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themanip · 4 years ago

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late nights

SUMMARY — you and bang chan are both equally as stressed out. your solution? sleep with each other. boom, problem solved.

PAIRING — bang chan x reader WARNINGS — mentions of stress and mental health problems, unprotected sex, soft!dom chan, mentions of kinks, really soft, really cute smut basically, crying (not sexually), sad thoughts, angry and frustrated emotions, angsty GENRE — heavy angst, fwb, coming-of-age kind of, smut, romance, porn with a hint of plot WORD COUNT — 4.9k, i got carried away my bad

“How do you deal with stress?”

Chan’s question wasn’t ill intentioned by any means, and as you both sat in his studio, you pondered on whether or not to actually answer truthfully. “I mean, you’re the leader of two more trainees than I was, and navigating as a girlgroup is much more difficult than boygroups,”

“Do you want the honest answer, or the more appropriate answer?” you crossed your legs, Chan’s couch feeling quite comfortable. He stared down at you for a moment, the height of his chair offering him that leverage.

The room was quiet, the lights were dim, and the entire environment was soothing. “Well, honest, of course. No point in me asking if it’s a fib, no?”

You nodded, blowing a puff of air out of your nose thoughtfully. “Truthfully, I use sex. It allows me to physically and mentally drain myself, and I sleep really well after getting fucked. It allows me to refresh the next morning, and my stress, at least physically, is diminished.”

You didn’t look at him until you finished talking, and his face was blank. Once you two locked eyes, he sputtered out, “Oh, I—”

“This is why I offered two options, Chan,” you laughed, and at the lighten of atmosphere he giggled a bit too. “I didn’t mean to, y’know,” he stopped, and you nodded lightly. “I get it, but as of now I don’t do it much anymore. I usually just let out my anger or stress during dance routines or working out but it doesn’t work the same, and sometimes I deliver moves too harshly while dancing.”

“Why not?”

You were unsure what he was referring to, and you crinkled your eyebrows. “How come you don’t do it anymore if nothing else helps the same way?” he asked softly, his eyes swimming with genuine concern.

“I’m a lot more conservative with my body, I just have to trust someone. It’s hard to get to know a guy without them immediately wanting to jump into a relationship. You can’t really do that in what we do, and the second I start to trust a guy things go haywire. I just really have to have a good friendship to have sex, I guess.”

The entirety of the conversation, Chan’s cheeks were turning peach. Even in the dark, dim light, you could see it. “I understand, it’s a very tangible thing. Just giving yourself to someone like that without a basic relationship, platonic or not, is important depending on how you view relationships,”

You nodded in response, and a silence fell over you two. There wasn’t much to be said, but for some reason you decided to blurt out. “If you don’t know how to deplete stress, I suggest it. Just the no strings attached part, because otherwise things get messy and stress becomes inevitable. Just try it sometime, Chan. If you don’t like it, then consider it a learning experience,” you shrugged, and Chan pursed his lips.

“I mean it doesn’t sound like a bad idea, per se. I just don’t know how I’ll casually ask someone to have sex. Most women just run off the moment I mention it, and who knows if they’re even into the same things I am? There’s just so many things to be unsure of.” His chin was now laying on his thumb, and his pointer finger was laying above his top lip. He was deep in thought.

You stood up, which cause Chan to unexpectedly flinch, and he watched you with careful eyes. “Chris, if you ever feel like you need a de-stresser, you know where to find me. Nothing will be weird unless you make it weird. Or we can always just talk, either way, I’m here. I have to go before Sumna comes and drags me out of here, but seriously. Whatever you need, no strings attached. Nothing leaves this room,” you mentioned softly, and his eyes widened at his English name. It’s rather rare you used it, so he pondered the specific use of it in this scenario.

“Thank you,” he muttered simply, and he watched you as you walked out. Was she being serious?

Chan and you had not talked in a few days. Whether it was a crazy schedule, you embarassing yourself, or him not knowing how to approach the situation, you didn’t know. All you did know was that you missed your friend.

You and your bandmates had a hectic schedule today, and as the leader, you’d had to sit in on a meeting with your manager and JYP’s public relations manager. Apparently, Dispatch had caught one of your members, Lanzi, out doing something with another k-pop idol. Dispatch had only obtained two pictures of it, but it was clearly legible on who they were, and what they were doing.

The cost to get those pictures thrown out was much more than JYP would have liked, so she had to sit and get chewed out. Instead of being angry at Lanzi, she became more angry at herself. She had talked to them about things of this sort, but clearly not well enough. It was her job as leader, and she failed doing so.

After a three hour long meeting, you were absolutely exhausted, mentally at least. And now, just after that, was choreography practice. You’d just learned the choreo a few days before, so for the most part you had it down. As lead dancer, you also had to make sure everyone else in your group understood that too.

So, thirty minutes into practice, when none of your members seemed to be latching on, you sighed. Your entire job was to simply lead, and do well. Somehow, you couldn’t manage to do that. Once more, you started the choreography, and told your girls to simply stand back and watch.

You had a slight tone, but you needed them to understand that rhythm is just as important as the real dance moves. Your entire body was covered in sweat, and you were growing more frustrated by the minute.

The way your body moved was no longer elegant, just harsh, angry strokes of somewhat rhythmic actions. You did your best to do it just as you were shown, but the overwhelming anger and emotion in your body was just more than you could handle.

Little did you know, next to your bandmates, stood Hyunjin and Chan. They had come to ask something, but instead found you dancing your angered heart out. All stopped and stared, and Chan could only focus on the way your hips contorted, the patterns your hips followed.

As the music stopped, you turned around, and your eyes widened at the visitors.

“We can leave if you’re busy, Hyunjin-ah just wanted to ask if he could borrow the studio tomorrow, and I wanted a word with you, if that’s okay,” Chan asked, and all of your bandmates went silent, expecting you to take the lead of the conversation.

“Hyunjin-sunbaenim, the studio is yours whenever you need it. Let me know what time, and Chan-oppa, would you like to talk now?”

Hyunjin bowed, and gave a quick thank you before heading out of the room. “Yes, please. If you’re too busy, no worries,” and you looked at your girls and told them to head back to the dorm. You were done for today, no reason to beat a dead horse when clearly today was not a good one to get skills in.

“Can we talk in my studio?” Chan came closer to you, almost a whisper, and you knew this was going to go one of two ways: he was going to fuck your brains out, or he was going to let you know that he did not think of you in that way, and to please never discuss things like that with him again. You don’t think you could handle either, at least not today.

“Yeah, let me grab some other clothes,” you said softly, rubbing your forehead in anxiety. Chan quickly started to mention something, and you shut him up quick. “I don’t—”

“Chan, I’m getting new clothes because I am sweaty and tired, nothing else. I will meet you in your studio after I am changed,” you sighed, your hot knees feeling good against the cool floor of the choreography studio. Your duffle bag now wide open, you grabbed an oversized long sleeve shirt and a pair of loose jeans.

You also reapplied deodorant and some perfume so you didn’t smell like you lived in a sewer, the amount

As your girls were long gone, you felt free to change in the studio. Your clothes quickly fell to the floor, and you were now in more comfortable apparel that is not drenched in sweat. Dreading this conversation with Chan, you swiftly collected your things and moved them to the corner to come collect after you spoke to Chan and was ready to go home.

Guiding your way to Chan’s studio was a walk in the park. The amount of times you’d go in there to talk to him, or for him to let you hear what he’d been working on, was countless. You two had budded a beautiful friendship, and he had been somewhat of a rock. He had always been so sweet, so loving. And you’ve possibly ruined it because you couldn’t think of anything other than sex when trying to guide him through dealing with stress.

Your eyes almost welled at the thought. You couldn’t cry though, not now. So, as you stood outside of Chan’s recording studio, you held your breath for a moment and looked up, letting the tears vanish.

A soft knock sounded, your knuckles rasping at the door. The hallways were silent, and you couldn’t hear a single thing from inside Chan’s studio. Your own heartbeat pounded in your ears, and you tensed as you heard footsteps leading up to his door.

He opened the door, his face showing no clear emotions. He didn’t seem angry, but he wasn’t too happy to see you, either. His hair was clearly ran through by his hand, blonde tufts falling back towards his ears. His makeup was done to perfection, light brown tones covering his lids.

He wore a simple outfit, a loose black hoodie and dark blue sweatpants. He’d changed from earlier, his black ripped jeans now nowhere to be seen. “Come in, you can sit anywhere,” his voice was always soft, even though he could be fuming, his tone would never soar.

“Chan, I just want to say I’m sorry,” you muffled out, plopping down unconventionally on his couch. “I just, I don’t know why I said those things or did that,” at this point, you just didn’t want him to think differently of you. He was the closest thing you had to a mentor, and he was an amazing friend.

If you lost him, or ruined your relationship, you don’t think you could ever forgive yourself.

You pulled your knees up to your chest as he took a seat in his chair, staring expectedly at you. Silence followed, so you continued, unsure of what he was expecting to hear. “I just don’t like you being stressed, and the only way I know how to cope with things is kind of like that, so I figured maybe you could too, and then I offered, and I feel like I just fucked things up between us. I.. just I’m so sorry.”

At this point your eyes had clouded up, and your voice had cracked multiple times. The day you’d had just piled up, and your exhaustion was visible. Chan’s eyes immediately softened, and he felt bad. He wasn’t mad, he just didn’t know how to approach the situation.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, and he stood up from his chair and joined you on the couch. At this point, you’d started full on crying. “I ruined our friendship, and now I’m sitting here crying so you’re gonna feel too bad to be honest with me about what I did wrong,” you were now sniffling hard, and your chest was dense you were surprised you could breathe.

“No, love, that’s not it, I promise,” your heart pumped blood a bit harder at his nickname for you, and he placed a warm hand on your back. “I came here to ask if you were okay,” his tone was now nothing but soft and supportive, and he continuously rubbed your back. Warmth spread throughout your entire body.

“I heard about the meeting, and everyone kept discussing how stressed out you were today,” in the dim light once more, his eyes glowed. They were so soft, so sweet. His entire aura was just warm, loving, and nothing was more assuring.

“No matter what happens between us, you’re my friend, and I care about you,” he smiled softly, “Nothing would change that, unless you like, stabbed me or something,” he laughed soulfully, and you laughed with him. He pulled you closer to him, your head now leaning on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Chan. I just didn’t know what to do, and today has been really shitty,” you smiled, and let your head fall even closer to his chest. His thumbs ran circles around your back, and he held you close. “It’s okay, I understand. Trust me,” a warm silence encased the entire room, and as Chan now cuddled you warmly, your face was now red at the reality of the situation.

“Do you feel a bit better?”

“Yeah, I just needed someone to remind me of how things are and to keep me grounded,” you sighed, and Chan’s thumb was now no longer rubbing your back. His hand had stilled, and all you could hear was the heartbeat from inside Chan’s chest. He was so broad, and the expanse of his torso provided a very comfortable pillow.

“I wasn’t offended, or taken back or anything when you offered, you know that, right?” Chan spoke out of nowhere, the rumbling of his chest vibrating intensely. “I wouldn’t have known, I tried my best to ignore you in case you never wanted to speak to me again,”

A small laugh came out of Chan, and his chest pushed your head a bit. “No, in fact, I think I’ve thought about it a little too much.”

You pushed your head off of him at this point, and resuming your position before he sat on the couch. You pulled your knees back up to your chest, and looked at him. “Really?”

“You said you wanted to have sex with someone you trust, and I feel the same way. It’s really hard to come by good people with good intentions, and you also happen to be beyond gorgeous. Why would I not want to?”

With cheeks now flushed red, you giggled. School-girl giggled, specifically. You had no idea how to take this compliment, but then the realization hit you. Christopher Bang just said he wants to fuck you.

His face also turned a deep scarlet, and he looked down, waiting for a reaction. “Mr. Bang, the things you say. So scandalous,” you both laughed lightly, and you hummed in response to the silence. “If we decide to ever do something, it’s important we talk about it first,” you mentioned, and now the conversation went from light-hearted to a bit more serious.

“Of course, but in what way?”

“I don’t know, what kinds of things do you like? I can’t promise I can pertain to everything, but there’s no harm in trying. Especially if it happens more than once,” you clutched your legs, and Chan leaned forward a bit, his elbows on his knees as he stared ahead.

“Uh, well,” he laughed, and covered his hands with his face. This was the Chan you liked, who could make any situation, no matter how dark, seem light and easy-going. “It’s not really,” he started, beginning to look at you, then stopping himself, “I don’t know. I never usually talk about it like this,”

“Well, how about this: I tell you what I like, and you tell me what you’re willing to do. Just because I like it does not mean you have to do it, but if you enjoy it too, its mutual pleasure, yeah?”

Chan simply nodded, now mesmerized by you. His face completely tracked yours, and you sighed. “I have always loved your hands. I really, really like if you’d put them around my neck, if you would ever feel so kind. I really love being praised, I love being called a good girl, things like that. My favorite foreplay is just making out, I’m just a big softie, but I can take rough if that’s what you like. I’m a big pleaser, and I want to make sure you’re taken care of and get some pleasure out of this,”

Chan nodded once more, and his fingers instinctively wrapped themselves around his rings, twisting and turning. “Your turn, Channie,” you smirked, and he leaned back, a smile crowning his face.

“Well, I really like being soft and intimate, I like any position, bonus points if I see your face,” he smiled, his cheeks burning scarlet. He clearly did not talk about these things often, moreso just played them out in the midst of a high and never spoke of it again. But he and you both knew how important communication was, so he continued.

“I have played around with being called Daddy, but I’m not sure, and if you’re not comfortable with it—”

“If I am that uncomfortable with something, I promise I’ll tell you. Besides, that’s really cute. Rolls right off the tongue, right Daddy?”

He visibily shivered, and you smiled. “I—uh, I like if you’d run your fingers through my hair, not too hard, but like soothingly, kind of? If that makes sense. I also like it if you’d verbalise when you’re, uh—”

You knew where he was going, so you leaned close to his ear and finished his sentence for him. “Gonna cum? Oh, it would be rude not to,” you laughed gently, and you saw the last of Chan’s patience snap like a rubber band.

His hands grabbed your face sternly, yet somehow gently. “Do you want this?” he asked, the lust obvious on his face. Despite any previous conversation, he needed verbal consent to continue, and it would make him feel most okay with doing this.

“Yes,”

The room was now silent, anticipation filling your entire body. You’d come in here crying, and you couldn’t help but hope you’d leave the same way; just a different type of crying.

He pushed you so your back was now flush against the couch, the headrest leaning your upper torso closer to him. “Tell me to stop, and I promise I will, alright? The second you tell me to,” he was now looking you dead in the eyes, above you. Your legs were spread open, and his entire body was in the valley of your abdomen. Both of his arms were on either side of you, perching himself up.

“Chris, just kiss me already,” you whined, and he laughed wholeheartedly, before dipping in. The first kiss was hesitant, exploring new territory. His lips tasted like vanilla chapstick, and the first few were light pecks. It took only a second before he took the initiative and added his tongue to the mixture.

You rarely ever used tongue, most of your hookups barely even kissed, which is why none of them compared. Kissing was your weak point, it was a vulnerability. And Chan did not abuse that power once.

“Is this okay?” he mumbled against your mouth, your exchanging saliva now making more than your mouth lubricated. “Fuck, yes,” you moaned out, the amount of times he would kiss you now making you weak.

His hands dragged softly, and held themselves at your jaw, a classic sweetheart. His thumb was against your cheek so softly, the pads gracefully rubbing across the expanse of your cheekbone.

Everything about this was so domestic, so warm. His kisses were so soft, and full of love. There was no rush, no push to go any farther had you or him decided not to. His warm hands on your face made you purr on the inside, and when he pulled away, he had looked more beautiful than ever.

You had no intention of mentioning the wetness that had gathered between your legs, until Chan was staring at you, and momentarily his eyes widened. “Shit,” he cursed, looking around rapidly. “We don’t have a condom. I’m clean and everything, but we don’t have to continue if you don’t feel comfortable,”

“I have an implant, and I’m clean too. I just want you, if you want me too.”

Chan had no other qualms about it, and he attacked your face in sloppy kisses. “Here, can we switch positions, my arm is hurting?” he asked awkwardly, and you laughed with your entire chest. It was a normal question, but the way he asked so ashamedly, as if it was something terrible.

“Sit up straight, let me get on your lap,” you said softly, and he did as he was told. It was only then that you saw the bulge in his sweatpants, and you forgot that he actually had a male appendage, and from the looks of it, he was either girthy or long. Or both.

As long as he knew how to use it, you’d be fine.

He grabbed you by your hand to help maneuver you, and now your entire weight was on top of Chan. As you finally sat your hips down, he groaned. “Oh god,”

You took his face in your hands, and started kissing him again. At this point, you didn’t want him to be respectful anymore. His hands did not waver from your face, and so you took it into your own hands. Grabbing them both, so soft and calloused, and placed them as discreetly as you could, onto your hips. Moreso your ass, but Chan didn’t know your intentions.

His hands pushed your hips forward, now rutting against his hard on. His lips and yours were now in a frenzy, drenching each other. It was still pretty slow, nothing fast paced, just more intense.

He broke the kiss, and his hands now edged at the bottom of your shirt. “Can I take this off?” he asked, breathless. His lips were now swollen and puffy, and his pupils were blown wide.

You nodded softly, no words needed to be said. He quickly hauled the oversize shirt above your head, and groaned harshly when he realized you had no bra on. His first instinct was to latch his mouth onto your nipples, sucking softly. A moan left your mouth, and with nothing to hold onto anymore, your hands found his hair.

Still rocking back and forth, your panties were probably soaked at that point. So much foreplay had you almost throbbing, and you couldn’t wait much longer to have him inside you.

“Chan, please,” you moaned out, and he bit down on your nipple gently. “Only since you asked so nicely,” he added, and he told you to stand up. You did so, easily willingly, yet you loved the way he spoke to you.

It was almost a request, a plea. There was no power imbalance here, simply one trying to find another. He was so gentle, in everything he did. You wanted to drown in that feeling.

He pulled your jeans off without a hitch, and eyed your lace panties hungrily, slightly thankful you’d changed earlier this evening. His fingers grasped the sides, pulling them down your legs. You were now completely bare, and he was fully dressed. This was a problem.

“Not fair, your turn,” you pouted, and his eyes were fixated on your naked body. It felt odd, having him see you like this, but you couldn’t complain. Your arousal was now tainting your inner thighs, and Chan could probably see it too.

He rid himself of his hoodie and his shirt at the same time, and you finally got a full view of him shirtless. This man was absolutely ripped, and you had to hold in a gasp. His arms were lined in protruding veins, and his abs were impeccable. You worked out, but not in your wildest dreams would you ever be able to maintain that nice of a physique.

It wasn’t until he pulled off his pants, and painstakingly after, he patiently pulled his boxers off. God, did he have a pretty cock. A bit longer than average, slightly girthy, and it made your mouth water just thinking about it.

Your first instinct was to pop down onto your knees, but as you were on your way down, Chan grabbed you by the arm. “Not this time, please, I need you,” he whined out, almost painfully.

As you were on top of his lap, you were careful not to let him inside you yet. You figured he could decide when to do it, and you squealed when he let one hand slide from your face, down to your throat. His fingers, covered in rings, squeezed gently. He coaxed another moan from you as he let his fingers glide down the valley of your body, and found itself on your clit.

His movements were slow, but intense. His fingers glided over your folds, picking up some of your arousal, and placed all of his attention onto your little nub. Small pinprick moans escaped your mouth, and you began to tilt your hips in an attempt to get more friction. “Fuck, you’re so wet,”

Some noise semblant to a mew tried to leave your mouth, but his fingers tangled themselves around your neck further, leaving the sound trapped in your throat. “Are you ready? Or do we need to get you a bit more warmed up?” he asked softly, his mouth now next to you ear. His voice was dark, and husky.

“God, I just need you inside me,” you whined, and his hand let up on your neck, and he grabbed his cock harshly. He pumped it a few times, and spread your lips, and lined you up.

“Beg,” he said simply, and even if you tried to sink down, he now placed a hand on top of your hips harshly. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. “W—what?” you asked, breathless.

“Beg, I want to hear you beg for me to fuck you,” he repeated himself, and looked down at you mischeviously. You two were face to face, and his cock was still in his hands, and your lips spread wide open for him to see. “Fuck, please,” you whined, and to no avail, he didn’t budge, “please, daddy, I just wanna feel good,”

As soon as the name sounded from your mouth, he pushed inside of you. The stretch was amazing, it was slightly painful, but it felt like nothing on this earth could amount. His entire cock filled you out nicely, and the lewd sound of him smacking against you was filling the room.

His hands laid at your hips now, piling into you like his life depended on it. His balls were smacking against your ass, and the harsh thrusts stimulated your clit. Everything was so intense, the way he filled you so deeply, you could feel him in places you didn’t know he could reach, and you felt like you’d burst apart the seams.

Shameless moans spilled from your mouth, and Chan was in your ear, grunting like a man starved. “Such a good girl, fuck, for me,” his groans were so animalistic, and the way his hands would hold you steady.

His fingers traveled down to toy with your clit, and he never stopped fucking you. Your fingers started to tangle within his hair, and his lips attached themselves to your neck, sucking, finding anything to latch onto.

The second his fingers started rubbing your clit numbly, you knew that you were going to cum soon. Everything he did just felt so good, you were just a hole the second he started fucking you.

“I—I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum,” you breathed out heavily, and your legs started shaking. “Please, can I—please cum?”

“Yes, cum for me,” he breathed out in a husky tone, and it wasn’t long until you felt your thighs start to involuntarily shake, and the feeling inside your abdomen welling up. “I’m so—” you were cut off by your orgasm rushing over you, Chan’s fingers never stopped stimulating your clit.

You moaned out harshly, slumping towards him, unable to control yourself as one of the most harsh orgasms you’ve ever had washed over you. Your entire body started to seize, and you clenched around him harshly. He continued to fuck into you, sucking into your neck, and he starting fucking into you faster. He was definitely close, “Where-”

You cut him off, still under the shock of your orgasm, “inside me, please,” you begged, and he fucked into you once more, even harder. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,”

He lived up to his promise, as less than a few seconds later, his warm cum spurted inside of you, and he still rutted his hips, begging for more friction. He stroked into you a few more times, now drained of energy. He placed a soft kiss onto your neck, and whispered, “Thank you.”

You got up, and put your shirt back on over yourself, and Chan pulled his boxers and sweatpants on once more. A thought rose over you on whether to leave or not, but you knew Chan would be a skinship type of guy. He would probably have a drop, and not be used to just casual hookups like this.

“Do you want me to stay?” you asked softly, and a large part of you hoped he would say yes.

“Please.”

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songbirdstyles · 4 years ago

Text

sparks

summary: you’re a music journalist assigned to covering one of harry styles’ gigs, and he’s absolutely smitten with you. (part one.)

warnings: slight fluff, excessive liberties taken about music journalism; smut in later chapters, angst in later chapters

word count: 8.2k

inspo.: almost famous - cameron crowe; sparks - the who; hello, i love you - the doors

You’d never truly gotten a big assignment before - sure, you’d gotten a few pieces here and there detailing local LA bands that you knew would never live to see more than 100,000 monthly listeners on Spotify, and they mostly ended up buried by your higher-ranking coworker’s higher end stories on the front covers - and, for the most part, you’d honestly been fine with it. You’re fresh out of college, the newest recruit to your company and your colleagues who are sent out to tour with big bands and artists have been here for years, some even decades, and you suppose they deserve the opportunities more than you, don’t they?

You work your way up, your boss had told you the first day you’d started working, following him around like an eager puppy as he showed you the office. Eventually - if I’m impressed with you - you’ll get something big.

It’s enough for you. Small bands playing in hole-in-the-wall clubs and restaurants may not be the exact thing you’d envisioned when you’d set your sights on being a music journalist but it’s worked out well for you so far, hasn’t it? You’ve made friends - even dated the lead singer of an underground rock band who cheated on you hardly two weeks into the relationship - and your portfolio is slowly building, stacked with exposés and detailed recounts of small gigs that you’d watched from backstage. Eventually, you’ll leave this company and move on to something bigger, like Rolling Stone, and your career will take off until you’re practically the face of music journalism.

And, really, those dreams have carried you through college and the first year of your career, putting your all into every article and every piece just so your boss can tug you into his office one day with a rarely-seen grin to finally tell you -

“I want you to write an article on Harry Styles.”

You furrow your eyebrows, shifting in the cushy office seat that your boss has for guests in his office. It’s a facade that you’ve learned to acknowledge, because, no matter how much he makes it look like he appreciates guests in his office, you know he regards you as nothing more than an interloper, even if he’d invited you there to begin with. “Harry Styles?”

“You’ve heard of him, haven’t you?” Mike asks, light shining off his bald head, and your mouth opens and closes a few times uselessly.

“Of course I have!” You push yourself to sit up straighter in your seat, staring up at your boss with shock written in every feature of your face. You, writing about Harry Styles? God, you nearly want to pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming. ��Write an article about - about what?”

Mike scoffs in that pretentious way that makes you hate ever having to talk to him, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at him. “He’s coming to do a few shows along the West Coast. You can go to one or two - talk to him a bit, talk to his band - you’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“With small bands, sure - Tacocat and - and the Mystery Lights -” You swallow thickly, and Mike stares down at you in your seat like he’s unimpressed with your enthusiasm, or lack thereof. And it’s not that you aren’t executed - but, Christ. Going from bands performing in underground clubs to Harry Styles is like going straight from crawling to flying a fucking plane and you’re not sure if any of your experience with the musical locality in LA could prepare you for that. “I mean, that’s huge, Mike.”

“It is huge,” Mike confirms, crossing his thick arms over his chest, leaning against the desk before you as though he’s immune to sitting in his seat behind his desk like a normal boss. “Do you not want to do it? Because Melissa, you know - she’d love to, was going on and on about it last week -”

“No!” Your cheeks flush at the volume your voice raises to, and if you didn’t know better you could swear you see the ghost of a grin on Mike’s face. “I want to, Mike, I really want to - it’s just crazy.” There’s a pregnant pause between the two of you, your boss nodding smugly down at you as you struggle for words, before you ask the question burning the tip of your tongue with its desire to be heard. “But - why me? I’m sure you have people more qualified for it -”

“Easy,” Mike says, cutting you off and you’d be annoyed in any other instance but you’re too desperate to hear his answer. “Look, Harry’s a young guy. Younger than anyone else our people have interviewed - I think he’ll respond more to a young, pretty girl like yourself than someone older than him.”

Well, that makes sense, you suppose. The only coworker even close to you in age is Melissa, and she’s pushing 30 as it is. You’re 23 - graduated college just over a year ago, and by far the newest recruit this company has taken in years - but you had always imagined that was the main reason you wouldn’t get many big articles, and here it’s the main factor in you getting what will surely be the highlight of your portfolio once you apply to Rolling Stone. An interview with Harry Styles - God, they’ll probably foam at the mouth when they see it, and a grin spreads across your face as you think of it.

“Is that a yes?” Mike questions, blonde eyebrows raised high and nearly disappearing into his scalp.

“Of course,” you respond without another moment of hesitation, and you push yourself to stand, office chair rolling behind you with the force, and it hits the wall behind you with a soft thump. “Yes - of course - of course.”

“Great.” And he crosses to the other side of his desk, pushing aside a few loose papers and folders on his desk, and you clutch your hands in front of your stomach as you watch him, practically bouncing up and down with uncontained joy and fear bubbling inside of you. The last time you’d felt like this was the first time you got a real assignment - more than just ranking songs and discussing new album releases - and you’d been sent to a strip club to cover a gig from an up-and-coming band. Back then, you’d never expected to ever feel more excited over anything in your life, and yet, here you are, eight months later, fighting back the urge to burst into joyful tears. “They come in a week - I’ll send you the address - if you need help with your questions -”

“I’ll ask Francine,” you finish the same advice he gives you every time you’re assigned an article, referring to your oldest coworker - a little old woman who’s been with the company since the 70s. She’s always been more than willing to help you with your assignments but this - you need to do this by yourself. “Thank you so much, Mike, this is - this is great.”

“Don’t let me down,” he says, pointing his finger at you, and you nod furiously. “I’m trusting you on this - it’s a big opportunity.”

“I won’t disappoint you,” you promise, holding up your crossed fingers just to show him how much you mean it, and you know it’s the truth - you’ll make this piece the best damn one this company has ever seen if it’s the last thing you ever do.

The night begins a bit - rocky, to say the least.

For one, you couldn’t decide what to wear, even after spending nearly a half hour trying on every variation of clothes in your closet and tossing them onto the floor of your studio apartment when they didn’t satisfy your needs. In the past you’d worn to gigs what you’d wear if you were a simple concertgoer, albeit a bit more modestly, but you can’t decide what you would wear to a Harry Styles concert if you got the regular chance to - and you’d never even dreamt that it would happen in the first place -

Well, you peruse your closet intently and land on a pair of patterned flare pants and a long sleeve sweater. It only seems fitting for the chilly weather outside, and you fold a shirt into your bag in case you need to change if it gets hot backstage. You’re not dressed to impress, necessarily - you’re dressed to get a job done, as Mike would always say, but how could you be expected to not attempt to impress Harry Styles? It’s a preposterous idea. You’re sure anyone would understand.

