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yougotthatbilly · 3 years

Text

take care (m)

→ member: johnny seo

→ genre: assistant!johnny | smut

→ word count: 15.9k (not surprised atp)

→ playlist: body talk x majid jordan, warm x majid jordan, BoRdErSz x zayn, moment x victoria monét

→ warnings: slowburn, indecisiveness, v self-indulgent; unprofessional relations, big dick!johnny (ofc; don’t expect anything else), soft dom!johnny, begging (johnny’s a tease), subspace, oral; face-fucking, (and if you squint, ass eating), unprotected sex, squirting, praising, overstimulation, etc.

↳ summary: your assistant just wants to take care of you

The heavy rain outside mocks you. You were supposed to be at your favorite bar across the street, but here you are sitting at your desk, staring out your window. And that’s how Johnny finds you after being granted entrance into your office.

Your arm is propped up on the arm of your seat, cheek in hand, lips pouted. Johnny does his best not to smile at the thought of you looking adorable as not to piss you off. He just sets your cup of tea down on the coaster on the corner of your desk.

“How was the meeting?” he asks, taking a seat on the other side of your desk.

You slowly spin to face him, looking at him with annoyed eyes as you take a sip of your tea. It’s the perfect temperature—a temperature Johnny took almost a month to perfect— and sweetness, and it instantly makes you feel a little better.

“Don’t worry,” you sigh. “Jiyoung didn’t get fired.” You have a three-strike policy; this incident is the second strike.

“Jaehyun,” Johnny corrects, grinning.

You tilt your head at his correction. “I care?”

Johnny just shakes his head, knowing you’re being petty because Jaehyun got his dates wrong and uploaded a post on a few new products a week earlier than the scheduled date, resulting in having to speed things up a little. It didn’t cause a major problem because you’re typically prepared for the worst case scenario, but you don’t like feeling rushed and when things don’t go as planned, so you were pissed.

“What’s his punishment?”

“That’s between me and him,” you tell Johnny before taking another sip. Your lip curls in disgust at the suggestive look your assistant gives you. “Okay, let’s not be gross. He’s a child.”

“I didn’t know 23 was considered a child,” Johnny teases, mostly because the man of the hour has had a crush on you for the last year he’s been working for you and he’s been trying to get Johnny to talk him up to you.

“I didn’t know you wanted to get fired in his place,” you say with a tight smile. Johnny decides to switch the subject.

“Mind me asking why you looked so sad when I walked in?”

You sigh once more, slouching in your seat.

“I wanted to go to the bar…” You point to the window beside you. Johnny follows your finger and watches the storm that hasn’t let up since it started half an hour ago. “That’s not happening anytime soon.”

You’ve either been in your office working nonstop or sleeping for the last week or so and you can feel a burnout creeping up. You were going to walk to the bar to get the fresh air you needed, enjoy a drink and your favorite wings because you deserve it—especially after the headache Jaehyun caused the moment you stepped foot into your office this morning—and indulge yourself. Now look at you, hardly munching on the fruit slices Johnny gave you this morning and almost finished with your tea.

“I’m sorry things aren’t going the way you planned today.” Johnny pouts. “On the bright side, you don’t have anything else on your schedule so if you wanted to go home within the next hour, you wouldn’t fall behind.”

“I’ll probably just take a nap on the futon once I’m done looking over the new plan again.” You shrug.

Johnny wants to roll his eyes, but he catches himself. He’s sure you’ve already gone over it at least five times. There’s nothing he can do about it, though, so lifts himself out of his seat. “I’ll leave you to it. Just give me a call if something comes up or you change your mind.”

To both of your surprise, you actually head out and get yourself a candle you’d ran out of a week ago on the way home to treat yourself to a much needed bath filled with bubbles and essential oils. The scent of the candle reminds you of your assistant because it’s the scent he got you for your birthday, and it’s become your favorite.

You send a picture of the candle at the end of your tub to Johnny, thanking him again for putting you onto greatness, as he worded it before when you first smelled it in front of him and your eyes practically rolled back.

[18:14] John Suh: Are you actually relaxing???

You suck your teeth at his response, but you can’t blame him. He’s the only one that knows just how much you put in to get to the position you’re in, while you’re positive a lot of others just think it was handed to you by your mother instead of the school and endless hours work you went through and continue to go through. It’s very rare you give yourself the time to truly sit back and relax aside from when you’re on vacation. And even then, work never really stops. It just gets placed on the back burner for a little.

[18:16] you: Hush.

[18:17] John Suh: I’m just glad you’re taking care of yourself. Your dark circles have been snitching on you.

[18:17] you: Wow. You really wanna get fired today, huh?

[18:18] John Suh: Dark circles or not, you know you’re still beautiful. Now stop texting me and enjoy your bath!

When you find yourself smiling at your phone, you know you should do exactly what he says. Johnny’s always been a complimenter, though his usual kindness goes along the lines of telling you that you look nice. You’re no stranger to this specific compliment, you get it all the time on Instagram from your business partners and supporters. So why does this time settle differently within you?

[18:21] you: Nice save.

You need a video of one of your popular social media influencer ambassadors using and reviewing your newest skincare products tomorrow—due to Jaehyun’s mix-up—but that’s not happening. She didn’t record it before going on vacation and didn’t think to bring the products with her on her trip. While it isn’t her fault times have moved around, you’re annoyed she didn’t bring the products with her when she’s supposed to be using them every day because she’s one of your main advocates for your products being oily skin-friendly. You have the videos of the other models with their specific skin types, and this is your missing piece.

The weather is nice today, so you take a much-needed break from electronics and go to the roof of the building. Your peace is quickly interrupted by the body of a six-foot male in front of you, standing in the way of the sunlight you were basking in.

“I know you hate him right now,” Johnny begins, skipping over greetings to get to the point of his disruption. “But Jaehyun has oily skin, he’s been using the products you gave him for like three weeks, he really likes them, and he has a good following on Instagram.”

You take the phone handed to you begrudgingly and look at Jaehyun’s page. Thirteen thousand followers and quality pictures. You’re not blind, Jaehyun is conventionally attractive and looks like a model in the photos and boomerangs. Something is missing, though. “Eh.”

“‘Eh?’” Johnny parrots, confused. He doesn’t know a better last-minute model for you than Jaehyun.

“Something’s missing,” you explain with a shrug. You absentmindedly tap the profile icon at the bottom of the screen and Johnny’s Instagram profile pops up. The two of you follow each other, so it’s not like you’ve never seen his pictures, but it’s been a while since you actually paid attention to detail. He has eighteen thousand followers and apparently uploads his pictures following a color theme. There are pictures of himself, random people, and nature in a strategic flow. When you select a video to watch, you’re sold on the lighting, exposure, and the way he captured the woman’s features. “Sit.”

Johnny does so without any questions. You gently grab his jaw and study his face closely. His skin is supple and dewy, the sun highlighting his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. Not that his skin was bad before he started using your products, but the texture and scarring have minimized quite a bit. Johnny doesn’t have the typical, bland model face your competitors love so much, especially with the slight stubble he’s got above his top lip and on his chin.

“What’s your skin type, John?”

“Oily,” he sighs, knowing what’s coming next. He was doing his job as your assistant, trying to make your life easier, but now he wishes he would’ve left this task to the social media department and stayed out of it.

You thought so. “Will you do this for me instead?”

“Do I look like an influencer to you?”

“Yes. I’ll double your next check and everything,” you promise him. “You actually have a personality and everything you post is quality. Women will love the eye candy and all types of men will take you seriously because you don’t have that annoying pristine, perfect look to you like Jaeyoung does.”

Johnny is here to fulfill your needs, so he knows you asking is really just you being polite. He doesn’t have much of a choice, especially with the lack of time you have. He is enjoying the warmth of your hand and the fact you referred to him as ‘eye candy,’ too. And who is he to say no to extra money?

“I’ll have it recorded and edited by midnight,” Johnny smiles, giving you the hope you need.

“Ugh, you’re the best,” you sigh in relief, shaking his face side to side affectionately before letting him go to stand up. You feel much better now. “Send it directly to me.”

Johnny stands up with you and leads the way, opening the door for you. “Yes, ma’am.”

Always true to his word, Johnny emails you two links at a quarter-till, with a message attached:

Good evening,

I edited two videos for you, one short enough for a regular post on the company’s page and the other that could be used for my IGTV for my followers. I hope these meet your expectations, but if there’s anything you need me to fix or redo, let me know and I’ll get right to it.

Sincerely,

John Suh

You get comfortable in your bed with your iPad and tap the first link. You make sure the brightness and volume are high enough to get the full effect, then press play. The quality of the film makes you assume he used a professional camera instead of his phone, and he gets a point for that.

“Hey,” Johnny starts with an awkwardly endearing smile. “I know this is a little different than what I usually post, but I got scouted by the skincare goddess herself to be an ambassador for Surreal’s new line of skincare, Ethereal.”

You grin at the nickname and note that with him being in the bathroom, there’s no echo in his audio, and that gives him another point.

“I’ve been using the four of the five products I’m about to introduce to you everyday for around a month and before I do my skincare routine for you, I’ll show you what my skin looked like before I started using these products with dates so you don’t think I’m just trying to sell you on them just because she’s been writing my checks for the last year,” Johnny chuckles, then the screen shows a selfie Johnny took with the date of a month ago from today, some hyperpigmentation and small bumps dotting his cheek and jaw.

Another point for including before and afters. You knew he’d meet your expectations without you having to say much.

“I’ll get up close and personal at the end so you can really see the results,” Johnny winks into the camera, causing you to blink.

You knew he’d have personality and that was one of the main reasons he was a great idea, and while in hindsight his actions are predictable, you shake your head. The fact that he’s actually charming makes you scoff, but you’re sure that the damn wink only worked on you right now because it’s almost midnight and you should be asleep right now. You won’t act like he hasn’t always been nice on the eyes, but he’s Johnny.

You can’t deny that you do thoroughly enjoy the Johnny presented to you through the screen, though.

“The first product is an oil-based cleanser because the SPF in this collection is oil-based as well,” Johnny explains, then proceeds to show the jar and small spatula that comes with it before he scooped some out, capturing the texture of the product well.

And that’s how the rest of the video plays out, the unusually deep, gentle tone of Johnny’s voice explaining how well each product works for his oily and acne-prone skin, lulling you into a relaxed state against your headboard. He keeps things short and simple, the video just barely passing three minutes and as promised, his face comes a lot closer to the screen, showing the faded scarring and smooth texture of what used to be his problem areas. Johnny ends the video with a sweet smile and says goodbye. The shorter video is edited to where he’s hardly talking, mostly just demoing your products, just the way you like things to be on the company’s page.

You did great, John. Thanks again for doing this last minute. You can come in at 10 am tomorrow since I had you working overtime today. Rest well.

Johnny is at your desk with your morning cup of tea at eight in the morning, a bright smile on his face as he tells you good morning.

You glare at him. “Why are you here?”

“Because it’s my job?” Johnny says, pretending like he doesn’t know what you’re referring to. You can read him well, though. You take the mug out of his hand before gesturing for him to take a seat in front of you.

“You’re either being hard-headed as usual, or you’re anxious about your video being uploaded. Which is it?”

And that wipes the bright smile off of his face.

“I slept three hours last night,” he confesses. “I’m not used to this kind of exposure.”

You take a couple of sips of your tea and quietly observe him, thinking.

“Would you prefer we didn’t post it, then?”

Your assistant looks at you as if you didn’t just speak one of the languages he’s fluent in. You just blink at him and continue drinking your beverage, waiting for him to either say yes or no in case you need to make other plans, again.

“You’d do that for me?” he finally says after a while of staring at you like you’re crazy.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask slowly. “You’ve proven how far you’d go for me and I appreciate it, but I care about you as a person and anxiety is a bitch, so I wouldn’t want you to be panicking over Jaejoon’s mistake.”

The corner of Johnny’s lift curls at your continued pettiness, and maybe his heart does a thing at the fact that you care that much about him. It’s obvious to everyone that he is the closest to you out of all of your employees; being your assistant means you let your guard down a little with him. Along with the more serious side of your personality everyone else gets (especially recently), he sees your soft side. You’re not an overly strict boss, but Johnny gets to see you smile more and pout (he’d lose his job if he admitted to you how endearing your pout is to him). But even with the closer relationship the two of you have, Johnny would’ve never expected you to choose his stage fright over your baby; your company.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Johnny declines with a shake of his head. “I’ll be okay, I promise. Thank you for considering my feelings, though.”

You shrug, not about to press him on the issue. “Alright. I need you to post the IGTV at 2 pm and tag our page in an appropriate caption. I’d suggest you turn your notifications off for a while because as soon as you post it, it’s getting posted to our story then I’m sure you’re gonna get flooded with DM’s.”

“Flooded?’” Johnny asks, head tilted. “I mean, all I’ll have to do is copy and paste the same message answering any questions they might have about the products. Easy.”

You’re the one to look at him like he’s stupid this time. You set your mug down, lean back in your swivel chair, and clasp your hands over your stomach. “You can’t be that dense.”

“‘Dense?’” he asks.

“Are you a parrot?” you tsk. “But yes, dense. You know good and well most of the messages will have nothing to do with my products and everything to do with you.”

Johnny has the audacity to still be confused after your explanation.

“John, you realize you’re a good-looking guy with a likable personality, right?”

It’s not that he doesn’t know that. Johnny’s always been a pretty confident guy, with both his looks and personality. His confusion doesn’t stem from being blind or too humble. It’s the fact you of all people are telling him this right now.

“You think so?” he prompts, just to see how many compliments he can get out of you. This is a rare occasion.

“When you’re not being annoyingly happy-go-lucky and chill out, yes.” You reply. And now he’s pouting. That’s what he gets.

“I thought my cheerfulness brought joy to your days,” Johnny says with a dramatic hand on his heart, offended.

“What brings me joy is everything running smoothly and everyone doing their job,” you correct. He isn’t wrong, but you decide not to stroke his ego any more than you already have. And you’ve already said too much. “With that being said, you do everything I ask of you, and that brings me so much joy. You’re the perfect assistant, so don’t cry.”

“Is this your way of telling me to calm down?”

Your iPad buzzes against the wood of your desk and when you peek at it, you see it’s an email from Jaehyun with the subject: Today’s upload schedule.

“This is my way of telling you to get to work, honey.”

Johnny often finds himself slowly backing out of your office with his hands up in surrender, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He loves the distinct differences between the two of you. He figures it’s why you work so well together and why he’s held this job position for over a year in comparison to the two assistants before him that both got fired before the six-month mark. Johnny’s also positive that you love his excessively positive nature (as Jaehyun has described Johnny’s personality before) somewhere deep down and that he brightens your day after dealing with idiots like Jaehyun.

When your assistant is out of sight, you grab your iPad, respond to Jaehyun’s email, and find yourself rewatching today’s scheduled video. Maybe more than once.

The video is up at 2 pm sharp and Johnny does as advised, turning his Instagram notifications off immediately. He even goes as far as taking his phone off of vibrate so he isn’t aware of any other notifications until he decides to look at his phone again. He’s got things to organize anyway, so the work he has to do takes his mind off of any anxiety within him.

That is until you appear at the doorway of his office an hour later. This is a rare occurrence, so Johnny can’t be blamed for staring at you, and in the process, he appreciates the very fitted pantsuit you’re wearing. You took off the blazer sometime in between when Johnny left your office hours ago and now, and he thinks that the blush pink blouse compliments your complexion and red lips very well. But of course it does. Everything you wear compliments everything about you perfectly.

Just one of the many observations Johnny has made in the past year.

“How do you feel?” you ask him. Your voice is always so calm and collected, even when you’re ripping someone to shreds because of idiocy. Johnny admittedly admires that about you.

“I’ve done everything under the sun to avoid my phone,” Johnny confesses with a weak laugh.

You nod. “Well, just know that I’ve had multiple companies and modeling agencies ask why I’ve been hiding you. So don’t be surprised if you have job opportunities waiting for you.”

“Wow… this means I can finally quit,” Johnny hardly whispers with a victorious fist pump.

“I wish the hell you would,” you deadpan, breaking Johnny’s act and causing him to laugh loudly at the lack of expression paired with your response. “You’re mine unless there’s a tragic accident, God forbid, or you’re moving up in the ranks.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” you confirm, sending him a wink before turning on your heel and strutting back to your own office. Johnny licks his lips at the sight of the natural sway of your hips before shaking his head and getting back to working on the excel sheet staring at him.

“How is it that you all have the skills and training for the very simple tasks I ask you to complete, yet lack common sense and proper work ethic?”

Everyone in the room, excluding Johnny, just looks up at you from their seats, pitiful expressions on their faces. Their eyes follow you as you slowly walk to the other side of the room. You’re trying to stay calm and be professional, so pacing around the room is your best bet.

To Johnny, you look like you’re on a runway in slow motion, modeling the slim-fitting pencil skirt and red bottoms you’re adorning. Though still attentive to every word coming out of your mouth, Johnny lets himself get lost in each step you take because he’s not the one getting chewed out.

Mark, one of the newest additions to the marketing department, leans into Johnny’s side to whisper into his ear. “How have you managed to not fuck up and be on the receiving end of her talks yet?”

You don’t hear anything, but you see whispering happening, and now is not the time for side conversations. Johnny doesn’t even have the chance to turn to Mark or tell him to shut up until the end of the meeting before you’re speaking again.

“Mark Lee,” you call as you make your way towards him, causing him to sit up straight. “Is there something you’d like to say?”

“No, ma’am,” he responds nervously. Johnny internally shakes his head at Mark not being able to think quickly and lie. “My apologies.”

“Is there anything anyone wants to say or am I just a narcissist who loves talking to hear my lovely voice? Should I sing?” you ask, standing next to Johnny at the end of the conference table, hand on your hip. “Y’all want a performance?”

Johnny bites the inside of his cheek to refrain from laughing. Your sarcasm only intensifies the unsettled looks on everyone’s face and they all side-eye Jungwoo, their savior from the last time they got chewed out as a whole. Jungwoo raises his hand before saying, “There’s nothing we can say to excuse our actions—or lack thereof, but we will get right on it and do our jobs correctly this time. You won’t have to repeat yourself again.”

Johnny is impressed at how quickly your features soften. The ready-to-fire-someone look melts away as you nod at Jungwoo’s promise. You do have a bit of a soft spot for the latter, though, so it makes sense.

“I’ll take your word for it. You’re dismissed,” you announce, waving everyone off.

The room is empty, save for you and your assistant, in mere seconds.

“You’re going to give them nightmares,” Johnny chuckles, gathering your belongings before opening the door for you to exit the conference room. He laughs once more at your responding yawn.

“How? That was me on my best behavior,” you retort, your heels clicking loudly as you walk to the elevator. “And what was Lee whispering about?”

“Your employees are just amazed that I’ve kept you satisfied for so long.”

You walk into the elevator once the doors slide open and lean against the mirrored wall, arms crossed. Your eyes are squinted as you give Johnny a once over. He has done everything right since he completed his training. “You think you can keep me satisfied?”

There’s a challenging tone in your voice that causes Johnny to lick his lips. “I’d never disappoint you.”

Your response is a nod of your head paired with a drawn-out hum, and then you walk out of the elevator to your office once you hit your floor, walking ahead of Johnny without another word. You laugh at yourself when you replay the short conversation in your mind at the feeling you got in your gut at his response. And then you’re scoffing because, once again, it’s Johnny.

Johnny… Over six feet, amicable, charming, handsome as all hell Johnny. The scene of him licking his lips and saying those four words in that promising, deep voice in the elevator flashes through your mind once you’re seated at your desk. Your fingernail taps against the wood as you roll your lips together, stuck in your head. The ironic conclusion you come to before getting back to work is that you’re working way too much and just lacking male attention because there’s no other plausible reason for your goofy-ass assistant to have been on your mind so much for the last couple of days.

“Really?” Johnny asks when he walks in and sees you slumped over your desk.

Your eyes flutter open at his voice.

“I was just resting my eyes” you yawn, waving him off.

“What work is there possibly left for you to do at this point?” The products go on the market tomorrow, meaning all the work that had to be done in preparation for the launch was completed before everyone left today (the marketing department got their shit together quickly because they know about your policy and how unforgiving you are when the deadline is right around the corner). The only thing left for your marketing team to do tomorrow is look over everything once more and then you’re free to sit back and wait for customers to buy the new products and idly watch over social media if you really wanted to. It frustrates Johnny that you always find something extra to do.

“I was doing some last minute, um”— another yawn —“touches on the-”

“Well, that’s enough,” Johnny interrupts your explanation, walking around to your side of the desk and plucking the pen out of your hand.

You just nod and lean back in your ridiculously big swivel chair, blinking up at him slowly, because he’s right. There’s literally nothing else for you to do and you have the most full coverage concealer under your eyes; you need to rest.

“Am I driving you home tonight?” He asks as he packs your belongings into the massive purse on the box by your feet then places it on your desk so he doesn’t have to bend back down to retrieve it.

“Yeah, I don’t feel like moving,” you mumble, thankful you spent so much money on the chair you’re oh-so comfortable in.

Johnny puts his hands out for you to grab, and once you do so, he pulls you up. You groan and lean forward into him to catch your balance after not being on your feet for many hours, but then Johnny’s hand on firm on the middle of your lower back, and the pressure makes you stay. He’s just helping you steady yourself, a position you’ve been in once or twice before because you like to push your limits (says both your therapist and your assistant), but he smells good and he’s warm; his presence is comforting. It always has been, which is why he’s made the perfect assistant for you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking down at the top of your head that simply nods in response.

“Think I pushed my limit,” you admit, much to your assistant’s surprise. It’s not that you’re prideful, but you don’t exactly like showing weakness, especially in front of your employees.

Though tempted to just let you rest your head on his chest because he doesn’t mind the proximity at all and knows you’re somehow comfortable, Johnny makes sure you’re standing steadily by yourself so he can drape your coat over your shoulders. He grabs your purse and wraps an arm around your waist then guides you out of your office, all the way to the parking garage, saying goodbye to the confused cleaning staff on his way out.

He presses the button on the handle of the passenger side’s door to unlock it, opens the door, then fits you inside of his car. Johnny leans over your body to buckle your seat belt, and when he’s back away, he catches you looking at him with a look he can’t quite decipher.

“What’s up?”

You shake your head and blink slowly. “I just really appreciate you, John.”

Johnny just nods to save face and closes the door before making his way to the driver’s seat. He’s not quite sure how to feel or respond to the soft-spoken, sleepy side of you since it’s been months since the one other time you’ve been in a similar situation, and he wasn’t as smitten as he is now.

You’re fighting your sleep because even though you trust Johnny, you want to be as aware during this trip to your house. It’s a hard feat, though. His car is big and comfortable and the hum of the engine is trying to lull you into a deep sleep.

Johnny looks over at you after getting on the main road and notices your internal fight.

“You can fall asleep, you know.”

“You might take my organs.”

“I would’ve done that a long time ago if I wanted to,” Johnny humors you. His response brings a small smile to your face, and that keeps a smile on his own.

“You have a really pretty smile, John.”

“Thank you,” Johnny says, figuring it’s just your exhaustion talking.

“I’m almost jealous of how pretty your lips are,” you sigh, mouth not filtering your thoughts at this point of exhaustion (you’ve gotten 10 hours of sleep in the last week, but no one, especially not Johnny, needs to know that). You don’t care enough to try to “correct” yourself because the pretty curl of his lips gets even deeper.

“Really?” Johnny asks, trying his luck again because he’s sure tonight isn’t like the other day in your office. “You think my lips are pretty?”

You hum and cuddle into his seat even more. After staring at his profile a while longer, you tell him, “I think you’re pretty.”

That makes him laugh again, taken aback at the string of compliments coming out of your mouth towards him of all people. It’s not that you’re mean or don’t applaud him for his great work, but this is a very different side of you that he’s seeing. He likes it.

“That’s a first, but I’ll take it,” he says, taking a moment to look at you again before focusing on the road again. “Thank you.”

“Are you used to hearing ‘handsome?’ ‘Fine?’ ‘Sexy?’” You notice how Johnny’s brows lift. “Too far?”

He shakes his head. “No, you’re good. I like you when you’re nice.”

“You like me regardless,” you say with a sassy scoff, pretending to flip your hair even though it’s slicked back in a low bun, the same as every workday.

Johnny nods slowly, contemplating if he should humor you or just laugh you off. It literally takes him 0.5 seconds to go with the former option because he’s been waiting for the day the two of you step out of professional talk and get into something more personal, specifically between the two of you. “You got me there. I mean, what isn’t there to like?”

Your eyes squint as you analyze him and process his words. There’s a subtle but still very noticeable shift in the air after his question, and while you’re sure it’s your fault for letting your exhaustion let you feel comfortable enough to open your mouth and start spewing out nice things to your assistant, his response is enough to keep it up. It also doesn't help that this is a far more intimate setting than work.

“Be careful, you keep saying things like that and I’ll think you have a crush on me,” you tease him, chuckling at the snort he responds with.

Before Johnny snitches on himself, he flips the script. “Says the one staring at my lips long enough to deem them ‘pretty’ and calling me pretty, of all things.”

“Well,” you start as your gaze goes right back to his mouth at the mention of it. “It would be unprofessional of me to tell you that I think you’re fine as hell, so,” you shrug.

You and Johnny have always had a bit of banter between the two of you, and while this topic isn’t something that’s been covered before, it’s hard to really care when you feel comfortable enough to cross that line right now. If he hadn’t been playing along, you wouldn’t have said anything more than the simple compliment from earlier, but with the reciprocity, the logical voice within gets pushed away. Exhaustion isn’t much of an excuse at this point because that high from tiredness has passed.

The timing of the traffic light turning red is a little too perfect. Johnny takes the opportunity to look at you again, and something lights up in his chest when he catches how your eyes travel up from his mouth to look into his own eyes at his attention.

“It would be unprofessional,” he agrees with another nod of his head. “But I can’t say the feeling isn’t mutual.”

You hum and nod. “Good to know.”

“You must not be sleeping well for you to be throwing out compliments like that.” Johnny leans onto the middle counsel.

“I’m not saying anything I haven’t thought of for a while.” You tell him after a beat, choosing to reply honestly since you’re already here. Johnny quirks a brow to prompt you to elaborate, and you do so, mirroring his position and propping your chin in your hand. His face is a lot closer now, but you keep your eyes on his own orbs to avoid losing focus. “I hired you because of your experience and skill set, but I knew it wouldn’t hurt to have some eye-candy around me. Pretty privilege and all,” you wave a nonchalant hand. “You were perfect until you opened your mouth.”

“You can never be nice to me for long, can you?” he snorts.

“You’re perfect tonight, though,” you add on, specifically for the quirk of Johnny’s mouth that comes from the praise. Yeah, you failed the challenge.

“How so?” Johnny questions, quickly checking to see if the light has changed yet. It hasn’t, and for once in his life he’s grateful for a long light. He feels good about where this conversation could possibly get him after a year of silently admiring you, so good that he not-so-subtly gets even closer, definitely in your bubble, but nothing too crazy.

“You’re calm and collected and taking care of me,” you admit. The silent deep breath you take to calm yourself grants you access to the scent of Johnny’s cologne again, and your mind is so close to deciding that logic is unnecessary. A tiny voice in the back of your mind has been trying to get your attention and steer you in the opposite direction of the one you’ve decided to take, with how you tilt your head up to get just a little closer to him.

“You like being taken care of?”

“I love it,” you confess, and Johnny takes the chance to tuck a stray hair behind your ear as he hums, content with your response. Definitely an excuse to test the waters and see how far he can go and how willing you are to really cross this line. You turn your face into his hand so he cups your jaw, but then there’s a horn sounding behind you because the light is green, and Johnny begrudgingly has to pay attention to the road. You blink, the trance you found yourself in with him so close but so far away dissipating, the situation becoming a lot more real now that he’s out of your space. You slump back into your seat and look out of the window, that voice becoming louder and grounding you as you take another deep breath. “But allowing myself to be vulnerable with someone like that? Yikes.”

He knows your defense mechanism is trying to kick in, but he’s not having it.

“Aside from me?”

You hum. “Not quite…”

You set yourself up. From that moment in the elevator to now, you’ve been digging your own grave, and Johnny has done nothing but assist you, encourage you to dig deeper. You’re not sleepy anymore, there’s no more foggy brain from earlier when he found you asleep in the office. Just desire you’ve done a grand job of ignoring up until the last few days. But unfortunately, you have to remind yourself you’ve been ignoring it for a reason.

Your assistant almost doesn’t say anything because he loves his job and you clearly switched the direction of the conversation for a reason, but so much (yet so little) has already been said during your time in the car and you’ve already said enough to get the gears in his head turning.

“So you mean a different type of care?”Johnny asks. He pulls into your driveway and parks. He wants to get back to the space the two of you were at when stopped at that light, but you’re already unbuckling your seat belt and grabbing your purse, signifying that the moment is long gone. That doesn’t stop him from trying, though. “Do you need me to walk you in?”

“I think I’ve got it now, thanks.” You need to get inside and get some sleep. Are you running right now? Of course. You’re a responsible person and the most responsible thing for you to do as the woman that signs his paychecks, is to get the fuck away from him before he persuades you, because you both know it’s possible.

“Let me rephrase that:” he licks his pretty lips and your fist balls up around your purse’s straps. “Do you want me to walk you in? I know you didn’t need me to do most of what I’ve done tonight, but you let me because you wanted me to.” His ability to read you so well is both a blessing and a curse. “Now would you like for me to continue taking care of you tonight or not?”

You do. You absolutely do. You’re tempted to say yes in the case you don’t end up alone tonight, but you know it’s not a good idea. And you’re sure the atmosphere of this car ride will disappear by the time you wake up. At least that’s what you tell yourself because you know, ethics.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you tell Johnny, opening the door and stepping out. “Thanks for the ride. Drive safe.”

Johnny watches you walk up to your door, unlock it, then disappear into your house. He lets out a deep sigh before backing out of your driveway and driving home.

Tea, fruit slices, and avocado toast are set down in front of you the moment you walk behind your desk.

“Good morning,” Johnny greets you calmly. “Your eleven o’clock meeting has been pushed back thirty minutes, so I’d suggest using the opportunity to get out of the building and get some fresh air. You know, get away from electronics and people to recharge.”

That’s exactly what you’ll do. You’re going to be monitoring the Instagram engagement and website sales for a while, even though you pay people to be on top of numbers, so a break will definitely be needed.

“I love your brain, you know that?” you ask, looking up at him once your jacket and bag are off of your body, meeting his eye. The corner of Johnny’s mouth twitches.

“I told you I’d never disappoint you.”

“And I’m holding you to that.” You ignore the fact that there’s definitely another meaning behind his words. You can’t say the tension that last night’s conversation produced has gone away completely, but it’s weak enough for you to ignore it and stick to the amicable atmosphere the two of you have built for the last year plus.

“Would it be alright if I accompanied you during your walk?” Johnny prompts after a moment of him just standing there, pursing his lips together to refrain himself from grinning at you. “There’s something I’d like to run by you because I trust your opinion as my boss and my friend.”

