#the stupid shit is off the charts today | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

harrygoeswest · 9 months

Text

Harry Styles is your sworn enemy. You've decided to take a holiday in the Scottish Highlands, and so has he. And there's only one bed…

~~~

A/N: Welcome to Part 2! This story has been with me for a few months now, so it's a bit weird to be done, but the good stuff is in here! I hope you all enjoy the conclusion, and as always, thank you for reading!

Word Count: 15,007 Trigger Warnings: Swearing (obvs), embarrassing bedtime stories, groovy sexy times

Part 1

~~~

Something woke you earlier than usual. A heavy weight placed somewhere in the region of the most sacred part of one’s body. Not right there, but close enough.

You accidentally wriggled, and inhaled sharply when it got closer.

Your eyes flew open and you lifted your head. Harry had slung his arm over your midsection. Unconsciously. He was lying on his back, head turned away from you but his arm stretched across the lower half of your sternum and rested against your hip bone. If you tried to peel him off you he might wake.

You were so warm, and Harry’s arm so close to your middle region was absolutely not helping. You could feel your sex gearing up, anticipating something that was absolutely not going to happen. Traitorous genitals.

It was still raining, you could hear it bashing against the sides and roof of the cabin. For days it had been so loud inside. You wished for peace. Silence. Calm.

Knowing you couldn’t stay in bed with Harry touching you like that while dying a death in a fiery inferno, you made a move. Ever so slowly, you inched towards the edge of the bed until you could get your foot on the floor, and then expertly twisted your body so that his arm landed on the mattress with barely a disruption.

When you were satisfied he was still completely zonked, you slipped into the bathroom and ran a cold shower. You stood underneath the stream and dropped your forehead against the wall.

This was getting ridiculous. Complicated. Scary. Over the course of the week you and Harry had somehow gone from detested enemies to domestic companions. You hadn’t argued in a week. You took road trips together for games and snacks. And to make matters worse, your body was starting to react to him in a way it hadn’t since before you knew him. Yesterday you found his profile attractive and now your body gravitated towards his touch like it was trying to correct some kind of chemical imbalance.

Four more nights you reminded yourself. You can survive four more nights.

You stood under cold water for ten minutes and then went through the motions of washing your hair and scrubbing your body. You made sure you dressed again before you left the bathroom.

Harry, it turned out, had not offered such a courtesy. He was peering at something on his phone, standing over the table with a clean T-shirt in his hands, apparently midway through changing.

Your body went up in flames all over again at the sight of him. It wasn’t like the night you arrived where he was damp and glistening from-

No. You needed to calm the fuck down. Thoughts of Harry in the shower were not appropriate and would not be tolerated. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

“Shower free?” He asked, glancing up at you.

For shitting fuck’s sake.

“No one else is in there.”

His forehead crinkled at your reply. “Good to know… I’d be concerned if there was.”

You didn’t know how to come back to that, so you made for your suitcase in a show of needing something out of it, and Harry took that as his time to get in the bathroom. Once you heard the shower running again you let out a long breath.

Harry hadn’t made any coffee, so for once, since you were the first one up, you prepared yours and his. This exchange malarkey - wanting to be as generous to him as he had started being to you - was another tally on the metaphorical chart. You were in danger of doing something really stupid.

All day you kept to a safe distance. It didn’t help that he decided it was acceptable to walk around the cabin in shirtless periods, so you made sure to avoid eye contact with his chest and keep a straight face. You made breakfast, you made your own lunches, and he made dinner. You finished your jigsaw puzzle with neer a brush of fingertips, and you spent the rest of the day reading. He did the same.

This was safe. Comfortable. Neutral ground.

When you decided to call it a night you lay on your side facing away from him and waited for the inevitable to pull you under. Harry fidgeted beside you more than he usually did and it was the only thing keeping you awake. You wanted to snap at him as equally as you wanted to keep your mouth shut. He’d never fidgeted before, he slept like the dead once he was tucked in. A thing you envied.

He settled eventually, but you could tell he wasn’t asleep yet. It was like you could hear his brain whirring.

Giving in, you peeled an eye open and turned over your shoulder. “Do you need a nightcap or something?”

He glanced at you with a weak smile. “Sorry.”

“If it helps, when I’m struggling to sleep I come up with scenarios in my head that would never happen until my own ridiculousness is too much for my brain.”

It was dark in the room, but you were sure you saw a smile tease on his mouth. “Like what?”

Here goes nothing. This was the exact opposite of what you’d been trying to achieve today, but you’d opened yourself up now like a surgeon operating on your vital organs. Might as well see it through.

You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling. “Anything. One time Henry Cavill was a firefighter and rescued me from a burning building. Another time he was my soulmate and fell in love with me at first sight. Another time he was my neighbour and I found out my cat had been flirting with him.”

Harry’s belly laugh filled the quiet room. “Do they always involve Henry Cavill?”

“90% of the time, yes. Sometimes I treat myself and think about that bass player from The 1975.”

“I see… so tall men, then?”

“Broad.” You amend. “It’s all in the shoulders.”

“Interesting.”

“Maybe you could try thinking about doing the splits for that yoga woman again.”

“No.”

You shot a questioning look at him through the darkness, but he likely didn’t catch it given his silence.

He turned his head towards you, expression calm. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Oh boy. “If you want to.”

Harry rolled onto his side to face you, one hand shoved under his pillow. Feeling like you had no other choice, you did the same and gave him your face.

He licked his lips. You’d seen him do it before in interviews before he talked about something exposing. Not that you’d watched many of his interviews. Just the ones Holly had you sit through. So, all of them. “I’ve really enjoyed this week.”

Something bloomed inside you - right in the middle of your stomach, warm and tingly - and spread right through you to the tips of your fingers and toes. You felt it on your cheeks and the tips of your ears, too.

“It’s not been completely horrible,” You admitted, voice suddenly a little hoarse.

“I have a theory.”

“What’s that?”

He hesitated. “I might be wrong, but I think Holly and your brother did it on purpose.”

You gave a slow nod. “I’d be lying if I hadn’t thought the same when I got here. I’m sure, if we are onto them, Holly was the main culprit.”

“Oh, yeah.” He said with absolute certainty. “Your brother probably tried to ward her off the idea.”

“Also rather convenient that they were visiting for a family birthday the first weekend we were here.”

“Very convenient.”

You lay there for a moment, offering the smallest little grins to one another while keeping the other’s gaze. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness in the room, and you could just make out his profile. His eyes were heavy but he was still with you. You had the strongest urge to reach out and stroke his face, but you didn’t.

“Will you tell me a secret?”

An eye for an eye.

You took a deep breath and let your mind take a dive. You would give him something. He’d been honest with you. Now it was your turn. “Before I met you, sometimes my bedtime scenarios involved Niall.”

He reared back, face a beautifully offended sight. “Excuse me?”

Howling laughter ripped out of you and you had to bury your face into your pillow to stop from waking any wild animals in the near vicinity.

“I can’t believe you just said that.” He said against your hysterics.

“I was joking.” You wheezed, and patted his shoulder. His broad, smooth, warm shoulder. “I didn’t, I swear.”

“Who were they about, then?”

You lifted a brow. As if he had to ask… “Seriously?”

“I wanna hear you say it.” He patted the mattress between you - not that there was much of it -, an invitation.

You sighed, but you were smiling, still giddy off the back of your joke. “You, Harry.”

“Can you say it in a full sentence? I might make it my ringtone.”

You shoved his shoulder again. At this point it just seemed you were looking for an excuse to touch it. “No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“A whisper is fine.”

“Fuck off.” You scoffed.

He moved an inch closer to you. “Please?”

You glared at him, but were painfully aware of the bitten smile on his face and the closeness of him. “Before I met you, some of my bedtime scenarios involved you.”

He exhaled with such depth and length you thought he might’ve taken his last breath. “What did they involve?”

“Absolutely not, we’re not going there.”

“Oh, come on. Please? Just one. I won’t hold it against you.”

“You and I both know that’s utter bollocks and you will laud it over me for the rest of my life.”

“Surprised you think I’ll be around for the rest of your life.”

“Unless Holly bins you off or you sack my brother, I am aware that it is likely you’ll always just be around. And both likelihoods seem very slim.”

“At least we can tolerate each other now.”

You gasped. “You don’t think I’m intolerable anymore?”

“You’ve grown on me.”

That pleased you more than you were willing to admit. After a beat of silence and another dive into your brain, you came up with one. “There was one I remember. We were friends and you’d come and visit me on your off time without telling me. I always imagined you just walking in the door and making yourself comfortable in my house. And you’d live with me for a few weeks until you had to go again.”

“A few weeks? You crammed a few weeks worth of storyline into one night?”

“Sometimes I had two or three part fantasies.” You shrugged.

“Interesting… is that all that happened? I turned into a vegetable on your sofa until I had to leave again?”

That made you laugh, but you quickly shook your head. “No. I’ve only ever had one bed.”

“So we’d have to share?”

“You don’t seem like the type of man to comfortably spend the night on the floor. And you definitely wouldn’t fit on my sofa.”

“I’ve never seen your house so I wouldn’t know, but I can tell you’ve really thought about this.”

“They say it’s better to write about what you know.”

“Write?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s just a turn of phrase, Harry. I’m not writing this shit down.” At least, not recently…

“Damn. Maybe I would’ve liked to see it.”

“Funny.”

He grinned. “Glad you think so.”

You shoved him again and closed your eyes. “Go to sleep, Harry. Fantasise about your dream date at one of your shows or something.”

“Was that one of yours?”

Yes. “No.”

His chuckle floated around the room. “Goodnight,”

“Night.”

Your face was smushed against something hard when you woke up. It was warm, too, like the inside of an oven after being turned off. Your body worked before your brain did, and your hand decided to feel around for what it could possibly be. It almost felt like a lucid dream. Maybe you weren’t awake yet. Maybe, you were still asleep.

You could’ve just opened your eyes, but they didn’t seem to want to yet. Glued together after a deep and dreamless sleep. You palmed your way over the heated slab you were pressed against without really thinking about it.

Until it produced a low rumble, and shifted a little under you. Then you felt something move against your back. A hand. Underneath your pyjama vest against your side.

Your eyes finally flew open to be met with a tattooed swallow on a pectoral.

“I always knew you secretly liked me.” He groused, voice broken and lacking. And oh so very deep.

“Why aren’t you wearing a T-shirt?” You blurted, unable to move.

“It got really hot last night. You were dead to the world again. Until I lay back down.”

“Excuse me?”

He laughed, a quiet and gruff little sound. “You cuddled me. Not the other way around.”

“And you just let me?”

“Sure. It’s better than trying not to fall out of bed every night.”

You sucked in a breath and tried not to overthink it. “Right.”

“It’s okay, you know. I don’t mind.”

“What if I mind?”

“Do you?”

Did you? You’d spent all of yesterday in your head about how things had changed between you, and his unavoidable attractiveness. Now your subconscious mind and/or body were willingly worming their way into a nighttime cuddle with him.

Christ alive, was there no hope?

“I don’t know.”

He squeezed your hip without a hint of hesitation. “I think I like this side of you.”

You dared to peer up at him. His eyes were droopy from sleep but his irises still glistened like seaglass. His scruff was getting fuller and that urge to stroke it returned. Your belly did a little flip-flop. And then he shifted slightly and you realised that your legs were intertwined, too. Dangerous feelings bloomed between your legs.

“What side is that?” You asked in a breathy voice.

He smirked. He knew what was going on in your head even if he was too polite to say it. “The one where I confuse you without behaving like a prick.”

“It is incredibly inconvenient for me.”

“Does it happen a lot?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I might be shooting myself in the foot here, but I think since you’re not making any attempt to move you can’t mind it that much.”

You made a wordless noise. “I’m in shock.”

“Do you want me to move?”

For the sake of your sanity, it was probably a smart idea. Still, that absolutely didn’t mean you wanted to. And you didn’t want to. You really didn’t want to admit that to him, though.

“You won’t offend me if you say no.” He hummed. He was still around you now in a kind of tense way. He didn’t want to adjust until you said anything.

Christ, this side of Harry was not the one you wanted to get used to.

You bit your lip as if it had any impact over your blatant indecision.

He chuckled, “I’m gonna make this easy for you,” he started shifting, away from you, “I need the loo.”

You were almost certain he was trying to be polite. Again. It did give you the kick up the arse to take yourself out of his space, though.

You kept your gaze down as Harry hauled himself off the bed, determined not to see him in this manner - roughened and lazy.

“Sun’s back.”

“Is it?” You feigned more interest in a loose piece of thread on the bed sheet.

“If it’s warm do you want to go to the lake again?”

“Sounds good.”

It didn’t sound good. It sounded horrific. Only in the sense you’d be subjected to more half-naked Harry. Wet, half-naked Harry.

He finally disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you with your muddled thoughts. You realised in that moment that none of this would get any easier until you were out of the cabin and into your AirBnB. You’d crawl there if you had to.

As you had with every visit down to the lake, you packed a tote with towels, drinks, snacks and enough entertainment to keep you occupied for the day.

You felt the heat the second you opened the cabin door. It was like that first step off a plane after landing in a hot country.

You started walking while Harry locked up, head tipped towards the sun above you. It was a dry heat today. Dangerous in one way but most definitely your favourite kind. It didn’t feel suffocating like humidity did.

“Definitely ice cream and swimming weather today.” Harry commented as he caught up with you.

“I love it when it’s like this.” You admitted. The sunny heat made your skin prickle.

“I can tell. You already seem to be in a better mood than yesterday.”

“I’m so glad we don’t have to spend another day indoors. I think I’d have lost my marbles.”

“Sure you’re not just pleased you don’t have to spend so much time in my general vicinity?” He was teasing, for the most part.

“Not even. I’m just not an indoor person.”

“If you say so.” He gave your hip a little poke.

You also caught the way he tried to tangle his fingers in the fabric of your pool dress, whether unconsciously or not, you weren’t sure. “If that were the case, I’d tell you.”

“God damn, I think you’re right.”

Once you made it to the lake you set yourselves up in the sun but close to some shade in case the heat became too much.

“You gonna come for a swim before you ignore me for a book the rest of the day?” Harry teased. “You haven’t gone in once since you got here.”

“Maybe, I don’t know.” You muttered, once again averting your gaze while he stripped out of his t-shirt.

“Is this where you tell me you can’t swim?”

You rolled your eyes and ignored his question. “It doesn’t feel very responsible abandoning our things at the same time.”

“They’ll be fine - we’ve got eyes on them.”

“What if we both get distracted and all our food gets nicked?”

“I like that you’re more concerned with the food being stolen than your purse or your phone.”

“Gluten free snacks are expensive.” You argued.

“Come on. Just for a bit? Five minutes and then we’ll come back and do some baking.”

You glanced up at him. You knew you’d never hear the end of it if you didn’t. How much ammunition had you already given him if after this holiday things went back to normal? Teenage bedtime stories? Throwing up in the bushes while on your hands and knees? Harassing paparazzi? That last one sounded ludicrous.

“Five minutes, and then I’m getting out to nurse my food.”

“Deal.” He stuck his hand out, but when you took it he dragged you to your feet rather than shook it.

“Let me just hide all this in the shade.” You said in a quiet voice, still trying to avoid looking at him for long periods of time.

“Fine. I’ll meet you down there.”

“Okay.”

You busied yourself putting your tote bag in the shadier part of your set up. It should’ve been a five second task but you managed to stretch it out to a half minute.

When you looked over your shoulder for Harry, he hadn’t got very far. Nor had he gotten any less attractive. In fact, he’d gotten more so. He was like Adonis. All muscles and tanned arms. Those tattoos didn’t help, either. Lord, what a specimen.

“Fuck sake.” You hissed, turning away from him again.

Taking a deep breath, you peeled your pool dress off and left it with your other belongings. Then you took more time just to mentally prepare yourself, smoothing your hands down your body.

“If you were doing this three weeks ago, you wouldn’t be this nervous.” You chided yourself. “Get a grip, woman. He’s just a man. It’s just Harry.”

But he’d never been just Harry, had he?

Fuck off.

You spun around and started marching towards the water’s edge. Harry had only just begun wading through the gentle tide. The volume of rainfall had affected the lake’s size by some margin. The beach was half the depth it had been five days ago yet the heat had attracted more people, leaving less space. It was busy.

“How cold is it?” You demanded once you were within earshot of him.

He turned over his shoulder to answer you, but his response seemed to get caught in his throat. His eyes raked down your body and then back up, a shameless and blatant go at checking you out. You were already hot from the sun, but this was much, much worse.

“It’s not bad.” He managed, gaze lingering on your chest.

Realisation smacked you in the face like a hard, rough paddle. The attraction wasn’t one-sided.

Trying to ignore Harry’s staring, you dipped your toe in, wincing a little. “It’s not great, either.”

“If I push you in it’ll take the shock away faster.”

“So much as touch me, Styles, and you’ll be sleeping outside tonight.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, Jesus Christ.”

You waded in ahead of him until the water swallowed your hips, ultimately proud of yourself. Open-water was not your favourite by any stretch. You turned around with a big grin, only to be met with a wave of water splashing over your entire front.

Shock and bitter cold had your body tensing, and a loud gasp fell out of your mouth.

Harry’s roaring laughter ripped through the air, back arched and head tipped to the sky. “Oh, that was too good.”

“You,” you took a step toward him, “absolute,” and spread your arm wide, “dick.”

You dragged the length of your arm across the surface of the water and watched as an equivalent wave crashed over him. He staggered a little, but caught himself before he toppled over. A triumph on your part. Now you were even; he was just as wet as you were.

“You’re in trouble.” He warned when his gaze rejoined yours. He started making his way to you, and so you began to retreat.

“You started it.” You put your hands out, heart hammering in your ears.

“And I’m gonna finish it, too.” He lurched towards you.

Squealing, you hurled yourself away from him, only narrowly avoiding being caught. You splashed him again which he did not seem to appreciate, and laughed maniacally with each tread away from him.

“Come here!” He yelled.

“No!”

He chased you further into the water and then back out again towards the shoreline. You were more agile than you gave yourself credit for because you always just managed to be just out of his reach, three steps ahead, and laughing away the whole time.

“You’re a menace, woman!” He bellowed, but he sounded almost breathless.

“You’re only just realising?!” You cackled, narrowly dodging another attempt at grabbing you.

“I’ve known for a long time.” It almost sounded like a promise.

You circled around an innocent old woman a couple of times but she didn’t seem to mind. In fact she was just as entertained as you were.

“You’re supposed to be in peak physical condition, Styles.” You goaded, managing to float further away. “This is embarrassing.”

He gave an exasperated laugh. “I’m going easy on you.”

“Are you? ‘Cause to me it looks like you just can’t keep up.”

You waded further into the water with your back to him, far enough that you were covered up to your chest. When you turned around again, Harry had disappeared.

“What the-,”

“-Boo.”

You screamed as an arm wrapped around your waist from behind, your heart attempting to flee out of your chest. That familiar boom of laughter filled the air again, and your back was brought flush against Harry’s hard chest. He leaned over and splashed more water over you while you attempted to wriggle free.

“You prick, that’s not fair!”

“I think you’ll find it is fair.” He rebutted. “There were no rules set before we started.”

“You didn’t even alert me to the game before you started it!”

“You turned it into a game by retaliating.”

“Well, I’m not just gonna let you get away with it! And that still doesn’t give you an excuse to scare the shit out of me!”

“Alright, that’s fair.” He conceded, and loosened his hold on you. Then he turned you around by the arms and kept you there. “I’m sorry for scaring the shit out of you.”

Then he did the unthinkable and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, smushing you in a hug against his chest. It wasn’t lost on you how similar it was to the way you woke up this morning, and the change in pace again was giving you some kind of mental whiplash.

To avoid keeling over, you linked your arms around his waist. An odd feeling settled over you. Harry’s body was an unfamiliar comfort; his affection was like gravity. All of a sudden you were grounded, centred. How hadn’t you noticed before that you’d just been floating around?

He pressed a chaste kiss to the top of your head before he released you, but not entirely. Before you could really pull away, he took your face between his hands, encouraging you to meet his gaze. You gave him that much. Undivided, uncontested attention. You had given him that for a week now. There wasn’t much else to capture your attention.

His eyes were impossibly bright under the beating sun. Wordlessly, he smoothed each of his thumbs across your face, from the bridge of your nose and across your cheekbones to the hilt of your jaw.

Your lips parted with your next exhale and his attention dipped, drawn in by it.

Oh God.

This was uncharted territory. Would he really do it? Would he kiss you? In public? In front of close to a hundred people. White noise filled your ears at the thought.

The sun was getting hotter as it grew closer to midday. Highest point in the sky. Most lethal temperature. Your back felt dry, scalded.

The ghost of Harry’s touch still lingered on your nose and cheeks. “Can you see the bag?”

He blinked a few times and then lifted his gaze to the beach behind you. “Yeah. It’s still there. Although someone has sat incredibly close to us since we left it.”

You turned around, but his touch didn’t fall away. His hands remained on your shoulders. He was right - someone had set themselves up irritatingly close to your things, and that put you on edge.

“Go on.” He patted your back, right in the middle. “I can tell you’re itching to go back.”

You glanced up at him. “You’re not coming?”

“I never said that.”

Satisfaction nestled in your very core.

Together you waded back through the water to the shoreline and up the beach to your things.

“I’ve never wanted a windbreaker so much in my life.” Harry muttered as you sat back down.

You answered with a smile, and began searching through your tote for suncream. Harry held his hand out, so you squeezed a blob onto his palm and then started on yourself.

“Want me to do your back?” He offered.

Shitting hell. You’d planned to just lie on your back for the rest of the day, or at the very least keep only your front turned to the sun if you were sitting up.

“Yeah, okay.” You nodded.

“Will you do mine after?”

“Sure.”

Harry took the bottle from you, and you turned in your place to offer him your back. You attempted to school your breathing when his hand met your bare skin and began turning circles against it. He was methodical and somewhat cautious in his approach, a complete contrast to his behaviour not fifteen minutes ago. But still, in this kind of proximity with him you felt this unusual comfort, even if it was intermingled with nerves. You did your absolute best not to panic when his hand dropped lower to the waistband of your bottoms.

