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hotforharrington · 5 years

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Goody Two Shoes (Pt. 4/6)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

Warnings: swearing

Notes: In this fic, you are in the same grade as Steve (a senior) which means Billy is a year younger than you (a junior) ; here is part 4 of Goody Two Shoes :)) I am very happy with this part, so I hope you guys like reading it! I think there’s only going to be 2 more parts but I’m not 100% sure yet. Anyways, enjoy!

—

You walked into your home and your mother was cleaning the kitchen. Billy’s jacket was now lingering in your arms, hoping your mother didn’t notice it among your textbooks. Luckily, she was too consumed with her cleaning to study you.

“(Y/N)! I was about to call the school, I was getting so worried about you!” Your mother said to you.

“Sorry mom! I got held up helping someone with an assignment in the library at the end of the day.” You lied to your mother.

“You are such a good one!” She beamed.

You set your backpack down and were about to head up the stairs when the phone rang. You knew exactly who it was going to be.

You turned around to dart to grab the phone but your mother just barely beat you to it.

“(Y/L/N) residence.” She stated politely.

“Hello, Mrs. (Y/L/N)! This is Billy Hargrove, I go to school with (Y/N). I was calling to speak with her about our upcoming history project.”

“Oh, wonderful. One second and I’ll get her on the line.”

“I’ll pick it up in my room.” You said to your mom before you darted up to your room to pick up your landline. You delicately laid Billy’s jacket on your bed as you pressed the phone to your ear.

“Hey, B, so you’re gonna come over to work on that project?” You asked nonchalantly.

“Yeah, beautiful, I’ll be over soon, if that works for you.”

“Sounds perfect to me.” You said with a smile on your face and your fingers twirling through the phone cord. You prayed your mother wasn’t listening in on your conversation, because the two of you weren’t being very subtle.

“See you soon, princess.” He said before hanging up the phone.

You went straight to your bathroom and freshened up your hair and make up. After that, you made your way back down the stairs to tell your mom that Billy would be over soon.

“Hey mom!” You shouted at her over her vacuum.

“Yes, Sweet Pea?” She responded.

“Billy, the guy who just called, he’s coming over so we can work on that history project. He’ll be here soon!”

“Sounds good, sweetie.”

About 20 minutes passed, and your dad was now home from work. The three of you sat in your living room. A few moments later, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” You called to your parents.

You opened the door to be greeted by a form of Billy you’d never seen before. He was well groomed and put together. He wore a lightly colored button up shirt (which was surprisingly buttoned all the way up) and khaki pants. The blonde curls of his mullet were smooth and appeared soft, and not slightly tangled as normal.

Your heart felt so full that he took this so seriously for you. This was a huge sign that he actually cared, and wasn’t just playing games with you.

“H-hi, Billy.” You stuttered.

“Hi, (Y/N). How are you doing?”

“Um, I’m good, thanks... Please come inside.” You said to him.

He walked into your home and your parents stood to greet the handsome young man that now entered their living room.

“Mom, Dad, this is Billy Hargrove, my uh... classmate.” You said, slightly nervous.

“Mr. and Mrs. (Y/L/N), it’s so nice to meet you. “ Billy shook your parents hands with a polite smile on his face.

It was so odd to see him like this. It was like a completely different person was standing here meeting your parents, not the bad boy you had come to know.

“It’s good to meet you too. Are you new to town? I don’t think I’ve seen you around and, well, Hawkins isn’t too big.” Your father said to him.

“Yes actually! My family just moved here from California.”

“Oh wow! Must be a big change for you.” Your mother said in response.

“Yes ma’am it is.”

You were starting to get stressed about your parents questioning him so you interrupted and said, “Um, we’re gonna go upstairs if that’s alright. That history project isn’t going to start itself!”

You headed for the stairs, when your mother said, “Billy?”

You both turned back to see what she was about to say.

“Yes ma’am?” He responded.

“Are you planning on joining us for dinner?” She asked.

Panicking internally, you said, “Oh I don’t think Billy would want to join us-“

“I’d love to.” Billy said, surprising you.

Your mother smiled at him and you faked a smile, grabbed Billy by the arm, pulled him upstairs to your room, and closed the door.

As soon as the door was closed, Billy unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt and said, “Fuck (Y/N), I don’t know how you do this every damn day.”

You chuckled at him and he sat on your bed.

“It’s not so bad,” You said, “But, hey, what was that about staying for dinner? You know they’re going to ask you all kinds of questions that you’ll have to lie about...”

In this moment, you felt kind of guilty about making Billy do all of this. You hated that he had to pretend to be someone he’s not in order to impress your parents.

You sauntered closer to the curly haired boy. He grabbed your hands in his and said, “Hey... don’t worry about it, okay? It’ll be fine. Besides, I told you I wanted to meet your parents.”

You nodded and plopped yourself down next to him on your bed. “I really appreciate you doing this for me, B.”

“Of course, princess.” He responded, playing with your fingers that were now intertwined in his.

“But... maybe in the future if you want to hangout with me, we should just sneak out... or you could sneak in...” You suggested.

“Whatever makes you happy, beautiful girl.” He caressed your cheek and pulled your lips to meet his. Billy intentionally made this kiss a sweet one, to show you comfort since you were obviously stressed about this situation.

You pulled away from the kiss and smiled at him. Then, a realization came into your mind.

“Oh, shit! The project!” You said.

“I thought that was made up? We don’t even have a history class together.” He said, confused.

“Yeah it is, but we have to have something in case my parents want to see what we’ve been working on... or if one of them happens to come in, we’ll have to pretend like we’re working on something.”

You walked over to your desk where you had placed your textbooks that you had brought home. Thank god! you thought to yourself. You managed to bring home your U.S. history book, which would be a perfect prop.

“I’ll be right back!” You said to Billy before darting out of your room and down the stairs.

“Whatcha lookin’ for, Sweet Pea?” Your mother asked.

“Do we have any poster board?”

“Yes sweetie, in your father’s study there should be some in the cabinet.”

“Thanks!” You said, bolting into the study and opening up the cabinet. You grabbed a medium sized, white poster board and went back upstairs to join Billy.

Billy looked at you with a confused expression and you just said, “Trust me. This will only take a second.”

You grabbed a permanent marker from your desk drawer and placed the poster board on the floor.

You began drawing a bubble map and wrote ‘The Civil War’ in the center bubble. In your nice, neat handwriting, you began filling in the surrounding bubbles with detailed information about different battles of the Civil War.

Billy was amazed at your intellect. The history book remained closed and you were able to beautifully describe this information with out any help whatsoever.

You made sure to leave at least one bubble empty, to show that you were still ‘working on it.’ After you finished writing, you flipped the textbook open to the table of contents and found exactly the chapter you were looking for. You turned the flimsy pages right open to a display of pictures and bold letters that said ‘Chapter 7: The Civil War’.

