able to do things like this is a privilege. there are always days when seb or don or anyone walks into a gym and doesn’t want to be there.

this is the part that made me emotional as FUCK. he’s had days where he’s gone to set and been like “what the fuck am i doing?” he says every time that happens he thinks “this is the time they’re gonna realize i can’t do this. this is when they’re all gonna know i’ve never been good at this.” he said in those moments you can’t just say “no no no i’m the best.” he said sometimes affirmations work and they can be as simple as “i’m gonna try to have a good day today” and it doesn’t have to be “i have to be the best version of myself.” it can just be “i wanna have a good day today” but on the days when you don’t feel good about things and don’t know what you’re doing he said you have to go there and say “ok i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing. fuck everything.” be in the thing that’s happening to you and give yourself permission to be down for a minute. find a compromise with yourself. if you can’t run the same three miles you’ve run all week and you just don’t want to, maybe you go for a walk instead. (his example not mine i DO NOT run). when he’s been in those moments of defeat accepting it had lead him to things he didn’t plan for and he finds those moments to be gifts in a way. accepting it and saying “today is that day” your body and your mind can start moving into finding other little things to do.

he came back to pizza one more time. i love him.

he recognizes how lucky he is to have the life he has. he says it’s important to pay attention to give a fuck about things and to give a fuck about things that will help other people.

watching him talk the whole time he seemed so happy and relaxed. he seems like such a light hearted and fun person and he laughed SO much

that’s the end y’all. thanks for sticking around and reading all my hastily typed notes

#Sebastian Stan #don saladino

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greenbriar-j · 3 years

Text

Muscle Memory, full wip, unedited 4.7k, scroll at ur own risk; tagging some people who showed previous interest @halleiswriting @chazzawrites @pe-ersona @druidx and also @pens-swords-stuff this is what I’ve been up to lately

Saint Joseph’s Catholic Church bustles with activity. It’s peculiar, for it being a weekday. More peculiar still that the bustling is being done by young men and women who could very well be engaging in… more satisfying summer indulgences.

The Youth Group’s power couple sweeps in an hour late, ever put together even when, by all rights, they ought to be melting right out of their fancy outfits. Cheers rise from the crowd when they appear, each splitting off in their own directions to their own stations.

Y Nhi beelines for the painters, flicking her sleek ponytail to make sure it’s out of the way. The girls hand her a brush while detailing what’s left to be done. Vinny bustles for the sound technicians - who, really, are already done for the day, but are staying for the social factor.

Two things to note about St. Joseph’s power couple:

Y Nhi isn’t sure she believes in God very much anymore.

They are not a couple, but it’s easier to let everyone think so than to correct it.

“Jude,” Mary says (everyone calls her Jude because she and Vinny made a big deal of it years ago), “Are you sure you can’t help out during the week?”

Y Nhi shrugs. She’s not busy or anything, but it feels wrong to shepherd children into a religion she’s falling out of - even if Vacation Bible School had been one of her favorite summer memories for her entire life. That’s where she met Vinny, after all.

Vinny, laughing with the guys at the sound booth. To be more accurate, Vinny himself is only smirking, but that’s as close to a laugh as he gets around here. Stupid smirk. Stupid boy.

“I have work. Unfortunately,” Y Nhi mutters, dragging her brush across a cardboard cutout. “Vinny’s taking the week off, so I’m picking up his slack.”

Mary grins widely at that. “I swear it’s like you’re married.”

For whatever reason, Y Nhi’s heart clenches at that. Picturing herself and Vinny in wedding attire on the altar sickens her, but putting a faceless someone in her place makes her feel worse. But it’s not like she likes him. She’s sworn to herself that she’d become a cat lady in her old age - her army has already begun with a fluffy black kitten. It’s not looking too good for her future; Toothless likes Vinny more than her. She’s already failed as a parent.

Belatedly, Y Nhi realizes she’s supposed to be engaging in a conversation, not thinking about Vinny and their co-parenting of a cat. If it can be called that.

“Don’t hold your breath. The wedding is a long way off,” she says tightly. Like. Never. Never is a long, long way off.

“I wouldn’t be too sure.”

This time, Y Nhi lets the comment slide. She paints while singing under her breath, as she always does. A long time ago, she had no qualms about belting it out, but time has weathered away her volume, reducing it to only this. No one’s noticed the change or found it strange.

The conversation turns to something - anything - else. Degrees, internships, other boys who don’t dress in all black and aren’t named Vincent Truong. Y Nhi listens, but doesn’t contribute.

By the time the call goes out for a lunch break, Y Nhi is finishing three tasks at once. One of the other girls brings her a burger, slathered with ketchup and mayo and tomatoes. Y Nhi thanks her and continues wrapping one of the white pillars in cardboard paper to simulate a palm tree.

Not long after, someone nudges her. Eyes flickering upward, she’s met with the bored eyes of her very best friend. “Bite.”

She doesn’t, not yet.

Vinny wiggles the burger he’s holding in front of her mouth. “Only half a slice of cheese. No tomatoes. Freshest patty of the batch. Eat.”

She still doesn’t take the bait, even though he’s tailored this burger to her weirdly specific tastes.

Vinny sighs. “Jude. No one’s watching you. I promise all they can see is my back.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” It’s true she had a complex about eating in public for a while, for reasons she’s never told anyone including him. “Just not hungry.”

“Not very Gucci of you to lie in the house of God.”

“Not very Gucci of you to breathe.”

“Jude! The fuck, man.” But he’s grinning. Not the half-assed grin he gives everyone else, but an honest, mirthful grin reserved for Toothless and Y Nhi only (usually Toothless. Damn cat).“Just eat this, okay? I’ll eat the other one.” His whole demeanor softens as he picks up the burger she had ignored - the one that is surely cold by now.

She is hungry. After all, the reason they were late is because Vinny had to coax her to every step of getting ready this morning. He even applied her eyeliner with the even strokes of a practiced hand - so practiced that even Y Nhi admits it looks like her own work. If she had a choice, she would waste away in bed for the day, but Vinny has never been much of a fan of that plan.

According to her own plan, Y Nhi had been wasting away since before yesterday’s dinner. Famished might be a better word to describe her present state.

But today is one of those days that she feels guilty cementing the married couple narrative any more than it needs to be. They’re not getting any younger, Vinny and Y Nhi, and just because she’s sworn off marriage doesn’t mean he has. How’s he supposed to get a nice girlfriend if she keeps hanging around?

Objectively, it’s a stupid reason to risk passing out in a church of all places, but something about him just makes her stupid. Always has.

The longer she ignores his peace offering, the twitcher he gets. He finishes his own burger in ten massive bites. When Y Nhi still doesn’t eat hers, he eats that whole thing too. “We’re leaving early. Say an hour? Think about what you want to eat.”

With that, he’s gone. Y Nhi is not hyper aware of his presence as it moves through the open space. She does not miss having him next to her. Not even a little.

Y Nhi writes, appetite??? in her journal when she gets home. It’s the third time something of this nature has appeared on its list which isn’t titled - but if it was it would be something like “Things About Vinny T. that Don’t Make Sense.”

Even after inhaling two burgers, he took her out for pho and Thai tea, and he ate so slow that his noodles expanded in the broth. Still, he finished a medium bowl with relative ease, and Y Nhi was content after she’d finished a small.

How does someone who eats like that look like that? It has to be some sort of stupid freaky metabolism. Genetic polymorphism, she thinks, then adds that she might be incorrectly using the term she’d heard in class about two semesters ago.

She writes freeloading on the list. It’s not technically true, but he spends enough time at her place to make it feel like it. Right this minute, he’s setting up the living room to sleep in, awaiting her delivery of the overnight bag he always leaves stocked in her apartment for emergencies.

That goes on the list too. Definition of ‘emergency.’

According to recent months, an alarming amount of things fit under this category of Vinny’s mind. It might be nearing time to stage an intervention, but who’s Y Nhi to tell him to relax when she’s the one bordering on anxiety attacks all the time? Only god knows how many times he’s clutched her shaking hands until they stopped.

Y Nhi closes the journal. Snaps the band over the cover. Shoves it under her pillow. Vinny wouldn’t dare read it to begin with, but for some reason, she doesn’t even want him to know of its existence.

Quickly divesting herself of the impeccable outfit she’d worn for the day, she slips easily into one of Vinny’s large, large shirts and the shorts she affectionately calls game day shorts. Ever since high school, she’s worn them for events that require equal amounts of comfort and courage - or just for comfort, to be honest.

“Hey, loser,” she greets Vinny, emerging from her room. He’s got her guitar in hand, and is humming some tune that she recognizes but can’t place. “Your stuff is on my bed. Have you seen Toothless?”

He nods, and keeps playing. It’s in experience, being stared at with such intense eyes while trying not to stare at the other party’s stupid pretty hands playing her guitar. Fuck him, honestly, she thinks angrily.

Leaving him there, she pours each of them a glass of water in the kitchen. A shadow looms on top of the fridge, and she jumps. “Toothless, baby. Please stop napping on the fridge.”

Toothless is not napping. He stands up, shakes his tiny body and hops to the counter, then to the floor, twining around Y Nhi’s feet before scuttling off.

Vinny is singing now. It’s a new song, she supposes, and it sounds like a love song.

Slowly, Y Nhi moves around the kitchen, making as little noise as possible while doing absolutely nothing. She just wants to listen to Vinny and his new love song without him watching her reaction.

Once she gets past the lyrics about gentle touches and midnight escapades, she realizes something. Re-entering the living room, she deposits his water on the table. “Is that my melody? Why would you steal it?”

The guitar is placed awkwardly on the floor, the neck of it leaning on the couch. “Oh, is that where it’s from? Thought it was familiar,” he says with mild disinterest. “Well, I wasn’t that attached to it anyway.”

“Are you saying it sucks?” Y Nhi settles on the floor on the other side of the table, pulling her knees into her chest. Glancing through her lashes, Y Nhi watches Vinny’s expressions.

“I’m saying I’m not taking your work, you brat.” Then he hesitates. “I mean. Can I, just for one person?”

“What the fuck.”

Vinny twitches, finally. “I… Wrote the song for someone… So I’d like to sing it for her, just once.”

Something vile rises in her throat, and she wishes Toothless would notice her distress. Hugging the cat might make her feel a little better about the fact that Vinny’s written a song about a girl using her melody - and it’s not about herself and for some odd reason, that bothers her.

“Can- Can I hear it?” Y Nhi asks in a tiny voice. It’s easier than No, you cannot take my song to sing to some other girl who will take you away from me.

“Haven’t you been hearing it?”

“Vincent.” Because that’s easier than You colossal idiot, what shit are you pulling after two years?

“Jude-”

She stands suddenly, fleeing to her room. Shutting the door, locking it, she tries to breathe. Of all people, Vinny should be the last person to push her to this reaction. She doesn’t know what to think.

Vinny knows.

Vinny knows where her hard limits are. Technically, he hasn’t passed them. But he’s pretty damn close.

Y Nhi slips into the shower, leaving it on the hottest setting to boil the emotions out.

For the next two days, Y Nhi doesn’t emerge from her room. Her phone dies, and she lets it. Her body self-destructs in hunger and dehydration from crying, and she lets it. She stays in bed for most of it. Whether Vinny continues to sleep on the other side of the wall for those nights, she doesn’t know. Nor care.

It’s punishment for believing she might be ready to give love another chance.

The third day, a letter slips under her door.

She almost flushes it down the toilet without reading it. Everything is in position to do so, paper fluttering in unsteady hands above the toilet bowl. But she wants to know. What can Vinny possibly say for himself?

Jude. I wrote the song for you. I didn’t mean to steal your tune - honest to god, I didn’t. But when I found out, I thought it was fitting that we’d worked on it together. (“Together”)

Jude, the song is up to your interpretation, but it’s yours. I wrote it from my core, and it’s yours. Charge your fucking phone and check the lyrics I sent you.

Take a shower, and call me when you’re ready. You have a few days’ worth of takeout in the fridge. Please take care of your health; I know you’re not right now. I mean it in the best way.

It cuts off there. Unceremonious and blunt, and so very him. She hates it very much.

Y Nhi charges her phone while she showers. Working quickly because she’s so unsteady on her feet, she does the bare minimum before stumbling into the kitchen for food.

While she nibbles on the stir fried noodles he left, she pens her own note.

Vinny,

I will not read the lyrics. I don’t want to know, and you don’t have to pretend it’s about me.

Your joke took two years to reach completion. Congratulations. I hope I was amusing and that my downfall wall be the stunning conclusion you wanted.

She tapes it on her front door so he’ll see it the next time he comes over. Soon, probably.

Momentarily, she wonders if she’s being rash. Is it so impossible to think that he could find romantic attraction to her?

Then she remembers. Y Nhi is not built to be loved, if her history is anything to go by. Even if she’s wrong, even if Vinny loves her for real, she will resist. Losing him this way is better than the alternative: watching him dissolve to some monstrosity while loving her.

Nothing changes after that. Apart from Vinny’s absence from her apartment, they interact in exactly the same way.

Vinny says something borderline rude.

Y Nhi retorts with something blatantly rude.

They laugh about it and move along.

There are no gentle touches to avoid because Vinny rarely touched her to begin with - despite the way he slings his arm around everyone else, he wasn’t like that with her. No arm around her shoulder, no hugs, not even extended contact with her hair.

Y Nhi pretends not to notice when he goes through a full dinner with an arm draped over the back of his friend Justin’s chair. He leans on it, adding the tiniest space between himself and Y Nhi. He still passes her the condiments and spices she likes before she asks for them. He takes her home at the end of it.

This should be enough. Up until now, it always had been. These tiny acts were his long distance hugs. It had always been enough, but now it isn’t, and Y Nhi doesn’t know what to do.

Isn’t this what you wanted? For him to get a life away from you?

“How’s that girl?” She asks on the way home, just because the silence is killing her and perhaps because she’s a masochist. “The one you wrote the song for?”

Vinny looks at her for a brief moment, something like grief in his eyes. It’s a confusing expression. “She hasn’t really talked to me since.”

Y Nhi tries not to sit straighter at this revelation. “Oh, really? Hm. That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

Something about the word is profoundly heartbroken. She can almost feel the emotions hurtling off him in waves, but he doesn’t lash out at her. All it does is enclose each passenger of the car in a separate bubble. This is the closest they’ve been in a long time, but Y Nhi has never felt so isolated.

Her throat constricts, and her hands start to shake. “Do you… Know why?”

Vinny thinks for a moment, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “I think she doesn’t believe me. But I don’t really think it’s me, I think she thinks that love is meant for everyone except herself. She’s pretty bent on self-destruction now, as far as I can tell - No, don’t say anything yet.”

Every girl Vinny’s talked to in the last week pops up in her mind. Which of them seems most self-destructive? If she can’t keep herself by his side, he should at least have someone who can care for him. She could talk to them, probably, if she knew who it was.

“I… She thinks this is sudden, but I’ve been in love with her since I was fifteen. Or something. Like it kind of just happened over time, and I thought she knew.”

Fifteen means Vinny’s been futilely in love with someone else while she fell for the guy who ended up cheating on her.

They were happy in high school. It was college that broke them. Distance. The communications became less frequent in an inverse relationship to Y Nhi’s alcohol intake. Her grades suffered, and she convinced herself that she was too stupid for higher education. On his birthday, she drove for hours to his dorm to surprise him, only to find him making out with another girl. Sober.

Not that any level of inebriation could excuse him, but perhaps it would’ve hurt a little less.

Vinny isn’t done. “I fucking cut fruit for her every time we hung out. I did her dishes sometimes. I don’t know, I- I thought I did everything right. My mom thought I was doing everything right.”

“You tell your mom about your love life?”

Y Nhi doesn’t. Her parents don’t care enough to know anything about it beyond that she let go of a future doctor and that she’ll never find another because she’s past her prime. That’s what it feels like, anyway.

She’s literally twenty four. She has time.

“Not really. But they’ve met.” Vinny parks the car in front of her apartment, but he makes no move to get out or to let Y Nhi get out. “Jude, listen to me.”

“I’m listening,” she says. Training her eyes on her kitchen window, she thinks about the dishes she hasn’t done yet, the fruit she hasn’t cut yet, and how she hates thinking about it because it reminds her Vinny is fading.

Human adaptability is a remarkable thing. One more week, and this new normalcy will cement itself.

“The girl I love is you. Okay? I’ve walked around the topic for years, and I understand if you’re still not ready for it. But I know you’re getting the wrong idea in that head of yours. It’s you, and it’s always been you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it if you let me. I’ll also bow out forever if that’s what you need from me. But I need you to talk to me. I-”

Holy shit, is he about to cry? With wild eyes, she glances at him. If she’s made him cry, he’ll return the favor five-fold. No, she backtracks. That’s not Vinny. That’s the behavior of her second ex, the one that reduced her to a stiff puppet of a girl.

“Come back to me,” he says in a small, strangled voice. “I don’t even care if you break me in the process, but please come back to me. You can do whatever you want, as long as you do it by my side.”

For the longest moment, they say nothing. Then Y Nhi opens the car door. “Can you cut my strawberries for me? They taste better when you cut them.”

Vinny washes her dishes and her strawberries and quarters the already small fruit for her. He deposits the snacks in front of her and watches her eat - slowly, since they’ve just come back from dinner, after all.

“So it’s me?”

“Always has been.”

“And you never said anything.”

“I did. You ignored it on purpose.”

“No, I’m just a stupid hoe.”

“You’re not stupid. Or a hoe.”

“You’re always calling me stupid.”

“Not like that, stupid.”

“You’re going to have to undo a lot of damage if we date.”

“I know. I’ve been working on it already, didn’t you notice?”

“Yeah, but it’s gonna get worse if we date.”

“Have you considered therapy?”

“Vinny, I’ll be a pariah.”

“A happy one, maybe.” Hesitantly, he reaches for one of her hands. Halfway, he flips the palm up and waits for her to complete the gesture on her own. “You don’t have to decide right away. It’s just a thought.”

She puts her hand in his a little too eagerly, then pulls back a little too harshly. It feels like touching the flame of a candle.

A defeated look momentarily crosses Vinny’s eyes, but Y Nhi barely has the time to look at it before she steels her nerves and takes hold of his hand again. The coldness of his rings grounds her somehow. “We need a list,” Y Nhi says, “of things. First, you’re going to Google touch starvation.”

Her best friend jerks in a little victorious motion, jamming his knee unceremoniously on the table leg as he does. “Fuck, that hurt.”

“What was that about?”

“I wasn’t sure if you were actually touch starved or if you didn’t like men touching you.”

“And you didn’t ask?” Y Nhi is incredulous.

“How am I supposed to ask? ‘Jude, when I touch you, does it remind you of your sleazy ex boyfriends?’ You’d say no. Like a liar. Or so I thought.” He pauses. “Anyway, this means I can hug you now, right? 24/7.”

“If you ease into it.”

“And you’ll stop wearing those gigantic shirts that literally drown you.”

“...No. What?”

“Okay, never mind, nothing. What else? What other boundaries do we have?”

Of all questions she’s been asked today, this one is probably the most confusing. Her previous relationships are no help; she hasn’t exactly had the best exposure to “healthy relationships.” She’s aware that the bare minimum counts as decadence for her, so the question has her a little frozen.

After watching her face flicker through whatever emotions it’s displaying, Vinny rubs a thumb over her knuckles. “How about this: I have a specific thing I want your help with, and when things come up, we can talk about it.”

Y Nhi nods, though they both know she won’t talk about shit. But perhaps watching Vinny sort out whatever issue he needs sorted will give her inspiration on how to approach this. “Can we-?” She starts and stops abruptly.

Vinny blinks, then feeds her a strawberry slice. “Go ahead.” It’s a tactful move. Putting food in her mouth means she has to chew, meaning she has a few more seconds to gather herself and her thoughts, or at the very least, the desire to continue speaking.

“Can we not label this?” She finishes. “Whatever is between us.”

To her surprise, Vinny nods and acts like she hasn’t asked the bitchiest question of the night. “Sure.” You can do whatever you want, he’d said, as long as you do it by my side.

“And… Get rid of Jude.”

“What?”

“Jude. You remember why I picked that name?”

“Because of some fictional fairy queen that had the same name? You thought she was a conniving boss ass bitch and-”

“Shut up. Saint Jude. Patron saint of?”

Technically speaking, he hasn’t been wrong about the fairy queen bit. Unlike the suckers who fell for Cardan Greenbriar, Y Nhi’s wimpy ass was all in for Jude Duarte, mortal queen of the fae. And it was easier to admit that than to admit the truth that was dawning on Vinny’s face in 3… 2...

“Hopeless causes,” Vinny answers easily. Then his expression sobers. “Oh.”

Y Nhi nods. “But the me with you isn’t a hopeless cause. I don’t want her to be, anyway.”

There’s a lot that goes unsaid, but she’s certain Vinny hears it. Logically, she can’t keep relying on whatever instinct says, He’ll understand because he’s Vinny, but up to this point, it should work out okay.

Gently, he says, “Y Nhi,” reacquainting himself with the syllables of her given name. “Y Nhi.”

“Yes, Vinny?” She says just as gently.

He lowers his voice to a husky whisper, “You’ve never been a hopeless cause. You were a cause for hope.”

Vinny’s request is this: that Y Nhi teach him to be soft again.

The request makes her question if she and Vinny exist in the same dimension because who the hell convinced him he wasn’t soft? Hardened, prickly souls don’t master winged eyeliner for the sake of their loved ones. They don’t volunteer extra hours at Vacation Bible School while working graveyard shifts at the hospital. Don’t do the dishes because as much as they hate them, their roommate hates them more.

Vinny is soft, and Y Nhi is out for blood. “I need names, Vincent. And addresses if you have them.”

“My ex,” he says.

An awkward sound emerges from Y Nhi’s throat.

He raises an eyebrow at her. “What? I dated around. Didn’t think I should be hung up on you, but nothing ever went as planned. Anyway, my one ex did a really good job making me become someone I wasn’t. I didn’t like the person she made me, but it was kind of too late to turn around.”

Again, Y Nhi is confused. The narrative is promising, though, so she lets him continue in hopes that it’ll clear something up.

“If you don’t know me, how would you describe me?”

“Vinny.” She doesn’t have an answer, she just doesn’t want to say it. It’s not all good, and they just came back from an awkward fight. Was it a fight?

They’ve slipped back into their normal existence so easily. Nothing has changed, but at the same time, everything has.

“Just- The rings and the black and the tattoos. You’d think I drove a motorcycle or something, right?”

“You drive a Lexus. It’s the same in terms of your fuck boy vibes.”

“Y Nhi!”

“BMW would’ve sealed the deal. How many Hennessys do you drink a night, again?”

A pout settles on his face. She likes this version of him. “I see you get my point. I look like a baddie.”

“Yeah. Bad at life.”

“I swear to god.”

“Don’t do that, that’s a sin. Don’t use the lord’s name in vain and all.”