You switched places after he gave you a gruff, “Done.” This was better, because at least he couldn’t see you now.

While you had the opportunity to, you marvelled at his back, gaze following the lines of strong muscle and tendon. Your hands did their own thing, circling the cream into his skin until it vanished.

You used the excuse of being thorough to make sure you could admire him for as long as possible without it being suspicious, but eventually you gave him a pat on the shoulder to announce you were done.

You settled into comfortable silence. You lay on your back and used your book as a shield from the sun. Harry lay on his front parallel to you with his face turned towards you.

When he didn’t close his eyes or speak to you, you couldn’t help but ask, “Have you not got some form of entertainment with you?”

“Of course I do. You.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not putting my book away to be your monkey.”

“Who said anything about that? Watching you like that is enough.”

You tried your damned hardest to ignore the butterflies in your tummy. “I can only imagine it to be immensely boring.”

“It’s not.” He insisted. “You could read to me if you feel bad, though.”

“I don’t feel bad, and it would only slow me down.”

His laughter was a glorious, low rumble. “Then I will just watch.”

You sighed, but failed to find the energy to argue further.

Twenty minutes later, when being on your back became uncomfortable, you turned over. Before you settled down again you took the opportunity to look around.

It was busier. Hardly an inch of space available on the stony beach.

“How bad is it?” Harry asked.

“It’s not great.”

He groaned.

“We can go back soon if you want. There might be some dry ground outside the cabin.”

“Might have to.” He lifted his head and peered over his shoulder. “Christ.”

You gave a helpless squeeze to his shoulder, and your body reacted as anyone’s would when he rested his cheek against it. More butterflies.

Oh boy.

“One more chapter and we’ll go.” You mumbled, voice uneven.

He nodded, and then he did something that took your breath away. He kissed the back of your hand. Just an innocent peck against your knuckle. It was such a certain and unabashed action you almost didn’t believe he’d done it, but the giveaway was the fact that you could still feel it after he pulled his lips away. And then, because you’d lost that last bit of self control, you stroked your hand across his scruff like it was nothing; the most natural thing in the world. It was coarse yet soft, completely contradicting itself.

Your brain betrayed you. Images of what the aftermath might look like if he ever found his way between your legs with a beard like that. Irritation on your inner thighs. Your excitement spread across the fine hairs. A shiny tip of his nose.

Stop.

You smoothed your hand against his scruff again. His eyes fluttered but they never closed. His gaze shifted to yours, and suddenly green was the only colour in the world. And seaglass was your favourite.

His gaze dropped to your mouth and your heart skipped two beats. Your faces had barely an inch of space between them. You could feel his sweet breath as it fanned across your face. He did that nervous lip-lick again, and melted butter replaced the cells that made up your body.

You wanted him to kiss you. Every other feeling you’d ever had towards him vanished like a ship in the Bermuda Triangle. You’d thought the evolution of your attraction towards him had been all on you. That maybe earlier when you’d presented yourself on the shoreline in your swimsuit that he was just doing as all other men did - appreciating something without taking advantage. Look but don’t touch. He wouldn’t be looking at your mouth like that if he didn’t want you.

He seemed to be waging a war with himself over the thought of kissing you, and it made you itch. Made you want it more.

Fuck it.

You used the fact that you were already holding his face as a means of bringing him towards you, and then you closed the short distance and pressed your mouth to his.

He didn’t react in any way towards you, and your mind fell into a horrendous tailspin. What were you doing? You were in public, and Harry wasn’t just some random beach-goer. He was a fucking celebrity. What if someone had seen you? What if someone was watching, and worse, cataloguing it?

Oh, shit. You’d fucked up.

But when you tried to retreat, he didn’t let you. He chased you back, capturing the side of your face with one hand. He moved his mouth over yours, finally leading, and the tension fell away from your body in heavy reems until you were pliant to him and his wants.

God his mouth was divine. Soft, full, gentle. A little sloppy, but you didn’t mind. It was what you wanted, what you needed. It didn’t cross boundaries or become indecent. It was just… just. Something that fulfilled its own purpose. And you revelled in it for as long as you had it, because you didn’t know if you could have it again once it ended.

Harry’s thumb caressed your cheek and even that made you feel giddy. He parted his mouth and his tongue traced along your lower lip.

A whimper caught in your throat, and blood rushed to your cheeks, the back of your neck and the tips of your ears. You pulled away with an embarrassed laugh and buried your face against your arm.

He chuckled, dropping his lips to your shoulder. He stroked a hand over your bare back, and it made you shiver. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” You huffed. “That was pathetic on my part.”

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

You peeked up at him, finding his gaze already on you. “What would you call it, then?”

He pursed his lips, and you wanted to kiss him all over again. “Kinda sexy.”

“Kinda?”

He leaned closer, using it as an excuse to kiss your shoulder. He lingered, “Won’t be able to stand up for a minute, let’s put it that way.”

A heavy desire settled in your very core, mouth salivating. The sudden need to have this man all over you was frankly startling.

“Maybe I won’t finish my chapter…”

He gave a breathy laugh as he watched you dogear the corner of your current page. You slipped the book into your tote and rested your head on your arms, facing him. He was resting on his elbow with his cheek against his fist, and he looked every bit the Greek God. His other hand still stroked over your back.

“Ice cream for the way home?” He suggested.

Your nod was slow, purposeful. “Maybe I’ll switch it up and have what you have.”

His gaze fogged with what you could only assume was lust. “I can get on board with that.”

You rolled onto your back and sat up, then pulled your pool dress back over your body. Harry made it to his feet, towering over you.

“Meet me by the van?” He suggested.

“Yeah. I’ll pack up.”

With a nod, he was off. He’d left his t-shirt behind, deciding to make the most of the sun. Knowing that he was roaming around half-naked broke you out in a nervous sweat. There were plenty of other men around without their tops on, but it was different with Harry. His body was recognisable.

You noticed as you packed up that your hands were shaking. You were giving yourself a headache over your back and forth between awkward and spontaneous. Yes, you’d decided to go back to the cabin, but that was before you kissed him. And you were the one that flirted with him, not the other way around. He might’ve been turned on after kissing you but he took no part in initiating things. The fear of possible rejection somewhere later down the line prompted a panic.

No.

No panicking.

This was Harry.

Harry, who you would inevitably see again and again further down the line whether things progressed between you or not. You needed to think with your rational head, not the one that fantasised everything. You’d let things take their natural course. If nothing happened, nothing happened. End of story.

Besides, you were moving out of the cabin in a couple of days to the bungalow. It would make that whole shift easier if nothing happened.

With everything collected and packed away, you made your way over to Harry who was paying for your ice cream. He handed you a cone with a mint chocolate chip scoop on the top.

“What’s that?” You asked after spotting the one he was holding.

He looked at his chocolate cone with a smirk. “We can all switch it up, you know.”

“Not the flavour, the cone.” There was an obvious difference between a normal cone and a gluten free one. Harry didn’t have a normal cone like he usually did.

He gave a passive shrug and started walking. “Maybe I’m getting attachments to your food substitutions.”

You snorted. “Seriously?”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. You knew he was joking to some degree, but once again, your fantasising brain took over from your rational one. It told you he was being safe with you. If anything did happen again, like a repeat of the little kiss you’d just shared, he didn’t want to run the risk of you getting sick.

As suggestive as you’d been, the rational side struggled to believe they were his real motives.

He walked ahead of you rather than beside you. It was terrible, actually, because it gave you the perfect view of his back, amongst other things. You’d lost all interest in your ice cream, too busy fawning over the way Harry ate his. It was near pornographic. You had to take a lick of ice cream to cool yourself down.

His tanned back shone under the sun, damp with sweat, and the little curls around his neck were beginning to drip with it, too, squeezing out from under his hat. And then there were his calves, which strained every time he took a step. It didn’t help that you were walking uphill, so his muscles were working overtime.

You took another languid lick from your cone.

The cabin was in sight, but you had no interest in it. All your focus was on the man in front of you.

Harry turned around just as you were mid-lick, and your body felt limp at the sight of his chest, glistening with sweat between his pectorals. The only thing that distracted you was a cool drip making its way down your chest.

“Shit.” You hissed.

Harry was in your space in an instant. His ice cream was long gone, but that look in his eye had returned. “Making a mess?”

You nodded wordlessly. His gaze was so intense you fought to breathe properly, and it was focused on the wet line of ice cream currently making its way into your cleavage.

“I’ll get it.” He said, voice pure gravel.

His mouth lowered to your clavicle, tongue licking against your warm skin. You sucked in a breath, hypnotised when he moved lower down your chest towards your breasts. He took the smallest handful of your dress at the front and pulled it low enough for him to continue to where he wanted.

The noise you made when he passed his tongue through the top of your cleavage was just as embarrassing as the one earlier, when you’d kissed on the beach.

The soggy cone in your hand crushed between your tight grip, spilling between your fingertips and down your arm.

Harry placed strategic little pecks back up your front, oblivious to the little dilemma you were having. “Mint chocolate is still my favourite.” He said against your mouth.

“Is it?” You asked breathlessly. “There’s plenty of it.”

He gave you a perturbed look, and then did his eyes trail along your arm to the mess in your hand. You expected him to laugh, but he did no such thing.

He growled.

He wrapped an arm around your waist and brought your body flush against his. Then he took your elbow in his other hand and brought the mess closer. Because you couldn’t help yourself, you wiped some of it across his mouth and up his cheek.

“You didn’t.” His voice was so low and dangerous it had sparks lighting through random limbs.

“I did,” you whispered.

You reached up and began cleaning it off the same way he had you - with your mouth. You started on his cheek, taking your time to wipe it up as you moved along his scruff to his mouth. And when you did finally reach his mouth he was ravenous with you, the opposite of the kiss on the beach. He ate you up, tongue and all.

For a little while, you let him. He felt good on your mouth. He showed you just how much he wanted you with his tongue and the way he squeezed your body tightly to his. The need to melt into his hold and float away became your top priority.

He started towards your coated arm, but you didn’t want him eating out of your hand. Quite literally. You wanted his focus elsewhere.

You pushed him away, batting off the guilt that came from the offended look on his face. Then you made him watch as you trailed your sticky hand down your chin from your mouth, over columns of your throat to your chest. You smeared most of it off, including on your boobs.

Harry looked like he was about to combust.

“You okay?” You teased. You slipped around him, walking backwards now towards the hut.

He turned over his shoulder and followed. “Do I look okay to you?”

You knew that was his invitation to look at his crotch. You allowed your gaze to drop for just a second, taking in the outline of his erection.

Big was the first thing that came to mind.

“There are worse things to be than turned on.”

A smile flirted with the corners of his mouth. You cleaned your hand up since the majority of the mess you’d made was now making its way down your chest and between your tits. Harry watched you as if you were a brilliant movie on the silver screen. He couldn’t take his eyes off you even if he wanted to.

Your back hit one of the posts on the cabin porch, and Harry found his way back into your space. He slipped the tote bag off your shoulder and let it fall to the floor by your feet.

He took two fistfuls of your dress and tugged it. “I want this off.”

You were still cleaning your hand. You silently nodded around your fingers, and then raised both arms in the air. He shucked the dress up to your chest and then whipped it off, tossing it into one of the chairs posted outside the door.

His gaze raked up your body like a man starved.

A couple of droplets of ice cream had fallen lower and were trailing down your abdomen towards the line of your bikini. Before they could make it, Harry leaned forward and collected them onto his tongue.

Your breathing hitched, and you took your fingers back into your mouth as you watched him sponge kisses and trail licks back up your front.

You took his cap off with your free hand and dropped it in the same chair as your dress. Then you pushed your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp as he went.

As he reached the underside of your breasts, he smoothed his hands up your thighs.

A low moan came out of you in anticipation. This man was about to unravel you in ways you couldn’t possibly imagine. You’d never shied away from sex before, but this was something else. What you and Harry were doing felt different. Exciting.

Harry managed to split his attention between cleaning your chest and smoothing up your thighs. He gripped your waist with one hand, and the other slid between your legs. He started circling the pads of his fingers against your clit, over your bikini.

You’d been wet ever since your kiss on the beach and his hand was only making your desire that much heavier.

“God, Harry,” you groaned, and your back arched away from the post, “just like that.”

He breathed out against your breast, as if hearing your praise was the biggest compliment in the world.

He continued working you up between your thighs as his tongue laved over every inch of your front, wiping up the sticky mess you put there. He sucked your nipple over the fabric of your swimsuit.

“Fuck, your tits are perfect,” he groused, and worked deeper into your heat with his fingers.

“Take them out.” You begged.

He shook his head against your chest, roving upwards. “Not outside.”

This gentlemanly side of him was like a silent killer. He wasn’t up for exposing you in public even though you’d had no quarrel with it. You supposed he was more than well-versed with the repercussions of having your private life displayed for the world to see. It didn’t stop you from grinding on his hand, though.

He lapped up the cream on your chest and throat, until finally, finally his mouth joined yours again. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, bringing his body hard against yours. You continued to grind into his hand while rubbing your boobs against his chest. The friction you so craved was driving you wild.

“You’re unbelievable.” He groaned into your mouth.

“It’s not the first time you’ve told me that.”

He puffed a laugh through his perfect lips. “It’s still true. Except I’m saying it now as a dead man.”

You gasped at the feeling of one of his fingers trying to bury into your heat. “How so?”

“I’m at your mercy, baby.”

“Oh, God.” You whined, keeping his mouth firmly on yours. “I never thought I’d say this but I really want you to fuck me, Harry.”

“I will.” He insisted with a nip of your lips. “But I really want you to come on my hand first.”

“Fuck.” You whimpered.

You ground and ground against Harry’s fingers, focussing all of your attention on that one thing while his kisses plastered your mouth until your climax finally bubbled to the surface and exploded, straining your body in shivering tightness. You buried your face into his neck as you cried out, clinging onto him to help it subside.

He took his hand from between your legs and wrapped both arms around your waist, pulling you away from the column. When your legs weren’t complete jelly, you were already moving again, coaxing him inside.

A deep moan bubbled out of him when you reconnected your lips. He knew what you were doing and he was only too eager to join, walking you into the cabin. The door was kicked shut the second you were over the threshold.

Your hand slid down his front, fingertips tracing over the lines of his torso until you had a handful of clothed man. Harry was big. You knew that already from the brief encounter you’d had with it on arrival, but with your hands on that appendage now, you realised you might have your work cut out for you.

Harry grunted at your touch like a starved animal. It was such a deep, jarring noise it had shivers shooting all over your body, and straight back to your clit again. And you ate that noise right out of his mouth.

You tucked both hands into the waistband of his trunks and slid the garment down, falling to your knees with it. His back hit the door.

“What are you doing?”

You met his gaze, not a hint of hesitation on you. “I want you in my mouth.”

“Christ,” he hissed, “I don’t think I’ll last long if you do that.”

You smirked, gliding your hands up his thighs to wrap around his shaft. “That’s okay.”

“But I want to shag you.”

“I have every intention of doing that, too.”

“Might be hard if I finish in your mouth.”

You gave him a challenging raise of your brow. “You telling me you don’t have enough in you for two rounds? For a man who sings about sex as much as you do, that’s kinda disappointing.”

He knew you were goading him. He could tell by the look in your eye, that fiery glint that lived to wind him up. And it’d be a damn lie if he said he didn’t love it. Sparring with him over nothing was one thing, but to challenge his stamina? Entirely another.

He didn’t take your bait, settling with a tense jaw and a dark look in his eye. You took that as enough encouragement to continue.

You tucked your hands into the waistband of his shorts and pulled them down, avoiding getting poked in the eye when it sprang free. Taking it by the base with a gentle grip at first, you studied it with a calm exterior. Your interior, however, was rioting. In me it screamed.

Never one to deny yourself of anything you wanted, you stroked his shaft a couple of times and took him in your mouth without any further delay.

“Bloody hell,” Harry swayed a little at the suddenness of it all, only finding your shoulders to steady himself on.

You started working him, both hand and mouth moving up and down the length of him because he wasn’t going to fit in just your gob, big as it was. Your tongue licked around him too, preening his hot and veiny length. Sometimes it felt wrong to call a phallus beautiful, but his really was.

You gripped the back of his thigh as you bobbed and bobbed and bobbed. If there was such a thing as ‘perfectly hairy’, Harry was it. His leg hair felt incredible in an inexplicable way, and if you weren’t turned on enough already, it was really fucking doing it for you. It turned out, a lot about this man really did it for you.

“Oh, fuck,” Harry panted, stroking your hair as an excuse to just hold your head, “that’s good, darlin’.”

Words of praise hadn’t really been your thing until that exact moment. You worked harder around him, hand and lips moving in quicker succession. You wanted him to praise you more so you’d work even harder than that. Then maybe you’d get to watch him unravel while you tasted him on your tongue for the very first time.

“Not surprised a girl with a mouth like yours knows how to use it.”

It was a backhanded compliment if you’d ever heard one, but you were going with it. You quite enjoyed that he could still find a way to drag you a little while saying nice things. Lewd nice things, but nice all the same.

You pulled back and lifted his length up, closing your mouth around his balls to suck instead. He hissed, fisting the hair at the back of your head. The sharp pain that caused only made you want him more.

You met his gaze as you sucked away at each of his balls, and he was a fucking sight - strong yet vulnerable, beautiful yet roughened. Everything he exuded in that second was a contradiction to itself and the man became more of a conundrum to you than he ever had been. You needed to ground him again. Rearrange the version of him in your head so that the one that existed outside of it became clear.

You slid the hand holding his leg upward and behind to stroke over his ass cheek. Obviously it was smooth and perky and you felt a strange kind of envy because it wasn’t fair that men always had such spectacular rear-ends.

Then you stopped sucking on his bollocks and licked up his shaft like it was better than a freaking Calippo. Hell, it was better by a staggering degree. You prayed to any ethereal entity that would listen that this wouldn’t be the last time you’d get to suck away at Harry’s girthy man-meat.

You licked up the crease on his tip, taking the dribble of pre-come with you. It melted on your tongue, and a dirty groan spilled out of you and over his shaft as it sunk back into the heat of your mouth.

You fought harder this time as you started bobbing around him. Cheeks hollowed and chin drowning in your own saliva. You took him as far as you could, into the tightness of your throat until he was the one choking. Then you rested back for a second to suck on his tip, before shoving him back down as far as he’d go.

“No, no, no,” Harry stressed, attempting to pull away.

But it was already too late, and a smug satisfaction washed over your entire being as he began to come. You gripped onto his legs to keep his cock inside your mouth. Again he only had your shoulders to keep him upright as his hips instinctively bucked in shallow movements with each wave of his release. He tasted unlike anything before. It had this addicting quality to it and part of you would be happy if he just never stopped coming.

But he did, eventually, and once he was out of your mouth you swallowed down his release and made a show of licking your lips afterward.

“Are you okay?” You asked once you could finally talk.

He looked spent already, but you weren’t going to let him give up that easily. His hair was all in his face, cheeks stained pink, and his skin was shiny in places that hadn’t been considered obscene until this very moment. Harry looked like he was about to film an advert for a new ‘fragrance for men’. Just like everyone else, whatever he was selling, you’d probably buy it.

“‘M bloody wonderful.” The way he spoke had a weightlessness to it, and you wanted to float away on it.

You rose to your feet, leaving a path of kisses up his torso as you went. Havoc wrecked up your insides as you did so. You’d had a piece of him already, but that damn body… enough to send the calmest of women to an institution.

Harry captured your mouth the second he could and absolutely ravaged you. He was all encompassing, like nothing else in the world mattered. Right then, it didn’t. Only his kisses and the hunger he gave off with them.

You found yourself with your back against the door, Harry’s body heavy against you. His weight caused your insides to light up all over again, your centre preparing for pleasure.

“Harry, I need you in me,” you spoke against his kisses, clawing at his skin to keep him closer, keep the fire in your body alive and burning.

“I need in you,” He agreed, his attack on your mouth not letting up.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“I’m trying to remember what I did with the condoms I had in my suitcase.”

Inexplicably, you started giggling. It amused you, that this man who could seem so suave and smooth and charming could lose something like his condoms.

When your head tilted to the side, he took advantage of your exposed neck, delicately sucking his way down and back to your cleavage. He took you out of your clothes until you were completely bare, finally in matching states of undress.

“I’ve got some in my handbag,” you managed to say on a heavy pant.”

Harry growled, and the noise shot straight to your clit, “Don’t move.”

He yanked himself away from you and marched across the room to your bag, where it sat on the floor by the bed.

“Inside zip pocket,” you told him, teeth nibbling at your lower lip.

He found the strip and tore one off, then ripped it open and put it on without any form of hesitation. He took a brief second to study your nakedness, still standing with your back against the door, and then he was crowding you again, leaving you with barely room to breathe. Yet taking breath was the last thing you cared about.

“God, you’re pretty,” he sighed as he shoved his face into your neck. His lips lightly nipped and sucked away at your skin, while his hands roamed your naked body.

His dick was hard again, pressing against your stomach, and your sex was rioting with impatience. You combed your fingers through his hair, tugging every now and then on the soft curls until he shivered. He lifted your leg at the thigh and hooked it over his hip, and like he just couldn’t wait any longer, he thrust his length inside you at once.

You choked on the breath you were intaking at the sheer fullness of him, and now it was your turn to bury your face in his neck. He smelled like sea water and sweat and it made a heady, lusty scent.

He spoke your name like a prayer, “fuck. You feel… I don’t even know. Fucking marvellous.”

You gripped him tighter as he started thrusting, heavy and hard. “You’re so big, Harry.”

Your backside hit the door, and while it was a little painful and might well bruise, it actually made it all the better. You felt like an animal, matching his hip movements one by one.

It felt like he was trying to prove something, and even though he really didn’t need to, you weren’t going to tell him that. You liked this side of him - this real maleness that you hadn’t really seen from him beside his occasional pigheadedness. And it was only occasional because he only showcased it with you. With everyone else he was a god damn peach. Maybe he’d be a peach with you now, too, with less of the bravado. But you’d like to see this side of him more, where he had nothing and yet everything to prove, and a driving desire to prove it.

