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spreadyovrwings · 1 year ago

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64 Olso Square

"Companion' Middle English. From Old French 'compaignon', literally 'one who breaks bread with another.

Strapped for cash, John gets a job at a bakery as their new delivery boy. Juggling school and Queen and work is exhausting, but it's more than worth it. It's worth it because of you.

Warnings for this chapter: some light… thoughts of…. smut….. lots of flirting and these two dancing around each other even more.

Chapter Seven

Rita Caine went into labour on the morning of 1st June 1972. Her baby girl was born at seven o’ clock precisely, so her parents decided to call her Dot.

Dorothy Angela Caine was healthy and happy, and so were her adoring parents. Which was nice. Lovely, in fact. Except it meant that, for the last week, you had been running the bakery entirely by yourself.

You didn’t mind. Really, you didn’t. You couldn’t be more thrilled for Mickey. He’d been talking about starting a family ever since he met the girl of his dreams three years ago. His happiness gave you the strength to face that wall of hungry customers every morning and your cantankerous old kitchen.

But after one day on your own, you could barely summon the energy to hold yourself up. You simply let your body sink into a heap behind the counter, sliding down the wall until your bum hit the floor. You didn’t even have the energy to cry.

It didn’t matter that you’d spent days prepping, it didn’t matter that you were getting just a few hours of sleep and you hadn’t seen your friends or family in weeks, it still wasn’t enough to keep you ahead of schedule. Much as you tried, you couldn’t do the job of two people already doing the job of five.

As always, John was your only source of comfort.

You hadn’t admitted to anyone just how much pressure you were under. Mickey was able to come in a few days a week but you wouldn’t ever ask for more, and Gladys was like one of those comets you only see every 70-something years. You were barely getting by but hadn’t said a word. Somehow, John was able to sense it. Probably something to do with the way you gasped with joy and relief every time he stepped through the door.

That day, John was off on his rounds, dropping off little white boxes around the city on a bike borrowed from a girl on his floor, the same girl who leant him the flowery, red helmet. It turned out she’d painted the bike to match. When John turned up one morning, scowling atop his new wheels, it had kept you smiling all day.

When he finally returned to the bakery later that afternoon, just a few hours from closing, you were so relieved to see a friendly face, you almost kissed him. Almost.

You settled for resting your hand over the one he rested on the countertop and squeezing gently.

“Thank God, you’re ‘ere.”

John just smiled, puzzled but obviously pleased that you were happy to see him.

“Has it been bad?”

“No,” you lied. “Not really. But the last few hours are always a rush. How were the deliveries?”

“Great! Although, when I knocked at, er…” He checked his list, scrawled down by several different hands over the course of the week. “The one in West Brom? This one here. They weren’t in. The lady in reception said they’d gone out for breakfast instead, so.”

“‘appens.” You shrugged. “That’s your lunch sor’ed, then.”

John gave you an almost weary look.

You only beamed back. John always liked to make a show of refusing every time you gave him food to take home but he’d never once left empty-handed. Today would be no different.

John couldn’t keep a straight face for very long. He shyly raised a hand to cover his smile, but he couldn’t hide those crinkles around his eyes and the way his cheeks bunched up, still pink from his bike ride.

He was much smilier now than when you met, like he’d almost been out of the habit of it back then. You weren’t sure what it was, his friends, the band, this job, but things seemed to be going right for John. A small, selfish part of you wondered if you might have something to do with it too.

Things had, admittedly, taken a bit of a pause in that area. There was still tension, little looks and touches that lasted far longer than they needed to, but John hadn’t said anything more about the date he’d proposed, and you were too terrified to bring it up yourself.

That wasn’t to say there hadn’t been any progress. If you could call unbearable sexual tension progress.

Exactly three weeks after he was mugged, John invited you to another of his band’s gigs. He was right, it went a lot smoother than the last one. The hall was bigger, there were far more people, and John didn’t look like he’d rather be anywhere else the whole time.

After digging through your wardrobe, you managed to find a sheer top with long, bell sleeves and some black velvet flares. You made sure to stand as near to the centre as you could so that you could get a good look at him and, more importantly, so that John could get a good look at you. You felt his eyes on you the whole night.

There was another gig just a few days later at a school hall in Wandsworth. By then, you knew most of the words to a few of their songs. You even brought along a few leftover treats from the bakery for them to give out to punters.

Nothing, nothing, compared to the feeling of looking up at John while he played, his long fingers tugging at the bass strings, his head bowed. The way he moved, it was so different to how he acted offstage. There was a confidence about him you’d never seen before, and when he shook his long hair over his shoulder and smiled down at you, his hips swaying to his own beat, you suddenly understood why people went mad for musicians.

John always managed to find you, despite the low lights and the now heaving crowds. It sent a thrill through your blood every time his eyes met yours. Of all the people in the room, all those pretty girls and boys who were beginning to worship Queen, John only had eyes for you. He walked home with you after every gig.

You fell into a routine together without having to say a word. If John’s shift ended late in the evening, he would come up to your flat to watch telly for a while before heading back to his lonely digs, or you would walk up and down the high street a few times, just talking and talking, laughing and talking. If he worked the morning shift, John would stay to help out, but only after you’d made sure he wasn’t just trying to get out of studying.

And then there was The Incident. You blushed to think about it, even now.

It happened last week, at the end of a very long shift for the both of you. The bakery was so busy, John had offered to stay behind to help.

Working beside him again was so lovely. John didn’t often have time to hang out with all the essays he’d been lumbered with, so you had lots of catching up to do. Standing there behind the counter, chatting away about everything and nothing while you made tea and dished pastries, it was the happiest you’d been in months. Your cheeks began to ache from all the smiling.

When things finally started to wind down, you took John back into the kitchen with you and, after he expressed an interest, you showed him how the bakery’s signature bread was made, a darker loaf made up of rye flour, as well as wholemeal and white.

You shaped the dough between your hands, weighed it, then rolled it over a tray of seeds that shone like tiny jewels under the bright lights above. Together, you and Mickey made forty of these loaves every day. You could probably do it blindfolded now.

After a while, John’s questions petered out and you worked in a comfortable silence, which you only broke to remind him of the next step or to compliment his technique. No words could describe how hard you worked to not stare at John’s big hands as they rolled and patted and kneaded the dough.

Whatever walls you both had, they were gone now, there was no denying it. Being around John had always been easy, even though your heart was usually pounding so hard you could hardly hear him speak over it. But now there was no shyness, no awkwardness or uncertainty. There was no one else you could just be yourself around, and you liked the person you were when you were with John.

You realised you were smiling to yourself and quickly glanced up to see if John had noticed.

To your surprise, he was watching your face, his eyes soft and faraway. It wasn’t the first time you’d caught him staring but you’d never actually been brave enough to call him out on it. For the life of you, you didn’t know why that day felt different, but you smiled and asked,

“What are you thinkin’ about?”

John’s eyes seemed to focus again and he looked embarrassed. Maybe he hadn’t been staring at you at all. Perhaps he’d just zoned out and his gaze had only happened to land on you.

Feeling sheepish, you tried to laugh it off, but then John said,

“I was just wondering if I’d get flour on my face if I kissed you.”

You froze, the dough heavy in your hands, and stared. It was all you could do.

“What?”

John blinked.

“You’ve got flour…” He pointed at his cheek, then at yours. “What? What’s wrong?”

“You were thinkin’ about kissin’ me?”

John baulked, shook his head, and made an odd sort of sputtering sound, all before he managed to choke out,

“That’s not what I said!”

He seemed so certain. For a moment, you wondered if you’d somehow misheard or even imagined it. But no, no, John had let whatever was in his head come tumbling out of his mouth, perhaps for the first time in his life.

“You said, ‘I was wondering if I’d get flour on my face if I kissed you’.”

“Well, exactly! So-”

“So you were thinkin’ about kissin’ me.”

“No! Well, I…”

You couldn’t help it, you had to laugh. It was just so silly. John looked like he was about to turn grey and keel over, he was so embarrassed. For some reason, it only made you want to keep pressing.

“So, would you?”

“What?”

John’s voice cracked. It made your stomach flip.

“Get flour all over your face?”

It was a dare. You knew it. You knew John felt it. Suddenly the kitchen had gone very quiet.

You watched his lips press together. His steel grey eyes searched your face.

“I don’t know,” John said slowly, almost like he couldn’t believe he was really having this conversation with you. “Only one way to find out, I s’pose.”

He’d seen your bet and raised you. More than that, he’d given you permission, laid his cards out on the table and said, ‘Go on, then. Put your money where your mouth is’.

Your gaze dropped to his mouth again. He couldn’t have been more than a foot away. All you’d have to do was lean forward and he was yours.

John watched you, those clever eyes clear and bright. Were you imagining it, or had he turned himself towards you? Opened himself up to you and lowered his head a little?

Slowly (too slowly, you knew that now) you began to smile.

“I s’pose.”

John’s mouth twisted, then he laughed softly. It sounded hollow. He turned back to the dough and asked if it looked good enough to you.

It was only later that you realised your mistake. You’d been echoing him, a positive. John had heard an uncertain negative. You’d never wanted to kick yourself so bad.

It didn’t come up again.

On a bright day in the middle of the second week of June, you were setting up the chairs and tables outside the bakery when you heard a familiar bell chime.

John pulled up by the curb, his bike tires skidding across the asphalt. He looked pleased with himself, it was obviously a move he’d been practising. He’d certainly come a long way from careering into oncoming traffic, oncoming pedestrians, and several oncoming trees.

“You’ve mastered tha’.”

John smiled, wide and relaxed.

“You know, I had a scooter when I was a teenager.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Used to drive it everywhere. I’d choose that over this deathtrap any day.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

You tried not to sound too distant, but you couldn’t keep your eyes off John as he took off his helmet and shook out his long hair. He was so insanely beautiful, and you knew he liked to dress nice sometimes and he was always talking about what he wanted to do next with his hair, but John really didn’t have a clue just how gorgeous he was. At least, to you.

“I was big on The Who. I had this little Vespa 180.”

You nodded as if you knew what that was.

“Had the parka and the hair, and everything," John went on. “I was stopping by my friend Dave’s house once; he was in the band I was in back then. This car pulled out of nowhere and I skidded and came off it. Cut up my arms and my legs,” John scratched at his chin. “Had a nasty scrape here. Nearly fainted on my mate’s living room carpet from all the blood.”

You laughed because he did, though really, the thought of John as a teenager, just a kid really, hurting himself so badly that he was that shaken, it made your stomach twist.

He’d been doing that more often lately, telling you stories. Not just about his friends, his band, his classes, but about his home and his family, about the people he grew up with and the fun they used to have. It had taken almost half a year but John finally seemed to have relaxed.

“You were in a band back home too?”

You watched John dismount the bike, grinning to yourself when one of his long legs got caught in the frame. Still as graceful as ever.

“The Opposition, we were called. That’s where I learnt the bass.” John smiled, looking you up and down quickly. “You look lovely.”

You looked down at yourself. A skirt you’d pulled from the washing basket, an apron, and your coffee brown uniform shirt didn’t seem worth mentioning. With a pang, you wondered if you’d led the conversation down a path John didn’t want to follow and the compliment was just a distraction.

You looked back up at him, eyebrows raised.

“Do I?”

“Yeah, you’re…”

He looked you up and down again, slower now, taking his time, then smiled sheepishly like he’d forgotten himself for a moment. There was something so innocent and genuine about that smile too. It made John’s eyes sparkle and his nose wrinkle, and the small sound he made, a soft, shy laugh, was so endearing, all you could think about was kissing him.

“Thanks, er…”

You huffed, not sure what else to say. But John was still smiling. He knew.

Even though he’d bottled it, once again, passers-by must’ve been able to feel the tension radiating off of you. Your heart was pounding so hard, you were sure John would be able to hear it, even over the roar of morning traffic.

“Listen,” You shot him a look, wryly acknowledging that you were changing the subject. “I need to talk to you.”

John heaved an exaggerated sigh and turned his bike around.

“Oh, dear…”

You followed him down the narrow alleyway that separated the bakery from the haberdashery next door. There was hardly enough room to manoeuvre around the bins and potholes on foot, let alone fit a bike through, but he had the knack by now. You still managed to admire John from behind as you wound your way around the skips like an Olympic gymnast.

“I can’t make it tomorrow night. I’m really sorry. Gladys needs me to close up, she’s goin’ out with…” You pulled a face. “Well, she’s goin’ out. And I’m basically gonna have to work through the night to cover not ‘avin’ Micky still.”

You’d made plans to meet up before his next gig, what should’ve been your fourth. But there was just too much to do, and after two weeks of on-and-off help from Mickey and Gladys, you were exhausted.

“I’m so sorry, John.”

“It’s alright, love. Don’t worry. It’s tough at the minute, I know.” He squeezed your elbow gently, reassuringly, then turned to chain up his bike. “You’re gonna miss out on seeing my new outfit but…”

“Well, that’s why I wan’ed to talk to you...” You wrung your hands, half agony, half hope. “To make up for it, I wondered if you… If you wan’ed to come over after work tomorrow night? I could make dinner, help you get ready, do your make up…”

John laughed, soft and bright, all gap-teeth and eye crinkles. You could get used to seeing him this relaxed, you really could.

“I’d really like that,” he said, nodding sweetly, then he laughed to himself again.

You tried not to look as happily surprised as you felt.

“Good!” you said. “Cool.”

John beamed then raised his arm, gesturing for you to enter the bakery before him.

“Cool,” he repeated, teasing you.

You beamed.

“Cool.”

“Good.”

“Cool.”

“Good.”

Friday night should be the best night of the week. You should be out with your friends, maybe going to the pictures or getting a drink in a nice bar in town. Instead, you were so exhausted, you could barely put one foot in front of the other, and climbing the stairs to your tiny flat felt like traversing the foothills of the Himalayas.

But you had become used to not seeing your friends, and there was never anything on at the cinema, and even when you could summon the energy to get all dressed up and buy yourself a drink with a fantastic name, all you could think about was the bakery, and all the work you could be doing instead.

That night, it took all your strength to not flop down onto the sofa, or even better, your bed. Today had been tough, tougher than usual. Fridays always seemed busier than you could handle, even though in terms of numbers, they couldn’t be much different to any other day. Everyone was desperate to get home, hardly caring that you were too.

Feet dragging the carpet, you went into your room and stood in front of the mirror. Blurred eyeliner, tangled hair, and an empty sort of look behind your eyes.

“C’mon, kid,” You patted your cheeks, then tilted your chin up, dragging your open palm down your throat. “You’re alright. You know you can do it. You’re alright.”

You slipped your fingers under the collar of your shirt and pressed them into your pulse.

“Still goin’.”

You stayed there for a moment, just looking at yourself as you felt your heart beating against your fingertips. You tilted your head to one side, then the other.

There was a threatening red patch by the arch of your left eyebrow where a spot was brewing, and the bags under your eyes were growing darker and darker by the day.

“Mickey will be back soon.”

Lying to yourself was a new low. Mickey hadn’t said when he’d be back permanently. Gladys had actually made a rare appearance that afternoon but you were both so busy, you hadn’t had a chance to ask what the plan was. You were just treading water, and the storm showed no sign of clearing.

There was a knock at the door, four short, sharp knocks. Very John. Right on time, as always, and just when you needed him.

You eyed your bed longingly.

When you opened the door, John was covering his head with his hands, pulling down on the edges of a brown baseball cap. He looked agitated and embarrassed, like you’d caught him in the middle of something.

“Hi,” he said, and despite his obvious uneasiness, he still managed a sweet little smile.

“Hi.” You laughed. “What’s that in aid of?”

John’s expression darkened.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” He dropped his hands with a sigh. “I tried to do my hair but I don’t think I did it right. Had to hide it all the way here.”

“Hide your-? How bad is it? What ‘ave you got under there?”

John gave you a look so hopelessly crestfallen, you had to laugh.

“Come in, come in. We can sort it. I hope you’re hungry.”

That brought back his smile.

“Starving,” he said firmly, and followed you into the flat.

He left his bag by the front door, beside your untidy pile of shoes. You half expected him to flop down onto the settee and stick the telly on, or go into the bedroom to get changed, but John stuck close to your side, waiting for you to tell him what to do. He still had that stupid hat on but you sensed it wasn’t a good idea to ask about it yet.

“You lookin’ forward to tonight?” you asked instead.

You moved to the cupboard to grab some bits for dinner, nothing fancy but definitely soul-soothing. You sensed you both needed it.

“Yeah, yeah it should be good fun. Brian reckons we’ll pull a good crowd and he’s never wrong, so…” John rolled his eyes. “How was work? I’m sorry I couldn’t stay to help today. I could probably do tomorrow though and some days next week?”

“I’d love that. And it was good. Busy but… And I think I might’ve convinced Gladys we can afford more help.”

“Another baker?”

“Just someone to watch the front of the shop.”

John pouted.

“I thought I was gonna be your new sales assistant.”

“What? You’re joking. You’ll be busy touring the world soon! You’ll forget all about us.”

The moment the words left your mouth, your heart sank like a stone. You were only teasing, but there was a thickness to your voice, a tell-tale edge of self-pity, that John couldn’t have missed.

