#[she has a single packed bag and is full-out running]

[kimingyuslover]

Breath in your love

Synopsis : What if Jeonghan wishes of turn back time come true?

Word count : 3,231

Pairing : yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

Genre : time traveler!au, angst, fluff, lovers to exes to lovers, second chance romance

Warnings & note : TEARS, she has a daughter named Seok kyung, single mom!reader, slight of dad!Jeonghan at the end, time traveler!Jeonghan, mentions of food, lots of mentions of Seok kyung, kinda simp!Jeonghan, mentions of pregnancy, this fic does not represent his character in real life!

a.n : back with another angst story.... literally tearing up rn lolololol

Life hasn't been easy for you, not even now, exhaustion evident on your face, you just want to go home and have a good rest on weekends like you always do.

Working under one of the big 3 companies was not easy, and you know it, yet you still work there and even achieve being their head of finance.

After you reach home, all your exhaustion goes through the window when you see your daughter waiting patiently with her nanny at your doorstep.

She's greeting you with a sweet smile plastered on her face with a piece of paper that she held proudly on her chest.

“Seok kyung!” You open your arms towards her. She reciprocates by running to you and wraps her tiny hands on your back.

“Did you be a good girl today? you're not causing a problem, are you?” she giggles between your questions and shakes her head no.

“I'm not mommy! Miss Jiwoo also said I'm good today and she gives me 5 stars!” She gave you her paper full of stars, you gasped at her answer, then smiled widely.

“really? My baby is so smart!” You take her inside while Seok kyung's nanny helps you by taking your bag and you mouth a ‘thank you’ to her as she smiles at you.

Having Seok kyung was not on your plan, at least until you found out that you're pregnant 5 years ago with her, and your pregnancy is seven weeks old.

When you first tell your boyfriend– now ex, Jeonghan, that you’re pregnant and you want to keep it, arguments start to happen.

He’s arguing that he's not yet ready to be a father and he doesn't want you to keep it, whereas you argue back that even though you're both not as ready as anyone else to be a parents, you still wants to keep it, you can learn together how to be a good parents, they done nothing wrong, so if you aborted them, wouldn't it be cruel?

Arguments keep happening since then, and it took you 3 days to finally break up with him, if he doesn't want the baby so be it, you're willing to give up on your 6 years relationship for your baby.

And now here you are, a single mother on the peak of your 30s with a daughter and a stable job that can give you more than enough money to live with your daughter.

There's so much purchase that you buy for your future, like a car, a house, maids, and even a nanny to take care of your daughter while you're working.

When you're on a business trip, though, you bring her with you because it makes you not worry too much about her.

“Sweetheart, mommy's having a business trip tomorrow. Do you want to come with me, or do you want to stay here with Uncle Joshua?” You asked Seok kyung after bathing with her and putting on clothes for both of you.

She makes the ‘think’ gesture first and answers you with excitement in her voice, ���I want to go with mommy! Will we go with a plane again?” You lightly chuckles and stroke her hair softly.

“Yes, we will, baby. Let's pack up first, yeah?” She nods her head and runs towards your walk-in closet to take a big suitcase.

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

Now you're in the first class lounge, waiting for your airplane to open the gate for boarding.

Seok kyung playing games on her Ipad while you were reviewing the proposal your team has been working on for over a month.

After a couple minutes of waiting, your gate has finally opened for boarding, and you usher Seok kyung to get up from the couch and walk to the boarding gate.

On the other hand, Jeonghan thinks he might be dreaming when he sees you with a little girl on his plane boarding gate, smiles attached to your and her face while walking hand-in-hand.

It's been years since he last saw you, the last time was when he fucked up your relationship, feeding only his ego then at the end all of his mistake was the cause of your break up.

His first serious relationship that he cherished the most comes to an end, and it was not in a good way.

Jeonghan knew he was the wrong one, and the only one who can be blamed for your ruined relationship, you've done nothing wrong, but in his eyes that time, you've done more than the wrong things he imagined.

There’s a hard pang he feels in his heart when he sees you. He spent almost every hour in a day stalking your social media, and he always wanted to be the one who you'll always mention in your post.

He felt the hurt in his heart more when he saw your posting almost 5 years ago. It's a picture of one pair of tiny feet on your hand, but for him, it's not only a picture of a baby feets, it's a photo of his daughter, the one he left when you're only seven weeks pregnant.

When he got your notification, he almost immediately checked on his phone when he saw you updating your life with Seok kyung (he learned that was her name when one of your friends mentioned it in the comment section).

All of your updates have always been successful to bring a smile to his face.

Jeonghan always wondered what his life would be if he shortly apologised after the first argument, would Seok kyung love him? Will he be a good dad? Will you get married and live a happy life for the rest of your life just like you both had planned when your relationship entered 3 years?

The questions are always running on his mind 24/7, wanting no more than to run to you, holding both your hand and Seok kyung on his, kneeling in front of you and muttering apologise after apologise until you forgive him.

But that seems to be an impossible act. Before he knew it, he had already gotten on the plane and sat on his seat.

When he turns around, his body freezes upon seeing you and Seok kyung on your seats, playing like there's nobody else in the world.

After what feels like an eternity, the plane finally takes off, Jeonghan’s hoping that he won't be fast asleep because he wants to see you and your daughter– or rather, the daughter of his and yours.

A few hours have passed, and you are both fast asleep on your seat. Jeonghan called the air hostess to allow him to switch seats, luckily for him, it's not a full flight so there's a few seats left, he chooses the one who he can get closer to you, wanting to observe your little family a little bit more.

He can see the little detail on her face, he can see the manifestation of your and his love, she got your lips and eyes, meanwhile her nose and hair seems to be more likely to his.

Suddenly, tears started to brimming in his eyes. Why can't he accept his fate? Why can’t he do what a good fiancé will do when their fiancée says that she's pregnant? Why can't he seem to never be good enough to enroll in your life again?

Tears fell down from his eyes down his chin, then dropped to his lap.

oh, how he wished he could turn back time.

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

“baby? baby, you need to get up. Today is still thursday, and you have to get ready to work” Jeonghan can't believe what he's hearing, your sweet voice filling both of his ears.

Realising that it was, indeed, your voice, he immediately sat up from his sleep figure and started to look at you with disbelief prominent on his face.

He still didn't believe his eyes, and he went as far as holding your cheeks with his hands, and you gave him a puzzled look.

“Uh, baby? what's wrong?” You asked him while raising one of your eyebrows, puzzled by his unusual behavior.

Jeonghan said nothing and just pulled you on his chest. If this is a dream, he’s hoping he will never wake up and have to live his life with the same nightmare everyday.

“Just for your information, ten minutes has passed and it's now seven past five and you can always hug me again when you get home” You said with muffled voice, and there Jeonghan let go of you, to have a better look of your face, and then smiles which you reciprocated with the same.

“Okay then, I have to go shower even though I still want to cuddle with you, am i?” You nod at his words and get off the bed.

Jeonghan finally comes to his senses and gets off from the bed, heading towards the bathroom, a wide smile still attached to his face.

After he got out of the shower, his ironed work attire already sat on his bed. It's the daily activity you would do, preparing his work attire when he showers.

Jeonghan still remembers how you two would act like a married couple, like a husband and wife, even long before your engagement.

When he goes downstairs, he searches for you, and when he does get to see you, you're in your kitchen, cooking breakfast and preparing lunch for him.

He never eats in the office canteen because the lunch you made has already made his stomach full, and he makes sure to tell you everytime he gets home from work.

Jeonghan checks the dates and months on his phone, and when he opens it.

January 16th, 2021

30 days before you announce that you're pregnant, he hopes that he can be here forever so he can fix everything for both of you.

“Love? Eat your breakfast first, and here's your lunch” back in the day, Jeonghan never appreciated your dish like he should, he only said ‘thanks’ before eating it half and then got up and went to the basement of your Maisonette apartment.

Jeonghan eagerly sat on the dining table and started to dig into the breakfast that you made, which is kimchi fried rice with seaweed on the side.

You look at him confused because Jeonghan is usually not this enthusiastic with your dish, but of course, you're happy to see Jeonghan eating your dish like this.

When he's done, Jeonghan goes to the sink and washes his plate and eateries.

“The food is so good sweetheart, can't wait to eat my lunch that you packed for me. Thank you, angel” He said, then kissed the top of your head with love, and that made you let out giggles.

“You're welcome. You better get go on though, there's a little traffic on the way to your office when i opened the maps earlier”

And does he already mention that you're always checking the maps before him?

After bidding you a goodbye, Jeonghan closed the front door and went straight to the basement, ready for probably a long day at work.

In the modern day, Jeonghan is already the vice president of the marketing department, so it shouldn't be that hard now.

He knows you're working remotely, so he doesn't need to worry about you getting late to your office.

In a matter of hours, lunch and working hours have passed, it is now five past six, and Jeonghan hurriedly tidying his office desk to go home.

Unluckily for him, the traffic is worse than the previous one in the morning where he got one, which makes him get home 15 minutes late.

Now it's 5:45, and he made it home before it got dark, wanting no more than to throw himself on your hugs.

“I'm home!” he announces as he kicks his shoes and places them on the shoe racks.

His ears perked up when he heard your hurried footsteps, coming down from the second floor.

“Long traffic? I've seen the route from your office to here. You should probably go shower. What do you want for dinner? I’ll make it” you said as you practically ran after you got off the stairs to him.

Jeonghan smiled. He really missed your attention for the past years he’s not with you.

So he answers you with the meals you and him like, Kimchi stew and after that he brings your lips to his for a chaste kiss that makes you blush and slap his chest lightly and whine his name.

Jeonghan just chuckles lightly, and he runs towards your shared bedroom to have a shower.

Once he gets out of the shower, he rushes out to your dining rooms, excited for the Kimchi stew you make.

Until now, Jeonghan only likes the Kimchi stew made by his mom and yours because he found comfort in them. He already tried to like Kimchi stew from the restaurants, but it never beat yours nor his mother's.

He misses these moments, where you and he will eat together in your shared maisonette, eating with happy giggles always left on both your lips, and the satisfied feelings when he's eating your dishes again with you sitting on the opposite of his seat.

“I love the meal, angel. you're such a good cook, i know you're going to be a good mom someday” He knows you're a good mom, Seok kyung always looks so happy when she's with you.

His words make you blush, and you try to hide it by burying your face on your hands, Jeonghan laugh and get up from his seat to hug you from your back, “I mean it, you're good at cooking and will be a good mom to our kids” then he kisses the top of your head before getting your and his bowl to wash it.

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

February 15th, 2021

1 day before your announcement, everything goes more than well. He just has to stick with his plan, and he hopes he can change his future with you.

Jeonghan sometimes sees you when you're throwing up in your bathroom and always asks if you want him to go to the pharmacy nearby, but you always shake your heads no.

He tried to build a happy relationship with you. He wants to treat you with the treatments you deserve. He wants to love you like he should before the downfall.

He wants Seok kyung to have a life like the other kids, having a mother and father figure.

Jeonghan was living his old life, like usual, going to work 9 to 5, going out with you every weekend, and telling you how much he loves you everytime he could.

He just got off from work. When you suddenly started to put distance between you, he furrowed his eyebrows, creating creases on his forehead.

He vividly remembers that this was not in his memory.

Did he do something wrong? Why are you putting distance towards him? Does his plan not work? Do you want to get off of him? His thoughts are running hundreds of miles per hour, thinking of the worst scenario in his head.

The next day comes fast. Last night, Jeonghan had already emailed his boss that he’s taking 2 weeks off and requested to do work from home because his fiancée is pregnant. His boss doesn't waste another single time as she reads it. She accepts Jeonghan's request.

Jeonghan’s nervous. Could he really change the future?

“Jeonghan,” There is it, your voice calling his name, it means you will have a serious conversation with him.

You look so afraid that you couldn't see him in the eyes, your eyes attached to the ground beneath you, Jeonghan can see that you're trembling, so initiated to take you by your shoulders and told you to sit in front of him.

“What's wrong, honey?” Jeonghan asks, worried plastered on his face.

“I'm pregnant with your child. It's seven weeks old” you said hurriedly while giving him the test, the ultrasounds, and the doctor's examination letter.

In the past timeline, Jeonghan already cuts you off when you said you're pregnant with his child, never letting you finish your words.

“I want to keep the baby” you said again while fiddling with your hands on your lap.

Jeonghan couldn't be happier than he is now, Seok kyung will recognize him as her father, not a stranger.

“Okay, keep the baby. We both know that we have a minimal knowledge to be parents, but we will learn together” Jeonghan answered you, with his tear-filled eyes he held your chin up, so your eyes were at the same level as him.

You looked at him in disbelief. Jeonghan can see your tears already spilling from your eyes, so he wipes your tears from your cheeks with his thumbs.

The distance between you both grows smaller, Jeonghan wastes no time to crush your lips together and give you a long, chaste kiss.

He pulled out first, giving you and him a room for air, “Thank you, baby, thank you” He connects your foreheads, smiling as he looks at you.

That night was spent with you on the held of Jeonghan's hand, sleeping after watching a few videos of how to be a good parent and early pregnancy care.

Jeonghan doesn't want anything other than this, having his life with you in it.

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

Jeonghan eyes shoot open when he hears the sound of a film beside him. He remembers that he was sitting alone, wait–

when he turns his head to the right, there's a window, ‘no no no no no’ he thought to himself.

If he's in the present time, that means everything he sees, he feels, is it only his dream? but he dared to turn his head to the other side, wanting to see who was sat beside him.

He can't buy what he's seeing right now, Seok kyung is sat beside him while you're sat beside her.

Seok kyung looked at her side when she felt something was moving, “Mommy! daddy's already wake up!” her eyes light up when she speaks with you.

“Got a nice dream, huh? you passed out for like, 10 hours of our flight, we're landing in 30 minutes” you say with a teasing smile on your face, Jeonghan's confused, trying to regain his mind.

Then it clicks, he was not dreaming, he really changed his future, Seok kyung known him as her father, not a stranger.

When he sees his right hand, there's a wedding ring, so this is the ending he gets. He really gets his happy ending, with Seok kyung, and most importantly, you.

“Love, you're okay?” You ask with cautiousness, Jeonghan seems unusual after his 10 hours sleep.

He then answers you hurriedly, “yes, i'm fine, i'm just zoning out” Jeonghan answers, and in a split seconds, he pulls you both for a long hug.

You and Seok kyung chuckles when Jeonghan doesn't want to let both of you go, and when he did, he leaned in to kiss you on the lips.

This is resulting in his daughter whines ‘i want to be kissed too!’ That, of course, Jeonghan accomplished, giving his beloved kisses on her cheeks, forehead, and lips.

Jeonghan can finally live his life with goods waiting for him. He starts to forget his life before this trip, how he wanted to pray every single day to thank god.

He lives a happy life with you and Seok kyung. He will never let you go again.

His little family consisted of Yoon Jeonghan, Yoon Seok kyung, and Yoon Y/n.

[surielstea]

Life Debts

Eris Week day 3: Healing

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eris comes to Reader for a sleeping tonic, but she has run out, so they find other ways to find enough exhaustion for sleep.

Warnings: Smut | 18+ | Minors DNI | Creampie | teasing | p in v | penetration | he’s so hot pls I need him so badly

A. Note: this wasn’t originally going to be smut but I love to spoil you guys soo 🎀🎀

4k words.

My heart pounded against my ribs at the sound of warriors preparing for battle. Mentally, I wasn't ready to watch all the soldiers lose their life, I didn't think I'd ever be, the male whom I could not save, no matter how much I tried.

I was in the midst of creating a basic salve used for deeper gashes that didn't require stitches, the ointment taking effect long enough to fight off any infection as well as numb the pain.

I was grinding different plants with magical properties into the mortar when a familiar red-headed general came into my tent, clutching his side.

I give the lordling a very disappointed look. "Don't start," He warned, holding up his other hand before I could begin complaining.

"Those stitches took me forever and you've already broken them? It hasn’t even been a full day.” I begin to complain anyway.

He walked with such a casual grace, even with a splitting wound in his side, he did not falter. He sat on my workbench silently. I sighed. "What happened?"

"Training with the others, we leave at dawn and some of my soldiers are paranoid. I was only trying to help them take the edge off." He argued and I shook my head, gathering my medical bag and plopping it down onto the desk beside him.

"You're too careless." I reprimand, beginning to unbutton his simple tunic that would usually have armor over it, slowly revealing more and more of his chest.

I steel my features. I've been cutting clothes off wounded soldiers my whole life, it was nothing to marvel at— but the blush on my cheeks said otherwise.

"Careless? Or did I just want an excuse to come and see my favorite healer in all the lands?" He suggests and I flick my eyes up at him, sending him a glare.

"You don't need an excuse to see me," I mumble softly, finishing with his tunic and pulling it off his arms. He was fully capable of doing it himself, and I probably should've let him, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't like the feel of his warm skin brushing my fingertips.

"No, but I did need an excuse for you to take my clothes off," He says in a snarky tone and I swallow thickly, rummaging through the medical pack for something to clean his wound with.

I hated him. Not because he was cruel to me, or because of who his father is, but because he made me feel so helpless. I've been patching men up with worse wounds than this for centuries, and yet he had me fumbling with a pack of gauze nervously like some novice.

Anxiety was a healer's worst fear because a single slip up or jerk of hand could cost a man his life. And yet he made me so damned tense every time he was too close.

I somehow managed to conjure a clean cloth covered in antiseptic that I could clean his deep wound with.

He'd be fine, but it'd be uncomfortable for a while. He hisses as the cloth comes to his wound and eases to the side.

I ignore him as I pull the cloth away and grab the sterilized needle and silk thread. My hand is perfectly steady as I begin restitching the wound. "Stop squirming," I grumble.

"Are you trying to make it hurt?" He gritted through clenched teeth.

"You're the one who went and opened your wound after I so graciously healed you." I snarl.

"Well it wasn't as if I asked to—" He was cut off by a particularly deep prick. "Gods, do you hate me?" He seethed and I smiled slightly. Good, it was easier if he hated me. "I do," I hum softly, almost weakly, tuning out all his hisses and groans as I focus on his torso, the suture coming together and helping meld his flesh back together.

I owed my life to Eris, he had saved me from his father's tents and the men he kept around. I had just healed one of the High Lord's commanders when he tried to repay me with what he thought I wanted, typical male pride leading him to believe that doing my job and caring for his wounds was coming onto him. Eris had stopped it and took me to where his battalion stayed, they were a lot kinder, for war mongrels that is. I hadn't expected it meant that I was now his personal healer, but here we were.

"I don't understand you," He mumbled out of the blue and I crease my brows, but don't look away from what I was doing. "You say you hate me, and yet you heal me with delicate hands." He mumbles, perplexed at my opposing sides.

I couldn't offer an explanation, because I too was often confused by my actions. I tried to say it was because I owed him but, I don't, not anymore at least. Then I tried to argue that it was immoral to let a man bleed, but even that didn't feel right. There was a foreign feeling in the pit of my stomach that only ever appeared when he was around, it was something like longing or reverence but it felt deeper than that, it felt like a connection, and seeing him hurt sent my blood boiling that my body willed no other choice but to heal him.

I shrug. "It's my job," I settle on saying. "You pay me, so I have to help you. But no one likes their boss," I say with a huff, not fully believing my own words as I tie off the silk thread and finish with his wound.

"No, no because you're worried about me." He shakes his head and I risk a glance at his amber eyes. "Of course, I'm worried about you," I swallow thickly, unwrapping a pad of gauze and wrapping it around his torso as an extra layer of protection, just in case.

"And if you die at dawn, if I find you on that battlefield I'll revive you," I finish tying off the gauze and look at him with a stubborn expression. "I'll find a way to bring you back, just so I can kill you myself. Understand?" I raise a brow at him and he smirks, standing from the workbench— which makes me crane my neck back.

"How romantic of you," His sultry smile doesn't ease as he tugs his shirt back on. "Perhaps I will die just so I can see the lengths you'll go to bring me back," He purrs and I frown at even taunting me about it, the idea made me so ill that I thought I might hurl.

I grip his shirt in my fist, silently begging. "Don't," I whisper. "Please, don't die." My voice nearly quivers but I will it to remain steady.

He gives me a sloppy smirk and he swoops down, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek and before I can even get the chance to process it he's pulling away.

"Have a little faith in your general, would you?" He arched a brow and the confidence in his voice makes me think he genuinely split his stitches on purpose, just so he could tell me not to worry.

"I'm sure I'll see you in here later," He says and I swallow thickly. I didn't want to, I never wanted him in these healing tents again because he was hurt. I wanted him to be rid of me and alive, rather than in pain and with me.

"Be safe." That is all I can reply with before he pulls back the flap of my tent and exits the space that now feels all too small without him in it.

The knock on my door makes me startle up from bed. I hadn't been sleeping anyway, the aftereffects of war had taken their toll on my mind, if I fell asleep I'd be reliving the bloodshed, seeing the faces of the men who I couldn't save, hearing the screams and pleads for mercy below the battle cries.

I swallowed down my nausea and slipped out of bed, padding on the cold marble towards the door. I swing it open, revealing a familiar redhead, shirtless.

"Don't tell me you split your stitches again?" I groan, looking at his abdomen where his wound was, bandages still intact and recently changed. I smile softly, at least he was taking care of it. My eyes flick back up to his.

"No, no I can't sleep," He muttered. "Do you have a tonic or something?" He scratched the side of his neck and I shifted on my feet, looking back to my room where all of my vials of sleeping tonic were emptied and discarded along my bedside table.

"I'm out, but I can make some real quick," I say, I was planning on doing it in the morning but he seemed that he might collapse without another night's rest. "Come in," I pull the door open wider.

He steps into my small suite, closing the door behind him.

I tiredly stumbled over to the window sill where plants and roots were lined in jars. "You can't sleep either?" The Lord asks, looking around my rooms curiously as if he's never stepped foot in the healers' quarters before.

"There's no point," I say while collecting the herbs and oils needed to make the tonic before dumping them all down onto my work table haphazardly. "It just results in night terrors," I confess, too tired to put a wall up.

His eyes flick back to me, and I can feel them raking up my figure. I hadn't realized I was in a short nightgown until I felt his gaze on my bare legs and arms, the fabric hanging high at my thighs. I ignore the feeling slinking up my spine and begin crushing dried leaves under my palm, then grinding them in a mortar.

He stalked closer, standing behind me now and peering over my shoulder. I could feel the heat rolling off of his shirtless body, but he didn't make contact.

"Have you tried any other methods, of trying to sleep?" He asks, his voice low with exhaustion. I dare a glance back at him, and immediately regret it. His amber eyes seemed to look right through me, to my soul.

I was suddenly very aware of the fact that we were alone in my chambers, both of us wearing far too little, and standing far too close. "Like what?"

His low laugh caught me by surprise, a deep and velvety sound that filled the room and lingered for a moment longer than it should have. He moved forward, leaning his hands against the work table and trapping me between his arms. He towered over me, so much so that I was forced to crane my neck up to keep his gaze. His scent filled me to my very core, cinnamon and clove and crackling campfires. "Well, a lonely bed certainly isn't helpful when trying to get some rest," He suggests and I avert my gaze and turn back around.

His breath was against my neck as I continued to work, quicker than before, my movements almost panicked.

He seemed to notice the shift in pace or perhaps scented my mix of arousal and tenseness. "Are you nervous, Fawn?" He asked and I swallowed down the lump in my throat. "I'm just— just tired," I shake my head, attempting to convince myself more than him. It wasn't a lie, but it surely wasn't the reason my hands shook.

His deep chuckle rang again and suddenly the room was freezing and he was the only warmth, my fingers ached to reach back and touch him. He leans closer, his bare chest pressing against my shoulder blades. I knew he heard my breath subtly increasing, my pulse pounding. "Is that why your heart is beating so fast?" He purred, the sound just beside my ear.

I didn't reply, focused on bottling the thick liquid in the small vial.

Before he can move any closer I whirl around to face him, plugging the vial with a cork and shoving it into his chest. "Finished." I smile gently.

His eyes don't leave mine as he takes the small bottle from me, his hand brushing mine. "Thank you," He said softly.

"You're welcome." I nodded, but didn't move, not that I could get far, I was still caged by his proximity.

Eris knew deep down he should pull away, and give you space during these trying times, but he's never been good at doing the right things, so instead he advanced and his hands moved to my hips.

"If this tonic doesn't work, there's surely another way we could find sleep, yes?" He arches a brow and I shift under his stare, the warmth of his fingertips seemingly burning through the silk of my nightgown.

"Surely," I whisper softly, looking up at him with only one intention being expressed in my eyes.

His eyes darkened at my reply, and one of his hands lowered, past my hip down to my thigh, to the hem of my nightgown. "And would you, my healer, be open to that second option?" He tilts his head, cocking it in a way that was more animal than man.

"In the name of science, or for our own selfish purposes?" I ask, attempting to ignore the way he was toying with the hem of my flimsy nightgown, and the heady scent of my need for him spreading throughout the room.

He smirked and leaned closer, breath mingling as his lips ghosted over your jaw as he said, "Can't it be both?" Into the shell of my ear. A shiver ran down my spine at the intense need that rocked through me. His hand on my waist moved, to my jaw, my chin in his hand as he angled his head up towards me.

"Or would you prefer only for our selfish, pleasurable reasons?" He suggests and my stomach knots. I willed myself to push him away, to tell him that he was a lord and I was little more than a servant. But I couldn't. He smiled at my lack of reply. "Go on Fawn, tell me," He prompts with a foxlike smirk that sent my insides fluttering with butterflies. "What do you want?"

He waited for my words to come, it'd be so easy to pin me to this work table and begin worshipping me, but he reeled in his most animalistic instincts and waited patiently for me to form my thoughts into words.

"You," I finally manage to get out. "I want you to touch me," I say, shame tinting my cheeks pink.

He smirks. "Where do you want me to touch you?" He tilts his head mockingly and my stomach coils. "Here?" He asks, his hand dipping beneath my slip and gripping my thigh. "Or," His thumb inches closer to my core. "Here?" He suggests, brushing over the seam of my panties.

"There," I plead, a gasp shuddering through me. His smile grows into something feral as he feels the way I was pressing my thighs together, wanting so desperately to have his touch.

"Yeah?" He purrs, adjusting so that his two longest fingers pressed into my clothed folds, just enough pressure to tease. It was an effort not to grind down onto the touch.

"You've ruined these panties, my girl, and I've barely touched you," He whispers, his lips ghosting mine. I let out a soft sigh when he rubs my covered pussy. I ached to get the barrier of my soaked underwear off, but he was enjoying this, seeing me restrain from writhing down on his hand.

"Please," I whimper softly. "Please, take them off," I say with a raw tenderness in my voice that sent the male into a spiral of lust and desire.

"You're sure? Once we start I doubt I'll be able to stop," He warns and my nerves set alight at that.

"I'm sure," I nod hurriedly.

The confirmation was all he needed to hear before his lips attached to mine, prying my mouth open and pushing his tongue in to taste me thoroughly. The hand that had been on my chin moved to the back of my head, pulling me in deeper as he claimed my mouth.

It was marvelous, all the tension that had been between us these past few weeks was breaking, finally snapping in two the moment his lips met mine.

I shivered as he pulled at my panties, the resounding rip of fabric echoing throughout the room as the cloth fell from my hips. He drank in every soft sound I made, devouring it and swallowing the noise down greedily.

"My girl," he whispers into my mouth and I let out a sultry moan as his fingers finally delved between my dripping folds.

"Eris," I sighed as his thumb pressed onto my clit. My hands came to his shoulders, digging my nails into the bare skin as he pushed my nightgown up my thighs, bunching it at my hips.

His middle finger traced lazy circles around my neglected entrance and I shivered. "No, no Eris," I panted out and his hand immediately retracted. I grabbed his wrist, not letting him get far.

"What's wrong?" He asks with furrowed brows and I shake my head.

"I want your cock," I beg softly and I swore for a moment his eyes went golden. "I don't want to wait, I need you inside of me," I say, my pleas falling from my lips shamelessly.

"Turn around then," He ordered and my heart rate fluttered.

I do as he says, hinging myself over the work table as he thrashes off his pants and everything else beneath them until we are both bare and needy for each other. He pushed up my dress higher, exposing my backside and I swore a growl rumbled from him.

He gripped my hips tightly, and when his hardened length pressed into my folds I let out a quivering moan, my slick dripping onto him as a natural lubricant. I roll my hips down onto his pulsing cock, my hips digging into the edge of the desk.

