#((because it was the first shirt on top of the stack in your suitcase and suddenly every scareactor in the place))

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

At Emily's earnest praise of his handiwork, Randall blushed and shyly averted his gaze with a shy, humbled smile, while the Gracey's exchanged smiles of their own at this: Given his skill with a needle and thread, and his eye for color and details, Randall ensured that he and his wife were a formidable duo when it came to style, and both Dorian and Elizabeth were delighted to have their oldest and dearest friends as their fashion rivals. All in good fun, of course-especially when it came to holidays like All Hallows Eve.

"Y'know, I'm thinking those are fighting words," Dorian chuckled playfully, as Randall grinned back at him a little, "They just might be! You want to accept that challenge, Dori?"

"Challenge accepted!" the master of the house mirrored the look as he shook his best friend's hand vigorously: While Randall was working hard on his quartet of Addams Family costumes for himself, Emily, and the children (his parents politely declined to join in the theme, instead planning on their own separate costumes), Dorian and Elizabeth had put their heads together and planned on a lavish Egyptian theme for their costumes, a pair of romantic royals entombed together-Dorian wondered if anyone would appreciate their wordplay on the word "mummy"...

But he kept that to himself-it had been a struggle, keeping all of this under wraps (oh dear, it sounded like he'd been spending too much time with Beau again...), but it wouldn't be long before the truth would come out, and both he and Lizzie sincerely looked forward to it. He liked to imagine it would be a much-welcomed surprise when they decided to announce it-he wasn't sure who'd be more excited to hear it, Randall and Emily, or Lon and Erika...

[440mxs-wife]

The Country Doctor, Chapter 2: Getting Moved In

Pairing: Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy x F!Reader (eventual). Other Characters are the usual suspects: Jim Kirk, Nyota Uhura. Spock, Montgomery Scott, Hikaru Sulu, and Pavel Chekov. OMC's Travis Myers and Miles Cooper.

Word Count: 4549

Warnings: Divorce, break-up, ruthless businessmen, mentions of infidelity, but still somewhat fluffy (for now), with an introduction of our supporting cast of characters

Summary: Fresh off of his divorce, Dr. McCoy receives word that he has inherited a 5,000-acre farm and home in Logan, Montana. Finally, he has an opportunity for a clean slate and to start his own clinic out west and leave his ex-wife behind. Along the way, he'll meet a cast of unique characters, each with a place in his new small-town life. But there could be trouble ahead in the form of a powerful CEO hell-bent on acquiring Leonard's property by any means necessary.

A/N: This idea was posted by @hailbop1701, with a specific list of plot points/dialog to be included. I won't put the list here, because it'll give away too much. Not sure how many parts there'll be, but I hope you like where I take the story.

A/N 2: If you’ve been tagged here, it’s because you’ve interacted one or more times on a McCoy story of mine, or we’re moots. Whether you like or reblog, I am eternally grateful for your support. If anyone else would like to be tagged on any future Karl Urban character postings, or would rather leave the Crazy Train, please let me know. Thank you, and enjoy the show!

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After your nickel tour, you and Leonard had time to unpack a few boxes before the pizza arrived. Each bathroom was now outfitted with clean, folded towels and a fresh roll of toilet paper on the holder. He had claimed the master bedroom and in the ensuite bathroom, you put his toothbrush into a cup next to the sink. The kitchen was next, with the dinnerware and cookware all neatly stacked in the cupboards, then the silverware sorted by type in the drawer.

Next, you rolled Leonard's suitcases down the hall to his room and stopped in front of the closet. You placed the largest one on the seat of the chair near the window and rolled the other to a stop beside it. When you unzipped the first one, a wave of cologne was released. The concentrated and distinctly male scent should've knocked you over, but it didn't. It wasn't unpleasant, rather, it enveloped you in a warmth you'd been missing since before the break-up with Travis.

Leonard approached the open door of his bedroom in time to see you examining the contents of the open suitcase. He quietly observed as you smiled and slowly brushed your hand over the neatly folded T-shirts. Most of his shirts were of solid colors, like black, white, or gray for wearing under his scrubs at work. Though he wondered how you'd appreciate the humor in his shirts that had clever quips or if you'd question his musical taste from past concerts. 

He leaned against the doorframe and watched as you picked up a stack then carefully placed them in the top right dresser drawer. While you transferred the contents of his suitcase to their respective drawers, his ears perked up at the song you were humming under your breath. Even though he'd told Kirk his only interest was "doctorin'", you were certainly testing his resolve. He was intrigued by the sway of your hips as you moved around the room.

As you turned around to swap one suitcase for the other, your eyes landed on Leonard, whose lips were tugged into a wry grin. You stopped with a yelp of surprise and clutched a hand to your chest. "Dr. McCoy, um, how long have you been standing there?" you gasped.

He pushed himself off of the doorframe and walked over to the suitcases on the floor. "Not long, I came by to let you know that Jim and Nyota are back with pizza. Time to take a break, then after dinner, we can tackle whatever unpacking we have left," he remarked, holding out a hand for you to take.

"Are you sure? There doesn't look to be too much left to unpack. How about I finish up this last little bit, then I can join you all after I'm done," you offered.

"Nah, it's break time. I promise this will all be waiting for us after we have some food, darlin'," he drawled, the endearment slipping out effortlessly. "Besides, I'll bet you haven't eaten much of anything since you and your friend drove out here."

As if on cue, your stomach grumbled loudly in response, bringing a flash of heat to your cheeks at the noise. "Sorry about that, Dr. McCoy," you giggled nervously.

Leonard shook his head in amusement. "Nothin' to be sorry for, and you can call me 'Leonard', since we're gonna be working together. No need to be formal," he winked.

Another rush of heat hit your cheeks, but this time it was for a different reason. Under other circumstances, you might have thought Dr. McCoy was flirting with you. However, you knew he was only being friendly and wanted to start the working relationship on a good note. You pushed these thoughts aside and invited him to call you by your first name as well. Then you slid your hand into his outstretched one and walked together out to the dining room.

***

As soon as the smell of the freshly baked pizzas hit your nostrils, your stomach growled again from hunger. Your first two slices were gone in nothing flat, much to your chagrin, but to the amusement of the others. You smiled sheepishly and acknowledged that perhaps you were more famished than you realized, which caused a renewed round of laughter. Another slice found its way onto your plate, this time with a thick crust and extra cheese.

Though the dining table had been put in its place, the surface was covered in moving boxes. The four of you made do by sitting on the floor, each with a moving box as a makeshift table. While everyone was enjoying the indoor picnic, you and Uhura brought the other two up to speed on the town.

You pointed out that Leonard's first connection should be with Mr. Spock, the pharmacist. "He manages Mountain Vista Pharmacy, so all of your prescriptions will run through him," you explained. "He has a somewhat....dry sense of humor, but he knows his stuff."

Uhura promised that at some point, she would introduce Jim and Leonard to Guinan, the bartender at The Tenth Avenue Pub. "She runs a tight ship, but insists that she just 'tends bar, and she listens'", she commented with a slight roll of her eyes. "Also, if you ever want to do any landscaping out here, like flowers or trees, or some gardening, you'll want to see Mr. Hikaru Sulu. He runs the plant nursery called, 'Ev'ry Bloomin' Thing', and can tell you what will grow best out here."

Jim chuckled. "It's a little late in the season for that and I'm not sure that's our forté. Still, it's good to know," he remarked, while Leonard nodded in agreement.

"And with any repairs or remodels of what you want to do with this house, Montgomery Scott will be your go-to for that," you mentioned. "We call him 'The Miracle Worker', because of his vast knowledge of how to fix almost everything with nearly nothing."

Leonard and Jim nodded as they ate, taking in the wealth of information you and Nyota provided. Soon there were only a few slices of pizza remaining in the boxes, which were later tucked away in the refrigerator. After the dinner remnants were cleared away, you resumed the unpacking in Leonard's room.

Once both suitcases were empty, you stowed them in the closet and moved on to the next room. By this time, the linens had been located and it was time to make the beds. You and Leonard put the sheets and blankets on his bed, while Jim and Uhura did the same in his room. It was close to midnight when you decided to call it a night.

The men thanked you and insisted that they could handle the rest of the unpacking, what little of it remained. Before you departed, you arranged to start working for Leonard on Monday at 9:00 a.m. "I'll bring the coffee," you promised. He let you know how he takes it, to which you responded with a nod and an assuring smile. As Uhura drove away, you stuck your hand out the open window and waved goodbye to your new friends.

***

That first Monday marked your debut with the Homestead Health Clinic, as it came to be known. As the weeks turned into months, you and Leonard settled into a good working routine. You handled the front office duties, while Dr. McCoy took care of the patients. Jim worked on the house, making frequent trips to see Mr. Scott at his shop, called "The Tool Box".

With your three-month probationary period completed, you were made a full-fledged member of the staff. A formality, really, because you ran the front office not only with efficiency, but with charm and grace. You always had coloring book pages available to entertain the children or the occasional parent who needed a break from a hectic day. Your candy dish held a variety of sweets; however, the one rule was that any kid had to get permission before taking a piece.

Most of your time with Leonard was spent in a professional setting, leaving you to wonder what he was like outside of work. What his favorite drink was, what kind of music he liked, was he always this tightly wound or did he relax at any point. Jim would have the answers to these questions, but there was no way you wanted to ask him because he'd want to know why. You weren't exactly prepared to answer him at this point, so you kept your questions to yourself for now.

>>>

"There you are, Mrs. Henderson, all set," you assured her. "Here's your after-care summary, and your prescriptions will be waiting for you at the pharmacy. Do you have any questions, or is there anything else you need?" you asked.

"No, dear, thank you. Dr. McCoy explained everything perfectly for me," she replied. "Now all I have to do is pick up my meds and figure out what to have for dinner besides chicken nuggets," she noted with a weary sigh. "I'm afraid that one more night of that and my kids will be chicken nuggets."

You chuckled lightly at her response, then offered some ideas for her to consider in place of the breaded chicken. Most of them were favorites from your childhood, such as macaroni and cheese, with diced ham or hot dogs in it. "That way, they'll get something other than bite-sized chicken pieces," you suggested.

"That's a great idea, thank you so much, my dear," she gushed. "It's so wonderful to have a doctor in the area again, and I'm glad that he has you to keep things running smoothly."

"Thank you very much. You're kind to say that, though I'm sure Dr. McCoy would do all right around here without me. He's very good at what he does, and I can tell he truly cares about the health and well-being of his patients," you remarked.

Little did you know, but the man to whom you were referring had just walked around the corner and heard you say his name aloud. His curiosity piqued, he wondered what other comments you might make about him. A soft smile crossed his face at your remark assuring Mrs. Henderson that he could get along just fine without you. Maybe, but it wouldn't be as fun or enjoyable around the office, and he would miss seeing your beautiful face. Wait--what? he thought as he turned his attention back to your conversation.

"You know, I have a cousin who's about your age, I should introduce you. He's around 6'3" tall, with an athletic build, wavy brown hair, green eyes. Very swoonworthy, my dear," she mentioned.

A nervous giggle escaped your lips. "Ha ha, well, Mrs. Henderson, I'm sure he's a lovely fellow. It's just that I kind of have my eye on someone at the moment, only he doesn't know that. However, if I change my mind, I promise you'll be the first person I call," you assured her.

With a conspiratorial wink and a goodbye wave, Mrs. Henderson sauntered out the door of the clinic. You breathed a sigh of relief and dropped your head into your hands, elbows resting on your desk.

Leonard observed from where he was leaning against the wall in the hallway. You were interested in someone? Whoever he is, he was lucky to have your attention, even if he was too blind to notice. He started to ponder what kind of chance he may have with you, then shook his head to clear the notion. After Jocelyn, he was reluctant to get involved with another woman so soon. But these past few months of being around you have had him reconsidering his stance and possibly testing the waters.

***

"Did you get Mrs. Henderson squared away?" Dr. McCoy's voice startled from behind, your head jerking up out of your hands.

You cleared your throat to try and regain your composure. "Um, yes, all taken care of, Dr. McCoy. I let her know that her prescriptions had been called in with Mr. Spock and I reckon they should be ready by the time she gets back to town. I also gave her a couple of suggestions for her dinner that involve something other than chicken nuggets," you grinned.

"Something wholesome, I hope," he replied and laughed when you responded with a shrug. "Anything else?"

"Not at the moment, your patient roster is clear for the day, Dr. McCoy. I have some data entry left to do, a bit of paperwork to file, then I'm done," you explained. "Unless there's something else you need me to do before I head out for the weekend?"

Leonard shook his head and watched as you organized your paperwork and prepared to begin the data entry. "Tell you what--how about you leave the paperwork and stuff for Monday? That way, we can have a bite to eat at the Java Station Café. Jim's busy tonight, and I don't really feel like cooking for just me, especially on a Friday. Would you care to join me?" he asked. "Unless you already have plans," he added hastily.

You looked up from your keyboard, mouth slightly open in surprise. A dinner invitation was the last thing you expected at the end of a busy week. Wait, if Jim's not joining us, does that make this....a date?? you pondered. Nah, he didn't mean it like that. Just two friends, catching a bite to eat, don't make a big deal about it, you admonished yourself. "No, no plans to speak of. Sounds great, we can leave right now, if you're ready."

He smiled and shuffled back to his office to drop off the papers in his hand, grab his jacket, and lock up for the night. When he returned, you had put your unfinished work in the file cabinet under lock and key. "Shall we?" He gestured towards the door with a tilt of his head.

Switching off your desk lamp, you stepped out from behind your desk and headed for the exit. As you passed him, you flashed Leonard a warm smile, which he returned. On the way out to your car, you could swear you felt the barest touch of his hand on your lower back. It was a comforting feeling, although you figured that it was likely automatic for him and his Southern gentlemanly ways. "Let's go," you smiled.

***

Dinner with Leonard was an interesting experience. The two of you took turns asking each other questions, mostly superficial in nature at first. As the night wore on, the subject matter got a little deeper, with Leonard mentioning his divorce from Jocelyn as his reason for moving from Georgia. In return, you shared details of your past with Travis and explained that leaving him in Bozeman brought you to the town of Logan.

"So that's why you left the big city to come here," he chuckled. "What was the final straw, if you don't mind me asking?"

You walked him through the events of the night you caught Travis cheating on you with his assistant, Brenda. How your friends helped you pack up and leave town so you could settle in Logan, where you used to live with your parents. "They're both gone now," you added softly, staring down at your hands resting on the table. "Thank goodness they didn't have to witness any of the drama with Travis."

Leonard reached over and covered your two smaller hands with his large one. "I'm sure if they could see you now, they'd be proud of the strong woman they raised," he affirmed.

A flash of heat bloomed on your cheeks at his compliment. "Thank you, I hope so," you gave him a watery chuckle then cleared your throat. "So, what's the story with your wooded estate? Has it been in your family for long?" you wondered.

He admired your curiosity and sat back in his chair as he wove the tale of his encounter with the attorney while he was still living in Georgia. "I didn't even know I had an Uncle Walter McCoy until the meeting with this attorney. I mean, I'm newly divorced, and the next thing I know, I'm walking out of a law office with the deed to an estate out West, in Montana."

"You should do some research on it, Leonard, find out its history. It's possible that it could be connected to someone famous. Ooh! Maybe Jesse James and his gang of outlaws used your house as a hideout once. Or, what if Wyatt Earp tracked some fugitive from the law to where he was hiding in your barn, and there was a big shootout," your eyes widened with each new possibility.

He couldn't help but shake his head in amusement at your wild theories of what events may have taken place on his land. He noticed how your eyes took on a sparkle as your excitement grew in your speculation about the history of his family's property. With his marriage to Jocelyn ending in divorce, his thoughts drifted to how different his life would've been if he'd met you first.

"Whoa, slow down there, darlin'," he chuckled, returning his focus to the conversation. "I'm sure there's nothin' quite that interesting going on, but I'll admit I'm curious."

"I think you should have an expert come out and survey the land. You never know, there could be gold in them thar hills," you jested.

"Might not be a bad idea. Before I ever came out here, some big shot company from out East offered me a good chunk of money to buy the place, lock, stock, and barrel," he mentioned. "I got the notion they weren't too happy that I turned them down."

"All the more reason to have the land surveyed, so you know what you've got and what it's worth. Although, with it being family land and all, I'd say it's more or less priceless," you remarked. "Out of curiosity, who wanted to buy this from you?"

"I believe it was NorthStar Corp," Leonard replied. "The paperwork came from the head guy's office, a man by the name of Miles Cooper."

You slowly digested this blurb of information, which had a ring of familiarity to it. While you were still with him, you remembered Travis mentioning NorthStar Corp. They were one of his biggest clients, and as such, he more or less reported directly to Miles Cooper. It has to be a coincidence, you thought.

"Hey." You felt the weight of Leonard's warm hands on yours, bringing you back to reality. "You okay there? Seems like you zoned out there for a minute," Leonard asked, a bit of concern in his voice.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry, I'm fine Len," you assured him, the nickname slipping out before you could stop it. "It's just...." and you proceeded to tell him what you remembered about NorthStar from when you were with Travis.

"You really think there's something on my land that they want and would stop at nothing to acquire?" he wondered.

"It doesn't hurt to have a surveyor look at it. NorthStar is ruthless, Leonard," you insisted. "The last person that wouldn't sell to them? They put pressure on his brother's business, nearly shut him down to where it was nearly impossible for him to operate. Then, they contacted his son's university and had his admission blocked. Once the sales paperwork went through, NorthStar Corp's pressure tactics went away."

"I've talked to this 'Travis' guy on the phone a few times, and Jim had to run him off once. So, he works for them?"

You nodded. "He was their leading performer when we were together. Even back then, he was known to get as close to the edge of the law as possible without going over it to seal the deal. Can't imagine what he's like now," you mused.

The two of you lingered over coffee until you noticed the staff cleaning up around you. As you walked out, you and Leonard apologized to Mr. Chekov for nearly overstaying your welcome. He met you at the door and waved away your concerns with a smile. He presented you with a "manager's discount" card and invited you to use it on your next visit.

Leonard accompanied you out to your car, his hand occasionally brushing over the small of your back as you walked. Your conversation continued until you reached your parking space and dug into your pockets for the keys to your 1968 Chevy Nova. Before you prepared to slide the key into the door lock, you looked back and smiled at Leonard.

"Well, this is me," you remarked shyly. "I had a wonderful time with you tonight." After unlocking the door you opened it and turned to face him, not yet wanting to get into the driver's seat.

"Been meaning to ask you about this fine piece of machinery. Lotta horses under this hood, where'd you happen to get something like this?" he asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

"This car used to belong to my dad, left it to me when he passed. He found it in a junkyard, saw its potential, and we worked on it together. This car holds a lot of memories for me," you murmured. "Anyway, I'll see you bright and early on Monday morning, yeah?"

"You bet, Monday morning," Leonard agreed. He watched you climb in behind the wheel before walking towards his own vehicle.

"Hey, Leonard?" you called. He whirled around to see that you had left the driver's seat and were hanging on the door. "Maybe one of these days I'll take you for a spin in this 'fine piece of machinery'. See what these horses can do while I show you around. What do you say?" you asked as you cocked your head to one side.

A genuine smile crept across his handsome features, revealing perfect pearly white teeth. "I'd say that sounds great, just let me know when and I'll be there," he winked.

Fortunately your car door kept your knees from buckling and dropping you to the ground. That wink of his was enough to make you hit the deck. Which you certainly would have, were you not still hanging onto your door. "I will. See you around, Leonard," you replied.

He nodded and flashed you another toothy grin, then resumed his walk towards his car, while you slid behind the wheel of your car. As he drove past you, he gave a lazy salute before heading off into the night. You waited until he was well out of sight before picking up your phone and dialing your best friend's phone number. "Nyota? Oh, thank goodness you're home! Have I got some news for you," you indicated as you turned the key in the ignition.

***

"Mr. Myers? There's a call for you on Line One, from a Miles Cooper? He says it's urgent," stated Bradley Wilder, his new assistant.

Travis closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping to calm his nerves. A call from the head office and the CEO of NorthStar Corp was not how he wanted to start his weekend. Especially since there had not been much progress on the McCoy property acquisition. On one of his trips out to the farm, he brought the new offer with him, one that was significantly larger than the last one.

Dr. McCoy read through the contract and his eyes had initially widened at the considerable increase in the payout. Nevertheless, despite the substantial amount of money offered, he told Travis that he was staying on as the town physician. Travis tried to work his charm to convince Leonard to agree to sell, except this time, Jim stepped in and "escorted" him back to his car. Since that meeting, all attempts at communication with Dr. McCoy had been largely unsuccessful, or, more accurately, completely ignored.

"Patch him through, Mr. Wilder. Thank you," Travis agreed as he steeled himself for the scathing verbal attack. He rolled his eyes at the sound of Mr. Cooper's voice in his ear, demanding a status report on the McCoy situation. Travis didn't get a chance to answer, though, as Cooper blustered on about the importance of securing the property and how money was no object.

"Bottom line, Myers, you need to close this deal. I don't care what you have to do to get it done, but it's time for the gloves to come off. If you can't make it happen, NorthStar Corp will have no other choice but to take its business elsewhere. I've had my eye on this property for quite a while, and no 'down-home, country doctor' is going to stand in my way," he growled.

"Yes sir, I understand. Consider the gloves taken off," Travis replied.

"Good. I'd hate for news of this botched deal to get back to the board members of your firm. Might make them reconsider whether or not to continue your employment," Cooper pointed out. He paused to let Travis mull over that threat before he continued. "I understand you have a wedding coming up in a few months, congratulations. Sure would make it difficult to support a new wife in your current lavish lifestyle if you were to be suddenly unemployed," he threatened. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, sir," Travis responded.

"Excellent. Wouldn't want there to be any misunderstandings between us. I look forward to your next status report, due in two weeks," Cooper commanded before hanging up.

Travis pulled the phone away from his ear to confirm that the connection had been closed. "Yes, sir," he muttered before making a phone call. This one was to his fiancée, Brenda, during which he profusely apologized for missing Date Night. He explained that he was being sent out of town on business and wasn't sure how long he would be gone. She was initially upset, but when he told her to use his card and car service for a night on the town with her friends, she forgave him.

While he relaxed on the company jet during the short flight to Logan, he was thankful Brenda didn't press him for too many details. Mr. Cooper wanted him to pull out all the stops and let nothing stand in the way of his acquiring the McCoy property. This could get messy, he thought, but what the client wants, the client gets, he concluded as he drove his rental car to his hotel.

***

You were nearing the end of a long and busy day that left you feeling as if the whole town had paraded in and out of the clinic. There was quite a bit of filing to be done, due to the sheer number of patients Dr. McCoy had seen throughout the day. He has to be just as exhausted as I am, probably more, you mused. Maybe I should invite him for dinner at my place tonight, then he won't have to cook. I could even send home some of the leftovers to share with Jim. Or not, you giggled to yourself.

The bell above the door to the clinic chimed, indicating a visitor had arrived. Your back was to the door as you stood at the cabinet behind you, organizing patient files. "I'll be right with you, please have a seat," you called.

"Oh, I'm not here as a patient," the voice replied.

Your hand paused in mid-air above the file cabinet drawer. The voice was one you never expected to or wanted to hear again in your lifetime. Slowly you closed the drawer and turned to face your visitor. You were hoping against hope that you were wrong and that it wasn't who you thought it was. "And just what in the hell are you doing here?"