The thought clouded your mind most days. Whenever it threatened to sink its claws too deep into your chest, you had to turn the radio up or start a new dough, anything to distract, if not completely switch off your whirring brain. John couldn’t stay forever. You knew that. He knew that. But you were having a hard time accepting it.

John gave you a soft smile.

“I wouldn’t forget you, love.”

As he spoke, he raised his hand and slipped it round your wrist, gently, carefully.

“I couldn’t.”

His fingers were so long, they could wrap all the way around your wrist, his rings cold against your burning skin. It was all that kept you grounded.

He could barely hold your gaze when you first met. Now John could touch you like it was the easiest, most natural thing in the world, because it was.

You kept your eyes on his hand. You couldn’t look at him, you couldn’t let John see just how much the thought of him leaving pained you, or how desperately you wanted to rest your hand over his and pull him closer.

He squeezed your wrist once, then took back his hand. It took everything in you not to grab it back.

John cleared his throat. His cheeks were a little pink.

“Anyway, the band is just a… It’s not forever. It’s just a laugh. Something to get us a bit of money.”

You frowned.

“Is that how you all see it?”

John looked away.

You’d obviously touched a nerve so you changed tack.

“D’you mind chopping the veg?”

You worked together in a comfortable silence. The only sounds were the soft chip chip chip of John’s knife against the chopping board as he sliced carrots and onions, and the crooning radio in the corner.

You let your mind wander to what it might be like to hear one of John’s songs on the wireless someday, what the DJ might say about him and his friends as they lined up the next track. Would they mention his degree? How hard he��d worked to get their little band off the ground? Would they mention him at all? John seemed happiest in the background, a silent but steady column keeping everything upright.

They wouldn’t mention you, you knew that. Or Mickey, or Gladys, or this bakery. They’d never know what a good influence 64 Oslo Square had been. They would never know how insular John was when he started, and how proud you were of him for wanting to get better. They would see someone quiet, distant, but smart, so smart, and never know just how far he’d come.

You weren’t part of his story. Or maybe you were, in a way. A book, tucked away in a corner of the library that only you and John knew was there. Either way, it wasn’t important. DJs and music magazines and record sales didn’t matter to you. Knowing John was better for meeting you and your home was all the acclaim you needed.

You looked over at John. He was smiling to himself as he fiddled with the papery skin of an onion, probably trying to decide if he’d chopped enough.

Memories of the boy who walked into the bakery on that rainy night flooded your mind. So nervous he could barely get his words out, so thin he was shuddering despite his old jumper. Now here he was, in your home, making dinner with you, smiling at you-

John had caught you looking.

You cleared your throat awkwardly.

The song on the radio changed to something more upbeat, a Slade song.

“So, this show, where is it again?” you asked, turning back to the pasta boiling on the stove.

“A club down in Soho, I think. The Regent? Le Régent? I don’t know. Freddie saw the name and picked it. God knows what the place is like.”

You shrugged.

“Sticky floors, horrible loos, grabby men. They’re all one in the same.”

“Yeahhh, I don’t mind you missing this one, to be honest. It won’t be glam.”

John turned and leaned against the sideboard. He was so tall, he could perch on the side without needing to hoist himself up.

You just kept your eyes down. If you stared at his hips for too long, you knew you wouldn’t be able to resist pinning them against the counter.

“Don’t worry, when we go out, I’ll take you somewhere nice.”

It was such a bold statement, it surprised you, and all you could think to do was laugh.

“Oh, really?”

“Only the best for my boss.”

“I’m not your boss.”

“Aren’t you?”

When you looked back over your shoulder, John had turned his back again and was chopping vegetables innocently. His face was half hidden by his long, wavy hair but there was no missing the smirk in his voice.

You watched his arm move up and down, up and down, and marvelled at how slim he really was. You could see his bony elbow poking through his brown chequered shirt with every shunk of the knife against the chopping block, though you were pleased to find you could no longer pick out his ribs as his body turned. Your plan to feed him up a bit was clearly working.

Against your better judgement, you let your gaze travel slowly, slowly down.

John’s tiny waist seemed made for your hands. The contrasting curve of his hips made you dizzy. You could almost feel your fingers sinking into them, see his pretty face flush with embarrassment at how much he enjoyed you touching him, until your palms began to tingle. You rolled your open hands into fists, squeezing tight.

You could sweep his long hair aside and press kisses down his spine, your hands still kneading at his hips, until he had melted beneath you. So tall, far taller than you, especially in his heels, and now there was a thought.

All it would take was one hand on the small of his back, pressing down gently until he was bent over the counter, his face pressed into the cold linoleum and his arse in the air.

You couldn’t help thinking John always wore those tight trousers just to antagonise you. You ached to run your hand over him, to feel the soft black velvet against your skin, to hear John gasp as your fitted your hips against him and leaned down, your chest against his back, your hair tickling his neck, your mouth near his ear as you told him how pretty he looked and how long you’d been thinking about fucking him, just like this.

“I know a place near my uni. It’s nice there, you’ll like it.”

You looked up, your eyes heavy.

John was smiling at you. It was such a lovely smile, but all you could think about was the warmth of his flushed skin against yours, the pathetic whines and moans that would fall from his funny mouth, and the ache between your thighs.

He was right there. You could have him if you wanted. All you’d have to do is cross the kitchen and kiss him, hard, so hard he couldn’t possibly doubt how much you needed him, and then he’d be yours.

He’d be in your bed, looking up at you with those big, clever grey-green eyes and begging you for more, grinding down on your fingers, his pretty hair spread across the pillow, his legs wrapped around your waist.

“Fuck me, love. Ohhhn… Want you inside me, darlin’. Fuck…”

His mouth would fall open as he watched you spread his legs even further apart, boots still on, his pink tongue pressing against the little gap in his teeth.

“What do we say?”

“Pleasepleaseplease, make me cum, please.”

“Good boy.”

“I promise, no sticky floors and no grabby men.”

John sipped his cup of tea.

You swallowed thickly.

“None at all?”

He laughed and shook his head at you, but didn’t rise to your challenge, much to your disappointment. Instead, John poked at a slice of onion with the tip of the knife.

“Are these alright?”

They were perfect. Of course they were.

After dinner, John disappeared into your room to get changed into his stage gear. When he came back, you had to pick your jaw up off the floor.

You weren’t sure what you’d expected. The last few times you’d seen John perform, he’d either opted for jeans and a T-shirt with his band’s name on it or borrowed things from his friends. It seemed he’d finally gone shopping.

“Do you like it?”

John beamed as he turned this way and that, showing you his black satin suit from every angle. The material shone in the light, framing his body neatly. The jacket pulled in at the waist, its shoulders contrastingly broad, and was open enough to show off the silk shirt he wore underneath.

“Yeah.” You took a breath. “I love it.”

John grinned. He clearly felt good. He ought to, looking like that.

You let your gaze follow the length of the suit, from his open collar right down to his red woollen socks. They offered a sliver of another part of John’s personality, a homely frugality that you couldn’t help finding endearing.

Cute as it was, you soon found yourself staring at his chest again. John was usually so bundled up against the cold, to see any of his skin sent you into an almost Victorian stupor, and now here he was, his chest bared down to the bottom of his sternum. You realised you were biting your lip.

“It’s thanks to you guys that I could buy it. I’ve been eyeing it in the shop for weeks. Thought you ought to be the first to see it.” John was peering in the mirror above the mantle, angling his chin this way and that. “Do you really like it?”

“You look great.”

You meant to say more but John started to play with the buttons on his shirt, toying with the idea of undoing one more.

“Come on, then. Let’s see this hair,” you said quickly.

With a woeful sigh, John turned away from the mirror and went to remove his hat but stopped with his fingers wrapped around its brim.

“You promise you won’t laugh?”

“I promise,” you lied. “C’mon, you’ll be late. How bad can it be?”

With an awkward smile, John took off his hat.

You pressed your lips together. When you were sure you had control of your smile, you tried to think of something reassuring to say. You came up blank.

“Oh, John…”

He groaned and let his head fall back, his eyes squeezed shut as if in agony.

“My sister does it when she wants to make her hair curly,” John moaned. “She taught me over the phone but I don’t think I did it right.”

You couldn’t resist, you had to laugh. John had wound two pencils into the front pieces of his hair, not the craziest idea in the world, but they’d somehow become tangled and were now stuck. One pencil was sticking almost straight up in the air. You couldn’t imagine how long it had taken John to get them under his hat.

John looked wretched.

“Is it bad?”

“No.”

“You said that a bit quick.”

You offered what you hoped was a reassuring sort of smile.

“It’s fixable.”

“Darling,” John moaned, drawing out the sounds so woefully, you’d finished laughing by the time you realised what he’d called you.

“It’s alright! It’s alright, we can sort this. God, all those brains and you can’t curl your own hair,” you laughed and shook your head. “God help us all if you ever do become an engineer.”

You directed him to the sofa so you could get a proper look at the top of his head. While you poked and fiddled with the pencils, you tried not to think about how you’d ended up standing between his legs again, and how nice it was to have him looking up at you.

After a moment or two of you muttering under your breath and John wincing every other second, the silence clearly became too much for him.

“Where are you from?”

You frowned, carefully turning one of the pencils between your fingers.

“What?”

The stereo in the corner was still crooning on, something low and slow that the DJ had swooned over. ‘For all you lovers out there…’ he’d schmoozed. ‘Something to set the mood and get you feeling good…’. You and John had just tried your best to ignore it.

John shrugged as best he could considering his precarious position.

“I’ve just realised I’ve never asked.”

“You won’t know it.”

“Try me.”

You looked down, smiling.

“Wandsworth.”

John thought for a moment then shook his head - carefully.

“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t know it.”

You laughed but stopped when you accidentally tugged too hard and it made John yelp.

“Sorry, sorry. How did you even manage to- It’s on the other side of the river.”

“Oh, the nice part of town?”

You snorted.

“Johnny, this is the nice part of town.”

“Ahhh, so you’re from the wrong side of the tracks? Or river.”

“That’s me, a real wrong’n.”

“Yeah, I see it now, you’ve got a streak a mile wide.”

Your fingers slipped and you accidentally tugged on John’s hair again. This time, the little whimper he gave in response made you press your thighs together.

Trying you best to keep your expression neutral, you asked,

“Murderous?”

“Hmm… Maybe when Alastair is about.”

You looked down at him again.

There was something about John knowing you, what you liked and what you didn’t, who you hated and what you wanted out of life, that made your chest lurch. You couldn’t recall anyone ever wanting to learn about you, to see you, or even listen to you like John did. Even if he did use it as ammunition to tease you.

“He won’t be around long. Gladys will see sense soon enough. She’s not as green as she is cabbage-looking.”

John exhaled sharply through his nose, agreeing.

You just smiled and tried to ignore the nagging doubt in the pit of your stomach. Hope that your boss would see sense, that Alastair would just leave you alone, was always closely followed by a grim stab of dread.

With one final twist, one of the pencils came free and you gave a triumphant little cheer.

“One down, one to go. No WHSmith trip for you.”

John leaned back, craning his neck to try and catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror about the mantle. As he did, his hands came up to rest on your hips, an anchor so that he could lean back far enough without toppling over.

“How does it look?”

“Well…”

You couldn’t fault John’s sister’s logic. The pencil had certainly done the trick. John’s already wavy hair had pinged up into a perfectly coiled curl, though it probably wasn’t quite what he’d imagined.

Considering he had less than two hours to get to the venue and sort himself out, you decided you’d hold off on delivering the bad news for now. Instead, you slipped your hand around his jaw and turned John’s attention back to you. The other pencil was at a more hopeful angle but was much more tangled.

You grimaced, then gave a low whistle.

“I don’t know, New Boy. Might have to get the scissors.”

John snapped his head up, his eyes wide.

“Kidding! Kidding.”

His hands didn’t leave your hips until he got up to leave.

In an empty lecture hall in South London, rehearsals had been rolling on for seven hours now, and Queen had been arguing for at least six of those.

“I just think if we keep the refrain going for, you know, a more… It would sound better.”

“We’ve already got enough bloody refrain on this track. It’s practically trippin’ over itself with how much bloody refrain you’ve stuck on it.”

“Oh, don’t be fucking childish.”

Roger and Brian had started to bicker from the moment they picked up their instruments. What was meant to be constructive criticism had come out much more condescending than was probably intended, which led to muttered comments under Roger’s breath, which, in turn, led to Brian getting defensive.

“I just think it needs a bit more towards the bridge, there. It’s stopping and starting at the moment.”

“It’s stopping because you keep stopping it! It’s fine as it is! There’s more than enough guitar on this one already, the bloody concert’ll be- People wanna get home, you know!”

Fearing they weren’t going to get much work done at this rate, Freddie attempted to act as peacekeeper, but he couldn’t resist dropping in the odd unhelpful comment. Soon, they were all squabbling like boys on the schoolyard, arms crossed and bottoms lips jutted out.

John sat in the corner and watched. He had one long leg slung over the other, his bass a familiar, comforting weight in his lap. While he waited for his friends to finish their argument, he sighed and rested his chin on the instrument’s rib, its sleek black body cool against his skin.

His fingers itched to play. It felt like ages since he’d been able to just switch off his mind, close his eyes and pluck out a rhythm that would slot in nicely with songs formed months before he joined the band.

He shifted his bass again, so that it lay across both his thighs. It reminded him of you, of how wonderful you’d felt sitting in his lap the night you patched him up and saved him from the cold. John felt something in chest tighten, then roll through his body to his stomach. He blew out a long breath.

He couldn’t believe you’d actually worried about being too heavy for him. He couldn’t believe you had no idea how much he’d loved being close to you and how his body had missed yours ever since. John hugged his bass closer, wrapping his arms around it and catching his own wrist to hold it tight, until he could almost imagine its body was yours, warm, soft, and everything he dreamt of.

“John won’t go for that.”

He looked up at the sound of his name. Roger was smirking at him. Beside him, Freddie looked worryingly hopeful.

“Go for what?”

“I just think our look could be vamped up a bit!”

Freddie was already on the defensive and he hadn’t even explained his idea yet, a tell-tale sign that John wasn’t going to like this one bit.

John glanced at Brian, who looked indifferent, and Roger, who seemed excited to see his reaction. He raised his eyebrows and Freddie sighed.

“I just think we could try coordinating a little better. A strong colour scheme. All of us looking like a band.”

“Yeah, okay,” John said, shrugging. “I’ve got no problem with that.”

“And I was thinking we could wear a bit more makeup.”

John’s face fell.

“No.”

“Deaky.”

“No way.”

“Everyone does it!”

“I don’t!”

“Deaky, it’s fine,” Roger rolled his eyes. “It’s just a bit of eyeliner, it’s not gonna kill you.”

John wrinkled his nose but stayed quiet. He knew when to pick his battles and, more importantly, he knew when he was outnumbered and likely to lose. Still, logistically there were still some issues.

“Where do I even get eyeliner?”

John thought he heard Freddie mutter something like ‘oh, for fuck’s sake’ under his breath, but Roger cut in before he could protest.

“Shops, Deaky. Come on.”

“I won’t have time! I’m always either at uni or work. I barely make it to gigs with enough time to get changed as it is.”

“Why don’t you ask your girlfriend! She wears eyeliner, I’ve seen it. And hey,” Roger grinned like a cat. “She could even put it on for you.”

John didn’t have the energy to argue. He shut his mouth again, his skin prickling with embarrassment as his friends murmured in agreement, smiling wicked smiles and whistling like teenagers.

“I’m not wearing any bloody makeup,” John said firmly, crossing his arms over his bass. “That’s the end of it.”

That’s how you found yourself between John’s knees, again, leaning in so that you could rub an eyeliner pencil dangerously close to his eyeball.

John was not taking it like a champ. For one thing, he kept bloody blinking. And he was gripping your elbow so tightly, you were starting to lose circulation.

“You know, John,” You smiled as you prised your arm from his grip for the third time. “This’ll only take a second if you just let me do it.”

John’s forehead creased, his funny mouth drawn into a thin line as he begrudgingly set his hands down by his sides. He slipped them under the lip of the table and held on so tight, his knuckles began to pale. So lanky, so smart, so sensible, and terrified of a pencil.

“So, this was Freddie’s idea?”

Immediately, you regretted asking. John scowled, almost making you drag the eyeliner across his temple.

“Stupid idea. I’m gonna look ridiculous.”

You couldn’t help smiling. You’d never seen John so cross and moody before.

“You’ll look fine.”

“It won’t suit me,” John pouted. “I haven’t got the right… Face for it. Roger and Freddie, even Brian, they’re…”

He trailed off, closing his eyes with a woebegone sigh.

Oh, no. You weren’t going to let him wriggle off the hook that easily.

You lifted John’s chin with three fingers, thinking it would force him to meet your eyes, but his stayed closed.

You slipped your thumb over his chin, his slight stubble rough against your skin, and pressed down gently.

“What?” you asked, giving his chin a little shake.

John didn’t open his eyes but you did manage to encourage a little smile out of him.

Pleased with your small win, you brushed your thumb across his chin again, more gently now, the tip of your thumbnail just skirting along the edge of his bottom lip. You ached to reach just that little bit further and tug it down. That would get his attention.

“You’re just as pretty as those idiots, Johnny. And twice as talented. And you’ve got one thing they ‘aven’t got.”

“What’s that?”

You grinned.