“Anyway. You of all people know I am soft, actually. She didn’t like that. And so I gained a second personality and-”

It’s rude, the way Y Nhi interrupts, but Vinny doesn’t seem to mind at all. “So if you’re always soft, what’s left for me to help you with?”

“You’ll see,” he says. “Actually. No, I’m going to tell you. I get embarrassed about my relationships. So if it ever looks like I’m pushing you away… I’m just really fucking embarrassed, at least for this first stage. Do what you will with that.”

- bonus/epilogue -

They return home for Y Nhi’s mom’s birthday. They’ve always rode home together, since they are neighbors no matter where they are. No one finds it odd that they hold hands more than before, that Y Nhi is still averse to touching everyone but him.

They appear at social events hanging on each other’s arms. Commentary about their status as a “married couple” breeze over their heads, but they never confirm nor deny anything. In public, they remain aloof to each other. They show tenderness in only the smallest of gestures.

In private, they are as they ever were. Vinny still does her eyeliner on her bad days, but now she cuddles him on the couch on his bad days. Between the two of them, there are a lot of bad days, days when they almost threw in the towel.

But they didn’t. Instead, they’ve introduced all manner of pet names (Vinny’s favorites to use are love, darling, and lately, em. Y Nhi’s favorites are Vinny and anh). They write songs to each other, for each other, with each other. Every morning, they make the choice to keep loving each other the way they have since they were fifteen - and while they joke that they wasted so much time, it was a necessary time for them to spend apart to learn how to exist together and how to choose each other even when it’s the harder choice than letting go.

Even I get lonely too

It’s not hard

Every question’s got an answer

And mine is you

Where you go then I will follow

All my life

You’re the name that I will whisper to the night

#musclememory.wip #it turned out differently than planned #but I hope you enjoy it!

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be11atrixthestrange · 3 years

Text

The Loft Chapter 4

After a bad break-up, Hermione Granger moves into a messy and dysfunctional loft with four single men. What starts as a temporary home until she gets back on her feet becomes so much more, as she learns there's a lot of life - and love - that happens at rock-bottom.

Inspired by the TV Series ‘New Girl’

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Also on A03 | FFN

More Chapters

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Chapter 4

[Ron]

Ron would best describe the loft as a mess, but a clean one. After hours of scrubbing, the windows are clear and smudge-free, and the concrete floor shimmers with its long-forgotten natural color. What makes him feel most at home, however, is not the fresh pine scent of the couch cushions, but the fact that they're strewn about the floor like plush stepping stones. The boys have arranged them around the trash can in the middle of the room, which is empty save for a dried-up bottle of Febreeze.

Ron's desperate to know Hermione's opinion on the new decor. Despite lifting an eyebrow at the bad doodles of United States presidents and the cardboard cutout of a bald eagle plastered to the wall, she doesn't say anything. She must know better than to think he'll offer an explanation.

After cleaning and decorating the loft, Neville, Seamus, and Harry dispersed into their rooms to make themselves presentable, leaving Ron and Hermione alone in the kitchen to finish up the last of the dishes. He hands her a plate to dry, and she takes it with a smile.

"Thank you for helping, Hermione."

"Of course! But I'm not sure why we're cleaning so much if it's just going to get trashed."

Trashed might be an exaggeration, but she's right in the sense that the new cleanliness of the loft isn't going to last very long. Tonight they're throwing a party, Hermione's first as a loft resident, and she's in for a treat. The boys have been purposely vague regarding loft parties, as any accurate descriptions might turn her off attending. Ron would hate to have her make other plans tonight, whether those be with the girls, or worse, a date.

"Hey, we're not animals. But if it's going to get trashed, it's nice to know it's new-trashed, not old-trashed," he says, earning an eye-roll from Hermione.

"So I'm guessing that this party is America-themed?"

"No. Why would you guess that?"

"No reason," she says, eyeing the miniature blow-up Uncle Sam doll that the boys have been tossing around like a basketball.

"The decorations are just for the drinking game we're going to play," he says, motioning to the multiple cases of PBR lining the wall.

"Right, how do you play?"

"It's not really a game you can explain. You just have to experience it. Nice try, though."

"Then I look forward to experiencing it." She finishes drying the last dish and stacks it away neatly in the cupboard. "What else do we need to set up? Everyone's coming at eight, right?

Ron checks his watch. "Shit, you're right. People should be here soon. I'm going to get ready. Can you start on the beer castle?"

"The beer castle?"

"Yeah. Just stack beer cans in a castle shape around the trash can in the living room."

Ron doesn't wait for Hermione's reaction before he slips back into his room. He rummages around his closet in search of something to wear, something that makes him look both put-together and laid back, ready to party. He lands on a pair of khaki shorts and a pastel blue t-shirt that looks quite nice with his eyes.

He's pretty sure Hermione hasn't seen him in it. Not that it matters, anyway.

He pulls off his shirt and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Surprisingly, he looks pretty damn good. He's a bit skinny but firm and fit. It comes as a pleasant surprise because he's been slacking on his workouts ever since Hermione moved in and he lost his home gym. It's been difficult to exercise in his tiny bedroom, so he doesn't. He hasn't wanted to work out in the living room for fear of Hermione seeing him, but maybe he should give that a try…

With a shrug, Ron pulls off his pants and stands back up. He can't resist the urge to take another look at himself in the mirror. As much as he wishes he was a bit more muscular, there are pros to being lanky. By comparison, his scrawny self really does accentuate his already well-endowed state.

He checks himself out from a few more angles before deciding that physically, he doesn't have much to complain about.

Before he has the chance to put on his pants, the door to his bedroom swings open. Ron startles when it crashes against the wall and Hermione barges in uninvited.

"Hey Ron, I have a question about the beer can castle—"

"Hermione!" Ron, completely naked, scrambles for something to cover himself with but doesn't have time before she's standing right in front of him. "You have to knock!"

She's staring at the two cans in her hands until she pauses and looks up, but her gaze never makes it to his face. Instead, it lands directly on his penis, and she seems to stare at it for an eternity. Thanks to his utter panic, Ron can't move.

It almost feels like time has stopped, and he's frozen there like the statue of David while Hermione ogles him. She appears to be frozen too, eyes wide, mouth agape, staring.

If his dick could blush, it would match the color of his ears, which are bleeding scarlet.

For a split second, he wonders if it's truly as bad as it seems. Maybe Hermione likes what she sees. A tiny seed of hope takes root.

But that hope shatters when she opens her mouth to speak and lets out the worst sound he's ever heard. It's somewhere between a scream and a giggle, and he wouldn't wish such a reaction on his worst enemy.

Without further ado, a red-faced Hermione mutters a quick and useless 'sorry' and rushes out the door and slams it behind her.

Ron stands there for a few seconds, dumbfounded, before the reality of what just happened crashes down.

Hermione just laughed at his dick.

Well, fuck.

Now that he knows how she really feels, he'll never be able to look her in the eye again.

Ron stays in his room until there's a knock on the loft's door, and he has to show his face in order to let in his guests. He's opted for a hoodie over his shirt so he can hide behind the hood whenever Hermione looks at him, because when she does, his neck prickles with heatwaves, and he feels like he's naked again.

It doesn't make sense — Ron's never reacted so strongly to having a woman see him naked, and he's had a decent amount of experience in that arena. He's no Seamus, of course, but he's not a stranger to the occasional hookup.

It's just because she laughed—no other reason.

He opens the door to find his sister Ginny, her roommate Demelza, and two of their mutual friends—Dean and Luna.

"Welcome," says Ron, opening the door.

"Hey, Ron!" says Ginny. "Hermione!"

Ginny crashes into Hermione for a hug, then introduces her to everyone else. "This is Hermione, Ron's new roommate."

"Nice to meet you all!"

Hermione falls into easy conversation with Ron's friends before they get a chance to greet him, but they don't seem bothered by it. He watches her through narrowed eyes and doesn't even realize he's glaring at her until she looks at him and scowls.

"What?"

"Nothing." He turns back toward his friends, hoping they didn't notice their interaction. "Make yourselves at home. Drinks in the fridge, food on the counter, and you know where the beer is," he says, pointing at the beer castle.

Harry turns the music up just as their guests crack open their beers, and everyone starts to relax. Except for Ron, of course. Even though he's hyper-aware of Hermione, he still manages to bump into her and make more frequent eye contact than he'd like.

For some reason, they seem to gravitate toward the kitchen to replenish food and drinks at the same time, and they barely manage a conversation when they run into each other.

"Oh, sorry," she says, trying to slide past him, only for him to walk directly into her in an attempt to get out of her way.

"Erm—"

"I'll go left; you go right."

"Yeah, okay."

Are they always this awkward around each other?

Every time he tries to act normal, all he can hear is her weird little high-pitched scream-laugh, and he just wants to disappear into his hoodie. On occasion, Ron can sense Hermione watching him, but she looks away whenever he tries to catch her gaze. Not that he wants to make awkward eye contact with her, he just wants her to leave him alone.

He continues to keep himself at a safe distance to avoid talking to her, making sure he's always involved in a conversation with someone else. Over the course of the party, he becomes progressively more resentful of how much mental space it requires to avoid her.

Then, like a hawk, she swoops in and catches him alone while he's in the kitchen grabbing another beer.

"Ron!"

"Jesus," he says, nearly crashing into her. "You scared me."

"Why are you being so weird?"

"I'm not."

"Is it because I saw you naked?"

"No."

"It's not a big deal, Ron."

Of course, she has the nerve to act like he's the one who's being childish.

"Oh yeah, Hermione?" he says. "Then why did you laugh? Too immature?"

Hermione opens her mouth to answer, but in the moment before she does, he turns away from her and shouts to the crowd, "Who's ready for True American?"

The loft whoops their approval and begins to gather in the living room.

"Right now?" whispers Hermione behind him. "We're still talking."

But he ignores her.

"The game is True American," shouts Ron at a volume much louder than necessary for the size of the room. "Say 'aye' if you've played before."

There's a chorus of 'ayes' and a room-wide scrambling toward the furniture. When everyone hops onto a cushion, a table, or a chair, Ron notices Hermione looking around frantically, her expression disheartened.

"I'm the only one who's never played?" she asks.

"It's okay, Hermione," says Harry. "All you need to know is that it's about fifty percent drinking, fifty percent life-size Candy Land."

"I'd argue that it's seventy-five percent drinking, twenty percent Candy Land, and the floor is lava," says Ginny. "Which is why we're standing on the furniture. Hermione, you're melting."

"Oh no," she says, hopping up onto the coffee table between the beer castle and Demelza, who extends a hand to help her.

"Honestly, guys, it's ninety-percent drinking and has a very loose Candy Land-like structure to it," says Neville. "There's also a truth or dare component."

"I just need to know how to play—"

"You're smart; you'll catch on," says Ron. His tone comes off a little more terse than he'd intended, so he quickly continues, "I'll start. JFK!"

"FDR!"

Everyone but Hermione shuffles to a new location, avoiding the lava floor, and Hermione is left standing in her same spot between the beer castle and now, Luna.

"What just happened?" she asks, looking confused.

"Hermione, since you're the last to find a new spot, you have to pick someone, and they'll ask you a truth or dare question," explains Ginny. "Just answer and drink."

"Okay, then," she says. "Um, Neville. Truth."

"How do you like loft life?" asks Neville brightly, eliciting a groan from the crowd.

"Neville, you can do better—" starts Seamus.

"It's her first game!" he says. "Let's ease her in. So, Hermione?"

"Well, it's great so far."

"Just so you know, not every question will be that tame," says Ginny from her precarious perch on the armchair.

"Go figure," says Hermione before chugging back a gulp of her PBR.

As soon as she swallows her drink, Neville shouts out, "The only thing we have to fear is…"

"Fear itself!"

When the crowd joins in, Hermione looks around the room, dumbfounded.

"Hermione, you didn't complete the quote," says Harry.

"I didn't know I was supposed to!"

"Well, now you do! Drink, and then pick someone."

"I feel like I'm at a disadvantage since you didn't explain the game," she says, challenging Harry.

"We've all been there," Harry says, shrugging, "It's a rite of passage."

"Fine," Hermione takes a long swig and points at Ginny. "Ginny, truth."

"Sweet!" says Ginny, beaming mischievously. "Hermione, are you attracted to anyone in the loft?"

Ron's ears tingle at Ginny's question, and he tunes in for Hermione's answer.

"Nope," she says, taking a hasty drink.

In his curiosity, Ron has made prolonged eye contact with Hermione for the first time since the penis-incident, but when she catches his gaze, he quickly looks away. Ron's stomach clenches. Not that he wants Hermione to be attracted to him, but after she saw him naked, it's quite the low blow. Trying to look casual, he pulls back a swig of beer.

"Really?" presses Seamus. "None of us?"

"Ginny's turn!" says Hermione, ignoring Seamus' question.

"Alright, here we go," says Ginny, her eyes narrowed in concentration. "Abe Lincoln! George Washington!"

"Cherry Tree!" shouts Ron.

"Correct! Pick a person and an amendment!"

"Hermione, second."

Everyone looks at Hermione, and Ginny tosses her an unopened can of beer.

"I don't understand," she says. "You still haven't given me any information."

"You have to shotgun a beer! And then pick someone to ask truth or dare," says Dean.

"Wait, what? That doesn't make any sense."

"Give it time, Hermione," encourages Neville. "I didn't understand it at first either."

Hermione groans and sets down her half-full PBR, and reaches into her pocket for her key. She stabs the bottom of her can, then tips it into her mouth, chugging it down while the loft's onlookers cheer in the background.

Eyebrows raised, Ron watches her shotgun her beer, trying to ignore the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He never thought he'd see that, and he isn't complaining.

"Yeah, there's no going back now," says Hermione once she finishes. "Luna, truth."

"Yay!" says Luna. "Did you and Ron get into a fight? You've been avoiding each other all night."

Ron's face grows hot. He bores his gaze toward Luna, who is staring intently at Hermione and doesn't seem to notice Ron's glare.

"Is that really your question?" she asks.

"Yep!"

"Luna, you've never seen us interact," says Ron. "How would you know that?"

Luna shrugs. "I can just tell."

"You know what," says Harry as he looks between Ron and Hermione. "You two have been acting weird tonight."

"Is it that obvious?" asks Hermione.

Ron feels Hermione's eyes on him, and his palms break out in a sweat. Once again, his refusal to make direct eye contact probably serves as a sufficient answer to Hermione's question.

"Well, fine then," she says, turning back toward Luna. "Earlier, I walked in on him changing. But it wasn't a big deal."

"Ron, is this true?" asks Harry.

Everyone turns to look at Ron, who groans. "Yes, but as she said, it wasn't a big deal."

His roommates might as well be shining an interrogation light on him by the way they all continue to stare.

"If it wasn't a big deal, why are you all fidgety?" asks Seamus.

"I'm not," says Ron, but his defensive tone suggests otherwise.

"Yeah, women have seen you naked before, Ron," says Luna. "Why is it different with Hermione?"

"Whose turn is it?" says Ron, much louder than necessary. Anything to divert the attention from Luna's oddly specific question.

"Oh, it's my turn," says Luna. "One, two, three, go!"

Luna holds up the number five to her forehead, and everyone else follows suit with their own number. Ron looks frantically around the room and breathes a sigh of relief when he matches numbers with Harry.

It appears that Hermione, who was the last to catch on, as usual, is the only one without a partner.

"Not again!" she says. "But at least that one made sense. Seamus, truth."

"Are you sure you want to do that?" asks Ginny.

But it's too late. Seamus, who is already slurring his words, looks at Hermione and asks, "So, Hermione, what does Ron's dick look like?"

"Dude, what the fuck?" shouts Ron.

"Seriously, Seamus," adds Harry. "That's not even an interesting question."

"Sure, it is! I'm interested!"

"Old news," pipes in Neville. "We've all seen Ron's dick."

Embarrassed, Ron glances toward Hermione. She looks lost for words. "You don't have to answer, Hermione."

"No, we haven't!" says Seamus.

"Really?" says Dean as he side-eyes Seamus. "I've seen it, and I don't even live here."

Ron looks toward the loft door. Maybe he can make a run for it.

"Am I the only roommate who hasn't seen your dick?" asks Seamus, now appearing uninterested in Hermione's answer. When everyone in the room turns to look at Ron, he feels like he's naked in a crowd again.

Ron shrugs. "I guess so," he says, casually taking a sip of his beer.

"When? Where?"

"I don't know, dude. Locker rooms, penis fights, I'm sure you'll see it someday," says Ron. "Can we stop talking about my dick, now?"

"Yes, let's move on," says Hermione with an apologetic glance in Ron's direction. "Just ask me a different question."

"Fine," says Seamus, his words melding together, "Hermione, what did you think of Ron's dick?"

"Seriously, Seamus?"

"I guess we can't," mutters Ron.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Whatever. He has a very nice penis."

"I wouldn't know," says Seamus bitterly. Then, just as quickly, "JFK!"

"FDR!"

Everyone scrambles for a new spot, and this time Ron's the only one left out in the shuffle.

"Fuck," he says, looking around for someone who won't ask him a dick-related question. "Uh, Demelza, truth."

Demelza smiles. "How did Hermione react to seeing your dick?"

"I picked you because I thought you wouldn't ask about my dick, Demelza."

"Sorry," shrugs Demelza.

"It wasn't a big deal," says Hermione.

Before he can stop himself, Ron scoffs, and once again, everyone snaps their heads in his direction.

"Sounds like it was a big deal."

"It wasn't!" says Hermione. "I mean—"

"Hermione, don't," says Ron, but Hermione continues without a missed beat.

"I laughed at first, but only because I was nervous."

"You LAUGHED?" asked Demelza. "No wonder you two are being so weird."

"It was an accident!"

"Let's move on," growls Ron. "Demelza, your turn." He shoots a glare in Hermione's direction.

"Niagara!" says Demelza.

Everyone brings their drink to their mouth and begins chugging. As soon as each person finishes, they toss their empty cans to the PBR castle in the middle of the room. Hermione, having caught on a moment too late, is the last one to toss it.

Hermione groans. "Harry, dare."

Harry grins. "Well, to make Ron feel better, I dare you to repeat after me. I love Ron's cock."

Ron's ears grow warm again, but they're also buzzing from the beer, which takes precedence over his embarrassment. Also, it'll be interesting to hear Hermione follow through with this dare.

Hermione narrows her eyes at him. "Fine. I love Ron's penis."

Ron sends her a curious glance. She said it so… formally, like she was taking an oath in court.

There's a tense silence while everyone stares at Hermione. "Try again," says Harry.

"Why?"

"I love Ron's cock," he repeats. "Say it."

"I did."

"You said penis. Not cock."

"Same thing!" she protests.

"Hermione, why can't you say cock?" repeats Harry.

"Penis is the technical term," she says, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Ron chuckles at the argument playing out before him.

"What about dick?" suggests Demelza.

Hermione stares at Demelza, her cheeks flooding with color. "Why?"

"Schlong? Wang? Knob?" offers Seamus.

"Seriously, what's wrong with 'penis'?"

"Nothing, it's just weird that you won't say cock," says Harry. "I think that should require two drinks for refusing a dare."

Ron looks around the room; everyone nods in agreement.

"Fine," says Hermione before taking a second sip.

As soon as she finishes her sip, Harry shouts, "Give me liberty or—"

"Give me death!"

As assumed, Hermione is the only one who doesn't catch on.

"Ugh," she says. "Dean, dare."

"I dare you to make it even!" slurs Dean.

"What does that mean?"

"He showed you his; now you show him yours."

"Executive order," says Ginny. "Vetoed."

"Why?" asks Ron. "I don't think it's a bad idea. Plus, it would make me feel better." He pouts at Hermione with wide, puppy-dog eyes and grins when her cheeks flood with color. He's well aware that she never responded to Dean.

"Too far, that's why," says Ginny.

"Well," says Ron. "You guys are no fun."

There's a moment of silence when no one seems to remember where they are in the game or whose turn it is. Seamus breaks the silence with a question directed at Ron.

"Can I please just see it?"

Ron groans and rolls his eyes. "No. And I'm going to bed."

"Why?" whines Seamus.

"I didn't think my dick would be such a huge topic of conversation, yet here we are."

"More of a slightly above average topic if you ask me," says Harry.

"See what I mean?" says Ron, as he hops off his cushion and turns his back to the crowd. "Goodnight."

After chugging a tall glass of water, Ron retreats to his room for the night, ready to escape his roommates' drunken shenanigans. He changes into sweats, settles underneath the covers, and is about to turn off the lights when there's a knock at his door.

"Erm, come in."

The door creaks open, and Hermione pokes her head into his room. "Hi," she says.

"Hi," he responds, raising his eyebrows at his unexpected guest. "Thank you for knocking."

"So—"

"I'm not naked. Sorry to disappoint you." He cuts her off, aiming for an icy tone, but unfortunately, it comes off whiny.

Maybe he has been acting a bit petty and childish.

She stares at him, expressionless, for a few tense moments and then bursts out into laughter. He can't help but follow suit. Her laughter is quite contagious when he's fully clothed.

"For the record, I'm not laughing at the thought of you naked," she assures him as if reading his mind.

"Sure, Hermione. Sure," he says. His cheeks are heating up, but he's glad it's not from embarrassment this time.

"I meant it, you know," she says, as soon as her laughter dies down.

"You meant what?"

"That you have a very nice—" she clears her throat, "cock."

Ron beams — at both the compliment and her word choice. "You said cock!"

She stands a little taller. "I've been practicing."

"Say it again!" he urges.

"Please don't make me."

"Pretty please—"

"Fine," she says, taking a step, so she's fully in the room. The door closes behind her. "Cock. Dick. Schlong. Willy."

"Okay, now you're embarrassing yourself."

"Give me more words," she says, now grinning. "I want to prove that I can do it."

"Okay, why don't you try Peter Pecker. Big Red. The Orange Cannon."

Hermione's face flashes red, and she slaps a hand to her mouth.

"Too much for you?" asks Ron.

"Did you nickname your penis?"

"No!" Ron protests, although his flushing cheeks likely give him away. "Those are from former lovers."

"Oh, well, I'm not going to say them then."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not your former lover," she argues.

He catches a slight emphasis on' former' and forces himself to keep his expression neutral. Maybe some good will come from the penis incident. Either that, or he's imagining it.

"While technically true, I still want to hear you say them."

"Too bad."

Thankful that the awkwardness seems to be dissipating, Ron grins at her. "Then you'll have to make it up to me another way."

As soon he speaks, he winces, hearing the implication of his words a moment too late. Did he actually just say that?

Hermione doesn't waste any time with her response. "How? By making it even?"

Ron cannot interpret her expression — it almost looks like she's trying to keep it neutral. In his effort to decipher it, he hesitates for too long, and by leaving her comment hanging, he might as well have agreed.

"That was actually what I came in here to do," she says, biting her lip.

"Really?"

"Yes."

At this point, it feels like his whole face is on fire, and Hermione's smirk isn't helping at all. He can't bring himself to look away from her eyes nor say anything, as the air feels too thick with tension. She could be bluffing, but he has no desire to call her on it if she is.

Is she joking?