“We’re friends?” you joke, settling into your seat.

“Last time I checked,” he responds, unfazed. “We could be even closer if you let yourself be vulnerable with me.”

And there it is.

“John,” you say after a brief pause. He’s got his hands in his pockets, face mostly void of emotion. Johnny doesn’t want things to go back to normal, and he’s decided to let you know in the most subtle, yet obvious way. Why ignore the feeling when it’s clearly mutual?

“Yes, boss?”

“You can leave now.”

The grin on the male’s face falters. He examines you to see just how serious you are, and he knows this isn’t one of your playful banter moments. He tries to call your name, either to ease the situation and tell you it was just a bad joke or to apologize, but you just remove your attention from him and get on your iPad.

And when he’s out of the room, the door closed behind him, you let out a frustrated sigh. Up until you fell asleep, if you weren’t thinking about your launch, you were thinking about him. If you weren’t thinking about the numbers from your last launch and the possibility of exceeding them, you were thinking of the way you felt and the words he said while you were in that intimate bubble before the horn honked at him. You had to take a couple melatonin gummies to shut your mind up and knock out. The sleep was amazing, the best you’d had in a while, but then when you were conscious again, Johnny was back.

You could have done without stepping into uncharted territory last night. To him, it may not seem as deep as you’re making it out to be, but there’s too much on the line for you. Your professionalism. Your pride. Your job, quite possibly. His job. You could pay him off if you decided to fire him, but you don’t want to deal with bribes making you feel like a shitty person. You don’t want a new assistant. You want Johnny.

At that very last thought, you pick up the phone and call Jaehyun to have him run the plan by you one more time. He thinks it’s because of his fuck up from before, and you just let him think that.

Thankfully, Johnny is out of your way until later in the night. He didn’t try to accompany you on your walk, but he has no choice but to be here at the company outing taking place to celebrate your products selling out within 4 hours.

All shots are on you, so your employees are taking advantage of this, recording as everyone clinks their shot glasses together and downs the painful alcohol down. You’re two shots in and you mentally note that three is your limit for tonight. Maybe four. You’re already a bit of a lightweight, and there’s no way in hell you’re going to make a fool of yourself in front of your employees. Regardless, you’re having a pretty good time. As a gift, your best friend rented out the bar, so it’s empty save for your large group, and Joohyun’s presence is a godsend. She’s being friendly enough to your employees and for the most part she hasn’t left your side, being the comfort she doesn’t realize you need.

“Congrats again, babe,” she says excitedly to you, pushing another shot in front of you as she scoots into the seat next to you. “Can we take that vacation in Bora Bora now that you’re free and even richer?” Her teasing smile makes you crack one of your own and sigh.

“You know that trip is for August. Be patient, Bae.”

She rolls her eyes but her expression doesn’t falter. Her gaze wanders a bit as she sips from her mixed drink and then she’s looking at you expectantly. You raise a brow to prompt her.

“How is it that all of your employees are hot as fuck?” she asks bluntly. “Even the women.”

You take a glance around like you don’t remember what everyone looks like. “I mean, I guess.”

“Especially a certain assistant.”

“Go for it,” you tell her, nodding in his direction. The said male is at the bar ordering something with his arm draped over Jaehyun’s shoulders, the two of them laughing about whatever the latter just said.

“You know that’s not why I said that,” Joohyun scoffs, swatting at your arm. You may have mentioned to her a while ago that your assistant is very nice on the eyes and you sometimes enjoy watching him as he does his job. “Plus, Jaehyun’s more my type.”

You shrug. “I’m sure they’d be down for a threesome.”

Your best friend hits you once again. “What’s with your mood? You’re not acting like someone who just sold out in only a few hours.”

Before she decided to bring a certain assistant up, you were doing pretty well. You’d been able to not look at him for too long or even have to speak to him much aside from a greeting and his congratulations before he was by Jaehyun’s side and Joohyun was by yours. But now, with him being mentioned, your eyes are having a hard time pulling away from his figure. His tie is loosened and the top few buttons of his shirt are undone. His sleeves are rolled up right under his elbows and show off the tattoo on his arm.

You rip your eyes off of him and down your shot. Yeah, you’re thinking four.

Joohyun’s incredulous laugh brings your attention back to her. “You didn’t.”

“What?”

She leans into your side to whisper, “You’re in a mood because of Johnny?”

You side-eye her because you don’t like how quickly she read you, and her smile grows wide.

“Oh, my—you slept with Johnny?!” she continues to whisper-yell.

“No,” you hiss. “I did not. But I could have and that’s the issue.”

“Not seeing the issue?” She’s always been the little devil on your left shoulder. “The only reason I brought him up is because I’ve noticed how often you have his attention when you’re not even in the same area. And I know the difference between a look of concern and a look of want. He’s got a good ratio of both going on.”

“Okay, Miss Couple’s Therapist,” you mutter. “You ever heard of conflict of interest?”

And that shuts her up. Only for a few seconds, though.

“All I’m saying is I know you’ve thought about it… and you’re probably thinking about it now,” she giggles, making it hard for you to keep glaring at her. “I’m just trying to help you understand that it wouldn’t be a bad thing if there is a mutual understanding between the two of you on what flies and what cannot and shall not happen regarding the matter. You’re both consenting adults and it’s obvious he’d be on his knees for you with the snap of a finger.”

You decide against telling her about last night’s situation nor do you let her know you’re considering her words. That you’ve been considering the whole thing for days.

You change the subject instead, asking her about how her latest trip overseas went.

It lasts for only so long when Johnny and Jaehyun make their way over to your table.

They greet the two of you and you give a nod, choosing now to be the perfect time to check your notifications, while Joohyun says, “Hey guys.”

“Why are you checking your phone when you should be enjoying your time?” Johnny asks right by your ear, his voice lacking excitement but instead low enough to almost make your thumb falter as you scroll. “Get off your phone and celebrate, please?”

You make the mistake of looking up. He’s too close to your face to use the music playing through the speakers in the bar as an excuse. His eyes don’t have their usual playful glint in them. They look down at you with a purpose, and you’re kind of embarrassed at how fast you comply with his request. You drop the device into your purse and zip it up for extra measures.

“Thank you,” he smiles. “I got this for you two, by the way.”

Johnny slides a plate of your favorite wings on the table.

“Aw thank you, Johnny,” Joohyun coos, shooting you an annoyingly smug glance. “Are you gonna sit with us?”

“Is that okay with you, boss?” Jaehyun asks after sharing a look with his friend.

“Have at it,” you smile tightly, gesturing to the seats across from you. While they make themselves comfortable, you steal your best friend’s shot and actively ignore the way she looks at you from the corner of her eye.

Joohyun and Jaehyun fall into conversation easily after she compliments the watch he’s wearing. You nibble on some celery, actively ignoring how Johnny’s still too close. He subtly squeezes your knee to get your attention, and when he’s got it, he tilts his head in the direction of the bar.

“I drank enough,” you tell him with a shake of your head.

“It’s not about a drink. I would like to speak to you alone, please,” Johnny explains in a whisper. A tiny voice in your mind says hell no because of what Joohyun has put in your head, but the rational voice reminds you that he is your assistant and you can’t avoid him forever.

You tell your best friend that you’re gonna get a drink and that you’ll be back, and when she notices Johnny getting up with you she nods with a whisper of a smirk on her lips all without breaking the conversation she’s having.

“What’s up?” you ask once seated on a barstool, at least a few seats away from everyone else.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I was trying to make light of the situation and I took it too far. As for last night, it was wrong of me to make a proposition like, so I want to apologize for that, as well.”

You nod as he speaks, letting his words process in your brain.

“I spoke out of line last night and gave you an opening, so that part was on me. I apologize and I hope we can move forward from it. Thank you for your apology.” You try to get up and make your way back to your table quickly, but Johnny gently grabs your hand until he knows you’ll stay in your seat.

For a moment he wanted to just apologize so you can stop being distant with him and he can stop purposely avoiding you for your space, but your response rubs him the wrong way and now he doesn’t really want to drop it. He wants to talk about it because the topic clearly came up for a reason last night and he’s tired of denying how he feels towards you, especially now that he knows he’s not alone after a while of thinking there was no way in hell his little crush would even get him this far.

“Can you not shut me out right now?”

You really don’t like his ability to see through you.

“I accepted your apology and gave you the one you deserved... how am I shutting you out?” you bullshit him anyway.

“I’m not gonna pretend that what happened last night didn’t happen. I can’t,” Johnny tells you honestly. “Can I speak to you as a friend instead of your employee for a moment?”

“I guess,” you shrug.

“As your friend, what I say cannot be held against me as your assistant.”

“Whatever, John. Go ahead.”

“I want you,” he confesses, and there’s really no going back from here. “I am very attracted to you and when you spoke about wanting to be vulnerable and taken care of last night it only made me want you more. And if there’s anyone you can let your guard down with and that will take great care of you, it’s me, and you know this.”

All you can do is stare at him for a while. If you hadn’t had that conversation with Joohyun a while ago you would not still be in this seat, letting him know you’re truly considering his proposition. The dip in your gut at his confession confirms your feelings, but your brain and your body conflict.

Can you separate business from pleasure in this instance?

If you allow your desires to become reality and it’s nothing like what you imagined, you’d never be able to look at him the same, no matter how good he is at his job. You’d either have to fire him or become so distant he’d want to quit. Would a bribe really have to be offered for the well-being of your precious company? The thought alone rubs you the wrong way.

But if you’re being honest with yourself, you just know it wouldn’t be a bad experience because it’s Johnny. He’s calculated and good at anything that gets thrown at him. You truly believe him when he says he’d never disappoint you. But how will you go about seeing him five days a week without seeing him in a different light? You’re professional but there would definitely be a change in your dynamic.

“I adore you as my assistant, John,” you finally speak up after too long. “And I do consider you a friend. I just don’t want to compromise our relationship over lust.”

“It’s not just lust, though,” Johnny states. “I’m not in love with you or anything but I care about you and want to take care of you the way we both know you need and deserve.”

He’s saying all of the right things and it’s almost as if the universe is rubbing him in your face. Your control is slipping and you don’t like it. You would love to be taken care of. You crave it. Running a business right before the age of thirty comes with so much stress and bullshit and you haven’t been taken care of in years, at least not properly. You’re content with being single because you give yourself everything you need and you love having your own space, but it does get lonely sometimes. And you can’t do everything yourself, at least not to the extent you need. Your eyes scan down from his face to his hands and your resolve gets a little weaker.

“I’m not going to push you, okay? I just had to let you know that I’m here to help you in many more ways than in the office and that if anything were to ever happen, my lips are sealed. I’d even sign a damn contract if that meant I could have you for just one whole day.”

“A whole day?” you ask before you can stop your curiosity from being known.

“I can’t elaborate on that. I can talk to you as a friend all I want but I know that too much detail can fuck up my job if you’re not down and I’m perfectly content with my job right now.”

He’s so vague, yet he’s said just the right amount. It’s easy to imagine what exactly could be in store if you release your inhibitions and just agree, but it’s not that easy. And Johnny understands that.

“Just think about it, alright?” He requests, and you nod slowly. “What drink would you like?”

“I’ve already had four shots—”

“No one said it had to be alcoholic,” Johnny laughs.

“Hello?” Johnny’s morning voice grumbles.

“Okay.”

It’s quiet on the other end of the line for a while as Johnny wakes up and decodes your single word. When he understands, his smile can be heard through his next words.

“Would you prefer I go to you or you come here?”

“I’ll go to you.”

“How does noon sound?”

“Good,” you nod, even though he can’t see the movement.

“Alright. There’s a couple of questions I have before you come over, though,” he tells you, his voice suddenly a lot more serious than it was before.

“Okay, go ahead,” you sigh, curling into a ball on your sofa.

“Do you trust me?”

“I do.” Of course you trust him. Johnny smiles at how quick your answer. “You know that.”

“Trusting me with your work and trusting me with your mind and body are completely different things,” he tells you matter-of-factly. “But yes, I did know. I just needed to ask.”

“I clearly trust you enough to be hours away from going to your place without thinking you’re gonna exploit or blackmail me.”

“And I appreciate it. As I said, I’ll sign a contract if you’re still in your head about it.” At the dismissive response you give him, he continues with his questions. “We’re not gonna be weird about this before, during, and especially after everything, right?”

“No, I won’t be weird,” you chuckle, knowing his ‘we’ translates to ‘you.’ “It would’ve took me way longer to give you an answer if I was still gonna be weird or standoffish.”

“What made you change your mind so quickly?”

You blink at the tree on the other side of your window blankly. It took less than a day to give him a response, and while he may have popped up in your dream last night, Joohyun was right. You want him and he’s not shy about letting you know how much he wants you in return, so why play this game of tiptoeing and faux unclarity?

“You’re asking too many questions now,” you deadpan. “I’ll see you later.”

The last thing you hear before you hang up is Johnny laughing quietly to himself, sounding endeared.

You’ve always been punctual, so when you knock on his door, it’s twelve on the dot. And Johnny was expecting this, with it only taking him a couple of seconds to unlock and open the door for you.

“Hey,” he greets you with a smile and you immediately take in his appearance, having never been around Johnny in anything but formal wear. You take in how he looks in the comfort of his own home, his brown hair is parted down the middle in comparison to how he always has it pushed back, and his fitted white tee shirt and joggers are a stark difference from the button-downs and slacks he usually adorns around you. He looks good either way, you note.

“Hey.”

You walk past him into his home and take your shoes off, and while pleasantries are exchanged, it’s Johnny’s turn to give you elevator eyes. The grey color of your athletic wear draws attention to the curve of your ass and hips. Your hair isn’t in its signature style, but out and flowing about freely. When you turn back around to face him he notices you don’t have your typical red lipstick on, just a clear sheen covering your lips. He didn’t think you could look any better, but here he is, being proven wrong.

You’re guided down a hallway and into his room, and the first thing you notice is a cute stuffed animal on his dresser. One you remember buying him for his birthday because that was his only request, seeing that it was limited edition.

“I still can’t believe you wanted this of all things,” you laugh fondly, picking it up and examining it.

“You gave me a budget and this fit in it,” Johnny shrugs, coming up behind you. His chest molds into your back naturally, causing you to look up from the plushie and up at him through the mirror in front of you. “There was no way in hell I was coming out of pocket for that myself when you were willing to spend big bucks on me.”

You relax into his chest, the vibration against your back a very pleasant feeling. “Touché.”

The last few days of building sexual frustration did nothing to prepare you for the suffocating blanket of tension that envelopes you once Johnny lifts your head up to the side and presses one of the gentlest kisses to your lips. Followed by another chaste one, and another until you find yourself chasing his lips.

“Feel free to bite into it when it becomes too much for you,” Johnny graciously offers in a whisper that tickles your lips.

You scoff, amused by his confidence.

“I’m a grown ass woman,” you remind him. “I promise you there’s nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“And I’m gonna hold you to that.” He nods, using your own words against you. You’re turned around by his hands on your hips until you’re facing him. A moment of silent eye contact translate to him challenging you before his pretty, soft lips slowly slide in time with yours.

The longer he kisses you, the more your body melts into his. You find yourself being pulled forward, him walking backwards. The kiss interrupted when he sits down at the foot of his bed, but then you’re pulled onto his lap, straddling him to resume it. A hand on the side of his face prompts him to deepen the kiss, and your mouth instantly opens when you feel his tongue brush against your bottom lip, the wet muscle minty when it touches your own and you curl yours around it to get an even better taste.

Your hands find his hair as his own grip your ass, pulling a muffled whimper out of you. And then you’re flipped onto your back, legs falling apart to give Johnny freedom to stand. He swiftly takes his shirt off and then he’s interrupted by your palms glide up his abdomen. You’ve never felt small around practically anyone in your adult years, but with how he hovers over you, you feel tiny. You know he and Jaehyun have been going to the gym frequently, but at this angle, you can really appreciate just how big and broad he is.

Originally, you figured you’d give him the reign to do whatever he wanted and you’d bask in being a pillow princess for once in your life, but in the position you’ve found yourself in, with his print in your face, you drag your hands back south and tug his waistband down.

Johnny just watches you silently until he understands you’re doing more than just assisting him with stripping. Your hand grabs hold of his semi (your mouth waters at how hung he is and you briefly wonder how you never noticed before), his sweatpants forgotten halfway down his thighs. The way your eyes have tunnel vision and you lick your lips tells him your plan. “You wanna suck my dick?” he asks anyway, making sure he accessed this correctly.

Your eyes fly up to meet his gaze. “Yeah. You want me to?”

“You think I’d ever say no to you?”

His response goes straight in between your legs, so you focus your attention back on his dick, which has grown some during the time of your small interaction, and you might be a little more excited about this than you initially thought you’d be.

You let spit fall from your mouth onto his tip, then spread it down with your hand. You flick your wrist up and down a few times and lean forward, licking a broad stripe up his shaft. At the deep exhale he releases, you glance up at him through your lashes, and the sight of him with his jaw tightened in anticipation makes you want to give him so much more, so you suck the tip into your mouth.

Fingers move your hair behind your ear for you and if you still had any inhibitions at this point, they’re lost now. Your head bobs back and forth slowly as you continue to look him in his eyes; it’s hard to look anywhere else when you’ve never been looked at so intensely in this position. You gather spit on the tip of your tongue and spread it across his head, circling the wet muscle around it until he hums and you need to feel the weight of him back inside.

“Tap my leg, okay?”

You furrow your brows at his words, but your silent question is answered when there’s a hand on the back of your head and the tip of his dick hits the back of your throat lightly as if in warning before his hips pull back then he’s back in your throat. Your hands come up to his thighs as he sets a slow pace to fuck your face, and when his head falls back the moment he realizes he can go as far as he wants, you close your eyes and prepare for the onslaught you know you’re about to take.

Johnny’s hips instantly pick up speed and roughness, and while he’s still in control of himself, he loses a bit of sanity. After a year of silent pining and thinking this would never happen, he’s fucking his boss's face, and of course, of fucking course you don’t have a gag reflex.

You stick your tongue out flat to lick at the bottom of his shaft as he does the rest of the work and the feeling of spit bubbling out the sides of your mouth and making its way down your chin digs your fingers into his skin since you can’t clench your thighs together. Your hair is gathered for extra leverage, and the pull of your scalp is such a delicious feeling you moan helplessly just when your nose comes in contact with trimmed hairs.

“Shit,” he hisses, picking his head back up to watch as he slows back down but thrusts in rougher. You clearly enjoy being used like this, spit traveling down your chin to the point of landing on your jacket and darkening the material. You’re a mess in the best possible way, and this is an image that will haunt his memory for a very long time.

More of his resolve crumbles at the feeling of your hands curling around to his butt to press him even closer into you, even further down your throat. You haven’t even been touched, barely kissed, but you’re lightheaded and extremely aroused. While he contemplates if he should cum down your throat or wait until he’s buried in your pussy, you’re silently hoping he lets you taste him soon.

Johnny drags his dick out of your mouth at an extremely slow pace, and how you wrap your lips around him and open your hooded, darkened eyes to look at him again shoots a shiver of pleasure up his spine.

“Never would’ve thought,” he says around an amused exhale.

“Hm?” you prompt, releasing him with a loud pop.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. He grips his dick with his free hand and taps the tip on your awaiting tongue, amused and extremely turned on. Smearing fluids over your tongue and lips, he softly demands: “Play with your pussy for me.”

The smile you give him is a concoction of wicked and endearing. He releases your hair as you manage to wiggle out of your leggings. You soaked through your lace and leggings, you both notice, and Johnny stops you with a disapproving hum when you make a move to remove your panties as well. You squint, he laughs and shakes his head.

“Over your panties.” You roll your eyes but listen nonetheless, slipping your hand in between your thighs. The material is extremely wet to the touch, and the slickness helps with making the friction pleasurable when your fingertips find your clit and begin rubbing circles. “Slowly.”

Johnny finds your huff of frustration adorable.

The tip of his dick taps your mouth again to gain your attention. You suck spit up to the front of your mouth, then your mouth is stretched wide once again, hand back in your hair.

Having your throat fucked with the additional pleasure on your clit, even with the slow pace you’re forced to go at, has you practically whining, the sound going in and out as he goes in and out your mouth. That vibration only spurs Johnny to grip your locks tighter and thrust in deeper to feel as much as your mouth and throat offer.

“You were made for this, huh?”

“Mhm,” you affirm, eyes rolling back at the way he pulls your hair to tip your head back and get a different, much better angle.

Johnny honestly didn’t expect you to submit so easily to him. The visual of your face all messy, eyes hardly opened to look into his eyes and hair out of place while touching yourself sparks that feeling in his lower abdomen.

“You want me to cum in your mouth?” You hum again and even with a mouth full of dick you manage to smile. You’re getting what you wanted. “Don’t swallow it until I tell you to.”

It takes a few more strokes for Johnny to fulfill your wish. The moment his head falls back again you use your free hand to caress his balls, and that does it. He leaves the tip in so that his cum pools onto your tongue and strokes every drop out. The groan he lets out causes you to unintentionally swipe at your clit faster, but he’s distracted anyway.

“Let me see,” Johnny says after collecting himself and stepping back. You straighten your head so none slides down your throat and open your mouth wider for his inspection. He smiles in approval, wishing he could take a picture of the sight before him. “Swallow.”

You lick your lips and wipe away all the spit that traveled outside of your mouth with the sleeve of your jacket after doing so.

Johnny completely removes his pants before he leans down to kiss you again. His tongue languidly licks against the seam of your mouth for an entrance that you grant instantly. While it curls around your own and he gets a taste of himself, Johnny’s hand guides you to bend one leg and he caresses your outer thigh.

“Good?” Johnny asks for extra measure, lips just barely dragging across your cheek to press opened mouth kisses on your jaw. Your head automatically tilts to the opposite side to give him more real estate. You hum, your mouth a bit preoccupied with how your teeth have trapped your bottom lip.

Your breath stutters at the gentle scrape of his teeth along the length of your neck after he unzips the high neck of your top to expose more skin. Whichever scent you chose to put on today has Johnny latched onto your neck for a while, kissing, licking, nibbling the skin to the point of your breath coming out a lot louder than before and the seat on your underwear getting uncomfortably wetter. You’re throbbing at this point and not being touched enough, so you claw at his sides and call his name quietly.

Johnny eventually spreads your legs more and maneuvers himself in between them. Both of your legs bend at the knee to accommodate his large build in the middle of them, and the hand that isn’t keeping himself propped up by your head kneads your hip.

“You know how long I’ve been wanting to get you like this?”

“How long?” you prompt, voice hardly above a whisper.

“Since the day you gave me a tour of the building,” he admits and slowly rises until he’s up on his knees.

“That’s a long time,” you respond lamely, hardly caring when your pussy is practically screaming at you to be touched. He raises a brow, and when he looks back up at your face, your lip is back in between your teeth.

If he doesn’t touch you soon you might explode.

“I’ve wanted this for a while, too,” you decide to confess, hoping it gets you somewhere. And it does. It’s almost like you’re rewarded for it by Johnny walking back on his knees until he’s far enough to settle on his stomach, face barely inches away from the apex of your thighs. He subconsciously licks his lips at the smell of you. He’s been wanting to taste you for so long now, but he refrains himself because he sees how you’re affected by the lack of attention to your heat. He promised he’d take care of you and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. But not before breaking you.

“Wish you would’ve told me sooner,” he eventually tells you after having you hold your breath for way too long.

“You know I couldn’t.” The way Johnny looks at you, attentive to every word that comes out of your mouth while he smoothly scoops your legs over his shoulders to wrap his arms around your thighs, makes you continue speaking. “Seems like everything fell into place, though.”

Johnny nods, rests his head on one of your thighs, and looks up at you, brown eyes still watching your mouth intently, as he unhooks one of his arms to push your right leg further to the side. His fingers are soon on your center, gliding up and down your slit, bumping into your clit with each pass.

“I guess it did.”

Before you can reply, he adds more pressure behind his touch, and your hips just barely lift to get even more. The smile you get in return is attractive as all hell but annoying. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you or he’s just really enjoying himself. Either way, you’re getting more impatient by the second, if the way your hips rise to grind your core against his fingers again says anything.

“Stay still for me, okay?” You almost pout because you need more, but you promised to give him total control of the situation and you’ve done well thus far, so you press your ass back into his comforter. “There you go.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing.

The light pressure on your clit is soon gone and then the zipper of your jacket gets dragged down all the way. “Take this off for me.”

Sitting up, you do as told. You toss it where your leggings had been dropped and now you’re presented in front of the awe-struck brunet in just your matching set of underwear. You figured you’d wear something nice under your clothes, both for Johnny’s pleasure and for your confidence, and with how Johnny’s eyes settle on the way your breasts are trying to burst out of your snug lacy bra, you know you chose well.

A hand slides up your torso to grab one of your breasts and squeeze it. Somewhere in the midst of him fondling your chest and pressing teasing, yet promising kisses on your inner thighs your eyes drift shut again as you bask in the pleasure. One of your own hands comes up from your side to slide under the cup of your unoccupied tit and pull at your nipple.

The tip of Johnny’s tongue drags dangerously close to your annoying-still-clothed heat and your patience is shot.

“John…”

“Yes?”

“I need more.”

He has the audacity to hum and give your clit a kitten lick. “Do you?”

You huff, stuck between just pushing his face into your pussy or doing what he asks of you, but you promised, so you suck in a breath and give him what he wants.

“John,” you say again, almost whining.

He doesn’t say anything, just continues to look at you expectantly. And when too much time goes by, it somehow hits you what he wants from you and you groan quietly to yourself.

“Please.”

“That was very convincing,” Johnny snorts. His nose glides across the inside of your thigh like he’s got all the time in the world. It tickles in the best way, but it’s nothing but teasing and you’ve been stimulated enough that if you go more than a couple of seconds more without his mouth giving you direct pleasure, you’ll go insane. So with a great amount of willpower, you try again.

“Johnny,” you whine, giving him your best pout. Addressing him so informally feels foreign, but the way his eyes light up encourages you to keep going.“Please?”

And of course a big smile takes up half of his face and you mentally prepare yourself for what’s next to come. He peels your panties off, both of you watching the line of slick that stretches then breaks in the process, and when you spread your legs even more for him, his mouth salivates.

Johnny makes sure you’re looking into his eyes as his tongue licks a wide stripe from your entrance to your clit. He wants to be smug at the gasp you let out, but the taste of you shuts his ego up quickly.

You squeak when you’re suddenly flipped onto your stomach and your ass is lifted up into the air. With yet another broad lick to coat his taste buds with your essence, Johnny buries his face in your pussy. He uses the tip of his tongue to collect the puddle of wetness you’ve produced and smears it over your clit, soon digging inside to directly stimulate the bundle of nerves.

Johnny’s lips close around your clit and he sucks on it softly. As the moments pass he gradually sucks harder to the point of you not being able to fight the way your eyes flutter shut and hips push back. He’s nice about the movement, just grabbing your hips to keep you still, soon caressing and kneading.

“Mm, that feels good,” you compliment. At that very moment, Johnny decides to roll his tongue in up and down motions and apply more pressure behind his hands. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

He prompts you with a hum of his own.

With how your moans start to get louder and your breath gets quicker and harder, not to mention the tingles you feel building in intensity, you know you’re already close. It’s a beautiful yet frustrating feeling because you don’t want this to end so soon after waiting so long. But you also want him inside of you so bad now.

Johnny comes back up to circle your entrance, and then he goes even higher.

“Are you— fuck,” you groan deeply.

Your hands grip the pillow your face is buried in and your eyes have found the back of your head again. Johnny just hums at the way you react, the octave of your voice as you let out your sounds of pleasure go straight to his dick. His tongue licks filthily up and down, not leaving an inch untouched nor missing a drop of your juice. His fingers rub your entrance until he slides one in. One becomes two after a few pumps, then his thumb presses into your clit and your back is arched almost uncomfortably.

“Johnny,” you whine again, breath hiccuped.

“Yes?” he prompts, lifting his head and looking up to see your face peaking around your body, smushed into his pillow still.

“I wanna cum,” you tell him. It feels too good now. “Fuck, I need to come, Johnny.”

“Then cum for me.” His voice is so gentle yet commanding as his digits speed up. He tongues the skin between your holes sloppily and you try to curl into yourself, your mouth wide opened with no sound coming out of it, your walls clenching madly around the fingers inside of you, and your grip on the cushion is borderline painful.

Johnny helps you ride out your orgasm for as long as possible until your body begins shuddering due to oversensitivity. He gradually slows down to a stop, then removes himself from your body to let you breathe correctly. While he sucks on his fingers, he uses his clean hands to soothingly rub your back, waiting for you to calm back down.

You’re a bit dazed during the transition of more kissing that leads you on top of him, straddling him once again. You vaguely remember the caresses on your waist or the pinch of his fingers playing with your nipples, but the feeling of your bare pussy dragging against his dick is very memorable because it sparks a desperate need within you to sit on it.

Johnny’s hands on your hips move you to continue the friction, moving you back and forth on his dick easily. Foreheads connected as you catch your breath from the kiss you just broke away from, the two of you watch silently as his head reappears and disappears behind your lips, turning you both on until he’s fully hard again and you can’t handle him not being inside of you anymore.

You lift up on your knees to align his tip with your entrance. A silent look is exchanged where you ask and he nods once. He lets you take your time, enjoying the feeling of his tip directly rubbing against your sopping entrance.

Your labored breaths at the sensation bring his attention to your chest, and his mouth wraps around a nipple without a thought. By now, you deem his dick wet enough to press his head in your hole and press your hips down. The moment he slides in your head falls back because the stretch burns in the best way. It feels like time doesn’t exist as you work your way down his length, inch by inch. Your hips naturally find a slow rhythm as you lift and drop them to take in more until he slides in and out easily.

When your features no longer show discomfort, Johnny begins moving with you. Every time he lifts his hips up a little to meet your thrusts his body slumps down the headboard. His hands are loose on your waist as you move your body up and down and he’s got the perfect view of his dick going in and out of your core while you’re controlling the pace and intensity. The muscles in your thighs start to burn, so you slow down to a stop and carefully slide your way down until your clit comes in contact with his pubic bone, resulting in your eyes rolling back, hips grinding on their own accord.

“How the fuck do you feel this good?” Johnny groans deeply, hands gripping your ass to assist your movements.

His compliment, his hungry, intense gaze as they take you in from your eyes—which mirror his own—down to the trail of slick you’ve left behind on his tamed curls from the swivel of your hips, and the way his cock rubs against your g-spot send you over the edge within moments. Johnny soothingly rubs a cheek with one hand while the other caresses your arched spine, keeping his hips still to let you ride your orgasm out on your own.

You slump into him, head on his shoulder, panting against his neck. A sigh of content slips out when Johnny hugs you tightly against his broad chest right before asking, “You alright?”

“Great,” you reply breathlessly.

Johnny smiles at the positive response. He lifts his hips experimentally and gauges your reaction, which is a satisfied hum.