“Me.”

John finally opened his eyes and gazed at you softly. He looked tired, too tired for a boy his age, tired right down to his bones, his soul.

You watched his silvery green eyes cross your face, and found yourself wondering, not for the first time, what on earth he was thinking about when he looked at you like that.

“I’ve got you, do I?” he said quietly.

You tapped your thumb sweetly against his chin, then finally let him go.

“Actually, could you close your eyes again? It’s easier like that.”

John flinched when the tiny brush met his eyelid.

You felt bad. To his credit, John had never worn any makeup before so you knew it must feel odd for him. When he shyly brought it up earlier that afternoon, you thought he must be joking, but John had looked so mortified, you knew he wouldn’t put himself through it unless someone was making him.

You glanced at the clock on the mantle. Just half an hour before he needed to get going. John was already dressed and ready to go, you just had to make him look presentable, he’d said. A laughable idea. He looked amazing tonight. He always did. So amazing, you couldn’t help yourself.

“You smell nice. What is it?”

John opened one eye, almost sleepily.

“Hm?”

“What are you wearing?”

“Nothing.”

You laughed softly, feeling your cheeks heat up.

John blinked, then shot you an embarrassed, lopsided smile.

It was difficult to ignore just how good it felt to be close to him again. John’s bony knees were at either side of your hips, pressing in ever so slightly whenever your eyeliner poked somewhere it shouldn’t.

You hummed to yourself, turning his chin to the left, then the right, making sure you’d jabbed the pencil everywhere you needed to. Neither of you seemed to realise there really was no need for you to be touching each other quite so much.

Instead, you just tried to focus on making sure you didn’t poke his eye out. It was infinitely more difficult putting makeup on another person, it was taking all your concentration not to make John look like a B movie monster.

“How’s school going?” you asked, breaking the silence.

John smiled against your palm.

“I love that you call it that.”

“It is school!”

He was grinning now.

“It’s going well.”

You held up two blushes, one deep red, one pale pink, then told him to open his eyes again. John wearily chose the latter, probably hoping it would be less visible than the other.

You dabbed a brush that had definitely seen better days into the powder and told him to smile.

“Are you top of your class?”

“It doesn’t really work like that.”

“But?”

You raised your eyebrows and John’s forced smile turned a little more real.

“Yeah, I am.”

“That’s my boy.” You dabbed at his cheeks, hoping it would look something like what Freddie had envisioned. “Teach me something.”

John shrugged then laughed when you told him off for shuffling around too much.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything. Which pliers are your favourite?”

John shot you a dark look as you lifted his chin again.

“You tease me far too much for someone who also claims to like me.”

“And you get shy far too much for a boy who once said he ‘fancied me like mad’.”

“I might’ve had a drink or two that night. Sorry.”

“Ahh, so you don’t fancy me like mad, that was just the Stella talking.”

John shot you nervous, crooked sort of a smile.

“I didn’t say that,” he said quietly.

Stunned, you stopped painting his cheeks. You knew you must be staring but you just needed to see him, to see into him, to know if he was just teasing you or if behind that shy smile, John really meant what he was saying. You saw nothing but real, if bashful, honesty in those clever eyes. It knocked you for six.

“See,” You poked his chest with the end of your brush. “Gone all shy again. You’re blushing.”

John rolled his eyes.

“That’s the make up.” Then, as if realising he had no real reason not to be honest with you, he added, “It’s hard not to blush when there’s a pretty girl holding my face and teasing me.”

You could feel your heart pounding in your ears.

“You like it when I tease you?”

“God help me if I didn’t, it’s all you do.”

His hands were warm on the backs of your bare thighs. When did that happen? He was keeping you close but without any urgency or force, his touch so gentle you hadn’t even registered his hands resting there.

“You’re easy to tease. You’re so ridiculous.”

You felt John’s fingers tighten, ever so slightly, against the backs of your thighs. You were suddenly acutely aware that you were wearing a skirt. All it would take was one act of bravery, from either of you, and those hands could be sliding up under it.

“How!”

“You’re just all…” You gestured at him, up and down. “Skinny little thing with huge hair and big fuck off boots and… You’re just brilliant. I like you so much.”

Those last few words came out a lot quieter than you’d intended. In fact, you hadn’t intended them at all. A shyness you weren’t at all used to began to settle over you as John’s kind, clever eyes searched yours again. He was smiling such a lovely smile.

“I like you too,” John said softly.

Was it your imagination or had he moved closer? His back was straighter, his chin raised. John’s fingertips were now pressing into the backs of your bare thighs in a way that was impossible to ignore or pass off as an accident.

But then he let go, and all the tension between your two bodies dissapited at once, like all the air had been let back into the room. John gave you another wonky smile, tucking his hands under his own thighs for good measure.

“Marks on the outfit tonight?”

Letting out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding, you tried your best to stoke a smile.

“Oh, ten out of ten. Especially like the, um… What is this?”

When John came into work that morning, he had carried with him several bags and his bass guitar, all balanced precariously on his borrowed wheels. After his rounds, he stayed to help in the bakery and to your delight, had asked if you’d help him get ready again.

You’d only caught a flash of dark silk cloth when he showed you his outfit, stuffed unceremoniously into one of 64 Oslo Square��s own pristine white bags. Now you could see the whole ensemble and you still weren’t entirely sure what it was meant to be.

John tugged at the front of the black tunic. It had long flowing sleeve and stark, white panels that fell like a cape down his sides and his back.

“It might’ve been a wedding dress at some point? I think that’s what Freddie said?”

You flicked at the ruffles at the tops of his sleeves and shook your head.

“Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. I do love it though. All of it.”

You let your gaze slip down his front, from the white stripes that hung across his chest, to his shiny black and white platforms.

You loved those shoes. You’d often fantasised about telling John to keep them on while you tugged down his stupid, tight, faux leather trousers. There was just something about them. They made John’s already insane legs look even longer and so elegant, and the thought of him bending over the bed in them… But you’d only thought about John like that once. Honest.

You tapped the back of his hand, now sitting neatly in his lap.

“I love this ring.”

You couldn’t be certain but you thought you’d seen John wear the onyx signet ring almost every time you’d seen him. It was part of what made him John.

“It’s just an old thing.” He spun the ring around his finger a few times, then took it off and handed it to you. “My sister gave it to me. Well, my mum and my sister. For my eighteenth.”

You could feel John’s eyes on you and you studied the ring. It really was beautiful. Simple but wonderful, just like him.

Without thinking, you slipped the ring onto your index finger. The black stone shone as you held out your hand, turning it this way and that to catch the light.

“It’s lovely.”

John beamed and you felt like you’d unintentionally pleased him, like you’d struck a chord that ran deep through him. You liked the ring his family had given him. That was important to him, whether John realised it or not.

You tried to get it off. Stuck. You held your breath, trying not to panic, and twisted the ring just like John had before he took it off, but it wouldn’t budge. He’d been wearing the ring on his little finger, you remembered, it was only tiny really.

“Oh, shit.”

You twisted it again and again, your bottom lip clamped between your teeth, until John rested his big hands over yours.

“Hey, hey, don’t panic.” He closed his fingers around yours, smiling softly as he raised your hand up so he could get a better look. “I’ve got a trick.”

“W-”

“I’m not gonna bite you. Just- Look, trust me.”

You watched, heart in your throat, as John raised your hand to his lips. He gently folded down your other fingers, leaving your index sticking out.

“Saw this in a film once.”

John kept his eyes down, his eyelashes dark against his cheeks. They were short and blunt, you’d never noticed that before. He was so intriguing. How could someone be so masculine in some ways and so beguiling in others?

Then your fingertips brushed his wonderful, funny mouth and you forgot how to think altogether. John carefully lowered his head until your finger had passed between his lips.

You stared, open-mouthed, as John put his teeth around the edge of the ring and gently pulled back, slowly, steadily, until it finally slipped off your finger.

He grinned, the ring caught between his teeth, then flipped it back onto his tongue and held it out for you to see.

You laughed, your cheeks burning. John was still holding your hand.

“See!”

John held the ring up with a flourish, as if he’d just performed a grand magic trick.

You nodded, breathless.

“Yeah.”

It was all you could think to say. You couldn’t think much at all.

John’s gaze slipped over your shoulder. He must’ve seen the clock on the wall, because he checked his watch and sighed.

“Shit.” He squeezed your hand before letting go. “Listen, I’ve got to make a move but- Thanks, love, for everything. Dinner was amazing and so were you and- Just thank you.”

Still feeling a bit dizzy, you tried to summon a smile.

“Anytime, Johnny.”

He had started to gather up his bags and his guitar, but stopped just to tell you,

“I really like it when you call me that.”

“I know. You’re not as difficult to read as you might think, New Boy.”

John looked away for a moment, shaking his head, then he said,

“Thanks again for the…” He gestured vaguely at his face. “I wish you were coming with me.”

“So do I. I’ll be humming your songs to myself all evening, I promise.”

John looked like he wanted to say something else but, again, seemed to think better of it.

“See you tomorrow,” he said instead, then gave you a little wave as he turned to go.

Always so taciturn, never speaking unless he felt it was important, never saying more than was needed, never putting his oar in when he knew it wasn’t necessary. John never said anything without careful, quiet consideration, and even though it had been lovely to watch him slowly relax, trust, and grow in confidence, it was also wonderful to know he was still so uniquely him.

He never spoke without meaning to. The thought chimed like a bell, echoing through your head again and again until realisation finally began to settle in. John never spoke out of turn. He never said what he didn’t mean. So when he said that he’d been thinking about kissing you, all those weeks ago, it hadn’t been a slip of the tongue. It hadn’t been a mistake. He meant it. John meant it.

Suddenly, it felt like your feet had been frozen to the ground. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. And all the while, a prickling, breathless ache swept through your body, until it felt like your heart might beat out of your chest and you had to ball your hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

John had one foot out of the door but when you called his name, he immediately stopped. He leaned back in, surprised.

“Yeah?”

Tell him. Tell him now. Tell him how much you like him, how much you love him, love every bit of him, from his mad, fluffy, lovely hair, right down his ugly socks and his ridiculous shoes. Tell him that he’s the cleverest boy you’ve ever met and you love that he never makes you feel stupid. Tell him that he’s the best part of your day and you’d give anything to have him stay just five more minutes, because watching him leave is always torture.

“I…”

Tell him that you want to take care of him, listen to him, protect him, be there for him, love him, for as long as he’ll have you. Tell him. Just tell him.

But the moment you opened your mouth to speak, those worries that you so often had to push down, finally broke through the dam you’d built to keep them at bay.

John was top of his class at one of the best universities in the city. He was an incredible musician in a band whose popularity was growing by the day. And if all that wasn’t enough, he was gorgeous. What did you have to offer? What would he want with a girl who had never stepped foot in a university and whose future was bolted to a tiny, old, struggling bakery. Why would he want you?

John was still looking at you expectantly, the corner of his funny mouth tugged up into a small smile.

“You okay, love?”

You took a deep breath.

“Do you know why the bakery is called what it is?”

John looked bewildered for a moment, then he laughed.

“Yeah.”

“Tell me.”

John still looked a little confused but he must have sensed you needed him to answer. He shuffled around his bass and his bag of clothes, then braced his shoulder against the front door to keep it from closing.

“Erm… Gladys was so happy to have her own business that she threw a bit of a do? So she was a bit drunk when she was filling in the forms. Put the address in the wrong place. And she spelt ‘Onslow’ wrong. It just stuck.” John laughed, shaking his head. “She told me it’s because she was in A Doll’s House in secondary school. She’s a mentalist, that woman. Why?”

Because you’re brilliant. And you love this place almost as much as I do. You know it and you know us. You care about something I care about, even though you have a million and one things going on in your life and the stakes are so much lower for you. Because you’re gorgeous. And kind. And just because it feels so new and odd and wonderful to be seen, to be known.

“Nothing,” You smiled and pushed the strap of his bass case further up his shoulder for him. “Have fun, rockstar.”

Queen played well that night. They were always brilliant but tonight just felt different.

Maybe it was because Mickey was able to come in today and you hadn’t worn yourself out to the point of tears. Maybe it was because Roger had grabbed you excitedly by the shoulders when he saw you, kissed your cheek and told you to come backstage after the show. Maybe it was because you’d spent the afternoon doing John’s make up again, and seeing a flicker of jealousy cross his painted and usually impassive face sent a surge of excitement through your chest.

Not even your deep running insecurities could deny that John, shy as he was, seemed to be playing to you that night. For once, he stayed near the front of the stage where you could see him. And what a sight.

You’d always been a sucker for a pretty boy, but John was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen, and standing there, his legs spread, his satiny clothes clinging to every inch of him, you found yourself pressing your thighs together with every thrum of his bass through the speakers.

You watched, transfixed, as his long, elegant fingers danced down the neck of his bass, the fingers of his other hand tugging and pulling at the strings with such strength and dexterity, you couldn’t help imagining how he’d use them on you.

You raised your heavy gaze to meet his. John was bobbing his head to his own beat, lost in the music. When he saw you looking, he smirked and tossed his hair back over his shoulder, his hips rocking enticingly back and forth as the music suddenly picked up its pace.

You couldn’t take much more of this.

After the show, you headed backstage as instructed, your ears still ringing from Brian’s outrageous guitar solo and the pounding of drums through the speakers.

You’d never been backstage before. There were no bodyguards, no dark heavy curtains or growled requests to see a pass, but it was backstage after a great gig, and that was pretty cool.

You picked your way through the cold, narrow corridors, following the signs that lead you to what had generously been called a green room. Queen’s name was sellotaped to the door.

Pushing your way inside, you found the band busy meeting their fans. There was a big crowd, surprisingly big actually. You stood in the doorway, taken-aback. You knew the boys had fans, but you didn’t realise they were this popular.

Brian was talking with a man in a dark suit, probably the owner of the club. They stood seriously in the corner, plastic cups full of something amber-coloured in their hands.

Roger and Freddie were in the midst of a big cluster of kids - a mixed group, all shapes and sizes - chatting, signing programmes and tickets, and posing for the odd photograph.

It took you a moment to find John. He was sitting in the corner on a small leather sofa, keeping out of the way. He had a drink in one hand that he hadn’t touched and was chatting quietly to a girl.

You hesitated. They were sat very close together. The girl was beautiful, all dark hair and big brown eyes, and she was listening intently to whatever it was John was saying.

Roger noticed you first. He thanked the lad he was talking to, then made his way over to you.

“Bakery girl! I’m so glad you’re here. Did you bring any cake? I’m Hank Marvin.”

“Hi, Rog. Sorry, love, not tonight.”

“I’m coming by tomorrow, you can’t lead a boy on like this,” Roger beamed. “Deaks, your girlfriend’s turned up empty-handed!”

At that, John looked up. When he spotted you, he immediately brightened.

You gave him a thin smile and mouthed that you’d meet him outside. You didn’t wait for him to respond before you slipped back into the corridor and out into the cool night air.

John was still hiking his bass onto his back when he found you standing under a lamppost, just a few feet away from the entrance to the club. Your eyes were down, your arms crossed over your chest. You hadn’t noticed him yet.

John was so pleased to see you, he wasn’t looking where he was going. He walked right out into the middle of the road, his feet barely touching the ground, he was so excited to reach you.

A car horn blared.

“Look what you’re doing!”

John almost jumped out of his skin and hurried the rest of the way across the road, just as an old Cortina went whistling past with a rude gesture out the rear window.

“What is it with you ‘n’ not looking where you’re going?”

You were shaking your head, smiling softly. The lamplight from above meant your face was partly in shadow, but the half he could see was looking at him so fondly, John couldn’t tell if his racing heart was from the shock of the car horn or because of you.

He shot you a lopsided sort of a smile.

“Distracted. Sorry.”

He offered to walk you home and to John’s delight, you accepted. You weren’t far from the bakery, maybe a ten minute walk, so you set off together instead of heading for the tube station.

John didn’t notice the quiet at first. He was never usually the first to start a conversation or the one doing most of the talking, but tonight he found himself chatting your ear off about the gig, the audience’s reaction, the trouble they had with the sound, everything.

When you finally did speak, it was quiet and considered.

“Lot of fans you lads have now.”

John laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s funny, I never really thought about that side of it. It’s funny hearing people sing along to the songs still. I had a bloke ask me to sign his shirt the other day. Me!”

You nodded slowly, lips pouted. John should’ve known he was in trouble then.

“Lots of girls around you back there.”

John shrugged, suddenly feeling bashful.

"Oh, I’m sure it's just that when they come round to get autographs, they move in a cluster from one person to the other.”

“That girl you were chatting to was pretty.”

John glanced across at you. Your head was down, your arms still crossed over your chest. He sighed and came to a halt, his bass knocking against his back.

You took a few steps past him before you realised he’d stopped. When you finally noticed, you shook your head at him, your eyebrows pulled together in a deep frown.

“What?”

You seemed to be making an effort to keep your voice steady and stern, but there was a flash of something behind your eyes. You were hurt.

John stuck his hands in his pockets, his shoulders almost up to his ears. As comfortable as he was with you, it was still strange to speak his mind. It didn’t come naturally but he wanted to get better, for you.

“Can we not do this?”

“What?”

“You being cross with me for something I haven’t done.”

“I’m not cross!”