“Perfect.” You whispered to yourself. You then turned to Billy and said, “There. Now we can plop down here and pretend like we’re working in case we hear anyone come up the stairs.”

A soft smile overcame his face from admiration of your determination to this whole thing.

“Your ambition is so sexy, you know that?” He said to you.

“Oh yeah?” You cocked an eyebrow at him and moved to straddle him on the bed.

You looked deep into his piercing blue eyes before going in for a passionate kiss. You both toppled over, him on his back and you on top of him.

He lightly bit your bottom lip and in response, your tongue invaded his mouth. Your fingertips lingered at the base of his neck, gently playing with his curls. His strong hands inched down from your waist, slowly moving lower and lower...

The two of you made out in your room for only a few moments before you heard your mother begin to yell out for you and then slowly ascend up the stairs.

The both of you jumped up. You wiped your mouth and Billy buttoned up his shirt. The pair of you plopped onto the floor with the project just in time before your mother opened the door.

She smiled and said, “Hey you hard workers! Dinner’s ready! I hope you like spaghetti, Billy!”

“Sounds amazing, Mrs. (Y/L/N)!” He replied politely.

Your mother walked back towards the stairs and you turned to Billy with a nervous smile.

“This is kinda fun.” He said to you with a genuine smile on his face.

You pressed up on your tip toes and gave him a small peck on the cheek before leading him out the bedroom door and down the stairs.

The delicious aroma of Italian food filled the kitchen. The table was set for four. Two chairs on each side. You and Billy took a seat on one side and your parents sat on the other.

After saying grace, everyone fixed their plates and began to dig in. It was awkwardly silent for awhile until your father spoke up, “So Billy, got any plans after high school?”

“Billy’s actually a year younger than me, dad.” You explained.

“Doesn’t mean he hasn’t already thought about where he’s going to school or what he wants to do with his life.” Your father stated, “He seems like a fine young man. Definitely the kind of man I hope you’d end up with, (Y/N).”

You turned slightly and softly smiled at him. You two intertwined your fingers underneath the table, in secret.

Your father continued his statement, “And with that logic, I would think he would be smart enough to think ahead.”

“Well, in terms of colleges, I am keeping my options open at the moment, sir.” Billy answered.

“Nothing wrong with that, son!” Your father said politely, “But as for, (Y/N), she doesn’t have much choice where she’s going!” He chuckled.

A confused look spread across Billy’s face.

“We’ve been saving for her to go to Harvard since we found out my wife was pregnant!” Your dad explained, “She’s gotta continue the family tradition. We’re just waiting for that acceptance letter to come in. Should be here any day now!”

“Our sweet girl, she’s never let us down before and I highly doubt she’s going to start now!” Your mother said with a joyful chuckle.

Billy slowly released his hand from your grasp. “That’s wonderful, (Y/N).”

You could tell Billy’s words were forced. You hadn’t thought about the fact that you’d potentially be leaving for Harvard at the end of the school year.

You could feel the change of energy from Billy. He had tensed up, when he had been cool, calm, and collected since he walked through the front door.

The rest of the meal went by with casual small talk and everyone managed to get through it. Your parents were too blind to see the shift in Billy.

After you cleared you and Billy’s dishes from the table, you announced, “Billy and I are almost done with our project, so we’re going to go finish it now, okay?”

Your parents nodded their heads and you retreated to your bedroom.

Billy walked in first and you closed the door behind you.

“So... Harvard huh?” Billy asked with a bit of pain in his voice.

“Maybe...” You replied.

Billy just looked down at the floor for a moment. It was silent and awkward in your bedroom.

“Is that what you want?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” You replied.

“(Y/N)... I know we haven’t been seeing each other long but I know you’re something special. And even without the idea of us being in a relationship, I don’t want to see you go at the end of this school year unless going to Harvard is what really is going to make you happy. And when I say you, I mean you. Not your parents. You know, eventually you’re going to have to be up front with them and speak your truth!”

You knew Billy was right, even if you didn’t want to admit it. “I know.” was all you could manage to say to the boy.

You sat down next to him and rested your head in the crook of his neck. He slipped his hand into yours and kissed the top of your head. Billy turned to look at the clock on your bedside table.

“Shit.” He said. It was 6:30 and he told Neil he would be home at 6:00. “I gotta go, (Y/N), I told my dad I would be home thirty minutes ago.”

“Okay, Billy, calm down. Just tell him we were working on this project. It’ll be okay, won’t it?”

“You don’t understand, princess. I have to go. Now.” He said with a serious tone.

You bolted up and escorted him out. He quickly, yet politely, thanked your parents for having him over and your mother for the delicious meal.

He scurried to his Camaro and sped off to get home.

You watched the boy drive away and couldn’t help but worry. What did he mean by ‘You don’t understand, princess’?

You decided to shake it off and move on with the rest of your evening.

When 9:00 rolled around, you decided you better catch up on your sleep.

You headed up the stairs, brushed your teeth, put on your pajamas, and drifted off to sleep.

Good thing you decided to get some extra sleep, because only a few hours later, you were awoken by a fairly loud knock on your window.

—

Read Part 5 Here

Taglist:

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#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove stranger things #billy x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagines #billy stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagines #stranger things preferences #steve harrington #stranger things #dacre montgomery #Goody Two Shoes Billy Hargrove

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thatshankcallednewt · 5 years

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Newt: Alternate Universe - Spilt Milk

Prompt: You and Newt are soulmates; the soulmate universe where soulmates receive the same injuries as each other.

requested by anonymous

I’ve never heard of this soulmate AU before, so I gave it my best shot. Kept it fluffy (because I’m sick of writing angst), I hope you enjoy reading, and that it follows the AU as much as possible as I was a little unsure by what “injury soulmate au” actually meant! :P

You sat down on the edge of your bed and sighed audibly, your chest rose and fell dramatically as it expelled. It had been a serious week of moving in and organizing the place, so much so that you had forgotten what it felt like to just sit down and breathe calmly.

But it was a good week, nonetheless. It was good to finally have your own space, completely yours.

You let the late afternoon sunshine warm your cheeks as it spilled through the new, soft transparent-white curtains you hung over your bedroom window last night, and you thought about the rest of your day. You wanted to buy a couple of extra mugs for guests and some new bath towels and an indoor drying rack for your washing when the weather becomes gloomy. You figured you would just spend a quiet afternoon looking through some thrift stores and homeware shops near your apartment building, so you grabbed your things up and shoved it all quickly into your bag before locking your front door shut.

When you twisted the keys in the lock and checked that the doorknob wouldn’t twist open, you spun in the direction of the stairs but instead saw your neighbor walking onto your level. You’ve met him a few times now, it was usually a small smile and a nod. The first time you met, you spilled a carton of milk all over the hall. Fortunately, there wasn’t a carpeted rug over the flooring, but it was still quite the mess; you were grateful for his help in cleaning it up despite being such a klutz. You were an immediate sucker for his chocolate brown eyes and golden hair, but what did it was the playful accent, especially when he called out to you in passing.