“You want more?” he asks, hands moving to your hips to carefully grind against him. How could you say no? “Hands and knees, baby.”

You begin climbing off to the side of him then he follows your lead and lifts himself up so you can settle on your knees and bend until your face slides onto his pillow. Your hands grab the sides of it in anticipation.

A deep groan sounds from behind you, so you crane your neck and see the way he stares down at how he can see everything you have to offer him at this moment. One hand goes to his dick while the other massages one of your cheeks. He runs the swollen tip of his dick along your slit, collecting what’s oozed out. You close your eyes and relax the side of your face into the cushion beneath it and take a breath, preparing yourself for the stretch and intensity this angle never fails to bring.

He slowly starts to breach your entrance. There’s a pause, then you hear him spit down before more of him slips inside of you inch by inch with each roll of his hips. He keeps his movements shallow for a while and your walls reaccept him easily. A particular thrust sends him deep inside of you, his tip just barely kissing your cervix. Your body’s first instinct is to run away from it. His hands on your hips stop you from fleeing, holding you still and rubbing the skin there to ease you.

“I won’t go too deep,” he tells you, hips still as he kisses up your spine and makes you dizzy by the tenderness of it all. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You nod at his promises and take another steadying breath, then the pleasurable friction is back. You’d believe anything he told you with that intoxicating voice of his.

A loud, embarrassing squelch comes out of your core when he’s sheathed inside that makes you bury your face into the pillow. There’s one last kiss at the top of your spine before the body heat from his chest is gone and he’s back upright. He finds his rhythm easily, and hands return to your backside, fingers digging into the flesh, no doubt leaving behind white imprints. He uses his grip as leverage to fuck down into you at a different angle that allows him to speed up and rip an unrestrained moan from your throat.

“You okay?”

You nod violently and sob, “Yes! Oh, my god, yes.”

Content, Johnny hums and you just know he’s grinning down at you by the sound of his voice when he asks: “Feels good?”

“So good,” you whine, unable to close your mouth or stop noises from coming out of it. You begin dropping your hips down to meet his thrusts, the loud smacks of skin against skin echoing and bouncing off of the walls of his room. “Fuck it feels so good, Johnny.”

“I know, baby” he groans. “And this pussy feels so fucking good—shit.”

The two of you get lost in the rhythm you’ve created and no more words are exchanged for a while, just the sound of groans that comes deep from Johnny’s throat and whines and pants that make you drool all while drying your throat out. The room has gotten increasingly hotter and your bodies now shine with a thin, sticky sheen that makes the back of your thighs stick to the front of his own every time he fucks back into you. Your sensitive nipples rub harshly against the sheets, stimulating you even further to the point of another sob ripping out of your throat and your walls fluttering around his girth.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. Your divulgence prompts him to reach his arm under you to graze his fingertips over your engorged clit and then you’re repeating your words over and over again until your actions meet your words and you’re cumming all over him. Your essence drips down the insides of your thighs and his balls and his thrusts create wetter, louder noises. A swivel of your hips causes his dick to pop out and suddenly your body is vibrating.

“There you go, baby,” Johnny praises you, sliding back into you and precisely hitting that spot within you a few more times until your pussy clenches again and he pulls out again, letting more wetness spray the sheets under you.

“Look at you,” he continues with a deep chuckle. “Making such a big mess.”

You don’t know if he really meant for you to look but your curiosity gets the best of you and you lift your head and look in between your legs. There’s a dark puddle on his sheets and another whine leaves your body, your head falling back into the pillow.

“Can you handle more?” Johnny asks you softly, slapping the top of your asscheek with his dick.

You need more. You don’t know what the hell Johnny has done to you and your body but you feel empty and not satisfied enough. Your core is raw at this point but you want nothing more than to feel the velvety skin of his thick, long dick sliding in and out of you and hitting every spot in you that makes your body convulse again.

“Please,” you beg, wagging your hips to emphasize your needs. “Please, Johnny.”

“I’ve got you begging now?” He sounds so turned on yet taken aback, another dark laugh vibrating your body at the nod of your head and movement of your body. If you were in your right mind, you would be ashamed of your behavior and submission to your assistant, but you’re not. And who cares when you’ve never felt this way before and crave to feel even more?

“I need it,” you confess without shame. “Need you back inside of me.”

Johnny doesn’t need any more convincing to be back, deep within you and instantly satisfying you again. Your breath stutters and it’s not easy to speak in coherent sentences, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to voice your pleasure and appreciation to the brunet whose self-control only continues to dissolve the faster he slams into you and the higher your voice gets.

Both of your breath patterns get quicker, loud, more erratic, signaling the approach of his first release and your third? Fourth? You can’t keep up with it when your brain has turned into mush and you can barely remember your own name, only his own registering in your brain. His name rolls off of your tongue like a mantra, driving him insane behind you.

“Where do you want me to cum?” he pants. It takes you too long to swallow in an attempt to lubricate your throat and answer him, Johnny humming in question impatiently.

“My back,” you manage to squeak out. You’re impressed with the amount of control he has, the slamming of his hips into your ass somehow speeding up and getting rougher. Johnny lacks the control and precision from before, and the way his tip kisses your cervix rips a yell out of you, eyes watering as you hold on for dear life. He releases a drawn out groan from deep within, and not too long later you feel ropes of cum land on your lower back and ass.

Your body is shaking. Tears leak out of your eyes, your breath is hard to catch, and quiet cries come out. You’re gently flipped over and pulled into strong arms, quickly finding comfort in the chest you settle into.

“You’re okay, baby,” Johnny’s soft voice says to you, but you can’t open your eyes or your mouth to acknowledge him. You’re confused about why you’re reacting to this, but you don’t dislike it. Especially when you have Johnny to soothe you and help you calm down. “Are you hurting anywhere?”

You shake your head and finally try to respond, but it takes a couple of coughs and harsh swallows of spit to do so. “No. I feel good. Everywhere.”

Your speech is choppy, unlike your usual way of speaking, but stringing words into sentences that flow well is too much work right now. Johnny doesn’t mind; he loves that he had that effect on you after you’ve had him under your spell for so long. He loves the fact he successfully kept his promise to you and now you’re boneless in his arms.

He reaches for the glass of water on his nightstand and hands it to you. “Are you ready for a bath?”

“Can I fall asleep in the bath?” you ask, wiping your face tiredly.

“Sure,” Johnny says softly before setting you down on the dry part of the bed. “I’ll come get you once it’s ready.”

That’s how the rest of the day plays out, you getting taken care of in multiple ways. Your favorite method is with his tongue and fingers as he made out with your pussy for what felt like hours in lieu of an apology for going so hard. And maybe Johnny purposely falls asleep next to you after you’re bathed, fed, and exhausted from coming, curled up into his side in the new sheets because he wants you to stay a little longer. There’s no way in hell he’ll ever get to see this side of you again after today.

“Good morning,” Johnny greets you. It’s eight in the morning the following Monday, and he’s got your avocado toast and fruit in his hands as he walks up to your desk.

You're rummaging through your bag looking for the bobby pins you threw inside of it this morning in your rush to get to work on time because believe it or not, you overslept. You give up in favor of looking up to greet him back, but your voice decides not to come out when your eyes lock with his. There hadn’t been any contact since you woke up in the middle of the night and he walked you to his door with a lingering kiss that quite literally took your breath away to close out the short chapter of your relationship you’d just created. You were still tired, but you definitely were not supposed to sleep over, so it was nothing.

But now, seeing the same eyes that stared into your own while you came and cried his name multiple times, all you can do is blink. And then he licks his pretty lips. You knew this would happen. You’re not mad at it, though. How could you be when you’d never experienced someone like him before? In hindsight, there was no possible way to go back to normal after the intimacy, tenderness, and raw attraction you shared that day. No possible way to never want another taste.

“You okay?” he asks unsurely, setting your plates down.

And here it comes.

“Johnny,” you say lowly, setting your bag down. The quirk in his brow and the corner of his mouth lets you know he’s onto you. And that just makes things easier for you. “Lock the door.”

yikesssssss

#johnny seo scenarios #johnny seo scenario #johnny seo smut #nct scenarios #nct scenario #nct smut #lets not talk abt the ending i needed to end this monster

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berrynarrybanana · 3 years

Text

My Only Angel

A/N: A rewrite of one my favorite pieces that I’ve ever done. I added an entire extra part onto it and I hope that you all enjoy the new addition.

Warnings: Smut, alcohol use, mentions of drug use, tiny bit of a daddy kink

Word Count: 5k+

I promise to edit this later, but for now, I am posting this as is!

Masterlist

The bass was shaking the sticky floor of the club, shooting straight up your spine as you swayed on your sore feet. It had been a long night and you were slowly starting to fade. The party was dwindling down, some of your friends trailing off to the bathroom to do lines before they moved onto the next party that would surely be held at someone’s flat. You were leaning heavily against Harry, his large (and deliciously warm) palm resting on your side as you sipped at the water in your hands. Your head found his shoulder almost an hour ago, the soft tendrils of his curls tickling your bare shoulders and collarbones as he chatted with one of your mutual friends.

Harry had been trying to get away from the conversation for the last sixty minutes, squeezing your side sympathetically every time Nick brought up a new topic to chat about. It was only after someone pulled Nick’s attention away that you were able to escape from the elitist bar with Harry’s blazer draped over your shoulders. His fingers easily tangled with yours as he pushed the front door open, flashes greeting your heavy eyes aggressively. You knew the drill better than you knew most of the people Harry considered friends. Keep your head down, eyes on your feet, let Harry lead the way, and don’t talk. It wasn’t hard to do in theory, but in practice it proved to be a little bit harder than it sounded.

Harry shut the door behind you, jumping as a pap started to smack the glass. Harry’s driver, Benny, was quick to step on the gas at Harry’s command. Harry’s right hand slipped over your knee as the fingers on his left hand started to toy with his bottom lip nervously. You gave him a soft, reassuring smile when he looked in your direction with concerned eyes. He let out a shuddery sigh of relief before leaning over to kiss your forehead. You tucked yourself into his side once more, letting your eyes drift shut as Harry pulled out his phone.

When you finally made it into his newly renovated home, you let out a content sigh. Lifting one leg at a time, you pulled at the straps of your heels until they fell in a heap by the front door. It wasn’t like you wouldn’t pick them up later and pack them away again. You were only here for a few days before you traveled off to another destination for work. As much as you hated it at times, you owed your demanding and stressful career for giving you Harry. Without a work trip to Amsterdam, you wouldn’t be sitting on his kitchen island while he kissed your lips.

“Missed you.” He brushed his nose against yours as you let out a soft hum, your chapped lips curving into a smile. “How long ‘ave we got?”

“Four days.” You brushed your fingers against the crisp, white fabric of his button up. “But I don’t intend on leaving this house for anything.”

“S’that so?” He chuckled, ducking his head down bashfully. “Not even to visit Mum for a night?”

“Doesn’t sound half bad, I have to admit.” Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer as you peppered kisses over his forehead. “I do miss her sangria.”

“I’ll let her know to make a batch.”

Your head tilted back, a breathy sigh of pleasure escaping from your lips as he sponged kisses over your collarbone. You felt it in your core first, the soft aching reminding you that it had been a while since you’d last been with Harry. If you remembered correctly, it had been at least six months since you’d last had him in a tiny Paris hotel room. It had been six months since you’d felt him, really felt him give it to you like you needed. Just as your fingernails dug into his broad shoulders, the doorbell rang out loudly. It made you jump, causing Harry to laugh into your neck before he pulled away.

“Ordered us some food.” He pressed a fleeting kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I’ll be right back, angel.”

You watched him walk away with a pout on your lips and an unsatisfied throbbing between your legs. Had he been quick enough, he could have had you on the countertop before the food arrived. A quickie was better than nothing, and right now that’s what you had - nothing. Impatiently you waited for Harry’s return, gripping the edge of the counter with puffed out cheeks as your feet swung back and forth. Your heels tapped against the sleek cabinets softly as you looked over his kitchen, The remodel was finally done and you were so proud of what Harry had done with his London home. It was undeniably him, from the cabinets to the paint in his bedroom. A smile graced your lips when you noticed a picture of you and Harry hung in a cluster of photos on the wall.

You were sandwiched between a picture of Harry with the band, and a picture of Gemma and Harry on the beach. You were so enamored with the pictures on his wall that you almost didn’t notice him walking back into the kitchen. Without the light flipping on suddenly, you probably wouldn’t have noticed him. A groan left your lips at the sudden brightness, and a chuckle left his at the sound of your annoyed noise. He set the takeout bag on his countertop before turning towards the cabinets opposite of where you sat. Two plates later and Harry was by your side, scooping chips onto your plate with his nimble fingers. He handed you the white, ceramic plate with a quick peck before he turned back to make his own plate up.

“Sir,” You hummed out, popping a chip into your mouth, “Where is my malt vinegar and tomato sauce.”

“It’s comin’, angel.” He snorted, shaking his head before he lifted his thumb to his mouth.

Your face paled and your lips parted as you watched him suck the salt off the tip of his finger absentmindedly. He turned around on socked heels, moving towards the brand new fridge to retrieve the condiments you requested. He held the bottles between his fingers, reaching out for his plate with one hand before he nodded towards the doorway of his kitchen.

“Let’s take this upstairs and get comfortable.” He suggested. “I’m dying to get out of these bloody jeans.”

“They keep getting tighter and tighter, don’t they.” Your eyebrows moved in a suggestive manner as Harry rolled his eyes, turning his back towards you as you hopped from the countertop. “I do have to say I’m enjoying it.”

“You already know how big my dick is, there’s not really much left for you to imagine.” He snorted out a laugh as you both walked down the hallway, towards the staircase.

“Your bum looks really fucking good in them though.” With a soft pinch to his rounded cheek, you proved your point.

“Oi!” Harry jumped, shooting a playful glare over his shoulders. “Keep your hands to yourself, missus. I don’t need my house smelling like malt vinegar because your grabby hands made me drop the bottle.”

“You love my grabby hands.” You giggled as you followed him up the staircase. “Have I told you that I love the remodel yet?”

“Mentioned it once or twice.” He chuckled lowly. “Thank you for all of your very strong opinions on the color palette, by the way.”

“You’re very welcome.” You hummed out, reaching for a chip as you cleared the last few steps of the staircase. “I think it looks really nice.”

“I really like the darker tones that you picked.” He pushed his bedroom door open with his elbow, revealing the emerald, burnt orange, and blush tones of his bedroom. “I especially love your idea for the bedroom.”

“It’s almost as if people pay me to write about this kind of stuff.” You snorted, setting your plate down on the side of his bed that you claimed over a year ago. “Wild.”

“Piss off.” He rolled his eyes, setting his own plate on the velvet comforter. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring you something comfy to change into.”

“Mkay.” You effortlessly lifted the hem of your little black dress over your head, dropping the garment to the floor before you slid under the emerald sheets.

The rich, jewel tones combined with the blush and light tan created the perfect seventies rockstar vibe. The shapes and artwork on his wall brought pieces of his favorite time period to his everyday life, fueling his inspiration as continued to embark on his musical journey. After Harry returned, already dressed in his pajamas, you took the vintage band shirt he offered with a smile. You slipped it over your body as he climbed in bed next to you. The two of you settled into a comfortable silence, eating your late night fish and chips with content hums and greasy fingers. You felt your head start to come down from the high the tequila brought you, the dizzy cloud hanging over your head drifting away with each bite you took. When you were finished with your food, Harry disappeared with your dirty plates before returning with two large glasses of water. He turned the lights off in the bedroom, handing you a glass with firm instruction.

“Drink up.” He started to sip at his own water as you rolled your eyes, tipping the glass back like you were asked.

When your water was downed and you were finally laying down next to Harry, you reached up to brush your knuckles over his cheek with a sleepy smile.

“Hi.” You whispered.

“Hello, lovely.” He turned his head, kissing your wrist softly. “I’m glad to have you back for a while. It’s been far too long since we’ve caught up.”

“I know.” Your hips wiggled until you were nearly flush with Harry’s front, your legs slotted between his as your hand brushed over his side. “I missed you.”

“I missed you.” He mumbled against your forehead. “Don’t leave me for so long again.”

“If I recall, you left me in Los Angeles.” With a tilt of your head, you capture his lips with your own in a tender and slow kiss.

Everything was innocent until your hand slipped between your bodies, subtly palming his cock through the plaid of his pajama pants. Harry gasped when you bit down on his lower lip, palming him with a little more enthusiasm than before. It didn’t take long for Harry to have you on your back, his hips pressing yours into the mattress with little rolls and grinds. Desperate hands pushed under soft shirts, grasping at clammy skin as Harry started to kick the duvet towards the end of the bed. When his lips started to trail over your jaw, and down your neck, you started to lose the patience you had stored up.

You didn’t want to wait any longer.

Impatiently, you tugged at Harry’s shirt until it was over his head and on the floor alongside your dress. Your shirt was the next to go, falling in a heap with the other fabric as Harry sponged kisses over the swell of your breast.

“Harry,” You gasped as his tongue swirled over your nipple. “Please, baby.”

“M’getting there.” His voice was low and hoarse as he moved to your other breast “Let me take my time, angel.”

“Please, Harry.” Your fingers scratched lightly against his back as your hips lifted up. “I can’t wait.”

He lifted his head from the crook of your neck, looking down at your face with a smug grin.

“You need it that bad, angel?” Sparse kisses were left over your warm cheek as Harry waited for your answer. “Need to hear you say it.”

“I need you.” You whispered. “I need you to fuck me.”

“There’s my good girl.”

His lips pressed into yours hungrily as your hands pushed his pajama pants down.

You gripped his bum, making sure to dig your nails into the sensitive skin softly. Your giggle was drowned out by the groan that vibrated against your lips. He didn’t stop though, his tongue slipping over yours as he pushed your panties to the side. Your hand worked over his cock in long, slow pumps as he panted against your lips. Soon, he was the one who was desperate to be inside of you. His hips were rutting into your hand, the leaking tip of his cock bumping against your soft thigh as you continued to tease him.

“Thought you needed me.” He let out a breathy chuckle, glancing between your naked bodies to watch your hand stroking over his cock. “Let me in, angel.”

“I’m having fun.” You whispered, adjusting your head on the mound of soft pillow behind you as Harry looked into your eyes.

“I’m not.” He grumbled. “Promise to make it so good for you, angel.”

“I know it’ll be good.” You lifted your chin, puckering your lips out. “Kiss me.”

When his lips met yours, you guided the head of his cock towards your entrance.

It took him no time at all to sink into your velvety walls.

When you initiated this, you assumed the movements between you would be fast and desperate. You were both tired and sobering up, the clock reading well past three a.m. on Harry’s bedside table. In theory, you should be trying your best to rub one out before passing out in a heap in the middle of the bed. But Harry refused to let your first time after six months apart be rushed and desperate. His thrusts were planned and deliberate, sharp and precise as he hovered over your body with hungry eyes and a clenched jaw. His curls brushed against your neck and your chest, causing you to giggle and shrink away from time to time.

“I swear to fuck I’ve never felt anything so heavenly.” Harry gasped against your cheek before his head tilted down. He watched his cock, coated in your combined arousal, plunging in and out of your needy walls. “So tight and wet fo’ me, aren’t you angel.”

“Yes.” Your fingernails dug into the slick skin of his sides, searching for something to keep you anchored to this earth. “I’m close.”

“Can feel it.” He nipped at your bottom lip. “Squeezing me so tight.”

“Are you close?” A whimper followed your question, the head of Harry’s cock nudging the perfect spot in your walls. “Fuck, H.”

“Yeah, angel, I’m right there.” Nimble and calloused fingers started to circle your clit, moving in the direction that never failed to push you over the edge. “Cum fo’ me, love. Cum on your favorite cock.”

Your lips parted, breath catching in your throat as you clenched your eyes shut.

The tight knot in your lower belly exploded, causing your toes to curl into the sheets and your hips to lift off the bed. Soon, they were pushed right back down as Harry grunted into your collarbone, his hips pushing forward as his cum coated your walls. The skin of his chest against yours was tacky and warm, sweat shared between you both as his arms wrapped around your torso to keep you close as your walls milked his cock.

When all was said and done, you were sprawled over Harry’s chest.

Your fingers trailed over his butterfly tattoo as you tried to keep the blissful smile from your lips.

“I love you.” Harry’s nose nuzzled into the hair at the top of your head, his words causing your finger - and your steady breathing- to stop. “I love you so fucking much and I’m tired of pretending that I don’t. I’m tired of going to these parties and spending our nights out with those people. I’m tired of acting like this is just something we do when we’re bored of everyone else, Y/N. I love you and I need to know if you feel the same way.”

Your eyes watered, a happy emotion bubbling up in your chest as you tried to process his words.

Harry loved you.

“You were never just something to pass the time when I was bored.” You croaked out, lifting your head up as a few tears fell onto his chest. “I’ve always loved you, Harry, and I don’t ever want to let you go.”

“M’yours if you’ll have me.” His voice was gruff as he lifted a hand, brushing his thumb over your soft cheek to catch your tears. “I promise.”

“If you’re mine, them I’m yours.” You pushed forward, connecting your lips. “S’about time you made a move. You’ve been calling me missus for years.”

You snuggled back into Harry’s chest as he let out a tired chuckle.

“Always knew you’d be my missus one day.” He mumbled. “Gonna keep you around forever, angel.”

🕊🕊🕊🕊🕊

You had the string of the tea bag twirled around your forefinger.

Slowly, you dipped it into the mug of steaming water, humming along to the record you put on Harry’s vinyl player in the corner of his kitchen. Even after your very late, and very active night, you couldn’t find it in yourself to stay in bed past seven, no matter how hard you tried. That was something you had in common with Harry. You were both early risers, your natural body clocks pulling you out of slumber as the sun started to rise in the sky.

After laying in bed for an hour with open eyes and a silly smile, replaying Harry’s words from the night before, you decided to stumble out of bed for a cup of tea. You slipped Harry’s discarded pajama pants, pulling the red and black checked flannel up your legs and over your hips before you grabbed his shirt. It was one of your favorite shirts he owned and you knew that he would have some choice words to share with you when he saw the fabric hanging off your frame.

You set Harry’s mug aside as your tea steeped, leaving the bag in his mug without any added water. If you were going to get some work done while you could, you didn’t want his tea to go cold on the counter. Blowing the steaming liquid in your mug gently, you turned towards your laptop on the kitchen island, pressing your hip against the edge of the granite countertop. Your mug found it’s home by your left hand as you powered up your laptop.

Harry liked to joke that you were a workaholic and that you needed to learn about work life balance, but you would always snort at his words and roll your eyes. He knew he was being hypocritical, but he loved getting a rise out of you from time to time. If you were being honest, you loved letting him do it. When your laptop was on, you started to move the wireless mouse around the granite countertop, squinting your eyes at the picture your editor sent you. As you lifted your mug of tea to your lips, you heard the shuffling of socked feet against the hallway floors. A happy smile pulled at the corner of your lips when Harry’s lips pressed into the back of your head, his fingers curling around your shoulder to stable himself as you put your tea down.

“Woke up this mornin’ and I couldn’t find my pajamas.” His voice was still thick with sleep, his words cracking on every other syllable. “But I guess I’ve found the culprit.”

“Guess so.” You chuckled softly, tilting your head back as you lifted your hand to squeeze his fingers that rested against your shoulder. “Kettle is still hot.”

“You mean to tell me-” His arms were quick to slip around your body, pulling you close as he whispered in your ear. “You stole my pajamas, left me in bed all alone, and now you’re not even gonna fix me a bloody cup of tea? How positively rude of you, my love.”

“Harry!” You giggled and squirmed as he began to nip playfully at the skin of your neck.

“What love?” He teased, squeezing you hard as he moved you back from the counter. “Can’t handle a bit of scruffy kisses.”

“More like toothy kisses!” You squealed as he lifted you a little, your toes brushing against the hardwood floors. “You’ve got no scruff!”

“Take tha’ back!” He laughed loudly, his arms loosening around you before he flipped you around. You were facing him now, his sleepy smile creating little wrinkles around the corners of his eyes, and his lips raspberry red. You glanced down quickly to see him in only his boxer briefs, his tattoos on full display. “Take it back right now.”

“No,” You giggled before pressing your lips together, shaking your head defiantly.

“Take. It. Back,” He said slowly, backing you towards the counter with a sinister smirk on his lips. You shook your head again and he returned the gesture with a soft chuckle. “You’re a brat.”

“I am not.” You smirked. “I’m an angel.”

“An angel?” He snorted, rolling his eyes. “You’re a little devil, that’s what you are.”

You tossed your arms around his neck, gripping his hair as he ducked his head to your neck again, nipping at your skin as your back hit the counter. “Harry,” You said in a soft warning.

“What?” He mumbled into your skin. “Can’t take it?”

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” You whispered, rolling your lips in after you’d said it. He lifted his head, his eyes narrowed playfully.

“You think I won’t finish this?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. “You think I won’t take you right here?”

“I know you won’t,” You taunted him, biting your lower lip. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, but I would,” He chuckled, his fingers already digging into the band of his own pants on your hips. He snapped the band softly before leaning in to brush his lips against yours. “Turn round love.”

“Make me,” You whispered, quirking your brow up with a smirk of your own.

Harry laughed softly before spinning you around.

Your hands slapped down on the countertop, steadying you as your knees began to quake ever so slightly in anticipation. He quickly pulled your pants down, your panties sliding with them as he kissed over your t-shirt covered shoulder. Your lower belly clenched from the swift movement and you nearly moaned out as his hand gripped your bare bottom, squeezing softly as he sighed out. With a pained moaned, Harry’s thumbs spread you apart, baring you for his hungry eyes to feast upon. The cool air has you clenching, your eyes fluttering shut as you inhaled.

Soon, his fingers skimmed around your hip to part your clenched thighs, slipping between your legs in a teasing manner. He brushed the tops of your right thigh with his nails in a light scratch as he pushed your hair aside with his free hand, kissing over the back of your neck. You were practically thrumming now. You didn’t know you were ready for him until he’d started teasing you so charmingly. That man could make you wet within seconds just with a look.

“Do you want it like my shirt says love?” He whispered in your ear, causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand up.

You were confused for a moment as he pushed your feet aside with his own, spreading you a little more as his right hand pulled your hips back towards his, his left hand pushing your lower back until you were in place with your ass up and your knees knocked to the countertop. You felt so vulnerable and open, the cool morning air brushing past your soaked lips as Harry put you into the perfect position. You gasped when you finally felt him, the leaking tip of his cock brushing over your ass before he moved it between your legs. He brushed his tip over your lips, the sound shooting straight to your core as you wiggled your ass just a little for him in the form of a desperate plea.

“Yeah, my angel wants it hot n’ hard this morning.” A devilish chuckle caused you to whimper before your teeth sunk into your lower lip. “Isn’t that right?

“Fuck, Harry.” You keened out as Harry sunk into your waiting walls, bottoming out swiftly.

“You didn’t answer my question, angel.” He tutted, settling his hands on your hips as you felt your walls flutter around his shaft. “Tell me how you want it.”

“I want it,” You gasped out, nodding your head. “I want it just like that, Harry. Please fuck me like your shirt says, please.”

“See,” He grunted, pulling back out to the tip before pushing in again quickly, knocking your hips forward. “You’re no angel.”

“I am,” You whimpered as he started his rhythm, desperate whines pulling from your lips as he continued his torturously slow thrusts. “M’an angel, H. I’m your angel.”

“Prove it love.” He gritted out between clenched teeth as you clenched around him. “Be good for me, my love. Be the sweet angel that I know you are.”

“I’m your angel, I- I promise,” You cried out as his hips started to pick up speed. He still pulled out, holding his tip in your entrance for a moment before slamming back in, but it was quicker and a little sloppier than before. You could tell that he was close. “Harry fuck, please.”

“Please, what?” He gasped, pressing his chest into your back as his right hand slipped up to fondle your breast, his left hand sliding down to your clit. “You want me to make you cum?”

“Oh,” You cried out as he started to roll his hips, his thrusts deeper with the new angle he was fucking you at. “Yes, please make me cum around your cock. Please make me cum, daddy.”

“Such dirty words from such a pretty mouth.” His breath was hot against your ear for just a second, his hips knocking yours flush against the countertop with harsh thrusts. “Thought you were my angel?”

“I am!” You cried out as he lifted his chest slightly, his right hand gripping your hip tightly as he held you in place. “M’your angel.”

“Not with a dirty mouth like that,” He chuckled darkly as your torso fell to the countertop. “My beautiful girl, you want so bad to be good for me don’t you? You want to make daddy proud, don’t you?”

You nodded eagerly as he grunted, dropping his forehead to your shoulder with a low curse.

“Then cum for me,” He growled out the order, moving his fingers faster against your clit. “Cum.”

By some miracle, his command had your body slipping over the edge just moments later. Maybe it was the sound of your hips smacking together in a place that wasn’t meant for sex. Or maybe it was the grip he had on your hip, holding you in place while he fucked into you without mercy. Or maybe it was just your body wanting to prove that you were his obedient little angel. It was like you belonged to him in the sweetest and most sensual way.

Your ograsm hit you like an earthquake, causing you to toss your head back as your knees turned to jello. He stilled inside of you, crying out as he fell into you, pressing you harder into the countertop so that you both had some sort of support as he released himself inside of you just like he did last night. Nothing felt better than going bare with him, nothing felt better than him cumming deep inside of you this way, claiming you as his own in some sort of primal way.

“Fuck,” You cried out, your voice hoarse and your throat dry. “Just wanted a bloody cup of tea you animal.”

“This was all you,” He snorted out a laugh, kissing your shoulder repeatedly as he slowly slipped out of you, trying not to hiss as the chilly morning air hit his softening cock. “You taunted me.”

“You were being mean to me,” You pouted, turning around slowly to look up at him. “Called me a brat and everything.”

“You know you’re my angel.” He rolled his eyes playfully. “You always will be.”

“Thank you,” You hummed softly as he gripped your hips and pulled you closer for a deep kiss before peppering his lips over your cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” He mumbled into your lips, smiling at the new sentiment that you now had the chance to share with each other. “But I am tired and I would like to spend the morning in bed with you.”

“I’ve got some work to do.” You whispered. “I’ll make you some tea and you can snuggle up on the couch?”

“S’not the same.” He pouted, whining softly. “I want you next to me, my love.”

“Fine, I’ll sit with you for a little bit.”

“Thank you,” He smiled happily. “Can you bring me cereal too?”

“Yes, master.” You snorted, rolling your eyes again. “Right after I finish cleaning myself up and putting my clothes back on.”

“I have an even better idea though,” He whispered lowly, brushing his nose against yours. “I take you upstairs and clean you up with my mouth and we don’t put clothes back on at all.”

“Fucking hell.” You whimpered as he dipped a hand down between your legs again, plunging his middle finger into your walls. “Harry, I’m-“

“Shh, let me clean you up,” He smirked, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Let me have a taste of us. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day after all, angel.”

#harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry smut #harry fluff #harry one shot #harry writing #harry fic #my writing

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purpletaecup · 3 years

Photo

10 ☾ he said that’s how he still remembers me

warnings: explicit language (cursing), mentions of miscarriage, mentions of infidelity (not rlly but on thin ice)

notes: you guys... this is a long one and it’s kind of fast paced, but we are finally getting some answers and the drama really begins! next chapter will be emotional, that’s all I know. I’m sorry for putting you through all this angst!! also, I wanted to bring some attention to the crisis in the Philippines right now with all of the dangerous typhoons. A lot of people need donations and rescuing, so HERE is a link to a twitter thread of donation drives! Please make sure to check it out, share and help spread awareness!

as always, come talk to me in my ask box! and if you want to be added to the taglist, please send an ask, or reply to this post or the masterlist!

not edited!! sorry if there are any mistakes lmfao i usually am sleep deprived when i write so yeah, there are probably some errors.

word count: 5,614

☾

The days following Jungkook’s visit were dull, if anything. You’ve received texts from Yoongi saying that he couldn’t come visit until that weekend because he had to finish wrapping things up in advance at the company so that he could spend some time with you. You had argued over the phone like teenagers when you insisted that he didn’t need to do that and you could take care of yourself until Jin came back. Of course, that led to him ranting about what the doctor said about monitoring you and your symptoms for concussion and to get him to just shut up about the medical stuff (it made your brain hurt more than it did usually), you reluctantly agreed to his ‘visits’, as you’d rather call them.

[nov. 20, 2020]

It was Friday now and you still haven’t gotten any glimpse of actual memories back, although you have been having these strange dreams that you couldn’t really remember when you woke up. You could only describe the feeling it gave you as ‘sinking’, like you were drowning and you couldn’t escape. As much as possible, you tried not to think about these feelings, and focused more on trying to get to know the version of you who lived in this amazing apartment.

The past couple of days that you spent at this apartment put you in awe. It really was the apartment of your dreams, from the color of the furniture down to the little plants stuck in the corner of that tiny shelf in the kitchen. It was beautiful and so you. The only problem was that you couldn’t find anything to help with your current situation. You scoured every nook and cranny and couldn’t find anything dated after your wedding reception. No pictures, no post-its, notes or anything past that date. What you had found in your apartment, you already knew of (aside from the wedding photos). Past photoshoots, high school photos, a notebook full of movie ticket stubs. There was absolutely nothing in this apartment that gave you a clue to the life you lived during the four year gap in your memory.

You even tried to get into your twitter and instagram from when you were nineteen but you couldn’t log in. Wrong password every single time. When you tried to change your password for social media, the email you used had a different password too. You couldn’t figure out what you could have changed your password to. Every password combination you could think of, you tried, but none worked, so you decided to just skip that and maybe go over it later on. Or make a new one. That could work, too.

You couldn’t even look at your twitter account because for some reason, it was private and that seemed strange for someone with almost 130,000 followers. You could see your instagram account from your browser, but it wouldn’t let you see the pictures and posts in full size with the captions and comments, so you were really stuck.

A quick internet search of your name yielded things you already knew. Former model, current writer (that fact was still surprising to you). Old news articles of dating scandals that weren’t true, except for the one with Yoongi. More news articles about your divorce with no further information than what Yoongi had told you already.

It’s as if any clue about your life during your memory loss is unaccounted for. It seemed like at this point, you could only rely on other people telling you about your life and pray to whatever higher power there was to give you your memories back.

This futile search was beginning to make your stomach churn. You almost couldn’t suppress the bile rising up in your throat. Hopefully Jin would return soon. Maybe he could put all of the pieces back together for you.

☾

Jungkook sat in on the uncomfortable leather couch in Yoongi’s office as he waited for the man to finish up whatever he was typing. He looked through his instagram feed and saw one of your posts from July. For a while, he was confused as to why this picture from July would end up on his feed, but he remembered the new instagram algorithm. Curious, he clicked on your profile and looked through it slowly. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually paid attention to your posts.

“I forgot to ask but what did you and Yn do at her apartment? She said you stayed over for a couple of hours.” Yoongi asked though his eyes never strayed from his paperwork.

Jungkook looked up at him and pondered on what to say.

“Hm, yeah. I got roped into staying. She asked a bunch of questions and we looked through her apartment and her photo albums. Her apartment’s cute, by the way. Way different from what your house looked like.” He comments.

“Really?”

“Yeah. It was bright. Lots of green. Nothing I’ve ever seen in the house you guys shared.”

“How was she when you picked her up? She told me a couple of things but I haven’t seen her yet so I can’t know if what she’s telling is the truth or not.”

It was quiet for a moment, with only the sound of turning pages filling the room, as Jungkook wondered what to say to this. He didn’t really know when to start with you, especially with how different you were acting.

“Well, she’s fine. The personality is definitely different. She seems a lot more outgoing, and she had a lot of questions but she didn’t push. I think she wants to try and figure things out on her own.” Jungkook replies as he continued to slowly look through your previous instagram posts.

“She’s been like that. She hates being a burden and gets really defensive about it sometimes.” Yoongi comments.

Jungkook pauses at your most recent post. He checks the date. September 22.

“When did you guys divorce again?” He asked.

At this, Yoongi looked up.

“The divorce was finalized on September 29, I think.” He answered, but looked questioningly at Jungkook as if to ask why.

“Did you know she was going to therapy?” Jungkook asked again.

Hearing this, Yoongi stood up abruptly and hurried over to where Jungkook was sitting.

“What? Where did you see that?” Yoongi asked as he looked over Jungkook’s shoulder.

Jungkook showed him the post. Yoongi took the phone from him and examined the post carefully.

It was a picture of clouds with text on it. Is this the life we really want? The caption read “as per the advice of my therapist, i’m just here to pop in and say that I’ll be going on a hiatus for a little bit”.

“What the fuck? I didn’t know this!” Yoongi yelled, evidently angry.

Jungkook looked at him confused. They were together for four years, how could he not know that you were at least going to therapy?

The same question was running through Yoongi’s head. He took a seat next to Jungkook to process this new information.

“Hyung, can I ask you a couple of questions?” Jungkook requested.

Yoongi could only nod.

“What was Yn like when you were together? Why did you marry her?” Those were the first questions that came out of Jungkook’s mouth.

He was truly, genuinely curious. Though he’s heard some things that Yoongi had said about you, he never knew the full story.

“We married each other because we loved each other. Wasn’t that obvious?” Yoongi retorted.

Jungkook pursed his lips at this. “Well that's what you tell everybody and yeah we get it, but considering the fact that I’ve barely seen you two together more than two handful of times in the past two years, I had to ask.”

“That’s because we were both busy, but that didn’t mean we didn’t spend time together. Of course you never saw it because you weren’t there and I’m not one to actively talk about my love life. Yn and I both liked our privacy.”

“Okay, then what was she like when you were together?”

Yoongi was quiet for a while. There were a lot of things he could say about you when you were together. He just didn’t know how to articulate it to Jungkook.

“When we were together… she was charismatic, beautiful and intelligent. Something about the way she communicated made you feel like you could forget about all of your worries and live life to its extent with her. She constantly dragged me out to picnics and made me forget about the business and my career. She made me feel young again. And she had so much love and care for people around her. For a long time, I felt like I would never be deserving of her. She was kind of like a sunflower. Or sunshine, you know what I mean?” Yoongi poured out.

Jungkook nodded. He realized that this was the time to try to figure out what happened to you in your marriage. From his conversation with you at your apartment, to the description of you that Yoongi had just given, he surmised that the version of you that he knew was someone different and he could only wonder if Yoongi saw it too.

“Did you ever feel like she changed? In the time you guys were together?” He probed.

Yoongi thought about it for a while.

“Yeah, I think so. I always found it strange that she decided to quit modelling. When I met her, she said it was all she ever wanted. I never asked because it seemed like a sensitive topic to her, but I supported her regardless. Writing seemed so out of nowhere for her. I don’t know where it came from. Then she stopped wanting to go to business dinners and events with me and after that we just drifted. And in between that, you introduced me to Yura.”

When Yoongi mentioned Yura, Jungkook winced. He had thought about it some nights ago, but he realized that he might have had a hand in your divorce by introducing Yura to Yoongi. Though he knows Yoongi would have never physically cheated on you, he could see how Yoongi and Yura gravitated towards each other. Jungkook had to admit that Yura was a sweet girl. She was beautiful, and when she smiled it was like sunshine.

Yoongi interrupted his train of thought. “Yura is kind of a complicated subject to our marriage. I would never, ever cheat on someone I loved. And I loved Yn, so much. When you introduced Yura to me, I was happy to meet a new friend and that’s all I saw, but the more you made me hang out with you guys, the more I started to see something in her that I stopped seeing in Yn. I never meant to have any sort of romantic feelings for Yura, but it happened and I feel so fucking shitty for doing that to Yn when I’m the one who promised her a lifetime together.”

Jungkook straightened his posture as Yoongi’s confession.

“Wait, what do you mean by that?” He asked.

“By what?” Yoongi looked at him confused.

“What happened to Yn that pushed you to Yura?”

At this, Yoongi scratched his head.

“I wouldn’t say that it pushed me to Yura, but remember when I said Yn and I started getting distant? As time went on, I felt like she changed and I didn’t know who she was. She used to be so bubbly and happy and always wanting to go look at flowers, but towards the end of our marriage, she stayed holed up in our room no matter how much I asked her to spend time with me. Yura, she was happy to spend time with me. She made me feel like I could forget about everything just by talking to me.”

“Yura made you feel like how Yn used to make you feel?” Jungkook cut him off.

“Well… I guess so.”

Jungkook thought about this for a while but narrowed his eyes at his hyung.

“Hyung, answer this truthfully; do you love Yura?”

The tips of Yoongi’s ears turned red after hearing this.

“Love? I don’t know. I like her? I like the way she makes me feel. She’s beautiful and smart and she makes me happy.”

“Hyung, I don’t know if you realize this, but the way you described Yura is exactly the same way you described Yn.”

“What do you mean?”

“It sounds like you started liking Yura because she reminded you of Yn when you met her. So, do you really, truly like Yura? Or do you just like her because she reminds you of what you don’t have anymore?”

Yoongi lowered his head.

“I-I don’t know. I never thought of it like that.”

Jungkook put his hand on Yoongi’s back to comfort him. Obviously, the man was confused.

“I don’t know if this helps, but I just wanted to let you know that whenever I saw Yn, during those dinners or events, she never gave off the vibe that you described her to be. To me, she was quiet, reserved and never bothered trying to get to know us, your friends, or your business. That’s what she came off as. When you told us that you loved each other and that you eloped, I thought you were joking. When I saw her, she just seemed like the typical trophy wife. Just for show. I never liked her and wondered what you saw in her all the fucking time, but now after hearing this, and after being with her for a couple of hours, it’s obvious that something happened that fucked her up and then fucked your marriage up.” Jungkook ranted.

“I think you might need to reevaluate the relationship you had with Yn so we could help her recover from this whole amnesia thing and hopefully figure out what happened. Something definitely happened, but since I don’t know your marriage like you do, I don't know what it is. I feel guilty now after realizing that I might have had a hand in whatever the fuck she was going through. And maybe figure out what you’re going to do about Yura. Can you keep dating her when your feelings for her are based off of your feelings for your ex-wife, who is currently pregnant with your wife and doesn’t know about it?” He continued.

Yoongi took a deep breath, taking all of this conversation in.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m almost done with the shit here at the company. When I go home, I’ll sort everything out and talk to Yn and Yura tomorrow. I don’t think I can keep seeing Yura with the current situation. I have to tell Yn about the pregnancy as soon as possible, but I’m scared because the doctor told me to monitor for residual symptoms for her concussion. I don’t even know where to begin with the situation.”

“It’s okay, hyung. I’m here for you. You have to tell her about the pregnancy before she finds out herself. In the meantime, I’ll help you out when you can’t take care of her. I already feel shitty enough for how I acted with her when you two were married. I feel like I had the wrong impression this whole time.” Jungkook offered.

Yoongi remembered the moment earlier when Jungkook confessed that he never liked you and that baffled him because he thought that you two, of all people, would get along well together. More often than not, he would feel jealous of Jungkook, who had your admiration when you first started dating. He remembered you always asking him to introduce you to Jungkook and it took a year for him to budge and actually make it happen.

“I’m sure you’ll get along now. I always thought you did get along. Did you know she liked you before?” Yoongi asked.

Jungkook shook his head. “I didn’t know until the other day when you had me take her home. It probably would have helped if you told me she knew who I was before you introduced us after you got together. She never acted like she was a fan of my music and admittedly, I was a dick to her.”

Yoongi glared at him. It was a first for him to hear about how Jungkook treated his ex-wife.

“Well, you should feel shitty because she really liked you and your music. For a while, I thought she liked you more than me. If I had known you were an asshole to her, I probably would have ripped you a new one. Hearing you admit you treated her like shit makes me feel like shit because I never knew and just assumed you guys were good with each other. You didn’t do or say anything bad to her, right? You’re not that type of person.”

Jungkook could only pretend to smile at Yoongi as he asked this.

He shook his head and lied. “No, never.”

Lying through his teeth to his best friend about how he treated you made his heart fall to his stomach. Well, Yoongi didn’t have to know because it was in the past. You couldn’t remember any of the mean things he’d said to you, so now was the perfect time to make a new, much better impression of himself to you. He decided days ago that he would be better, because deep down, he knew that you didn’t deserve to be treated like how he treated you.

[nov. 21, 2020]

Yoongi had taken the day off after his somewhat enlightening conversation with Jungkook last night. He decided that he needed to go see you and spend some time with you today, but before that, he needed to settle things with Yura.

They decided to meet up at his apartment for maximum privacy, just in case anything happened. He wanted to account for the worst case scenario of Yura probably getting angry and throwing things around, but he doesn’t think she’s the type of person to do dramatic things like that.

Turns out, she’s not. When he reluctantly tells her that he can’t continue on with what they had because of residual feelings for you, in addition to the fact that there were complications in that relationship that he can’t speak about carelessly, she had reacted calmly and amicably. Though Yoongi hadn’t expected her to throw a tantrum, he was expecting some kind of anger, but all he got was a sad look passing on her face followed by comforting words.

He apologized profusely for having dragged her around when he still had apparent feelings for his ex-wife and not figuring out his feelings for her, or lack thereof, sooner. She reassured him that it was okay and she’ll be fine.

“I’ll be fine Yoongi. I liked you, but it’s pretty obvious that you used me as some kind of rebound or replacement for your ex-wife, and I was okay with it. Truthfully, I was waiting for you to just come clean and break it off with me. I hope you and Yn figure things out this time, and I hope you can talk to her. Communication is important.” She reminds him before she leaves, but not before letting him know that she would always be there for him as a friend.

He had texted her after she left, and after a couple of minutes to himself, that he was thankful for her being so nice about the situation and all in all, he didn’t regret whatever short-lived affection they had for each other.

Yoongi still couldn’t believe how smoothly everything with Yura went. He hoped that the rest of the day would be the same.

☾

You woke up to a message from Jungkook asking if you were free, so you had to tidy up the apartment and yourself because you didn’t want to look messy in front of someone you had idolized for a long time.

Luckily enough, you didn’t have to cook since Jungkook offered to bring food. You thank your lucky stars for that because for some reason, you’ve been feeling incredibly sluggish and nauseous. It was probably some symptoms of the concussion you suffered. You remembered your doctor saying something about that the last time you were at the hospital.

About 20 minutes later, you heard your doorbell ring so practically skip to the door, excited to see Jungkook and steal the food that he brought.

You opened the door to see Jungkook standing there with a big back of food in his hands. He was wearing all black, with a leather jacket that looked a tad too big on him.

“You look warm.” You comment.

He rolled his eyes. “Are you gonna invite me in or not? I even brought you food.”

You laugh a little and move to the side to give him room to step inside the apartment.

“So, what have you been doing?” He asks as he makes his way to your dining room to put the food down.

You make your way to the kitchen to get some plates for the both of you.

“Nothing. I’ve been trying to look for some stuff but I don’t know where to start so I just gave up until you or Yoongi could come help.” You reply as you move to the dining room to set the plates down.

Jungkook takes the food out and puts some on the plates. Kimbap, like you asked, and some seaweed soup.

“How have you been feeling? Okay?” He questioned.

You nodded, though hesitantly.

“Eh, I’ve been feeling kind of tired. I think I might be sick because I keep wanting to vomit. Is that my wintermelon tea, by the way?” You pointed to the drink in his hand.

Jungkook poked the straw through the lid and handed it to you.

“Sick? Did you take any medicine? Are you feeling better now?”

You took a sip of your tea and sighed, missing the sweet taste of the drink. It felt nostalgic.

“Mhm, took some earlier and I'm feeling much better thanks to the food you brought!” You smiled.

Jungkook rolled his eyes jokingly once again. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

He didn’t think about your illness any further. It was probably a cold and nothing else.

For about 20 minutes, the two of you ate and spoke about little things, mostly about Jungkook and his career. It helped you get to know him a little bit better since he’s the only person besides Yoongi who could help you in your situation until Jin comes back.

After you finished eating, you told him that you needed his help going through your room in case there was anything that could jog your memory.

“I would ask Yoongi but he’s been busy lately.”

“So I’m just your last resort?”

“You’re literally the only other person in my contact list besides Yoongi and Jin.”

“Right, anyways, lead the way!” He exclaimed.

You laughed as you led him to the room at the end of the hallway.

“Sorry if it’s a little messy, I didn’t have that much time to clean up before you got here!” You explained.

Jungkook shook his head, telling you it didn’t really matter since it was gonna be a mess anyways while you two went through your things.

☾

When Jungkook walked into your room, he was once again hit with the feeling that he had no fucking clue who you were in the past years he’d known you. If he could describe your room in one word, it would be enchanting. White walls, white sheets adorn with a baby blue blanket, wooden floors, giant plants and a mirror much bigger than himself. Your desk was filled with different kinds of pens, different notebooks that look to have been trifled through, and an unnatural amount of books and crystals.

From the looks of the rest of your house, he probably shouldn’t be surprised at your bedroom, but it’s still a bit difficult for him to wrap his mind around the fact that you were this type of person. Bright, intelligent, and incredibly neat.

He walked up to your desk and picked up the different notebooks laid out messily on the table. When he opened each of them, he noticed that they were mostly blank, with the exception of a few doodles. There were some things he’d recognized as lyrics from songs he knew, but nothing truly relevant to the memories you lost.

You stood next to Jungkook and looked at the notebooks in his hands.

“I went through those already. Nothing but a few sad lyrics here and there. None of them triggered any memories.” You mentioned.

Jungkook put them down and started walking around the room with you as you talked about what you did find during the days that you were left alone. What he got from that conversation was that you had no luck with anything and that’s why you waited until either he or Yoongi could come over and help you. Jungkook knew that Yoongi was coming over later, so if he couldn’t help you find anything or answer any of your questions today, then maybe Yoongi could.

“Oh! I forgot to mention that I can’t even access any of my social media, so do you think I can look through my instagram through your phone? I mean, if that’s okay with you. I know some people feel uncomfortable giving their phone to someone else to play around with.” You asked.

Jungkook shook his head and stuck his hand in his pant pocket, reaching for his phone.

“It’s fine, you can look at your profile, I think I follow you. The password is 061313.” He stated as he handed his phone over to you.

You grabbed it excitedly, finally getting the chance to see what your life was like during the four years that were missing from your memory. You fell back onto your bed as you unlocked Jungkook’s phone and clicked on his instagram app quickly.

You took a look at his profile first, staring in awe at the pictures he’s posted. Most of his pictures are very dark and he had quite a few selfies. You smiled a little bit as you admitted in your head that he was indeed handsome.

Okay, Yn, onto the more important things! You thought to yourself as you quickly searched your username ‘faeyn’ on the search bar. At first you were excited, but it deflated when you saw just how many posts you had. 13 posts. And almost all of them were just landscapes. Some had pictures of you by yourself, or with Jin, but that was it. How the fuck were you supposed to try to figure out your life through 13 pictures?

Scrolling through each picture and their captions from the oldest to newest, you quickly realized that you must have decided that privacy was something that should be valued. There was nothing of substance to your situation in the captions you’d written. Just casual mentions of how your day was, or what you did that day. The only thing that caught your eye was the latest post you had, dated September 22. It was a picture of clouds and the caption said something about your therapist advising you to take a break, so you were going to be on a social media cleanse for a while.

Well, at least you learned one thing. Apparently, you started going to therapy again. For what? You don’t know. You only remembered going to therapy a couple of times after the whole incident with your bastard ex-boyfriend.

You filed this little detail into your brain and hoped that maybe it would make more sense later on. Swiping up on Jungkook’s phone took you to his home screen, but you paused for a little. Maybe you could snoop through some more apps and see if there was anything else you can find.

No, that would be an invasion of Jungkook’s privacy, you thought. Another part of you argued that he wasn’t going to know and he’s here to help you. If there was anything worth hiding, he wouldn’t have given you his phone and his password so easily. And if there was anything, it wouldn’t be incriminating since he mentioned that you two didn’t really know each other that well, so you shrugged and clicked on his messages.

I’ll just see if there are any messages to me. I won’t look at anything else, you justified, as if it made it any better.

After scrolling for a little while, you finally saw something worthwhile. A text convo between you and Jungkook and from the preview of the message, it looks like it was from the middle of September. You opened it, excited to see the contents, but what you saw made you furrow your brows.

What is this?

☾

After Jungkook gave you his phone, he continued walking around your room until he got to the side of your bed that was next to the window. He looked around for a bit and saw something in the corner of his eyes. Crouching down lower, he saw something on the floor behind your headboard. He couldn’t tell what it was at first, but as soon as he moved closer, he realized it was a thick notebook. Jungkook surmises that you probably hadn’t seen it despite telling him that you looked ‘everywhere’. He took the notebook and sat down on the floor, completely hiding his figure, but not before he could look at you. He wanted to see what was in the notebook before he showed it to you, and luckily enough, you had been facing away from him.

So he sat down and opened the notebook. From just the first page, he could tell it was some kind of diary or journal. There were lots of drawings and stickers and a picture of you in a field of flowers right in the middle of the first page. He flipped through the whole notebook really quickly and found that half of it was already filled.

A part of him wanted to read through the whole thing and see what kind of things you wrote, but another part told him that it wasn’t appropriate. Despite that, he convinced himself that he should read maybe just one entry, just to see if this notebook was something substantial to your current situation.

Jungkook took a peek at you again and noticed you still had your back turned to him so he took that as a sign that he could probably get away with reading an entry. He flipped to a page randomly and focused his eyes on the writing.

The entry was dated August 4, 2020. Fairly recent. He noticed that there were some dark blotches on the paper that made the ink bleed.

He began to read the entry, not knowing what he was going to find out.

It still seems weird to be writing about my problems in a journal. I’m still not used to it, but it’s been helpful since I don’t really have anyone to talk to about this.

That made him frown.

I went to my OBGYN today because I’ve been having severe cramps and bleeding, but I already had my period so I was worried. And the cramps were starting to really hurt, so I had to go get it checked out just in case. Well, apparently I was pregnant and lost the baby.

Jungkook’s eyes widened and he gasped audibly. Luckily enough, it wasn’t loud enough for you to notice. He clasped his hand over his mouth at the disbelief in reading this information. A miscarriage? And so recent, too. He didn’t know how to feel. Yoongi had never said anything about this.

Jin actually just left my house a couple of hours ago. I don’t think the news hit me until now. I texted Yoongi earlier to tell him but he was busy so I think that was a sign that I should probably not tell him. It’s not like it matters right? Since the baby was gone anyways.

I know my therapist told me to stop with the negative self-talk, but it’s moments like this that really push me to just keep thinking I’ll never be good enough for the men that I love. Thanks to my bastard ex for fucking my mind up like this. No matter how hard I try, I always just circle back to the fact that I wasn’t good enough for him, and that I’m not good enough for Yoongi. Even fate is telling me that I’m not good enough to carry a child with the man I love. How fucked up is that?

Jungkook’s heart dropped to his stomach. He felt sick. There were so many things going through his head right now. He felt like he was violating something that was so private. Yoongi didn’t even know that you went through this. You didn’t even know you went through this. He shut the journal quickly, wiping the tears that formed in his eyes.

At that exact moment, he heard your heavy breathing and quickly got up to check on you. He walked around to your side of the bed and found you trembling with his phone in your hands. He noticed that his messages were open and he began to panic.

“What the fuck is this?” was the last thing he heard you say before your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you fell limp into your bed.

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tatertotthethot · 4 years

Text

The Doms Next Door 2.0

THIS IS A TEMPORARY REUPLOAD FOR THIS CHAPTER CUZ TUMBLR IS RAN BY A BUNCH OF BOTS. 2.1 HERE

Warnings/AN: frequent, casually cursing; comical, gay Jimin; insecure reader; steamy flirting; tattoo/sexualized Tae 🙃. Enjoy~ (TAEKOOK EDIT ABOVE IS ARTKOOK DONE BY NONCONMAN ON INSTAGRAM)

_________________________________

Your tires came to a stop outside of the tattoo shop you've seen online— a brick building, covered in spray paint and street-style art. A sign buzzed over the awning of the entrance doors, with the built-in UV lights and graffiti-styled font displaying the name of the place in neon-red letters. Kink For Ink! The name alone was what first caught your attention last week, when you Googled "Tattoo shops near me" and it pulled up a list, with "Kink For Ink" being the first option. It just seemed so uncanny and fitting at the time, considering the previous run-in you just had with the sex-crazed neighbors a couple nights before. You couldn't help but to click the link to their Instagram.

A profile came up with 53.4k followers, which immediately blew your mind... but you quickly saw why. Every tattoo and piercing, no matter the body-placement, skin-type, or quirky design, was vividly appealing— certainly done by the articulate hands of certified experts. Even in the comments of the piercings that were posted, people were praising them for the "minimal" amount of pain they experienced, despite the fact that some of piercings were done in places you couldn't even fathom the thought of having a needle jammed through.

It said in the bio that the shop is owned by the two artists that work there— Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook. You couldn't find out much about them, all their pictures showed was their work. You even went back to search for a personal account of their own, but nothing came up. You then went back to the bio and clicked a link to the official website, hoping to find out something, but you were met with a disclaimer rule at the top that automatically deemed your chances of even getting your piece done by them, slim-to-none.

• No walk-ins allowed.

• Every request/idea must be sent in through the DMs of our Instagram page. You will only be accepted only if it spikes our personal interests.

Yikes; You were instantly discouraged by this. The piece you wanted was something so common and cliché, that you actually got the image out of a child's coloring book.... It was the cartoon layout of the glass vase and enchanted rose, from the Beauty and the Beast movie. Cheesy, yes. But it was something of personal, nostalgic value. You remember when you were little— roughly around 3 or 4 years of age— when your parents started fighting and would spend all day screaming and throwing things at each other, putting you in a constant state of anxiety. But then you'd go to bed at night and pop the VHS tape, and the movie never failed to put you in a peaceful state of mind— a hopeful one. It's remained as your all-time favorite love story throughout the years. Which, is ironic, considering that the relationship itself was different, but almost as dysfunctional as your parent's. However, the fact that even the Beast was capable of change, and everything wound up so perfect and happy in the end, makes your heart happy. And even now, at age 19, it still puts you in your feelings. The previous remake of a movie is what actually inspired you to get the enchanted rose as a tattoo, after seeing it in 3D not too long ago. But you're only willing to shell out up to $200 for it, at most. You've just started college, and even though Jimin's parents own the house and let the two of you live there, rent free, you're still responsible for half the utility bills from month to month. Blowing every bit of money you have saved up, right at the start of the semester, would just be irresponsible. But $200 was manageable, and you're looking for anything that'll give you a little extra "oomph" to break you out of this introverted shell you've always known. Pushing it off would just delay it, and you were ready for change. The nose piercing you want is just a small little thing that'll hopefully add a bit of flare to the features of your face. These two guys could probably do the piercing/tattoo with a blindfold on and a hand tied behind their back. So, if it meant that you'd be able to get these things done in confidence, without having to worry about the outcome, you figured it wouldn't hurt for you to at least ask, even if they straight-up ignore you. So, after spending an unnecessary amount of time overthinking the wording of your text, you finally constructed a message in your notes and DM'd it to business page, after sending them a small, simple outline of the cartoony rose, and pressed send.

• You: Hello! I've been wanting to get this tattoo done for a very while now, and was hoping one of you will be willing to do it for me... along with piercing my nose? I know it's a very mediocre and cliché piece, and a nose piercing can be done anywhere. But I'm new to the area and I've never gotten a tattoo/piercing done before and I haven't really checked out any other places either because I found this page first. And from what I can see, you guys are pretty efficient and CRAZY talented. So, I trust it'll get done right.... only if you want to! I'm willing to pay $200 for this, but if it costs that much for just the outline I've sent then that's fine as well. But I understand if neither of you want to do it cuz that is really cheap compared to the ones I've seen lol. But either way, thx for ur time 😁

A few minutes went by and you had just unlocked your phone to check the message again, when the word "seen" popped below the message. You held your breath for a second— but seconds turned to minutes, and time went by with no reply, what-so-ever. You figured maybe you sounded a little too immature to take seriously; kind of like a prepubescent 12-year-old asking someone out for a dance... and you blew it. Which was disappointing, but predictable. So fuck it. Maybe it's a sign; you shouldn't get it after all.

11pm rolled around, many hours later. You were now hiding beneath your covers, beginning your "amateur threesome" exploration on PornHub. You were ready to see what this whole "2 guys, 1 girl" thing was all about. But just when you were about to type it into the search bar, you were interrupted by an Instagram notification dropping down from the top of your screen.

"KinkForInk sent you a message."

You audibly gasped, eyes turning to saucers as you clicked on the notif and switched over to the Instagram app.

• KinkForInk: Hi (Y/N). This is Tae, one of the artists of the shop. The tattoo you sent in is worth roughly $100... but I want to run an offer by you in hopes that you'll be interested.

— Your brows scrunched in oddity, stomach fluttering. An offer? For you?

• You: Okay, sure. What's that?

• KinkForInk: I've been looking for someone willing to showcase the custom design I've come up with, specifically for a much more... exclusive version of the Beauty and the Beast tattoo you sent. And if you'd be down for letting me and my partner put it on you, it'll be free. No charge. BUT you'll also have to sign a contract saying that you'll do a little bit of modeling for us once it's done. You think you'd be in to doing something like that, even if you get it?

— Your head spun for a second, reading the message over and over again until you could fully wrap your mind around what he was saying.

• You: Hold on... YOU wanna put a tattoo on ME so that I model for you? And it's FREE? Are you sure about this? I'm not even model material lol.

• KinkForInk: Yes, yes, and yes, you are. You'd be perfect for this.

• You: How do know that? Is it a face tattoo? Cuz I only have 6 selfies on here and you can't see anything past my shoulders.

—"Seen" came up as soon as you hit send, but a couple of minutes rolled by with no reply to the message, nor was he even typing. Maybe you came off a little rude. But it was already sketchy and it was a logical question.