Journalism pass - phone - keys - deodorant - when you’ve checked your bag over three times to ensure you have everything necessary you finally leave, locking your door shut behind you and ordering an Uber to take you to the concert.

You hadn’t anticipated Uber and Lyft being absolutely overloaded with patrons due to the concert just a half hour away and you need to be there by 6:30 at the very latest to ensure you get in and can at least talk to Harry before he goes on - a quarter of your questions are geared towards how he feels pre show and you can’t get pre show questions after the show - that’s barbaric. But the minutes inch closer to 5:30 and your Uber driver is still ten minutes away and your heart beats so fast against your chest you think you might vomit right into the street in front of your building -

You’re in the car by 5:45. It’s not ideal, and you know you’re cutting it close, but hopefully you’ll be there before the soundcheck ends. It’s always an ideal time to take photos, watching the band warm up and check mics, and with a piece like this, you need all the opportunities for pictures you can get.

And traffic is horrible - you suppose that’s also to be expected, and your Uber driver curses in a language you can’t recognize as cars cut him off on the highway and if you were a different person, you’d recommend a shortcut he takes, but he doesn’t look like he wants to hear a single word come from your mouth. He had given you a dirty look when you entered the car, and that’s enough to make you shut up and pray for the entire car ride that you make it on time.

6:27. Mike would piss himself if he knew how close you cut it, and you hop out of the car with a speed you didn’t even know you could muster, pushing past the buzzing crowd standing in front of the main entrance. The hoard of people seems to have a steady heartbeat, pulsing with excitement much like your own, and you can’t help but smile as you make your way around the group, goosebumps cropping up over your skin as your teeth chatter in the coldness. For a moment you fear that the directions to the backstage entrance that Mike had given you were total bullshit - but then you see the door, blocked by a burly security guard that glowers at you as you walk up to him like you’re something sticky beneath his shoe.

“Hi!” you call, breath exploding in a white cloud in front of you in the cool night air. The security guard smells so strongly of booze that you need to try harder than you’d care to admit not to scrunch your nose - you cough softly. “Let me - um - find my pass - I’m with Autoamerican, the magazine?”

Fingers grab onto your journalism pass, deep within your bag, and you tug it out, flashing it to the security guard with a slightly nervous grin. All of the gigs you’d been to before hadn’t even had backstage doors - to get backstage, you just had to climb onto the stage and walk behind the wings - but this is a fucking stadium, not just a measly club, and a big one, at that. In your youth you’re sure you could recall your dad watching a football game that occurred in this very stadium - funny how life turns out, sometimes.

“Autoamerican?” the security guard questions, bringing his face closer to your badge as the wafting smell of alcohol increases, and he raises his eyebrows with a scoff. “Never heard of it.”

“Oh.” you pause, feeling your teeth beginning to chatter in the cool February air. You’re not quite sure what to say - you’d assumed Mike had called to arrange the entire thing, hadn’t he? And this is the time you’re supposed to be here - “well, we’re not as big as Rolling Stone magazine, but - we’ve done interviews with The Cure, The Smiths - even Zeppelin, at one point -”

Your voice trails off into silence. He doesn’t care. He’s looking at you like you’re some innocent teenage girl, trying to bribe your way backstage so you can bombard the artist and not a fully grown woman here on business, goddammit. And you’re not sure what to say - he doesn’t believe you, clearly, and you hadn’t anticipated that even as you listed all the ways tonight could go wrong.

“Look, kid,” he begins, and that really has your blood boiling, eyes narrowing to glare at him. “We get this all the time. I’m a journalist - I’m with the crew - it’s a bunch of bullshit. Now go to the front with your general admission tickets like the rest of them -”

“I have a pass - I’m a journalist!”

“Sure -”

“I can call my boss if you want proof!”

And before you can reach into your bag to search relentlessly for your phone to follow through on the promise like you intend to, the door the man is guarding suddenly swings open, nearly hitting the guard in the ass as it opens out. You take a step back as dim light from inside floods the darkness, and a man steps out of the doorway, his eyes darting between you and the security guard.

“Are you with Autoamerican?” the man questions, raising his finger to point at you as though he could be speaking to anyone else. You nod furiously, and you hold up your journalism pass again just to prove it. “You can come inside, then - c’mon, Steve, she’s got a pass, for God’s sake -”

And you can’t resist flashing the guard a smug smile as he steps to the side to let you inside, rolling his eyes so far back into his head that all you can see is a strip of white.

The man lets you inside and the door shuts behind you, and you nearly knock straight into a second security guard standing by the door inside, as though trying to stop people from going out. And, well - you’ve been backstage at more concerts than you could count but this is certainly bigger, better, bustling with people carrying equipment and makeup artists and more people you couldn’t possibly identify. You’re half inclined to reach into your bag and grab your notebook to jot down exactly what you’re seeing so you can make sure to include it in the article, but you have a distinct feeling you’ll never forget it.

“I’m Jeff,” the man tells you, already setting off through the people, and you’re quick to follow, trying to maintain your pace beside him. After a second of walking in silence you realize he’s waiting for you to say yours - you clear your throat and introduce yourself, and he sends you a smile. “The band just finished their soundcheck, if you’d like to have a word with them before they go on - what’s the article about, anyway?”

Jeff shoulders the two of you through lingering groups of people until you emerge into a small hallway lined with doors, and you can hear bustling noise coming from the one closest to you - holy shit, is that Harry?

“Um - just about the shows, the tour, how everything’s going. My boss basically told me to do what I want with it, so I’ll have a better idea once I speak to the band.” It’s the loosest instruction you’ve ever been given for a piece - you’d expected a clear cut outline - but perhaps with an artist this big, Mike trusts you to know what to write. “It likely won’t be anything too personal, but I’d love to get a chance to speak with Harry before and after.”

“Sounds great,” and you can tell he’s stressed - you wonder if he’s always anxious before his client’s shows, or if there’s something special about tonight that has him worried - and then he reaches past you, twisting the doorknob closest to you and holding the door open for you to enter before him, and you give him a gracious smile before walking in.

The room isn’t as crowded with people as you’d expected but they’re bustling with energy - a woman and a man, holding a guitar, lean against the wall with each other - two other women sip water bottles, laughing loudly amongst each other - another woman leans above someone, their body hidden from view except for their legs, covered in silk, floral printed pants -

Your breath catches in your throat as Jeff shuts the door behind you both, and the sound of the door clicking shut draws far more attention to yourself than you’d expected - it seems like every pair of eyes lands on you and Jeff, and you’d decided on being a music journalist to keep away from being the center of attention. You’ve always preferred being behind the scenes, a bit, at least until your career progresses until you’re a household name for music journalism, and now -

You feel very much in the scenes, eyes on you as Rhiannon plays in the background.

And then Jeff is tapping you on your shoulder, leading you around the room to the small groups of people lingering - you shake hands with Mitch and Sarah, the couple against the wall, and the rest of his band, and they’re so nice your smile feels like it’s going to break your face in half. You’ll need to interview them at some point - nothing too intense, and you may not even need to, if Harry’s answers are satisfactory enough - and you can already feel yourself building a strange sort of rapport with the band, their kindness rubbing off on you until you practically glide beside Jeff to the woman bent over Mr. Floral Pants, whose identity you’re fairly certain you’ve already deduced.

It doesn’t make it any more surprising when the woman steps aside where she’s carefully applying powder to the man’s face, and then Harry fucking Styles is staring up at her with a smile and an outstretched hand, suit jacket matching the floral pattern of his pants. His curls are carefully slicked back from his face, skin matte with the powder the woman resumes applying to the side of his face that isn’t turned to you, and you swallow your shock before reaching to shake his hand, Rhiannon turning into Hello, I Love You, playing from a source you can’t identify.

“Nice t’meet you,” Harry says when you’ve told him your name and the magazine you work for - Jeff had already mentioned it, but it is customary to repeat it to whomever you may have to interview. “Y’know, I love Autoamerican - told Jeff, s’the only magazine I’d let interview me backstage. Don’t usually allow it.”

“Really?” your stomach flips as Harry stops bouncing his arm, but it takes just another half second for him to untwine his hand from yours - you’re sure it’s because the makeup artist fretting above him is using her thumb to wipe off powder from his nose, but it still makes your heart thump faster against your chest. “I assumed most people haven’t heard of it - it’s nowhere near Rolling Stone.”

“I love it,” he insists, dropping your hand, and he looks so casual, as if this interaction isn’t blowing up your entire life, and you’re brought back to the many moments you’d spent as a teenager fawning over him in his One Direction days - God, this feels like a dream, and you’re half inclined to pinch yourself in case it is. Maybe you’ll wake up in Mike’s office to him giving you another shitty underground LA band to interview. “The interview with Sublime s’great - read it all the time.”

You swallow thickly, grin spreading wider across your face, and before you can open your mouth to tell him about Francine’s go-to story about how Eric Wilson had flirted with her while she interviewed them for the story, Jeff interjects - “Steve hadn’t even heard of it.”

“Steve’s an idiot,” Harry starts, and you giggle - his lips lilt upwards just a bit. “Hope he wasn’t hasslin’ you ‘bout it.”

“Just a little,” you say, hoisting your bag further up your shoulder just as the makeup artist drops the powder back into the apron slung around her waist, and her manicured nails tilt Harry’s head around for a moment before she seemingly deems his makeup satisfactory before leaving, sending you a tight lipped smile as she goes. “I’d love to ask you a few questions before the show - nothing too heavy - and then I’ll observe the concert and how everything goes, ask a few questions after.”

“Sounds great,” Harry responds, lifting his fist with his thumb up and you didn’t think your heartbeat could grow any faster or louder but you suppose today is just proving you wrong time and time again. “D’you need t’record m’answers? S’a bit loud in here.”

The truth is, you’re sure you’ll have this entire experience engraved in your brain for years to come - you’ll remember every word he utters for you until your dying days - but it is more practical to have a recording. You swing your bag off your arm and open it, digging through the jumbled mess of items inside until you find your phone, and you hold it up with a nod. “Yeah - there isn’t anywhere a bit quieter, is there?”

It takes a minute of bustling - Jeff tells you two instructions to go down the hall into another room where you may find more silence - and Harry promises, accent thick and eyes rolling, to be back in twenty minutes or less, if tha’s enough time for you, ma’am, and you try to trick yourself into thinking the burn flushing up your cheeks is due to the heat of the room.

Down the hall is another door that Harry opens for you, letting you walk in first. It’s a small room, clearly meant for storage, and he shuts the door behind the pair of you. There’s - luckily, or perhaps unluckily - just enough room for you two have at least a few feet between you, and he leans against the wall with an air of casual elegance you couldn’t hope to achieve as you scroll through your phone to search for the voice recorder app.

“Hope this s’good enough - is it?” Harry inquires, leaning his head closer to yours, and you nod. “Good - wish there was a nicer spot for you, but -”

“Don’t worry about it,” you interject, smiling up at him, and he grins back, and your stomach churns violently. You almost feel like you could vomit - when he goes on, you’ll go and have a bit to eat at the table set up with foods that Jeff had wheeled you past when you arrived. Eating seems to solve more of your nerves than you’d care to admit, and you feel like you’re nearly 95% nerves right now. Your fingers fiddle with the voice recorder app, adding a title to the recording while entirely too focused on the sounds of Harry’s breathing above you, and you can practically fear his eyes boring into your face before you press record.

And, for the most part, it does go smoothly. Harry introduces himself with an ease that only comes with years of practice, so much time spent being interviewed that it must feel like as much of a second nature to him as interviewing is to you. He’s charming and charismatic - flirtatious, even - making jokes and adding lines that you make a mental note to be sure to include in your final piece - whatever direction you go - and you can’t say you’re bothered by the way he leans closer to the phone, and thus closer to you, in order for his voice to be heard more on the recording when occasional noise bustles in from outside.

You don’t need to look at the questions you’d spent weeks laboring over - every question you inquire derives directly from his answers like he’s practically feeding them to you, and then you’re interviewing him so naturally, you could nearly fool yourself into thinking it’s an organic conversation between friends.

What’s his process to prepare for shows? Well, listening to Fleetwood Mac and eating finger foods, of course - he loves mozzarella sticks. Does Fleetwood Mac make you less nervous for shows? No, he doesn’t get too anxious before shows, now that he’s out of the band. He just loves Fleetwood Mac - he could listen to them at any time of the day. What do you think makes your solo career less anxiety-inducing than being in the band? Different fans let him be himself more. There’s less pressure to be someone he isn’t - do you think he could’ve worn a floral printed suit at a One Direction concert?

And, in the end, twenty minutes hardly feels like it, and by the time Harry tilts his head over the screen of your phone to check the time, you could nearly convince yourself that you’d merely spent a minute with the heartthrob, and it pains you to stop the recording.

“How’d I do?” he questions, cheeky smile indenting the dimple in his cheek, and you feel like you need to dip your face in ice once he goes on stage - your face hasn’t felt anything less than piping hot since the first moment he rested eyes on you, and his kind-bordering-on-flirtatious nature only makes your skin heat more under his gaze.

It isn’t as though you’d have it any other way, though.

“Perfect,” and you send him a smile. “I’ll watch the show - probably eat a bit, too, if I’m being honest - and maybe ask you a few questions. How many shows are you doing in LA?”

Harry reaches past you, grabbing the doorknob and opening the door for you once more, and you slip out with a small smile as he follows, face twisted in what’s clearly a show of being in deep thought. “Four. An’ a few more on the West Coast ‘fore we move out - reckon you’ll need t’come t’a few more?”

“Depends.” He looks at you curiously as the two of you make your way back to the room you’d been in before, and when you enter, it’s clearly in a more prominent state of preparation for the show - there’s more bustle and movement between every band member and Jeff, who looks entirely relieved to see you two come in as She’s a Rainbow thumps softly, volume clearly turned down on whatever produces the music. “If I feel like I’ve got enough material from this show, then that’ll be it - I usually just do reviews of specific gigs, and this is a lot broader - so I really don’t know.”

Harry nods, and you feel a flutter in your heart at how intently he seems to be listening to you, like he really cares, and you’re sure it’s a facade - he probably has a million other things on his mind as Jeff descends upon the both of you, whisking him away as he calls goodbye! to you - but still. When was the last time you’d felt listened to? By Mike, or by the security guard outside, or even from your own parents when you try to convince them over and over that you have a plan, that your degree wasn’t a waste of time when you could’ve been a doctor -

Well, Harry’s a gentleman, you decide, sliding your phone into the back pocket of your flares as you reach in your bag for your notepad. You can tell they’re preparing to go on soon and so you descend against the wall, grabbing your pen from deep inside the confines of your bag to scribble the essential notes of what you’ll need - it’ll make it easier when it’s time to write, rather than listening to the entire 20 minute interview again to try and find the important sections to include.

His responses to your question still burn fresh in your mind, and you began scribbling your bullet points on the small notepad in your hands. It’s decently easy to block out the chatter of the room you’re in along with its music, volume turned down further until it’s hardly audible, and it really is a skill you’ve mastered, though you suppose you’ve had to - trying to take notes for articles about gigs occurring in buildings so small that their noise reverberates off of every surface has made you a master in tuning out noise surrounding you.

You are aware, and acutely, at that, when the band starts exiting through the door beside you. They don’t look nervous, returning your encouraging smiles with ones of their own, and you watch them pour out the door with confidence practically radiating off of them. Well, that’s something to mention, isn’t it? Most of the bands you’d interviewed were practically vomiting with nerves -

Harry takes up the rear, fingers running through his slicked back hair, and you can’t tell if it’s a nervous habit or if he’s simply trying to let his curls fall in front of his eyes more. Jeff walks in front of him, giving you a smile as he leaves, and the singer stops beside you.

Your breath just about catches in your throat as you look up at him, and he’s staring down at you with a decidedly ambiguous look in his eyes, and you smile at him. “Good luck out there.”

“You’re gonna come and watch?”

You nod. “Eventually - I’m gonna eat something first, finish my notes. Maybe give myself a tour of the backstage in case I decide to include it.”

“Sounds good t’me,” Harry says, but he doesn’t make a motion to leave, and then his eyes roll down your body and is he fucking checking you out? Because - no - that’s crazy. That would cement into your brain the knowledge that this is a dream, and not reality, because there’s no fucking way Harry Styles is checking you out, eyes roaming from your eyes to your stomach to your - “I like your pants. Where’d you get ‘em?”

Ah. Of course. Fashion icon, he is, inquiring about the pants you’d chosen specifically because they looked like something he may like. “These?” You glance down as though you’d forgotten what pants you’d donned, as though you hadn’t spent hours in front of your closet envisioning what outfit you could wear to impress him. “I think they’re from Zara. Got them a couple years back.”

“They’re pretty.”

“Why, thank you -”

“Harry!”

Jeff’s voice calling from outside the room snaps you both out of your conversation, a slightly embarrassed grin spreading across Harry’s face that you’re sure is mirroring your own. His cheeks are tinged pink and he clears his throat.

“Sorry - gotta go - make sure y’try the mozzarella sticks, ‘kay? They’re good,” Harry tells you, and you grin, drumming the pen clutched between your fingers against the notepad in your hands.

“Will do,” you reply, and then you lift your hand and point to the door, raising your eyebrows with a smile. “Go break a leg - and then be ready to talk about it when you’re done!”

He doesn’t say anything else - just gives you a thumbs up and slips out the door, and you can hear his frenzied apologies to Jeff as their voices fade away, surely preparing to get on stage and sing his heart out and blow the fucking stadium away, but you can hardly focus on it. Because - God, you really don’t want to sound like a narcissist - but he was joking around with you, complimented your pants, and he did technically check you out, even if it was just to see your pants.

Was he flirting with you?

Surely not. No, that would be absurd. He’s probably just bored - maybe entertaining random people backstage is his way of dealing with his nerves.

That makes a bit more sense.

When you glance back down at your notepad, the page half filled with scribbled bullet points of things you’d sworn to remember, and when you click your pen open to continue your list, you find that you can’t quite think of anything else to write. All you can think about is the mozzarella sticks waiting for you, and then standing in the wings to watch him sing his heart out to a crowd of adoring fans that you, at one point, would have killed to be apart of -