That came out a lot louder than you intended. You looked away.

John watched you swing your arms, hardly able to meet his eyes. He didn’t think he’d ever seen you so nervous. He couldn’t help grinning. You were jealous.

“The girl I was talking to is Freddie’s sister. She’s in the year below me, she was asking about uni applications.”

He watched, still smiling, as you visibly deflated.

“Oh.”

There was a painful sort of pause.

John waited for you to speak again but you seemed to be struggling to string together a sentence. He resisted the urge to tease you about it. As much as you liked to toy with him, you’d never once made fun of him for being quiet. And he loved you for it.

John stepped closer, keeping his hands in his pockets and his eyes on yours.

“There were a lot of girls back there, yes. But I’m walking home with you,” he said, steady and quiet and sure. “It’s you who got me a job, and looks after me, and makes me laugh.”

You scoffed.

“That’s all you like me for, is it? Cos I gave you my bike and I make you laugh and feed you like a stray cat?”

“Yes. And…” John smiled. “And you’re kind to me. And you listen to me. And you’re beautiful and smart and… You’re so beautiful, you make my chest feel like it’s… I only want to walk home with you. I only ever want to be with you.”

John waited, heart pounding, for your verdict. You seemed stunned. In all honesty, he couldn’t believe he’d said those things either. But he meant it. He meant every word. It was about time he stopped mucking about and just told you how he really felt.

After what felt like an eternity, your astonished expression sank into a sweet smile, then a full on grin.

“You’re always full of surprises, New Boy,” you said, and laughed softly.

You fell into step beside each other again, stealing glances at each other just to catch the other doing it too. It was thrilling, the start of something wonderful, or just two people realising they had been in the middle of something for a long time and were relieved to find the other there too.

John couldn’t remember the last time he felt so relaxed, so completely at ease, but it would probably be the last time he was with you.

“It’s mad that you live around here,” he said as you walked down a row of gleaming department stores. “It’s so posh, I don’t even wanna look in the windows.”

You snorted.

“I couldn’t even afford their coat hangers.”

“It’s strange the bakery’s struggling so much considering where it is. And there’s always a queue round the corner. Is it the rent, or..?”

“Er…”

You didn’t know how to answer. In fact, you looked a little embarrassed, like you’d never really thought about it before. Gladys had just always said that the bakery was barely getting by and no one thought to ask. Everyone was struggling right now.

“Well, yeah, I suppose,” you said, shrugging. “And there’s ingredients and the energy bills…”

“You just always seem to sell out and your customers are always pretty well-off.”

“Gladys does all the books herself. Maybe she’s just shit at maths.”

“I could take a look?”

He knew as soon as he said it that that was a step too far. They didn’t need his help. They could look after themselves just fine. He hadn’t meant to sound patronising but John still felt awkward.

“I’m sure Gladys knows what she’s doing,” he added quickly.

“Well, let’s not go mental.”

You gave a scornful laugh, then squeezed John’s hand to make sure he knew he hadn't offended you. He squeezed back gratefully.

You nodded at a glossy car showroom on the other side of the road. Ferraris. Chevys. Bentleys.

“You know, I’ve lived in this city all my life and I’ve never been in any of these shops.”

This part of the city was a honeycomb of luxury stores you would never dream of touching, let alone passing through their doors. They hurt to look at.

John shook his head.

“Me neither.”

“You might soon. Roger was telling me someone from a record company might come see you perform.”

John spoke without his teeth separating.

“They might.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” John’s smile was forced. “Yeah it would be. Good, I mean. It’d be good. Great, even.”

Of course, you never missed a trick.

“John?”

He sighed, pushing his balled up fists deeper into the pockets of his jumper.

“It really was just supposed to be part-time. This wasn’t part of the plan.”

“What plan?”

“My plan.”

You knew a little about his childhood, the uncertainty and worry of it all, so he felt comfortable talking about it. Unpredictability made a boy grow up thinking about every penny. John liked to plan and think and organise because his life, so far, had been anything but. There was control in order, and safety in the ordinary.

You slipped your arm though his.

“It’s going to be alright, you know. If things do pick up with the band. I know it sounds terrifying but,” You grinned. “It’s also very, very cool, John.”

Your smile helped to ease the ache in his chest a little, but John’s mind was whirring.

“But what if-”

You stopped, and your arm looped through his meant he stopped too.

“You’re gonna keep them on track. You’re going to keep them safe. You’re going to make sure no one messes you around, or takes you for granted, or tries to take something you made and put their name on it. They need you, John. They can’t do it without you.”

He looked down at his shoes, shaking his head, almost in disbelief.

“You’re so lovely.”

Still staring at the floor, he missed your soft smile, but John felt you move closer. Just as his heart began to flutter, you took your arm back. He immediately missed your touch but before he could begin to feel disappointed, you slipped your hands into his.

“You said they went through how many bassists before they met you? They were looking for a good musician, yeah, but you’ve got something they didn’t. A brain.”

John looked up, laughing softly, but your gaze was clear and steady. He’d never felt so seen, so held.

“You’re so smart, John. You see things other people don’t. And if one day you decide you don’t wanna do it anymore then that’s fine. But if you don’t do it because you’re too scared? Well, then…”

John felt something in his chest shift. There had been a belt wrapped around his heart - growing steadily tighter and tighter by the day - ever since he learned about this man from the record company coming to see them play. You’d finally loosened it.

“It means I wouldn’t be able to be your delivery boy anymore,” he murmured.

That was perhaps the worst thing of all. His time was already fractionated into countless pieces. If music became a full time thing, he wouldn’t be able to see you every day. John wasn’t sure how often he’d be able to see you at all.

He thought your smile looked pained as you squeezed his hands. You’d been worrying about it too.

“You were always too good for me, darlin’. Us. For us. The bakery.” You smiled, soft and sad. “I knew you were too good to be true.”

John wanted to argue. He wanted to tell you that you were wrong, he wasn’t too good for anything, but especially you. He wanted to stay. He loved his life, he loved the bakery, he loved being with you, learning from you, talking to you, making dinner with you, making you laugh, all of it, every moment. He wanted to tell you that he wasn’t going anywhere. But he also didn’t want to lie to you.

“They need you, New Boy.”

“Don’t you need me?”

“I want you, that’s different.”

John raised his eyebrows. To his utter delight, you shyly glanced away, your lips pressed together as you tried to keep back a smile.

“It’s not up to me,” you soldiered on. “You need to do whatever you need to do. But I’m gonna support you, no matter what.”

His heart was going like the clappers. John could hardly piece a sentence together at the best of times, least of all around you, but now, he could hardly gather a solid thought.

You were so good. He couldn’t believe he’d found you. In all the world, all its mess, all its people, he’d made one decision and found you, as easy and as simple as crossing the road and spotting the one shop with all its lights still on. A lighthouse, he thought, calling him home.

“Think maybe you’re the one who’s too good to be true, love,” John whispered.

Those soft, gentle eyes. He couldn’t tear his gaze away. You had this way of looking at him, of being with him, it made John feel like the only man in the world. You liked him, he knew you did. So why couldn’t he just lean forward and kiss you? Why shouldn’t he?

His gaze dropped to your lips, just for a second, but when he met your eyes again, John knew you’d noticed.

You started to smile.

His heart in his throat, John placed your left hand on his hip so that his right was free to hold your cheek.

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch with a soft sigh.

“Of course, if you want to stay, you can,” you said quietly. “I’ve got used to having you around, New Boy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

You seemed so small in his hands, but there was something there, in the way you’d looked at him before your eyes slipped shut, in the way your fingers pressed into his hip, ever-so-slightly pulling him into you. You weren’t surrendering to him. He was only taking the lead because you were allowing it. The thought set John’s heart racing.

“Maybe I could still do a couple of odd shifts. You know. Every now and then.”

“Weekends would be good.”

“You’re in charge, Captain.”

You opened your eyes. They were dark and full in the low light.

“I’ll hold you to that, Johnny.”

John swallowed hard.

A shout across the street made him falter. There was a crowd of young men, all six sheets to the wind and staggering on uncertain legs. They started whooping and hollering at you, waving bottles of beer starwards.

John let his hand drop back to his side.

“Idiots,” he muttered, mostly because he was fairly certain he’d been about to kiss you just then, and now he couldn’t feel his legs.

You rolled your eyes.

“Do you wanna come in?”

You nodded over your shoulder to the bakery, now just a few shops down.

It pained John to shake his head.

“Can’t. I have an exam in the morning, I should get home.”

You blinked, then laughed.

“You amaze me, Johnny.”

“Thanks for coming tonight… I haven’t told you… I’ve been meaning to… I wanted to tell you that it’s been really nice seeing you, um… I can’t think of a nice way to phrase this.”

You squeezed his hip in what he was sure was meant to be a reassuring way, but it took everything in him not to whimper.

“Just go for it,” you said, smiling.

John took a deep breath.

“Things are mad here, I know. And they always have been but especially now, with Mickey away so much and Gladys… You haven’t had any time for yourself and I can see it, you’ve been… You’re like me, you’ve felt stuck. But lately you’ve been going out and making time for yourself and… Look, I don’t really know what I’m talking about but it’s just really nice to see you so happy.”

It was probably the most he’d spoken in one go in weeks, maybe even months, but it didn’t feel as exhausting as it usually did. John knew that was because of you.

You squeezed his hip again. John had to bite back a moan.

“Thank you for reminding me that I’m allowed to have some fun,” you said, beaming.

You were good for each other, John knew that now. Physical touch no longer felt painful, because of you. Speaking his mind no longer felt like an impossibility. You hadn’t fixed him, as so many had tried to. You’d just given him the room to feel comfortable, to feel at home, and that was all he’d needed. You were good for him. Good to him. How could he ever give you up?

“Thanks for doing my makeup.”

It was a stupid thing to say, John knew it, but you were almost at the bakery door now and he didn’t want the conversation to stop, or this night to end.

“Oh, it was a pleasure. A very genuine pleasure.”

You reached up and delicately swiped your thumb under his bottom eyelashes, brushing away smudged eyeliner that he couldn’t wait to be rid of.

“It’s easy when you have such a willing participant. You were such a good boy for me.”

John almost tripped over himself at that. He recovered well, or at least he thought so. You were smiling ever so mischievously as you slipped your key into the door.

“You sure you won’t come in? The sofa’s got your name on it. Or, you know…”

Your boldness could’ve knocked him flat.

John wanted to say ‘yes’, and many other, much lewder things, more than anything in the world. He wanted to hold your face in his hands again and press his lips against yours, back you up against the door and kiss you and kiss you until you could hardly breathe.

He wanted you to pull him inside and up the stairs to your flat. He wanted you to shove him down on the bed, straddle him and just have him, take him, make him yours, and maybe even allow him to make you his in return.

But it was late. And your conversation had made him sad, though the conclusion had been a reassuring one. He was tired, and worried about the future, and not looking forward to getting up at the crack of dawn for this stupid exam.

“Soon,” John said. “I promise.”

He wasn’t sure if that last part was for him or for you. Maybe both. John just hoped you knew how painful it was to step back from the bakery, turn away from you for the night, and head home to his lonely, lonely bed.

Master List

#john deacon #john deacon fic #john deacon x reader #john deacon reader #queen #queen fanfiction

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justmochi · 2 years ago

Text

I posted 1,504 times in 2022

That's 1,017 more posts than 2021!

1,259 posts created (84%)

245 posts reblogged (16%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@justmochi

@cafemilk-tea

@jisoossmirk

@ikissvernon

@joshuas

I tagged 1,387 of my posts in 2022

Only 8% of my posts had no tags

#floofs - 485 posts

#mochi sh!tposts - 365 posts

#justmochi: rosie - 297 posts

#justmochi: eden - 185 posts

#justmochi: jenn - 175 posts

#daisie - 169 posts

#rosie.love - 154 posts

#fake kpop idol - 148 posts

#fake kpop addition - 145 posts

#aesxocnet - 141 posts

Longest Tag: 69 characters

#jenn and rosie rly would throw their life on the line for their lover

My Top Posts in 2022:

be the sun

pairing :: eden x seokmin

word count :: 1.0k

synopsis :: eden visits seokmin backstage after his concert.

time :: june 26, 2022

Eden stood awkwardly against the wall, twirling the light stick in her hand. She watched the 97z reuniting, not wanting to intrude on their moment. Just as she was about to check her phone for the time, she felt a hand on her shoulder, scaring her.

“It’s just me, no worries.” Seungkwan took his hand back, furrowing his eyebrows in concern.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” She playfully slapped his shoulder, rolling her eyes.

“My apologies.” He bowed his head causing her to chuckle. “Did you enjoy it?”

“You know I always do. You don’t even need to ask.”

“Ahh, right.”

“How do you perform for four hours straight? Aren’t you exhausted?”

“It’s definitely exhausting, but our fans give us enough energy.” He nodded with his hands on his hips, smiling towards her.

“And you cried a lot tonight. You okay?”

“I’m alright, Eunhye. Thank you for asking.” He smiled towards her, holding his hand out for their handshake. She smirked, following his lead and leaning back against the wall as soon as they finished.

“Is Jeonghan recovering well?” She made small talk while waiting.

“He’s doing okay, but I think he’s at his limit tonight.”

“Well yeah, did you see him last night in his cast? His doctor is not going to be happy.”

“Oh for sure.” Seungkwan laughed at her joke, shaking his head. “I think he’s kept you waiting long enough. I’ll go get him”

“I don’t mind waiting-!” She tried stopping him. She was enjoying his company, but she also didn’t want to seem impatient. She was okay with waiting if it meant Seokmin could catch up with his friend.

She kept her head down until she heard the man calling her name. It seemed Seungkwan had taken his members' place to talk with their guests, sending him to his girlfriend.

She turned her head, a relieved smile finding it’s way onto her face. Seokmin held his arms open, approaching her before engulfing her in a hug. Eden wrapped her arms around his waist, patting his lower back. He rested his chin in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent that literally smelled like candy.

“Hello beautiful.” He kissed her forehead, patting the top of her head with his hand. “I’m sorry, did you wait long?”

“No no, it’s okay.” She shook her head, bringing her hand up to caress his cheek. “Did you have fun?”

“So much fun.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” She readjusted his bucket hat, rearranging his hairs that laid on his forehead.

“Did you have a good time? No troubles or anything?” He used his fingers to massage her shoulders, giving her that familiar, welcoming grin.

“It was perfect. It’s been forever since I’d seen you all perform like that. I loved it.” Eden perked up, finding his gaze. She puckered her lips, asking him for a kiss which he gladly obliged. Seokmin kissed her lips, proceeding to give her one on the cheek too.

“I just gotta pack up some of my stuff, then we can head out.” He reached for both of her hands, drawing his fingertips against hers before intertwining them. “Come with me.”

And she knew deep down, she’d follow him anywhere.

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80 notes - Posted June 28, 2022

Resurfacing

pairing :: eden x seokmin

word count :: 3.6k

synopsis :: eden visits seventeen at the hybe building.

warnings :: really bad angst. domestic abuse. toxic relationships. ptsd.

A/N :: ❗️ THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION! ❗️ Please don’t assume that this is what said idol is like irl. It is not meant to defame or make anyone look bad. Please let me know if there are any other warnings I should add. This one gets really heavy.

She never thought the day would come that she’d find herself standing in front of the hybe building. She much rather preferred the old practice room that Seventeen used, it was cozy and wasn’t too overwhelming to navigate. The only thing holding her back was her own anxiety. Seokmin would come to visit her in his spare time, the least she could do was get over her own fears and see him too.

Seokmin had been waiting on the first floor at the doors for her, quickly letting her in and wrapping his arm around her. “It may look a bit overwhelming but just follow me.”

She nodded, locking her arm around his waist. She had a knot in her stomach until seeing his smile, her nerves being eased little by little. It was all so high tech and fancy.

Getting to Seventeen’s practice room, they were all stretching and messing around with one another. Seokmin clapped, making his presence known and all the boys waved towards her.

It had been what felt like ages since seeing them like this. And they were all still the most welcoming. Seungkwan approached her, holding his hand up for a high five.

“It’s been forever, welcome back!” He smiled, looking at his member before back at her. “What do you think?”

“It’s huge. Has anyone gotten lost yet?”

Seungkwan looked at Seokmin, laughing before he shut up quickly because of the glare he was giving him. “Yeah, all of us have had our fair share of problems.”

“It’s the same as it’s always been. Just a bit more space, that’s all.” Seokmin smiled down at her, rubbing her shoulder while pulling her closer to his chest.

“So I guess I can just chill on the sidelines and be your guy's cheerleader?” She flattened her lips, raising her eyebrows at the two men.

“You can do whatever you want.” He reassured her. There weren't too many rules that changed, so she took it as her sign to behave like she always had. It had been years since she saw the group practice like this, she almost forgot what she would do when she visited him regularly.

“Well Eunhye, you know we’d love nothing more than to keep chatting with you, but your man has to stretch. I’m sure you don’t want her to be looking after you when you get a cramp.” Seungkwan’s eyes were strict, raising his eyebrows as Seokmin sighed.

Eden turned in his grasp, feeling him perfectly rest his chin on top of her head. She hugged him, patting his back before pulling away and smiling at him. “Go do your stretches.” He didn’t want to let go of her hand, his body turning into putty as she slipped from his fingers. Seungkwan put his hands on his shoulders, pushing him to where his members were stretching on the floor.