— An image suddenly popped up: a screenshot of your Facebook profile. Then another— and much to your horror, it was the photo Jimin tagged you in last week, when the two of you were swimming at a local community pool. You were wearing a simple two piece, sitting at the foot of the lawn chair Jimin was also sitting in, as his legs were visible on either side of you and his lap was practically framing your ass. The photo was at an upward angle and looked so scandalous— but really, you had just asked Jimin to put sun screen on your back and he didn't want to stand up because the pavement was too hot against his bare feet. But you actually liked the picture at the time; it was just a silly joke and your ass actually looked quite nice from that angle. Plus, everyone knows nothing sexual actually goes on between the two of you, for obvious reasons. But Taehyung doesn't, so you couldn't help but dreadfully cringe when you saw the caption of the screen shot.

"Babymama 💦🍆"

• KinkForInk: Is this you??

• You: Yes, that's me. The caption is a joke tho... pay no mind to that. But this is like, really happening? You really think it'd look good on me?

— Why that picture though? You couldn't help but wonder.

• KinkForInk: Yes. Like I said, you're perfect for this piece. Are you down to at least see what the tattoo will look like? We don't expect you to be experienced with modeling or anything, but if you listen to us and cooperate, you'll do just fine.

• You: Yes I wanna see, and I'll do the best I can if I decide to get it... I'm just a bit shy, is all.

• KinkForInk: You'll be in good hands. I promise.

• You: Okay... are you going to show me??

• KinkForInk: Can't send it over a message, I don't want it plagiarized or the concept stolen. But the piece itself isn't necessarily crazy or anything, just more creative. I'd be more than happy to show you at my shop some day this week, if you'd be willing to swing by.

• You: Yeah, I can do that. When should I come?

• KinkForInk: Are you available after 5 tomorrow?

• You: I am, I get off at 4:30.

• KinkForInk: Great. Be here by 5:30, and make sure you've eaten in case you like the piece and wanna get started. It's pretty big for a first timer and gonna take a lot of time and patience. It'll have to be done in sessions but I hope you have a fair enough pain tolerance to at least get the outline of it done first.

— It can't be any worse than a bikini wax, you thought, shivering at the memory. That a story for another time. You decided on an alternative scenario.

• You: I give blood from time to time... but that's easy and doesn't really hurt that much. I think I can handle it though... maybe. I honestly don't know lol, I'm sorry 😣. But I can try my best. Can I ask where it's supposed to go?

• KinkForInk: That's okay, I'll work with you. It's supposed to go down the middle of your back. Starts between the center of your shoulder blades, and trails down the length of your spine to your lower lumbar. You'll see how it looks once we transfer a template on your back. But if you don't like it, there will be no hard feelings from my end. I can still do the tattoo you want if that's the case, free of charge just for your time.

• You: Oh no, you don't have to do that! I'd still pay!

• KinkForInk: Not if I don't accept your money. Trust me, I'm not worried about it. The nose piercing is gonna be $30 regardless, though. JK isn't so lenient.

• You: Of course. Will I have to take my shirt and bra off for the tattoo?

• KinkForInk: Yes, and for the pictures once it's done.

— Your mind blanked at that; thumbs froze over the keypad. He was typing again.

• KinkForInk: Don't let that discourage you. Again, you're in good hands. You can bring something to cover your chest. And the pics will be if your back as well.

• You: Okay, I can handle that. So 5:30 tomorrow?

• KinkForInk: Yes, please don't flake on us!

• You: Lol, I won't. I'll be there.

"They're gonna knock us the fuck out and sell our organs to the black market," Jimin declared. He had parked next to you outside of the shop, and was now sitting in the driver seat of his car with his door locked and windows all the way up, refusing to get out. You were standing right outside his door, still having to talk on the phone. "And is this Tae-guy an AllState representative or something?"

Jimin is petty. You wanted him here for moral support— which he's usually reliable for— but this time, he's just plain salty right and doing everything he can to remind you of that. Reason is, he's been begging you to get a matching tattoo with him ever since your 18th birthday, and you've always refused because of what he wanted to get.

Cupcakes. Jimin wanted to get matching cupcake tattoos... in honor of Cupcakke the legend. Sorry, but H E L L no.

You rolled your eyes, growing frustrated. He only has enough time to pop in and confirm that these two aren't gonna kill you, and then he's gotta head home to get ready for work. You were already supposed to be in there. It was 5:33pm, 3 minutes past the time.

"Jimin, you're the one that insisted on coming along! And now you're making me late!" you ranted. "I'm going in without you."

"Hold your horses, hoe! I'm finishing my blueberry slushie," He retorted, sassily bringing the straw to his mouth and loudly slurping it into the phone. He then abruptly flinched away from the straw with a disgusted expression, nostrils flared, body locking up; lips drawing into an air-tight knot that was so extreme and unnatural, it caused an ugly snort to break out of your nose.

He smacked his lips in exaggeration to the taste, face falling back into stone as an eyebrow arched over the top of his aviators; unamused and saltier than before... Like you were at fault for that, too.

"Or... Blueberry-ass, I should say."

That forced another giggle out of you as Jimin stiffly rolled his window down, phone still pressed to his ear and eyes still scowling at you behind the inspector shades. He bit down on the straw and withdrew it with his teeth before dumping the dark-blue contents of the drink out of the window, making it a point to shake the styrofoam cup empty of every drop before tossing it over his shoulder and into back seat. He then spat the straw out of his mouth with an audible "PLUUUUH!" of a French accent, and waited until the window rolled all the way up again, just so he could hang up the phone. You scoffed at this as you shoved your phone back into your pocket, scornfully watching Jimin exit the car and slam the door behind him. He snatched his glasses off his face as his cotton-candy hair swayed in the breeze, revealing his scornful eyes right back at you as he gestured for you to lead the way in exasperated manner— as if you were the one wasting his time now.

"Go on, lead us to the grave," He shooed, a snippy little shit. You sauntered away, walking up the side of the shop, then paused just before reaching the glass entrance door, when you remembered how much of a coward you are. You've never even stepped into a parlor before, and supposedly, this was a famous one. Which makes it more and more surreal when you think about it.

"Are we doing the mannequin challenge now? Is that what we're doing?" Jimin sardonically inquired.

"You go first, I'm nervous!" You whisper-hissed.

"You don't want me to go in there first— I'll show out," he reasoned, simply stating a fact.

"Please don't," you whined.

"Then, again, I'll show out?" He reiterated, as if to say duh. "How else am I supposed to break the ice? I look like Timmy Turner's Fairy-Gay- Parent."

You gave him a wary look... he's right. You sighed, slightly kicking your foot in distracted defeat. Fuck, you hated making an entrance to new places—

"Hold up— is that Drake?" Jimin suddenly blurted, holding his hand up to silence you. You honed in on the muffled track playing from behind the glass door, and Jimin's face soon light up like a Christmas tree before he spun around you, unstoppable.

"Jimin, NO—!"

"KIKI, DO YOU LOVE ME—?!"

It was already too late. The door was flying back behind him as he Milly-Rocked his way into the shop, leaving you no choice but the chase in behind him.

"—ARE YOU RIDING? SAY YOU'LL NEVA-EVA LEAVE FROM BESIDE ME— hello there."

You were panting, coming to a stop right behind Jimin, where you instantly latched on to the back of his shirt as you met the face of the man behind the studio counter. And, as corny as this is gonna sound: the world actually stilled for a solid beat... or maybe you were in the verge of cardiac arrest.

A pair of glossy-Black eyes looked up at the two of you; A series of silver-studded earrings trailed along the outer cartilages, peaking out beneath a head of soft, layer-swept hair. It was a Carmel-tinted blonde in color— thick and shaggy, and neatly spilling in waves around a headband that proudly sported a high-dollar brand-name you've never seen anyone wear in person before. G U C C I, it read— Meaning that the headband alone was probably worth more than some of your college text books, put together. It sat just a few inches above a pair of dark brows, that oddly brought out the shape of his cat-like eyes— irises like polished marbles. His ample lips had a sharp, well-defined Cupid's-bow, and a natural shade of pink that fit the porcelain appearance of his melanin-kissed complexion, to the finest degree.

And here you are, looking like an actual bum. You had just enough time to clock out of work and head straight over here to make it in time. You didn't even have any makeup on, and the only thing hiding your raggedy hair from those captivating eyes is your old baseball cap from high school. It took a second for him to take the bold presence that was Park Jimin— who was also frozen to the spot as he openly checked the guy out. He was hunched over the counter, a v-neck hoodie covering the rest of him with a thin, loose-fitting material. It was Black and allowed a full visual of his tan neck, and prominent collar bones. And it certainly didn't hide the fact that he had a pair of wide-set shoulders, either. A pencil sat in his hand— one that was laced with masculine veins, and lot of decorative ink. There was a silver ring on his thumb.. and a very heavy-looking Rolex watch.

The man cracked a grin at Jimin— a boxy one that dimpled in at the corners.

"Love the hair," he humorously began, twisting a quirky eyebrow at Jimin. You subconsciously snagged the bill of your hat as your eyes went a little wide at how mature the man's voice was.

"Love the watch," Jimin retorted, then reached around and gripped you by the wrist before pulling you into full view beside him. "You wouldn't happen to be Taehyung...?"

"Mhm," the man hummed, absentmindedly moving his wrist at the mention of his watch. His eyes cut over to you, and you swore you could see a minuscule reflection of yourself in his eyes, before they flashed back at Jimin and blinked. "You must be the babydaddy?"

Blood rushes to your ears. It's really him... a guy who looks like a high-dollar model himself, asking you to be his canvas model. Your own conscious didn't even know what to say right now. So you stayed quiet and still as Jimin took charge... which was a mistake.

"She wishes, but no. I'm the best-friend— and a gay one, at that," Jimin replied, and you knew he did that for his benefit. Thot. "I'm just here to make sure you're not gonna sacrifice her to Satan, or anything of that nature. I need her around in case I ever forget the Netflix password."

Taehyung chuckled at that, mouth opening to reveal a row of teeth shinier than Chip Skylark's. But then, you caught something behind his teeth that caused your gut to leap. A silver ball... a tongue ring. Your thoughts clouded over for a second.

"Well, I can assure you, she's safe with me," he said, looking over at you again. You blinked, nothing more. His brow arched at your lack of response, but this time, it was done more handsomely as he was still smirking at you. "Still, you don't look too thrilled to be here... You sure you wanna do this?"

"She's just nervous because you're really fucking hot," Jimin announced, unyielding. "You should feel how sweaty her hand is."

"Don't listen to him— I'm gay too," You lied in panic, trying to defend yourself from the absolute truth Jimin spoke just then. You snatched your hand away from him and jutted a finger at the door, eyes beading and lid twitching as your nerves ran amuck. "Goodbye, Jimin."

"She's a lonesome hetero," Jimin told Taehyung, assuring him with a face that showed no bluff. "One look at her camera roll, and you'd see for yourself—" You were yanking him away by the arm now, in a tug-of-war game that Jimin obviously could've won if he really wanted to. But he figured you suffered enough and eventually let you drag him out of the shop, waving bye to Taehyung before turning to look at you with beading eyes.

"I think he wants to fuck you— text me as soon as you can," Jimin uttered with unmoving lips as before he walked to his car. You stopped for a second, noticing he was actually being serious. How could he possibly think that he wants to fuck you, just from that small encounter? And what is the odd sensation currently coiling in your stomach? Things grew awkward again when you re-entered the shop, coming to a stand at the same spot... only alone now. He was still amused, it seemed. And so calm and cool despite this odd, intense look in his eyes. It gave him a Casanova effect, where all he had to do was give you that look and it'd instantly make you blush.

"He seems like a fun person to be around," he noted, somewhat honestly, but more so making fun of the red-hot appearance of your face.

"He's a pain in the ass," you muttered, trying to conjure up a smirk but hardly even able to speak properly from how dry your mouth was. It felt like there was a white-hot iron expanding in your throat. "I'm really sorry about him."

"Don't be. I'm just glad you're here— thought you'd chicken out." You nervously wiped your clammy palms over the back pockets of your jeans as Taehyung got up from the barstool behind the counter and approached you on the other side of it, a whole head-and-a-half taller than you. He was wearing black cardigan jeans and matching combat boots.. his headband and jewelry the only thing not black on him. And oddly enough, he made it look fucking fantastic.

"Mh-mm," You hummed, not trusting your voice. You've never needed a sip of water so bad in your life— he even smelled expensive.

"Well, It's very nice to meet you," he formerly began, and you mustered up the normality of placing your (dried) hand into his much larger one, as he held his out to you in greeting. And boy, was he close. So close that the heels of your spine itches to lean back from the proximity.

"It's nice to meet you, too. I'm really sorry if I'm acting weird. I'm just nervous." — Your mind struggled to stay focused on your words, arm tensing at the skin-to-skin contact. You were extra-effected by the firmness in his grip. You really wanted to look down at all the bold ink you saw dashing across the veiny surface of his tanned hand, or see if those were images or scripted letters on the knuckles of lengthy fingers... But you were held captive by those God-blessed eyes... And that fucking tongue ring. It was infecting your head in ways that weren't necessarily healthy for your current state of mind, as you saw it peering in and out at certain words.

"And physically shaking," Taehyung pointed out, brows twitching down at your trembling hand in his as if he was concerned for it. But his smirk gave off an odd sense of fascination to the involuntary symptom, like it was cute or something? Hm. He glanced back up at you, causing your dehydrated throat to bob as his other hand came to clasp over the rest of yours, swallowing it completely from the wrist down. "Intimidated?"

"V-Very," you spluttered, a small slither of saliva copulating down your throat as you looked back up at him. He absentmindedly rolled his tongue ring over the button row of his teeth as he watched you with tainted eyes— undoubtably getting cocky with that damn grin of his and proudly teasing you about your reaction to him. It gratified the effortless sex-appeal he had. You were even beginning to imagine that tongue ring elsewhere, and you literally just met him. Then, as you felt the band of a ring move along with the pad of his thumb as gently ran it across your trembly knuckles, chills shot up all the way to your shoulder. Oh... oh wow. You glanced down at his knuckles on reflex this time, and saw a four-letter word scripted in black ink across the bottom row of his knuckles, and another word scripted on the middle section of his fingers. A silver band on his naked thumb. STAY TRUE, it said.

"And why's that?"

"I.. feel like you're a celebrity," you sheepishly admitted, your other hand wedging into your back pocket as you had to stop yourself from reaching for the bill of your hat again. Is he flirting? The words seem too innocent for the way he was making you feel. It was getting so hot in the oven of his massive palms, and he wasn't even squeezing you hard enough to cut off any circulation, but yet your fingers were beginning to tingle.

"Mm, no. Just a little popular, really," he granted, teetering his head a little as he pondered the thought. You could see his vocal chords contract in his sleek neck as they project his smooth, pungent voice. "You still trust me?"

"Mhm," was all you could muster. He'd gotten even closer, to where his hand had gone into a prayer stance around yours. You were aware of how wide your eyes had gone from the awe you... you knew this was just the beginning. He was going to be very handsy throughout this whole process. But in a very twisted way, you were more than okay with that. Even if it meant you were at risk of fainting from actual dehydration. Maybe you were in over your head. But you couldn't will yourself away from this now. And then, just as a wide, heart-stopping smile edged out on that mind-numbingly handsome face, the door at that back of the room swung open, and heavy-metal rock blasted through the quiet vibe of the scenery and caused you to jump a little at the disturbance. Taehyung shot a wicked smile over his shoulder, and his next words nearly knocked you out right then and there as you beheld yet another, breathtaking sight.

"Oh, there you are," Tae eagerly acknowledged, one hand still holding yours as he walked around to grab your with the other, presenting you to the.. hulking presence in the room. "This is (Y/N), our next little experiment."

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toomanyfandoms02 · 4 years

Text

The Photographer // Matthew Gray Gubler x Reader

So I made a one-shot based off of the picture down here!

Word count ~ 3.1k

Summary - y/n is a celebrity photographer, and Matthew's birthday is coming up. This calls for a birthday shoot.

Ever since I was in sixth grade, I dreamed of being a photographer. But back then, I was just taking candid pictures of my cat (Peanut Butter), and random flowers that my mom had graciously planted for me. I really never planned on taking nice, professional pictures of people.

But here I was.

I went to 'California College of Arts' in San Francisco for 4 years. After that, I had a bit of trouble getting myself out there. I had a decent following on my instagram. People liked the pictures of my dog, and the pictures of nature that I took on my many travels. But likes and follows don't get you money, at least not enough. So I switched my focus onto more interesting things.

Advertising yourself as a photographer wasn't an easy task. You had to be ruthless, and be willing to get rejected and not back down. So I did what any semi-sane person would do.

I messaged over 50 celebrities asking of they wanted to do a shoot with me. I sent them my prices, and what kinds of shoots I was willing to do. I didn't have much hope for it, but it was worth a try.

And that's where it began.

Out of all of the messages, Andrew Lincoln, AKA Rick from The Walking Dead messaged me back.

*Hello Miss y/l/n! I've actually seen quite a few of your nature shots and I have always wondered how your photos would turn out with people. I would love to be your Guinea Pig.*

He sent me days he was available and I did his shoot. After posting his pictures, my popularity shot from there.

That was a few years ago, I was now taking photos for multiple celebrities. I was ultimately known for my black and white shoots. I had, in fact, just gotten done with a shoot of A.J. Cook. She had requested *me* to take her pictures for an up and coming article that was being written about her. I, of course, gratefully said yes, being a huge fan of hers, along with the whole Criminal Minds cast.

I emailed her all of the pictures I had taken, edited and all, while simultaneously posting them on my instagram.

It was mere hours later before a notification popped up on my phone of an email that I could not believe. Theres no way that he was emailing me, right?

*You have an Email from Matthew Gray Gubler*

*Hi there! I saw your shoot on AJ's instagram and my birthday is coming up. My manager wants me to do a birthday shoot, and we both like your black and white style. I know it's not usually the kind of thing you, birthdays, do but I figured it was worth a shot, and I think you have some real talent. Let me know when you are free next. I am on a break so my schedule is relatively flexible.*

I could safely say that it was a good thing that I lived alone because I don't think I have ever screamed louder into a pillow. Matthew has been one of my favorite celebrities for the longest time. If we were going to be completely honest, once I started watching Criminal Minds, I immediately had a crush on him. This wasn't exactly the profession to be in if you were going to have a celebrity crush. I was often invited to red carpets and movie premiers, so I met quite a few stars. I never thought I would have to worry about slipping up on my professionalism.

Because I never thought I would even meet him.

My obvious answer to his request was yes. I would never *ever* miss an opportunity to have a photoshoot with someone so inspiring and meaningful to me. So I started writing an email back.

*Hi Matthew!*

Should I address him like that? Is that unprofessional?

*Hi Mr. Gubler*

Abso-fucking-lutely not.

*Hi Matthew!* We are gonna stick with that. *I don't know if this is too short of a notice, but I actually have a free spot tomorrow. (Of course if that doesn't work for you, I can figure something out for later, and try to fit it in before your birthday). I have a few ideas for props that I can send you? Let me know how I can help.*

I sent it and ran my hands through my hair, tossing my phone back onto my comforter. I had taken pictures of so many awesome celebrities:

• Selena Gomez

• Robert Downey Jr.

• Dylan O'Brien

• Grant Gustin

• Holland Roden

• Danai Gurira

But this was by far the coolest one, in my mind at least.

While waiting a little to anxiously for a reply, I decided I was going to make myself some lunch, Ramen. I set my phone on the counter as I boiled my noodles, peering over at the blank screen every few seconds (but really they felt like **minutes**).

Just as I was adding the flavour packet to the bowl my phone buzzed. I jumped slightly, spilling part of the packet out of the bowl.

"Damnit." I quickly wiped the salt into the trash can and snatched my phone, seeing another email.

*Tomorrow is actually perfect, and I would love to hear your recommendations on props, clothes, anything really. I'm going to leave my number on this email so we can have easier contact of that's okay with you.*

Wow, alright. I will now have Matthew Gray Gublers number in my phone. I made a contact for him.

**It's y/n, soooo for props. I figured I could bake you a cake! I took a few baking electives in college so I could make a really nice one and we can do something with it. I recommend you bring clothes you like to wear that are black and white. (Other colors work too, but it just looks and flows better if it's black and white). I will set the rest of the stuff up. I will be ready for you by 1 pm if that's okay.**

*You would bake me a cake?! That would be super cool thank you! I would love that. I will bring a few black and white outfits. Would it be weird if I brought a black and white Kimono?*

A chance to see Matthew in a kimono? Please yes.

**Oh my gosh please do. I would love to take pictures of you in an infamous kimono of yours.**

*Awesome! I will see you tomorrow at 1. Heres my managers info for you to sell the billing to.*

He attatched his managers email. I just sat at my kitchens island, smiling like a true dork at my phone.

**And here is my address, I run the studio at my house. What is your favorite cake and icing by the way? :)**

Was a smiley face unprofessional?

I need to chill out.

*Vanilla cake and chocolate frosting possibly? I will eat anything though probably. :)*

Now I was really smiling at my phone like a psycho idiot.

**Alrighty, see you tomorrow**

Since I didn't want to wake up too early tomorrow, I decided I was going to start the cake tonight. I had quite a few recipes held in my cabinets. I located my vanilla cake recipe and put my pre-made chocolate frosting on the counter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After about an hour of preparing, making a cake from scratch, and putting it in the oven. The cake was finally done and cooled. I added black cocoa to the frosting to make it completely black and got out my white gel.

*You made it 3 decades :)*

Was scrawled in calligraphy on the top of the cylindrical cake. I added white drips down the sides and white multi shaped sprinkles to the bottom part.

I set it in my fridge and got ready for bed. I know it's going to be hard to sleep just thinking about tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My alarm woke me up at 10 am, never before this had I woke up with a smile on my face before 12.

I took a quick shower and dressed in a white and blue floral romper with my hair in a high ponytail. Now it was time to set up backgrounds for the shoot.

I had two stations downstairs where I took all my photos. I set the first one up very normal with a white background and a rustic black stool. The second one was set up with another white background but littered with black streamers and big *30* black and white speckled balloons strung at the top.

Once I was done with all that. It was nearing 1. I slipped the cake out of the fridge and slid it onto my island. I glanced up at the clock above my stove.

*12:49*

Since I just had a little bit of time, I went a put some simple makeup on. I usually don't wear makeup when taking pictures of people, but for obvious reasons, I was making an exception.

Just as I was leaving my bathroom I heard a knock at my door. I walked swiftly to my door and opened it shakily.

"Hi!" He held up the clothes that were hung lazily over his arm. He smiled that million dollar smile and I could have sworn he looked me up and down.

Wishful thinking I guess.

"Welcome!" I stepped out of the doorway, silently inviting him in. "If you wanna set your stuff down, those stairs to the right lead you down the the studio."

"Thanks." He scurried down the stairs as I grabbed the cake and followed him down. I set it on a table that I had down there, he peered over at it and immediately burst into fits of laughter.

"I knew you had a sense of humor, so why put something normal and boring on the cake." I laughed with him as he tried to catch his breath.

"This is so perfect." He laughed a little more. "Thank you, so much." I shrugged with a smile. I posed him in front of the streamers with the cake.

He made some silly faces and smiled like there was no tomorrow. Next I brought him to the more plain station, sitting him on the stool. I looked through the lenses of the camera and glared a bit.

"Hey can you put your left leg up on the second peg of the stool?" I asked, pointing to his leg.

"This one?" He put it on the third. I shook my head. "This one?" He moved it down the the fourth. He was smiling a sly smile, seemingly challenging me.

"Let me do it for you." I had to pose people often, but posing him was going to be a little harder for me, considering I found him painfully attractive.

I moved his leg up to the second one and patted it.

"Now leave it there, so I don't have to help you again." I giggled, walking back to my camera. Taking a picture of him leaning forward on the stool and smiling. I then made him laugh and got a good genuine one of him leaning back and laughing. After all that, I proposed that we eat some cake and took a break.

I cut him a slice and handed it to him with a smile.

"So, tell me about yourself." He said, eating a bite of his cake.

"Well, I have always enjoyed photography. I love all types of art, so I also draw and paint often. And I have a black cat upstairs. His name is-" and I stopped, blood rushing to my cheeks. He is most certainly going to ask me the name, and I do not want to tell him.

He stared at me expectantly. "What is his name?" He motioned me to go on.

"Uh," I laughed a little awkwardly, setting my hands in my lap and staring at them. "His name is Spencer. As in Spencer Reid..." I glanced up at him and saw a huge grin break out on his face.

"So you like Criminal Minds? I never would have guessed. You just don't seem the type."

"Well all my memorabilia is in my room, just so people don't think I'm weird for having quite a few framed and signed posters." I smiled up at him, pushing around the remaining cake crumbs on my plate.

"One, That's not weird, that's awesome. Two, can I please meet Spencer and take pictures with him in my kimono."

I don't think I have ever heard a better sentence in my entire life.

"Yes, absolutely! I'll go get him." I clunked up the stairs on my search to find Spencer. I went to his usual spot first, my bed. Luckily he was sitting there, licking his outstretched foot. "Hi baby! You are about to take pictures with the guy you are named after. He almost as cute as you!" I grabbed him from the bed an headed back downstairs. I walked in with the accidental impeccable timing to see Matthew in his barely tied kimono, showing off his chest. My eyes widened a bit and he tied it off fully.

"Is this the famous Spencer?! He is so cute!" He reached his arms out at Spencer. My little fluff ball curled up into him instantly, cuddling into his silky kimono.

We took many many pictures of Spencer and Matthew together. I think maybe my cat likes him more than he likes me now.

"Okay, last idea. How about we just take some more up close pictures of me feeding you some cake?" It came put as a question because I didn't know how comfortable he would be with it.

"Perfect!" I cut another slice of the cake and brought it over to him. We were both sitting on the floor.

"This might be a little awkward, okay?" I giggled as I leaned back to get his whole face in the shot. This proved to be very difficult as I was using my left hand to take the picture. I fed him the cake with the right as he looked at the camera with a more seductive look. I could have melted into the floor.

I decided to switch hands so I could take the photos better, but now my very uncoordinated hand was the one picking up the cake. As I went down to get another section of the cake for another angle of feeding this sculpture of a man, I instead dipped my thumb right into the deep black frosting.

"Shit, I'm so sorry hold on." As I went to stand up and grab a napkin to wipe my thumb off, Matthew grabbed my wrist lightly.

"Hold on, uh, I have an idea, before you do anything." I sat down with a confused look. "I saw someone do this in another shoot. But we totally don't have to do it. I just thought it would be a different idea." His words were more rushed than usual.

"I'm sure I've done weirder things for other shoots, don't worry. It's *your* shoot." I reassured him, though my head was swimming wondering what he was going to do.

"Ok. So. What I'm going to do is put your thumb in my mouth, and I'm basically gonna, uh, suck on it while kinda smiling?" He could barely get through the whole thing without laughing.

"Alright, weird request but I like it!" I giggled for what seemed like the 30th time today. "And to make you feel better, yes, I have done weirder."

"Thank God."

"So I am guessing you want me to do something like this with the rest of my hand, ya know, the part that's not in your mouth." I stated as I placed my hand on his cheek. He let a slow breath out, staring into my eyes.

"Yeah, exactly."

"Okay." I said with a shrug, grabbing my camera from the ground. He opened his mouth with an all too familiar wide grin as I placed my thumb in. His mouth closed around it and he smiled, just a little. I brought my camera to my face, capturing the moment that I would have forever in my mind and in a small frame on my bedroom wall, for sure.

I slipped my thumb from his mouth and watched as his face turned extremely red. To save him embarrassment, I immediately stood up and grabbed a napkin to wipe the rest of the frosting off.

"Can I see it?" He motioned to the camera. I nodded, sitting down right beside him, showing him the picture. It showed off a closer look at the rose tattoos I had near my wrists and the shiny watch that was gifted to me by my mom. "It turned out good! I really hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

"Oh no! Of course not. Total opposite." As soon as I said that I regretted it.

"So that made you extremely comfortable?" A sly smile was making it's way onto his face.

"That's, that's not- You know what? Sure, yes." I chuckled. "You don't really make me uncomfortable at all to be honest. So no, you didn't make me uncomfortable."

"Well I'm glad." He smiled and we sat in silence for a moment.

"Well I guess that's it yeah?" He nodded. "Well this was fun. Thanks for being an excellent subject to take pictures of."

He gathered his stuff as we went back upstairs. Once at the door, Spencer came up to him, rubbing on his leg. He bent over to pet him.

"So, I'm not sure if you are single or not." I could feel the blood draining from my face. Was this really happening right now? "But I wanted to know if you wanted to go on a date?"

Yes, this was happening right now.

"Really?" I could tell I sounded extremely excited, but at this point, I didn't even care.

"Yeah, you are super laid back, funny, talented, and you aren't scared away by how weird I am." He laughed, "So yes?"

"I would absolutely love to."

"Great. I'll text you." He winked and waved as he closed the door, leaving.

My back went against the door. I couldn't keep in the squeal so I just embraced it and squealed my heart out, doing a little dance.

Which was quickly ended when I heard a knock at the door.

"I'm sorry, I want to get to know you better immediately." He let out a nervous chuckle. "Are you free for the rest of the day?" I was sure that my face was red as a tomato.

"Yes I am." He grabbed my hand, dragging me outside.

"Then let's go."

#mgg #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #matthew gray gubler #matthewgraygubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #MGG #mgg x reader #mgg fic #mgg fanfiction

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coldbrewtarot · 4 years

Text

Brief Succulent Care Guide for the New Green Witch

Gather ‘round, lil new green witches! I received a lot of engagement on my last succulent-related post, so I wanted to make a little bit more thorough post on succulent care. Allow me to impart with you some of the knowledge I’ve gained from my fuck ups while on my green witch path. This is not a comprehensive guide to succulent care! These are just notes from my personal grimoire and what works best for me when I care for succulents. I’ve had the highest success rate with my succulents when I follow my notes below, but other people have their own methods that may not be the same as mine (i.e. mixing their own soil vs buying store bought premixed soil)

🌱General Notes:🌱

Great plants for people that are looking to improve their gardening skills; great beginner plants.

Great plants for dry climates and sunny weather.

Don’t require much maintenance and you can accidentally ignore them without much consequence!

The bright vibrant or sweet pastel colors that you see on succulents when you first bring them home or in photos are from stress. Succulents don’t always stay this color and will typically turn a green (ranging from light to emerald to forest greens) when they’re not stressed. This is ok! This does not mean the succulent is dying or unhealthy.

You can stress succulents by giving them less water, more sunlight, and have them in cold temperatures.

💧Water notes:💧

Don’t water too often

Only water when the soil is completely dry

When watering, completely soak the roots

Don’t let water sit on top of the soil in the pot or overflow

It is easier to revive dried out succulents than it is to save succulents that have drowned and/or developed rot.

When watering, aim for the roots by using a plastic syringe or squirt bottle with a very fine spout.