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Tags: @marvelouslytrekking  @spacedancer1701  @anna-phora  @hailbop1701  @writercole  @lassie-bird  @never--doubt  @phoenixisred  @wayward-dreamer  @erindiggory  @strangesgirls  @dumpsterhippie  @genevablog26  @lokis-deares  @medicatemedrmccoy  @rooweighton  @mamamercurymist  @d-doki-doki  @malmeansbad  @imamotherfuckingstar-lord @ghosttrekkie @noforkingclue @bellestalesoffiction @silversword7000 @maximumtacoshark @xspacedemonx @ilachoasgrem

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

On Death's Doorstep (pt 38/?)

[<<First],,,,[<Prev],[Next>] [ODD Masterlist]

Word count: 1421

Rating: teen

Pairings: Karrot Kings, background Anxceit

Warnings: kidnapping, villainy

~~~START~~~

Thomas woke with a sudden jolt.  

He was staring at a plain, cream-colored ceiling. Memories of how he’d gotten here flooded his brain and he shut his eyes in a vain attempt to deny reality. Kidnapped twice in the span of twenty-four hours.  

After a moment, it occurred to him that he was incredibly comfortable. He opened his eyes again and sat up.  

He wasn’t restrained in any way. He was lying on top of a bed made up with a brown comforter and soft pillows. He was still wearing most of his clothes, but someone had removed his shoes. He was in a bedroom that looked like its primary function was of that of a home-office, but whoever’s office it was had moved out in a hurry; the desk had various filers and cork boards, but all were empty; there were some discolored rectangles on the wall where some frames had hung for quite some time before someone took it down; and there were several completely empty shelves on the walls. His and Nico’s suitcases were stacked neatly against the wall, and their shoes were placed to the sides.  

Two very strange, but very different, kidnappings.  

Thomas would have looked around more, but his attention was caught by the other two figures on the bed. There was Nico, which was a relief, but also… 

“Patton!” Thomas exclaimed, a little too loudly.  

Nico startled awake, but Patton simply stretched out like a cat.  

“Hi, pop pop,” Patton whispered, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Janus said I could sleep in here with you if I promised not to wake you.” 

“You didn’t wake me, kiddo,” Thomas assured him, pulling his grandson into his lap. A strange feeling passed through him as he did — a sharp pang of relief and a slow wave of sadness, neither of which were his own. “We’ve missed you so much.” 

Nico took in their surroundings quickly before sitting up and joining the two in a hug.  

“Who’s Janus?” He asked cautiously after a moment.  

A wave of affection washed over Thomas, and he began to wonder… 

“Janus drinks coffee because they’re an adult!” Patton declared confidently and, ultimately, unhelpfully.  

“Do you know where we are, kiddo?” Thomas tried, putting Janus, the coffee-drinking adult, off to the side for the time being.  

“Um this is Janus’s floor,” Patton explained, still unhelpfully. “I don’t have sleepovers here.” 

“Where’s your daddy, Pat?” Nico asked. That was a good question; if they could talk to Virgil, he would be much more helpful in answering questions.  

But the slow waves of sadness turned into a sudden tsunami that took Thomas’s breath away and caused tears to spring to his eyes.  

“Daddy’s gone,” Patton explained quietly, burrowing further into Thomas’s shirt.  

Thomas and Nico shared a look. There was a lot to unpack here, but clearly, they would need someone other than a five-year-old to do it.  

“Do you know where Janus is, Pat?” Thomas asked gently. He had no idea who Janus was — other than that they were an adult, apparently — but someone had to be around taking care of his grandson, and they would know what happened to Virgil. Probably. 

One of Patton’s small hands uncurled from Thomas’s shirt and silently pointed at the door. Thomas and Nico exchanged another look.  

“Do you feel safe here, Patton?” Nico asked tentatively, he had just been kidnapped, after all.  

“Yes.” This time Patton left the safety of Thomas’s shirt to look Nico in the eye as he answered. Thomas felt a pulse of conviction.  

(The random sensations were definitely something he would need to examine later.) 

Thomas stood from the bed, taking Patton with him and allowing the kid to settle in his arms. He was heavier than he was the last time Thomas held him; Thomas squeezed him tightly and thanked whatever god was out there that Patton was okay, even… even if Virgil maybe wasn’t.  

Nico took the lead, walking up to the door and putting his ear to it. After a moment, he looked to Thomas, shrugged, and then turned the knob.  

The door opened into a hall. At one end of the hall was another door, but at the other end it opened into what looked like a living room. No one was in the living room, but as Thomas and Nico peered around a corner, they found a kitchen, occupied by two people.  

One was seated on a barstool, drinking tea, and looking only vaguely uninterested in them when he noticed that they were up and about. The other one was somewhat aggressively washing dishes in the sink and muttering to themself quietly. It was dark outside.  

“Our guests are awake,” the tea-drinker informed the dish-washer casually.  

There was a small clatter as dishes were dropped into the water of the sink and the person turned around sharply. Thomas gasped and Nico stiffened next to him because that was the person who had been impersonating their Uber driver. This was the person who kidnapped them.  

After a tense moment where it became clear that no one wanted to be the first one to speak, Thomas said the first thing that popped into his mind.  

“I take it one of you is Janus,” he said, hitching Patton a little bit higher on his hip.  

Their Uber driver grimaced. “That would be me,” they said. When they saw the looks on Thomas and Nico’s faces they hurried to add “I’m sorry about kidnapping you, but we weren’t sure how else to get you here.” 

“You could’ve asked,” Nico rolled his eyes. Thomas and Nico would have definitely been suspicious of a stranger, but if that stranger had called Patton by name... maybe they would have taken a leap of faith. 

“You were being monitored,” the man, still nameless, informed them. He seemed, at most, to be unsympathetic to Thomas and Nico’s situation or their feelings about said situation. “You have played your part, yes, but they haven’t achieved all of their goals yet. There would have been no way for us to contact you without alerting them.” 

“Logan,” Janus hissed in warning.  

“Cryptic, thanks,” Thomas snarked. Patton’s hand tightened around Thomas’s shirt in response to Thomas’s mood. “Before we address any of that, can you just answer one thing in plain English: where is our son?” 

Janus grimaced again looking guilty and hesitant, but Logan had no such issues.  

“When you were kidnapped yesterday evening,” he explained. “You were being used as bait to draw Virgil out of hiding. They have succeeded in capturing Virgil, but you may still have potential to help them get their hands on Patton, so while they let you go, they cannot afford to lose track of you — which, unfortunately for them, they have.” 

“Who is ‘they’?” Nico demanded, stepping closer to Thomas and effectively placing himself between Logan and Patton. “And who are you? Stop being so fucking vague!” 

“Bad word,” Patton muttered into Thomas’s neck.  

“Ah, I am Doctor Frankenstein.” 

“And I’m Serpentine,” Janus added apologetically. “And ‘they’ are the Metahuman Affairs Agency — or at least we think they are.” 

Supervillains. They were in the home of supervillains. Their grandson was living with two supervillains, and Virgil had left him here to try to save them!  

Thomas almost wished he could go back ten minutes ago to when it was just him, Nico, and Patton, safe in the limbo of the unknown. Ignorance was, apparently, bliss.  

“Janus, can I have a juice box?” Patton asked, uncaring of the uneasy atmosphere in the room and squirming slightly in Thomas’s arms.  

“It’s late, kiddo,” Janus answered apologetically. “You can have water.” 

“Okay.” 

Thomas watched Janus putter around the kitchen filling a water bottle with a strange sense of loss. There was a whole year of Patton’s life that he knew nothing about, and even before that, he’d barely been allowed to see his grandson at all.  

He was practically a stranger in this child’s life. These supervillains knew Patton better than he did.  

“We’ll get him back” Janus said as they handed Patton the water bottle, startling Thomas from his thoughts. “Virgil,” they clarified awkwardly. “I have the beginnings of a plan.” 

“Why?” 

This time Logan answered, sounding the most emotionally invested he had throughout their entire encounter. “He’s one of us now, and we take care of our own.” 

“That includes you now too,” Janus added with a conviction that left no room for argument.  

Yeah, Thomas thought to himself. This might as well happen.  

~~~END~~~

I know that Thomas has made the distinction between real Thomas and C!Thomas, but writing C!Thomas is still uncomfortably close to rpf for me, I don’t know why I put myself through the torture of two C!Thomas chapters in a row 🙃

My grandma broke her hip last week (she’s doing alright, just got transferred to a rehab facility today) and my grandpa can’t drive anymore so I’ve been driving to and from the hospital. I’m so tired, human interaction is so draining 😴

ODD taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @arsonic-knight @misunderstood-shadowling @lost-in-thought-20 @remy-the-lemon-berry @jinxcrafter @apinkline2715 @gothfoxx @donutsarepartybagels @xoaningout @meganmoneky14 @lunatatic

[hogwartslegacyrp]

QotD 8: Would your character keep their room messy or clean? How would they decorate their room?

Feel free to answer these with your own OCs even if you're not on our server :)

Anemone:

Messy af; She has piles of things around her bed to dig through. She has all sort of random stuff around to decorate, from bits of art she did put up around her bed to items she picked up- she also often has fresh flowers nearby since she finds them cool. Oh and don't look under her bed, she tends to push stuff there- and her niffler has made it his den so perhaps DO look under her bed if you've lost something precious recently.

Ominis: Clean, partly out of necessity (it's much easier to navigate the world without sight when you know where things are reliably!) and partly because of habit and education (he was raised to always look very neat given his family's status). He doesn't have much decorations since it's kind of useless to him but he did try to replace his bedsheets with fancier, smoother, more pleasant to touch ones.

Weasley: Mostly tidy, with that slightly messy look you get when you have items from all over the world on your shelves- she has quite a few souvenirs and fun trinkets she keeps and make her room look more lived in. Once in a while she might let a shirt hang over her bed's headboard because she's tired but she's usually on top of things- the only messy thing that seems to be a staple in her room is a stack of book next to her bed.

𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞: always clean and tidy cause that’s just how she’s raised. There will be moments though where it’s her desk area that’ll have the most mess but everywhere else in the room would be clean and tidy. The only “bad habit” is she doesn’t make her bed often.

Althea Rose: Cluttered is the word. She has world traveler parents who emphasized a love for things, knick knacks, trinkets!!! So I imagine any space she's in, she'll make her own by cluttering it with anything she takes a liking to. She absolutely likes eclectic styles, and her room isn't decorated with style in mind, but rather making it a reflection of everything she loves. Even if the colors clash.

Samuel Wood: He is man living on his own for the first time and has no clue how to decorate personified. It is clean, but would be nearly barren, besides the necessities and one poster someone bullied him into adding. I don't think at this stage of his life yet he'd keep plants in his room, he'd be too embarrassed his parents would see, or someone else whose mean, and judge him for it. But in a few years he'll be a houseplants everywhere sort of guy.

Aodh: Immaculate…but does he spend any time there?

Bjorn: Cluttered, but not messy. Trinkets, Pictures, Maps, and Baubles fill the empty places upon his shelves and tabletops. His desk is left tidy, spare the few pieces of parchment or book laid across its surface.

Craig: He's a very sentimental person, so most of his decorating usually involves things that are either given to him by friends and family, or things that mean something to him. Photographs and posters commemorating special events, letters from home, and various trinkets and souvenirs make up the bulk of his decoration. It doesn't really matter to him whether it looks good or not. Really, he's probably put more effort into Juniper's enclosure (he refuses to call it a cage) than he has his own dorm room.

Clara: Clara’s room at home tends to wildly fluctuate between being pristine tidy and a hot mess. There is no middle ground. At school she has to be more considerate of her roommates.

Ayumi: Tidy, probably a few vases of fresh flowers around

Gyda: Books! Books everywhere!! And maps. And all of her suitcases neatly piled in a corner… still to be unpacked. Or maybe just waiting for the next adventure!

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐞𝐥: Half messy half not. He’s the type to collect silly stuff so it depends on his mood if he wants to properly put it away or just throw it under the bed

[thelistingteammiami]

5 Clever Ways To Maximize Your Closet Space and Keep It Organized

Whether you have a modest closet or a luxurious walk-in, you just have to be smart and creative when it comes to maximizing your closet storage. You also don't need to spend thousands of dollars to create a more decluttered, more manageable space for your clothes that add confidence to yourself every day. 

These simple but practical organization techniques can go a long way, and some of them won't cost you anything but your time and effort.

The first step to organizing your closet is to go through your belongings and purge your clothing, shoes, accessories, and any other items. See if any of them match these criteria:

anything that's out of style

anything that doesn’t fit anymore

anything you haven’t worn in a year (‘cause you likely won’t be wearing them again)

anything uncomfortable when worn;

anything that no longer works for you.

If your items match any of the descriptions above, it may be time to donate, sell, recycle, or toss them away. Experts recommend doing an edit of your closet at least twice a year: before spring and summer, and again before fall and winter. This allows you to streamline your wardrobe and stay on top of what you already have, especially if you’ve only got a minimal space to work with. 

Also, have designated storage for those that you want to donate or sell later on, especially for clothes that are still in good shape. Otherwise, any clothing that has stains or holes can be repurposed into old rags or tossed into the trash.

If you're thinking of a new way to make your clothes look neater and tidier while saving up valuable closet space, try the file-folding method made famous by world-renowned tidying expert Marie Kondo. Instead of stacking your folded clothes on top of each other, fold them in half once more and stack them up vertically so they’re side-by-side like files in a filing cabinet. It’s an efficient way to arrange your clothes as they’re folded the same way. Also, no more ripping through your drawers in search of your favorite shirt because it’s now easier to find what you’re looking for. 

Space-saving hangers can be a godsend for closets with limited hanging space. If you haven't already, swap your mismatched wire and plastic hangers with slender hangers that will allow you to fit more onto rods. It’s even better if you want them in similar colors, or assign a color for each type of clothing, to add more style. Just save the wooden hangers for heavier items and also padded hangers for winter sweaters. Vertical hangers or those with tiers are fabulous for stacking lighter pieces of clothing and even for hanging several pairs of pants. It’s a small and inexpensive investment that can greatly impact on the overall look and functionality of your wardrobe.

If you have a smaller closet and decluttering isn't enough, you need to think of clever ways to create more storage space. One trick is to use larger suitcases to store items you don’t necessarily need daily. It’s ideal for off-season clothes, especially those bulky, cold-weather items you won’t be wearing in warmer months, or resort wear and other travel items you might not need right away. You can also use rolling storage bins that fit under your bed so your closet will have more space for the part of your wardrobe you're wearing regularly.

Lastly, speaking of making the most of all of your closet space, why not use the front of your closet door as well as the back? Consider adding hanging organizers, but instead of the usual clear plastic pouches, opt for more stylish options that are pretty enough to hang outside the closet, as well as the inside. These storage solutions are perfect for keeping your shoes, accessories, wallets, and all your favorite daily items organized for easy access so you don't have to go digging through your closet to find them. Plus, they also make good use of otherwise unused door space.

[misterjauthor]

MY WIFE'S FATHER

“UGH! I don’t want to read another essay from whiny high school teenagers with first-world problems for the rest of the night.” I marked the grade on the last paper’s upper right corner and placed it on top of the stack on the coffee table.

“That, right there, is whining.” My wife chuckled while typing on her laptop on the kitchen table. Her long, black hair tied in a ponytail draped over her chest.

I downed the last of my beer and got off the couch to get to the fridge. “I heard that.” 

Grace’s cell phone rang a pop tune.

After taking another bottle, I gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Who said I didn’t want you to hear it?” She stuck her tongue at me and accepted the call. “Hi, daddy. How’s everything in Seattle?”

Oh, him.

Rolling my eyes, I went back to the living room.

“Yes, we’re home. He’s watching the game.”

I pretended to watch while trying to listen in on them.

“No, daddy. He’s not like that.”

What is he telling my wife now?

I tried to let it go and watch the game for real.

“Bye.” She hung up. “My dad says hi.”

Yeah, right?

While knocking back my beer, I grunted.

“Babe?” She asked while rummaging through folders spread out in front of her.

“Yeah.” I kept my eyes on the game.

“Thanksgiving is coming in a couple of months. And I was thinking. Maybe we could invite my father over this year.”

“What?” I snapped my head in her direction. “Why?”

“I know you’re not really a fan of my father.”

Not a fan? I scoffed silently. That’s one way of putting it.

The man is rude, arrogant, and controlling. Just because he has money, he thinks he’s above me.

“Why can’t he spend it in Vegas with your brother’s family like last year? His grandchildren are there.”

“They’re going to New York and spend it with his wife’s family.”

“Then let him go with them.”

“Babe, I haven’t seen him since mom’s funeral. It’s been more than a year. I want to see him. I miss him.”

But I don’t miss him. And I don’t want to see him.

“Can you at least try to get along? For me. Please.”

I gave a deep sigh. “Okay, fine. Tell him to come over for Thanksgiving. But don’t expect us to become best friends.” 

‘Yey!” Grace clapped in glee. “Believe me. I have no hope of that happening. You’re just as stubborn as he is.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not stubborn.”

“Nuh-uh. You are.”

“I agreed to invite father-in-law for Thanksgiving, didn’t I? That’s not stubborn.”

“Oh, babe.” She chuckled. “I’ve known for a long time that I married a stubborn man.”

“Your honor, I object. My beautiful and sexy wife is telling lies.”

“Even if you turn the world upside down, you are.”

The doorbell chimed.

“No, I’m not.” I got off the couch. Who could that be? It’s ten in the evening. “I’ll get it.”

“Thanks, babe. And yes, you are.” She resumed typing with a smirk.

I shook my head in amusement and opened the front door.

A 6’3” hulk towered over my 5’11”.

“Jacob?” I froze in front of my father-in-law.

The professional wrestler-sized Filipino-American’s long navy shirt threatened to rip from his muscles hidden underneath.

“Ryan.” He straightened the suitcase next to him.

I offered him a handshake as an act of civility.

He took my hand with a calloused bear paw. “You call that a handshake? Put some strength into it, son. My hand won’t break.”

With a strained grin, I gripped tighter.

“See? My daughter married a man, after all.”

Pressing my lips together, I suppressed a ‘fuck you.’

Jacob let go, adjusted the bag strap on his shoulder, and barged in, towing the suitcase behind him.

I stepped out of the way before I got trampled. “Why don’t you come in?” I asked under my breath.

My father-in-law stopped and turned his bearded bald head. “Did you say something?”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “Babe, look who’s here.”

“Where’s my favorite daughter?” His built frame stood in the middle of the living room with hands on his hips like a comic book hero.

“Daddy?” The chair’s legs creaked against the floor, followed by excited footfalls.

“There she is. Surprise!”

Grace crashed into her dad with a hug. Her slim build and height made her look like she was embracing a giant.

I hung back a couple of steps away.

“We were just talking about inviting you over for Thanksgiving.” She let go of him. “Why didn’t you tell me? Ryan could have picked you up at the airport.”

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.”

“How long will you be staying in San Diego?” I wrapped an arm around my wife’s waist.

“Not sure yet. I’m planning on scouting potential locations for a branch of my restaurant here. So, maybe a while.”

“It’s not a problem, daddy. You can stay as long as you like. You’re always welcome here.” She looked at me with wide eyes. “Right, babe?”

“Of course.” I flashed a smile that I hoped didn’t give away my real feelings.

“Have you had dinner? We still have some chicken left over.”

“Yeah. I ate something at the airport. But I’ll make a sandwich later if I get hungry.”

“Babe, can you show daddy the guest room? Let me finish my work here first, and I’ll check on you later.”

Jacob handed me his bag and left the suitcase behind.

Are you kidding me? He could carry his luggage on one arm with me on it.

I rolled my eyes and followed behind him.

We walked up the stairs in silence, giving me a full view of his ass in tight slacks.

Fuck. I have to admit my father-in-law is hot. If he weren’t such an asshole and I weren’t married, I wouldn’t hesitate to nuzzle between those muscular cheeks and eat his hole all night.

When we reached the guest room, he went inside and unbuttoned his shirt.

I dragged his stuff in and placed them next to the bed.

He tossed the shirt aside and faced me, revealing his hairy chest. His muscles screamed masculinity and strength.

“Ryan, are you still a teacher?” He plopped his suitcase on the bed.

“Yes, I am.”

He scoffed. “My daughter is still bringing in the bigger money, I see.”

The heat started to rise within me.

Clenching my fists, I tried to remain calm. If I were a cartoon character, smoke would blow out of my ears.

“Your daughter already knew I was a teacher before we even dated.”

Jacob faced me. “Look, I’m not going to pretend anymore. I really don’t like you. I still don’t understand why my daughter married you. If I were her, I would have married her ex-fiance.”

Fuck it. Not caring if he was way bigger than me, I walked to him and stopped close enough to smell the manly musk radiating from his muscular body.

My father-in-law remained unphased.

“Well, I don’t want to marry you, too. I’m not into dicks.”

He frowned and went back to unpacking his stuff. “Whatever.”

“Babe, is everything okay up there?” Grace yelled from downstairs.

“Yes, babe. Everything’s good.”

Jacob and I made eye contact.

“Oh, okay. Could you come down here for a minute?”

“I’ll be right there.”

When I reached the door, I faced him. “The bathroom’s next door. There’s a robe in the closet. I’m not sure if it’s long enough for you, but it’s there if you need it.”

He ignored me and continued unpacking.

“Our bedroom is right across from here. If you need anything else, just let us know.”

“Bring me a beer.” He carried a bunch of his clothes to the closet. No ‘please’ or ‘thank you.’

“Sure.” I flashed a contemptuous smile and left the room.

Once I got out into the hallway and out of sight, I flipped him off with both hands.

Fucking dick.

“BABE, stop tossing and turning.” My wife, with a sleep mask on, groaned on her side of the bed.

“Sorry, babe.” I kissed her forehead. “Go back to sleep. I’m going to the kitchen to drink hot chocolate to help me sleep.”

“Okay,” she said in a sleepy whisper.

I sat up and looked at the digital clock on my nightstand.

It showed a few minutes past one in the morning.

Wearing nothing except boxer briefs, I put my robe on and left the bedroom.

A sliver of light escaped through the gap under the bathroom door, and water trickled into the toilet.

It seems the source of my stress is still up.

Just hang in there, Ryan. He’s going back to Seattle soon. I hope it’s sooner than soon.

When I got to the kitchen, I gathered everything I needed to make hot chocolate.

The pot slipped my hand and dropped on the floor. Metal clanking echoed in the kitchen.

Cringing, I picked it up as fast as I could to make it stop. “Nice going, me. Very stealthy.”

After making the hot chocolate, I poured it into a big mug.

“Is the leftover chicken in the fridge?” a deep voice asked.

The interrupted silence made my body jolt. Some of my drink spilled.

“Shit.” I turned and rubbed my robe as if it would remove the hot chocolate from it. “You fucking scared me.”

My middle-aged father-in-law stood in the kitchen in a robe. With his hulking body, it covered only halfway down his thighs. A giant bulge showed on his crotch.

The front of my boxer briefs stirred with curiosity to see the snake hidden underneath.

His lips lifted into a subtle smirk.

I turned around and adjusted my robe to cover the beginnings of an erection. “It’s in the fridge.”

“I got hungry and want to make a sandwich.”

Forgetting my drink was still hot, I took a sip.

It burned my lips and the tip of my tongue.

But I didn’t want to get humiliated, so I bore it in silence.

“Y-you want some hot chocolate, Jacob?” I glanced behind me.

“I’m not really a hot chocolate guy. I’ll stick with water.”

While gathering veggies from the chiller at the bottom of the fridge, my hulking father-in-law was bent over. His short robe showed a briefs-covered ass. The white cotton hugged two bulbous balls.

Blood rushed to my dick, making it grow in record time.