His question answers itself when Hermione averts her eyes to the ground and hooks her thumbs at the hem of her shirt.

Holy shit. She's not.

Hermione keeps her eyes on the ground, and Ron can't help but grin at how her cheeks turn bashfully pink. He wishes he could help it because he's definitely beaming like an idiot. With a deep, nervous breath, she pulls her shirt up and over her bra—

She's not wearing a bra.

Fuck.

Ron lets out a breath that he didn't even know he was holding. "Well damn, Hermione."

Still holding up her shirt, she meets his gaze. "Yes, Ron?"

"You have amazing… knockers."

"Ron!" she says, shoving her shirt back down. He immediately misses the view, but he doesn't regret his word choice. "They're called breasts."

"Boobies. Bing Bongs. Spongey love mountains."

"And I'm the immature one?"

"Jesus, woman, just take the compliment! I'm trying to tell you that I love your tatas." He speaks before he can filter himself, hoping she doesn't read too much into his phrasing. There's nothing wrong with showing appreciation, after all.

She lets a small smile at his admission but quickly narrows her eyes and crosses her arms over her now fully-clothed chest. "If I have to say cock, you have to say breasts."

"Sorry, Hermione," says Ron, his tone veering dangerously close to flirtation. Then, feeling a bit bolder, he continues, "what I meant to say is you have wonderful breasts."

Her face tinges red, and she smiles smugly. "Thank you, Ron."

"You're very welcome. Your turn."

"What?"

He motions toward his pants. "I want to hear you say it again."

She groans. "Fine, but this is the last time."

"Sure it is."

She rolls her eyes before continuing. "Ron, you have a lovely cock."

His breath hitches in his throat. Hearing her say that again definitely does something to him, and it's not helped by the sincerity in her tone. She's not lying. As a result, his hair stands on end, heat pools in his stomach, and he's thankful for the positioning of his bed covers.

"Thank you, Hermione," he responds, looking directly into her warm brown eyes. Reflecting her slight smile, they appear softer and darker than usual, as if they're deep in thought.

Ron and Hermione keep eye contact for a few elongated seconds before the awkwardness of the interaction kicks in, and they avert their eyes, looking anywhere but each other. What an odd conversation to have with a roommate.

"I should go to bed," says Hermione, pointing at the door.

"Erm, yeah. Me too."

"So I guess I'll see you in the morning?"

"Good night," he says, but Hermione's already out the door. He sighs.

It shuts behind her, and Ron turns off the light and leans back in his bed. When he closes his eyes, the image of Hermione's perfect breasts is still fresh in his mind, and he makes no effort to let it morph into something else because who knows if he'll ever get to see them again.

Why would he? She's just his roommate.

Yeah. I'm definitely attracted to my roommate.

A smile creeps onto his face. It feels good to admit it, even if it's only to himself.

#muggle AU #Ron and Hermione #ron x hermione #ROMIONE #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #Romione angst #Ron Weasley #ronweasley #Hermione Granger #hermionegranger #be11a_loft

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honestlyhappyharry · 4 years

Text

Just a Bet

Harry's pov.

"All you have to do is fuck her. Can't say no to a dare." Zayn says as he releases the smoke from his lungs.

I roll my eyes and look at her. "She's not even pretty though." I grimace as she tries to dance. Sure I knew her a little but I had never felt attracted to her.

"C'mon it will be fine. One harmless little fuck won't hurt." Louis points out as he takes a swig of his beer. He holds out $500 and I look at it for a split second.

"I don't need your money, I’ve probably made more money than all of you sad acts." I state with a chuckle and nod my head as I take the money and put it in my pocket. "You're right, won't hurt." I make my way over to her and get ready for the worst fuck of my life.

8 months later

{3rd person}

Y/n and Harry had such a beautiful relationship together. Always together. Never apart.

The other guys were surprised when Harry didn't want to break up with her. Every single second he was going through with the bet, he complained about her all of the time.

The guys didn't know if he was just playing her for more sex, or if he really genuinely cared about her. As Y/n was in Harry's life the boys got to know her and they all thought she was a very sweet girl. Hardly ever got in trouble, caring and gentle.

Harry's never had someone like that, and that scared them. Harry didn't know how to act every time she gave him a sign of affection like kissing his cheek or forehead.

Even the little touches he received on his back when he was upset. He loved being touched by her. Her soft hands made him not know how to express himself around her, but she knew how he felt.

It was by the way he looked at her and how he was always overprotective of her. The guys noticed this too. How he would always put her before himself.

He hated how she had such an effect on him. How every little thing he did reminded him of her.

He regretted what he did 8 months ago. All the negative thoughts he had about her. He couldn't change in and that's what scared him the most.

He held her closer and tighter every night, because he didn't know when she was going to find out. He knows that she would leave him, and that was something he never wanted to happen.

He knew it would be when he least expected it, so he always tried to expect it.

Nowadays when the guys would talk about Y/n he would blush and shake his head. Praying they didn't raise the topic.

A couple of guys had thought maybe he loves her. But whenever Harry was asked that question he scoffed and said. "Look at her."

The guys didn't believe it. They didn't really know what to believe at this point.

They didn't know if it was the drugs that he was taking or maybe something he was drinking. They didn't know what his deal was.

"So do you care about her or not?" Niall asks as they sit on the couch.

Harry shrugged, everyone was always trying to get it out of him. "Doesn't matter. She's just a bet." The automated answer came.

They all roll their eyes in unison. "Shut the fuck up, Harry. We all know that you fancy her." Liam says.

He shrugs again. "Okay, so what if I do?"

They all smirked, wanting to believe Harry loved her. "Thought you didn't care about her." Louis interjects.

Harry sighs. "Of course I do. I don't love her, though. Never would."

The guys all look at each other and kinda shrug it off.

Harry was lying though, he did love her. He wasn't going to tell her though, hell no. He'll get rejected. He didn't want that, especially not from her.

She was the most important thing about him at this point and he didn't want to lose to her.

The guys left a few hours ago and now it was just Harry waiting for Y/n to come home from hanging out with some friends.

When he heard the keys jingle from the door he sprung up from the couch and instantly smiled when he opened the door to see a beautiful grinning Y/n.

"Hey, baby." He pulls her into a kiss which she gladly accepts.

"Hi." She beams. "How was your day?" She asks as she places her little shoulder purse on the couch.

He pulls her into a hug and breathes her in. "Amazing, now that you're here. Missed you, love."

She chuckles against his chest. "I missed you too."

"You want to go out with the boys tonight?" He asks as he clutches onto her.

She looks up at him and nods eagerly. He laughs at her and looks down at her outfit.

"Well, we are going to a club so if you want to dress up you can. I wouldn't mind you going in a t-shirt and sweatpants though."

She laughs and shakes her head. "No, I'll go get a dress on."

When she turns around he smacks her on the ass and she squeals. He chuckles as he runs after her up the stairs.

She rummages through her closet as Harry is in the bathroom freshening up. She finds a pretty black cutout dress that she hasn't worn yet.

When she finds a couple gold rings and a gold chain necklace she's quick to put them on and smile at her reflection in the dress.

She does her makeup next, being extra careful to try and not get it on her dress.

She loves the entire look and put together and she can't stop thinking about how Harry is going to react when he sees her.

She loves the idea of feeling pretty and wanting to be pretty. And tonight she feels beautiful.

She put her hair in soft curls and puts some perfume on.

She looks around the room for Harry and realizes he must have left the bathroom a long time ago. She didn't exactly know when and she looks at her phone to see what time it was.

7:36.

Not bad.

She goes downstairs to find Harry dressed up in a tux, waiting on the couch.

When his eyes take in her dress and how she fills the dress perfectly he groans.

He walks up to her and whispers in her ear. "I should rip this dress off of you and take you upstairs." His husky voice sends chills down her spine as she shivers.

"Nuh uh. After, okay? Let's go see the boys." She says as she tries to pull him to the front door.

He grabs her and slams her against the wall. "Fuck the boys."

Y/n gasps and slaps Harry on the arm as he chuckles and leads her out the door. "Fine, fine. Let's go."

Her smile is bright when he opens the car door for her and the gets in himself.

She loves this. She loves him. She was never going to say it though. She didn't want to be rejected or get embarrassed when he didn't say it back to her.

Plus, she was fine with keeping it to herself for now. SHe doesn't know how long she can contain it though.

She loves every little thing about him.

"I don't like that dress."

Her head snaps to him and she frowns and looks down at herself. "You don't like it? Why?"

He chuckles. "I love it, baby. Just don't want any guys looking at you."

She takes his hand in her smaller one. "I'm not going anywhere, Haz." She gives him a small smile that he returns.

He kisses her hand gently and breathes in deeply as they pull into the club.

The boys greet them when they enter, hand in hand.

Harry allows her to go in the small booth first and then climbs in himself, before realizing the booth was too small.

"Here baby, come sit on my lap." He pats his lap and Y/n obliges since she doesn't have anywhere else to sit.

She settles herself on his lap as he presses a kiss to her clothed back.

She's never been to this kind of place before and he could tell how uncomfortable she was. He rubs her thigh in hopes to calm her down.

And she's grateful for it.

She watches people grinding on each other and she noticeably grimaces.

Across from her, Niall notices and gives her a reassuring smile with a little nod which she smiles back.

"You look beautiful, Y/n." Louis compliments as he gives her a wink.

Y/n blushes. "Thanks, you look great too."

Louis turns to Harry and gives him a wink, to which Y/n frowns. Harry becomes stiff as he seems uncomfortable now.

"Do you want a drink?" Y/n turns around and asks Harry.

He shakes his head. "No, love. But you can go and get one. I'll keep an eye on you." He says, knowing what she was really asking. He looks towards the bar and she smiles as she turns back to everyone else and excuses herself.

Harry keeps his eyes on her for a minute of so, just to make sure she's all right.

"So." Zayn clears his throat. "It'd be a shame to lose her, wouldn't it?

Harry points a finger at them. "Shut the fuck up. I'll make your life a living hell if you say one word to her about anything. I'm not kidding."

Before Zayn can respond, somebody else does.

"Say one word to me about what?" She has a non-alcoholic drink clutched in her right hand as she peers at Harry.

Harry's heart starts to pound. Is this it? Is this where it all happens? Is this where his life crashes down?

"Nothing, baby." Harry says as he looks to the guys with pleasing eyes, but the guys don't care anymore.

They know that they should take up for their actions and so should Harry. They think that it's gone on long enough.

"Let's see if Harry has the balls to tell her." Louis says as he takes a sip of his drink.

Y/n now becomes concerned. Is something wrong with Harry?

"Tell me what?" She was starting to get impatient. She wanted to know. She has to know. She can't let this one slide.

"Baby.. you've got to understand that this was before I met you." Harry was now on his feet standing in front of her, looking into her eyes.

She furrowed her eyebrows. Is it that bad? Does she really want to know?

"Harry over here, made a bet on you sweetheart." Liam finally said it and Y/n couldn't get it through her mind at first.

She didn't look at Harry when he tried to get her to look at him. She couldn't. She loves him and now what is she supposed to do?

"Look at me, baby. Please just say something." He begs her as he brushes a tear off of her face.

She clears her throat. "Um- I should go."

"No." Harry grabs her wrist before she can even move. "Yell at me. Kick me. Smack me. I don't care. Just don't leave me." He really didn't care what kind of physical pain she gives him.

"He also said he'll never love you." Zayn pipes up and both of their hearts are breaking at the same time.

She breaks out in sobs and their sobs blend together. "I can't be in this relationship, Harry." She breaks from his grip and runs out.

Harry looks down at the boys at the table, tears still visible. But he didn't really care what they boys thought of him right now. "Do you even realise what you've done?"

He runs after her and when he finds her sitting on a bench he sighs in relief.

"Look I-i know your mad at me for what I've done but-"

She shakes her head. "It's not just that." She sniffles.

He cups her cheeks. "Then what is it, love?"

She lets out a sob. "Because I love you Harry."

The breath was knocked out of him. She loves him.

"Like I actually love you. But- but you don't love me and I don't want to put you into a situation where you feel like you have to say it back to me."

He cuts her off with the most beautiful kiss she's ever received. It was loving and sweet but rough and passionate at the same time.

"You love me. Baby, do you love me?" Tears roll down his face at the confession.

He's not sure if he wants to cry or laugh. So he goes for both, laughing through his tears.

She nods. "Sorry."

He shakes his head against hers. Not understanding why she was apologising. "I love you." He breathes out. It felt so good to say.

"Stop." She whispers. "Don't say that. Please if you don't mean it."

His thumb wipes away the tears that have fallen down her cheeks. "I do, I really really do. I know you don't believe me. But god dammit I love you. And I know I'm an idiot. I only said that because I was scared. Scared of what you were doing to me."

He sits down besides her and takes her hands in his. "As for the bet, I- it- it was stupid. Louis had given me $500 for it and I didn't know what I was doing. But I truly fell in love with you, Y/n."

She smiles and kisses his cheek. "It's okay, Haz."

He furrows his eyebrows. "How the fuck can you say that? It's anything but okay." He runs a hand through his hair.

"It's okay because I forgive you and I love you."

He closes his eyes. "God, I'm never going to get tired of hearing that." He chuckles. "I love you." He says as he rubs his nose against hers in a butterfly kiss.

"Mmm." She hums against his skin. "I think you have to do something with this dress when we get home."

"Mmm. That I do, don't I? Can you remind me?" He replies cheekily.

She nods and smile as she takes his hand and leads him to a taxi.

When they get home she reminds him of how much she loves him and how much he loves her. And soon Harry remembers what he was going to do with the dress.

#harry styles #harry styles fiction #harry styles fan #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles imagine #one direction #one direction imagine #one direction fan fiction #fan fiction

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whatsseobb · 4 years

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Something Old, Something New (Crystal x Gigi Fanfic) Chapter 1

AO3 Link

Synopsis: Crystal finds an enchanting jewelry box from the antique shop. Day by day, she discovers different journal entries hidden inside the box. Where is it coming from? What exactly is the music box? Most importantly, who is G?

Chapter One – Music Box

Old furniture, crumpled boxes, and a vintage-smelling scent surrounded the store, a fine tune of classical music playing in the background. It was packed with different shelves and racks, some were not-so-new clothing items that were still in good condition. The place was located in a small corner at the middle of the city, noticeable because of its brown exterior surrounded by colorful boutiques and shops. It was well known for its antique knick-knacks as well as pre-owned clothes. The youth adored the little shop because it was a place where they can get fashionable blouses and clothes for a lower cost. It was the trend in their city, buying something old and making it into something new.

It was a Wednesday afternoon, everyone was either busy with school or work so there were only few customers passing by the shop at that time. The store’s door opened, the bell rang and a girl wearing a white tee with splatters of colorful paint, her curly brown locks tied up in a messy bun entered. The owner immediately recognized the customer, greeting her with a big smile.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Crystal!” The owner greeted the customer as she fixed some items and placed them on the shelves. “The ‘new’ arrivals are at the back. You might want to see if you want something there before I put it on the shelves.” The owner pointed her thumb towards the end corner of the small store.

“Thank you, Ms. Jackie. Does that mean I get to have the first look?” Crystal was running her hands through the different blouses on the rack, searching for things to buy for her wardrobe.

“Of course! Special customer discount, for you!” Jackie shot finger guns and a wink to her regular customer, making the curly-haired girl chuckle. She continued to roam around the small store, trying on different outfits and checking out the vintage items.

Before paying for the items she wanted to buy, she passed by the end corner where the ‘new’ arrivals were placed. Picture frames, old European paintings, a few decorative trinkets, and some kitchen items. There were no clothes or fabric items unlike she expected but just some antique decorations for houses. As she scanned the boxes, a small shining silver box caught her attention. It had a tiny knob on the side, with its frame covered in golden swirls. It was a music box, the type where it has a ballerina inside dancing when the knob was twisted. Crystal excitedly lifted the lid, sadly there was nothing inside. Just a tiny mirror and an empty space. The stage where the figurine danced was present but no ballerina in sight. The girl tried to twist the knob and some twinkling relaxing tune played, putting a small smile on her face. The box was still working, there was just no statuette.

The music brought Crystal back to a memory of hers when she was a kid. She was about six or seven and her grandmother would play the piano, she and her mom dancing to it. They twirled and swirled around the living room, there skirts flying around, giggling at how funny they looked dancing. She was no dancer but she had fun. It was one of the fondest memory Crystal holds close to her heart.

Once the music stopped, Crystal was brought back to reality, her smile reflecting on the mirror. She shook her head, chuckling softly at her small reminiscing moment, before closing the lid of the music box. She skipped towards the counter, the smile still painted on her face.

“It seems like you found a treasure there. Have you found any jewelry or something inside that box?” Jackie commented as she looked at the smiling girl.

“There was nothing inside, actually. I think it was a music box but I can’t find where the dancing figurine is. I like the music though.” Crystal responded, helping Jackie put the items she bought inside a paper bag.

“Enjoy! Thank you, Crystal. See you around!” The two waved each other goodbyes after the customer paid for the items inside her paper bag. The girl walked back home, the fine melody of the music box playing inside her mind.

As soon as she arrived home, Crystal took out all the shirts and clothes she had bought from Jackie’s antique store. Since she did not have anything to do for school, she decided to level up her wardrobe. She had also passed by a craft store on her way home and bought some threads and rhinestones and glitters, a few of her favourite things. All afternoon, she spent it snipping and cutting the clothes she bought before placing stones and colourful glitters on it. If there was one word to describe the girl, it would be sparkling. She always shimmered, just like her name. Her room was no exception. It always sparkled due to the glitters lying around. It could be messy at these times, especially when she was too busy decorating her thrifted clothes. There would be times that she forgot where she put her phone or her bag or something else just because she accidentally dumped a large pile of cutout fabrics and materials above it. This week’s victim was the music box she bought from the shop.

The weekend came and it was scheduled to be Crystal’s cleaning day. She had finished a few garments that she was ready to wear to school the following week. Her room was a colourful mess. Glitters and threads all around, fabrics stocked on different piles on her table and chairs. The girl decided to clean the piles of cutouts she left on her table last. Before she finished cleaning, she noticed a paper bag underneath the fabrics. She opened it and was surprised to see the silver music box. She totally forgot to put it out after she bought it due to her excitement of her new clothes.

Crystal placed the box on the side of her vanity mirror. After she finished cleaning her room, she sat in front of her vanity and took the box to her hands. She twisted the knob on the side and the same graceful melody played softly. She traced the golden swirls on its frame, a faint smile painted on her face, the same grin that plastered a few days ago back at the shop. After the music stopped, the curly-haired girl decided to get some of the earrings and accessories lying around her table and put it inside the box. It was an empty jewelry box after all. As she lifted the lid, a puzzled look covered her face.

“Where did these come from?” Crystal took the folded papers out of the box and opened them. She was sure the box was empty when she bought it.

She opened one of them. The paper was a little bit crunchy to touch, color slightly fading and the corners a bit darkened. It also looked a little bit… old.

The first letter was written in a cursive writing, something Crystal had seen before but never used. Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to remember whether or not there were any notes like this when she got it from the store.

The girl was about to put the letter back to the box when she noticed more letters. There were actually three of them. She decided to get the second one and read it as well.

After reading all three letters, Crystal became more confused than ever. Where did these all come from? She studied the paper, they all had the same texture and material, and all had the same torn up left side. Maybe it was torn from a notebook or journal, she thought. She looked closely and noticed the signature at the end of all the letters. G. G? No one in her family had a name that started with a G. It was possibly from the owner of the music box. However, Crystal was completely sure that there were no letters or any items inside the box when she saw it in the store.

The curly-haired girl decided to brush it off and return all the three letters inside. She closed the lid and put the music box back to her vanity table.

The next day, Crystal was spending more time in her room to finish her school tasks. Her room was getting messier again as her art materials spread on the floor. She was busy making an art piece for her painting class. She decided to make a landscape of a house from a suburban setting, taking inspiration from the house in the movie The Notebook. She had never been to a house similar to that but she just loved the film so much that she was currently watching it on repeat while painting.

She was deep into her art process that a small noise that was not coming from her laptop would shock her. To her surprise, a familiar melody played along the movie she was playing. It was the same tune that accompanied the music box. Strangely enough, she was far from the music box so there were no any reason for it to play. Maybe it was broken , Crystal thought to herself. However, she was drawn to take the music box to her hands. She skipped towards the other side of the room and pulled the box near her. She opened her lid. There were four letters.

#rpdrfanfiction #crygi #crystal x gigi #gigi x crystal #crystal methyd #gigi goode #crygi fanfiction #jackie cox #nicky doll #lesbian au #rpdr s12 #fantasy #letters #SOSN Crygi

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godrics · 4 years

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NCT DREAM BEYOND LIVE CONCERT!RORY

gif made by x

NCT DREAM BEYOND LIVE CONCERT!RORY

UNDER READ MORE (bc it’s actually really long now that im on tumblr)

okay so the concert started with the vcr/video from the dream show ..

rory's little scene was her as a teacher !!! so cute

OOH and then the transition into her into her teacher clothes into a suit .. thats my girl

her hair is still like this. much more vibrant than it was because she redyed it oops

first song was GO!! change ur ways

she was wearing this [ black cargo pants, a black crop top, belt, along with chains lmao idk how to describe. oh and black boots ] for go, drippin', we go up, and stronger performances!

it was kind of awkward at first but then she saw nctzens' faces so she was happy

"to the world, this is the nct! we are nct dream”

she clapped excitedly, jumping up and down

"beyond the dream show~"

when haechan asked the time where the fans were, she read the comments, squinting funnily at the screen before gasping

"one of the czennies said it was 3am!"

the other boys gasped in shock before clapping slightly

"thank you for watching us even though it's 3am!" rory said to the fans. "but go to bed as soon as this is over~ or whenever you're feeling tired, that's okay too!"

"for our global fans, we prepared something special, right?" haechan said and rory nodded, smiling

"so we prepared our greeting in various languages"

rory's greeting was in french! fans went crazy bc she sounded SO good and her pronounciation was good too

after that she says, "renjun took english from me" in english and playfully glared at the older boy who laughed.

she turned to the fans and said, "but um, wendy-unnie taught me that so .. if it sounds bad it's all her fault." she claps as the other boys laugh

when they were talking about how they felt, rory said "i watched superm and wayv's concerts so i was excited because i knew we'd hear from the fans just like they were here with us in person. they were really loud, too" and laughs

when renjun told them to scream, she hit him lightly and said "yah, don't you remember what i just said? some fans it's 3am there!"