He was starting to pound faster and faster, grunting and groaning. Sweat rolled down his back and it was oddly stimulating. You traced your fingertips down his spine and back up, then gripped his face and brought his mouth to yours for a mind-bending snog.

If his mouth was heaven, his dick was fucking ecstasy.

Everything about him worked together to provide the ultimate pleasure and you were centimetres from falling off the damn train.

“Harry, touch my clit.” You ordered.

He growled again and it was utterly delicious. He stroked his hand from your hip to your cunt and started stroking that sensitive nub in such a stark contrast to how he was fucking into you that you reached a new level of overwhelm.

“Fuck, Harry!” You squealed.

“You are,” pant, “insatiable.”

He dropped his mouth to the top of your breast and sucked - hand, cock and mouth all moving together in sync to bring you to climax.

Stilted, you groaned at the way your orgasm washed over you like a debilitating blaze. Harry’s body held you prisoner against the door, and you knew from his shudder that he was coming too. Hard, if his teeth against your shoulder blade was any indication.

“It’s not like this,” He said after a moment of quiet.

You were boneless sandwiched between his hard front and the door. If he moved, you’d collapse. “What?”

He took your face in his hands and kissed you, slow and sweet, “It’s not like this. Ever. I feel different with you.”

A thick lump formed in your throat, and you forced it down with a swallow. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t know what he meant. You knew exactly what he meant. You were no stranger to sex, but it hadn’t ever been like that before. Something about being with Harry lit you up on the inside like a firework display on bonfire night. But for some reason, you couldn’t put that into words for him. So you did the only thing you could and kissed him back.

You wound up in the shower together, going for another round before cleaning each other up. It was more delicate than the first time. You took your time, and then when you were both spent, you finally stepped out, clean and sated.

Harry wiped you down with the towel first, taking extra care to make sure you were completely dry. Watching him care for you that way did terrible things to your insides. Especially the vital organ in your ribcage. He’d gone from carnal to tender in a matter of seconds and that familiar feeling of whiplash latched onto you again.

You clung to the sink while he towelled himself down, watching his every move. Admiring him. There was no animosity left in you to harbour towards this man. It would be a waste to do so. You’d hold onto it for someone else, someone more worthy. For now, Harry had earned something else. Something sweeter.

He took your face between his hands when he was done, appreciating you. His thumbs stroked over your cheeks. You took a gentle hold of his wrists, keeping your eyes on his.

“Don’t go to the bungalow.”

You bit your lip at his request. Knowing what you knew now, you’d have never booked it if you had any slight inkling that this might’ve happened. And by ‘this’ you obviously meant sleeping with him. Up until 2 days ago the possibility was at around 0.01%.

But you had booked it to safeguard yourself, and paid a hefty deposit. You weren’t going to get that back now.

“Don’t worry about the money, just… stay with me.” He pleaded.

“But I am worried about the money.” You admitted. “People like me have to be. I’ve already been frivolous enough trying to get here.”

“I’ll give it to you.”

“I don’t want you to.”

He frowned, and his hands fell away. You suddenly felt cold, craving his warmth and his touch again. You closed the space between you and rested your palms against his naked chest.

“I can’t just let something like that go, Harry. And I’ve never taken well to people just offering me things. Especially not money. I have to earn it. It’s not personal, I promise.”

“I just wanted to do something for you.”

“I know. But you don’t have to.”

He studied you for a moment, eyes searching your face. “What if I came with you?”

You chuckled. “Okay, keen bean. I think you need to slow down. Think about it for a minute.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I’m not going away.” You reminded him. “I’ll be half an hour down the road, that’s it.”

“Too far.”

You shook your head and dropped your forehead to his chest. “It’s not really.”

“I don’t want you staying somewhere alone.”

“If you weren’t here then I would’ve spent 4 weeks up here alone. With only badgers for company.”

“Compromise with me a little? Please?”

You sighed, and he wrapped himself around you so that you were cocooned in his hold.

“You go to the AirBnB, but I come with you. If you won’t let me pay for it, let me come with you.”

Knowing he wasn’t going to let it go unless you gave him something, you said, “I’ll think about it.”

The next three days were utter bliss.

The first day, you barely managed to get out of bed. From the moment you woke up to the second you fell asleep, Harry was on you, touching you, affecting you. It was beautiful and fulfilling and also exhausting. He wouldn’t leave you alone, but you didn’t mind. You were enjoying this side of him. You were enjoying this side of you - the one that didn’t constantly feel tense or on edge or irritated. You were happy.

The second day, you spent it in the car, just driving around the Highlands with no planned route and no destination. He held your hand tightly in his while you explored mountain passes and vast lochs and deep forests. You stopped at a roadside cafe and had quite possibly the best gluten free sandwich of your life - which you were surprised was even an option in the depths of nowhere - and then carried on to another quiet pass where you had some wildly incredible sex in the front seat of the car. It was almost midnight by the time you got home, and the shitty three-quarter bed in the cabin had never felt so comfortable. It was made all the better with Harry’s body wrapped around you.

On the third and final day, Harry had gone into full wooing mode. Every single part of the day felt like an attempt to bring you on side, whether it be staying at the cabin or allowing him to come to the bungalow with you. He started with a wake up call that involved his glorious face between your legs, followed by a fully gluten free breakfast spread. After a joint shower wherein he shagged you senseless against the tile wall from behind, he dragged you out into the perfectly mild Highland day for a hike up the nearest - small - mountain. You were back by lunchtime for a picnic by the lake and a dip in the water, with less chasing this time and more paddling. Then, after a nap in the cabin that resulted in yet more sex, he took you into the village for dinner at the nicest restaurant it had. It was no Nobu - not that you’d ever eaten there - but it was good food and perfect company.

“Are you ever going to tell me what you said to that paparazzi that followed us last week?” Harry asked when our dessert was taken away. He had a hand settled on the base of his wine glass, the candle on the table flickering so that light danced across his handsome face in odd ways. It only pronounced the sparkle in his eye.

You licked your lips, fighting off your smile. “Probably not.”

“Please? I feel like I deserve to know, given it could come back and bite me in the bum.”

You giggled at his use of the word ‘bum’. It was like his mother was in the room with you. “It won’t.”

“And how are you so certain, darling?” He leaned forward over the table, still entertained.

“Because, baby, it is literally impossible for him to do so.”

“Care to explain?” He rested his chin on a closed fist, smirking.

With a sigh, you leaned sideways and fished around in your bag until you found what you were looking for. Between your index and middle finger, you flashed the small SD card that the man had reluctantly handed over to you all those days ago.

Harry’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Wow.”

“Uh-huh.”

“How’d you manage that?”

You thought back to your conversation outside the supermarket and let out a small laugh. “Er… I might have threatened to get the supermarket security involved for harassing customers, and then followed it with another threat to break his fancy camera and shove the SD card into some intimate places if he didn’t give it to me.”

Harry was staring at you like you were a mad woman. Maybe you were - you always did have a short fuse. “You said that?”

“Yes.”

He managed a blink. “You said that for me?”

“Yeah…”

He blew out a breath and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his beardy chin. “Which intimate places?”

You smiled, “Well, something that size wouldn’t have done much damage up his arsehole, would it?”

Harry grinned, shaking his head, “You’re amazing.”

“No. I just think everyone deserves a holiday without having the fucking press on their back for every second of it.”

He leaned forward again and grabbed your hand, littering it with kisses, “Amazing.”

“I’m sure you’d do the same if the roles were reversed.”

“I’d like to think I would, yes.”

Your hands tangled together in the middle of the table, and you traced the creases between them with your free hand. You took a deep breath as your thoughts rolled ahead to tomorrow and the decision you had to make. “Harry, I want to make a deal with you.”

His brow furrowed. “Okay…”

“I want to go to the bungalow tomorrow alone.” He opened his mouth to object, but you squeezed his hand and shook your head. “I arranged this time away from home so I could get away from people and out of my head for a bit. And that’s not me saying I’ve had a shit time with you - I absolutely haven’t. But I need some space. I didn’t expect you when I turned up here and I’ve been kind of derailed from all the things I wanted to do.”

“That doesn’t sound like a deal.” He argued.

“That’s because I wasn’t finished.”

Even in the glow of the candlelight it was obvious he was blushing, “Sorry.”

Your lips twitched with a smile. “That being said, I know as soon as we’re apart I know I’ll miss you. Ludicrous as that sounds, because a week ago I still kinda hated you, but it’s the truth. I will miss you. I know what you’ve been doing the past three days and I’d be a big fat liar if I said it wasn’t working.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” He said with feigned ambivalence.

“Yeah, sure.” You rolled your eyes, but now your smile was really helpless. “Anyway. I want a week, Harry. That’s it. Just one week to myself, so I can work on my deadline and actually get something done. Because I’ll be honest, as soon as I realised you were here that night I got here, I kind of forgot I had work to do at all.”

He looked to be turning everything over in his head. “One week?”

“Yep. Just seven days. And then we can spend my last week here together and you can do whatever you want with me. Does that sound fair?”

He pursed his lips. “You go home in two weeks?”

“I do. Have the train ticket to prove it, too.”

“You can’t stay longer?”

“My life isn’t that flexible, Harry.”

“No, I know.” He took a breath, staring at our hands, still intertwined on the table. “Do you still split your time between London and home?”

“I do. Mostly home, but my place in London gets enough use. When work needs me to come into the office, it’s convenient. I’ve been fighting it for a while, but I think I might have to move to London permanently eventually. They’re discouraging working from home.”

He grunted like he disapproved of it. “Okay… I will let you have your week so we can have our week afterward. And I’m coming home with you when you have to leave.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” You asked over a laugh. “Thank you for letting me know.”

He snorted. “This is my off-season. And while I thought I’d be spending it relatively alone, and definitely not with the woman who’s hated me for fuck knows how long, it turns out I actually… quite like that woman. When she doesn’t hate me so much.”

You lean forward, “Quite like her, do you?”

“I do. Very fond might be a better way of putting it. So, if she’d let me, I’d like to spend my downtime with her before I bugger off for fuck knows how long to do my job. Especially if that means finally seeing her illusive house.”

“If you think she owns a house, you’ll be very disappointed when you get there.”

“Do you not own your home?”

“No, I own it. It’s just not a house.”

“Ah. Well, even still. If you’ll have me, I want to visit.”

“Can I visit you in London?”

“If you don’t, I’ll be offended.”

“Then… I think we’ve made our deal.”

“I think we have.” Harry grinned. “Should we go back to celebrate?”

“Celebrate?” You had to laugh, “It’s not graduation, H.”

“It kind of is. Graduation from singledom.”

Something stirred in your belly, and not in a bad way. “Oh.”

“You okay with that?”

You bit your lip and nodded. “Mhmm, I’m okay with that.”

“Good.” He pressed his lips to your hand. “I think we should fuck around with Holly and your brother, too.”

“Oo, how?”

“I have a few ideas…”

Four Weeks Later

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

You watched as a delighted squeal ripped out of your best friend, her hands clasped against her chest. Beautiful Holly beamed, her gaze touching on every single one of her invited surprise guests. “Oh my God!”

Your brother, ever the sap when it came to his wife - and rightly so - had organised a surprise birthday party for her 30th. You all knew, no matter how much she claimed she didn’t want anything special, that all of her favourite people in one room would mean the most to her. She’d been taken out for a birthday brunch by Harry so that you and your brother could turn their home into something fit for a party.

Streamers hung from the light fittings and curtain rails. Banners were stuck to the walls. Party poppers had burst and sailed through the air the second the front door had been opened. Everyone donned some form of ridiculous party hat. Someone had put a tiara on Holly’s head. The kitchen was piled with food and drink. All guests had been instructed to arrive at 2:30pm for Holly’s return at 3 o’clock. Harry had been placed under strict instruction not to bring her home before then if he valued his life. If Holly’s day wasn’t perfect, he’d have your brother to answer to.

Harry caught your gaze across the room while everyone else corralled the birthday girl into their embraces. It held for longer than anyone else would expect of you, and apparently your brother noticed.

“Come help me in the kitchen a second,” he tugged on your wrist.

You looked away, following him to the back of the house. You fixed yourself a drink, the first alcoholic one of the day now that the guest of honour had arrived, and sunk it in one; a reward for pulling off a surprise party for the nosiest woman on the planet. You poured another, and then one for Holly, too.

You tried to slip away into the front room, but were stopped midway by a tall, foreboding figure.

“What are you doing?” The question came out a little snappier than intended, but you blamed it on nearly spilling Holly’s drink than being practically ploughed over by a certain someone.

Harry raised an eyebrow at you. “I’ve come to get Holly a drink. That alright?”

I kept my expression neutral and held out the plastic cup. “Here you go - Holly’s drink. I’ll even let you take the credit for it.”

“I daren’t give you the satisfaction.” Harry scoffed.

“Trust me, Harry, nothing you could do would ever satisfy me.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Your brother muttered.

Harry shot him a glance as he took the cup from you, purposefully brushing his fingers against yours, “Thank you so much.”

You flipped him the bird as he stalked off and rejoined your brother at the counter preparing the food for a barbecue.

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you two to try and get on for Holly’s sake. Just for one fucking day.”

You bit your tongue and hoped it passed as ire, “It’s not my fault he’s a raging prick.”

“That’s a stretch and you know it.”

Ignoring him, you worked on slicing carrots, celery, cucumber and peppers into slices for crudités. Was it really a birthday party if there were no crudités?

The answer is no.

“Alright,” your brother called across the packed room of people, “five minutes and the food is going on! Can I have a volunteer for help with the barbecue?” Holly started to raise her hand, but he slapped it back down, “Not you, gorgeous.”

Someone coughed “Simp”, and you had to cover a laugh.

“Alright,” Holly’s dad heaved himself up and out of his favourite armchair, “I’ll help. The student needs a master, after all.”

Holly rolled her eyes, but you knew she liked it when your brother and her dad found another way to bond.

When conversations picked back up you scurried off to the bathroom for a breather. Even though it was still early, the number of people stuffing themselves into the frankly small living room had you feeling claustrophobic. It wasn’t like you to feel that way often, but the charade you were putting on was making you nervous. You never got nervous, but lying wasn’t in your armoury, because you were actually generally shit at it.

You thought of Harry and his quiet - and sometimes not-so-quiet - confidence. He pulled off the hatred with ease. He had three films and a post-credit scene as experience for that. Or maybe he wasn’t acting at all…

No. If last night’s bedroom activities were anything to go by, that couldn’t be true.

You washed your hands and splashed some water on your face to cool yourself down, and then let yourself out of the downstairs bathroom. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you found Harry on the other side of the door waiting.

“Fuck me,” you hissed.

Harry opened his mouth, no doubt with some witty retort that he’d already ‘done that’, but he was cut off by someone else stealing your attention.

Holly barrelled into you while yelling your name, dragging you away in a hug that was more like a headlock. “You are so naughty doing this! I said I didn’t want a party!”

“Yes, but look how happy you are,” You grinned at her. It took absolutely everything in you to not turn around and look at the handsome man who seemed to always linger in the right places.

“I am… I’m so happy, thank you.” She gave a content sigh. “The only thing that would make this better is if you and Harry could even just pretend to be amicable for like, five minutes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re super amicable all the time,” You said in the most blasé tone you could muster.

“Yeah right.”

“We were amicable at that dinner with your Nan.”

“That was for her sake.”

Something sharp pinched at your heart. She thought you didn’t try for her. If only she knew. But you had a part to play and you didn’t want to back out of it now. You were sticking to the plan. “I am not the problem. I’m very amenable.”

Holly frowned, the expression fraught with disapproval.

You sighed, “Sorry. Force of habit. It’s easy to blame someone you hate for your own misgivings.” Using the word hate in reference to Harry felt so wrong. Do it for the charade your brain screamed.

“Okay, enough. Maybe one day your brother and I won't have to separate you and Harry before you murder each other, but clearly today is not that day.”

Give it an hour or two and you might reconsider that statement you thought. “Yeah, maybe.”

For the next while you entertained Holly and avoided Harry while constantly throwing glances whenever you felt his presence. And you always felt his presence, as did everyone else in the room. There were clearly people here who didn’t expect him to show because they kept staring. You wished you could stare without such shame. You wished for other things, too, like to go over to wherever he was and just slip into his arms, or hold his hand, or kiss his mouth. But you did no such thing. You kept to yourself.

After the barbecue food had been eaten, your brother brought a huge cake out, homemade by your mother, with 30 candles on the top, all lit. Everyone sang Happy Birthday to Holly and watched her blow them out in three big huffs, and then it was taken inside to be cut up.

“I’m sorry it’s not gluten free, baby,” your mum sighed as slices of gooey chocolate goodness got passed around to all the guests.

“How many times have we had this conversation?” You chuckled, squeezing her into your side. “Gluten free cakes have the consistency of sawdust. They are shite. I’ll survive without cake.”

“Literally.” Ah, a rare coeliac joke.

You snorted. “Exactly.”

“Anyway,” she threw a surreptitious glance around the garden and then lowered her voice, “how long are you and Harry going to wind up your brother and Holly by pretending you still hate each other?”

“They’ll know later. Soon. It’s getting too hard considering they both just let themselves into our houses nowadays and they’re likely to catch us… in the middle of something.”

“Smart choice, poppet.”

“This is just payback for meddling.”

“Yes, but it worked out, didn’t it?”

You grunted unattractively. “Shush. We are not letting them believe they’re responsible for our relationship.”

“Are they not, though?”

“Of course not!” Alright, maybe a little. But you were never going to let them believe it.

You scanned the crowd again and caught the better half of your relationship sneaking inside. The urge to go after him and lock yourselves away in a bedroom became stifling, but somehow you refrained.

Twenty minutes later everyone was gathered around the birthday girl again and watching her open presents like it was Christmas fucking morning. You were sitting on the arm of the sofa watching her with a fond smile. Harry had tucked himself into a corner again like a fucking bat, but he wasn’t alone. He’d been talking to another girl for a while. You didn’t know her, although I recognised her from Holly and your brother’s wedding. Holly’s cousin, maybe? Anyway, she was… keen. Yep, definitely keen given her invested posture.

You tried not to give a shit, or at least pretend you didn’t. But you definitely did give a shit.

“Oo, what’s this?” Holly’s question piqued your curiosity, distracting you from staring at Harry.

You noted the envelope in her hands, unmarked, and smirked. Chancing a glance at Harry, he was already looking at you with the very same look on his face.

Holly plucked the card out and read the note inside, her intrigued expression morphing into more confusion. Glancing around the room, gaze visibly lingering on Harry, she brought the card closer to her chest so that no one else could see, and peeked at the photo you knew was taped to the inside. She pressed the card to her chest and searched the room for you, eyes narrowing into slits when she found you.

“What is it, babe?” Your brother asked, trying to peel the card off her.

She smacked his hand away, “It’s a… gift voucher.”

“What for?”

The look she gave him was conspiratorial, “I’ll tell you later.”

“Bet it’s for Lovehoney.” Someone joked, the same person who called your brother a simp earlier on.

She snapped the card shut and slipped it back into the envelope, moving onto the next gift. Her demeanour had changed considerably. Holly was decidedly less excited about her other presents now, and she kept tossing glares between you and Harry. He was clearly fighting off laughter, and you pretended to be unaffected.

When her last present was revealed and she’d said her thank yous to everyone, Holly stood and primly excused herself to the bathroom. Not thirty seconds later, you were summoned to the bedroom upstairs by a text in all capitals.

You made a quiet escape and made your way up to the room you knew your brother shared with his wife and slipped in, Harry not long behind you. Holly was standing in the middle of the room with her arms folded and a deep scowl on her face. Your brother was there too, looking perturbed.

“What’s going on?” He asked, throwing a worried glance at his wife.

“Excellent question.” Holly snapped. “I want to know the exact same thing.”

Harry shut the door behind him, and then silently handed her a stack of more photos we’d printed on Polaroids, held together with an elastic band.

Holly got straight to work sifting through the pile, your brother’s gaze fixed on them over her shoulder. There were easily 30 photos there - in the lake, on walks, sharing ice creams, sunbathing, cuddled together on the sofa, kissing. It was a lot of selfies, something Harry refused to smile for, and it only made you smile bigger and laugh harder. But it had been Harry’s idea to immortalise the beginning of your relationship on that vacation, and it had been your idea to give the photos to Holly as a birthday present, because you knew it would make her happy. Her punishment for getting involved was waiting to find out.

While they studied your loose holiday album, Harry leaned against the door and tugged you back by the belt loops on your jeans so that your back fell against his front. You melted into him like butter, shuddering when his breath fanned across the top of your head. He placed a subtle kiss to your crown.

“I fucking knew it!” Holly squealed, taking a look at the photos again.

“Knew what?” You demanded.

“I knew putting you in that cabin together would give us results.” She grinned.

“Told you.” Harry muttered.

You shook your head, folding your arms. “Unbelievable.”

“How long did it take?” She was practically vibrating, bouncing with excitement. Your brother had to put a hand on her shoulder to keep her still.

“How long did what take?”

“To realise you like each other!”

“A couple of weeks?”

She squeaked again, clapping her hands. “Can I keep these?” She waggled the pictures in front of us.

“That’s what they’re for, Hols. We’ve got our own copies.”

“Yay!”

“Holly,” Harry said sternly.

She stopped fidgeting and looked at him with a wide-eyed gaze. You’d never heard him use that tone with her before. Only you.

“Please don’t meddle with my relationships again. We figured you were the reason we were both up there at the same time, but this didn’t come without a hitch. We still bickered and said some nasty shit to each other.”

“And I whacked my head the first morning.” You huffed.

Harry ran a comforting knuckle up and down your spine. “Also we’re not letting you take responsibility for the result.”

“Yeah, but we all know it never would’ve happened if I hadn’t meddled.” She was still grinning.

You made a contradictory noise, “We don’t know anything, actually. But anyway, we have some ground rules.”

“Don’t be boring.”

“We’re not, Hols,” Harry said softly.

“What are they?” Your brother asked.