Snapping my head away, I closed my eyes to try to get rid of Jacob’s hot sight from my mind.

He brought the vegetables he needed to the kitchen counter next to me and started working on his sandwich.

I adjusted my robe to keep the tent from getting noticed.

“Where’s your—” Jacob kept opening the cupboards above.

“The what?”

He passed behind me, and his fat bulge brushed against my ass.

My body stiffened, and my hole winked at the unexpected contact.

I pressed my hard dick into the counter. 

“Ah, there it is.” Jacob took a plate and returned to where he was before his raid as if nothing happened.

Did he do it on purpose? Or am I reading too much into it?

Pushing the thought away, I went to sit at the head of the kitchen table with my hot chocolate.

Maybe it would be best to stay seated to keep my hard-on hidden until he leaves.

“This fucking thing is not working.” My father-in-law tapped the bread toaster. “This is what you get when you buy cheap crap.”

I rolled my eyes. “Is it plugged in?”

He glanced at me. “Of course, it’s plugged in. I’m not stupid.”

After shifting my dick inside my underwear, I walked over. “Let me.”

“It’s your toaster. Be my guest.” He stepped aside and worked on the tomatoes.

While trying to figure out the problem, I kept my front away from view.

“Is it broken or not?” He leaned on the counter with his hands.

“Found it. The power cord is not properly inserted into the back of the toaster.”

The power indicator turned on.

“Finally.”

As I returned to my seat, I mouthed, “Thank you, Ryan.”

After assembling his sandwich, he walked over to me and sat on the adjacent chair.

Jacob’s robe opened, showing more of his hairy chest. The table hid everything from below his chest.

We consumed our food and drink in awkward silence.

But the knowledge of him sitting in his underwear an arm’s length away from me made my hand vibrate.

I set the cup down to keep him from noticing.

Under the table, his hairy leg touched mine, and it lingered.

My heart pounded like a jackhammer sending more blood to my raging dick inside my boxer briefs.

Frozen in arousal, I couldn’t withdraw from our contact.

“Grace found out about what happened earlier,” he said while chewing.

“It didn’t come from me. I didn’t say anything to her.”

Jacob set his half-eaten sandwich down on the plate. “I know. She got it out of me.”

“So, what’s your point?”

“Will you shut the fuck up? I’m trying to apologize here.”

I looked at him wide-eyed, caught off guard.

My father-in-law, apologizing? What was in that sandwich?

“Do you accept my apology or not?”

A snort came out of me. I take it he doesn’t apologize to a lot of people. But it’s a start. “Yeah, sure. I accept.”

“Good.” He resumed eating.

We fell into another awkward silence.

Maybe all this time, I just misunderstood him. It wouldn’t hurt for me to make an effort to connect.

After a sip, I asked, “H-how’s the guest room?”

“The pillows are not firm enough. How could you expect your guests to sleep well with them? You should buy better ones.”

And the asshole is back.

Jacob devoured the rest of his sandwich and got up, making the chair screech against the floor.

His open robe revealed his white briefs with an outline of his fat dick pointing down over his big balls.

I bowed my head at my mug and ogled his bulge from the corner of my eye.

The pouch of my boxer briefs filled up once again.

He picked up his plate and turned toward the sink, blocking my view of his bulge.

With a slight twist of my head, I followed him.

Turn back around, damn it.

After a dull thud hit the sink, my father-in-law turned and leaned against the counter, his hands gripping the edge. The open robe displayed his almost naked body.

“Hey, Ryan. Didn’t you hear me?”

“I’m sorry. What?” I tore my gaze away from his crotch and looked at his face.

Jacob stepped closer and stood behind his chair. His bulge hovered above the backrest.

My dick twitched.

“I asked if there’s a gym nearby where I could work out while I’m here.”

“You could use the one in the basement. We converted it to a gym a couple of months ago.”

He nodded. “I’ll check it out tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

My father-in-law closed his robe and went to the sink. “I’ll just clean up and go back up.”

“Leave that to me. I’ll take care of it.”

“No, I’ll do it. I used a lot of stuff and made quite a mess.” He turned the faucet on and started rinsing.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be washing my mug shortly anyway.”

He turned the water off and wiped his hands on the robe. “Are you sure?”

“Get some rest, Jacob. I’m sure you’re tired from your flight.”

“Thank you, son.” His big paw squeezed my shoulder before he headed upstairs.

Finally, a thank you.

“GO ahead, Ryan.” My father-in-law stood in front of me with his robe open.

From my knelt position on the kitchen floor, I stared at the big bulge in his tighty-whities inches from my face.

“You know you want it.”

I brought my hand closer but stopped before it made contact and looked up at his face. “Can I?”

“Yes. You can touch your father-in-law’s cock.”

A message notification on my phone snapped me out of my fantasy.

My hard dick threatened to burst out of my shorts.

Fuck, that was hot.

I searched behind the laptop and under the scattered papers on the kitchen table to find my phone.

Tyrell, my best friend and co-worker who lived next door, sent a text. ‘Yo. Rain check on watching the football game tonight. Last minute thing with my wife.’

‘Sure, man.’ I pressed send and went to the fridge to grab a beer.

My dick was still hard.

While knocking the bottle back, I shoved my hand inside my shorts and adjusted.

I still can’t get last night out of my head. After cleaning up, I went straight to the bathroom and jerked off. It didn’t take long to shoot all over the floor.

“Get a hold of yourself, Ryan. He’s off-limits. You’re married, and he’s your father-in-law,” I mumbled and returned to making my lesson plans.

My phone’s ringtone blared, and a picture of Grace appeared on the screen.

“Hey, babe. Are you on your way home?”

“Actually, I need to work late at the office. Has my dad returned?”

“An hour ago. He’s working out down in the basement.”

“I see. Will you guys be okay with ordering pizza for dinner?”

“Don’t worry about us. We’ll manage.”

“Okay. I’ll try to be home before midnight. Bye.”

“Bye, babe.” I hung up and went back to work.

“Was that Grace?” Jacob entered the kitchen in a white shirt soaked in sweat, making spots on the fabric translucent.

“Yeah. We’re on our own for dinner tonight. I’ll call for pizza in a bit.”

“Make it all meat.” He took the milk from the fridge and put it on the counter near the blender and protein powder.

“Noted.” I scanned his wide back stretching his shirt as I knocked back my beer.

The blender whirring took over the whole kitchen.

While waiting for his protein shake to finish, Jacob removed his shirt and draped it over his shoulder.

His tanned skin glistened at the fluorescent light, defining every curve of the solid muscles of his torso and arms. 

The waistband of his gray shorts darkened from all the sweat it soaked up.

If he ordered me to lick him off right now, I don’t know if I wouldn’t, especially his armpits.

“How’s the gym?” I asked.

After Jacob turned the blender off and poured his shake into a tall glass, he turned around and drank it.

I looked away and pretended to type on my laptop.

“It’s not as big and complete as a professional gym. But it will do.”

“I’ll let management know.” I joked and typed for real this time.

My father-in-law finished his drink. ���I’m going to take a shower. Just let me know later how much for the pizza.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He nodded and went past me, giving me a whiff of his strong masculine musk.

I picked up my phone and ordered dinner, making sure to get my father-in-law’s request.

The guy didn’t guarantee a delivery time, but it would be at least half an hour.

Since it’s a little early for dinner, I didn’t have a problem and ended the call.

Footsteps approached from behind me. “Uhm…Ryan?”

I looked behind me from my chair. “Uh…”

Jacob stood a few feet away in nothing but a classic white jockstrap. The mesh pouch bulging in front of him hinted at the big dick pointing downward.

My cock grew inside my shorts in record time.

Lucky my lower half was tucked under the table or there’s no way of hiding my erection from him.

“D-do you need anything?” 

“Where can I get towels?” His hand went to scratch his balls.

I forced myself to swallow to make sure my mouth was closed. 

“There was none in the bathroom.”

“Oh, yeah.” I pointed up the stairs.

He turned to the side to follow my finger. The jockstrap showed more of his bulge in profile.

“The cabinet at the end of the hallway.”

My father-in-law headed back, exposing his hairy ass cheeks.

Fuck. I bit my lip and squeezed my crotch. Will you look at that? I kept my eyes on him until he went out of view.

A notification from my phone indicated it only had five percent of the battery left.

I got up and headed upstairs to get the charging cable from my bedroom.

As I walked the hallway, the sound of running water escaped through the ajar bathroom door.

My dick returned to full hardness at the thought of the view waiting inside.

I tiptoed on my approach while my heart pounded inside my chest like a jackhammer.

When I reached the door and looked through the gap, the clear shower glass showed a naked Jacob under the spray.

Standing with my back close to the door, I tried to stay quiet.

Jacob rubbed his hands all over his body, washing away the sweat from his workout. The water cascaded down his muscular back until it reached his round ass.

My erection twitched inside my shorts.

He poured some of my body wash on his hand and started lathering himself, paying close attention to his crotch and between the butt cheeks.

White bubbles sliding down his tanned skin hypnotized me.

I brought a hand toward my bulge, squeezed it, and rubbed it with my palm.

A soft moan escaped from me.

My father-in-law turned toward the door.

Shit! I stood straight up and readied myself to run the other way.

The beating of my heart pumped a hundred miles an hour, and my breathing wasn’t far behind.

After a few seconds, I slowly peeked through the door again.

Jacob washed the soapy froth under the shower.

When I was about to step away before he noticed the voyeur spying on him, my father-in-law poured body wash on his hand again.

I remained where I was.

He leaned on the tiled shower wall, brought the hand to his crotch, and started jacking his dick.

My wife’s father pleasuring himself in our shower sent my dick raging.

I pressed my hand hard into my bulge.

The body wash lathered up as it lubricated his pistoning hand on the fat shaft, making it bigger with each stroke.

I wanted to burst in there and jack him off myself, suck it even.

While his free hand tugged at his balls, Jacob leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “That’s it, bitch. Suck my dick.”

My eyes went wide.

He’s imagining someone sucking his dick.

Fuck!

I can’t take it anymore. I need to jack off with him.

After shoving a thumb through the waistband of my shorts and underwear, I pushed and hooked them under my balls.

My hard dick sprung out, pointing toward the ceiling. A bead of precum formed at the slit.

I wrapped my fingers around it and started stroking while I watched Jacob continue with his.

“Yeah. Keep that lips sliding on my cock.” Jacob’s head swung side to side.

Shit. I want to do that for real.

A soft whimper came out when my other hand stimulated my nipple through my shirt. I jacked myself faster.

I’m getting close.

I shut my eyes and concentrated on bringing myself to orgasm, surrendering to the pleasure.

Without thinking, I leaned my head and weight back.

The bathroom door swung open, and with it, my body.

“Ryan, what the fuck?”

To be continued...

---

The complete story is available on Amazon and Smashwords.

I truly appreciate the support. It inspires me to continue writing.

If you enjoy my stories, please let me know. Or at least Reblog it.

Mister J

[garoujo]

YOU HAVE (1) NEW REQUEST FROM @GETO SUGURU . . .

WANNA PLAY SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN?

➤ seven minutes in heaven series masterlist.

NEW MESSAGE @WARNINGS : f!reader, college!au, best friends to lovers, frat party!au, exhibitionism, mutual pining, unprotected sex, one of those very cliche bickering / fighting to making out scenes, fingering, confessions, seven minutes in heaven scenarios that definitely last longer than seven minutes, creampie, dry humping.

(1) ATTACHMENT @WC : est. 5.3k

NEW MESSAGE FROM EMMIE @GAROUJO : i’ve done hcs about kissing during an argument before n ngl they kinda inspired this so :3 another lil instalment to the series + only two to go!! fank yew for sm support on these fics <3

geto suguru had always been a constant in your life, he was the consistency despite the inevitable change of everything else and you still think fondly back on the years spent together with your bestfriend.

he’d always been kind to you, well mannered and polite despite being a little fragile but he was your other half in a way and always pushed you to achieve everything he knew you could. he was your rock and the shoulder you’d cried on a few too many times than you’d like to recall. but he’d always treated you with an honesty and a respect that you basked in and held close to your chest through the years.

you remember sitting in the same tea shop you still visit now five years ago, you’d sigh with a “suguru” when you didn’t get a question in your homework, and you’d hear him break into laughter before crossing his arms over his chest when you rested your head on the table, pouting while he pinched at your cheek and told you to let him see.

you still have your notebooks that you’d both use to doodle in class, steady scratches of ink and his name signed across the top, but now it’s been replaced by a laptop that he’d help you pick out when you graduated. it’s the same as his and you’re glad you’d stood your ground when it came to your insistence on a webcam, because you still found comfort in the late night cram sessions with suguru — pulling your laptop onto your stomach while he scribbles away at his notes, with the same type of pen he always used.

“we’re gonna need coffee in the morning, it’s almost 1am already.” you’d groan, rubbing at the your eyes with the heel of your palm and you’d watch your bestfriend lean back to stretch, his shirt rising slightly to show off the smooth ivory muscle that dips into the waistband of his sweatpants.

“it’s your turn, i got the last two.” suguru would hum, soft syllables as a teasing sort of smile twitches at his lips and you’d always feign a pout just so he’d look at you like that a little longer.

you remember it was the same way he looked at you as you both sat on the roof of your childhood home before you left for college, the one that was on the same street as his while the packed up boxes sat stacked in your room. your suitcase sat right next to his at the door and how both help the tangible pieces of your life, and it’s something that you still smile at.

“i’m still here with you.” is what suguru had told you in honesty when he noticed you staring into the same spot in the night sky, shuffling closer to wrap you in an embrace and rub at your back, and you still smiled despite the ache that settled in your chest that night at the thought of your cleared bedroom and the empty space it left.

“always?” you’d asked with uncertainty but the “always.” that fell quickly from your best friends lips in reply was nothing but earnest, honest.

it still hurt, but when you turned to meet his kind-hearted smile you noticed that the pain dulled, and maybe it was then that you first found yourself realising that he would always have you, your love, your vulnerability and you’re truth.

and maybe that’s when love began to take its first few tentative steps to meet you both.

“are my good looks distracting you, sweet thing?” satoru laughs, pulling you back to where you are now, in the overheated living room of the frat party he’d dragged you and suguru too, and a look over your shoulder would reveal your dark haired bestfriend who gives you a grin.

he looks a little tired, you think. suguru’s kept his hair a little longer than how he used to back in high school, back when he didn’t used to style his hair and it hung around the front of his eyes. he pulls it back, it’s still slightly messy but it fits, and it frames his features when he blinks at you, soft and slow before he’s raising his brow in a way that never fails to make you feel warm.

it’s become almost an immediate reaction when you turn back to roll your eyes at whatever seems to come out of satoru’s mouth at this point, snorting before he’s righting himself with a laugh and shooting you a cocky sort of wink.

you’d become comfortable in the push and pull you’d found in your group of friends, you and suguru had both met gojo in your first year and it warmed you from the inside at how quickly you three came together ( with the addition of utahime, who’s excuse for not coming to the party tonight was the exam she has in a few days, and how she couldn’t afford to lose the braincells that she claims hanging around with satoru would melt )

but with your blooming friendship you had realised just how perceptive gojo satoru was, having him pick up on your crush on your bestfriend fairly quickly, and maybe it was his realisation that made you truly realise it yourself.

even though you basically had to swear your trust to him for life when he’d teased you about it, making you tickle relentlessly at his sides until he was wiping his tears with his loud laughter and swearing secrecy.

you hear suguru laugh at gojo’s teasing in the now but then his eyes are back on you, and he really looks at you before he’s nudging into your side and mouthing a “you really okay?” because at the root of who he was—suguru has always been kind, and you can’t deny that you’re a little inwardly delighted that he still checks on you even now.

“we gotta do something to get people excited, this needs to be wilder.” that same gojo hums, sending you a look that seems a little calculating and a dangerous sort of menacing when he taps on his chin with a long finger before he’s grinning.

“what are you smiling about?” suguru drawls, giving gojo a humoured sort of grin that makes him lean back to laugh before he’s falling forward again, shooting you both a teasing look from above the rim of his glasses.

“oh? you scared?” he hums and you feel your best friends arm hook around your shoulder before you’re pulled into his chest, feeling the warm muscle through his shirt when it presses against your side and you hate the way it makes your breathing hitch before suguru speaks again — his lips close enough for you to feel the way his breathing rolls over your shoulders.

“heh, nah. i’m sure we’ll be fine.”

—

but fine wasn’t exactly what you’d call this situation, gojo’s grand plan it seems was a good old game of seven minutes in heaven, and you’d be lying if you said that watching him round up a drunken group of students with the simple words wasn’t amusing.

you’re sinking into the plush (but also grossly soaked with college mysteries) seat of the arm chair in the corner of the living room, while suguru takes his place on one of the thick arms. his thighs are spread at either side of the cushion as he leans against the back to balance his huge stature, knocking his calve against your thigh to pull your attention from the dramatics satoru is pulling in the middle of the room.

“you sure ‘bout this?” he grunts from his place beside you, the question is spoken in earnest and you know that if you ever said you were uncomfortable he’d be pulling you out without a second thought.

but if you were honest, you weren’t sure of this.

infact you hadn’t realised just how tightly your hands had been nervously curling against your thighs for aslong as you’d sat here, because every couple that left the room with hoots and haulers, was one couple less infront of you and suguru — and watching your bestfriend and life-long crush being whisked into a darkened college closet with anyone who wasn’t you for seven minutes of fucking heaven, wasn’t exactly how you’d describe a good night.

“you’re next, sweet thing.” satoru drawls, breaking you out of your own internal spiral just as your turn finally circulates and you don’t notice the way that suguru also seems to tense at the words, shuffling uncomfortably by your side before he’s resting a heavy palm against your shoulder — his means of comfort, you tell yourself.

“spin it for me, please~” you ask, your words a smooth sort of plea and you watch a grin curl the sides of satoru’s lips before his eyes sweep to suguru quickly, a look that goes unnoticed by you from where his crystalline gaze is hidden behind his black, tinted frames.

you feel like you watch the amber of the empty beer bottle spin forever and you feel like you’re just about to climb the walls when it finally begins to slow, your heart rate climbing into a heavy sort of thud against your chest when you openly cringe about some of the possibilities scattered along the room.

but a possibility you don’t consider, was the bottle landing just slightly to your left, shamelessly pointing towards your… bestfriend and crush geto? who’s sending you a curious look from where he’s manspread at the side of your fucking arm chair — like he’s gauging your reaction before allowing himself to reveal his own, and you hate the way you feel hope dangle in the space where you take a breath.

you’ve convinced yourself everything is fine, like you’ll totally be able to resist the absolutely irresistible man you’re about to be trapped in a darkened closet with for seven minutes of fucking heaven, the same guy who you’ve been crushing on for as long as you’ve known him.

“i’m glad it’s just you i got, suguru.” you say nervously as you’re both marched towards your destination, desperately trying to feign like you’re not completely freaking out and this is totally normal.

but then you turn with your words and you don’t miss the way suguru’s biceps twitch slightly with your effort to hide your true feelings, hearing him hum lowly before his shoulders drop with a sigh and his tongue pokes at his cheek, but just as quickly as his irritated expression forms it vanishes.

“yeah, just me..” there’s a change in his tone with his reply, it’s not the usual smooth and soft tone he seemed to reserve for you — it was sharp and honest and… hurt? before the door of the closet is suddenly shutting behind you both and you sway when you look up at geto to realise his eyes are already on you.

you’re so aware of the close proximity between you both and if you weren’t so hellbent on trying not ruin your friendship with geto suguru you’d gladly melt closer, pushing yourself against the soft muscle of his broad chest just so you can feel the way his warmth curls down your spine in blissful waves.

but then you’re suddenly aware of the awkward silence that settles in the darkened room, one that was so unfamiliar you feel a sudden nervousness twist in your abdomen before you finally speak. “i didn’t mean it like that.” you say quickly, suddenly reminding yourself of your previous words and you watch suguru’s shoulders drop again when he exhales.

“is that all you’ll ever see me as?” geto says plainly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats as he casts you a heavy look that you almost mistake for a glare in the dim lighting.

“what does that mean? we’re best friends.” you reply quickly, your hands twisting into the hem of your skirt when you search desperately for the warmth hidden behind suguru’s gaze, noticing that he almost flinches with the title you still speak in earnest — like you’re trying to convince yourself he’s just that, despite the way your bestfriend always seemed to make your heart jump.

“fuck, see that is exactly what i mean.” he grunts and the bite to his tone catches you off guard as you watch him place his large palm across his face, and you feel some form of instinct turn in your stomach before you’re biting back with a tone that’s even colder.

“no, you’re not making any sense, sugu. i’ve known you foreve—“ you hiss and suguru’s volume rises with his breath when he cuts you off just as the final thread of his patience snaps. “and i have loved you for just as long. do you know how many times i’ve seen your heart broken knowing i could treat you better? do you know how annoying that is to watch?”

“and why didn’t you say anything then?” you hiss back, the sudden confession from your bestfriend making your emotions run rampant, ensuing chaos on your train of thought and clouding your judgement when you glare back, not realising he’s taking a step closer.

“would you have listened?” he bickers back and you realise that you both really sound like some old married couple you normally see in the aisle of the supermarkets fighting over fruit.

except maybe not as cute, because suguru clicks his tongue and your heart kicks against your chest with a sharp thud before you’re leaning closer, poking your finger against his chest to emphasis your reply. “yes because if you actually looked at me for one second. you’d know that i’ve thought about the exact same thi—“

the end of your sentence is cut off when suguru’s lips suddenly find your own and his imposing stature is pressing you tight against the door behind you.

the way he kisses you has you reeling, it’s lazy and slow but so very satisfying, and you gasp when he licks into your mouth with an instensity that makes you whimper, feeling his tongue drag messy along your own, and you can’t help but exhale in a reverence before your hands are twisting in his hair to pull him closer.

“do you know how long i’ve waited for you to say that, sweetheart?” suguru grunts when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours, his soft pants cooling the mixture of spit on your pouty lips while his large hands grab at your hips.

“well i’m saying it now. so kiss me, sugu.” you laugh and there’s a subtle curl to the corners of his lips before he’s on you again, turning your positions to lead you back against the small cabinet hidden in the corner as he moves his lips against your own followed by a content sort of sound.

“shit, sound so fuckin’ pretty when you say that.” suguru hears himself groan before he’s shooting you a softer, tilted grin. he feels like he’s caught in a stand still and when he feels your fingers pull tighter at his hair he feels the last of his resolve snap, his tongue dipping past your lips to glide along your own and he hopes you can feel the years of pining and feelings he buries into the kiss.

“you’re sure about this?” he asks as his hips cage you against the countertop, bunching your skirt up around your hips and you feel heat burst along the new skin he reveals when he squeezes, giving him a soft, keening “y-yes.” in response and you’ve never felt so sure of anything in your life when you breathe heavy with him — fingers tangling in his hair to keep kissing him.

“shit—you don’t know how many times i’ve thought about this, sweetheart.” your thighs wrap around suguru’s hips to squeeze around his middle and you gasp when you feel him roll his cock forward into you. “fucking me in a frat closet?” you giggle before it breaks into a gasp when the blunt head catches under the hood of your clit through your panties and makes your abdomen twitch while suguru smirks down at you. “nah, finally getting to call you mine, pretty girl.”

you can feel his heart thudding against your chest where he’s got it pressed tightly to your breasts, brushing his nose against yours as his shaky breath rolls over your lips and his fingers flex in your skin.

he’s barely touched you and suguru already feels like he’s losing his mind, the way your body feels against his really is like fucking heaven and the doe-eyed look you cast him when he pulls away only reminds him how tightly you have him wrapped around finger.