The girl walked toward the perimeter of the room, finding a free bench to sit and watch.

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80 notes - Posted June 20, 2022

Babying

pairing :: rosie x dino

word count :: 0.8k

synopsis :: rosie takes care of dino on their tour.

warnings :: mentions of overworking oneself. rosie being a good maknae. fluff

The tv played faintly in the background as the young couple got comfortable in their hotel room. It was another night after their show that Rosie was taking care of Chan. She always found herself watching him while onstage, making sure he was okay. She was in good health minus her ankle. She was doing all she could to look after herself, now she wanted to make sure her members were healthy.

She stayed close by as he showered, knowing how dehydrated he was he could have an accident. He could dress himself for the most part, but after coming out of the bathroom, he was exhausted. He plopped down on the bed, taking a few minutes to catch his breath.

Rosie took a spare towel, patting his head with pressure to dry his hair. She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead, frowning as he still had his fever. “Still feel bad?”

He nodded, contorting his face in discomfort as all the stress from the day came pouring down on him.

“I have your medicine ready.” She helped him sit up, grabbing the water bottle from the nightstand and making sure he had a tight grip on it. She grabbed the assorted pills in her hand, Chan holding his hand out for her to pour them into his palm.

He quickly popped them into his mouth, taking a drink of water to get the pills down. Rosie supported his hand holding the bottle, looking down at him attentively. “Do you need a straw? I can get you one.”

He shook his head, waving his hand as he took another swig.

“Drink up. Even just the tiniest bit can help your body right now.”

He exhaled heavily, mentally beating himself up. Even though he didn’t desire water, he knew that it would give her some peace to see him drinking.

She crawled into the bed next to him, getting comfy against the headboard with pillows stacked. She held her arms out as her sign he could relax against her. He sighed, shifting around until he laid comfortably between her legs, his head against her tummy.

She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him close while swaying side to side. She felt so helpless.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s so frustrating.” Chan sighed, patting his hand gently against her knee. She softly patted his chest while humming.

She pouted, knowing there wasn’t much she could do to ease his worries. She hoped that her hugs and affection could at least give him some clarity. “I’d take it all from you if I could.”

Her finger traced over his inner arm where he was given an IV. The site was bruised already and she couldn’t even begin to imagine how he felt.

“How’s your foot?” He considered her state too. He knew she didn’t think of it as big of a deal compared to the other members. He was still worried.

“I’m fine. I can tolerate a lot. Don’t worry about me. I just want you to look after yourself.” Rosie flattened his hair down, kissing the top of his head.

He wanted to say he was trying, but he was still blaming himself for being so weak during this time. She watched him push his limits so many times while on tour.

“It’s not a crime to rest, Chan. We understand if you need to take time to catch your breath.” She reassured him, her fingers brushing through his hair.

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?”

“Everyone is worried about me. I feel like I’m dragging you all down with me. You shouldn’t have to take care of me like this.” His hand found hers, rubbing circles around her wrist.

“Are you kidding? I love taking care of you. You’re my baby.” She chuckled while Chan smiled for the first time in days. “Everyone’s been taking care of me for years. It’s my turn now.”

“Of all times I had to get sick.” His grin faded, the guilt creeping up on him again.

“It’s okay. It is what it is and we just gotta focus on getting you better. This will pass.” She shimmied out from underneath him, helping him cover up with the blankets. “I’m gonna take a shower. Just try closing your eyes, you need all the rest you can get.”

He knew it was gonna be difficult to fall asleep on his own, but he couldn’t ignore her demands no matter how hard he tried. She stroked his cheek, pushing his hair out of his face as she kissed his forehead.

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81 notes - Posted January 25, 2022

IN THE SOOP EP. 1 + 2

pairing :: rosie x seventeen

word count :: 2.0k

synopsis :: seventeen get settled in in the soop

a/n :: Italics = interview parts

“I don’t really remember much from my trainee days. I feel like my brain was still developing and therefore can’t remember even the simplest things. Memories were made when I debuted. I remember everything from then on. I can’t sympathize with the members when they say it’s hard for them to take breaks. I trained with girls so we had a different regimen.”

“Even with TTT, our instinct is to be funny. We still have cameras around us and sometimes scripts. I just hope this will truly be a time to rest and rejuvenate ourselves.”

Seungkwan set his bag on the floor, watching as Rosie sat across from him and buckling their seat belts. “Wonwoo fighting!”

“It’ll be tiring, but you can do it.” Seungkwan encouraged him, yawning and pressing his head against the window.

She played games on her phone before Dino spoke up. “Did Seungkwan sleep late last night?”

She looked over at him, knocked out asleep. “Don’t you think he’s gonna wake up with a cramp?” She chuckled before looking out the window.

The girl was the first one to hop out of the car when they arrived. She took a good minute to stretch her legs and arms from being confined for so long.

[Q. Your first impression of “In the SOOP”?]

“The minute I stepped out of the car, I suddenly got really paranoid. Like am I gonna get a bunch of bug bites? It was very overwhelming. I didn’t know how to feel. I don’t ever get homesick but I just kinda felt out of place. Maybe it’s because I’ve never gone camping before.”

She skipped over to the pond where DK and Jeonghan were singing a jingle. “There’s tadpoles.”

She squealed, kneeling down and taking her phone out to take pictures of the tadpoles.

“Jeonghan loves catching tadpoles.” Wonwoo sat back and observed Rosie and Dino who got closer towards the water.

“You can pick them up? Is that safe?” She turned around at the older member who then nodded back at her. She put her phone back into her pocket, rolling up her sleeves and cupping her hand and carefully scooping one of the tadpoles.

“Awe! They’re so cute!” She gently put it back into the water, picking up another one.

“I wanna try.” Dino pouted, getting scared as Rosie and Jeonghan picked them up effortlessly. She giggled at him, taking his hand and helping him catch one in his hands. He tensed up, afraid he would hurt the tadpole or it would hurt him.

“It’s okay, they don’t bite. They’re just trying to grow up.” He smiled back at her as they continued to catch tadpoles.

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85 notes - Posted March 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Mirrors

pairing :: rosie x dino

word count :: 0.7k

synopsis :: rosie and dino are left alone in the practice room.

time :: april 2018

warnings :: suggestive, comedy, floof

Chan finished vacuuming the practice room, unplugging it from the outlet and putting it in the closet. It was another day where he would be a good maknae and offer to tidy up. He knew that whenever he would do that, Rosie would stay back behind with him to keep him company.

That’s exactly what she did today. She helped him by dusting and wiping down the mirrors so they were spotless. She finished up by packing up her backpack that she had for the day. She had nothing more to do, so she stood up from the floor and started piecing together some of the choreography they learned today.

She made sure her limbs were precise, emphasizing each move slowly. Chan slipped back in the practice room, watching her from afar. He crossed his arms, biting his lip while watching her reflection in the mirror.

When she finally felt his eyes in her, she looked at him in the mirror and got flustered. “Am I doing something wrong? Did I mess it up?”

He chuckled, shaking his head while walking behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “No, you’ve got it down perfectly. I just can’t believe how pretty you are.”

She felt her cheeks and ears ignite with heat. Between his affirmations and arms around her, she thought she could combust at any moment.

He pushed her hair to the other side, revealing her neck and placing delicate kisses. Something about it felt so wrong but exciting to her at the same time.

He turned her around in his grasp, one hand on her hip while the other caressed her cheek. He carefully backed her up against the mirror, her skin making contact with the chilly glass.

“Chan, I-I just cleaned these.”

“And?” He flashed her a cocky smile, caging her between his arms as his hands pressed against the mirror.”

“Come on, your fingerprints!” She furrowed her eyebrows, knowing well she couldn’t stay mad at him just for that reason, not when the tension in the air was overwhelming.

“I’ll clean them, don’t worry.” He almost towered over her, leaning down and capturing her lips in a kiss. She would be stupid not to kiss him back. She lifted her arms to wrap around his neck as his tongue slipped past her lips, causing another strike of electricity to course through her veins.

It felt so liberating to Chan that they were finally alone together, somewhere that wasn’t their bedrooms. The mirrors were starting to fog up as each kiss deepened and it was getting harder to breathe.

“What the hell are you two doing?” The familiar voice of Jeonghan echoed through the practice room. Rosie quickly opened her eyes, pushing Chan off of her to see him and Joshua dumbfounded. She put her hand on her hip, using her other to cover her mouth to hopefully hide her swollen lips. The long, heavy breaths they both took was enough proof they were making out.

Chan was shaken, scratching the back of his head while stuttering on his words. “I thought you guys had left? Why are you back?”

“Joshua forgot something. Are you busy? Should we go?”

“I presume Chan finally confessed his love to you?” Joshua teased the boy, watching him widen his eyes as if to tell him to shut up.

“Hyung!” He blushed while whining at him.

“You knew?” Rosie butted into the conversation, looking back and forth between a chan and the older men.

“Please, he would never shut up about you.” Jeonghan watched as Joshua went to find what he forgot.

She snickered, looking over at Chan who was trying to get them to shut up. “No, I confessed first. Give me some credit.”

They were shocked once again, their jaws hanging low trying not to laugh at Chan.

Joshua patted Jeonghan’s shoulder before pulling him to the exit. “Well don’t be out too late, guys. Don’t do anything stupid and be safe. The eldest winked at Chan.

“Maybe calm down on the pda too.”

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88 notes - Posted May 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #wow

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vern-a · 1 year ago

Note

can i ask about your solstice celebration if you dont mind? :0

oh, heres my favourite festa junina fact! -> it originally came to brazil from portugal, who celebrated it as a summer celebration. problem is, unlike in portugal, brazilian summer is from december to march and winter from june to august, so what started out as a summer solstice thing ended up as a winter solstice one!

Ooo! Thats very interesting! We celebrate both winter and summer solstice actually. The name "solstice" in latvian literally means "sun-turn(ing)", meaning "when the day turns longer than the night" and vice versa in winter. The common name is "Jāņi" for summer.

I really love the outfits for festa junina! Theyre so vibrant and airy! (Our folk outfits are made of wool, even for summer. Id love to wear a festa junina outfit <3)

Essentially Jāņi a celebration for welcoming the Sun and welcoming summer!

Our festivities include getting drunk, waiting for the sunrise and burning many things (bonfire, sun gate (big gate built of hay bales), barrel on a long stick, and my favourite - a wheel wrapped in cloth and soaked in petrol that you set alight and send down a hill to chase). These days people go light on the burning, and just do a small bonfire or grill. However, no one skips out on the tradition of hopping over the bonfires. Ive hopped a grill before.

We enjoy a lot of food (mostly grilled meats), and make wreaths of flowers (each flower has a meaning, and men usually get big wreaths made of oak branches to manifest strength!). Its also a good practice to tie small birch trees to house posts and hang around mountain ash branches to ward off evil. Another purification ritual is burning last years flower wreaths in the fire.

The whole process is very spiritual. Since i grew up on a farm and our family friends are nuts about the spiritualism, i got to experience the big fun parts growing up :D (still do!). But nowdays, realistically it's more about families and friends gathering, making wreaths and enjoying some grilled goods and beer.

Theres honestly so much, i could go on forever! Theres our beloved pagan gods, theres making flower wreaths for your cattle, saunas, rolling in morning dew and so on. Hope this was informative :D I really love talking about it, thank you so much for the ask <3 <3 <3

edit: I FORGOT THE SONGS AND THE DANCES!! Big culture thing!! My favourite thing right next to the burning <3

#answered #jāņi #who needs Zeus when you have Pērkons - H.

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living-undead · 6 months ago

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I didn't really have a good way of presenting this before, but using SQOTD seems like no better way to do so, so I'll make this the way I go about this.

I'd first like to take a second to mention all the blogs that are actually the reason I even started using Simblr and getting into playing Sims heavily, modded or otherwise, due to their amazing posts, amazing edits, amazing cc and/or their captivating Simstyle. Blogs like @pralinesims @sammi-xox @nv-games and @squea I might as well refer to as the genesis point for me deciding to join Simblr to begin with; I had always had a fascination with Sims for a long time but I didn't realise the community behind it was so expansive and diverse, and I love that I was able to experience all of that thanks to them. 💜

I would also like to send some love out towards the people that welcomed me into the Sims community with such open arms. My very first EVER mutuals on Tumblr and the people who, whenever I would post or talk about something were there, reblogging, interacting, even just being kind for the sake of being kind, always having the best energy, etc. If it weren't for @miralure, my very first mutual, such a positive light in my life. @virtualfolk, an absolutely inspiring individual who was my second ever mutual, thank you so much for being such a beacon and congratulations on developing such a beautiful blog! @matchalovertrait and @ruthplaysthesims, Y'ALL ALREADY KNOW, Amy and Ruth have ALWAYS tried to include me in any events, ask games, mutual love spreading, etc. that may happen on this site and I always know that if nobody's got me they do. @nanamail, one of the most talented visual artists (and yes, I consider what you do with your posts ART) I have ever seen, someone I will always consider a friend and always think so highly about. And finally, @nigmos, one of the realest mfs on this damn website. Someone who I consider to be such amazing, kind, caring individual with so much love to give it's insane. I probably wouldn't be nearly as active as I am now. Just knowing that I have them in my corner makes my day. 💜

I would also, finally, like to acknowledge the blogs that have inspired everything about how I play Sims, blogs whose posts I always feel inclined to reblog whenever I see them on my dashboard, blogs that I don't know if I could live without because of how amazing everything they do is; blogs like @venriliz who I definitely consider a friend at this point, someone whose renders are not only awe-inspiring but also so brilliantly devised it makes me feel like every inch of it was meticulously placed. @pearlean, I don't know how else to put it that hasn't already been said. Every post they make is like a master chef getting in the kitchen, locking in and deciding to make a dish so good it looks like an episode of Food Wars. PLEASE never stop being such a creative light! @kuroashims, what can I say? I like One Piece, Elfy likes One Piece. I like Sims, Elfy likes Sims. AND GOD, ARE THOSE SIMS SO FUCKING COOL!! I don't think I'll ever get over how PERFECT they look for the characters. @circusjuney, Hi June!! 👋🏽 Don't mind me I just wanted to say that your Simstyle is a huge inspirtation to me and every post you make is so beautiful... anyways I hope you're having a good day :). And @elderwisp literally, quite simply, so graciously, so seriously... YOUR STORYTELLING IS AMAZING!! Everything about it is part of the reason I've tried to start developing compelling lore for my OCs and everything you put out is so well-thought out I wish these were books sold on shelves more than Sims tbh 😭.

Anyways, I think I've rambled on for long enough. To any and all who I have not mentioned in this post, I wish I could go on forever because you all are lights in my life but I feel like I've rambled for long enough; know that you are loved, you are appreciated and everything you do, every like I give, every reblog I do, every message I leave is genuine and I absolute appreciate all of you and everything you have done. I hope you all are having a wonderful day, and if you aren't I hope tomorrow will be the best day of your life. Take care of yourselves. 💜

Also, another more public happy birthday to @linalinsims! 💜💜💜

📩 Simblr question of the day: any other simblrs that you love?

answer in whatever way is most comfortable for you and feel free to share this SQOTD around, make sure to use the hashtag SQOTD and tag me in separate posts ~ 💛

This question was contributed by : @/missmoodring ~thank you for the SQOTD contribution~ (This is question 7 out of 10 that they have contributed :))

#also hi squatty 👋🏽#sqotd #simblr

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relaxxattack · 2 years ago

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hi! it's me :) fic rec anon. things have been hard lately so i have some more stuff to recommend bc it makes me feel better. uh, this one's mostly a like, grab bag of stuff? miscellany yknow. let's get into it (also if i have any repeats of stuff you've rec'd here before then Whoops)

pilot light, pale rapture is a post-game fic about jade and her Issues. jade/davepeta. has some excellent jane work in there and is meant to imply june pre-transition. i'd also like to recommend this author's other work, including the collected works of the originators, and the fanventure kittyquest which you can find on mspfa. both the collected works and kittyquest are about a richly detailed take on earth C, with accompanying myths; kitty quest is about jade and davepeta's daughter kitty harley-leider. very very good.

estrogamer girl is about trans girl roxy! very sweet. gen.

METHODOLOGY AND INTERPRETIVE "RECORD" OF SOULBOT WRECK AA109.23J2 – [DRAFT] is about a post-game grad student accessing the wreckage of one of aradia's soulbots postcanon, and experiencing the feelings of a doomed timeline's aradia. ararezi, outsider pov.

who could ask you to be unbroken or brave again is a fic about rose and vriska talking about trauma and child abuse post-canon. gen.

Metronome of a Night Queen's Heart and Other Unused Romance Novel Names is a fic in which kanaya asks dave to be her bloodbag after becoming a vampire, causing rosemary and davekat misunderstandings. rosemary and davekat.

Jade: Endure is about what it would have been like for jade to grow up with her corpse in her own house. short and very good. gen.

grant me wings that i might fly is about jade english raising jake english up to her eventual death. very good. gen.