You and Harry laid down the law - that mostly involved not saying anything for a while to anyone but family so that you could enjoy your relationship without the media being nosey. You’d finally found your footing with one another, and you didn’t need tabloids and paparazzi complicating your happy medium just yet. For now, you wanted to just enjoy one another. You’d had the same conversation with your parents.

“This is your birthday present, by the way.” You whispered as the four of you trundled back downstairs.

“It’s the best birthday present I’ve ever had.” You’d genuinely never seen your best friend smile so much.

Harry reached over for a high five, and you didn’t hesitate to slap it. “Nailed it.”

“Hey,” your brother sauntered into the kitchen, “you guys want ice cream?”

You and Harry shared a look, and burst into laughter, because ever since that day outside the cabin, ice cream always ended up being used as a form of foreplay.

“No, I’m good.” Harry grinned.

“Yeah, no thanks.” You shook your head, still fighting off laughter.

“Are we missing something?” Your brother looked bewildered.

“Nothing for you to worry about.” Harry slapped his shoulder.

Later that night, when the buzz of alcohol was starting to wear off and the comfort of a sofa called to you, Harry took out the tub of mint choc chip from the freezer and spoon-fed you until you were so tired you couldn’t open your mouth.

“Tired?” He hummed.

“Shattered,” you yawned.

“You want me to put it away…?” He meant the ice cream tub.

You tilted your head all the way back to look at him, his face lit by only a warm glow of a candle. “Do you want to put it away?”

“No.”

“What do you want to do, then?”

He licked his lips and traced a pinky finger down your bare arm, “I want to lie you down on my bed and drip it down your chest, and then lick you from your throat to your thighs.”