“you are so fucking beautiful.” he drawls, dark eyes sweeping over your disheveled appearance when he casts you a heavy look from under his lashes before his lips are trailing down your skin — smearing messy kisses along your jawline.

you feel him growl, low and rugged while his teeth nibble along the sensitive spots that have your head dropping back to moan when he rolls the delicate skin gently between his teeth, smoothing his tongue over the blooming marks after, and the deep throb of desire you feel in your gut almost drowns out how loud the bass that still echoes through the closet from the other side of the door is.

you whimper, words spoken dreamily like a half-drunken mantra and fuck—were you intoxicating, suguru thinks.

the way you smooth your fingers through his dark hair before you’re pulling at the roots—making his bun fall into a messier style as it begins to frame his flushed features with an unruly but charming effect, and he pulls away to cast you a look that reminds you just how pretty he looks when he’s a little wild, a little needy.

it feels like there’s a fire in the darkened closet that almost consumes you both, and you feel like you’re losing yourselves in the fiery, lustful spark but you can’t stop, you’d rather beg to continue — to burn longer, together as you both plead for the carnal release you crave.

you feel suguru’s head dip to kiss along your collarbones, tracing his lips along the low neckline of your shirt, and the catch of his soft lips on your skin makes your thighs squeeze around his hips before he’s groaning. breathing heavy and eager when his fingers climb the seams of your body to flick the thin straps off your shoulders, letting him pull and tuck your shirt under your tits.

one of his hands move quickly under your bra, pulling it down to grab a slow, languid handful of your breast while his calloused thumb swipes back and forth over the firmed, pointed bud. the way you moan for him has his cock twitching in his pants, heavy and throbbing as you arch into his touch with warm need before he leans down, messily tracing his tongue along the same trail his thumb created moments ago.

suguru suckles languidly, dragging his tongue in slow, agonising, mindless patterns across the sensitive, aching skin of your nipples and he feels like he could watch you like this forever. his awe of you feels like it burns you as the unruly, charming fall of his hair lies across his cheeks.

“holy shit, sweetheart. look at you.” he mumbles against your tits, continuing his lewd, messy movements as his own spit coats his cheeks—soft pants cooling where it lies along your skin while his other hand trails its way up the inside of your thighs to pull your panties to the side.

you feel the first swipe of his fingers pet along your glistening folds as he traces the rough pad to part the petals of your pussy—gathering your slick before he’s smearing it under the hood of your clit and rolling the puffy bud with two fingers as your voice echoes through the walls of the darkened closet. “i want you, sugu—ah!”

suguru peers up at you through heavy eyes before his fingers are sinking into you, they’re thick enough for you to hiss at the stretch but he’s already making the whole fucking room tremble when he presses them up into you, grazing them along the swollen spot inside of you until your eyes feel like they’re rolling back towards the ceiling.

“always known you better than anyone else—fuck, know exactly what you need, angel.” his fingers drag more of your slick out everytime they sink into you and it’s lewd, the loud squelching sounds that you’re convinced he’s determined to engrave into the walls with every twist of his wrist.

it was true that suguru knew you better than anyone, even now — when he’s languidly pumping his fingers in and out of your wet heat, using his thumb to roll your clit as he brushes against the spongy spot inside of you with a precision that’s almost scary considering this is the first time he’s touched you.

you’re whimpering and rolling your shoulders already, and you hope that the heavy bass that’s echoing through the frat is loud enough to drown out the way you’re crying out for him when your lips tremble, and he pushes his fingers deeper, feeling your walls twitch and squeeze around him at the new pace as he grins at you.

“see, sweetheart. gonna take such good care of you.” suguru drawls, scissoring his fingers inside of you and he fucking loves the way you’re grinding into his touch with needy little humps, brushing your clit harder against his thumb as your warm walls pulse around his digits, sucking him back in everytime he draws them out.

you’ve never been so sure of anyone in your life, he always treats you like you were made of glass and maybe he truly was your other half. but this was new territory, a new lesson and he wants nothing more than to burn your pleasure to memory, the way your brows fall in bliss or the way your lips part to moan.

geto suguru knows everything about you; from how you look when you lie, to your tells when you’re about to cry, so maybe that’s why you feel your orgasm tingle and burn along your skin almost embarrassingly quickly, because he could tell that the way youre twisting your hands in his shirt and whining so prettily for him was truth because he knows you.

your thighs quiver around the width of his huge stature when he works your body with smooth but intense precision, the heated desire that’d been twisting in your stomach finally snapping with the first too-much touch of his fingers. the way you’re crying out for him is addictive, your bestfriend, who’s kissing you dizzy once more as your pussy throbs around him, hips rocking back and forth as you hiccup and mewl and he greedily swallows up the sounds.

“c-can’t get enough of you, pretty.” suguru pants before he’s kissing you again, words raspy and muffled when he draws his fingers back to scoop his heavy, throbbing cock out of his pants, sighing at the sudden sexual freedom when it springs free. he feels the cool air roll over the sensitive glands as it smears pre-cum along the skin of your thighs, and he sucks on your bottom lip before he pulls away.

his fingers wrap around the thick base before he’s giving it a few rough strokes of his hand, grunting when it throbs against his palm and he’s pulling his shirt between his teeth to let the fabric pool above his thick chest. he taps the blunt head teasingly against your clit, sending you a grin that’s a little cheeky as much as it is sweet when you twitch in the remnants of your tingling pleasure.

“you gonna take all of it, sweetheart?” you hear suguru’s question drop to a growl when he rests his heavy cock along your pelvis, giving you a taste of how deep he’s going to reach inside of you.

the deep throb of want with the sudden realisation has your breath catching before you’re leaning back, sliding your fingers between your folds to spread them lewdly like a silent plea. the action pulling a long, hum of amused approval from your bestfriend before his large palm is keeping you pinned to the counter beneath him, and his lips are curling into a smirk.

“fuck, that’s my girl.” he drawls, squeezing playfully at your sides with his fingers but it’s just enough to have you both laughing together before he lines himself up, letting his cock part it’s way through your folds to find the entrance of your flexing cunt.

you watch the way suguru’s lips part to groan before his head is falling forward to rest his forehead against yours, the dark ends of his hair tracing featherlight touches along your cheeks as he finally pushes past your folds. you feel his large hands squeeze at your hips when he finally begins to sink into your warm cunt, breathing deep as he drags you along the thick spread of his cock, and it feels like he sinks into you forever —your walls flexing around him the deeper he goes.

“oh fuck—look how well you take me, sweetheart.” he grunts, lavishing and indulging in the way your body feels like it was fucking made for him, his eager hands stroking down the curve of your hips before they’re flexing almost too tight in the skin when he finally bottoms out with a pleased hiss.

suguru’s broad chest expands with a deep inhale before he moans, drawing his hips back until only the head is left inside of your twitching pussy before he’s sinking back into you, and it feels like he reaches even deeper this time. the thick spread of his cock feels like it punches the air out of your lungs when he begins a steady pace, and the needy push and pull of your cunt rewards each heavy thrust with a twitch around his cock that has him groaning deep.

“really been made for me all these years. fuckin’ k-knew it.” there’s a carnal drop in his tone now that he’s finally buried in you, now that you’ve given your all to him and he’s drinking it up so eagerly, like he wants to be glued to you for eternity, to eat, drink, breathe your pussy and your pleasure in every lifetime after this one.

“feels so good, suguru—fuck!” you gasp and suguru can’t help but think that his name has never sounded better than when its breathed from your lips in whispery bliss.

the force of his hips pick up as his grip on your skin tightens, the loud and clapping force of his thrusts echoing through the walls of the darkened closet, feeling him melt into you as you drag your nails along the skin of his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

“yeah? fuck, y-you like that? sound so sweet for me.” suguru grumbles, an air of playfulness to his tone with the way he exhales a crooning sort of chuckle. but his movements are becoming sloppier despite the way the strength behind them remains, he feels like he’s losing himself in the dizzy spin of the room, the way your body is clapping against his and the hug of your warm walls around his cock.

you can hear the way the old countertop beneath you is banging against the wall in time with the rhythm of his hips, and you’re pretty sure whatever frat’s keep stored in cabinets hidden in dark closets is clattering around inside also. but suguru’s got you feeling mindless, and you can’t bring yourself to care about anything except how fucking good you feel when his cock brushes against your swollen spots with ease, fucking every thought out of your mind that isn’t him.

“shit, let me feel you sweetheart.” suguru breathes ragged as he hugs you closer, pounding away at the spot that has a pleasurable warmth pooling in your abdomen and you feel his huge stature tremble when he curls over you.

“so pretty.” is spoken against your skin when he rests his face in the crook of your neck and the praise feels like it drips down your body as he smears messy, wet kisses along your shoulder — bathing you in confessions that make your limbs feel weightless.

the blunt head of his cock feels like it kisses every part of you when he hooks your thigh higher around his waist, following it with a particularly sharp roll of his hips as his trimmed pelvis grinds against your puffy clit. you can almost feel the way he’s thickening and throbbing in time with the needy coax of your cunt, the grip he has on you almost bruising as you cry out into the darkened closet, your hips trembling and pulling a drunken laugh from your bestfriend before his eyes close for a moment in pleasure of his own.

suguru’s sharp eyes cut down into you with the first jolt of your body, the coiling, tight heat in your stomach finally snapping as your hands move to twist tightly in the dark roots of his hair, making you gasp and jolt with the familiar rush of your second orgasm finally washing over you, and it feels even more intoxicating than the last.

“fuck, there w-we go, sweetheart. love you like this, shit—i love you.” your dark haired bestfriend groans with the first milking compression of your walls, pulling back only to pull you in for another feverish kiss, lewd whimpers of how tight you are mixing with more hormone-drunken, slurred confessions as your cunt continues to squeeze him and he gives more to you than he has anyone before.

“i love you too, sugu—“ you breathe and your whispery, drawl is all it takes for suguru to finally spill into you with a sharp grunt as your cunt milks him, swallowing your moans with deeper ones of his own as he kisses you dumb with low growls and babbled curses hissed between your lips.

his thrusts are shallow as he fucks his thick load into you, pushing a mixture of both your orgasms out the tight seal of your walls everytime his cock sinks back into you with a lewd, wet sound. his movements only cease when you’re both hissing from sensitivity and he’s holding himself above you, pressing warm kisses along your lips and cheeks as you both bask in the drowsy, warm moments following your orgasms before the silence settles.

“so you were right here all along?” you break the silence with a laugh, and you feel suguru straighten up over you before he’s sending you a smile that’s pink cheeked, but just as gentle and comforting as always. so when you inhale, you don’t hold your breath because you exhale just fine at the warmth you still feel in his gaze.

“yeah, told you didn’t i. for now and for always, sweetheart.” he promises and you smile before you’re elbowing him playfully “stop that, you’re so cheesy, sugu!” you smile and suguru chuckles before he’s speaking “i love you.” out loud instead of whispering it and kissing you again. he hopes you notice that his tone doesn’t waver, his words laid on the line, bare and honest and hoping you know he means it from this lifetime until the next.

the way he touches you after is gentle, both souls stripped bare for eachother and it would almost be romantic if you still weren’t stuck in some dingy frat house closet. but just as suguru curls you against his chest you feel a familiar drone sound from the other side of the closet, led lights and the stuffy atmosphere seeping into the room when the door cracks open and satoru is sending you both a narrowed, playful smirk that’s a little too observant for your liking.

“oh? arent you two sweet. was countin’ on ya to finally get together, utahime owes me for this.”

© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[rommahh]

16 from the situation 🙏🏻🙏🏻

Thanks for the request bestie, I <3 u!

Kisses Meant To Distract The Other Person From Whatever They Were Intently Doing 

HSLOT!harry

Harry has been packing all day. His first solo tour starts tomorrow and he wouldn’t be coming home until his first break which isn’t for a few months. You were sad. You watched pitifully from the bed as he trampled around the room looking for different articles of clothing.

“Do you have to go?” You question with sad eyes. Harry tried not to look at your because he knew if he did he would succumb to the sadness he was feeling.

“Yeah, I do, but I’ll be back before you know it.”

You would go with Harry on tour but with all you have going on in your life, it just wasn’t feasible.

You slide from your place on the bed to sit next to Harry on the floor as he folded a few t shirts in his suitcase. You grab the shirt from his hand placing it down. He looks over to you confused but that confusion disappears the moment you press your lips to his.

That kiss was gentle as you two melted into each other. Harry had long forgotten his task at hand but he didn’t mind.

Gangrry

You could sense his anger before he walked into the bed room. You were sat on the king sized, a sheer nightie adorned your body. This is how most evenings went. Harry would come home mad and you would appease him with gentle words and kisses.

His heavy footstep could be heard before the door to the room was slammed open. You looked up from your book, glasses perched low on your nose.

"Hi hon." You greet him. He huffs a hello, removing his cufflinks and suit jackets. "Wasn't a very nice way to greet your wife?"

He rolls his shoulders back, tie coming off next. "You're right, im sorry. Had a bad day."

Your bare feet pad across these shiny wood floors as you walked in front of your husband. His eyes roamed your body loving the way that your nightie hugged you in all the right places.

"Tell me about your day my love." You prompted. The knot in his tie came undone between your nimble fingers.

"Im pissed off. Had a shipment get lost in transit and none of the jack ass that work for me can track it down. I swear I work with teenage boys who have never learned an ounce of responsibility. And to top it off, fucking Myers contacted me today threatening me. Fucking hilarious if you ask me, as if I won't shower that warehouse with blood-"

You cut off his rant by place a kiss on his lips. His mouth was open mid talk which made it easy for you to slide your tongue into his mouth. He hummed in appreciation, moving his tongue with yours. His hands gripped your hips tight before moving down and below you nightie to rest on your bare bum. You pulled away but not before placing a wet kiss on his nose.

"If you wanted to shut me up, you could've said so."

Professorry

Finals week sucked. As a graduate student who was about to graduate with a masters degree, finals week felt like hell. You were In the process of writing your dissertation which felt like you were in the process of writing a New York Times best seller.

You were completely overwhelmed with its paper. It was consuming you mentally and physically. Harry could recognize how much it was consuming you, he understood how hard it could be. He also hated this time of the year because he had to sit through hundreds of presentations and dissertation ceremonies.

He sat across from you at the dining table in your shared kitchen grading a stack of papers. On your side of the table is where you sat with your laptop and a large pile of books from the library. This is how evenings in your household looked like. Dinner would be eaten and the work would come soon after.

A small sniffle made Harry look up from his work. Your brows were furrowed and a hand was rubbing furiously at your eye. You were at a breaking point.

"Hey, hey, hey." He quickly made his way onto his knees beside your chair. Your sniffles turned into sobs.

"Im tired and I want to be done with this shit." You whine. Your distress hit Harry deep in his stomach, the connection that you two shared running deep.

He turned your chair around to face him, his hands finding their place on your lap. He leans up and places a gentle kiss on your cheek, then your forehead, then to the other cheek, and lastly to you lips. The kiss was nothing more than a soft kiss, nothing sexual about it. It was a way of Harry calming you down. It was his way of grounding you back to earth when your head felt like it was millions of miles into space.

You reluctantly pull away. "I needed that."

"I know."

[watchmegetobsessed]

Eunoia - Harry Styles

a/n: i’ve been meaning to write a piece filled with just fluffy, domestic moments through a relationship, and that’s when i created Flora in my mind. wrote it with an OC bc i had very specific traits and stuff in my mind about her and it didn’t feel right to write it with y/n but feel free to read however you’d like it! but i think Flora is a delightful girl, she is a teacher and a free spirit, i think you’ll like her!

pairing: Harry x OC (Floortje ‘Flora’ Hoven)

word count: 9.5k

masterlist

Eunoia (n.) Beautiful thinking: a well mind.

Harry is always looking forward to times when his days aren’t filled from morning to midnight, traveling all around the world, meeting dozens of new people at various new meetings. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the buzz his life comes with, but one can drive this lifestyle only for a while before getting tired. He now appreciates his calm periods, when he is not living out of his suitcase, he has the time to drop by a café and enjoy his morning coffee sitting down instead of grabbing it in a go-to cup and chugging it down in his car. When he can just take a walk when the weather is nice enough and his favorite is when he has the time to just look at things without a rush and appreciate them.

He has built up a habit of going to the same coffee place since he got off tour and jumped right into his well-deserved months off filled with meditation, resting and focusing on himself after giving so much for the world. It’s just two corners down his place, falling perfectly into his way to the gym and now he even has a favorite table in the corner, because it gives him a great view of the place but the vines hanging from the ceiling masks his presence enough that people don’t often notice him there, providing some privacy for his morning coffee.

It was his third day here when he first noticed her. She was sitting at the table by the window, near the door, deep in a book, another pile waiting for her on the free seat next to her as she intensely made notes of her reading. She had her wild, curly hair in a puffy bun on the top of her head, clearly just thrown into it haphazardly when she started working. Her ivory frame glasses kept sliding down the bridge of her nose and thy seemed a bit too big for her face, but they overall fit perfectly with her knitted sweater and dungarees. And Harry couldn’t look over the fact that she had little sunflowers painted on her nails. That instantly made him smile as he adorned her from afar.

As the days passed and Harry spent almost all his morning at the same spot, he started seeing or more like noticing her more often. She always sat at the same table and Harry figured it was because of the natural lighting coming through the windows that came in handy, because she was always either reading and making notes, or doing something crafty, mostly origami, he noticed. She often had her laptop open with tutorials on different origami works that she was trying to make herself, not always succeeding, but she got it right most of the time, a triumphant smile plastering across her face every time she finished a piece, her dimples digging deep into her round cheeks. Harry couldn’t stop herself from smiling whenever she held up the finished work and adorned what she just created. He often wondered what happened to the little creations afterwards, but she just usually shoved them into her backpack before leaving.

By the fifth or sixth time he has seen her, he already knew her order. Vanilla latte with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. Large sized, of course, so she has something to sip on while she typed away on her laptop or finished reading another book.

Harry caught himself looking for her on mornings when he didn’t see her, which were usually Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, but one Wednesday, when he had an early meeting for a change with his team, he arrived before 8 am into the place and for his biggest surprise, there she was, sitting at her usual table, drinking the same drink as always. Later, Harry found himself coming earlier on those days just to find her there yet again and he figured her work schedule must start earlier on those days.

As the days went by Harry started to play with the thought of walking up to her. He wondered if she has noticed him as well, but it seemed like even if she did, his presence didn’t impress or bother her at all which just irked his curiosity about her even more. But every time he thought about finally talking to her, he decided against it, feeling like he would just be an intruder in her morning sessions. Until one day, the chance was handed to him on a silver plate.

She is doing origami once again on this particular day, making little cranes, one after the other, using different colored papers to make them form out a mess rainbow on her table. It’s a quiet morning, only a few more people sitting around at place. It’s been quite windy the past couple of days and today seems to be the worst, the trees are being tossed around by the howling winds outside, but it just makes it even cozier to sit inside in the warmth, enjoying a nice hot drink.

Harry finds himself watching her intently as her delicate fingers work on the paper, one crane following the other, she is starting to have a whole army of them.

An older man walks into the café and as he opens the door wide, the wind is quick to run into the place, knocking over everything that’s not heavy enough to stay still and the paper cranes are the first ones to start flying off the table.

“No! Darn it!” she gasps, her hands grabbing after them, saving just a few, but most end up on the floor, somersaulting away from her table. Harry is quick to jump to his feet and come to her rescue, lending her a pair of helping hands as she gathers her creations. “Oh, thank you!” she breathes out softly, her eyes meeting his and for his biggest surprise… she doesn’t seem to be stunned or even surprised by him, as if she doesn’t know who he is.

Maybe she doesn’t, it’s a possibility, he tells himself, smiling at her as he collects the cranes from the floor.

“Guess they wanted to be free,” he jokes, setting them on the table with the rest.

“It wasn’t my brightest idea to do it on such a windy day near the door,” she chuckles, looking over the bunch she’s been working on for the past thirty minutes.

“May I ask why you need so many paper cranes?” Harry inquires, leaving out the part that he’s been watching her do her origami for weeks now.

“Oh, I want to make decorations out of them, hang them up in my classroom. I’m a teacher,” she adds smiling.

That’s the most fitting job he could ever imagine for her, she is definitely the cool and adored teacher every kid is obsessed with.

“Wow, and how many do you need?” he asks, the stack of paper at the edge of the table looks quite a lot and he wonders if she wants to use them all for the cranes.

“Well, as many as I can make before my fingers fall off,” she jokes. Harry notices her freckles from up close that have been hidden behind her glasses until now. Her hair is in two space buns today and she is wearing a striped shirt with light-washed jeans and colorful sneakers. The sunflowers are gone from her nails, replaced by tiny daisies, but Harry likes them just as much as the previous flowers. They fit her well.

“Do you… I would love to help, if you want,” he finds himself offering, not even thinking about the question before it slips his mouth.

“You sure?” she asks, seemingly surprised but she definitely doesn’t find it weird that he just offered to help her.

“Yeah. Looks really calming and I haven’t made one in so long. Want to see if I still remember the steps,” he smiles.

“Take a seat then,” she nods, returning his smile. Harry goes back to his table to grab his stuff and join her.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” he introduces himself as he takes the empty chair at her table, holding out his hand for her that she gladly takes.

“Floortje, but everyone just calls me Flora,” she smiles.

“Never heard that name, what’s the origin of it?”

“It’s Dutch. My dad is Dutch, he came up with the name as well and my mother liked it. It means little flower, nothing grandiose,” she chuckles, reaching for another paper to start her next crane.

“Do you have a Dutch last name as well?” he asks, but then realizes she might not feel comfortable sharing her full name just yet. “You don’t have to tell me your last name though, if you don’t want to.”

“It’s alright,” she chuckles. “It’s Hoven, which is Dutch, but you pronounce it pretty much the same as you’d if it was a simple English word, just with a softer V in the middle,” she explains, her fingers working easily and fast on the thin paper, the crane is already starting to form. Harry reaches for a paper himself and tries to recollect his memory of the steps.

“Were you born in the Netherlands too?”

“Yes, I was born in Eindhoven, but we moved here when I was five. But my Dutch is still just fine, luckily. My dad refused to talk to me in English when we moved, he said he won’t have his daughter forget her mother tongue just because he is getting paid more here,” she explains with a soft chuckle as she finishes up the crane, putting it to the pile.

“I always envied bilingual people. Must be great to speak two languages that easily,” Harry wonders, eyes fixed on the paper as he is trying his best with the crane. It’s slowly coming together, though it’s not as pretty as Flora’s.

“It’s not that fun when I suddenly forget a word in one of the languages and then spend twenty minutes trying to remember when I know for a fact I know the words, it’s just stuck on my tongue.”

Harry laughs, finishing up his creation, holding it up and Flora looks at it as well. It’s a little crooked and one of its wings is longer than the other, but overall, it’s a decent first one.

“You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to,” he chuckles, putting it to the others.

“What are you talking about? It looks great!” she smiles, taking it into her hand, looking at it from all angles, smiling widely as she places it back to its peers. “It’s a nice one, and after all, it’s not your job to make cranes, so you’re fine,” she jokes.

Harry reaches for another paper as he thinks about if she knows him. Does she know what his job really is? Not that he expects everyone to know him, but she seems his age and it’s been quite impossible for him to meet someone close in age to him and not know a thing about him.

“Yeah, origami is definitely not my job,” he hums and then adds: “You… know what my job is?”

Flora glances up at him, a small smile tugging on her lips.