DIRK TAKES A PISS is , okay listen i know from that title oyou might be like, fic rec anon, What are you recommending to me BUT LSITEN ITS ABOUT DIRK ACCIDENTALLY DROPPING HIS PACKER ON THE FLOOR OF A BATHROOM AND GETTING MEET CUTE'D. it's good. okay. dirkjake.

one more night (your ex-lover remains dead) is a junejasprose fic about trauma and what it means to be a rose left behind. if you're going to read ANY jasprose fic you have to read this one it's literally iconic to me and changed the way i see her forever. junejasprose.

Light Without Effulgence is a jake & rose friendship manifesto and it is HILARIOUS. "rose, you gather, is like dirk if he were a woman and capable of being happy" like that's hilarious to me. gen.

Bitter is a fancomic about jade and rose and i'm not going to spoil the surprise of what it's about but it's DELICIOUS. jaderose.

CHARGING THE VOID is a space opera roserezi au with hints of vrisrezi left behind and also both rose and terezi are trans and also it's DELICIOUS like i can't even say anything about it. if anyone has read baru cormorant and is familiar with it it's like that. roserezi, unlike pretty much anything else i've recced here it DOES have a sex scene so if you're uncomfortable with that it's not for you.

think about staying alive is a kidswap au! about rose strider my favorite kidswap <3 gen.

Postscript is about rosefef, rebellion au, being the last two left alive carrying out a rebellion against the condesce. rosefef.

Transperience is about calliope and the trans experience! fancomic, gen. very good.

goddess is about june egbert coming out! can you tell i'm a june egbert Believer gsdlkjfsakldj it's gotten to the point it's hard to read fic where she's called john lmao

I'm Hoping One Day Acting Cool Will Make Me Feel More Self Assured is about kanaya maryam and the burdens of being assigned mom friend. rosemary. also she and rose have a long furby.

we are the reckless is a space opera au in which vriska's a pirate captain and aradia's a helmsman. i love the blackrom in this. aravris.

i think this is enough for rn. have fun!

AND WHEN THE WORLD NEEDED THEM MOST…

THEY RETURNED!!!

thank you so much!!!!! these all look very fun and it’s definitely appreciated TwT and kind of you!!! 💞💞💞

#fic recs #fic rec

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hercleverboy · 4 years ago

Text

stars

spencer reid x fem!reader

summary ↠ spencer and the reader watch the stars and talk about their future.

category ↠ fluff

warnings/includes ↠ none

word count ↠ 1.7k

dedicating this fluff fest to my wifey, @alltooreid thank you for not only your creative input on this, but also for being there for me when i needed someone. much love <333

“And so I named the stars one by one, after every favourite memory of you.” — Stephen Stilwell

“Isn’t it beautiful?” She whispered, eyes staring up into the night, drawn to the little specks of light dotted in the clear sky. They were laid on the soft grass, blanket beneath them as they looked up together, beaming smiles on both their faces.

He grinned down at the woman who rested her head on his chest, his arms wound tightly around her. “It certainly is. I’m surprised the sky is so clear tonight, I really didn’t think we were going to be able to see much.” He admitted with a little laugh.

She chuckled at that. “You didn’t think we’d see much, and yet you still let me drag you out here at an ungodly hour so we could watch the stars?” She asked, shuffling slightly so she could look up at him.

“Of course. You’re cute when you’re excited, I didn’t have the heart to tell you that the probability of the sky being clear enough for us to see anything was only around 37%.” He explained, intertwining their hands together. “But there you go again, proving me wrong.”

“Hm. Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?” She joked, making him roll his eyes.

“I am! Unless you too can recite the Bible from memory? Or the manual for our microwave?” He joked, causing Y/N to give him a gentle shove.

“Can I ask you something?” She whispered, looking up at him.

He breathed out. “Anything.”

They were quiet for a little while before she spoke again. “Do you ever think about our future?”

Spencer’s breath hitched at the question.

Of course, he thought about their future. All the time. Marriage, kids, a big house with a white picket fence, perhaps even a dog. It was the ‘apple-pie’ life he’d dreamt of, more than he’d like to admit.

He gave her a squeeze, one of reassurance.

They’d been together for two years. Two years that had simultaneously been the best and worst of his life. In those years he’d nearly died after being shot in the neck, he’d lost Alex, Kate, Gideon, and the team was still under immense threat from Mr. Scratch. And somehow, admist all the chaos, he’d met this incredible woman who had helped him through it all. The last few months in particular had been rough for him. With Morgan leaving the team and his mother’s condition worsening, it had certainly made him reconsider everything he had in his life and also reminded him of not only what he’d lost, but what he’d gained.

Y/N sighed, but still gave Spencer a smile. “It’s ok. We don’t have to talk about it, I was only wondering.”

“No, no. It’s ok. I’m just trying to gather my thoughts, is all.” He assured her, moving to sit up straight. Y/N sat up too, Spencer reaching out and grabbing one of her hands to hold tightly in his. “I think about it all the time, truthfully.” He mumbled.

“You do?”

“Of course, I do. You’re it for me, Y/N.” He gave a small smile, his gaze dropping to their intertwined fingers. “It’s just, I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

Y/N nodded, urging him to continue.

“I’ve been thinking about my position at the BAU.” He stated firmly. Y/N’s eyes widened slightly in shock, surprised at the confession. The way he said it was so sure, so certain. He’d evidently been thinking about it for quite some time.

“Ever since Morgan left, I’ve been going over it again and again in my head. I understand why he left. His family needed him and it’s honestly the most admirable thing I’ve ever seen him do. I just wonder,” He paused, biting down on his lip in thought. “Would it be wise for me to make the same decision he did?”

Y/N frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean— Y/N I love you. I want us to get married, have children, I want us to have a life together. And after watching Morgan, seeing how he gave up the job for his family, don’t you think I should do that too? For you, for us?” He explained, eyes finally meeting her worried ones.

“Woah, woah Spence. Are you saying you’re thinking of leaving the BAU?” She clarified, moving a little closer to him.

Spencer nodded. “I know, it seems crazy right? At first I couldn’t believe that I was even considering it but I’ve thought about it a lot and it just, it seems like the right thing to do.” He gave a small shrug. “If we’re going to have a life together I want our family to be my priority, and I just don’t think I can do that while I’m still doing this job. I’ve seen it all first hand. I watched Hotch lose Haley, I watched Morgan nearly lose Savannah, all because of this job.”

Y/N shook her head slowly, much to Spencer’s surprise. “Spencer... I won’t be the reason that you leave a job that you worked so hard for, a job that you love so much. What about the team? They’re your family- “

It was Spencer’s turn to shake his head, cutting her off mid-sentence. “You’re right. The team are my family, but so are you. And if they care about me like I know they do, they’ll support me with this. And as for jobs? There are plenty out there that I’ll enjoy. I’ve actually been thinking of getting in contact with Alex, maybe asking about teaching opportunities at Georgetown.”

Y/N looked up at him, eyebrows furrowing as she studied his face intently. He avoided her eyes, small smile pulling at his lips.

She smiled back, a knowing look on her face. “You’ve already spoken to Alex about it, haven’t you?”

Spencer chuckled with a nod. “You know me too well. I spoke to her last week. She said there’s an open spot as the head of the Criminal Psychology department. The job is mine if I want it.”

Y/N gave him a grin, squeezing his hands. “Are you sure this is what you want?” He nodded, but that wasn’t enough for her. “No, I need to hear you say it. I need to know that you’re not going to resent me in a few years because of this.”

He was quick to shake his head, pulling her toward him as one of his hands came up to cup her face. “I would never resent you.”

“So, this is what you want?” She asked once more, just so she knew he was absolutely sure.

He nodded adamantly. “I want you. I’m only ever going to want you.” He murmured the words so softly that it made Y/N’s heart ache. “Now, and for the rest of my days.”

With joyful tears building in her eyes she nodded, enveloping him in a hug as he kissed the side of her forehead.

Spencer let out a sigh accompanied by a teary smile. He gave her a squeeze, his hands soothing along her back as he looked up at the stars. “Did you know, there’s an old Buddhist saying that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. We’re supposedly, quite literally, bound together through space and time. Isn’t that cool?” He rambled, earning a chuckle from Y/N.

“That is really cool.” She agreed.

“You know I’m a man of science, but how else is it possible that you came into my life at a time where I needed you the most?” He whispered the last part, as though he was afraid to be so vulnerable as to let the words leave his lips. “Do you- do you think it’s possible that the stars brought us together?”

She grinned, tilting back her head slightly to look up at the stars with him. “Yeah, I think so.”

Spencer looked down in awe at the baby girl pressed against his bare chest. Josephine June Reid, barely three days old and already she had her father wrapped right around her tiny finger. Nothing he’d ever felt before compared to the feeling he had when he looked down at her, his little girl, his daughter. She slept peacefully against him, her little chest rising and falling rhythmically as his hands soothed over her back, gently rocking her.

There was a soft knock on the nursery door, his tired-looking wife pushing it open. “Spence?”

He looked up, and offered her a warm smile. “Hey, you’re supposed to be resting.”

Y/N gave a sleepy grin, moving toward them. “You know that we’re supposed to sleep when she does, right?”

He snickered at that, raising an eyebrow at her. “You only gave birth three days ago. You know I’m going to tell you to get back into bed, right? Doctor’s orders.”

She held her hands up in a mock surrender, placing a kiss on the side of Spencer’s head. “I know.”

It was silent for a moment, the new parents just staring down at the little life they’d created, filled with such a warmth, such a happiness that they’d never felt before.

“I can’t put her down, not yet. I don’t want to let her go.” Spencer whispered, bringing up a finger to soothe over his daughter’s cheek. “I love her so much.”

“I know. She loves you too.” Y/N assured, watching with joy at how Spencer was with their daughter. He really was a natural with kids.

“You really should go back to bed, love. You need all the rest you can get.” He warned in a playful tone.

Y/N chuckled a little with a nod, bending down to press a gentle kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “I’m not going to fight you on that one Doc, I’m exhausted.” She ruffled the curls on her husband’s head, offering him a warm smile. “Love you. Come back to bed soon, yeah?”

Spencer nodded, promising he would.

Before Y/N left the nursery, she turned back to her husband, calling his name softly. “Spence?”

“Yeah, love?”

“Do you regret it now?” She whispered, her fingers fumbling together as though she was afraid she wouldn’t like his answer. “Do you regret leaving the BAU?”

The question made him frown, it made him think. Did he regret leaving?

His eyes flickered between his wife and the beautiful little girl against his chest and he smiled slightly at the realisation. This was everything he’d ever wanted, here, right in front of him. Every decision he’d made, every moment of heartache, every person he’d lost, they had all lead him there. To that very moment.

And for that, he was so incredibly grateful.

“No.” He replied, his voice as sure as the day he first mentioned leaving. “Not even for a second.”

He supposed he had the stars to thank for that.

#spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg x reader #mgg #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer x y/n #criminal minds

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fruitcoops · 3 years ago

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Hi, Eve

Rose here from yesterday, thank you very much for the Birthday message, I wasn't expecting you to read it let alone reply but I was looking for Coops kids Birthday fluff specifically. It doesn't matter if you don't have time however as I don't want to be a bother.

Hello Rose, and happy (belated) 20th birthday! Sorry for the wait--I really wanted to get this one right to celebrate such an important number. I hope your day was absolutely fantastic! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Stella is an OC

Combined with asks for Sirius lightly making fun of Remus' accent and Remus yelling at a game show (@nazar4114)

“Medusa!” Stella shouted with all the force in her thirteen-year-old lungs. Remus leaned forward on the couch. “Medusa!”

The front door opened with a creak. “I’m h—”

“Yes!” they cheered in unison as Nicole answered correctly. Remus turned and gave Stella a double high-five, feeling his heart squeeze at the vivid joy on her round face. “Good guess.”

“I knew she was gonna get it,” Stella said with a pump of her fist as she turned back to the show and folded her legs underneath her.

“Gonna,” a familiar deep voice mimicked from the doorway. Paper bags rustled before footsteps stopped behind the couch; Remus tilted his chin up without sparing a glance, and Sirius pressed a laugh-laced kiss to his cheek before dropping one on Stella’s head as well. “You sound too much like your dad.”

“Love you, too,” Remus said wryly.

“I’ll take ‘Myths and Moths’ for 400, please.” Nicole’s voice snapped his attention back to the screen, and Stella narrowed her eyes.

“Daily Double!” the automated voice announced. Stella gasped; Remus bit his lower lip. “This mythical shield was wielded by Athena, and is sometimes said to be made of goat skin.”

“Aegis,” Stella whispered, then raised her voice. “It’s the Aegis, Nicole. You know this.”

“We know you do,” Remus said, scooting forward. “You just guessed whose head is on it.”

Nicole’s buzzer went off with two seconds to spare. “What is the Aegis?”

“Hell yeah!” Stella whooped.

Remus turned to her and raised his eyebrows. “Excuse you.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you two going to do this the whole afternoon?” Sirius asked from the kitchen, obviously amused. “We might need to get the neighbors some noise-cancelling headphones.”

Stella blew a dark lock of hair out of her eyes as she flopped her head back. “It’s almost final Jeopardy, papa. We have, like, ten minutes.”

Sirius blinked at her, then shook his head. “I swear you two share genes.”

“Ope, you caught me,” Remus said over the noise of the commercial break. “When I was 20 and had literally never left Wisconsin, I went and had a secret kid in Maine who looks terribly like you just so that someone would watch Jeopardy reruns with me thirteen years later. Oops.”

“It’s the truth,” Stella said with great gravity. “I remember.”

“Mon dieu,” Sirius muttered, though he couldn’t keep a smile down. He had never been able to hide around Stella, not once in the three years since they had adopted her. It was one of the things Remus loved most about him. “By the way, nobody under the age of fourteen is allowed in the kitchen for the next…hour. Ish.”

Stella squirmed around until she could rest her arms on the back of the couch. “What if I get thirsty?”

“I’m sure you can invoke birthday privileges and ask your dad to get something for you.”

“Birthday privileges?” Remus scoffed. “Nobody in this house has a birthday today. Yours was last month, and mine’s in March.”

“It’s my birthday,” Stella said.

“What? No, it’s not.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“Your birthday is in June.”

“It’s today.”

“Or maybe July?”

“It’s today, in December, when there’s snow,” she insisted, throwing herself back against the pillows. “Come on, dad, that’s not funny anymore.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Is somebody too old to find their poor old dad amusing now? Can you go back to being twelve so somebody will laugh at my jokes again? I know, I know, we're super lame compared to all your friends’ parents—”

“So lame,” Sirius agreed from the kitchen.

“—but I like to think we get one more year of pre-teen cuteness before the teen angst takes over.”

Stella sat up again with a groan. Looking at her, Remus saw a mix of himself and Sirius that had always baffled him, considering they had adopted her comparatively late in her life; beneath it was something uniquely Stella. Maybe it was her double-jointed elbows, or the board-straightness of her hair next to their curls, but there was no mistaking that she was her own person through and through. He loved that about her. “I’m not going to be a terrible teenager.”

Sirius poked his head around the edge of the kitchen—his nose was adorned with a smudge of flour. “Can I record that for future use?”

“Non.”

“Ooo, using the French,” Remus hissed. “That transformation is already beginning.”

“It’s not like you were bad teenagers, right?” She settled upside-down on the couch with her flamingo-patterned socks high in the air.

“I almost convinced Grandma to let me dye my hair blue, but otherwise I was pretty good.”

“I was terrible,” Sirius laughed. “I didn’t talk to anybody for a solid three years.”

Stella frowned. “How? I think I’d die if I did that.”

“He’s stubborn,” Remus stage-whispered.

“I heard that.”

Stella suppressed her laughter as best she could, but she was about as good at hiding her emotions around them as Sirius was. She didn’t really giggle—the amount her voice had deepened over the past three years always gave Remus whiplash—but her laugh had the same cadence as it did the first day they heard it. While Stella had been quiet at first, it only took love and time to bring her out of her shell. Within a year she settled into their lives like she was always meant to be there.

A thoughtful look crossed her face. “This is my last year before high school.”

“Does it feel different?”

“Not really.” She paused, then shrugged. “And a little. I don’t feel older. It just feels like there’s stuff I won’t get to do anymore.”

“And a lot more you will get to do.” Sirius left his dishtowel on the counter before joining them on Stella’s other side. “You can drive soon, you’ll get a longer curfew, you get more freedom…”

“I guess.”

“What are you going to miss?” Remus asked as she toyed with the hem of her shirt. It was a basic Lions FAN jersey; he was fairly sure she bought it to be ironic. That, and she only wore one of theirs if she was upset with the other, or if one needed a boost at a game.

“I dunno.” A few beats of silence passed. “My classmates. My team. It feels like everything’s going to turn upside down.”

“You can still keep in touch with your friends, and I bet your team won’t be too different,” Sirius said quietly. “Even if it does, that doesn’t mean you have to give all of them up. People change in different ways. They come and go on their own time.”

“There’s going to be a lot of upside-downs over the next couple years, kid.” Remus offered her a smile. “But you’re going to be just fine.”

“You two sound like such dads right now.”

“This might shock you, but that’s because we are.”

The corner of her mouth tugged up and she lolled her head to the side to look at Sirius. “Is the cake done?”

“Fifteen more minutes.”

“Will you watch final Jeopardy with us?”

“What’s the category?”

“US Presidents.”