You shove your pen and pad back into your bag with a determined spin of your heels. Food first - contemplation second.

~~~

The show is - needless to say - amazing.

You’d feasted on slightly-cold mozzarella sticks that were, even in their lowered temperatures, immensely good, and clearly garnered all the affection Harry had for them. The food table was nearly completely empty, crew members repeatedly coming up to fill plates with vegetables and snacks, and so you simply gathered the last three sticks of celery once you were done with your sticks before taking a leisurely stroll along the backstage area. Celery firm between your teeth, you pulled out your notepad and your pen once more and jotted notes of what you could possibly include in the article to jog your memory later -

It takes a while, admittedly. You don’t want to leave anything out, and eventually you have two pages filled with notes in your handwriting that would surely be illegible to anyone else who happened upon them - and, sure, your pages are small, but still. Two pages is a lot, and you’re sure most of it won’t even make it into the article but you don’t want to risk forgetting any important information.

A trip to the bathroom - perusing the food table again to pick up the last few carrot sticks - and the show is nearly halfway over, so you decide it may be time to slip into the wings and watch. Take notes, possibly, but mainly just listen and absorb the music and the atmosphere and exactly how the fans react to his every move. That’s what the people want to know, isn’t it? It’s what you would want to know - so you slip past the lingering groups of people into the wings of the stage, where you get a clear view of Harry and his band, singing his heart out to a tune you know to be Kiwi.

It’s ear splitting, truly, in a way that none of the other gigs you’d witnessed had been. But it sounds good - better than good - and he’s as charismatic on stage as he is off, waggling his eyebrows during the more suggestive lines and undoing the button of his suit jacket, and the latter garners a deafening scream from the adoring fans in the crowd.

No, you won’t need to take notes, at least not yet. You’ll remember this forever, won’t you? Watching him work the crowd like he was born to do it, like it’s a second nature and you’re sure it is, at this point. It’s all you can do to stand there, watching him, and you’re sure you look no different from the other fans in the crowd, your eyes wide and lips parted in absolute awe of him -

His head turns to the side, briefly, as if he can sense your eyes on him above anyone else’s. In reality you’re sure he’d simply turned his head to flick a sweaty curl out of his face but it’s never a bad thing to dream right? And your gaze locks for just a moment, his eyebrows raising when he sees your face, and heat burns at your cheeks before his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his right eye shuts in a quick wink before he’s turning back to the crowd as if his attention had never left them.

Shit. You nearly drop your damn carrot. God, he’s a fucking tease, and you’re not even sure he knows it - that this experience will never leave your brain for as long as you walk this Earth, watching him wink as he stared into the depths of your fucking soul, clad in a gorgeous suit with his gorgeous hair and -

Harry truly is a sight to behold, and you’re more than content to watch him forever.

Forever ends up being another half hour or so before you’re made entirely too aware of the fact that you have to pee - not insanely bad, but enough to make you shift uncomfortably from side to side before sighing, turning and making your way further backstage in your search for the bathroom. In your determined tour of the backstage you’d forgotten to search for the restroom, and you wander about for nearly five whole minutes before getting to it -

You do your business. There’s not much more explanation needed.

It’s when your washing your hands, though, water freezing cold against your palms, that you become slightly aware of a myriad of noises occurring outside the restroom. At first you choose not to focus on it, shoving your hands beneath the air dryer to ease your soaking, cold hands, and the noise of violent air assaulting your palms drowns out the scuffling sounds from outside.

When the dryer turns off, and you reach down to wipe your damp hands on your pants, the noises haven’t stopped. And, sure, no one could expect it to be completely silent backstage, but whatever you’re hearing isn’t the normal laughter and chatter and muffled music that you’re used to hearing -

It sounds like someone is fighting, and your hand freezes in its place on the cool metal doorknob. You lean forward, scrunching your nose as you plainly try harder to hear what’s happening -

But, Hell. You have a job to do - you need to get back to the wings to watch the remaining few minutes of the set before Harry leaves and, subsequently, returns for the encore, and you’d intended to write with detail about his closing repetition of Kiwi. So you grab the doorknob, swing the door open and step out, and freeze nearly immediately once you’ve exited.

There is a fight - not as violent as you’d expected - as the security guard from inside scuffles with Steve, who looks positively wasted in a way you’ve come to know all too well, doing gigs in LA. His face shines with a sheen layer of sweat, skin glowing in the artificial light, and his fists move slowly to pummel into the other security guard’s back. It’s, truthfully, a bit pathetic to watch - he isn’t putting up much of a fight against the guard trying to hold him, and your mouth parts with poorly-concealed confusion at the display in front of you.

You’re not sure what to say - or do - or think - standing in the doorway of the bathroom as you watch the poor excuse of a fight, Steve nearly toppling to the ground as the other guard tries to contain him.

“Come on, Steve - don’t be like this -”

Then the other security guard looks up and sees you, and the expression on his face nearly makes you burst into laughter, but you contain it with a bit more difficulty than you’d like to admit. He looks annoyed, like he’s absolutely done with his coworker, and also slightly embarrassed. Clearly, he’d dragged Steve into the hallway containing the bathrooms with the hopes of nobody seeing either of them, and you’ve interrupted his bid for privacy desperately. “Sorry, ma’am,” the guard says, grabbing one of Steve’s flailing fists in his hands. “Don’t mind us - he’s drunk - just trying to contain him.”

You’re doing a damn good job, you want to say, but you bite back the retort with a small nod and a whisper of a smile on your face, walking with your back to the wall past their display in the hopes of Steve not seeing you. He hadn’t been particularly nice to you when you’d first seen him and you can tell he’s in a much more heightened state, now - he’d been drunk when you’d seen him before and you can tell it’s only gotten worse.

Maybe you should’ve told Jeff the guard was drunk?

Well, it’s counterproductive to dwell on the past.

You’re not so lucky, though - you’ve barely made it down five steps down the hallway before Steve lifts his head, pupils blown and skin even stickier looking than before, and he gives you the same disgusted look as though you’re something his dog had left on the grass. “Hey - hey - Jim - do you know who that is?”

And the other security guard - Jim - just rolls his eyes. “No, Steve, I don’t - stop making a fool out of yourself.”

“She works at - at - Eat to the Beat - Parallel Lines - what is it?”

Do you answer him? You don’t quite know. You just swallow thickly, forcing yourself not to don the smile that’s urging its way onto your lips as you hear roaring screams from the crowd that alerts you to the fact that, if Harry isn’t done with his set yet, he’s close, and you need to watch the end. “Autoamerican. Those are all good albums, though.”

“She’s snarky - get off of me, Jim -”

In Steve’s final bid for freedom his legs kick out, and his sneakered foot knocks into your ankle, and it’s certainly not hard by any stretch of the definition but it’s enough to catch you off balance, his toe hooking into the loose fabric around your ankles as he brings his foot back to kick again. One kick did it, though - you tumble to the ground, legs flying out from under you until you land on your ass on the hard floor, your bag slipping off your shoulder, and its contents scatter across the ground.

Fuck. That hurt, more than you’d care to admit, as you brace your elbows behind you to stop your head from knocking into the ground. Your ass hurts and you can see Steve’s leg bracing backwards for another kick, and you push yourself backwards so his foot merely pushes against the air.

You can already see Jim opening his mouth to desperately say sorry when a set of footsteps interrupts his apology - you don’t have to look to your side to see who it is, the smell of expensive cologne wafting before him like an introduction. You practically feel him before you see him.

Your name falls off Harry’s lips entirely too easily, like he’d been looking for you in the overtly small window of space he has before he has to go back on stage - his hair is messy and his skin is sweaty and he bends down next to you with such sentimentality in his eyes - you almost feel like a child again.

“Are y’okay?” Harry questions, and his hand rests on the small of your back and warmth seems to seep through your body from its spawning point, palm moving in circles against your sweater so gently you can tell he’s scared to go much harder. “Wha’ -?”

For his eyes had just landed on the sight in front of you - Jim managed to pull Steve up, the latter clearly coming to his senses at least a little bit, and his eyes narrow at the sight of you on the floor and subsequently widen as he sees Harry next to you.

“Wha’ happened?” And you can hear anger quivering under his voice like boiling water, ready to overflow, and you instinctively reach up to press your hand against his forearm - you do it to your niece all the time when you can tell she’s on the verge of a tantrum and it always works on her - but she is five, and Harry’s twenty years her senior, so, needless to say, the motion doesn’t do much to soothe him. “Fightin’ back here, kickin’ her - you’re s’posed t’be security guards!”

“It’s okay, Harry -”

“S’not okay -”

And then there’s another set of footsteps jogging over to you, and you look up to see Jeff -

“Har, you need to get back out -” but you can see the confusion set into his features as he stands over the scene, eyes flickering to you and Harry on the floor to Jim and Steve, the former having settled the latter into a fairly calm position. The scent of alcohol is strong and you can practically watch as Jeff smells it, his nose crinkling. “Is he drunk?”

“He is drunk, an’ got into a fight wit’ -”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupt, squeezing Harry’s arm again as you push yourself to stand, attempting not to wince at the pain in your ass as your muscles tense. He’s looking at you like you’ve just been hit by a car instead of having a mild scuffle with a security guard, eyes wide and concerned, and you shake your head at him. “Didn’t get into a fight, Harry - he accidentally kicked me. It’s really fine - you need to go back out, anyway.”

“She’s right,” Jeff insists, reaching down to tug Harry up as his eyes bore into the sight in front of you, Steve slowly calming himself down until he’s simply red in the face and reeking of booze. “Come on, Har - you need to get on.”

But Harry’s already bending down again, grabbing your pen and your notebook and your phone (you can see a crack in the screen that most certainly hadn’t been there just a mere ten minutes ago) and you could nearly laugh at the display he’s putting on, shoving your items back into your back, if Jeff’s demeanor wasn’t bordering on murderous as he drags Harry up again. You reach down and grab your bag, now fully stocked again with all of the items that had clattered out, and you give the tussling security guards one final fleeting look before following Jeff and Harry as they make their way down the hall.

“Y’sure you’re okay?” Harry questions, slowing his pace so you can jog beside him, much to Jeff’s lingering annoyance as he brings his fingers up to rub at the space between his eyes. “Y’should know - tha’ doesn’t usually happen -”

“I get it,” you tell him.

“No, really.” You’ve reached the wings of the stage, and Jeff leaves the pair of you alone to descend on to where the band stands, clearly waiting for the cue to go on. Harry runs a hand through his hair, and he looks oddly exasperated and you wish you could get it through his head that it really isn’t a big deal - “Someone will take care of the guards, okay?”

“Don’t fire them,” you insist, even though you’re sure he has no say in it. “Not Jim, at least.”

“Jim -?”

“The sober one.”

“Oh.” He pauses, dropping his hands to his sides. “I can’t make any promises.”

“Just try.”

“Will do.”

There’s another brief second of silence before you nod towards the stage where he’s needed - the few lowly minutes between the end of the show and the encore has come to an end, and you’re sure people are beginning to wonder if he’s not coming back. “Go on, Har. There’s people waiting for you.”

“M’going!” And he isn’t going, just staring at you with his brows furrowed, and you raise your own with a confused stare. “Are y’gonna come t’any more shows?”

You pause, nibbling on your bottom lip as you contemplate your answer. “Well - maybe. If I need more information.” “You should,” he tells you, and you tilt your head to the side. “Look, I don’t want your only impression of m’shows t’be that they’re violent an’ crazy.”

“I don’t think -”

“Jus’ one more? In two days. I’ll send you th’address. I really want you t’come -”

Before you can process the request Jeff has stepped forward, hooking his arm in Harry’s and practically dragging him towards the stage, and you watch him prance back in front of the audience like it’s his God given purpose and perhaps it is. You’ve never quite met anyone like him, you don’t think, and you’d certainly had a perception of what you’d imagined him to be like based on the insane amount of time you’d spent obsessing over his band when you were younger -

Your mouth feels suddenly dry as you watch him begin, and the music seems to reverberate beneath your skin, and suddenly - without having to think about it much at all, really - you know it won’t take much convincing on his part to get you back for a second night.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles series #harry styles drabble #harry styles one shot #im sure im going to regret starting this as a series and not trying to make it one long piece #but honestly??#im working on another fic right now so i just want the beginnings of this to be out there #i hope u enjoy

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shelby-love · 4 years ago

Text

JAY HALSTEAD

Bomb Squad Alternative

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warning(s): none

Author's note: Here is another crossover between firefighter Y/N and Jay Halstead. Hope you enjoyed since I’m really proud lol. Personally I think this would be a great episode.

Requests for Jay are open again so send in your ideas! I’m thinking about putting out Christmas prompts since I’m feeling festive. Also, I’m quarantied :( went to test yesterday and I’m waiting for the results to kick in. I feel fine so I shouln’t worry but I still do yk? Anyhow, school is a b and I’m doing online atm (maybe high schools will switch to online completely until Christmas but who knows at this point).

It’s also exam weeks so that’s why I’ve been lacking time to get back to writing.

Now perpare for me to get on my knees for you at the end of this one shot. <3

“Everyone get out of the station!” You exclaimed, barging through the train station with the rest of 51. Your loud voices and heavy gear alerted everyone enough to get them to move back.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A police officer questioned, throwing an accusing eyebrow your way.

Your lieutenant left you to the police officer’s mercy with a nod of his head. You sighed, turning to the man but still keeping a steady pace with the rest of your team. “There is a bomb threat, we need to evacuate the train station.”

“A bomb threat? I didn’t get a call,” He fought, looking around as if the bomb might be anywhere. Which was true.

“The intelligence is on their way, but I suggest you give us some room to do our job,” Matt joined his voice with you to explain. Although he quickly returned to shouting.

Soon enough, you saw two dark clothed figures march down the stairs towards you. Your boyfriend came striding down towards all of you, his blue eyes assassinating the surrounding situation.

Until they fell on you.

He looks good, you allowed yourself to think. Admiring his lean figure - the leather jacket covering his muscular arms and proud CPD badge at his hip - you watched as he stalked towards you. The old lady that was clutching to your side shakily suddenly became invisible to your eyes.

You weren’t surprised to see his jaw tick at the sight of you, which made you shake your head in annoyance. Helping the lady catch the arms of a fellow firefighter became your priority. You watched as she walked outside on unsteady legs.

“Y/LN, Casey.” Your chief grabbed your attention, “What’s the situation?”

“Still no sight of the bomb chief,” Matt said. “We’re trying to get out as many people as possible.”

“It’s rush hour Chief,” You breathed, glancing at Jay for a second before giving Wallace your full attention. “The next train will be here in 10 minutes. If this bomb has a timer then that’s exactly when it will go off. We need the bomb squad here now.”

“Understood. Voight?”

The sergeant looked at Jay who shook his head. “Stuck in traffic.”

You caught Matt muttering a violent curse under his breath, which only tempted you to do the same.

“Chief we need help!”

Severide’s shout brought you and Matt to your senses immediately. There was no time to think as you both ran towards him with your heavy gear on both your shoulders.

“Y/N stop!”

It was Jay who made you halt in your tracks to turn around. “What?”

He reached for your elbow, and with ease pulled you away. “Look I...”

You knew what was going on in his head. His protective nature over you often interferes with many things, including your job. But not today.

“I know you’re worried Jay, okay?” You reasoned, gloved hands grabbing his forearms in reassurance. “But this is my job. Trust me - I hate that we’re put in this situation but there’s nothing we can do except have each other's back.”

Jay let out a loose breath of fear before masking it under a facade of blankness. He waved his hand at the police officers, giving them a sign to follow him. “Be careful.”

You bobbed your head before planting a kiss to his cheek and running back to the scene.

The sight in front of you broke your heart.

A tiny boy with tears coloring his face sat at the bench with his foot dangling over the edge, connected to what looked like a time bomb. He was all alone - barely even 7 years old, with a bright yellow beanie covering his blonde curls. Rosy tear stained cheeks, and blue eyes filled with fear made you drop on your knees immediately.

Carefully, you approached him. The fear that brew inside was pushed aside and you plastered on a smile. “Hi buddy. My name’s Y/N. We’re here to help you”

You seized the ticking bomb and managed to decipher the numbers. Shaking your head, you ignored the buzzing of your anxious heart and grabbed your radio, dialing. “We have three minutes chief. No time to wait for the bomb squad. I have to do it.”

***

Jay looked at the police officers who surrounded him in an uneven half circle, and shook his head. He could see the men trembling, hands shaking and beads of sweat appearing at their foreheads.

“Alright listen up,” He boomed. “We need to evacuate immediately. Threaten with arrest, I don’t care. Just get the civilians out of here.”

They nodded in sync, each man letting out a different toned response before leaving him be to watch what was revealing a few yards away. Jay wouldn’t admit it, but he was shaking inside. His fingertips itched to grab your heavily clothed body and swing you over his shoulder in an attempt to keep you safe... No matter how chauvinistic that sounded.

But Jay Halstead had decided to date a strong woman. A dedicated feminist at that - a woman that refused to be manhandled unless it was to take her to bed when she desired.

Now he watched her - you - shout and shove around the train station, desperate to do what his job was too. Was he a bad man for not really caring if that man that just brushed his expensive suit against his shoulder came out of there safe? He only had eyes on you, so that’s why he spent moments watching you work around like a hawk.

And then you kneeled, and your colleagues stepped out of the way. Without his permission, his dark brows bunched together and his eyes narrowed at your stature. What are you doing?

His answer fell from the sky quickly - although not literally. Voight and Boden strode to his side to discuss the situation.

“There is no time to wait for the bomb squad,” Boden said roughly, his jaw clenching. “If that bomb isn’t deactivated within the next 3 minutes not only is that boy going to die...everyone on this block will.”

Voight knew what he meant by that. Thousands of casualties. Not only will Chicago lose millions of dollars worth of repair if the block blows up - as first responders what came to their minds were the civilians. How many of them will die or be injured because of a simple mistake of following protocol and waiting? They had a firefighter there, on the scene, ready to disable the bomb and save them.

Only that firefighter was you. And that made their decision ten times harder to make.

But Boden was sure in you, and so was Voight. “Okay. Do what you gotta do.”

Wallace nodded, griping his radio. “Y/N. Go for it.”

Y/N? Jay couldn’t believe his ears. It completely slipped his mind that you had been trained for this. At that moment, his body and mind said no. He forgot all about equality you have been trying to tattoo into his mind. You were you at that moment. A simple girl he fell in love with and wanted to protect.

“What the hell Sarge?!”

***

“Okay,” You sighed enthusiastically, hoping to divert the boy’s attention to your relaxed posture. “I need you to be really still for me. Can you do that?”

The boy could barely nod as Sylvie held his head still in the cervical collar.

“What’s your name?” Sylvie asked him, ignoring the fact that two minutes were left on the clock. You went straight to work the moment his attention was diverted and his leg was no longer shaking.

Swiftly, you grasped the leg of his pants and pulled it up, revealing the leather that was sunk in his flesh. You winced, “His leg circulation is bad.”

“Just focus on the bomb,” She reassured you quietly.

You grabbed the equipment and started to work on disabling it. Each step was more difficult than the other. You felt yourself tremble as the end seemed to never come any closer to you no matter how much you reached for it. “Go.”

“What? We’re not leaving you.“ It was Severide who spoke, only a meter or two away from you. Shaking your head at another trap within the system you decided that you needed all the help you could get.

1 minute.

“Jay?” You murmured against the radio - Jay’s reply was instant.

“Y/N you can do this,” his voice was raspier through the line, more prominent and harsh. Nevertheless, his words soothed you.

“I need help,” you told him. “You said this man is crazy right? Well I think there’s a story here. These wires mean something. Blue, white, yellow.”

You weren’t allowed to go for it... not when so many lives were at risk. This man was smart, that much you knew. There has to be a meaning behind the colors.

Jay could help you more than anyone. You knew it. He knew it too.

Blue, white, yellow.

***

“Blue, white, yellow.” He mumbled, not allowing himself to look at his watch. You didn’t have much time, he knew it - Jay just didn’t want a definite reminder of it.

He rocked his brain for explanations. For a clue within this case. Something.

30 seconds.

“Everyone evacuate now!” Boden shouted into his radio. Jay shut it out. His voice didn’t matter. Only you did.

Like an eagle, he searched for you and found you: crouched in front of the yellow capped boy, acting like his anchor he could hold onto. He couldn’t see how shaky you were from afar, he could only hope you were okay.

10 seconds.

“Jay!”

Yellow.

“This kid was his last target. He looks for the details,“ He explained to you. “Yellow.”

***

Like his beanie. You casted a stray glance at the boy, flashing him a tight lipped smile. The puffy beanie that was supposed to protect him from the cold just became the thing that saved his life. And the poor boy didn’t even know it.

3...

This is it.

2...

You didn’t think, only did what Jay told you. You cut through the yellow wire and stop the ticking destruction at the last second.

No sound is heard.

No man moves.

Only rigid breathing of your own manages to make its way inside your ears.

And then the boy starts to wail. His cries turn into what look like never ending sobs. You were glad he’s crying, and not in a bad way. The sound he started to make was a clear indicator of your survival. The bomb didn’t go off. You were safe. You never felt more alive.

Your friends swiped you in their arms immidiately. Every firefighter gave you a congratulation you never thought you would recieve. You just disabeled a bomb.

And it looked like you were the only one shocked.

Still shaking, your eyes searched for the man that helped you.

But Jay was already there, and by the time you turned around to search for him he had his fingertips around you. With a clean tug he pushed you against his chest and hugged you. His breathing was just as harsh as your own, but inside - he never felt prouder.

“You had my back,” you mumbled. Jay pulled a moment later, his blue eyes gazing down at you before he laughed. Laughed. “You were amazing baby.”

“You really think so?”

“I do. Now let’s get you out of here.” He smiled, slipping his hand into yours and pulling you towards the exit. You were cheered after of course, it made your heart swell with pride.

On your way outside you saw the bomb squad, standing in lines next to their equipment. “Nice work guys.” Jay said sarcastically.

The two of you made your way to the shaky boy to make sure he was alright. People were gathered outisde, now that the threat was removed. Each and every one of them had their eyes glazed with tears of relief.

Their homes were safe. Their families were too.

Boden gave you the rest of the day off, and Jay was the one to drive you home.

“Let’s hope our work doesn’t clash like that ever again.”

“I agree,” Jay said quietly and pressed his lips safely against yours.

MASTERLIST

###

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#jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead fanfiction #jay halstead x reader #Chicago PD #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd fanfiction #CHICAGO FIRE #chiacgo fire imagine #chicago fire fanfictio #reader oneshot

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unknownwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Summary- going on a date

Character(s)- Kaminari Denki, Kirishima Eijiro, Mina Ashido, Aizawa Shōta

Warnings- just so one comes for me, everyones aged up!!, besides that none :)

Notes- ahh look at me trying to expanding my fandoms

Kaminari Denki

Definitely an arcade date. A simple yet fun idea.

Of course when he invites you, it mostly as a joke. He’s not expecting you to actually answer. But when you did this man is like so excited. If he could he would’ve planned the date that day but of course he waits till the weekend.

It’s a casual date, nothing to fancy just the 2 of you enjoy the little things. It’s one of those dates that feel like a date yet at the same time doesn’t.

It’s like those dates y’all see in like those cheesy romance movies. It’s a very cute date 🥺💕

Of course y’all don’t spend the whole date at the arcade, it was just the first out of many spots. Y’all basically play till y’all can’t anymore then go out to eat.

Y’all end up chatting about anything and everything, whatever topic pops up yall talk about it. At one point you make him charge you phone, limited his ability to talk. But you end up talking the most anyways.

After y’all had eat and enjoyed a dessert or 2, the 2 of y’all go a goof off at some random park. Talking on the swings, climbing up the monkey bars, petting to local cats.

Over all the date was just a simple one but it was probably the best one Denki has ever had and will have.

Before the date, he knew you only as a classmate, not knowing the small things about you. After the date he learns and remembers all the little things about you.

Your favorite color, your dream pet, what you what to do as a side job, how you wanna help people. All the little things.

Denki felt so unbelievably happy when the date was over. He hasn’t be on many dates before more like none so going on a date with you, and it being an actual date made him so happy. Y’all are definitely gonna be going in more dates from now on

Kirishima Eijiro

Unlike Denki, dates with Kirishima take a bit more time to plan. Kirishima loves to go hiking, so why not go on a hiking date with him.

You honestly had never been on one so you have no idea what y’all would even do but you decided to go along with it. It something new for you to try and plus Kirishima seemed really happy when he was talking about it.

You clearly underestimate him and the date. By a lot. To start of with, y’all met up together just as the sun had reached over the horizon. It was to early.

2nd, he just had to pick the most ‘manliest’ trail. It was an gorgeous trail, don’t think it wasn’t. There were so many animals, birds, and beautiful flowers. But also bugs, and awkward wooden stairs and rocks, and a lot of walking. At that point you weren’t sure if this was a date or extra training.

However, you went along with it. Although it wasn’t your thing, it was nice change of pace and something else fun to try. The date wasn’t bad either, the two of y’all cracked jokes, chatted about the latest gossip at the school and about y’all’s works study, and just talking about random topics.

At one point y’all ended up holding hands and walking shoulder to shoulder, until however the 2 of y’all didn’t even know how or when y’all did it. The only time y’all noticed it was when Kirishima tried to head off into a bush to pee but next he knew you just continued to follow him. His flustered face was so unmanly.

After hours and hours of talking, sunset came and you noticed that y’all weren’t near the entrance of the trail. You brought your concern with him, but he simply smiled, grabbed you hand once again and asked, “Trust me. You’ll love it.”

There was no way you couldn’t trust that smile. So you continued to follow him until the sun began to dip under the horizon. And an hour before the light had disappeared completely, Kirishima brought you to a lovely field and a small picnic area

You were speechless, you were definitely not expecting that. It was so strange yet cute. So while you stood there, speechless, Kirishima began to unpack a bunch of snacks, of course ones that didn’t need to be referated. Once he set them all out, he looked back at you and smiled sheepishly, “Hehe, I hope you don’t mind a pinic date.”

and of course you loved it. The date lasted on for about 2 more hours before yall decided to head back. Although the walk back was scary and surprising a lot shorter bc he apparently knew a short cut, it was still fun. The date was very new and nice, it was very different from any date you went on before. So this just might become a regular thing for you.

Mina Ashido

a night out on the town all the way. Kinda like Kaminari but not at the same time...

Even though the date is technically at night. The 2 of y’all spend the day together anyways. Not going out and partying, but lazing around the house doing nothing. Mina liked to call it your girl time where y’all gossip, watch rom-coms, fantasize about the future, sending each other memes, simply stuff like that.

It wasn’t until around 5 when the date was finally starting. Y’all would get all dressed up, do each other’s make up, complement the hell out of each other, flirt, and try on like 5 different outfits before finally heading out.

The night started off relatively calm. The 2 of y’all would start the date off by going out to dinner at a somewhat fancy restaurant. Where y’all would continued to gossip and talk about random things.

After the dinner date the 2 of y’all would sneak off to an ice cream parlor and enjoy an ice or 2 together. Completely ruining y’all’s outfits. Besides the dinner date and the ice cream, everything after that wasn’t planned at all. It was all up to Mina where y’all would go.

To the club! Is the first place Mina’s gonna drag you too. It was popular club too where citizens, heroes and even villains would attend. The only rule that’s enforced at the clubs is: no sharing your real identity with a stranger. Besides that it’s a free for all.

Dancing, drinking, partying. They do it all, and y’all definitely do it all. Of course still having a sense of responsibility, y’all don’t drink too much but y’all definitely make that up on the dance floor.

While dancing you even ran into a few friends and decided to join their little party. Y’all did everything: drinking games, dance, encourage fights, ate till y’all couldn’t stand, threw it all up in the bathroom then did it again. You were pretty sure you saw some people from the league of villains but who cares. You were on a date not a night patrol.

Of course y’all aren’t super human well technically you are butttt so eventually even y’all had to call it quiets. It was around 3 am tho. It was a good thing that y’all didn’t have work in the morning. So the 2 of y’all said you goodbyes and slowly stumbled y’all’s way back to your apartment. Both of y’all took turned carrying each

As soon as y’all go home y’all had enough energy go pull off your outfits before crashing on the bed make up and all. The next morning, or next afternoon Mina was the first to wake up so she was quick to get dress and clean up before she began to make breakfast for you and a hot drink. When you woke up Mina was quick to check up on you and make sure you were feeling ok.

Once again y’all spent the day doing nothing and relaxing with each. And after a night like that, y’all couldn’t ask for more.

Aizawa Shōta

This man is like so romantic...when he wants to be lol. It really all just depends on his mood. Normally a date with him would be a very simple and easy going one.

Because he is a teacher, there’s a lot of time where’s he stuck grading papers and when that happens, He loves to cuddle up with you under a blanket and while you watch a movie or read or play on your phone he’ll grade the papers. Taking many breaks of course.

Most of the time his breaks will consist of him complaining about how one of his students didn’t get a question right or didn’t even answer it or just put something crazy. Most of the time he’s not to talkative but when it comes to school, especially his students, he won’t shut up. So you let him rant, you enjoy hearing this stories too anyways. His students are amazing.

Occasionally if it’s a simple worksheet with an answer sheet he made before hand, He’ll make you grade the papers while he sleeps or does something else. You love when this happens cause then your can give them a few extra points just bc.

Of course the date is not grading papers with him. The date comes after. Once all the papers are graded, the 2 of y’all would put in some relatively decent clothes and head out to the nearest coffee shop. A chance to get y’all out of the house and a nice breath of fresh air. Normally it’s your idea to go on the date but Aizawa always loves it.

Once y’all reach the cafe that’s when Aizawa would normally take over the date. He’ll either find something else he wants to do like see a movie or take a walk in the part the. Something he’ll just want to go back to the appointment and just sleep and relax.

It really doesn’t matter what y’all do. Aizawa’s the type of person to just savor the time spent with you. As long as he’s with you he doesn’t mind what y’all do. With thag in mind, he would prefer to just lay around the house and cuddle but he’s also open to your date ideas.

Like I said before Aizawa can be one hell of a charmer when it comes down to it. So when y’all go on actually dates. He knows exactly how to dress, act, and what do it. It’s almost like a completely different person but his lazy reaction remind you he’s still the same man you fell in love with.

Even the romantic dates are simple, going out to eat at a fancy restaurant and going out for a walk hand in hand. If y’all do something too exciting, he thinks it will take away from your beauty and distract him so that he’a not focused on you. So he keeps the dates simple so that he won’t have any distractions from you.