“Is this your way of trying to find out if I know you or not?” she smirks, tilting her head to the side, and it’s already a giveaway that she is very much aware of who she is sitting at a table with.

“I know, it was lame,” he huffs awkwardly.

“No, it was alright. And to answer your question, I do know what your job is, Harry Styles,” she replies.

“Sorry for asking around about it, you just seemed so casual and unbothered when you saw me, I thought you have no idea who I am.”

“I’m a teacher, my job is to treat everyone the same, I take equality very seriously. I don’t want my kids to think I put any of them above the rest, but I do the same outside of school too. Or do you want me to gasp and stutter now that you are sitting here?” she teases him making him laugh.

“That’s not needed at all.”

They work on their cranes in a comfortable silence and just as Harry thought, it’s quite relaxing, his thoughts slowly clear out, only focusing on the little birds he is creating. Then he glances up at Flora and suddenly his thoughts are filled with her once again. Now is his chance with her, he doesn’t want to leave this café without at least asking for her number even when he knows that he will surely see her around, just like always.

“Can I ask you something?” he speaks up as they both keep folding the colorful papers.

“Of course.”

“I hope I won’t sound creepy or something, but I’ve seen you around a lot and noticed how much you read. Is that just your hobby or…?”

“First of all it’s not creepy that you have noticed me, it’s flattering, because I have noticed you as well,” she smiles, paying him a quick glance.

“Really? I had a feeling you haven’t even seen me.”

“I did, but I thought you come here for the same reason as I do; to have some peace for yourself.”

“Ah, I see,” Harry nods.

“But to answer your question, I’m working on my second degree.”

“Oh, what’s that about?”

“Special education, speech therapy to be exact,” she tells him and Harry is even more stunned by her. Education is already a field not many can handle and then there is Flora, who didn’t just take up on it, she jumped right into it, pursuing a second degree in special education, a hard and challenging part of this job.

“Any particular reason why you chose it?”

“I have a younger brother, he is ten years younger than me, so he was already born here, but he was taught Dutch too. However, it wasn’t as easy for him as it was for me to speak two languages at the same time and he has developed some speech errors. Nothing major, but it was enough for him to be bullied in school. I saw his face every day when he came home and lied to our parents that everything is fine but then he cried to me in my room when they weren’t around. I don’t want any other kids to go through that, I’d love to be the one to not just help them come over their speech errors but also make sure they are treated the same way as everyone else.”

Harry hasn’t even noticed that he stopped working on his crane, he is now staring at her in awe, completely stunned by her. The more he learns about her the more he thinks she is a literal angel sent from above and that he can’t let her slip from his hands.

Flora looks up at him and finds him staring, a blush appearing on her full cheeks.

“Sorry for staring, but I just… this is so beautiful. Your passion about education is just one of a kind, truly. And the way how you made it your whole career and everything, I’m just… blown away,” he admits.

“Well, you made a career out of your passion too, didn’t you?” she chuckles softly.

“I did, but your story is just a little more touching,” he smirks. “Flora, I’m gonna be honest with you. I’ve been meaning to come up to you for a while and now that we officially met, I just—I would love to take you out on a date and get to know you better.”

She blushes again and Harry notes how well the pinky shade fits her even if she probably wishes she could control it more.

“That would be lovely,” she smiles shyly and grabbing a crane from her pile she grabs a pen from her bag and writes her number to the wing of it before handing it over to Harry.

He loves that she could have easily just typed it into his phone, yet she chose to do it this way. He smiles down at the crane and puts it into his bag, securing it as if it was his biggest treasure.

When Flora opens her door for Harry she is still wearing her apron that’s filled with tulips, a pair of simple jeans underneath it with a bright yellow shirt. Harry smiles as he leans down and greets her with a soft kiss. Ever since their first kiss he has been obsessed with stealing one whenever he has the chance. Their first one was nothing grandiose, such a simple and mundane moment but for him, it was perfect. They were visiting a gallery, he chose the exhibition hoping she’ll be a fan of it since the theme was botany, all paintings connected to flowers, gardens and plants and he was right. Flora was stunned, fascinated by each painting as they stopped at one after the other, taking their time to adore the works. They were looking at a painted garden filled with colorful wildflowers around a small cottage in the distance. Flora’s eyes wandered over all the tiny details as Harry stood close to her. She then leaned closer to point out her favorite flower and once they realized just how close their faces were, he just easily closed the gap and kissed her softly, surrounded with art, but he was convinced she was his favorite masterpiece he has ever seen.

“Hi, sorry, I’m a little late, dinner is not ready yet,” she huffs letting him inside. “Had to stay at the school a little longer than expected.”

“Don’t worry. Can I help with anything?” he asks following her into the kitchen, putting the bottle of wine he brought into the fridge to keep it cool until dinner.

“No, it’s fine. I just need about fifteen minutes to finish up the veggies,” she smiles at him and tiptoeing she steals a quick kiss. Harry hasn’t been the only one obsessed with kisses. “Make yourself home.”

Harry leaves to use the bathroom quickly and on his way back he finds himself wandering into her bedroom. He has been in her home just a few times before, only spending short minutes here when he was picking her up but now he has time to actually look around, hoping she won’t mind him snooping around.

Her whole place is just as colorful as she is always, each piece of furniture a different style and color, yet fitting so well when you see it as a whole. The quilted patchwork blanket over her bed is definitely homemade, each patch has a different flower on it while the left lower corner has Floortje embroidered into it. Harry wonders if it was made by a friend or family member, either way, it’s surely a special piece.

Her dresser is cluttered with rings, perfumes and endless amount of hair ties. She has complained before that her hair stretches her elastics out so fast, she keeps buying new ones every month. The little armchair in the corner is covered with a few of her used clothes, ones she’ll wear once more before putting them into the laundry basket.

As he walks over to her nightstand that’s filled with books, at least seven piled on each other, his eyes stop over something that makes his heart flutter.

A crooked little paper crane is sitting on the edge of the nightstand, the one he made the first time they talked, to be exact. Harry takes the bird and looks at it in awe, surprised that she kept it to herself. However he doesn’t find it odd, not even a little bit, since he has also kept the one she wrote her phone number onto, it’s sitting on his desk in his study.

“Found something interesting?” Flora walks in and Harry’s head whips towards her, feeling like he was just caught. But the warm smile on her lips is a telltale sign that she doesn’t mind him looking around.

“You kept it,” he states matter-of-factly, holding up the paper bird.

“Of course I did,” she nods, walking closer. “It’s a special one.”

“Thought you treat everyone and everything the same,” he teases smiling as he puts the crane back, his hands finding her waist.

“I guess there are a few exceptions,” she smirks slyly, her hands running up on his arms until they reach the base of his neck.

“Am I an exception?” The corners of his mouth curl up as he places the bird back on her nightstand and circle his arms around her waist.

“Did I say that?” she teases him. “I think I called your work a special one.”

Harry narrows his eyes at her, pretending to be hurt at her words, but he can’t push the growing smile back from his lips. They’ve been seeing each other for only over a month, but it was enough time to make him completely hooked on her. He is amazed by her in every possible way, feeling like he could never get enough of the ray of sunshine that Flora is. His favorite thing is that she makes him feel so normal, just an average guy dating a girl he met at a café. Not once did she treat him any different because of what he is and it’s just the feeling Harry has been looking for for such a long time.

“Come on, dinner is ready,” she smiles, pecking his lips before peeling his arms off of her frame, taking his hand as she pulls him out of the bedroom, however they surely end up in there again sometime after dinner, but with way less clothes on.

Harry watches as Flora plays with the bubbles in front of her, picking some foam up into her hair, watching it move around on her wet palm before blowing on it gently, her delicate fingers poking at the small bubbles that escaped from it. His hands are caressing her sides under the warm water that was once hot when they first got into it about an hour ago.

It’s been a lazy Sunday, Flora arrived early in the morning and went plant shopping. Her home has always been filled with plants and Harry has grown a liking to all the greenery, wanted some more in his house as well and Flora was more than happy to help him pick out the ones that are the easiest to take care of. Then they cooked lunch together, watched a movie and cleaned up the mess they made in the kitchen before running the bath. Harry has been loving these domestic days, lounging around his or her home, wearing comfy clothes and not caring about much of the outside words, just enjoying each other’s company.

“Remind me to buy peanut butter the next time I’m going grocery shopping,” she speaks up, leaning further back against his chest while Harry rests his chin on her shoulder, his arms tightening around her waist under the layer of bubbles.

“What do you need it for?” he hums, nudging her hair with his nose, her curls ticking his face, but he doesn’t mint it.

“I want to make cupcakes for the kids next week.”

“What for? Is there gonna be a special occasion?”

“No, they’ve just been super nice lately, we set up some new rules in the classroom and they’ve been really good following them.” Harry hums, loving how she is so eager to treat her students, he is convinced she is easily the best teacher he has ever came across.

“So peanut butter, huh? I think I need some too. Been dying to eat a good burger with some peanut butter.”

“I cannot believe you put peanut butter into your burgers,” she chuckles, peeking at him over her shoulder.

“Don’t bash it when you haven’t even tried!” he defends himself, kissing her cheek softly.

“The Aztecs would be so disappointed,” she sighs turning back forward, so she doesn’t see the puzzled look on Harry’s face.

“The Aztecs?”

“Yeah, they technically invented peanut butter,” she nods, as if it was common knowledge.

“Do I want to know why you know this about the history of peanut butter?” he chuckles softly.

“Well I had this kid last year who was obsessed with it and I started looking up fun facts for him for mornings when he looked a little moody. Then the others started enjoying it too so it became our morning thing that I told them a fun fact about anything.”

“Oh really? Tell me one then!” he asks smirking, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“Okay, um…” she thinks to herself. “Do you know what the Olympic rings stand for?”

“I do not,” he shakes his head.

“The five rings stand for the five inhabited continents of the world, united by Olympism.”

“Sounds logical,” Harry nods. “Tell me another one,” he asks.

“Are you going to make me tell you all my fun facts?” she chuckles, turning a little so she can look into his beautiful green eyes.

“Maybe. I like it when you talk like this,” he smirks playfully.

“Like what?”

“Like… smart. I love how you know all these little things about the world and teach it to not just the kids but to me as well.”

“You don’t think I’m a smartass?”

“Why would I?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed.

“I used to be picked on in middle school because I liked to learn, more than what was required.”

“That doesn’t make you a smartass, baby. You don’t go around, correcting every tiny mistake around you. You use your knowledge to educate, like you should.”

Flora smiles softly at him, his words bringing the sense of reassurance she’s been seeking for so long. She pecks his lips shortly before turning back forward.

“Do you know how many days a billion seconds make up?” she asks, smiling to herself.

“I don’t.”

“11 574 days. That’s a little over 31 years.”

“So I haven’t lived a billion seconds in my life just yet,” Harry states, doing the quick math.

“No, you haven’t,” she smiles, mostly at the fact that he didn’t just listen to her little fun fact, but also thought about it a bit deeper.

They stay in the bath until the water gets cold and Harry keeps asking for fun facts and Flora gladly tells him whatever comes to her mind.

Harry finishes up the fresh salad, filled with Flora’s favorites: cherry tomatoes, feta cheese and corn with some kale, baby spinach and garlic dressing. He even sprinkled some sesame seeds on top, now he is pretty proud of his work, it looks like something influencers would snap in an aesthetic photo to their Instagram feed.

His bare feet tap against the hardwood floor as he makes his way to Flora’s bedroom where she is still curled up on her chair in front of her computer, her hair in a mess on top of her head, glasses perched up on the bridge of her nose. She hasn’t moved much from the spot in hours, intensely working on her thesis that should be finalized within the next two weeks. She has been gradually working on it over the last few months, in no mean she is behind, but she’s been extra nervous about making it as good as she wanted it when she started and Harry has been nothing but supporting about it, knowing how much it means to her. So he’s been her moral support, making sure she eats, gets some rest and doesn’t get herself too worked up about her research. She appreciates his efforts and though she often feels bad for neglecting him lately, he made sure to assure her, he’ll be right here when she is finally done with it.

Harry walks around the mountain of books on the floor she has piled up from the library these past two weeks as he walks up behind her while her fingers type away on her computer so fast he can barely believe she even understands what she’s typing.

“Hey,” he softly calls out, leaning down he kisses her cheek, holding the bowl of salad in front of her, drabbing her attention, making her gaze move from the screen to the food in front of her.

“Oh, hey! Is this for me?” she asks with a soft smile, lifting her head so she can look at him. Even with the circles under her eyes, the messy hair and worn out t-shirt that she’s wearing, he thinks she is the most wonderful creature he has ever seen.

“Yeah. Come take a break, yea?”

She doesn’t protest, just saves the file before moving away from the desk to the bed along with Harry. She props herself up against the headboard, a tired moan escaping her lips as her spine rests against the pillows under her back. Harry hands her the salad and she digs right into it, only just now realizing that she’s been feeling hungry for the past two hours, but ignored it entirely.

“How much do you have left?” Harry asks nodding towards the computer.

“I’m finishing up the last part, then I just have to write the abstract and then…” she explains, popping a tomato in her mouth. “It’s just gonna be the formatting. I think I’ll be done by Wednesday.”

“That’s great,” he smiles proudly. He has always admired how hardworking she’s been when it came to school and her profession. He could never imagine himself do the same, especially because he didn’t even finish high school. He used to feel a little self-conscious about it when they first started dating, afraid that she might think less of him because he didn’t finish his education properly, even though it was never something that bothered him. But Flora assured him that it makes absolutely no difference in her opinion about him.

“It’s not about the papers or how many schools you’ve finished. It’s about how you see the world and if you are willing to learn when it changes around you. And I think you are perfect in that department, your curiosity and openness makes you an excellent learner,” she told him without even thinking about it.

Harry lies on his side next to her, one hand propping his head up while the other one wanders to her thigh, massaging it gently. She hums to herself, enjoying the food he made and he can’t help the smile that creeps on his face. He loves taking care of her, especially because most of the times it’s her that takes care of him. Cooking for him after a long day at the studio, putting his laundry away while he is in an online meeting or writing him a list for when he goes grocery shopping, Flora has been watching out for him through these little things, but now it’s finally his turn to give it all back.

He’s been thinking about asking her to move in with him for a few weeks now, he just hasn’t been brave enough to bring it up, thinking that she might find it too early for such a big step, seeing that the two of them have been dating for a little over nine months. He’s been playing with the thought of coming home to her every single day, waking up next to her in the mornings, watch her form his home more to her liking, creating a space for the both of them, making it a home not just for him but her as well.

As she finishes up her salad, completely oblivious to what Harry is thinking about, he decides to bring it up once she is done with her thesis, not wanting to bother her in any possible way until she is finished.

“Mm, this was lifesaving, thank you,” she sighs, leaning over she kisses him softly as her appreciation for the sweet gesture. “I’ll finish up this one paragraph I’m in the middle of and then we could watch a movie. But strictly without subs, because I’m done with words for today,” she jokes, making him laugh as he takes the empty bowl from her hands.

“Sounds good,” he nods. “I’ll clean up in the kitchen and find something to watch while you finish.”

“Thank you.” As they both get up from the bed, she pulls him down for another kiss, Harry’s free hand finding the small of her back right away. “I love you,” she whispers against his lips, his heart fluttering in his chest at the words he has heard before, but it never fails to stun him.

“I love you too. Now go, finish it so we can cuddle,” he smiles, smacking her bum gently before they let go of each other.

“Ja, pappa. Dat klinkt fantastisch. Ik zal het hem vragen. Ja.” Yes, dad. That sounds fantastic. I’ll ask him. Yes.

Harry listens to Flora talk to her father on the phone as she applies her lip balm, the one she uses every night before going to bed. He loves it when she talks in Dutch, many tend to criticize the language, but not Harry. Or maybe it’s just because he only hears Flora talk it and he loves everything she does.

“Ja, dat is goed. Dank je. Tot ziens, pappa, ik hou van je!” Yes, that’s great. Thank you. See you soon, dad, love you!

She ends the call and switches the light off in the bathroom that’s been not just Harry’s but hers since she officially moved in with him just last week. Harry finally built up the courage to ask her opinion about the possibility of living together in the near future once she was free from the worries of her research and thesis. For his biggest surprise, she was on the exact same page as him, definitely a fan of the idea. So three weeks later they started slowly moving all her stuff over to his until her apartment completely emptied out. Now all her belongings are splattered across Harry’s home, they haven’t found the perfect place for everything just yet, but it’s slowly starting to feel like home for the both of them.

“Dad called, asked if we would go over for dinner this weekend,” she tells him, moving around the bedroom as she takes her little hoop earrings off, placing them in the shell she uses as a jewelry holder on top of the dresser. She is wearing a pair of yellow sweatpants with one of Harry’s shirts, nothing underneath them, just how Harry loves it.

“It’s cute how you always tell me it was your dad, but he is the only one you speak Dutch with,” he chuckles lowly as she climbs to bed, pulling the covers over the both of them.

“It comes so naturally, I don’t even realize I’m switching languages,” she admits smiling.

“Dinner sounds lovely,” he nods, getting back to what she was talking about before.

“Arnold is bringing his girlfriend too,” she smirks, her eyes sparkling from excitement.

“Your brother has a girlfriend now?” he hums, eyebrows rising at the new information.

“It’s the girl I saw him with at his basketball game last month. They made it official like two weeks ago.”

“And he is already bringing her home? He is not beating around the bush,” he chuckles. “Is it going to be the first time the girl meets your parents?”

“Yeah, so it’s gonna be exciting,” she nods, cuddling to his side.

Flora is playing with the little cross pendant on Harry’s chest and he is watching her delicate fingers flipping it over, her fingertips tickling his chest a little in the process.

“When we have kids, will you also teach them Dutch?” he suddenly questions, the words just blurting out of his mouth. Flora lifts her head, resting her chin on his chest as she looks into his curious eyes. She stays silent, but a small smile is tugging on her lips for sure.

“What?” he asks, feeling a little nervous. It’s the first time he is bringing having kids up, but he definitely has been thinking about it, especially since she has moved in. They haven’t been dating for that long, but Harry is one hundred percent sure he is in the long run with her.

“I just… love how you said when and not if.”

“Well, it’s a question of when for me. What about you?”

“Same goes for me,” she smiles warmly. “And yes, I do want my children to speak Dutch. It’s important to my family and me as well. How does that sit with you?”

“Totally fine. In fact, I always envied kids growing up who were taught another language so early in their childhood. Would love that for my kids as well.”

“Dan is het geregeld,” she smiles widely at him.

“What’s that mean?” He furrows his eyebrows.

“I said that, then it’s settled. We’ll have some cute, bilingual babies,” she chuckles, half jokingly, half seriously.

Today has just been one of those days that were doomed from the moment Harry opened his eyes. He has been overwhelmed with stress lately, working on new music, but his studio sessions haven’t been as successful as he wanted them. He is also flying out to LA for two weeks in just a couple of days and he has to miss Flora’s mom’s birthday this weekend, which has been torturing him with guilt ever since he found out he can’t push his trip back.

This morning it felt like the universe just plotted against him. He slipped in the shower, broke a glass in the kitchen and successfully ripped one of his favorite jeans when he was getting dressed. He had a one way ticket cranky city, turning Harry into a moody little child. It didn’t take him long until he started a fight with Flora over the smallest, most ridiculous thing. It started with how Flora misplaced a bowl in the cabinet and took him two moments longer to find it than usual, then they ended up disputing about every little thing about each other they’ve been finding annoying, but neither of them voiced their feelings about them.

Flora, on the other hand, was not in the mood to argue with Harry so early on a Tuesday morning and she chose to just walk away and let him stew in his own anger. Harry knew the moment he heard the front door shut that she was mad at him: she didn’t kiss him goodbye like she does every day before she leaves.

He took a cold shower to cool him down and clear his head, get his thoughts straight so he can apologize like she deserves. Getting into his car he drives to the florist he usually goes to when he needs flowers for whatever occasions. The old lady greets him with a warm smile and upon describing what he envisioned, she immediately knows what to create for him this time. The result is a giant, colorful bouquet that reminds him of Flora in every possible means.

Driving down to her school he is met with an extreme amount of nostalgia even though it’s not even the school he went to as a kid, but it still brings back some memories.

The security guard immediately stops him when he walks into the building, but once he has explained him the situation, the old guy gladly tells him which classroom is hers so he can go and surprise her. His footsteps echo in the empty hallways as it is the middle of the second period, all students are locked up in their classrooms, lucky for Harry, because he surely can’t deal with teenage girls recognizing him right now. Holding the flowers in one hand he stops when he finds room 414 and he can hear Flora’s voice coming from inside, enthusiastically explaining something about penguins and it makes Harry smile.

Even with such a horrible morning behind her, she is still giving one hundred for her students. He brings up his hand and softly knocks on the door, interrupting her speech.

“Come in!” she calls out and Harry opens the door, popping his head inside first, then holding up the bouquet of flowers, making the kids start chattering in excitement at his arrival while Flora is staring at him shocked.

“Miss Hoven, do you have a moment for me, please?” he asks with a shy but charming smile. She quickly gains back control over her features before turning to her class.

“Please start working on task two and five, I’ll be right back,” she orders, but the chatter doesn’t die down so she raises her voice at them. “This is not how we act when we have guests, guys!”

The kids are quick to quiet themselves, eyes curiously switching between their teacher and the intruder at the door.

“Miss Hoven, is this your husband?” one of the kids, a little blond boy asks.

“No, Michael, he is not. Harry is my boyfriend,” she answers calmly, heading towards the door.

“Wait, I know him!” a girl exclaims gasping. “He sings the watermelon song!”

“Lilian, no discussion now. Do the tasks!” Flora tells her before walking out, but keeping the door open so she can hear what’s happening inside. Her cheeks are flushed and eyes wide when she finally looks at Harry again. “What’s—What’s this?”

“These are for you,” he clears his throat, handing her the bouquet. “And I came here to apologize for being such an arsehole this morning. It wasn’t your fault, I’ve just been crankier lately and I took it all out on you. I’m very sorry.”

Flora’s eyes soften on him as she takes one of his hands with her free one, giving it a squeeze.

“I said some nasty stuff too, so I guess I’m sorry too,” she sighs, her anger and frustration from earlier now long gone.

“I brought that out of you, so I’ll take the blame,” Harry chuckles softly. “But the point is that I’m sorry.”

“Well, you are forgiven. You were even before you came here,” she assures him smiling warmly. “Why don’t we order something tonight and just get lazy on the couch?”

“You said you have some tests to go through.”

“That can wait. You’re leaving in two days so I want to spend time with you.”

“So we won’t get our tests back tomorrow?” they both hear a muffled voice coming from inside and Flora chuckles shaking her head as she opens the door wider and steps inside. A small group of kids run back to their seats, but not fast enough to not get caught.

“Lilian, would you mind telling me why you left your seat without permission?” Flora questions the girl who just rolls her lips into her mouth, pretending like she hasn’t even moved all along. Flora sighs stepping outside once again. “I gotta go now, but thank you for this. They look beautiful,” she tells Harry.

“I love you,” he murmurs and leaning down he kisses her quickly, feeling like he is breaking rules even though he is not a student or a teacher here.

“I love you too,” she smiles back before walking back inside and shutting the door. Harry stays for a minute, just out of curiosity to hear if the kids ask her some more questions about him.

“Miss Hoven?” a girl calls out and Harry bets it’s the same nosy girl who recognized him.

“Yes, Lilian?”

“You have a nice boyfriend,” she exclaims, earning a soft chuckle from Flora.

“Well thank you, Lilian, but let’s get back to our new unit. Let’s see the tasks you had to solve!”