"Gods you're dripping," He said, his voice half a groan. "All for me," He smiles and I nod hastily, clenching around nothing as I impatiently wait for his penetration.

After a few more drags of his cock he aligns with my aching core, and without another word, slowly pushes into me.

I mewl loudly as the thick head of his cock stretches me wide, the rest of him filling me to the brim.

"You're so, damned tight," He grunted out as I took every inch of him into me with greedy pleasure. My back bows as he finally sheathed fully inside of me, his hips digging into the plushness of my ass.

"You— you can move," I nod after a moment of adjusting, struggling to form the words due to how he was forming my walls around him, molding me to fit him.

"Tap the desk twice if it's too much, yeah?" He says and I nod in understanding.

He then begins to slowly pull out, then thrust back in, stuffing himself back inside of me.

A soft moan escapes me with every roll of his hips, his speed steadily increasing. He grew faster and faster, rougher until the table was creaking breath the weight and my thighs were pressing into the sharp edges of it. But I barely felt the pain, too caught up in the pleasure of his thick cock buried inside of me.

He finally set on a brutal pace, his length dragging through my walls and toying with that sensitive spot that left me a drooling, whining mess. My body bounced against the cold table painfully, but it was all pleasure when it came to him. "Eris," I gasped and he threw his head back, his fingers digging into the skin of my waist, so possessive I wouldn't be surprised if I found marks come the morning.

"Fuck, say my name again Fawn," He groans and I do, with every thrust, it was his name coming from my lips. "Louder, I want this whole castle knowing who's making you feel this good," He drawls.

I screamed his name, my feet slowly lifting me from the ground as he lost control and began to push me up the table with his thrusts. My toes barely brushed the floor when he pressed my hips down onto the desk, preventing me from writhing any further.

I arched my back and he leaned over me, his sweat-slicked chest pressing to my shoulders. The new angle made him press into a spot deep inside of me that made my vision blur. I clamped down onto his pulsing length and he smiled against my neck, his teeth grazing over my pulse point. "That's it, squeeze my cock just like that," He instructs and I shakily gasp as I keep a leash on my building release.

"I'm close," I warn and he nips at my skin with his sharp canines, not enough to draw blood but enough to inflict pain.

"I know baby, me too," He confesses softly, fucking me wildly with reckless abandon.

"Come inside," I pleaded and his control snapped.

"You sure?" His voice bordered on a growl.

"It's okay 'm on a contraceptive," I murmur. "Just, fill me Eris." I plead and any sliver of restraint he had left disappeared at those final three words.

"Come for me, come on my cock baby," He grunts out through a clenched jaw, and as if by his command, my release crashed through me. My vision hazed as I reached my peak, my very bones singing with the feeling of ecstasy.

His climax quickly followed mine due to the way I convulsed and twitched around him. His cock pulsed violently as his warm come unloads into my womb, still thrusting and pushing it deeper into me, seeping into every crevice ensuring every last drop was nestled inside me.

Eris buried his face into the crook of my neck, his breathing hitching as my quiet moans filled the room. I slowly came down from my high and relaxed onto the work table, my fingers shaky as I planted them down onto the wood. He pressed a soft kiss to the bite mark he had most likely left, the gentle touch rivaling his earlier roughness.

"You did so well," He praised, kissing up to my jaw. My heart swelled at the intimate movement, the kissing somehow seeming more damning than what took place only moments ago.

Ever so slowly he pulls out from my overstimulated entrance. I press my thighs together at the absence of him and he guides me away from the desk, into his arms as he swoops me up bridal style. My eyes droop with exhaustion as I burrow into his warm chest.

"No sleeping yet, I'm going to get you cleaned up first," He ordered and I let out a low whine in protest and he chuckled, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, then one to the tip of my nose, then finally my lips. Weakly I kissed back, my hand coming up to kiss cheek. He bit my lower lip and I smiled at the sensation.

He pulled back and I looked up at him adoringly. "You keep staring at me like that and we're definitely not sleeping tonight," He said and I smirked but averted my gaze and leaned onto his shoulder, allowing him to carry me into my bathing chambers where he drew me a hot bath and cleaned me up.

We both slept in each other's arms last night, a deep slumber encasing us, and for the first time in weeks, I didn't have any nightmares, not when Eris's arms kept me warm throughout the night, reminding me I was safe now.

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[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (07)

chapter seven: built to break

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; the gorlies are fighting...?, not much for warnings in this chapter ig word count: 4.3k note: i finally got off my ass and wt is finally back lol. i had a last minute change of plans and thought "oh! you know what would be pretty neat? if we prolong the angst so everyone can be sad for longer!" <3 and this is how i announce that the next chapter is not wt8 but wt7.5 and it's written from his pov <3 merry christmas

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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I’ll hold my breath as I wait for your answer I’ll leave it up to you Tell me whether it’s yes or no Baby, love me or leave me tonight

Love Me or Leave Me - Day6

The warning signs, they're there. You can see them before they materialize. You know your own tells.

Your metaphorical bags are packed, your shoes are already on. You're about to run again, leave a half empty house before it has the chance to become a home. No one has to tell you that you're a flight risk; you're well aware of it yourself.

Wednesday Min: got plans tonight? You: booked and busy with ze old canvas Min: tomorrow? You: same thing probably. sorry Min: u're working hard lately You: yeah this one is just driving me crazy and i need it to turn out decent Min: it'll be perfect. it's u

Thursday Min: running errands at the store Min: want me to bring u anything? that caramel popcorn u like?

Friday Min: don't work too hard. remember to eat

That was three days ago, the last time you'd heard from him after you left him on read. It wasn't a complete lie; this project is driving you kinda crazy and you do need it to end up a decent piece, but you weren't exactly holed up in your apartment to slave over your painting. And you suppose Minho didn't find it all that suspicious because you tend to do this sometimes - disappear for a couple of days and force yourself to focus whenever you had a project to finish, before you come back to everybody again. You've come back to him before; it stands to reason that you'll do it again.

It's been about two weeks since you'd seen him, though the memories of that evening are still fresh in your mind - the evening of the group dinner, when he'd kissed you goodnight and left for his parents' house the following day. True to his words, he did send you pictures of the cats - ones of Soonie wearing a matching hoodie with him, a few of Doongie and Dori napping at the foot of his bed. There was an accompanying text - The kids miss you - along with a frowning emoji, and it made you wonder if what he really meant was I miss you.

You wanted him to miss you, because you missed him too.

The photos brought a smile to your face despite the predicament you found yourself in. A smile that was short lived, a smile that was soon wiped off when you realized your heart shouldn't be swelling with that much affection for him. It shouldn't, but the truth was that it did and you don't know how to live with it.

Love isn't something you've ever learned to hold.

It's beautiful yet full of thorns, and your hands are too clumsy to ever keep it from slipping from your fingers.

You remember when you first met Minho. Freshman year, at some popular senior's house party.

It feels like forever ago when you were just an awkward freshman at orientation who didn't have a single clue on how to make friends. Jess was your first friend in college, and you'll always be grateful that you got along well enough that she adopted you into the group with the rest of the guys.

You didn't cross paths with Minho until you were already acquainted with everyone else. On the night of the party, you remember being enamored with him for those couple of hours, and it wasn't the side effect of too many solo cups of cheap beer. Who in their right mind wouldn't be infatuated with him? He was beautiful, absolutely alluring, and you would always tell him as much.

Back then, he had brown hair, slighter shorter than now but it was tinted with the most gorgeous shade of red. You didn't know much about Minho, only been told that he was pretty quiet and might be off-putting to new people. It was sort of true; that night, you were intimidated by the aura he exuded. Mysterious, couldn't be bothered, didn't seem to give a shit. He looked like a scary little thing, while you were the new kid who was only trying to observe everyone's dynamics, not wanting to overstep any unspoken boundary.

To this day, you're still not sure what really happened, how you two immediately clicked and he's been one of the most important parts of your life ever since.

Maybe it was just him. Maybe it's always been him.

Minho, the one who makes you smile when all you want to do is curl up and cry. The one who makes you laugh when you look for joy but the search comes up empty. The one who grounds you every time you lose your way. Your anchor, the safe harbor you can always return to. The light at the end of a long, long tunnel.

You don't know where you stand, don't know where it goes from here now that everything is changing. He told you so himself, that nothing changed for him, but how could he possibly know that everything is changing for you? And it infuriates you to no end because you don't even have anyone to talk about this with. You're the only person whose world is being turned upside down after all.

You can't tell your friends because they can't know about you and Minho. You can't tell Minho because what would you even say? That you think you're in love with him? That the implications of what it means are devastating to you?

For the first time, you regret everything. Kissing him that night, sleeping with him, becoming whatever this is with him. Letting down your guard and falling for him somewhere along the way and you didn't even stop to notice it. You regret all of the decisions you've made up until now, because they've only led you to the point of no return, the point of losing him. You made bad decision after bad decision after bad decision, until you couldn't anymore. All along, there's been no one else to blame but you.

Maybe it hasn't happened yet, but it's inevitable. You will lose him. You are going to lose him.

There's no other ending, no other alternative that you can imagine. You're going to leave because you're a coward and it's what you do best. You ruin things before they get a chance to hurt you. You leave because if you don't leave then you'll be left behind, and you'd rather not bear the brunt of it.

Now, when you think of Minho, the thought is always accompanied by a painful reminder - Nothing changed for him.

When you get to the cafe, Hyunjin and Seungmin are already seated in a corner booth, three drinks in front of them, one of which they'd ordered for you before you arrived.

You slide into the seat next to Hyunjin, smiling at him appreciatively for the drink. There's still over half an hour before you have to walk to your shared class, over half an hour before Seungmin parts ways with you two to do whatever or whoever it is that Seungmin does on his off days.

"I still think it's Nara," Hyunjin says, casually sipping his iced coffee.

"Nara from your Lit class last semester?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"I saw them talking at a party once."

"Okay. And?"

"And what? That's it."

"That's... all the evidence you have to back up your claim?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

You wave your hands in front of them. "What are you bozos talking about?"

"He’s still trying to figure out who Minho is hooking up with," Seungmin is the one who answers you without missing a beat, then he turns back to Hyunjin. "Anyway, it can't be Nara. She's dating Jaehyun on the basketball team."

The friend next to you flails his arms like a petulant child, like he couldn't have possibly seen this coming, like he was so sure that he had finally solved the mystery. "Great. I'm back to square one again."

You straighten your back and reach for your drink, tentatively gulping down the beverage as if it'll hide the fact that you've gone stiff the second this topic is brought up. You feel bad about it, sure. These are your friends that you're lying to after all. They don't have to look anywhere far; the answer to the secret is right in front of them.

"We're still on about that?" you ask in the calmest, most nonchalant voice you can muster. You usually consider yourself a believable liar (which, to be honest, isn't really a flex at all), but whenever someone mentions this little arrangement between you and Minho that shouldn't be common knowledge for anyone else, you feel like you're been put under a spotlight for the whole world to scrutinize.

"Duh," Hyunjin says. "You know, I'm kinda surprised that you don't know. You two are like, attached at the hip sometimes."

You give him a thoughtless shrug, your hands fiddling with the sticker on the plastic cup as you avoid looking at either of your friends. "Maybe he just wants to keep private things private, y'know? You wouldn't like either if all of us is suddenly all up in your business. And besides, what if it's just casual?"

Hyunjin scoffs. "Please, I'm an open book. I tell you guys everything. I tell you every time I hook up with someone."

"Yeah, but you see, literally no one needs to know that," Seungmin says.

The taller one only scoffs, waving his hands around dismissively in Seungmin's direction before he turns to you. "If it was just casual, would he save her name as - oh my God, I forgot what her contact name is. Freaking bird person or something."

You make a face. "What?"

"Dude, seriously?" Seungmin rolls his eyes. "You forgot one word? Dove? What is the matter with you?"

Perhaps it's the half-hearted teasing judgment in Seungmin's voice that makes Hyunjin take offense and drop the topic. The conversation veers off course when they start bickering like children in the busy cafe. You suppose it works in your favor, but you can't focus. You drown it all out.

Your hand is still on the cup but the sticker has been left alone and forgotten, half peeled off, half still clinging to the plastic underneath the condensation.

The single word repeats itself in your mind, over and over and over again.

The entire time you're in class, you don't really focus on anything. You can't bring yourself to listen to whatever your professor is saying, not after what Hyunjin and Seungmin told you earlier. At some point, your friend has to nudge your shoulder to bring you back down to earth when usually, you're the one who has to remind Hyunjin to pay attention. Class ends soon enough though; time tends to fly by when your mind is lost elsewhere.

"What's wrong with you today?" he asks with his bag slung over his shoulder, slowing down his steps to match your speed as you walk out of the lecture hall together.

You scratch the back of your neck sheepishly. "Nothing's wrong. I was just tired."

"You wanna grab dinner with me and Felix?"

Any other day, you would've agreed in a heartbeat. But today, you want to be alone. Sometimes, you'd rather wallow in your own misery than settle for a temporary distraction.

You're still stuck on the conversation from earlier, on the small detail that Hyunjin and Seungmin had let slip in the cafe.

Dove.

His dove.

Maybe it doesn't mean anything. Perhaps it's only a nickname that he's assigned to you out of mere platonic fondness, but it makes you conscious about the dove on your own wrist nonetheless, the one that you feel compelled to hide from your friends underneath your long sleeve.

"No, it's okay," you tell Hyunjin. "I'll just go home and sleep it off."

"Okay. I can walk you for a bit," he says. "Just wait with me here. Minho's coming to give me back something he borrowed."

"Minho's coming?" you ask too quickly for it to sound casual. There's a panicked edge that you can hear in your own voice, though you don't think Hyunjin picks it up as he unlocks his phone and types something on the screen.

"Yeah, he was at the library. He's coming over right now, should only be a couple minutes. Then I'll walk back with you."

You shift on your feet uneasily, but you cover it up by rubbing your hands on your arms to pretend like you're just cold. There's no excuse that you could think of that would justify why you can't stand here with Hyunjin for just two more minutes, without giving it away the fact that you're avoiding Minho.

You take in a quiet breath, put on your best brave face. Casual, nonchalant. It's just Minho. Just Minho...

He comes up from behind, where you can't see him. A warm hand gently lands on your shoulder, and it takes everything not to shy away from his touch. It takes even more not to lean into his side.

You've missed it. You've missed him.

"Hey." He smiles at you while Hyunjin only gets a nod in acknowledgment.

"Hey." You return the smile, though you're sure you look a little rigid. You can tell there's an inkling of confusion in his eyes when he senses that your energy is off, but you're thankful he doesn't comment on it, at least not in front of Hyunjin anyway.

You don't notice the paper bag in his other hand until he hands it to your other friend with a simple Thanks, to which Hyunjin just nods along in a silent You're welcome.

"I was going to walk with Y/N for a bit and then meet Felix for food," he tells Minho. "You wanna get burgers with me and Lix?"

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry, I had a late lunch. I'll take the walk though."

You didn't plan on being alone with Minho today, even though you knew you had to talk to him eventually. You just thought you had a little more time, at least until you got your shit together and face him with a brave façade.

Minho's hand brushes yours the entire time you walk, and it's nothing if not confusing. It's unbearable, the way your fingers twitch with the urge to intertwine them with his.

It persists even after Hyunjin has waved you goodbye to you two and turned to head wherever he and Felix agreed to meet. You think Minho would hold your hand now that it's just you and him, but he doesn't. He lets your skin continue to brush, lets you suffer alone and wanting in your sunken disappointment.

It has very little to do with him and everything to do with you, the conflicting thoughts inside your head piling up one by one the more time you spend in his presence.

Dove, the brief display of jealousy at Yeonjun's party, the way he looks at you sometimes that you can't really decipher the meaning behind, how he kisses you so tenderly that it can't possibly be strictly platonic. You want these things to all mean something, and yet...

You want him to hold your hand, but you know you'd wave it off if he tries to reach for your fingers. You want him to stop you right then and there to kiss you breathless, just as he had that night two weeks ago, even though you're sure you'd only dodge his lips and push him away. You want to stay, you want to leave. You're terrified of things changing, but you wish that something, anything, would be different for him; that you aren't the only one who's spinning out of control. You love him, but you wish you didn't.

Eventually, Minho asks, "You okay?"

It's not until now that you realize this is the first time you've ever been this quiet around him. You purse your lips, glancing down briefly at your feet as you keep on treading the rest of the way home. "Yeah, all good. I'm just tired," you tell him, visibly unenthusiastic despite the smile you try to fake. "I just need to sleep it off."

"The project stressing you out?"

"I guess, yeah."

"And here I thought maybe you were avoiding me," he says, half a joke, half inquisitive. "Were you?"

"Was I what?"

"Were you avoiding me?"

You give him a weird look, one that's meant to be dismissive and call his question ridiculous even though you know you've been caught. And maybe it's the over-the-top glance that you throw his way and the way your pitch goes higher when you reply, "Why would I be avoiding you?" that makes him stop walking.

On the other side of the street, there's a couple of kids in high school uniforms, exchanging shy glances and sharing fond giggles.

Minho calls your name softly, and it's like you're just waiting for the ball to drop. You don't want to turn back and look at him, but what other option do you have? What else is there to do?

You can't decipher the expression on his face. He's still calm, but the air has turned serious, the silence of the mostly empty streets surrounding you only serves as the soundtrack of your impending heartbreak. The tender and innocent laughter fades away when young love moves further and further from where you stand. "What?" you ask with faux nonchalance as you look at him, another attempt at stalling. Biding your time even though a few more minutes aren't going to do any good for your case.

Anyone with half a braincell could tell that clearly it's not the truth, let alone someone who has learned to read you better than the back of his hand. He doesn't look like he believes you, though he doesn't push it, much to your surprise.

"Okay," he says after a moment of studying you, and this should be the part where you heave a sigh of relief because he's letting you off the hook for now, but your chest doesn't feel lighter at all. Your head is clouded with dread, with the anticipation that you're only delaying the inevitable.

You walk the rest of the way in awful silence, because you know that he knows something is wrong. You try your best to appear composed, but he sees right through you. You know he does.

You must look like a frightened animal, one that's about to take off running any second now.

When you reach your building, Minho is quick to keep you with him before you can make up a lame excuse and bolt.

"Hey," he starts, his voice so impossibly gentle that it hurts. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Heavier and heavier, it weighs you down until you feel like your chest is going to collapse. The nerves gnaw on you, clawing into you until you feel your heartbeat quicken, the overwhelming dread simmering low in your belly.

"I know," you say, but deep down, what you're really thinking is, Not this. This is the one thing I can't tell you.

"Is everything okay?"

It's the way that Minho's got his gaze set on you with those deep brown irises, the concern so apparent in them that it hurts you. It's the way he looks like he wants to reach out and touch you - a comforting hand on your shoulder or your back like you're so familiar with - but he has to hold himself back or you might slip away.

It's him, how he always puts you first, how he cares about you in ways that you've never been cared about before. He understands you, he sees you. It feels like it could be love if you let the lines blur just enough.

Is love supposed to hurt? Like this?

Maybe it's not that you don't know how to hold love. Maybe it's because you're not meant to hold it at all. Insignificant, unlovable.

And... it's the reminder that cuts through the dread like the sharpest knife.

You leave his question unanswered, because nothing is okay and you can't tell him any of it. You can't lie to him either, because it's the last thing that you want to do to him.

Instead, you ask, "We're good... right? We're okay?"

"What do you mean?"

You gesture between the two of you, though you're not sure what that's supposed to signify. "Just...," you trail off for a second, hesitant. "Nothing's changed, right?"

Minho doesn't answer right away. He looks at you for a moment, searching for something in your eyes that you can't tell if he's able to find.

He nods, seemingly wistful as he says, "Nothing's changed."

He seems unsure about it, at least more than he was just a few weeks ago when he told you the same thing in your apartment with his fingers wrapped around your wrist. The tug between his brows - though barely noticeable - tells you as much.

Is it because something is different now? Or does he only sound uncertain out of concern, because of you and how you're acting?

Then he continues, "For me, at least."

And there it is.

It's the confirmation this time around that turns you inside out so his simple words could cut into you.

You swallow thickly, put on a smile like you're pleased with his answer even though you're trying your hardest to stop yourself from shaking. Whatever energy you had left is instantly drained from you just because of a few words.

Your sentences get smashed together, tangled up like barbed wire and they only make you bleed when you try to pull them apart. All your nervous tics coming out to play despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. A frustrated hand running through your hair, gripping at the roots a little harshly. Your bottom lip pulled between your teeth and your eyes turning glassy for a split second before you blink the moisture away, because you can't let Minho see you like this. See you trying to keep your pathetic heart intact while he's none the wiser.

He's fine. And unlike you, he's going to be okay when this is over.

Unavoidable and inevitable, the end will come whether you like it or not. You're the only one who won't make it out unscathed, and it will only shatter you into more pieces the longer you drag this out.

Just rip the bandaid off. Salvage whatever you can. Stop digging the grave even deeper for yourself.

One second, then two, then three. You don't speak until you have enough faith that your voice is even enough to carry out a few sentences.

"Okay, uhm... I think I need some time for myself. We should..." But it isn't, and you crack halfway through. The sound is deafening to your own ears. "We should take a break. We should stop this."

Minho doesn't question if you mean the secret between the two of you, or your friendship entirely. Instead, he asks, "Why?"

"I told you." You clear your throat. "I need time for myself."

You can't tell what he's thinking, but the knife twists inside of you nonetheless.

He takes a step closer, you take a step back.

You watch as his face falls, and the same feeling mirrors itself within the confines of your ribcage. Your heart drops at the sight of his eyes, deep brown irises stained with a little confusion, then a little hurt though it lasts for only a few seconds. The slight slump of his shoulders, the absence of the familiar playfulness he always sports when he's with you.

He blinks.

"Time for yourself, or time away from me?"

You say nothing.

You don't address his question directly, and your reluctance to do so is a loud enough answer in and of itself. "Why does that matter? What's the difference?"

"It matters if I did something to upset you."

"You didn't."

"Okay. So?"

This is confusing, because he's not letting you rip the bandaid clean off and you don't know why. "Nothing's changed, right? If it didn't mean anything to you, why can't you just drop this?"

Minho is quiet for a beat. His eyes are searching again, but this time, you think he finds something.

Everything is still and you hate it - the silence of the streets, the scrutinizing orange glow of the streetlights as if they're watching the scene unfold, even the innocent cat that's sitting by itself on the balcony on one of the floors higher up. You hate all of it.

"I never said it didn't mean anything," he tells you.

It makes you a little angry for some reason, and there's enough red to cloud your vision because his words are contradicting and you're tired, you're so exhausted that you can't focus on what it is that he's really saying.

"So you lied to me?"

"I've never lied to you."

"I asked you before and you said nothing's changed. Now you're saying whatever this is didn't not mean anything. Make up your mind."

It gets redder when he keeps his eyes fixed on you, still so calm despite the frown that has returned to its place between his brows. Still so collected, while you're being pulled apart at the seams.

The ball doesn't drop the way you expect it to. It keeps falling so insufferably slowly, hanging over you like it's mocking you for being stupid, like it's milking every second of suspense to make you implode.

Until Minho speaks next and suddenly, it feels like the air has been sucked out of your lungs. His voice, still so soft and tender. His eyes, reading something in yours that you can't bear to admit out loud.

"You really don't see it, do you?"

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 24.06.2024]

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 93

Geralt yelled at him, that's fine. Jaskier was just trying to cheer him up, but it's still fine. They're on top of a fucking mountain, but it's fine. Jaskier never even wanted to come to this mountain, but it's fine. Geralt never liked him, but it's fine. It's fine. It's fine. Geralt said that to never see him again would be a blessing. It's fine.

Jaskier goes to get his stuff from Roach, only for her to start freaking out as he approaches. Jaskier futilely tries to calm her down for far too long, before she neighs, looking behind him. He spins around and sees a stomping, still-pissed Geralt.

"Oh, Geralt! Thank gods, something is wrong with Roach, I'm worried about h-"

But Geralt walks straight through him, and pats Roach's muzzle.

"What is it, Girl?"

Jaskier blinks in shock, turning to look at them. He watches as Geralt goes through their bags and seems to relax at the sight of them, stuffed full of all of Jaskier's bullshit. Perhaps he wants to sell all remainders of Jaskier, thinking Jaskier too dumb to bring his things with him, wherever he went. Maybe it wasn't relief at all, maybe it was defeat, as he stares at new duties, as he has to go chase after the stupid bard he despises to bring him back his things because no matter what, Geralt has a heart of gold.

Geralt makes camp, right there and then, and sits down to meditate.

Jaskier decides that if Geralt can't see him, he might as well get his fill of Geralt. He sits right in front of him, and stares at his face, semi-relaxed in a semi-peaceful meditation. He's still tense, as if waiting for something, or expecting the worse. Maybe he's worried Jaskier will come back.

"It's alright, Darling. I won't be there to bother you any more, it seems."

Jaskier makes sure to tell him, even though Geralt doesn't react. Roach has calmed since Geralt arrived, but still eyes him wearily. At least Roach can see him, he supposes.

Jaskier observes as Geralt stays at that same camp for another three days. Geralt either meditates, cares for roach, or wanders off into the wilderness at seemingly random times. He either stays away for two minutes, or nine hours at a time. Jaskier stays with Roach, worried about her without either of them. He knows she can handle herself, but he still worried. Same with Geralt. But it was nice being seen, sometimes. So he stays with Roach.

Geralt comes back, hurriedly packs up camp, leaps onto Roach, and rides like a bat out of hell. Jaskier unfortunately cannot fly or float or even hover. So he has to run after them. And even though Geralt can't see or touch him, Jaskier can still feel his lungs burn when he runs for too long.

Jaskier eventually catches up with them at a town at the bottom of the mountain. Geralt is searching for something, it's obvious. Perhaps a job? Yennefer, somehow? A beast?

"Brown hair, blue eyes, dressed in bright colors?"

Geralt is looking for him.

Jaskier gets excited for a moment, before remembering Geralt still has his things. He probably just wanted to drop his things off and leave him again.

"I haven't seen a man like that." "He- He… He looks sad. He was crying."

Geralt brings up this detail as if it pains him to even speak of it. Jaskier is confused about this, as it was technically Geralt's fault Jaskier ended up crying at all.

"I haven't seen him." "If you do, tell me. Please."

And Geralt moves to ask the same exact questions to the very next person in view.

Jaskier watches as he asks every single person in town, getting more and more desperate. By the end of the night, Geralt sits in an inn room with a large single bed, hugging a lute, as his eyes tear up.

Jaskier sits beside him, assures him he's fine, pleads with Geralt to not mess with the delicate lute, and demands he get happy and stop this frankly heart-wrenching display.

Jaskier tries moving items, tries clapping his hands, tries punching people, tries screaming his head off, but nobody notices him. Except Roach. And a barncat that ran away once it caught sight of Geralt in the distance. Great.

Jaskier can only silently observe as Geralt grieves Jaskier, hopes for him to return, prays that he's safe even though he left his lute , hums his songs under his breath before shaking his head and sighing, whispers "Please forgive me" to empty air. Jaskier has. Jaskier forgave him long ago at this point.

Jaskier's had enough. Jaskier's been annoying and loud his entire life. Surely he can make enough of a fuss to get the animals around Geralt to act up enough for Geralt to know something's up. He starts cooing at Roach and luring her in odd directions with the same promises he made before it all went to shit. Geralt knows something is wrong, but suspects it's with Roach, and not the environment around her. That is, until Geralt is in the middle of a hunt, and suddenly the creature he's there to kill can NOT focus on him, and instead keeps following some invisible being as they race back and forth across the clearing.

[beenbaanbuun]

Do you think it's possible Yeosang might try and run away one day, possibly due to not feeling good enough to be part of the family?

in normal circumstances, no. he doesn’t have time to feel insecure when (even with the new addition of san) he has darling clinging onto him. every single bad thought about himself is wiped away whenever she flops down onto his stomach and curl into his warmth. how can he doubt himself when he has someone who loves him this much?

having said that, if the two of them were to ever argue i think yeosang would take it personally. he might blame you for a little while, but it’ll begin to take a toll on him after a short while, especially if it’s over something that happened during the full moon.

he’s the type to not show how he’s feeling until he’s reached the peak of his emotions, which is when he packs his bag and heads downstairs in the dead of night. no need for useless goodbyes or explanations if he leaves when everyone else is asleep. he can go back to mingi without kicking up too much of a fuss.

but seonghwa is too observant for his own good. if anything is wrong with any of his family, moody werewolf included, he’s the first to know. so when yeosang tiptoes along the corridor to the stairs, he’s shocked to find seonghwa sitting on the top step nursing a cup of pomegranate tea. he doesn’t say anything as he takes a seat next to the man and hugs his knees to his chest. he wouldn’t feel the need to say anything when seonghwa is bound to already know it.