You started down the hallway and caught eyes with Newt as he neared his own front door. He had his backpack slung over one shoulder and was wearing a blue sweater, he must have been to one of his classes during the morning. He’s mentioned to you before about his study.

He smiled at you, “Y/N, how are ya?”

You smiled back warmly, “Great, what about yourself?”

He nodded, “Great, yeah, great,” he paused and noticed your bag, “headed out?”

“Last minute shopping. I keep thinking of all the random pieces of furniture or homewares I need that I didn’t realize I would need before moving in.”

“Ah yes, I’ve been there. You got enough towels?”

You grinned sheepishly at him, “On my list.”

“Make sure to buy extra soft, may be a little pricier but definitely worth it, otherwise it’ll just be uncomfortably rough within six months.”

You laughed at his advice and shook your head a little, “You got anymore tips for me?”

He thought for a moment, you watched his amused eyes, “Yeah, don’t buy a carton of milk and drop it in the hallway.”

You both laughed at the memory and you shook your head at him again, “I promise it was an accident.”

“I don’t know,” he started suspiciously, “maybe you were trying to distract me so you could scope my place out before you rob me and take off in the middle of the night.”

“Oh, yeah,” you said, “that’s exactly what I was doing.”

He smiled again, and your heart warmed. “Seriously though,” he started again, “how did you manage it?”

You sighed and glanced at the floor before looking back up at him again, “Honestly, I don’t know, I’m usually a little bit un-co but that day my leg kept aching and I think I stepped wrong or something.”

He frowned at this, “Your leg hurt?”

“Yeah,” you held it out now before you, “it’s okay now though. I think it’s nothing, but it’s been like that for a while, I went to the doctor about it and she said that there wasn’t anything wrong with it. It’s just on and off, I guess.”

Newt stared down at your leg in silence, he blinked, and then he found your eyes again, “Yeah… it’s probably nothing.”

You both said your goodbyes as Newt mentioned he had an essay due soon, so you let him get back to studying while you took off for the bunch of stores near your street. You found some nice décor pieces at the thrift stores for cheap prices, so you indulged yourself in that but as you went into the homeware store you were overwhelmed. There were so many items you been eyeing off online but pushed yourself not to buy that it was now harder than ever to stop yourself.

You found the towels and decided on some warm tones and also took Newt’s advice on buying extra soft ones, they did feel nice against your skin.

When you got to the mugs section though, you were floored at all the possible designs you could choose from. You weren’t sure if you should go quirky or colorful, or even comical; you never before realized how much of a task mug-choosing could be. You probably stood there in the aisle for ten minutes straight, just staring at all your options.

Then you finally picked out one, it was a comical one, you could never say no to a cute little pun on a coffee mug, but the satisfaction of making a decision was short-lived as you fumbled with the mug and watched it clatter to the floor; cracking apart.

You stared at the mug and could feel panic rising. You bent down to pick up the broken pieces, you didn’t want anyone to injure themselves while you went and found an employer that could help, but as you picked up the pieces in your panicked state, you sliced your finger open.

“Ouch!” you cried and lifted the finger to inspect it. It was bleeding, definitely bleeding, the blood began running down the side of your finger, but from what you could see after wiping it up with tissues, it didn’t look too deep.

Finally, an employer came to your aid and found a first-aid kit. With heated cheeks you let him ask what happened and give you a Band-Aid, and then you paid for the broken mug (as well as the new ones you selected out afterwards). You hated that you embarrassed yourself so, you kept thinking how you wouldn’t be able to show your face there ever again.

You were busy still thinking hard about the incident when you stumbled up the stairs to your apartment. You were just thinking how you could have made a run for it, and they never would’ve known, when Newt’s apartment door swung open beside you.

You froze in place and looked at the blond boy as he held his hand up, his finger spurting blood. You stared hard at his hand and then your eyes widened.

“I don’t have any bloody Band-Aids,” he said, his frown tight and his eyebrows furrowed from the pain.

“Your finger…” you said, and then you realized he needed your help, so you quickly unlocked your apartment door and he followed you into the bathroom. You opened up the mirror’s storage doors and searched for your small box of first-aid equipment.

You pulled out a Band-Aid and, after cleaning the wound on his finger, you wrapped it up carefully, hyper-aware of every touch. You felt the blush back on your cheeks and you hoped he didn’t notice.

“So, you have plenty of extra soft towels but no Band-Aids, huh?” you questioned, jokingly.

He smiled at this, “Well, if you weren’t such a klutz, I wouldn’t bloody need them.”

You pulled your hands away from him and stared up at him, you weren’t sure if you had heard him correctly. In fact, you were sure you hadn’t.

“You don’t know?” he said, his brown eyes amused. He pointed to his leg, “My limp, your leg pains? It’s the same bloody leg.”

“But—”

He eyed your injured finger before continuing, “I didn’t slice my finger open, I was nowhere near anything that would. I was just typing away on my laptop, minding my own business. Essays are hard and painful but not that kind of painful,” he laughed at his joke and you couldn’t believe what he was getting at, you just couldn’t. “And what about this?” he continued as held up his other arm where a big, fat purple bruise swelled his skin.

You twisted your arm to look at where the bruise was, you remembered that you were vacuuming and tripped over the cord, you looked back to him and saw him half-grinning.

He sighed, “I saw that one first, on your arm, in the hallway once when I was on my way out and you were going home. I... I was sure I was just imagining things but... it all made sense after a while.”

You were lost for words entirely, the whole soulmate thing, you believed it of course, your own parents found each other after your mom broke her wrist roller-skating. They went to the hospital at the same time and saw each other in the waiting room, for the same injury, except Dad was only watching TV when it happened.

But you never even thought about it, not consistently anyway, meeting your soulmate was something you just figured would happen later, a lot later.

“Have you always been this much of a klutz? ‘Coz I’ve been through the bloody wars, especially this week,” he couldn’t keep his smile off his face, “and when we met and you spilled that milk all over the corridor…” he laughed softly, and licked his lips nervously, “I guess I thought about how clumsy my soulmate must be and I kinda hoped it was you. Spilt milk is pretty romantic, right?” he paused, “Makes a good story to tell.”

“I…” you said, but your sentence trailed off. “I can’t believe…” You shook your head and laughed, finally, and it put Newt at ease when he realized you weren’t in complete shock-horror at the thought of him being your soulmate. “God, I must have drove you crazy…”

“A lot of injuries, sometimes I thought you might kill me before we ever even got the chance to meet but… I guess I always thought that at least you would be a pretty interesting person. Not any normal person gets into that many accidents on the daily.”

“I’m sorry about that…” you said sheepishly, suddenly embarrassed all over again.

He smiled brightly at you, his brown eyes flashed, “No need to be, I can take it. Besides, you have to put up with that bloody pain in your leg all the time.”

You shrugged, “I’m used to it, it would be weird not having it around.”