To others y’all’s dates might be too simple and boring, but y’all love them. The dates aren’t about seeing how much y’all could do together, it about spending time with each. So if all y’all do it go off to some cafe that’s around the block and talk, y’all are completely happy and satisfied.

#my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha #aizawa x reader #mina x reader #kirishima x reader #kaminari x reader #kaminari denki #kirishima eijiro #mina ashido #aizawa shouta #unknownwriting💕#mha x reader #bnha x reader

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whenimaunicorn · 4 years ago

Text

Playing House - Part 12

“I got the high score on your game, and now, I’m going to get the high score on your girl.”

Hvitserk x f!Reader, Ubbe x f!Reader Words: 6336

It’s here, the frat bro pornfest! No new warnings for this installment, we’ve got the standard rough sex, D/s dynamics, and gratuitous use of “dude” and “bro.” Also the disaster above the text is what you get when I make my own covers.

Catch up: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

“Like,” you furrow your brow, trying to catch up, “with a stopwatch?”

“Yeah,” Ubbe answers. “You squeeze me when you’re starting to come, and I’ll hit the button. Then I turn it off when you can breathe again.”

You lick your lips. “And whoever can give me the longest orgasm is the winner?”

“Oh yeah.” Hvitserk squeezes your thighs, making you jump just a little as his fingers press into the bottom of your bruising ass.

“That’s ridiculous,” you say, but you don’t sound like you mean it.

His fingertips slide deeper under the edge of your shorts, playing with the flesh left tender by Ubbe’s spanking. “Hey, if you don’t want to play my nice game, I can try one of your mean ones . . .”

“I didn’t say that,” you rush to correct, although it certainly turns you on even more when Hvitserk digs his fingers right into your sore cheeks, until you writhe and hiss above him. “Who starts?”

Hvitserk switches back to nice touches, palming your ass in hearty handfuls. His brow cocks, and he turns to Ubbe. “Home field advantage, bro. You go first.”

Ubbe reaches around your shoulders and, with a playful growl, pulls you bodily off his brother. He tucks your back in against his front, so you’re still facing Hvitserk, now seated on the center cushion of the couch between them. Ubbe’s hands come up around your body, curling possessively over your breasts as he mouths at your neck just below your ear. Home field advantage, indeed. He already knows exactly what you like, and you feel like you’re already halfway there just from all the lust pervading the room.

Ubbe pops the clasp of your bra, freeing your tits for Hvitserk’s eyes. And his own hands. After he tosses your bra he’s scooping them up from underneath, presenting them toward his brother, squeezing and teasing your nipples rather than covering them up until Hvitserk looks like he might start drooling from the show.

“I thought we decided I’d get top half first,” he finally says, leaning in toward you.

“Just warming her up,” Ubbe purrs against your neck, then releases your breasts and pushes you softly forward. “Here you go.”

Hvitserk catches you in a kiss as you lean into him, deceptively sweet before he palms both your breasts. Ubbe’s fingers tickle at the backs of your thighs, and then he’s stripping you, pushing shorts and panties together down your hips. So much for showing off that matching set. You get up on your hands and knees to help it happen.

Naked between both of them now. You have to stop kissing Hvitserk to let Ubbe get you into the position he wants from you. Hvitserk keeps helping himself to your tits as you end up with your back propped up against him, the rest of your body laying along the couch so Ubbe can get his face in between your legs.

You’ve said it before; Ubbe loves eating pussy. You’ve never had it so good from anyone. Unless Hvitserk has acquired some sort of unfathomable, god-like secrets of the female body, you don’t know how he’s going to possibly outdo his older brother. Ubbe already knows exactly what you like. He kisses along your body before nestling between your thighs, then opens you up boldly with his tongue. He closes in on your favorite spot with the steady confidence of a master, his hot tongue starting broad but never failing to hit you squarely at just the right angle with every pass.

This may be a competition, but Hvitserk is not being stingy with his assistance. His hands continue to play with your nipples, almost idly, like he absolutely can’t help himself. And the raspy way he’s breathing in your ear while he toys with your body – he’s making Ubbe’s job too easy. Caught between the two of them like this, your breath starts hitching almost before you’ve really had a chance to settle in and enjoy this crazy scenario.

“You’re close,” Hvitserk says.

“Uh huh,” you reply. It comes out throaty little sexpot voice.

Ubbe growls with pride, the vibration of it against your clit ratcheting you up yet another notch closer to release.

Hvitserk’s hands leave your breasts. One digs in his pocket, producing his phone so, just as they had said, he can open a stopwatch app. That alone should be killing the mood, but then Ubbe presses his fingers inside you and you realize there really is no going back for you. Nothing is too juvenile, or ridiculous, when the Lothbrok boys are the ones asking you for it.

Long, cool fingers wrap around your own. Hvitserk is holding your hand. “Squeeze me when you start coming,” he rasps in your ear. You can hear the excitement behind his instructional tone. This is so fucked-up, and they both love it.

Ubbe goes in for his grand finale. He finds that perfect angle, from both inside and out now, and works you relentlessly.

“Ooooh…” your moaning starts, and just as that wave of pleasure crests you clench your fingers around Hvitserk’s hand.

You hold your breath. The orgasm rocks you hard, your naked body writhing against Hvitserk’s chest, your cheek rubbing into his t-shirt and you hope you’re not going to drool on him. You had been a little worried that knowing your orgasm would be timed might be too much pressure, might make it slip away as soon as it’s crested like you’ve experienced in less-than-ideal situations before, but Ubbe is too good for that, this situation is apparently too hot for that, and you’re sure that clock is running even longer than you ever expected as the pleasure spirals in wave after wave through your core underneath Ubbe’s relentless tongue.

You suck in one gasping breath and then hold it again, somewhere in the middle there. You keep it in even after the ecstasy begins to fade, and maintain your death grip on Hvitserk’s hand. Hvitty’s a cool guy, but Ubbe’s your guy, right? One of them, at least. It’s easy to follow the urge to cheat the clock a little on his behalf. Exaggerate the results by a few more heartbeats. He deserves it. And it feels good to pick him over someone else for once.

Finally you slump, going limp in Hvitserk’s arms except for a few twitches as Ubbe finishes up with one last swipe of his tongue. He embraces your thighs, nestling in against one leg and gasping a little himself.

“Twenty-two seconds,” Hvitserk reads, “very nice, bro.”

Ubbe nips at your thigh, with affection. “She’s amazing.”

Four hands move across your body, enhancing your afterglow. Ubbe makes his way down your legs as Hvitserk sets his phone to the side and runs his palms up your flanks.

Coming as hard as that might make a girl sleepy, but under the movement of those hands you feel electrified, like every one of your nerve endings has been turned on now, and the possibilities for pleasure are only just beginning.

Ubbe comes up to his knees between your legs, leaning forward and scooping you up with a hand in your hair to meet his insistent kiss. You sit up between them, enjoying the slight soreness of your spanked ass rubbing bare against the couch cushion, and savor Hvitserk’s hands as they caress down your back to your hips. “Time to switch,” you ask between Ubbe’s kisses, “or will there be an interlude?”

Ubbe makes an interested sound as your hands run down to his crotch. As you expected, he’s rock hard and swelling into your touch.

“When we’re alone,” you croon, “you’re usually making me return a favor like that almost immediately.”

Ubbe responds by pushing your head firmly downwards.

One of the best parts about being a sub is that you’re not responsible for managing anything about a scene. Nothing but your own hard limits, of course. But something simple like this, deciding whether this is okay, or if Hvitserk will find this too rude or feel left out . . . that’s not your job to consider. Ubbe’s forcing your face down to his crotch and that’s the only thing that has to be in your world right now.

He sighs as you open up his jeans, releasing the pressure that had to be quite restrictive for him all this time. Neither of the boys have taken off a stitch of clothing, you realize, and here you are fully naked on your hands and knees between them.

Ubbe reaches in and pulls his erection out through the fly of his boxer briefs. Does It count as him getting a little more naked, if he’s immediately pulling your mouth over to swallow it up?

You always kind of think about channeling your inner snake when sucking Ubbe off, as you just about unhinge your jaw to fit that slab of meat he’s packing into your mouth. It’s worth it for the sounds he makes, though. This time he’s holding himself back, probably trying to look tough with his brother present, but his guttural grunts and muttered curses when you swirl your tongue just right are close enough to the full show. He keeps his hand on the back of your neck, too, not exactly controlling your movements but certainly keeping you on-task down there.

As your head came down to meet Ubbe’s cock, your hindquarters rose. Hvitserk is certainly getting an eyeful of your ass and whatever he can glimpse of your pussy between your bare thighs, with your knees only slightly spread for balance up on the couch cushion. It takes him longer than you expect to reach out and start exploring what’s on offer with his fingertips.

He starts low on your thighs, tracing up toward your naughty bits lightly. You arch your back a little more, encouraging him. His fingernails graze over the widest part of your ass.

The longer it takes him to come close to your pussy, the more you’re silently begging him to. You’re working your mouth up and down over Ubbe’s cock, relishing your lover’s taste and scent, sure, but you’re also quite distracted by thoughts of what Hvitserk’s looking at and what he’s going to do next.

When his thumb finally slides down to the edge of your pussy lips you moan, loudly, the sound made even more pornographic by the way Ubbe’s choking cock distorts it. Perhaps Hvitserk understands it as encouragement, because his thumb keeps sliding, up and down, in a confident delineation of the edges of your sex. You moan some more. It’s actually quite fun to hear the ways the sounds come out in garbled and staccato bursts as Ubbe’s hand urges your mouth faster and deeper.

“Fuck, keep making those sounds,” Ubbe says.

Hvitserk does his part, continuing to tease your cunt, not doing anything very specific or intense, just exploring and tantalizing and waking everything up all over again. He finds your clit and bats at it just a little, then spirals away again to swirl his fingertip at your very entrance.

“Fuck, this pussy,” Hvitserk groans through his teeth. “I want to fuck it so bad.”

You arch your back even more, almost trying to force yourself over his fingers as you continue on fastidiously with the job in front of you.

Ubbe speaks for you. “Go ahead, dude. I think there’s still condoms in the drawer.”

Hvitserk’s pressure increases, just a little bit. “Not yet.” He traps your clit between his fingers and pinches. “Still gotta win that contest. I need to keep my head in the game. I get off now, I lose my edge.”

You can’t fucking take it. You slide up off Ubbe’s cock with a popping sound so you can plead with Hvitserk. “Just a little, then? Just fuck it a little.” He’s making you too fucking crazy to keep quiet. “I want you, Hvitserk.”

“Honey, you think I can get in this cute little pussy of yours and stop myself before I blow? No one’s that strong.”

“Speaking of blowing . . .” Ubbe’s coaxing your mouth back over his dick before you can answer, using your scalp to hold you steady as he starts to fuck up into your face. Your aroused little moans turn helpless around the rough thrusting of his cock, while Hvitserk gifts you with a fraction of what you want by pressing one blessed finger inside.

“Swallow it all,” Ubbe tells you, his voice gone breathy and thin. “Don’t spill a drop.”

You fuck yourself back over Hvitserk’s long finger as Ubbe’s pace increases, spurring himself on to blast his seed into the back of your throat. Swallowing is certainly the easiest way to make sure you don’t choke.

He shudders inside your mouth, holding you close while he pants and decides he’s really done. You savor the last moments of Ubbe’s cock in your mouth. Hvitserk slowed down when your body stopped rocking, but never really stopped: in, out. In, out. That finger keeps sliding, to remind you. Ubbe’s done, but you’re not. Not. Even. Close.

When Ubbe finally releases your face, you suck him clean as you pull back and then lift your head. You hold the rest of your body still, unwilling to interrupt Hvitserk’s steady rhythm inside you. Ubbe wraps his hand under your chin, guiding you to look up at him.

His eyes are sleepy around the edges, but still sparkling. You watch them track quickly over your face. “You’re up, Hvitserk,” he says, amused. “She looks ready.”

Unfortunately, this makes Hvitserk stop fingering you. You turn towards him with a whine.

He meets your eyes and smirks. “Definitely ready. Lay down.”

You spread yourself along the couch as Hvitserk slides down off it, guiding your legs to open where he can easily reach you from his knees on the floor. Your head doesn’t fit in Ubbe’s lap from this position; you’re lying flat on your back across the middle of the couch, with your face next to his hip. He reaches down and cups your cheek, dragging his thumb idly over your skin.

It feels a little more vulnerable, to be laid out like this. Which enhances the thrill of knowing that a man you barely know is between your spread legs, staring at your most intimate places. Hvitserk lets his hot breath steam over your wet and needy entrance, building the anticipation. Hands caress the insides of your thighs, then his thumb starts sliding in to open you up.

You can feel how wet you’ve become from the ease with which he parts your inner lips. You moan and arch as Hvitserk drags that moisture up to lubricate your clit, letting him draw easy circles around the sensitive button.

When he leans in to replace his thumb with his mouth, it’s gentle, almost a kiss. Then he sucks on your clit and your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Fuck, you look good like this,” Ubbe mutters. He leans forward and scoops up both your breasts with his hands. “I’m going to get hard again already.”

A nervous giggle slips out as you ponder how you might get caught in an endless cycle of cocks after this. If watching you with one is only going to keep turning the other one on again. Perhaps you’re fortunate that Ubbe and Ivar never try to have you at the same time like this. A girl can only take so much.

Hvitserk, it turns out, is not an idle boaster. His competence at eating pussy is instantly apparent. His tongue glides hungrily to all the right places, and when you look down, the dark satisfaction in his hooded eyes makes you feel like you’re caught in a filthy monster’s jaws.

You can’t even track what exactly he’s doing down there. All you know is that the pleasure is surging, from every square millimeter that his lips and tongue touch. He slips two fingers inside you, and rocks them in such a way that you swear he’s found something inside there that no one else has ever noticed before. Your whole body is singing.

An obnoxious noise brings you just a little bit back down to earth. One of Ubbe’s hands leaves your chest, the other left gently cupping one tit.

“It’s Ivar,” Ubbe says, scooping Hvitserk’s vibrating phone off the table.

Hvitserk sucks you hard before lifting his mouth, drawing a strangled cry from you. You realize you’ve been making all kinds of crazy noises for the past few minutes. “Let him listen,” the arrogant boy responds.

Ivar’s voice is faint, but you can hear it, issuing forth from the phone hovering above you in Ubbe’s hand. His tone is impatient, as usual: “Hvitserk, you there?”

His brother has dropped his mouth back between your legs, sucking at you in time to the curl of his fingertips deep inside. There’s no way to keep yourself from moaning, and making ragged little sounds whenever you try to breathe.

“Interesting.” Ivar drags out the first syllable. You don’t hear anything from him for a while, and then, he says your name. “Can you hear me?”

You turn your next moan upward, into a whiny little “uh huh!”

Hvitserk is not letting you get any more lucid than that.

“Are you showing Hvitserk your best hospitality?” Ivar asks, his Dom voice apparent even from this distance. Ubbe’s thumb moves and his voice gets louder. “Doesn’t sound like it,” Ivar continues, chastising you on speaker. “It sounds like you’re being quite selfish.”

Is Hvitserk getting you in trouble right now? The movement of his tongue only intensifies, threatening to turn your steady moans into squeals. Your legs are starting to shake as heat floods your core.

“What are they doing to you over there?” Ivar continues. “I don’t hear Ubbe, but I’m sure he’s lurking about.”

If he’s expecting you to answer, he’s going to be disappointed. No way you’re capable of speech.

“I hope you are enjoying yourself,” Ivar says, continuing on as a monologue. “And I hope that you’re looking forward to being punished later, for being such a bad girl. Making our guest work so hard for your own selfish, wicked pleasure.” Every word goes straight to your cunt, helping Hvitserk build you toward an orgasm that promises to be a screamer. “You’re the one that should have your mouth full right now, greedy girl. I see that you can’t be trusted to be left alone. We will begin… some much stricter training when I get home.” Fuck. “I’m sure Hvitserk won’t mind helping me teach you better manners. Are you close, greedy girl? I hear your voice changing. Enjoy it, because it might be the last one that you get for a long, long time.”

Between Ivar’s words and Hvitserk’s skills, you don’t stand a fucking chance. You clutch behind you to find Ubbe’s hand, barely remembering the rules of the contest in time as this pleasure starts to climax.

“Wait,” Ubbe huffs, “gotta get the stopwatch.”

Ivar’s chuckle drips out of the phone while Ubbe fumbles with it. He may have had some choice words for what these two gorgeous, sexy idiots are up to, but you only hear him get as far as “Are you two—” before a rushing in your ears takes over and you lose consciousness of anything else but the tidal wave of pleasure crashing through your body.

Hvitserk is relentless. He doesn’t slow the intensity a bit, pushes you through your screaming, writhing orgasm with the dedication of a pit bull as he just hits that magic spot over and over and over. You’re shaking and gasping before it’s done, and when the peak turns to oversensitivity he’s still determined to wring a few more seconds out of you, doesn’t stop until your thighs try to clench shut around his head in a helpless attempt to push him away.

You’re left panting as Ubbe announces the time above your head. “Thirty-four seconds.”

“And you started late,” Hvitserk points out. He’s panting too.

“And I started late,” Ubbe admits.

So much for your attempt at cheating on Ubbe’s behalf. Hvitserk sure as hell won fair and square. If Ivar’s little participation doesn’t count.

Wait. Is Ivar still on the phone?

“I take it Hvitserk is the winner.”

Yep. He’s there.

Hvitserk wipes his mouth as he rises from the ground, lifting one of your legs to roll you out of his way so he can resume his seat on the end of the couch. He nestles himself against your naked hip and reaches out his upturned hand to Ubbe, silently asking for his phone back.

You expect him to speak, but all you hear is the descending tone indicating an ended call. Hvitserk tosses his phone back on the table with a dismissive sound. You think you might even see a trace of a snarl on his lip as you look up at him through your post-orgasmic haze.

Then all his attention is back on you. You watch his greedy eyes run all over your body, from your upturned hip to the curve of your tilted waist, your bare breasts and your parted, panting mouth. “What were you saying earlier?” he asks, leaning in with a conspiratorial smile. “Something about want me to ‘fuck it just a little?’”

You nod breathlessly as he climbs further over your body. His hooded eyes look predatory now, and if somehow Ivar made him mad then he definitely seems ready to take it out on you. He gives your hip a little smack, watching how the impact makes you jiggle, then inspects your face while he gives you another one.

“You like it rough, huh?”

You nod, and twist your body to present your ass to him even better. Honestly you feel like your pussy is about to start dripping on the couch, so it also doesn’t hurt to get it further away from the cushions.

He nods too, thoughtfully. “There’s this position I like. Not every girl can handle it.”

Ubbe makes an interested noise above you. “She can handle a lot.”

“So I keep hearing.” Hvitserk taps at your ass. “Up.”

He stands at the same time as you do, and you don’t miss the way he readjusts himself inside his pants. He pulls you in close for a kiss, pressing your naked body fully against his clothes.

He whips his shirt off. Finally. “There are condoms around here?”

“Yes,” you say, dropping to your knees to open one of the little drawers at the base of the coffee table. You and Ubbe had scattered them all over the house before he made his monogamy pledge and the tests had come back clean. You turn back to Hvitserk, presenting him the little package in your palms.

He makes a happy little noise in the back of his throat. “I like the way you look down there.” He loosens his belt. “Now I’m thinking you need to stay on your knees and show me what that sweet mouth can do.”

You nod, eagerly, as you watch him get his dick out and step closer to your face. You meet it with your tongue, wrapping a hand around his shaft to keep him pointed down where you can reach.

There’s something extra fun about a blowjob that you don’t intend to finish. You lick around the head of his cock like it’s a lollypop, pausing to give him playful eye contact and then watching him watch you swallow it up.

Ubbe’s the one that groans. When you flick your eyes over to him he’s got one hand thrust into his own pants like he’s gearing up for round two. “You look so good. Teasing it like that.”

You can’t help yourself. You keep your eyes locked onto Ubbe while pulling Hvitserk a little closer, giving his shaft little kitten licks.

“You are fucking hot as hell, darlin’,” Hvitserk says, looking straight down the line of his body at you. “But I’ve had enough teasing tonight. Come up over here.”

He leads you to the side of the couch and bends you over the armrest.

“Saw this in a porno once.” He kicks at your legs until you spread them a little further apart. “Stop me if it’s not working for you. But I think you’re flexible enough.”

He pushes down between your shoulders until your chest hits the couch. You relax the side of your face into the cushion and just go with it. Now your hips are higher than the rest of your body, and quite decently supported by the plush armrest. Not hard so far. There must be something more coming.

You hear the sound of the condom wrapper opening. Ubbe shifts above your head, but you resist the temptation to check and see what he’s doing on his end of the couch. Ivar’s right; you’ve been selfish. You must give your full submission to Hvitserk now, and show him that you are doing exactly as he instructs. No more, no less, and no looking at his brother.

You know you’re wet but he spits on his fingers and works a little added lubrication into you anyway.

“I liked the way you were begging,” he comments, voice husky as you feel him moving in closer. “Think I can make you beg a little more?”

“Oh, Hvitserk, please.” You angle your hips up even higher, offering yourself to him. You’re positively aching to be filled up, after all this.

“Please what?” You feel the brush of something thicker than fingers against your slick entrance.

You take a breath. “Please fuck me until I can’t walk straight.”

“That is definitely the plan.” He pushes into you slow, the second Lothbrok you’ve let go balls-deep into you now. He’s not as thick as Ubbe but that hardly matters, not when you’re swollen with need and reveling in the fact that this one wants you too, bad enough to throw shame out the window and fuck you right in front of his brother. “Fuuuuck.” He presses in deep and just stays there a minute, hands gripping your ass tight.

You buck your hips up against him, although you don’t have much leverage with your belly in the couch and your legs spread so wide.

He grunts and answers your enthusiasm with his own, starting to bounce against you in measured thrusts. “Ungh, I knew you had a sweet little pussy. Are you happy to share it with me?”

“Yes,” you wail, as he pounds you harder, the friction electrifying every nerve ending they hadn’t already fried out with that pussy-eating competition.

“You gonna share it with me all week?”

“Uh huh!”

“And you can you really handle that? Three guys telling you what to do around here? Keeping this pussy full?”

“M-mhmm.”

“What was that?”

“Yes! I’ll find a way.”

“Good.” His thrusts have settled into a quick, steady rhythm. “Arch your back more.”

You really have to press your chest into the couch, and come up to your tiptoes when it feels like you can barely reach the floor as it is, but you manage it. It makes his thrusts feel deeper, threatening to bottom out against your cervix.

“Now give me your arms.”

This must be it. The thing that other girls won’t do. You give up supporting your body with your forearms, twisting them both behind your back instead. It puts a lot of your weight on your face and upper chest, the only things left to support the bouncing impacts of his thrusting, but it’s manageable. Fingers wrap around your wrists, straightening your arms back behind you. He’s using them like handles now, to pull your arched body over his cock. It’s rough, but you can take it. You’re just flexible enough.

“Fuck, you look so good like this,” Hvitserk croons.

“You’re telling me,” Ubbe says. His voice is coming from the side now. You open your eyes to see that he’s left the couch for the coffee table, sitting right across from your face where he can get the best view of your contorted figure. “Think you can lift your feet off the ground, wrap them behind him?”

You try. Lifting your legs like that clenches your pelvic floor, which makes Hvitserk yelp and then fuck you harder. Now you’ve got absolutely no control at all, laying on your face and getting fucked down into the cushions. You might be drooling. There’s nothing to be done for it if you are.

You wouldn’t be able to stay like this for long, but it doesn’t seem like you’re going to have to. Hvitserk’s making this drawn-out humming sort of noise, he’s so into it, pistoning into you at an accelerating rate that suggests he’s barreling toward climax.

“This is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Ubbe says. You want him to shut up so he doesn’t make Hvitserk uncomfortable, but these two do seem to have some kind of established groove for this already. And hearing him tell you how sexy this outrageously acrobatic pose is does make it easier for you to hang on in it for a little longer. It’s not an angle that’s going to get you off, but ferocious pleasure rings through your body anyway.

“Ahh—” Hvitserk’s rising wail almost sounds desperate, and then he forces air between his teeth as he grinds himself even deeper into you.

You don’t complain as he crushes you just a little more. It’s obvious that he’s reveling in a prolonged, ecstatic climax, and you’re certainly not going to begrudge him anything less than the thirty-four seconds of bliss he so recently finished giving you.

But when he gasps the end of his release, and his body stops clenching, you’re tugging your arms out of his grip, grateful to untwist your shoulders and get the pressure off your neck.

“Fuck—thanks. Fuck,” he pants. “That was incredible.” He stays inside you. You feel his forehead drop to the middle of your back as you both start letting your muscles relax one by one. You like the way his hair feels on your skin.

An insistent, gorilla-like grunt emanates from somewhere above your head. “My turn,” Ubbe says, and his hands wrap around your forearms.

“Dude,” Hvitserk exhales. “Give me a fucking minute!” His hips writhe against you. “She feels so fucking good . . .”

You feel Ubbe take a seat on the couch next to your head, but he does not release your arms. His grip flexes impatiently, but at least he’s not pulling you bodily out from underneath his brother.

“She probably needs a rest too, dude,” Hvitserk continues, his breath warming your skin. “A little recovery time from all that.” As if realizing he was barely following his own advice, he withdraws himself carefully from your body and lets you move your legs more comfortably back together.

“Nah, she’s better than that,” Ubbe rumbles, voice thick and rich and proud. “She takes dick like a champ.” His fingers tickle under your chin until you look up at him. “You want two in a row, don’t you babe.” The gleam in his eye tells you he’s fully recovered from his last orgasm, and absolutely ready to go.

Hvitserk is being very nice. But is nice really what you want? You probably wouldn’t be in this position if that was the case. “Yeah,” you say, answering Ubbe’s growling with your own throaty sex kitten moan.

Ubbe’s blue eyes blaze and he tugs you towards him. Your legs wobble a little as you climb around the arm of the couch. Hvitserk’s promise kept. Ubbe sees your weakness and scoops you up, like any good predator would.

He whirls you around, getting you underneath his body as your back presses into the armrest of his side of the couch. He can only kiss you once, as sloppy as he is passionate, before he’s struggling with his pants.

That glorious erection is rock-hard as you help him free it from his clothing. He wastes no time pushing himself into you, as if he took Hvitserk’s dirty talk about “keeping this pussy full” quite seriously.

You might be just a little bit sore. That hardly matters when Ubbe gets his rhythm going, the aching only adding to the decadent pleasure of back-to-back fuckings.

He’s got one foot on the floor, giving him ridiculous leverage to split you open against the corner of the couch. You throw your arms around his neck and brace yourself, looking over his shoulder at Hvitserk’s sleepy-cat smile as the boy catches his breath while watching you get impaled.

“Touch yourself,” says Ubbe, shifting to pull your hand down between your bodies, flexing his fucking abs to curl his body and give you room as he continues to pound.

“Ivar said—”

“Don’t you want one more, before he makes that threat official?”

Fuck. Good point. See, Ubbe can be nice too. You let your fingers fly.

“I want to feel you cum all over my dick,” he grunts out, his pace increasing as he seems to turn himself on even more with just the thought. “And I want to hear it, too.”

It doesn’t take long. Your poor pussy shivers under Ubbe’s onslaught, the clenching of your muscles as you hold yourself up against it magnifying the oncoming orgasm into something that makes you want to scream like some kind of wild shieldmaiden between your teeth.

And Ubbe wanted to hear you. So you do. That sizzling pleasure radiates out of your core until your lower half locks up, clamping around him so hard that even his punishing pace has to slow.

When you suck in your next breath and the sound of your own voice fades, you hear Ubbe gasping. He’s coming too, locked down in your throbbing pussy. You stay like that, clenched tight and pressing up against him, for a few more breaths while your climax fades only slowly. You actually felt your inner walls milking him. Drawing that seed deep up inside you.

You release a throaty sigh and finally let your body unwind.

Ubbe presses his forehead against yours. “Fuck, princess,” he breathes. “How do you keep getting more amazing?”

You end up sprawled along the couch between them, your head in Hvitserk’s lap while Ubbe massages every kink out of the big muscles of your legs. You don’t feel self-conscious to still be naked. You feel like nothing less than a classical goddess. Something the masters would line up to paint, and even more; the utterly feminine deity that men have immortalized in clay and enshrined on cave walls since the dawn of the human capacity to think. Nothing more natural in the world than your naked, beloved body.

Which doesn’t mean that you’re not grateful when Ubbe spreads a warm blanket over you, when his massaging hands have mostly finished. Sure, you were going to spend the afternoon cleaning this room, but your eyes are drifting closed in the post-sex haze now. They’ll turn the game back on, won’t they, and let you take a little nap across their laps first.

But you don’t hear the TV turn back on. Not yet. Instead, a conversation begins above your dozing head.

“You do this with Ivar, dude?”

Ubbe shifts underneath your leg before he responds. “Not like this.”

Hvitserk makes a soft sound. “Didn’t think so.” There’s a pause, long enough to tempt you back into sleep, but you really want to hear if they’re going to say anything more about this. Hvitserk has known them his whole life. He probably has some insight that would be valuable for you to know. You shift a little in his lap though, making sure he knows you’re still awake. Wouldn’t be right to actually eavesdrop.

His hand comes to your head, stroking gently across your hair. “Can't believe Ivar's really sharing with you, dude.”

“Maybe I'm sharing with him.”

Hvitserk just laughs.

You open your eyes to see Ubbe shrugging. “It’s working out so far. I let him lead.”

“I didn’t think you could do that.”

Ubbe leans forward over your feet, grabbing his forgotten bottle off the coffee table. “He’s grown a lot, since we were all at home.” He takes a thoughtful swig. “I probably have, too.” He makes eye contact with you for a second, possibly acknowledging the awkwardness of talking about these things over your head, but doesn’t say anything that might draw you into the conversation.

Not that you have anything to say. You’re just soaking up every little piece of information you can get.

Your face is pointed away from Hvitserk; although you’re in his lap, you can’t really see anything of him but his knee.

“Well, it’s the only thing I’ve ever found that works with him. Ivar has to be the one in control, or it doesn’t go well.”

“You say that like I haven’t been living with him for years, too, dude.”

“I’m saying it because it’s hard to believe you can really pull that off. You’ve always had to kind of be the top dog yourself, dude.”

Ubbe’s fingers stroke you underneath the blanket. “Some things are worth a little compromise.”

Hvitserk bounces your head just a little. “What do you think? Is Ubbe ever really not the boss?” You rouse yourself, twisting your body until your face is pointed up at Hvitserk’s. “Pretty much ran the show today, didn’t he?”

You consider your answer, glancing between their waiting faces. At least they’re both smiling. This is not an answer you need to feel worried about crafting too carefully. “I think it was pretty natural for him to guide things today,” you say, looking up into Hvitserk’s eyes, “since you and I had never—” you trail off self-consciously as you stare up into that gorgeous face.

Hvitserk squeezes you up in his arms, and his smile turns mischievous. “But now we are very familiar with each other. Aren’t we.”

You nod, suddenly breathless again.

“You want to keep playing with me, while I’m in town?”

You smile and nod harder.

“Good,” Ubbe says, his hand running up your leg. “Cuz by my count, we’re not exactly done here. You got me off twice. Hvitserk only nutted once. That’s not right,” he says, shaking his head. “He’s our guest. You should spend tonight in bed with him, at the very least.”

And why do you get the feeling Ubbe’s going to find an excuse to be involved in that, too?

“No offense,” Hvitserk says, “but that’s the kind of shit I’m talking about, dude. Telling us what to do. You let anything not be Ivar’s idea, man, and you’re done.” Hvitserk’s gaze swivels back down to meet yours. “If he can’t hold some of that shit back,” he tells you, a smirk twisting up his cheek, “you’re never going to be able to have the both of them at the same time.”