“leaving so soon?” seonghwa says to the werewolf before taking a sip of his piping hot tea. the look yeosang gets over the rim is all-knowing; yeosang isn’t going to get out of this easily. seonghwa pulls the cup away and smacks his lips, “thought you might at least say goodbye before running off… or are you too good for goodbyes?”

“didn’t want to upset anyone,” the wolf shies away, choosing instead to look at the dirt beneath his fingernails. you’d have sat him down and cleaned them for him had the circumstances been different. the fact that you hadn’t is only further proof of how much you must hate him. “any more than i already have done, that is.”

perhaps laughing at yeosang was quite cruel, but seonghwa couldn’t hold it back. the cackle bubbled up before he could stop it and the poor mutt had no choice but to accept it. seonghwa was laughing at him…

“sorry, pup,” he manages to force out through the laughter, “but no one is upset with you. my precious lamb knew the risks of annoying you during the full moon. she reaped what she sowed and that’s no fault of yours.”

“but—”

“no buts,” seonghwa stands before putting the cup down on the top step. he holds a hand out to the wolf, and yeosang reluctantly takes it. “get some sleep, pup; she’ll have forgotten all about it by morning.”

[anistarrose]

after Story and Song, the non-Magnus members of the IPRE plus Carey and Killian start packing bags for their big group adventure of Killing Governor Kalen As Dead As Possible, and some of the people who aren't as desensitized as Merle and Taako are to Angus being at murder scenes express some apprehension about the eleven year old coming along for this one. Merle and Taako instead claim they don't want Angus to come because they think he'll snitch (Taako is exaggerating slightly to get a rise out of Angus, but no one can quite tell if Merle means it).

Angus assures them that of course he agrees this is a morally justified murder, and therefore not one to snitch about, but he really wants to come because even in all his years as a homicide detective, he almost never gets to watch murders be committed with his own two eyes! just think of the learning opportunity, sirs! it's not every day I get such an ethically defensible chance to study murdering techniques so up close and personal!

eventually Lucretia sits him down. she gently points out that due to the number of people involved, and those people's particular skillsets, Kalen is going to be murdered in a fashion that not one single person on Faerun has ever been murdered in before or ever will be murdered in again.

and sure enough, when Kalen is stabbed with eighteen knives, immolated in fire, shot full of enough crossbow bolts that they look like turkey feathers, suffocated in an impenetrable magical bubble, impaled by the divine spear of Della Reese, bitten in half by Dupree the Tyrannosaurus Rex, and run over by a literal spaceship all before being resurrected as a zombie to do it all over again... Angus has to agree. she had a point.

however, he does sit his assorted parents down afterwards, and gently asks if they've ever heard of an "alibi" or "reasonable doubt" in their lives. why were you so concerned about me snitching, sir? how was bringing the planar system's only spaceship not snitching on yourself?!

[harryforvogue]

or the one where annaliese is sick and harry has never hated himself more <3

read wtss in full here

read more wtss content here

***

Every morning, without fail, Harry gets up to make his wife breakfast and lunch before she leaves for work.

Lunch is the easy part – usually leftovers from the night before with a fresh salad and dressing, drink, and snack. She really enjoys having something sweet after a large meal, and she often falls victim to taking a nap after lunch, so to keep her awake, he packs a bar of dark chocolate into her lunch bag. 

Breakfast is trickier because sometimes she doesn’t wake with an appetite. Still, he’ll put out something small on the table. A single slice of toast with butter and coffee, or even just yogurt with his homemade granola. Something that will keep her fed until lunch. It was a part of his vow of course. Keeping her fed and happy. He can’t do the latter but he can certainly put all his effort into the first.

Once her bag is zipped up, and her yogurt is left on the dining table, he grabs an apple for himself and then returns to his room. She’ll be getting up in ten minutes. She gets ready quickly too thanks to her hair, outfit, and skin preparations from the night before, so he never has to worry about her coffee getting cold. It’s an unspoken routine.

Harry sits on his bed, knees drawn to his chest, waiting for her door to open so that he can go back to sleep.

Ten minutes pass. The door doesn’t open. He doesn’t hear the soft pad of her sleepy steps making their way to the bathroom down the hall. He gives her an additional five minutes. Perhaps she wants to sleep in. But then five minutes become ten and then fifteen, and then Harry worries she’ll be late for work.

He’s torn between waking her and leaving her alone when he hears a wet cough from the other side of the wall. His heart drops.

Harry quietly opens his door and walks to her room. Her door is closed, but when he presses his ear against it, he can hear her coughs, followed by a whimper of distress. Alarm bells ring through his head, his hand shooting out to grab the door handle without thinking. He stops himself just as he begins turning it open, his other hand balled into a fist in frustration at himself. 

At least Annaliese knows she’s too ill to go to work. Harry moves away from the door slowly and goes back to the kitchen, putting all the food he’s prepared for her in the fridge. He rolls up his sleeves, taking out several vegetables, stock, and a cutting board. He gets to work without thinking.

The sounds of Annaliese coughing travels through the house, hitting him square in the chest.

Had he missed something important? A pale flush of her cheeks that he mistook for the effects of the cold draft that swept her into the house? Several sneezes that he brushed off as allergies? A red nose that he blamed on the wintery February? Fatigue that he assumed was from the long day on her feet?

He feels terrible.

He should have known.

Harry cooks the stock on high flames, adding a tiny tinge of spice as she enjoys it. While that continues, he kneads dough and sets it aside for dinner later. He’ll make her a fresh, herbed loaf. Run the store to get that sweet cream butter she likes so much.

Once the food is done, he puts all the dishes on the tray, and carefully makes his way back to the rooms. He knocks on Annaliese’s door once before allowing himself in.

He rarely comes into this room anymore, so the memories of the shared space hit him hard. He keeps a neutral face, but his eyes dart around, seeing the things exactly that way he left them. Lamps in the same spots, the same curtains, the same number of pillows on the bed. His side of the bed, in fact, is messy, as if Annaliese often travels to that side during her sleep. The image of her reaching for him in the middle of the night makes him falter in his step, an odd pain near his ribs.

To his surprise, his wife is sitting up in bed, her wild curls in her face, one shoulder bare from the neckline sliding down too far as if she unbuttoned the top of her pajama set due to discomfort. She raises her head to look at him, but it’s so hard to as if her head is heavy. 

“Could you call the school?” she whispers, a quiver to her voice.

Harry nods and goes to put the food on the side table. At the sight of what’s on the table, though, his breath hitches.

A framed photograph rests in the center of the wood, an outtake that wasn’t put in with the rest of the photo album. It’s from their wedding: Harry feeding Annaliese a bit of cake, the two of them unwinding during their reception with Harry’s tie already undone and Annaliese’s veil abandoned somewhere in the hall. He recalls the moment violently, remembering how she looked at him from under her lashes, a wild glimpse of excitement at the promise of their new life together. It’s the first time he called her his wife. He kissed her messy mouth afterwards. 

Harry puts the tray down with trembling fingers.

She looks at the food curiously but doesn’t say anything more.

He hands her a large cup of water first, which she enthusiastically drinks. Then, he fixes the sheets around her thighs and places the tray beside her.

“Want this?” he asks, holding up a packet of saltines.

“Mhm.” 

He rips open the plastic and crushes the crackers into her soup. She holds her hands out for the bowl, shuddering delicately when the warmth hits her. "Thank you."

Annaliese tilts her head back and sighs deeply. Her fingers curl around the spoon, stirring the soup weakly. Her hair is still in her face, and she makes no move to give herself between visual access.

Harry hesitates, but then sits on the bed beside her legs, reaching out. She shudders when his cold fingertips touch the sides of her face – though it’s just barely. He unravels the curls, separating them from her clips, and then uses two of the largest ones to pin her hair back. Annaliese’s eyes flutter shut, and through the warm morning light, he sees her fever flushed waxy skin and parted lips. He somehow resists the urge to hold her face.

“Thank you,” she murmurs again, keeping her eyes closed. 

Harry doesn’t know what to say. So he stands, brings her medicine from the bathroom, and then goes to the kitchen to give her school a call. He introduces himself as Annaliese’s husband, details how she’s in no circumstance to get to work for today, and takes a wild guess to say she has lesson plans in her classroom. The administration must like her very much because the woman he talks to sounds sad to hear his wife isn't not doing well. It makes Harry feel better though, knowing that she’s well taken care of outside this odd routine they have.

He returns to her room, prepared to ask her if she needs anything more. 

She’s halfway done with her soup, and the overwhelming warmth has caused her hairline to go all damp. He enters the door with a hand towel, rolling it up. When she looks up at him with her tired eyes, he’s unsure if he should be the one mopping that sweat, or if she’ll even let him.

“Did they ask what time I’ll come in?” she asks instead, voice low as if she won't be able to get it any louder.

Harry’s brows furrow together. “You’re taking the day off.”

As stubborn as always, Annaliese says, “I don’t need the entire day off. Just the morning. My students have a written exam after lunchtime.”

“You are in no health to go to work today.”

Annaliese looks sad. She takes another weak spoonful of her soup. 

Harry suddenly feels the urge to explain himself. “I would have made something more if I had the time,” he says, wringing the towel between his hands. “But that’s all the stock we have. We didn’t have any carrots or eggs or I would have added them in. Maybe the celery isn’t cooked all the way through either.”

His wife shakes her head, and then winces. “It’s good.”

“Is it spicy enough?”

“Yes.”

“And the pepper?”

“It’s good.”

“The salt?”

“Harry,” Annaliese whispers. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He stops, though he has several more things to say. 

Annaliese looks up at him after a moment. “Will you sit?”

He does, towel still in hand. She looks at it, and then goes back to her soup until it’s finished, and she’s setting it aside. Annaliese has more water, and then she reaches for her medicine.

Harry beats her to it. He unscrews the top, pours a healthy bit into the tablespoon and then carries it over to her mouth. The dread is in her eyes, and she makes a face as she swallows it. Harry doesn’t realize he has a ghostly smile on his face until he’s putting the spoon down, watching her take several more gulps of water.

“I hate that taste more than anything,” Annaliese says.

“I know,” Harry answers softly, because he does.

Her jaw tenses, eyes glazed over with an expression Harry doesn’t have the capability to fully understand, and she slides down against the mattress, her head against the pillow. With her knees drawn up, they touch Harry’s thighs, and the briefest contact makes him yearn to feel the real touch of his wife. She closes her eyes, hands under her chin.

Her skin is still pale, her lower lip trembling with fever, and every part of him hurts knowing he can’t lay in bed with her and nurse her back to health. The reminder of his vows again deliver a swift punch to his gut, and emotion makes his throat close. The love he feels for her is binding, suffocating, and the pull to give in is so urgent, it’s a wonder that he keeps himself upright instead of draping his body over hers.

Annaliese doesn’t ask him to do anything more either.

So he takes a deep breath, rolls up the towel a bit better and then carefully lays it against her hairline. She shifts to let him adjust it better, lets him pull the covers over her bare shoulder to shield her from the cold and also to get the idea of kissing her burning skin out of his head.

It goes without saying, but he says it anyway. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Annaliese nods once, eyes still shut.

He wonders if she’s upset with him. The thought of disappointing her makes him want to double over with anger at himself.

He's entirely pathetic. How dare he think he can keep his wife satisfied.

As he’s exiting her room, he passes by the dresser. On it, more framed photos sit. Some from their wedding, some of their families. The picture that rests on her side table once sat with the rest on her dresser. He wonders when she brought that one closer to her. If she looks at it every night before she goes to sleep, every morning when she wakes. If she holds it under her pillow or her cheek to have him right beside her. If she stains the glass with her tears.

Harry turns his head to look at Annaliese once more. She’s asleep, and though she’s fed and being brought back to good health, Harry has never felt more of a failure in his life.

He shuts the door behind him when he leaves, puts the dishes in the sink, and then goes to his room wishing Annaliese would rip the bandaid off and find someone better for herself.

[disneyprincemuke]

i didn't tell you i was scared * fem!driver

perhaps carrying the burden of being the perfect eldest daughter after all these years have its disadvantages as well

pairings: fem!driver and her literal family

notes: don't even get me started on how fuckin long it took me to write this bro and also let's not talk about how bad this one is ok? thanks

(series masterlist) | (📂 2025: fall from grace)

(prev)

being back home has always brought about a sense of peace she hasn’t been able to replicate anywhere else. it’s just a different serenity when she’s back under the blankets of the bed she’d grown up in, surrounded by everything that reminded her of being young and innocent.

oh, how she misses the times when it felt like the world was in her hands. how naïve of her to think that if she worked hard, she’d get everything she wanted.

every single word of rejection slowly dug the trenches she’s managed to find herself in lately.

she’s so deep in that she doesn’t think there’s a way out.

she lies on her back, childhood stuffed animals burying her in the blanket. she bores holes in the roof of her room where her glow-in-the-dark stars stare right back at her.

she can almost hear the ghost of her 13-year-old self whining as oscar and logan prop themselves up on her bed to paste them on her ceiling, making fun of her for being too short to do it herself.

it used to be so simple.

there’s soft knock on the door followed bt the creaking of its hinges as it’s pushed open. a head pops in. “can we go to the store?”

“what?” she turns her head towards the door and furrows her eyebrows. “can’t you just take my car and go alone?”

dalton frowns, “is it such a crime to spend time with my very beautiful older sister?”

she raises an eyebrow. “you want me to pay, don’t you?”

“don’t make me sound so feral,” the young boy huffs with a roll of his eyes. “i haven’t seen you in months… come on, let’s do something together?”

“i don’t really…” she sighs as she meets her younger brother’s stare and hopeful smile. “alright, mate, just let me change out of my pyjamas.”

that’s how she finds herself at a convenience store at 2 in the morning, hands in the pockets of one of logan’s old jackets that he left in her parent’s house, slowly sauntering through aisles with a blank stare.

she’s been staring at a box of cereal for a couple of minutes, debating with herself if she should let herself indulge. but lately, it just doesn’t feel like she deserves nice things.

when dalton finds her, he’s got a basket full of snacks and drinks. he stops at the end of the aisle with a puzzled stare and tilts his head. “didn’t see anything you want?”

she smiles, “not really. and i’m supposed to be watching my diet — too much ice cream, noah said.”

which is just another blatant lie. she hasn’t touched a drop of ice cream since matt had packed his bags and left her apartment. she hasn’t even really been eating.

dalton hums, “i guess… let yourself have a cheat day, though.”

she sighs out a soft laugh and slings an arm over dalton’s shoulders. “maybe tomorrow. come on, let’s pay up before mama finds out i let you convince me to drive you out to the store in the middle of the night.”

she rests her head at the foot of her bed, nose-to-nose with kidnapper as he sleeps peacefully on one of her pillows.

“wish my life was as simple as yours,” she mutters, running her finger along the cat’s nose. “wish i could sleep all day and be adored like you, kid.”

she glances at her phone, lying peacefully on her side table next to the bed. it’s been going off with constant text messages for the past 5 minutes, most from logan and oscar asking about her parents’ anniversary party, and some from matt.

she can’t get herself to pick up the phone and answering feels like such a daunting task. she can’t find the right words to type out and send out as an acceptable response.

“hey,” the door opens and her mother’s head pops in, “busy?”

she lifts her head and smiles slightly. “what do you need me to do?”

“can you pick up the decorations from town? it’s pre-ordered, so you just gotta pick it up. then maybe could you bring home some dinner?” her mother flashes her a sheepish grin, obviously hoping that she would say yes.

“can’t you get dalton to pick it up? i’ll let him use my car if that’s what you’re worried about,” she offers with a small, unnoticeable scowl on her face. her plan for the entire day was to simply lie in her bedroom and do absolutely nothing.

her day simply isn’t complete unless she’s wallowed in self pity.

“he’s barely permitted to drive a car with an adult in the passenger seat,” her mother sighs. “come on, please? i’ll make you your favourite breakfast tomorrow.”

“really? it has to be me?”

“you’ve locked yourself in your room the 2 days you’ve been back,” her mother sighs again with the shake of her head. “i thought you came home early to help around.”

“i came back early to spend my break here. that doesn’t mean anything about helping around,” she complains, yet she’s scrambling to get herself off her bed. she knows better than to get into this sort of argument with her mother — it’s simply not going to be worth it. “but if it has to be me…”

she gets up and drops kidnapper off in dalton’s room. she changes out of her day-old pyjamas and heads to town where her mother had asked her to go.

all the while cursing under her breath about having so much to do on her supposed break. she’d only driven herself back ahead of her parents’ anniversary party to give herself a break from the fast-paced nature of london.

that and the refusal to go back to her apartment when it no longer felt like home.

but she does all that her mother asks of her anyway because her mother says so.

“you need to eat more, my love.” she watches her mother stand from her position on the dinner table and pick up a bowl of noodles. “you look like you haven’t been eating at all.”

“mama,” she tries to protest with a sigh, shaking her head as she tries to push away the bowl from her plate. “i’m not very hungry.”

her mother is insistent. she shakes her head with a soft huff, scooping out a bunch of noodles and putting it on the plate in front of her. “you need to eat more than you’re eating.”

she lets out an irritated sigh and turns to her father, sat next to her mother, for some sort of words to help her. but he just shrugs at her with an apologetic smile.

“i just want you to look like yourself again,” her mother sighs, pinching her cheek tenderly with a small smile. “you’ve had a tough year.”

she scoffs, dropping her head to toy with the noodles on her plate. of course, she uses her shit of a season to justify being an overbearing figure in her life. she would have been more tolerant of it — as she’s been her entire life — but it’s just not a good time for this behaviour right now.

“fine, whatever.”

she glances down the hallway for anyone who would catch her before she opens the door. she’s greeted by 2 beds and an empty room, but an overwhelming familiarity of friendship. a friendship that she’s strayed so far from that it barely makes sense for her to be standing in this bedroom.

on top of the dresser is a framed picture of her, oscar and logan at a karting track in the earlier days of their karting days together. she stands between the boys, oscar and logan leaning into her with their lips pressed against either side of her cheeks.

on the beds, she can see the 3 of them cuddled up together when she was 14 seeking help from the older boys with her homework.

if she thinks hard enough, she sees her 15-year-old self on oscar’s bed with the blankets pulled up to her chin with logan and oscar squeezing in the other bed in the room when she’s having trouble sleeping by herself.

in the far corner of the room, she can see herself at 16 curled up on the floor after her first boyfriend had broken up with her. and oscar walks in with a small scowl but 3 pints of ice cream for them to share while they try to distract her of the pain.

the room’s been cleaned and polished by her mother, preparing for oscar and logan’s return for their anniversary party this weekend.

she makes a sharp turn for the cabinet at the side of the room, pushing through hangers of jackets and sweaters hanging neatly, untouched for god knows how long. she sighs when a familiar red jacket comes into view.

“i told mama this is mine,” she grumbles under her breath, pulling the jacket out of the cabinet. it’s a ferrari jacket that oscar had gotten from his parents when he was younger, but since he’d outgrown it, she’d claimed it for herself.

“oh, there you are.”

she turns around, with a heavy heart and teary eyes, and comes face-to-face with her father. “hey.”

“i’ve been looking all over for you,” he sighs heavily, stepping into the room with caution. “i just wanted to check in on you after what happened during dinner. you know mama meant well.”

she grins with a slight nod. “yeah, i know.”

“and we’re just concerned for you.” he wraps an arm around her and rests his chin on top of her head. “after the year you’re having… we’re all concerned for you.”

“concerned?” she repeats under her breath, looking up at her father. “regarding what? i’m doing fine.”

“personally, i’m just concerned because you’re my princess,” he mumbles, giving her a squeeze. “and you know… i’m your father? i know if something’s wrong, but it’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it yet.”

she lets out a heavy sigh, relaxing in his arms. she wraps her arms around him and nuzzles her face into his chest, “thanks for not making me talk about it.”

she throws her head back, trying to pull back the hand that’s clasped in dalton’s hands, yanking her towards the garage of the house.

“come on,” dalton mutters, “we’ll have so much fun! just like before!”

“dalton, i told you i didn’t feel like leaving the house today,” she whines, trying another attempt at pulling her hand back from him. “i have some things to settle with my finances and schedule… i’ve put that off for a couple days and kristen and noah need those by tonight.”

“i’m sure it can’t take that long,” dalton whines with a heavy sigh, tugging on her arm. “just a quick movie in at the theatre then a cup of ice cream?”

“dalton, come on, i said i don’t have the time for this!” she shrieks, yanking her arm back and stomping a foot on the ground. “i’ll pay for you to go with a couple of friends, but i can’t go with you. i have adult matters to handle before the week is over.”

dalton blinks at her, shocked at her sudden outburst. “i just wanted to spend time with you before you go off and not come home for months… i’m sorry.”

she opens her mouth to add to her previous statement, but seeing her younger brother with a frown on his face instantly felt like a pierce through her heart. “i– dalton,” she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “i just have so much going on right now. maybe we can go a little later? i just need to finish a couple of things for my team.”

“it’s alright,” dalton sighs dejectedly, shaking his head. he walks past her to head for the stairs. “maybe next time when you’re not being a bitch anymore.”

“what the fuck,” she mutters with eyebrows furrowed, turning around with her gaze following his steps. “you did not just say that.”

“what?” dalton whirls around. “it’s true. you’ve been such a bitch since you came back. you lock yourself inside your room, you never wanna talk to me, you never wanna join me for snacks, it takes me extra effort just to convince you to come out of the house and do stuff with me… you changed, mate.”

she takes a deep breath. “of course, you don’t understand. you’re just a 16-year-old — you don’t fucking know anything.”

“i know my sister,” dalton scowls. he rolls his eyes and scoffs with a dry laugh. “sorry, i mean i used to know my eldest sister. nowadays, you just ignore my texts, never return my calls and never wanna hang out. you’re a flake, rocky.”

“and you’re just a fucking kid, why should i take anything you say seriously? what do you know about anything that’s outside of your stupid video games and secondary school?” she huffs. “and what do you know about what’s going on with me? that’s not fair.”

“i’m not talking to someone who’s not open to criticism.” he glances at her over his shoulder one more time before running up the stairs. “get a grip, mate.”

“hey, i heard you were back early.” the front door closing echoes in the house, ciara putting her backpack down next to the shoe rack.

the other girl sits on the couch, attention unwavering to the tv show she’s put on to watch. “yeah. hi.”

“i bought you dinner on my drive home from campus.” ciara skips over to the couch happily, leaning down on the back of the couch her older sister sits on. ciara turns her head to grin at her. “from the chinese restaurant. i got you some noodles and wanton.”

“oh, thank you.” she turns her head with a small grin and a soft eye, eyes stinging with every blink. “welcome home, ara.” she pulls ciara in for a short side hug and presses a kiss on her cheek. “how’s uni?”

“it was alright,” ciara shrugs. “join me for dinner?”

she hums, returning her attention to the tv screen. “maybe not; i’m still full from the lunch i had. but thank you for getting me dinner.”

“you’re home!” dalton appears at the top of the stairs with a big grin. “did you get me my fried rice?”

“of course!” ciara beams, beckoning him down towards the dining table. “help me set up the table. rocky’s still full from lunch. it’s just us, come on.”

dalton hops over to the kitchen with ciara, not sparing his eldest sister another stare. so she just turns off the tv and runs back to her bedroom.

“oh. i didn’t know it was such a sensitive topic,” her mother shrugs with a soft chuckle. “i was just curious because you said matt was going to be here for the party this weekend and suddenly he’s not.”

the girl shrugs, keeping her stare on the plate. “yeah, but i really don’t wanna talk about him right now.”

“come on, just concerned for your relationship.” she clenches her jaw, feeling a knot form in her throat as she lifts her eyes to meet her mother’s stare across the table. “did something happen?”

“no,” she lies with a small grin. “he’s just got some things to settle back in the states. he’s just busy.”

“or maybe he realised you were a bitch,” dalton mutters under his breath.

“dalton,” ciara warns through gritted teeth, hitting dalton on the shoulder very gently. “what the hell?”

“what? it’s true,” dalton mutters. “you know that more than i do.”

“that’s enough,” her father speaks up. “let’s just eat dinner, okay?”

“no, my love,” a whine comes from behind her, “you put it up wrongly.”

the girl on the top of the ladder looks over her shoulder and meets her mother’s judgemental stare and disappointed frown. “you literally told me to put it here, mama.”

“put it up higher, no– like– i’ll just do it.” her mother offers her a reassuring smile and beckons her to get down from her position.

“no, it’s so dangerous for you to be up here,” she mutters, attempting to readjust the wall decorations to her liking. “just tell me where to put it.”

“you’re,” her mother pauses, “not doing it right. just come down and let me do it.”

she huffs and drops her hands. “fine.”

she climbs down the ladder, folding her arms over her chest as she watches her mother replace her.

“see? isn’t that better.”

but she swears it’s exactly the way she’d put it up just a moment ago.

“is this what you’re going to do the entire time you’re here? just mope in your room with your cat?”

she lifts her head from her pillow and turns, resting her head again as she stares at her mother standing at the door. “is this really how you want to start the day?”

“it’s noon. the day started almost 3 hours ago.” her mother leans on the door frame of her bedroom. “you have to get up and do something. locking yourself up in here,” she pauses to look around the kiddish bedroom, “it won’t make you feel any better.”

“i just have a lot going on,” she mumbles, flipping herself to face the other side of the room. “i’ll come down in a while. i just need a couple minutes.”

“oh, my god, mama!” her voice echoes in the empty house, running down the steps with her mother following shortly behind her. “stop asking me about matt! i don’t want to talk about him right now!” she turns around at the bottom of the steps. “not with you; not with anyone!”

“i’m just trying to give him an answer, my love! he’s concerned for you. he said you haven't answered his messages all week,” her mother reprimands with her hands on her hips.

“that’s between matt and i and you have no say in this, sorry.” she raises her hands in the air to surrender before walking away. “it’s just none of your business.”

she’d just been relaxing in her room by herself when her mother came in trying to make conversation. she’d been receptive at first until she realised that she was trying to get her to talk about matt again.

which, she’s just not ready to open up about yet.

“it is if you’re acting this way! locking yourself in your room all day… fighting with dalton? don't even get me started on the way you can’t even clean up after yourself — you’re an adult now.”

“i’m an adult, yeah, so let me deal with my fucking problems however i see fit!” she laughs dryly and turns to face her mother again. “can i have some room to breathe? please? without everyone following closely behind me and staring at me like i’m pathetic?”

“we don’t think you’re pathetic!”

“i see the sorry in your eyes when you look at me! everyone seems to be looking at me that way lately!”

“my l–”

“just please leave me alone!”

so she gets in her car and drives away. she doesn’t know how long she drives for, tears in her eyes and chest heaving in sobs.

but she finds herself at the park nearby, one that she used to frequent with oscar and logan after school. she parks her car right by the roadside and forces herself onto the empty playground. she sits on the slide for hours until she feels slightly better.

she pushes the front door open with a heavy sigh. the sadness of pulling up in the driveway of her house worries her. it’s like the sadness seems to find a way to follow her everywhere.

everywhere she goes, it’s like there’s a dark cloud hanging above her head and she doesn’t know how to make it go away.

“where have you been?” ciara’s voice startles her, sending her a step back. “we’ve been worried sick for you after you left so abruptly before dinner! you weren’t even picking up your phone!”

“i just needed some time alone,” she says with a heavy sigh. she closes the door behind her and slips out of her shoes. “i was just at the playground i used to go to with logan and oscar. think i left my phone in my bedroom before i left and i went to grab dinner–”

“seriously? you’re not even sorry?” ciara screams, throwing her arms in the air. “we’ve been so worried sick for you since you walked out for no reason?”

she tilts her head. “no reason? mama has been grilling me about things i don’t want to talk about since i came back.”

“she���s concerned for you! we’re all concerned for you!”

“i didn’t ask for your concern! i’m asking you guys to leave me alone; give me some fucking room to breathe!”