"oh dont scream then," renjun laughed, making her laugh before she went back to waving at the fans as they waved their lightsticks

when the fans appeared behind them, her eyes widened and she immediately ran to the screen, waving in all directions

she noticed when she got close to a fan's screen, they'd start waving their hand/lighstick even harder and it made her laugh

"rory, come back!" jaemin laughed, tugging her with him back to where the other 5 were

"wow, pretty grass" rory mocked mark as she stared at the lightsticks where the audience were supposed to be and on the screens

haechan had to hide a laugh

then there was we go up performance

woo fun

then stronger! she loves that song is2g

okay for the next vcr

she was in a school uniform standing in between jeno and jaemin

"you guys suck," rory laughed, watching the boys try to succeed

when renjun comes over and succeeds in under one minute and one hand, she gasped in shock lightly before watching him walk away coolly and put his head back down on the desk

jaemin nudged her as she laughed, "you guys are just losers!"

and then it ends on her walking over to renjun and bending down to face him and tapping him on the shoulder

he jumps from how close she is and she laughs, grinning at him, "that was cool" before going back over to the boys and he watches her

next video of the vcr oo

she gets hit in the head by the basketball(she's after chenle) and luckily saves it before it falls to the ground and throws it towards the basket, renjun jumping up to hit it in

why is she always getting hit in the head rip rory's head

next performance is dunk shot!!!

she hated the outfits tho jfc

she was wearing white loose shorts that ended midthigh and a pink button up over a white t-shirt

yeah super plain im so sorry rory that the stylists did you dirty like that

(to be fair the boys looked bad too like what was that matching .. there was NONE)

NEXT IS CHEWING GUM!!

AND THERE WERE HOVERBOARDS

SHE MISSED THE HOVERBOARDS SO MUCH

she hyped up jisung so loud during his solo dance

and had a huge ass smile on her face during it

she was in the middle of renjun and chenle at the bottom

AND THEY LEFT A SPACE FOR MARK IN BETWEEN JAEMIN AND JISUNG SHE ALMOST CRIED

"i think chenle changed the most" rory laughed, talking about the difference from now and almost four years ago when they debuted

"you changed a lot, too" chenle poked her and she huffed out a laugh, choosing not to respond to him and shook her head

when it was time for the interactions, she had to hide her wince because since she watched wayv and superm's, she was worried about how it would go because some fans' wifi connections were bad(so were sm's but anyways--)

oh luckily the first fan spoke korean !!

"hi!" she waved excitedly at the fan

when the fan said her name, she quietly repeated it to herself but it was still heard from the mic

"there's a song called 7 days in your album. what do you guys mean to each other?"

rory's mouth went dry at that question as she rubbed her hands together, looking at the boys silently as they ahhed and oohed

she smiled slightly as she saw how big their smiles got at the question

chenle said that the members were his family. they're literally siblings

she laughed at that

hyuck said that the members were apart of himself and that he grew up with all of them

jisung said bc they're older than him, they're like his younger siblings

rory had to look away in order to not laugh at his answer LMFAO

she couldnt contain how big her smile got when jaemin said that he couldn't live without them

she literally almost cried from tears of laughter from jeno's answer "onion"

renjun said that the members are youth to him

and him bringing up the stupid bottle to his face . i s2g she quickly yanked that from him so quick while laughing

and then finally it was her turn

"um, thank you for the question, siyoung!" she clapped slightly before continuing. "to me, the members are .. my childhood" she nodded slightly as she spoke. "we all grew up together so each of them have a piece of my childhood that i dont want to leave"

renjun pulls her into a side hug as jeno says "cute~"

wolfies(rory's stans) cried

when the fan said she'd stick with nct dream seven days a week, she laughed from the sudden overwhelming feeling at her words and bowed towards the fan, keeping her eyes to the ground so the camera wouldn't catch her teary eyes

too bad the camera did once she looked back up

"nct dream have 8 members--" when haechan said that, rory smiled big and nodded her head

"infinity" rory cheered, the members following behind

the next caller was up!

"ooh, poland" rory smiled

the fans question was "what are your biggest dreams" which she translated for them

rory's answer was "i have no doubt that nct dream will stay together forever so ... i my biggest dream is nctzens staying with us forever. even when we all grow up and have our own lives, i hope nctzens will some day think of nct dream and smile"

jaemin literally walked over and pinched her cheek, cooing at how cute she was

rory rolled her eyes playfully but let him

ah yes to this day he's still the only one she'll allow to give her skinship in public

rip other boys

she felt so sad when the third caller's connection was bad

"ah ... difficult technicalities"

she put a thumbs down

anyways next was don't need your love!!!

she LOVES this song so much guys its unreal

her place at the start is right in between renjun and jisung again lmao

shes leaning against chenle and jaemin

she loves hearing the boys' english btw

also in this version she has more lines but im not gonna tell which ones that's too much work

and next is we young!!

watching the part when they take a pic .. made me cry so it made rory very nostalgic

rory's wearing a professional suit but like . with a skirt i forgot what its called rip

she's standing in between hyuck and jeno

when jaemin laughs she laughs

she has that pic in her phone case btw

along with an ot8 pic

when they're talking abt the 50 years later OO im gonna . cry again

"so we can see how we change"

"um, we're gonna look older" rory laughed

btw grandma rory literally still looks good as hell sorry i dont make the rules

rory: "chenle would look like steve jobs but like .. chinese"

chenle was so offended bye

rory: "jisung if you grow a mustache i will never forgive you"

"wHY DOES IT MATTER?????"

"bc you'd look stupid i cant be seen with someone looking stupid"

the other pic where renjun jumps .. her face is literally so genuinely shocked in that pic LMAO she didnt expect that

NEXT IS BEST FRIENDS OH MY GODD I LOVED IT SO DID SHE

SHE JUST WISHED MARK WAS THERE .. AND HE KINDA WAS

btw she was wearing a black blazer but it was shorter .. and another black skirt with a white crop top underneath rip

OKAY HYERI MADE NCTZENS CRY SO HARD

so theyre uneven rn right?

so instead of her being a third wheel(not really)

when it's her part, she's backstage and as she's doing her part, she reached into an open closet and .. pulls out a cutout board of mark :((

yeah she cried too when she thought of it and luckily sm let her!!

at the end of her part towards the end of the song, she smiles and says, "right, mark-oppa?" and forms half a heart up to the camera

(taeyong later sends her a video of mark reacting to her parts and when she does the heart he puts half a heart up next to hers <3)

next is candle light! they dont really have a choreo to this one either

anyway candle light wouldnt have been her first choice bc she'd prefer to perform dear dream .. BUT ANYWAY

next is PUZZLE PIECE and 7 DAYS!!

the camera catches her and jisung doing their little handshake . so cute

she then hugs chenle so he wouldnt feel left out

end posing of puzzle piece, she's in between chenle and jisung AGAIN SLDJDJL

they form a heart with her doing the bottom and chenle and jisung doing the top/sides

when they read the comments after performing jeno reads one that says "rory is so talented, her vocals are so good"

and then hyuck read "rory's parts in best friends was so cute"

she blushes so cute

when they talk abt the album

rory says in english, "thank you for supporting us and we hope you guys enjoyed listening to the album as much as we enjoyed making it .. think of it as our gift to you for always loving us!!" cute baby. and then gives a little finger heart

special guest is mark, jungwoo, and doyoung!!

she expected mark but was surprised about jungwoo and doyoung

she couldnt stop smiling the whole time because literally all she had to do was see 127 and smile immediately like they dont even got to do anything

the technical difficulties .. rory said in english again "i think you need to get your wifi checked, mark"

"no mark-oppa?" he teased and she laughed

when they were complimenting them, jungwoo said that mark really enjoyed rory's parts in best friends and she full out giggled from nervousness, blushing from embarrassment

doyoung complimented her vocals and rap and shes never been so proud of herself

compliments from 127? her greatest achievement

jungwoo then said she was so cute wow more blushing

she found the challenge boring and wouldve preferred if 127 picked the damn challenge themselves bc then it wouldve been funnier and more fun but alas .. sm >:(

she picked puzzle piece tho

THE FUCKING NEXT VCR .. so emotional when she watched over it

she literally just watched her and her friends grow up in literal seconds

there's a clip of her from chewing gum on mark's back while he's riding the hoverboard

.. also somehow they got a clip of her hugging jaemin when he came back sigh

emotional manipulation!! she was kinda pissed that was in there bc it was supposed to be private but what can she do .. it's sm

there's a video of her chasing jeno during we young era while on the mv set

and another one of renjun literally dragging her on the ground because she wouldnt let go of his legs in mfal era

in mfal era she's seen running over chenle when he's out of their little cars

its funny he almost fell if jeno didnt catch him LMAO

but its ok dont fret he was in the grass

mfal era where hyuck tries to make a basket but fails and she steals the ball from him and makes it in .. he pouted FOREVER after that

the video of them in chewing gum era and then goes to ridin' era ..

her clip is her smiling shyly at the camera WITH HER CUTE PIGTAILS OH MYGODDD SO SOFT SO BABY

and then it goes to her in ridin' era with her leaning against the car and a lollipop in her mouth, staring dead straight at the camera somehow intimidatingly

n then ofc the music changes and the videos go more recent

theres clips of her behind the scenes in we young, go, dnyl, and boom

also some of her at that dream show concert

the ridin' stage was prerecorded but anyway she's wearing the same outfit she does in the mv

she saw a clip of the car cg and she yelled at the members jokingly saying it almost ran her over

wearing same outfit for quiet down which was live

they had one more song after :( she was really sad and she made sure nctzens knew that

"i wish we could perform more songs for you guys but .. only one more :(" and then sighed really loudly

"i wish you guys were here in person as well but your health is way more important and until then .. well, hopefully we can see each other again in the future! i miss seeing all your pretty faces" she then pouted as the other members oohed loudly and she laughed

after the other members continue she then reminds them all to "wash their hands and wear their masks over their noses if they have to go out"

when renjun says bonjour her eyes widen and she says "wow, so you stole my english and now my french?" she jokingly raises her hand to hit him but all he does is laughs and grabs her hand to 'stop her'

last is boom!

they shouldve performed dear dream or mfal but i guess booms good too not like they havent had to hear that song for 9 months

anyways

at the end she sneakily gives the camera a finger heart

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nat-roman0ff · 5 years

Text

iii. halloween (prelude to a canadian winter)

series of blurbs // a certain time and place

iii. halloween (prelude to a canadian winter)

the one where they finally meet.

wc: 3,130

warnings: naughty words, the weedypuff, really bad puns & starbucks lovers.

---

Halloween. The one time of year it’s socially acceptable to be an adult and dress up in a costume without someone thinking you have some sort of weird fetish.

In the city of Toronto, Canada, the air is crisp, the leaves change their colors, and Shawn is on the hunt.

He’s maneuvering the last piece of his costume onto his body with the help of his best friend, Brian. He’s dressed as Julius Caesar; wearing a homemade cardboard cutout of a salad dressing bottle and a wreath crown.

“I still don’t get it, man,” Brian scratches his head as Shawn stretches, figuring out how well he can move in the restrictive piece.

He sighs, “dressed as Julius Caesar, get it?”

Brian scrunches his face, “it truly is a mystery as to why you’re still single.”

Shawn rolls his eyes, “well I’m sorry but dressing up as Ron Weasley for the sixth year in a row isn’t very creative. At least I have some originality.”

“There aren’t many options for gingers, alright? And you’ve dressed up as every version of Harry Potter in existence; steampunk Harry, goth Harry, there was even that one year you did Rainbow Bright Harry-”

“I get it,” Shawn cuts off, “I just want tonight to be different.”

Now it’s Brian’s turn to roll his eyes, “is it that girl? God, I can never remember her name. The one who used to date Jonah? Joe’s cousin? She’s Allie’s best friend or something-”

“She has a name.”

“Well I’d certainly hope she does,” Brian deadpans, “you’ve never even spoken to her, what’s got you so twisted up over her?”

“Don’t know, man,” Shawn gives himself a once over in the mirror and shakes out the nerves, “just have a feeling, you know?”

---

The party is really fucking loud.

She’s never been a fan of house parties. Too many people crammed into too small of a place with shitty music being played off of someone’s home grown Spotify playlist, the alcohol is always lukewarm and the weed sucks.

Normally, she doesn’t attend such events, but her sort of - kind of - not really boyfriend had broken up with her four months ago and her best friend decided it was goddamn time she showered and get out of her apartment.

“What’re you supposed to be?” Someone hiccups from beside her.

He’s glassy eyes, clearly drunk or stoned or some type of combination of both. He stands leaning just a little too close to her, his drink nearly tipping out of his red solo cup.

“A Cereal Killer,” she pips, taking a sip of her Diet Coke, not making eye contact.

“That’s really fucking weird,” he shouts above the music.

She shrugs, “well I guess I’m really fucking weird then,” and steps away.

She wanders for a bit, bopping her head to the (shitty) music and catches up with a few people here and there. Her best friend is no doubt flirting with the dude she’s been trying to get with for like, ever. She doesn’t mind being left alone, she prefers it, in fact.

On the other side of the house, Shawns’ nearly chewed through the side of his plastic cup. He’s not sure why the Hell he’s so nervous. They’ve met before in passing, but she was always with her boyfriend and Shawn never wanted to be that guy. So he let it go.

That is, until two weeks ago, when Allie told her friend Stella that Jonah and his girl were ‘like totally for sure over for good this time’. Everyone knows Stella can’t keep a secret, so it eventually got to Jake who told Matt who told Brian who eventually told Shawn. He felt his heart get a little lighter that day.

Maybe it was the poet in him, that idolizes the idea of a person instead of who they really are because in reality, he didn’t really know her. Sure, he knew that she was beautiful but not in that obvious way that had a dozen cargo shorts, fake Yeezy, tube sock wearing dudes drooling around her, it was in her own different way. He noticed the way her face lit up when someone said something funny; she’d let out a giant thundering laugh and then immediately cover her mouth, her cheeks turning a brilliant shade of pink that reminded him of the roses in his mum’s garden. She walked like there wasn’t a weight on her shoulders, like she wasn’t holding a secret, she reminded him of a warm spring day just as the seasons changed.

Yeah, it was definitely the poet in him.

“Yoooo, Earth to Mendes,” Brian says, waving a hand in front of Shawn’s face.

Shawn blinks.

“Last I saw her she was in the living room talking to Ricky Hurley,” Brian says sipping his drink, “fuck that guy”

“He really is an asshole, isn’t he?” Shawn groans, “I’ll be back.”

“Go get ‘em Julius!” Brian yells as Shawn shoves his way through the crowd.

He finds her in the living room, nursing her red solo cup and leaning against a bookcase. She’s casing the room, looking for anything mildly interesting to eavesdrop on. There isn’t much; a couple making out on the couch, a fight about to break out, beer pong games. She rolls her eyes and scans again once before seeing Shawn. She chokes on her soda when she sees that ridiculous costume.

She’s actually kind of impressed when Shawn finally does approach her, he leans so casually beside her but she can tell by the crimson shade that rests high in his cheeks that he’s far from calm.

“So what’s your costume?” Shawn asks.

She tugs on her shirt to show off the various individual sized boxes of cereal taped to her, “I’m a Cereal Killer. We’ve got Honey Nut Bundy-O’s,” she points as she goes along, “Rice Krispie Dahmers, Honey Bunches of Gacy, Shredded Zodiacs and my personal favorite Cinnamon Toast Manson.”

Shawn chuckles, “that’s great. But Charles Manson never actually killed anyone.”

She rolls her eyes, “close enough.”

He shrugs it off and a silence falls between the two of them. Shawn takes two more sips of his water before he has the guts to talk again.

“Fun party, I guess?”

She gives him the side eye, “if you have to say ‘I guess’, that probably means it’s a shitty party.”

He grins, “yeah, I suppose you’re right. What are you still doing here then if it’s so shitty?”

“Socializing, I guess?” She replies.

Shawn leans closer, “if you have to say ‘I guess’, you’re probably doing a shitty job at socializing.”

She smiles for the first time and he feels goddamn honored to have put that on her face, “touche. Do I know you from somewhere?”

Shawn always hates this question; he never wants to come off arrogant and assume everyone knows his superstar status, but he also doesn’t want to lie or play dumb to anyone. It’s a double edged sword, so he treads lightly.

“I think so. We always seem to be at the same parties but I’ve never worked up the nerve to actually talk to you,” he replies.

“Oh the nerve?” She teases, “that implies I’m something to be feared.”

“Maybe you are.”

“But you don’t know me,” she winks, “so what do you do...Julius Caesar?”

“I, uhm, play music.”

“Oh that’s cute,” she replies, “are you in like a band or something?”

Shawn starts to fumble with his words.

“I’m fucking with you,” she says lowly and holds his arm, “I know who you are and what you do. I’m just really bad at small talk.”

Shawn lets out a relieved breath, “yeah, me too.”

“Yeah,” she starts, “it’s like I just go from zero to one-eighty. I’ll take a conversation about the weather and turn it into a therapy session about my deep rooted male abandonment issues. Do you happen to have a close relationship with your mother?”

Shawn stares blankly and she cracks, her face spreading into a wide smile, “I’m still fucking with you, Shawn.”

He covers his face with his hands, “you’re gonna give me a run for my money, aren’t you?”

She shrugs and something comes over her. It takes Shawn about four seconds to realize her hand is in his and another three to realize she’s pulling him towards the bathroom. He doesn’t question it, and insteads mutters “sorry” and “excuse me” every time he bumps someone with his costume. He’s counted six spilled drinks by the time they reach the bathroom.

Once the door closes behind them Shawn’s being shoved against it and her lips are on his in a mad fury. However, she keeps getting hit in the chin with his stupid fucking costume.

“Ow, ow, ow,” she mutters in between frantic kisses.

She isn’t sure what’s come over her. She’s not usually the type of girl to pull a stranger into the bathroom and mouth harass him. Helen Keller could see that Shawn was definitely at least interested in her, so why not? She was single for the first time in two years and -

Okay, maybe she was a little desperate.

“Wait - this isn’t working. Sit on the counter!” Shawn suggests and she follows order, hopping up on the counter top.

It doesn’t work, that’s apparent when Shawn struggles to fit himself and his bulky costume between her legs. She pulls away and holds his face between her palms, “such a pretty face for such a big head.”

She taps his cheek and hops down, “I don’t think this is going to work out.”

“I mean I can take off the costume -”

“No, don’t bother. Remember when I said I was bad at small talk?” She rubs her temples.

“Yeah that was like ten minutes ago -”

“Are you always so literal?” She snips, “sorry.”

“Okay, so, bad at small talk, go on,” Shawn instructs.

She catches her breath for a moment, “right, right. So like, I saw this guy on and off for probably like, two years? And he just never really gave me the time of day. So I was always chasing after him. I think he got off on it, in a sense, how I would always come to him. It was so gross and desperate so when I saw that you were flirting with me. I don’t know - it was just nice. Different than what I’m used to.”

She picks at a hangnail on her right ring finger.

“People don’t flirt with you?” Shawn asks.

She shakes her head, “I’m wearing fucking cereal boxes taped to my body while every other girl is out there wearing a corset and fishnets. I’m a pariah.”

“That’s stupid. You’re great, people are just -”

“Horny?”

They both laugh.

“Yeah, horny,” Shawn agrees.

He links his arm through hers, “c’mon, let’s get back out there and I’ll try and forget your terrible kissing.”

She punches the cardboard.

“Hey! Don’t dent my dressing.”

She reaches for the knob but it doesn’t turn. She gives it a jiggle but it still doesn’t budge.

“I think the door is stuck.”

Shawn raises an eyebrow, “let me in there.”

She puts her hands up, “alright big strong man.”

He struggles with the knob and she watches with her hands on her hips as he pulls and wiggles the door, “okay we’re locked in.” He finally gives up.

She takes her spot back on the counter, “we’ll just have to wait for the next person who has to use the bathroom.”

“I could think of worse people to be stuck in a room with.”

“Justin Bieber?”

Shawn grins and nods, “definitely.”

He carefully starts to pull off his costume, and takes a deep breath when it’s finally off, placing it gingerly on the floor.

“That is a really great costume, by the way. A girl loves a good pun.”

Shawn grins, “thanks, my mum helped me make it...which I’m now realizing is probably something I shouldn’t be admitting out loud.”

“I think it’s sweet, she did a Hell of a job.”

He looks proud, “thanks,” he replies with a grin, “so what do we do now?”

She fishes in her back pocket and pulls out an orange lighter and a joint, “brought this for Plan B if tonight really sucked. Do you smoke?”

Shawn sighs a breath of relief, “yes, yes I do.”

---

Shawn reckons he can see the sky on the ceiling of the bathroom, the clouds swirling above his head as they move through the atmosphere all white and puffy. He tries his best to remember the feeling of her warm body pressed against him and breathes in the scent of her (lavender?) shampoo. He can feel every hair on his body vibrate, and when he waves his own hand in front of his face, it moves in slow motion.

They’ve managed to finish almost all of the joint, squished next to each other in the bathtub, their limbs hanging out over the side of the tub. It’s been easily an hour at this point and no one had come to their rescue.

“Drake is the best Canadian artist to ever exist, point blank,” he says, lulling his head over to look at her.

“Are you high?” She replies.

Shawn sorts, “actually, yeah.”

She rolls her eyes, “It’s all about Alanis Morissette, dude. Jagged Little Pill defined my entire middle school persona. You Outta Know was my breakup song for all my imaginary boyfriends”

“Honestly? After meeting you that makes so much sense.”

She slaps his chest, “shut up.”

Shawn rests his head on her shoulder, “is this alright? I’m a little dizzy.”

She replies by putting her hand on his thigh, “yeah,” she mutters and closes her eyes.

She can hear his heart beating along with the music from the party. It’s a harmonious mix and she’s sure it’s because shes stoned out of her mind but it’s the most fucking beautiful sound she’s ever heard. She tries to place the beat, to follow along with it but it changes; crescendos then relaxes again. Shawn’s hand is rubbing the small of her back and it’s then that she realizes they’ve somehow ended up cuddled into each other.

Shawn certainly doesn’t mind it. He listens for her soft breaths and tries to decide if she smells like a rainy summer day or a lavender field. Eventually his lips find her bare neck and he barely even touches her and her skin prickles wherever he makes contact. Just existing beside her is the most fun he’s had all week. She’s everything he expected her to be, and more.

Finally, when they’re face to face, he presses his forehead against hers, “do you believe in soul mates?”

She cackles, and pushes him away, “alright I think you’ve hit your max for tonight.”

Shawn leans back and away from her and sighs, “yeah, guess so,” he grumbles.

She follows suit, propping her hands behind her head and listening to the music reverberate against the tiled walls of the bathroom, “it’s almost kind of peaceful, isn’t it?”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news...but I have to pee,” Shawn states, clamoring out of the tub, “close the shower curtain.”

“What? Don’t want me to see your pasty white ass?”

He glares.

“Fine, fine,” she agrees and pulls the curtain shut in front of her.

The familiar first notes of one of her favorite songs starts to play, “are you playing Blank Space right now?” She questions.

“I didn’t want you to hear me peeing!”

She can’t contain her laughter anymore, and it’s coming out in snorts and gasps and she doesn’t care how much like a dying cow she sounds like. It’s the most carefree she’s felt in too long and she’s going to embrace it while she can; before the walls start to cement themselves up again and she’s back in her fortress of blah.