Sirius exhaled through his nose, but nodded. She grinned and turned herself upright to snuggle against his arm. “You just enjoy watching me lose.”

---------------------------

“Alright, is everyone ready?” Sirius called from the kitchen.

“On three,” Remus said, raising his phone camera. “One, two, three!”

“Happy birthday to you,” over a dozen voices sang. They were off-tempo and so out of key the composer was probably spinning in his grave, but Stella’s clear joy didn’t waver for a millisecond even as her cheeks reddened. “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Stella, happy birthday to you!”

Finn, of course, dragged out the last note. So did Leo, Logan, Kasey, James, Lily, and Talker in varying degrees of awful harmony attempts. It was terrible, and beautiful. “Make a wish,” Sirius said softly as he set the cake down and stepped back. His eyes were the brightest quicksilver Remus had seen in many moons.

Stella closed her eyes, took a breath, and blew as hard as she could—the entire room erupted into cheers when all the candles went out. She was laughing and blushing at the same time when Remus turned the lights back on, though the humor won out in the end and she helped pass plates of cake to her many aunts and uncles. Like every year prior, Regulus managed to smear a bit of frosting on her chin, only to immediately deny it with great offense when she noticed. It was becoming a bit of a tradition—one that Remus never grew tired of.

I know what I would wish for, Remus thought as he looked around the table at their patchwork family. Celeste, Dumo, and his own parents had no doubt spoiled their first grandchild with ‘cusp of adulthood’ gifts, and Natalie and Lily would certainly steal her away after cake for some girl time. Finn and Logan would remain the fun uncles while Leo and Regulus kept their thrones as the cool uncles; Stella would interrogate Jules on the intricacies of high school for at least an hour before they destroyed everyone in a snowball fight. The world they built together had a place for everyone.

I would wish for this. This, for us, forever. It wasn’t a bad eternity to imagine.

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #coops kid #stella #lions #regulus black #my fic #fanfic #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #birthday party

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cas-kingdom · 3 years ago

Note

In that case!! Nick and reader or Ainsley, “I don’t want to be here anymore.”❤️ Thank you lovely

“I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Nick glanced up sharply, as though he’d heard the words before, as though they lead to something he didn’t wish to remember. He’d been leaning against the open doorframe, dutifully glancing across the corridor every so often in case the Waterfords returned home from whatever formal engagement they were currently mixed up in sooner than expected.

It was a routine thing, really. When a commander asked his driver to watch over his daughter while he’s away, one expects the driver to constantly be on guard, perhaps sitting silently in the kitchen with an ear to the ceiling and a gun sitting on the table. But the Waterford household wasn’t an average household in Gilead – they only needed their handmaid and her recent excursions to explain that – and you and Nick shared far too many similarities to spend free time apart.

It wasn’t that the similarities between you would have helped in the world before Gilead. You were over fifteen years younger than him and friendship would have been unlikely. But in the three years since the creation of the new world, you’d bonded easily. Much more than a driver and a commander’s daughter were allowed.

No, you didn’t share interests in classic cars, or Marvel movies, and you didn’t know each other’s favourite colour – were colours something people still favoured? – but the similarity you did have, the opinion you had on your lives, was shared deeply and passionately.

You were perhaps each other’s constant, in this cruel reality, at least until June had arrived, and things had started to look somewhat up. Which was why the words that had left your lips just seconds before caused Nick’s heart to jump and his back to straighten against the wooden frame.

“What do you mean, exactly?” he asked.

You lifted your head off your knees and looked at him. You were sat on your bed, knees bent in front of you, wearing the scratchy pyjamas girls your age were supposed to, wishing not for the first time that you’d saved one pair of shorts and a tank top before they’d been incinerated.

“Don’t worry,” you said when you caught the look of concern in his eyes, “I’m not gonna off myself with one of Rita’s kitchen knives.” Nick visibly relaxed. “I just mean… here. Here, literally, in this place. I don’t want to be here.”

“I know.”

“I really don’t want to be here.”

“I know, Y/N.”

“I just want to go home.” Your voice cracked on the last word, and you buried your face between your knees.

Nick sighed, watching you. You had moments like these. Understandable, of course, considering the shit you’d been through and been forced to change, and it’d caused a lump to form in his throat the day he’d realised you only ever broke around him. That made him feel useful, in a way, and appreciative that you had someone other than your government-crazed parents and a handmaid who couldn’t do much to console you in the way of things.

Casting one last glance back down the empty corridor, Nick quietly shut the door and took the few steps over to your bed, sitting at the edge. He put his gun beside him and wrapped an arm around your shaking shoulders, drawing you against his side. “Tell me about before,” he spoke quietly, tilting his head to rest against your own.

You opened your eyes, swallowing down further tears. It was a good tactic. Nick was clever like that. Talk about life before Gilead so reality doesn’t hit so hard. He never said much, just listened, interjecting when he thought you might want him to. So far, you’d painted your parents in a different light, a light he believed Serena and Fred would be ashamed to look back on and compare to the way they were now. Nick knew it wasn’t just the society they lived in that you wanted to escape, but the way your parents had changed so drastically. The way they – namely your mother – were aching for a baby, as though forgetting their current one, despite the fact you were adopted, no longer existed.

He often thought those living amongst Gilead’s higher power were luckier than those who weren’t, but spending time with the fourteen-year-old, who, by Gilead’s standards, was reaching an age where you would need to be married off, had changed that viewpoint around somewhat.

You dropped your legs, crossing them beneath you as you leaned heavily against the driver. You sniffed and stared across at the blank wall. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Anything.” Nick pat your arm. “Didn’t you say last time you were going to get a dog?”

You absently nodded. “For my birthday. Dad said we could.” You were silent for a second longer before you moved your head to look up at him, prompting him to sit up again. You locked eyes and blinked. “Can you do it this time?” you asked quietly. “Tell me what your life was like?”

Nick frowned lightly, more in surprise than displeasure, before nodding once. “Alright,” he agreed. He glanced back at the door once more before deciding he didn’t quite care if the Waterfords walked in. He’d made a promise to himself years ago that protecting their daughter would come first over anything, including his job and duties.

And if that meant protecting you against them, so be it. He would do it gladly. But, for now, he would sit with you, and remind the both of you that life had once been good.

Handmaid's Masterpost

#the handmaid's tale #nick blaine #nick x reader #nick blaine x reader #reader fic #daughter!reader #daughter reader #serena joy waterford #fred waterford #mine #teen!reader #teen reader

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thecrowslullaby · 3 years ago

Note

Okay so I thought I could pick one but I couldn't

So you can pick whichever you want

(I'm asking for platonic content cause I've been craving some familial angst)

27 Gen->Virgil and Janus

40 & 41 angst-> Creativitwins

27 angst-> Roman and anyone

Thanks for the ask!!!!! Stuff has been wild over here so, while i have half of the story written I only now have gotten around to proofreading it ^^' (not that it does much since I still can't spell very well).

Hope you'll like it :D!

Pairing: none

Warnings: foul language, shouting, some crying, mention of emotionally abusive parents

Summary: Remus and Roman come to a disagreement. Roman finds comfort in an unlikely person.

Word count: 1327 (these chapters are getting longer! YAY!)

first-prev-next

Tuesday 7:15

Roman woke up to light shining from behind the curtain. hitting him square in the face. Great. The day was already off to a great start.

He reached for his phone to check if Patton was awake. He knew Janus would throw a fit if he left without his bodyguard and he didn’t need his assistant to be breathing down his neck today out of all days. There was a reason he gave the man the day off, after all. The longer Jan remained oblivious to his plan, the better for Roman.

The redhead almost dropped his precious device as his notifications buzzed off. He caught it right before it hit the floor. Unlocking the screen he smiled to himself, seeing his brother already typing the next message. Maybe the day won’t be so bad after all.

Remus was ecstatic when he learned Roman would come to Australia, already planning to meet up with Roman in secret. Not that they needed to be too sneaky. It’s not like Janus or Patton would mind having his brother around.

Evil Twin

HEY ASSHOLE!!!!

YOU DIDN’T CALL ME YESTERDAY.

I DON’T DON’T KNOW IF YOUR PLANE CRASHED OR NOT.

I’m alive

THANK GOD!

I’M TERRIBLE AT FAKING BEING SAD!

rude

I KNOW! NOT LETTING YOUR BROTHER KNOW IF YOU’RE ALIVE OR NOT!

Feeling too tired to respond, Roman pressed the call button. Remus picked up immediately.

"Hey Pissy!" Roman could practically feel the taunting grin on Remus. Somehow each time they talked his twin found a worse nickname for him.

“How’s counseling for summer-camp going for you?”

“Roman, it's winter in Australia.”

“But… it’s June.”

“I see spending time with Janus hadn’t made you any wiser.” Remus snickered. “Clearly I inherited all the smarts.”

“Hey!”

“At least you got double the sanity.”

“I’m not so sure about that lately.”

“What happene- GREG, I TOLD YOU NOT TO LICK THE FUCKING POLE-....-STEPHANIE I WOULDN’T TOUCH MY DEAD BEAT MOTHER WITH A 6-FOOT STICK, LET ALONE MY MOUTH-...-NO!-...FUCK ME YOURSELF YOU COWARD!-....-THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT- sorry, where were we?”

"Trying to make my ears bleed, apparently."

"Pog. Anyway, When are you coming to visit?”

“That… might be a bit of a problem.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, you know how our parents are-”

“What did they do to you?” Remus was seething on the other end.

“Nothing!” Roman protested. “Nothing I didn’t agree too!”

“Oh, because you sooooo love their ideas.” Roman could practically hear the eyeroll.

“You’re starting to sound like Janus!”

“Like that’s a bad-FUCK OFF STEPHANIE, THIS IS IMPORTANT- like that’s a bad thing!”

“I don’t need two people bossing me around Remus!”

“Great! Now go and tell that to our parents!”

“It’s not that easy Remus!”

“It literally is that easy Roman!” There it was again, that annoying pitch in Remus' voice, like he would do better in Roman’s situation.

“They would kick me out of their lives if they knew Remus.” It’s not like they haven’t done that to a child before.

“Like that’s such a bad thing!”

“Well maybe I don’t want to end like you.” He whispered the last part but if the silence ringing in Roman’s ear was anything to go by Remus definitely heard it.

“I see.”

God why did he say that?

Stupid, stupid, stupid-

“Re-”

“Save it-.” He sounded bitter, like he was biting down tears. “I get it ok? Having a cushy life is far more important to you than living by your own ideas!”

“Remus I-”

“You know-.” He could feel a sob, shaky and desperate. “I actually thought you wanted to hang out with me-”

“I do Remus, I-”

“NO YOU DON’T” Remus screamed “You didn’t back then and you sure as hell don’t now!” His voice was shaky and Roman wanted to scream back, say something, explain himself but he couldn’t force himself to make a sound. “I actually thought, I actually thought you’d back me up back then! But you didn’t do it when we were sixteen and it sure as hell doesn’t look like you changed your mind for the past 5 years!”

“Remus I-”

His speech was cut short when Remus hit the disconnecting button. Roman tried calling him, multiple times, messaging, pleading, but all he got in return was getting ignored on every platform he tried.

He flung his phone across the room, the device hitting his suitcase and plopping safely to the floor. Roman grabbed the nearest pillow, screaming into it until he felt his throat burn.

Great, first his parents sent him here and he had to ruin this one thing he was genuinely looking forward to on this trip.

Why did he have to be such a fucking coward?

He wasn’t sure spent, bawling his eyes into the pillow, wallowing in self misery, until he cried himself to sleep again.

A banging knock to his dorr woke him away.

“Roman?” Great, Janus.

“Go away.” He mumbled into the pillow, his throat burning.

“Roman get your ass up and open, I’m worried sick.”

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to see anyone, let alone Janus, who always seemed to weigh him down with those judging glances. Why was he here anyway? Where was Patton?

He could already feel his eyes stinging again.

He would murder for one of Pattons hugs right now.

Something thumbed softly against the wooden door.

“Roman, please-” there was a sudden shift in his voice, he sounded almost-sincere.”-Patton’s sick, you’re ignoring my every call, and while I hate believing rumors I just heard some horrendous news and I really need to talk to you so I can clear things up.”

Roman signed, pulling himself up and dragging his feet to the door.

He wondered briefly if Janus heard him, and was waiting patiently, or if he simply left without a warning. It’s not like he would be the first.

Groggily he opened the door, glancing down to find Janus still standing there, without a trace of annoyance on his face. Small miracles, eh?

“You look awful.” Janus said, except it didn’t sound anything like he’s usual biting self, almost caring. He wasn’t sure why the snake lost it’s venom but he wasn’t going to complain. “May I come in?”

Roman nodded, stepping aside to let the small man step in. Janus closed the door before turning towards the redhead.

“Do you need a hug?” From Patton or Remus preferably, both whom could squeze the air out of Roman and make him feel safe. But without either or them around he would have to settle for the tiny man.

He nodded groggily and the blond wrapped his short thin arms around his torso. Roman laid his head on top of the shortest man, allowing himself a moment to breathe. Janus still hadn’t let go, instead he started rubbing small circles on Roman’s back. And as odd as it was, the performer found the gesture oddly comforting.

“You’re not secretly-”His voice felt awfully raspy, he wondered how long it would take before he could sing again. A day? Two? ”You’re not secretly Patton disguised as Jan?” He felt himself relax slightly as the blond actually chuckled at his joke. Patton was a good head taller than Roman and almost as broad as Janus was tall.

“No, it’s still me, your awful assistant.”

“That’s nice too.”

“Roman?”

“Yeah?”

“I need to talk to you about Vivien.”

“Oh.” Roman swallowed hard. “Did Patton-”

“Patton knew?!” There was a flash of anger before the man closed his eyes. He could see Janus trying to even his breath, before speaking up again. “Did you plan to tell me?”

“I guess. Maybe?... Maybe not?”

Janus took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.” Roman blurted out.

“For what?”

“Everything.”

“Roman, it’s your life.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“Well.” Janus said, pulling apart and actually smiling at him. “Then I think it’s time we finally do something about it!”

#ts roman #ts remus #ts janus #sanders sides #creativity twins #creativity twins angst #bc that's what I live for now. apperently #cawtent #ts fic

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justmochi · 2 years ago

Text

be the sun

pairing :: eden x seokmin

word count :: 1.0k

synopsis :: eden visits seokmin backstage after his concert.

time :: june 26, 2022

“It’s just me, no worries.” Seungkwan took his hand back, furrowing his eyebrows in concern.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” She playfully slapped his shoulder, rolling her eyes.

“My apologies.” He bowed his head causing her to chuckle. “Did you enjoy it?”

“You know I always do. You don’t even need to ask.”

“Ahh, right.”

“How do you perform for four hours straight? Aren’t you exhausted?”

“It’s definitely exhausting, but our fans give us enough energy.” He nodded with his hands on his hips, smiling towards her.

“And you cried a lot tonight. You okay?”

“Is Jeonghan recovering well?” She made small talk while waiting.

“He’s doing okay, but I think he’s at his limit tonight.”

“Well yeah, did you see him last night in his cast? His doctor is not going to be happy.”

“Oh for sure.” Seungkwan laughed at her joke, shaking his head. “I think he’s kept you waiting long enough. I’ll go get him”

She kept her head down until she heard the man calling her name. It seemed Seungkwan had taken his members' place to talk with their guests, sending him to his girlfriend.

“Hello beautiful.” He kissed her forehead, patting the top of her head with his hand. “I’m sorry, did you wait long?”

“No no, it’s okay.” She shook her head, bringing her hand up to caress his cheek. “Did you have fun?”

“So much fun.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” She readjusted his bucket hat, rearranging his hairs that laid on his forehead.

“Did you have a good time? No troubles or anything?” He used his fingers to massage her shoulders, giving her that familiar, welcoming grin.

“I just gotta pack up some of my stuff, then we can head out.” He reached for both of her hands, drawing his fingertips against hers before intertwining them. “Come with me.”

And she knew deep down, she’d follow him anywhere.

They walked shoulder to shoulder through the venue halls, swaying their connected hands back and forth. Eden always wondered if she was dreaming, whether he was actually hers. The brushing of their shoulders and the cool breeze from the A/C was enough proof.

They made it to the dressing room, Eden stood by the entrance while he found his duffle bag and started packing his things he brought. The room looked exactly as she expected, like thirteen grown men had taken it over for the day. She knew how hard they worked, thinking about what kind of gifts she could give them all for being so nice to her.

She went over to where Seokmin was, in front of the makeup and mirrors. Coming up behind him, she wrapped her arms around his torso, holding onto her wrist in the front. She pressed her cheek to his back, closing her eyes and taking a second to show him how well he really did.

He patted her wrist, looking up once she moved her head to see themselves in the mirror. He pouted his lips, speaking to her in a calm voice. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m just really proud of you.” She smiled, kissing the back of his shoulder. “Watching you do what you love, I didn’t think I could fall any more in love with you than I already am.”

He removed her arms, turning around and gently holding her face in his hands. He tucked her hair behind her ear before kissing her. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” She smirked, gaining the upper hand. They didn’t like going back and forth about who loved who more, but Eden was feeling mischievous.

“We’re not doing that tonight.” He pinched her cheeks, causing her to squeal and swat his hand away.