“then why did you come all the way here just to lock yourself in your bedroom? if you want to be left alone, you should’ve just fucking stayed in london where you have an apartment where no one will fucking bother you!”

she huffs, hands on her hips. “fine. i’ll just go back. since it’s such a bother that i’m too sad to be here right now.” she stomps past her younger sister and up the stairs, heading right for her bedroom.

“don’t try and guilt trip me to feel sorry for you!” ciara chases after her. “it’s just not fair that you came all this way to be fighting with every single person in this household! just because blythe’s not here, doesn’t mean you’ll get away with this behaviour!”

“i’m not trying to guilt trip you,” she snarls, grabbing her bag from the ground and shoving her things, sprawled all over her room, into it. “but i’m sorry my feelings are such a burden to you guys. cause personally, i’m not having the best time.”

“if you’re not having the best time, don’t bring us down with you! it’s mama and papa’s anniversary! spend a little time not thinking of yourself for once!”

“i’ve spent my whole life not thinking of myself! you don’t know — you’re just a spoilt brat who got everything she wanted growing up! i actually had to work for the things i wanted.”

ciara scoffs, finally stepping into the room. “who gave you the right to act all high and mighty like you’re better than everyone? being the eldest kid doesn’t mean shit, genius.”

“well, what would you know about being the eldest kid? you never had to take care of anyone besides yourself; you never had to think of anyone but yourself.” she picks up kidnapper, sleeping on the foot of her bed and throws her bag over her shoulder. “just fuck off, ciara.”

“you’re not the only one with problems, you know,” ciara scoffs, folding her arms over her chest. “and what, you’re leaving? way to face your problems head-on.”

“i’m leaving because clearly i’m not wanted here,” the older girl sighs, pushing past the girl to her bedroom door. “so let me get out of your hair before my sadness becomes too contagious for your liking.”

“you’re leaving?” blythe says in shock, watching her older sister walk past her without another moment’s hesitation. “but i just got here. and isn’t the part tomorrow?”

“she’s throwing us the dramatics!” ciara announces with a loud laugh, running down the stairs to catch up with her older sister heading right for the front door. “she’s leaving because she can’t face the fact that she could be overreacting this one time!”

“overreacting?” blythe repeats, following both sisters down the stairs. “what are you guys even fighting about?”

“she left for hours with no contact!”

“i don’t even wanna stay long enough for you to paint me to be the villain,” the girl announces, pulling the front door open. “i’m leaving.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @mclarengf @xoscar03 @nomie-11 @green-thots @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool

[hsficrecommendation]

Hello Everyone! This is masterlist #4 (June of 2023!) for the all fics I have reblogged on this side blog I hold super close to me. Remember to leave feedback and reblog all the writings below!

Also, a huge thank you to all the writers mentioned, I adore you so very much and I hope you keep writing for yourselves &lt;3

••• JUNE •••

Valentine's Day | Y/N receives a special candy gram on Valentine’s Day. - @nationalharryleague

French Fries | Harry kept glancing at her as he drove. “M’sorry about our date,” he whispered. “I don’t know what you’re apologizing for,” she shrugged and reached over to squeeze his arm while he held the steering wheel. “I had a lovely time.” - @1d1195

Shy | Close | Motherly Love | Don't Leave Me | Mother's Day | ♡ When Harry runs into a perfect stranger at a supermarket, he doesn’t know what to expect. After having been single for over a year and raising Amelia without a mother, dating somebody new feels impossible… that is, until she wins over the heart of his daughter. - @harry-writings

Vogue Beauty Secrets | Actress!Y/N does the Vogue Beauty Secrets video, and Harry decides to help. - @astranva

Gonna be Better in the Morning | Jeff and reader get into a fight and Harry takes Jeff's side. (As always, there is a happy ending with lots of comforts) - @harryhoney-bee

Work of Art | A cute little fluffy artist!Harry piece with a hint of angst! - @nationalharryleague

Update | The Best Present | Harry falls for a mysterious girl from YouTube. - @watchmegetobsessed

When The Levee Breaks | You're a waitress and Harry is being stood up. - @songbirdstyles

Playball | ♡ The reader owns a bakery and hates baseball, but what happens when her town’s bigshot MLB player walks into her bakery and she finds herself catching feelings unaware of his occupation? - @writingsbymarie

The Con Artist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | ♡ You're a wanted criminal and when Harry Styles, the detective on the case, finally catches up to you- he finds it difficult to resist your charms. - @gurugirl

Baby Steps | You’re Harry’s son's therapist, and he isn’t the only one you end up helping. - @enthusiasticharry

Mute | ♡♡ Where Harry doesn’t talk and falls in love with Y/n. - @harry-writings

Score and Smash | In which their university holds an annual boy vs girl football match, the highly anticipated game of the year has arrived and Harry and Y/N hate each other just as equally until Y/N is under Harry.

Quid Pro Quo | Another lawyer!Harry. Technically six years before this piece. Enemies to lovers with plenty of angst! - @talesofstyles

Six Months (Part 23) | ♡ Layla desperately needs a vacation and her Aunt and Uncle come to her rescue. So, at twenty two, she packs her bag and jets off to America. Harry took a break from education and is now a full fledged content creator on OnlyFans. At twenty, he makes more money than almost all of his friends. What ensues when these two meet and realise the windows in their rooms face each other? How will paper airplanes bring them closer together? - @fishnets-fingers

2022 : Masterlist #1 , #2 , #3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. 2023 : Masterlist #1, 2, 3 (June masterlist would be continued in the next list!)

My official writing account in case you'd like to check out my fics too: @0oolookitsme :)

[jooillusion]

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙞𝙡𝙖𝙘 𝙝𝙪𝙚𝙨 — o. seungmin

[ outline. ] - one of you and your boyfriends favorite things to do together. he’s the painter and you’re his muse.

[ content + warnings. ] - college au, artist!o.de x reader + pet names, lingerie, kissing, suggestive but no smut, seungmin is a simp, they’re in love and it’s sickening, not proofread

[ word count.] - 2k

𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐒 .ᐟ this is quite literally inspired by my xdh lingerie reaction post if you want to check it out here! you don’t have to read it but i mentioned that the wardrobe is full of shades of purple, so this was a random thought turned into a fic lol. hope you enjoy!

seungmin’s clammy hands gather his belongings from the table as soon as the clock hits three pm. he didn’t want to endure another second of hearing his professor’s painfully bothersome voice piercing his ears, he could literally do anything better for an hour and a half rather than hearing them whine and moan about every single thing. besides, he was looking forward to going to his shared apartment and maybe cuddling up next to his girlfriend who’s most likely out of her classes and watching some television. he’s definitely prepared for what ever story she has bubbling in her throat for him as her fingers run through his hair, his head laying on her chest and his arms around her torso wrapped in a warm embrace.

he’s definitely prepared for what ever story she has bubbling in her throat for him as her fingers run through his hair, his head laying on her chest and his arms around her torso wrapped in a warm embrace. it became a routine at this point, so he wouldn’t be surprised if she was on their couch laying on her back waiting for him. the thought of it etches a smile onto his lips.

“hey seungmin,” seungmins head turns towards the voice next to him, his actions of putting his notebook in his bag halting. the voice belongs to jiseok who’s already all packed up and ready to go, his hand in his pocket and a grin taking over his features. seungmin raises an eyebrow. “wanna get some drinks with me and the guys tonight? it’s been a while since all six of us hung out.”

seungmin rolls his eyes, knowing that jiseok loves to exaggerate. it’s only been four days since he last saw all of his friends. 

“i have homework to do,” seungmin glances down at his watch to make his case more believable. “like right now.”

“bullshit.” he snorts. jiseok knew he was going to lie, since that was his excuse almost every single time he just wanted to go home in a rush. jiseok audibly sighs, his fingers pinching his nose bridge and his head shaking from side to side. “your only “homework” is that girlfriend of yours huh?” he makes sure to emphasize the word to at least fill seungmin’s gut with guilt. he’s proven wrong again though, since seungmin stands proud with no shame at all, the sheepish smile on his face full of pride.

“you sound jealous as if you wanna be my girlfriend.” seungmin coos as he finishes placing his things in his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and making his way towards the exit door of the lecture hall. jiseok scoffs and ignores his comment, trailing next to him.

“cmon man. ever since you two got together, it’s been like a rarity to actually see you out.” 

“that’s because i have priorities. and my main priority right now is doing my homework.” seungmin emphasizes just like jiseok did earlier, smirking at a disgusted jiseok who jokingly gags.

“ugh enough with the homework thing!” jiseok raises his voice in slight irritation and it only makes seungmin laugh. “you’re so gross dude.”

“i didn’t say which kind of homework i was doing.” seungmin’s purposefully obnoxious laughter dies down, his eyes not missing the scowl sewn onto jiseoks face. “hey, maybe next time dude. pretty sure she misses me more than you guys.” seungmin’s palm lightly pats at jiseoks shoulder, the supposedly reassuring gesture only making jiseok roll his eyes.

“yeah okay. that next time better be a promise.” jiseok finally goes his own way. seungmin shakes his head playfully as he watches the boy walk away, walking to his own car once he’s out of sight.

“it’s not even what he said it’s just the way he said it!” your voice rings through seungmin’s ears like a bell, the pent up frustration that you’ve been holding in all day slowly leaving as you rant to seungmin. he doesn’t mind at all, nodding his head after every sentence you finish. 

he sets the blank canvas on his easel, sitting upright in his stool and turning towards you. he can’t even feel bad since you’re sporting an adorable pout on your face. “you weren’t even listening were you?”

he chuckles and shrugs. “i listened enough to know this happened before.”

“and what is that supposed to mean?” you scoff and raise an eyebrow.

“it means that i know you so well. you know like a good boyfriend.”

“yeah yeah whatever..”

seungmin stands up from his seat. “c’mon babe i was just joking.” he wraps his arms around you, kissing your cheek. “you know i’m always on you’re side even if you’re in the wrong.”

you laugh. he was definitely being ridiculous, but it made you feel even more better.

“i guess boyfriend who just knows me so well.”

you hear him quietly snicker through his nose, the air hitting you’re ear. 

“how about you go ahead get ready for me, yeah? the sooner we start the sooner we could lie down.”

he lets go of you, nudging his head towards the bathroom down the hall. he watches you prance down the hallway and into your shared bedroom. seungmin follows a few seconds after once you’ve retrieved the bag from your bedroom, getting ready to step into the bathroom to watch you change. he’s seen your body countless times before, yet he always gets giddy just thinking about it as if he’ll see if for the first time again.

but what he doesn’t expect is the wooden door of the bathroom to slam right in front of his face. he stands still, not believing what just happened until he tries again, attempting too turn the knob only for it to not budge.

seungmin leans against the frame of the bathroom door from the outside, his arms crossed.

“and why am i not allowed to see my girlfriend of nearly a thousand years change again?”

“i want it to be a surprise,” seungmin hears from the other side of the door. “if you see me change into it now, it’d ruin the shock factor.”

“i was standing right next to you when i bought it-“

“yeah but you haven’t seen it on me yet, so get lost!”

seungmin rolls his eyes. he obliges your orders, quietly stepping away and returning to his stool. he preps his tools, squeezing paint onto the wooden palette and tying a smock around himself. he hears you open the door not too long after, turning his head to get a glimpse.

he’s once again met with nothing, only being met with your loud voice booming through the hallways.

“close your eyes and i’ll tell you when i’m in there!”

he sighs with the slightest tinge of irritancy, closing his eyes anyways. he hears a little bit of shuffling until he doesn’t, but feeling the presence of something in front of him, his eyes fluttering open once he hears your command.

seungmin feels as if his air is stolen straight from his lungs. the first thing he sees is the lace corset that hugs your torso just right, the decorated lace in the shape of hearts and in his favorite color—purple, the shade of lilac to be exact. his eyes follow the pattern down to the stockings clipped to the lacy stocking clipped to the corset along with some panties, all sharing the same shade of color.

he knows he’s gawking, his jaw growing sore but he can’t even notice as he debates whether or not he should follow up with the activity, instead trying to savor as much of the image in front of him as he can.

his hand unashamedly reaches out to touch, a light slap swatting his hand away.

“maybe afterwards babe.” you giggle, turning around to walk to the middle of the room. seungmin gets a full glimpse of the thin piece of fabric that sits in the slit between your ass. you weren’t wearing panties, you were wearing a full on thong. and it sends seungmin into overdrive.

he nearly chokes on his spit, clearing his throat and pushing up the glasses on the bridge of his nose. he peeks from behind the canvas.

“pose for me, love.”

seungmin watches you hesitate for a moment. it takes you awkwardly shifting–which is nothing but adorable to seungmin–until you’re satisfied enough with your pose. he waits until you’re fully ready, bringing his focus back to the canvas.

he takes his time, setting aside the thoughts of what he’ll repay you with later. for now he’ll just settle for mixing in the paint, not even needing to directly look at you to know, already having studied every single detail you possess. you watch seungmin’s focused face, him flashing a wink everytime you two lock eyes, causing you to smile at his antics.

as more time passes by, paint stains his fingers and smock. as more time passes by, your body starts to grow tired from standing in one position. as more time passes by, the sun starts to set, the rays seeping into opened blinds and hitting your skin just right.

“can you turn around for me? i wanna see more.”

you do an experimental turn, your backside facing seungmin and returning to your original pose, looking over your shoulder. he smiles and claps his hands together. the sunlight hits right at the curve of your shoulder and runs down your arm. you catch him as he’s staring dead on again, before shaking his head and going back to painting.

“are you almost done?” you ask, growing slightly impatient.

you could tell by the way he was looking at you every time he peeked from behind the easel something would follow up after your little session, his eyes wandering either way too low or too high. either way, it didn't bother you at all. your boyfriend’s attention was all you wanted.

he only nods his head silently at the fear of suddenly blurting his thoughts out too loud. seungmin strokes his paintbrush a few more times, setting it down along with his palette.

“i’m finished. c’mere and take a look.” you scurry your way over to him, taking a look at your boyfriends work. he watches your jaw drop, crossing his arms.

“you like it?”

“i love it. it’s stunning.”

he smiles, “you’re stunning.”

“i swear i knew you were going to say that.”

he laughs, pulling you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around your torso, his fingers tracing over the outlines of the decorated corset. you take the time to observe his work closely, noticing how he captured every part that you had considered a flaw, but perfect to him regardless. seungmin pulls you closer, lightly kissing down your neck.

“you smell good y’know.” he breaks the silence, nuzzling his nose into your skin.

you turn your head, giving him an eye roll before placing your lips onto his, his colored fingers cups your cheek. you let him pull you closer to deepen the kiss, your own hand coming up to grip the back of his head and delicately pulling at his hair. it quickly grows heated, seungmin’s tongue welcoming itself into your mouth to which you happily allow him in.

it’s messy and it grows hot. it makes your grip in seungmin’s head tighten, the noise traveling from his mouth to yours.

“wait,” he pulls away, the bottom half of his face already flushed and his lips swollen. “let’s take this to the bedroom.” his lips curl into the smirk that you know all too well. to your surprise, seungmin hooks his arm under your legs and lifts you up, carrying you down the hall and into the bedroom, kicking the door closed.

the abandoned artwork sits at the easel in the middle of your shared living room, just a few inches away from where you were previously standing just a few seconds ago. maybe once you two finish with whatever you’re doing, you’ll retrieve it and add it to your personal collection for only you and seungmin to see and forbidden to anybody else. at the moment though, you two could care less if somebody could walk in and see it.

[enthusiasticharry]

the one where YN gets a job as Harry's maid and his occupation comes as a shock to her - he writes erotica.

author's note: i'm back! (please don't kill me, i'm sorry that it's been so long <3) this is something that's been in the works for basically over a year now, but it's finally coming to life! it's also got a lovely lil' flash-forward at the end (which you all know i love) thank you all for sticking with me and i hope it won't be as long the next time.

word count: 13.2k of scandalous smut, fluff, 1800s society and harry being a sexy man of the house erotica writer.

let me know what you think of desire here. love u all <3

London, 1817

YN didn’t have a single shilling to her name. 

As well as not having a single shilling to her name, she was currently homeless and squatting in dark alleyways. Her start to life hadn’t been the best, and her skill set wasn’t full of attributes that may help her in her quest of finding employment. As for a family, YN didn’t necessarily have one. Being the sixth child in a household, one that wasn’t surviving with five children it already had, meant her life wasn’t as black and white as it looked. She has spent the last few days, after finally deciding to pack up and leave home, looking for any sort of job and she truly meant any. So far, she hadn’t found anything, and she was running out of the food that she had stolen from the kitchen back home and that meant she was running out of time. 

It was the fourth day in her quest when she found something. She hadn’t necessarily thought she would find anything when she had picked up the newspaper that morning (or rather stolen it from the bag of a newsboy) but there it was in black and white. The advert was four lines at most and gave relatively nothing away. It asked for a female maid, who had experience in household chores. So far, all the boxes, YN could tick. The next asked that she’d be able to live on site, in the house she would be working in. If anything, that was better for YN than having to find somewhere to live. The last line gave the address of the house, and the preferred times for visiting. 

YN thankfully saw a man walking past with a pocket watch and politely asked him the time, to which he replied that it was a quarter to two, meaning that YN still had two hours to hopefully find the house and herself a job. The side of town that the house was on YN had never been to, in fact she’d never even been a mile in the vicinity of it, so she did have to ask a few people. YN wasn’t easily intimated, but when the people she had to ask obviously had money and were quietly judging her dishevelled state she struggled. 

She didn’t know the time, and YN struggled to figure out how much time had passed usually, and all she could do was pray that she hadn’t gone over the time stated on the newspaper advertisement. When she arrived at the house that she believed to be the right one, she felt thankful when she could see a man gardening just by the gate – a person she could ask to affirm that she was in the right place. 

“Excuse me, sir,” he seemed to sigh as he dropped his trowel and turned to look at YN, “Is this the Styles residence?” 

“It is,” his accent wasn’t what YN expected, she hadn’t met anybody before that wasn’t from London, “How can we help you, miss?” 

YN cleared her throat, “I’m enquiring about the advert you placed in the newspaper. The one for the maid role.” 

“I’m sorry, miss,” he sighed, finally standing up and wiping his hands on his trousers, “You’re too late, Mr Styles has already interviewed all of the candidates.”

“Oh,” the smile faltered on YN’s face. All of the excitement she felt about the advert had left a pit of disappointment in her, “I’m really sorry, sir, it’s just that I had to walk from the other side of town, and I don’t have a watch to tell the time.”

“I am sorry, miss, but there’s nothing that I can do. Mr. Styles will already be making his decision.” 

“Well,” she sighed, placing the newspaper in the pocket of her jacket, “I’m sorry to have disturbed you sir, I’ll let you get back to your gardening. Is it possible to just ask you directions on the quickest way to get back into town?”

The man seems to hesitate for a second. He looks down at his gardening, and the back up at YN before sighing and wiping the sweat off his head. She felt slightly out of place and stood waiting for his response for a few seconds. 

“He might be in a good mood,” he mutters, “Please come in, miss, and I’ll go check with Mr. Styles. Even if he says no, we can get you a nice cup of tea.” 

YN couldn’t be ever more grateful. 

The closer that YN made it towards the house, or should she say mansion, she could almost feel her breath catching within her throat. Even though it was now highly unlikely that it would be the case, there was still the thought in the back of her mind that she could end up living here. She followed the man inside the towering door, her body feeling incredibly out of place in the grandeur of the house she was now in. 

If YN was honest, this house may possibly be the biggest house that she had ever seen, never mind stood in. The exterior of the house certainly didn’t do the interieur justice at all. The house was immaculate, and YN wondered if there was already a maid on site. The man she was following stopped in front of one of the doors by the main entrance and opened it. 

“You can take a seat in here,” he motions to the seating in the middle of the room, “I’ll go and check if Mr. Styles would like to see you. Can I take your name, miss?” 

“YN. YN YLN.” 

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss. YLN,” he beams, “I’m Mr. Towers.”

“A pleasure to meet you too.” 

The door slammed shut behind Mr. Towers, allowing YN to finally take in a deep breath to release the tension within her body. Looking around at the room, YN was shocked at the size of the parlour she was in, as well as the large bookcase filled to the brim with books. One of the things that YN prided herself on, which allowed her to find this opportunity in the first place, was her ability to read. It wasn’t usual for a woman of her status to know how to read, but she had met a kind gentleman at the market once and he spent his Sundays with her, teaching her how to read. 

YN stopped in front of one shelf that seemed to have books from the same author along the entirety of it. H.E. Scott. It wasn’t a name that was familiar to YN, but she couldn’t help but want to reach out and pick them up. Just as her finger was about to touch the cover, the door swung open, and YN flinched away from the bookcase.

“Miss. YLN,” She immediately dropped her hands down by her side, “Mr. Styles will see you now.”

“Thank you, Mr. Towers.”

Following Mr. Towers out of the room, YN was led up a grand staircase that she could only dream of owning one day. YN had no idea about the architecture of houses, nor as to what wood complimented each other or anything like that – but she knew what appeased her eyes and everything about this house appeased them. YN held the banister with one hand and lifted her skirt up with the other and followed Mr. Towers.

At the top of the staircase, a corridor spilt up to the left and to the right. YN couldn’t help herself, and all she wanted to do was to explore and see every single corner of this mansion that Mr. Styles calls home. She followed Mr. Towers all the way to the last door on the left.

He knocked on the door and after the “Come in,” from the other side, Mr. Towers opened the door.

“Good luck,” Mr. Towers smiles.

The door shut behind YN once she stepped in, and she slightly jumped at the sound. There were few things in life that could make YN nervous, but the way that her heart was about to beat out of her chest she honestly thought that she was close to a heart attack.

She hadn’t known what she had expected of Mr. Styles. Her main instinct was an old man, close to his death that needed extra help around the house because his wife had passed. What she hadn’t been expecting was a man whose age was like hers, with dark brown hair that framed his entire face, and hard features that she was having trouble drawing her eyes away from. There were few people that intimidate her (her father being one of them) but she had a feeling that she was going to be adding Mr. Styles to that list.

“Mr. Styles,” YN shrugged all of her worries and walked towards him with her hand outstretched, “I’m YN YLN.”

He didn’t stand up, and he didn’t shake her hand. He didn’t even take his eyes away from whatever piece of paper he was reading. She nervously gripped the sides of her dress as she walked towards him, the heels of her shoes hitting the floor with a tap every step she took.

“I’m…” She hesitated slightly, not exactly knowing what to do. Did she sit down? Did she remain standing? Did she wait until he spoke to her? She hadn’t a clue what to do, and she was truly starting to panic, “I’m here for the job as the maid. I know I’m a little late, but I came from across town and-”

YN watched as he lifted his hand up, as though to shut her up. It did. He didn’t even look up at her, just continued looking down at the heaps and heaps of paper that were sat in front of him.

“Do you know how to clean?” YN’s eyes almost widened in shock at the sound of his deep, coarse voice. It was as though he hadn’t spoken in years, or that he had been speaking too much and that it needed a rest.

“Uh… yes I do.”

“Are you sure about that?” His reply came quick, but he still didn’t look at her.

“Yes,” YN nodded her head, “I do know how to clean.”

“Do you know how to cook?”

“Yes.”

“You’re hired,” Finally, he lifted his head up from his papers and looked directly at her, his green eyes boring into YN’s. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, “Speak to Mr. Towers about the details, you shall start immediately. You’re dismissed.”

“Thank you,” YN nodded her head and turned to walk out of the room, unable to hide the smile that danced across her lips.

“Clean up and get changed before you start,” She stops in her tracks at the sound of his voice again, “You’re filthy.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Your room is down here, by the pantry,” Mr Towers explains as he walks her towards her room, “There’s a uniform already in there for you, along with a pot of water ready to boil for a bath.”

“Thank you, Mr. Towers,” YN nodded her head at the older man.

“Don’t thank me yet,” The older man threw the door to her room open, “It’s only tiny, but you have a bed and a fire, so you won’t be cold.”

“It’s…” After stepping into the room, YN couldn’t help the smile that beamed over her face. The room itself was the size of the room that she shared with her entire family growing up – and it was all to herself, “It’s perfect.”

Mr. Towers looked at her with a puzzled look on his face but shrugged his shoulders, “If you say so… Mr. Styles expects his dinner by seven weeknights, and eight on weekends when he has his guests over.”

“Is there anything that Mr. Styles prefers to eat that I could make for him? To say thank you?” She asked, placing her bag down on the bed.

Mr. Towers laughed and shook his head, “Mr. Styles has groceries delivered to the house every day. It has what he wants to eat in plenty, and we eat whatever is left in a broth.”

YN nodded her head. She had never known anything like it, and she couldn’t believe how much money and power Mr. Styles seemed to have.

“Thank you, Mr. Towers,” YN nodded with a polite smile, “I shall see you later.”

“Good day, Miss. YLN.”

Mr. Towers shut the door behind him, and once she had heard his footsteps growing lighter, she dropped backwards onto her bed with a laugh. It was almost as though she was sat within her own fever dream, where she had finally found herself a room, a bed and a job all at the same time.

Looking up at the small clock that sat above the fireplace, YN saw that it was just past three and she decided that it was probably time that she washed herself and made sure that she had plenty of time to prepare Mr. Styles’ dinner. Seeing that the pot of water was sat by the floor next to the fire, she made quick haste hanging it over the fire to heat up. It was at this point she saw the tin bath in the corner of the room, as well as her lavatory pot. A small mirror sat on a small cabinet, that once she opened, she saw contained a button up shirt, skirt and apron that she guessed was her uniform. She placed it neatly upon the bed, along with the fresh towel in the drawer and stripped of her current clothes.

One thing that YN always struggled with was the sight of her body. It was dirty and grimy, and malnourished to the point where it was sometimes painful. She was hoping that having control over the meals she ate meant that she could gain more strength and finally be happy with herself. The first step in that was getting into the bath, a thing that she hadn’t had in months. The feeling of the warm water on her skin, and the grime leaving her skin and the feeling of freshly washed hair was something that she could get used to. She left her hair drying in its natural state as she dressed, enjoying the feeling of new clothes on her skin also.

There wasn’t much that YN could say that she enjoyed in her life, but these small little luxuries that she’d never had before were certainly things that she enjoyed. She couldn’t believe her luck if she was completely honest, and that was made even more clear when she stepped into the kitchen. It was bigger than the entire house that YN grew up in, and it was filled with all the luxuries that she could have only dreamed of.

She saw some fillets of beef, along with vegetables and potatoes that she knew could be made into a divine meal. She got started right away, peeling and boiling the potatoes, cutting and preparing the vegetables and even cooking the beef until it was perfect all the way through. It seemed that her skills in the kitchen, albeit very basic ones, were coming in handy in more ways than one. With everything that was left after she’d plating Mr. Styles’ up, she made into a broth and left to simmer on the stove.

YN had the food prepared five minutes before it was ready because she knew that in this mansion that Mr Styles called his home, she would have to find the dining room. She hoped that whatever he liked to drink was there, because she couldn’t find anything in the kitchen that he might want.

She passed the room that she had waited in earlier in the day but knew that wasn’t the room that she was looking for. It was the room across from that, which had its door opened slightly, showing a large dining table which made YN realise that was the room she was looking for. Nerves bubbled in the pit of her stomach when she realised that Mr Styles was already there and waiting for her.

YN wiped her slightly sweaty palms on her apron and knocked twice on the door, waiting for Mr Styles to say that she could enter before she did. It didn’t take long before he was taking a few steps into the room and closing the door behind her. Whilst he wasn’t sat in his study anymore, he still had a stack of papers that he was reading in his hands. YN wondered what he was reading.

She took rushed steps towards him, being sure to make haste so that he couldn’t say anything to her. She was on time, and all she could hope is that he was happy with what she had produced for him. YN placed his plate down in front of him, and he finally looked up from his papers at it. He didn’t say anything to her but seemed content enough to place the papers down.  

“I expect a glass of whiskey poured with my meals.” He says to her, picking up his cutlery to start his meal.

“Of course, Mr. Styles.”

It didn’t take YN long to spot the bar cart in the corner of the room and make her way over to it. She picked up a glass and turned it over so that she could pour the drink into it. She hadn’t ever tried alcohol before, let alone know what whiskey was but she guessed that it was probably the one that looked the most loved. She poured the drink so that the bottom of the glass was about a third full before walking back over to Mr. Styles and placing it in front of him.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” She asks, and he shook his head.

She began to walk towards the door when Mr. Styles spoke to her again, “I’ll be having guests over tomorrow, so I’ll expect a full dinner service. There will be three of us.”

“Certainly, Mr. Styles.”