She’s still in the midst of her laugh attack when Shawn rips open the curtain, folding his arms across his broad chest. He looked extra tall from where she was sitting and she’s pretty sure a bead of drool slips out from the side of her mouth when she looks up at him. She licks her lips once, he speaks before she does.

“I’m hungry. Want to get out of here?” He offers a hand.

“I cordially accept your offer, but only under the pretense that we go to McDonalds. I’m seriously craving some chicken nuggets right now.”

Shawn smiles, “it’s a deal.”

He pulls a little to hard and catapults her into him. Neither mind, and Shawn makes a mental note of how perfectly she fits against him, all their nooks and crannies lining up. He fights all his urges to kiss her until it physically pains him to hold her so close and not be able to do anything about it. Shawn takes a half step (whole step for her) back and lets go.

She’s the first one to the door he catches her look and they both groan in unison, “fuck, the door.”

Someone bangs on the other side now, though, “oy fuck man I gotta take a leak!” They yell.

There’s pushing and pulling until finally, something breaks and the door crashes open, leaving her and Shawn to fall on their asses. It takes her a second to shake off the stinging feeling in her ass and lower back.

“Oh my GOD! There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Her best friend passes through the doorway, pushing past the dude now whizzing in the toilet nonchalantly.

“Been kind of stuck,” she replies, getting up.

Shawn helps, and rubs the small of her back for her.

“With him?” Her friend questions, “really?” She mutters a bit lower and out of Shawn’s earshot.

She nods, “I had a great time actually.”

“That’s fantastic and I’m very happy for you, but we have to go -”

Before she can turn back to Shawn, she’s being pulled out of the bathroom and towards the front door of the house. She gives her friend credit, she can hustle in those five inch heels. Shawn can barely keep up through the crowds of people as he chases after them. He’s desperate for anything, desperate for her. He has to see her again, get her number, something that proves tonight wasn’t all in his head.

By the time he’s reached the front walkway he sees the car pulling away. He thinks about chasing after her but stops himself, his feet glued to the ground below him. Shawn stands on the cobblestone pathway for what seems like forever, watching until the taillights blur into the distance,

just as the first snowflake hits his shoulder.

---

hellooooo! here is part 3. i really love this one, i think it’s really getting into their characters and the banter and all that fun stuff. i’m truly considering making this into a full fledged series with an oc once the last part (5) is posted.

please let me know what you think! :)

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes imagine #actap

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hopefullyanauthor · 4 years

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A snippet of a new wip idea. Just wrote it, no editing. Just getting thoughts out so it's not perfect. Hope you enjoy it anyway.

I let him lead me through the dim tunnels, a fae light bobbing here and there. My fingers tighten around his as my other hand wraps around his forearm. I can't see nearly as well as he can in this lighting. That's the excuse I'm telling myself for pulling closer to him. It shouldn't matter. I already know I'm doomed. My heart pounds against my chest. I wonder if he can hear it in the quiet of the caves.

His thumb brushes over the back of my hand. My breath catches at the softness of that touch. I'm very aware of how alone we are. The sounds of the court have long faded behind us.

As we walk on in the dim light my mind begins to wander. I begin to wonder what that soft touch would feel like in other places. A warmth spreads through me in the cool tunnels. I have to stop myself when I picture him pushing me against one of these secluded tunnel walls and taking me right there. I have to remind myself that he can sense that sort of thing, smell it on me. He probably already can. Damnit.

He acts no differently though, says nothing. Just continues leading me down one tunnel and turning into the next. I'm about to ask how much further when the tunnel begins to open until we find ourselves in a large cavern. The whole thing casts in a blue light. It takes me a moment to realize that it's moonlight pooling in from above. And in the middle of it all is a rippling pool.

As I step further in, the reflection of the night sky in the waters takes my breath away. The small gasp that leaves my lips sounds too loud in the quiet. The water is so crystal clear it looks as though I could scoop a star up in my palm.

I've never seen anything so beautiful, that is until Ilias steps in front of me, completely nude. The moonlight casts blue shadows over his muscles, stirring up that warm desire coursing through me.

He half turns back to me, "I thought you might enjoy a swim." I can just make out the amused smile on his face in the moon's light. I close my gaping mouth and try to gather my thoughts. Swim. He wants to swim, that's all. Maybe Faeries don't bother with the whole swimsuit thing. I want nothing more than to follow him into that night sky water.

"The water is nice and warm." He says after a moment, seeing that I haven't answered, "Fed by a hot spring."

I blink. I can't just stand here, "That sounds nice." I manage, my voice coming out strange and tight. I clear my throat, trying to sound casual, "where did you put your clothes?"

He nods back toward the tunnel entrance, a hint of a smile still on his lips. I glance behind me and see the pile casually discarded on a natural rock shelf along the wall.

I move over that that nook, my heart pounding loudly in my ears. I glance up at the few Faery lights bouncing overhead before landing my gaze on his discarded clothes. I spare a glance behind me to see he's waded in a bit further, the water meeting his knees, hiding nothing of his perfect ass. Shit, I'd like to give that a good squeeze.

He turns back towards me and I quickly avert my gaze, slipping out of my sneakers and socks. I take another glance at his clothes, assuring myself that I won't be the only naked person in here, though the thought does nothing to steady the racing of my heart. Before I can overthink it I pull my shirt above my head, throwing it down beside his. I slink out of my bralette, sliding down the straps and undoing the back. I don't have the largest breasts, but I like them well enough. My left one sporting a rather cute freckle pattern. I wonder if he'll notice. If he'll not mind that they aren't the heaviest full rounded breasts. I push away the thought. It doesn't matter. That's not what this is anyway.

I shimmy out of my pants. I may not have been blessed with the fullest breats, but I know I have a nice ass. I take my time folding up my clothes in case he might be appreciating the view of my it.

Cool air pickles my skin, perks the peeks of my breats. I take a deep breath and turn around to see him waiting. I shuffle across the cavern, my feet scuffing against the uneven stone floor, "That water better be warm." I tease as I approach. I have to say something to break through the tense silence of being so naked next to him.

"It is." He assures me with a warm smile, extending out a hand. I take it and wade tentatively into the waters. The moment my foot touches the water a small moan escapes my lips. I didn't mean to, but the heat feels delicious against my goose-pimpled skin.

I resist the urge to dive in completely, instead letting the warmth wrap around me like a silken blanket as I wade into the depths. I forget for a moment that we're both naked as the water slides over me.

Making it to the center of the pool I have to dance on my tippy toes under the water, submerging all the way to my neck, brushing below my ears. Ilias doesn't seem to be having the same struggle, the water grazing the base of his collarbone.

I watch him in the light of the moon, casting his handsome features in a blue glow as he gazes upwards. I follow his gaze and get lost in what I find. Like a piece of the night sky has been cut out just for us, the stars incredibly bright from the darkness of this cavern. Silhouettes of trees border the edges of the cutout jagged circle.

My toes slip out from beneath me, plunging my mouth and nose underwater. It takes me a moment to bring me back to earth, to the cavern. I got lost in that piece of the sky. I feel and arm slip around me and hoist me up and against him, my nakedness touches his, "water too deep for ya?" He jokes, a warm smile lighting up his deep brown eyes.

"I guess I just got lost in the view for a moment. My feet slipped."

He glances up again, still holding me up, holding me against his side. "It's easy to get lost in." He says softly, as though he's doing just that. "It's no mountain view, but it has it's own special qualities."

"I haven't seen the mountain view," I muse, "but I do like the privacy of this. On a mountain you have to share the whole sky with the rest of the world. Here, it's like this piece was cut out just for us."

He's quiet for a moment and I don't think he will respond, "I always thought that." He says, "I used to take that view for granted, but here, I rarely get a glimpse of the sky. I feel as though someone cut this out for me, just so I wouldn't go mad in the Underground." I glance up to him, my chin brushing his shoulder, leaving behind a trail of water gleaming in the light, "I come here a lot to clear my thoughts. I need this bit of open sky. Sometimes things feel so trapped down here, as cozy as I try to make it."

"Does everyone in the kingdom know about it?"

"Yes, I wouldn't be so selfish to keep the sky to myself." He remarks. I don't know if I would be the same. I would like to have the seclusion of this place to myself. As if echoing my thoughts he continues, "But they know not to follow me here. This place is a place of solitude, but if there are already others here I won't make them leave either. It's not fair that I hog the sky."

As he talks I let my head rest on his shoulder, my neck starting to hurt from craning it back for the view. His arm slips around me a little more, his touch feeling almost cool in the warmth of the water around us, "You are a kind ruler then." I remark.

He chuckles, "Well, it also wouldn't do me well to have a kingdom full of mad men and women." He says it light-heartedly, but I can feel the strain behind his words, the truth in it. "I knew from the moment I found this place that it was a salvation to all of us, to have this one piece of sky."

His thumb grazes along the bone of my hip and in the warmth and smoothness of the water I feel as though we are lying tangled in silk sheets together. The thought brings a smile to my lips.

(That's all of this. Let me know if you like it. I can give background if anyone is interested. I would love to hear what you all think of the concept.)

#my writing #writeblr #writeblogging #my wips

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mere-mortifer-writing · 5 years

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Close Quarters

Pairing: Lucifer/Reader; Lucifer/OFC

Rating: Explicit. This is pure filth lmao

Summary: You're stuck in a closet with Lucifer. That's it, that's the plot. Enjoy! x x x The fact is, the closet really is tiny and with her standing up they would be nose-to-nose if it weren’t for the height difference. He's more than a head taller than her, and this close she would need to barely move to kiss the column of his neck. Her eyes follow the line of tendons under his skin from his jawline, down to where his shirt obstructs the view.

Unable to resist the pull of his gaze, she raises her eyes to meet his. “Hi”, she says again, as softly as the atmosphere requires. Her stomach is already tied up in knots. Lucifer's smile softens, and he angles his head so that their lips are even closer together. “Hello, there."

Tags: Dirty talk; Slow sex; Shy!Reader; Attempt at humour; Semi-public sex

You can also read it on Ao3

She knew it was a bad idea even before leaving her house.

Honestly, a blind date? Her? Recipe for disaster, obviously. She still doesn't know what compelled her to accept to go to dinner with some random guy that her best friend works with - actually, she knew why: it was to stop her cries of “you seriously need to get laid!”

And sitting at a table of the restaurant, still blissfully alone after an hour and a half, she realises that the guy had stood her up. Which would be very sad, possibly even a hard blow to her self-confidence, if only cancelling plans didn't always give a rush of endorphins: the anxiety that had clawed her all week disappears; her shoulders relax, the high heels she's wearing don't hurt anymore.

She doesn't even give a fuck that she's sitting alone at a restaurant, that's how good the prospect of good food and her favourite book (she had it in her purse, just in case) without a stranger sitting with her feels.

Also, there's this man, a few tables from hers, that with some luck she'll be able to stare at without being seen.

He's sitting with a dark haired woman, but he's so magnetic she barely notices her presence. He's got dark hair, perfectly styled, and stubbles that shadow his strong jawline. She risks another glance at him a minute later, hoping against hope that he doesn't notices, and catches a view of his profile while he talks with the sommelier. He's smiling, a bit lasciviously, looking at the other man from underneath his lashes.

Is he-is he flirting with him? Chances are he is, considering how the sommelier is blushing - and, really, it makes sense. If she was that hot she would flirt with anything and anyone just to see them all flustered.

He looks like a Hollywood actor.

No, better, he looks like Hollywood actors look in your head when it's the middle of the night and you're thinking of that super hot scene that was your sexual awakening as a teen.

In other words: too good to be true. She is probably just making him up, actually.

Fuck, her friend is right - she does need to get laid.

In the meantime, she will not deny herself the small pleasure of imagining, in graphic details, all the ways she could ruin the expensive suit he's wearing.

Which is obviously when a gunshot resonates in the room, scaring the shit out of every client.

Because this is her life: she can't think “hey, I'd like to have sex with than man” without God going like think again, bitch and sending someone to shoot the place!

She thinks this while scrambling away from her table, fight or flight instinct kicking in before she has time to think. “Flight” wins, hands down, because you don't bring uncomfortable heels and lack of military training to a gunfight.

“Lucifer Morningstar!” someone screams behind her back when the shooting stops. “You're a dead man!”

The oh-so-hot man from before is still comfortably lounging on his chair, idly drinking from his wine glass. “Am I now? That's news to me.”

The woman who was dining with him is standing protectively close to him, wearing the smile of a shark ready to kill some innocent baby seals.

Get the fuck out of here, a rational voice in her head says.

“Door. Too far.” she mumbles to herself, eyeing the scene and the feet of panicked clients and staff exiting the restaurant. She is hiding behind some decorative plants, on her hands and knees.

Great sentence structure. Hide, then, go, come on!

And so she crawls away, praying not to be seen, towards the staff-only part of the restaurant.

***

She ends up in some sort of service closet inside the kitchen, comforting both in size and the silence that closing the door shut brings.

There's a distinctive smell of soap in the air, and the only feasible place to sit are some packages of toilet paper, but you know what that tiny supply closet doesn't have?

Menacing figures dressed in black shooting everywhere.

It feels like a home, already.

She stays there for a while, listening desperately for the distant screams and noises of things breaking to stop - or at least for police sirens to come closer.

And for a while nothing changes, but then the door to the kitchen bangs open and for a second she thinks this is it, this is how I die.

Killed in a dusty closet that smells like a hospital.

“Stay here!” a woman's voice intimidates.

“But, Maze-” A man this time, British, the tone of a child that got denied his favourite candy.

“No but's, I'm not gonna let you get killed!”

There's the sound of two pair of feet moving - oh no, oh no, please no - closer to her hideout and she has literally nowhere to hide, so she slaps a hand on her mouth and tries to do her best impression of a cardboard cutout. She manages to shut off the light, though - not that it will do much.

The door of the closet wrenches open, and she doesn't have time to think before a tall figure takes up the little space left, almost falling over her.

The door closes again, lock clicking into place with violence. “And you stay the fuck in there, Lucifer, am I clear?” the woman says, and then nothing more.

Lucifer?, she thinks. The man I was imagining in compromising positions few minutes ago?

And then, after fixing her priorities: the one they were shooting at?

“Like a lock can stop me…” Lucifer (what kind of parents-) is muttering to himself, but his words trail off. His shoulders tense, his head snaps to the side, but she can barely see all this in the low light that filters from underneath the door. “Oh, but I have company. Hello, there.”

He finds and flicks on the light switch a second later, turns to see her still sitting on - on toilet paper, of all things.

Fuck her life, honestly.

“Um, hi.” She gives him a little wave. The effort not to stare at his crotch, which is at less than 20 centimetres from her face, is using up all of her social skills - she doesn't nervously giggle only by the grace of God.

His eyes light up, and a boyish smile replace the frown on his face. “You're that cute girl from before! What a pleasant surprise”, he purrs, biting his bottom lip as he does a once-over of what he can see of her figure. “And you're at such an interesting angle, too.”

He called you cute, the high-schooler in her notices.

He's thinking of you sucking his dick!, screams what's probably still the high-schooler in her, but this time with more hormones involved.

Ah, the duality of (wo)man.

“I guess that's me, yeah”, she manages to say. “And you're...Lucifer?”

“That's right, Lucifer Morningstar. Mind coming up here?” He offers her a hand, that she gratefully takes, and he helps her back on her feet.

There's a strength behind the gesture, hiding under the smooth material of his suit, that makes her head spin for a second.

That, and the fact that the closet really is tiny and with her standing up they would be nose-to-nose if it weren’t for the height difference. He's more than a head taller than her, and this close she would need to barely move to kiss the column of his neck. Her eyes follow the line of tendons under his skin from his jawline, down to where his shirt obstructs the view.

Unable to resist the pull of his gaze, she raises her eyes to meet his.

“Hi”, she says again, as softly as the atmosphere requires. Her stomach is already tied up in knots.

Lucifer's smile softens, and he angles his head so that their lips are even closer together. “Hello. Can I know your name?”

She tells him.

He says it back, pouring his British accent all over it, tasting its sound on his lips. “Is that right?”

She nods, because she doesn't trust herself to talk, trying to calm herself down. Impossible not to think how he would say it in another context - or, not even in another context, just 10 minutes from now, 5 minutes if she has it her way…

She must be blushing furiously by now, but maybe he notices how nervous she is because he mercifully doesn't comment on it.

Nervous? Weird way of spelling 'turned on’.

“You're alright, yeah? I'm sorry for all this - those men are here for me. Worry not, my friend is taking care of them.”

Right on cue, some muffled screams filter through the door.

“I figured. But I'm fine, yeah”, she reassures him. She doesn't know where to put her hands, where the fuck does she put her - “Uhm, does this happen often to you? Getting shot at, I mean.”

“People like to try, sometimes, yes. It has never been a problem until recently”, he adds in a more irritated tone.

This guy is probably dangerous, she thinks, he's like a mafia boss or something.

...Do I really wanna fuck a mafia boss?

“I think we'll be stuck here for a while. Say, how should we spend this time together?” he says, his big brown eyes shamelessly set on her lips.

Yes, yes she does, apparently, so much so that the desire gets stuck in her throat, renders her speechless for a moment before sliding down, hot and heavy, to her stomach and then even lower.

“How should we spend this time”?

What a stupid fucking question.

He knows what he's doing, the bastard. This beautiful, infuriating man who looks so perfect she's starting to think he's just an hallucination. Eyes too dark, voice too smooth. She's never been one to lust after a man in a suit, always too uncomfortable around them and their aura of confidence to find them attractive...but Lucifer's legs are long in his tailored Prada trousers and she is - she is, at the end of the day, just human. What is the saying? Flesh is weak?

Yeah, she does feel pretty weak at the moment.

Actually, she's gonna pass the fuck out if he keeps looking at her lips like that and expect her to do something about it. It's a miracle she’s even still standing!

“We- we could get more comfortable”, she finally says, after what feels like a year but were probably just a few seconds of her staring at him, mouth open like a dumb, sexually frustrated fish.

“Oh? How so?” Lucifer presses their bodies closer, and shimmies a little, as if to show her that there isn't any space left in their hideout. “Not much to do about that, I'm afraid.”

Flush against him, from her breasts on his toned chest to one of his legs pleasantly slotted between her thighs, she needs a second to get her brain back online. She feels hot all over, and the sound of her own heartbeat is deafening in her ears.

His thigh is so tantalizingly close to where she really wants it - the thought of the friction of his trousers against her already-soaked underwear is maddening.

“Of course, I could hold you up if you want to”, he adds, feigning innocence. The effect is somewhat ruined by the low timbre of his voice, but mostly by the feeling of his cock hardening against her stomach. “I'm sure it'd feel better than standing in those awfully pretty shoes of yours.”

Lucifer's hands rest nonchalantly on her waist, his thumbs stroking comforting circles on her ribs - and wow, his hands are big, aren't they? Her breasts would fit perfectly well in his palms, like they were made to touch her there, and then lower, lower, to cover the expanse of her stomach, and then to finally cup her over her underwear…

“Still with me?” he asks gently, bringing her back to the present.

“What? Yeah, I'm still...here. With you” - what the fuck was that, even? Get a grip! - “I had something else in mind, actually?”

“Do tell.”

“Mh, there's that little glass panel on the door? It's too low for you but if we switched positions I could look through it”, she explains. “So we can see who - uh, enters the kitchen?”

Okay, alright, she pleads the fifth: she just wants to 1) feel him pressed against her back, and 2) hide her face from him to calm her nerves. Sue her.

Lucifer doesn’t seem concerned with the faulty logic behind her plan, though; doesn’t ask questions like “What we would we even do if we saw someone enter the kitchen?, or “How would that make us any more comfortable?”. He just smiles, and looks quite delighted at the proposition.

“That’s a wonderful plan!” he lies, but with a playful tone that tells her he’s ready to humor her. “I’m particularly interested in how this change in positions will happen.”

And she’s very interested, too, if ‘interested’ is an euphemism for ‘turned on out of her mind’. To be fair, his mind seemed to also have gone in the same direction as hers, if the tongue-in-cheek smile he gives her is any indication: there will probably be some grinding involved.

Hopefully, a lot of it.

“Shall we try, then?” he asks, and doesn’t wait her response before making his grip on her waist stronger to tug her against him. His thigh slides higher and presses right against her core, where she desperately needed pressure; she gasps at the feeling, wondering in the back of her mind if he can feel how wet he is through the leg of his trousers.

“Oops, my bad”, Lucifer says, but doesn’t seem sorry at all, because he does it again, making her bite her lip hard enough to bleed in the effort of silencing a moan. She answers “no problem”, or maybe just rolls her hips against him on her own, who knows? Definitely not her.

The pressure of his leg eases right after, unfortunately, and the two of them try to rotate on their place without stepping on each other's feet until her back is now facing the door.

“Yay, we’re halfway there”, she murmurs against his neck, using talking as an excuse to move her lips on his skin. Lucifer laughs breathlessly in her hair and lets her hands sneak under his open jacket to rest against his sides.

Fuck, fuck, he’s perfect, she thinks, a wave of desire hitting her squarely in the chest. She wants him so much she can barely think, and she realizes - hearing how fast his heart is beating, feeling how laboured his own breathing is - that Lucifer wants her, too.

The realization is intoxicating and helps her relax under his touch.

She likes the he’s not being all calm and collected; she likes the thought that he will gladly come apart in her arms with no shame.

“Now's the fun part”, he says, arching an elegant eyebrow at her. His hands leave her body to sit on the door behind her, effectively caging her in. She doesn't mind one bit.

The closet was obviously made to accommodate only one person at a time, because they are squeezed close enough that turning around will be quite the...intimate experience.

She has never been this excited for something in her entire fucking life, she swears.

“Here goes nothing” she giggles, and thankfully Lucifer seems to find it more endearing than annoying.

She slides her hands up from his waist to his chest, in an unnecessary move studied just to feel his abs contract under her fingers, and then takes them away from his body altogether. She tries to disentangle their legs, and Lucifer reluctantly helps her by moving his toned thigh away from between hers - for the pleasure of literally no one in the tiny room.

Finally she can turn around - and God bless high heels because her hips are at just the right height to drag against Lucifer's clothed erection with every move.

“Bloody-” she hears him hiss when her they're finally back-to-chest and her ass presses deliciously on his cock. He feels so hard she doesn't know how he's still coherent.

“You have to agree” - she wiggles her ass a bit with the pretence of fixing her position - “this does feel more comfy.” Being able to hide her face is making her bolder.

Behind her, Lucifer bites back a groan by pressing his lips in her hair. His hands flex into two fists and relax again on the cold surface of the door.

“My pants don't feel that comfortable at the moment, I'm afraid”, he murmures directly in her ear. His voice is so low and grumbly that she can feel his chest vibrate against her back with every word. “I'd apologize for this” - he pushes his erection more firmly on her lower back - “but you haven't complained even once, so. Also, can you blame me?”

She makes a questioning sound, lost in the feeling of his lean body flushed on hers.

“Close contact, the thrill of possibly being caught - also, you're wearing lip gloss and your hair smells awfully nice…” He kisses the soft skin behind her ear, playful. “A better man than me couldn't resist.”