The splashing sound of vomit arriving to the toilet hits Harry’s ears once again as he is rushing up the stairs with a glass of water and the Emetrol his hands that he dug the kitchen cabinets through for. Arriving to the master bathroom he finds Flora just where he left a few minutes ago, kneeling in front of the toilet, arms on the rim as she is taking a deep breath, hoping to calm her stomach and stop throwing up finally.

“Oh baby, here. Found you some Emetrol, this should help,” he coos gently, sitting down to the marble floor next to her he places the water beside him as he pours some of the liquid medicine into the cap for her. She lifts her head, skin pale as the wall, the dark circles under her eyes make his stomach churn, he hates to see her in this condition and wishes he could just help her.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, her shaking hand takes the cup and she downs the medicine before taking a few sips from the water. “Harry, I’m so sorry for ruining our date,” she sighs in defeat.

“Oh shush. Don’t you dare apologize for being sick,” he shakes his head, putting the Emetrol aside before he towers above her to redo her hair so it doesn’t fall to her face. Today marks their one year anniversary and though they only planned to go out for a nice dinner, nothing extra, Flora still feels bad they had to cancel on their reservation when she started throwing up this afternoon. She’s been feeling nauseous ever since she ate that leftover casserole for lunch. She had a feeling she should have just gotten rid of it, but she hated wasting food so ate it. Big mistake.

Harry’s fingers delicately work on her curls, piling them on the top of her heat before he secures the bun with professional movements using the elastic he tends to wear on his wrists, just because Flora always loses hers. He likes to keep one on him as well. His long haired days trained him well, her hair is neatly kept out of her face as she frowns, feeling her stomach churning again.

“Can I do anything else for you, baby?” he gently asks, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead to make sure she doesn’t have a fever, but she feels alright. She probably just has to get rid of the bad food.

“Can you please get me a wet washcloth?” she asks faintly. Sitting to her butt she leans against the wall beside her with her eyes closed.

Harry nods and he is on his feet in a blink of an eye, grabbing a washcloth from the cabinet and wetting it in some cool water. He kneels in front of her and starts gently tapping it against her cheeks, forehead and neck, wiping off the thin layer of sweat.

“This is not how I planned to spend our anniversary,” she groans with a frown, making him chuckle.

“We agreed, the anniversary is postponed. Don’t even think about it.”

“But I wanted to look nice for you, even bought a new dress.” She pouts her lips at him, eyes opening narrowly, glistening from the tears that watered them while she was throwing up.

“You always look nice, baby,” he softly tells her, letting her take the washcloth before she places it over her forehead.

“Even now? After you saw me throw up four times? We have very different versions for the word nice, H,” she jokes with a soft chuckle and Harry is thankful to see her smile, even if it’s still very faint and tired.

“Even now, baby,” he nods smirking and he is not lying. Though the situation is saddening, Harry still enjoys taking care of her, being the one she can rely on even on her worst days.

They sit on the bathroom floor as the medicine slowly works and she finally gets rid of the urge to throw up. Then Harry scoops her up and undressing the both of them, he helps her take a nice shower before dressing her in clean clothes, tossing their dirty ones into the laundry basket, noting to do them sometime in the morning.

When Flora is settled under the cover, head comfortably sinking into the pillow, she immediately feels her eyes closing, the strenuous afternoon has successfully sucked all her energy right out of her body. Harry brings her another big glass of water for the night and just to be sure, puts a trashcan next to her side, if things go south again. When he gets under the covers she is already half asleep, but she hums when his fingertips dance down the side of her face.

He allows himself to shamelessly admire her as she finally falls completely asleep, her lips parted as she slightly snores, but she looks so peaceful, the painful frown he saw on her face all afternoon is now gone from her beautiful face. He hasn’t fully wrapped his mind around how an entire year has passed with such a wonderful creature by his side. As their anniversary was coming up, he caught himself thinking about what the future is holding for them more often. There were so many things they needed to experience together, so much to see and do as partners and Harry couldn’t wait for it all to come.

As he lies in the bed next to her, a smile tugs on his pink lips at the thought of the possibility of spending the rest of his life with Flora. His future has never seemed brighter than in that moment.

“This is harder than I thought,” Flora admits, focusing on the instrument on her lap, trying to figure out if she is holding down the accords the right way, but a moment later Harry’s hand covers hers on the neck of the guitar and he fixes her fingers on the strings until they are in the right position.

“Like this. Try it now,” he murmurs, his chin resting on her shoulders as she is standing between his legs, back leant against his chest. Flora has been begging him to teach him a few accords on the guitar and today finally brought the moment Harry would turn into her master.

The two of them are sitting on the bed, Harry only in his underwear while Flora is in one of his hoodies with only her panties covering the lower parts of her body. Harry came back from a week-long trip to New York and they haven’t left the bed too much since he set his feet inside the house, only emerging from the bedroom to fulfill their other physical needs.

Flora’s fingers strum against the strings and the instrument comes to life, giving her a clear accord finally, bringing a triumphant smile to her lips.

“You are a natural talent, baby,” he smirks, giving her hips a gentle squeeze before kissing into her neck.

“Don’t tease me, I’m trying!” she warns her playfully, playing the chord again, loving how she can create such a beautiful sound with the instrument.

“Mm, you’re coming for my career?”

“Oh, surely. I think I would make an excellent rockstar,” she nods confidently, making him laugh.

“You are so not the rockstar type. More like the chill indie singer who dances barefoot on stage.”

“Yeah, but I could spice it up a little and make it rockstar-y,” she explains and glances back at him over her shoulder. “Don’t you think I would look hot in one of your stage costumes? Sparkly suit and all?”

“Oh I know you’d look amazing,” he nods eagerly. He has spent quite some time imagining her girl in one of his suits and he quite liked the thought. Flora chuckles as he puts the guitar aside before she turns around and straddles him, her knees on each of his sides.

“Yeah? I would need a better name, mine is not too fitting for a star,” she explains. “Easy for you, your name is basically the most perfect name for a rockstar.”

“You think so?” he cocks an eyebrow at her, his palms coming to cup her bum as he tilts his head backwards since this position makes her the taller one for a change.

“Harry Styles? Oh please, it’s like Anne knew she would give birth to a legend,” she scoffs making him laugh.

“I’ve been told it’s a nice one,” he shrugs smugly. “I think it’s the surname.”

“It’s pretty cool, yeah.”

“What if you had the same? Flora Styles? Sounds pretty badass,” he suggests and at first, she doesn’t even realize the hidden meaning behind his words, tasting the name so obliviously.

“Flora Styles? You might be right, the surname sounds very cool,” she agrees and it amazes him how easily it went over her head.

“You like it?”

“Mhm,” she nods, her hand reaching for the guitar once again, but Harry stops her, taking it between his as he blindly finds her ring finger that is now ringless.

“Do you like it enough to actually take it?” he questions, hoping she would get the hint now where this is heading. She blinks at him a little puzzled but it’s until she realizes that his fingers are fidgeting with her ring finger, more specifically where a ring would sit on it, his fingertips gently caressing the skin around it.

“Harry?” she gasps with wide eyes as she just watches his grin grow wider. “This is not… Are you--?”

“What?” he chuckles, feeling entertained how she lost all her smug confidence all of a sudden. “What’s it that you’re trying to say?”

“No, what is it that you are trying to say?!” she snaps back, still in shock about what he just implied. “Was this your sneaky way of… proposing?” she asks, whispering the last word as if it was a curse word.

“Why do you act like we have a forbidden love and marriage cannot be even mentioned?” he chuckles at her.

“Because I was shocked! Not that bad now though, you haven’t pulled out a ring so I guess it was just a cruel joke.” She narrows her eyes at him, kissing his smug grin shortly, but Harry is definitely not done with her just yet.

“I wouldn’t be that sure about it, baby,” he warns her before gently pushing her off her lap to get off the bed. Flora’s eyes widen as she follows him walk to his suitcase that’s still lying on the floor next to his dresser, waiting to be unpacked. He digs under his clothes before pulling out a small velvety box, making her gasp immediately. Harry gets back on bed as he holds out the box in front of her on his palm, not opening it just yet.

“Did you buy that in New York just this week?” she asks with her mouth hung open.

“I didn’t. I’ve had it for about a month, I just took it with myself because I was afraid you’d find it,” he chuckles as he plays around with it between his fingers. “Have been planning on it for a while, but I couldn’t come up with anything so then I just decided to wait for the right moment and go with the flow,” he explains.

“And this is the right moment?” she questions, her heart beating in her throat as her gaze is switching between Harry’s green eyes and the box in his hand.

“Felt like it, yeah,” he nods, the corners of his mouth curling up.

Silence settles between them as they both just wrap their heads around the weight of the moment. Harry’s heart flutters in his chest, a little afraid it’s too early. They’ve been dating a little over two years now, marriages have been tied way earlier in a relationship before, but Harry feared Flora would feel it too rushed just yet, however the question is out there now. Or is it?

“Well, are you gonna ask it?” she questions and as Harry’s eyes flicker up to meet her gaze, he is met with that playful challenge in them that he adores so much.

“I just asked,” he mutters.

“No, you asked if I would take your name. That’s not a proposal,” she reminds him and he realizes she is right. He never actually asked the big question.

So he finally pops the lid open revealing the vintage diamond ring he bought a month ago when he was just out and about. The moment his eyes laid on the jewelry, he knew it’s the one he’d like to see on your finger and bought it right away.

“Floortje Hoven, will you marry me?” he simply asks, his dimples digging deep into his cheeks as he smiles widely at his lover.

“I will,” she nods, her heart hammering in her chest as she watches him take the ring out of the box and carefully put it on her once empty ring finger. Still holding her hand, he brings it up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the ring before leaning in he connects his lips with hers.

-

Thank you for reading! Please like and/or reblog if you enjoyed!

[ushidoux]

do you really need me? bokuto x reader

warnings: minors dni, angst

It’s the turn of the key in the lock of your apartment that no longer feels like home that makes you realize you’ve been taking way too long to pack your things.

Your tears had stopped falling hours ago but as your heart starts to pound in anticipation of the argument that’s about to ensure, you find that you do have a few to spare, which cloud up your vision before staining the last shirt you’ve folded into your suitcase. It makes a smaller wet spot than expected.

In some ways you wonder if that’s representative of your relationship with your fiancé. Bokuto was once so great at making you feel like you were the most special human in the world. He’d held you when you needed closeness, handled you like the finest china, boasted you around as the most precious thing, and was gentle and kind to you.

But the longer time passed, the more you realized it wasn’t that you were the most important thing in the world, but that he had decided you were the most important thing in the world.

It was a subtle difference, but significant enough that once you had realized it, thus marked the beginning of the end.

You wipe the remaining tears off your face with the back of your hand and resume arranging your affairs.

When you hear the clink of Koutaro’s keys being set down on the kitchen island, and footsteps that start slow then grow more frantic as they search for you, you freeze up. You’re not in the main bedroom, but in the extra room you’d repurposed as an office and where you’d kept a larger dresser mainly for your extra clothes. It’s there that he finds you, kneeling over your second piece of luggage, the first already sealed and pushed into the corner of the room.

Maybe you should go lightly in addition to quietly, you think briefly, however realistically Bokuto will never let you leave him without fanfare.

“___, what are you doing?”

Bokuto’s normally warm voice is curt and unsteady, and he seems to lean onto the doorway for support as he watches you, golden eyes meeting yours warily.

“I told you yesterday I was leaving,” you murmur. You can’t look at him anymore, so you set your gaze back onto stacking clothes on top of each other. Your hands are wobbling, making your task slightly more difficult.

He doesn’t move closer; he doesn’t shift position at all, because he knows that if he moves, it will be in an explosive fashion, and you hate to be startled.

“I... didn’t think you meant it,” he says.

His words cut through your skin like a knife that is just a little too dull, resulting in a haphazard ripping of flesh rather than an effective slice that lets you bleed slowly and elegantly.

When do you ever think I mean it? You just choose to ignore what you don’t want to hear. Do you ever hear me?

“I did,” you reply, icily. This time, you manage to speak a little bit louder. He has to take you seriously, for once.

Yet, there’s a fraction of a second where you tense up, anticipating what he’ll say next, and he does:

“Don’t go.”

“Kou-” you start. It’s a battle you don’t want to have, that tires you before it begins.

“Don’t you dare leave me,” he hisses, cutting you off. His voice hasn’t cracked (yet), but when you look up at him again, a little shaken because he’s raised his voice, you realize his whole body is trembling. 

Your heart breaks a little bit, but it’s not different from how it has every day since you realized that he wasn’t in love with you but the idea of you. 

“I... would stay if I could, if it were good for us, but you know we don’t-”

The word work is lost because he rushes towards you and, albeit somewhat gently, rips the article of clothing you’re holding out of your grasp to toss behind him, a loud rip fills the air.

You shriek his name in anger, but he ignores you, proceeding to kick your suitcase out of the way. You watch it slide along the hardwood floor, stopped when it crashes into a wall opposite from where you are kneeling on the ground, and where he kneels before you, encasing you in his arms.

“You can’t leave.”

I can and I should, you think, but you don’t say it.

You stay mum because Bokuto’s now sobbing and he promises he’ll fix whatever he’s done wrong, and that he’ll give you more gifts and that he’ll try to be home more often, and he’ll do anything he can because you are the love of his life and no one else can replace you.

But you know... you know intrinsically that Bokuto Koutaro is not in love with you, he’s in love with what he thinks you are. Soon he will fall out of whatever spell he’s put on himself, and he’ll have to face the fact that he has never loved you as you are.

“I need you.”

He does need you. But not in the way he should.

You can barely breathe because he is holding you so tight. You remember that there’s a late train ticket for tonight, when you have presumably said goodbye and that you love him enough to leave but not enough to stay. Unfortunately, you already know that you no longer have the will to leave anymore, not when his tears wet your skin and he clings to you for dear life, and thus you will lose yourself in his arms yet another night and be a both poorer in money and in conviction.

“I’ll change.”

That’s not the problem, you want to scream.

But instead you shakily run your hand through his hair because you do love him even if he doesn’t really love you.

[mynumberfivethings]

I Heard A Rumor...

They land back in 2019, which is a relief, of course, until it’s not. 

“What the fuck even is the Sparrow Academy?” Diego grouses. “Lame ass bird fucks.” he chucks one of his knives across the cramped motel room they’re currently occupying and watches it get lodged firmly into the tacky wallpaper. 

Allison grabs the second knife Diego’s about to fling out of his hand and glares  daggers at her brother. “We’re staying here for free, because I rumored the motel staff into not noticing we exist, so maybe don’t wreck the place?” 

Luther nods in agreement. “Allison’s right, we need to be as inconspicuous as possible right now.” 

Diego rolls his eyes. “Whatever. So Five, now what?” the siblings all go to turn to Five for the answers they’re so desperately seeking, only to be met with the sight of the pseudo thirteen year old laid curled up on one of the beds, sound asleep. 

Luther frowns. “How in the hell can he seriously sleep at a time like this?” 

Allison leans over Fives still form and not so gently shakes his shoulder, jarring him awake. She feels a little guilt upon seeing the initially panicked look on his face as he comes to awareness once again, but damn it, she just wants to see her kid again, is that too much to ask? 

“We need to figure out a way to get back to our timeline.” she tells him, arms folded over her chest.

Five scratches the sleep from his eyes, unaware he’d even passed out in the first place, wincing as he sits up fully on the mattress. “This is our timeline.” he informs all of them, his voice coming out scratchy and thin. God, he’s exhausted. And practically everything aches. 

“What do you mean?” Klaus shakes his head. “In our timeline Ben is very much dead-not some weird emo douche who flocks with a crew of birds-so please do explain how the actual hell this makes any sense.” 

Five sighs, “We changed the linear time of events and the order in which they were supposed to originally occur when we were in the sixties and now this is, for all intents and purposes, our timeline.” 

“Screw that. We need to reestablish our actual timeline.” Allison counters. “I’m not staying in this weird alternate bullshit dimension any longer than we have to-we still have the suitcase, right? Let’s go back to the sixties and fix what we broke. Easy.” 

Five looks at her like she’s lost her mind. Which, she very well may have, he thinks briefly. “Look, I know you want to see Claire again, but you need to consider-”

“No.” Allison interrupts angrily, tears starting to fill her eyes. “You don’t understand at all. How the hell could you? You haven’t had anyone for years, but me? I’ve had people, people I care about-which might be a foreign concept to someone like you, but-” 

“Right,” Five cuts her off in turn, unwilling to linger on the sting her words have caused. “I just need time to-” 

“Time? Haven’t you had enough of that, already?” Suddenly the room is engulfed in complete and utter darkness and the Hargreeves go into high alert, trying to figure out where the hell that voice is coming from. 

Could it be one of the Sparrow Academy heroes? Could they have followed them to the outskirts of town? 

“Show yourself, you coward!” Diego shouts, knives at the ready to attack their intruder. 

A flash of thunder illuminates the room for only a split second before the lights come back on and the Hargreeves find themselves frozen in place, unable to move even a muscle, try as they might. 

Save for one: Five. 

“What the hell...” he mutters, as he watches his siblings struggle to try and move from their positions. 

“Now, Allison.” that same disturbing voice commands. 

Allisons eyes go wide as her mouth begins to move without her permission and out come the words, “I heard a rumor you killed your brothers and sisters.” 

They watch with dawning horror as Fives eyes roll to the back of his head and turn an off shade of blue before he seamlessly plucks Diegos knife from where it was embedded in the wall earlier and faces his family, where they stand, helpless. 

“Shit!” Diego curses, trying in vain to move even a single digit. 

Vanya tries to conjure her own powers but finds that she can’t for some reason. “Five...” she calls out, knowing it’s futile. 

Five blinks over to Klaus first, who yelps in surprise, he barely has time to beg Five to reconsider when Five brings the knife down-

There’s boisterous screaming and panicked yelling and general chaos and Klaus is so sure this is it, that Five has plunged the knife straight into his heart and done away with him, until he opens his eyes and realizes nothing is protruding out of him...

Instead, Five has thrust the knife into his own leg. He’s breathing hard, his trembling fingers still hovering over the hilt of the weapon. 

The disembodied voice booms, “Allison!” 

And Allison curses, but she can’t stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. “I heard a rumor you stabbed me in the jugular.” 

Fives eyes go pale blue for a second time and without even flinching he takes the knife out of his upper thigh and blinks so that he’s facing Allison this time. 

They can all see him struggling, perspiring, fighting against the rumor as he brandishes the knife in one hand, raising it up above his head slowly. 

Allison tries to let out another rumor, a contradicting rumor, perhaps, the way she had done when Five had been in front of Klaus, but again, the words get stuck in her throat. 

Whatever being is in the room is in total control of her powers... 

Allison feels something collide with her neck but it’s not the sharp sting of a knife she’s expecting. It’s Five’s forearm against her, protecting her from his own attack as he shoves the knife directly into his flesh. He’s panting now, with the force that it’s taken him not to obey her mind control. 

“Kill them.” the voice demands angrily. 

“Fuck you.” Five bites out through clenched teeth. 

As if those were the magic words, the voice departs and the Hargreeves can feel their limbs and move about once again, the tense atmosphere dissipating. 

“Holy shit!” Klaus gasps out, “What the fuck, Jesus!” 

Five grunts as he removes the knife from his forearm and wields it threateningly. “Allison,” he practically begs, his voice strained. “Unrumor me. Now.” 

Allison is more than happy to comply, hurriedly saying, “I heard a rumor you didn’t want us dead.” 

The knife clatters as it hits the floor and Five collapses next to it a second later, exhausted and hurting something awful. 

“Shit,” Diego grabs a bunch of hand towels from the bathroom and kneels down. “We gotta stop the bleeding.” He presses two towels against the stab wound on Fives forearm and Vanya grabs the rest to press against the one on his thigh. 

Five tenses up beneath them, his face scrunching up in pain. “Fuck!” 

“I saw a first aid kit in the lobby by the front desk, I’ll go get it!” Allison calls out, already halfway out the door in her haste. 

“Should we move him to the bed?” Luther asks, hovering over his siblings, concern and anxiety eating away at him. 

Diego curses. The hand towels are drenched in blood already. They need to stop the bleeding and soon, or else. “Elevate his leg.” he orders, letting Luther help Vanya try to stem the bleeding there. “Klaus, go get more towels from one of the maids if you can.” Klaus scurries to obey while the others continue to put pressure on Fives multiple injuries. 

Klaus and Allison arrive back at the motel room almost simultaneously, one with a stack of clean towels in their arms and the other with a giant red box in hand. 

With the extra towels and the supplies from the medical kit, they’re somehow able to stop the bleeding long enough to move Five up to the bed. Luther’s extremely gentle as he transfers him from one spot to the other. 

When it’s time to stitch him up, Vanya and Klaus volunteer to do it. Five is too exhausted, both mentally and physically to pretend to be stoic about any of this. He throws his good arm across his face, shielding his eyes from the light. 

“What do you guys think that was?” Luther asks the room at large, when the silence stretches on too long. 

Klaus doesn’t look up from where he’s threading his needle on Fives thigh, replying dryly. “Yet another person place or thing that wants us dead?” 

Diego scoffs. “It’s gotta be one of those Sparrow fuckheads. Who the hell else? I bet it was that goddamn cube-I still can’t believe dad adopted a fucking cube-Christ.” 

“Whatever it was, it was in control of my powers.” Allison frowns deeply. “When I tried to unrumor Five nothing came out-even when I tried rumoring one of you into being able to move again, so that at least we would stand a fighting chance against our little serial killer over here, nothing.” 

Vanya nods, “Same here. I tried to use my powers but it was like there was some kind of a block or something? Like when I was still taking those prescription pills.” She looks at Fives pale face-what she can see of it, from underneath his forearm-and risks the question, “Five, how did you manage not to....you know...?” As someone who’s had first hand experience being unwillingly rumored by their sister, she knows it’s not something one can easily brush off. 

Quite frankly, it’s a miracle they’re all still breathing... 

“Yeah, I thought for sure we were dead.” Diego walks over and playfully ruffles the top of Fives messy hair. “Good job not making yourself an only child.” he jokes, freezing entirely when in response to his teasing Five lets out what can only be described as a faint whimper. 

“Five?” 

“I almost killed everyone.” Five struggles to get the full sentence out, his breath hitching. “Fuck.” he curses, unable to stifle a sob. It’s a pathetically sad little noise, but it brings the rest of his siblings to his side immediately. 

“Hey,” Allison kneels down beside the bed and places a careful hand on his knee. She feels him flinch underneath her. “You resisted my rumor-twice. Do you know how rare that is? You saved us.” 

Five scrubs his face with the sleeve of his white button up shirt and finally uncovers his eyes. They’re red and puffy from crying, eyelashes wet with his tears. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.” he admits brokenly. “I can’t lose you guys again.” 

“Shit Five,” Diego leans down and briefly touches their foreheads together, the palm of his hand cupping Fives head. “You’re not alone, we’re right here. Not going anywhere.” 

Vanya nods determinedly. “That’s right. You’re stuck with us.” 

Luther towers over the group with a faint but genuine smile. “You know, I always figured you loved us, but I guess I didn’t realize the extent until today.” 

Five sniffles, wiping away more tears he can’t seem to stop from coming. “I would trade you all up for a decent cup of coffee.” he lies, feeling more exposed than he has in literal years. 

Klaus smirks. “Nuh uh, no take backs, Fivey. You loooooove us.” 

Five rolls his eyes but it doesn’t have quite the same effect it normally would, considering the fact that he is still very much crying. 