YN still had no idea what Mr Styles did for work, or what type of guests he would be having over to his house. Saying that, it was only her first day, but it would be nice to have some sort of incline as to who she was working for. As she walked out of the dining room, she remembered the books she had seen in the room across the hall earlier.

There was no sign of Mr. Towers, and she knew that Mr. Styles would be eating his dinner for the foreseeable and decided that she had plenty of time to make her way over to the sitting room. She took small steps, trying not to make the sound of her shoes on the floor too obvious to the rest of the house. With one last glance behind her, she slipped through the door and closed it as quietly as she could.

If there was one thing, she could say about Mr. Styles, it was that he certainly knew how to decorate a room. His entire house was so beautifully decorated, but so minimal at the same time. Every wood matched, the accents of the rugs and curtains matched in each room, but this room was the one that YN was the most impressed with so far. It wasn’t the rugs, or the chandelier in this room that impressed her, but more so the grand bookcase that covered two walls of the room.

Her feet almost moved automatically as she made her way towards the middle shelf again, ones covered to the brim with books from that same author, H.E. Scott, the author that YN had never heard of. She hadn’t seen such a collection of books before, and she was curious about every single one. Why were there so many? Why did Mr. Styles enjoy this author so much to have what seemed to be every single one of his books?

YN couldn’t help but reach out and take one. It was the third one she decided upon, revelling at the hard backed emerald book with gold lettering on them.

From the Dining Table, H.E. Scott

Nothing about the cover, or even the name gave anything away and that became even more obvious when she opened the book. She skimmed over a few pages, only taking in a few words from each page but it was blatantly obvious that it was a romance novel. It was only until YN was about two-thirds through flicking through the book that she figured out what it was.

Darkness covered his eyes as he looked at her. She had never seen anybody with eyes clouded by such a fierce lust before, and she had never suspected that those eyes would be piercing directly at hers.

His barn, only lit by the flickering oil lamp in the corner was silent, so silent that the void was filled by the pattering of the rain on the roof. The same rain that had caused her clothes to be sodden and clinging to her, showing him every rise and fall of her chest.

“Do I make you nervous?” One little shake of her head and he was taking small and slow steps towards her. She thought that it must have been possible for him to hear the whirring of her brain, and the quicker beating of her chest, “Are you positive about that, kitten?”

“I am,” As he took small steps towards her, she was taking small steps back. That was until she ended up right upon his dining table. Her hands dropped upon the table behind her as his hands spread her legs so that he could stand between them.

“Tell me what you want,” He whispered, moving closer and closer until she could feel his breath upon her skin, “I want you to tell me what you want, kitten.”

“I want…” She whispered back, trying to not make it obvious that the feeling of his lips hovering above her neck, “I want… you.”

“And how do you want me?”

“I want you here.”

“What are you doing?” YN had never slapped a book closed faster in her life.

Seeing Mr. Styles stood there in the doorway, with one of his hands in his pocket looking upon her with a sneer of his face that she hasn’t seen on anybody’s face before in her life knocked her. She was that invested in the book that she obviously hadn’t her the door across the hallway open, or Mr. Styles’ footsteps on the wooden floor on the corridor, and she didn’t hear the door open in front of her.

“Mr. Styles…” YN tried to find the right words, but none were springing to mind, “I was just…”

“You were just what?” He takes one step towards her, and she automatically took one step back, “You were just snooping? Looking through things that don’t belong to you.”

“Mr. Styles… I’m sorry,” YN stood there fumbling on her words, still with the culprit in her hands.

“Don’t let me catch you again,” YN nods and places the book back on the shelf, “I’ll need one of the guest bedrooms prepared for my guests tomorrow. Preferably make it the one opposite my office.”

“Yes sir.”

By the time that the door had slammed behind him, YN didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or scream and what had just happened. One thing that she did know was that she was hungry and had a broth waiting for her in the kitchen that would hopefully fix all of her problems.

After waking up the next morning, YN had spent the day cooking breakfasts and lunches and cleaning bedrooms and dining rooms and sitting rooms. It had been a lot of work, but it was the first day in a while where YN hadn’t even glanced at the clock and prayed for the night to come. She was that busy that when seven rolled around, and the doorbell rang YN was just about ready for it.

As Mr. Towers opened the door, YN stood just behind him to the right waiting to greet the guests and prepare them some drinks. YN hadn’t seen Mr. Styles all day, and after the situation yesterday she decided that was probably the best thing to happen. She knew that she would have to see him tonight during the dinner service, but that was work and she couldn’t do anything to make him that upset, could she?

“Welcome, it is lovely to see you both again,” Mr. Towers greets the couple walking through the door.

YN wasn’t used to the glitz and glamour of high-end London socialites and that became very apparent when Mr. and Mrs. Williamson walked through the door. Mrs. Williamson was petite, blonde and insanely gorgeous stood in the hallway in the most beautiful deep blue gown that YN could only dream about. Mr. Williamson stood next to her; his hand rested on the small of his wife’s back.

“This is Miss. YLN, she’ll take you through to the parlour and get you some drinks.”

YN painted her prettiest smile on her face and led them through to the parlour watching as Mr and Mrs. Williamson sat down upon the sofa.

“Mr. Styles has brought a red wine that he would like to two of you to try,” YN picked up the bottle to show the two of them.

“Then try it we shall,” Mr. Williamson spoke, sharing a laugh between himself and his wife.

YN moved over to the bar cart where three of Mr. Styles’ best wine glasses sat. She poured the first two but hesitated on the third just because she didn’t know when Mr. Styles would be joining the party. She didn’t have to wait very long.

“Well, it seems as though this party has started without me!”

As YN watched Mr. Styles greet Mr. Williamson with a ‘man hug’ and kissed Mrs. Williamson on the cheek, she made sure that she’d poured his wine and walked over to pass it to him. He didn’t look at her, and he didn’t even acknowledge what she had done.

“That’s all,” He still didn’t look at her, “We’ll be in the dining room at eight for dinner service.”

YN nodded in his direction, even though he wasn’t looking at her and left the room. YN didn’t know what kind of meal this was going to be, whether it was business or pleasure, but she knew that snooping to ask questions probably wasn’t the best point of call at this time.

For the first time the whole day, whilst she was finishing off the dinner that she had been making the entire day, she was clock-watching. Her eyes were always placed upon the clock making sure that everything was ready in time, and that she wasn’t late. As the hands clicked towards eight, she made sure that all three plates were ready, and brought them all to the dining room. At that point, Mr. Styles and the Williamsons were making their way over. Laughter rattled around the walls of the house, and it was the loudest the house had been since YN had arrived.

She placed Mrs. Williamson plate down first, followed by her husbands and then finally Mr. Styles’. Mr. Styles and Mr. Williamson were still entrapped in whatever conversation they were having in the parlour, and Mrs. Williamson was listening with a polite smile. YN made sure that all their glasses were refilled, and that she gave Mrs. Williamson a little more than the men which she seemed to appreciate with a look that was sent her way.

“Is that all, Mr Styles?” She asked, addressing Mr. Styles for the first time since last night.

“Yes, that is all,” With a fleeting glance and a slight shake of his hand he dismissed her, and she left the room. The second she was out in the hall she didn’t know what to do with herself.

YN could have some food, but she wasn’t hungry. She had cleaned everything in the house from top to bottom, and there wasn’t anything else that she could sort. One thing that she could do was turn down the guest bedroom ready for Mr. and Mrs. Williamson. She started by walking in the room and lighting some of the candles that were necessary for people to see. Next came turning down the bedsheets and airing them out so that they were ready for the couple when they decided to come to bed.

Once she was happy with the room, she decided that it was probably time to go check on them and their dinner and see if they needed anything. As she opened the door, she was shocked to hear footsteps ascending the stairs. Instead of walking out of the room straight away, she poked her head around so that she could just see the end of Mr. Styles and the Williamson’s walking up the stairs. She knew that she would have to step out of the room if they turned in this direction, but they didn’t. Instead, the couple and the man of the house started to walk towards Mr. Styles’ room at the end of the hall.

YN didn’t know what to think, and she didn’t know what to do. Her eyes almost fell out of her head when he saw Mr. Styles smiling at the couple, especially when they kissed each other. Maybe they were just walking Mr. Styles to his room? Maybe that was it?

YN knew that wasn’t the case when the two of them walked into the room, and with one fleeting glance in YN’s direction, and with what YN could only describe as a dashing smile at her he followed the couple inside his room.

YN didn’t sleep a wink that night. She had no idea what she had witnessed the night before, but she knew that it wasn’t to the standard of high society, or at least not what she knew high society to be like. Whatever happened in that room was unknown to her, and whilst a part of her wanted to know, she also didn’t want to know at all.

The Williamsons had left about an hour ago, and YN had spent the morning washing the linens from their room (which they did use later in the night) and washing Mr. Styles’ linens (at his request). YN didn’t find anything suspicious within the rooms, but she didn’t look for anything.

It was mid-afternoon at this point, and she had finished all her work for the afternoon and was just waiting for the time that she needed to start preparing and making Mr. Styles’ dinner. As she now had this spare time, she decided that it was the perfect opportunity to sit outside with some bread and butter and enjoy her favourite book – Jane Eyre.

She reread the book every so often, even though at this point she knew it word by word. She had been given the book by the man who taught her how to read when she was younger, so it was very well-loved and quite tattered, but YN didn’t care. She found a secluded spot by a tree, near to the back entrance of the house into the kitchen just encase Mr. Styles needed her at any point.

YN was about a third into the book when the back door opened, and out walked Mr. Styles with a cigarette and match in hand. YN hadn’t known that he smoked but seeing him stood there it was something that he had done before. When he turned to the right and saw her, she immediately looked down at her book, as though she hadn’t been looking at him and that he hadn’t caught her.

She heard his footsteps, but she didn’t look up at him. If she looked up, she didn’t know what she would find, and she didn’t know how she would deal with it.

“What are you reading?”

“Jane Eyre, sir,” Her eyes still never left her book, even though she wasn’t reading.

“You obviously like to read.”

She finally looked up at him, confused to see him leant against the edge of the house a few metres away from where she was reading her book. YN thought that she would be greeted by a look of malice, but there was nothing of the sort.

“I do, sir,” She offered him, “It is one of my favourite things to do.”

“I suppose it is,” He nodded his head in her direction, “Seeing as though I caught you snooping in my own collection not long ago.”

“I’m very sorry about that, sir,” She wasn’t, but she had to keep appearances up with the man that employed her.

“No, you’re not,” YN opened her mouth to speak but Mr. Styles shook his head, “You don’t have to be.”

“But they weren’t mine, sir,” A small smile, “I shouldn’t have assumed that I could do such a thing.”

“You can, if you want,” Not a smile in her direction, but more so a less harsh glance than before, “If you would care to borrow a book from my collection you can, but it must be placed back once you’re done.”

“Thank you, sir,” She nodded.

YN was in shock, but she was not going to let him know that. After the way that he had spoken to her a few days prior about the event, she thought that he would never let her touch anything of his unless to clean it or serve it to him.

“Don’t thank me,” He shrugged, “Just let me know what you think of it, once you finish. I assume you’ll be finishing the book you started?”

“Most likely.”

He laughed. A proper laugh. She couldn’t help the small smile that crossed her lips, watching his stern face break out into a smile, dimples in his tanned cheeks showing and everything.

“I look forward to it,” Still smiling, this was new. Then it dropped, “I also want to discuss what you may have seen yesterday, upstairs with my guests and I.”

“Rest assured, sir, I didn’t see anything.”

“You did, we both know you did,” A small lift of his lips, “It is okay, I know it must have been quite a shock to you. But I just want to let you know that it is my work. Or, well, part of it.”

“Sir, you don’t need to –”

“I know I don’t,” He shrugged his shoulders, “But I fear I must, for the sake of my work and yours. What you saw is sometimes a frequent occurrence in this house, and I expect you to take a blind eye to it. If you cannot, then I don’t believe that this is the job for you.”

“Mr. Styles, rest assured I didn’t see anything, nor will I see anything.”

“Good,” He dropped his cigarette on the floor and stumped it out with the sole of his shoe, “Dinner at seven, let it be prompt.”

“Yes sir.”

With that, he left her. YN continued through the evening on autopilot. All she could think about was that once her work was finished, and Mr. Styles was fed and either in his study on in bed, YN could go to the parlour and retrieve that book and continue what she had been reading. She wanted to know what the book contained, and why Mr. Styles had so many of them. She knew that by reading the book one of her questions would be answered.

“I’ll be retreating to my study,” Mr. Styles spoke after YN removed his empty plates, “You won’t be needed for the rest of the night.”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles.”

He walked out of the room before her, and she followed a few steps behind him. As he ascended the stairs, he threw one fleeting glance back at her and continued walking up. YN doesn’t think that she had ever washed plates and cutlery so quickly in her life. Once it was finished, she rushed into the parlour, retrieved the third book on the shelf and rushed back into her room where her oil lamp was waiting for her.

YN knew that she could start the book from the start and try and understand the story before rushing to the part that she had read the last time she had this book in her hands, but it was no use. YN flicked through the pages until she was right back where she was the days prior.

“Your wish is my command, kitten.”

It was the first time that they had kissed, with her sat upon his dining table, soaked from the rain and him stood in between her parted legs. As their lips touched and moved in a rhythm too profound to the blind eye, his hands started to dance the length of her legs. Moving upward from her stocking to the flesh of her thigh that was exposed underneath her skirt.

As his coarse fingertips moved up her smooth skin at a pace that was too slow for her liking, she found a heat pushing over her body that she needed to be put out. It was so fierce and burning so far in the pit of her stomach that she had no idea how he would put out the flames.

He removed his lips from hers, only to move further down her neck until his teeth began to nip and explicit sounds escaped her lips. Everything seemed to be going so slowly, but then it was though a switch turned within him and everything became sort of feverish.

His hands moved from her thighs towards her bottom, where he grabbed the flesh and pulled her even further towards the edge of the dining table. He lifted the material of her skirt up so that it was around her waist and reached for her bloomers, in an instance ripping them straight down the middle until she was exposed to him, all of her was exposed to him.

“May I?” At this point, he was down on his knees, face to face with the heat that was threatening to explode out of her.

“Please, please do it and never stop.”

That was all it took for him to reach out and touch. He used his hands to spread her thighs apart once more and wasted no time to start devouring her.

YN slammed the book shut. Closing her eyes, she tried everything to regulate her breathing, but nothing seemed to help. Her heart was beating out of her chest, and the heat that the lady had been describing within the book seemed to have enlightened within her. This was a feeling that YN had never felt before in her life, and she had no idea what to do with it. So, she decided to read on.

YN read the book, from start to finish in that entire night. YN knew about the relations that took place between a man and woman, but she had never read them in such detail, especially not in such a way between a lady of the house and her groundskeeper. This sort of relationship would be known as a scandal – something that would ruin the lady forever. In the book it was something sensual, and something to be desired. The only word that came to YN’s head after reading that book was desire – the desire to feel like that with somebody.

YN had no idea how to shake herself of that feeling.

“What did you think?”

It was early the next day, and YN had just placed Mr. Styles’ breakfast in front of him along with a serving of tea. Normally, breakfast is silent and after the sleepless night that YN had prior, she was excited for a silent breakfast, a speed through of her chores and then possibly a nap. What she hadn’t anticipated was Mr. Styles striking up a conversation with her.

“What did I think about what, sir?” YN didn’t know that she was going to be playing it as though she hadn’t a clue what he was going on about them.

“The book, Miss. YLN,” He wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin, “I noticed this morning that from the dining table wasn’t in its usual spot. A good choice, if I must say.”

YN couldn’t draw her eyes away from the small smile upon his face. It was as though Mr. Styles was plaguing her, and by the look on his face he knew that he was too. She had no idea how to respond to him, or even how to obtain the words to answer his question.

“It was…” She hesitated, and he raised his eyebrows at her. Was he shocked that she seemed to have no words for him?

“Ground-breaking?” He wiped his mouth with his napkin one last time before placing it on the table and standing up, “Scandalous?” He took a step with each word that left his mouth, “Romantic?” Until he was stood directly in front of her, so close that she could almost feel his breath on her skin, “Sensual?”

YN stood planted to her spot, trying not to crack under Mr. Styles’ gaze but it was a little too difficult. She opened her mouth to speak, but she had no words. It was almost as though he could feel how nervous she was and knew exactly what strings to pull to make it worse. Her breathing was ragged, and she almost felt as though she was turning a little light-headed.

“Yes, sir.” YN nodded her head, swallowing to reduce the coarseness in her throat, “All of those things.”

“And how did it make you feel?”

YN looked down at her hands, and then back up to Mr. Styles. He had a devilish look in his eye, that same look that he had when she had seen him walking into his chambers with the Williamsons. It shook YN to her core, but she had to stand there and answer his questions, even if she didn’t have a single thought in her head that could help her with that.

“It made me feel,” She hesitated for a moment, but said the only word that was coming to her head, “Desire.”

It was the same word that she had mulled over last night when she had finished the book and closed it. After more thought last night, she not only had the desire to feel that with somebody, but the desire to read all the books like that she could. In her entire life she had never read anything which such a scandalous tone, but here she was with a desire for more.

“Desire,” He nodded his head with a smile, “That’s a good one. What did you feel desire for?”

YN cleared her throat, “A desire to read more.”

“Well, there’s a full bookcase of other books in the library for you to fulfil that desire,” He leant one of his hands upon the top of his chair next to him, “But what did you really feel desire for?”

YN felt stuck. In all honesty, she felt as though he could read every single thought that was whirring through her head – she hadn’t a single idea about how that could be possible.

“Mr. Styles I –”

“No, Miss. YLN, I want you to tell me exactly what you felt after reading the book.”

YN nodded, “I felt a desire to feel like that, to be –”

“Kissed like that?” YN nodded, “Touched like that?” Another nod.

“Yes, Mr. Styles.”

He nodded his head and looked her up and down, as though he was figuring out his next move. YN honestly felt as though she was trapped by him, and by the way that every hair on her body was standing up and her body felt as though it was on fire, she couldn’t decide whether she was enjoying herself or hating every moment.

“Miss. YLN, once you have finished your chores for the day, I’d like you to read the first book on the shelf, Sign of the times, and when you’re done, I’d like you to come and find me.”

“Yes, Mr. Styles.”

“Good,” He turns to walk towards the door, “I’ll be in my office, and I do not want to be disturbed until you’ve finished the book.”

With that, he slams the door shut behind him.

It had taken YN just above an hour to finish all her chores, and once she had finished, she rushed to the library with the book in her hand to replace and ready to pick up the one that Mr. Styles had chosen for her. Once she had picked up the book and made her way towards the tree that Mr. Styles had found her reading beneath she sat down and started reading straightaway.

It was a tale of lavish lifestyle, complete with balls and luxury and husband in a manor which had an eye for his wife’s lady’s maid. It was becoming more and more obvious why Mr. Styles had asked her to read this book, and it was making her quite hot under the collar.

It was about halfway through the novel that YN was starting to feel so uncomfortable within her clothing. Her dress felt scratchy against her skin, and her corset felt too tight in all the wrong places. YN was truly captivated by a chapter that takes place within the husband’s office, with the lady’s maid sat upon the desk having only the most scandalous things done to her.

The feeling that she was talking about with Mr. Styles was back. For this book, however, it was certainly more of a desire to feel the way the lady’s maid felt in the book. Compared to the first one she read, there was something so real about this one. She didn’t know if it was because she had so much in common with the lady’s maid, or because the husband had so many characteristics that resembled her employer who was waiting for her to finish the book.

It took her a few hours to finish the book, but she had always been a fast reader and that really helped her do that. Once she had finished the book, and still felt hot under her collar and nervous bubbles in the pit of her stomach at the thought of the next conversation she was going to have.

It felt as though she was acting automatically, walking up the stairs and towards Mr. Styles office without actually telling herself to do so. It wasn’t until she was stood outside of his door, with her hand hovering over the door to knock that reality was kicking in.

With one deep breath, she knocked on the door twice and waited for Mr. Styles to call her in before opening the door.

“Finished already?” YN was surprised that he was the first one to talk, and she was also surprised about how much paper Mr. Styles had piled up on his desk.

“Yes, Mr. Styles.”

“Please, come in and take a seat,” He motions to one of the empty seats in front of him, “And shut the door behind you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Under his intense stare, she felt as though everything else that was happening within the world didn’t matter. The way that he was looking at her, sat behind his grand desk in a suit that complemented his frame in a way that YN had never even thought of until reading those books. Whilst she hadn’t seen much similarity between the husband in the book and Mr. Styles, but the situation was becoming more and more like reality – especially now that she was sat within the walls of his office.

“Now, I want to know what you thought,” He says, leaning forward with his elbows on his table, “I want to know the truth, no trying to hide it.”

YN knew what he was doing, but the problem was that she had no idea how to describe how she was feeling to him without speaking so scandalously to her employer.

“Sir, it was… unlike anything I’ve ever read before,” YN couldn’t help herself. If he was going to ask her for the truth, then she was going to give it to him, “Both of the books were.”

“In a good way, I’m guessing?”

“I’m not too sure about that, Mr. Styles.”

He raised one of his eyebrows at her, “Is that so?”

“It’s just sir, I’ve never read anything like that before in my life and I hadn’t ever thought that a book could be so enjoyable and scandalous at the same time.”

Mr. Styles laughed; a full belly laugh that showed those dimples that YN only managed to see in a blue moon. There was no doubt in her mind that Mr. Styles was a handsome man, and that the books hadn’t sparked something in her that she hadn’t ever thought of before reading them. Every single time she watched the man run his hand through his hair, she wanted to be doing that exact thing whilst his head was in between her legs – just like the scene on the dining table in the first book. It was a scandalous thought, and it made her cheeks flush.

“I take it that you enjoyed it, then?” As scandalous as the book were, this conversation with her employer was seemingly more scandalous.

“Yes, I did sir.”

“What if I told you that I wrote them.”

YN felt as though she was shocked all the way to her core, “Sir, you –”

“I wrote them, yes,” He nodded his head, “I take it that this is a shock to you.”

“Just a little, sir.”

“Did you not wonder what I spent hours and hours doing with all of this paper every day?” He asked, as though he was sort plaguing her for her opinion on the matter.

“I did sir, but I never thought that – you were – doing…”

“That I was writing such scandalous things?”

“Well, yes.”

“Well, that is completely understandable,” YN nodded at his words, because it was very true, “I understand that it is such a shock for you, but without these books there is no house, and no job for you.”

“I completely understand that sir,” YN nodded, not wanting to push any buttons that could end with her losing her job.

“Good,” He nodded his head and tapped his finger on the table, “Now I have a proposition for you.”

YN’s eyes widened at his words, “For me.”

“Yes, there’s nobody else in the room is there?” YN laughed at his joke, even if it was at her expense, “I have a proposition for you to be my editor.”

“Your editor?”

“Are you going to repeat everything I say?” It could have been malicious, if it wasn’t for the smile on Mr. Styles’ face.

“No, sir.”

“Good,” He nods his head, “The main reason I am asking is that my editor has been indisposed and I have a deadline for my next book, and I know that you won’t be shocked by the content anymore.”

“Sir, I haven’t edited book before.”

“I know that,” He stands up and moves as he talks, before resting himself in front of her on his desk, “But it needs to be someone I can trust, and that I know won’t be scandalised by the content.”

“Sir, if I may, just because I have read the content doesn’t mean that I wasn’t scandalised by it.”

“Really?” This seemed to shock him, “So you were scandalised by the book.”

“I think it to be improper if I wasn’t scandalised, sir,” YN was truly shocked that he didn’t think that she would be. Did she come off as an improper girl? “The content you write, that was something that my mother told me was only between a man and a woman in the marital bed.”

He nodded his head, “You can always say no, and just continue to be my maid.”

“I never said that sir,” YN was maybe a little too enthusiastic with her response.

“So, you’ll do it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Great,” He turned around and picked up a large pile of papers and passed it to her, “This is what I have so far, and I can give you a quill and some ink to edit.”

“Okay,” YN was trying her best to balance the papers that she had been given, “Thank you, Mr. Styles.”

YN and Mr. Styles had been working together for the past couple of weeks, with Mr. Styles writing chapters upon chapters and YN editing every single one until they were ready for publishing. They were about a quarter of the way through the book when Mr. Styles hit a block, and YN ended up sitting in his office whilst he paced around the room.

“I need it to be more… pleasurable, I need it to be about her,” YN was nodding her head, flicking through the paper that he had just written, “But I don’t want it to be too similar to the things that I’ve already done and written. I want it to be new.”

YN understood exactly what was being said, and as she was reading, she was trying to have some sort of ideas come to her as to what she could do. This was different to what she had read of Mr. Styles’ books before, and that was a few now. When she had started edited his books, she decided that she would read more just to see how he liked his books to be edited before they were published.

“What if she was the one to take control?”

Mr. Styles stopped his pacing and turned to look at her, “What?”

“Well, you said that you wanted it to be new, and about her,” YN repeated his words, placing the paper down on the desk and turning to look at him, “Why don’t you let her take control? Let her be the one to make the decisions. That hasn’t been shown in your work before.”

He nodded his head, as though he was coming to his senses with what she was saying. It wasn’t too much of a stretch, but Harry so far has written the majority of his characters where the male is the one to take the lead, why couldn’t the female? (YN knew exactly why in some of the cases the female didn’t, but it would be fun to try.)

“It’s a good idea,” He nods his head, finally sitting back down and stopping the pacing that was driving YN a little up the wall, “But I don’t know the perspective, I don’t know what a woman would say in that situation.”

If he was asking her opinion on this situation, then she had nothing to offer him. YN had never been in a situation even remotely close to the ones in his book – all she knew was the conversation she had with her mother when she was younger and everything that she had read within his books.

“Don’t you have any friends that you could possibly ask?”

“It isn’t exactly a conversation that you bring up over dinner, Miss. YLN,” There was a little maliciousness behind his voice, but YN had spent enough time with Mr. Styles over the past few weeks that she knew to take everything he said during his ‘creative process’ with a pinch of salt.

“What about the Williamsons?” A little timider now, but she had to ask, “Couldn’t you ask them?”

“They came to me with their problems, YN,” Mr. Styles explains, “They’ve been my friends for years, and they know what I do. They were having issues in that aspect of their relationship.”

That made a lot more sense now, and whilst YN hadn’t a clue what had gone on behind those closed doors weeks ago, she had a feeling that it maybe was and wasn’t what she was thinking all at once.

“I understand, Mr. Styles.”

He stood up again and started pacing and YN felt as though she was a second away from rolling her eyes, “Maybe you can help.”

“Mr. Styles,” Normally YN’s tone was shocked at his ideas, but this was a complete shock, “You can’t be serious.”

“I’ve never been more serious,” He stops right in front of her, leaning on the desk behind him with his arms crossed, “We don’t have to, but if you want to, you could help me.”

“And how could I do that?”

“YN, if we could get you to experience that pleasure and tell me exactly how you would take control and want that control to be portrayed.”

“But sir, how am I supposed to do that?”

“I would help,” Mr. Styles said, without any hesitancy, “I can help, if you’d like.”  

“Sir, thank you, but I just… I don’t know –” YN looked at him, looking at her as though she was his only option, “I’m sorry.”

Walking out of the room, YN didn’t know what to do. All of that desire she had been feeling to feel like the women in the books was laid out to her on the table, and she ran. She couldn’t say that she hadn’t imagined Mr. Styles in that way, but he was her employer and that would be drawing a line in a way that she hadn’t before.

Instead of Mr. Styles pacing around the room, it was YN. She was pacing around the entire house, cleaning everything that she could and doing everything that she could. By the time that Mr. Styles’ dinner was ready, she had placed it down and left the room before he had even gotten there, and she waited until he was done before going back to clean up.

Once the house had gone quiet, YN’s thoughts were whirring around in her head. She can’t help the heat that had coursed through her entire body at what Mr. Styles had offered all day. It was a little unbearable, to the point where she couldn’t lay still and couldn’t think about anything but his offer.

What would be the problem if she went through with it? He could fire her. She would be scandalised forever. But she didn’t have much going for her anyway, and she had given up the idea of marriage long ago. What if this was her last chance?

YN didn’t know the time, but it was late, and with a candle clutched in her hand she walked out of her room and upstairs. Her feet carried her towards Mr. Styles’ room. She thought that he would be long asleep, and she would be going right back downstairs but at the sight of the light flickering from underneath his door she knew that wasn’t the case.