He smiled at that, and in that moment, it suddenly dawned on the both of you that your soulmate, your soulmate, was right there in front of you.

Newt nervously put his hand through his hair, he glanced down at your bathroom tiles momentarily before his eyes found yours again, “M-maybe we should get coffee some time?”

You laughed at him, a big, hearty laugh that rose from your stomach, and you tried to stop yourself by shoving your hand over your mouth, but his surprised face only made it harder.

At first, he didn’t know how to react, but your laugh was contagious to him, your smile was everything, and he couldn’t help but laugh with you.

#thatshankcallednewtimagine #tmr newt #newt imagine #tmr imagine #newt #newt x reader #one shot #newt/reader #tmr #tst #tdc

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alittletournesol · 6 years

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Knit {OnKey}

Kibum sighed as he leaned against the elevator’s wall, closed his eyes and let his arms dangle, his expensive Hermes bag falling on the floor yet he couldn’t care less. His working day had been a living hell and time had passed so slowly he had almost thought he had been cursed by a demon or something.

He actually enjoyed his job. He hadn’t spent four years of his life studying seam, fabrics and couture, including a whole year abroad to learn about haute couture in a famous French designer house, not to deserve his current status. He was still young yet his skills had been noticed enough to be recognized by a few labels, and even though his biggest dream was to own his designer house… being part of the fashion designers team of Beyond Closet was an honor.

He loved that label, it was his favorite for years and he could still remember how his first expensive purchase came from their shop : a gorgeous beige jacket from their Paris collection. He also was in love with the French city, wishing to live there one day and making the most of his job to attend the Fashion Weeks in the fashion capital…

Yes, Kim Kibum was ambitious yet a bit too dreamy according to his co-workers. It wasn’t easy to develop a designer house and since the twenty-seven years old man was more into luxury… it was even more difficult, almost unreachable. But he wasn’t someone who could give up so easily and he was always saying that even if he’s over seventy when he finally opens his house, he will do it.

The man opened his eyes and turned his head towards the mirror-wall of the elevator. He straightened up and faced it, adjusting his winter coat and styling his black hair. At least he was meeting to classic-beauty enough to become a model if he decided to give up… but it wasn’t in his plans.

On the first meetings, most people would see him as someone vain and bragging, thinking highly of himself and even able to put himself above anyone else. And to be honest, he was keeping this impression up since behind glitter and limelights, fashion was a world of sharks. To achieve his dream, he must be the alpha shark.

Kibum smiled to his reflection, his cold and closed face suddenly lightened and softened by this small gesture, before a ding informed him he had arrived at his floor. Yes, he was known as a shark in the milieu, yet he was actually the opposite. Only a few persons knew the true him and it was more than enough.

He was just a good actor and knew how to act in his own favor.

As he picked his bag up, he left the elevator and took his keys out to unlock his apartment’s door. As soon as he entered, he inhaled deeply to feel this soft home scent. His shoulders relaxed by themselves once he felt secure and able to be himself, he removed and hung his coat on the rack, heading to the laundry room to select dirty clothes according to their color in the basket before putting a load on.

It was the first part of the routine he was somehow loving more than his never ending working days, unless he was forced to do the dishes ; he hated to dirty his hands. As he opened the basket and instinctively put his arm in it to grab the first cloth… his fingers caught nothing. Kibum’s eyebrows furrowed and he glanced at the inside : it was empty.

“What the hell…” He whispered, kneeling to check if the washing machine was filled.

No clothes there either. Maybe the dryer ? Still nothing. Yet he was sure he had at least two laundries to do after he had checked the basket on the morning before leaving. The dark haired man sighed and stood up, walking to his bedroom to quickly change, replacing his work clothes with plain sweatpants and a warm hoodie.

He sighed with comfort and put his slippers on once he had removed his socks, and went to put all his clothes in the basket. He then headed to the bathroom, tending to his make up and cleaning his face from any trace of BB cream. As he put his moisturizer, he smiled : now, he was himself.

The soft guy who loved to stay home, only wearing comfy clothes and no make up on, in his boyfriend’s company.

Speaking of boyfriend…

“Baby ? You’re here ?” Kibum raised his voice, removing his lenses at the same time.

“Yes.”

A soft and unique voice answered him and he smiled as he left the bathroom, putting his glasses on and heading to the living room where the voice came from. There, sitting crossed-legs on the couch, his boyfriend was focused on his knit and that scene made Kibum smile. Knitting was actually the only fashion thing that was binding them and the young man found it… funny.

He approached the chestnut haired man to sit next to him but he stopped his movement when he noticed the iron table, unfolded in the living room and with a basket on it, filled with ironed and folded clothes. There he had found the missing clothes…

“Did you do the laundry ?” Kibum asked, raising his eyebrows with surprise.

“I did.” The other said without looking up.

“And you ironed everything too ?”

“Everything.”

“Oh. And… wait, did you vacuum the living room ?”

“The bedrooms too.”

“What about the bathroom ?”

“I moped it. Kitchen too.”

“Speaking about kitchen, I should cook dinner.”

“I ordered sushis for tonight, they will arrive at eight.”

“What about drinks ?”

“I asked for sake too.”

Kibum was in shock, speechless. Telling him everything he had done, his boyfriend was sitting there, his hands busy with his knitting and he wasn’t even glancing at him. Fine, he wanted to play that game.

The dark haired man sat on the couch and leaned backwards until the back of his head was on the other man’s hands, covering his work. His fingers stopped their fast movement and his almond shaped eyes finally look at his boyfriend’s face.

“And… what about your love for me ?” Kibum asked without hiding a smile.

“Stronger than yesterday yet weaker than tomorrow.” Jinki smiled in his turn before he leaned forward to put a kiss on the other man’s lips.

The latter chuckled to the cheesy words that were his boyfriend’s speciality, along with his questionable jokes. Jinki was the more natural person he had ever met, and it would surprise more than one person in the fashion world if they had seen them together, considering how different they could seem to people who didn’t know the real Kibum.

“Didn’t you work today ?” The fashion designer asked when the other male straightened up. “Laundries and ironing take time.”

“It’s Thursday, baby.” Jinki replied. “My day-off.”

The chestnut haired man was working in a famous music shop in Seoul for several years now, he was unbeatable when it came to the amount of CDs the shelves were proposing and most instruments they were also selling. He himself could play piano and acoustic guitar, yet he knew everything about every instrument and was one of the best advisers of the shop.

Kibum had met him four years before, when he was still a student and had just come back home after his year in France. His best friend had his birthday the week after and he hadn’t bought a gift although he had no difficulties to find an idea : Jonghyun played music for years and it was high time for him to change his so old bass. At that time, the fashion student had earned money thanks to his time in France, that had allowed him to work part-time in a designer house as one of the dressers for shows and runways’ models.