Allison clears her throat, squeezes his knee again, this time to get his attention, and says, “And we love you. I’d ask if you know that, but honestly I think the answer would make me too sad.” she sighs. “Five, I’m really sorry about what I said before-I was taking all my frustrations out on you and I spoke carelessly, without thinking.” 

Five shakes his head, overwhelmed. “It’s ok.” 

“It’s not.” Allison insists. “Five, I don’t know if anyone’s said this yet, but I think it’s long overdue. I’m so happy to see you again. I missed you, you know. A ton.” 

Five didn’t think he was childish enough to still need to hear such silly sentimental things. He’s not the type, he’s tried to convince himself. It’s not as though he was expecting some big tearful family reunion upon his arrival, after all. So he wasn’t crushed or anything when his return was met with little more than perhaps confused contemptment. He had things to do, apocalypses to stop and all that jazz. 

That’s what he told himself, of course. 

But it doesn’t ring very true now, not when he can’t help but let out another sob. 

He’s too old for this, he thinks, as Diego pulls him gently to his side and Allison grabs hold of his hand. 

He doesn’t need them to love him back, he thinks, as Klaus finishes taping up his wound with a tenderness only reserved for those he loves, as Vanya wraps gauze around his forearm with care. 

He’s been fine all this time, he thinks, even as Luther says, “Good to have you back, Five.” 

It’s good to be back, he thinks, turning his head so that it’s buried against Diego’s shoulder when he lets out another sob. 

.

[stopeatingwhales]

"i'll never leave you again," x graham coxon

this is so sad but so cute *sobs* </3<3

Pairing: 90s graham coxon x reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.639

Requested by anon x

༉‧₊˚✧

Embracing my boyfriend in a much-needed hug, I squeezed him tightly whilst the wind from the outside flew into our house due to the door still being wide open, making both me and Graham practically freeze in our grasp within one another. My fingers softly ran through his lengthy brown locks as I took in his scent: cigarettes and aftershave, doused with a hint of alcohol. The aroma was intoxicating, not only giving me the crave of a cigar, but also reminding me of the pure amount of desperation I carried inside myself of needing to be with him, embracing him, once again. “I missed you so much.” I mumbled into his shoulder, my cheek squashed on the fabric of his polo shirt which clung to his torso, enveloping his lanky figure. Detaching my head away from the crook of his neck, I took a hold of his hands, which were cold as ice, and stared deeply into his eyes, the spheres of deep brown, not wanting the seemingly perfect moment to vanish into the memory bank hidden in my brain. I felt fulfilled with him in my presence, directly in front of me; I had longed for a simple moment like this more than I thought, for things never came easy between us. For the past year, it was as if our relationship was a distant memory - with him being on tour visiting almost every country known to man, performing countless amounts of shows per week, accompanied by him practically living at the recording studio, I had hardly been with him, and had hardly attained the knowledge of who he was anymore. We barely spoke, and our conversations ran dry consistently, paired with the fact that phone calls abroad were very costly. As well as that, I seemed to be receiving the short end of the stick with regards to my job as I was forced to work overtime due to many people taking vacations from their jobs, something that I could have done, but was my only distraction from the live that I had began to lead: isolated, with my boyfriend practically nowhere to be found.

“Let’s get inside, it’s freezing out here,” he mumbled into my hair, removing one hand from mine to grab the suitcase adjacent to his body. We held hands as we walked through the hallway, him dropping his bag by our bedroom door as I pushed the front door to allow it to slam shut into the latch, our desperate need for physical contact proving our true feelings towards how horrible this year had been for us. Once we were able to sit down on the sofa together in the living room, I immediately lifted my body onto Graham’s lap whilst I pulled the blanket left on the sofa over our bodies. “How’ve you been, love?” he asked me, his voice soft, almost as if he knew how fragile my mental state was at that moment. His free hand was caressing my spine gently, causing my body to shiver slightly as I melted into his touch - as it had been a while since me and Graham had been in personal contact with one another, my body had forgotten the blissful sensation of his touch, which made a feeling of melancholy pop up in my mind, contrasted against the pleasure of utmost joy that he was finally in my presence.

“I’ve been okay…” I mumbled, a lie solely spoken out loud as if to convince myself that I had been fine, that the constant feeling of longing and separation were mere ideations conjured up in my mind, to make myself think that I was broken, when I wasn’t. Fixing my gaze at the stripes on his top, I let my fingers outline them over his chest, my eyes beginning to feel heavy as I felt tears prick up in my eyes, the thought of him needing to leave again overwhelming my mind. The simple thought caused my heart to once again break into pieces as if it were a glass cup that had been accidentally dropped from someone’s grip, smashing into chunks of sharp glass that would instantly cut into your skin if you attempted to pick them up, all the emotions that I had pent up and attempted to dissolve through heaps of work finally leaving my body. “I don’t want you to leave again.” I whispered, letting tears slowly escape my eyes as I gazed at my lap. I felt like a little child, not wanting to leave her parents as she had to go to her first day at school, the apprehension of going out into the ‘real world’ for the first time in her life coming across as a thought unimaginable as an experience. The anxiety of separation from him made me feel small, pathetic, as if I should’ve been able to control my emotions and not let them get so out of hand like this. Though, an apartment bought for two was never designed for one person to live in; a couple is not stemmed from one person being in love with themselves - unless you’re a narcissist.

“Oh dear, I’m not going to leave you again,” he replied, his voice cracking slightly as he saw the state that I was in. The entire situation seemed like that of a film; the intense atmosphere almost perceived the emotions felt to be false, and that this whole occurrence was simply unreal as if it were a nightmare occurring the night before he had actually returned home. Pulling me closer to his body, he cradled me in his arms, my head resting on his shoulder once again as he grasped both my hands, bringing them each, individually, to his lips, placing delicate but deep kisses on my palms. The feeling of his soft lips connecting with the skin of my hand lingered through my body as I was still getting properly adjusted to his companionship. Afterwards, he brought his index and middle finger up to my cheeks, caressing my tear-stained cheeks as a method of wiping my face dry from the mournful state my mind had been perpetuated in. The only sounds dancing around the room were the noises caused from my constant sniffling, my fingers finding Graham’s hands once again to bring into a tight hold. “Come on, let’s watch a film.”

Shifting my body off of Graham’s lap to allow him to get up and turn the DVD box on, I admired how much effort he was trying to put into comforting me. “Here, take a pick.” he said, handing me the stack of films that we had collected over the years. Taking my mind off of the sadness that had erupted out of my body, I skimmed through the covers to remind myself of the memories we had connected with each film. Once my fingers landed upon the cover of Dirty Dancing, my mind instantly flushed back to the memory of when I forced Graham to watch it with me. You’re going to love this film Graham, trust me. I don’t get why you’re making me watch this, it’s overrated. Because you love me. Yeah, because I love you.

After a couple minutes had passed with Graham not being present in the room, I heard his footsteps slowly making their way through the hallway and back into the living space, where I had been greeted with the sweet aroma of hot chocolate, made by him. “For you, love,” he said, carefully handing me the warm mug, followed by my thanks, before setting down his cup of tea on the coaster placed on the coffee table. “Which one did you pick?”

“Dirty dancing, because I know how much you love Swayze.” I joked, handing the DVD to him as I placed the other films on the floor beside the couch. A playful groan escaped his throat as he inserted the disc into the player.

“When was the last time we saw it?” he asked whilst making his way back to the sofa. He sat back in his original place, sneaking an arm around my waist to be able to pull me onto his lap so I could lay down. Looking up at him, I smiled sweetly as our eyes connected as I realised just how much of a good person he was, how caring he was, and especially how much he meant to me. I doubt that I would ever be able to have a complete and utter understanding of my adoration towards one singular man, but I assume that is the beauty of love. Unconditional, never ending. If you were able to completely understand your tenderness for a person, it wasn’t true love. True love is being able to handle and stick with one another through thick and thin, through all the suffering and pain, to reach that level of enlightenment where you can both spend your lives in complete bliss as the money from your pension’s tumble into your bank accounts. It meant that the idea of growing old with your significant other was an awaiting desitiation, something that proved nothing but commitment and that the person you were with, is indeed the person that you would spend your last minutes with.

“I think when we first moved in here together,” I replied, taking a sip from the warm beverage cradled in my palms. “So, about three years ago.”

“That long ago? Wow,” he replied, also taking a sip from his drink. “You ready?”

Nodding my head at him, I watched as he pressed play on the remote, the intro music beginning to play through the speakers. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied, pulling the blanket to cover my body, just like I had done earlier. “I promise that I’ll never leave you again.”

[sunkissedpages]

instead of you [part three]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex

word count: 2.1k

series masterlist

“No sex?”

“Y/n!” Sam hissed through his teeth. “You think you could lower your fucking voice a little?” His tone was even, but his eyes betrayed the thinly veiled panic you were all too familiar with. 

Pushing your best friend’s buttons was something you usually enjoyed, but in that moment you were feeling a similar sense of panic. 

“Sorry, how was I supposed to react to you telling me I can’t sleep with anyone this summer?” you snapped in a whisper. 

“How were you expecting to pull that off without making it look like you were cheating on me?” he countered. 

“I- I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t thinking about it...”

Sam had been typing the list of “rules” for the summer in the notes app of his phone for the better half of an hour as you brainstormed together, and you had been on board with everything that it consisted of so far:

No gross pet names (babe, baby, and darling are acceptable)

No kissing with tongue

No telling embarrassing stories!! (yes that includes that one time i got a condom stuck in my nose and we had to go to the emergency room- that’s literally only funny to you)

4. Share a bed together for the whole trip

ACT LIKE WE’RE IN LOVE (@ y/n)

Spend at least an hour with family per day

Take “coupley” pictures together when my parents as- bc they WILL ask

Wear the matching shirts my mother made 

Buy y/n all the alcohol she wants

It was a pretty decent list, all things considered, until he got to rule number ten. 

“I mean it’s not like it’s going to be easy for me either,” Sam reasoned. 

You rolled your eyes. “Am I supposed to thank you for your service or something? Applaud you for keeping it in your pants for two whole months?”

“You’re literally complaining about the exact same thing.”

“Yeah, but I’m only doing it to save your ass,” you huffed.

“Trust me, I’m well aware,” he said, sighing. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”

You gave him a soft smile. “You don’t have to keep apologizing. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

“You don’t want to be. You’ve mentioned that several times.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t love you.”

Sam smiled at that. “Thanks, I love you too.”

“Alright that’s enough sincerity between us for a lifetime,” you said and chuckled uneasily. “We can go back to being assholes to each other now.”

“Good, that took a lot out of me.”

You glared at him, but refrained from making a comment. “What’s next on the list then, lover boy?”

“Already breaking the first rule-”

“Fine, what’s next on the list, fuckface?” you asked with a smirk. 

Sam clenched his jaw and scrolled on his phone. “Okay, number eleven, no flirting with my brothers.”

“Do you really need to write that one down?” You watched as he typed it out without acknowledging you. “Like isn’t that kind of implied? You know I don’t see Harry like that.”

“He’s not the one I’m worried about,” he muttered. 

You raised your eyebrows expectantly, awaiting an explanation, but he offered none. Instead, he moved on to the next rule and left you sitting alone in your confusion. 

The majority of the rest of the flight was spent bickering with Sam over the list, undoubtedly annoying the hell out of everyone seated around you. The other passengers finally got some reprieve from the sound of your hushed voices when Sam put his earbuds in to listen to music. You knew he was only doing it to tune you out because whenever he was really listening to something he always shared one of his earbuds with you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. If he was going to be like that then... god, this was going to be a long summer.

You shifted in your seat so that you could comfortably rest your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. Even though he was frustrated with you, you knew he wouldn’t push you away. It was just like that with you guys. He’d get over it by the time you landed. 

When you opened your eyes again, Sam had fallen asleep too. He was slumped against you with his head resting on top of yours like something out of a movie. It struck you as ironic. To passers by you already looked like a couple. Game on. 

-

Sam led the way through the busy airport terminal to baggage claim, apparently trusting you were right on his heels. But it was almost like he was trying to lose you with the way he was weaving through the crowd like a wanted fugitive. You could barely keep up. Some fake boyfriend he was. 

You’d never seen your best friend like this before. Usually he was so calm and collected, the one who was always talking you off the ledge, but you could tell he was the one climbing stairs right now. 

“Fuck, there’s no way this’ll work.” 

It had been another one of those late nights in the library when Sam had thrown the stack of index cards onto the table in surrender and buried his face in his hands. You were both teetering on the edge of a caffeine crash. The words on the pages had started to blur together in a way that was almost illegible and neither of you could keep the important dates of your relationship straight. 

“Yes it will,” you insisted as you gathered up the cards and handed them back to him. “We’re just burnt out. That’s why we keep getting things wrong.” He knit his eyebrows together in a way that told you he didn’t believe you, but didn’t say anything in return. You sighed and took a sip of your coffee, giving him a measured look over the lenses of your glasses. “It’s four am., Sam. We just need some sleep and then we’ll come back fresh tomorrow, you’ll see.”

He pushed his hair back from his forehead and nodded reluctantly. “Thanks for doing this with me... it’s, uh, really important to me.”

“I know.” 

But you didn’t know why. Sam didn’t even study this hard for midterms, but here he was night after night with you mapping out every single detail of your fake relationship. A small part of you wondered if there was something more, something that he was keeping from you, but you pushed the thought down. You told each other everything...

As you watched him wait for your suitcases at the carousel, arms crossed, left foot tapping the tile impatiently, it dawned on you just how nervous he was. You wished there was something you could say to ease his mind, but the right words were escaping you. To be fair, you weren’t having any luck shaking your jitters either. You’d never been in a relationship long enough to meet your significant other’s parents. Somehow the fact that you weren’t even dating made it even more daunting. You desperately needed the Hollands to like you- for both you and Sam’s sakes. 

“This one’s yours, right?” Sam asked and pointed to one of the bags he’d rolled over.

“Yeah, thanks for grabbing it.”

“Don’t mention it, babe.” You fought the urge to make a face- “you’re making a face.”

“Sorry, knee-jerk reaction. Still adjusting to hearing that.”

“Well adjust quicker because my brother will be here to pick us up any minute.”

“Wait, what?”

“How else did you think we were going to get home?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think about it.”

You followed Sam outside through the automatic doors to the car loop to wait for Harry. It was warm out, but there was a light breeze that lifted some of the heat from the pavement. The sun had set mere minutes ago, and dusk was lazily settling over the horizon. You were too close to the city to see any stars, but the moon glowed dimly behind the clouds, like a performer waiting in the wings. 

Sam scrolled through Spotify as you both sat there, carefully balanced on your suitcases, and offered you one of his AirPods. You took it wordlessly and put it in your ear. The gesture was comforting, almost intimate, a reminder that nothing had changed between you. At least not yet. 

He was playing something you hadn’t heard before, a classical piece. It sounded old and European which didn’t narrow it down at all. A glance at the title scrolling across his screen suggested that it was French, but he put his phone in his pocket and stood up before you could fully read it. 

Before you could ask what was happening a black Audi pulled up to the curb, parked, and a boy who was... not Harry stepped out of it. It was then that you realized Sam had never specified which brother was picking you up. 

You knew Sam had an older brother, but he didn’t talk about him much. You had just assumed they weren’t close, but as you watched them hug and laugh together you weren’t sure what to make of it. 

“Y/n, this is Tom,” Sam said as he introduced you to his brother. “Tom, this is my girlfriend, y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.” You held out your hand and he shook it tentatively.

“Likewise,” he replied, sounding unconvinced. “Can I help you guys with your bags?”

“Um, sure. That’d be great.”

You handed over your suitcase and backpack to him and joined Sam back over on the sidewalk while Tom lifted the luggage into the trunk with surprising ease.

Tom was about Sam’s height, slender like Sam too, but far more athletically built. Even through his t-shirt you could see the distinct outline of muscles you hadn’t even known existed in the human anatomy- it was ridiculous. His smile was the same as Sam’s too, but what really gave him away as a Holland were the curls peeking out from under his baseball cap. They were impossible to miss. 

“Do you want to sit in the front, love?” Sam asked, pulling you back into the moment.

“No thanks, you catch up with your brother. I’ll be fine in the back.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded. Tom didn’t seem too thrilled to meet you in the first place so sitting in the back seemed like the safer way to play it. Sam just shrugged and climbed into the passenger seat while you slid into the middle seat in the back. 

“Did you tell mum we’re running a few minutes late?” Sam asked Tom once he’d merged onto the road. 

“Yeah, she said she expects it from Heathrow anyway since they’re always so busy.”

“It was fucking packed, mate.”

“I know. Traffic was awful getting here. Everyone’s going on holiday.” Tom turned to glance at you, then back at his brother. “Are you guys hungry? Dinner should be ready when we get there.”

“When we get where?” you piped up in confusion, wondering who would’ve cooked at the boys’ flat.

“Mum’s and dad’s.”

You grabbed Sam by the shoulder. “Wait, we’re going straight to your parents’ house? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What do you mean? Why does it matter?”

You stared at him, eyes wide. “I can’t meet your parents like this!”

“Like what?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m wearing sweatpants!”

“And you look fine!” he argued. “Tom, tell her she looks fine.”

“Uh, you look fine.”

Why were men so fucking dense? You rolled your eyes and unbuckled your seatbelt. Your suitcase was just out of reach in the trunk so you hoisted yourself up over the seatback and grabbed one of the straps on the bag to pull it closer to you.  

With your limited access it was hard to find what you were looking for, but you managed to randomly pull out a nice pair of jeans and a floral print blouse you’d thrifted last semester to change into. 

Before either of the boys up front could register what was happening you pulled your t-shirt off over your head and started shimmying out of your sweats. 

“What the fuck are you doing, y/n?” Sam hissed as the car swerved. 

To be fair, you were just straight up taking your pants off in his brother’s car, but in your defense he’d really left you no choice. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You snapped and looked back up at him defiantly, catching Tom’s eye in the rearview mirror as you did. 

“Keep your eyes on the fucking road, Tom.” Sam grumbled, shooting daggers back at you.

You blew him a kiss in return followed by the middle finger as you buttoned your jeans with your other hand. 

Tom laughed and turned to his brother. “I like her.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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[dainty-fingertips]

measurements and macchiatos ||jigen x fem! reader [part 2]

HEYOOOOO GUESS WHO FINALLY SAID WHATEVER AND WROTE THE SECOND PART ON MY PHONE BECAUSE IM IMPATIENT

word count: 2460

summary [for this part]: After making and agreement on meeting up for a coffee date to discuss Jigen‘s tailoring needs, 8 am finally rolls around and the two of you head to a locally owned shop a block down from the inn you both stay at, but a couple of mysterious characters follow the both of you around as you get to know each other more, and grow closer. Maybe a little too close for a first date... but who am I to judge?

trigger warnings: none :)

7:32 AM was what the digital clock in between the beds read. Jigen never went back to sleep despite having two hours to kill; he stayed up and watched Spaghetti Westerns in his free time until Lupin’s alarm went off at 7:30. The tired thief, mumbling, asked him what he was doing up so early as he and Goemon both stirred awake. Jigen turned his head to face him with raised eyebrows. “Met a seamstress about two or three hours ago, how crazy is that?” Lupin shot up with a grin quickly widespread. “No kidding! Who knew little old Richmond would be our lucky hit?” He called as though they had just won the lottery. It wasn’t even his clothes that needed to be tailored. Goemon eyed him with a very tired type of a “please-tell-me-you’re-kidding” look on his clean face. “It’s the capital of Virginia. It is by no means ‘little’.”

Lupin ignored his little jeer and got out of bed. “Well, what’s your plan, Jigen?” Jigen stretched his arms and rubbed his eyes. “Got a bit of a coffee date with her at 8. I was wondering if I could borrow some of your clothes, actually.” Lupin grinned. “Never thought of Mr Misogynist as a ladies man. You’re just full of surprises.” Goemon scoffed and stood up from his futon. “Yeah, actually. What happened? You lose your hat and suddenly there’s a different man inside your skin.” Jigen let out an annoyed huff and threw the covers from over his lanky  legs. “Ah, can it, Goemon. About the clothes?” He asked Lupin expectantly. “Well, if it’s for a date, how could I refuse?” He beamed at his buddy, motioning for him to follow.

Lupin reached into his suitcase and pulled out a collared white slip-over. “Uh…” he started, quirking an eyebrow. “...isn’t that a little formal for a coffee meetup?” Lupin eyed him, his gaze growing comedically suspicious. “Oh, I get it. Don’t wanna get too dressed up for a woman, do we?” He said with the corners of his lips curled up into another, more sly grin, eyes scanning his suitcase for a different top. Jigen rolled his eyes and hit Lupin on the back of his head causing him to yelp in pain. “Hey, watch it! I do some of my best thinking with that head!” To which Jigen replied, “No, you do all your thinking with your pants.”

Lupin snickered and retrieved a dully colored Hawaiian print short sleeve, a pair of white linen slacks, and a black belt. “Not just my pants, but what’s in em!” He winked. Jigen scoffed and yanked the clean clothes away. “Whatever.” He walked  into the bathroom the three had to share and pulled the door shut. He pulled the shirt he was wearing previously over his head and put on the Hawaiian print, brushing out the wrinkles with his hand. He and Lupin wore the same size in almost all of their clothes, so the pants weren’t too loose or too tight when he put them on. He loosely folded his old clothes into a stack and quickly ran a comb through his raven hair and straightened out his beard into something presentable.

Jigen wasn’t typically one to dress-to-impress, he simply wore his suits because he liked the way they looked on him. However, his boss was the opposite. He wore his bright blazers and colorful ties almost like the radiant feathers on a bird; he caught the attention of many women with his unruly humor and persistence when it came to flirting. Jigen thought that part of him was insufferable. He didn’t say much to oppose Lupin, but he wasn’t afraid to give him a smack when necessary.

Jigen put on his deodorant and left the bathroom, dropping his folded clothes into his clothes. “Thanks, boss.” Lupin, who was getting dressed himself, gave him a dismissive hand wave. “I’m always gonna help you out, don’t thank me.” Jigen nodded his head in thanks. “I’m not too entirely sure how long this’ll take, so I can’t tell you when I’ll be back.” Goemon and Lupin both acknowledged the statement. “Alright, no problem. See you later.” Lupin said, turning back to his suitcase to grab his green blazer. Goemon waved goodbye and did the same, reaching for a pair of dark blue jeans instead of the usual navy hues hakama, a sly move that went unnoticed by Jigen.

Jigen waved back and turned to the door. He reached out and pulled it open, the sound of footsteps in the lobby making him turn his head. There were about 5 people in total there, but he couldn’t see the seamstress. He shut and locked the door behind him and walked into the averagely-sized lobby. He decided to stake out on a bench by the door and wait for her to make her appearance. He wondered is she went to sleep when she got to her room, or if she did what he had done?

She looked a bit tired the night before, had she slept on the plane here or had she stayed awake all night in anticipation? Jigen never struggled with being too excited to sleep, so he couldn’t exactly sympathize if that were the case. Well, technically. Considering what happened the day before, you’d think he’d have slept half the day away, but he couldn’t get a wink of sleep. By no means was it because he was excited, and it certainly wasn’t fear, so he really wasn’t sure why he couldn’t get his usual shut-eye. At least, until he met her. Then, that was when he was given a good reason to not be tired.