Taglist is open: @hanhanxx @xxdearlybeloved@littledeadrottinghood @persephone-is-here-omg @rekdreams247 @inforapound @creepshowzombae @tomarisela @youbloodymadgenius @walkxthexmoon@funmadnessandbadassvikings @trashqueenbitch @justlovelifeblog @earl-aive @supernaturalvikingwhore @equalstrashflavoredtrash @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen @ceridwenofwales @grungyblonde @pokeasleepingsmaug @hvittysmutanon @honestsycrets @wuxiesalt @thorins-queen-of-erebor @writingfromasgard @tootie-fruity @lordsexmachine @uncomfortable-writers @sadbutatleastsassy @sweatstreatz01 @ritual-unions-gotme @likealostkiss @thehangedmanandthehoneybee @xxlilqueeniexx @thefightingdragon @xbergiex @artemiseamoon @ivarinleatherpants @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @michael-guerin @chibisgotovalhalla @heavenly1927 @writingsnmusings

#hvitserk x reader #ubbe x reader #hvitserk/reader #ubbe/reader #vikings fic #playing house fic #vikings college au

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clairecrive · 4 years ago

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"Rock my world" - Sirius Black x reader

A/n: I was thinking of making this a series but idk, let me know what you think. The band in the picture, Maneskin, are my inspiration for the marauders' band music and aesthetic. Check them out cause they're really good. They're going to represent Italy at the next Eurovision contest.

Here's their Instagram and Spotify.

Tags: Muggle AU, so ofc no magic, no Hogwarts, Marauders in a rock band, no Peter but Regulus instead, jily

Warnings: none

Word count: 2.2K ish

Summary: When y/n finally agrees to check out this band that her best friend was always talking about, she's in for a pleasant surprise and one hell of a night.

It had all started in the cheesiest and most cliscé of ways, really. Y/n had made a bet which had made you go out of your comfort zone that one night and for your bravery, you were rewarded with the most amazing boyfriend ever. It sounds like a story out of a rom-com or a romance novel, doesn't it? Well, yeah, it felt like a main character moment but, unlike what we see in those stories, it wasn't always fun and games.

But let's start from the beginning, shall we?

Y/n's best friend Jules had been nagging her about this rock band who was apparently the new sensation of the year according to her, for the longest time. So, one Friday night, when Jules had informed her that that very band was playing in a bar not very far from her workplace, she agreed to go for drinks there.

Worst case scenario, she thought, the music will be terrible but at least I get to tease Jules about it.

Still clothed in the floral dress she had chosen this morning, but adding a few glittery touches and graphic eyeliner to make her look more nighty, y/n headed towards said bar where Jules was already waiting for her.

"Finally," she huffed when y/n rounded the corner and entered her field of vision.

"Sorry, it was my turn to close tonight," y/n shot her an apologetic smile before hooking their arms.

They made their way inside looking for a place to sit. The bar was already crowded but not in an unusual way. Maybe it was the hour or the fact that it was a weeknight, y/n didn't know but felt grateful that it wasn't packed. She really wasn't a fan of crowded places.

They got their drinks and caught up as they usually would about their week. They were almost finished when the band walked up the stage and music started playing. Even before the first note, one look at their outfits made clear what kind of music they were going to play.

They had an interesting aesthetic, y/n had to admit. They wore the same colour but each member had their own style. The band was made up of four guys, the bassist had long straight hair and he looked a lot like the singer who instead had curly hair, the drummer had short curly light brown hair and y/n couldn't see what he was wearing past a black vest while the guitarist had black hair that was all over the place and wore glasses.

They had an androgynous aesthetic, each of them with beautiful makeup in tones of black and grey and the ones y/n could see clearly were wearing a sort of body. They looked stunning. Y/n had decided she liked them based on this alone. She had to admire anyone who had the guts to express themselves freely especially when it was in such an open and unapologetic way of going against gender norms.

After half an hour, the music stopped and after the singer wished everyone goodnight and they all climbed down. As she expected, they played rock music ranging from soft rock edging pop to hard rock that made her think a lot of ACDC. Y/n wasn't an expert in music but she had liked what she heard and wouldn't mind listening more from them. She was sure that she was going to catch some of their songs on the radio in the future.

However, Jules picked up the conversation where they had left it before the concert and decided that it was the time where she'd complain about her recent love interest. Each of their weekly meetings had one of this moment. Unfortunately, it looked like Jules didn't have a lot of luck when it came to guys. And as it always would, she wondered if she was the problem asking y/n if the reason every one of her relationships failed because she was unlovable. As if.

"That's not true, I truly believe that you can learn to love anyone. Lest you get to know them, of course."

"Of course you'd say something like that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"If you truly believe that, then you're not going to say no to this." Jules wriggles her eyebrows suggestively and y/n knew that the night is either about to become very interesting or about to go very wrong.

"The expression on your face is telling me that I should definitely say no to what you're about to say."

"Oh c'mon, it's just an innocent dare. Nothing too crazy, I promise."

"Which is?"

"You see that guy leaning on the bar? Long black hair with the black leather jacket?" Y/n turned around indulging her friend and eventually spotted the guy she was talking about. She took her time to look at him until she realized something that made her whip around to face Jules again.

"You mean the singer of the band?" y/n asked incredulously.

"Isn't he handsome?" Jules smiled wide completely ignoring the look y/n was giving her already knowing what was going through her friends' mind. "I want you to go to him and ask him out."

"What?"

"C'mon", Jules complained reaching out to y/n over the table, "didn't you say that it was possible to love anyone? Can't you see yourself loving him?"

"That's not the point," y/n exclaimed still not believing that her friend was suggesting something so outrageous. "Can you see him loving me?" Because that man over there had "heart breaker" spelt all over him. And okay, y/n had to admit that this was a rush judgment she was making and it wasn't exactly fair but there was no way that a guy like him could be interested in a girl like her.

And yes, we could stay here and discuss all the reasons why that statement is wrong but still, if she were to put herself out there -something that was not like her at all- she wasn't going to go over someone so out of reach for her. And that was that.

"Listen, do you remember that video you sent me the other day?" Jules squared her shoulders, now looking fully serious at y/n. Unfortunately, y/n did remember the video Jules was talking about. She would have never guessed it would come back and bit her in the ass otherwise she'd never sent it.

Sighing, y/n looked down at the drink in her hands and thought about it. The video basically encouraged the viewer to go up to what they believed was the most beautiful person in the room and tell them exactly that. It may sound a little silly but at the time y/n had appreciated the sentiment. Going out of one's comfort zone. Challenging yourself. Because, what was the worst that could happen? That person shotting you down? That didn't sound life-threatening. Now though, y/n wasn't so sure.

"Worst case scenario, just tell him I'm calling you and head back here." Jules offered, almost as if she could tell exactly what her best friend was thinking.

Looking at her best friend, something snapped in her. Jules was right. What's the worst that could happen? She already knew that the guy was going to shoot her down. She was prepared. It was a dare, a silly thing that could give her a story to tell to her nephews one day.

What the hell, y/n thought squaring her shoulders.

"You know what?" she downed the rest of her drink and got up from her seat, "I'm doing it." Looking in the reflection of the tissue box on the table to check how she looked, she fixed her smudged lipstick and ruffed her hair before nodding solemnly at Jules and turned around.

As she made her way to the bar, she could hear Jules cheering on her fueling her sudden confidence.

The man of the hour was there where she saw him last. Her steps faltered as she realized that she had no idea how to approach him. What was she going to say? Oh my god, she was totally going to make a fool of herself. If she was not going to die for his rejection, she sure is going to die of embarrassment.

She was almost about to turn around and abort the mission when his eyes met hers.

Well, fuck. There was no way she was going to back down now.

She regained her confidence and smiled at him while closing the distance between them. She smiled at him. Who was she? Did someone drug her drink?

He smiled back at her, turning so that he'd be facing her once she reached him and she almost stopped to pinch herself to see if she was hallucinating or something.

"Hey," she said once she stood in front of him. Good, she thought, let's start with something simple.

"Hi," he smiled back at her.

Okay, okay, it's going good, isn't it? He hasn't ignored me, that must mean something, right? Yes, that he wasn't a rude asshole was her sobering thought.

"So," y/n started trying to take to time while she figured what to say, "I saw a video the other day," was what she ended up with.

The handsome stranger lifted his eyebrows in amusement and took a sip of his beer. Y/n took that as a "go on then".

"There was this woman that basically dared anyone watching to go up to the person who they thought was the most beautiful person in the room and tell them exactly that." Well, let's just get it out of the way, I guess, she thought. "So, here I am," she added as if it wasn't clear enough.

However, as she saw the man's smile widen, y/n suddenly realized how really screwed she was. This man was way out of her league.

"Well, now that I'm here, I should also mention that you've really good at what you do too."

"Not to sound rude or anything," he spoke for the first time that evening and y/n had already decided that he had been the gods' favourite in another life before he opened his mouth but now? as he heard his low and raspy voice? she was sure he had been at least a demi-god, "did you lost a bet or something?" he asked, his grey eyes boring into hers like he was looking into her soul.

Who was this guy? and why was she feeling like this? Get a grip, y/n, she scolded herself.

"Is it that obvious?" y/n's shoulders slouched as some of the tension left them, a nervous laugh leaving her mouth.

"I saw you downing your drink like it was some kind of bravery potion before you came here," he explained with a light scroll of his shoulders. "Not that I mind though," he added with what should be an illegal smirk. Smug.

"Yeah, I'm sure you've heard it countless time only tonight." Let's joke on it, she thought, there's still a chance I can come clean out of this mess.

He chuckled and, not leaving her eyes, he slipped a hand through his loose hair pushing it back. "I meant that if you hadn't come I would probably found an excuse to come up to you too." He leaned back onto the bar looking completely unbothered, not as if he had said something that made her feel on fire.

"Looks like I've to thank your friend for my luck." Looking over your shoulder, he held one of his hands up and lightly waving at Jules, y/n figured.

"Yeah, let's not tell her that or I will never hear the end of it." Rolling her eyes, y/n also leaned on her arm resting on the bar next to him. Whether it was the fact that all the cards were on the table or that what he said meant that he had to somewhat like her, she felt more relaxed than a couple of minutes ago.

"Before I make this solemn oath, I think it would be appropriate to know your name, don't you think?"

"It's y/n," she held her hand up for him to shake. However, he had something else in mind since when he took hold of her hand he turned it and held it up to his lips to leave a soft kiss on it. Y/n almost rolled her eyes at the gesture if it wasn't for his eyes. They didn't move from hers and she found that she didn't want to stop looking at him. Like she was in a trance. Yes, he was handsome, even more so up close, so of course he was nice to look at but that wasn't why. It's the way his eyes glimmered as they watched her, the gentleness with which he was holding her hand, the softness of his lips on her skin. What would they feel like on her lips, she wondered.

"I'm Sirius."

And that's how it all started. A silly video sent almost automatically to her best friend and an outrageous bet made y/n's night definitely interesting. To her luck though, Sirius became a permanent presence and not a one-night sensation.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Tagging: @seldomabsent

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black AU #muggle AU #no hogwarts #no Peter either #the marauders are in a rock band #young!sirius black #marauders #sirius black one shot #sirius black imagine #sirius black imagines #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fluff #marauders x reader #marauders imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagines

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actlikeyoudidntdoit · 4 years ago

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ASSASSIN’S MODERN DAY PROFESSIONS

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ALTAÏR

College Professor

-We all know that Altaïr has spent most of his life teaching, so what better job does he have than a college professor?

-He knows what he’s talking about, that much is certain, but sometimes he gets a little too lost in his lesson to realize that his students are scratching their heads. So it’s normal to have students staying after class, but they leave understanding every word of what he said.

-He’s not the fun teacher, but he’ll be able to teach you what you need and still remember it at the end of the day.

-He’s pretty lenient, and even with the obnoxious students who cause a scene, he calmly gets them to at least do their work.

-Other teachers always use him as a reference when it comes to the perfect teacher.

EZIO AUDITORE

-I can see Ezio being a public speaker since he’s not all that scared of crowds and spends a lot of time giving advice, so I think he’d really enjoy being able to help a crowd of people whose lives are falling apart

-Ezio would be the single anchor in a sea of storms because he always seems to have an answer for everything. He’s a man whose words are turned into inspirational quotes that people hang on their walls.

-When he says that things will be okay, no one doubts him since they know that he lost his father and his brothers very early on and that it took years for Ezio to accept the loss the way he had. If he could soldier through it, why couldn’t they?

-He doesn’t involve himself in politics, finding them to be a waste of time and breath despite how many people ask for his input on the political status of the country he’s staying in.

-He speaks to a lot of people in private, letting them speak their minds and giving his advice if they want it. He’s a therapist without a license, and you always feel hopeful about life leaving his office.

Connor

Construction or Sports

-This boy was designed for heavy work, and I’ve heard some good points in saying that not only would he be amazing at sports, but he’d also really enjoy it too.

-In my personal headcanon, I think he’d be a good construction worker as well. Not the high end kind that build skyscrapers or anything, but I can see him building simple houses for small communities, taking the lower jobs that can’t afford much help like the sweetheart he is. He definitely volunteers to make houses for the homeless.

-Since most of the homeless he helps don’t have much money, he makes sure to offer them baked goods because he’s definitely a baker.

Edward Kenway

-As a young man, he joins the navy

-Once he’s on his own, he buys his own boat and treats it like royalty.

-He’s not a pirate himself, but he does let less legal people on board for a price. At the time, it was just an easy cash pay since people paid good money when they were desperate.

-When he’s older and gets a grip on some of the people he’s helping (like the REALLY bad criminals) he quickly lets it go.

-Yet after seeing some of the more decent people and the places they were running from, I can see him being a sort of smuggler, but instead of smuggling drugs or weapons, he sells medicines, canned foods, and clothes to the regions where they’re scarce or hard to pay for.

-When he’s older and found a fortune over time, he starts up his own official charity, hiring various sailers to sail supplies to more places than he himself could alone.

SHAY CORMAC

-Okay, I have to say it. Shay would DEFINITELY be an FBI spy. Maybe I haven’t thought of it as heavily as I could, but he just strikes me as a man who could kill someone in plain sight and still not be seen.

-He already knows everything he can about infiltrating and getting vital information

-He knows exactly how to manipulate people to get what he wants.

-He’s like Macgyver but as an agent.

-He does things that make sleeping at night impossible, but he tells himself that every long night for him is another person somewhere else having a peaceful night, and peaceful nights means he’s doing his job. Right?

-Constantly questions his morals, but he can’t bring himself to stop, not knowing that he’d do if he stopped, because at least here he’s doing something. He’s contributing.

-That and maybe I might or might not want to see Shay in a suit 🤷‍♀️

AVELINE

-Actress. And a damn good one. She’s one of the kind of people who get paid millions each job and gives most of her cash on people who really need it. Not only that, she’s a fan favorite everywhere.

-She takes extra jobs in smaller businesses barely staying afloat, and public morality boosts has nothing to do with it. In fact, she keeps her fame life out of everything, choosing to see it just as another job.

-I can see her sharing similarities of Zendaya or Zoe Zaldana

ARNO DORIAN

-High school teacher or actor, I can’t decide.

-Because let’s be honest, this guys brain is more wrinkled than a raisin. He knows his stuff.

-He’s good at simplifying what he’s saying, and that happens to be a very useful trait when it comes to teaching.

-If he was a teacher, he’d be a damn good one, that’s for sure. No one will fail his class because he’s so good at explaining things, and he’d be the one who actually cares for his students.

-When it comes to acting... just admit that Arno’s a theater boy through and through. If you need proof, he’s the only one with a crazy amount of fancy robes and colors. FOR GODS SAKE HE OWNS A THEATER! So on modern day, I could totally see him as an actor as well.

-He’d be the Ewan Mcgregor of the modern day, because everyone recognizes him from SOMEWHERE because he’s really tested his acting ability on multiple various roles. Well read, charming, and level headed, he’d totally rock being an actor. He’s good friends with Aveline, and when they both have time in their busy schedules, they stop by for coffee and fill each other in on their life.

JACOB

-Boxing

-I saw the photoshops of Jacob in boxer life, and I have not been the same because oh my god that is amazing.

-but absolutely he’d be a boxer. He’s the shortest guy in the entire match, but he doesn’t need a stool to knock you on your ass before you can laugh about it.

-His opponents are lucky shattering bones is against the rules because he knows how to make someone wish their dad wore a condom.

-A lot of people think that his rounds must be rigged, and his sister had to physically hold him back every time Jacob threatened to give him a close up of how ‘rigged’ his fights were.

-Jacobs a powder keg, so it doesn’t take much to make him explode, and a lot of the less respectful people he has to fight picks particularly sore spots to do just that.

-He might be pissed, but his punch isn’t the only thing that stings. He knows exactly what words to use, and when they’ve gone too far, he doesn’t hold back.

-Might have a temper, but he has a good heart despite it all. He visits schools and completely turns his personality around with kids. He signs autographs, takes pictures, and makes sure that every one of them have a fun day because he knows that there’s some kids in this school that don’t have those kinds of days. He pays the school for field days each time, making sure they all get out. They bring out the scooters, parachutes, capture the flag, and ‘wrestling’ matches for the kids who want to face him. He loses every time. He never has a bigger smile on his face than when he has children fans walk up to him.

EVIE

-She is totally a lawyer and you can’t change my mind.

-Logic and Facts are her strongest weapons, and so far she has yet to lose a debate.

-Every other lawyer knows that seeing Evie walk into court is an instant death sentence, because like her brother, her words are sharp as a knife and her mind is even sharper.

-If they didn’t look identical, no one would believe that she would be related with Jacob the hot headed boxer, because she was level as water and was near impossible to make angry, but god help the poor sod that presses her.

-Her clients almost always get the best case scenario with Evie by their side by how good she is.

-Also like her brother, children are her weak spot, and her hard composure melts whenever she needs to speak to a child in the witness post, making sure that the child feel comfortable unlike the others that drill the kid with questions when they’re too skittish to answer. She takes her time and gets the kid feeling safe, and gently asks their side.

-Evie might not do it as a profession, but Evie has beaten Jacob in the boxing ring in the gym. She knows damn well how to handle herself, knowing she’d need it since she’d be fighting corrupt politicians or gang members who have too often tried attempts at her life. Every time she emerged unscathed, using the attempt at even more evidence against them and insuring a spot in jail. No one dared try attacking her again after that.

BAYEK

-I’m thinking police officer or motivational speaker for trauma.

-Either way, he’s a guardian who takes care of the people he’s in charge of. He knows words well, and having been down the dark path himself, he knows exactly what people experience and what they want to hear.

-Be the change you want to see in the world, and that’s exactly what he’s doing.

-He’d be a well respected officer, and he’s not afraid of telling off a comrade if someone is wrongfully accused. He’s not very popular in the police station, but as long as he’s doing his job, he’s satisfied.

-He’s saved several people over the course in his life, and his word is well honored since he’s on no ones side. He sees things as what they are and doesn’t twist events he disagreed with to his point of view. Even if it hurts him personally, he doesn’t lie.

-He’s divorced, but they’re still best friends with each other and visit when they can.

AYA (ran out of gifs. Sorry)

-She is hands down a self defense teacher for women

-She sells hidden self defense tools for less than ten dollars, always sure to keep constantly supply of them since many have confessed that they’ve saved them from dangerous situations.

-Like her former husband, she’s a protector and makes sure she provides her students with the best.

-She teaches children what to do if they ever get grabbed, and she’s had many parents in years thanking her when that information ended up saving their child’s life.

ALEXIOS

-Hands down he is a stunt double

- Preferably Arno’s since he relies more on flexibility than brute strength. Then there’s the fact that they look similar enough in features

-He does the moves that would probably be safer if they were just CGI, but he hates those computers with a passion, preferring to do the real thing instead of giving out something fake. He’s broken more bones than he can count, and the companies he works with always have a medic on standby when something goes wrong.

-They tried convincing him that they only needed him for a few spots, but after realizing that he wanted this (and him assuring them that he doesn’t bother with suing), they let him do his thing. The results are fruitful since the most nitpicky movie fans are absolutely thrilled when there’s a particular move done right.

-He teaches Arno a good few things about how to do action scenes, and they’re definitely good friends.

KASSANDRA

-Roller Derby

-She lives for throwing people and smacking them without being judged for it, so the Derby’s her safe spot.

-Everyone on the opposing team is terrified of her, always scared when they see her devilish smile, knowing that they’re about to get their asses handed to them. Like her brother, she’s an adrenaline junky, and when she’s not doing the derby, she’s going off into car races in a water trench. She’s surprisingly very good with cars too, knowing the inside and out of a car like the back of her hand.

-She loves it when men try to catcall her. It gives her a perfect opportunity to punch them in the face.

-She loves the races themselves because no one expects it. Sometimes she pretends to act like a beginner and absolutely slaughter them, giving them a nice wink before driving out with her cash.

-Only has a soft spot for the girl who visits her on weekends. She’s practically her older sister, and there will be hell to pay if her favorite kid gets hurt in any way.

EIVOR

-BACA(Bikers Against Child Abuse)

-The moment I saw this, I instantly thought about them.

-they would absolutely be a part of this

-Looking all badass in leather while turning into a softie for children? That’s Eivors entire character right there.

-Eivors not afraid to get physical with an abuser. They’d beat the abuser to a pulp and right after take the child out for ice cream.

-No one messes with Eivor, knowing that their lenience was stretched only for children. Anyone else tried to pressure her? Your teeth would be shattered and they’d wear the bits for a necklace.

-Children are much more brave around them because they’re tougher than their parent and on their side, so they’re not afraid to give them to the police

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7wanderingpaws · 4 years ago

Text

Mess We Made - second (m)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: arranged marriage au (not bbh), doctor AU, university AU (this chapter only), fluff, ANGST

Words: 12K

WARNINGS: language, unprotected sex, terrible family relations, stalking

Quick A/N: Goodness. This is long. I need to sleep! ENJOY! And thank you for patiently waiting ❤

tags: @byunfirstlady @blackon @puppyeoliepop @in3vitably3v3 @mangobaek @bobohumyonlyboo @wooya1224 @exortedgoods @gureuma ( if you want to be tagged/untagged please reply to this post)

>> A very special shoutout to @byunfirstlady because she rocks and deserves all the best! ><

parts: first -- second -- third -- fourth (last)

Mess We Made, part 2

Gentle puffs of hot air were hitting the shell of your ear as he was whispering something to you. The tip of his nose was poking you in the side of your cheek and you giggled, squirming away from him but his hand under your shirt and on your hip were preventing you from doing so.

“Where are you off to,” he whispered teasingly again, smiling widely as he bit your earlobe gently while his arm tightened around you. He wasn’t letting you squirm away that easily. “It’s too early.”

“You literally didn’t let us sleep the whole night,” you whispered back, still shimmying under his wandering hand. “It’s basically time to get up and my eyes are stinging from having no rest,” you pouted, blinking them a few times to prove a point. You were lying on your back while Baekhyun was propped on one elbow, hovering over you. Baekhyun’s shirt was the only piece of clothing on you. While he was completely naked, it seemed to be his second nature by now. After so much time together, his personality and preferences were more than familiar to you.

“Because I want to enjoy you as much as I can. And because I don’t want you to go,” he whined quietly and you giggled again, turning on your side to face him, hiding in his chest. “I really don’t want you to go, love. What do I do?”

You kissed his chest and looked up at him with a small smile. “I won’t go then.”

Baekhyun returned the smile but there was something in his eyes- that something giving you slight uneasiness. He was hesitating. Usually, he would immediately agree and it wasn’t like he had to beg you to stay; if anything, you had to beg him to kick you out because there was no way you would willingly leave his place and his warmth by your own choice.

“But I will have to go,” you added, verbalizing the sentence he secretly wished to hear but wouldn’t voice it. “Since my parents are waiting for me.” You didn’t give two damns about your parents. You really, really didn’t. But Baekhyun did. So you should, too.

Baekhyun caressed your hip bone, his hand sliding over your tummy where he tickled you, causing you to squirm once again under his touch. “I will meet you later, if you want,” he said, smiling when he saw your lips widely stretched in a silent laugh. “We can go to the coffee shop and be a little productive.”

You groaned, hiding your face in his chest again. Baekhyun let his hand slide over your back, enjoying the warmth your skin was emitting. “I don’t want to study. I want to cuddle you and kiss you and just feel you.”

Baekhyun’s chuckle was quiet but so handsome. He kissed your neck lovingly, puckering his lips three, four times. His lips were so smooth and soft; you wished you could stop the time now and live in the moment forever. “You felt me the whole night, didn’t you?” he rasped.

“Besides,” you added and leaned back a bit to look at his affectionate gaze. “We have some free time now before university starts.” His messy hair was falling over his eyes and you hummed, sliding your fingers through the strands, brushing them back and revealing his forehead. “Let’s make the most out of that. Just you and me.”

The air in the room felt warm. Whether it was from the activities you did the whole night or because you simply couldn’t not blush under his hooded eyes, you wouldn’t know. But when he leaned in to kiss you, unable to hold back any longer, you knew it was simply Baekhyun’s presence that was keeping you hot inside. With his hand on your naked skin, with his tongue teasing your lips or just a simple smile was what kept you burning hot, passion swallowing you and blinding you at the same time. If you were to keep walking, it was because of him. Thanks to him.

There were no cars parked in front of your house as you typed in the code for the tall wooden gate. Usually, there was some guest present but it was unusually peaceful. It almost made you excited because you naively believed your parents wouldn’t be home. Them not being home equaled time to yourself and more time to think through how you would approach the upcoming (dreader) discussion.

Stupid marriage, you thought unhappily as you entered the house. Making a beeline towards the kitchen, you were surprised yet again to find it empty. Wasn't it almost lunch time? Where were the maids? And the cooks?

It was all too strange which made you walk around, what was an obviously empty, house in order to find someone. Sure, your house was huge, and getting easily lost in it was a common issue for guests who were not hosted well, but this was beyond everything you expected.

Making the final decision to check your father’s office, you stopped in front of the sturdy wooden door. No sounds were coming from there, but the wood was too thick anyways. Clearing your throat gently, you opened the door and walked in the spacious room. It was also vacant, his chair turned to the side as if someone stood up from it in a hasty manner. Some documents were scattered around his otherwise well-organized table, so there wasn't anything out of ordinary until you felt a presence behind you, and you turned. You let out a shocked gasp when you saw your mother’s strict, emotionless face while standing straight with her arms crossed on her chest. She was, as per usual, well-dressed, her make-up one shade too light for her darker skin making her seem almost lifeless. You shuddered, but before you could react, she snapped.

“Do you like what you see? Empty house, no maids to run around you nor your family to welcome you?”

This time, you were really startled by her words. “What?”

“This is what will happen if you continue disobeying us, dear daughter. There won't be anyone to tend to your needs, no one to cook for you, to clean for you, not even me and your father will be there if you continue meeting that boy.”

You snorted, disbelief written all of your face as you sent daggers with your eyes. She dared to attack and mention Baekhyun again? “What is wrong with you-”

“Where were you last night until now?”

Scrambling to compose your still shocked state, you muttered: “You know where I was.”

She let out a humorless laugh and you noticed her jaw clenching. “What do you think you are doing? What were you even doing?” She reached out to the collar of your dress and yanked it sideways, revealing your collarbones along with your shoulder. Even though you didn't see exactly what she was looking at, you knew very well what she found there. You felt your heart jump in fear.

“Fooling around with him in bed?” she grumbled and snapped her cold eyes at you. “Letting him mark you? You little bitch.” The back of her hand landed with your cheek, the sting bringing tears to your eyes as your head snapped to the side, your hair covering half of your face from the strong blow. ��How stupid must you be to be this irresponsible?!”

You held the abused cheek, biting your lip hard to prevent you from letting out a sob. You turned at her. “How dare you! I told you I will not comply and let that other man touch me-”

Her hand landed again on your cheek; the other one. “Wrong answer.”

You stepped away from her before she could hit you again, now letting the tears fall from your eyes. “You're crazy, mother,” you whispered, “you and father are both crazy.”

“That other man is your future husband,” she seethed, making a menacing step closer to you which prompted you to step back. “And he won't accept you cheating behind his back with some kid-”

“Stop talking about him like he is a no one!” you screeched loudly, losing your calm, surprising your mother and yourself in the process. Seeing your mother was finally silenced, you added: “He is the one I love, mum! I already said I will marry the guy, but you cannot take Baekhyun away from me! He is the only good thing I have in my life,” you cried. Your tears were scorching hot on your already reddened cheeks, just like Baekhyun's warmth that you were supposed to leave behind.

“The only good thing?” she repeated, disgusted. “After everything we have provided for you - you always had food and luxury! The least you can do to repay us is to do as we say!” she shouted, swishing her hands in the air. “I didn't even tell you off when you kept bringing bad grades home. I didn't bother. After all, you went to a useless, regular high school with no reputation. But right now, when I am telling you to do as I say, you decide to go against me?! I won't tolerate it! You will break up with him, and you will marry Mr Kwon. I made arrangements already, and he won’t impregnate you until you are done with university.”

Your gasp was loud, overwhelming the both of you, but your mother was faster to brush it off and continue with her nonsense. Her words were like a cut of a dagger; precise, because she knew your weak points, and very painful, because her goal was to wound you and eventually destroy you, leaving you in pain that would make you surrender to her orders.

“Impregnate?” you finally let out, voice trembling. “What the actual hell! I TOLD YOU. I am not letting him touch me.”

“Well,” she pressed an ugly, wrinkly smile, “you will have to. We need an heir. A boy.”

Sick. You were sick to your stomach at the idea of Mr Kwon smiling at you, let alone touch you at your most private parts and let him take you. The idea was maddening, and you desperately wanted to pull at your hair, hoping it would be a good enough sign for your mother to understand you didn't want to be part of an arranged marriage.

“Mum,” you whimpered finally, letting more tears fall as you connected your hands in front of your chest, pleading. “Mum, please. Don't do this. I will… I will do anything else you want me to, but please… You can't simply let him sleep with me.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You're acting as if you haven't been bedded already,” she said through gritted teeth. She was so disgusted by you, you couldn't help but take the hurt. Family was supposed to support you, be warm and kind and helpful, but her and your father were anything but. However, it never ceased to hurt you; the way she looked impersonal towards you, and right now, disgusted. As if you were some trash; someone unworthy of love and understanding.