“Mr Styles?” She knocked on the door, waiting to hear something before she came in, “Are you awake?”

YN heard shuffling from the other side of the door, before it swung open to reveal Mr. Styles stood there with only his trousers on, his suspenders laying vacant by his sides revealing his entire chest to YN. She couldn’t help her eyes wander down to his chest, and across his arms.

“Miss. YLN,” He seemed shocked, but there was also a bit of concern laced within his voice, “Is everything okay?”

“I was just thinking about what you said earlier… about what you offered,” She cleared her throat slightly, “And I would like to help you, if there’s truly no other option.”

“YN,” It was the first time that he had used her name since she joined him. YN didn’t even know what Mr. Styles’ first name was – he wrote his books under a pseudonym, “Are you sure that this is what you want?”

“I am,” She nodded her head, “I promise.”

That was all it took for Mr. Styles to lean forward, grasp her head between his hands and place his lips directly on hers. YN was a little shocked by it, seeing as though she had never been kissed before, but the second that his hands slipped into her hair that had dissipated. It didn’t take long for her to stumble into his room, where he moved his hands down her body until they were underneath her thighs.

“Jump,” YN did as he said, the words that she seemed to understand when he mumbled them against her lips.

With a swift move, Mr. Styles had his hands underneath her thighs and her legs wrapped around his waist. He pushed his door closed behind and walked her towards his bed. This wasn’t the first time that YN had been in Mr. Styles room but kissing him whilst having her legs wrapped around his waist in only her slip was certainly a different experience then cleaning the room.

Mr. Styles placed YN down on the bed with such ease and light touch that shocked YN if she was completely honest. She was nervous, and truly didn’t know what to expect from this but so far nothing was making her feel too scared.

“Are you still sure about this, YN?”

When he mumbled that against her lips, she didn’t know what to do so she just nodded her head and mumbled a, “Yes,” against his lips.

Mr. Styles’ soft lips removed from yours and started to move down the soft skin of her neck, and every once in a while, she could feel his teeth scratching against the skin and also his tongue grazing every once in a while.

He continued planting kisses down her body, across each part of her skin even over her slip. As he continued moving further down her body, he used his hands to push her slip up. It was almost as though he was asking permission to push it further up and reveal herself to him. With one quick nod of her head, he was doing just that, pushing it up until he was face to face with her. It was the first time that anybody had seen her pussy, and there was no time in her brain for her to be scandalised by the thought.

“Are you okay up there?” He asked, moving his hands lightly up and down her thighs.

“Yes, sir,” She nodded her head, “Just… I’ve never felt like this before.”

“I know you haven’t,” He smiles and places a few kisses along the soft skin of her thighs, “I’m going to start now.”

It only started at first with a soft kiss around where YN needed it the most. It felt as though your entire body was going to combust at any moment, and that Mr. Styles certainly knew what he was doing as she was completely dripping for him. She wouldn’t be surprised if she had dripped right onto the bed beneath him.

Within one blink of her eyes, he was kissing directly on her clit. It was a sensation that she’d never felt before, and she didn’t know whether she’d feel it again. He then moves from kissing to licking right up and down her slit, collecting her arousal before bringing it up to circle her sensitive clit.

“Oh, Mr Styles!”

“Harry,” He mumbles against her, sending shivers all the way down her spine, “M’names Harry, say my name.”

“Harry!” It was the first time that he had told her his name, and now that she knew it, she didn’t know if she would every stop saying it.

He smiles against her before continuing to pleasure her. The feeling of his tongue against her pussy had her almost panting. The fact that he knew how to add the exact pressure onto her clit that have her squirming and moaning his name was unbeknownst to her, but he did. Every small sound that she made had him grinning against her, and he must have been enjoying himself them.

He changes from rhymical laps to her clit to teasing it with the tip of his tongue. It was only when he started to gently suck on it that she started to feel a tightening in her stomach. YN’s legs started to shake, and her breath got caught in her throat.

Harry can tell that YN is getting closer and closer, and knowing that he brings fingers under his mouth until he can sink one of them inside of her. It was almost instantly that she started clenching around his finger. YN immediately reaches out and grabs the blanket that screwed up on the bed behind her. When Harry notices, he immediately reaches out his free hand for her to take – which she does with a lasting squeeze. The intimacy of holding Harry’s hand whilst he does this to her is something that she’ll never forget. The squeeze that YN has on his hand is something that keeps her feeling slightly grounded even though she feels as though she’s truly only a second away from exploding.

Harry pushes another finger inside of her and starts to thrust them in and out of her pussy, coaxing something from the pit of her stomach that she had never felt before in her life. It was as though YN could see stars, and as though she could feel everything on her body more and more. YN can feel just how firm his tongue is, every ridge of it and how warm it is. The feeling to YN was indescribable to her, but yet she had read a scene within one of Harry’s own books that describes it. The only thing that YN could say is that the books definitely do not do the feelings justice.

“Harry…” YN started to squeeze his hand tighter, as she was worked closer and closer to a point that she had never felt before, “Harry, its –”

“I know, love,” He mumbles against her, “Just feel it.”

Seconds later, YN does just that. The feeling of her orgasm on Harry’s fingers and tongue was something that had her mouth opening, her eyes falling shut and her back arching. He doesn’t stop as she reaches that point, he continues working his fingers and his tongue and bringing her past that point.

Once she was coming down from her high, he doesn’t stop his fingers all together just slows them down until she pushes him away due to the sensitivity that she was feeling. He laughed and moved further up until he could kiss her again. Her entire body felt numb, but the second she felt his lips on hers she was brought back down to reality and to the feeling of what had just happened.

Once her breathing calmed down, Harry dropped beside on her on the bed on his back. His chest seemingly seemed back to normal as well. YN didn’t know what to say, and she didn’t even know what to think. For some reason, not knowing what to do she couldn’t help but laugh.

“What?” Mr. Styles said, and she could hear the smile on his face.

“Nothing, Mr. Styles.”

“What did I say?” She turns to look at him, and he looks at her too, “My names Harry.”

“Nothing, Harry.”

“You’re cooking something up in that head of yours.”

“No,” YN shakes her head, “No, I’m not.”

“Yes. Yes, you are.”

The only sound that can be heard is YN’s laughter as Harry starts to kiss her neck again.  

YN had spent the last week or so splitting her time up between cleaning and cooking, editing what Mr. Styles was writing and laying between the sheets of Mr. Styles’ bed. It certainly wasn’t a conventional way of living, but YN had never been happier. It was the same for Harry, YN thought. In the few months that she had been with Mr. Styles, she hadn’t seen him as happy as he was now.

Before, he normally kept himself hidden within his office, only ever coming out when it was absolutely necessary that he did. But now, he was always coming out of his office to find her, kissing her and touching her in ways that she craved for more.

The first time that they had sex was a few days ago now, and YN hadn’t wanted to stop. They had been doing it all over the house, in the kitchen, on Harry’s desk, on the dining table and even on the stairs (even though YN would never admit it.) There was even the one time that they did it under the tree that YN had become very fond of in the course of her employment, and Mr. Towers walked around the corner and received the shock of his life. YN didn’t speak to Harry for a few hours, but when he started to attack her neck whilst she was making his dinner, she had no choice but to talk to him.

YN had been planning this for the past day now, and now that he was working in his office, she saw it as the perfect opportunity. It was taking a lot of courage for her to do this, but she knew that she had to do it – for the sake of the book that was.

YN walked up the stairs towards Mr. Styles’ office with purpose, and when she reached his door, she didn’t knock she just walked in. He was sat at his desk (like he always was) with a piece of paper in his hands, obviously reading through something that he had written. At the disturbance of YN walking in, he looked up and at the sight of her just in her slip he couldn’t help the smile at her.

“Is it night-time already?” Unable to stop himself from poking at least a little fun at her.

“No, it’s not,” YN shut the door behind her and started making her way towards him at his desk, “But it is time for something.”

“What is it time for?” He leant back in his chair, allowing for space for her to drop down onto her knees in front of him.

“Do you remember when you first proposed this?” He nodded his head, pretending not to be distracted by her hands working the button on his trousers, “Do you remember what you didn’t know? And what you wanted to know?”

He nodded his head, not being able to think of anything to say as she wrapped her hand around him.

“How would a woman take control?” She teased, running her finger across his tip, “What she would do? And what she would say?”

He moved his hands down, attempting to thread them through her hair.

She tutted and shook her head, “No. Hands by your side.”

He did what she asked, and she decided to finally stop teasing him. She started by just a few kitten lips to his tip, before placing her whole mouth around him. His eyes fluttered shut as she started to take more and more of him in her mouth. Her other hand was cupping his balls, massaging them gently.

“Fuck, YN,” The explicit word just slips out of his mouth, his body completely overridden by the pleasure he was feeling, “You feel so good.”

His hands were gripping the side of the chair he was sat in, so hard that his knuckles were turning white. His breathing was becoming more and more shallow, and she knew exactly what was coming next. This caused her to pull away and for him to moan at the loss of her lips around him.

“Not yet,” She shakes her head and stands up, pulling up her slip until she was bare for him. There were few things that could get her dripping like Harry does, “I didn’t say you could, did I?”

“YN!” His hands come to grasp her hips as she stands up, straddling his waist and lining herself up with him. He watches down between them in anticipation as she sinks down onto him. One of her hands lifts up to grasp her neck, squeezing lightly as she leans down to kiss him. Once he was comfortably inside of her, she started to grind her lips on him.

“Jesus, YN,” He whispered against her lips.

“Feel good?”

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but the only thing that comes out of his lips are another moan. YN continues to lift her hips and drops them back down on him, allowing her head to rest on his shoulders as she does so.

“Do you want to touch me, Harry?” She asks, leaning forward to catch his ear between her teeth.

“Please,” Harry almost begs her to let him touch her, all he wanted to do was touch her and take over.

“Well, I have not decided that you can yet,” YN continues to bounce, leaning back slightly. Her breasts bounce as she moves, and Harry wants to do nothing more than to reach out and touch or take them between his lips.

“YN,” Harry whines, “Please let me touch you, please let me kiss you. Let me take control.”

“No, did you not hear me?” YN continued to bounce up and down, bringing the both of them closer and closer, “You wanted it from my perspective, and that is what you’re getting.”

Harry felt as though he was going to combust. The waves of pleasure were coursing through his body, and he felt as though he was going to tipped over the edge at any second. YN knew that she wasn’t going to have to make him wait much longer, as she was already feeling her own peak closing in on her.

“Are you close, Harry?”

“Yes,” He leans forward to capture her lips on his again, “Please, are you darling?”

“I am.”

“Don’t stop, darling.”

“I am not going to stop, Harry, don’t worry.”

The second YN reaches her peak, Harry does too, and he spills inside of her. YN takes one look at him, with his eyes closed and his head tipped back, hair all over. YN couldn’t help but smile at him, pushing his hair back off his face. Once he opens his eyes he has the biggest grin on his face, and YN can’t help but kiss it off him.

“Was that, okay?” YN mumbles against his lips, and he grins again.

“Okay?” He laughs and pulls her closer, “That was more than okay.”

One Year Later

“YN!” The door slammed shut not that long after the call of her name. She had been sat in the parlour, curled up with a book but at the sound of Harry entering the house. He had left earlier that morning to go into the city centre and YN hadn’t been expecting him back for a while, so she was shocked when he walked through the door.

“In here!” She closed the book that she was reading (not one of Harry’s which may come as a shock).

Harry came bursting through the door of the parlour with the biggest grin on his face that YN had ever seen. He was obviously hiding something behind his back, and YN was positive that she knew what that was.

“It’s ready!” Harry exclaimed, showing her that it was a book that he had been concealing behind his back, “After one long year it’s finally done!”

He walked towards her and sat down next to her on the lounger, passing the book to her so that she could see. Once she had the emerald, green covered book with the gold lettering with the title and the name in gold embossed lettering, YN honestly felt as though she could cry. They had put blood, sweat and tears into for over the past year. But then again, lately anything was making her cry.

“Oh, Harry,” Her eyes did start to water up as he wrapped his arm around her, pulling him closer to her chest, “It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” He places a kiss against her cheek, and she leans into his touch, “I want you to open it. Look on the inside.”

YN opened to the first page, where she saw that there was a dedication page.

To the person that showed me what Desire is,

this is for you, my Mrs. Scott.

“Oh, Harry,” That was it, the tears had truly started to fall down YN’s cheeks now and there was no stopping them, “I love it.”

“I know that it’s a shame that we couldn’t write Mrs. Styles, but for the sake of the book you are my Mrs. Scott.”

“And you’re my Mr. Scott.”

YN closed the book and turned her head, pouting her lips for a kiss from her husband. He obviously obliged, not wanting to upset his wife.

“And soon we’ll have our baby Scott,” Harry smiled against her lips, moving his hand so that it was laid across her protruding stomach.

The pregnancy hadn’t been a shock to either of them, especially since they hadn’t been careful before they got married, but even more so when they did get married, seeing as though the scandalous part of their relationship had gone.

The most shocking thing that happened was the night that they finished the book completely, it was all written and ready to be sent off and Harry got down on one knee and asked her to marry him. YN was more shocked than she could believe to the point where she pinched herself because she didn’t believe it was true. YN never thought that she would even know anyone that she could even see spending the rest of her life with, but Harry was that.

It was a little stressful at first for YN to leave maid mode and move into wife mode but once she fell pregnant it became easier. They also hired a new maid, Dahlia, who came from a very similar situation to YN herself, but she was nice enough and did her job as well as they would like her too.

The thought of Harry even looking at Dahlia the way he had looked at YN hadn’t even crossed her mind. The only way that YN could describe Harry since they were married, and even more so when they found out that she was pregnant was that he was completely and utterly armoured by her.

“This baby is a Styles, Mr. Styles,” YN rolled her eyes at his comment, to which he laughed at her, “This baby isn’t going anywhere near the books.”

“That is true,” He nods his head and placed another kiss on her cheek, “You’re right Mrs. Styles.”

“Have you not noticed that I am rarely wrong?” He laughed and kissed her cheek again.

Even though their relationship came about in a very unconventional (and very scandalous way), YN had never, ever been happier and she had Harry to thank for that – and she would for the rest of her life.

[mangosrar]

never say never.

matt sturniolo x fem reader.

warnings: smut. angst idk????

an: not proof read. more parts coming soon 😛😛😛

"matt have you seen my car keys" she hollered at him as she scurried around the kitchen.

"where are you going?" he asked as he peaked his head aoundd the door.

"i have to go home" she tilted her head and watched as he walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his hands on the small of her back, pulling her close.

"you dont have to go home, just move in with me" he brought his face closer to hers as her hands fiddled with the buttons on his dress shirt that was now creased and exposing his chest.

"i cant matt you know this, i need my studio" she told him.

"ill build you a studio here, hell id build you a whole art gallery if it meant i got to live with you doll" he moved his face to her cheek and planted a soft kiss there.

7 months ago.

just as she was bending down to press a display sticker to one of the signs, she felt a hard slap to her ass, spinning around she was met with violet smirking, leaned back against nathan. the two of them looked picturesque together. she wore a shimmery champagne dress while he wore a black suit.

"you look great rue" violet gushed.

"thanks vee" she wore a white dress tonight. it was a little more showy than she wouldve liked, low cut and short, but she had bought it last minute and didnt have time to change her mind. violet loved it, of course, she lived for dressing sexy.

"you did all this rory?" nate asked. gesturing to the room around them as he spoke. the place was heaving, every single piece of art in there was either already sold, or bring inquired for, thr room was decorated 'diligently' as her boss byron described. never once had that man complimented her so she was taking whatever she could get.

"yeah, worked my little ass of and byron wont let me display one piece of my art in here" she huffed out a breath rolling her eyes.

"Douch bag knows yours would sell for more than hes ever made" violet uttered.

she didnt even get the chance to reply before one of the artists was tapping on her shoulder making her spin around. "someone would like to make an offer on one of my pieces downstairs."

"oh yes of course" she turned back around. "drink, mingle, have fun. ill find you guys in a bit"

after an hour of running up and down the stairs, about half the pieces were sold and the place was completely packed. the smell of liquor wafted through the air, mixing with the loud conversations.

"hey rory" voilet called from across the crowd. she gently made her way through the sea of people muttering soft 'excuse me's to everyone. when she finally made it to violet she had a wicked smile on her face that made her suspiciously squint her eyes.

"what?" she asked apprehensively.

"nate has a friend here that he wants you to meet. voilets words were saturated with intent, but rory couldnt place it. she tugged on her arm, walking them across the room.

she could see the back of nate, standing and talking to someone. as he turned to face them she saw who she was talking to.

the man was taller than nathan, and more built. his stare was intense. shockingly blue eyes and a strong stubbled jaw. he had dark hair that fanned out around his head perfectly. he wore a flawlessly tailored suit, designer by the looks of it. she could see tattoos peaking out from under his sleeves onto his hands, gripping a hilariously small looking glass.

"sorry to pull you away from your fun, but this is my childhood best friend, matthew sturniolo" nate reached over, patting his friend on the back. "matt this is aroura jovans" he introduced her by her full name, keeping it formal for the time being.

matt stared cooly down at her, extending his hand. "nice to meet you aroura"

despite hating the sound of her full name, hearing it on matts tongue made her swoon. she had never seen a man so handsome in her entire life.

finding her head, rory reached out, placing her hand over his, the size difference was stark and it made his cock jump. "nice to meet you too Matthew" she replied looking up at him. "you can call me rory"

he had picked up on the colour of her cheeks when they touched. this bookish little sweetheart was the last thing he expected to find when nate invited him here. to say he was intrigued was an understatement.

now.

he continued his trail of kissed down her neck. her hands came up to tug on his hair, earning a hum from matt.

"stay here with me" he muttered as he sucked dark circles into her skin. she sighed and leaned her head back, giving him better access. she wanted to give in so bad, she wanted to let him have his way with her right now.

"i cant matt, i have things to do" her chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace as she desperately tried to keep it together, but matts groping hands and his mouth were proving to be a real challenge.

"let me take care of you baby" and before she could even protest. he had hiked her up onto the kitchen counter and shoved his hand into her panties, his lip between his teeth, eyes watching her face intensely. his fingers traced up her folds making him let out a low groan as he left light circles on her clit, pulling a shaky whine from rorys mouth.

"look at that honey, youre soaked" she couldnt help but whine at his words. his fingers quickened and his touch became firmer, prompting her head to lull back as she gripped one hand on his shoulder and the other smacked down onto the counter behind her. her hips started rocking in rhythm with his hand. he knew just how to work her.

"it would be so mean of me to leave you like this doll" his voice was patronizing and cocky. matt once again brought his mouth to her neck and licked a stripe up her throat, pulling a lewd moan from her.

"dont stop matt ngh- pl-" and before she could even finish her sentence, he cut her off by yanking his hand away from her and plopping his fingers into his mouth.

she stared at him wide eyed, mouth hanging open and the feeling of her approaching high fizzling out.

matt gripped her hips and pulled her off the counter, standing her back on her own, now shaky legs before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out her keys. he placed them in her hand before pressing a firm kiss to her lips.

"have a great day baby ill see you for dinner" and with that he was off, sauntering back off into his office.

matt returning to a normal life once he met aroura never seemed like anything out of the ordinary, business was well, he was going to dinner parties, he had fake manners, all prepared for a complete disregard for his past life. he wondered if the straw would ever come and he would return to his late affairs, then again he wondered if that straw had already been pulled. he knew he couldnt hide from himself much longer. his biggest enemy was the man he saw in the mirror. he was filtered with anger and disgust for himself. each day, in and out, he knew what rory didnt. surely the truth would come out, it was just a matter of when. every time his phone rang and her face came up he was sure this was it, thinking of some excuse or lie he could tell before answering and of course each time he was wrong, after a few months of him fighting with himself he gave up. realising there was no way she would ever find out. but never say never.

taglist: @christinarowie332 @biimpanicking @soursturniolo @freshlovehacker @urmyslxt @kitaysworld @kvtie444 @mattsd0ll @flowerxbunnie @itsjennarose @lovingsturniolo @mattslolita @chrisenthusiast

also if i forgot u from my taglist or u wanna be added lmk!!!!

[rebeliz7]

AUGUST - PART ONE

August 1/3

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader 

Warnings: Pinning - Cheating

Special thanks to Van (aka @missmonsters2) for helping me by editing this, all 3 chapters.

…

July, 27th

A high-rank order arrives at the Tower early in the morning, which is code for the White House, which is code for 'you're not directly involved.' 

You understand the hierarchy of the job, and you accept it. The only Avengers who are allowed to communicate with the President are Steve and Natasha, even if the rest of you provide backup if needed. 

The missions from the Oval office are usually dangerous and, more often than not, quite complicated. A part of you is a little relieved that you get to stay at home and 'hold the fort,’ while Steve and Natasha have to pack their bags to go somewhere that you're not allowed to know. 

Steve hugs you goodbye, and you melt in his arms, if only for a second. He's your boss, technically, but he's also the closest thing you have to family, and although you're not ready to say it out loud, you care about him. 

"We'll be back before you know it. Try not to give Tony an aneurysm." He laughs, and you push him towards the jet in jest. 

"He and I have our own thing going on, don't be jealous." You smile back, and the look in his eyes almost makes you run back into his arms, but he nods his head once in your direction, and then he's walking towards the jet. 

As if things couldn't get any worse for you, you have to watch Wanda kiss her wife goodbye too. You look away quickly, not wanting to have that image engraved in your mind. 

What you feel for Wanda is - complicated. You think she knows, but she's also a married woman, and neither one of you will ever acknowledge whatever it is that you feel because everyone knows that she's head over heels for Natasha. 

"Hey, you don't have to worry." Natasha's voice pulls you back, and you realize that Wanda is saying goodbye to Steve by the jet now. "I have his back."

"I know," you say, and Natasha takes your hand. 

"I know you don't like this any more than we do," she says, and you swallow with difficulty. They have a mission, and you accept it. There's nothing you can do to stop them from going. You know what this job entails. 

What's eating at you is the fact that this might be very well goodbye for good, and none of you know it.

The thought always passes your mind whenever one of you leaves on a new mission.  

"We'll be back before you know it." She winks at you, and you smile back; she's your oldest friend, and you've never said it out loud either, but you care for her—deeply. 

"Take care out there," you tell her out of habit. 

"We will. Take care of her for me, would you?" She looks back at her wife, and you look at Wanda hugging Steve. "She might worry."

"I've got her."

"Pay close attention to Daisy. She shows promise."

"I've noticed, and I will."

…

July, 28th

The world seems at peace. There are no trying thugs with supernatural abilities on the streets, no arms dealers selling guns to maniacs. The Avengers are not needed, and when noon comes around, you realize that this could very well be your first day off at the Compound. 

Things have been a bit hectic since you joined the infamous team of heroes a couple of years ago, and for the life of you, you can't remember a single day off since the day you joined. 

Before Natasha practically dragged you into this Compound, your life was not a peaceful one, and you've never had a full day to yourself, but that changes today. 

Today you stay on your floor and order pizza for lunch, and you sit through an entire season of Modern Family on Netflix while you finish the beers on your fridge. 

When the sun finally goes down, you notice how tired you are of not doing anything, but you're smiling, and this has officially been your day, only yours, and you'll always remember that. 

July 28th, you will always remember this day. 

… 

July, 31st

Tony is worried, and Wanda is pacing the meeting lounge. 

Natasha sent in an encrypted message a few minutes ago. Their mission got a lot more complicated than they were expecting, not that it surprises you. 

They'll have to be away for longer than they originally planned. 

"Can you reach them?" Tony asks you, and Wanda turns to look at you with hope in her eyes. 

Natasha sent the message through a radio line only you know of, she wanted it to be a one-way type of message, and you know she'd check but only to make sure that you didn't answer. 

"Well, yeah but -"

"Nat wouldn't want that," Wanda says, and you watch her take in a deep breath as if to gather herself. You can practically smell her worry by now. 

"You don't look worried, or surprised." Tony assesses you, and you shrug lightly. 

"Don't you watch the news, grandpa?" You ask him in jest, and he rolls his eyes at you. "The President is not very subtle about the places he decides to bomb. Nat and Steve are probably behind a defector, who must be surrounded by security detail 24/7."

"How do you know all this?" Wanda asks, and you shrug lightly again before sitting on the table. 

"I don't. I'm just taking a wild guess here. The order came from the White House, right?"

"It sounds like something that Stark Satellites could have helped with," Tony mutters, completely blindsided by your question. 

"Don't be like that, Starboy." You smile when he glares at you. "Your satellites leave traces behind."

They both take a moment to think about what you just said, and you remain quiet while they process. 

Once they do, Wanda goes back to pacing, although slower than before, and when she meets your stare, you smile at her, however small. You told Natasha you'd look out for her, and you don't know exactly how to do that. 

"How long do you think they'll be gone?" She asks you. "Are they safe? Why would the President send them in for this?"

"I'm just taking a guess here, but if this is actually what's happening then it could take a month or two."

"Two months?" Tony asks. 

"Well, they'll have to blend in and Natasha won't take any chances. Meaning, she'll go all out. Surveillance, tracking, making contact, studying the perimeter, making contact again, befriending someone on the inside, befriending a lot of people on the outside, looking for alternatives, setting up a trap in case they have to resort to it, plan for escape routes. Several escape routes."

"Sounds easy," Tony says with his usual bite, and you sigh as Wanda takes a deep breath. 

"Hey." You call her, and she looks at you with worry etched on her face. "Natasha is the person for a job like that, and I'm just taking a wild guess here."

"You were right the last time." She points out. 

"A Governor got killed and it was all over the news. That one was easy to guess." You smile until she shakes her head and lets out a breath. 

"If anyone can handle something like this, it’s Natasha," Tony says. "She'll bring back Rogers. He's lucky she's with him."

"That, he is."

… 

August, 1st

Sam and Bucky arrive from their mission early in the morning. They've been gone for almost an entire month, and by the sore look on Bucky's face, they don't come with good news. 

Blake continues to slip through their fingers, and Bucky continues to shut you down when you try to lend a hand. Blake, a Russian lowlife that tortured Bucky on more than one occasion under Hydra's command, has proven himself a hard one to catch. 

You get it, you understand why Bucky wants to be the one who catches him, but it's obvious that the guy knows Bucky well enough to always keep himself one step ahead of him. You'd know. 

You leave the debriefing room when Sam and Bucky begin bickering, knowing that they won't stop for a while. They're an odd pair, but they get each other.  

You go about your day with as much normalcy as if the Captain and Natasha were here. You run the drills for the new recruits, and you pay special attention to the girl Natasha believes has the potential to be something more. You make sure to run her a bit harder than the rest, just like Natasha has been doing. 

You have to agree with her; Daisy does seem like the kind of girl that belongs in the field. 

You check in with Rhodey and make a round of calls to the Agents around the US. Things are calm, which means someone is cooking something big, and logically, everyone is beginning to go nuts. 

You go about your day. Whatever comes your way, you'll deal with it when it gets here. There's no point in worrying about things that are not in your control. 

"Want some?" Wanda asks when you enter the kitchen, and she's serving sauce on top of pasta on a plate. You were coming to fix yourself something as well, but the moment you smell the air, a smile forms on your face. 

"Is this your famous pasta and sauce I'm smelling?" You ask back as you hand her another plate, and she smiles. 

"You guys are easy to please," she says as she puts the sauce on top of the pasta, and you get a whiff of the delicious aroma of her cooking up close, and you moan to yourself. 

"Or maybe you're just an amazing cook," you tell her, and her smile turns a bit bashful. 

You take the two plates to the table as she picks up a bottle of red wine and two glasses from the shelf. 

It's been a few days, and you haven't exactly kept an eye on her like Natasha asked you to do when she left, but Wanda seems perfectly fine. You caught sight of her in the morning as she tried to go about her day with as much normalcy as you were. 

If it were a regular mission, everyone would still be tense, but it'll be 'normal.'  The job comes with high-level risks, and you all live in danger on a daily basis, even now while you sit across from Wanda, the both of you aren't completely safe. 

A mission from the White House means there are no official records because that's why their preferred agent to go to is Natasha, and you all know what that entails if things were to go south. 

She was a KGB Agent. She was an enemy of the state long before she was an ally, the Black Widow can always turn the tables, or at least that's the narrative the President would use if it came down to it. 

As it is, though, Rhodey was anxious when you talked to him earlier. His tone clipped in every word that he spoke. There's no doubt that he knows exactly the nature of the mission, but you know better than to ask questions that won't be answered. 