Do not water the leaves on top, only water at the base where the roots are.

🌵Soil notes:🌵

Use soil that drains well

Cactus/succulent potting mix if using pots

If you’re not mixing your own soil, use the cactus potting mix and mix in pumice (can be ordered online or bought from garden stores)

This helps drain the water

Pearlite can also be used to drain the soil and is more cost effective than pumice, but isn’t as effective.

💸Buying Succulents:💸

Can be purchased at big box stores, bought from mom & pop garden shops, or ordered online from etsy or IG.

When ordering succulents online, be careful and be sure to order from reputable shops. (Some stores on IG or Tumblr may be scammers, so be cautious! It is possible for them to pass off stressed succulents to inexperienced plant guardians as rarer varieties. Some shops may not have the succulent at all and may’ve stolen the photos they used.)

When you take succulents home from the store (especially big box stores) immediately remove the soil from their roots and repot them in your soil mix. Store bought succulents most likely haven’t been cared for properly and will need a lil bit of love and care when they first come home. Big stores typically either drown succulents, pot them in the wrong soil, or didn’t maintain them properly.

🌿Potting Succulents:🌿

If you’re potting multiple succulents in a container, to give succulents enough space to grow (about 2″)

With roots: plant as normal!

Without roots:

Freshly clipped/cut: Wait until callous has formed. Don’t plant or try to water because it will just rot!

With callous: Go ahead and stick them in soil! Water and treat as normal. New roots systems will form soon and your plant may sprout pups and offshoots!

Pot Notes:

Use pots with drainage holes when first starting out (This help prevents root rot and lets water drain all the way through)

Elevate the pot to be above ground (maybe in a pot holder or something that allows air to flow through the bottom)

Glazed pots retain less water, so they’re good to help water drain through

Terracotta pots specifically absorb and retain water (which is good for plants that really like water, but need close attention when used for succulents)

🌤Weather notes:🌤

You’ll need to water more in the dry weather and when it’s really hot

Water less when it’s colder or humid

Succulents like bright indirect sunlight (Direct sunlight can burn succulents!)

If you live in a colder climate, don’t get much sunlight, or are growing succulents indoors, you might consider getting a grow light so that your succulents can thrive in climates they may not typically grow naturally in.

🍃Propagation notes:🍃

When succulents begin to rot or die, they shed their leaves. While the plant may be dying, the leaves can be saved to create new baby succulents!

If you’re going to prop them, separate the leaves in a lil tray and let them dry over a few days.

When the tips where the wounds are (where you cut them) dry up, a callous will form.

Once this happens, you’ll be able to place the leaf on top of a tray of soil.

Once roots begin to form, you can spray them with water to help promote growth.

Once roots grow, you’ll eventually be able to pot them in your own starter pots.

Proplifting/propstealing: This is when you go to a store (usually a big box store) and kind of scavenge around for fallen leaves. Some people clip leaves off existing succulents, but I don’t condone this and don’t engage in this sort of theft. Plants have spirits and to steal a leaf is like stealing from that spirit. However...

You definitely *shouldn’t* proplift leaves (pick fallen leaves up off the floor) from big box stores that can afford to lose a leaf they will throw away. You definitely *shouldn’t* stick it to big box stores that take advantage and abuse their employees. You really really *shouldn’t* and I definitely encourage you *not to* proplift.

(Note: On the real, don’t even think about stealing even a little leaf or petal from a mom & pop shop. Don’t even put that energy out there. But big box stores who overwork their employees and pay them way too little, as far as I and my higher power are concerned, fuck ‘em.)

🛠Care & maintenance notes:🛠

If leaves are crispy, they are either dry or sun burnt.

If leaves are squishy and yellow/orange in color, this is from too much water

Occasionally, the leaves at the base of the succulent beneath all of the other leaves will dry out. (This is normal!)

DON’T TOUCH the powder on top. This protects them from sun, pests, etc. and will never grow back if you touch it.

🔮✖️🔮✖️🔮MAKE IT WITCHY 🔮✖️🔮✖️🔮

🧚🏻‍♀️Pixie Gardens:🧚🏻‍

There are vendors that will sell little itty bitty succulent gardens called pixie gardens. You can incorporate these pixie gardens into your practice and keep one handy for your lil fae friends. (If you don’t already work with the fae, please do research beforehand!)

🌕Moon Magick:🌕

New Moon: Take this time to plant new arrangements, prop succulents, repot succulents (within reason, don’t do this like every month), etc. This is a fresh start!

I create moon water when there is a new moon. I have a mason jar, typically, (a few if I’m honest) and fill it with water and a bit of succulent fertilizer. (Use the appropriate ratio based on the fertilizer instructions.) Then I set the jars out over night, allow the new moon to charge them, and then use this water to spray onto my propagation leaves or in plants I’ve recently repotted. This is great for succulents you’re hoping to revive or new babies you’re hoping to grow.

🔮How I incorporate magick into my gardening and gardening into my practice:🔮

When I garden, I set my intentions with each succulent I pot or arrange. I speak to it while I do this and communicate with my higher power. I whisper what I hope to manifest as I set the pot on my plant stand or find a place for it on my balcony.

I release stress and hand over my worries over to my higher power while I garden. It’s very therapeutic and helps me reflect.

You can create new life by planting and gardening. Succulents that you have birthed from propagation are extensions of you.

As you water and nourish your garden, you are watering and nourishing your intentions, hopes, and dreams.

I plant succulents (and other plants) in the name of others and pour my love into the plant as I would for that person. My energy flows back into my garden work and continues through the universe.

~~~~~

Additional Resources:

Youtube:

Laura Eubanks // Design by Serenity

Cerriscapades

My Succulent Garden

SuccsForYou!

Angel’s Grove Gardening

Books:

Idiot’s Guide: Succulents (by Succulents and Sunshine / The Succulent FAQ podcast)

IG:

@/lauralovessucculents (Laura Eubank’s IG)

@/chrissysuccs (this is my personal plant account; i post a bunch of succulents and IDs)

Podcasts:

The Succulent FAQ (spotify)

Websites & Blogs:

Succulentsandsunshine.com

~~~~~

I have a full shelf of books and magazines on succulents that I have to get through. As I go through them, I’ll add them to the list of resources and add in the new info that I learn, so stay tuned for edits within reblogs! If you have any questions, feel free to DM me! I’m happy to help~

125 notes · View notes

snowdice · 3 years

Text

Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 39]

Here is my starting post for today’s study break stories session. See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. I’ll be constantly looking for ideas of times and places for Janus to have missions, so feel free to send in any you can think of at any point!

If you are a new follower or just don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the tag “folds in paper.” See edited chapters below. None edited chapters are under the cut.

My Masterpost Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted). It’s short, and not really for serious listening, but I had fun with it.

Alright. Time to get a bit of studying done.

Arc II What We Do to Each Other

Chapter 16:

As it would turn out, Janus and Virgil did not get in trouble for hooking up the old phone to Virgil’s integrator, mostly because it wasn’t really a mistake on their part. The phone cleared all virus checks that the tech people both from the university and the TPI ran on it. The phone should have been clean and should not have caused an issue.

In fact, they were still trying to pin down the code on the general university server. They could tell that something was mucking about on the system but what or how was a mystery. This also meant that there was no telling what information had been compromised and considering how many things Silver Mountain had its hands in, that was… a bit worrying.

Another worrying thing was there was suddenly more activity of late at the TPI. There were more time distortions popping up every day. Usually they would be few and far in between. There had been 3 total recorded the year before, but over 12 in the last week. Some of them were fake like the one Janus had investigated, but some of them were real. It painted a distressing picture and also was a drain on their resources. Khalid was actually looking to advertise positions to hire new recruits which was something she rarely did as she liked to keep appointments to the TPI in house.

They’d even loosed the number of field agents needed for each mission and Janus and Remus had been splitting up just to get everything done. Today, he and Remus had thankfully only two missions scheduled for the day.

“Are we going together or separate today?” Janus asked Remus.

“Think they’ll burn me at the stake for being a witch if I go alone to either of them?” Remus asked.

“I don’t know. Probably. I think we’re getting a bit late into the 1700s for that in Cuba, but I have no idea about Mesopotamia.”

“Let’s just go together. I did not like almost drowning yesterday because I was the only stranger in town when the weather was going wonky.”

“Surely it isn’t because you opened your mouth. Ever.” Janus said dryly.

“How was I supposed to know he was the local clergyman’s son?”

Janus rolled his eyes. “On second thought,” he said, pushing a button on his desk to choose Cuba as he next mission, and standing up. “I don’t want you coming with me.” Yet, he did not protest when Remus also signed up for the Cuba mission and he waited for him by the office door before going to talk to Rhi.

Rhi was a bit frazzled when which meant quite a bit as she was usually incredibly put together. Remus didn’t even seem inclined to tease her today.

“Okay,” she said once they’d closed the door behind them. She flipped through some documents on her desk. “Picani and Clockson. Camaguey Cuba 1755. Do you know Cuba?”

“Uh,” Janus said. “Yeah?”

“Like you’re reading the things, right? I don’t have to babysit you, right? You got it? The Seven Year War was happening, but it won’t affect you much as it hasn’t really hit Cuba. It’s the middle of the Camaguey Carnival. Everyone will be everywhere and there will be chaos so as long as you don’t really fuck up you should be fine. Um…apparent races.” She looked up at them and studied them each for a moment as thought looking at them for the first time despite having known them for years. “It’ll work. Go to costuming.”

“Shouldn’t we…” Janus said, “sign things?”

“…Yep,” she said, fiddling with her desktop and then sending documents over to their side to sign.

Janus and Remus both did before sending them back.

“Great. Good.” She stood and grabbed some things from behind her. “You can go.” She sat back down as they took their things and Janus noticed a message pop up on her desk. She looked up at Remus looking exhausted. “What?” she asked.

“Just open it,” Remus said.

Rhi tapped it and a photo opened.

“I got her a new mouse toy!” Remus said happily as Rhi looked at the picture of Diesel Fuel attacking a cloth mouse.

“That is… appreciated Agent Clockson,” Rhi said. “Now get out.”

They did, leaving to get their costumes on and checked. Costuming was just as busy and frazzled as Rhi had been and they actually had to wait for decon because there’d been a mix up with the agents leaving before them. They landed in Cuba without issue. Janus could already hear the festival in full swing outside the small building they’d were in. Remy was standing there with a very not time appropriate mug of coffee.

“Sue me,” Remy said when Janus raised an eyebrow at it. “Please just… get in and out without causing trouble. Seriously. I don’t want to have to deal with that on top of everything else.”

“We’ll do our best,” Janus assured.

Remy pulled his sunglasses down to look at him. He looked exhausted. “God please do more than your best.”

Janus nodded tightly. “We’ll be in and out,” he said, already glancing at his timepiece. It had been disguised as a golden bracelet which made it a bit harder to actually use, but wrist watches wouldn’t be invented for more than a century, so they’d have to make do. “The time distortion, if that’s what it is, should be in the middle of town. Let’s go.”

He and Remus exited the building onto the packed city street.

Janus was immediately bombarded with all types of sights, sounds, and smells. There were many colorful articles of clothing and costumes as people went every which way along the street talking to other members of their community, playing instruments, and dancing. There was the sound of people speaking Spanish, still mostly almost pure Castilian Spanish with perhaps a bit of influence from Taino as the Haitian revolution had yet to push the Creole language over to Cuba. People must have been hard at work cooking different dishes for the carnival as many different spices wafted through the air. It was sticky hot considering it was the middle of June in the tropics and Janus was immediately sweating despite the temperature appropriate clothing he’d been outfitted with.

He glanced around their immediate area, just scoping out the crowds. His eyes were immediately drawn to one person near them.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” he said out loud when he saw Pat. Remus looked in the direction Janus was.

Even if Janus didn’t recognize him the moment he laid eyes on him, he probably still would have ended up staring as he was the only person in the area who clearly did not know how to do the dance he was attempting.

Remus snorted and Janus shook his head in secondhand embarrassment. “Well, would you look whose boyfriend’s here,” he said to Janus. Make that firsthand embarrassment. “Has anyone told him the Mambo wasn’t invented until the 1900s and also that’s not how you do it?”

Chapter 17

Pat stopped dancing the moment he saw Janus approaching him, but he still bobbed cheerfully ( and unrhythmically) to the music. “Hi Janus,” he said pleasantly.

“You just have to rub it in, huh?”

There was a flash of confusion across his face, but then he smiled. “Well, I know where in our relationship you are. How was France?”

“You’re a bastard.”

“You stole the phone,” he laughed.

“You stole the bomb,” Janus countered, “and you wanted me to steal the phone. You booby trapped it.”

“No,” Pat correct, putting a finger up. “We have security on my phone because in high school I once forgot it in the school locker room and long story short, the three of us ended up in a lake. So, then Lo made sure I always had some sort of tracker on it. When I started time traveling, he updated it and when I met you we updated it again in case there was ever an opportunity like that. Lo calls it using our weaknesses to our advantage.”

“He’s a bastard too,” Janus growled.

Pat just laughed.

“Is someone talking about me?” Remus asked, stepping over to them. Janus rolled his eyes.

“Oh,” Pat said, blinking at Janus’s partner for a moment. “Remus.” He hesitated slightly. “How are you doing?”

“Me?” Remus asked. “Uh, I’m doing good. A little stressed out with work, but fine.”

“Good,” Pat said with just a little too much heartfulness to it.

“What?” Janus asked, eyes narrowed at Pat. “What is that?”

“What is what?” Pat asked. He met Janus’s eyes briefly and it made panic surge up Janus’s spine because the look Pat was sending him wasn’t one that said he was playing dumb. It was a warning.

Oh, Janus did not like this. That look told Janus Pat had some foreknowledge that he absolutely could not tell Janus about without messing up the timeline spectacularly. This was why this mess the two of them were mixed up in was so bad, but it seemed Janus did not have much of a choice when it came to Pat.

Despite how bad of an idea he knew it was, he still wanted to push, because whatever Pat was hiding could be very, very bad and it had to do with Remus. There were so many reasons Pat could be acting like that around Remus, but the worst ones were definitely the ones on his mind. Death, injury, illness. They were all possible especially in their line of work and especially with how time was being screwed with right now. And Pat knew. He knew exactly what the answer was, and oh did Janus want to push.

Experience knowing what worse things could come out of having foreknowledge made Janus bite his tongue.

“So, what are you two doing here,” Pat asked, and Janus unhappily let him change the subject.

“Oh, like you don’t know,” Janus replied.

“I don’t know,” Pat said innocently.

“There’s another time distortion,” Janus said, “and while you didn’t know what it was the last time I saw you, I’m pretty sure you do now.”

“Oh, I didn’t know there was a time distortion here. I can help you if you like,” he offered sweetly.

“Oh, yeah, sure. Then why are you here?”

“I wanted to see if I could find the Flying Dutchman,” Pat told him.

“And so you went to Camaguey?”

“Uh huh.”

“One of the farthest places from the ocean in Cuba?”

“Is it?”

“I don’t trust you.”

Pat just shrugged. “Well, if you don’t want my help finding the time distortion, I’ll just be on my way then.”

“Wait,” he said when Pat went to turn away. Pat paused. Janus turned to Remus. “Remus, do you think he’s bullshitting me so I let him wander off and do whatever the hell he’s doing, or do you think he’s bullshitting me into letting him come with us.”

“Hmm,” Remus said, looking Pat up and down. Janus could immediately tell he wasn’t going to get any helpful answer. “Well, if we’re going with the how much do I get to see his, admittedly very sexy, ass criteria.” Janus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Letting him leave now means instant gratification and a nice full image when he turns away. However, letting him go with us means many more opportunities to get a glimpse, but they’d probably just be glimpses. So, yeah that’s a tough call.”

“You didn’t even bother to give me an actual hidden suggestion with that bullshit,” Janus groaned. He glanced at Pat only to see him hiding his very red face in his hands. Janus blinked. “Oh,” he said. “You got him, Remus.” Janus was surprised. He’d expected a bit more tenacity for someone with Pat’s personality. Of course, Janus was used to Remus, so that perhaps had some effect. Pat made a muffled distressed sound behind his hands and Janus raised an eyebrow. “You really got him.”

Pat flapped one hand around while still using the other to completely hide his face. “It’s just. His face. Saying that. Is weird.”

Janus could not say that he didn’t feel a slight spark of joy at seeing Pat flustered. After all, Pat’s weapon of choice had often been flirting with Janus in the past. However, he still smacked Remus on the shoulder when it looked like he was about to continue with something likely far more inappropriate. “We are here for a reason,” he reminded. He turned to consider Pat and squinted at him. “You’re coming with us, I’ve decided. I don’t want to let you out of my sights. Don’t,” he said empathically turning to Remus as the man opened his mouth once more.

Pat had mostly recovered, though his cheeks were just a bit pink still. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll go with you. Where do we start?”

Janus glanced at his timepiece. “It’s not showing up on our trackers yet.”

“It messed with your tracker last time,” Pat pointed out.

“I know,” Janus said. “Which means it could be another fake one or whatever is causing it hasn’t started yet. If things start going wrong, but it still doesn’t show on our radar, it’s almost certainly a fake one, but some of the fake ones haven’t blocked our technology.”

“Here, I can check,” Pat said.

“Please don’t pull out an iPhone,” Janus begged.

Pat stuck out his tongue at him, and then smiled. He reached for the bracelet on his wrist and twisted it back and forth a few times before pressing his palms together. He glanced around them quickly to make sure no one around them was watching and then peeled apart his palms like he was miming reading a book.

“What the fuck is that, and how do I get one?” Remus asked immediately. It was innocuous, whatever it was. If someone from this time caught a glimpse of the display, they’d likely assume it was a trick of the light, but staring right at it, Janus could tell it was a map of the surrounding areas with a softly glowing blue light marking their current location. Janus could see no screen or origin of a hologram. It looked like the image was drawn onto the man’s palms, but as he watched, the image shifted to zoom out.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything major yet,” Pat said wiggling his fingers a bit. The display changed slightly to some sort of colorful overlay Janus did not understand. Pat hummed. “Did you two come from that building recently?” he asked nodding at it.

“Yes,” Janus replied. “How do you know?”

“There’s sometimes a slight temperature change when people time travel,” Pat explained. “I can read it on here.” He tilted his head. “There also seems to be a big enough temperature change in a church a few blocks away that could indicate time travel. Want to check it out?”

“We might as well,” Janus agreed.

“And if it’s nothing, we can get drunk on the communion wine!”

“He’s going to get immediately struck by lightning,” Janus said.

Chapter 18

“If we see anyone,” Janus said as they entered the church. “You keep your mouth shut. Do you understand me? Remus, do you understand me?”

Remus immediately turned to Pat. “You know, I didn’t grow up Catholic,” he said to Pat who looked at him in confusion. “So the first time I ever entered a Catholic church, you can’t blame me for being a little confused about the whole cabinet thing with a wall between them. After all, everyone was singing about glory to god and what not. So I…”

Janus slapped him. “This is why you were almost burned at the stake yesterday.”

“Excuse you,” Remus said, putting his hand over his heart. “I was almost drowned.”

“You were almost drowned?” Pat asked, his voice seeming legitimately distressed.

Remus shrugged a smile on his face that caused a Pavlovian migraine to start up behind Janus’s eyes. “It’s one of the hazards of the jobs, and really it would have all been worth it if I’d actually gotten to drown in that man’s…”

“We’re in a church!” Janus cut him off switching from Spanish to Swahili in the hopes that no random passersby would be able to understand him in this time and place. “Don’t talk about lewd sex things. Don’t talk about sex at all. It’s a Catholic church!”

Remus continued to speak in Spanish with no regard for anything. “But not talking about lewd sex things takes away 3/4ths of my personality,” he pouted.

“More like 9/10th,” Janus grumbled, “and the other 1/10th is just normal stupid.”

“Hey, you shouldn’t be mean,” Pat scolded, in fucking English for some reason, “but Remus, honey, you probably shouldn’t be saying things like that right now.”

“No, no, he has a point,” Remus said switching to English.

“He’s my partner, I have the right to call him stupid,” Janus insisted.

“And I love you too!” Remus said in Greek because he was really, truly, stupid.

Pat looked between the two, but then seemed to accept it, dropping the concerned expression for a slightly amused one. “If you say so.”

“Can I… help you?” A voice asked. All three of them whipped around to see a young boy looking at them and seeming very confused. Which was fair considering that to his ears, they’d just been speaking nonsense.

“We’re here to pray!” Remus claimed, then he turned to wink at Pat and said under his breath in Swahili, “to that ass.” Pat went immediately bright red again, which was doubtlessly Remus’s aim. Janus subtlety stepped on his foot while smiling at the boy.

“Oh,” the boy said. “Okay.” Thankfully, he didn’t seem interested in questioning the random strangers in front of him further. “I’m going to go back to the celebration now.”

Janus smiled at him. “Have fun,” he said. He waited for the boy to leave through the front door before slapping Remus on the back of the head.

“Ow!” he whined sounding far too pained for how hard Janus had actually hit him.

Janus rolled his eyes. “Let’s just start investigating,” he said.

“Sure, sure, you never let me have any fun,” Remus said, pulling up his wrist and spinning the golden bracelets on his arm. “Hmm…” he said.

“What?” asked Pat.

“Either I put on the wrong jewelry this morning… or my timepiece isn’t working.”

“Well, then I’m guessing we’re in the right place,” Janus said. He turned to Pat. “Your stuff still working?”

Pat brought up whatever device was on his hands. “Yeah,” he said, “and it looks like something is just starting.” Just as he said it, there was a violent crash of thunder.

“Well,” Janus said. “We should probably find the source and soon. Which way?”

Pat glanced around himself and then motioned with his wrist. Suddenly there was a 3D display of the church in front of them.

Janus could see immediately where the problem had to originate. There was a swirling mass of some sort of energy centered at the top of the bell tower of the church. As he watched, he saw the picture of the church glitch out a bit. He had a bad feeling about that.

“Is there something wrong with your display?” he asked, or more hoped.

Pat shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so…” The room seemed to shift suddenly underneath their feet. It felt a bit like time travel, but also wrong. The picture on the display flickered harder, part of the building fracturing and dissolving before appearing back in place. The room settled after a moment, but Janus’s stomach did not.

“Whatever is going on,” Janus said, “We need to stop it right now.”

Pat nodded. “The quickest way up would be that way,” Pat said pointing. The display closed as he did.

“Then, let’s go,” Janus said.

The world was eerily calm as they all started off in the direction Pat had pointed out. In fact, it was almost too quiet.

“Where’s the nearest window?” Janus asked when they came out on the second floor.

Pat glanced at his hand. “There should be a couple a few feet that way.” Janus nodded and left them standing there. When he glanced out of the first window he came to, it appeared to be night. Yet, when he walked to the next window, he saw daylight.

26606

“Time is fracturing,” Janus informed them. “We need to be careful.” This time distortion was much more intense than any of the other ones the agency had been tracking down over the last few months. It had also come on much faster. Usually there was some time between when the time distortion began and it started having extreme effects on the environment. He was suddenly very glad that he and Remus had not split up today. He was even glad for Pat’s company, no matter how aggravating he may be sometimes. Not to mention, he was glad for the man’s technology that seemed to circumvent whatever was blocking Janus and Remus’s timepieces.

He backed away from the windows and returned to the others.

“Whatever you do,” Janus said. “Don’t let anyone be in a room alone.”

“I know what time fractures are this time,” Pat promised.

“It was as much for the idiot as it was for you,” Janus said.

“You accidently bring a bubonic plague infested rat to 900BC one time and you never live it down.”

“I’d say I should put a leash on you, but you’d twist it into something disgusting.”

“Probably,” Remus agreed.

“Where next?” Janus asked, ignoring him.

“That way,” Pat said.

They walked together to the door he’d indicated. “Please don’t be bullshit,” Janus prayed. He opened the door and immediately got bowled over by a stream of salt water.

Chapter 19

Janus landed flat on his back, a wave of water splashing over him and then quickly retreating, but still leaving him absolutely drenched. He sighed, looking at the ceiling. “Don’t,” he warned, “say a word.”

Of course, he was with the two most impossible people in all of space and time, so neither of them headed him.

“I thought you said we were far from the ocean, Jan,” Pat said.

“Yeah, Janny,” Remus immediately jumped on board because he was an asshole. “I thought we were far from the ocean!”

“Maybe I’ll achieve my goal of finding the Flying Dutchman after all!”

“Ooo ghost pirates! I’ve never gotten to fight ghost pirates before. Any good with a sword Patty?”

“My friend has a sword and he let me use it before… but all I did was cut a hole in our couch, and then Lo was mad at us.”

“I mean… just pretend the pirates are a couch and we’ll be good!”

Janus slowly sat up. There was still water on the floor and every so often a wave would crash into the room as though the door frame signaled the edge of a beach. Pat reached down to offer him a hand up and Janus slapped it away.

“Rude!” Pat claimed, but his eyes were alight with mischief.

Janus shoved himself to his feet on his own power.

“You deserve it,” he hissed. “For all of this!” he waved his arms around.

“Water you talking about. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You are on thin ice.”

He looked down at his feet with a contemplative expression. “Looks like water to me.”

“Arg!” Janus spat, throwing up his arms.

“I don’t sea why you’re screaming, Janus.”

“Yeah,” Remus contributed. “You seem overally emotional to me.”

“Yes, yes,” Pat replied. “Very em-ocean-al.”

“One may even say he’s pretty salty.”

“I know where you live, Remus,” Janus reminded.

“Alright, alright Remus, reel it in,” Pat said.

Remus opened his mouth to respond, but Janus cut him off. “Why don’t the two of you dedicate all of that brain power to figuring out how to cross the literal ocean in the next room,” Janus suggested hotly.

And it was a literal ocean. If one ignored where they were and the fact that there was a staircase climbing out of said ocean about 80 or so meters away. There was sand being washed up across the door frame and a seagull flying in the distance. At least it looked like a nice day in the room with the way the sun was glinting off the water. At least it wasn’t storming there. Yet.

Janus’s head throbbed with the thought of what had to be happening with the time distortion to plop a piece of the ocean into one single room in a church. Usually they’d be calling the TPI for backup or at least for information, but that was a loss. Even if they tried to get out of range of whatever was disrupting their timepieces, time was so unstable, they’d very possibly get dumped somewhere dangerous. It was better to just get to the time distortion as quickly as possible and stop it.

“Hmm,” Remus said. “I wonder how deep it is. Do you think there are man eating sharks in the water? Or giant jelly fish? Remember that one time I got stung by a jelly fish and almost died?”

“Yes,” Janus said, lips pursed, “and it was entirely your fault.”

“I just looked so squishy!” he declared, “I didn’t know it was a murder blob.”

“I think I have a boat,” Pat said.

They both turned to him. “What?” Janus asked. He was looking at his hands and just hummed in response to Janus’s question. The next thing he knew, Pat made some motion with his hand and a yellow raft started to autofill from his palm. “...Why?” Janus asked.

“I… recently started carrying a wilderness survival pack in my time device.”

“I’m not going to question it. It’s better than swimming.” By the time the raft was completely deployed, they’d all been shoved into the walls by it.

“Huh, on second thought. I probably should have put the raft in the room before blowing it up.”

“You think?” asked Janus.

Pat glared at him over it. “I never really thought about how to open it in a narrow second floor corridor.”

“Just try to shove it through the door without popping it.”

“Why are you looking at me?!” asked Remus.

They managed to somehow squeeze the raft through the door into the other room after a few minutes.

Pat squinted at the tottering raft he was holding to the door frame. “After you,” he offered.

Janus glared at him.

“You’re already soaked!” Pat defended himself.

Janus sighed and very carefully climbed into the raft. It tottered dangerously, but he didn’t immediately fall out, so that was a plus. The other two of them slowly also climbed onto the raft with him. They then sat in it for a few seconds. “Is there an oar?” Janus asked.

“Oh right!” Pat did something else with the device in his hands and an oar slowly unfolded from his hand.

“Seriously, I want one of those,” Remus said.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Janus said, snatching the oar. The staircase luckily wasn’t too far away. They probably could have swam it if necessary, but the raft gave them some modicum of protection. Everything seemed to be going in their favor, which of course meant everything was about to go incredibly wrong.

They were about halfway across the water when the entire world around them rumbled.

“…I hope that was a giant jellyfish,” Remus said.

It was unfortunately not a jellyfish or any sea creature at all. The world around them fractured, the ocean seeming to split right down the middle so the water right of the staircase was 6 feet higher than on the left. The sky flashed red and yellow before the water split completely like Moses splitting the Red Sea.

There was a millisecond as the split widened until it was only a few feet from them, to decide whether when they landed they wanted to be on the side with the water or on the side without it. On one hand, going towards the side without water could mean they fell to their deaths or the water crashed back down on top of them when it settled. On the other hand, if the fissure was closing or shifting to a new area, it was very possible that they’d end up trapped in the middle off the ocean with no connection to the church.

Well, the best chance to actually get to where they were going was probably the side without water. It seemed everyone had the same idea at once because as he grabbed for both of them, they both grabbed for him and they all went tumbling off the raft into what could have very well been a bottomless pit.

Janus learned after a couple of seconds of free fall, that it was definitely not a bottomless pit. He landed hard, flat on his back and saw stars. The next moment something landed on top of him, squeezing all of the air out of his lungs.

Something else fell half on top of his legs.

“Ow,” Pat said from near his ear.

“Yeah, well you’re the one on the top,” Janus groaned though his teeth.

“Wow, I never took you for a bottom, Janus,” Remus said from near his feet. Janus kicked up his legs into whatever part of him was on top of Janus and he gave an “oof.”

Pat snorted a bit and Janus glared at his… shoulder? He shifted around a bit so he was less thrown across Janus and more just on top of him. Janus blinked. There was a wooden ceiling above them, so that was a good sign, though there was also a giant dark hole of nothingness directly above them which was not as good.

Janus moved slightly. He could tell he was going to be bruised later, but he didn’t seem seriously injured. “We should,” he started, but was interrupted as the hole above them pulsated and dumped a bunch of sea water.

Pat shrieked as they were all drenched with the chilly water. Luckily, they seemed to be on higher ground because, while water kept pouring out of the hole, it drained away just as quickly instead of drowning them.

Water still hitting his back relentlessly, Pat peeled his head up to look Janus in the eyes. A giggle bubbled out of his mouth.

“It isn’t funny,” Janus informed him. Pat just giggled more, leaning his head against Janus’s chest and cackling.

Janus just rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, this is an entirely appropriate reaction. Thank you for your contribution to our very important mission.”

Pat seemed incapable of stopping laughing completely, but he did calm himself enough to peel himself off Janus’s chest and lean forward so their noses almost touched. “It’s hilarious and you know it,” he claimed.

“In what way is this ‘hilarious’?”

“In many waves,” was the joy filled answer.

“You’re horrible.”

Pat hummed. He hadn’t moved to get off of him even though they really should be moving in case something worse than water came through the hole in the ceiling. He hadn’t even moved his face away.