Thus, he had the money, yet he had no idea what were the decision criteria to buy a bass. He wasn’t even able to tell the difference between a bass and an electric guitar and he would have been in deep shit if Jinki hadn’t ran to him after observing him sweating for ten minutes. The sale assistant had asked him extremely simple questions about Jonghyun’s habits when he was doing music, things Kibum could answer to himself, and he eventually had advised him a bass whose price was decent.

His best friend had loved his present and when the fashion student had implied that he had actually listened to the sale assistant’s rabbiting only because he was handsome… Jonghyun had spent several weeks trying to convince him to go to the shop again. Kibum had always refused until that day in September, near his twenty-fourth birthday, when he had been brought to the music shop against his will.

Yet he could never thank his friend enough because it was that day Jinki had offered him a CD from his favorite band as a early birthday present, saying he would keep the secret. Kibum had then asked him on a date without even realizing what he was saying, and it had been where all had started between them.

They had move in together a few months ago, to celebrate their second year as a couple, and their house-life was pleasing both of them so deeply they were often wondering how they would survived this tough world if they hadn’t met.

“And on your day-off, you work at home.” Kibum laughed. “You’re a bit dumb, aren’t you ? Why didn’t you rest ?”

“I’m resting right now, you know knitting relaxes me.” Jinki said, pouting. “And I thought you would be tired since you told me today was the last alterations before tomorrow’s show.”

“Yeah, it was tiring as hell… I don’t know how I survived. Can you imagine ? One of our model lost weight ! His trousers didn’t suit him anymore and trousers are horrible to alter. And guess who was in charge of it ?”

“Let me guess. You ?”

“Exactly. What am I, a slave ? Trust me, I scolded him so hard. The poor boy is so well-shaped yet he still loses weight, he’s going to become a walking matchstick and he’s only twenty-three.”

“You sound like a worried older brother more than a scolding mom, you know. Do you even know him enough to scold him ?”

“Of course I know him, what’s his name again… Not Minho, that one is the tall handsome moron who thinks I’m his personal slave, watch me kick his ass with my Louboutin hobnailed boots next time he asks me to bring him a coffee. Shit, I can’t remember his name… I told you about him, he’s young and blonde, and his upper lip is weirdly shaped…”

“First of all, stop swearing, you’re ugly when you swear. Then, was it Taemin ?”

“Yes ! Lee Taemin ! I almost killed him when he told me his current weight. Tomorrow after the show, I’ll force-feed him.”

Jinki couldn’t help but laugh as he removed his hands from behind his boyfriend’s head, freeing his knitting at the same time.

“Tough day, then.” He stated, putting his work on the pedestal table next to the switched on lamp.

“Yeah… Thanks God I’m back home and with you.” Kibum sighed. “What were you knitting ?”

“A scarf, since your haute couture stuff doesn’t protect you from the cold I guess I have to do things my way.”

“You’re making a scarf for me ?”

“Of course baby. Slytherin style.”

“Oh my God, take me on this couch.”

“… For a scarf ?”

“Excuse me, you shouldn’t need a reason to do it in a first place.”

Kibum rolled his eyes as he straightened up, making a move to stand up when two strong arms circled his waist from behind and pulled him backwards. With a chuckle, he ended up sitting on his boyfriend’s thighs, held tight against his torso, and he turned his head to look at him.

“What time did you say for the sushis delivery ?” He asked, a familiar glint in the eyes.

“Eight.” Jinki replied as he put a soft yet warm kiss on his jawline.

“Perfect.”

The fashion designer smirked and turned over to face the other man, straddling him and crushing his lips against his as he held his well-rounded cheeks with both his hands. Jinki grunted and instantly made the kiss deeper, forcing his boyfriend’s lips open as his tongue invaded him to meet its twin. He held Kibum’s hips tight while they exchanged that kind of kisses that was always turning them on in such a short time ; wet, warm and noisy.

Soon, a familiar heat started to overwhelm their bodies as their kisses were going more and more intense, arousing them enough to almost make them short of breath. Jinki broke the kiss first to get rid of his lover’s hoodie, carelessly throwing it on the floor before taking his lips once again, his hands making their way up the naked back. Kibum’s skin was so soft… it smelled so good too…

The latter couldn’t wait more, the kiss became messy as he managed to unbutton Jinki’s shirt, his long fingers trembling with desire. Feeling his trouble, the elder helped him without separating their lips, their tongues fiercely dancing against each other. Soon, the shirt was completely opened and Kibum let his hands caress the slightly tanned skin, the tip of his fingers feeling the lines of his boyfriend’s torso.

Jinki had never been a brawny man, his abdomen was more cute than muscled yet he had strong arms and thick thighs, something Kibum adored. The latter’s arousal was going higher with the seconds passing and he left the other male’s lips to made his slide against his jawline, tracing a wet line of kisses down his neck.

There, he sucked and licked the skin, pretended to bite it while the elder sighed, his hands holding and caressing the thin waist. He closed his eyes when he felt the raven haired man going down his torso, endlessly kissing until he eventually kneeled between his legs. As Jinki opened his eyes, he met Kibum’s, sparkling with desire and that possessiveness that was proper to him.

In no time, the elder’s pants were down to his ankles along with his boxers, and the tip of his cock was the captive of the younger’s swollen lips. Without breaking the eye contact with his boyfriend, Kibum started sucking the glans, playing his tongue around it and earning a hoarse sigh directly coming from Jinki’s throat.

The latter ran his fingers through the designer’s hair, caressing them in a first place then slightly pushing the back of his head.

“More…” He moaned, his voice husky and his eyes darkened with lust.

Smiling, Kibum didn’t wait for a second order and worked his lips down Jinki’s shaft, slowly yet surely. With a muffled growl, the elder tightened his grip on his lover’s hair as he leaned against the couch’s backrest, his legs spread and one arm behind his own head. He was having troubles keeping his eyes opened since pleasure was invading him and taking control over him second by second, but he wanted to watch Kibum please him.

His cock’s thickness had been an obstacle when the dark haired male had tried to take it in his mouth for the first time, yet he was now extremely gifted to use this thickness to his advantage. As his head was moving up and down until the half of his boyfriend’s shaft, he was working his right hand around its base to strongly increase the pleasure, while his left hand was moving in his own pants, stroking himself.

Jinki sighed even deeper when a wave of pleasure shook his body, giving him goosebumps and drawing sweat out of his pores. Kibum had this amazing way to suck him off it was driving him crazy and he never needed a lot of time to come, yet it was out of the question to cum right now.

Softly, he tugged his boyfriend’s hair to make him let go of his cock, and the designer moved his lips backwards, dropping the member with a pop sound and a trail of precum and saliva taut between its head and his lower lip…

“Come over there.”

Jinki has ordered this with a soft yet husky voice that was betraying his increasing lust, and Kibum smiled as he stood up, wiping his mouth. But before he could sit on his lover’s thighs, he quickly headed to the bedroom to grab a bottle of his favorite lube — vanilla scented.