Sam and Bucky are doing exactly what they do when they're worried, which is to retreat to their military ways. Sam took over you in the drills, and Bucky oversaw the sparring exercises with the rest of the recruits. 

Tony has been locked in his lab since Nat and Steve left, only coming out for food and attending the necessary meetings, nothing more. Wanda cooks, she cooks a lot when she doesn't know what else to do, and you're trying to keep on going as normal as you can. 

"Be honest with me," she says as you pick up a fork and she pours the wine in the glasses, and you look up to see her face. "You think they're alright?"

The moment her eyes meet yours, you remember the exact reason why you make a habit out of avoiding spending too much time with her. It's unfair, really, the power she holds over you without even knowing. 

"You worry too much." You deflect as you take your glass and sip the wine. 

"That's what she always says." She frowns, and suddenly, the mouthwatering smell of her cooking doesn't seem so appetizing anymore.  

"We would know if things went wrong. Isn't that the whole point of sending them both in? The russian spy and the golden boy aren't exactly subtle news."

She purses her lips in anger at your Government and how manipulative they are, but the worrisome in her eyes is undeniable. 

"You asked me to be honest."

"I did." Her accent comes out sounding harsh and cutting in her bothered state, and an idea occurs to you. 

"Look, I know I can't ask you not to worry or even lie to you and say that things will be alright because that's a prayer more than a fact in our line of work. But I can be here with you, and I can try to keep your mind off of it if you'd like."

She looks at you as if analyzing you and you let her even though her eyes are made of the most beautiful color, and you're positively distracted by her whole face. 

"She asked you to look out for me, didn't she?" She asks, and you smile, although the color of her eyes continues to distract you.

"Can you blame her? You really do worry too much."

"And you don't seem to worry at all."

Her words catch you by surprise, although her tone remains kind when she speaks, meaning she's only curious and not upset, at least not with you.

"What's the point in worrying about something that you can't control?" You counter her question with one of your own, and she looks away, finally picking up her glass of wine, drinking a generous sip from it before meeting your stare again.

"What's the point in deed? Let's eat, this sauce is no good cold."

Her cooking is, as always, splendid, and you spend the rest of dinner talking about your inability to boil water.

By the time you're picking up the dishes, you realize that you're having fun, and conversation with Wanda is not as terrifying as you once thought it could be.

…

August 2nd

You wake up to find Fury sitting on the small couch you keep in your room, and you almost have a heart attack.

"You sleep like a baby," he says. "Like a drugged baby."

"You have a mission for me? Please, tell me there's a mission and you weren't just being a creep."

"There's a mission," he says as he hands you a black folder. You take the folder from his hand as you sit upon your bed and rub the sleep off your face.

"Son of a bitch." You gasp the moment you see the first page.

Hudson, Fury found Hudson.

"I thought you'd like that," he says as he stands up. "Just wanted to see the look on your face when you saw it."

"I'm running this." You tell him, and it's not a question, but he still nods as you stand up as well.

"Of course you are. You thought I was just gonna come here and give you that folder for nothing? Come on! You have ten minutes to prep."

Ten minutes later, you're geared up and ready to go, and Fury is waiting for you in the hanger next to Bucky and Wanda.

"We need him alive," Fury says the moment you're close enough, and you're already nodding. "This is no joke. The only reason why I'm giving you this is because I'm a man of my word."

"I know." You nod again, and he pins you down with a hard glare.

"Alive." He enunciates right in your face, and you roll your eyes. "However, you use whatever means to capture him. What happens in the field -"

"- stays in the field." The three of you finish for him, and he hums to himself, all the while pinning you with a glare.

"We got this," you tell him as Bucky boards the jet, and Wanda laughs to herself as she follows him.

"You better." Fury declares, and with that, you follow your teammates.

…

Hudson has slipped through your fingers more times than you're willing to admit out loud at this point, so you keep that to yourself as you explain to Bucky and Wanda who Hudson is.

"So he's your friend?" Wanda asks, and you're tempted to groan, but the confused look on her face is way too much for you to handle, so you look away quickly.

"Was. He was my friend." You correct her, and they're not subtle at all when they exchange a look.

"Spill," Bucky says.

"I just did. He and I were partners, he abandoned me when we retrieved an expensive object from the Caribians and I haven't seen him since."

"I get the feeling that you're oversimplifying things for us," Wanda says, and her accent makes you want to smile. It doesn't come out that often anymore, but it leaves you feeling like this when it does.

You can't like her accent this much; it's unhealthy.

"I trusted the guy." You admit without looking at either one of them. "I trusted him and he left me in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by enemies because of money."

"Wait," Bucky says, but you don't look at him. "Hudson. Australian accent? About five four, brunette? Ridiculously bad at poker?"

"You know him." You look at him, and Bucky huffs a smile as he continues to pilot the jet. 

"He sold Hydra a fake relique back in the day. He's slippery."

"I'd know." You stand up as Bucky closes in on the location, and Wanda follows your lead. 

…

You find him exactly where Fury told you he'd be, which tells you all you need to know. 

He's nursing a drink at a small bar in the outskirts of Alabama, and although your first instinct is to smash his face against the wooden counter, you sit by his side and order a local beer. 

"What took you so long?" He asks in that characteristic way of his, flashing you a smile and a wink that would be charming if you didn't know the guy as well as you do. 

"I never thought I'd see the day where you were asking for help." You thank the bartender when he comes back with your beer and Hudson's smile wavers. 

Bucky confirms the presence of a third party through your coms, and you're not surprised. You saw at least five armed men when you walked inside, and Hudson's knee continues to shake. 

"Yeah, well." He says as he downs his drink, and sweat drips down the side of his face. "I don't want to die. Fury was the last resource. I'm ready for you to take me in."

Son a bitch, you think. This clever son of a bitch. 

"Who are they?" You ask him just as you hear a gunshot in the street, and he jumps behind the bar.

Chaos erupts inside the bar when you jump behind him and grab hold of his jacket just when he's about to sprint for the back door. 

Bucky and Wanda are already engaging, and when you hear the word Hydra your entire body runs cold. 

"This is Hydra?" You ask him, and when he takes a little too long in nodding, you punch him in the face hard enough to knock him out on the spot. 

Every single one of you has a history with Hydra, and Fury knows that. 

You can hear Bucky cursing and Wanda's grunts as they fight outside while you make sure that Hudson doesn't escape. You drag his heavy ass into a closet, and there you shoot him with a sedative before you run outside to help your team. 

It's absolute chaos. God, you hate Hydra. 

You spot seven men to your left the moment you step outside, and you roll on the ground to get close to a parked car for cover. They all shoot at you, but you make quick work of them. 

Bucky is fighting too, but you catch sight of Wanda in the air; more specifically, you catch the exact moment they hit her with some sort of energy weapon to take her down. 

She loses her balance, but she doesn't crash like they were probably expecting her to. No, she turns her attention to the jet that shot her, and then she buries that jet on the ground with a single movement of her hands. 

You smile to yourself, feeling oddly proud of her, but you don't lose focus. You're still surrounded by enemies, and you make sure to keep shooting while keeping your teammates in your peripheral. 

What did Hudson do? What did he steal, and who did he sell it to? 

"Let me guess," Bucky says as he walks tiredly towards you. He sounds breathless, and his cheek has an inch-long tear, which does nothing to minimize the pissed-off look on his face. "We're his extraction, aren't we?"

"You can yell at Fury for that when we get back," you tell him, and you turn to shoot a few remaining Hydra agents when you see them pointing at Wanda, not at you. Bucky is once again fighting off two guys off of him. 

She has her back to you, and you run towards her. No, you think, not her. 

You take down four out of the five men going for her, but you run out of ammo. She's working on taking down the last jet, and they're not making it easy at all. They're shooting her with everything they have, and so is the guy to your right. 

You sprint just as the jet she's fighting collapses and explodes in a cloud of smoke, dirt, and fire. 

She turns when you're only a couple of feet away, and the bullet hits your shoulder just as her eyes meet yours. 

Her eyes widen as you listen to the unmistakable sound of Bucky's arm when he punches someone. You fall into Wanda's arms, and Bucky rushes to your side. 

"Why - why would you do that?" Wanda asks as she kneels on the ground with you in her arms. "Oh my God. Why would you do that?"

"We need to go." Bucky runs back into the bar to bring out Hudson, and you can't look away from Wanda's terrified expression. 

"Why would you do that?" She asks as tears gather in her eyes, and you try to ignore the pain and the blood on her hands. 

"You know why."

…

August, 3rd

Doctor Woo is a miracle worker. When you emerge from her regenerative chamber, you feel as if you were never shot in the first place. 

"I can't even feel where the wound should be," you tell her in wonder. 

"That's because there's not a wound anymore," she tells you with a grin as you walk backwards towards the wall mirror, trying to get a good look at your shoulder blade. 

"You're amazing," you sincerely tell her, and she takes the compliment with a subtle nod of her head. 

"Thank you. Now, let's go over a few exercises."

You follow her instructions and stretch, bend and shake your arm at her command until she's satisfied with her own work. 

…

Fury doesn't apologize, and you don't mind. He's the boss, well, your boss's boss, and you're here to do a job. 

He gave you his word a while ago that he'd let you know the moment Hudson showed up, and he delivered. Hudson is behind bars, and you were the only one injured in the mission. 

Bucky doesn't have the same perspective that you do, he gives Fury a piece of his mind, and Wanda's eyes turn red in anger, but Fury walks out in one piece. 

"You got shot, how could you just sit there and say nothing?" Tony asks you from the other side of the table, and everyone else turns their attention to you. 

"What's the point in dueling with things that already happened?" You retort, as you always do. "I'm fine now and Hudson was brought in. The mission was a success."

"And nothing else matters in your book, does it?" He bites out. 

"Nothing else should. I'm here to do my job and I know what I signed up for. If I wanted a desk job I'd get one, but I'm here."

"We were ambushed." Wanda reminds you, but you can't look at her, not after what you said - or did. "He should have sent us in there with a lot more back up and you just don't care."

"I care," you tell her as you look up at her. There's a nasty bruise on her jaw that you didn't notice before, and you wonder who got close enough to touch her. "But we're here and we're fine. Next time we do a double check before trusting Fury's whole intel."

"You don't get it," Wanda says, shaking her head. "We need to look out for one another. This isn't just a job for us, and it's time you start to realize that this is not just a work team because you're part of it now."

Bucky points at Wanda, agreeing with her as he continues to glare at you.

You stay in your seat long after they're gone, thinking about Wanda's words and what they mean.

…

August, 4th

Fury takes Hudson away, and none of you have a say in the matter. He's still the master spy, the only one with the A's under his sleeve and then his other sleeve under that one.

You're not exactly new to the team, but you still struggle with the concept of seeing it as anything more than a team. 

You have to keep your head above water, always. Nothing lasts forever. You learned all that the hard way. 

You stay out of everyone's way, and the day drags on, but eventually, you're back in your room at the end of it.

…

August, 5th

You're on your way out of the Compound when you walk by her office, and you catch sight of her because her door is wide open. She doesn't make a habit of closing her office door, you've noticed. 

You shouldn't stop, the wisest thing for you to do is keep walking, but you turn around and knock softly on her door anyway. She looks up from her laptop, and her eyes are suddenly on you… 

...you swallow as you lean casually on her door frame. 

"Hey," you say, and she raises a single eyebrow at you. 

"You going out?" She points at the car keys in your hands, and you jingle them before clearing your throat. 

"Yeah, I am. There's a whole world outside of this place, you've noticed?" She smiles, and you look down.

Ridiculous, you think to yourself. You're ridiculous and a mess when you're alone with her. 

"And a lot of people have opinions too. Keep an eye out for those," she says, and you sigh. 

"Not everyone likes us, I'm okay with that." You shrug as she stands up, and you swallow with difficulty again because the way she looks steals your breath away - in a sense. 

Not that she's wearing anything particularly grand, but tight jeans and knee-high boots make her look -to put it simply- incredible. Not that you're objectifying her but God! 

"It's more than people just not liking us," she says as she runs a hand through her hair and pushes it back. "Maybe you just shouldn't go out alone."

"You worried about me?" You ask her, and you watch her cross her arms, her yellow cashmere sweater hugging her hips as she stretches it. 

"I think. You're kind of growing on me." She scrunches up her nose with her admission, and if you weren't a goner before, you think you definitely are now. 

"And it only took you a year and a half to get there," you tell her, and she laughs, and your stomach feels weird, and you feel like you can't breathe and - it's not fair. It's not fair at all. 

She's married, you remind yourself. She's off-limits and way out of your league. 

"Anyway," she says as she takes a deep breath and sinks her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. "Be careful if you go out. I was gonna watch a movie, you can join me if you decide to stay."

…

It's not even a question anymore, she said the words, and you knew you weren't going anywhere. 

"Oh my god!" You exclaim when you taste the popcorn, she made before you two settled in the movie room. 

"You like?" She asks with a shit-eating grin that you can't ignore. 

"Like? This popcorn is my new religion. Wanda, this is delicious."

"Like I said, easy to please." She pops one in her mouth with a self-satisfied smile, and you - you must be a masochist to be here. 

"I'm serious. What did you put in it?" You pick one popcorn to examine, but it looks just like a regular one.

"I'm not telling you my secrets," she says with a delicate laugh, and you laugh with her. 

"Is it butter?" You ask, and she huffs and rolls her eyes playfully.

"You offend me." She teases you.

"It's some kind of seasoning, isn't it?" You ask, and she hums as she picks one movie on Netflix and presses play. 

"You've watched this?" She asks, and you catch the name of the movie on the screen as you chew slowly. 

"I haven't. Is it rosemary?"

"No, it's not. You haven't watched Mean Girls?"

"I really really haven't. Is it butter? It has to be butter."

"You already asked that. You're gonna love this movie."

"Come on." You nudge her with your shoulder, and she tries to ignore you. "If you don't tell me I'm gonna assume it's butter."

"It's not," she tells you with a laugh, and your stomach does that thing it always does when she smiles, making you feel warm from the inside out.

"It's delicious," you tell her again, and she makes a show to pop one into her mouth. 

"I know," she says with fake innocence, and you don't know what it is exactly, but you have to hold back from kissing her. 

It's torture, and it's not fair. This is exactly why you usually make a point to stay out of her hair. You two click, and it's easy to spend time together, which is why you developed this crush on her in the first place a while ago. 

It's been months since the two of you hung like this, and it's easy when Natasha is home. 

"Thank you," she says out of the blue, and you frown, too preoccupied with the shape of her lips before you look into her eyes. 

"What?" You ask, and she takes your hand, and you realize that you're sitting much closer than you thought you were. "What did I do?"

Her hand is cold and much softer than you've ever dared to imagine, and you think that if she were yours, you'd never need anything more. 

"You took a bullet for me," she says, and the memory of that exchange comes back at you fully. "Thank you. I mean it."

"Of course." You shrug, and she squeezes your hand before letting it go. 

"No one has ever done that for me," she says as an afterthought, and you're caught staring at her profile. 

"I'd take a bullet for you anytime." The line is cheesy, and she smiles, and you blush. 

"Anytime?" She teases you as you laugh at your own embarrassment. 

But her eyes pull you in, and you have to swallow all the things that you wish you could say out loud. 

Yes, you conclude, you're a masochist. She's a hammer, and you just love the way she hurts. 

"If it means you're safe? Yes, anytime."

There's a moment, or you think there's a moment when she seems to be about to say something back, but she swallows her words instead. 

You end up watching the movie in silence, both sitting on opposite sides of the couch and the bowl of popcorn forgotten in the middle. 

…

August 6th

You're in the middle of your usual workout when Wanda walks inside the gym accompanied by Daisy, both looking ready to work out. 

"Wow, you're here." Daisy smiles when she sees you, and you pick up your towel from the bench as you sit up. You were just finishing your abs routine anyway. "Abs." She adds, motioning to all of you, and you find yourself smiling as you press the towel to the back of your neck. 

"Sorry, I'm not usually this awkward. I promise." She rushes to explain.

"I'll take your word on that." You smile, and she blushes, visibly so. When you look at Wanda, she's staring at Daisy with a subtle frown on her forehead. 

"I'm supposed to train in here today," Daisy says conversationally, and Wanda finally looks over to you. 

She has her arms crossed over her chest, and you catch her working her jaw as if she were bothered. 

"Natasha left instructions," she says, and her accent is very prominent when she speaks. You know she slips on her accent only when she's feeling emotional, and you instantly feel bad. 

You have to stop saying things that make her uncomfortable. She's married, and you can't just go about telling her how you'd take a bullet for her again. 

"Wanna spar with me?" Daisy asks you, and the smile on her face is a little contagious, so you have no trouble returning it. 

"Let's do it." You motion for her to follow you to the mats, all the while trying not to look directly at Wanda. 

This is exactly why you kept your distance for a long while. When you're alone with her, you can't help yourself, and you always end up saying stupid things that make her uncomfortable and that are way out of line. 

You take off your shoes and work on stretching your neck and shoulders before you turn around to meet your sparring partner, but Daisy is sitting on the bench, and Wanda is waiting for you on the other end of the mats.

You swallow with difficulty but walk towards the center to meet her halfway anyway. 

"Intimidated already?" You ask Daisy. She bites her lower lip as she shakes her head, not giving anything away. 

"She can watch for now," Wanda says, her voice making you look at her instantly. 

Should you apologize? That'd be even more uncomfortable for the both of you, wouldn't it?

Before you can say anything, she comes at you, throwing a punch that you barely avoid. You look at her in surprise, and she cocks her head to the side, a smug grin appearing on her lips as she challenges you. 

It's been months since the last time you two spar together. You're practically strangers, and you're not sure of what to expect from her.

You round her, observing her fighting stance, which is much more confident than it used to be. When she comes for you again, you're ready, and it's not difficult to avoid her attacks when you're focused. 

You block her punches and roll backward away from her kicks, but you don't attack her just yet. She's relentless, though, and soon she grows irritated, and you only know it because of the crinkle that appears in her forehead without her consent. 

"Really?" She asks, annoyed when you once again roll away from her without doing anything to defend yourself.

"Someone's been practicing," you tell her, and she breaks from her stance to look at you dead in the eyes. 

"My wife insists I do," she says, and there's something in the way she says it. My wife, as if she knows with certainty what she's doing to you. 

"Your wife's taught you well," you tell her, and for a moment alone, she seems to be glaring at you.

You don't know what's happening, but the next time she attacks you, you tackle her to the ground. She gasps when her back hits the mats, the air leaving her lungs as she looks up at you in surprise. 

"There are a few things you still need to learn though." She's breathing hard, her glare making you want to flinch back where you're standing. 

You leave the gym without looking back, and it's only when you get to your room that you realize how badly you're shaking. 

Of course, she knows; you practically told her you'd die for her last night. What the hell were you thinking?

… 

August 7th

"I don't want to be alone," she says the moment you open your door. 

It's four am, and when someone knocked on your door, you never thought it'd be her. 

"Did something happen?" You ask as you rub the sleep off your eyes, and she walks inside your bedroom without waiting for an invitation. 

"I just -" She says as you turn to look at her, but she doesn't finish her sentence. 

"You okay?" You ask her because she seems nervous, as if on the edge of panic, and you don't know what to do. 

"I'm fine." She closes her eyes in frustration, and you watch as she licks her lips, and shakes her head, and doesn't seem to get her ideas straight enough to tell you what she's doing in your bedroom at four am. 

"You sure you're fine?" You ask her, and, taking a deep breath, she looks at you. 

"I know why you avoid me so much," she says, and you swallow with difficulty. 

Your back stiffens as if a bucket of ice-cold water just fell on you, and you can't look away from her eyes. 

"Of course you do." You clear your throat, refusing to overthink this. "I think I told you myself last night."

"Well, that and the little fact that you took a bullet for me." The sound of her voice is meant to be light, you can see her trying, but nothing about this is light or easy for you either way.

She's a married woman, and you've seen her and Natasha together, and you know that nothing can ever get in between them. Not that you want to either, you'd rather see her happy from the outside than hurt her in any way.

Love like that, like the one they share, is so rare to see, let alone easy to find.     

"Look, Wanda -"

"I like you." She cuts you off, and the revelation should make you elated, but it only serves to confuse you. 

"You like me." You say the words out loud, and your stomach flutters against your better judgment. "You like me?"

"I know I shouldn't and I know it's wrong." She rushes to explain. "I shouldn't have said anything."

She's panicking, and your brain is not catching up fast enough. She's about to cry, and she's about to run out when you finally react and close your door before she can make a run for it. 

"Hold on." You ask her with a gentle hand on her arm. "It's okay."

She looks troubled as if confessing this has to mean something, and you know well that it doesn't. The last thing you ever want to do is get in between her marriage, and liking isn't feelings; liking is easy to get over. 

"Is it?" She asks you, her eyes locking you in, and you'd be lying if you said that you weren't dying to kiss her but - 

"It is." You assure her with a smile that you hope is calming. "Look, we're attractive. Attraction happens, it's human but it doesn't have to mean anything." 

For a moment, your words hang in the air, and then she chuckles, and you can breathe easily again. As stupid as that was to say you accomplished what you wanted, she's laughing, and things are not yet awkward. 

"You know," she says, and when she licks her lips again, you can't help but feel thirsty, and you know how absolutely ridiculous that sounds in your own head. "That actually helps. You're right."

"So you're good now?" You ask her with a smile, still trying to get past this. "You're not freaking out anymore?"

"Stop that," she says, but the smile on her lips is gorgeous, and you know you want nothing more out of life. "I wasn't freaking out. Maybe a little. I'm fine now."

"That's good." You nod while you hold her stare, and while her eyes flicker, she licks her lips, and you know there's something else she wants to say. 

"I'm gonna go," she says with the enthusiasm of someone who definitely wants to stay. 

"Okay." You nod, but she doesn't move, and neither do you. 

You want, and you want, and the way she looks at you makes you believe that maybe she wants the same thing. 

"I was jealous," she says out of the blue, and you frown in confusion. 

"What?" 

"Daisy likes you and she's not subtle at all, and I was jealous. I have no right to be, I know, but I was jealous because she didn't have to hide it."

She leaves, and you stand exactly where she left you for a long while, not being able to move or think past her last sentences. 

You can't sleep after she leaves, and you don't see her at all for the rest of the day. 

…

August 8th

Entering Tony's lab, you realize that you aren't the only one he called in here. 

"Have you ever heard of the word punctuality?" He asks you, and you head right over to him to plant a loud kiss on his cheek. 

"You need to shave," you tell him, and you can hear Sam softly laughing. 

"You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago," Tony says, completely ignoring your suggestion as you move closer to the small lounge area he has in his lab. 

"I was in the gym when your text came in. I wasn't gonna come in all sweaty and gross."

"What's wrong with being sweaty and gross?" Bucky asks as he walks in too. 

"Have you ever heard of the word punctuality?" Tony asks him, and you and Sam laugh out loud, while Bucky just shrugs, offering no excuse whatsoever. 

"What's this all about anyway?" Sam asks Tony, and you finally take a look to where Wanda has been sitting in complete silence since you walked in. 

You go over to her and take the empty seat next to hers, and the old leather couch cracks loudly under your weight, which makes her smile as she looks at you.

"That was totally this old thing," you tell her, and she tucks her hair behind an ear as she looks away, nodding her head. 

"Don't worry," she says, and Tony clears his throat rather loudly. 

He launches into a detailed explanation about the technology he uses to power your suits and special gadgets, but you hear none of it. 

No, you're too preoccupied staring at Wanda and thinking about the last thing she told you. 

The last couple of days have been a whirlwind, to say the least, and you're certain of one thing only, you don't want to lose her friendship. This is enough. Being her friend is enough, but not seeing her completely will devastate you. 

"What?" She asks you with a tone meant to be exasperated, but the small smile on her lips doesn't fool you. 

"I didn't see you yesterday," you tell her, and she looks at her lap. She's troubled, and you can see it clearly. 

"You missed me?" She asks you after a beat, a cute grin pulling at the corners of her lips as she looks at you. 

"Yeah." You nod, your eyes falling to her lips for a second. "Always."

"Excuse me?" Tony's annoyed voice reaches your ears, and you look at him. "Did you listen to a thing I just said?"

"You updated our uniforms, starboy. We have to take care of them. We all hear you."

The boys laugh, and Wanda hides her smile behind her hand as Tony glares daggers at you. 

"You're not funny," he tells you, and you blow him a kiss. 

"Then why is everyone else laughing?" You ask him, and he rolls his eyes at you. 

"We were listening," Wanda tells him, and his glare turns to her. "You updated our uniforms and the communications line now has a wider range."

"They do have a wider range." He points the pen he's holding at her, and he goes back to explain the details that none of you can actually understand. Well, maybe Sam can, a little. 

After what feels like an eternity and you've all tried the new gadgets, you walk out of his lab. 

"Hey, wanna grab lunch?" You ask Wanda as the boys walk ahead of you. She hesitates for a second, but then she nods her head, and you go to the elevator. 

She's quiet in the elevator ride towards the garage, uncharacteristically so. But you watch her through the mirror wall, and she's looking down at the floor, her fingers playing with each other as if to consciously avoid meeting your stare. 

You don't know what goes through her mind, and you don't attempt to know either. You can do this, and nothing has to change. 

She knows about your feelings, and although she confessed to being physically attracted to you, nothing has to change. Wanting her and loving her is enough. 

She doesn't look at you when you walk the small path towards your car, not even when you get in first. She's nervous and conflicted. 

"Get in," you tell her softly, and the moment she meets your gaze - something changes.

She smiles softly at you, and she drops her hands, and you watch her take a deep breath and surround the car to get in the passenger seat. 

It's unfair how beautiful she is; it truly is torture for you. You're not able to look away as she walks, as she smiles, as she just - exists. 

You take her to a little restaurant a couple of miles south of the Compound that you frequent. She hasn't been in, and when you order two of your favorites, the smile on her face returns, truly returns. 

She's all smiles as you talk and talk, and she listens with a smile that does inexplicable things to you. 

You could watch her smile from afar, and you know it'd be enough. 

By the time you're driving back home, she's telling you about a new recipe she wants to try, and when you say goodbye, you might be a little more in love with her. 

…

August 9th

You're walking by the kitchen when you catch sight of Wanda dancing softly by the stove. She must think there's no one around because she's bobbing her head and holding a wooden spoon to her mouth as if it were a microphone and you're positively smitten by her. 

The mere image that should be embarrassing only manages to endear her to you, and you can't help but walk towards her. 

You recognize the song playing softly through the speakers the closer you get, and when she sees you, she jumps backward, her cheeks tainted red and a gasp leaving her parted lips. 

There's a moment when you're about to burst out laughing, and she's looking at you in horror that you'll make fun of her, but then the chorus to 'Living on a prayer,’ comes up, and both of you sing loudly to it. 

You dance around her, and she follows you with a smile on her face as you both sing, and dance and when the song ends, she's laughing, and you are too. 

"We should totally host a karaoke night," you tell her, and her smile, God! Her smile makes your heart flutter, and you don't know how to breathe properly. 

"Yeah, that was fun." She nods as her eyes drop to your lips for a moment. 

You can't breathe because you could have this kind of fun all the time if you had only met her before Natasha did. 

But you didn't, and you have no right to be thinking like this, none. You can daydream about kissing her, but you can't feel like this; it's not fair. 

But then she kisses you, and you're not prepared at all. 

The sudden touch of her lips against yours makes you flinch back, and she's looking just as scared as you feel. 

A moment passes, and she doesn't look away from you, so when you lean towards her, she meets you halfway. 

You kiss her, and a tidal wave of emotions travels through your body, making your lungs feel tight, and your hands begin to shake as they grip her waist. She pulls you closer, her hands on your nape pulls and pulls until you're pressing her body between the counter and yours. 

You've heard about the clichés and even experienced one or two yourself, but you've never experienced them all at the same time. 

When Wanda parts her lips and your tongues meet in a deeper and more sensual kiss, fireworks erupt behind your eyelids, your stomach begins to flutter, and you can hear a light song playing softly just for you to hear. Everything is there, every single cliché, and everything else disappears. 

Suddenly it's just the two of you alone in a world where no one can come in and bother you, nothing else exists, and it's a scary sensation but passionate too. It's exciting and sweet. 

It's a perfect kiss. 

And you realize that wanting won't be enough after this moment. 

When you pull back to get some much-needed air, her eyes are still closed, and you're not sure how you're going to be able to move on from this. 