“Please,” you whispered, closing your eyes for a moment.

“Wash up,” she grumbled resolutely before her eyes fell on the still exposed shoulder, “and hide that stupid mark with some make-up. Mr Kwon will be over for dinner-”

“NO!” you screeched, stomping your foot. “I WILL NOT MEET HIM!”

“Unless you want me to beat you up until your pretty-for-nothing face is marked just like he marked your neck, then I advise you to go. Wash. Up.” She turned around and walked away with resolute steps.

There was a crack within you; it literally felt like a knife slashing through your weak organ that was your heart.

“You’re cruel, mother!” you shouted after her, despite her not paying you any more attention, and you ran out of the office and up the wide staircase that would lead you to the only place you could hide in. Your room.

Shaky hands grabbed at the hair tie, yanking it out of your hair and throwing it across the spacious room. It was followed by your dress, also thrown to the other side while you stomped to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you. Its surface was cold on the skin of your naked back as you slid down, sobbing.

How many times have you been in this position already? How many times have you cried like this, despair pooling in the pit of your stomach, hoping, praying that things would somehow magically turn over and you’d feel some sort of relief? That relief never came and your misery would only worsen. Maybe it was exactly because of your high hopes, you thought as your sobbing slowly ceased, leaving you with only quiet whimpers and a throbbing headache. Maybe it was because, at the end of the day, you’d have Baekhyun who would bring out all the best and kindest and the most positive parts out of your suffering soul.

The thought of him made you only weep again, but you became determined as well. For him, you’d do anything. Anything.

He said to obey.

And you would.

Just before the main guest would arrive, your mother pushed a familiar pink gift bag into your hand. “You didn’t even open this ever since you decided to grace us with your presence,” she pressed through her gritted teeth, holding back from raising her voice. As much as she wished to smack you, she also didn’t want to cause a ruckus just before Mr Kwon would arrive. She needed you to look your best, which you did. “Open it and make sure to mention the gift,” she ordered and took a sharp look-over at your dressed up figure.

As promised, you hid all the hickeys Baekhyun left on you blinded by his passion and desire last night. The polite black dress was hugging your curves just in the gentlest ways, not too much but still leaving a good image of what you were hiding underneath. The colour of your stockings was of your skin, but with a glistening touch, making your legs look more desirable. Hair politely combed, wavy at the ends and tucked behind your ears. Perfect.

“Finally you know how to dress up properly to your age,” mumbled your mother. When you didn’t respond and averted your gaze to the ground, she hesitated before heaving out a sigh. “He’ll be here soon,” she turned around to leave your room. “Prepare.”

You were surprised when your mother shut the door quietly behind herself, giving you the necessary time to actually get ready and collect your thoughts.

The bag, just as yesterday, felt heavy in your fingers and you decided to finally take out the small, cream-coloured box, most probably promising a pricey gift. Sitting down at the edge of your bed, you quickly opened it to find a pretty set of earrings and a necklace. Earrings consisted of two pearls while the necklace was a simple silver necklace with a single pearl in the middle.

Noticing their unusual shape, you could tell right away that they were real pearls. Each piece of irregular shape made the actual stone throw all kinds of colors of the rainbow. It was beautiful, it really was, but not something you’d expect from someone you had never met. It strengthened the idea that what was about to go down in the future was, in fact, real. He was pursuing you.

Sighing tiredly, you felt your eyes burning up once again but was abruptly stopped when your phone vibrated on the vanity where you left it. Quickly moving to take it, you instantly smiled when you saw Baekhyun’s picture and his caller ID on display.

“Baby,” you sighed breathily, eager to hear his voice.

First you heard his handsome chuckle before he spoke: “My princess. Just wanted to check on you. I told you to text me once you’re home,” he scolded gently.

You bit your lip before quickly releasing it, remembering you had lipstick on. “Sorry I got… busy,” you murmured eventually. Not sure whether to tell him about the dinner, you decided to keep quiet. If he heard your uncertainty, he’d know something was up right away.

He hummed. “There was no trouble, right?” His voice was careful, hesitant. He always trusted you but he also knew you would lie if he asked.

You lied anyway. “Of course. You know I’m not that easily breakable, right? There is no need to worry, Baekhyun.”

He sighed. “I always worry about you.” And about your family hurting you. He kept that to himself though. “But as long as I hear your voice and know your fine, it’s more than enough.”

You closed your eyes, desperately wishing you could be with him, in his bed, while he studied and you’d observe him. Anything would be better than the situation you were in now. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” he was fast to reply. “Always. I missed you even before you left this morning.”

You giggled, covering your mouth even though no one saw you. “I’ll gladly sneak out tonight.”

“No. Stay home. Don’t want you getting into trouble-“

“You know I’d do it even with you disapproving.”

“Oh, I know you would, sweetheart. I know.”

“I’d do anything for you, Baekhyun,” you whispered, “in a heartbeat.”

He was silent for a moment. You weren’t sure why he wasn’t replying, but then again, your words bore quite a powerful meaning. “And I’d do anything to protect you and keep you happy.”

Burning tears came to life when you heard his low voice, sending shocks down your body. “Then never leave me.”

Silence again.

“Baekhyun,” you muttered, “promise me you won’t leave me.”

Why wasn’t he replying as fast as he did just a few moments ago? Were you asking for too much? Were you crossing boundaries? That made you scoff. You and him had such a strong and intimate relationship, there was no space for any boundaries. Your relationship seemed to be limitless.

“I won’t leave you, love,” was his answer finally. “I love you too fucking much for me to leave you.”

“Then that’s enough,” you sighed shakily, knowing it was time for you to hang up and face the dreaded. “As long as I know you love me and won’t leave me, all will be well.”

The silence in the dining room was one of the worst things your life had put you through. The chewing sounds, clinking of the cutlery along with slurping were the only noises that you heard physically, while your mind was about to explode with your thoughts.

Mr Kwon was sitting directly opposite you, to your misfortune, while your parents were seated in their usual spots, your father being at the head of the table. It was almost the absolute end of you when the servers put octopuses on the table as the main dish. Shooting them a horrified glare, they could only widen their eyes at you, silently asking for your forgiveness when they knew octopuses made you puke your guts out. Just the sight triggered your gag reflex and you ended up swallowing the rice through the wrong pipe, causing you to start a spree of aggressive coughing. Definitely not lady-like.

“Oh my, look at you,” chided your mother who was next to you, tapping your back with good enough power. “You eat too fast, darling,” she said knowingly and when you turned to glare at her, she only chuckled, taking in your red face.

“Maybe have octopuses,” suggested Mr Kwon with a chuckle as he reached for one right away. “They certainly won't make you suffocate.”

Your presence alone is suffocating enough, you thought bitterly but made sure to break a smile to show respect even though it was killing you. Quickly reaching for a jar with water, you wanted to pour yourself some very much needed liquid when you saw the man's hand in your line of vision, and he poured you water.

“Eat carefully, miss,” he murmured, giving you the slightest of honest smiles.

You bowed your head in gratitude before gulping down. It gave you the relief you desperately seeked, but the sight of the octopuses was creating an uncomfortable bulge in your stomach.

“So, now that we enjoyed the main dishes, we shall talk about some business, what do you say, Mr Kwon?” suggested your father in a friendly manner, connecting his fingers as he rested his elbows on the table.

Mr Kwon nodded. “Oh, yes, we shall do that. The meal was terrific, by the way.”

“Thank you, I will make sure to tell the kitchen staff,” smiled brightly your mother, hiding her grin behind her hand. You tried not to shudder at the tense, over-polite atmosphere, but on the other hand you were dying to find out more about your fate. With Baekhyun on your mind, you braced yourself, ready to fight for whatever was to come.

Your father gave you a brief glance before facing the expectant Mr Kwon. “Well, I suppose we should set a wedding date. Given we discussed most of the business part, we should now focus on you and our daughter.”

“Yes, yes. I would like to suggest marriage once she enters university,” proposed Mr Kwon importantly and you felt blood leaving your face immediately. “As you know, I would also like to get to know her better and I believe that if we will start our marriage early on, we both can earn ourselves some valuable time before starting a family. I also do not want her to steer away from me too much.”

No. No, no, no. “Actually, may I say-”

“No, you may not,” muttered your mother, squeezing your thigh under the table. She quickly looked at Mr Kwon who had a questioning look. “Would you like the ceremony when her first semester starts? You see, she is a good student, so I'd like her not to steer away from her studies too much.”

Surprised, you stole a glance at your mother, but she was facing your future husband. Your heartbeat was frantic in your chest and you swore you would pass out at the idea of your mother trying to protect you in some twisted manner, despite her fighting you like a wild bull.

“What do you suggest, then?” asked Mr Kwon, his attention fully on your mother.

She took a deep breath and her hand left your thigh, leaving behind a warm, but uncomfortable feeling on your skin. “Marriage after graduation.”

The man in question raised his eyebrows slowly, thinking over the suggested idea. Meticulously, he scrutinized your mother before his eyes fell on your wavering gaze. It was almost scorching, and you couldn't help but look down at your lap where your hands were politely connected. Noticing the sickeningly white skin of your knuckles, you didn't realize you were squeezing them together in order to fight the nerves.

“Alright,” he rasped eventually, causing you to raise your head in hope. “Under some conditions, though.”

Your heart died a little bit at that, but it didn't matter. You had four years ahead. Four years of freedom. With Baekhyun. “I am to do what my initial plan was,” he started, “and that is to get to know my future wife well. I do respect her needs, however I would like to visit her on various occasions and take her out, too. She shouldn't be a newbie to the house where I live in, so I demand to have at least one night with her-”

“Oh, Mr Kwon,” chimed in your mother nonchalantly, while your father shot her a warning look, “let me remind you that we would like our daughter to finish her bachelor degree on time. Which means we wouldn't want unwelcome pregnancies or such.”

Your throat went dry and you almost whimpered at the horrific idea.

“Are you suggesting no physical contact until after marriage?”

“Excuse me,” you said in a tiny tone, withering under the adults' strict gazes, “but this is my life and my body we talk about here.” You bravely looked at Mr Kwon's face. “As much as I understand and respect your request, I do not wish to do anything more until we know each other well enough,” you hesitated, before adding, “until I feel ready. You know yourself that I am still young and have a desire to live a little bit before I will settle down with you.”

“By living a little bit I hope you do not mean finding other boyfriends,” he cut in, the slightest of scoffs tinting his voice. “From this moment on, you are to tend to me only.”

“Actually-”

“Actually,” this time your mother cut in, her hand back on your thigh, wordlessly silencing you, “we understand your request.” She paused and you held your breath. “We agree, of course. She shouldn't be seeing anyone else besides you.”

“And has she been seeing anyone else before?” quipped Mr Kwon, leaning back in his chair, his stance somehow lazy. “Does she have experience? Has she been bedded before?”

You winced and your head snapped to your father, your eyes pleading with him to do something.

“I'd rather not…” your father trailed off, obvious discomfort on his face, “talk about this. We promised you our daughter and we are willing to make the wedding ceremony once she graduates in four years. Until then, you are to pursue her,” he decided, authority now dripping from his voice. “Feel free to contact her, but our conditions are as I stated just now. Marriage after graduation. Otherwise, we comply with your requests to be with her. She won't be seeing anyone else. Do not worry, Mr Kwon.”

Mr Kwon was watching you and that scared you. Was the fact that you were in a relationship written all over your face? You hoped not, even though you desperately wanted to tell him that yes, indeed, you had a boyfriend. You already had someone who occupied every possible space in your heart and in your mind.

“Alright,” said the guest, “may I suggest a little talk face to face here with our young miss?”

“But of course!” agreed your mother without hesitation and in no time, her and your father were gone, both of them shooting you warning glares. If only they could support you for once. Was that too much to ask for? Though you had to be honest. You were satisfied that you still had something you could hold for yourself.

“Miss,” Mr Kwon snapped you out of your thoughts. He stood up and walked over to you, motioning for you to stand up as well. You hastily did, quickly adjusting your skirt, which didn't go unnoticed by his sharp eyes. Feeling your cheeks reddening, you didn't look up.

He was quiet for a little while longer before softly muttering: “My gift looks very pretty on you. I have to say, I feel baffled that you decided to wear the pearls for me.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, but you still refused to look up at him. It was anything but for him.

“I assume you must be startled by the events, but I assure you I won't harm you. In the adult world, it is only normal to follow natural instincts though,” he murmured again as he made a step closer. “And you are definitely a breath-takingly beautiful young woman.” Suppressing the shivers, you nodded to show you were listening. He chuckled lowly. “No need to be shy around me. I prefer my women brave and confident. Like they know what they want.”

You raised your head now, reciprocating the eye contact. “In that case - I am still eighteen, Mr Kwon. I would appreciate it if you respect that.”

“I didn't even do anything,” he laughed again, shaking his head, taking your words as a joke. “But I like it. Okay. You got me. I will ask your parents for your telephone number and from now on,” he paused and leaned in a little closer, his strong cologne hitting your nose, “we shall deal with everything privately. Just the two of us.” He leaned back, checking your face for some reaction. You were shaken. “Alright?”

You nodded, wanting it to be quickly over. “Alright.”

“I'll make sure no one else will roam around you, miss. From today on, you are mine.”

It was yet another of the many times that you cried in your bed. Guilty feelings eating you away, the creeping sense of disgust at everything that you had to listen to and become part of sooner than later.

You were trying to think your situation over - how you could trick Mr Kwon to make him believe you weren't seeing anyone. In a way, you were thankful your mother and father never mentioned you already having a boyfriend as much as you wanted to shout it to the whole world. It was better to keep Baekhyun a secret which was basically one step to being in a relationship you didn't want to be. Baekhyun already became a forbidden fruit and you wondered what would happen if Mr Kwon found out.

You never told Baekhyun what was the deal between your parents and Mr Kwon. As much as he knew you were secretive and he tried to be the same Baekhyun as before, you couldn’t help the lurking feeling of your relationship's dynamics suddenly changing.

It shifted.

Unfortunately, in the wrong direction.

It’s been almost four years now that you’ve been attending university, meaning the sacred time to part was coming up, and you saw your boyfriend less and less. Even if the weather was nice and all you’ve asked was five minutes of his precious time, Baekhyun slowly but surely refused to give it to you. He would make sure to make it up later but the slightest hint of distance was palpable in his eyes and his touches.

In the beginning, you still enjoyed each other as much as you used to. He would bring you along to parties and show everyone you were together. You would bring him along to your get-togethers and make sure all the ladies knew he was yours. You slept at his place whenever you could and you were still just as crazy about each other as you used to be.

It was only once Mr Kwon started to take you out, asking for dinner dates and sometimes even making unannounced visits, was when your relationship started to break. You hated that word dearly; to break. You hated to use that word in the same sentence with Baekhyun's name. But you got the hunch that Baekhyun was suspicious. He knew something was up, he was not dumb. Suddenly, it was you rejecting his advances, it was you busy and with little time to spare. So you made sure he wouldn't get the hint and masked everything. Mr Kwon was not allowed to give you unannounced visits and you had to meet him somewhere far away from campus (it was convenient since he always treated you to expensive, tasteless food in Gangnam).

Over those few years, you and Baekhyun developed a routine; at the beginning of each semester, both of you exchanged your timetables. But in your final year, despite you knowing about Baekhyun's whereabouts, he would either stay later in school or hang out with his classmates. Thankfully, he took you many times with him - to lunches and dinners and get-togethers. Many of his friends there had girlfriends and you were never surprised that Baekhyun managed to win over almost everyone in his year. Because even if you were there as his girlfriend, his hand on your thigh to prove it, there were still so many girls, younger and older, swallowing him up with dark, hungry eyes.

Just where did the good old days go? In the good old days, you would be inseparable. There was no one who could stay between you two, even if it was your evil parents. He would kiss you, you would hug him, he would caress you and you would lay your head on his shoulder. You’d sneak out to see him, and he would create a new, safe home for you even if it meant just for a night. You risked so much to be with him; even now when you were under a scrutinizing watch of Mr Kwon, you’d always go and try to see Baekhyun.

So why was Baekhyun acting like this? With every passing day, he would drift away from you and you felt like you were trying to grasp onto him desperately, preventing him from leaving your side. Baekhyun was always by your side. He belonged there.

You were in your final year now, the beginning of a brand new, and last, semester when you decided to sign up for a fashion design class. You weren’t sure why you did it; the constant doodling as a way to get rid of your negative emotions, you grew to love grabbing a pencil and just let the sharp tip of it slide on the crisp surface of the paper. Fashion was something you always had to excel at given your reputation so when you found yourself sketching some pretty lingerie, you decided it wouldn’t be a bad move to attend a class that you actually liked, unlike the rest.

“But why does it have to be in the evening?” whined Baekhyun who was walking you to the seminar room. His hair was messy and it wasn’t because of your fingers. Apparently he had been in the library since 6am.

You sighed, and hugged your books closer to your chest, the chilly autumn evening catching you unprepared. You loved the deep red dress you wore today, but not only you were cold, but the heels were killing your feet too. “You’re always busy, Baekhyun. Why is it suddenly so difficult for you to accept that I will be busy one evening out of seven?”

He went silent and you knew you hit a sensitive spot. “You’re right.”

That made you feel… disappointed. He wouldn’t even try to fight anymore.

“Let’s talk after your class,” he suggested when you stopped in front of the classroom. There was some movement inside, most probably the professor preparing the materials for the seminar.

Baekhyun’s words left you feeling uneasy. “About what?”

He looked at you but his gaze was unreadable. He didn’t smile but didn’t frown either, until you saw the slightest clench of his jaw before he relaxed it. “About us.”

You instantly had tears in your eyes but you pressed your lips together, praying you wouldn’t start wailing now. Despite that, you shivered. “Maybe another time,” you tried.

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I really need to talk to you.”

“So when you want to talk to me I need to have time but when I was chasing you the past years, you couldn’t even give me five goddamn minutes of your precious time!”

He was taken aback at the raise of your voice but didn’t comment on it, nor did he act upon it. “I think you know that we have too many unresolved issues.”

“I don’t want to solve them,” you replied stubbornly.

He frowned. “What? What’s the matter with you?” he asked, exasperated. “You’ve been acting so strange,” he added, saying your name with so much seriousness it made you shiver again. “All I want is to talk.”

“But you will break up with me,” you said, voice low now and your chin trembling. “I know it. And I don’t want to.”

“No,” he was fast to whisper, shaking his head as he stepped closer to you, “I don’t want to break up with you, angel,” he whispered into your ear now, his hands gently cradling your head as he hugged you to him.

You whimpered, dropping your books so you could squeeze his slim waist and hide your face in his chest. His sweater had a pleasant scent of his detergent and it made you feel instantly at home. “Then what is it,” you gritted your teeth to prevent yourself from sobbing.

He sighed, knowing how he must have shattered you over the time. He grew distant, he was aware of that. But Baekhyun was also a perfectionist. He had to excel in classes, he had to make sure he knew what he was doing in order to become a qualified doctor as he always dreamed about. However, him being meticulous with his studies made him lose someone who was very special to him - you. “I miss you,” he whispered. “I just want to make sure we are in the clear. I want to spend more time with you. But I want to talk.”

“I’ve been missing you for so long,” you mumbled, ignoring the few students who were passing by and entering your classroom. He had a sad look on his face and you weren’t sure you wanted to know why. “I’ll come to your place. Will the other guys be out?”

He grasped your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I don’t know. I don’t care. Just head straight to my place, alright?” he said, attempting to smile.

Baekhyun was sharing an apartment with his friends just across the campus so it was convenient for him and for you. Even though they could be annoying sometimes, they knew not to play around you too much, given how ignorant you were towards anyone that wasn’t a Byun Baekhyun.

You nodded and Baekhyun hummed in acknowledgment, leaning in to kiss your forehead. You sighed, satisfied.

��Enjoy your class,” he murmured, his lips still brushing your skin. “I'll be waiting for you.”

Before he could let go of your hand and walk away, you pulled him towards you, ignoring his questioning gaze and stood on your tiptoes, pressing your lips together. You felt him heave out a soft breath before he cradled your face and angled you up to have better access as he teased you with his tongue.

Someone cleared their throat out of nowhere and you gasped, disattaching from Baekhyun's lips a smooch that made you blush. He let go of you when he zoomed in on someone and you turned to find a young professor standing in the doorway to the seminar room. “Are you joining my class?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Quickly bowing to him, you nodded, apologizing as you made your way to the classroom. Before the doors could completely close, you looked at Baekhyun who gave you a supportive smile.

You could smell cigarettes in the corridor as you stood in front of Baekhyun's apartment door. It wasn't the nicest building; some weird people lurking here and there, but you knew he worked hard to earn the place so you never told him how you actually felt about the place.

You typed in the code, letting yourself enter and quickly took off your heels, chasing the very much needed relief in your aching feet.

“You came.” Baekhyun appeared from his room, a big grey hoodie and black pants looking extra comfortable and cuddly on him.

He walked over to you and this time he initiated the small kiss. “How was class?” he asked, taking your bag from your hand as he moved to the kitchen. He was about to lift it up when your sketchbook fell out, the pages messily opening and splattering on the floor.

“It went very well,” you answered, watching him slowly pick up the sketch book, his eyes drinking in what he was seemingly missing out on the past year. Your sketches.

“Did you…” he trailed off, swallowing before looking up at you, “did you draw this? Did you come up with this?”

“Well, I had to present something to the teacher so that I wouldn't look too lost in his fashion class,” you smiled cheekily, sensing the unease Baekhyun was suddenly full of. He let his eyes follow you as you stepped towards him, taking the sketchbook from his frozen hand. “This is my personal favourite,” you said in a low voice, turning the pages until there were no more left. The last page was the only sketch you didn't show to your professor. Baekhyun was silent, but his eyes were sharp. They flickered from your face to the lingerie sketches that you were showing him.

Slowly, he took a deep breath, eyes scanning the figure that was resembling yours unlike the regular ones that you sketched before, for anyone's eyes. This one was meant for Baekhyun's eyes only and he was assured of it when he saw the small “unlock, bbh” under the sketch.

You knew Baekhyun loved wearing black colours despite his favourite one being red. So you decided to combine the dark with a deep, sultry red that oozed sexiness and confidence. Lace was so thinly sketched, it almost seemed like your skin was tattered with it. You never liked wearing thongs, so you made sure the underwear would be comfortable for you, instead filling the space with lace and silk.

It was a luxurious piece that you were confident you could actually wear one day if you would be determined enough to bring it to life.

“You see,” you started when silence was too much to bear, the growing tension made you feel all sorts of strong emotions, “I made it like a game for you, Baekhyun.” You took his index finger and pointed it at the paper where your left shoulder bra strap was drawn. “You won't unlock me until you find out one crucial point of this set. If you do, you'll unlock the entire outfit,” you told him, your voice low. “And what do I mean by unlock?” you asked, letting go of his finger and he looked at you from his side. “You'll get to see me in my whole glory. Just a simple click can give you access to everything that I am.”

Baekhyun was thinking about your words even though it had been a while since he spoke. Eventually, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to control something you weren't aware of. “Is this what you did in your class?”

You snorted a laugh. “No, Baekhyun. This is just for you. My present to you,” you smiled at the idea. “One day.”

“How can you be so fucking sexy inside and out?” he grumbled and with one arm swiftly brought you to his chest, his hand tightly gripping your waist. His eyes flickered all over your features, taking in the make-up and the red lipstick that you knew he adored so much. How could he let himself ignore you when you were a full meal, a huge prey for any man with bad and good intentions? How could he not appreciate you every single day and tell you that he loved you and wanted to make love to you every single time he saw you?

You smiled up at him and he lost it. Despite the trouble and negative tension he created, you still dared to smile at him?

He claimed your lips, catching you by surprise but you moaned instantly when you felt his hands drag downwards over your hips and bum until reaching the backside of your thighs. Both of you were so familiar with each other's actions, that Baekhyun didn't have to tell you to jump anymore. You did so without his order and when he had you in his arms, you felt him right at your center instantly. You gasped, reacting to his body as you tried to shimmy your middle over him and he grunted into the kiss.

“Jesus, what are you doing to me, woman,” he breathed, his lips glistening with your mixed saliva before cradling your cheek with one hand, bringing you in for another dirty kiss.

You whined, growing wet right away. Squeezing his waist with your legs, he clumsily put you on the counter, accidentally knocking over some cups, but neither of you cared. Baekhyun was kissing your jaw, slowly making his way to your ear into which he whispered: “I need to fuck you right now.” He bit your earlobe and you moaned, wanting to close your legs but his hands were already pushing them apart. Your dress hiked up to your hips, revealing your underwear and you fumbled with his pants, your hands already inside to bring him out. Upon touching him, you gasped, looking at your boyfriend. He was hard.

“It's what you do to me all the damn time,” he whispered, panting when he felt your light touch. “I told you years ago, didn't I?” he smirked and pushed your hand away, instead his hands grabbing you under your knees and yanking you to the edge so he could have better access. You whimpered, clenching around nothing when he pushed the crotch of your panties aside and felt his middle finger teasing you by letting it dip but not quite enter. “So wet,” he breathed, looking at your blushed face. “Let’s dive, shall we?” he murmured, grabbing himself. You circled your arms around his neck, face buried in his neck as you felt him poke you. Lubricating himself he made sure to spread your arousal all over your womanhood. You whimpered and he finally pushed in. Both of you moaned in unison, the stretch so pleasurable it made you almost see stars.

“Mmhhmm, you feel so good,” you moaned, closing your eyes and biting his earlobe. He was quick to reply when he set up a fast pace, chasing his release.

Both of you were panting, neither of you speaking as you were indulged in each other. Feeling the sweat prickling around your hairline, you kissed Baekhyun, who grunted, pushing extra deep and hitting your g-spot. You let go of the kiss with a smooch, moaning loudly into his mouth which he swallowed, his forehead pressed to yours. “Is it good? Am I making you feel good?” he breathed, puffs of air hitting your lips.

“Yes, yes, you do,” you exhaled harshly as he slowed down, circling his hips to make sure he was touching every corner of you. You arched your back, your head hitting the cupboards you forgot were behind you. Just like that, both of you were laughing like crazy, Baekhyun smiling widely as he kissed your exposed neck while still deep inside you.

You cursed, still giggling. Bringing your face back, you took his face into your hands and kissed him as he took himself out of you completely and then slammed back in right away.

“I’m so fucking close,” he whispered between messy kisses. “I swear I'm gonna cum right now, princess.”

You wanted to tell him to wait for you, but instead you lead him on. “Then cum.”

“Should I pull out?” The urgency of his voice as he kept thrusting into you made you momentarily dizzy. He felt so good. “No, don’t pull out,” you breathed and he groaned loudly, hiding his face in your chest as was his habit when he was releasing. Exactly then, you felt hot spurts pumping into you. You felt so full but the satisfaction was anywhere near. You chose not to act up on your frustration, instead deciding to enjoy seeing Baekhyun in a bliss.

“I don't remember when was the last time I came this hard,” he told you, stilling completely, his breath fanning your lips as he was slowly coming down from his high. After a few moments, he kissed you sweetly. “Sorry, baby. Let me-”

“No, don’t,” you said, the wetness leaking out of you and on the counter. His hand hovered above your bundle of nerves just above where he disappeared inside you. “It's fine.”

“But you didn’t cum,” he muttered, embarrassed. “Sorry… this is so ridiculous.”

“Don't be silly,” you said with a gentle tone and brushed his hair out of his sweaty forehead and leaned in to kiss it. “You're so gorgeous, Baekyhun,” you told him when he finally focused his shy gaze on you. In response, he squeezed your thighs he was holding onto the whole time. The iron grip eased up into a gentle hold. You were sure you would bruise but damn, you didn't care.

He smiled and that was your biggest present. His smile that was meant for you. “The one who is gorgeous is you. You made me cum so fast with just the idea of you wearing that lingerie… I'll make it up to you, I promise,” he whispered, kissing you again as he pulled out of you, once again causing you to moan at the friction.

Baekhyun cleaned up the mess quickly and sent you to wash up but before you could saunter off, he held your hand. “Stay over tonight,” he requested softly.

Feeling yourself smile even wider, you gratefully accepted.

After eating dinner, it was already too late, so both of you moved to Baekhyun's room, deciding to talk like you wanted to.

He lent you his clothes and you relished in the feeling of getting lost in his hoodie. When he lied down, he opened his arms for you to find comfort in and you were fast to jump at him, causing him to grunt at the impact which made you giggle.

“Are you trying to say I’m heavy!” you shrieked in mock anger, hitting his chest gently, and Baekhyun laughed.

“No, never,” he hummed when you settled in, resting your head on his chest. His heartbeat sounded a little irregular.

Your mood instantly deflated. “So,” you started, drawing circles on his pectoral with your finger. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

He sighed gently and you felt his breath on your forehead. “I don’t know how to begin.”

“From the start.”

Baekhyun clicked his tongue at your reply and you smiled though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “You’re a teasing little thing, aren’t you, my love.”

My love.

If he called you his love it meant he wouldn’t break up with you, right?

“I just feel like …” he trailed off, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “You’re in your final year.”

That sentence spoke volumes to you. The meaning behind it meant only one thing and it was that only thing you’d been trying to fight against and refuse to accept. Your time with Baekhyun was almost up.

“Won’t you say something?” he asked softly when there was no answer from you.

This time you were the one who sighed and gently pushed yourself out of his grasp, to sit up facing him.

He mirrored you and sat opposite you. “Baby, what is going to happen?”

“I don’t know,” you murmured, lowering your head. “I mean-“ you looked up. “I won’t leave you, that’s all I know for sure.”

Baekhyun wasn’t satisfied with your answer. After all, you had the same answer years ago. He called your name. “We cannot do this forever, you know? Both of us deserve to know where we stand. It’s weird that you’ve been promised to that man but there is no news about when you are supposed to get married?” he rumbled though his voice wasn’t accusative.

Biting your lip, you avoided his eyes again by looking down.

“You know stuff, don’t you.”

You grit your teeth.

“What aren’t you telling me, hm?” He waited for a moment and when you still refused to talk, he took a deep breath. “I can’t believe you’ve known stuff and not tell me!”