When he came back in the living room and approached his boyfriend, the elder suddenly grabbed him by his hips, making him standing still between his legs. Without warning, he approached the younger’s stomach and put his lips on the milky skin, kissing, sucking, licking it.

Kibum sighed, dropping what he had in his hands as he caressed his boyfriend’s chestnut hair, sliding his fingers in it as he appreciated the warmth of the lips against his stomach. Jinki worked his hands from the thin waist to the elastic of the sweatpants, eventually pushing them down the other male’s legs along with his underwear. The latter couldn’t help but blush yet he slightly lifted his feet to get rid of the clothes.

As they were now both naked, Jinki kissed Kibum’s abdomen before making his kisses going down his body until his lips met the base of his hardened cock. He put a soft kiss there, then grazed its entire length to arouse his lover even more. The raven haired male moaned and bit his lip when he felt lips almost touching the head of his member, literally holding onto the other’s hair to keep his balance when pleasure hit him.

Jinki smiled and made the most of his boyfriend’s disequilibrium to catch him by the hips and pull him towards him, lying him on his back under him, on the couch. Opening his eyes, Kibum smiled as he spread his legs, raising one against the backrest with his heel resting on top of it, the other one dangling. He was offering himself, and the chestnut haired man caressed his lover’s thigh, leaning forwards to take his lips with his into a rough, messy yet full of love kiss.

He had never been bothered by his own taste, Kibum always kissing him even after blowing him out. It had felt weird at first but he was now used to it, enjoying those wet kisses even more. As their tongues were messing with each other, the designer’s hands holding onto the musician’s shoulder and arm, the latter worked his free hand up the thin thigh, lifting it a bit more so his boyfriend’s butt was offered to him in a better angle.

He ran his fingers between the warm cheeks blind, his eyes still closed as Kibum moaned in their kiss when he felt his hole being tickled. His back slightly arched, his body asking for more when it knew what was coming, and Jinki obeyed this silent order as he broke the kiss to pick the bottle of lube up, generously coating his fingers with it.

Vanilla’s scent was strong yet sweet, the perfect allegory of their relationship.

Kibum bit his lip, lifting his arm behind his head while he grabbed his knee with the other hand, pulling it to spread his legs wider. Answering the invitation, the elder leaned forwards to put his lips on his boyfriend’s thigh, just a few inches above his privates. As he pressed wet and warm kisses on the white skin, he slowly inserted his lubbed finger in the younger’s tight hole, working it back and forth with an extreme delicateness.

Under him, Kibum kept his mouth half-open as a sigh turned into a low moan, his usual baritone voice going a bit more high-pitched and arousing the other man even more. Once he felt the flesh loose around his finger, Jinki pushed another on in and kissed his lover’s thigh and hipbone to distract him from the short yet sharp pain. Both his fingers were soothing him and the designer was already feeling close to lose it.

“More ?” The elder asked, his breath hot against Kibum’s thigh.

“Please…” The latter answered, pulling his knee more to support his plea.

Jinki smiled and carefully inserted a third finger, stretching his boyfriend almost to his fullest and earning a moan combining an unpleasant pain and growing pleasure. Kibum slightly arched his back when he felt as if he was being ripped for a second, yet the generous amount of lube added to his boyfriend’s expertise soothed him in no time.

Sweat was starting to run down his temple and neck as the fingers were moving inside him, massaging his prostate as if they knew exactly where to go, and he whined with disappointment when he suddenly felt empty.

“Impatient boy…”

Whispering with his husky yet so soft voice, Jinki was now smiling and staring at him with a wild flame in his eyes. Out of consideration for his boyfriend’s well-being, he generously covered his cock with lube since the lovers weren’t using lubbed condoms anymore, gently stroking himself at the same time.

Biting his lip at this view, Kibum lifted his leg from the backrest, his foot caressing his lover’s shoulder as a way to calling him.

“Will you come now or do I have to call someone else to fill me up ?” He asked, his eyes shining with lust and anticipation. “The doorbell can ring at any time, baby…”

“Not my fault if you like to take time for foreplays, love…”

Jinki had said these words while kneeling with one leg on the couch, between his boyfriend’s thighs, the other one out as he planted his foot on the wooded floor to help him keeping his balance and anticipating his thrusts to come. Kibum put his hand back behind his knee, pulling his dangled leg backwards as he put the other one on top of his lover’s shoulder.

It was like Jinki’s shoulder’s bone had been made to fit under the designer’s knee, and the musician put both his hands on the inner thighs to slightly push them apart even more. The tip of his cock approached his boyfriend’s hole, then pushed inside in a slow movement ; only the head was inside as Jinki made it move back and forth to soothe the entrance before the real thing.

“Oh God.” Kibum sighed as his free hand grabbed the armrest where he had his head resting, ready to tighten his grip when pleasure would invade him. “Come inside, please come inside…”

The chestnut haired man smirked ; he loved it when he was begged, and his boyfriend would often be impatient enough to. Yet himself was enough in love with this man to comply to everything… thus, he slowly pushed his cock between Kibum’s cheeks, relishing the sudden and warm tightness around him and the long and loud moan welcoming him.

It was the only rule the younger had established : to always be filled up to the hilt.

Soon, Jinki’s pelvis was against Kibum’s ass and he stopped there for a moment, leaning above the other male to look at him, his breath already short. When the designer opened his eyes, a flame dancing in his irises, the musician bit his lip, straightened a bit and held the leg on his shoulder as he started his thrusts.

Slow in a first place, Jinki was moving back and forth inside his partner, almost entirely leaving him to thrust deeper each time. It wasn’t as messy as their kisses, it was as calculated as Kibum’s lips against his cock earlier ; the elder was taking him slow yet fervently, playing with the whole length of his member.

Under him, his body making the couch squeak as it was sliding on it on rhythm with the waves of pleasure he was receiving from his boyfriend’s boosts, Kibum was panting. With seconds passing, he was being taken with more intensity and he had struggles holding his own leg open.

Jinki must have seen it, maybe felt it, because he suddenly put his hand on his, behind his knee, pushing himself to help him. He was now roughly thrusting between his thighs as his lover was fully stretched around him, his cock being engulfed with hunger. Slipping sounds were resonating in the living room along with both males’ sighs and moans in unison.

Sweat was running down their bodies, drop falling on Jinki’s neck and torso and making them gleam just as much as Kibum’s ; it was like their skin was encrusted with diamonds, making them reflected in each other.

“D-Deeper Jinki, deeper…” The designer asked between his sighs, spreading his legs as wider as he could.

Obeying, the elder grunted as he made his thrusts rougher, slapping sounds coming from the repeated meetings between his pelvis and the other’s ass cheeks. Kibum was losing it, not holding his loud moans back anymore. While Jinki was breathing loudly and shortly, he was moaning his name, asking him for more.

“You fucking talk too much.” The elder said as he grabbed both Kibum’s legs pushing him and almost bending him in half, allowing him to thrust in him deeper and to ravish his mouth at the same time.