“No, no, you two just tell me when you’re done being gay for each other,” Remus interrupted. Janus was surprised to see he’d stood up at some point and was now hovering over them.

Janus flipped him off even while Pat laughed once again. Pat finally drew away and rolled off of him so Janus could sit up. Pretty much everything hurt when Janus moved, but he was able to stand up, so he was probably fine enough. “So,” he said looking around. “Where are we now?”

Chapter 20

Janus looked around himself while Pat booted up his map to try to figure out where they were. They were in a small room that may actually be considered a large landing as there were staircases on either side of it. The water that was still coming out of the ceiling was running down the staircase that led down from the room.

Something was stopping the water, creating a pool on the steps that was already about to overflow into the room. With the speed the water was flowing, they should have enough time before the room completely filled up with water and drowned them.

Janus wondered if they were in the church or not. It was not out of the question and there was church like décor around them, but who knew? He could feel a strange vibration in the ground and the one window in the room shone with green light.

“Hmm,” said Pat. “That looks not good.” He’d projected his map so they could all see everything.

The map itself was moving. Rooms were phasing in and out of focus and fracturing down the middle. One room was even spinning lazily around in circles. Janus could see the room they were in. It was connected to the bigger blob of rooms, and there was a black line connecting it to another room from the top which was obviously the hole spewing water at them.

“Well, at least the time distortion is still coming from the bell tower,” Remus said. Janus shot him an unamused glance. Said bell tower was currently upside down and shuddering as well as divided from any other room by at least two inches of empty space.

28842

“How are we supposed to get there?” asked Pat.

“We don’t,” Janus said. “It’s literally impossible.”

“There has to be some way,” Pat argued with a frown.

“If we try to use time travel, we’ll definitely get shredded by the warping time and space around it and walking there isn’t an option. There aren’t even any entrances!”

“Well, there were at one point.”

“Yeah, before,” he gestured wildly to the ceiling that was still pouring water into the room.

“So?” Pat asked.

“’So’?! What do you mean ‘so’?!”

Pat shrugged. “When one door closes, cut another one.”

Janus froze and looked at him for a long moment. “Where the hell did you hear that?”

Patton raised an eyebrow. “You.”

“I don’t think like that anymore.”

“Well then I guess we’ll die,” Pat said lightly. “Of course, that’ll make an even worse time loop considering I’ve met older versions of you.”

“Fuck,” Janus spat. “Fuck. Fine. Give me a minute to think. Not that I even know if we have a minute because,” he gestured once again to the room.

“Okay,” Janus said. “The room with the source of the time distortion is separated from us by a swirling pool of dark nothingness and there is no way to get to it. But, the only way we’re going to stop the distortion from ripping apart time and killing us as well as probably a bunch of other people is to get to it. That is an impossible situation. There is no solution. That door is closed to us. What other ways are there to look at it?” He looked at the visual representation of the rooms. One of them suddenly went spinning out and his eyes tracked it. We need to be in the same place as the source,” Janus said. “That is fact, but we don’t have to get to it.”

“Um, what do you mean?” Remus asked. Pat shushed him.

“If you want thing A and thing B to be in the same place, there’s more than one way to do it. If you can’t move thing A to thing B, you might be able to move thing B to thing A. Pat, you have a working time device. We can’t travel with it because that would kill us, but if we can make it do a stutter warp, it could draw the time distortion to it.”

“You…” Remus said. “Want to create another time distortion in hopes that the original time distortion will be pulled into this room?”

“Yes.”

“Well, sounds good to me!” Remus said.

He maybe had expected Pat to argue, but he didn’t. Instead, he moved his hand to his wrist. There had been nothing there before, but when he touched down on his wrist with two fingers, there was suddenly a metal bound around it that Janus immediately recognized from the times he’d seen Pat’s timepiece before. How was it made invisible? He shook the thought off as Pat offered it up wordlessly. Janus took it and Pat leaned over his shoulder to look.

Despite the fact that the device looked nothing like his own, the interface was surprisingly convenient. “I assume you have safety setting to prevent a stutter warp,” Janus said. “How do I turn those off?”

Patton pointed at a gear icon on the screen. “You put it under your normal settings?” he asked.

“I have to put in my password or use my fingerprint!” Pat defended.

“It doesn’t matter right now.” He navigated through the settings. He was interested to see that there were many different saved default security settings, but he didn’t get much of a chance to read what all they did. He just turned them all off.” It popped up with a message to put in the password and Pat pressed his fingertip to it. Another message popped up warning them that turning off these settings could cause damage to the machinery, the person using it, and time itself. Janus pushed “okay.” A message popped up that asked “Continue” and Janus pressed “yes.” One last message popped up that said “Security functions disabled.” Janus pressed “okay.”

“Anything else I’d need to disable?”

“Nope,” Pat confirmed.

He navigated back to the main screen and then bought up the manual travel input screen. Yet another message warning him not to do this flashed and Janus once again ignored it. He copied the space time coordinates that the device said they were currently at and put it in the ‘travel to’ location. “Well,” he said. “Here it goes. Let it be known that if I die, it’s my own fault for allowing Remus into a church.”

“Really?” Remus said. “That’s what you’re choosing to be your last words?”

Janus just raised an eyebrow.

“Love you too Janus.”

Janus nodded and hovered his finger over the travel button. He quickly mashed his finger to the button 22 times.”

The device warmed in his hand enough that he almost dropped it. Time literally froze for a few breaths as whatever Deity that may or may not exist processed their stupidity.

Janus was not a scientist or technician, but he had a good idea of how badly they were fucking up right now. The timepiece was attempting to travel over and over again to the exact same place and time. This basically punched a small hole through time, that if left unfixed would grow and disrupt space time all around them. As it was, their current position, all gathered around it and staring at it while one of them had it literally in their hand, was perilous.

There was a rumble under their feet and the world tilted on it’s axis. The all went tumbling down in a pile of limbs to new floor of the room which had once been a wall.

Of course, this change of gravity caused the water that had been building up in the staircase to dump on top of them.

Janus would have cursed, but he was too busy being under the water. He maneuvered himself away from the other two flailing bodies and managed to shove his feet against the wall turned floor. His head popped above the water in time to see the ceiling, or well, it would be the opposite wall, rip in two and the other walls/floor/ceiling start to fold in.

“Give me a boost!” Pat called over the noise of water rushing and walls crunching.

“Give you a boost where?” Janus asked.

“Up!” Janus wasn’t sure if ‘up’ really existed right now, but he still nodded. The water was a few inches over his head, so he held his breath and interlaced his hands so Pat could put his foot in it. He was shoved down into the water, but it gave Pat enough leverage to shoot up out of the water. When Janus resurfaced, he saw that the man had grabbed ahold of the crumbling wall and was pulling himself up into what for all appearances seemed to be absolutely nothing.

It took a moment, but then Janus blinked, and he was suddenly in a new room entirely or perhaps it was the same room. He honestly didn’t know at this point. Remus was next to him. He couldn’t recall if he’d been there before the shift or not, but they were both treading water. Pat crashed into the water next to them. Janus’s wrist buzzed as his timepiece came back online. “Got it!” Pat declared when he resurfaced, holding a device up. It looked almost the same as the device they’d found in France, but this one was definitely different if it was able to cause that much chaos that quickly.

Janus looked around and pointed at what appeared to be a set of stairs. The three of them swam over and pulled themselves out of the water.

“Where are we?” Pat asked.

“Looks like a basement,” Remus replied. “A flooded basement.”

Janus pulled up his timepiece and pushed some buttons to stabilize Pat’s timepiece. It slowly stopped vibrating and cooled. “Here,” he said, handing it over to him. “I suggest you put the safeties back on now.”

Pat nodded and took it.

“We’re still in Cuba,” Remus informed them, looking at his own timepiece. “Same church too, but in the basement and… two and a half centuries later.”

“Remy is going to be pissed,” Janus said.

Remus shrugged. “He’s always pissed… at least at me.”

“Well,” said Pat, slipping his timepiece back onto his wrist. “Thanks for being willing to pool our resources.”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Stop.”

“Ah, mi sirenito-”

“I hate you.”

“-never.” He disappeared with a pop which was when Janus realized, he’d never handed over device that had caused the first time distortion.

“…You bastard!” he yelled at thin air as though the man could hear him.

“Well,” said Remus, “that mission went swimmingly.” Janus reached over and shoved him back into the water.

Chapter 21

“We should probably get out of here,” Janus said, very much not helping Remus out of the water. Remus pulled himself back up onto the staircase and shook like a dog. Janus crinkled his nose as water droplets hit him. They didn’t smell salty anymore, he noted. In fact, there was a broken pipe spewing out water on the other side of the room.

Janus and Remus cautiously snuck out of the church, not wanting to be seen and blamed for the flooded basement. They came out on a city street that was much different than the one they’d entered from.

They walked down the street a bit, Janus’s eyes scanning the buildings. His eyes caught on a sign and he tugged Remus towards it.

They entered the small paladare and the person delivering food to one of the tables blinked at them both. Right. They were in clothing from the 1700s and were soaking wet. He met eyes with the woman, challenging her to say something. She did not.

They found a seat at one of the tables.

“Ah…” the worker said, approaching them. “English?”

“Ron,” Janus said, “por favor.”

Remus turned and started ordering the both of them food in Spanish. Janus didn’t pay attention to what he did.

After his second shot of rum, Janus sighed and brought up his timepiece to ping the TPI. The reaction was almost instantaneous from their perspective. Remy all but kicked down the restaurant’s door and walked over to them. “How the fuck?”

“Ah, Remy,” Janus said calmly. “Have a seat. We’re waiting on our food.”

He did, but probably only because people were looking at them. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s been a long day,” Janus answered, “and I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, it certainly looks like you’re interested in the food,” Remy said, eyeing the empty shot glasses.

“Let’s just say, I’m glad Cuba started letting paladares legally serve liquor a few years ago.”

It’s clear that Remy wanted to ask them what had happened, but he also was cautious enough not to make a scene here and Janus wasn’t planning on getting up until he’d at least gotten his food. “Why are you soaked, by the way?”

“Turns out the ocean isn’t as far away as we thought,” Janus said.

“Also, a church basement is flooded,” Remus said.

“Fantastic,” Remy replied.

They sat there mostly in tense silence until their food came, and then Remus and Janus ate. Remy slapped down some pesos once they were done and then proceeded to all but physically drag them out of the restaurant.

They were led to an alley way and then through an old almost hidden door. Remy immediately rounded on them. “What the hell happened?” Remy asked.

“The time distortion caused level 5 time fractures in its vicinity, we almost drowned three times, and the worst person in the universe fucked me over again.”

“To be fair,” Remus said. “He did save our lives before that.”

“I saved our lives first,” Janus said. “I don’t have to be fair.”

“Oh, yeah, Mr. Curl Up In A Ball And Perish. I’m sure we would have been fine without him.”

“Anyway,” Janus said to Remy. “If you want your lump of flesh, I suggest you take it now, because Khalid is going to murder me, and then fire me, and then rehire me so she can put me on desk duty and make me do paperwork until the end of time.”

#not writing #study break stories

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a-hundred-jewels · 3 years

Text

crime against cupcakes - ch1(of 2): The Precipice Of Sanity On Whence We Teetered

Ao3 Chapter 2

Summary: Youtuber CupKeiko uploads a new video early in the morning.

Words: 676

Tags: Batty Penderwick/Keiko Trice, Keiko Trice, Batty Penderwick, Original Ferret Character, Baking, Food, YouTube, Keiko Trice is a Food Youtuber, Jolene the Ferret, Batty Has A Ferret, they're in college, HAROLD THEY'RE LESBIANS, Lesbian Keiko Trice, Pansexual Batty Penderwick, look at me inventing all these new tags, This is very short

notes and fic under the cut

My first ever youtuber fic! Hope it holds up! Part two should be out sometime this month.

This is dedicated to Charli! Happy late birthday :) You're the most wonderous baker I know and one of my favourite people on the planet! Much love <3

Disclaimer: Not my characters. Even if Jeanne refused to acknowledge Keiko Trice as the Baby Gay she is. Sigh. It's fine. I'm fine.

Enjoy! And comment! Please!

It’s three in the morning and Keiko is filming a video in her kitchen. She sits on her counter, wearing a red “Fluent in Giada” t-shirt, and her hair is in a messy ponytail.

“So I should definitely not be up right now.” Keiko laughs. She can already tell this is going to be a long one. “But, I can’t sleep so I’m going to bake. And film. Maybe this is a bad idea.” She laughs again. “But anyway. Let’s fuck up some internet recipes.”

Keiko pulls out her phone. It had a pink case covered in different colored polka dots that she’d painted on herself. Her fingers wrap around the light blue pop socket with a mini lesbian flag sticker while she looks through recipes. “I’m feeling boring right now, so I think I’ll do cupcakes. Vanilla, so I can add lots of stuff.” Keiko pushes the pop socket back in and props her phone up between the counter and the wall.

“Okay, I’m all out of eggs, which means we’re using chia seeds. Y’all are lucky I’m weird and keep gelatinous chia seeds in my fridge at all times, because it’s not a quick process to get these twits to turn into gloop like you want.” Keiko pulls a mason jar out of the fridge and eyes the greyish substance inside it. “Yeah, this stuff should function.”

For the next few minutes, Keiko grabs ingredients. “For some reason, I only have a half cup of flour, which is honestly concerning, but we’re gonna make up the difference with pulverized cornflakes.”

The camera zooms in on her while she shakes cornflakes into the blender, focusing on her concentrated frown and the slight pout she gives when some of the cereal misses the container. Finally, Keiko turns the blender on, telling a story from her freshman year of college, when she got high and ate nearly an entire bag of flour. Some of the story is made unintelligible by the noise of cornflakes being crushed, but, as Keko says while staring into the abyss of cornflake dust, she’ll figure out what exactly she said during those times, and put it in the captions later.

As Keiko mixes up the batter, she narrates her progress. “The chia seeds are making some weird lumps with the cornflakes but that’s probably temporary,” she says while scooping up a bit of the batter to see how it’s going. “Maybe I’ll add some fruit in a bit,” she muses when she forgets to look where she’s going and bumps into a bag of apples mysteriously left on the floor. “Fuck, I think I forgot sugar,” comes when she sticks her finger into the bowl and licks it.

In the end, Keiko decides to replace sugar with molasses, which, she says, makes the batter weirdly thick, and warrants “the orange juice cure.”

“Honestly, we should all be surprised I’m still alive, considering my unique approach to baking,” Keiko says, while eyeballing the orange juice addition. She snaps a photo of the strange pools it makes on top of the batter, planning to show it in the video when she edits. “Time for some arm muscles,” she says, while mixing it in.

Once the batter is sufficiently runny (she adds some milk to keep the orange juice from making it too watery), Keiko crushes in some more cornflakes with her hands. “You’ve gotta keep a theme,” she advises the camera.

She says the same thing when adding cornflakes to the chocolate buttercream frosting she makes while the cupcakes are baking.

“And now, the moment of truth.” Keiko looks at the tray of nicely browned, if slightly lumpy cupcakes once they’re out of the oven and slathers the frosting onto the one that cools fastest. She takes a bite, makes a face, and sets it back down on the counter.

The video ends with Keiko rummaging through the fridge as the sun starts to rise outside the tiny window above her sink. She mutters, almost inaudibly, “This is going to need so much ketchup.”

the article where I found the tshirt that keiko is wearing in this

Initially I was going to try my hand at baking the atrocity Keiko comes up with in this and post a recipe, but Life Yeeted The Time Away From Me, so that's not happening atm. If I get around to it, and do perform the necessary procedure, then I'll be sure to add a recipe to these closing notes, just in case anyone else feels like poking God with a screwdriver.

#i wrote an extremely short fic about keiko as a youtuber #keiko trice #the penderwicks #penderwicks #batty penderwick #this is not very good but hey! its fun!#fictober #cameron writes

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kyurilin · 3 years

Note

The simple and soft asks, ANSWER THEM ALL!

Omfg Gabby you waited until I had forgotten you did stuff like this and then struck out of the blue with a vengeance BUT FOR YOU I WILL GLADLY ANSWER THEM ALL

1. What did you dream about last night?

It was either some kind of stress related dream or family related dream but I can't actually remember I just remember yeeting myself out of bed mid dream because I woke up to a leg cramp so

2. What is your favorite color?

Red, like my car

3. Do you feel more connected to the moon or the sun?

The moon, really. The sun's too bright and the moon is just like friends with the stars so I vibe with that

4. Have you ever wished on a shooting star?

Oh absolutely, anytime I see one I make a wish. That's my favorite thing about shooting stars, they just seem magical and capable of wish giving.

5. Name a movie that makes you genuinely laugh.

The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie from 2004, hands down. The Simpsons Movie is a close second. But the SpongeBob one is just so near and dear to my heart for many reasons and it never fails to make me crack up.

6. When’s the last time you felt like you were floating?

That span of a few weeks where I was getting new comments for my Present Mic story pretty much every day, since that's the most attention anything I've ever written has gotten at once. I'm still a little bit nervous most times to share anything I've written but fuck if that wasn't worth it and the occasional comments I still get for it make me ascend every time.

7. Already answered this one so I'll skip it

8. Do you believe in guardian angels?

Oh absolutely, somebody better be out there watching my dumb ass so I don't do something stupid and get yeeted off this mortal coil

9. What’s a smell that reminds you of home?

The ocean, since our house is partially beach themed and because the ocean always makes me feel like home.

10. What is something (or someone) you’re in love with?

Oh I'm definitely in love with writing, it's the main thing in my life that I enjoy doing continuously so I very much love it

11. Describe the memory of the last time you felt true happiness.

Today when I found a kid wearing a Kirby shirt that I didn't have while at my job lmao. Working in school photos is interesting for a lot of things and video game shirts are pretty common but seeing a Kirby shirt is rare as fuck and I was stupidly happy to see one in the wild

12. Name a song that makes you feel ethereal.

I just found this artist recently and it's aesthetic as fuck

13. What’s your ideal summer aesthetic?

Being inside with the AC. Summer is the worst cause it's too hot and too bright

14. Talk about one of your most cherished childhood memories.

When I was 6/7 I was fucking obsessed with Britney Spears, to the point that one if the things I remember reading repetitively was some special edition magazine about her life because she was the Icon of that time. In 2000 when I was actually 7 my dad took me to see the Oops I Did It Again Tour because of course, he was a big concert person and knew it would make me happy. So there I am, this teeny tiny little seven year old with casts on my legs because they were trying to correct this walking problem I had, being held up by my dad to see this pop singer that I would not shut up about who I idolized. We left in the middle of the concert because I got tired but I wouldn't trade what little memories I have of that for the world.

15. Talk about something exciting or good that happened to you this year.

One of my close college friends I hadn't seen in about seven years started working at my job and getting to see her again has been a treat!

16. Where do you feel most at home?

The beach since we've moved so much in the last seven years that the beach is just more familiar

17. What is something you own that is important to you? What makes it so important?

I have a lot of answers for this, that are all kind of self explanatory. I have some ponchos and a cape that my great aunt Iris crocheted, a homemade doll my great aunt Norma had, some costume jewelry from my grandma, and a fifty cent coin from my grandpa. All of these people have passed away, and these things all make me feel close to them. I miss them a lot.

18. Do you believe dreams have meanings or are they completely random?

Honestly considering how many end of the world dreams I have I really hope they don't have meaning because I'd really like the world to end after I'm gone

19. Do you believe in love at first sight?

Not particularly no, I mean for others yeah but I don't think I could ever look at a person first time and be like MY LOVE

20. Answered this one already

21. Do you believe in mermaids?

Absolutely I do mermaids would be cool as hell

22. What do you like most about nature?

The animals, like seeing any animal just chilling out in the wild doing their thing is the best

23. What’s your zodiac sign? Do you think you fit the general characteristics of that sign?

I'm Capricorn and all I remember about it is that we're supposed to be stubborn and I absolutely fit that so I got that going for me

24. Are you more of a hopeless romantic or realist?

I guess realist? I'm not really sure tbh

25. Already answered this one

26. Do you usually remember your dreams?

Usually I do yeah, and I have some weird ass dreams that just stick with me

27. Have you ever written a love letter?

I have yeah if I'm remembering correctly lmao, that was ages ago though

28. Name a book you don’t mind reading over and over.

Oh like literally all of my favorites, but if I had to pick one i'd say the hunger games because it's something I've already reread it so many times

29. Do you collect anything? And what are some hobbies you have?

Well I have my collection of Cars diecasts, then I also collect Kirby games and Kirby figures, and then seashells. My main hobby is writing which is like wildly obvious cause I never shut up about it.

30. What do you do to feel at peace?

Watch videos of people exploring abandoned places cause it's fascinating as fuck

Gabby thanks once again for having me answer every single question in an ask game it made me laugh to see you pulling me that again lmao

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cillianmurphy · 4 years

Note

hi how did you make the purple gif in that set? its pretty and the original scene isnt that bright and colourful so how did you do that?

hi ty! tldr is I either use photo filter or layer with solid color / gradient on it and heavily edit blending options! if u have more questions dm / ask here or at thorsodinson bc thats my resource sb!

the set in question is here and this is the gif anon means:

So after cropping, resizing and sharpening this was the gif (I’m using jpegs bc im too lazy to add a gif for every step)

then I added a curves layer with the white eyedropper tool and i think I literally just clicked on the purple sky and set the opacity of this layer to 30%:

then I added another curves layer with black eyedropper and clicked on one of the darker parts. I’m not adding an image but this made it a tad bit darker, hardly noticeable except for keen eyes so I don’t feel the need to put an image here of that step.

Then I added saturation layer, with saturation set at +40 in the adjustment panel. Then it looked like this:

more colourful right? Now I wanted the purples to really pop. This is why I added an empty layer, used a brush to paint on it with 70% opacity of the brush. I forgot the exact colour but considering how much I love #660066 it may have been that one.

After painting on that layer, I had to blend nicely. Without adjusting the blending options of the layer, my gif would look like this:

the non painted parts were just stuff I forgot, I brushed over pretty quickly lol. So after putting the blending at colour dodge and opacity at 85%, it looked like this:

sweet right? Ok then I just added a selective colour layer with blacks and then I moved the black slider up to +5. I’m not adding a pic but it just darkened the thing a bit and this was so unnecessary pixels on the darker parts would not be that visible! I hope this helps :)

#itsphotoshop #completeresources #my tutorial #gif tutorial #anon

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tsohl · 3 years

Text

A bit of fun...

An Interview from village magazine. 2005

A model life

Monaghan-born Caitriona Balfe was recruited shaking a charity box outside a Dublin shopping centre. Now she is Ireland's most successful international model. Based in New York and the darling of some of the world's top designers, she talks to Ailbhe Jordan

It’s just after five on a Tuesday evening in Soho. Streams of harassed-looking people scurry in both directions along Spring Street, seeking escape from the mayhem of midweek Manhattan in the form of the nearest taxi or subway station.

Nobody but me seems to notice a tall, thin young woman leaning against the wall of a grey building. We have never met in person and a curtain of long, tousled brown hair obscures her face as she flicks through a notebook, but it’s definitely her.

Since Derek Daniels of Assets Modelling agency spotted her six years ago collecting money for charity outside the Swan Shopping Centre in Rathmines, Caitriona Balfe has quietly strutted her way to the upper echelons of the fashion industry.

Nineteen years old and intent on becoming an actress at the time, Balfe modelled part-time in Dublin for a year until a visiting scout from Ford Modelling agency asked her to work for them in Paris. She decided to take a year out from her drama course at the Dublin Institute of Technology to pursue the opportunity.

In her six years as a model, Balfe has strutted down the catwalk for every big name from Gucci to Marc Jacobs. Vogue are big fans too; the fashion bible has put her on the cover of its US, French, German, Spanish and Italian editions.

After Paris, Balfe moved to Milan, where she became the darling of Dolce & Gabanna, who still hire her to work exclusively at their spring and autumn shows. Three years ago, she moved to New York to work for US based Elite Modelling agency. One of her first castings was for Cuban-American designer Narciso Rodriguez, who was so impressed, he made her his muse.

Balfe is, without a doubt, the most successful international model Ireland has produced.

On this evening she looks up and smiles, revealing a heart-shaped face, with sharp, pixie-like features and bright blue eyes. Wearing not a scrap of makeup, she looks younger than her 26 years. Her complexion is pale, clear and spattered with light brown freckles.

She is around 5ft 10”, but seems smaller because of her narrow, thin frame. Dressed in a loose, taupe-colored top, skinny blue jeans that are not as tight as they should be and red flats, she personifies that casual glamour look to which all the downtown hipsters aspire.

She suggests we go to Balthazar, a French Bistro beloved of New York models and celebrities.

As we walk, she assumes a posture so elegant and so straight it looks as though she is leaning backwards slightly.

Balfe’s family comes from Tyvadet, a small town in Co Monaghan. Her accent is neutral from years of living abroad, but every now and then, the Monaghan dialect peeps through – when she says “cool”, for instance, which she says a lot.

Weekend reservations at Balthazar are nearly impossible to make if one is not famous and has not booked at least a couple of weeks in advance.

“Go on ahead,” she says, holding the door open. The hostess directs us to a small table at the window. Balfe glides into her booth without pushing the table out first. “I’m going to have some cake,” she says, lowering her voice.“I got my wisdom teeth out on Friday, so I’ve basically been eating soup all weekend,” she adds quickly, touching her jaws with both hands.

“I was supposed to go to LA today, but I cancelled that because my face was still a bit swollen.”

Conversations between any two people renting in New York City inevitably turn to apartments and – more importantly – locations. Balfe lives in Greenpoint, a trendy Polish neighbourhood in Brooklyn. “I was about three years in the city but I love Brooklyn,” she says.

“It’s just really cute. It’s kind of European, like most of the streets are all mom and pop stores, there’s not one McDonalds. They’ve got all cute little vegetable stores, there’s a meat market and a fish market.”

She pauses to take a sip of coffee.

“We’ve got the ground floor of a building. Its got like a back garden and a basement, which is really cool. My boyfriend has his studio in the basement.”

The boyfriend she refers to is Dave Milone, a guitarist with the band Radio4, who are releasing a new album in New York this week.

“I’ve been with him for three years, he’s from New Jersey,” she says rolling her eyes as New Yorkers often do at the mention of their neighbouring and, in their opinion, less cosmopolitan state.

“It’s a bit of a cliché, I know, a model and a rocker. It’s good though.”

At 26, Balfe has said she considers herself to be one of the “grannies” of the modeling industry.

“Of my five really close friends whom I started with, there’s only one whose still modeling,” she says.

“The rest have gone off to college or have real jobs. I still feel like I’m at college,” she says, stirring her coffee and putting the spoon down on the saucer with a loud clink.

“When I see some of these younger girls who are starting at 17 or so, it’s like being at school, you know. You’ve a bunch of girls who are like, teenagers and of course everyone’s like: ‘is she doing better than me?’ and all that. I was a little bit older when I started, I was 19 and I never really experienced that. I mean, you’re always going to come across a bitch but there’s nothing you can really do about that. I’m getting older now and it does feel weird when you come across someone who tries to intimidate you in that really high school way. It’s like: ‘why am I feeling insecure because of this?’ And it’s funny, because it’s all based on weight, it’s like: ‘you put on a few pounds,’ or something stupid.”

At this point the desserts arrive.

“I feel like the girls are getting very skinny again,” she says, following the movement of the plate with her eyes as the waitress places it in front of her.

“When I started it was like, a lot of the Brazilian girls were around, it was all about being voluptuous and I think in the last couple of seasons there’s been a lot of really, really skinny girls again. I mean, you can tell when somebody doesn’t eat, you can tell by the big rings under their eyes or when they’re kind of quiet, they’re whole personality is kind of...” she slouches down and drops her tongue out in a display of lifelessness.

She picks up her spoon and digs it into the cake, then turns the plate around and spears the scoop of vanilla ice-cream that is perched on top.

“I’ve always been thin, you know?” she says, while her mouth is full.

“My aunts and uncles will be like, ‘oh do you eat?’ but I’ve always been lucky that I can. I eat more than Dave. I go through very, very sporadic, once-in-a-blue-moon fits of going running and stuff, but I’m so lazy. When shows are coming up I just do some exercises at home and maybe not have so much chocolate cake the week before. A few more salads, that kind of thing.”

Next week, Balfe expects to be working in LA for a couple of days, from where she will fly to Miami for a photo shoot, before returning to New York on Sunday to do a shoot for Spanish Vogue.

“It sounds glamorous, it’s not though, it really isn’t,” she says, holding another spoonful of cake up to her lips.

“I am moving towards retirement now – from this,” she continues. “Every year I’m asked and I’m like, ‘oh another year or two.’ But, if I’m still doing this at the end of the next two years, somebody shoot me, please. I mean, it’s really good and it allows me to live a good life. I’m building a house in Monaghan, I can do stuff like that. I can set myself up for the future and stuff. But being an actress was the thing that I always wanted to do. Before I ever started modelling.”

Balfe has not yet found her perfect role, but played a convincing seductress in 2002 when she modelled for lingerie company Victoria’s Secret during their catwalk show, an annual TV spectacle that that has propelled models like Gisele Bundchen and Heidi Klum to international fame.

“Oh God, my poor Da,” she groans, cradling her head in her hands.

“I think it was the Sun or the Mirror back home had this headline: ‘Garda’s daughter goes und-y-cover.’ I wondered what I was doing in there, this pasty little Irish girl amongst all these Brazilian goddesses. I’d gotten a spray tan and they put full body make-up on me but I was 10 times whiter than anyone there. It took very little clothes and quite a lot of champagne to get through that one.”

She shakes her head, smiling at the memory. “Its funny you know? Normally when I’m out, I don’t really dress up. It’s amazing how people will absolutely not even notice you until they hear the word ‘model,’ and then they’re like: ‘Oh.’ And I’m like: ‘what?’ Two seconds ago, I was nothing, you know?”

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poptod · 4 years

Text

What Plagues My Thoughts (Kenny x Reader)

Description: In the span of a year you went from nobody to arguably one of the most well known kids at your school, but there’s one kid that won’t pay attention to you, and his attention is the only one that matters.

Notes: back at it again with my boy Kenny. again this is a ‘gender neutral’ fic with HEAVILY implied male/mlm reader. Quick warning, I do write ‘fag’ in this. I think that, as a bisexual man, it’s probably okay.

No AO3 link this time. A tumblr special I guess lol. anyway i’m sorry, this one is really not great, wrote it while high.

Words before editing: 6.827k

Words after editing: 6.872k (thought this was funny)

You’ve lived a very simple life - a very common, orthodox, and casually stereotypical life. In fact, you were so barren of any type of hobby or distinction from others that you had hardly any friends, up until you were picked random by a group of teenagers a year older than you.

Looking bedraggled and dressed in dark, grunge-esque clothes, they asked you to join their band, Acid Tears, or Hopeless Thought. They hadn’t decided on a name.