She makes the choice for both of you, though. She pushes you away, lightly and then she practically runs out of the kitchen. 

You stand there for a long while, just thinking and still feeling the imprint of her lips on yours, but eventually, you turn off the stove and leave too. 

…

August 10th 

It's two-thirty in the morning when your phone rings, and you wake up quickly, but you don't catch the call. When you go to check who called, your phone doesn't show a missed call. 

Natasha. It's an old trick you used once before. 

"Friday," you call out as you run out of your room. Your heart is hammering inside your chest because you know this could very well be a call for help. "Stand by, I might need you to wake everyone up."

You run towards Tony's lab, but you don't find it empty. 

"Jesus Christ!" He jumps to his feet, clutching his chest and almost losing his balance when you all but barrel inside. 

"I saw an old radio here yesterday." You run towards the back, and you find it with ease. 

"Hey, what's going on?" He asks, now more worried than scared. 

"Hold on." You raise your hand as you search for the right frequency, and just like you expected, a code begins to play. "Get me a piece of paper and a pen."

"What's going on?" He raises his voice but gets you what you need. 

The message is on repeat, so you listen and write down, and when you finally read the whole message, the air returns to your lungs, and you take in a deep breath. 

"Well?" Tony practically screams when you sit down on the floor. 

"That woman is insane." You point the pen at him, and he snatches it from your hand. 

"Tell me what's going on. Now!"

"Geez. Relax, grandpa."

"Don't call me that. I swear if you don't start talking I'm gonna -"

"It was Nat." You cut him off as you stand up, and his eyes widen. "They're fine, just unable to properly communicate right now. Mission got complicated but they haven't been made, they're safe but they'll be gone for a whole month. Or so she estimates."

"You got all that from that code?" He asks, and you grin in response.

"And without any of your gadgets." You add with an impressed look, making him roll his eyes. 

"You need to inform the wife," he tells you, and your stomach sinks for a whole different reason. 

"I know."

… 

You're standing outside Wanda's bedroom, and it's almost three am. You're considering waiting till the morning to tell her all this when her door opens from within. 

"Hey," she says when she sees you standing there. 

"Hi." You look at her, and you lose track of what exactly you're doing here because she's wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt that barely touches her thighs and her legs seem to run on for days. 

She's so beautiful, unfairly so, and you're so nervous about being here with her because you can still feel the imprint of her lips on yours from the forbidden kiss you shared just hours ago. 

"Is everything alright?" She asks as she tucks her hair behind an ear shyly, probably after noticing you staring at her legs. 

"Right." You take a deep breath and focus on looking at her face. "Nat sent a message."

"What did she say?" She rushes to ask you and all awkwardness disappears, and she's Natasha's wife. 

"They're okay but they can't communicate properly. They're safe and they won't be back for at least a whole month."

"She's safe?" She asks with a subtle nod of her head as if to reassure herself. 

"She's safe." You still answer because it looks like she needs to hear it.

You're intently observing her, so you notice the exact moment in which she remembers you, and her eyes widen. You think she considers apologizing, but you both know that she has nothing to apologize to you for. 

"I'm gonna go," you tell her, but she grabs your arm before you can turn around.

"Wait," she says. "Stay for a bit. Let's talk."

It's only when you're sitting in one of the three couches inside that you realize that you'll never be able to tell her no. Not that you mind at the moment, but you do find yourself thinking that maybe that's a dangerous trait to have with her, especially since she's a married woman.  

You watch her pouring wine in two tall glasses in silence, perhaps considering what she should say and do, and you take the chance to look around a little bit. 

The room is bigger than yours, it's almost like a small one-bedroom apartment. It has a little living room area, a bar in the corner stuck with several bottles of wine and vodka, a small library to the left of the ensuite, and of course, the king-sized bed against the back wall. 

"Here." She hands you a glass, and you take an immediate sip if only to busy yourself with something. 

"You really like your chardonnay, huh?"

"You like it too," she says matter of factly, and you smile in response. "Don't deny it."

"Wine it's kind of our thing now. I do like it." You nod as she sits in front of you on the loveseat. 

She breathes in as if she's about to tell you something, but she's at a loss, and you hate to see her conflicted. 

"Wanda," you call her, and she looks up. "This doesn't have to mean anything."

"I know," she says, cutting you off. "I know it doesn't have to mean anything, but I was thinking -"

She trails off, and she's not looking at you. She's staring at the glass of wine in her hands as a small crinkle appears on her forehead. 

"I was thinking," she says again, and she looks back up. Her eyes lock you in as she rests her elbow on the armrest, and you're ridiculously entranced by her and the way she touches her lips softly, her eyes still on you. "Maybe it can mean something after all."

You're so caught up with watching her lips that it takes you a couple of seconds to register what she just said. 

"What?" You ask her, and it feels as if you were in a daze. 

She doesn't say anything for a beat, and you wait as she drinks her wine and puts her glass down before standing up and walking over to you. 

You're aware that you're practically frozen to your spot, but you don't really care about anything but her at this moment. 

When she sits next to you, she's nervous, you can easily pick up on her anxiousness, but when she takes the glass from your hands and sets it aside, her hands are barely shaking.

"Wanda." You gasp when she doesn't let go of your hand, and she moves to sit closer to you, on her side, her leg tucked under as she looks into your eyes. 

"You think it can mean something, for now?" She asks, and you lose your breath, thinking that maybe you're imagining all of this. 

But seeing into her eyes, you're more sure than ever before that you can't say no to her, not even for this, for what you believe she's asking of you. 

You nod softly but without a doubt that you want her. Whatever she wants to give, you want it. 

She smiles timidly but what she does next is the complete opposite. She's still holding your hand, and when she moves it, you're still looking into her eyes. 

She leads your hand between her legs, letting you feel the soft skin of her thighs before you realize that she's not wearing anything beneath that t-shirt. 

You quickly realize that whatever will happen between the two of you will not be pretty. The second you feel how wet she is, the thought comes to you, and you know you'll end up hurt and devastated from whatever happens. 

Still, that first touch of her makes her whimper softly and her hips back into your hand as her thighs fall open, spreading herself wide for you. And that whimper, that little breathy whimper she lets out, imprisons you. 

She's holding onto your wrist as you run your fingers down her slit, only to gather her wetness before running them back up to graze her clit, making her gasp and feel as if she can't breathe. 

Hot desire coils in your belly with the sounds she's making, and you begin to throb in your own craving to be touched back. 

She closes her eyes when she can no longer keep them on you, and you find yourself gasping for breath too. 

You quickly move, falling to the ground on your knees and taking your hand back. That makes her open her eyes in a frenzy, only to find you kneeling right in front of her. 

You pull her towards the edge, hands on her bare waist, and since she's not really wearing anything between her legs. Getting there with your mouth is not a difficult task at all. 

You kiss her thighs first, and her breathing turns erratic, her hands touch your shoulders, your hands, she pulls lightly at your hair, and you smile to yourself. 

When you finally put your mouth on her, you feel her tensing, and you take in a moment to take it all in. 

This is happening, you're really here, and this is happening. 

You lick a path down her slit before pressing your tongue against her opening, hard and bringing your tongue back up. Her hips buck, and she's gripping your hair hard, even more so when your tongue finds her clit, and you round it before sucking on it. 

She's too worked up, she was already wet when you first touched her, and it only takes you a couple of minutes to make her cum in your mouth. 

You feel it happening slowly, her body comes to a halt, and she seems to stop breathing, and these delicious tiny whimpers leave her parted lips, over and over again. 

You kiss her thighs, your hands still holding onto her waist under the t-shirt, but it only takes her a moment to pull herself back together, and then she's pulling you towards her to kiss you fully and ardently. 

She wraps her arms around you as you kiss her with bruising enthusiasm, and you push your hips between her legs, making her wrap her legs around you before standing up. 

You don't stop kissing, and she's surprisingly light to lift. You walk blindly to her bed, and when you fall on top of her in the soft mattress, she laughs as you pull back slightly. 

"You're a great kisser," she says with a glint in her eyes and raw kissed pink lips. Something about the moment makes you want to freeze it, save the look in her eyes in your memory forever. 

"Wanda," you say her name, and she kisses you again. 

This time she pulls at your sleeping shirt until you sit up and take it off completely before attaching your lips to her neck.

She moans when your hips buck against hers, and you're cupping her breasts, sucking on her neck, and pushing your hips against hers when she runs her nails down your back, scratching you lightly, and you have to pull back. 

The sensation of her nails on your back have you losing your breath. You're shivering even as she smiles at you and sits up in front of you. 

With a light push, she has you on your back, her hands pulling down your sleeping pants and panties without preamble. 

"You okay?" She asks you as she throws your clothes to the floor, and you sit up too. 

"Yes," you tell her, and although you're starting to feel like you can't breathe, you really do feel okay. 

"You sure?" She asks in a whisper as she pushes you lightly again, and she lays on top of you. 

You gasp in a breath when you feel her naked body pressing against yours. Her breasts, her belly, her legs, and her lips kissing the corner of your lips as she waits for an answer. 

"I'm sure." You nod, and she kisses you hungrily. There's no build-up for this kiss, just underrated want, and you respond in kind. 

You try to keep your eyes open as she kisses every inch of your body, and as she squeezes your breasts before taking a nipple in her mouth, you begin to believe that you might not make it out alive. 

It's a ridiculous thought, of course, but she's everything you've ever wanted, and having her do these ungodly things to you is slowly driving you insane. And when she's planting delicate kisses on your belly, her hands spreading your legs for her, you truly believe that you might pass out. 

Instead, you watch her lick a path down your navel and then her tongue disappearing between your folds, and the sensation of her wet hot breath coming in contact with your heat makes you shiver and buck your hips involuntarily. 

She chuckles lightly, her hands coming to grip your hips to keep them in place, and you feel yourself blushing. 

"I haven't even started yet." She smiles, but she doesn't let you speak before her mouth is once again in you, her tongue dipping and forcing itself inside of you. 

She's so warm, her tongue so skilled, and you find yourself cumming much faster than you ever thought you would. 

You keep your eyes closed as a tidal wave of blinding pleasure washes over you. You feel her pressing her lips on your thighs, her hands on your waist, and then she removes herself completely from you. 

You hear her bathroom door close, and you let out a deep breath. 

Not knowing what to do until she gets back, you pick up your clothes and get dressed quickly. You don't know what to do or what to think once you're fully dressed again. 

Was this a one-time thing? Is she freaking out in the bathroom? Is she waiting for you to leave? 

What does it mean?

"Hey," she says, and you haven't noticed the bathroom door opening. You didn't even see her coming out. 

"Hey," you say it back, and she's wearing a top now and a pair of sweats. 

God! She's still the most beautiful woman you've ever seen, and you're pretty sure that you're in love with her, irrevocably so, but she's still married, and you still did something wrong here. 

"Sorry, I just needed to use the bathroom." She says with an awkward smile. She's picked up her hair in a messy ponytail, and it looks like she's washed her face, and all you want to do is walk up to her and kiss her again. 

"It's okay," you tell her. "I should go anyway." You say, and she walks up to you slowly, as if she's expecting you to bolt, and she's biting her bottom lip in a way that to you is now so intimate. 

"I'm not throwing you out," she says, and before you know how to properly react, her hands are on your shoulders, running up to your neck and down again. 

Her touch has an instant effect on you, and you don't know how she does it. You don't know how she can have this much power over you, over your body, and over the way you react to her, mentally and physically. 

You feel yourself relax, the tension on your shoulders dropping with each stroke of her hands, and the doubts that were swirling in your head quiet down the longer she looks at you with her big rounded eyes. 

"You can stay. You should, actually." She says with humor, and you smile, your hands coming to rest on her waist instinctively. "You don't want me to think you regret this, don't you?"

"I don't." You shake your head. "I don't regret it."

"Good," she says. "Neither do I."

… 

[not-magdi]

Media Intern - Pt.1

Summary: Getting accepted at her dream job at FC Barcelona and starting a new journey that can lead her god nows where.

Warnings: None

Words: 1.3

Part 2

Deciding to study Sports Management, Y/N stood before the decision on which University she should study. Not having a single idea where she wanted to go she just sent applications to the five most attractive looking universities. These being the Universidad de Barcelona, the LUNEX University in Luxembourg, and three more in France and Austria, and England. 

After getting cancellations from three out of the five Universities she had to decide between Barcelona and England. After thinking for a long time she decided that she wanted to study in Barcelona, preferring the hot Spanish weather over the rainy English one. 

This leads her to now, after finding an apartment near campus and packing all her things to move to Spain she now is in the middle of her second semester. 

Starting to search for a roommate shortly into the first semester, after realizing that Barcelona is freaking expensive and paying for everything alone is impossible. Surprisingly just one hour after posting her offer online someone answered. 

Carmen Sanchez, 19 years old studying International Marketing. After meeting up and clicking immediately they ended up as roommates. 

Y/N was happy she was now not as alone anymore, having someone there when you come home has something comforting while living so far away from your home country. 

Now in the middle of her second semester, Y/N's desk was full of piles of books and folders, needing to study for various exams and projects she has to hand in, in the next few weeks. 

Finishing her last course of the day Y/N is about to head home as her professor stops her, "Y/N... wait a second, please." Turning around Y/N comes to a halt turning around to see her professor going up to her with a smile on his face. 

"Hello, Professor what can I do for you?" asking him as he stops in front of her fishing a little folder out of his bag. 

"Oh, nothing ... I just got this job offer from FC Barcelona, my cousin works there and sent me this. They are searching for an intern in their social media department. She sent it to me asking if one of my students would maybe be interested, and I thought of you." 

Handing her the folder she opens it, seeing the details of the offer. She once told him that she searches for a job as affording school supplies is really expensive and her savings are slowly coming to an end. 

"Thank you professor ... I will definitely look into it. " Y/N told him and put the folder into her bag trying not to freak out. 

"Please do that ... I think something like this would really fit you and benefit your studies. That's all, I just wanted to give you the folder. Hope you have a nice evening ... bye Y/N" waving him goodbye, Y/N continued her way home, the offer from Barcelona the only thing on her mind.

Football has always been a passion of Y/N, starting to watch it with her dad every Sunday and loving it just as much as him. 

Y/N always admired the reporters who got to travel around the world and getting to comment on the sport they love. Wanting to be just like them, Y/N worked her ass off to be able to study Sports Management and now getting this offer, Y/N was over the moon. 

Opening the front door she searched for Carmen to tell her the news, "Carmen where are you ... you can never guess what Professor Cruz just gave me !" Running into their living room she spots Carmen on the couch with her laptop on her lap. 

"What did he give you?", looking up from her laptop she chuckles at Y/N's excited behavior.

Jumping beside Carmen on the couch she pulls the folder out of her bag showing it to her. "Look ... it's a job offer from THE FUCKING FC BARCELONA!" Y/N tells Carmen squealing the last part.

"OMG really ... that's so cool. Please tell me you already sent something to them." 

Y/N looks at her, "No ... he gave me that thing thirty minutes ago, should I have done it while walking home?" Raising an eyebrow at Carmen she continues. "I wanted to do it now but I have no clue what I should write them, I think 'Hey I'm Y/N, I love football I have no clue what I should do at your club, and would really like the job' won't bring me in" 

"See this is why you have me ... you didnt even read the folder because if you would have read it, you would have seen that they gave you an exact list of what they want to know about you" 

Giving her the paper, Carmen closes the project she has been working on her laptop and opens an empty Word document. 

"They want my Instagram name too?" looking surprised Y/N looks at Carmen, "Why would they want that?" 

"They want to see what you post and if you could damage the image of the Club ... we had that last week in one of my courses. That's something many companies now do, most of the time big and famous companies, like FC Barcelona. These days something like that is mandatory." Carmen tells her. 

"Wow, that's kind of scary" speaks Y/N as she turns the page around.

"Yeah it kind of is ... but now let's go to work, let's start with your CV" Carmen takes the folder and looks at what the first thing on the list is. "They want to know what my work experience is ..."

It took them solid three hours and five Red Bulls but they're done. Before them now lays a complete CV with as many details as they could put into it, a Photo of Y/N, and a recommendation from Professor Cruz, ready to be sent. 

"You ready?" Carmen looks at Y/N, who holds her trembling finger over the sent button. 

"Y-yes ... I think so?", taking a deep breath she presses the send button and closes her eyes. 

Your application was successfully sent. 

"Omg ... I can't believe I just did that ... I think I need a beer", chuckling Carmen looks at her and adds, "Please bring me one too ... they have no choice but to accept you with that bomb CV we just wrote." 

Laughing Y/N stands up and goes to the kitchen to grab them a beer, they sat on the couch cuddled together watching TV until they both fell asleep. 

Y/N hasn't heard anything from them for several days, she slowly started to think she didn't get the job, so she tried to ignore it as best as possible, distracting herself with coursework and projects.

Currently walking home after having to do the shopping today Y/N felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Pulling it out her mouth fell open, they replied they really replied! Wanting to open it together with Carmen she started to walk home as fast as she could but was too impatient in the end. Opening the Email in the hallway of her apartment building. 

Dear Y/N Y/L/N,

We are happy to inform you that we choose you as our new Intern at th-

She got it, she really got the job!

Y/N read the mail over and over again, she started to believe it after the about sixteenth time. Running to her apartment as fast as she could, only tripping once she kicked the door open and shouting at Carmen. 

"I got the job! Carmen, they said yes ... I'm going to work at THE FC BARCELONA!"

[ejzah]

A/N: Well, after more than two years, this story is slowly coming to a close.

***

In Miss Blye’s Class, Part 37

The start of summer break meant more late nights and juggling of the different schedules. Deeks tried not to leave Caleb with his sitter too often, so he took him to the office whenever possible. When she wasn’t teaching college classes, Kensi also offered to stay with Caleb some of the time, insisting that it wouldnt be any trouble.

They spent the majority of their time outside of work together. More often than not, Kensi ended up at Deeks’ house, but she was getting a little more comfortable with letting him into her apartment, messiness aside.

Today, Deeks had a late meeting with a new client that kept him in the office until after six. He knew Caleb was fine and perfectly happy with Kensi, but he missed them both.

“Wow, you really are whipped, aren’t you?” Talia mused, when she found him hurriedly packing up his bag. As usual, she made herself at home, plopping in his desk chair.

“Yep. You jealous?”

“As if.” She scoffed at the suggestion, but Deeks noticed she shifted a little uncomfortably.

“That reminds me, how are things going with Sabatino? I heard he took you to that swanky little Japanese place,” Deeks said.

“Oh no, we are not talking about my love life.”

“Which implies that there’s a love life to talk about.”

“God, I hate lawyers,” she sighed. “So, what are you and the teacher doing tonight?”

“You could call her Kensi, you know,” Deeks reminded her without any heat.

“Eh, that’s no fun.”

“We’re going to a movie in the park. They’ve got some food trucks around and free popcorn. Caleb’s super excited.”

“How domestic,” Talia drawled.

“You’re welcome to come if you want,” Deeks offered. He imagined Talia sitting on a blanket in the grass and nearly snorted.

“Thanks, but I’m more of a IMAX kind of girl.” Tilting her head, she gave him a genuine smile. “You know, I don’t usually do the whole sappy, lovey-dovey thing—”

“Oh and here I thought the tongue girl thing was just an act,” he interrupted, and she flashed him a scowl, jabbing her finger at him.

“Hush. I’m being genuine here.” Without missing a beat, she continued, “I’m glad that you found someone who makes you this happy. You and Caleb deserve it.”

“Well, thanks, Talia.”

“Not to mention, I was getting really sick of your mopey, single father act.”

“As always, I feel so loved,” he said, slipping the strap of his bag over his head and settling it firmly on his shoulder. “See you later.”

***

The park was pretty full by the time Kensi, Deeks, and Caleb got themselves together, but they managed to find a nice square of grass to lay a blanket on and a couple chair. Predictably, Caleb has zero interest in staying put or the snacks Deeks had packed. He’d already eaten a taco, cheese sticks, and a snow cone and now was running back and forth at the back of the plot with a couple of other children.

He glanced over at Kensi, who sat cross-legged, her knee brushing against his, steadily working her way through a bag of trail mix. She dropped her head on his shoulder, tracking Caleb’s progress across the ground. He tumbled to the ground with an overly dramatic grunt and giggled when one of his new friends fell on top of him.

“You think he’ll make it to the movie?” she asked.

“Eh, I give it 50/50 odds. Especially if the sugar crash kicks in soon.”

“If he does fall asleep, then we can snuggle.”

“Nothing stopping us from snuggling now,” Deeks said. Wrapping his arms around Kensi’s waist, he fell back, taking her with him. Kensi went easily, tucking her legs through his and wriggling closer.

“Mm, this is nice,” she sighed. “I’m glad we don’t have to worry about someone seeing us and getting upset.”

“Yeah, you don’t want to mess with those PTO ladies,” he joked, and he felt Kensi snort against his cheek.

“Oh yeah, they’re terrifying.” She kissed the edge of his jaw. “You had those women eating out of your hands.” Deeks shrugged modestly at the assessment.

Moving around, Kensi made herself comfortable on his chest. Deeks closed his eyes, basking in the moment.

“How was class today?” he asked, eyes still closed. She’d just started a new section that would last eight weeks long, along with two other sections that ran for the majority of the summer.

“I have three students who could probably teach the class better than me, a bunch of athletic kids who have zero interest in learning Spanish during the summer, and then a handful who either seem genuinely engaged or at least want to pass,” Kensi answered.

He opened his eyes so he could look down at the top of Kensi’s head.

“Hey, don’t group all the athletic kids together. I played hockey and basketball in high school and I loved my foreign language class.”

Without lifting her head, Kensi added, “One of the football players fell asleep five minutes in and another tried to sneak in during the last five minutes just so he could take the quiz.”

“Ok, maybe they’re not the most dedicated of students,” Deeks allowed with a chuckle. “Are you still enjoying it at least?”

“Yes.” Kensi nodded into his shoulder. “Plus there’s the added benefit of getting paid.”

“Always nice.”

“How was the visitation yesterday? Caleb told me you were all going to a museum, but I didn’t get a chance to ask him about it today,” Kensi said.

Deeks sighed, his good mood slightly dampened by the mention of Monica.

According to their updated visitation contract, Monica had shown up at the library at the first week exactly at the time they’d agreed on beforehand. The entire visit, she’d been pleasant and engaged with Caleb, and he seemed to sincerely enjoy himself. However, Deeks had the sense she’d been trying to prove something as well. Or maybe that was just his bias and bitterness speaking. The next visit, she’d been 20 minutes late and the most recent one…

“She didn’t come.”

Kensi pushed up on his chest and gave him an incredulous look.

“I know,” he said, interpreting her expression. Even though he’d known it could be a possibility, he’d still be furious when they waited over an hour before she finally sent a short text saying she couldn’t make it.

“How was Caleb?”

“He seems to take it alright.” Deeks shrugged and shook his head, eyes flicking to Caleb playing. “I mean, he was disappointed at first, but after a little bit, he said he’d seen her another time. I did offer to let her come tomorrow instead, but she hasn’t responded yet.”

“I can’t believe it.” He heard the anger he felt in her voice. She snaked an arm up his chest to cup his cheek. “I’m sorry. Are you ok?”

“Yeah. I was furious in the moment. Now,” he shrugged. “I’m reigned to who Monica is. I can’t change that. I just hope Caleb doesn’t get too confused.”

“We’ll take it one day at a time,” Kensi said. He rolled her use of “we” around in his head, the thought of them working together as a unit, and smiled.

“I like the sound of that,” he murmured, kissing the side of Kensi’s head.

A few minutes later, the opening credits of the movie started, and Caleb made his way back to their blanket. He threw himself on top of them, wedging his little body between them.

“Oof, call your shots, kiddo!”

They rearranged themselves into a more comfortable configuration, settling down to watch the movie. With one arm behind Kensi’s back, and Caleb snuggled firmly between them, he knew this was true happiness.

[jungle-angel]

Midnight Ride (Ben Mears x Reader)

Summary: The coven gets some help on a night hunt from a rather unconventional creature

Warnings: Parenthood

Tagging: @floydsmuse @attapullman @lewinblue @sorchathered @rhettabbotts @sebsxphia

"Alright, we're movin out," Ben announced.

Everybody geared up with their hunting backpacks, jackets and loaded them with whatever weapons they would be needing that night. Randy had just been put to bed and Mabel had offered to stay with Mrs. Mayberry, Mrs. Curless and Loretta Starcher to watch him and yours and Ben's newborn son. Better to have three people holding down the fort than just one.

You and Ben snuck up to the nursery where Baby Sean was sleeping soundly in his crib. He barely stirred, just wriggling a little bit in the tight swaddle of his knitted blanket. You still couldn't believe how much joy he had brought to the household already, only home for a day but already he had the whole coven wrapped around his little fingers.

Ben kissed Sean's delicate little head and his soft little cheeks, the baby wriggling a little bit. "Shhhhh, go back to sleep," he whispered. "Go back to sleep. We'll see you in the morning."

You kissed your son and then your husband before heading back downstairs to pack the rest of your bags for the night. Father Callahan gathered everybody around him, their hands linked as everyone began to pray the Our Father and then repeated back The Oath Of The Hunters.

"Night has fallen and our watch begins," the coven said, all as if with one voice. "We leave our home and all therein. Into certain danger we go running, evil and darkness beware for we are coming. To The angels, the saints, the gods of new and old, in your hands do we place our souls. Let no fear of darkness deep, disturb our peaceful sleep. Keep us safe from all harmful things and keep us safe beneath the angels' wings."

And with that, they packed up the last few things and headed out into the night.

The night was still young with the full moon hanging over the woods and illuminating the path for them. Other members of the coven soon started to arrive from their own houses along with a bunch of the neighborhood kids. Mark's gang of goonies had readily joined them, their backpacks completely emptied of their school books and supplies, while within were pouches of garlic and wild roses, wooden stakes and weapons that most fifth graders could carry easily.

The chatterings of whippoorwills and the hooting of owls in the trees filled the wooded roads with an eeriness that only those of the lot were truly familiar with. The weather was getting much, much colder already and soon, winter would be right around the corner with far and fewer hunts than in the fall.

"Man this is freaking me out," Ben remarked. "S'like something straight outta Bram Stoker."

"Yeah well, pretty sure Stoker enjoyed himself a little too much here," Matt Burke chuckled.

Mike Ryerson dug around in his pocket and then in the front pocket of his fiancé, Lucy Mahoney's backpack. "Baby what are ya'll doin?" she asked, her thick Tennessee drawl drawing out the words.

"I just realized where we are," Mike giggled a little.

You and Ben looked at each other and then the realization hit you. The smiles that came across your faces said it all.

"You gonna do that thing you do?" you asked Mike.

"Aw hell yeah," he chuckled.

Mike grabbed his dad's mixtape player and stuck the small tape in it, pressing the play button and turning the volume up as loud as it could possibly go. You, Ben and the others couldn't help but bob along to the music as Redbone's "Come And Get Your Love" started playing from the speakers.

Not a single member of that coven could help themselves, all of them laughing and singing along in the most off-key ways possible, belting out the refrain as loud as their voices could carry. Even Father Callahan had proved he was a damn good singer.

Everyone's voices echoed through the trees and across the rocks, over the crick and around the steep gullies deeper in the woods. You were all caught up in the reverie, singing along to the words and hardly noticing the thunderous vibrations that were floating along the ground.

"He's coming!!" Mark shouted excitedly.

As soon as the song had ended, everyone stopped and fell completely silent. The wind whistled through the ancient trees as something rumbled and crashed through the woods, the fallen logs and dead aspens, oaks and ash cracked and snapped like twigs.

Out of the foliage came an old friend, huge and shaggy like a musk ox but with big curving horns that reminded you and Ben of the helmets worn by characters in some campy dark fantasy movie. His eyes were grumpy looking along with his tremendous underbite and deep growly groan.

He sniffed Matt first and then you and Ben before Ben gave him a few scritches on his snout. "How goes Harry?" he chuckled.

Harry snorted and tossed his head, signaling for everyone to climb on his back, patiently waiting until everyone was aboard. He took off at a tremendous speed through the woods, galloping like some gigantic horse while everyone held on for dear life.

"We having fun yet?!" Father Callahan called out.

"Oh sure, didn't think I'd be spending a Friday night like this!" Parkins answered back, hanging onto Harry's shaggy fur for dear life.

You and Ben laughed as Harry galloped off into the woods. Your hunt had just gotten a million times easier.