And that’s exactly what he did.

~~~

Talk to me?

347 notes · View notes

ladykailitha · 1 year

Text

Star Child Part 1

This one is fun because I like the idea of both of them being famous.

Newscaster: In entertainment news today, Indiana is hosting it’s own Love Loud concert for the first time this year. The idea which spawned from Dan Reynolds of Imagine Dragon’s fame in his own home state of Utah, is to be a celebration of all the kinds of love that are out there, but mainly focusing on the LGBTQ+ community, as proceeds from the concert will go toward charities helping disadvantaged LGBTQ+ children and youth.

The headliner, or shall we say, headliners as Corroded Coffin and Steve Harrington formerly of the boy band, The Kings will be co-headlining tonight. Both are Indiana natives, having made it big. Corroded Coffin, best known for their heavy metal riffs and hard hitting lyrics, formed as a band in their high school and made it big in just two short years. Last year, they sold out Madison Square Garden in under 5 minutes.

Which couldn’t be farther from Steve Harrington’s music if it was designed that way. Steve Harrington made it big in the boy band The Kings, with bandmates, Billy Hargrove, Tommy Hagan, and Jonathan Byers. At the height of their stardom, Steve broke away to write his own music and shot to the top of the charts with his first hit single ‘Drowning in Your Brown Eyes’. Since then Steve has charted ever single he’s put out since.

Steve Harrington will open for Corroded Coffin who will finish off the night with the kind of explosive showmanship they are known for.

Other acts tonight are...

Eddie turned off the TV in his hotel room, having seen what he wanted to. It was nice to see that his band was given the same amount of air time Steve Harrington did. More, technically. It only took selling out MSG to get that kind of recognition. Which was fine. It was what it was. Metal would always be looked down on as other. But that Steve was only mentioned in reference to his old boy band made him smile.

Considering that asshole had made their sound check hell. And worse he didn’t have his band to bitch to, because all three of them were suddenly enamored with pretty boy Stevie.

So yeah, okay, so what if Steve had good sense of timing, solid vocals, and great music writing skills? It just made him more annoying, not less.

He flopped back on the bed and covered his face with hands, to muffle his screams of frustration.

Eddie got up and decided, Fuck it. Fuck Steve Harrington. He was going to blow this stuck up prick out of the water tonight.

He put on his tightest jeans, his messiest chains on his belt, wrists, and neck. He put on a leather jacket and no shirt. He pulled on his chunkiest boots and looked at himself in the mirror.

Fuck yeah.

He grabbed his guitar, and smiled one last time in the mirror.

Eddie was sitting in the makeshift green room, tuning his baby and steadfastly ignoring his bandmates.

“I still think this whole idea is stupid,” he groused.

Jeff scoffed. “You’re just bitter you didn’t think of it first.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “As if. I just don’t think our fans are going to like it.”

“If they don’t,” Gareth said, tapping out a beat on his thigh with his fingers, “then they’re stupid and shouldn’t be our fans.”

“Besides,” Brian said, “this isn’t our usual gig. You’re supposed to do outrageous shit like this.”

Eddie sighed. “Fine whatever.”

Steve was having the time of his life. He was singing his heart out and the crowd was eating it up.

He watched the audience to see if they had caught on to the trick yet. But it didn’t seem like anyone had. It was seamless.

And then it was time for the last song and he moved from center stage to the left and the crowd got a little restless. What was that about?

Steve grinned. “This boy he’s a real star child...” he sang. And crowd went wild.

They went even crazier when the other side of the stage lit up to reveal Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist for Corroded Coffin.

“This guy feels like a jaguar...” he belted into his mic.

And the crowd melted and then roared to life as these two singers who couldn’t be further apart musically tore up “Low Key in Love” by The Struts and Paris Jackson.

Eddie kept looking over at Steve and he’s not sure if it’s the song, the lights, or the way Steve is putting his heart and soul into singing, that he falls a little bit in love with this man.

And then Steve looked directly at him as he sang, “Maybe I’ll never have the guts to say what’s on my mind!”

And it’s a good thing the rest of the song was just repeats of the earlier parts, because Eddie nearly blue screened it.

And then the last cords fade away and the crowd is still screaming.

Steve threw his arms around Eddie as they cheered.

“What the hell, Harrington?” Eddie murmured away from the mic. “Where was that growl and energy during the sound check?”

“And risk my voice before a set?” Steve whispered back.

Eddie turned bright pink.

“Corroded Coffin!” Steve screamed, stepping away from Eddie first, as to not blow out his ears. And the lights came on behind them to reveal that the Corroded Coffin members had been playing almost the whole set.

“I love my guys,” he continued. “I tour with some of the best in the business, but playing with Corroded Coffin is a dream come true!”

Jeff, Gareth, and Brian all cheered, while Eddie continued to cover his face with his hair to hide the blush.

“Let’s hear it for Corroded Coffin everyone!”

And the crowd cheered even louder.

Steve clapped Eddie on the shoulder and bowed out.

Eddie did the only thing he knew how to do. And that was rock out. He channeled all his emotions into his music.

“Let’s get it started!” he roared into his mic. And then launched into ‘Boys for Boys’ one of their first singles about being gay in the metal scene.

After the show when Eddie was riding high off the pure adrenaline of playing to such a crowd, when he nearly ran into Steve. Like almost bulled him over.

“Shit, man,” Eddie said. “I’m sorry.”

Steve smiled softly. “It’s no trouble, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” He patted Eddie on the shoulder and slipped into the crowd.

Eddie frowned, but shrugged and dug into his jacket pocket for his lighter and pack of cigs. But his hand touched a bit of paper first and he pulled it out.

It read Hopper’s Bar 11pm -Steve and on the back was a phone number. He blinked and looked back at the direction Steve had gone but the crowd had closed around him and he couldn’t see anything, let alone Steve.

He pulled out his phone and put Steve’s number in under Pretty Boy and then synced it to the cloud. Because Eddie wasn’t about that rom-com bullshit about losing a number and never seeing the person again.

He walked back to the green room to meet up with the guys. He was greeted by lots of booze and loud cheering.

“You still think it was a shit idea, Eddie?” Brian teased.

Eddie scoffed. “Even broken clock is right twice a day, man.”

He leaned over to put his guitar away and something fluttered at of his pocket.

Jeff leaned over to pick it up. He pursed his lips and shook his head. He shoved it at Eddie. “You still want to tell me he wasn’t flirting with you at sound check?”

Gareth and Brian perked up.

“What’s this?” Gareth asked, leaning over to see around Eddie.

“Steve gave Eddie his number and asked him out,” Jeff said with a grin.

Gareth and Brian started stomping and oohing.

Eddie yanked the paper out of Jeff’s hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You know I can’t stand the guy.”

Brian laughed. “Yeah, so why didn’t you throw it away, then?”

Eddie could feel the blush burning his neck and ears. “Shut it.” He snapped the clasps on his guitar case and booked it to their limo, the chorus of laughter following him close behind.

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 Part 16

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #rockstar au #song fic #ladykailtiha writes

489 notes · View notes

dance-to-mythoughts-blog · 4 months

Text

Pro-hero Katsuki Bakugo x Pro-hero Black fem reader

Happy New Year Everyone! I hope everyone has a wonderful day and they enjoy themselves. I decided since I posted my first work earlier today why not provide a second one.

Synopsis: What happens when you fight fire with fire? You and Katsuki are the epitome of hatred. But when you are tired of his shit, what happens when fire meets fire?

Warnings: Dick in pussy, degrading, slight use of quirk play, nipple play, and swallowing, office sex, hate sex, nutting on ass, use of the word daddy ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

"Goddammit Katsuki! You always have to come and fuck up some shit dude! I told u I fucking had it! Now this bitch got away!" you screamed at the top of your lungs because again, Katsuki decided he wanted to take your shine away and paint you as a damsel in distress. You work for the top hero just like he does and can do the exact same things that he can but better!

"You sure about that brat?! Cause from the looks of it, you were about to get crushed like a fucking pancake until I saved your crying ass. So how about a little less bitching and a little more thanking since I saved you life!"

"You didn't save shit! I fucking had it. Now because you did that stupid shit dude got away. Not only did dude get away but you let that bitch Mirko get him and bring him to justice! MIRKO KATSUKI!!! OF all fucking heroes you let that nigga slip into her hands to bring him to justice."

You HATED THAT BITCH MIRKO. Since you guys were elementary-aged kids' you guys always had this fucking rivalry. Deep down you knew she was always better than you and you hated to admit that. And the fact that you guys had been going at it since yall were fucking kids and today was another mark on her Talley chart you were fucking heated! I mean heated so bad that the center of the earth would be damn cold because you were so fucking pissed of at him. You guys fought all the way back to the damn agency. Everyone knows you and Katsuki and oil and water but when you guys work together with your quirks, you guys are fucking unstoppable, which is why when the number one hero, Hawks added you guys on after graduation you were honored. There was so much paperwork that had to be filled out because you and Katsuki both had injuries and made kind of a big mess. It was late when people started dwindling out of the office when one of your mentors, Hellcat, stopped by your desk.

"Working late again sugar plum? You know it's not good to work all the damn time"

Taking in a deep heavy sigh " I know Auntie. But this work has to be done and I'm trying to take my mind off what happened earlier. I can't believe he did that goofy ass shit and let dude get away."

"You know baby, in watching the fight back again, he was actually right to defend you"

You looked at her surprised because you couldn't believe what she just said. She said that Bakugo had the right to defend you. That's fucking horse shit. "What!? Auntie that's crazy. Mans is self-centered and always wants to take my shine away. He's done it before so why is this time any different?"

"Well, that's part of being a hero. Accepting your flaws. Now I know both of you are fire. I went back to look at the fight and from the outside looking in, he did save you. You were about to take a huge hit that could've possibly killed you but you didn't because he did what he did. Sure, both of you came out bruised and a few buildings destroyed but if he hadn't, we would be planning a funeral right now for you. See you in the AM"

With that she left and really left you wondering why he decided to save your life. To think since you started working here 7 months ago and have been arguing with this man consistently and now he saved your life? Thats crazy. So, you decided to get on YouTube to see what Auntie was talking about. You typed i your hero name and the most recent fight popped up.

Dynamite saves hero name again. In reading the caption and the comments people were clowning you. They were saying how you should have not decided to be a hero but you should have done something else. It hurt. To see the people that you wanted to protect say such nasty cruel things about you hurt. You swallowed your pride and went to Bakugo's office. Upon nearing his office you could faintly hear him typing away on the computer. You knocked on the door.

"What?" Damn. This man is mean and doesn't have any fucking manners to just be saying what to people who want to talk.

"It's Y/N. Can I come in?"

"I don't fucking care". With that being said you opened the door and spoke to him. He mumbled something but you weren't able to hear what it was. He was focused on whatever the fuck he was doing on his fucking computer. Man didn't even look up once. You took the time to really study his features. Man was not ugly. He had a nice jawline, beautiful intense red eyes, and an undercut that you could see with the way he was angling his head. T-shirt that was tight enough to show his muscles, grey sweats that kind of hung low and some nike slides. He must've just taken a shower because he looks so good and looks like he is determined to finish whatever shit that he has going on.

"Thank you"

He looked up and cocked his eyebrow like he was confused.

"For?"

"Saving me. I went back and rewatched the fight with the villain earlier and I see how you came in and saved me. I appreciate it. If you had not done what you did I would completely be dead as fuck. Maybe you could help me train, considering those comments on YouTube about me are fucking nasty"

"What comments?" You went over to his desk to pull up YouTube. You pulled up the video, played it for him and showed him exactly what they were saying about you.

"Dynamite saves H/N. She sucks. He's going to be a fire ass pro hero. Sis is gone be like Daphne on Scooby Doo, the damsel in distress. Dynamite is fine as fuck. H/N is cute but her getting caught a lot makes her kind of dumb. H/N gradated at the top of her class at UA? More like on top of the monkey bars at the park because she's childish. " Hearing him read those comments out loud hurt a lot more when its read out loud than read silently. He could tell you're unconfortable so he decided to help.

"Oi.. you not trash. But you could be better. We jut have to work on your defense. Thats all. But you could stop getting your ass kicked every now and again "

"Well thanks. I still fucking hate you tho. But seriously. I am not a fucking damsel in distress. Sometimes I can take care of myself but what you did today was needed. "

"How are you going to tell me thank you then proceed to be a brat in the fucking process?"

"How are you going to be an asshole while I'm thanking you for saving my life? I bet you liked reading those fucking negative comments about me didn't you?"

He gave me a little smirk "I mean.. in a way they weren't wrong" God you felt so fucking offended. You were trying to thank him for saving your life and he round here playing like he ain't got no fucking common sense.

"Whatever. fuck you nigga" As you started to walk out, he grabbed your wrist. You looked at this man like he lost his fucking marbles. "what the fuck is you doing?! Let my wrist go ass"

"Oi..stop being such a fucking crybaby. You signed up for the wrong profession if you gone let some random motherfuckers make u cry like a baby"

"Are you serious? That shit they said is fucking rude and disrespectful. Not only that nobody likes your punk ass either. They to busy gawking over how big your dick is, if you have one, and how cute you are. They dont like yo bitch ass"

"WOW. Who said I dont have a big dick? If you wanna see it all you have to do is ask princess" he said smugly while he had a smirk on his face that made him look like a fucking god.

The name princess just kinda made you feels some kind of way. It made your cheeks blush red as a rose and your pussy started to get a heartbeat.

" For your information, I think your genitals are smooth like Barbie Ken because you act like a bitch and can't do anything right! Second of all, don't fucking call me princess. Third, fuck you. I'm officially leaving. You can try and find another partner who can put up with yo shit. Nigga im out."

The way he looked at you like you just pissed him off with that comment about barbie Ken.

"What the fuck did u say about my dick brat?"

You scoffed with a smirk "Hoe I said that you act like a bitch and you are so bitch made that you don't have a dick. You don't have anything down there where ya dick should be because you are a bitch. B.I.T.C.H" As you spelled out bitch and pointed to his face and pushed his chest with your pointer finger when you spelled out bitch. And boy oh boy did that piss him off beyond fucking repair. It happened so fucking fast that you didn't even see it coming. He stepped close to you and grabbed your throat and pushed you onto his desk, grabbed your throat to make you look at him and he looked deep into your eyes.

"You are such a fucking brat and I hate it. Like I said crybaby if you cant handle rejection and people talking crazy, then you need to pick a different profession. Stop doing that shit man. Fucking ridiculous. If you wanted to personally see my dick, then you could've just asked but no you have to go be a brat."

The whole time he was yelling at you, you couldn't help but think of all the nasty freak shit you wanted him to do to you. He just manhandled you in his office you're soaking wet like Niagra Falls. He leaned into your ear and said something that shook you to the core.

"Since you wanna know about my dick so bad princess, why don't I give it to you?" he said as he slightly bit the lobe of your ear and also dropped his voice deeper than normal. You don't know what came over you but you turned completely submissive. To let him have whatever he wants with you.

"Fuck. You can do what you want Katsuki. I don't care. you have permission to break me like an egg."

"Good girl" and he picked u up and pushed you onto the table. Spreading your legs so he had enough access to feel your core throbbing and being soaking wet for him. He kissed you passionately. His lips were soft and warm. His kiss was fierce with passion but gentle. He licked the bottom of your lip to gain access to your mouth. The make-out session became heated as he was grouping you and kissing dow your jawline and then moved to your neck.

"You so fucking sexy. You know that?" he whispered to me while he was starting to unbutton my shirt. The way my hero costume is you have to unbutton it from the front. We're working on a new costume anyway. He unbuttoned the top half of my uniform to reveal my bra that had the girls sitting up there like I had surgery.

"Fuck these titties are pretty. When was the last time you had someone suck on em?" he asked as he popped a pretty pierced brown nipple into his mouth. You moaned at the feeling because it had been a minute since you'd had a mans touch. Honestly, you hadn't had any action since you stopped dealing with Denki.

"Fuck.. I-shit.. it's been a minute. God that feels good." He took that as a cue to pop the other nipple in his mouth and kneed your tit like he was making biscuits. It felt so fucking good. Here you are, being submissive to Katsuki Bakugo, AKA, Dynamite because he was making you feel good as fuck and also about to possibly fuck you senseless into the new year.

"You got me all hard and shit. Look" He pulled back so you could see his hard-on through his sweats. And he looked fucking massive. "You did this shit and now you're gonna fix it. Get on your knees princess."

You did as told and got on your knees. He whipped his dick out and it was so impressive that it had you speechless. It was pretty. It was long and thick with a massive vein on the topside of the shaft. Very suckable. You immediately got to fucking work. You used two hands to hone into the dick and suck it like your life depended on it.

"Fuck... Like that princess. Spit on it baby" You spit on it. Made sure to go all the way up to his tip and suck antagonizing slowly. "If you keep that up im coming... Shit." with that he nutted in your mouth. You swallowed all of it like a good girl and decided to keep sucking after he came. You spit his cum back on his dick and slurped some more and made him come again. You didn't even need prepping with how big his dick was.

"Hurry up and fuck me please." you whined. Man oh man was he taking his sweet everlasting time with you. He grabbed you by your throat and provided a super sloppy kiss to you and then started to pull the pants down from your hero suit. Soon as he did, it was a large wet spot. Clearly you were soaked by being manhandled.

" Damn princess. You're soaked and I haven't fucked you yet" You let out a loud whine because you were tired of being teased. He teases you all fucking day for 7 months to be teased again while attempting to get fucked. He didn't even need to prep you because you sucking his dick and picturing his face while he put his hot cum down your throat was amazing. Made your pussy wet like fucking Niagra Falls. He turned you around so you were facing the back of his office with your ass facing him. He gave your ass a nice smack.

"Smack it again" He smacked it again and again. "Babe smack it again with your quirk activated" He looked at you with a mischievous grin. "You sure about that princess. Might be a little much for you to handle."

"Dammit I-" before you could even attempt to complain you heard little pops coming from his palm. Before you knew it, he activated his quirk and smacked your ass. "Fuck...do it again baby" He smacked your ass with his quirk activated a few more times before he stopped and placed a kiss to the red ass cheek. He finally put the tip to your entrance. You started throbbing before he could even do anything.

"look at you. being so fucking needy for me" he finally stuck the tip of the dick in and it felt fucking amazing. "Damn princess. Didn't realize you would be this tight" He bottomed out and started moving hella slow.

"katsuki.. please move" he let out a chuckle. "since you said please. your wish is my command." He started to really fuck you. And I mean fuck you! The man was rearranging guts that you didn't know you fucking had. You were rocking forwards so hard from him thrusting into you that you damn near knocked his computer over.

"Yes... Fuck..Ohh" you damn near screamed because he was fucking you so good. Fucking you better than Denki ever could. "Thats it. Right there."

"right here?" he asked as he sped up his pace and smacked your ass and activated his quirk. "you nasty slut. you like taking this big dick huh?"

you could barely talk and managed to squeak out a "yes daddy" as he fucked you into oblivion.

"this is for calling me a cunt when they first partnered us together." smack to the ass. Every time he smacked your ass he knew you like when he activated his quirk. "This is for talking about my dick" smack. "this is for letting the sled monster go" smack. This next smack was lethal and had you on the brink of coming everywhere. "this is for almost getting yourself killed earlier today and being a brat about it."

"ohh shit, I'm sorry! fff-fuck you feel so damn good baby" you cried out. "its to much baby...I can't" you wailed out. It hurt but it felt so fucking good. He was putting you on cloud 9 and scrambling your eggs to oblivion.

"take it baby" was all he said before he out one leg on the desk and started to really plow into your pussy. "fuck.. Im coming, im coming, im coming!" you cried out.

"Do it. Come all over my fingers princess. Make a mess for me." with that you had the biggest orgasm of your life! "pull out and cum on my ass daddy!" he pulled out and came all over your plumb brown ass cheeks. Best dick of your life! You also didn't fake it. You let him hit and he gave you a fucking orgasm that has you on cloud 9. Both of you breathing heavily you took the opportunity to look at him.

"What?"

"You are so fucking fine but such an ass. I can't believe you got good dick and you just scrambled my eggs like that" you laughed. He laughed too and just smirked. "I fucked the great Dynamite, AKA Katsuki Bakugo."

"well if you like it.. how about we do it more? I'll pick you up this weekend and we can go out so you can get some more. If you act like a brat you wont get shit."

You pondered about it for a second. "What if I want to act like a brat? Will my punishment be you fucking me to the oblivion again?"

"Only one way to find out princess," he smirked at you. "Be ready because when I come get you we going to eat."

"Fine" you planted a small kiss on his lips and sat on the desk while he went back to doing what the fuck he was doing on the computer.

@fantasydaydreamers @dabisqueen This is the second oneshot I wrote. I hope you enjoy. Wanted to tag yall that's all lol

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #dynamight #bakugo #bakugo x reader #bakugo x female reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x black reader #bakugo x black fem reader #mha x reader #bnha #bakugo x reader smut #mha smut

105 notes · View notes

alphabetboyluvr · 7 months

Text

BAD DECISIONS - JJK | FOURTEEN

The silence remains. You're twisting his chain around his neck, now. Getting the clasp to the nape of his neck instead of at the front where it had been. Jungkook watches your unfocused eyes and wonders what the fuck is running through that disco ball mind of yours. "Hey, Byeol?" "Mhmm?" "You're still in control," he says so tenderly it's almost a whisper. He reaches over. Picks a rogue chunk of glitter from the strands of your hair that wisp around your face. Tucks the hair behind your ear. Lets his hand fall to chin, and tilts your face upwards. Looks you dead in the eye, and says, "I'll do whatever you're comfortable with. Nothing more, nothing less."

Bad Decision #14 - New Rules

warnings: jungkook incorrectly does a bird!!! byeols bird is unhinged!! smut - fingering!! oc hasn't shaved and jk simply prefers it that way! no kissing rule established (boo), no pet names rule established (double boo), no hand holding either!!!! jk has a huge boner <3 f receiving, nothing for him!!! rules are rules!!! mirrors <3 jk is always so chatty he he , mild hand kink?

soundtrack: nonsense - sabrina carpenter; wrong- zayn, kehlani

wc: 8k

bd total wc: 450k (on-going)

minors dni |

BD MASTERLIST | WATTPAD Ver. | A03 Ver. | SMUT INDEX

"Hey," you greet Jungkook with a coy smile by your apartment door. He smiles back. Tells you that you look like shit. Is definitely lying.

The way he looks you up and down gives it away.

Your hair is up in a claw clip, still a little uneven in colour because you don't want to put it through even more torture. A slouchy white shirt hangs off your left shoulder, and a pair of dark leggings hug your legs. It's casual. Comfy. Still got glitter on your eyes, as always.

Jungkook can't remember if you've had a discussion about yoga leggings, and how they've got a track record of giving him boners in record speed.

You haven't. You're just aware your ass looks fairly good in them. Not like it matters. Not like you need him to think your ass looks good. No, nothing like that at all.

You also haven't started a daily squat challenge. That would be immature. Flirting with danger. And even if you had, it would be incredibly stupid to leave the chart up on the kitchen fridge - which is where you beeline after you leave the door open for him.

You don't bother inviting him in, mind you. He knows he's welcome. Not because he's been there a thousand times over, nor because it's where you usually spend time together, but because the apartment is yours. He's welcome in your space.

But he is incredibly early - and you tell him as such when you curl up on the couch, tucking the piece of paper you'd swiped from the fridge door beneath a stack of magazines. Jungkook takes the spot next to you, despite the fact there are plenty of other places for him to sit instead. Part of you is tempted to kick him off.

The rest of you, though? So incredibly glad to have him close again.

"Danbi's class runs for another half an hour," you tell him as you scroll through the Netflix landing page.

It's a Monday, and neither of you have been at work today. The perks of your schedules aligning mean that Monday is always a safe bet, but you'd been in desperate need of alone time. The past few weeks have exhausted your social battery.

Jungkook gets like that sometimes, too - but he also doesn't like spending too much time in his own head, and so when a text from you had pinged through earlier that afternoon asking if he wanted to hang out, he replied almost immediately.

It's been a week. Over a week, actually. It's the first time he's seen you since you left his apartment. There's been no real discussion of what happened. A few 'i've seen your tits lol' texts here and there, but nothing that really qualifies as a grown-up conversation. You think you like it better this way; prefer the ominous unknown of the impact such a venture has had on your friendship.

For the most part, it seems like it's had minimal impact. None of which you can recognise straight off the bat, at least. Maybe he's a little more comfortable now than he once was, but you can't really tell. Not entirely.

Thing is, he always seemed comfortable before. There's never really been a need for boundaries. They came and went naturally.

Perhaps that's your problem: you got far too relaxed far too quickly.

And yet you keep a little distance. Who cares if he's seen your tits? God forbid you sit too close to one another.

"Class?" He questions, not realising Danbi was still studying.

She isn't. It's just her hobby. Something she does to unwind after spending all day chasing after unruly dogs.

You nod, eyes still on the screen, looking for something mindless to put on. He's here for the second installment of your Deadpool marathon, so you don't want to put anything worthy of investment on.

"Pole."

"Pole as in..." he says slowly, not sure of the correct term, so you help him out.

"As in pole dancing," you confirm. "She's been doing it for a while. Keeps trying to get me to join."

Jungkook doesn't look at you as he smirks, his eyes now also focused on the Netflix loading screen. "You? Pole dancing?"

There's a jovial glint in his eye, as if he thinks it's the funniest thing he's heard all afternoon. If you were to say that, he'd tell you that you're wrong. It's the funniest thing he's heard all day.

"Hey!" You kick your leg out to tap him, but he stops it before you can reach him. Squeezes his hand ever so gently around your foot. Pushes it back towards you, and holds it down. "I could be good at pole!"

He looks over to you now. "Byeol, I've seen you after twenty minutes on a treadmill. You don't have the stamina."

The smile on his lips would make it seem like he's joking - but he has seen you on a treadmill after twenty minutes. He's absolutely telling what he deems to be the truth, and the offence you take only makes him smile even more.

"Don't-" you halt your words to utter a shriek of disbelief. "Don't have the stamina? Fuck you."

"Nah," he grins. "You wouldn't have the stamina to handle me."

The conversation remains steady; a flirt between friends. Nothing more, nothing less. It's easy. Casual.

And when Danbi gets home, it doesn't change. Oh so incredibly easy. Jungkook fits into the life you've carved out for yourself, almost like there was a nook waiting just for him.

Pizza is ordered. Deadpool is played. Ryan Reynolds' ass in lycra is praised. Everything is as it should be.

When it hits midnight, and Danbi is already tucked up in bed, Jungkook makes his excuses. Gears up to leave. Mentions the fact he's got the gym in the morning. Can't be out too late.

The part of you that considers telling him to stay is quiet. Instead, you just nod and agree.

"It's a miracle you're still able to have a decent sleeping pattern," you say as you walk him to the door. "I'd be exhausted all the time."

He doesn't tell you, but he is. Really could have done with an evening to himself. Uni is ramping up, and he's worried he's gonna fall behind on his coursework already.

It's why he's pretty much radio silent for the week that follows.

Until, all of a sudden, he's not.

Jungkook: DB.

You: That's no better than disco ball.

Jungkook: It's better than BD.

You: ...Ball disco?

Jungkook: Big Ditties.

You: Oh my god.

You: I'm blocking you.

Jungkook: No you're not. Come hang out.