The raven haired man muffled an umpteenth moan as he caught his lover’s hair, tugging it and kissing him full on the lips, their tongues dancing an ardent paso doble together. Their mixed saliva was running down their chin and the designer ended up keeping his mouth opened, letting the musician control their kiss all he wanted to, while himself worked his hand between their bodies to grab his own hardened cock.

He wasn’t seeing anything but stars, wasn’t feeling anything but a strong pleasure as Jinki’s powerful thrusts were shaking him against the couch, now wet with their sweat. Succumbing to his body’s desires, Kibum started stroking himself fast, in harmony with his lover’s movements and his breath running shorter and shorter.

Jinki himself was in his home straight, all his muscles tightening and his cock as swollen as possible. His heavy balls were smacking his boyfriend’s ass as he was taking him desperately.

“For fuck’s sake…” He swore out loud, out of intense pleasure just like every time he was close to his own climax.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna come, oh my fucking gosh…!” Kibum replied, his voice croaky and short-winded enough for his chest to jump. “Oh my God, fuck, Jinki…!”

As he moaned his man’s name, almost shouted it, the designer’s cock shooting milky and warm cum between their torsos, spattering their shining skin and even reaching Kibum’s neck. He had pushed his head back on the armrest, offering the view of his neck’s swollen veins to Jinki and wheezing as he couldn’t keep his eyes open nor his mouth closed.

In no time the elder’s thrusts lost in speed yet grew in strength, and he rolled his eyes to the back with his throat letting hoarse sounds out as he felt orgasm invading him, his warm cum surrounding his own member as it was making his movements more slippery and deliciously wet. Kibum welcomed this new warmth in his body with a high-pitched sound coming straight from his throat, and he instinctively tightened his hole’s muscles to keep both Jinki and his seed in him.

The latter moaned to the sudden pression around his abused cock, and he slowly reduced his thrusts until he was buried deep inside his boyfriend, unmoving. Both their breaths were short, their hearts beating so fast they could hear each other’s, feel it in their veins where their skin was making contact.

Kibum opened his eyes and closed his mouth, swallowing and deeply inhaling with his nose. Afterglow was making them gleam, with their skin and their hair wet with sweat, but also with their eyes sparkling. The designer slowly raised his head to look at his musician boyfriend, who was staring at him with his eyes half-closed.

The younger smiled, his lips drawing a loving and caring smile as he loosed his grip on Jinki’s hair, turning it into a soft caress. His fingers, still trembling because of his orgasm, ran through the chestnut bangs until the man’s forehead, pushing his fringe on the side and making their way to the wet and warm cheek. The elder smiled in his turn and leaned on to put a soft kiss on his love’s lips, which welcomed it with delicateness. With only his sense of touch, Jinki felt a something rugged on Kibum’s lower lip, a cut because of a moment he had bit it too hard, and he started covering the wound with kisses.

The raven haired man chuckled and tried to answer each kiss while he was caressing his boyfriend’s hair and back, afterglow making them cuddly. When he felt the need to relax his sore body, Jinki straightened a bit yet enough to move his member backwards, leaving Kibum’s hole with a sound that made them laugh.

Then, the musician lied between his partner’s still spread legs, putting his head on his chest and slowly catching his breath. The designer smiled and kept caressing him, hugging his hips with his thighs.

“It had been a while since we last made love on the couch…” Jinki noticed, his voice low and still a bit hoarse.

“Yeah… it’s been a while with the kitchen counter too…” Kibum replied, chuckling. “I’m kidding.”

“No you’re right. But please let me rest before getting up to date, okay ?”

“I love you.”

“So do I, more than everything on earth and a bit more day by day.”

Jinki raised his head and approached Kibum’s lips with his to kiss him.

And the doorbell rang.

#onkey #onew #key #shinee #fanfic #oneshot #nc-17 #domestic au #fluff #smut

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emma-poole · 5 years

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I dream of Robin before I meet her. The shelter in Long Island tells me there are three dogs particularly in need of homes. We have one. Not the youngest...or the most photogenic in her picture, but she has a special demeanor and needs someone who will give her a loving environment. She’s been sitting in the shelter for two years and no one wants her because she is a middle-aged Pitbull. I twist her name around in my mouth. R o b i n. It is not a name I would ever choose for a dog.

I am 25 years old, newly out of a string of unfulfilling relationships, nostalgic for a dog-filled childhood. A yoga colleague has put me in touch with a local rescue. I sign on as a foster. As a child, I rolled around with my dogs in the backyard, muddying my knees and hands to crouch in the grass and watch the bugs from their level. A home video captures me at 3 years old, screaming to my mom from across the yard that I would like to see where Stella pooped. Stella is our dog. I browse the shelter’s website. Scrolling through each cute, tragic face, my cursor comes to a halt. Robin. Age 4. She is chocolate brown with big, honey eyes. Sitting on on her hind-legs, pink belly exposed, her head is fixed in the classic pitbull tilt, furrowed brow, discerning. I smile. Contrary to their disclaimer, she is absolutely photogenic.

King is a giant pitbull puppy with big ears and a loppy gait. He wags his tail as he approaches, jumps in my lap, nuzzling his enormous head on my thighs. Eponine arrives next. Eponine! I immediately feel connected to her because of the name- I played Eponine in Les Miserables my sophomore year of highschool. She is older, a bit more reserved. Her eyes reflect the weariness of a hard life. I am told she does not interact well with other dogs. I stroke her malt and white fur, tell her she is beautiful and that I wish I could adopt them all. She softens beneath my touch. I kiss her forehead and mentally curse the humans that landed her here.

Robin is brought out last. She is both sheepish and energetic, seemingly overwhelmed with being out of her pen. I take her for a supervised walk around the perimeter of the shelter. She is one of our best walkers, they boast. I feel like I’m walking a bullet. Her little dumpling body tugs at the leash, happy to lead me anywhere but here, away from a closed cage, free amidst the cloying winter air. She stops to sniff every shred of garbage, gingerly peeing when she lands at a piece deemed worthy. Squatting down, her saggy nipples just barely brush the pavement beneath her, a result of over-breeding and improper after-birth procedure. They tell me she was found roaming the streets post-partum. I think of the babies she doesn’t know, how many puppies she must have birthed and where they are now. We give her a bath. She looks mortified and slightly degraded, but keeps her body perfectly still. Her courage makes my heart ache.

They give me a pound of kibble in a large sandwich bag, a new collar, and a bright red coat with fur accents. Robin sits in the backseat of Linda’s jeep the entire drive home from Long Island to my apartment in Washington Heights. Linda runs the shelter, and has offered to drive me to and from the visitation. She is British, zany, and a hero in my eyes, devoting her life to the cause. We pull up to the curb. Paperwork has been filled out. Background checks made. Payment handed over. It is January 31st, 2015. I am about to have the hardest year of my life. Thankfully, the universe swoops in and sends me Robin.