This time, he sounded angry. “No, Baek, it’s not like that! I- yes, I’m supposed to be marrying him after I graduate but-“

“There is no but. There is only a period. You are marrying him after you graduate. Period.”

Your heart broke into two. Baekhyun was frowning, hurt flashing in his eyes as his jaw pulsed with how hard he was clenching it. His lips, those lips, were set into a hard line and there was no way to make him look happy like he once used to when he was with you.

“Baekhyun,” you tried, voice thin, “I already told you I’m not letting you go.”

“You seriously think about yourself only, don’t you,” he responded coldly, disbelief painting his voice. “You really don’t care what it means for me to sneak behind some rich dude who can give you anything you point at! I have my own pride. I can’t bear to share you with someone-“

“Baekhyun, I won’t let him touch me! I won’t let him do anything! You won’t be sharing me with anyone! My heart belongs to you and you know it,” you said, tears burning up in your eyes. “I love you so much,” you whispered before your voice could break.

Baekhyun was holding back, you could tell. His lips quivered but he didn’t make any effort to reach out for you. His eyes glistened. “Don’t marry him.”

You groaned inwardly. “You know I can’t do that.”

“So you’ve been going behind your parents the entire time, seeing me despite their protests and when I ask you not to marry him, you suddenly want to comply?”

“It’s for business,” you reminded him, “I didn’t choose this myself if that’s what you’ve been thinking.”

“I don’t care! I’ll give you everything. I’ll give you more than he can ever give you,” he said hurriedly and you let out a small gasp because Baekhyun was usually anything but desperate. He was the collected one, but now he was anything but.

“I’ll never leave you,” you promised shuffling to him, taking his face in your cold hands. “Please know that, Baekhyun. I won’t let him do anything. It’s just a status. That's all.”

His eyes were frantically flickering between yours, as if searching for something more than there was. “How can you just marry him when you barely ever saw him?”

And now was the time where you could start feeling guilty. It was on you. This was your fault and given how well Baekhyun knew you, he would read right into it. It got confirmed when he pulled away from you, your hands dropping.

“What else aren't you telling me?” he said in a low voice now completely withdrawing away from you and pushing himself up against the headboard.

“Baekhyun-”

“Just tell me already!”

You winced, quickly shutting your mouth. “We sometimes meet because he… eh, he just wants to get to know me better. That's it, he just asks me questions an-and I answer,” you replied shakily, brushing your hair behind your ear. “There is nothing, I swear. I deserve to know what kind of man I am marrying, too,” you added, looking up at your boyfriend whose gaze was set somewhere behind you.

“Has this been happening the entire time?” he asked quietly.

“Since the start of the uni.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Fucking awesome. Congratulations.”

“Baekhyun,” you said, this time strictly. “What the hell is wrong with you? I've been begging to meet you the whole past year and you always found some bullshit excuse for studying and actually you know what? Who knows what you'd been doing during those times!” you exclaimed, the idea of him being with someone else sending you into a rage.

“The fuck? As if I would cheat on you!” he shouted back, sending daggers your way. “I've been in a relationship with someone who was never supposed to be mine! Tell me, sweetcheeks, how does that sound to you? I'm saving myself for you while I know the entire time that I'll be on the loose end. I'm the pathetic one. I am the one who will lose. Not you,” he said in a menacing tone. “So before you start to throw shit at me, I would look in the mirror if I were you.”

“Byun Baekhyun!” you shouted.

He raised an eyebrow. “What. You don't like to hear the truth? Well, this is it. And I have lost my mind, finally. I've been too goddamn blinded by your hope when I knew the whole time it would be fruitless. I cannot do this anymore!”

By then you were sobbing. The last sentence sent you into fits of cries that you couldn't suppress no matter how hard you tried, and it hurt. Byun Baekhyun's words hurt like hell. Hiding your face in your hands, you felt the wetness of your tears pooling in your palms, hoping he would stop being angry with you and just take you in his arms and take his words back.

It didn't happen.

Slowly, you moved your hands away to see him stare at you, hard gaze, lips sealed tightly. “Baby,” you tried, reaching for him. More tears fell from your eyes but you didn't care anymore. He had seen you cry so many times and he was always there to comfort you. This time you were crying because of him and he wouldn't even move a finger for you. “Baby, please.”

“You said you deserve to know him better, too,” he said. “So it is that important to you - that you need to know him.”

“Of course,” you replied with a nasal voice, “what if he is a psychopath.”

He laughed bitterly. “Right. What if he is. How the fuck would you know - you are marrying him anyway! So why is it so important to you to let him get to know you? And you him?”

“It's just the way the deal went, okay?”

“No, it's not okay,” he spat. “You're going against your own word. “You told me there would be nothing happening until you graduate and you were with him behind my back.”

It was your turn to scoff now, though your face was splotchy. “Because you were waiting for me so much!”

“Don't you dare turn this against me,” he muttered in a low tone which left you shocked. This was the first time Baekhyun used that kind of tone with you. In fact, this was your first time fighting this ugly. “This is about you. About your fucking family. About them wanting to destroy us!”

“And it's obviously working!” You threw your hands up. “Just look at you now! You're doing exactly what they want you to be doing! They so desperately wish for you to hurt me so I could dump you,” you shouted, more tears rolling down your hot cheeks. “I guess they were right after all.”

“Right in what,” he snapped again, glaring at you.

You stood up, unable to keep fighting with him. He watched you wordlessly as you picked up your bag where you had your school books. “You're just using me. I guess I was just money to you as well!” You were seething as you yanked his door open and rushed straight for the door.

Sensing someone in the kitchen, you stopped abruptly for a moment, seeing Park Chanyeol staring at you in shock while he took in your state.

You shook your head, not bothering to say hi to him as you went to grab your shoes just to realize you came in heels. “Fuck,” you muttered. Well, Baekhyun's vans would have to do. Grabbing them, you tied both shoes tightly so you wouldn't fall as you rushed to grab the door when you felt a hand grab your wrist instead.

You looked back, making out Baekhyun's features through tears. “Let go,” you snapped, trying to shake him off.

“Where are you going this late?!”

“Anywhere is better than here with you! I cannot stay with you, Baekhyun!” you shouted, finally yanking him off harshly enough so his hand slipped.

You slammed the door shut and Baekyhun was met with silence. Throwing a single, helpless gaze at his friend was enough for Chanyeol to nod and move. “I'll go after her,” he reassured Baekhyun who seemed to be on the verge of mental breakdown.

Baekhyun just nodded, watching Chanyeol leave and hoping you wouldn't actually break up with him.

You were marching down the dark street, ignoring the anxiety creeping in from the silent, empty streets. They were eerie and scary and you hated walking down them at such a late hour but there was no way you could stay at Baekhyun's.

Fast steps brought you back to the present and your heart almost jumped out of your rib cage when you felt someone taking your wrist again. Hope spiked up, expecting to see Baekhyun but it was Park Chanyeol.

He turned you to him gently, little out of breath from trying to catch up with you. “You sure walk fast,” he commented.

He let go of your wrist and you sighed, looking at him with expectation. “What do you want, Park?”

“I just wanted to make sure you're fine,” he said rather shyly.

“I'm just fine,” you insisted, “I will go home now. Go back, it's late.”

“I'll take you home,” he said and to prove a point he clinked with his car keys. “Though it's not the best car out there, it will do the job.”

You rolled your eyes. “I always knew all of you were judging me for my status. And don't bother. I know you're only doing this because of Baekhyun. Well, you don't need to do this.”

“He would skin me alive,” he whispered, horrified. “And he is now too good with the scalpel. I wouldn’t dare.”

“I don't want your help unless it's something you actually want to do, Park Chanyeol,” you muttered through gritted teeth, feeling another wave of tears threatening to spill. “You just made it worse. Leave.”

“It’s late.”

“I don't care. I need to be alone right now.”

“For your information, we all know how much he cherishes you,” he started. “Whenever he would reject you, he would study but not really focus. He keeps talking only about you. We don’t judge you for money but for how much you occupy our space even if you aren't there. That dude is just bewitched by you and I don't know how you managed to do it, to be honest. He is the coldest guy to any other opposite sex beside you.”

“What are you trying to say, Park Chanyeol?”

He sighed and gave you a pointed look. “Baekhyun sacrificed a lot for you. He is so loyal to you despite all the matters you guys have. He never told us but we have a hunch. Just… don’t go breaking his heart.”

“I am not breaking his heart!” you said loudly, tears rolling down your cheeks. “He doubts my feelings.”

“He doesn't. He is insecure.”

“How can he be insecure? All I ever wanted was to be with him.”

Chanyeol stepped closer to you, causing you to tilt your head back further. “Then go back and amend the mess you made.”

“It's not just my mess. It's ours. We made it. He should know what he told me was wrong.”

“All he ever did was listen to you! What makes you think that guy has unlimited patience? He doesn't! So go back, and make it right again!”

You let out a loud groan, turning away from him. You tapped your foot on the concrete, thinking hard though you were close to exasperation. Turning back to Baekhyun's friend, you muttered: “Since you brought those keys, take me on a drive. I’ll sponsor the gas.”

It was already late when you returned back but at least you managed to clear up your mind. Quietly slipping back inside his dark room, you saw him lying in bed, his back turned to you. Putting your bag quietly down on the floor, you slipped under the comforter, your arms and legs hugging him like a koala bear.

You thought he was asleep or worse, that he’d ignore you, but he moved almost as soon as you hugged him, turning in your embrace, pushing his leg between yours and his hand circling your waist, his hand on the skin of your lower back. It was pitch black in the room, but once you felt his hot breath on your mouth and then the moisture of his lips on yours, you didn't need to see. You just felt. He kissed you and poured all of his apologies, regrets and forgiveness in the kiss. You returned the kiss just as fervently, feeling his warm hand on your cheek, his fingers in your hair while his thumb smoothed the skin under your eye. He shuffled himself closer and hummed when you darted out your tongue. He sucked on your lip a little longer before opening his mouth to let you in, and you took your time in exploring him, twirling and sucking on his tongue while you felt his arm tightening around you, his hand under your hoodie as he caressed you under your breast. In the quietness of his room there were just the slick sounds of your making out.

When you couldn't keep going anymore, you separated, your mouth fully wet from your mixed saliva as you panted loudly. You felt him pressing his forehead to yours and you sighed in relief.

“I'm so sorry, princess,” he whispered, nuzzling your nose gently, dragging his leg up so he could rest it on your thigh. “I was a fool.”

“No,” you whispered back, wishing you could see him better. “You merely stated the facts. It's all on me.”

“We both screwed up,” he added, “but fuck.” He gave your cheek a small, open-mouthed kiss, sending shivers down your spine, “I can't imagine you leaving me and being with him. I can't.”

You wanted to reply to him and to ease his mind that you wouldn't, but you would lie. The more you would keep to yourself, the more you would end up hurting the most precious person in your life.

“I'm so sorry. None of what I said is true,” you managed to blurt, unable to come up with anything more. “I keep breaking you. I'm so sorry.”

“Shh, baby,” he whispered urgently, his hand that was resting on your cheek slipping to the back of your head to bring you closer. You hid your face in his chest while he hid his in your neck. “You're not breaking me. You're breaking me if I'm not with you.”

You snuggled closer to him and he sighed, hugging you tighter. “My precious gem, I love you,” he whispered into your ear. To make your body contact more intimate, you also hid your hands under his hoodie, feeling his muscles contracting at your delicate touch. “You're mine.”

Few days later you received a message. It was from Mr Kwon and you groaned, stopping on your way to another class.

I request a lunch with you today

My driver will pick you up at 12

I know you're not supposed to be having classes

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you pushed your phone back into your bag and headed inside the classroom. Even if you would reject him, he wouldn't accept it, so you might as well not bother with replying.

However, you were shocked when the driver came all the way to your classroom as all the students were pouring out and heading for lunch. You knew Mr Kwon's driver and even though he was polite, you didn't like the looks he was giving you whenever he saw you wearing skirts, like for instance, now.

He escorted you to the expensive restaurant where they were already waiting for you. Upon spotting you, the staff rushed towards you and led you to Mr Kwon who was already seated, his hands clasped together as his elbows rested on the table. He stood up, giving you a polite bow as he helped you sit down.

When he was opposite you, he said: “Pleasure to see you. How have you been the past few days we didn't see each other?”

You suppress a tired sigh. “I've been fine, thank you.”

“Oh, have you, now?” he questioned, his eyebrow lifting. His eyes were telling you something he wasn't verbalizing and it put you into unease right away.

Smiling, you muttered: “Yes, but thank you for your concern.”

“No issues with your friends?”

His stupid inquisition was starting to annoy you. “Excuse me? Could you please speak more explicitly?”

“I thought you'd never ask,” he smirked and took out an envelope from the inside of his cardigan and handed it to you over the table.

With uncertainty, you accepted it and opened it, not wasting time in trying to understand his mysterious words. There were photos. Frowning, you inspected them better and you were shocked when you saw it was you with a tall male. Park Chanyeol. It must have been that night when you fought with Baekhyun. Your breath hitched in your throat when you realized this man had you followed by someone.

You opened your mouth to talk but he cut through like a knife. “I was wondering where did you receive such a - how shall I put it - passionate bruise on your neck the last time I saw you. Turns out you're sleeping around with someone.”

It felt like he just threw a bucket of icy cold water on you. The idea of him having you followed, of him not trusting you and rudely breaking into your privacy as if you were some object he could manipulate and decide whom to meet and whom to not meet was driving you up the wall.

“You don't have anything to defend yourself?” he asked sharply. “How long have you been seeing that man?”

You swallowed on a dry throat. Mr Kwon thought your boyfriend was Park Chanyeol? That was good. As long as he had no knowledge about Baekhyun, you didn't care. “I… it's been…”

“Jesus Christ, I really didn't think you would be a whore,” he snickered, eyeing you up and his eyes eventually resting on your cleavage. “You were acting all innocent and brave just a few years ago and attending university changed you so much. I wanted to be the only one who would bed you,” he sneered and you felt a bile rising in your stomach.

“What- Excuse me?! Who do you think you are?!” you exclaimed, horrified. “Don't you dare think of me that way.” You stood up and wanted to scream when you saw his eyes drinking up your thighs that got revealed as your skirt hiked up. “A deal is a deal. You don't have any rights to treat me like this. And you can bet you aren't going to boss me around once we are married. I'll easily reject the marriage, too.”

Mr Kwon was fast up on his feet to walk over to you. “Well, if you do, your parents are as good as dead. Their business is in shackles, young lady. So unless you want them to be able to afford some food and have a roof over their heads, I advise you to respect me,” he was talking so fast you could barely register his touch on your hip and on your backside. Gasping, you slapped his hand away and dared to push him from you. He snickered.

“Watch your hands, Mr Kwon,” you spat. “This is a private property.”

He laughed and leaned in. “Oh, are you like this with him too? Then I can't wait to have the full rights. The only one with rights. Soon, little tiger.” You moved to push him away when he added: “You better end this little thingy you have with the boy. Because if I find out who he is, I will destroy him and any perspectives he could have for the future.”

Even though he didn't know about Byun Baekhyun, you could not risk it.

You had to break up with him.

// // // // //

Drop me a message! ^^ CuriousCat

#exowritersnet #baekhyun fanfiction #exo fanfiction #superm fanfiction #baekhyun angst #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun fic #MWM #mywritings

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captainderyn · 3 years ago

Note

22. From the 101 ways to say I love you ♡

Thank you so much for the ask @elveny ! I was very excited to take on this prompt for Ryn and Garrus lol.

(This is cross posted on AO3 (CaptainDeryn) )

Prompt 22: "Let me fix your hair."

Ryn didn’t make a habit of looking fancy.

She already put in enough effort every day putting on her armor and dealing with the stress of one mission after another. In the off chance she got a day to relax, she wasn’t going to waste precious time and energy on looks.

If she could get away with sweatpants and a crop top, her hair thrown up into a messy bun, then she damn well would. It didn’t matter where she was going: if they could handle Commander Shepard in her armor, then they could handle her in these civvies.

Maybe, if others were lucky, she would put on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Maybe a sweater if she was feeling crazy.

The rare exception she made was for Garrus. For him, and for their planned date with two full days of shore leave, she dug through her meager clothes she had with her on the Normandy to pull out something exceptional.

Garrus, she decided, as she wrestled herself into something far beyond what she usually considered acceptable for off-duty, was the luckiest of all aboard the Normandy.

Together they’d decided their date night was going to treat the other right. In reality, they’d both suggested the same upscale restaurant when they’d been brainstorming ideas. Supposedly it had the best view on the Citadel, and if Shepard gave away all the cards in her hand: she wanted the chance to see Garrus clean up nice without the stress of a formal gathering.

Of course, after some bickering back and forth about who was treating who right, they’d settled on splitting the check fifty-fifty. And most likely getting one of the food vendors on the lower levels, the real best food on the Citadel, as the night wore on.

Ryn made a face at herself in the mirror as she finished her eyeliner. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had the chance to willingly put on a full face of makeup and her eyeliner showed it. If she wiped off her attempt one more time no amount of concealer would hide the red blotchiness that would stain her pale skin.

Good enough, she decided, doing one final inspection in the mirror.

A full face of makeup was probably a strong word. She was too rusty to do anything too exuberant and she hated hiding her freckles too much to cake on enough foundation to hide the realities of being an N7 and fighting a war on her skin.

She’d managed a smokey black and gold look to make the grey of her eyes pop and piercing and put on a dark red lip without too many makeup wipe casualties to fix mistakes, that was a win in her book.

There were, of course, a few bruises from their last mission to hide on her face from where she’d so elegantly cracked her helmet into a rock in a graceless throw from a biotic. They weren’t perfectly covered, but she hoped they would be good enough in the harsh lighting of the Citadel to avoid any questions.

The real struggle was figuring out what to do with her hair. Her go to hairstyles were down and messy, a messy bun, or a messy ponytail. The most refined thing she’d done with her hair over the last year since Saren was put it in a bun that fit Alliance marine regulations.

She’d spent far too long after her shower laying on her bed in a towel scrolling the extranet for inspiration. She’d finally settled on something she figured was within her rusty skill set.

As she’s taken a curling wand and elastic bands to her hair, she’d missed the days when she was in her twenties and going out every few nights, where her makeup and hairstyling skills had become second nature.

Now, at thirty-two with more combat tours than nights out under her belt recently, she was thrilled with the simple curled half up-half down look she pulled off.

She didn’t look too shabby, and she gave herself a confidence boosting smile and thumbs up.

All she had to do tonight was be a civilian.

She pulled her black heels on and called Garrus up to her quarters. It was better than roaming around the ship looking for him and dealing with the rabblerousing of her crew. While she’d gone through the attempted effort of painting her nails, another luxury she hadn’t had in a long time, she didn’t want to show them off by flipping off her crew.

It didn’t take long for Garrus to knock on her door, and she let him in, stepping back to admire him.

Blatantly so, not trying to hide the way her eyes roamed.

He did in fact, clean up quite nice.

Quite nice indeed.

She hummed in approval, eyes drifting over the well fitted trousers and dark navy shirt that hugged his body. He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the shirt unbuttoned at his collar.

Garrus gave her a charming smile as he walked up to her, eyes also roving across her body in turn.

She would be lying if she said she hadn’t dressed to get a reaction. Where was the fun in wearing the same old business-formal black and red dress she wore for formal functions? The whole point of tonight was to be civilians.

And this dress certainly was not in regs.

While the dress was floor length, both sides were slit up to her hipbone, revealing a scandalous amount of her skin. The dress had sleeves yes, but the neckline dipped down to below her breasts.

And Ryn had spent far too long finagling the dress so that she wouldn’t accidentally reveal them to the public. The potential headlines had tormented her for the entire time she’d been getting ready. Not that Garrus needed to know that.

Garrus leaned down to kiss her, innocent enough, but his hands ran up her hips, catching at the slit fabric and pulling it up. He made a noise somewhere between excitement and surprise and pulled back enough to look at her again.

“Is this a human’s way of seducing?” he asked in amusement.

“Perhaps,” Ryn shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest to accentuate the lack of fabric there. Turians, of course, would not have the same reaction as humans to her show, but that didn’t matter. Too much confidence was coursing through her veins to really care. She was reveling too much in her own self-image to particularly care about his reaction. “Is it working?”

“Oh, there are multiple things about you right now that are working.” There was still a slight rumbling chuckle in Garrus’ words, and she shot him a look, “You want something.”

She contemplated and then gave him a wicked smile, “I want you to kiss me.”

Garrus’ hands curled more tightly around her hips. A small thrill went through her as he ducked his head, pausing just before their mouths met, “Do you?” his breath whispered across her skin and goosebumps prickled on her arms.

Breath catching, she licked her lower lip, “I really do.”

She reaped the energy that she sowed as her back connected with the cold glass of the wall length fish tank and Garrus’ mouth met hers in a fiery kiss. His hands pressed her back against the tank and a gleeful laugh broke from her between breaths at the thrill that went through her.

She draped her arms across his shoulders, her hands resting against the back of his neck and pulled him closer.

They could miss dinner; she really didn’t mind if they missed dinner.

A date night in was as much of a date night.

Garrus gave her one last long kiss and went to move back. Ryn caught him, her arms tightening around his shoulders, and yanked him right back for another kiss.

He laughed, the sound bright and merry in her ears before he wrestled himself away. When her grabby hands went for him again, he grabbed her wrists, and pinned them above her head.

From the sly grin he gave her, it was entirely intentional. Ryn squirmed against his grip.

“You are causing trouble.” His attempted sternness failed to meet its mark.

Ryn looked him up and down once, “Yeah.” she agreed. Then offered him a sweet smile, “You should join me in causing it.”

Garrus’ head dipped with a sigh that was more a breathy laugh and released her. He took a step towards the door and motioned for her to follow, giving a low chuckle as she stuck her lower lip out in a pout,

“We already have a reservation. At least let me treat you to food and drinks before I…treat you to other things.”

He made a face as he stumbled, as if he cringed at the words that slipped from his mouth. Ryn gave a bright, full bodied laugh and hooked her arm into his.

“We will treat each other.” she corrected, kissing his cheek. Without her heels she was nearly as tall as Garrus. Wearing them, she was just a smidge above eye-to-eye with him.

She led him out the door, tossing a coy glance over her shoulder, “Besides, I want to flaunt a little bit. Put aside being Commander Shepard for a while.”

Garrus tugged her to a stop just before she slipped through the doorway, pulling her back to face him. With a gentle touch he brushed away strands of red hair that had fallen across her forehead and reached up to tighten the ponytail that kept half her hair up.

“Stop squirming,” he chastised, “and let me fix your hair.”

“I’m excited.” Ryn complained, beaming up at him, “I can’t help it.”

Garrus shook his head at her with a laugh and slipped his hand into hers, finally leading her out the door and to the Normandy’s elevator. As the elevator shuttled them to the command deck, Garrus’ eyes didn’t leave her.

“You look stunning, Ryn.” he said, and she couldn’t help the blood that rushed to her cheeks.

The view from the topmost level of the restaurant might well be the best view on the Citadel, Ryn decided during dinner.

Their table was a simple, dark wood two-person table. Above them patio lights glimmered with warm light. It was beautiful, but the real awe began when she looked up.

From between the arms of the Citadel, space swirled above them. Stars blinked in massive swaths, dark black of far space and near space blending together like paint on an artist’s palette. It was mesmerizing and the same call to be among the stars that had drawn her to the Alliance tugged in her chest.

As beautiful as the view was, it couldn’t hold her attention for long. Garrus kept too much of it in the way the light caught in the planes of his face and the way his hand stayed on her thigh. In the way their conversation was easier than breathing and her laughter fell from her like renewing spring rain.

They dined on fancy food and fine drinks until the call of the night swept them up and brought them to the lower levels of the Citadel. Where they walked arm in arm, orders from one of the food trucks in their hands until they found a bench to sit on.

Where Ryn took off her heels and let out a sigh of relief as her aching feet thanked her. Garrus swept up her legs and set them across his lap, laughing along with her when she almost slipped off the bench.

Until the wild urges of the night took over and they were swept to their feet by the strings of music slipping from the restaurants and clubs all around them and danced in the courtyard. Not the sort of elegant dancing or the feral dancing of a club, but simply moving together and moving to the music.

Until their laughter created their own music and Garrus’ hands were cupping her face and hers were looped around his shoulders. Until he leaned in to kiss her and she leaned into it. Until his hands slid into their hair he had so carefully fixed and tousled it with his touch.

Until their unabashed joy underneath the whorls of stars became the best view on the Citadel.

#captainderyn writes #mass effect #mass effect fanfiction #femshep x garrus #shakarian #garrus vakarian #femshep #commander shepard #oc: Ryn Shepard #otp: Keep Me Grounded #looks like this is a Ryn/Garrus blog now sorry guys #I've written more fanfic for them in the past 3 months than in the past two years of any other fic combined #i think this is the most fic I've written since delavairess and I parted ways #and it feels WONDERFUL

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exploradora-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Fireside Love: An Arthur x Charlotte Fic (18+ Only)

Warnings: NSFW, wholesome smut

Summary: During a snowstorm, Arthur and Charlotte decide to use their time cooped up in their cabin wisely.

Word Count: 3,455

Notes: Thank you @the-halo-of-my-memory and @unpocowboys for helping me out with this fic. The both of you are very talented writers! I plan on writing more Charlotte and Arthur fics in the future. These two are one of my favorite comfort couples, so I wanted to make a spicy yet cozy fic about them. Warning: Tons of wholesome smut ahead...

This fic can also be found on my AO3 under exploradora_writes

The first frost flakes began to stick to the window, the kitchen gradually becoming colder as snowflakes began to fall from the pitch black sky outside.

Charlotte sighed, tossing another log into the stove, her stew stubbornly refusing to boil. She glanced at the woodpile, the three tiny logs lying there in an almost mocking sort of way.

The clouds blocked out much of the sunlight, but she knew it would be dark soon. She held onto the counter, trying her hardest not to think of the worst, but she couldn’t help it.

He could be lost, stranded with no direction, no food, no warmth.

She shook her head, coming to her senses. Arthur may view himself as nothing but muscle and absolutely no brain, but as his wife, she knew better. He had an excellent sense of direction and survival skills. Any minute he’d be through that door with a load of firewood, and maybe even an animal or two.

She asked if she could come. Two heads were better than one, she tried to reason.

“No, darlin’, as much as I’d love to go with you, I need you stayin’ home and watchin’ over the house, keepin’ it warm. Wouldn’t want any strangers takin’ residence while we’re gone, would we?”

More than one weary traveller, some more hostile than others, had taken up residence in their home on more than one occasion while the two of them were off on hunting trips. While she understood where Arthur was coming from, she couldn’t escape her fear of the worst. She’d already lost one of the men she loved dearly to the harsh conditions of nature, she couldn’t bear to lose another one.

Her motionless broth seemed to stare back up at her as it refused to boil. “You ain’t making this easy for me, broth.”

Talking to an inanimate substance? The snow really was making her stir crazy. Arthur had better hurry up before I start talking to the logs, she thought.

Figuring the broth was nowhere near boiling over, she took those three pathetic logs sitting on the woodpile and tossed them in the fireplace. She looked around for a match, lit it with a satisfying strike, and tossed it on the pile. The flames licked up the logs, but Charlotte knew it couldn’t last long. She lay back on a chair in the kitchen, staring into the flames of the fire. She smiled, her eyes following the flames as they danced along the logs, remembering all those years ago when her and Arthur danced around the campfire on their little outdoor honeymoon getaway. They drank and sang and made love their fair share of times by the roaring flames of the fire. Sure, it was no fancy trip in the big city, but it was simple and memorable.

Unfortunately, the fire before her sounded more of a purr as opposed to a roar. She let out another sigh, looking back at the empty woodpile, longing for her strong handsome woodsman to return.

As if on cue, she heard the door handle jiggle, as the man she had been longing to see emerged from the snowy darkness outside.

“Arthur!” She arose, practically pouncing on him. He moved his scarf away from his cherry red face, panting from the effort of carrying.. firewood. Loads of it. Charlotte sighed with relief at the sight, wrapping her arms around him. She didn’t care that he was like an icicle, nor that she would get wet from the snow that dusted his wooly blue coat. Her hands met his face, cold despite the large beard he sported. Her lips met his, her warm pink lips melting his icy blue ones.

“Charlotte,” he breathed. “Glad I made it in time. Bundle up and help me haul in some of this wood. I have a feelin’ this is only the beginin’ of this snow storm.”

She threw on a sweater, a coat, and a pair of boots. She opened the door to the dark depths of the winter night. The bitter cold nipped at her entire body despite being bundled up head to toe. She tried to imagine how good the fire would feel against her and her lover’s bodies once they were in the warmth of their little home.

Arthur had made quite the haul. Firewood, some supplies from the general store, and even a deer. She smiled, feeling her body warm up as she thought of how wonderful and lucky she was to have a man like him.

They fought against the wind back into the house. It took the strength of the two of them to even get the door closed. They both panted and fell against each other.

“Well, we best get cozy, darlin.’ We’re gonna be here awhile.” Arthur said, removing his snow covered clothes.

Charlotte returned to the kitchen, the pot of broth finally showing signs that it was preparing to boil. She threw another log on the stove for good measure.

Arthur came up behind her and kissed her cheek, his cold lips sending a shiver down her spine. “How’s everything comin’ along?”

She smiled as the both began to boil. “Rather nicely now that you’ve returned, cowboy.”

“Hmmm I figured I’d have the opposite effect. My coldness would ruin any hopes of ever makin’ a good meal.”

“Quite the contrary, Mr. Morgan.” She stirred in the ingredients: savory chicken, carrots, onions, and peas. “Because I think you’re so hot, you make pots boil. You made mine boil when you walked through that door.” She looked back at him, stirring the pot in lazy circles. “Cheeks still rosy from the cold?”

“Er, yeah,” he fumbled, “you could say that.”

She rubbed his face, running her fingers through his beard. “You hungry?”

His hands ran along her hips. “Starvin’..”

“We could eat in front of the fire if you’d like. It’d be a nice change, don’t you think?”

“Sure, sounds cozy.” He gave her hips one last squeeze before getting two bowls from the above cabinets. “Smells delicious.’”

“You talking about the soup or are you talking about me, dear?” She gave him a small smile.

“Can’t I be talking about both?” Like a magnetic attraction, his hands were back on her hips.

“Goodness you’re handsy tonight!” She giggled. “Alright, soup’s on.”

He gave her cheek a quick peck before serving himself a large bowl of soup. She unwrapped some bread she had been saving for tonight and placed it in each of their bowls. They brought their meals over to the fireplace, sitting in front of it.

Arthur took a sip, his body quickly warming up from the combination of the fire and the broth. He let out a satisfied groan. “This soup’s real good, sweetheart.”

“Well I’m glad you think so,” she beamed. “I always worry I’ll muck something up.”

“That’d be pretty hard for you to do, Char.” He smiled at her, motioning for her to sit closer to him. She obliged, cosying up to him and resting her head on his shoulder.