Jungkook: Coursework is driving me insane.

Jungkook: Need a distraction.

You: Good. Hope it does <3

Jungkook: :( comeee.

You: No :) x

You arrive a little after ten.

Jungkook is in sweats and a T-shirt, beyond the point of caring to dress up in your presence. Your dynamic is well-established by now; comfort found in the confines of your time spent together. He's got a buttered slice of toast in one hand, a dusting of crumbs detailing the tips of his fingers like the glitter on the inner corners of your eyes. He'd burnt it. You can tell by the scent that lingers in the air, and the knife marks near the crusts where he'd tried to scrape it off.

He grins, in that stupid kind of lopsided way he always does whenever he gets his way.

"Thought you said you weren't coming?"

Your lips are pursed, annoyance written along the line of your frown. The ink is water-soluble, though. One bite down on your bottom lip and it washes away. "I'm here to see the children."

He stands to the side. Opens the door just a little bit wider. "It's about time. They were about to report you to child protective services."

"Oh, yeah?" You encourage his teasing as you step over the threshold.

"Uh-huh," he continues as he bites down on the toast. It crunches beneath his teeth, but doesn't stop him from talking. "Negligent mother, they said - shoes off -" he interrupts himself when you point to your feet. "Take them to my room though."

It's curious, the way he's still keeping you hidden. The only reason for them to not be in the hallway is to stop Jimin from asking questions when he arrives home.

If you knew the grilling Jungkook's been getting ever since that evening Jimin nearly walked in on the pair of you, you'd understand. It's far easier for Jungkook if he gives his housemate as little ammunition to tease him with as he can.

But Jimin's not home. He's in Busan for the weekend.

Jungkook doesn't tell you this. He's not sure why. Part of him doesn't want to talk about Jimin with you. It's stupid, he'll admit, but he likes being your friend. Likes you being his friend. Doesn't like Jimin having one up on him.

He thinks it would be the same if he had a sister. That kind of protective nature.

But he's also seen you naked. Knows that he really can't kid himself into thinking it's entirely platonic. Is kind of confused by it all.

Just knows that he likes the way things are. Doesn't want them to change.

And so he doesn't mention Jimin.

When you enter his room, shoes tossed by his desk, you clamber up onto his bed and take a seat. There's no protest from him, no sign of it being an unwanted intrusion on his space. His sheets have been changed since your last visit, gold acrylic immediately washed away the morning after.

He takes a perch on his desk chair, swinging it around to face you. You're lit only by the lamp of his bedside table and the glow of the city coming in through his curtains. The warmth of the light makes your glitter look like crackling embers burning through the night skies.

"So," you say, all very matter of a fact. There's a demure nature to your poise. It's not very 'you'. "You requested my company?"

He nods.

"Why?"

He spins in his chair to his desk, and picks up a bird. Reads it aloud. "Invite a girl over."

You look at him for a moment, and purse your lips. He's an idiot.

"We both know that this isn't what that means."

"Why not?" He says as if he's genuinely without a clue.

"Because!"

You don't elaborate. Think there's no need. He knows exactly why not - but he's an insolent little fucker when he wants to be.

"No, because what, Byeol?" He says with a grin. He knows you're right. Doesn't care.

"Because," you emphasise. "We both know that inviting a girl over is so much more than just a simple act of asking her to come round. There are layers to it. Innuendo. It's like asking if she wants ramyeon, Kook. You know this."

There's a grin on his lips that he's trying to hide - and is failing miserably.

"The bird says-"

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh. "It doesn't matter what the bird says. You know what it means."

"Yeah," he feigns innocence to his misdemeanour, eyes all wide and watery. So deep brown in colour it feels like a black hole is just sucking you in. Will never let you leave. God help the next girl who falls in love with him. "It means that I have to invite a girl to my place." He gestures towards you. Shakes his head. "You are a girl, no?"

"You've seen my tits, no?"

"You can't use tits as a qualifier," he tells you. "Not when you insist I also have tits."

"Touche - but still. It doesn't matter if I'm a girl. I'm not a girl girl."

"What does that even mean?" He scoffs, but he knows what you mean. Knows that the risk of rejection from you isn't the same as it is with a random girl. Knows that you're an exception. Not the rule.

"Like, a romantic interest," you say, well-aware he doesn't need it explaining. You just think you need to say it for your own sake. "I'm a friend. It doesn't say invite a friend round, does it?"

"Okay, but it doesn't not say that, does it?"

You're stern as you stare him down. "Jungkook."

"Byeol," he replies with a grin so cheeky it's impossible to remain poised.

You roll your eyes. Lie down. Wave your arm in the air. "C'mere."

He doesn't relent. Doesn't say no. Just stands. Walks to his bed, and flops down beside you.

"Gimmie your phone," you say, but he refuses. "Don't be a pussy."

"I'm not. You're just not getting my phone."

You sit up. Rest on your elbow and look down at him. His eyes are closed. "Why not?"

"Because."

There's a smile tickling your lips. He's imitating you - but he also doesn't feel like explaining. Doesn't feel like trying to find a valid reason beyond 'I'm scared'.

"What happened to facing your fears, huh?" You poke his cheek. "You gonna be a coward? How is that gonna help you?"

"Byeol," he whines, tilting his head to avoid your continued poking. It's annoying, and deliberate. You want him frustrated. Want him proactive. Want him a little riled up. "Stop."

You don't.

"Byeol."

"I'll stop when you stop being a baby," you tell him, poking at his other cheek. Your finger travels all over his face, poking and prodding, ignoring the way he bats you away.

"Stop."

"You stop."

"Byeol."

And still, you don't. At least not until his fingers clasp around your wrist, holding it far away from his face.

"I said stop," he says with a voice so low it's almost a growl. His eyes are still closed. He pulls your hand to his chest. Holds it there. Is vaguely aware of the fact he's drawn you closer. Had almost made you lose your balance entirely.

It's not until you speak that he realises quite how close you actually are. Hears how quiet you are, too.

"And I told you to stop being a baby."

He opens his eyes. Takes you in. You're resting on his chest, thanks to his grip on your wrist and where he's positioned it. Neither of you seem to remember the concept of breathing.

You're close. Closer than he intended. So close he could probably count every single speck of glitter on the inner corner of your eyes. So fucking close. He thinks of the last time you were this close.

Also thinks of the fact he's now wearing sweats, and really shouldn't be thinking about you naked. Not again.

But he is, though it's not your body he's thinking of; it's your eyes, and the glitter that had been caught in your lashes beneath the water of his shower. How you'd glistened. And then fuck it, he's thinking of the way you showed him your fingers, all dainty and pretty, covered in your own-

"Fuck," you hiss in surprise, breaking from his gaze. His eyes fall to his chest, where the culprit of the interruption lies.

Another bird; resting pretty just below his ribs. It moves, up and down, with the contractions of his lungs. Jungkook looks to you, then back to the bird. You sit up straighter and pinch it from his chest. He just lets you, because he doesn't wanna be the one to do it.

He can tell from the wing shape alone that it's one of yours - and even if he couldn't, the way you groan and let your body fall onto his in defeat is a clear sign. He laughs. Strokes his hand up your arm, then ruffles at your hair.

"How bad is it this time?"

You just whine again.

"That bad?"

Nodding into his chest, you hold out the bird for him to take. Only once his chest begins to stutter beneath you, laughter taking hold of his lungs, do you sit up.

"Stop," you tell him, pouting.

He doesn't stop laughing. Serves you right for not listening to him earlier. "Christ, Byeol. Are any of these birds-"

"No," you cut him off before he can finish.

He sighs. Looks up at the ceiling. Shakes his head. Holds the bird to his chest.

"Let's think about this logically first," he says, because it's the only way he can think to not let things get out of hand again like he did last time. "Let's talk about it before we do it instead of after."

You nod. Take a deep breath. "Okay. What are you thinking?"

He looks at you and then back up at the birds. Scrunches his face up.

"I'm thinking... Fuck, alright, I'll be honest. I haven't done..." he trails off, cringing at himself. "Since my ex - although, technically she isn't an ex, but you know what I mean - since her..."

You wait with bated breath. Know what he's getting at. "You haven't done this in a while?"

He's silent. Lets his head turn to face you. "Haven't done this in a while."

"It's okay. We don't have-"

"No," he says. "A bird is a bird. I want to do it."

"You do?"

"Well," he considers, pretending like it's the first time. He's thought about this a lot; the mechanics of your situation, how it plays out in the future. Risk assessment. He's good at those. Has to do so many of them at university that he's started drawing one up one for the pair of you in his head. "I mean if my birds are making me approach girls, chances are things will head in the direction of hooking up, right?"

You suppose he's right. Tell him as much.

"So it'd be good for me to get practise in, right?"

"You think you need it?" You grin.

"No. But I enjoy it," he says. Holds his palms up above his head. Observes them. "I like using my hands."

They're large. One of them is covered in tiny tattoos, the other completely bare. Thin veins hide beneath his honey skin, the tendons always protruding just a little bit. The kind of hands that would be good to hold.

"You've got nice hands," you admit.

Long fingers. Thick knuckles. Well-trimmed nails. Perfect hands, you consider, but will never divulge. Wouldn't want to boost his ego so much.

"Have you been checking them out?" He teases.

"You made me!" you laugh, deflecting, then imitating his voice. "'Look in the mirror, Disco Ball, blah blah blah. Eyes on me. Watch what I do.' I didn't have a choice."

"Sure," he taunts, but he knows you're probably not being dramatic. He really did make you watch yourself, and is probably gonna do it again. Seemed to work well the last time.

He places his hands beneath the side of his head, and takes a moment to check how you're feeling.

You reciprocate his actions. Look at him for a little while. Neither of you say a word. It's like you're mentally preparing for what's about to happen; making sure that it's okay. Giving one another the chance to back out.

You won't, though. Far less of a coward than Jungkook. Too much pride.

"How do we do this?" you whisper.

He smiles. Just faintly. Tenderly. "However is most comfortable for you."

"Well, yeah," you smile back. It's sweet that he feels the need to clarify this. "But I mean, literally. Logically. How do we- Like- Do I just... take my trousers off?"

"I mean, it could be a start," Jungkook laughs. "We're thinking about it too hard."

You groan. Look to the ceiling with an embarrassed smile. You're both a little awkward, but it definitely feels like the awkwardness is mainly your problem today.

"Did you... with Jimin. Did you do this?" Jungkook asks. He's not sure why. Just wants to know.

The bird lies between you both. Has just two words on it. No exclamation points this time, but still with capital letters. Somehow feels less vulnerable to you than the last one.

GET FINGERED.

You consider not answering. Think it's kind of shitty to air Jimin's laundry in such a way - but it's just as much about you as it is him. More so, even.

"Not really," you admit. "A little bit. I hurried him along."

Jungkook pauses now. Thinks. Asks, "hurried?"

"It's just kind of what I do," you sigh, pulling your knees a little further up. Closing off. Protecting yourself. Jungkook pushes them back down again. You let him. "I don't really let people touch me, in that regard. I let them fuck me. Don't let them... have me."

Jungkook wants to ask what that entails, but figures you'd have shared it if you wanted to.

"I guess," you continue slowly, quickly glancing away, before deciding that his eyes are what you wanna see when you explain your relationship with sex. You want him to understand - and so you look back to him. He doesn't take his eyes off of you. "I kind of focus on the other person, yanno? For me, sex? Now? It's validation, I guess. Proving to myself I can still give people some form of... I don't know. Satisfaction? So yeah. I don't really want people touching me, as such. I'll touch them. I'll get them off. And I'd prefer it if they didn't get me off."

"It's a power thing, isn't it?" Jungkook theorises. "Control?"

You're silent. Just shrug. Maybe.

"I think - and you can tell me to shut up if you want - but I think that maybe it's because of your ex. He always held the cards?" Jungkook pauses, but you don't respond. Just look at his chest. Toy with the silver chain around his neck. "And this is your way of holding them instead?"

"Hey, Byeol?"

"Mhmm?"

"You're still in control," he says so tenderly it's almost a whisper. He reaches over. Picks a rogue chunk of glitter from the strands of your hair that wisp around your face. Tucks the hair behind your ear. Lets his hand fall to chin, and tilts your face upwards. Looks you dead in the eye, and says, "I'll do whatever you're comfortable with. Nothing more, nothing less."

You shake your head. "You get a say in this. It's not all up to me."

"I know I do," Jungkook replies without missing a beat. "If I didn't want to do something, I wouldn't. You're in control, but I can't be forced to do anything. Good luck trying if you think I can be."

You narrow your eyes a little. "So you're saying you want to do stuff with me?"

He grins. "Well, I don't find you entirely repulsive, even if you are incredibly annoying."

"Always a charmer."

"It's how I get all those girls - oh, wait," he jokes. Pauses. Thinks. Sighs. "Look, I'd rather work through my issues before I fuck up yet another relationship, and from the looks of it, you'd rather work through yours too. It just makes sense."

"I mean, we could just get therapy."

"Expensive."

"Time-consuming," you agree.

"This is far easier," he smirks, before deciding that you've had enough serious chats. There's no point running around in circles again. And so he decides to lighten the mood. "Now do you wanna get fingered or not?"

"Oh my god!" You slap at his chest and roll onto your back, laughing. "You're fucking vulgar."

"Is that a no?"

"It's an 'ask nicely, Jungkook.'"

He rolls onto his back, now. Laughs, too. "Is that what you want? For me to play nicely?"

"You're not playing at all, yet," you remind him.

There's hesitancy from both of you. It's a little awkward, and so unlike you - but there's no alcohol in your system like there was the first time a bird was attempted, and no excuse to touch like there was with the paint.

This one is just you and Jungkook.

"Can I go freshen up first?" You ask, a little nervous and highly aware of the fact you hadn't come with the intention of getting Jungkook in your underwear. He says of course, but you're halfway out of the door regardless.

As soon as you're in the bathroom, you're rummaging around in the cupboard - praying - looking for a disposable razor of sorts. You know Jungkook keeps his good one in his room, next to his towels.

Apparently, Jimin just loves to share regardless of what it is, much to Jungkook's dismay. It's not like Jimin's razor is here either - he's taken it with him to Busan.

Your search is fruitless, and when you return to Jungkook's room a little unsure of yourself, jeans off and tossed onto his desk chair, he can sense there's something wrong.

"I haven't shaved," you sort of blurt out, much to his surprise.

"Okay?" He grins, drying off his wet hands that he'd washed in the kitchen while you were gone. "Nor have I? You want a medal?"

"No, I just-"

"Thought I'd care?" He questions, a little bit offended. "First things first, this isn't about me. It's about you. And secondly, I kinda like it - so I really don't care."

"You like it?"

"I like pussy," Jungkook simply states. "Like it no matter what way it's served up."

"You're not eating it."

"Not yet."

"You are unbelievable."

"Believe it, Byeol," he winks, perching on the end of his bed. Reaching out, he encourages you closer. Gets you standing between his legs. "Enough fucking around though. I think we should set out some ground rules."

"Ground rules?" You question, knowing it's probably smart. Aren't sure why you didn't think of it first.

He knows why. Casual sex isn't that much of a big deal to you.

Jungkook's not good at the whole unattached sex thing, though. He only really sleeps with girls he's interested in romantically.

A boy that looks like him? You had expected him to have well over a dozen notches on his bedpost - but he can count them all on one hand.

It's not that he's a prude, or vanilla, or anything like that. Jungkook fucks. He fucks well. He just fucks the same people for extended periods of time. Takes comfort in routine. No chance to sleep around when you're as loyal as a dog.

You're the exception, not the rule. Time and time over, it becomes more and more apparent.

"Rules," he nods.

"No kissing," you reply almost immediately.

"No-" he's about to protest, but then nods. "No kissing."

In fact, he actually agrees with you. He loves kissing. Might even like it more than blowjobs. Would happily take an hour make-out session in lieu of foreplay. For him, it is foreplay.

And so despite how desperately sad he is to know he won't get his favourite thing, he understands why.

He only likes it because of how intimate it is.

"Anything else?"

You take a moment to think, and then decide, "No hand holding, either. And no pet names."

"Not even Byeol?"

"At this point, I'm not even sure you remember my real name, Kook. Byeol is fine."

He nods, then scrunches his nose in a little disgust.

"God." He dry-retches. "Imagine calling you something like baby." He retches again, a light grin tickling his lips as you scoff in offence. "Yeah, no you wouldn't suit anything cute."

"You're so lucky that the idea of you calling me baby repulses me," you flirt right back.

"Oh yeah?" he smirks - and then he's toying with the hem of your shirt. Pushing it up. Ghosting the lace of your thong with the tips of his fingers. "You'd hate it, would you?"

His fingers creep down. The pads of his fingers trace the tops of your thighs. Skirt the lace trim of your panties where they cover your pussy. Has your heart beating at a mile a minute.

"Would be such a turn-off."

The way his eyes scan your face has you wanting to take back every single rule you've just set.

"So you're telling me you're turned on, now?"

His words are met with a shrug. "I don't know, Jeon. Am I?"

"If I'm not allowed pet names, there's no way in hell you're allowed Jeon."

"No?"

He stands. Towers above you. Turns you round. Lowers his head, and lets his lips ghost your ear. "Not unless you wanna get me hard."

You fucking giggle. It's sin. When you turn your head ever so slightly to whisper in his ear, he thinks about saying fuck it to the birds. Needs more than what they're providing.

"I can feel you. You're already hard, Jeon."

He pulls away from you. Palms at his crotch. You're right. And so he just smirks. "Fine. Harder."

"Wouldn't that be a shame," you tease - but are met with a show of dominance you've haven't seen before from Jungkook as clasps both of your wrists together just above your ass. Positioning you just where he had you last time he was in your room, you know your underwear is getting ruined.

The view reflected back in his full-length mirror only makes your heart beat even faster.

"I won't lie," he swallows back the nerves that he was able to hide while he was flirting. Down his throat they go, settling next to his heart that's already beating a mile a minute. Positioning himself behind you, he encourages you both to the floor. You're sitting in front of him, as he kneels behind you and pulls you back a little. "You're right. I'm already real fucking hard, Byeol."

"Really?" You smirk. "Couldn't tell."

He tilts his head back. Groans. "God, I hate you. I want you to ignore it, okay? It's my problem to deal with."

All you can do is nod.

"Okay," he says softly as he leans around to position your legs how wants them: bent at the knees. Spread. You're on display - and Dear lord, what a treat for the audience. A treat for him. "Look in the mirror. Watch me, okay? Watch my hands."

And you do; watch the way his palms lay flat on your knees, then slowly, gradually, trickle down your thighs. "What do you say if you wanna stop?"

"Chess," you say, ending the word with a gasp as his thumbs brush the outer lace of your panties.

"Good girl," he hums into your ear, but you can barely hear him over your beating heart as his thumb begins to stroke over your clothed pussy. You're already soaked. It wets his thumb. Has him smirking. "Told you so."

He pushes the lace to the side. Exposes you. Makes him curse. Is slow as he sinks a single finger into you.

He keeps it shallow. Just the first two knuckles. Just enough to let you know he's there. You can still see the ink on his finger.

The moan you exhale is desperate. Needy. Gets him all smug.

"Just testing the waters," he husks into your ear as he pulls it back out, before the pads of his fingers begin to massage around your entrance. He's teasing. Caressing. Doing shit you've only ever had women do to you. The dudes you've fucked have never really cared for stimulation beyond the clit; haven't understood that the right touches in slightly different places can get you so fucking needy.

Needy like you mean it. Not the bratty kind, where you're in control; the pathetic kind, where they're in control.

He's massaging. Using his thumb and forefinger. Working his way up your labia; left side, then right. Up, then down.

It's not like the sensation is anywhere close to what it feels like when his fingers are elsewhere, but it's the fact he's doing it all that really gets you flustered. He's careful. Delicate. Wants you to feel good.

When you let out a moan, you can feel him smirk against you. He lines himself up with your entrance. He pushes his middle finger inside; fully this time. Pumps into you once, twice - "are you always this wet?" - then begins to stroke against your front wall. You whine.

He pushes into you again. Tells you how fucking hot you sound. Pulls out. In again. And then he builds speed. Fucks his finger into you. Just one - but it's enough.

Finally, you answer him between laboured breaths.

"Dunno. You'll have to do this again sometime and figure it out."

Withdrawing his finger, Jungkook rubs small circles over your clit. Holds onto you tighter. Smirks as your whimpers begin to build. His nose nestles into your hair, lips against your ear. "You want that, huh?"

The way your hips push up and grind against his languid movements should be indication enough - but you don't want to give him the satisfaction. Not yet, at least.

You smirk right back. "Meh. You could always just compare notes with Jimin, instead."

He pauses for a split second. Scoffs. Sinks his finger back into you. Builds pace. Can hear the sounds of your soaked cunt and knows that it would be cruel to compare. Jimin wouldn't stand a chance. There's no way he had you like this, too.

And Jungkook would be right. The way Jungkook has you now is unlike any of your hookups. You're sober, for a start, and that always helps in the wetness department - but you are wetter than you've been in a fair while.

His fingers are long. Intentional in the way they move. His middle finger hits all the right spots as it pushes into you. He curls it gently without needing to be told. He just knows. Can feel the slight difference in texture. Had trained himself to find it in the past, and is pleased to see yours is just as easy to locate.

You don't think Seokjin ever found it. Not really. For a while, you pretended he could - but it never felt like this.

"Kook," you rasp, ridding your mind of all thoughts of Seokjin. He's no right to be in your brain when it's someone else making you feel so good. "Right there. Right there. Fuck."

"I know," he husks. "Can you take another?"

All do you do is nod. Moan something incoherent. You want more.

He can tell.

"Can you take three?" he asks. You just fucking nod. Will take what he gives you. "Mhhm?"

He bites down the syllables, stopping the 'baby' he wants to mewl from coming out. He knows pet names are a no, but it's a force of habit. It's just like the muscle memory in his fingers knowing how he should touch you; something well trained, well practised.

He doesn't relent. Keeps going. Has your cunt stuffed with his fingers. Will make you cum.

It's just as much for him now as it is for you. He's watching your face, how you refuse to open your eyes, how your dewy lips are rested ajar, soft moans humming from your throat.

He kind of hates the rules. Knows they serve a purpose, and that they're smart, but it'd be so much easier for him if he could kiss you.

It's not that he actively wants to make out with you, it's just that it comes naturally to him. He doesn't think he's ever been inside a woman without actually kissing her. There's a sizable portion of his brain which is having to work against his instincts, now. If he didn't have to waste that energy, he could spend it on you instead.

But it also makes it exciting. A little sordid. You've removed the romance he typically associates with a position as promiscuous as this. Maybe he is capable of fucking around.

"I know," he husks as your body writhes beneath his touch. "Ba-" Shit. "Byeol, I know. That feel good?"

Feel good? Feel good? What kind of a fucking question is that? If you could form a coherent sentence instead of moaning every other second, you'd ask him as such. Instead, you settle with, "fuck."

"Should I take that as a yes?" he smirks against your hair, his second hand dropping from the grip it has on your waist down to your pussy. Pushing your thighs a little further apart, Jungkook has you in the palm of his hand like a fucking ragdoll. His hands work in tandem, fingers plunging into your while he rubs dainty circles over your clit, careful to not be too aggressive. He's taking his time. Building your high.

"Take it as a 'you could do better'," you whine, just to wind him up a little. He's doing fucking fantastic.

"Better?" He sounds offended, but is smirking, watching pleasure take hold of your features. He loves the way you goad him on. Knows you must be a right little brat in the right scenario. Think maybe one day, he'd like to experience it fully. For now, he simply growls into your ear. "Open your eyes. Look at yourself." He builds his pace. The sounds of him sliding into you are lewd. Soaking. Sopping wet. "You hear that? Tell me to do better again. Go on. I dare you."

Your gaze opens, all hazy and cum-drunk, falling on the mirror. Your skin is dewy, and the incident positioning of your spread legs puts you on full display.

Jungkook withdraws his fingers. Spreads your lips open. Holds his stare on you. Watches as your wetness drips from your entrance. Rubs circles on your clit. Encourages more. Watches as it seeps from you. Presses his hips upwards to let you know he's still fucking solid for you. He gathers your leaking slick on his index and middle finger, then pushes it back into you.

He's panting, too.

And so you smirk. Watch the pained lust in his eyes. Tell him, "do better," in a hushed whisper.

He's slow. Lets his touches linger. Doesn't pump into you like he had been - instead, he scissors his fingers ever so gently - and that's when you decide he's a menace to society and that you're probably doing the world a favour by keeping him off the streets for a little while longer.

"Holy shit," you hiss, and then your fingers are wrapped around his wrist again. He fucking laughs.

His nose nuzzles into your hair, his smirk not hiding his teeth. He's thinking about kissing you again. Just a small one. On the side of your head. Has to talk just to stop himself.

"That better, Byeol?"

All you can do is whine. Nod a little.

"Can't hear you. I asked a question. Give me an answer," he teases. "Now, is this better, Byeol?"

"No," you lie. "Considerably worse."

"Fine," he says, and pulls out. Grips your thighs with his soaked fingers. Squeezes them together. Lets you pant for a little while. He's panting, too. "On your knees."

"Sorry?"

"You will be," he smirks, changing his position behind you. "Get on your knees."

And so you do. You relinquish trust to him. Feel like you might have a heart attack from how fast it's beating - but he knows this. Strokes the curve of your hip. Hugs you into his chest ever so slightly and says, "the minute it gets too much, or you decide you've done enough... just say the word, Byeol."

He nuzzles his nose against your hair. Likes the way it smells. Hugs you a little tighter, still.

You nod. "At least tell me how you want me, first?"

It's the mental preparation you need, much more than physical. He knows this. Knows that his teasing has a time and a place. What was okay a few moments ago would be too brash now - so he tries a little tenderness once more.

He waits for you to look at him. Not in the mirror this time, but head turned, eyes on his. The glitter on your eyes catches in the light. Reflects in his eyes. Puts stars in them.

"On your front. Head down," he says slowly, not wanting it to sound crude. "Ass up. Or just flat on your front, if you'd rather. Up to you. Wait-" He stands, holding out his hand for you to take. When you do, he pulls you up and guides you to his bed instead. Lets you sit. He still stands. "Just realised I was asking you to be facedown on the literal floor. My bad."

You don't say anything, just smile at the fact he realised it. Such a boy, and yet such a gent. He's trouble, there's no doubt about it. As your eyes study his face, he seems sincere - and so you turn. Lean forward. Stretch out. Face down, ass up.

"Fuck," he hisses and gets on his knees behind you. One of his hands grapples at your ass, fingers sinking into the peachy flesh. He strokes against the soft skin, and then asks, "how do you feel about spanking?"

You smirk into his sheets. Plunge even further into them. Raise your ass even higher. "It's not on the bird."

His fingers dig further into your cheek. You're mewling. He's getting delirious again. "Byeol..."

The way you move your hips ever so slightly is absolute sin. You know you're trying to make him crack. You know it's working. "Mhmm?"

He pulls you back. Presses the bulge in his trousers against you. He's still hard. Harder, even. His hands are on your hips, keeping you close, even as he retracts - before pulling you tight to him. Repeats. Ruts himself against you a couple more times.

"If one of those birds doesn't end with me fucking you-"

"You'll what?" you say with a sardonic smile as you twist your body around and out of his grasp. You're on your back now, reaching for his shirt, pulling him down.

He complies. Tangles his legs with yours. Lets his hand cup your heat. Toys with you. Teases.

"What will you do, huh?" You flirt. "Die?"

He smirks now, too. Knows that you're taking the piss. Quite likes it. Likes that you remember the shit he says when he gets too horny for his own good.

"Maybe," he husks, sinking his fingers inside you again. Didn't even get to have you how he wanted you, but he likes this. Likes the flirt. Likes how erratic your breathing gets.

"Guess you'll just have to - fuck - keep waiting for them to fall," you turn a little. Hook your leg over his hip. Grind against him. Ride his fingers. "See if you get what you want."