And so it goes that the longest and most intimate relationship I have ever shared with a living creature is not a human one. And I have an abundance of beautiful, magic humans in my life.

It is January 31st, 2019. Four years have passed since that fateful day. She sits at the edge of my bed as I write this, curled up in a brown half-moon, licking her paws and occasionally her vagina. She acts oblivious to me until I adjust my foot, disrupting her head position. I wink. She blinks. We have a rhythm. I can no longer imagine life without her

You know all my secrets. The weird things I do at night when we are alone in the room. Every conversation I have with myself. You hear me pray- to God, to the universe, to any ominous presence that will listen. I wonder how many times you’ve heard me play out a hypothetical conversation with past boyfriends, or their new loves, or the news anchor who exists solely in mind and asks, head perched, so Emma. Tell us what sparked the idea for your latest book? I speak to you in Australian and British accents, reminding you how gorgeous you are for the 23rd time in one hour. You think nothing of it, and even if you do, you don’t blink. Instead, you tilt your quizzical head, lift your snout, and and lick my eyebrow.

I try not to inhale every time I pick your poop up off the sidewalk. The amount of shit that comes out of your body could make a grown man pass out. And yet, no matter how many measures I take , I catch your lingering scent, at once proud of and disgusted by the aroma you are capable of producing. Your tail goes completely straight during the process, like a magic wand warning passersby to keep their distance. You hold eye contact each time. I’ve been told this is because you feel vulnerable and are making sure I have your back, if anything were to happen. I love you enough to get poop on my finger one out of the five times I clean yours up, although it is unfathomable to me that after four years I still haven’t mastered a method that prevents this at all costs. Still, we carry on. Across the street, a dog owner kneels down for the scoop. Solidarity. Dont fuck with me, it implies. I’m holding a steaming bag of shit.

The first time you see me have sex, you leap up in defense, assuming I am being hurt. What must you think of this tangled show. Of masturbation. The sounds I make when I come. I think you’d probably prefer not to see me in the act, as it crosses a vague line between us, despite the fact that you stare at me every time I pee, change my tampon, and parade around the bedroom naked.

You hate the vacuum. Are triggered by skateboarders, cyclists, and really any quick moving inanimate object. Trainers presume that you were abused, kicked, which is why you sometimes try to eat people’s feet. You are both incredibly affectionate and aloof in chosen moments, often elsewhere in your own far off world, until you hear the sound of a bag of chips crinkling in the kitchen. You get annoyed when I spend too much time on my phone, preferring candlelight to the blue glow of the screen. You’d rather I not take your picture, although you tolerate it long enough to satisfy me. I have never seen eyes widen as much as yours when I open a can of tuna, cook bacon, or grill chicken. To this day, you keep your entire body still when taking a bath, stoic but tolerant, holding out for the treat you are inevitably promised after. The second you leave the bathroom, you run at full speed around the apartment, rubbing your back on each exposed brick that lines our hallway. You are a piece of furniture, a fixture of our shared space. I feel you even when you’re not in the room, which is rare, as this apartment is your palace, the first place you called home. You are worth every dog hair on my bed, each crumb of dirt caked onto the bed sheet, and the million strands of fur I pick off my leggings at the start of every subway ride.

Sometimes I catch you looking in the mirror watching me watch you looking. You study the faces I make when I change clothes 7 times only to put on the original outfit I took off. On the days I work early, you doze back to sleep as I get ready, waiting for the moment I crack open the coconut oil to moisturize my skin. You love coconut oil. Despite it being one of the reasons you are probably fat, after my arms and legs are glistening from its sheen, I swirl my finger in the container and let you have your moment, licking your lips long after there is anything left to taste.

Warfare breaks out each time I leave the house, as though you have been robbed of your dignity. I wish I could tell you that I’ll be back and you’d believe it wholeheartedly, knowing I am always coming home to you, that you are the best part of my day. I wish you knew how much I talk about you to my students, to strangers, to anyone willing to listen. I once stopped seeing a guy with the softest lips I have ever kissed because he found it perpetually odd that we sleep in bed together.

It’s true. You are my most steadfast sleeping companion. You like to plop your 60 pound bum directly on top of my pillow, dead-weight, until I nudge you enough that you roll over, carefully side-eyeing me to sleep. When you want to be completely submerged beneath the covers, you shuffle your paws in an effort to move the blanket aside, using your mouth as a third hand, pushing everything into a messy heap until you’ve achieve your desired outcome. I warm my feet under your belly at night. In the morning, we wake up head to head, your muzzle on the pillow next to mine, eyes peaceful slits, breath toasty. I am convinced our breathing syncs up in our sleep, that when you have a bad dream, the weight of our bodies next to each other comforts you out of it. When I watch you tremble, paws twitching, I place my palm gently on your belly, and you relax. Recently, after waking from a bad nightmare, sheets soaked and my heart pounding, your body is the first surface my hand reaches out for.

I talk about your death often, mostly as a coping mechanism for my brain. I imagine having your ashes molded into a ring I could wear, joke about getting you taxidermied, a stuffed Robin head for the rest of time, casually perched on my living room wall. Oh that old thing? She was my first dog! Can you imagine people’s reactions? They already think I’m more obsessed with you than the average person. My cousin once expressed genuine concern that I will never love someone as much as I love you. I laughed, amused at the notion. But is it really possible for humans to love each other as unselfishly as you love me? We are always wanting something in return. Ownership. Possession. Validating to be validated. All you have ever asked of me is to show up.

Sometimes in the middle of the night, you bark suddenly, awakened by a footstep in the hallway or the sound of the moon howling out the window. I watch your moving lump struggle to break free under the covers, tiny limbs flailing in every direction, driven by new urgency. You leap off the bed, ears perked, alert. You are my nightwatch. In the blackness of the room, my eyes trace your outline guarding the door. I know, with more certainty than I know anything else in this world, that if that door were to open and you sensed danger, you would lay your brave, beating heart in front of mine, and armor my body with your own. I have never trusted anyone with my life as much as I trust you. Your unabashed instinct to protect makes me want to wrap my whole body around you, and whisper, over and over again, I don’t think you will ever realize how much more I need you than you need me. You are my biggest teacher, my most stubborn shadow, my earth angel.

Robby lou. My sweet peach. Potato puff pumpkin head. For all of the time I spend wondering about the complexities of the universe- why we are here, how we began, and where we continue onto, I live in gratitude that for a brief period of my little life, you chose me.

Someday you will not be here. And I will. That seems like the biggest injustice of them all. Because why would I ever want to live in a world without you? Perhaps, though, that is also the lesson: to celebrate, rather than cling to, the time we are given.

You are the biggest gift in my life, you beautiful weirdo. Thank you for keeping me in the moment, accepting me without judgment, and bringing me back to myself again and again.

Robin Noodle. My Sun and my moon. My north star. Goodnight, sleeping beauty, I whisper. See you on the other side.

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