It wasn’t long, honestly. He only had to wait about three or four minutes until he heard her say ‘hello’. He quickly looked up from his folded hands to see her standing a couple of feet away in a flowing blue blouse and white shorts, a strapped black briefcase hanging over her shoulder. She smiled a bit at him as he stood up. “Morning.” He said with raised eyebrows and the faintest of smiles. She was wearing makeup this morning, he didn’t remember her wearing it last night. “You look tired.” She mentioned, tilting her head to the side ever-so-slightly. “Eh, don’t worry ‘bout me. I just wasn’t tired after our talk.” She shrugged and straightened her neck.

“Alright, then. So, where’s this coffee shop at?” Jigen nodded his head in the direction of the door. “Follow me. It can get kind of crowded sometimes, so sorry about that.” She shook her head in a nonverbal way of saying ‘don’t worry about it’. Cars drove by, some louder than others. Pedestrians passed them, fell behind, and crossed sidewalks. Pigeons strutted around benches, and nested on trees and rails from higher buildings. The city of Richmond had quite a bit going on, but this morning seemed nicely calm. It was busier than Lynchburg, for sure, but it was terrible.

The clouds were painted in a soft yellow in the morning light and she looked up at them as they walked. Jigen didn’t really pay attention to that sort of thing, though. It wasn’t long before they got to the coffee shop; only a 3 or 4 minute walk at most. It wasn’t a chain shop, something locally owned. The sign read In the Early Morn and was adorned with a black and silver outline of a steaming cup of coffee. Jigen popped his knuckles as they approached the door and he opened it for her. She smiled softly at him and offered a small “Thank you.” And entered ahead of him. The hostess mentioned they could sit wherever they wanted, so they both sat across from each other on the plush chairs by a TV instead of a regular table, the two other customers that entered a ways behind them going unseen.

Jigen watched her curiously as she opened her briefcase and pulled out a large sketchbook and a set of sketching pencils and pens. She set the briefcase beside her and stuck two of the pencils behind her ear and set the pens on the table in front of them. “...Alright, I’m ready when you are.” He nodded his head with a slight smirk and sighed, thinking of how he wanted his new suit to be tailored. The look in his eyes made her stomach begin to float. He… he looked good in this light. His hair was shoulder length and greasy, or was it hair product? She couldn’t tell, but it suited him whatever it was. Jigen knew she was looking at him but refused to make eye contact. He knew exactly what was going through her head. His thin, busted lips, curled into his sinister smile, had hooked her.

Was she… falling for a thief?

When all was said and done, they had the outfit completely put together once they left the shop with their bellies full. Jigen was entirely satisfied with the sketches she had put together, and she was unusually ecstatic that he liked them. All that was left were the measurements she had to take. Normally, she’d go back to the inn and take them right then, but she had a lunch date planned with Zenigata, the uncle she had come to see. Jigen had asked her if she wanted to come back with him and take the measurements, but she explained the situation without dropping names. The two customers that had entered after them had left right after them as well, continuing to remain hidden.

“Ah, I gotcha. Well, want me to come to your room sometime tonight?” She nodded her head and walked with him toward the Dalton and blushed gingerly. She had never invited a man to her room before. “Yeah, that’d be great.” Jigen noticed her get flushed and smirked to himself. She wasn’t half bad. They rounded the corner and the sign for the inn was brought into view a bit further down. “I had a lot of fun, just so you know..” Jigen mentioned, looking down at her in attempt to get her even more flustered. She stumbled on her next word, her brain scrambling to process what he’d said. Why did this rough-and-tumble old guy make her feel this way? How old was he?

“Oh, I had fun too.” She replied as casually as she could, avoiding looking back at him. “About as fun as I can have with work.” Jigen raised his eyebrows. “You must have a ball when you work, then.” yn glanced up at him with a confused look for a mere second. “What’s that mean?” Which caused Jigen to shrug in amusement and stick his hands in his pockets. “You had this little glint in your eye the whole time.” She scoffed at his remark and rolled her eyes. “I don’t get ‘glints’, Jigen.” He jutted his lower lip out and looked to his left. “Uh-huh, right, I’m blind.”

“Now, I never said that.”

“You’re getting pretty worked up over something that ‘didn’t happen’.” He emphasized using finger quotes.

“You’re just trying to get a reaction out of me, Jigen.” She chortled with a half-grin.

Jigen looked down at her with a smirk. “Oh, am I? Forgive me, I didn’t know. That’s usually not how I work ladies up.”

She looked him in the eye and chuckled. She had grown much closer to him in their short time of knowing  each other. “Oh really? How do you typically work them up, then?” Jigen faced her, the duo now underneath the awning where they had first crossed paths a mere 4 or 5 hours prior, and gave her a supple kiss on her lips. She gawked at him as he pulled away with that remnant grin on his lips and her blood rushed to her face at a speed that would rival that of a motorboat. “Usually like that.” He said with a casual shrug, followed by him turning on his heel and entering the inn once again and leaving her standing outside.

“...Jigen, I swear.”

“Hah! And he tells me my actions are guided by what’s in my pants!”

She gasped through her teeth and turned around to be faced with two men, both in t-shirts and different kinds of blue jeans. “Pardon the spook, lady; but you must be the seamstress Jigen told us about?” The one on the right said. His hair was a dark brown and fell into a V shape over his forehead. He had the most peculiar smile she’d ever seen. “Uh, I guess? Do—“ the man stuck his hand out and the two approached her. “Ah, stop right there. Yes, we know him well; I’m practically his employer, after all.” He snickered. “My name is Lupin, and this is Goemon. We all work together in our little… business.”

“Business? Wait, did you say—“

“Yes, w—“

“Stop cutting me off. You’re Lupin III? And Goemon Ishikawa? Then that means…” her face quickly went from blushing to flushed when she realized who she’d just kissed. “Jigen Daisuke.” Goemon and Lupin both nodded. “Explains a lot, don’t it? You know a lot about us?” She scoffed. “Only because my uncle did.” Goemon tilted his head to the side slightly. “Your uncle? Who’s he?” She looked at him and sighed with exhaustion. This was draining. “Koichi Zenigata.”

Both of their faces immediately dropped. “Pops is your uncle?” Lupin asked in plain amazement. “I didn’t know he had a sister.” She shrugged and allowed her eyes to wander. “Don’t you guys usually wear suits and a hakama? What are you doing out here in a t-shirt and jeans?” Goemon sighed in annoyance. “A pitiful disguise issued by Lupin. This is humiliating.” The two began to go back and forth, leaving her there in a stunned silence. She began to look around for a way to escape the situation unscathed, and she happened to look across the street and see Zenigata walking down the sidewalk with his hands in the pockets of his trench coat. Her eyebrows raised and she looked at Lupin.

“Uh, hey, Lupin?”

He stopped making remarks at Goemon to face her. “Hm?” She motioned toward the other side of the street with a nervous look. “Might wanna slip away. Like, now.” Lupin inhaled sharply as did Goemon, the two turning to look at her and wordlessly walking past her to enter the inn. She listened to the door shut behind her and she heaved a sigh of relief. This was going to be the strangest trip of her life, she thought to herself as she ran across the street to meet with her uncle, who welcomed her with open arms.

[cacoetheswriting]

chasing a feeling pt. III - spencer reid

Warnings: mild cursing, implied smut (nothing explicit), kinda angsty, kinda fluffy Word Count: 2.3k Summary: this is part three: Spencer has a habit of showing up at your door in the middle of the night. A/N: italics are memories/flashbacks. also sorry this took so long omg!!

| PART ONE | PART TWO |

-

The case concluded a couple of days later. Days which consisted of ignoring Spencer; unless absolutely necessary. Days spent trying not to look at him, days spent pretending you weren't thinking about him, his touch, or that night you spent together.

It was incredibly hard to concentrate on quite literally anything. 

The night you got home from the work trip was a sleepless one. You tossed and turned, anxious about seeing the brunette doctor the next day. You couldn't help but wonder how the two of you will act around one another now that you were back on common ground. How your dynamic will be now that you weren't working a case. 

It shouldn't have come as a surprise that you weren't the only one feeling restless. A knock on your door caused you to hop out of bed and wander towards it. Letting a yawn escape your lips you looked through the peephole to check who was on the other side. Spencer.

Quickly, you opened the door. The young doctor looked up from the ground and greeted you with a timid smile. 

“Spencer, what are you doing here? How did you know where I live?” 

“I’m sorry Y/N, I know it’s late but-” He cleared his throat. “-can we please talk?” He asked while staring deep into your eyes. You nodded after a brief moment and stepped aside, allowing him to enter. 

Spencer sat down on the couch, glancing around your apartment in the process. The place wasn’t fully decorated yet. A number of cardboard boxes were stacked on top of one another in the corner of the living room, clearly still full. The TV lay on the floor, cables tangled, and beside it was a half-opened suitcase with your go-bag thrown hastily on top. 

You asked if he wanted a coffee, or anything else to drink, but he politely shook his head ‘no’ so you situated yourself on the opposite end of the couch and waited for him to tell you why he was here.

Silence enveloped around the room. Suddenly afraid to say anything, in case it ended up in another argument, the brunette doctor nervously fidgeted with the bottom of his shirt. You were slightly taken aback by his nervous demeanour, it was completely different to the way he acted around you the last week.

It reminded you of when you were younger. The shy, awkward, slightly closed-off Spencer. The guy who wouldn’t hold your hand or at time was afraid to meet your gaze, the guy that didn’t understand the sarcastic jokes you made. It made your heart ache a little.

Finals were approaching and they were approaching fast. Everyone said law school would be hard. Long hours, extensive curriculum, sleepless nights, projects, essays, case-studies. The list goes on.

It didn't help that you were a lot younger than your fellow classmates. Being an ambitious and driven kid you managed to skip a few grades and get an undergraduate degree in psychology at a very young age. Law school seemed like the logical next step although now you were thinking about giving up.

With junior year coming to an end, you constantly wondered whether this should be the end of your law career. Perhaps there was something better out there for you. Something easier, and not as draining. You weren't a quitter, far from it, but this was too much for a single person to handle.

It was Friday night, and yet currently you were curdled up on the library floor rather than at some frat party. Piles on piles of books and encyclopaedias formed around you as you worked away on your end of term paper. 

A not so quiet yawn escaped your lips. Followed by another. Leaning back against the shelf behind you, you closed your eyes. Honestly, you could fall asleep here, now. 

It was in that moment of silence you heard a shuffling sound approaching your location between the aisles of books. Slowly, you flushed your eyes back open to analyse your surroundings - see who it was that disturbed your peace. 

A scrawny boy stood just a few feet away, deeply focused on the collection of titles in front of him. The boy was around your age. Tall. You could see remains of gel in his short brown hair; which was now quite messy. He was dressed in a slightly oversized sweater, underneath he wore what looked like a neatly ironed shirt, and a dark bag was draped loosely over his shoulder. 

“Hello.” You said. His head instantly snapped in your direction. 

“H-hi.” He replied sheepishly. “I-I didn’t mean to wake you.” His soft demeanour made you smile. “Oh, I wasn't actually sleeping. Just resting my eyes for a second.” 

The boy nodded. You waited for him to say something but he didn't so you reached out your hand. 

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” 

His gaze travelled to your hand before moving back up to meet yours. He didn't move any closer, and you could sense he grew a little uncomfortable, so you let your hand fall down to your lap.

“I’m Spencer.” He cleared his throat. “Doctor Spencer Reid.” Your eyes widened a little at his esteemed title. “Doctor?” 

Spencer’s nose twitched gently. 

“I have Ph.D’s in mathematics, chemistry and engineering.” He retorted causing your mouth to part in shock. “Holy shit.” Pause. “Wow, and here I thought I was the resident genius having one silly undergraduate degree.” You joked; but the young doctor didn't laugh. He simply stared at you, a kind look spread across his face.

“W-what are you studying now?” Spencer asked, motioning to the stakes of books around you.

“I’m in law school.” You replied. “Failing miserably to write my stupid end of term paper.” Sigh. “One of many actually.” 

Spencer took one step forward. “M-maybe I can help?” He offered. “That is really kind of you but unless you have a law degree you haven’t mentioned yet, I don't know how you would be able to help.” 

“I don’t have a law degree, but I have an eidetic memory.” He said, nervously tugging at the strap of his bag. “I-if that’s of any help to you.” 

The smile on your face grew wider. “Well Spencer, now you’re just showing off.” 

It was at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue with such ease, the brunette doctor finally smiled. And holy smokes did he have a pretty smile. Your heart skipped a beat as his face illuminated. 

“But you convinced me.” You added while getting up on your feet. You picked up your things along with as many books as you could carry. Spencer shuffled toward you, and while keeping his distance, he bent down to pick up the remaining items. 

“Why are you here Spencer?” You finally asked breaking the silence.

The brunette agent tilted his head in your direction, eyes locking with yours once again causing the air to catch briefly in your chest.

“I wanted to make sure you knew that what happened between us the other night, that wasn’t some ploy to get you to stay.” He stated. “I tried to explain that to you but you never really gave me a chance.” Pause. “Y/N, I want you to stay. Not for me but because you deserve to be a part of this team.”

“I appreciate you saying that Spencer. Truly.” A small smile graced your facial features. The brunette doctor smiled down at his hands. “But you didn’t have to come here in the middle of the night to tell me that. It could have waited.” You teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Spencer smirked before clearing his throat. He glanced up, his eyes meeting yours. “I guess I just wanted to see you.” You bit down on your bottom lip the second he said that, your heart skipping a beat. Spencer shifted closer to you. Without really thinking about it, you also moved in his direction. Your knees now touching. 

“You know, communication was never our strong suit. For two people with psychology degrees you would think we’d be better at it.” You muttered making Spencer laugh. The smile on your face slowly faded. “Maybe we’re too similar, maybe that was our downfall.” 

Spencer lifted his hand, reaching out for yours which was currently placed on your lap. He intertwined his fingers with yours. “In reality, opposites don’t attract.” The brunette doctor noted. “You’re more likely to be attracted someone who thinks the same as you do.” 

In the space of a heartbeat, without giving you a chance to reach, Spencer leaned in. His lips brushed against yours; electricity shooting through your body. His free hand found its way to your face, and he cupped your cheek. As seconds passed you pushed yourself into him more. Fuck. Should you be doing this?

You hurried through the halls, slaloming between the groups of students making their way peacefully to class. A feeling of excitement filled you from head to toe; excitement you only wanted to share with one specific person. 

Spencer was sat in your now usual spot at the university library. Two coffees in front of him, one for you. 

A sort of routine emerged since the two of you first met. It started out for purely academic purposes, but in the last week especially it evolved into something different. A friendship perhaps? No. It felt more than that although neither of you could quite describe it

“I did it!” You exclaimed while sitting down beside the young doctor - getting a dirty look from the librarian in the process. She shushed you before returning to whatever it was she was doing. You rolled your eyes before turning your attention back to Spencer. “I am officially done with all my papers and assignments.”

“I’m happy for you Y/N.” Spencer smiled.

“Well, I couldn't have done it without you.” You beamed at him. “I don’t know how I will ever thank you Spencer.” He shrugged his shoulders.  

“Come on genius, there must be something I can do for you.”

The brunette doctor cleared his throat, avoiding your gaze. “I-I have t-two tickets to this convention, but you wouldn't be interested.” You raised an eyebrow while reaching for one of the coffees on the table. Lifting the lid to your lips you smiled. “It’s a date.”

Spencer’s hands were now holding onto your waist. He lifted you up in one swift motion, without breaking the kiss, so that you were now cradling his lap. You held his face, the tips of your fingers wrapping in his light brown curls. 

Any reservations you had just a moment ago were now forgotten. You were completely lost in him, just as he was in you. 

As your mouth parted, Spencer’s tongue crept between your lips meeting yours. Instantly, your tongues began to play back and forth. Heads tilting side to side to vary pressure. 

Spencer’s strong hands began to travel up your body. They moved from your waist; slightly messing up your shirt in the process and sending a shiver down your spine. They stopped once they reached your neck, giving it a light squeeze. You couldn't help but moan against his hot mouth. 

“I honestly don’t remember the last time I had this much fun.” You breathed happily as you and the young doctor walked down the busy street after the convention. “You don’t have to say that Y/N.” Spencer said, nervously tugging at the bottom of his shirt. 

“Are you kidding? Spencer, today was amazing!” You beamed throwing your hands up in the air. “I was supposed to be making it up to you for your help with my papers but instead you treated me to another great day.” 

Spencer chuckled lightly. He loved seeing you this happy. The more he thought about it, the more he realised how many things he actually loved about you. But it made him nervous because what if he didn't just love things like your laugh or your attitude. What if in fact he was in love with you.

“I guess we’re going to have to go on another date.” You teased. Spencer’s nose twitched but he didn't say anything. His lack of response caused you to stop in your tracks. The young doctor mimicked your move and also stopped, just a step ahead of you.

“I’m sorry.” You sighed. 

“Why are you sorry?” Spencer asked confused.

“I just, I called today our date and I don’t want you to think I expect anything. I know the idea of dating can make you uncomfortable.” Your mouth flipped into a half-smile. “I like hanging out with you Spencer. I enjoy your company, and I wouldn't want to jeopardise that.” 

“I like hanging out with you too.” 

“Really?” “O-of course I do Y/N.” He smiled nervously. “I-I would like to go on more dates with you. You’re like a breath of fresh air.” Your face flushed red at his comment. Something Spencer noticed immediately. Without really thinking, he reached out his hand and gently caressed your cheek. 

Your heart stopped. This was the first time he had touched you, ever. It was the first time you felt his soft skin against yours. You wanted desperately to lean into his touch but you didn't want to scare him off so you stood still, taking a mental picture of this moment. 

Very slowly the two of you broke apart. The brunette doctor looked deep into your eyes; what he saw was longing, fervour. He felt the exact same. 

Between the constant fights and misunderstandings it felt wrong to feel this strong desire to one another. This strong pull. It felt almost toxic. But Spencer shook the invasive thought away, his lips once again meeting yours. 

“Would you like to move this to the bedroom?” You suggested in a mere whisper in between kisses. Spencer nodded. His hands situated themselves on your bum. The brunette agent picked you up allowing you to swiftly wrapp your legs around him. He carried you to the bed, kicking the door shut behind you with his leg. 

-

story taglist: @ashwarren32, @haylaansmi, @spencersblog, @lovebodymindstuff, @april-14-blog, @wooya1224, @chevyimpala00067, @sizzlingclamturtlesludge​

masterlist

[blu-joons]

He Asks You To Go On Tour With Him ~ Jeon Jungkook

Prompt: 32

Watching him back up his things for tour never felt like it got easier, sitting back as he went around the bedroom and took all of things that made your house together a home was hard. The wardrobes were emptier, tables were clearer, and the whole room felt much bigger, and emptier.

The sound of the zipper being done up on his case was always the hardest, the memories the two of you had made whilst he was home were shut away, ready for him to take them all around the world.

Jungkook was clueless to your eyes watching him move around as he continued to pack up his next case, throwing the full one out of the room to give him more space.

“Stop getting upset,” he whispered, as he turned to glance at you.

Your hands quickly wiped under your eyes to hide any evidence of tears, forcing a smile onto your face. “I wasn’t upset, just had something in my eye.”

He giggled lightly, shaking his head at your fledging attempt to reassure him that you were fine, knowing that he knew you far too well to believe any of that. “To stop you crying, how about you open up one of those cases so we can get this done quicker?”

You reached for one of the smaller luggage bags and unzipped it, tipping out all the old empty bottles and odd socks Jungkook kept hold of from the previous tour.

“What do you want in this one?” You asked, moving off the bed so you could lay it across, folding the two straps out of it.

He glanced back, before opening up one of the drawers of your side of the wardrobe, throwing one of your old lounge shirts across for you to fold.

“This is mine,” you huffed, “and one of my favourites.”

“I know, that’s why it needs to go,” he chuckled, failing to hide his smile as you absentmindedly folded it, placing it neatly in the case.

Once that was done, you opened up one of his drawers and began to place numerous pairs of socks on top of the shirt, only for his voice to yell, telling you to stop. Your body froze at the sudden volume of his voice, staring blankly at him.

“You need to fill that case, look in your drawer and see what should go in,” he told you, only adding to your confusion as you took out the socks.

He waited a few moments, but your figure didn’t appear beside him, refusing to give away any more of your items of clothing for him to take on tour.

“Y/N, you need to fill your suitcase, you can’t go around without any clothes, you’ll end up arrested or something?”

“What are you talking about?”

He walked around the bed, so he was stood in front of you, resting his hands onto your lips, placing a single light kiss to the tip of your nose. “You need to decide what to bring.”

“I heard you the first time, I just don’t understand.”

“Do I have to spell it out for you?”

The corners of your mouth turned up into a smile as Jungkook tilted his head to stare up at the ceiling, failing to see how you didn’t understand exactly what he was asking of you.

Once he’d taken a breath, his eyes met yours again, “a space came up on tour for a few plus ones, and I told them that you’d be more than happy to fill one of them and come with me on tour.”

“So, what you’re telling me is that you’ve told everyone I’ll go on tour with you without consulting me first?”

His expression dropped as he wasn’t met with the excitement he’d hoped, instead you stared blankly at him, moving your arms so they folded in front of your chest.

“When you say it like that, I feel like I did something wrong,” he whispered.

You felt terrible as he let go of your hold, brushing his hand through his hair, looking down at the cases he’d hoped would be full of your things.

“If you can’t go, it’s completely fine, I’d understand. I just thought it would be nice for us to spend some time together, to be able to explore the world together rather than just constantly being stuck in Korea.”

“Kook,” you mumbled, reaching your hand out to cup the side of his face, “I’m messing with you.”

“W-what?”

You stepped beside him, starting to take out a few of your outfits from your wardrobe, resting them beside the suitcase that had been designated to you.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t want to go on tour with you? I’d love to go with you,” you smiled, passing him the clothing to fold and place away.

He nodded shamefully, you hated to admit it, but you had him convinced that you didn’t want to go with him. He was already preparing to have to admit to the boys that he was wrong and suffer through their constant torment that you weren’t able to go with him.

“Are you sure you definitely want to come?” He asked, one more time.

You nodded, leaning across to press a kiss to his cheek, “I am most definitely sure I want to come on tour with you, it’s going to be fun.”

“Good, because please don’t change your mind again, I honestly don’t think my heart will be able to take it.”

The two of you spent the rest of your afternoon packing up the cases to take on tour, all the heartbreak of watching him pack earlier had disappeared as you began to get excited for your own adventures with Jungkook, seeing all the places you’d never seen before.

Not having to go through the sadness of waking up to an empty bed, or going to sleep alone, instead being in a different city every day with Jungkook right beside you sounded like everything you’d ever dreamed of.

Once everything was taken care of, the two of you laid out across the bed, most of the surfaces had been cleared, a stack of suitcases waited for you outside the room, but none of that mattered.

“I’m excited,” you whispered as Jungkook pulled you closely into his chest.

His head rested on top of yours, wrapping an arm tightly around you, “I bet I’m more excited, there’s so many places I can’t wait to show you. I’ve already been making lists in my head of all the things I want to visit with you.”

“Like what?”

“It’s a surprise,” he giggled, kissing against your hairline, “it’s all part of the mystery and the fun. Each place, we’ll find somewhere special that we can remember forever, how does that sound?”

You hummed in response, allowing your eyes to flutter shut, overwhelmed as the last few hours caught up on you, “sounds good,” you whispered, tapping your hand against his chest.

As Jungkook looked down at you, he couldn’t help but smile, for once as he prepared to say goodbye to home, there were no tears or fears, just a thrill and excitement knowing that he wasn’t saying goodbye to home after all, because home was coming with him. You.

“Get some rest jagi, you’ve got a busy few months ahead of you.”

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Masterlist