"I'm incredibly patient," he lies. Builds the speed he's fucking them into you at. Uses the hand that's not bringing you closer and closer to climax to hold your chin. Wants to keep you looking at him.

"Liar."

"I'll do this for hours if it means making you cum," he almost snarls over the sound of your moans.

You laugh. Stutter on the moans in your throat. Tell him good luck. Let him know that you can't remember the last time someone else made you orgasm. You can do it yourself, easy. Someone else? Good fucking luck.

"Fine. We're gonna make you cum," he says as if it's a group activity - but then he drops his grip from your chin and reaches to the hand of yours that had been hooked over his shoulder. Guides it to your pussy. "Get yourself off."

You stare at him for a moment. His pace eases, but his gaze doesn't drop. He's slow. Rubs at you just in the right way. And then he says, "get yourself off while I'm inside you."

You say nothing. Do as you're told.

"Good girl."

It doesn't take long. If anything, it's embarrassing how quickly he has you coming undone. Admittedly, you're just as much a part of it as he is. Without your input, maybe he would have had to have been going for hours.

But you are involved, and you're shaking around him. Legs trembling. Toes pointed. Head buried into his chest, fingers wrapped around his wrist to stop him from overstimulating you too much. His name escapes your lips as your orgasm ripples through your muscles, and Jungkook just fucking laughs.

"So fuckin' hot," he praises, lips pouty, in desperate need of a kiss to offset the fact he's practically leaking precum into his pants.

Rules are rules, though. They're not made to be broken. Not these ones.

He withdraws from you, and wipes the mess on his sheets. Will deal with it later. Watches you as you giggle to yourself, orgasm well and truly delivered. When your eyes open and focus on him, Jungkook is pleased. You look content.

"I'm still scared," you simper. "We might have to practise that one a few times."

He laughs now, too. Rolls onto his back. Can smell your arousal on his fingers. Has never been more hungry in his entire life.

"Such a liar."

But you both are, in your own ways.

"Maybe. Thank you... for that," you say, very aware of the unfair dynamics of just you getting off, but knowing that without a fallen bird to specify it, there's no way you can just reciprocate.

"Pleasures all mine," he says, as if he isn't letting himself get severely blue-balled. Knows what the agreement is though. You getting him off now would be just for his benefit. He laments the fact he's not scared of blowjobs. Wishes all of his birds were like yours, now.

The silence consumes you both. Has you wondering why you never come undone like that normally. Makes you think maybe you need to stop preventing people from touching you in such a way. Jimin had tried. You can remember - but you'd dismissed him.

He's not the only person you've dismissed in such a way. Perhaps you will enjoy casual sex more if you don't keep your desires at bay. Maybe Jungkook's been right about this all along.

"Anyways," you turn to face him. "Phone."

"Hmm?"

"Well, we've done my bird. We need to do yours from earlier."

Jungkook says nothing. Is a little bit confused. He's still hard. You've barely come down from your orgasm. Surely nows not the time?

You couldn't disagree more even if you tried. It's the perfect time. Stops you from thinking about how fucking good that was, and how much you want it to happen again.

"You... want me to invite a girl round?"

"Well, not while I'm still here" you consider. "Like, text them now, but arrange it for another time."

"Yeah, but-" Jungkook wants to protest. Wants to remind you that his sheets are covered in you. Instead, he just looks at the ceiling, a little baffled.

"If it's too much, why don't you just text a girl, at least?"

He frowns. You don't notice, because you're looking at the ceiling, too.

But then he sighs. Maybe you're right. Maybe he is being a coward.

"Alright," he reaches for his phone from the nightstand. Unlocks it, and opens up his Instagram DMs. Looks over to you. Catches your gaze. Smiles, despite the uneasy feeling in his stomach. "What do I say?"

BD MASTERLIST | WATTPAD Ver. | A03 Ver. | SMUT INDEX

#jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook oneshot #bd!jk #bad decisions

105 notes · View notes

giuliettagaltieri · 7 months

Text

Care Plan

Pairing: Surgeon!Eren x Nurse!Reader

Synopsis: You're back from your trip and a certain surgeon finds it difficult to not be in the receiving end of your undivided attention.

Warning: minor angst

Word Count: 1269

3 of 3

Eren cursed himself for taking the bait.

He was aware exactly what your coworkers were doing.

They made sure to let him overhear that you would be coming in today after disappearing to the tropics for a full two weeks.

It was not supposed to be a problem but he realized that today was supposed to be his day off.

His head ached so much he won’t be surprised if it splits in two. Last night, he stayed awake, thinking, with a glass or two—maybe five— of whiskey in his hand. He wasn’t entirely sure. Neither is he certain about the things he thought about last night. Or the past few days.

Eren rubs his head and slumps on a chair inside the nurses’ station. All the other nurses are in the lounge as no operation was scheduled until eight in the morning and it’s still five past six.

He rubs his temple as it pounds painfully.

“Good morning, Doctor Jaeger.”

Eren’s head jerks up and his regret comes abruptly as his headache worsens.

“Fuck.” He grimaces, clutching his forehead.

“Are you alright?”

He groans when the familiar touch pulls his hand away from his temple and he comes face to face with you.

“You’re back.” He winces.

You let out a chuckle as you straighten up. “And you’re having a terrible hangover.”

He watches you fill a mug with water and you hand it to him, which he gratefully accepts.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” You say before disappearing into the lounge.

He has to admit, he’s a bit disappointed upon seeing you leave just like that. And did you just call him by his last name?

Muffled cheers and laughter ensue in the lounge and he closes his eyes to listen as he sips on his water.

He hears you talk about surfing and coconuts.

Oh, and you like grilled seafood? His friend Niccolo owns a fancy restaurant that serves good seafood.

Eren takes another sip from his water.

His back straightens and his eyes open upon hearing a man’s name.

So, there was a man.

“You’re not supposed to be on duty.”

Eren glances to the side and sees Pyxis opening a chart.

“I need to see my patient in the surgical ward.” Eren says smoothly.

Only, this is Pyxis he’s talking to.

“And you’re doing so by being in the OR nurses’ station?”

“Doc?”

Eren quickly resumes his relaxed position on the chair while you hand something to Pyxis.

“Oho, piña colada candies.” Pyxis gladly takes it and thanks you. He glances at Eren. “What’s this? Did Doctor Jaeger not get any?”

Eren glares at him before getting up to leave. “I don’t need your liquor candy.”

Pyxis laughs and heads to the nurses’ lounge to see what you got for the others.

On purpose, Eren slowed his steps but was again disappointed when you joined the others in the lounge instead.

He deserved it.

He was rude to you not just on the day before you left for your trip but most of the time you worked together, he was disregarding your kindness.

Eren’s brows met and he kicked the medicine cup that was lying around on the floor and the sound clatters on the empty hallway.

It was stupid, coming to the hospital. He could have slept in. But then again, he could have been drunk when he made the decision to come.

He gripped his shirt from the back and was pulling it over his head when his phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket.

It was a message from Mikasa.

“Made it to my mom’s hometown. Thanks so much, Eren. The kids miss you, their ‘cool uncle’ they decided to call you now. You have to drop by and bring them gifts sometime.”

Eren scratches a nonexistent itch in his collarbone and he types his reply when the door opens.

“Doctor Jaeger-”

You walked in, slapped your hand to your face and turned to leave, only to bump into the wall and fall on your butt.

He blinks as his mind registers what happened.

“Shit!” Eren tosses his phone to the couch to help you up. “Are you okay?”

He helps you up and sweeps your hair to the side to see if you're hurt but aside from your now reddening nose, you look completely fine.

“Mhm, I’m okay.” You say while still closing your eyes. “I’m so sorry for walking in on you.”

He glances down and smiles cockily. “S’fine.”

You try to get out of his grip but he’s holding you still.

“I came to let you know that we’re ordering breakfast and I just wanted to ask if you wanted to join us.” You open your eyes to look at him but you flit them to the side swiftly. “And I promise, I bought something for you!” You glance at him again but you look away just as quick. “I just thought you won’t be coming in today.”

Eren chuckles and you appear more and more flushed with every minute that passes. You look pretty without your mask.

“I like the way you do your sponge count.”

You look at him with the most confused look he has ever seen you wear.

“I also liked how you are quick to give me the instruments and even anticipate what I need next.”

Slowly, your brows form a tiny frown as you still look at him quizzically.

“I like how you come and see me every duty.” He chuckles. “I also like the way you flirt.”

Your mouth opens to retort but he hushes you.

“And I’m sorry.” He rubs his thumb on your arm. “I’m sorry for being rude, for yelling at you, for not wishing you a good morning and good evening when you do it every time without fail.”

“I’m sorry too.”

He raises a brow. “For what?”

You try to pull away again but he won’t let you. “You-You’re with Doctor Ackerman-”

He makes a face. “Mikasa and I aren’t together.”

“But-”

“She’s one of my best friends.”

“Doctor Jaeger-”

“Don’t.” He says with a tired tone. “Don’t call me that.”

“But I thought its Doctor Jaeger to me?” You smile and smoothen out his frown.

He shakes his head and pulls you close. You resist a laugh when he collapses on your shoulder, his nose skimming your neck. You lean your head against his as you rub his back.

“What is this? Doctor Jaeger, acting like a baby?”

He gets out of your embrace, looks at you with those lazy eyes then glances at his sculpted abdomen. “A baby can’t have this body.”

You roll your eyes and turn to the door. “Join us after you make yourself decent.”

His tongue traces his canine as his eyes linger on your behind.

Eren throws in his scrubs to catch up to you. Draping his arm on your shoulder as you walk to the nurses’ lounge.

“You didn’t sleep with anyone while you were on vacation, right?”

“What? No, I didn’t.”

“I’ll kill Ymir.”

“Please don’t.”

Eren makes an unconvincing hum and you elbow him for it.

“You smell like the ocean.” He says nonchalantly.

“I do?” You grab the end of your ponytail and sniff. Huh, you do.

“How do you feel about Polo by Ralph Lauren?”

You tilt your head in confusion. “Your cologne? Why?”

He steers you to the door and his hand rests on the knob.

“Because you’ll probably smell like it after I’m done with you tonight.”

Eren opens the door before you could respond, showing everyone your flushed face.

Doctor's Order • Progress Notes • Care Plan

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yaeger x reader #attack on titan #eren jaeger x y/n #shingeki no kyoujin #hospital au

93 notes · View notes

torialefay · 2 months

Note

Hello there! Haven’t seen you around for quite a bit now, is everything okay?🥺

I wanted to request a reading on Chan and if he’s really the way he shows himself to us, if he’s all sweet and caring or could maybe hide some mean parts that would come out in a relationship (like him being an asshole).

I’ve had pretty bad experiences with libra men, they all act sweet and caring the firsts days, basically love bombing you, and then they just show their true asshole nature… soo idk im kinda scared he’s like that too hahah

hi baby!!! everything is okay, tysm for asking 🥺 i'm on clinical rotations right now, which is basically where you train to be a different type of doctor each month. it's been a lottttt this past month, so i haven't been able to write or be on here as much :( but hopefully i'll be able to do more in this next month!

first, i'm so sorry you've had a bad experience with libra men! i just got out of a long-term relationship with a libra man, so i understand what you mean. one thing i WILL say is that as far as acting like an asshole, i don't know that that's a libra quality more than it is something else in their chart. a lot of my best friends are also libra suns and i think the love-bombing aspect of that can be very true for all of them. livras just need that reassurance that you like them and they know how to make you feel special. as far as being an asshole though, i think that we'd have to search deeper into the chart for that.

for chris:

one thing i want to say about libra suns right off the bat is that obviously they like to appease everybody. that's why a lot of people find them likeable. libra suns understand what you want them to act like, and that's exactly what they do. so what does this mean for chan? i think he 100% knows that we like it when he is our "sweet, shy, humble father of 7 kids", but he also knows we like it when he's got major daddy vibes. and he knows WHEN to bring them out... now that side of him is what he shows to US, but it could be vastly different from what he shows others. you've probably seen that when he's around other guys, he takes on a more masculine, playful character than what he normally shows us. i think behind closed doors when he's just with his members or friends, he's def more of a "guy's guy" than what he lets on. i think he probably cuts up a lot, makes crude jokes, says stupid boy shit, etc. but it's not that he's trying to be deceitful in not showing us this... i just think that he knows when it comes to stays, he needs to behave a certain way. i think when it comes to GIRLS in general, he knows he needs to behave a certain way. i don't think any of it is insincere at all, and i think he def still has those traits that come out when he's hanging with the boys, BUT in everday life, i see him as more "dude-ish" than he probably shows us. any man that's out here wear shorts in the fucking cold is a dude's dude, let's be honest.

so, whether he's an asshole or not i think depends on 1) his other chart placements, and 2) what your own chart placements are. for example, i know some people got upset ab what he posted on bubble a week or so ago. to ME, i thought it was just all jokes and him messing around (like dudes do) and thought it was annoying but funny tbh. like i don't have time for your shit today christopher 🙄 BUT obviously some people did not like it and really took it to heart.... so in that regard, it's like "okay, is he an asshole, or do i just perceive him as an asshole bc we don't have the same sense of 'joking around'?" i think that's a big factor in it. but let's look at his chart and see OBJECTIVELY do i think he'd switch it up and be an asshole after a certain amount of time.

as far as communication goes, NO, i do not think he would intentionally be an asshole on a regular basis. his personality AND his communication style both sit in libra in the 5th house. i think this shows he's really funny and creative, flirty, and likes to mess around and get people riled up. random note, but 5th house also is heavily involved in children, so i think he'd talk ab having kids or raising a family together a LOT. but on the regular, i think he'd actually be a good communicator in relationships and try his best to make them fun.

something i find interesting ab channie is that both his moon in libra and his venus in scorp lie in the 6th house. 6th house governs work, service, and health. i feel like this makes TOTAL sense for him. his moon rooted in libra here means that in relationships, he probably has to feel very giving and feel that he needs his partner to integrate into his work life in order to feel balanced. i have sooooo much more to say on this, which i will do later. his venus in scorp here also tells me that he pours a lot of love and beauty into what he does in work, and that he is vvvvv passionate ab it. i think with this combo, it could actually come up that he is "married to work" in a way. he could REALLY struggle finding balance between relationships and work. and let me emphasize why:

his mars is in sagittarius on the 6th/7th house cusp. stick with me here. mars represents action and aggression, while sagittarius is a fiery and independent sign. i talked previously about how 6th house represents work and service, but 7th house is the ruler of partnerships and marriage. so put all of this together and what we are seeing is someone who REALLY struggles in balancing work and relationships, and this is happening in the placements that rule aggression and independence. can def be a scary combo tbh.

so how do i see this playing out? overall, i think chan is lovely in relationships. basically will be whoever you need him to be and actually is very loving. he has that 6th house placement, so although work is extremely important to him, so is service, which INCLUDES taking care of you. HOWEVER, he has a very difficult time balancing these two things. i think when things are going poorly at work, he will bring that home and into your relationship. when things aren't great in your relationship, he will really struggle at work.... so as much as i hate to say it, i do think if he's having a difficult time at work, he could accidentally take it out on you. even if he doesn't mean to... either 2 things would initially happen: (1) he gets really upset and bottles it all in and/or gets flighty all of a sudden and acts like he doesn't know what he wants, (2) he explodes on you for no reason... like when he feels like his life is off-balance, he can genuinely get that worked up. don't get me wrong, he would regret it later and do everything to try and make up for it, but i see him having that problem for the time being.

so i think it's up to everyone individually how they're able to handle those traits in a relationship. i see people say something like "when chan gets stressed at work, all he wants to do is come home and lay in your arms", but i genuinely disagree. he may END UP wanting that by the end of the night, but when he's upset, he needs to be alone for a bit. so i think that's up to you if you think that makes him an asshole or not? i think it depends on compatibility and how you also react 100%

#bangchan #skz astrology

26 notes · View notes

dolokhoded · 3 months

Text

80-ish jesus 'verse disciple headcanons pt. 1 (peter, john, magdalene)

[ bc i gotta put those somewhere. i still dont know if this is set in the actual 80s in a normal timeline or if the whole universe is completely made up. i'll figure it out. shit's hard when jesus' existence as some normal living dude implies a definitive aspect of today's society doesn't exist at all yet ]

PETER

jesus’ right hand man yadda yadda

the most repressed man you will ever meet

very loyal, but quite close minded. until he meets jesus, at least, that’s peter’s whole thing

he really does believe the things jesus stands for but it's hard to change the mindset he was raised on in a day

he learns to accept people who are different than him. he learns to accept himself while we’re at it. ANYWAYS

peter gets married in his early twenties. not entirely because of religion or tradition or whatever, he really did love his wife and because they were in their twenties and they were stupid they found it to be the next logical step in their relationship

he’s poly

he doesn’t realize this until after he’s married and represses it forever despite literally being surrounded by queer people (assume everyone is queer unless i explicitly say they're not)

he sorts it out eventually. illa knows

that's his wife. she's a chemist and an environmental activist, they do love each other very much but they get divorced in the end because she gets offered a job in a project in norway that i would elaborate on if i knew jack about science, and decides she wants to live in different countries and travel the world

moral of the story don't get married when you're twenty and don't know what you want to do with your life yet

has some sort of personal feud with magdalene ???

she thinks it’s cause he hates women

it sort of is. he feels threatened by her. but also he wouldn’t care this much if it wasn’t personal

(really he's just very attracted to her. he doesn't like her, he doesn't exactly love her but they do feel closer to each other than all the other disciples but he's not in love with her. it's the same for her. but she's aro. they have a weird thing going on don't ask me, it's definitely a little intensified just because they never acknowledge or discuss it but whatever)

i know i’m making this guy seem like a major asshole and that’s because he is. but also they all are. he’s working on it !

andrew’s older brother and also the exact opposite of andrew

deep down he kind of envies him

peter works his family's business, at least until he cuts his parents off. don't ask me what the business is it doesn't matter

sells fishing equipment or something

can cook with some assistance. not kitchen banned.

JOHN

grew up with very open-minded parents, but was still very sheltered.

he's a youngest child, so he was a little fussed over. his mother was very protective of him which led to him moving out of the family home and having to call his brother to ask how you make a doctor appointment

then having said brother james make the appointment for him because he was shy

idea guy. very creative very innovative. not always successful but at least his brain somewhat works?

the youngest of the group. 24 when big james was 28, jesus was 30, peter and magdalene were 32. i'll come up with a comprehensive age chart soon

majored in journalism when he joined the group, met matthew in class and roped him in

decided to change his major to creative writing

uses a typewriter to write. i haven't decided exactly what the fuck is going on with this verse, i'm leaning towards setting it in the 80s where everyone uses typewriters anyways but it's important that you know john would use a typewriter even if he had access to a laptop.

(with recycled paper of course)

likes to doodle on the margins when he's editing his shit. he's very right brained.

judas' narrative foil, therefore they hate each other

they don't full on scream death threats at each other at meetings like peter and magdalene but the passive aggression is there

LMAO ALL I TALK ABOUT IS THIS GROUP FUCKING HATING EACH OTHER i swear deep down they love each other uhhhh

matthew, he likes matthew. they're writing buddies

and peter and simon z and little james. and mary beth. john's cool with magdalene too

and philip and thad. everyone likes philip and thad they have 0 enemies

and everyone likes jesus. except judas who doesn't but it's okay cause he's in love with him.

some of them they like each other i promise. anyways, sorry, john.

cannot cook, but not kitchen banned

MAGDALENE

mary magdalene. obviously.

we have around three hundred marys so she goes by magdalene. though i find it more fitting anyways.

magdalene didn't know her father, her mother was lovely but she died of cancer when she was 10. susanna is the daughter of her godmother who lost custody of her when susanna was 15 because she had a drug addiction

so like. starting out with some lovely stuff

magdalene was in foster care until she was 16. then susanna turned 18 and she lived with her, finished school and started working any random job that helped them make rent

susanna is the only person magdalene can always rely on. and vice versa. she's a barber.

which i thought of before i realized susanna is also the name of the wife of figaro barber of seville. but isn't that hilarious.

anyways it's been rough for these two but it gets better i promise. they make it.

magdalene's working like three jobs trying to make enough to go to university, she wants to be a social worker. preferably work with inmates.

she's aropansexual

weird thing with peter is not of romantic nature. maybe queerplatonic except they're not friends. queeraggressive if anything.

it's just a thing. it's a sixth sense only aromantic people can comprehend. don't question it.

despite everything magdalene is an optimistic person. she's got a grasp on reality, but she's not scared of having her own dreams and ambitions, she's not going to let her past stop her from moving forward

she's had one serious girlfriend before she realized she didn't want to be in a romantic relationship at all and it was fucking crazy

she was very insecure already and magdalene kept enabling it by constantly ignoring her and seeming disinterested (which she was cause she was aro) which made the girl feel like she was only using her for sex and then she started getting paranoid and accusing her of cheating on her and it rlly escalated. crazy shit.

the girl was like. slightly more reasonable than magdalene is and one day just decided that aight im out of here and left. and then magdalene had a breakdown and tried to convince her not to leave because she needed to prove to herself that she was capable of love

yeah my girl is not okay. did you expect her to be well in her brain cause she's not

so yeah crazy shit. she works through it.

cannot cook. kitchen banned.

#bible fandom #im not religious just insane.jpg #dolokhoded bible #<- im gonna use this one exclusively for the lore #i know i have a billion tags. but i will do it anyways #cause the not religious just insane tag has the stupidest shit dumped in it #anon who said you'd like to read these i love you #i love these guys i love talking about them. their brains are wrong !#i could literally talk about my dolokhoded bible folks forever #they're all assholes #they're doing their best though

10 notes · View notes

mcfnffnafut08 · 2 years

Text

Vinsmoke brothers reaction to meeting (Y/n)

This is a Highschool AU for One Piece (Mostly for these boys)

Background: The Vinsmoke family is one of the richest families in Japan, and while Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji are all in school their eyes fall upon their new desk mate. A classmate they never seen in class, but they felt something warm and happy inside upon making eye contact.

Extra: The Vinsmoke brothers were instead of experimented on, was instead taught stuff such as; Boys don’t cry, Boys do all the heavy lifting, Girl are meant to listen to the men 100%, etc.

Pairs are; Ichiji x Y/n - Niji x Y/n - Yonji x Y/n (All separate)

Hope this goes well for my first actual post and that everyone enjoys!

Vinsmoke Ichiji

He never believed in love at first sight. And knowing the lessons his father literally beat into him, all he did was go around and screwing different girl. Today was one of those days where the teacher had to give every student a new seating chart. Ichiji didn’t care much on these days since his seat mate was either a girl he already screwed or boys who were either scared or chill with him. Moving to the desk which was in the middle row four desk from the board, he waited to see who was going the be the ‘lucky’ person to sit next to him.

“Mx. (L/n) you’ll be seated with Mr. Vinsmoke. Middle row, fourth desk from the board.” Ichiji raised a brow. He has never heard that name before. Were they new? Indeed they were. Upon this (L/n) getting to their chair and look down at Ichiji, usually he would have made a either flirty/rude remark but upon meeting their (E/c) eyes.

“What the fuck?” “You good?” Ichiji slightly jumped and nodded. Through the rest of class, Ichiji kept sneaking glances at (L/n). He wanted to say something, but what? Maybe a flirt? No, that would probably weird them out. How about complement them? No, that might make thing a bit awkward. ‘Wait why do I care!’ Felling movement beside him, he turned to find (L/n) trying to reach down the grab their pencil. He almost immediately bent down and grabbed it.

“Here. . .” (L/n) stared at him before slowly taking it. He could tell something was up. “Is there something wrong?” “Aren’t you one of those fuck boys who screws every girl he sees?” A slight discussed look came on their face, and another weird feeling went off inside his chest. Why did hearing that all of a sudden hurt? He raised his hand and told the teacher he was going to the nurses office for the rest of the period, and left before anyone could stop him.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

Vinsmoke Niji

Niji groaned seeing the new seating chart on the board. He was on the left is of the classroom, two desks away from the board. He sulked over to the desk and sat in the seat next to the runway. Soon some walked by him and sat beside him. He only took a simple glance at them, not really caring. Class started but all Niji did was pull out a chocolate bar and started to munch on it.

“Hey. . .Can you grab my pencil. It’s by your right foot.” Niji growled and snapped his head towards his desk mate. He was going to say some nasty remark only to freeze. Meeting the eyes of a (H/c) haired person, Niji felt something warm spill throughout his body. It was almost like he just got inside of a very warm bath.

Not really thinking, he bent down and grabbed the (F/c) pencil. Handing it to them, they took it. Silence feel between them, and Niji took small glances over at the person. ‘Shit I don’t know what their name is! I forgot to ask them. Damn.’ Feeling stupid, and for a first embarrassed he wrote on a piece of paper and slide it to them.

Soon getting it back and he quickly picked it up and read it. ‘I’m pretty sure it was on the board -_- But if you need to know, just call me (L/n). You’re Vinsmoke Niji, right?’ He wrote back a ‘Yes’ and handed it to (L/n). Getting it back and looked at the note. ‘I thought so. You’re they guy that got mad when my best friend rejected you. From what they told me, you began to throw the biggest tantrum they’ve ever seen lol’ Upon reading such a note, Niji felt hurt. Something in his heart clenched and he felt embarrassed yet again. Without any words, he got up and walked out of the classroom.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

Vinsmoke Yonji

Yonji could give less than two flying fucks. . .but he would love to be seated with one of the ‘cute’ girls in the class. But upon looking at the tables and found his name next to an unfamiliar one, he became upset. Though he tried to figure out who this (L/n) person was, all he got was that they were one of the students that were on the usual late bus.

So class started at (L/n) is still not there. Hell Yonji didn’t even get to figure out if they were a boy or girl. But upon the announcements telling everyone the late bus finally arrived, Yonji for once sat up straight. He was slight excited to finally meet his desk mate, praying it was a hot female. The back classroom door opened, and footsteps could be heard.

The footsteps got close to Yonji and then they paused. Yonji took the time to looked up at the person. He was surprised to meet (E/c) eyes starring at him. He could feel his heart beating faster just looking up at them, and his face heated up. They sat down next to him and the lesson went on as though they’ve been there the whole time.

Yonji just sat there staring at (L/n). Was this what people call love at first sight? Because Yonji was going to believe he was feeling that. Suddenly they turned to him with a raised brow. “Is there something on my face? Why are you starring at me?” And without any second thoughts Yonji just said, “You’re hot.” The teacher was quick in send Yonji out of the class since this wasn’t the first time he tried to flirt with students in their class. Walking out, Yonji dropped a note and upon opening it. It said, ‘Call me bay! XXX-XXX-XXXX’ Letting out a sigh, (L/n) ripped up the piece of paper and finished up with taking the notes from the board.

#one piece x reader #one piece #vinsmoke brothers #vinsmoke ichiji #vinsmoke niji #vinsmoke yonji #mondern au #ichiji x reader #niji x reader #yonji x reader #high school

330 notes · View notes

ai404 · 2 months

Text