She can feel blood rise to her cheeks again, and she hides her charmed smile behind her hand. He's got this seduction schtick down to a t, doesn't he?

The entire thing feels surreal. Stuff like this doesn't happen in real life, you don't just find yourself stuck in a closet with Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome singing your praises in the sexiest British accent she has ever heard.

“Say,” he continues, oblivious to her line of thought, “before the Bad Guys stormed the place, were you dining by yourself?” One of his hands disappear from her line of vision to shift her hair all on one side.

“I-yes, I was by myself” she says with what little voice she has left. Lucifer's lips kissing her neck are doing wonders to make her forget about the failed blind date. ‘The guy - oh, that's nice - uhm, the guy didn't show up.”

Lucifer knee slides between her legs until she gets the idea and spreads her thighs to accommodate his better. The friction of his trousers against her clit is heavenly even with her panties still in the way - and, oh, she realizes after a few second that she was absentmindedly grinding against him.

“He stood you up? Obviously didn't know what he was missing.” His hand splays over her stomach and then slides down, until he can gather the soft fabric of her dress in his fingers. “What a rude, bad man”, he says, voice breathless with arousal. He keeps his touch feather-light on her inner thigh, making her shiver and bite back a moan.

She wants, needs him to touch her, her hands are shaking with the strength of the feeling. Maybe he is the actual Devil, she thinks, because this is straight up torture.

But she will not beg him: she has a feeling that Lucifer would just want to hear her being desperate for him a while longer if she did.

“But love, you're in luck - cause I'm much, much better anyway.” He leaves another heated kiss on her neck and moans when his fingers finally, finally, touch her where she wants him. “Fuck, darling - you're so wet.”

Wet? She's dripping, she probably completely ruined the leg of his trousers - and she would be mortified if Lucifer wasn't acting like that's the hottest thing he has ever seen.

His fingers have sneaked inside her panties while she was busy grinding her ass against his straining erection and now he's doing - things on her clit that makes her see stars in seconds.

“Mh, what I would do to you if we were in my bed”, he whispers in her ear. Two of his fingers slide easily into her, and they both shudder at the feeling. His free hand goes to the side of her face to angle it towards him, so he can kiss her lips even at the awkward angle. “All naked and flushed and tangled in my sheets. I'd bury my head between your legs, would you like that?”

She gasps at the words, at the image that paints itself in her head. His fingers crook inside of her, just right, and her her hands are shaking so much she can't even properly hold onto him.

Lucifer keeps talking in that grumbly voice of his, lips so close to hers they're almost kissing at every word. “Would you - fuck, would you close your thighs and keep me there... tug my hair, moan my name, all pretty and desperate? I would love it if you did,” - his touch is as frantic as she feels, his free hand roaming everywhere he can reach but returning, always, to gently hold her jaw - “you'd have to beg me to stop - but I would keep going until you came again, and again...like now, oh fuck, you're close, aren't you? Just let go, love, le-”

She kisses the end of the sentence right of his mouth, right when all the tension coiling hot in her belly snaps, leaving her knees week and mind blank.

Lucifer supports her through the shock waves with a strong arm around her waist. He kisses her much like he was talking seconds before: languid, full of promises, and with a thinly-veiled urgency that, more than anything else about him, makes her stomach tie up in knots.

Oh, isn't he so, so lovely? All dark eyes and low voice and clever fingers-

Mh, she's probably a bit high on endorphins.

“You alright, love?” he asks when her legs stop trembling with the force of her orgasm.

Never been better, she wants to say, but “Nnngh” is all that comes out of her mouth.

“I'll take it as a yes.” She can feel him smirk against her neck. “Are you up for more?”

She almost starts sobbing then and there.

So she could just tell him that she is not, in fact, up for more and Lucifer would just be like ‘It’s quite alright, no problem. Excuse me while I try to make my pants less tight in the crotch area’?

Fuck, that's so hot.

She wants him inside of her, like, yesterday.

“Hell yeah, I am” she says with her face still abandoned against his chest, which is not very sexy of her, but also the best she can do at the moment.

He smiles at that, all bright-eyed and red-lipped because of her kiss, stealing her breath away without even trying.

“That's the spirit”, he says, and dips his head down to lick a hot strip on her neck. One of her hands comes up to sink in hair to keep him there, feverish lips attached to her skin, and he responds with a breathless chuckle and a bite.

Things get - a bit blurry, after that. When she'll inevitably tell her friends about what happened, arrived at this part they will not manage to get more that a dreamy sigh out of her.

When her head momentarily clears and she manages to open her eyes, she finds her hand still grasping at Lucifer's hair - too strong, probably, but when she moves to let him go he makes this annoyed sound at the back of his throat -, and him finally unbuttoning his pants.

There's a rustling of fabric, some movements that she can't see because there's no space to turn, and then Lucifer's hand are back on her hips. “Ah, dat 'eels much better”, he says - or tries to, because the...oh, the condom he's holding with his teeth makes things more difficult.

His hands keep her still while he pushes himself against the line of her back so she can feel him, really feel him, with two layers of fabric less between him and her, pressed against her lower back.

Fuck, she wants him so bad she feels it in her stomach, in the spaces between her ribs, in the knot stuck in her throat. The emptiness of not having him inside her is a physical ache.

“Give me that”, she manages to say, and takes the packaged condom from his teeth to open it with shaky fingers. “Hurry up.”

“Bossy - I like it.” The warmth of his body disappears for few second while he hunches her dress up to expose her legs and ass. “Oh, hello. Pretty from every angle, I see”, he says appreciatively.

She can't resist arching her back and wiggling a little.

He laughs low in his throat. “Yeah, yeah, you minx, you already got in my pants. No need to put on a show”, he teases her - but he doesn't waste a second more before sliding her panties down to her ankles.

She would panic about her choice of underwear but 1) she absolutely does not remember what she put on and 2) they already hit the ground. No reason worrying now.

“Lovely”, Lucifer sighs behind her, and both his hands go at her hip bones, thumbs digging in her lower back. He raises her to her tiptoes - because he's too tall for her despite the high-heels -, so close to finally, finally-

She notices she's still holding the condom. “Wait”, she says in the moment of pure panic that only forgetting a condom can bring. “Wait, fuck, the- the thingy, here, before we forget.”

“What thin-oh, I see.” He takes it from her hand. “Of course, common courtesy and all. We could not use it, but I don't want to give a bad example”, he says, conversationally, while he rolls it on.

What does that even mean?, the rational part of her thinks.

If he doesn't fuck me in the next two seconds I'm going to cry, screams the rest of her mind.

But she’s not thinking anything anymore a few seconds later, because Lucifer is sliding into her in one long stroke. She’s so wet and ready that he’s bottoming out before either of them can get used to the sensation, and he breathlessly moans against her parted lips like he wasn’t expecting her body to take him in so easily.

The hand that’s not pressing on the door goes to clutch his jacket, touch the feverish skin of his naked thigh, slide against his ribs until Lucifer takes a hold of it and guides it back to his hair.

“Keep it there”, he half-growls half-mumbles while sinking his face in the crook of her shoulder. He bites there, softly, when he pulls out and she instinctively tightens the grip on his dark locks.

He pushes back in, then, with a practiced roll of his hips that melts her brain and makes her brokenly stutter his name.

Lucifer sets a slow pace, just how she likes it - and how can he read her body so well to even know that she likes it slow and deep and intense?

She thought that there would have been urgency behind every thrust, that he would finally chase his own orgasm after ignoring his own needs to concentrate on hers.

If nothing else, they should hurry before they get interrupted - by the police, by that strange woman he was dining with, anyone.

Instead he revels in every broken sound that leaves her lips, in how her legs shake every time his hips are flushed against hers again.

“Say, would you mind- oh, ungh” - his words fade out into a muffled growl at a particularly hard thrust - “would you mind if I left some marks?” He licks a hot strip on her neck. “I just want to eat you up”, he explains, playful smirk so wide on his face she can basically hear it.

Marks? As in, hickeys? Oh, oh, yes, she wants them. She wants to touch them and hiss in pain and think of him, in the days to come; she wants a physical reminder that she had such a stunning man in her arms.

She nods, probably letting out some affirmative sound - not that she would notice, not through the pleasure clouding her mind and the burning-hot feeling of him inside her.

His white, perfect teeth bite that spot behind her ear that she could swear has never been that sensitive before; and that's the last sensation she chooses to focus on before she closes her eyes and let's Lucifer have his way with her.

Not that she was, like, complaining. Quite the opposite.

Some time later, she could not for the life of her tell how long, his clever fingers slide from her waist to down between her legs.

“I want you to come like this, while I'm inside of you” he murmures, breath hot on her skin. His fingers stroke circles on her clit, while the heel of his hand presses gently on her lower abdomen - and she would bet that he can feel himself move in and out of her under his touch. “Feel you get even more tight around me, pull me closer. Would you like that?”

“Yeah, yes, oh Go-ah!” - he bit her a bit too hard, but he immediately soothes the pain with a feather-light kiss - “Keep doing...yeah, fuck, that. I-I'm close”, she stutters, bold and desperate and impatient, because she wants to see how he looks like when he comes. Wants to know If it's going to be her name rolling off his tongue, if his grip will get strong enough to leave bruises, whether or not his knees are going to give out like hers certainly will. “Are you? A-Are you close?”

He leaves a wet kiss on her cheek, and exhales there, eyelids heavy and brows furrowed, “I'll be right behind you, love. But you first.”

And then he renews his efforts to make her eyes roll back in her head in pleasure.

She falls off the edge soon after at a particularly slow drag of his fingers, when he's so deep inside of her she knows she'll feel empty for days after.

Her muscles clump around him, keeping him there, while her legs lose all strength and it's only his arms that keep her upright.

True to his word, he follows suit. Lucifer comes moaning her name, certainly putting up a bit of a show for her enjoyment - not that she can complain, with how pretty his lips look forming an almost pained ‘oh’.

So she kisses him, when his eyes flatter back open and their breathing start slowing down, because she can't believe he's right there to kiss her back.

***

“These trousers are a lost cause”, he's saying while they try to get decent.

She still doesn't have strength in her hands, but thankfully all she has to do is lower her dress. And pretend she'll have no problem walking out of there on high heels in a few minutes.

“Yeah, I mean”, she responds, “so is my underwear.”

Lucifer raises one eyebrow and smirks. “Then take it off, love. You can stuff it in my back pocket for safe keeping.”

She opens her mouth to say something, although she can't decide what's more appropriate between “hot” and “gross”, when the tell-tale sound of an angry woman in high heels resonates in the kitchen outside.

One second later the knob of their door falls to the ground with an offended thump!, and the door is wrenched open for the second time in the evening.

It's the same dark skinned woman that she was dining with Lucifer, and also apparently beating the shit out of armed men. She looks at her, then shifts her disbelieving gaze to Lucifer. “Really? When did you manage to get a girl in here?”

“I was here first, technically”, she explains. Lucifer nods innocently while slipping out of the room. “That's true, Maze. It was quite the effort, fitting both of us in there both.”

“I think you fit in alright”, Maze replies.

She would blush, but she's still too high on endorphins to care about her freshly-fucked look. Especially when seeing Lucifer's “just had sex” own look is almost a religious experience - messy hair, rumpled clothes, marks of lipstick everywhere. Would it be rude to take a photo?

“We gotta get out of her, fast”, Maze continues. “I called in one of your favours to keep the police busy for a while - you're welcome, by the way. But they are one their way.”

She starts tugging Lucifer away, ignoring his outraged easy, this shirt's Armani!

He turns to her when they're almost out of the kitchen. “Come to my club one of this days, will you? It's called Lux, I'm sure you've heard.” He winks at her, seemingly not giving a fuck about the cops as much as he wasn't fazed by getting shot at. “I believe I made some promises about a real bed, didn't I?”

And then he's out of the door.

But apparently not of out of her life.

A real bed, uh?

***

23.15 - From: BFF <3 > So??? How's the date going?

23.17 - To: BFF <3 > heyyyy omg the guy didn't show up fuck you very much btw but also like,,, thank god, you know?

23.17 - From: BFF <3 > He didn't show up? D: I'm so sorry! What happened? You're writing like you're drunk.

23.18 - To: BFF <3 > drunk on life babyyyyyyy> srry my brain is still mush because i came like twice if you can believe it lmao

Hope you guys like it <3 Any feedback is more than appreciated!

#my writing #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer on netflix #lucifer fanfictions #lucifer fanfiction #lucifer mornigstar/Reader #pwp #lucifer mornigstar/OFC #smut

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aliciameade · 5 years

Text

Baby - Ch. 10

Title: Baby Author: aliciameade Rating: *** M *** Pairing: Stephanie Smothers/Emily Nelson Summary: That tearful kiss shared between Stephanie and Emily wasn't their first—and it certainly wasn't their last.

(Chapter 1)

Also on AO3 - and guys this is...A LOT so consider that your warning.

(You can buy me a ko-fi if you want to!)

Waking up next to Emily is one of Stephanie’s favorite things.

And being woken by Emily’s lips grazing her shoulder is...extraordinary.

It’s early; she can tell by the light in the room, but it feels like she’s been allowed to sleep in for hours. She tries not to stir, to not let Emily know she’s awake just yet. She wants to wait and see what Emily will do: if she’ll stop and go back to sleep or keep at it until she draws a response from Stephanie.

She smiles to herself and savors the featherlight kisses that trail along her shoulder, the tickle of hair as they progress from her shoulder toward the base of her neck and the light scrape of fingernails as they shift her hair to the side. She resists the need to shiver at the fingertips tracing patterns over her hip and thigh. She knows Emily wants her, likes her, maybe even trusts her, but it’s easy to convince herself it could all be a ruse when she’s awake and has something to give Emily.

Experiencing it when Emily thinks she’s not aware of it is breathtaking. There’s no need for her to be keeping up a façade now. It’s authentic and vulnerable and when Emily’s lips are warm at the back of her neck she gives in and reaches for the hand on her hip to pull it around her waist. “Good morning,” she mumbles, wiggling backward into the warm body behind her.

Emily sighs and tightens her arm around Stephanie’s waist. Stephanie giggles at the tickle of a nose behind her ear and it’s easy, so easy to believe this is real life, that this is how she can wake up every morning.

“Morning.” Emily’s voice is low, gravely with sleep and a hint of something more. They’re both nude and Stephanie can feel Emily’s chest against her back and hips fitted behind her rear. There’s the subtlest shift of them at Stephanie’s wakefulness.

Stephanie presses her face to her pillow to hide how hard she’s grinning; waking up like this, to a soft, warm Emily who’s cuddling her, who is almost trembling with desire, is too much.

Lips trace the shell of her ear. “Make love to me,” drifts over Stephanie and it makes her sigh. Emily asking for it with those words, the few times it has happened, does more to Stephanie and her emotions than any of the desperate, dirty things they’ve shared.

Stephanie hums and turns over in her arms, ready to do just that but the look on Emily’s face when she sees her makes her pause. There’s a level of fear in her eyes that urges Stephanie to reach for her and trace her fingertips along her brow and cheek. She knows better than to ask what’s wrong; Emily only shares when she wants to. Instead, she tries to pour her willingness to listen and how much she cares into the kiss she gives her as her hand trails across Emily’s stomach.

It’s slow this time; nothing like it had been yesterday when they’d arrived. Stephanie loves it when it’s wild and raw but when it’s like this, the rare occasion that it is for Emily to whisper a request for gentility, for Stephanie to take care of her, she has no words for it.

Their lips only part so Emily can breathe when she needs to until she’s gasping and clinging to Stephanie in pleasure.

Stephanie acts like she doesn’t notice the tears in Emily’s eyes when they open after and meet hers for a moment before Emily moves hastily get out of bed to disappear into the bathroom. The sound of the shower turning on follows and Stephanie sighs, heart aching for whatever it is that has so clearly been gnawing at Emily for so long.

~ ~

Stephanie passes the time while Emily’s away by first calling Miles to check on him and remind him to be careful at the trampoline park. She freshens up and dresses and takes a walk to find a bite for lunch. She’s never been to Los Angeles and it’s nothing like Warfield or New York City. The hotel seems to be in the middle of everything, or at least in the middle of a lot of things, and she sips a latte as she strolls past boutiques and restaurants, window shopping and enjoying the sunshine until a dress in a window catches her eye.

It’s cute and midnight blue with a diamond-shaped keyhole in the bodice; she doesn’t recognize the name of the designer on the storefront and she hopes it translates into an affordable price tag. She’d brought a dress for dinner tonight but it wasn’t new. She knows Emily values fashion—though she has her suspicions she doesn’t love it quite as much as she portrays herself to—and she does want to look nice tonight, so she steps into the shop to ask to see the dress in her size.

~ ~

She doesn’t hear from Emily all day which doesn’t exactly surprise her, but it does bug her. She knew Emily would have to work on this trip—it’s a business trip, after all—but she can’t help that she misses her.

Her stomach growls when she’s checking her makeup for the third or fourth time; it’s well past 6:00 pm and she realizes she has no idea what time their dinner reservations are for. When it ticks past 7:00 pm she starts to worry; she knows Emily’s an important person and works long hours regularly, but they’re supposed to have a date and Stephanie has been waiting for this night for weeks and—

The runaway train of thoughts is interrupted by the sound of the door opening and closing and she breathes a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that she expected Emily to stand her up; after all, she brought her across the country for this date, but she was beginning to worry that it would have to be canceled or rescheduled.

She steps out of the bathroom to say hello and stops short when she sees Emily. She looks drained as she loosens her tie and removes her jacket.

“Is everything okay?” Stephanie says as she hurries over to her. She stops short at the memory of Emily rebuffing her greeting at her house last week when she seemed equally worn out and keeps her hands to herself.

She keeps them to herself until Emily has her wrapped up in a hug. It’s sudden but welcome and Stephanie holds her tightly. They don’t kiss or speak and Stephanie understands it’s what Emily needs at this moment: to be held and nothing more.

Minutes seem to pass before Stephanie feels a kiss touch her forehead as Emily steps away. She reduces undressing as she makes her way toward the bathroom. “Dinner’s at 8:00. I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

“Okay. Great,” she says with a wave Emily can’t see before biting her thumbnail for a minute in concern. As much as she’s looking forward to tonight, she doesn’t want to force Emily to go out again when she’s so clearly tired. Then again, she’d stated she’d be ready so they would be on time for their reservation and even if she told Emily they didn’t have to go, she can’t imagine she’d listen. She can’t imagine Emily doing anything anyone says, least of all Stephanie.

(Intimate moments notwithstanding.)

~ ~

Stephanie waits at the table in the sitting room. When Emily returns, she appears to be her usual self once again, as though she somehow washed away the exhaustion she’d arrived with. Her style tonight is on the more formal end of the spectrum, though somehow more casual than what Stephanie’s used to seeing her in when she’s coming from the office. She’s paired a flowing white blouse that is as flattering on her figure as her other expertly tailored shirts with gray trousers. Her hair is down and loose and, Stephanie thinks, begging to have her hands in it.

She leaps to her feet filled with the need to be formal for some reason. Maybe it’s because it feels a lot like Emily’s arrived to pick her up for their date even though all she did was walk into the room.

“You look nice,” Emily says as she crosses the room with an effortless grace that still manages to make Stephanie’s heart stop, but not as much as her heart stops when Emily leans down to kiss her without further preamble.

It’s over before Stephanie has a chance to react and she knows she’s blushing when she stammers, “Thank you. So do you.”

Emily’s hand drifts down to make her shiver until it traces the dress’s neckline. “Is this new?”

Stephanie nods. Her heart’s stuck somewhere in her throat from the gentle brush of Emily’s fingertips along her décolletage. She’s suddenly hyper-aware of the cutout in the bodice that she’d banked on getting Emily’s attention; she’s wearing her most effective bra and she knows her cleavage looks good but is also very on display. Emily doesn’t mention anything about it, though, nor do her fingers travel down to graze the exposed skin there as Stephanie both hopes for and prays not to happen. She doesn’t want to miss their reservation and if Emily touches her there, they won’t be getting out of the hotel room any time soon.

“You ready to go?” Emily says as she takes half a step back and starts to smirk in a way that at least gives Stephanie a warning to try to brace herself. “I need to show you off.”

Nothing, however, could have prepared Stephanie for that. Her reaction must be evident because Emily chuckles and reaches out to take her hand.

“Let’s go; the car’s downstairs.”

~ ~

The restaurant they arrive at is so covered in ivy that it might as well be a hedge. Stephanie struggles to identify the entrance. It’s an unmarked, unassuming black door and there’s a zip of adrenaline when Stephanie thinks perhaps Emily has brought her to a secret speakeasy known only to the more elite crowds. She keeps the comment to herself, feeling a bit foolish for it, and instead smiles up at Emily who offers her elbow to Stephanie.

She takes it, of course. She tucks her hand into the crook of Emily’s elbow as they walk toward the mystery door which Emily opens and holds for Stephanie.

She takes her elbow again once inside and allows Emily to guide them through a library—a library?—toward a podium. She half-listens as Emily gives her name too caught up in the ambiance of the restaurant. It’s so earthy-feeling that it surprises her; Emily’s house is cold and sterile and it is the very antithesis of that. It’s wooden beams and dark curtains and low light and candles and ivy crawling over the walls even inside. The staff’s uniforms are dark as well, solid black with a black vest, though she notices a few of them daring a pop of color with a pocket square.

They’re led to an alcove along a wall with a single table and pair of chairs framed by curtains drawn back along each framing column. It’s one of several along the wall, but it is almost completely private, curtains separating the alcoves as well. Multiple light fixtures hang from the ceiling above the table though they’re not intrusive nor too bright. The table is already set with a place setting intended for an appetizer and wine glasses and Stephanie doesn’t realize she needs to move until she feels Emily gently remove her hand from her elbow to angle her toward her seat.

She sits and is surprised by the menu that is somehow in her hand. Then she notices Emily seems to be laughing.

“What?”

“Are you okay?” Emily says with a chuckle. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said since we got here.”

She wonders if that’s possible. “Oh, sor—I’m just…” She stops herself and takes a breath. “Em, this place is so nice.”

Emily seems pleased with that. “It comes highly recommended.”

“By whom?”

“Tom Ford.”

She blinks. “The designer?”

“Do you know another Tom Ford?”

Stephanie shakes her head and works on getting a hold on her nerves. She’s looked forward to a night like this almost since she met Emily and it’s happening and so far, it feels perfect. Her need to verbally respond is thankfully interrupted by a waiter arriving to pour glasses of water, the bottle of which is left behind on the table. It’s just long enough that she has her thoughts organized when he departs.

“And what does Tom Ford recommend to eat?” she asks as she opens the menu.

Emily opens hers as well and Stephanie looks up to watch the way her eyes scan down the listings. “I asked. He suggested the burrata and the halibut.”

Stephanie glances back at the menu to read about the dishes and notices both of them are indicated as being gluten-free. She doesn’t remember mentioning her avoidance of the protein and she has eaten non-gluten-free things around Emily before, but it seems evident that Emily made a concerted effort to find out and remember.