“I don’t play any instruments,” you told them curtly, in your usual soft and polite tone. They still pushed for you to join them, and despite your resistance, you reluctantly did. A year later and you were playing bass in a very punk rock band while not being at all punk rock yourself. In that time you grew into yourself - became a real person, achieved a sense of who you were and what your morals were, as well as several hobbies you enjoyed. Even so you were quiet, and the band didn’t exactly boost your popularity considering they didn’t play massive venues, and the venues they did play, you stayed at the back of the stage.

Your drummer was a nice fellow, tall, with red hair and pale skin - his name was Jakob, and he was fine with sharing the back space of the stage with you. ‘It gives the best seat in the show,’ he always said, and in many ways he was right. There were only two other people in the band, both guitarists and both singers, and they were certainly the most energetic. Jane was the exact opposite of her name, and the opposite of the identity her parents gave her. Naturally, she was a blonde, with blue eyes - typically pretty, with Christian parents who were very orthodox. She changed herself into something else over her years in high school, till she had electrifying blue hair, several tattoos, and usually wore colored contacts instead of her prescribed glasses. Her main job was singing and rhythm guitar, though she usually copied John Lennon’s response when asked what she did. Frankie played guitar, sung backup vocals, had short, black hair, and was the object of many peoples’ affections.

After winter break, you scored big - something had changed, either in your band or in the hearts of your listeners, because suddenly more people were showing up. Ticket prices began to go up, till videos of your original music started popping up online. This continued, up until the point where getting a Grammy award wasn’t something all too ridiculous a thought; the thought of which alone terrified you. The biggest jump of this popularity occurred over spring break, so, your band, officially titled Radio Waste, decided to get together to decide what to do if people recognized you.

Frankie had very little trouble with the popularity, always being the most crass and excitable. Jane expressed her own excitement in the situation, while you and Jakob made a pact on how to deal with panic attacks, should they arrive.

The four of you entered your school at once, you dressed in the most normal clothes you could find, and the other three dressed in their usual, full on punk outfits. Students gawked, whispering amongst themselves, and once one asked to get a picture with you, it started. Jane agreed, then came the uproar of ‘if he can have a photo, why can’t we?’

All in all, very horrid. You managed to escape by crawling on your hands and knees, heading to the cafeteria to wait out the crowd. Sitting alone you kept your hand in your hands, glancing up every now and then, till you spotted someone you’d nearly forgotten about, sitting in the corner with his best friend: Kenny.

He’d never noticed you before. Not that he was more popular than you, no - he was on the same level of forgotten nerd that you were, though he actually had interests. Since the sixth grade you’d had a massive, horrible crush on him that you’d done everything in your effort to hide, which wasn’t actually that hard, considering he never spoke to you. How a crush persists that long is beyond you, and beyond Jakob (once you tell him about it an hour later), but it’s there, and it disrupts all your thoughts.

To your luck, he isn’t in any of your classes, which are now heavily disrupted by your presence. Ms. Denvers pulls you out of the classroom halfway through the period and asks what exactly happened to attract all this attention -

“- it’s not like people were like this before the break,” she says, and though it’s a little insulting, her tone indicates she means the best for you.

“I joined an emo band and it got kind of popular,” you mumble, trying to hide behind your barely-there bangs. A recent haircut made sure your eyes were visible in the most uncomfortable way possible.

“I see. Is there anything I can do that might help alleviate this problem?”

“I don’t think so. I’ll do my best to ignore it,” you say, and she smiles, pats your shoulder, and leads you back into the classroom. Free seating is given up pretty quickly, and the people who don’t know who you are are seated all around you so as to avoid any serious collision.

It’s like a miracle has struck you and the school - everyone’s so nice to you when lunch comes around, warming up to you and trying to gain your favor. Some are a bit more subtle, just asking for photos, or saying hi. You appreciate that a bit more, it’s an honest approach you can respect. Besides your bandmates you don’t have many friends, if any at all, so you sit with them, and stare at the back of Kenny’s head through the growing crowd.

Someone taps your shoulder, pulling you from your trance, and she asks for a photo with you.

“Me?” You ask, mostly because everyone had ignored you in favor of your more eccentric friends during the lunch period.

“Yeah! You’re, like, my favorite member,” she explains bashfully, and a little dumbstruck you agree, helping her hold the phone steady for a selfie. For the rest of the period, you stare at Kenny when you can, who doesn’t so much as flick a hand in your direction.

You come to the (very wrong) conclusion over the course of the next couple weeks that Kenny doesn’t like guys. That’s fair, you tell yourself, but it still hurts a lot, just as much as if a girl wasn’t interested in your gender. For the most part you’ve got your own sexuality figured out, and you’re very loose with it considering how anxious you usually are with other subjects. Your conclusion doesn’t stop you from dreaming about him, and it doesn’t stop your staring either.

It’s junior year, you think to yourself, still staring at the back of his head through the crowd around you and your band, which still hasn’t worn off. There’s still time, you think, even if there really isn’t that much left, especially contrasted with what you started with.

“So you’ve been doing this since sixth grade?” Jakob asks, eating his home-brought lunch of spaghetti.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. I guess so. Never got the courage t’ really do anything about it I guess,” you mumble distantly, forking at the food on your plate.

“You should go online sometime, see the type of stuff people post about you,” he informs with a chuckle, shaking his head.

“What do you mean?”

“(Y/N), you’re really popular. I mean, not as popular as Jane, cause she’s the lead singer n’ all that, but people really like you. Apparently, bassists are pretty hot,” Frankie informs you, delighted as she shoves her own food in her mouth, also from Jakob’s home - the two of them have been friends since they were babies, and they routinely share their home food, something you didn’t really understand.

“I don’t know. I don’t think he’s into that,” you sigh, forlorn and dreamy as your gaze stays direct on Kenny and his friend who you’re pretty sure is named Jerry.

“Couldn’t hurt to say hi anyway, become friends? Ever thought of that?” Jane adds sarcastically, never one for drawn-out romance.

You can’t think of a reply, but you know she’s right. They all are. At some point you need to say hello to him, say something, even if you don’t tell him your true feelings. Fears gnaw at the back of your mind constantly, whispering their honey words and promising his hatred with such a sweet voice you can’t help but believe. Again you sigh, and your world seems utterly, irrevocably small.

Even with school going on, Radio Waste finds time to perform at smaller gigs, and Jakob makes the mistake of advertising your evening at a local club. It leads to a massive crowd trying to file its’ way in, pushing and shoving, even though you’re sure most of the people don’t even like your music. A lot of girls (and some boys) keep to your side of the stage, which is Jakob’s as well technically, and they cheer incessantly for you, till you have to turn around to avoid your face blushing bright red.

Before your popularity you weren’t ever bullied. Maybe the passing comment about being gay or a pussy, but you weren’t important or interesting enough to be a popular outlet for bullies. Still, many of the older guys who had or definitely would have called you a fag were there, and they’re cheering, their cameras and phones held up to record your music.

Jane comes up to you and Jakob during a quick interlude, and mutters to the both of you, “posers. Bunch of posers.”

“Clout chasers,” Jakob helpfully adds, and Jane agrees with a quick nod and swig from her water bottle.

The event continues normally, and you scan the crowd trying to find any familiar face, even if you didn’t like them. It’s not until the very end of the night that you see Kenny, shocking you from movement as he exits the crowded club, Jerry-or-whatever-his-name-is at his side. Until Jane closes your mouth you don’t even realize it’s open and, blushing profusely, you head offstage with your friends.

During the weekend you congregate at Jakob’s house. It’s more of a ‘settle’, when it comes to the location - Jane has a practical mansion with a pool and hot tub, but her parents are terribly conservative to the point that even you’re a suspicion since you aren’t dressed like them. Frankie, on the other hand, has incredibly nice parents who deal with pretty much anything, but their house isn’t the greatest. Your own house isn’t in the picture - your parents aren’t even aware of your band involvement, and you’d rather keep it that way.

Over a late breakfast (the group arrived at 8 AM, bright and early, and it’d taken you several hours to organize breakfast) you tell them what you’d seen that night, and explained you were too tired to tell them the whole story the previous night.

“Well, that’s good, right? He knows who you are, that’s a start,” Jakob says, leaning over his cereal to make more direct eye contact with you, a habit of his you dislike greatly. Only then, contemplating his words, do you realize how thankful you are for your friends, who hadn’t even questioned you when you said you had a crush on Kenny. No judgement from any angle - no gay jokes, no popularity jokes, and no jokes about you being a miserable romantic.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you say, feeling rather dumbstruck.

“You always guess. You gotta take what’s yours!” Frankie exclaims, having already had two cups of coffee and feeling her high pretty hard. You chuckle, but it sounds heartless.

“I think… I need a motivation to talk to him. Like, you guys gotta say ‘talk to him or else we’re gonna’…” you trail off there, hoping for some suggestions.

“We’re gonna kick you out of the band,” Jane says, gaining gasps from both you and Jakob.

“Not realistic enough, we could never lose our little baby bassist,” Frankie laughs, ruffling your hair. You mumble your displeasure, waving her hands away and straightening your hair out.

“What about… you have to talk to him or else we’ll expose you as gay to the presses,” Jakob says, and he’s instantly met by the slaps of you, Jane, and Frankie.

“Or we could do the realistic action: you talk to him or we will,” Frankie says, sounding incredibly threatening, a wicked smile coming across her face. You pale - that’s a realistic and very dangerous threat. You didn’t trust yourself all that much, but you certainly didn’t trust Frankie when it came to someone as… skittish? is that the right word? as Kenny.

“Okay! Got it, I’ll talk to him Monday,” you breathe out in a rush, your voice strained as you stare wide eyed at your own breakfast. “Will do.”

Your friends laugh in good nature, patting you on the back and congratulating you on ‘building a spine on fear’. Throughout the rest of the weekend, your deal doesn’t feel so bad - it can’t be that hard, right? Come Monday, you’re feeling sick enough to stay home, and your mother is legitimately worried for your health when you wake up swaying, and your face lands on the plate she sets out on you.

“I need to go t’ school today. I’ll be okay,” you insist, knowing that your absence would give your friends permission to approach Kenny.

Eventually, you make it - albeit a little late - and by lunch period you’re feeling even worse.

“You don’t look so good,” a boy next to you comments, his conversation with Jane interrupted by him noting your sick expression.

“Yeah,” Jakob agrees, his brow furrowing. “You sure you wanna do this?”

The boy has no idea what Jakob is talking about, and resumes his conversation with Jane, while Jakob assures you that ‘if you feel this bad, maybe you shouldn’t do it.’ You shake your head - if you don’t do it now, you’re going to brush off the future threats with your excuse of being sick. Which, you actually are sick, though you know it’s entirely psychosomatic.

Slowly you stand, getting your bearings when the world spins at the change. The crowd makes a small part, and you escape the groupies gathered at your table, trying not to stare at Kenny too much. Frankie noted it to be pretty unsettling, which you had no basis to disagree with.

Time stops, and your heart beats in time with every step you take (which you take very, very slowly) - or maybe it’s beating a hundred times a step. It’s hard to tell, what with the noise level and the other students and the fact that Jerry is now pointing at you, and Kenny’s turning his head and now they’re both looking at you - fuck, they’re looking at you - and you pray to any God that’ll listen that you don’t look creepy.

Swallowing, and trying to get a grasp on the concept of breathing, you make your way over, several students’ eyes watching you as you stand at the head of their small table. Jerry - or whatever his name is - is staring at you, eyes wide and mouth open as he tries to figure out if what’s happening is really happening.

He must be a fan or something, you think nervously to yourself, eyes darting from Kenny to Jerry.

it feels like so long has passed and you’ve said nothing, and you’re just standing there, but only a second of time has actually passed.

“Hi,” you finally get out, sounding surprisingly normal. “I’m.. I’m (Y/N).”

Oh. That went well - no slip ups, no wrong names. You smile to yourself, but the smile ends up on your face, and it’s a charming smile; friendly and warm, and to Kenny and Jerry, they think you’re completely calm, if not relaxed. Your mind blips when you realize you don’t have any excuse for introducing yourself - Jerry saves you.

“I - I’m Larry!” He says, and you internally grimace that you’re going to have to relearn his name, but outside you just shake his hand and sit next to him.

“I’m Kenny,” he says, his voice quieter than you expected, almost dream-like.

“It’s sort of crowded up there,” are the words that come out of your mouth, and you realize your tongue and lips are making decisions you didn’t get to okay. “I prefer the quiet, so I hope it’s alright if I sit with you?”

You look back and forth from Jer - Larry to Kenny, and they look at each other, then you, then agree profusely.

“Yes! Yeah, of course, anything you want,” Larry says, grinning far too cheerily for someone with an American school lunch in front of them.

“We, um,” Kenny shifts in his seat, leaning closer to you, “we saw you this weekend, you were really good.” You smile at him, readying a bashful thank you, before noticing Larry’s glare at him.

“He didn’t like you guys and didn’t wanna listen to your music, so I dragged him to your guys’ show, and now he likes you,” Larry says, and Kenny looks affronted as the truth comes out. But you just laugh, shaking your head.

“That’s alright. I know their songs aren’t for everyone,” you agree, considering you were much like that when you joined. It took a lot of compromises and ear plugs before you began to enjoy the music.

“So, do you, uh, write music? With them? It’s just that you said their songs, and y’know, if -“

“No, no… nothing publishable,” you interrupt him. “My songs aren’t really like theirs,” you admit, gauging Kenny’s reaction while simultaneously trying not to stare at him. He’s fucking gorgeous, shining like a setting sun, like a beauty so long unappreciated that he no longer knows how pretty he is. Considering what he wears and the fashion he carries himself in, he probably doesn’t.

“Not the same genre?” Larry asks.

“Actually, yeah. I uh… I have a hard time writing face paced songs, let’s just say that,” you chuckle, and with the conversation Larry carries, it feels more like an interview rather than the result of an intervention.

“I would love to see some of your songs on an album or two,” Kenny says, his lips in a soft pout as his brow knits together, resting his chin on his palm.

“Maybe in the future,” you mumble with a shy laugh, and you’ve suddenly taken Kenny’s world by storm, though you’d never know, and he wouldn’t ever remember exactly when it was he fell in love with you; but it was just then. A flip switched in both your minds - your dreams realized, his just found, and your thoughts and all your world is surrounded in a hazy golden glow, a loving shade of red emanating from the both of you so strongly that even Larry senses something is up.

It’s not till your fifth house party that semester that he gets to ask your friends what exactly is up.

Over the past couple months you’d gotten to know Kenny a lot better - his passions, hobbies, his personality, his morals, and several of his best stories, many with Larry. Even if he never loved you, you’d be happy with his friendship; being in his presence was a gift previously so rare that you’d forever cherish it. The house party isn’t much different. Kenny is reluctant to go, but you’d asked him, so he went regardless of his own fears. It took some negotiations with his parents, but considering you looked much like a normal teenager, they relented their own worries.

Keeping close to each other you navigated around, him waiting patiently in the corner when fame swept you up and required you play a song on the makeshift stage. The entire time you keep looking for him in the crowd, till you spot him in one of the hardest spots in the song. Nearly missing a note, you don’t even have to look back at your fingers to get back on the right track, your eyes still on Kenny, assuring him you haven’t forgotten him. He waves and smiles giddily at you, and you return a softer version of your own smile.

Eventually you drag yourself off the stage, drifting nearly obstruction-less through the crowd till you reach Kenny again. Talking about the performance and your own energy level, you head over to the drinks, and that’s when Larry makes his move to your band and asks his question.

“Hey uh, guys? I, uh, don’t know if you remember me, um… I’m (Y/N)’s friend?” He introduces himself once the crowd has finally died down a little.

“Oh, yeah!” Jane says, laughing and patting him on the back. “We didn’t forget you, don’t worry.”

“Oh, good. I just, um, I wanted to ask you something? If that’s alright?” He gets nods from the group, so he continues. “Is… there’s no easy way of putting this, but is (Y/N) trying to steal my best friend? Cause Kenny’s spending, like, all his time with (Y/N) and it’s annoying because he’s my only friend, and (Y/N) already has a bunch of friends.”

The band shares looks with each other, several rather sarcastic, before bursting out in laughter.

“No, no,” Jakob says through near tears. “That’s not it at all. (Y/N) is trying to come onto your friend, so no love lost there, if ya know what I mean?” He adds a sucking sound at the end, nudging Larry with his elbow. In turn, Larry scrunches up his face, disgusted.

“Kenny’s not gay, though,” Larry says, thoroughly confused and horrified.

“Huh,” Jane says, and the group goes quiet.

“Yeah, okay,” Frankie says after the long silence, and they break into crude laughter again.

Upstairs, you lead him through the house, hoping to find the room just above the living room. Lucky you know your way around - the girl who owns this house (and the party) is a big fan, and had shown you around the place. The room belongs to her parents, found when you open the door. Much grander than the girls’ room, with a massive bed and closets that go on forever.

“Should we really be here?” Kenny asks, marveling at the wood carved ceiling.

“Can’t hurt more than what they’re all doing to this house,” you say with a shrug, feeling a new sense of comfort in his private presence, something you adored in its’ entirety -alone time with him wasn’t given easily.

“That’s… true. Wanna watch TV?” He asks, jumping up on the giant bed and patting the space beside him. Grinning you run and jump, landing beside him, your legs neatly folded in front of you along side his own legs. A large television sits on the wall opposite the headboard, the remote at Kenny’s side. With a press of a button it’s on, and you’re flicking through channels, deciding which one would be best to watch.

You decide on a sitcom that you’ve seen parts of, clicking through the expansive list of channels, though you don’t know the name or any of the characters. It makes you laugh, at least for the night, till the moon shines bright outside and you’re falling asleep on Kenny’s shoulder.

“You wanna go?” He asks meekly, his voice cracking. You don’t notice, too sleepy to see anything. Instead of responding you hum indistinguishably, mumbling incoherently as you turn and rest more of your weight on him and the pillows behind you. Somewhere in there he hears a small ‘no,’ so he obeys, and turns the volume back up. Not enough to keep you awake, but enough to hear it over the music continuously playing downstairs. A minute passes and you’re snoring softly.

He glances to you, the show forgotten as the topic changes, all his concentration on you. A stray piece of hair falls in front of your eyes, so he pushes it back, admiring the plush of your cheeks, blushing strawberry and squished against his shoulder. For a while, he lets you sleep - the music downstairs is playing a little quieter, a little sweeter, and the fuzzing of the TV is going down. It takes a good hour of him sitting there, too anxious to sleep, before he jostles you awake. From there, you leave, and part ways.

In the morning you show up at Jakob’s house (a Saturday tradition) and they all congratulate you.

“Hmm?” You hum sleepily, still rubbing your eyes awake. “What happened?”

“You scored last night!” Jakob says with a joyous laugh, patting you on the back as he leads you to another bowl of brand name cereal.

“You and Kenny got lucky last night, huh?” Frankie says with a smirk, nodding her head slowly.

“What? No, I fell asleep next to him then he woke me up and we both went home. To our separate homes,” you quickly clear the situation up, all too ready to rid of a lie you wish wasn’t false. They groan, clearly disappointed, and go back to their own seats at the table.

“Aren’t you ever gonna do it? It’s been, like, a million years,” Jane groans, resting her cheek on her palm.

“We’re just friends right now. I don’t think he’s into me,” you mumble with a shrug, starting on your cereal. Frankie pretends to fall asleep and snore. The other two just stare, dumbfounded at you, wondering how much denser you could be before dying of brain inactivity.

“Right. Whatever you tell yourself at night,” Frankie sighs, rolling her eyes. You frown, but don’t correct her, and the subject moves onto other topics. Jane tried to hook up with someone last night, but it turned out he was just trying to get pictures of her naked, and Jakob came home with a mild concussion than no one can explain. Frankie had a surprisingly mild evening, only punching one black eye into a guys’ face, and doing only seven shots of expensive vodka that definitely didn’t belong to her.

At lunch one spring-verging-on-summer day Kenny asks you something strange, something he never asked of you before. He asks you to meet him, at midnight, at an address you don’t know. If it were anyone else you would’ve been suspicious, but he looks so innocently nervous, you trust him with a quick nod and a smile. He looks relieved, and takes a seat next to you - Larry sits across from you both, and conversation ensues as normal.

That evening you find a note in your backpack, from Kenny.

For this adventure, you will need: . 1 Guitar . 1 Songbook Good luck on your quest. By the way here’s the address.

Except for the last line, it’s modeled after a shitty video game from the 90’s that the two of you found on the street. The storyline, animation, and overall execution was so horrid the two of you loved it, and you giggled softly at the memory as your fingers ran down the page. Caseless, you swung your guitar strap round your shoulders and set it against your back, wondering what he could be planning as you grabbed your songbook. You hadn’t ever shown him any of your songs, despite his insistence that he’d love them. But, when Kenny asks you to do something, you nearly always do it.

Climbing out your window, you crawl into a nearby tree, shutting the window back up and making your way down. You know the town better than anything else, and you know where the road is - but you’ve never been to the specific address. As you reach the street you grab at your pocket for the number, but Kenny’s standing outside, giving you a small wave. Letting out a breath and a smile, you jog to where he stands, and wait for his answer to what was happening.

“I, uh,” he pulls his hand from behind his back, holding a journal you’ve never seen. “I thought we could show each other some stuff.”

“You write songs?” You ask, gaping. You hadn’t ever learned this about him, and if anything it excited you.

“Yes! Well, no, actually, not really, I uh, I write poems,” he clarifies, clearing his throat and nodding awkwardly.

“That’s amazing. I didn’t know that… are you any good?” You ask, wondering how he could still look as beautiful as he does in the yellow glow of a cheap streetlight.

“I dunno, I’d like to think so, but I’ve… I’ve never really shown anyone before,” he says, his voice suddenly small and hard to hear. In the distance, the creek almost grows louder.

“Like I’ve never shown my songs?” You chuckle softly. “Wanna trade?” You hold up your book, and he nods excitedly.

You walk down to the creek and share in the delights in the only thing unknown about the other. It’s something ceaselessly private and terribly close to the soul, but you make do in the dim starlight, laughing away your insecurities with care. Bugs occasionally buzz around you but mainly keep in the light of the streets, and the peace of the running water fills your heart with an unfamiliar warmth. The only thing you dislike in any fashion is the fact that it’s a little harder to see him, even if he isn’t any less handsome, you like to note the color of his eyes.

It’s a little hard to pinpoint the color, especially in the dark - but you have the memory of them shining a brilliant green in the sunlight, and turning a cold grey when he cries. You match it to each of his emotions, each sparkle, every turn of the lip that you’ve memorized in such a tender way you’d never forget them, never misplaced for a second. When he lets out a breathy laugh your words catch in your throat, and you barely play it off as your own laughter when he looks right back at you with the same recognition of the features on your own face that you’d never bothered to care about.

“It’s amazing,” you note, when the sharing has finished. “Your poetry is.. fantastic. Really.”

“Oh, thanks,” he replies nervously, quietly, and he presses the journal tight to his chest and hugs it. Your notebook isn’t nearly as nice looking as his, but both are worn with the same amount of care. “Your songs are really good too.”

“Thanks,” you say, unsure of what to do next. You didn’t want to part - it was too perfect a night to just leave so suddenly.

He shuffles nervously, so subtly that you don’t notice he’s scooting closer to you till the cold of your bare arm begins to wash away with his warmth.

“W- d- Larry keeps making fun of my hand size,” he fumbles out, looking directly at you while simultaneously looking like he’d rather be looking anywhere else.

“What? Do you have small hands or something?” You ask, looking down at his hands. They look perfectly normal sized, actually. Then you turn to your own - you could even have the same sized hands, you decide, but it’s something you test. You hold up your hand, palm facing him, and he holds up his own. Your fingers touch and you try to ignore every flare in your heart, every spark in your nerves, and you look at the sizes;

You’re barely bigger than him.

“Ha, look at your tiny hands,” you laugh, even if it’s not that amusing, teasing is a wonderful way to get close to someone.

“Hey! You’re barely over my fingertips!” He says, but he joins in your laughter, still looking insulted.

“Kenny,” you chuckle, trying to calm yourself down with slow breaths, “what time is it?”

“Oh, um,” he grabs your wrist, the only one with a watch on it, and reads, “4:57 AM.”

“Shit, that’s so late,” you say, your mood switching to worried mother, and you gather up your guitar and songbook.

“Or early,” Kenny helpfully adds, earning a playful glare from you. He chuckles, holding his own journal in his arms, and the two of you make it as close as you can to your own houses without having to part.

“So, um, I’ll see you tomorrow? At school?” He asks at the crossroads separating the paths to your homes.

“Yeah, of course.”

You’re reluctant to part but you force yourself to with a small wave. When you have to turn down a different road you look back, finding he’s looking back too, and the two of you smile and wave, and truly part for the evening.

I should’ve kissed him, you think to yourself on the way home, groaning. The entirety of the story is spilled the next lunch period, and your friends agree profusely with you

“You’re a fucking idiot, (Y/N),” Jakob tells you. “Can he do literally anything gayer to make you realize he likes you???”

“I know, I know, I know!” You hiss, gripping tight at your hair. Jane untangles the knots round your fingers and takes your hands away from your head, setting them down on the table with a weary sigh.

“I’m worried about you,” she says.

“So am I,” you grumble back.

Still, your little dance goes on till the end of the year, and by then you’re thoroughly sick of it, and Kenny has gotten a lot more free with his affection since coming out. Jane hosts a party while her parents are away (cliche, but she swears she’s the luckiest girl, and she’s right), and the massive house is perfect. The pool out back lends for a sneaky showing of far too much skin on girls and boys alike, and you feel a little anxious standing in the shaded corner.

Kenny comes round the bend of the house with Larry, and they both look far more like they belong. Larry’s talking about something, his hands moving animatedly around as he laughs. Kenny listens intently, till he sees you, and Larry gets easily distracted by the parts of girls he’s never seen before.

“You okay?” He asks, grasping your upper arm. You shrug - probably, you’re fine.

“I’ll be better once the whole pool thing is done,” you tell him, and he doesn’t really understand your insecurity, but he stays with you as a source of comfort. You appreciate him dearly, and for the next several hours you think of how to show that appreciation.

Night swings around, everyone gets into their other clothes, and the party moves inside. Music pounds throughout the house, and deafly you search for a drink to numb yourself for the next several hours before it’d be appropriate to go home. Frankie catches you before anyone else, and convinces you to try your first shots - you’re feeling terribly woozy by three, and she calls you a lightweight.

“I’m light as hell, cause I’ve never gone light, dark…” you mumble to yourself, trying to sort out your jumbled thoughts. “I don’t drunk because I can’t drink, you know?” She laughs, ruffles your hair, and sends you in the direction of Kenny, who she comments on looking very lonely in the kitchen corner. Stumbling through the dancing crowd you make it to him, feeling the wave of drunkenness passing very slowly away.

“Hey, whatcha doin’ alone?” You ask, holding a cup of water in your hand, a precaution Frankie insisted on.

“Oh, Larry’s dancing, I don’t really feel like it,” he says, shrugging and pointing to Larry, who’s caught the eye of some girl who’s probably too drunk to see, but Larry looks just about as drunk as her.

“Whoof. He’s not coming home tonight,” you say, your verbal filter terribly weakened.

“What? What does - ohhh… good for him,” Kenny replies awkwardly, and the two of you stay in the corner watching the crowd.

“Hey, hey… Kenny?” You say, turning to him. Stumbling slightly you loose your balance, and catch the counter, now looking up at him. “Kenny…”

“Yeah?” He asks, his heart beating fast against your hand, which you just realized is pressed to his chest.

“Come here, come… come here,” you say, grabbing his hand and dragging him along till you make it to some sort of broom closet - you’re not sure where you are, but it’s private, and the dull thudding of the music barely reaches you here.

“What’s - what’s wrong?” His voice has tightened even further, the small space forcing your bodies together.

“I… this might just be.. the liquor, or whatever I drank… but fuck I wanna kiss you,” you admit with a numb tongue, not even realizing your confession, and certainly not sober enough to remember it. Kenny freezes - he hasn’t had a drop of alcohol and he’s perfectly coherent in every way, and it’s not helping him at all in this moment. Instead it’s forcing so many possibilities into his mind he can’t keep track of them, only able to focus on your heat and his thumping heart.

“You’re drunk,” is what comes out of his mouth when he can’t speak.

“Doesn’t mean I haven’t loved you since fucking sixth grade,” you sigh, wrapping your arms listlessly round his waist and leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Sixth grade?” He hisses, trying to help you stand, desperately wishing you’d just sober up and tell him straight out what you thought of him.

“Please kiss me,” you murmur, lifting your head and nuzzling up into his jawline. He chokes on his own breath, his hands going numb as he loses coherent thought.

“It’s not right,” he says, tight and high. “Just… let’s get you home, okay?”

“No, no, no! I can’t, I’ve loved you for so long, I can’t wait any longer, just - please, I can’t draw this out anymore, tell me you fuckin’ hate me or something, I don’t care, just… please,” you beg him, sounding on the verge of tears even though they’re not really there. Tired, he sighs, and helps you to look at him. His palm holds your cheek, and it’s the most comforting thing that you might fall asleep in his hold.

“I like you,” he admits. “But you won’t remember this in the morning.”

“Then help me. Ask any of my friends, I’ve been raving about you for ages, I adore you,” you murmur, your lips pressing against the sensitive skin of his neck. He stutters, trying to find a response, before your hand comes up to his cheek. In blurred thought your fingers trace from his cheekbone to his jaw, reaching his lips and tracing their outline with as delicate a touch as you can manage. You straighten yourself out, no longer leaning on his shoulder, and in a trance he follows where you guide him, till your lips move against his. Neither of you can define when you touch, when it starts, or when you begin kissing fierce - you don’t even realize it till he grasps at your hair and you pull at his shirt.

Breathing heavy you pull yourself away, realizing in a sudden sobriety that you’d just kissed him. Kenny, the guy you’d liked for nearly five and a half years, and he’s moving back into you, his chest tight against yours as he kisses the life out of your mind, until you feel so full you could explode with your affection for this one boy.

“I adore you,” you mumble against his lips, playing with his hair as you kiss him over and over again.

“I think I love you,” Kenny practically whimpers, and you return the sentiment so deeply you can’t help but moan his name, your body begging to be closer to him.

In the morning you recall in crystal clear memory the events of the night before. Frankie is the most surprised at this - not just because you got the nerve that you finally kissed him, but also because you remembered it at all. She makes another joke at your expense, but it brings laughter to both you and your friends.

“You know,” Frankie says, stuffing her face with leftover croissants from Jane’s party, which she’d brought from her house to Jakob’s, “I knew it’d end well.”

“How’d you know?” You ask.

“It’s as I said. Bassists are pretty hot.”

You wave her off, chuckling. When you kiss Kenny at the back of the school during lunch, you think on it - maybe she’s right, you think, considering Kenny is way out of my league. But he holds your cheeks in his hands and pulls you closer, holding you tight, out of view of every other person, and you lose all thought of anything but him again - an emotion you can never get enough of, and one you’re lucky to get the rest of your life.

#kenny al bahir x reader #kenny al bahir #war at home #rami malek

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