yesterday, months after having gone to HR and reported that they have a problem with way too many creeps in the factory and expressed my discomfort at having my personal phone number on the first aid volunteer chart at work, i got a bunch of random texts from an unknown number and i'm POSITIVE they got it off that chart with my face on it because i dont give my number out, i fucking hate being asked for my number. and when i said idek who tf this is they responded with "you will soon" ... HELLO??!

i didnt bother going back to HR bc they've already proven they won't do shit. but my friend found the number linked to a cashapp and we pulled it up on the company directory and found out who his manager is and reported it to him and he said "i can fix that" lol. lmao. and THEN HE CALLS ME AND IS LIKE "oh no this guy lost his phone around lunch, somebody stole it" I DONT FUCKING BELIEVE YOU. HE GAVE ME HIS NAME AND IT MATCHED WHAT WE FOUND. PLAY BACK THE CAMERAS. DO *SOMETHING*. FIRE THAT FUCKING MAN BC IM NOT GOING BACK INTO WORK NOT KNOWING WHO THE HELL IS WATCHING AND MESSAGING ME. the blind fucking rage that ripped through me after i got off that call... i already told my manager im not coming in today.

and i cant even quit bc i dont have any fucking money LMAO like im so so miserable here and im so tired of being seen that way and it's so stupid and pitiful but a part of me gets so hurt bc i would LOVE for someone to actually bother to be my friend for once but all i attract is fucking creeps and pervy old men.

i'll go back in tomorrow and yes i will be armed to the teeth, as i always am. really wish i felt safe, ever, without a knife in my hands.

anyway no one is ever allowed to see me angry so it's fine im over it i just dont wanna be there rn and nobody at work will ever really know how much it upsets me and how disgusting and ugly i feel when stuff like this happens but it's fine, this is fine.

5 notes · View notes

newtonsheffield · 2 years

Note

Molly! I need to know how stupid they've been. Has anthony gotten a midday hickey and tried to pass it off as sun burn? How stupid have they been? Mary and edwina just constantly rolling their eyes

Oh, pretty fucking stupid

Mary Sharma liked to think she was not a stupid woman, but more that that: Mary knew her daughter.

She'd known Kate since she was four years old, when her dark curls had been untameable and her tiny little grin had been cheeky, sprinting around with her light up sneakers on. She'd known her as a teenager, a little awkward and unsure with her braces, trying to figure herself out. And she'd been there when Kate had slowly dressed herself the day of her father's funeral, with Edwina tucked into her side, tears soaking Kate's dress and Kate hadn't even flinched, though she knew the grief her daughter felt.

Mary remembered the proud smile on Kate's face when she'd graduated from Bristol, the nervous smile when She told Mary she'd chosen her specialty. And she remembered Kate's voice on the other end of the phone.

"I delivered Baz's baby today."

Mary's mouth had fallen over, her mind racing. "Kate. Why wouldn't you tell me you were-"

"Nope. Not my baby. Just his."

And Mary's chest had ached, "Kate I'm so-"

"I'm coming home, Mum. I just want to come home." And she'd sounded just like that tiny girl, so much so that when she'd gotten off the phone Mary had put her head in her hands and cried. Cried for the tiny girl who had so much love to give and no one to give it to. No one who would take it.

And then she saw the way Anthony looked at her daughter: Like she'd hung the sun in the sky herself. His eyes lit up and his smile went wide and he thrived forward as Kate hissed and spat like a wounded cat. And still Anthony wouldn't back away.

Sighing after Kate as she walked away, turning to Mary. "She is such a fucking woman. Holy shit!"

And Mary sighed, though something fluttered in her chest at the awe in his voice. "Anthony, that's my daughter, can we just tone down this horndog energy just a little?"

Anthony let out a huff, "No, I'm sorry, No. I'm going to be your son in law one day Mary. If I have to cut off my bollocks to do it, I am going to marry Kate."

And god help her, Mary almost believed him.

But things had changed recently. She'd seen the way Anthony's entire body twitched when Kate came near him after Christmas. Saw the way Kate's eyes followed Anthony around, her eyes trained on him as he bent over, tongue darting out to lick her lips. Mary would have to be nearly blind to miss the fact she'd gone into Kate's bathroom one day while visiting and seen the stack of condoms in the open top drawer. She'd closed it quickly with a snap, trying not to notice the five foil packets in the bin clearing her throat with a

"None of my business. She's a grown woman."

And she was sure Kate and Anthony's newfound jitters were connected. She was sure that Anthony hadn't had that hickey on his neck before lunch, sure she heard Kate's laughter followed by a familiar masculine drawl coming from an on call room. But finally, she had actual proof.

She was sitting at her desk at the nurse's station, watching Anthony charting carefully in front of her. His hair was rumpled, very rumpled, a line of red marks blooming on his neck, trailing from the angle of his jaw down under his scrubs, whistling happily. And then he moved, And she smelled it.

lilies hanging in the air between them. The perfume she'd bought for the very first time when Kate had been 15. And she burst out laughing.

Anthony's eyebrows shot upwards, spinning towards her in surprise, "Ahh... everything okay?"

Mary sighed, smiling up at him, "Yes little Pup. Everything's just as it should be."

#all i am (all that i ever was)#kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #mary sharma #molly’s asks and answers

165 notes · View notes

altschmerzes · 6 months

Note

Super sick today, could I perhaps get a snippet of wriggle up on dry land to distract me from the slimes?🌹Thanks for all your wonderful work

i hope you aren't still sick but if you are, here's a clip for the slimes!! thank YOU for caring about it, truly that makes it all so much more fun and rewarding <3

The kid takes off somewhere else in the building after that without saying much else and Roy heads into the locker room with a few sheets of freshly-printed paper in his hands and a lot on his mind. Most everyone else is changed already, milling about and chatting like they’ve got nothing better to do - and they probably don’t, either. Roy tucks the papers into his bag and stands, ready to head out early. It’s in his best interests to get going before anyone can start bothering him about what the papers were or why he’d been so shit in training or anything else. (Not that he thinks any of them would give him grief over the training thing, not in a serious way, but honestly the thought of them being nice about it is worse than the thought of them jeering.) He doesn’t get that far, though. Roy gets his bag zipped up and he’s standing with it over his shoulder, ready to take off, when he sees that stupid colourful chart up on the wall.

#gav gab #gav answers #writing liveblog #fic: wriggle up on dry land #ask box games

12 notes · View notes

vizthedatum · 8 months

Text

Really struggling today because I realized and then checked that I do indeed have a UTI (based on the urine cultures that were done last week when I had my bladder instillation and then on Tuesday when I dropped off a sample at the hospital) and the nurse last week called me and told me I didn’t need antibiotics and I trusted her.

And I shouldn’t have. This is the nurse I specifically have written on my chart WHO IS NOT ALLOWED TO CATHETERIZE ME OR DO MY BLADDER INSTILLATIONS ANYMORE. She literally cannot even treat me right and I’ve been so patient with her.

I just took her word for it even though I know better.

I’ve just been so overwhelmed with my mood swings and emotions and my fucking job… that I didn’t check.

And now I’ve left multiple messages at the hospital (WHERE I WORK AT OMFG) and on my health portal… and I’m so angry.

I am so angry.

My office and fucking UPMC doesn’t even consider Intersitial Cystitis (IC) a disability. And having a UTI when you have IC is SO FUCKING PAINFUL.

I am all alone. I live all alone. I am broken and traumatized with no nesting partner and likely no one who will ever live with me again because I’m not okay. I need a lot of help and stability in my life, and my experience with humans have been: they’re selfish and unkind and NOT STABLE. My stupid ableist ex-spouse hated that I was disabled and yelled at me for all the shit I couldn’t do even when I took care of their abled ass - what a fucking loser.

I always have to end up taking care of my live-in partners while I get more and more disabled then I can’t do anything and then they all resent me for it. Or they try to control and limit my autonomy when I dare to try to help myself.

What even is the point of all this?

I’m never going to stop having pain and I have to use my other diagnoses such as PTSD and IBS to get disability accommodations for work.

Do you know what IC feels like?

It feels like a forever UTI where it burns while you pee and your urethra keeps burning when you’re not peeing. Your energy gets zapped. Lower abdominal pain. Sharp pain when you have penetrative sex. Sometimes you pee blood. Sometimes the pain gets so bad, you can’t think no matter how many skills you have or what you’ve done to prepare.

People with disabilities are also expected to lead VIRTUOUS lives - following the best diets and exercise routines to help alleviate their condition.

I try.

But do you know how hard it is to be a fucking human with so much trauma and a desperate need to be loved by a community because their parents couldn’t love them… and try to follow the best diet and exercise routines?

Laughable that I get blamed for my poor upkeep of my health when I’m literally disabled.

Laughable because I’m still fucking here despite it all even though I’m a mess.

I feel betrayed by everyone in my life who has ever claimed to have loved me. I feel betrayed by the medical system, a system where I have made my career. I feel betrayed by my own body because I don’t know if anything I do will ever be enough.

#interstitial cystitis #bladder pain #pain #vent #healing #trauma #neurodivergence #harm #medical negligence #anger #betrayal #chronic pain #disability #it doesn’t stop #it will never stop #upmc #Pittsburgh #healthcare #what is a disability

5 notes · View notes

cyncerity · 1 year

Note

Dream is a shifter (at least from what I'm inferring based off your most recent chart update and some previous posts). Dream and Tommy are cousins, so Dream is one of two children on the bottom left of the new labeled family tree. In an earlier post you mentioned that Dream moved with his mom and brother, which confirms he has a sibling. Later in that post you mention Dream telling George about his little! brother having his first day of kindergarten. Which makes Dream the first born and therefore the shifter! (I think lol)

tw: gun violence, non-sexual nudity, description of graphic violence

Glass shattering. That’s how it had started. A completely average day turned on it’s head by the sound of the front door being broken and a man screaming orders. A gun in his hand. Others started screaming, customers ran for their lives as the rest of the employees tried to help them escape. They tried to remain composed, tried to remember their training on how to deal with this safely, but the man was still there. Still shouting orders, still pointing his gun at anyone in his range of vision, now stalking the store looking for anyone he could get something from.

If you’d have asked Dream that morning if he thought he would die that day, well, he’d probably have been very, very concerned about what the question implied, but obviously he would have said no. But here he was, an armed robber in his store, some customers running and hoping to avoid the gunman, some ducking to the ground for cover, his friends all trying to help any innocent patrons while also keeping themselves alive. He couldn’t watch this. He couldn’t just stand by.

All of his training went out the window as he ran past anyone still in the store and directed them to the nearest exits, just praying he wouldn’t run straight into the robber, dumb luck being his only survival strategy. His employees refuted as silently as possible as to not attract the gunman’s attention, tried to convince him to let them stay to help. His little brother especially. Foolish had always been too kind for his own good. Nonetheless, he begged him to leave, along with the rest of his employees. He refused to let them die. They were his closest friends, practically his family, the people who had come to help when he took over this little store and the people who had stuck by him through thick and thin. If he had to be a martyr for them, so be it.

He had tried to get them all out. He thought he did. All his employees were accounted for, right…?

…shit, Nick. He was still in the store. Dream hadn’t seen him leave.

As quickly as he could run quietly, he tried to find Nick, only to no avail. Now, they weren’t exactly close friends, per say, but Dream would be damned if Nick had to die today. Just because he was a newer, more shy and soft spoken employee didn’t mean he deserved to be left behind with an armed robber. He turned to a different aisle, running through into an open area, just searching for any sign of his friend.

Cold metal touched his neck.

He didn’t have to move his head to know that the gun was on him. The barrel was pressing uncomfortably hard into his skin, sending shivers down his spine. He heard a gruff voice behind him tell him to lift his hands. He slowly obliged. After all, what more could he do? The man roughly patted him down, taking his wallet and phone out of his back pockets. Dream tried to think through anything he had on him. A pen in his front pocket, a pocket knife, a little notepad with his to-do list in his apron…wait a second.

He was stupid, wasn’t he?

The green switchblade was in his front right pocket. And, ok, maybe those were illegal to own, but they were damn good in a quick life-or-death situation like this one. If he timed it right, could he hit the gunman and run? Did he have time, or would he pull the trigger before then? Did he have time to think it through any further?

The hand reaching for his front pocket said no. So, he acted.

In a blur as his life flashed before his eyes, Dream’s hand came down quickly, grabbing the knife and quickly flipping the sturdy black tinted metal blade out. He thrusted his hand back as hard as he could and felt it hit something, his hand and knife quickly becoming covered in a warm, sticky liquid; but not before he heard a click from right behind his head.

***

Sapnap ran through the store. He had heard the shattering of the glass, had seen the man come in. He hadn’t understood immediately, but he knew crowd panic when he saw it. People running, screaming, crying, it all sent him back into some…unfortunate memories.

He eventually, thankfully, found someone he knew helping a small family out the employee only door in the back of the store. “Punz!” he called as loudly as he dared, trying to keep his voice low since that’s what everyone else seemed to be doing. Punz looked around for a bit before spotting him. His eyes raised and he quickly helped the family the rest of the way out before running to Sapnap. “Nick!” Punz said, voice wavering and hands shaking as they brought Sapnap into a hug. “Thank god you’re ok, you’re one of the few people i wasn’t with when this all went down.” Sapnap held onto his friend for a moment before gently pulling away and noticing that Punz looked terrified, more terrified than he’d ever seen a human look. He didn’t like seeing them like that. “Yeah, and speaking of ‘this,’ what’s going on?” “You didn’t see? Or hear?” “I saw the door break, and there was a guy. He was holding something and screaming and everyone started running, what’s going on?” Punz quickly shushed Sapnap before grabbing his wrist and guiding him to hide in a corner hidden by some shipment bins. “That guy was a robber and that thing was a gun. He’s here to fuckin mug us and kill anyone who gets in the way.”

Now, Sapnap didn’t know what the fuck a “gun” was, but he knew what kill meant. It meant he and everyone in this store were in terrible danger, he had to help people get out, what if someone was stuck in the aisles alone with a killer, what if…

his fiancés. Oh god, his fiancés. They were planning to borrow from the craft section, since Quackity had gotten some of his clothes torn and dirtied and wanted to make some new ones anyway. Were they out there? Alone? Oh god, if the thought of a relatively normal human finding and taking them was bad, the idea of a murderer finding them was so, so much worse. It made him feel sick.

He barely heard Punz’s scared whisper of his human name as he sprinted out of the corner. Punz could hide if he wanted. It was probably better for them anyway so they didn’t get hurt. But Sapnap couldn’t wait around for some killer to find his fiancés first.

***

Dream didn’t know what had happened. One second, he heard a gunshot, painfully close to his ears. He felt the heat behind his head and heard the trigger be pulled on him. He shouldn’t be alive right now. Was he even alive? Where…was he?

He felt like a little kid in a giant tent, like those parachutes that he played with in gym class. But this was bigger. Much, much bigger. It was a thicker stitching and fabric, and it was bright green, like his store uniform. Actually speaking of that, Dream realized he wasn’t actually wearing anything. He felt his face start to heat up. Well, that was…definitely pretty fuckin embarrassing, wasn’t it? Thank god he was alone wherever he was. Maybe he was dead. After all, you probably can’t take what you were wearing when you died to the afterlife. But the still warm blood on his hand from stabbing the gunman told him otherwise.

He was snapped out of his thoughts as he heard something above him, something loud and seemingly confused. Was he crazy or did that sound like the gunman? All of a sudden, the world around him was tossed around, leaving him to helplessly flail around before he found some semblance of a way out.

There seemed to be a hole in the fabric, so without much of an idea of what else to do, he climbed for it. He made his way out into the open and saw what looked like miles of giant craft supplies. Glues, markers, scissors, fabrics, and little charms and knickknacks that seemed to go on forever. This…this was the craft aisle. He’d restocked it himself only a few days ago, but…why was it giant? He felt himself start to sweat and his hands started shaking as he fully took in the scene around him. In a panic Dream turned around, if only to not have to look at the giant supplies anymore only to see what he had crawled out of. And oh god, did he wish he had just kept looking at the craft supplies.

His work uniform. His shirt, now hundreds of times bigger than him, was unceremoniously crumpled beneath the aisle border after…whatever this was had happened to him, and he’d been stuck in it as it had been shoved around. What had happened to him? What if the gunman had done this to him? How could he have though?? Dream looked a bit farther down the floor and saw everything else he had had on him. His pants, his belt, his apron, and the necklace he had gotten from George. He carefully took the thick handmade blue and green braid that his boyfriend had made and tied it around his waist in a quick form of some cover. George had always insisted that he wear the mushroom pendant he got for Dream on the braid, it was tradition to his culture or something, and so they could match, given that George had made one for himself to hold the sword pendant Dream had sent to him. He didn’t have much from George, he’d never even met him in person, their necklaces had always been something they wore to remind themselves of the other until they could finally be together in person. Both of them rarely took it off. If there was anything he wanted to make sure he didn’t lose, it was the necklace.

The blue shiny mushroom pendant hit against his leg as he carefully walked from under the craft aisle border to the aisle he had just been in with the gunman only for his heart to practically stop. Hundreds of feet (well, feet to him) above him was the gunman, gun and bloodied knife left forgotten on the floor, as he ripped part of his shirt off and pressed it against his stab wound. A giant. Dream paled as hundreds of thoughts of what this man could do to him if he was found flashed through his mind, panic almost overtaking his mind almost enough to block out the sudden all too loud shouting…

wait, what?

***

Sapnap sprinted back to the craft aisle where he’d been trying to get for far too long. God dammit, why did he have to be such a nice person sometimes? He’d been helping people get out safely for a while, after he thought all the other employees had cleared out. But every time he thought there was no one left, someone else showed up and he couldn’t find it in him to leave someone else behind. But he still didn’t know if Karl and Quackity were ok. They had to be. He couldn’t live with himself if something had happened to them.

He was only a few aisles away when a loud bang rang out. It was somewhat familiar, he used to hear it occasionally when he lived in the forest colony he was born in. His dad had said the sounds were from hunters, humans with strange death machines that could kill an animal from far away. He explained them like over powered one handed bow and arrows. And now Sapnap had heard one in the store where his fiancés and possibly other humans were hiding.

Sapnap sprinted over full speed and froze where he stood. The robber stood right in front of him, back turned to him gun held out at open air. Sapnap could see the wall he was facing had been shot, if the minor crumbling was anything to go by. The gun in his hand was still smoking. But, why had he shot it at nothing?

Sapnap watched the man look around, mumbling incoherently and seemingly just really, really confused and then look around at the floor. Sapnap followed his eyes and it felt like his breathing stopped. Clothes. Not just any clothes, a work uniform, identical to the one he currently had on. What was that doing there? He watched the robber kick it around a bit before he saw it.

The white smiley pin on the apron and the little extra name tag that read manager. That was Dream’s. That was Dream’s uniform. Dream, who he realized he hadn’t seen leave, who he hadn’t heard anything about since the robber entered the store. He watched the man kick the uniform partially under an aisle and just shrug. He dropped the gun and physically pulled something from his side with a grunt and a wince, dropping that, too. He proceeded to take his jacket off and rip a part of the sleeve away and press it against his side, the dark fabric quickly becoming soaked and dripping with blood, Sapnap could smell it from where he stood several feet behind the man. He took that time to venture his eyes to the floor again.

A knife. That’s what the man had pulled from his side. A bright, almost neon green knife with a smiley face carved into the handle. That had to be Dream’s. Dream had stabbed the man, stabbed him good enough to cause a substantial amount of bleeding. Sapnap could guess who the man shot at.

So, where was Dream? If his knife was there, and his clothes where there for some reason, where was he? What had the robber done with him?

Sapnap ignored his anger and confusion for now. He could find Dream and make sense of all this later once the stranger with the gun was dealt with. But what could he use? There wasn’t much useful artillery in a craft aisle and the aisle next to it was where they blew up balloons for birthday parties and stuff…

wait a minute.

***

“HEY FUCKER!!”

Dream knew that voice, as loud as it was and as much as it hurt his ears at the moment, he knew that voice. Nick had always been so quiet, never really wanting to talk to people, and Dream couldn’t have even imagined him being loud moments prior, but damn if he wasn’t really loud right now. He also couldn’t have imagined how angry Nick could be.

Dream snapped his head in the direction of the scream at about the same time the gunman did, but only really Dream got to see what went down, since the second the robber turned his head, he was forcefully knocked backward with the full brute force of a helium tank to the face. He looked up farther to see Nick, face contorted in rage, face red and chest heaving, probably from having thrown a helium tank full force a moment earlier. Jesus, how strong was Nick? Dream backed up further at the thought. After all, if he had the strength to chuck a 30+ pound helium tank, what could he do to him right now?

He wanted to smack himself for thinking about that right now. Nick wouldn’t hurt him, he knew that. Sure, they didn’t know each other great, but he knew Nick was a nice guy. More than a nice guy, he was one of the sweetest people he’d ever met. Nick stayed with him after hours constantly, always helped anyone with what they needed, never complained and always did his best to work well with others. Why would he hurt Dream now? Why would he want to? But yet, the thought of drawing Nick’s attention to himself make his knees weak. He was just…so big right now. He was an absolute giant, sue him for being scared of someone who could kill him so effortlessly.

He watched Nick walk over to the robber and make sure he was unconscious, as if anyone could stay awake after getting decked that hard. He watched Nick lift the man’s head a bit and if Dream wasn’t scared enough earlier, he certainly was now. Dream could hardly breathe as he watched literal teeth fall out of the man’s mouth as Nick sat him in an upright position against the wall he had apparently shot when he hadn’t hit Dream. Along with that, he nose was broken to an absolute pulp, and his entire face was an ugly blend of purples, reds, and blacks. He watched Nick take in the damages himself and he at least looked somewhat concerned, as if he hadn’t meant to do that much damage. Dream kind of wished that was true. Nick had never seemed all that violent.

After a moment of kneeling and surveying what he’d done to the robber, he stood and walked back the way he’d come down the aisle, freezing to stare down at Dream’s knife. After a few moments of hesitation and an expression that Dream couldn’t quite read, he knelt down to take it and, after a few seconds of looking it over, flipped the switch to slide the blade back in.

“…Dream? Are you here? Are you ok?” Nick asked, sounding concerned. He kept looking around as if Dream would just appear out of nowhere at his call, never thinking to look down. Of course not, why should he? No rational person would assume the person they were looking for was all of a sudden mere inches tall for no reason. And as Dream heard Nick call out his name over and over, sounding more frantic every time, he hesitated. He knew he should want to go out there, he knew his friend would help him through whatever had happened. But something kept him where he was, hiding under the aisle.

Fear. He knew it was fear, plain and simple. Thousands of worst case scenarios came to the forefront of his mind as he watched Nick pace up and down the aisle, and he couldn’t bring himself to step out where he could be seen.

How could he know what Nick would do? How could he guess how Nick would react to…this? How could he be sure he wouldn’t regret it? He liked Nick a lot, he really did, but he’d be putting his life and his well-being in the hands of another person, and there wasn’t a single person he thought he could trust enough to do that with, not right now, now while he felt so…vulnerable. So, he stayed put, and watched Nick sigh and give up, pulling out his phone. It took him a few seconds of muttering to himself before he seemingly remembered something and tapped at his phone a few times. He put it up to his ear and Dream could only watch helplessly as Nick reported everything that had happened to who he could only assume was the 911 operator. He seemed to move past the initial break in pretty quickly, so someone else had already probably called about that, but he listened in on how Nick reportedly “captured” the gunman and how his friend was missing.

It took a lot not to break down then and there as Dream listened to Nick recite everything he knew into the phone. Gunshot in the wall, clothes on the floor, his knife in the side of the assailant, and no sign of him beyond that. He heard tears start to threaten Nick’s voice as he continued and repeated the confusing details, probably at the request of the operator. Dream was sure he’d be on the news by the next morning at the very latest, once the relatively small town learned that the owner of one of the most popular stores in the area was missing. God, when his mom found out he was alive and ok, she’d kill him. He didn’t want to make her worry this much.

…Well, that is, if she ever found out he was alive and ok. He didn’t know if this was temporary, or if it could ever even be reversed, or if he’d just keep shrinking until he disappeared or something horrifying like that. Maybe someone he knew would accidentally step on him or squish him if they didn’t notice him at his new size. Then maybe it would be a good idea for his friends and family to think he mysteriously disappeared, so they couldn’t blame themselves. He tried not to let his thoughts on that particular matter go any farther. Instead he put his focus back on Nick, and saw him make his way into the craft aisle as the operator seemed to take over talking, Nick only responding every once in a while with a nod or a hum. He seemed to be searching the aisles for something, which seemed…odd, given the circumstances.

It was only when Dream heard quiet, almost inaudible voices that Nick turned slightly away from him and towards the noise, apparently having heard it himself. Or maybe he was hearing the operator’s voice and Nick was looking random places and he was losing his mind. He wouldn’t be too surprised after what had just happened. He was already tiny, why not add a little bit of hysteria and insanity on top? Dream watched as Nick started to move some boxes on a higher shelf, and he seemed to find what he was looking for. His eyes went wide as he quickly stuck his phone between his shoulder and head and turned fully to the shelf, lifting both hands high and seemingly taking something.

Dream saw the tears from before start to pour from his eyes as he pulled whatever it was down from the shelf and held it up to his face, and Dream thought he could hear Nick whispering quiet reassurances to it before moving it to one hand and pressing it against his chest and picking the phone back up. He quickly turned his back to Dream as he continued down the aisle, and Dream could only catch a glimpse of…a tail? Did he really see a tail sticking out from Nick’s fingers? Whatever, if Nick had a pet mouse of something in the store, that was none of his business. Not right now, anyway.

As soon as he was sure Nick was far enough away, he walked into the craft aisle, looking around the various strings and fabrics. He sighed and made his way over to their scrap pile, finding himself a long green sheet. Foolish had always made fun of him for wearing predominately bright green, but what could he say, he had a brand. Besides, for the time being, he was stuck like this, and he’d rather not be completely indecent. And after all, this was his store, he knew where the necessities were, all he had to do was survive until this wore off. It was gonna wear off. It had to wear off eventually, he couldn’t spend the rest of his life like this. He didn’t know what he’d do if he could never return to his old life. But that was a thought for a far later, more desperate Dream, because this was only the beginning. He’d start to be concerned at the permanent nature of this if he wasn’t normal again in a few days. He’ll have an existential crisis about how all this happened later. For the time being, he had to stay positive, he couldn’t afford to panic when everything and everyone could so easily kill him. He needed gear, things to hold supplies, someplace to call a base for the time being, he had so much to do. But…not before clothes, those should probably come first.

53 notes · View notes