“Okay. Who am I to question his taste?” She closes her menu and sets it aside and is lucky enough to watch Emily return to hers to decide.

The lighting is so flattering to Emily’s already striking features that it makes Stephanie need to take a sip of water. Once Emily sets the menu aside, she leans forward, hand reaching across the table until it’s midway, hand open and palm up.

Stephanie can hardly believe it—can hardly believe anything about this trip. She slips her hand into Emily’s and her heart warms at the way Emily’s smile reaches her eyes. People can see them. There are dozens of people in the restaurant and while they have a private area, it’s still open. In fact, it’s almost less private than an unassuming table in the middle of the floor. She almost feels like they’re on stage. And Emily’s holding her hand. In public. At a romantic restaurant. Lit by candlelight. On a date.

“So. What trouble did you get into today without me keeping you in line?”

Briefly, Stephanie considers fanning herself. Emily’s being so kind and romantic and flirtatious that it’s almost too much to handle. She’s dealt with it in small bursts before, but with this trip, it’s feeling like a marathon exercise and the runner’s high has definitely kicked in. “Well, after I posted bond and got out of jail—” she smiles when Emily scrunches her nose at her knowingly bad joke “—I went for a walk. I’ve never been here before, so—”

“You’ve never been to LA?”

“No,” Stephanie answers with a shake of her head. “I grew up in Philly and my family didn’t really take big trips. And then I met Davis and he basically dragged me kicking and screaming out of the city and into the suburbs. I hated it at first; now I can’t imagine living in a big city like this again. I already worry when Miles wants to play outside, and if we were in some big metropolis? Yikes.”

“No trips?”

“I mean, sure, we traveled a bit, but we mostly stayed in New England. We did go to Montreal once. That was fun. Oui, oui!”

“No Disneyland?”

“Never.”

Emily’s quiet for a moment and Stephanie feels like she’s being scrutinized. She tries not to squirm under Emily’s gaze. “Maybe we could come back some time and bring the boys,” Emily finally says.

Stephanie has to blink twice. Did Emily just suggest they take another trip together? In the future? With their children?

“That would be fun,” she says with a nod. Emotions well up inside her and tell her to do something like cry or say something like she lo—

“Okay. Let’s keep that in mind.”

“Yeah, yes. I will definitely...keep that in mind,” she says with what she hopes isn’t too nervous of a giggle.

“So that’s it? You went for a walk?”

Stephanie has to channel her focus into her words because the way Emily’s thumb is brushing back and forth over her hand is distracting. “Well, no. I went for a walk to explore the area. I had lunch at a cute little bistro and I did a lot of window shopping,” she laughs. “Prices here, they rival New York’s.”

Emily nods at her. “You bought that today.”

Stephanie glances down at her dress and smooths the skirt over her lap with her free hand. “I did, yes.”

“You bought it for our date?” Emily’s hand squeezes hers at the word and she feels her eyelashes flutter.

“Um, yeah, I did.”

“You know I’m a sure thing, right? You didn’t need to have your tits out to get me into bed tonight.”

Stephanie blushes furiously and tries to reclaim her hand as apologies that don’t include the word ‘sorry’ start rattling around in her brain; instantly she’s swallowed by shame and embarrassment but Emily holds firm to her hand.

“Hey,” Emily says firmly enough that it makes Stephanie stop trying to figure out how to cover the peekaboo aspect of her dress. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it. You look beautiful.”

“Oh.” She clears her throat. “Um, thank you.”

The reason she’s blushing changes when Emily’s gaze drifts down to very obviously land on her cleavage, the curves of which are on display. Knowing she chose the dress to get Emily’s attention this way was one of the reasons she’d purchased it but that doesn’t stop the excitement and arousal that spikes when the appreciation for it is so clear on Emily’s face.

“I’m not going to be able to make it back to the hotel without getting my hands on you.”

Every ounce of heat and moisture in Stephanie’s body collects in one place and it makes her shiver.

“So, have we decided?”

The waitress’s voice makes Stephanie jump and she feels Emily’s hand tighten in amusement.

“She’s going to have the halibut. I’ll take the mushroom pappardelle, and we’ll share the burrata.”

Stephanie’s vaguely aware Emily’s ordering for her but she’s struggling to hear over her heart pounding in her ears.

“And we’ll take a bottle of Chardonnay. Marcassin, if you have it? Perfect, thank you.”

There’s a lengthy period of silence and Stephanie realizes the waitress is gone. She exhales, not even knowing she’d been holding her breath.

Emily chuckles. “You good?”

“Good. Great,” she says, feeling like the words are too big for her mouth for some reason. She reaches for her water and hopes the wine arrives soon.

“You know, we can close that curtain,” Emily says with a tilt of her head toward the one open side of their alcove.

Stephanie’s pounding heart stops.

“Close it and come sit on my lap and I’ll fuck you, baby.”

It resumes beating at roughly one thousand times its usual pace and she’s so embarrassed but her hips actually tilt at the suggestion. Just like that, she’s turned on and she knows herself well enough to know it’s not going to go away until she finds relief. She glances at the curtain drawn back on Emily’s side. All she would have to do is pull the tie around it and it would billow down and across and cocoon them away from prying eyes. Eyes that could still see if someone grazed the curtain as they passed nudging it open for a moment. Or the waitress or a busser or server arriving with their order. She hates herself a little for how much those possibilities affect her. She doesn’t want to be aroused by the thought of strangers watching her have sex but this isn’t the first time she’s imagined it, and it’s not the first time she’s been turned on by it in the last twenty-four hours.

She feels Emily’s hand shift, changing the angle until the tickle of a fingernail scrapes her palm. Once, twice, a third time and that’s when Stephanie understands what she’s doing, what the very rhythmic, hypnotic motion is mimicking and she doesn’t remember standing up, but she is, and she must have done it right when a server returned with their wine because the young man seems startled.

“Oh. Sorry,” she says as she sits down again and she hears the click of Emily’s tongue, a chastisement for forgetting herself and using the only word that is inappropriate to Emily. “I mean, excuse me.”

She waits, hands fidgeting in her lap as the server goes through the fanfare of allowing Emily to sample the wine he’s brought before pouring Stephanie’s glass, topping off Emily’s, and nestling the bottle in an ice bucket he’s positioned in the corner of their alcove.

She feels Emily’s eyes on her once he leaves and she looks up to find her smiling wickedly over the glass of wine in her hand.

“Shall we toast?” Emily says, as though she hadn’t just told Stephanie she’d fuck her in the middle of a restaurant.

“We...shall,” Stephanie says after wetting her lips. She picks up her glass and she can see the wine betraying how affected she is; she’s trembling and it’s obvious.

If Emily notices, she doesn’t comment on it. “To tonight,” she says as she lifts her glass in a salute before sipping.

“To tonight,” Stephanie repeats.

Routine dining activity is frequent after that, and she is grateful. The burrata arrives and allows for a break in the tension. Entrees follow soon thereafter and she’s relieved that her arousal eases enough that she can once again carry on a conversation. Emily’s also curbed her suggestiveness and they fall into easy conversation.

“So, where did you grow up?” Stephanie asks. “I don’t think you’ve mentioned it before.”

“I haven’t.” Emily’s fork seems to slow its journey from plate to mouth and there’s an awkward length of silence before she swallows and adds, “I don’t really like talking about my childhood.”

“Oh! That’s okay. Why don’t you tell me about your day instead? What exciting things does Dennis have going on out here?” What she’s really angling for is any insight into Emily’s emotional morning and why she returned looking like she’d been steamrolled.

“We’re really going to talk about my day at the office?” Emily says with a hint of a frown.

Stephanie has the sudden feeling she can’t say anything right, which isn’t foreign to her at all but it’s not something she’s been made to feel by Emily very many times. “I’m just making conversation,” she says and she knows she sounds defensive by the way Emily’s eyes snap to hers but she ignores it and presses on. “I don’t know that much about you but I would like to.”

“Oh, you don’t want to open that door, baby. Trust me.”

Stephanie sets down her fork to focus only on Emily; it’s then that she notices for the first time that Emily’s wedding ring, that beautiful sapphire that’s adorned her ring finger since they met and Stephanie once adored before she learned to despise it, is absent. She takes a breath at all the possible things it could mean and decides not to ask her about it. “I do, though,” she says cautiously. “You’re my best friend and...and it feels weird to me that I don’t even know where you grew up. Or if you have a brother or a sister. Or where you went to college.” She bites her tongue when she hears how many details she’s requesting when Emily just told her she didn’t want to share anything at all.

Emily’s sharp stare drops and she pushes around the pasta on her plate, not making an effort at the moment to actually take a bite. She doesn’t snap at Stephanie for pushing but she does seem deep in thought so Stephanie doesn’t say a word. She waits and watches the way Emily fiddles with her fork until she spears a slice of mushroom.

“I’m from Michigan.”

Stephanie’s heart swells at the tiny bit of personal information shared and she tries not to press for more. “Really?”

Emily glances up and she seems oddly vulnerable for sharing something as basic as that. “Why does that surprise you?”

She chooses her words carefully. “You’re so sophisticated; I assumed you were raised...well, I didn’t expect the Midwest.”

Emily sits up straight and it’s then Stephanie realizes she’d been slouching, as though trying to hide, and she’s never seen Emily do that before. “Enough about how I was raised. What about you? Any other siblings you slept with?” She winks as she says it and Stephanie feels the heaviness of the moment evaporate.

“Emily!” she says with a huff and a furtive glance out across the restaurant in a moment of paranoia. “No!”

“Siblings you haven’t slept with?” she goads with a toothy bite off pasta her fork before she waggles her eyebrows at Stephanie.

God, Stephanie loves when Emily teases her way more than she thinks she probably should. “I’m an only child,” she says pointedly. “Well, you know what I mean.”

Emily hums and seems to be thinking as she takes a sip of wine. “You said you went to Barnard?”

“I did, yeah.”

“That’s an all women's college, isn’t it?”

Stephanie narrows her eyes; she can already feel it coming. “It is.”

“Were you one of those girls who got drunk at a sorority party and made out someone who took you up to their room only to tell them after they ate you out but before you returned the favor that it was a mistake and you were just drunk?” There’s a beat of silence and Stephanie doesn’t dare respond. “Or maybe you did fuck them,” she continues thoughtfully. “You knew what you were doing the first time you fucked me.”

The vulgarity is not lost on Stephanie; it manages to fill her with equal amounts of shame and pride and she tries to mask it with a drink but she knows Emily sees right through her.

“You did,” Emily says with a smile that feels almost predatory. She even leans forward as though ready to share a secret, eyes sparkling with mirth but dark with what Stephanie is quick to recognize as desire. “How many women have you slept with?”

She balks at the question. “What? Are we—are we comparing lists now? How many women have you slept with?”

“Seven. Answer the question.”

Jealousy, or maybe envy, flares inside Stephanie. “Four,” she admits. “And I’m going to make you forget about those other six women tonight.”

Her aggressive flirtation takes Emily aback and she finds delight in watching her fumble for the confidence Stephanie just knocked off-kilter. “Not if I make you forget about the other three first,” Emily finally says.

Stephanie squirms again; the arousal she’s been fighting all evening is threatening to overtake her self-control. “Okay,” she says with a breathy laugh and directs her attention to her dinner. “This is delicious and I want to finish it and I’m not going to be able to if we don’t behave.”

Emily smiles as though she’s won and visibly relaxes. “Sure. Eat up, baby.” It’s an innocuous enough statement but it still drives right between Stephanie’s legs because she knows Emily chose those words with purpose. “The sooner we’re out of here, the sooner I can lick that sweet little snatch of yours.”

Stephanie drops her fork. “Okay! Okay.” She doesn’t even know why she’s saying ‘okay’ but it’s the only word she can find at the moment.

Emily reads her disorientation loud and clear and Stephanie’s as horrified as she is elated to see the smirk on Emily’s beautiful face as she leans back to reach for the tie holding the curtain in place. She pulls it and it falls in one quick swoop just as Stephanie imagined it would. It’s more than a little suggestive and all that needs to happen is for Stephanie to do the same on her side.

She’s about to when their waitress appears again to refill their wine glasses. She watches Emily talk to the server, hears something about how they would prefer not to be bothered as she gestures toward the one closed curtain and Stephanie watches with rapt attention as the waitress smiles and nods and does them the favor of untying and closing the curtain on Stephanie’s side.

And just like that, they are alone.

She can still hear the restaurant, the conversations of the patrons on the other side of the curtains behind each of them and to her right. But what she hears most is the sound of Emily’s chair scraping the stone floor as she moves back from the table.

It’s an invitation for one thing and one thing only. There’s color in Emily’s cheeks now and Stephanie knows she’s as turned on as she is. It’s the only thing that makes her legs work as she slides her own chair back to step around the table until she’s at Emily’s side.

She expects to be pulled down into her lap as Emily had already suggested but instead, she gasps as Emily’s hand lands on her knee and runs up her thigh and between her legs. Her fingers stroke over the soaking wet lace and Stephanie has to put a hand on the table to support herself as she whimpers.

“Oh, baby girl,” Emily says, low and so sexy as she removes her hand and immediately brings her fingers to her mouth to suck on them. All her movements have a hint of urgency to them that Stephanie thinks may have to do with their present location. Or maybe it’s just out of desire.

It startles Stephanie, lost in a sexual fog when Emily stands and backs her up against the only solid wall of their space. Her shoulders connect with a thud and she watches in awe as Emily lowers herself until she’s kneeling. Hands run up Stephanie’s legs again until they’re on her ass and she feels her thong get pulled down and she has to close her eyes; she cannot believe she is doing this in a restaurant.

She feels Emily’s mouth on her thigh, under her skirt, moving higher until her warm, wet tongue slithers over her clit.

“Em,” she whispers, hands grappling for something to hang on to but finding nothing along the wall. “Fuck.”

Emily seems to take that as permission to continue because a hand at the back of Stephanie’s knee guides it up and over her shoulder and she bites her lip to muffle her groan as two fingers slide into her while a tongue laps at her clit.

She pries her eyes open to look down and manages to find a moment of amusement in that she can’t actually see Emily; her head is literally up Stephanie’s skirt and there’s something so hot about that that it makes her hips buck which makes Emily’s tongue and fingers move more quickly.

What she can see, however, are the feet of the people sitting a few feet away behind a curtain. She can see the legs of people who walk past the previously open side of the alcove.

And if she can see the feet of their neighbors, that means they can just as easily see her one black-stilettoed foot on the ground and Emily kneeling in front of her and she can actually feel herself become wetter at the thought.

She can hear it, too, even over her own heavy breathing and the white noise of the restaurant. Emily’s fingers are moving hard and fast, as is her tongue, and it’s audible how sloppy she is but she can’t help it. She can’t help what Emily does to her and she reaches down, under her skirt, to thread her fingers into Emily’s hair to hold on as she bucks her hips against her face again and again until she bites the back of her hand as she comes.

She feels Emily ease her through it which is almost a disappointment after the lack of mercy she’d been shown yesterday, but here and now is not the place or time to get that kind of unraveled.

When it passes, Emily sits back on her heels, still kneeling, though no longer hidden under Stephanie’s dress. Her fingers slip out but don’t leave her; they stay, teasing her clit in a way that sends tiny aftershocks through her.

“Oh, my God,” Stephanie whispers down at the look of pride smiling up at her; Emily’s chin is wet and she makes no moves to do anything about it. “I can’t believe…” She doesn’t finish the sentence because Emily’s fingers are starting to press gentle circles against her in a way that she knows Emily knows is key to her pleasure. “We have to stop.”

“You came so fast.�� Emily’s voice is quiet but she’s not exactly whispering and it makes Stephanie tense in worry that someone might have heard. If they did, nothing happens. Her fingers are moving with more purpose and Stephanie’s sense of shame begins to dissipate again. “We have more time.”

It takes every iota of strength she has to reach down and push Emily’s hand away from her body. “Then stand up and let me return the favor,” she says, making a pointed reference to Emily’s suggestion that she’d been some sort of a pillow princess in college. She never was, and she never would be.

Emily does stand and Stephanie reaches to pull her down into a kiss. It’s hot and tastes like herself and she uses her tongue like Emily used hers on Stephanie. She rotates them in place until she has Emily pinned against the wall and that in itself is a turn-on for Stephanie. She tries to not get distracted, though. She lets Emily suck on her tongue as she blindly unbuttons Emily’s pants. She slips her hand into them as soon as they’re open to find Emily wet and swollen. She can feel the wetness on the back of her hand where it brushes against Emily’s pants and she moans into her mouth at how aroused she is.

“Fuck me,” Emily whispers between kisses and Stephanie nods as she pushes lace to the side with her thumb so she can sink her fingers into her. She holds them there, so deep the palm of her hand presses hard against Emily’s clit, and kisses her with desperation and need before she starts moving.

Emily hadn’t teased her so Stephanie doesn’t either. She fucks into her with short, hard, quick strokes. She has to stop after every few because it’s growing louder with how soaked she is.

But then Emily adjusts her stance, widening it and the slight extra space almost eliminates the sound if Stephanie stays aware of her angle. It almost results in her pants falling, though, and even if their feet may give away what they’re doing, pants around ankles would absolutely be damning. Stephanie grabs them with her free hand and holds them against Emily’s hip. They’re lower than they were and it gives her even more room and she pulls back from their kiss to watch Emily’s face as she withdraws, only to push back in with three fingers instead of two.

Her head falls back against the wall and a moan rumbles in her throat behind tightly pursed lips and Stephanie presses her mouth to that rumble, sucking at her neck as she fucks her just as hard and fast as she had been before the extra finger.

Emily’s starting to thrust back against her, an almost awkward desperate grinding circle in her upright position but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Stephanie is going to make this woman come in the middle of a restaurant and she doesn’t give a fuck if they get caught.

“Come for me.” She says it in full voice and it makes Emily’s eyes open in surprise followed by a lip-bitten moan. “Come for me, baby,” she repeats to make sure Emily knows she said it purposely.

She feels the tell-tale flutter around her fingers and can’t stop the knowing smile from curving her lips and she watches Emily fall apart against the wall of a restaurant.

Emily is silent in her orgasm but Stephanie knows it’s not without effort. The tension in her neck and arms tells her that much.

She keeps her fingers nestled deep until it’s over and Emily’s taking recovering breaths from her struggle to control herself. Stephanie can hear it when she removes her fingers and if it wasn’t so fucking hot she could find shame in it, but she feels like she may have just flushed the last bit of her shame down the drain.

It’s silent as they stare at one another, Emily still coming down from her high and Stephanie feeling like she’s at the top of her own. Then Emily stoops to kiss her, arms around Stephanie’s waist to pull her close. It’s passionate but soft and Stephanie doesn’t stop the quiet moan it generates.

When their lips part they both remain close and Stephanie can feel Emily’s quick breaths against her lips; they’re still dripping with desire and she takes an agonizing step backward to put space between them as she tugs Emily’s pants back into place. “We should go,” she says as she hurries back to her side of the table and the cloth napkin she feels terribly guilty about using to dry her hand even if she licks her fingers first (which she does).

“What?” Emily still sounds a little dazed but Stephanie knows she’s coming with a tease. “No dessert?”

“You just had dessert,” she tosses back, tongue still loose with its words as arousal lingers around them.

“Mmm, yes I did,” Emily purrs behind her and she knows the embrace is coming and melts into it, letting Emily hold her as soft, wet kisses trail along her neck. That’s when Emily’s hand wanders a different direction than before, this time up and into the cut-out of Stephanie’s dress and into her bra until she’s cupping her bare breast, nipple caught between her fingers to squeeze it.

She staggers forward a step, needing to throw her arm out against a wall but all it connects with is the curtain on her side of the booth and gives easily, pressing into the space of the people sitting there.

She freezes, an eternal second as she yanks her hand back and hears Emily chuckle in her ear before biting it, but nothing happens.

“Now we really need to go,” she says as she pulls Emily’s hand out of her dress and adjusts her breast back into its proper place before she turns. “Do I look okay?”

“You look like you just had your pussy eaten in the middle of dinner.”

She feels hot all over, all kinds of shame slamming back into her that was absent not a minute ago. But it’s also excitement at hearing the words, the reminder of what had happened, that it hadn’t been a fever dream or a fantasy (though she knows she will fantasize about this at least once). “That’s not helping,” she says as she futzes with her hair to smooth any spots that got riled up when she was pinned against the wall. “Fix your shirt,” she says with a nod at Emily. One side of her blouse is tucked into her pants, caught by accident when Stephanie buttoned them.

Emily glances down and pulls it out and then plucks it away from her back; Stephanie wonders if it was clinging to her from sweat.

“I can’t sit down or I’m going to ruin this dress,” she says quietly, feeling antsy that their server will return any minute to find them standing awkwardly around the table.

“Just sit; I’ll send it down to be dry cleaned tonight.” Emily sits down as she says it, as though she’s not already soaked her trousers.

“And if it soaks through, it will be totally visible,” she argues, gesturing at her dress to point out the dark-but-not-dark-enough color that will reveal any hint of moisture on the fabric.

“Then stand,” Emily says with a shrug as she leans forward to snag her curtain and pull it back and over the hook, not bothering to retie it.

Stephanie gasps and feels exposed even though her side is still closed and she’s dressed and nothing inappropriate is happening.

As though she’d been waiting, a thought that makes Stephanie’s stomach twist in a questionable way, their server returns seconds after Emily draws the curtain.

“How was everything?” she asks with a friendly smile.

“Mouth-watering, thank you,” Emily says with an equally friendly smile as she pulls a credit card from her purse to hand it to her rather than asking for the check. “And we’ll take the bottle home with us.”

“Of course; I’ll cork it for you.” She enters their space and smiles at Stephanie who dances awkwardly in place.

“Just stretching my legs,” she explains unnecessarily and she hopes it doesn’t smell like sex but she’s pretty sure it does.

“I’ll be right back,” the waitress says with a parting smile as she steps through the open half of the curtains and Stephanie exhales in relief.

It makes Emily laugh. “Calm down; even if she knows, she’d never say something. Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up. You’re giving me anxiety hovering like this.”

She doesn’t know why she didn’t think of that herself (probably because she was in an aroused state of panic). “Right. Good idea,” she says with a deep breath before stepping around the table and down the step to the main floor. She glances around until she spots a sign for the restrooms and makes her way on wobbly legs.

~ ~

They’re laughing when they leave the restaurant hand in hand. If feels like they could be drunk but she knows they’re not; the bottle of wine in Emily’s free hand is still half-full. They’d gotten too distracted with each other to sit and drink.

There’s no one specific reason they’re laughing; it started as anxious giggles from Stephanie when the hostess said she hoped they’d come again and was worsened by Stephanie being bold and stopping them in the library (which was also the main bar area) to turn and kiss Emily in full view of the busy room. It had earned a couple male wolf-whistles but a girl yelling out something like, “Get that hot bitch, mama!” was what really set off the gigglefest.

“Which one of us is the hot bitch and which is the mama?” Stephanie asks when they part. Emily’s smiling so genuinely at her it drives her to pop up and kiss her one more time.