The sounds of the crackling fire and the slurping of soup filled the room. Arthur tipped his bowl back, finishing the rest of the broth. He let out a satisfied sigh and took Charlotte’s bowl as well, putting them next to the sink to be washed. He’ll clean up eventually, he thought. Right now all he wanted to do was warm up his wonderful wife.

He changed into his union suit, catching a glimpse outside the window. The snow came down with a vengeance. He grabbed a log from the pile and tossed it into the dying flames. The fire continued to dwindle.

“Goddamm it,” he muttered, bending over to grab the poker and stir the ashes around. He felt the familiar sensation of a hand giving his behind a light smack. He turned around, his wife looking around, a mischievous grin plastered on her face.

He arched an eyebrow. “Was that really necessary, darlin’?”

“Was what necessary?” She tried looking away, but try as she might, her lips continued to curl into a smile.

“You know damn well what I’m talkin’ about, missy. Your hand just loves smackin’ my ass, don’t it?”

“That is quite the accusation, Mr. Morgan!”

“I oughtta smack YOU on the ass.”

She smirked, tilting her head. “Well? What’s stopping you?”

He studied her for a second, then knelt down next to her. “Goddamn, have you always been this naughty?”

“Always have, always will be. It’s one of the reasons you married me, remember?” She lay back on the carpet. “Now get me a blanket, would you, darling? It’s freezing in here.”

He sighed, tossing her a few blankets. He tossed another log on the fire, then lay next to her. He wrapped his arms around her as she shivered against him. He scooted the two of them closer to the fire. “There, now that’s better.”

She nuzzled against his chest and yawned. “Arthur?”

“Hmm?” He looked down at her.

“How long do you think we’ll be in here? Waiting out this storm?”

He looked outside again, the snow showing no signs of stopping. “Awhile. Don’t know how long exactly, but we’ve survived much worse. ‘Sides, I stocked up on food and supplies, we’ll be fine.

She sighed, looking up at him and kissing his cheek. “Well, we’ve got plenty of time, what should we do to pass it?”

He chuckled. “Well, there’s always dominoes, and redecoratin’, and we can always be workin’ on our marriage.”

“Oh? And how exactly do you want to work on that?” She held his hand, circling his palm with her thumb.

“Well, when’s the last time we’ve had to ourselves like this? Seems like we’re always busy with housework, farmwork, all kinds of work. This is a good opportunity for us to just… be in each other’s presence.”

She hummed against his chest. “Sounds wonderful.”

The flames of the fire crackled, and Charlotte let out a small, breathy laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Arthur asked.

“Oh just remembering our little honeymoon.”

Arthur smiled as the memories came flooding back. “That little camping trip.”

“Yes! Remember, out on the lake?”

“How could I forget? We tipped the whole damn canoe over!” He laughed, rocking back and forth and waving his arms around dramatically, reenacting the fateful moment.

The two of them collapsed on the floor in a heap of giggles, cuddling up to each other to trap the warmth again as their laughter died down. Charlotte looked into the flames of the fire, a small smile on her face. “And the campfire,” she mused. “Illuminated the entire night sky. Millions of tiny stars, looking down at us.”

Arthur chuckled. “Yeah, I remember.Them crickets were noisy sons of bitches, weren’t they?”

“I think they thought the same thing about us, dear.” She ran her hands along his chest, gazing into his blue eyes that perfectly complimented his rosy cheeks.

“Darlin’, you were the one makin’ all the noise,” he said in a low tone.

She sighed, resting her head against his chest. “You’re right, you always were a good lover.”

He rubbed her back, gazing into the flames as well. “You know, we could alway reenact that night. If you’re up to it that is.”

She smirked, smooching his cheek. “I thought you’d never ask,” she whispered in his ear, giving it a small nip. He let a gasp escape his lips.

“Jesus, darlin’.” His lips met hers as he gracefully flipped her onto her back. “I was on top, remember?” He pinned her wrists to the soft, welcoming rug beneath them. It was her turn to let out a gasp. A bead of sweat dripped down her brow, the weight of her husband’s warm body causing blood to rush throughout her entire being.

She kissed his neck and moaned. “Are you sure I wasn’t the one on top?” She wrapped her legs around his torso and twisted her body around and caught him off guard. Arthur grunted, his wife now the one staring down at him.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. Who knew such a typically mild mannered woman could have the drive and spunk of a working girl? He felt himself growing stiff beneath her.

“No, darlin’, you’ve got it all wrong, remember? You were on top when we was by the lake, after we went skinny dippin’. I remember ‘cause the rocks were diggin’ into my back, but hell, it was worth is just to watch myself disappear inside of you over and over again.”

Warmth flooded her core as she began to grind against his leg. “Well, which was it, Arthur? Make up your mind before...before I..” She buried her face in the crook of his neck and moaned.

“Look at you…” he chuckled. “You gonna cum before I’m even inside you?”

She shook her head.

“Thought not. Goddamn, you must be soaked.” He held her against him and kissed her lips. He lay her back down against the soft texture of the rug, his hands exploring her body, as they had on that fateful night. “Now it’s all comin’ back to me. You were lyin’ there, the light of the fire dancin’ across your nude body…” His hands played with the straps of her nightgown before sliding them off, revealing her bare bosom. “Your breasts, milky white…” He planted kisses on them, his calloused fingers running across her pink buds.

She bit her lip to stifle a moan. “Yeah? Then what?”

He slid the nightgown further down her body. “Your stomach, soft and delicate” His voice had grown low and a bit hoarse.

Charlotte rubbed her thighs together, her breath shallow as she anticipated his next move.

Finally, he slid the nightgown completely off of her body, the cold air hitting her skin. She shivered, not from the air, but from the sensation of Arthur’s bearded face rubbing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. He kissed all the way up her thigh until he reached her core. He placed his fingers against it, and while a layer of cloth separated his touch from her body, she still left out a soft moan.

“Yes...yes…” he growled. “I’m rememberin’ now. How you tasted…” He looked up at her as he slid her panties down her legs. “Darlin’, it’s takin’ everythin’ in me not to devour you right now.”

“W-what’s stopping you?”

That comment again. God, she was a relentless tease.

He stared at her as he gave her pussy a long, teasingly slow lick. She let out a soft whimper at the sensation of his warm tongue against her intimacy. Her juices continued to flow, and he was right there to lap them up with his eager mouth.

Her taste was familiar to his tongue, sweet as summer honeysuckles. His beard rubbed the skin of her inner thighs, and she arched her back as his tongue continued to explore the familiar territory of her folds. His cock throbbed against the tight fabric of his union suit. He longed to be inside her, to hold her against him as their heartbeats began to sync.

He growled, fumbling with the buttons of his suit and he moved his head back and forth. He ran his hand along his entire length, finally letting it free from its previous confines.

His wife couldn’t help but glance down and moan at the sight of her husband pleasuring himself while he pleasured her. She bucked against his face, feeling herself reaching her peak.

His calloused thumb made lazy circles around her clit while his other thumb circled the head of his cock.

Charlotte bit her lip and whimpered, squirming against her husband’s face.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he growled, “cum for me. You can do it, I know you’re close. Fuck…” His cock leaked with precum.

She arched her back and moaned out his name, and while no one could feasibly hear them in the middle of the woods, right at that moment it felt like the entire world knew that Arthur Morgan was filling her with ecstasy as she reached her climax.

She panted, her body coated with a thin layer of sweat. “Oh...Oh, Arthur..”

He panted heavily as well, sliding beside her and kissing her, his face and beard still lingering with the taste and scent of her.

“Mmm that’s a good girl…” he whispered in her ear.

Her hands squeezed his glistening biceps, then trailed down to his chest and stomach. She played with his chest hair, a sly smirk on her face. “My big man loves to eat, hmm?” she teased, kissing his neck and nipping his earlobe.

“You’re damn right I do.” He let out a grunt, his cock twitching.

Charlotte kissed him and shimmied the rest of his suit down his body.

“Now we’ve just gotta stay close together so we don’t freeze to death,” she said, her hand gripping his length and stroking it. She kissed his lips, muffling the groan that escaped his mouth.

“Mmm I want us both facin’ the fire,” he whispered. “No more fightin’ to be on top.”

“Yes sir.” She obeyed, laying on her side facing the fire.

He slid her body against his, turning her face so he could kiss her. He lifted her leg, reaching a hand around to rub her pussy, still soaked from their previous interaction.

He slid inside of her with ease, both of them gasping practically the same breath. His cock inside of her was a familiar feeling that seemed to bring her more pleasure with each thrust.

His large hand clasped her smaller one, the both of them unable to take their eyes off of the other one. The fire continued to roar, and while the outside raged with icy wrathfulness, the inside of their little cabin was a hearth of comfort and pleasure.

“Darlin’, I…” he growled, twitching inside of her.

A familiar, floaty feeling began to rise in her stomach, and she let out a soft moan.

He brought their clasped hands down to her sensitive bundle of nerves. With his hand over hers, he guided her and pleased her, as an artist guides his brush across a canvas, and as an artist creates a passion filled work of art, so too were they.

She squirmed against him, barely able to contain herself as she moaned out broken pieces of his name.

“That’s it, goddamn that’s it…” he growled in her ear. “Cum with me, be a good girl and cum with me..”

The fire crackled and sparked and so did she, moaning as she came undone once more.

Arthur pulled out and groaned, spilling his seed on her stomach.

The two of them collapsed in a heap of sweat, the both of them panting and staring up at the ceiling, holding hands.

Finally, Arthur mustered up the strength to get up and retrieve a wet cloth to clean up his wife. He smirked as he cleaned her. “You were so good tonight.”

“So were you, dear.” She kissed him. “You always know exactly what I need.”

The fire began to fizzle out. Charlotte sighed and arose, retrieving a log from the pile and tossing it into the fireplace. The light of the flames illuminated every curve of her nude form. Arthur’s heart beat a bit faster at the sight.

He wished to God he could capture her in that same pose. He’d be sure to sketch a replica of it, hell, maybe have her model for him just so he had an excuse to see her naked again. Either way, the sight of her looking like a work of art made his heart soar. She definitely beat all the dirty cigarette cards he and the old gang members used to trade.

“Something on your mind, Arthur?”

He blinked a few times before chuckling. “Nothin’. Just thinkin’ about you and how lovely you look.”

She smiled and lay down beside him, kissing his forehead. “You’ve still got it, darling.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“I’m not kidding. You were wonderful tonight. It was almost identical to our honeymoon.”

He furrowed his brow and turned his head to look at her. “Almost?”

“Well, we weren’t under the stars!”

He looked out the window, the snow still coming down fast. “Darlin’, you’d better be thankin’ the lord we weren’t doin’ it outside. We’d be freezin’ our asses off in all that snow.”

She giggled, nuzzling against him and kissing his chest. “Well we may not have been making love under the stars, but you certainly made me see stars tonight, Mr. Morgan.”

He chuckled, pulling her against him and kissing her one more time before drifting off to sleep.

#arthur x charlotte #arthur morgan x charlotte balfour #charlotte balfour #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2

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wendystales · 3 years ago

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Memories - lrh (Chapter Thirteen)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Twelve ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ Chapter Fourteen

I position myself in the center of the panel, making the 104th pose that morning. Brandon guides me from one shot to the next, making everything easier.

Six makeups. Six hairstyles. Six changes of clothes, even though the focus was on my face. Why did I get into this?

The photo shoot was for a cosmetics brand, for which I was the cover girl. It wasn't a 7-headed bug, as I had been thinking all night, which resulted in an irritating insomnia. And even though I arrived shy and lost, when I saw my look all produced, I felt like a great hottie, which gave me the confidence to go to that studio and rock.

I was having fun, as Leah advised me. I threw my hair, made faces and danced. I shifted my attention between Brandon's camera and my cell phone, where Nico, one of the helpers, was filming behind the scenes and stirring up my social medias.

It's fun, but after the fourth change of clothes, I was exhausted. After all, that spotlight doesn't leave me and the light gets too hot.

“For you.” Nico hands me a pink lilies bouquet. I open a smile, confused.

The team that was with me today, the agency, the brand and my parents had already sent me some bouquets earlier today, congratulating me and celebrating my return to the fashion world. So whose would it be?

I hunt for the card, opening it in a rush. Nico rested his head on my shoulder, wanting to read along with me. The handwriting didn't make me doubt, they were Luke's.

“To make your day more beautiful.

Congratulations on your return.

Love, Hemmo.”

I open a smile completely shaken by that. I burst out laughing when I see under his name “and the rest of 5sos” written in a different hand.

I ask Nico to take a picture of me with the flowers and send it to him, who quickly responds with a Petunia figure with heart eyes. I know I need to drop the bouquet and go back to the photos, but it feels so difficult.

Finally, I leave the flowers to the dressing room and I focus myself. Brandon praises my goofy smile and begs me to keep it up.

I knew everyone wanted to come today and watch the photo shoot, but I begged so hard not to. If without anyone I was already terrified of, seeing everyone there, staring at me, I wouldn't leave the dressing room.

[...]

Leah and Kiki were at my house, getting ready for Ashton's birthday, and of course, to gossip. They were both super curious to know how my first shoot was and how I was feeling.

besides telling about work, I comment about Luke's flowers and, finally, I tell about yesterday's dreams that still haven't left my head, taking root in my mind, blooming when I least expect it and leaving me out of breath.

“Oh, you naughty one!” Hastings tosses me the pillow. "Are you going to tell him?" she sits up in bed.

“No! How do I tell this?” I question, not understanding.

“Luke, I remembered when we were like two pervert rabbits and we were always having sex in the corners. Simple.” Kiki shrugs, going back to making up her eyes.

“Kiki!" I reprimand her. I hide my face, laughing embarrassed. "We weren't like that…I think…were we?" I look quickly at both of them.

Kiki looks at Leah, holding back her laughter. The brunette stares at me in disbelief. Oh my God, we were! It takes time to sink in, because with Stephen, I avoided sex at all costs. It was so cold and awkward, that most of the time I was bruised and, in all cases, unfulfilled.

I remember the touch of the dream and how it felt so soft and intense, and so good. However, I still find it hard for me to have been so turned on that I started having sex everywhere.

“Are you sure?” I ask suspiciously.

"Oh, honey! I will have to tell you about my dad's birthday, have I?" Leah hugs me, making Kiki laugh.

"What about your father's birthday?" the same way I was feared of Luke when he started telling me about the day I threw up at his feet, I get with Leah.

“Well, it was my dad's 50th birthday. A big, big party and of course I invited all of you. We had just got back from Milan, you were away from Luke for a couple of weeks, so you’re kinda getting crazy by missing him.

"Make it crazy." Kiki comments.

“The plan was for us to arrive in the morning, you'd have time to see each other, and then in the evening we would go to the party. But our flight was delayed and you didn't have that time. So you decided to open the bathroom.” Leah gives a fake smile.

I took a few seconds to understand, and then I widen my eyes, wanting to sink into the ground. I can't believe we did this.

“Calm down! She didn’t told the best part”. Kiki leaves the bathroom, joining us.

“Oh, that's cool, is there a better part?” I look at them both desperately.

"Of course, there is a best part. Leah escorting you guys out of the bathroom" Kiki throws herself on the bed, laughing. “Oh God! Your faces were the best.”

“Was after that our friendship beat all the limits and you know, we got really close.” Leah smiles to me.

What was my problem? Oh Lord, I never, ever, in my all life, thought I'd give one of those. If anyone asked me, who would be most likely to do this, I would definitely say Leah, Kiki, and even Bethany, but I would never say my name.

What did Luke do to me?!

I look at my friends, shocked. They both start laughing, amused by my reaction. A few seconds later, I give up, starting to laugh too.

"Is there any other similar situation that I should know about?" I inquire with fear.

"Yes, but we don't have time right now." Kiki gets up from the bed, slapping my foot, asking me to get ready.

We turned on the music and continued to get ready. Leah goes down to the kitchen, returning with three beers. The subject changes and we start to gossip.

After hours of producing us, I come down wearing my silver sequin jacket, finding Leah with another beer in her hand.

“Well? Good? Great?” I take a stroll, showing off the leather pants and black tank top that valued my tattoo.

"I definitely would ask for your number!" she replies, making me smile.

"Do you think people will like it? I mean, isn’t that much?” I stop in a few poses while she watches me.

“Rephrase the question.” she leans against the table. I stare at her without understanding. “What you want to know is whether Luke will like it." I open my mouth a few times.

“Perhaps.” I answer softly. Hastings snorts, hiding her face.

“You two should pay for my therapy. Because it's not easy to take it.” she takes a deep breath.

I give a guilty smile. I head to the bar, grabbing a shot of tequila and flipping it quickly. I would find Luke in a few minutes and I still don't know how to face him. I close my eyes, letting the alcohol burn my throat and warm my body, along with the memories. The flashes come back to my mind, clear as water. I can hear the girls' voices again, telling them about Mr. Hastings' 50th birthday.

“Let's go?” Kiki's scream brings me back. Standing near the door, they wait for me to down another shot of tequila before we go.

Along the way, we took several photos, already moving our social medias. At the door of the restaurant, the swarm of paparazzi was already in place and as soon as we got off the car, they surrounded us. Hands and arms linked, the three of us entered, being saved by the huge walls that didn't let them see anything that happened inside.

We went to the back of the restaurant, in a more reserved space, where a long table took up half the back wall. Right away I spot Luke, laughing as he chats with Jack and another guy I don't recognize. I analyze your look, social pants and a black t-shirt.

How can someone look so beautiful, so simple?

I swallow hard when he notices our approach and looks directly at me. I look away, unable to hold on; the images screamed in my mind.

Irwin approaches, already quite excited, trying to hug the three of us at the same time. When Leah and Kiki go to greet the other guests, I calmly hug my best friend, congratulating him once more.

“Make yourself comfortable and behave” he leaves a kiss on my forehead, going to welcome other guests who have just arrived.

I turn in time to see Hemmings approaching, one glass in his hand and the other in his pants pocket. How? I hold my breath, giving a terrified smile. He opens his smile even more.

“Hey!” he says excitedly, close enough for me to hear. Those lips… what have they done… I close my eyes quickly, shutting my mind.

“Hey!” I answer awkwardly.

“How are you doing?” he hugged me, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth. I close my eyes again, feeling it radiate with amazing speed throughout my body. I let out a breath in a sigh. I manage to catch his eyes as he walks away, hiding a more mischievous smile.

“Well!” my cheeks catch fire and the jacket starts to bother me. "Thanks for the flowers earlier today." I thank, while Luke leads me to the bar. His hand firmly on my waist reminds me of that hotel room. I bite my lip, holding back the urge to bang my head on the counter. "A shot of tequila." I ask desperately.

Luke raises his eyebrows in surprise but says nothing. I turn it over without a single thought, asking for another one, just in case. The heat that spreads through my body is the result of three doses ingested. I take off my jacket and, through the bar mirrors, I see Luke shamelessly sweep my body.

“It was nothing!” he says after clearing his throat. "I'm glad you liked it. So, how was your first shoot?” he leans his elbow on the counter, propping his head on his hand, visually interested.

The effect of the alcohol starts to kick in, and so I feel lighter in his presence, not bothering with the memories between the two of us, nor the fanciful situations that my mind starts to create. I tell about the rehearsal and how fun it really was to do it. In the middle of the answer, I get enthusiastic, telling everything in minute detail. Luke looks at me smiling and interested, without interrupting me.

“I’m sorry!” I cover my eyes, laughing. “I'm talking too much.”

A few more people had already arrived, but the two of us were still there, sitting at the bar. The most interesting thing was, everyone who arrived didn't dare come here and interrupt us.

“No! I love hearing you talk.” he smiles before taking another sip of gin. I lower my gaze, totally ashamed.

"I think we'd better go sit down." I comment, seeing everyone settling into their chairs.

“Let's go?” he offers his hand, helping me off the stool. I hold into his arm, walking to the table. "Should I keep an eye on you today?" he laughs. I repress the urge to say yes, but that's not the answer to his question.

“No! I won't drink that much.” I press my lips together in a thin line, embarrassed by Ash's party.

We sat next to each other, with Calum and Noah in front of us. Luke leans his arm on the back of my chair and I'm not shy about getting close to him, even with everyone in our group staring at us curiously. We embarked on a lively conversation with everyone around us.

Michael rushes in and apologizes for being late, taking his seat next to Hemmings.

"Was she with her?" I hear Luke ask, taking my full attention.

“Yep!” Mike gives a shy smile.

“Who she?” I almost walk through the body of the australian beside me, wanting to get close to Mike.

“Nobody special.” he shrugs.

“Yeah! Go for it.” Hemmo lets go, laughing. Michael slaps him on the head.

“It's nobody special. Just a friend. I swear!" he closes the matter, but he doesn't convince me.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about it." I whisper, complaining to the blonde at my side.

“Sorry, there was no time. Also, I didn't even know it could lead to anything.” he shrugs. I stare Luke, waiting him to continue, but he is easily distracted by the napkin holder. I slap his head like Mike. “Ouch! What was it?” he looks at me shocked.

“Tell me!” Luke turns to face me, rolling his eyes.

“Her name is Sophie. They met at a Fortnite stream. She beat him and he went to congratulate her on the match, so they started talking and apparently it’s hitting something.” Luke shrugs, finishing the story.

“This is so cute. I hope it works!” I see Michael laughing over Luke's shoulder. “Is she pretty?” I question.

“This is a dangerous question.” I look back at him, confused. "Is there a chance you slap me?" I laugh.

"No." I don't get why I would hit him for finding someone pretty.

“She is pretty!" I hit him. “Hey! You said I wouldn't be hitten.” he accuses me.

“Sorry, it's just funny.” I defend myself by laughing. Luke turns forward, annoyed. I wrap my arm around his, which were on the table and come closer, placing a kiss on his cheek. "Are you going to be mad at me?" I question laughing.

"And I can do it?" he turns to me. His eyes drop to my lips and mine to yours. It would be a perfect time for a kiss, but I don't feel comfortable with all these looks on us.

Hemmo seems to understand my internal battle and just leaves a kiss on my forehead. I open a grateful smile and once again guide my attention to the conversation between Noah and Brian.

After a couple of hours of eating and drinking. We started to spread out through space, forming several conversation circles. I was having a blast with everyone. We sing, dance and record videos that we'll definitely regret later.

After starting to eat, I stopped drinking alcohol, after all, trauma still reigns inside me. So I wouldn't feel like the only sober one at the party, Hemmings decided to join me, stopping drinking too.

Relieved, of course, is the word to describe this night with him. I thought it would be hard to look at it with everything I remembered, but it was so light and fun, I admit I freaked out over nothing. As usual!

All through dinner, I try not to pay too much attention to everyone's eyes on us. We simply could not do anything that someone just needed to die of love. Luke was amused, while I just wanted to sink into the ground.

Yes, I may have had a clue as to how much I feel about Luke, but I still want to take it easy. I want to be sure, and for that, I need to stop being afraid. I know he's been realizing how I've changed and I'm letting him get closer and closer.

Our kisses, touches and smiles. Everything is falling into place and the fact that he doesn't put pressure on me helps me a lot. I already totally trust him, it just makes stronger.

Considering it was easy to stay close to him, without letting the shame take me, I didn't pull him away for a second, because most of the time he pulled me along and I liked that. I like being close to him.

“One round. Just one round.” Jack pleads, hands clasped under his chest.

“No! I've had too much today.” Luke denies it again, making his friend fake a dramatic cry.

"You drank when you arrived. A beer and a shot of gin. That's nothing.”

“I'll drive later and I'm keeping Marnie company.” he squeezes me tighter to his chest.

"Can't you drink?" Jack looks at me confused.

“Of course I can, I just don't want to, you know, make a scene. Or something like that.” I shrug. Jack rolls his eyes, turning back to Luke.

“One round.” he begs, making me laugh.

The boys were preparing a round of Answer or Drink with 10 different types of drink. So, they played and still got drunk.

“No!” Luke responds with a laugh.

For a few seconds, I leave the two of them arguing and go to the table to get my coat. With the lack of alcohol, I start to feel the cold of the air conditioning. On my way to the table, a voice stops me.

“Look what a wonderful surprise.” I turn quickly, feeling all the blood freeze through my body. "What a coincidence, isn't it?" I watch his smirk, knowing what his presence there would do.

“What are you doing here, Stephen?” I take a breath deep, controlling the urge to fly at him. Just like I did with Pam.

It's the first time we've seen each other since the diary report and I couldn't feel more disgust and loathing.

“It's a public place, Lizzie, and don't worry, I didn't come chasing you. I'm with friends.” he points to a table. “I just came to say hello.”

“Don't call me Lizzie, you know I hate it and why don't you take your fake education and stick it in your…”

“What are you doing here?” Luke walks past me, coming face to face with Stephen. "I already told you to stay away from her."

Soon, all the boys approach, ready to intervene. I grab his arm, trying to keep him close to me.

“Let him.” I beg, not wanting it to explode in the middle of the restaurant.

“Calm down, Hemmings.” the name comes out acid and full of poison. “I just came to say hello to Lizzie.” he laughs, hands in his pockets. "Don't worry, I'm not kissing her."

I close my eyes, feeling that hit both of us. That's low, very low. Luke steps forward, taking me with him. Noah and Jack are already starting to put their hands between them. Ash, Mike and Calum begin to put their hands on their friend's shoulders, pulling him along.

“Do not worry. I'm not going to spend my time punching him. But I'll just say one thing, Stephen.” he uses the same acid tone to say his name. "In case you're still dumb enough not to understand. It’s over! What you and Marnie had is over! So stop coming after her, because she doesn't want anything to do with you. She is with me.”

His tone of voice and body postureme impress. I've never seen Luke like this, so nervous, holding back so he doesn't explode, the veins in his neck bulging, proving how much he's controlling himself. I tighten your arm more tightly around my body. I bring my hand down until it's entwined with his, deceptively hoping that it will calm him down and bring him back to me.

“Funny. Cause from what I heard, you guys broke up, didn't you? What? You couldn’t stood the cheat?” he laughs, like he's made a great joke.

I don't know if he intended to hit Luke again, but without realizing it the words hit me. My blood boils and the words written in my diary take shape in my mind. Damn imagination.

I let go of my hand, putting myself in front of Stephen, who takes a step back. His gaze, full of curiosity and mockery, fixes on me.

“That’s enough, Stephen! I don't care about you. Pretend I never called you, just like I was before the accident and disappear from my life. I know you cheated on me and I don't want this torment in my life anymore. Go away.” I let go of everything contained, trying not to fly off his neck.

"Are you really going to believe their bullshit?" Stephen crosses his arms.

“Nobody had to tell me. I remembered." I see his eyes lose their mocking sparkle and he lose confidence. It's a lie, but he don't need to know. “There are at least twenty people here and they all want to hit you, including me, who wouldn't mind breaking my cast on your head. So if you don't want to get out of here on a stretcher, get out!”

I take a step back, feeling my heart pound and trying my best to keep myself from crying. Luke's agitated breath pulses against my spine. I lean against him, feeling his hand intertwine with mine, squeezing it delicately. Amazing how I feel safer, just with that touch.

Stephen passes his eyes around everyone and walks away without saying anything else. When his body pulls away, I release all the air I didn't even know I was holding. The boys start telling us to go back to the table.

I turn, pulling Luke, who is still standing there, facing my ex, who is sitting at the table with a group of friends. He turns around, pulling me easily into his arms. His hands tighten around my waist and I feel him exhale against my neck, giving me goose bumps. I stroke the back of his neck, trying to calm him down and show him that everything is fine.

We walked back to the table, striving for the mood from before. Ashton orders his birthday cake and we ourselves lull into the music, excited, mocking Irwin. While we devoured the cake, no one broaches the subject and I thanks for that. I know Hemmings and I will probably talk about it, but I don't want to involve the guys in this.

Gossip reigns at the table again. The entire group is engaged in conversation about the most disastrous trips ever made, minus the blonde and me. I watch him with his jaw still set and his gaze filled with rage, fixed directly on Stephen, who is across the room, staring at me.

It's a cycle: Luke stares at Stephen, who stares at me, while I stare at Luke.

I feel terrible for making him go through all of this. My amnesia, our breakup, my ex's return. Lucas doesn't deserve any of this. I need to reward him, but how?

“Hey!” I whisper, resting my chin on his bicep, but he doesn't hear me. "I want to leave, will you take me?" I question, hoping to gain any sign of him.

He looks at me nonchalantly, then blinks back to reality. Luke stares at the bleached on the other side, wanting to see if he's still trying something. I drop a small kiss on his shoulder, gaining his attention again.

“Of course! Let's go?” I nod, getting up.

Nobody is opposed to our leaving, I believe as much because of what happened as because it was the two of us. We walked across the room hand in hand, and with me clutching his arm, just to make sure he didn't fly into someone.

But I need to remember that Luke is just as classy as I am. Not just for the fame or the spectacle it would be, but because he was brought up that way. Educated not to go into violence, even if there was someone on the other side who deserved to be slapped.

I'm scared by the frantic flashes that start to pop when they notice the two of us. I cling closer to Luke, who makes room for his car. The delay for the questions to start is just for them to reason that it was the two of us there, together, after announcing our break up.

I keep my head down, focused on his thumb moving up and down, stroking my skin. Luke opens the car door and I settle in, still feeling the flashbulbs burst above us.

With great difficulty, we got out of that sea of people. We remained silent until we reached the intersection of the main lane that led to my house.

“Do you want to go home?” he asks, softly.

I can't identify any feelings in your voice. He is neutral, indifferent. Apart from the isolated fact, this night has been amazing and I don't want it to end, not in this mood.

“No!” I turn in the seat, facing him. "Isn't there anywhere I'd love to go? Or that we both went a lot?” for the first time, I see a glint run through his eyes.

“Yeah! In fact, there are two.” he cracks a smile, causing me to smile too.

Luke takes the other path, heading to some place I couldn't even imagine. The subject comes up between us and so the mood softens. As we talk, I list a number of places I've always liked in Los Angeles, wanting to guess where it would take me.

We turn onto Wilshire Boulevard and I guess where we're going. Hemmo parks his car near the Urban Light and I look forward to getting out of the car.

Before we exit the vehicle, he pulls two caps from the glove compartment, giving me a dark gray one. I look at that accessory, wondering if it was always mine, if we always wore it when we went out.

“Why am I not impressed that this would be the first place?” I question, holding his hand.

By the time, the sculpture was a little empty, with only a few couples taking pictures. Luke and I went unnoticed, walking between those huge poles.

We walked around, with me admiring those lighted poles. I've always liked this sculpture, I've always found it romantic because so many people are proposed here, and I love the lighting.

“Oh no!” I push Luke, finding your phone pointed at me.

"This one got blurry." he laments, pointing again.

“Luke!” I exclaim laughing. I try not to scream so as not to draw attention to both of us.

“Sorry about my behavior at the restaurant.” Hemmings says after a while, surprising me. I lean against a pole, watching him.

“Why are you apologizing?” I frown. Luke leans against the same post, shrugging.

"I didn't mean to spoil your night." he answers.

“You didn't! If there is one responsible, it is him! Stephen knows he shouldn't have shown up there.” I comfort him.

His blue eyes meet mine. I take a step toward him, standing on tiptoe, reaching for his lips, leaving a simple kiss there. Without pulling away completely, I see a goofy smile appear on his face, which also appears on mine.

"What's our second place?" I whisper, next to him.

“My bed.” he lets go.

“Lucas!” I push him away, laughing again. His laugh is contagious. If he knew about the memories…

“Just kidding." Uh-hm… "Ready to get full of sand?" he asks, holding out his hand.

“Always!” I grabbed, leaning my head on his arm as we made our way to the car.

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