“Oh, you’re definitely the hot bitch,” Emily says after the kiss.

Stephanie has half a mind to argue that; she doesn’t hate her own appearance by any length of the imagination, but she knows Emily could have been a model if she’d wanted. “Thank you,” she says before grabbing her hand and leading them out of the restaurant and down the path to the sidewalk.

Emily must have notified their driver that they were on their way out because the black sedan rolls up less than a minute after they stopped. She hadn’t even had a chance turn around and start kissing Emily again.

It’s then that she decides it’s on each other that they’re drunk. With every touch and kiss and lingering look they share, Stephanie feels herself slipping deeper and deeper into a heady mix of lust and need and joy. It’s never been like this for them; their life together (if you can call it that) back home is stolen moments and secret rendezvous and maintaining façades of the happy family and the strong single mom. She feels like her old self, her college self, her pre-mommy brain self who she always thought was fun and carefree and not worried about how much processed sugar is in the cereal she has in her kitchen cupboard.

“Get in,” Emily says with a push from behind until they’re clumsily falling into the back seat of the car.

She expects the need to be proper and at least mostly platonic as they have been with the drivers (this is a different man than had driven them from the airport) but Emily all but falls on top of her once she’s closed the door to start making out with her, hot and heavy.

The driver pays them no mind and Stephanie forgets they’re not alone until Emily’s peeling herself away to leave the car and she notices they’re back at the hotel.

Emily doesn’t wait for her; she’s halfway through the lobby by the time Stephanie catches up with her, walking as quickly as she can on unsteady legs and four-inch platform stilettos. In fact, she passes her, rushing to the elevator to press the button and turn back with a lip-bitten, shy smile to lean against the wall next to the door hoping Emily takes her bait.

She does and they’re kissing like they were in the car, like they were in the restaurant, but now they’re in the hotel elevator bank.

It dings and as soon as she hears the doors open she slides out from Emily and into the blissfully empty elevator to do exactly what she’d wanted yesterday.

Emily follows and the doors aren’t even closed yet when Stephanie pulls her back into a kiss. She knows they don’t have that much time before they arrive at the eighteenth floor, so she’s quick about reaching under Emily’s shirt, nails scratching her back along the way until she finds and unhooks her bra. She hears Emily’s breathing change in response and she breaks their kiss to push the silky white blouse up, along with the loosened bra, so she can lean in and take Emily’s nipple into her mouth.

Her fingers tend to the other and she hears the sound of Emily's hand slamming against the wall next to her for support as she sags into Stephanie. Fingers weave into her hair, tight and a little controlling but they don’t pull her away. They push her closer and she hears Emily swear as she swirls her tongue and pinches her fingers.

She stops at the chime signaling their arrival and tugs Emily’s shirt back down, though with her bra unhooked it doesn’t sit right. That’s no matter, though; they don’t have far to go.

She leaves and Emily follows. She’s still digging for the keycard in her purse, something she regrets not having ready when they were still in the lobby when Emily pins her front against the locked door, hands under her skirt to grab at her ass. It’s bare, not that the thong covered it anyway, but that’s long gone and she has a suspicion it’s in Emily’s pocket. Emily’s mouth is on her neck and it’s making Stephanie see stars.

“I can’t...Em...let me...open it…” she gasps as one of Emily’s hands reaches between her legs from behind and just like that, they’re having sex in the hallway.

There’s a faint beep and suddenly she’s falling through the door into the dark hotel room and the heat of Emily is gone. She turns to see her with her own key in her hand which she drops to the floor as she steps out of her shoes.

She strides forward and Stephanie braces herself for what she hopes is about to happen. It’s a fantasy that’s fluttered around her brain for a few weeks and she lifts her arms to wrap them around Emily’s neck just as hands land on her hips and she gives a hop.

She wraps her legs around Emily’s waist and kisses her as she lets herself be carried through the suite.

A few seconds later she lands in the middle of the bed with the distinct feeling she had literally been thrown onto it. When she opens her eyes, Emily’s standing at the foot of the bed unbuttoning her blouse with quick fingers to cast it aside with the bra Stephanie had already unhooked. Her pants fall next along with black lace and Stephanie’s still dressed.

She starts to sit up to fix that but Emily’s already reaching for her ankle to slip her heel off, then the other.

“Turn over,” Emily says as she kneels on the bed and starts crawling toward her.

The sight makes Stephanie whimper but she does as she��s told and she feels the warmth and weight of Emily straddling her thighs.

Her skirt gets pushed up and she feels the cool air hit her skin only to be replaced by warm hands kneading her flesh and for a second, when Emily’s hands suddenly stop and one disappears, she thinks she’s going to be spanked.

The thought scares her and thrills her and she grips the pillow above her head waiting for it.

It doesn’t happen though. Instead, she feels the zipper on the back of her dress being lowered until it stops at her waist. Hands push the sides open and with a slight tug and release, she feels her bra unhooked. Part of her is disappointed; the bra really did make her breasts look amazing and she’d wanted Emily to see her in it but as she shoves at Stephanie’s dress to get her to work together to get her arms out of sleeves and straps she decides not to care.

It gets pulled down her body and she feels the comforting pressure of Emily lift as the dress gets pulled down her legs to be tossed somewhere, but the weight is back a second later. This time it’s heavier and she knows Emily’s leaning forward. Hands find her own and fingers weave together to push them into the mattress on either side of her head as teeth bite the curve of her neck.

She whines at the sting but it doesn’t hurt. Not one bit. She tilts her head to offer more of her skin to Emily’s mouth and it’s given immediately.

With it comes a subtle tilt of Emily’s hips against her ass that pushes her own hips into the bed and she moans. She’s been so turned on for so long now that the barest hints of pressure feel like so much more. She regrets letting her pleasure be known because it makes Emily continue it; she starts rolling her hips against her ass like she’s fucking her slowly. The pressure is so indirect that it’s maddening and Stephanie tries to spread her legs to tilt her hips at a sharper angle to at least try to let Emily grind her into the bed but she can’t, not with Emily’s legs framing hers the way they are.

She has to lie there and take it and the surrender makes her remember when she’d done this to Emily once. Only Emily had been tied up with Stephanie’s belt, though the way Emily has her hands pinned now is no different.

She hears Emily moan as her pace quickens. Teeth and lips and tongue start to move across Stephanie’s neck and shoulders and back in unpredictable ways and all of them make her shudder and groan.

“Want me to put it on?” Emily asks, voice warm at her ear as her tongue traces it.

Stephane’s entire body tenses as the offer; they way they both seem to feel right now, she knows Emily will absolutely wreck her tonight whether or not she has something strapped to her hips.

She shakes her head. “I just want you.”

The weight disappears again but the warmth stays. “Roll over.”

Hands help her as she struggles to, confined between Emily’s legs as she is. When she’s on her back she looks up to find Emily staring at her like she’s about to devour her whole and Stephanie thinks she’s more than okay with that.

Emily slides up a few inches and then she’s leaning down to fill Stephanie’s mouth with her tongue. The desperation is so hot and mutual that it makes her wrap her legs around Emily again to pull her hips down against her body.

It works and Emily’s rocking into her like she was before, but now it’s against Stephanie’s clit and she groans into the kiss as she tangles her fingers into Emily’s hair. “Don’t stop,” she breathes into her mouth before kissing her again. “Please, don’t stop.”

One of Emily’s hands reaches past her and Stephanie knows she’s just pressed it against the headboard behind her for leverage because all at once, the grinding doubles in pressure and pleasure and speed.

She can hear herself; her moans are high-pitched and whiny and she thinks she’s saying words but she doesn't know what they are. All she knows is Emily’s mouth on hers and her hips grinding her closer and closer to another orgasm.

“Shit...that...fast…” Those are words. She thinks. Is it a sentence? Maybe? Emily listens though and speeds up and Stephanie wrenches her mouth away from the kiss so she can breathe.

Emily’s lips move to her face and neck and whatever they can find.

It starts between her legs where Emily’s body rubs into her over and over and curls down through her legs and up through her stomach and chest into her mind. It feels out-of-body like she’s watching from above as Emily pushes her into orgasm.

She knows she’s loud; it feels like she’s making up for having to be silent at the restaurant and she can hear Emily’s words of encouragement in her ear, telling her, “Come for me, baby.”

Telling her, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Telling her, “You drive me fucking crazy.”

Telling her, “I love you.”

The clouds in her mind are blown away by the words she thinks she hears and she falls silent but the pleasure doesn’t stop; she’s still coming and she can’t move or speak or do anything but hold on to Emily to make sure she doesn’t leave.

When the tremors fade and she can open her eyes, all she can see is the ceiling and room around her. Emily’s face is next to hers; she can feel her labored breathing against her shoulder. Her back is warm and slick beneath Stephanie’s hands like it is always is when they do this and it’s not lost on her that Emily puts so much of herself into their lovemaking.

Wait.

“Emily?” her throat is parched and her voice is rough.

“Don’t.” It’s sharp and stern and she can feel Emily’s body tensing.

“But—”

Emily lifts her head and she’s wearing the same look of fear she was this morning. “I said, don’t.” She leans down and kisses Stephanie with bruising force. “Just fuck me.” Another kiss that’s difficult to keep up with. “Please, just fuck me.” Her voice is desperate with the second plea so Stephanie just nods.

“How?” she asks between kisses that are somehow growing even more demanding.

“I don’t care, just—” Emily’s voice breaks over the sentence and Stephanie opens her eyes to see her crying, eyes shut tightly to try to stop the tears that are already on her cheeks and falling onto Stephanie’s.

“Okay,” she says as she kisses her back. “Shh, it’s okay.” She kisses her again and brushes the tears away as she does so. “Lie down.”

Emily rolls off her to land on her back next to Stephanie and she quickly sits up to do her best to check on Emily without being aggravating but she’s too slow; Emily’s hands are covering her face and Stephanie honestly can’t tell if she’s laughing or crying behind them.

Whichever it is, she doesn’t want Stephanie seeing it so she ignores it and instead slides down the bed until she’s ducking under Emily’s leg to settle it over her shoulder as she lies between them. She keeps one hand on Emily’s thigh and the other parts wet flesh so her tongue can find her quickly.

“Fuck yes, baby.” Emily’s hips thrust up at her so Stephanie pushes them back down, having to use her elbow since her hands are both occupied.

She licks at her quickly and then remembers how amazing Emily made her feel last night. She slides her tongue down and slips it into her, hot and wet and she feels Emily’s body clench around it and they both moan. She decides to keep it there and the fingers that are holding her open switch to start rubbing the clit she’d been licking.

Emily won’t stop writhing and she gives up trying to keep her still. It’s clear she’s working on taking whatever she needs and Stephanie does her best to give it to her until she’s pushing on the back of Emily’s thigh just as had been done to her. It tilts Emily’s hips up and makes it easier to keep her tongue inside her and Emily reacts so strongly Stephanie thinks she’s about to come.

Instead, Emily’s pulling away from her until she’s on her knees, leaving Stephanie dumbfounded.

“Get up here and lie down,” Emily says with a point to the bed and it makes Stephanie’s blood run even hotter.

She crawls up and turns over and she’s already tucking her arms between Emily’s legs as they straddle her face to bring her down and onto her tongue.

Emily leans back but grabs the headboard for support and starts moving, hips grinding forward again and again as she rides Stephanie’s tongue.

The view, Stephanie muses as she groans at how good Emily tastes tonight, is not unlike that of the painting that hangs in Emily’s home. She drags her nails down Emily’s arched back, then wraps an arm around Emily’s hip so she can get her fingers on her again, slipping back and forth across her clit.

“Fuck, baby,” she groans and Stephanie can feel her trembling and knows she’s close so she doesn’t falter her rhythm.

For the briefest of moments, her own arousal dares her to reach down and touch herself so they can come together, but not now, not this time. This is only for Emily who deserves Stephanie’s complete and undivided attention as she stiffens her tongue and pushes it up as far as she can. It’s not easy, Emily’s body clenching and almost pushing it out but she pushes back.

“Oh, God. Fuck. Fuck!” Emily’s body shifts and she falls forward to hold herself up with the headboard. It pulls her off Stephanie’s tongue and the angle isn’t right anymore so she quickly adjusts, catching her clit between her lips to suck on it, hard, as she slides fingers into her instead to give her something solid to bear down on.

She opens her eyes to take in the view and sees Emily already staring down at her, watching intently. Stephanie moans because that’s all she can do right now and Emily moans in response, hips pushing down so hard that Stephanie’s grateful there’s no pillow beneath her head to hinder it.

Emily’s eyes are open as she comes.

Stephanie has no idea how she does it. She’s coming so hard that her voice is making Stephanie’s ears ring. So hard that it’s running down her hand and dripping on her neck. But Emily’s eyes don’t leave hers, not for a second of what seems like an endless climax.

She’s never experienced anything like it and her body betrays her determination because with one desperate shift of her thighs her own body rocks into orgasm and she sees the effect of it on Emily’s face as she fights to keep her eyes open as Emily did. Her eyes flash and her lips start to smile and Stephanie whines pitifully in what she means to be an apology but something tells her she needn’t be sorry.

When it’s over, when they’re both quiet save for labored breathing, Stephanie lets her eyes fall closed. Her brain is trying to process the evening and it’s a dizzying summary of events as it catalogs the memories. It manages to file away the food and the wine and the laughs and the sex but leaves one thing bouncing around like a pinball. Three words that she knows she heard. Three words Emily immediately tried to pretend didn’t exist. Three words that Stephanie has been thinking about for a while.

She feels Emily move off her and with it comes cool air against her skin that’s wet with sweat and with Emily and it drives alertness into her like a shot of adrenaline and she starts to sit up.

“Oh, God,” Emily says, voice still gravely but no longer winded. “Look at you.”

Stephanie looks at Emily, not herself, and finds her sitting up against the headboard looking lazy and sated. “What about me?”

Emily leans forward with a smile and cups her jaw in a way Stephanie thinks might be in advance of a kiss but instead, it swipes down her chin and neck all the way to her chest and she can feel the slickness of arousal being wiped from her skin. She watches Emily rub her hand over her own thigh and the lust that is still in her head dares her to lean down and lick it. But she doesn’t.

“You are fucking incredible. That’s what.” Emily leans over and kisses her and Stephanie starts moving into Emily’s lap whether she wanted her there or not.

Stephanie plays with messy blonde hair; it’s more wild than ever and she smiles to herself as she combs her fingers through it in a way that gently tugs Emily’s head back, but not in any way that would cause a sting. Emily’s arms settle around her waist and Stephanie can’t help but think how easy this all is.

“We’re so good together,” Stephanie starts. She needs to revisit what Emily’s said. Desperately. And she doesn’t want her to bolt.

“Yeah, we are,” Emily says with a smile and Stephanie jumps as fingers pinch her ass playfully.

“Who’d have ever thought?” Stephanie chuckles before leaning in to steal a kiss because it feels right. “Thank you for inviting me on this trip.” She kisses her and settles into it this time, teasing her way into Emily’s mouth until the temperature starts to rise again. Until she’s rocking slowly in Emily’s lap. Until Emily’s hands are on her breasts.

She lets her lips travel from Emily’s, along her jaw and over her cheek and down to her neck where they make Emily shiver, and up to her ear to confess as Emily had.

“I love you, too,” she whispers before moving back to kiss Emily before she can do anything else.

She’s ready for it when Emily tries to push her off her. She locks her arms around her neck and holds on. They’re still kissing but she’s not forcing Emily to. Hands shove at her hips and knees to try to push Stephanie backward but they don’t try hard enough. There’s no way Emily couldn’t overpower Stephanie if she needed to. They keep pushing at her and Stephanie can hear the frustration in the sounds Emily makes until she’s being pulled in, closer and closer until she can scarcely breathe with how strongly Emily’s arms are wrapped around her, with how hard she’s being kissed.

As suddenly as it shifted from rejection to desperate connection it breaks and Stephanie takes a gasping breath as Emily’s head drops to her chest and the crying starts.

It’s serious this time, uncontrollable sobs that wrack Emily’s body as she clings to Stephanie.

Stephanie holds her, one hand on her head and the other stroking gently up and down her back. She doesn’t shush her or tell her it’s okay. She wants to let Emily cry as much as she needs to because, Stephanie suspects, she almost never allows it to happen.

Her heart aches as much as it swells; she’s felt like she’s waited a lifetime to feel this way about a person. She didn’t even know that she was missing out on anything until Emily started creeping further and further into her life. Tonight, the final piece of the puzzle settled into place and she feels whole. She cries, too, her tears falling into Emily’s hair when she kisses the top of her head.

Ten, maybe fifteen minutes pass before Emily’s sobs subside. Stephanie knows she’s already trying to figure out how to hide or explain away what just happened and she won’t have that. Not anymore. She’s tired of Emily hiding.

“Hey,” she says as she tilts Emily’s flushed, tear-stained face up toward hers. She kisses her and then kisses her again, and when she pulls back and Emily starts to speak, she kisses her once more. After that one, Emily doesn’t seem ready to defend the moment their lips part so Stephanie slowly, gently eases herself out of her embrace until she’s standing. She reaches for Emily’s hands and pulls her up, too. “Take a shower with me.”

Emily just nods and follows as Stephanie walks backward to lead them around the bed and into the bathroom. The only light she turns on is the one associated with the exhaust fan so they have just enough light to not trip.

She has to let go of one of Emily’s hands to open the glass door of the shower and turn on the faucet for both shower heads but she keeps hold on the other to make sure she doesn’t flee. She’s never felt something so delicate before as Emily’s current state. She imagines if a butterfly were to land on her shoulder right now, she would shatter.

She waits until the water runs warm and then steps in, pulling Emily with her and she’s relieved when Emily reaches behind herself to pull the door closed. It means she’s aware despite it seeming a bit like she’s in a trance.

The water hits Stephanie first and she hovers for a few seconds, tilting her head until the water has her hair slicked back and out of her face. “Okay, come on.” She pulls Emily into it next and the distance is just right that the second fixture rains warmth on Stephanie’s back.

She watches Emily’s eyes close as the water hits and her head tilts back in the autopilot kind of way one has in the shower. She soaks her hair and then drops Stephanie’s hand. It makes her panic for a second but all Emily does is turn to put her face under the spray and rub her hands over it.

When she lifts her head again she turns to look at Stephanie, she looks more like herself than she had a few seconds ago. “Come ‘ere,” Emily says with a soft smile as she reaches for Stephanie and pulls her into her space to kiss her.

Stephanie’s surprised, to say the least. Emily seemed so out of it just moments ago but now she’s kissing her with renewed energy and Stephanie feels herself getting lifted again. She wraps her legs around Emily and hisses as cold tile presses into her back. It heats up quickly, though, stoked by Emily’s lips and hands that grip her ass to support her and her body that brushes against what is still aroused.

Emily breaks their kiss and Stephanie’s lips chase hers only for them to be out of reach. She whines and opens her eyes and sees Emily watching her. Emily licks her lips, a move that makes Stephanie wet her own, and then she can see the nervousness in Emily’s eyes again. She’s about to tell her it’s okay when—

“I love you.”

Emily says it like she’s trying it on for size and as soon as the words are past her lips she exhales as though relieved.

Stephanie smiles. She’s feeling giddy now. “I love you, too.”

Emily starts to smile, too. “I love you.”

Stephanie laughs and touches a hand to her cheek and watches in awe as Emily leans into the touch. “I love you, too.”

Emily’s smile splits into a grin and she surges forward to kiss Stephanie. It makes her head connect painfully with the wall and she actually groans and turns away from the kiss because of the ache.

“Oh, shit, are you okay?” Emily says with a laugh that’s laced with concern. One of her hands comes up to cradle the back of Stephanie’s head.

The throb in her skull quickly fades when she opens her eyes to see the way Emily’s watching her and waiting for an answer and she nods. “Never better,” she breathes before pulling Emily back into the kiss.

She’s in love. They’re in love. Stephanie’s never romantically loved someone so fiercely in her life and it scares her as much as it thrills her. Admitting it out loud and knowing it’s mutual seems to have tripled her feelings. She starts crying again, tears of happy disbelief that get washed away and as blissful as she feels, she can’t stop the one thought nagging her.

For as much as she loves Emily, she knows almost nothing about her.

She’ll work on that next. Right now is not the time, because right now, Emily’s guiding Stephanie’s hand down and between her own legs in what is a very clear instruction to touch herself.

She moans against Emily’s mouth as their fingers move together over her clit and it echoes around them, amplified in a way that makes Emily smile. The smile triggers a need to tease in Stephanie and she licks at Emily’s lips before parting long enough to ask, “What were their names?”

Emily seems confused. “Whose names?”

“Exactly,” Stephanie breathes before kissing her again.

Emily seems to figure it out after a few more seconds because she gets a pretty harsh thrust of her hips to shove her harder against the wall with what might be an attempt at cursing her out, but Emily’s mouth is too busy with Stephanie’s to enunciate.

“We’re not sleeping tonight,” Stephanie states when there’s a second to breathe. She always feels insatiable with Emily but tonight is something else entirely. There are no words for the level of desire she has.

“No,” Emily agrees as she stoops to get her mouth on Stephanie’s breast. The angle isn’t great so Stephanie lifts it for her to help.

“We should finish showering so we can get back in bed where this is easier,” she says with a laugh that turns into a moan when her own fingers grind just right.

Emily lets her breast slip from her lips and she straightens. “Not until you make yourself come.”

“Gladly,” Stephanie says with a nod, moving quicker.

“God, I’m going to fuck you all night,” Emily growls, eyes dark and predatory and though Stephanie had been getting close it yanks her right over the edge with a cry.

“That’s it, baby.” She feels Emily’s hands stroking the backs of her thighs until she’s quiet and being lowered to stand on her own feet.

Stephanie leans against her, still catching her breath, and shivers when Emily’s hands seem to be everywhere, on her head and face and shoulders and breasts and stomach and ass and arms and it’s almost finished when she realizes there’s a loofah in her hand and Emily’s bathing her.

“Oh, wow,” she says dumbly as she watches Emily’s hands on her breasts and then they move down until the loofah’s between her legs, gentle and soft as she’s guided under the shower to rinse off. She’s also given the wonderful view of Emily doing the same to herself, all soapy lather and hands swirling over her own body until they’re washing down the drain.

Emily shuts off the water after a couple more minutes and they wring their hair and smile over fluffy white towels as they dry off and then try to dry each other off in what almost devolves into a wrestling match until Emily has Stephanie thrown over her shoulder—which Stephanie protests endlessly but secretly loves—to carry her out of the bathroom and back to bed where, this time, Emily pulls the duvet and sheet down before dropping Stephanie onto it with a squeal.

Emily’s on top of her a second later and they’re kissing. They’ve kissed so much Stephanie’s lips almost ache but she can’t stop, won’t stop for anything, except to say, “I love you,” and to smile when Emily replies, “I love you, too.”

~ ~

Chapter 11

#a simple favor #stephanie smothers #emily nelson #asf fic #murder moms #soooo much smut #and feelings

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