“It’s true!” She giggled, Seokmin shaking his head before his hands aimed for her ribs to tickle her. She screamed playfully, trying to push him away but failing. As she laughed harder, she found herself breathless, begging him to stop. She had kneeled to the floor in the process.

Seokmin grabbed both of her hands, pulling her up to her feet and hugging her. “Ahh, I love you so much.” He pressed his cheek to hers with a smile on his face.

She sighed, not wanting to be a victim of his tickle fights again. “I love you too.”

He left kisses on her temple and forehead, bending his knees just enough to lift her into the air. She shrieked, holding on tight to his shoulders. She knew he wouldn’t drop her or let her fall, but she still worried she was too heavy for him.

“Let’s go home.” He smiled towards her, gently putting her down and kissing her again.

“Okay.”

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oftenderweapons · 3 years ago

Text

Into you | Yoongi

This fic was posted for the June Writing game A Summer Night's Dream, hosted by Professor Dove through @bangtansorciere

AU Types/Tropes: Silvery & Hush Established Relationship AU

Themes: Pining

Kinks: Marking, Fingering, Handjob, Blowjob, Edging, Overstimulation, Sex Toy Usage, (Praise kink, if you squint).

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (nicknamed Kitten)

Wordcount: 6.3k

Genre: pwp (very little plot) smut, fluff, established relationship, idol!AU

Rating: 18+

Synopsis: we've all been traumatised by SoWooJoo!Yoongi, but apparently Kitten has very fancy ways of reacting to trauma. Expect a very special, very fond ending.

Trigger warnings: first of all, this is basically unedited, I'm sorry. Now on to canonical warnings: swearing, domme!reader, sub!Yoongi; assplay, rimming, anal fingering (all male receiving); edging (male receiving), marking (male and female receiving); blindfold and handcuffs (male reeciving), spit play, blowjob (male giving and receiving. yeah, he's blowing the strap, it's a thing, believe me. a hot thing too), brief oral, (female receiving); grinding/humping, masturbation (female), cum play/eating, lots of lube ofc, strap on/pegging, lots of possessiveness, very mild degradation (very fond, he calls her bitch but very, very affectionately), overstimulation, cumshots (plural, very messy). Lowkey voyeurism (it's in the final extra). The sex described is overall as safe as sex can be, with the exception of all anything oral and all the cum eating. That is not safe, get tested before you do that with your partner. Sorry, the warnings are very detailed but this is sort of different from what I usually write, so i tried to be extra careful.

Thanking the wifey, @joheunsaram for being the eternal sweetheart 💜💜💜

Here is my masterlist and well, enjoy!

When Yoongi came through the door, he looked quite happy, though his expression was slightly tired.

“Kitten?” he called, looking for you in the living room, and kitchen. Were you still working? He hoped you weren’t. Maybe you were still with the girls. But after two hours?

And then you appeared. Naked, leaning against the bedroom door.

“Hi, kitty cat.”

He hummed and grinned as he stared at your silhouette. “Is that for me?”

You nodded and walked towards him, staring at the way he bit his lip as he observed your swaying hips, the curves of your breasts. You laughed. He knew so little, poor boy. “It sure is,” you purred before hugging him, acting as if you were just going in for some intimacy before you found your target, grabbing his left asscheek while your other hand slid from his spine to his side to his stomach, all the way down to belly, teasing his belt and heading further down, cupping his crotch.

His mouth opened as he exhaled, his hot breath fanning over your bare chest. “You know what you want, don’t you?”

“I’ve always known it,” you replied, stroking him through his jeans. “I don’t think I could want anything else after what you put me through tonight.”

“Did you and the girls enjoy the show?” he asked, mouthing at your neck, feeling the heavy thump of your vein underneath the sensitive tip of his tongue.

“I believe Candy fainted or climaxed a couple times,” you considered, feeling Yoongi chuckle beneath your jaw.

“The kid will be getting it good tonight.”

You smirked, starting to undo his belt. “He's not the only one,” you teased before your hand dove into his pants, feeling him up. “Now I want you to focus on me, though,” you said with a pout, tracing the shape of his lips with a finger. “I want to blow your mind.”

He was speechless as he nodded, his mouth gently agape as you gripped the neckline of his shirt and dragged him to the bedroom. He wasn’t entirely sure he knew what was going to happen, what he did know was that he liked it, and he hoped you would walk the talk till the very end. Somehow, tonight he needed you to.

“What are you thinking of?” you started, your hands undoing the buttons of his shirt.

He placed his hands on your waist, caressing up and down your sides. “How much I love you.”

You smiled and knelt in front of him, kissing his belly button before nibbling on the soft skin just below it. “You’re such a liar.”

“You would be too dangerous if you knew the truth,” he hinted vaguely, pushing your hair back as you kissed his happy trail, your hands slithering into the back of his trousers and slowly, painfully slowly, pulling them down. Unintentionally, his underwear slid down too, his erection springing free against your cheek, a tight hiss coming out of his gritted teeth at the impact.

“Come on, darling,” you cooed before licking up the shaft of his cock. “Won’t you tell me?”

He was tempted to let you continue, making you become dirtier and dirtier as you tried to get him to talk; however, he was too eager to play other games with you. “I’m hoping you’re going to dominate me.”

You looked up at him.

“I want you to fuck me.” He looked away, his cheeks hot as he murmured the two words. “Ruin me.”

You stood immediately, placing your hands on his cheeks, combing his blonde locks back. “What am I allowed to do?” you asked, giving him a soft peck on the lips.

“You pick.”

You felt your soul leave your body. “Get on the bed. All fours.”

Yoongi bit his lip as he felt you switch, your demeanour getting assertive in a second. He loved when it happened. He loved feeling you so at ease with him to let yourself act upon your most animalistic instincts. He wasn’t sure of what it meant to him, but he loved being used by you. And he loved being part of your darkest, most unspeakable fantasies. He loved being kept in that sweet, dark place that was your libido, knowing he would always be the only one residing there, because he trusted you when you told him he was the only one you wanted.

And from the way you made love to him, night after night, he could feel it was true.

He heard a low buzz starting in the room, the sound almost disturbing compared to the quiet harmony of your breathing and his chasing each other.

He felt exposed on the large bed, lonely as you circled around it, around him.

The buzzing stopped.

“Love, would you like wearing a blindfold?” you asked, letting him choose on such an insubstantial matter. It wasn’t your main focus anyway.

Yoongi thought about it for a minute. Could he? Did he want to?

And then he remembered how he had trusted you that one time. “I want to.”

You grinned and held the silk piece between your hands, kneeling behind him on the bed and pressing your hips to his ass, beginning to work him up while you slipped the fabric over his eyes. “All fixed?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied, the tone excessively teasing for that to be actual submission.

“Are you all cleaned up?”

He nodded while unconsciously pressing his ass to your hips. “All clean.”

You smiled. “Did you do this in the hope I would use you tonight?” you inquired, feeling him nod as his hair tickled your arms.

“A man can hope,” he replied mischievously.

“Do you need to be used, Yoongi?” The question rang in the room for three full seconds.

“I’m yours to use.”

“Good.” You rose from the bed, picking all your tools of choice. “Let’s get this started.”

Yoongi was in for a long night.

The first thing he felt was the squelching noise of your hands getting wet, next a vague pineapple smell drifting through the room. He could somehow imagine that the thump he heard next, with a click following, was you, putting down the bottle of lube and closing the cap.

“Does your shoulder hurt, love?” you asked, kissing his back. Though the surgery and the recovery was almost complete, you still treated it gently — mostly because you liked spoiling him and babying him.

“I’m okay, don’t worry,” he replied with certainty.

You hummed and tickled his nape. “Good boy,” you praised before bringing your hand around his waist, finding his cock and starting to tease him gently, with slow, light tugs that focused on finding the veins running along his shaft. They were rather delicate strokes aimed at your own pleasure rather than his. “I’ll check in on you later, okay love?”

His confirmation came through a hum that quickly turned into a moan as you reinforced your hold on him. “Yes, Kitten.” And that ‘yes’ felt more like a nod at the pleasure instead of an answer to your question. You grinned and let him live — you loved when he started growing so hazy he lost contact with reality.

While your hand kept going, you started approaching your actual target, your mouth leaving soft little nibbles on his ass, licking the skin you had just bit before moving to the next spot, making sure you left a bruise this time, Yoongi’s exhale turning into a whimper as you found the perfect spot with your thumb.

Now, the worst part of teasing Yoongi is that he loved having your mouth on him, but that automatically meant that you had to choose between his oral fixation and dirty talking, or just very mundane teasing.

“Do you like your pretty ass bit, my love?” The question was spoken softly, with your deepest voice, the one that always drove him insane. He called it your bedroom voice, velvety, low, sultry and so elegantly feminine. In his mind it looked like a black panther to him, hiding deep in the forest of his desire.

“I like anything you do to me,” he replied, trusting you blindly — quite literally — as you lead him exactly where you wanted him to be, in places he’d never had the courage to explore by himself.

“I love you, Yoongi,” you rewarded him, giving him that safety, that reassurance you knew he needed to take the next step.

“Love you,” he replied meekly, his breath laboured. And then he felt it, your mouth, lingering in between his asscheeks before you pushed them apart, dipping your tongue into the crevice and lashing it against the rim of muscles around his hole.

“Kitten,” he cried out, getting on his elbows, spreading his legs and arching his back to offer himself more fully.

You hummed, appreciating his new position. You wanted to answer him so much, but you kept going, rubbing the skin between his testicles and his anus with your thumb, covered in latex and lube. It was the easiest way — which you had learnt the hard way. Lubrication seemed to last longer on the gloves, and you were okay with sacrificing skin-to-skin contact when the glove allowed you an efficient job, and a quick clean hand when he needed aftercare.

As you let your spit dribble down his skin, meeting your finger, you rested for a second. “Do you still want my tongue or would you like my fingers, babe?”

He groaned and started moving to push his cock into your hand.

You loosened the grip, the touch too light to give him the friction and pressure he wanted. “I said, my tongue or my fingers, Yoongi.”

“Fingers, finger!” he replied quickly — anything to get your grip back on his cock. He needed it, he was desperate and foolish and he needed it so bad.

And then you pushed your middle finger inside, a gasp and a moan exiting his mouth as he crumbled forward a little, clawing at the sheet, the lack of vision unsettling him a little. “Oh god, Kitten! Just like that!”

You grinned and started moving your finger inside just barely, beginning to work at his inner walls little by little, stroking his cock every time he got too quiet.

“Do you know how many people wish they could do this to you?” you teased before bringing your finger out, stretching his entrance and pouring more lube onto the glove. “Do you know how many people want to be in my place, right now?”

He shook his head, too overwhelmed to think, to speak.

“Everyone wants to fuck you. Or be fucked by you,” you murmured, adding one more finger and catching him by surprise. “Everyone wants to suck your beautiful dick. My dick.”

He cried out your name as you found his prostate and started rubbing your fingers gently against it. “All yours,” he purred, swirling his hips against your hand, humming when you gave him the perfect angle. “Kitten, fuck.”

“Is it turning you on?” you asked, removing your fingers to make sure he didn't cum too soon.

“Yes. Now tell me, are you edging me?”

Though his tone was requesting and assertive, you let it slip. He would go back to whining like a good sub in seconds. You placed your lips at his ear, tracing the shell with your tongue and making him arch his back. “Maybe.” You kissed his temple and smiled at him as he purred at you, trying to find anything he could kiss. “Are you in the mood for that?”

He nodded and gasped as he felt your tongue caress his lips and your fingers linger at his entrance. He opened his mouth, ready to be doubly violated, imagining you kneeling at his side.

“Do you want me inside?” you teased, your hot breath fanning over the lower half of his face.

“Yes, please,” he replied, his voice so shy and open.

You held on, caressing his ass, back and forth, slowly, sensuously before you pinched him. “Lay on our back, kitty cat. I have plans for you.”

He snickered and obeyed, curiosity and arousal being the only things keeping him from taking over. “You’re really on your worst behaviour, uh?”

You hesitated, slightly confused at what he meant. Did he like that? Did he…

“Kitten,” he called, stretching his hand and finding your leg. “Love.”

You thought it ridiculous that with such a simple comment he had managed to make your commandeering mood wobble.

He lifted his blindfold at the lack of response. “Hey?”

“Do you really want it?” You looked away from him, feeling like you were maybe pushing him too far.

He sat up to grab your chin and make you look in his direction. “I want it, Kitten. Do you want to give it to me?” You nodded, earning a peck on your lips. “Then give it to me, love.” He laid back down, and put the blindfold back on. “There, you have me. I trust you. I know our safewords. Please, do whatever you fancy.”

You blinked and gave it a try. “I love you, Yoongi.”

“I love you too, ____. I adore you. This is a judgement-free zone, love. It’s always been. It’s the two of us. Nothing can be wrong as long as it’s me and you.” His hand abandoned your leg so he could grip the headboard. “Come on, do it. I know you want it.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, already stretching to your drawer. “You want me to cuff you?”

He hummed and smiled brightly. “It was only a matter of time until you wanted the tables turned, Kitten. I accepted the idea of being cuffed the night you let me put them on you.”

You sighed and straddled his waist, stretching to the headboard to fix the prop on Yoongi, looping the links behind a bar and letting the other handcuff click close on his other wrist. “Too tight?” you checked on him, letting him tug at the restrain a little until he gave you his approval.

“It’s perfect. I’m doing perfect. Now could you please take care of my cock? It’s just a teensy tiny bit hard,” he hissed as he felt the mattress dip between his spread legs, your form crouched there right before you slipped your gloved hand under his balls, searching for the lube bottle and pouring some on your joined fingers before you dipped them in, making him groan in pleasure, your other hand running up and down his thighs as you playfully skimmed them with your nails.

“Kitten, I—” he stopped mid-sentence as he felt your lips around his soft, bulbous tip, his veins so thick you could feel them as you squished him with your cheeks, swallowing the first couple inches of the shaft and bobbing your head with the same rhythm of your fingers inside him. He exhaled, his breath coming out so hard that it resonated in small whimpers.

You let yourself continue for a while, waiting for his abdomen to start twitching right before you sucked him painfully hard, only to let him pop out of your mouth, his loud cries turning into a desperate little tumble of sobs as he felt stimulation stop entirely on all fronts.

“I only do this because it feels so good when you let me cum, but damn it feels so cruel when you edge me.” His words were raspy and vaguely ironic.

“Too cruel?” you asked, sitting up and stretching to his face.

“Perfectly cruel. I love it when you’re a bit of a bitch,” he replied with a semblance of a snicker. “You know, since I’m a bit of a saint. You balance me out.”

You grinned and pushed your naked fingers to his lips, letting him have a taste of his cum before he parted his lips wide, your face leaning over him as you made your lips touch his, your drool falling from the tip of your tongue right into his mouth.

Yoongi simply moaned at the gesture before chuckling. “That’s my lovely bitch.”

You nodded and hummed, kissing down his body, slowing down only to study the wet stain of saliva and precum pooling at his lower belly. Once at his stomach, you placed a heavy kiss there, deciding to mark your territory. You weren’t sure about what was making you feel so jealous of him all of a sudden — secretly your brain was still processing the mental image of him pole-dancing, after the guys had suggested it — nevertheless, you were a horny mess. Well, a hornier mess than usual.

Feeling your courage renewed, you stretched to his head, pulling up the blindfold. You needed him to look at you as you decided to remind him who he belonged to; however, you had to stop right on top of him as his beautiful eyes emerged, lashes fluttering softly as he stared at you, stretching to get your lips on his. As always, you gave him what he wanted, peppering a series of childish pecks over his reddened lips.

“Love you so mad,” he confessed as he watched you moving down his body, kissing the previous mark, already blooming in scarlet red and placing one right after, just one inch before his belly button. “You want me to watch you mark me up?” he questioned, his voice guttural and low pitched.

You nodded and pressed another kiss, even lower, feeling the salt of his sweat and precum sting your tongue as you sucked his skin in, feeling his taste settle in as you made sure the shape of your mouth transferred onto his flesh.

Lower some more, your index finger tracing his hard on, making him hiss.

Lower, to his pubic bone, where his shaved hair tickled you slightly.

And then up, one last hickey where the tip of his cock laid, taking note of the spot for later, when his sex would swell and twitch with a powerful orgasm, only to deflate and shorten a few minutes later, when he would grow sleepy and tender and his whole body would curl up with exhaustion. Then, you would look at the spot on his abdomen, stare at that burgundy sign and remind yourself that the tender kitty napping at your side is fucking hung — and knows exactly how to use every single inch of that beautiful dick.

And that every single one of those inches belongs to you.

With your eyes deep into his, you started sucking him some more, your fingers working in tandem as you started stretching his entrance, making sure he was absolutely ready for what would come next.

Again, his breathing started growing ragged, his wrists tugging at the cuffs as realised he was too aroused to let go of his high again. “Kitten, please…”

And that’s what broke the spell, his length sliding out of your mouth as you smirked and replied, “yes, my love?”

He threw his head back in frustration, pushing his hips up in a way that allowed him some friction against your mouth and chin before you moved away, recognising his intention. And just like that, sudden inspiration struck you, making you turn with your back to him, straddling his hips before you placed your sodden cunt over his erection, feeling the hard flesh glide easily with your drool covering it. It was almost too easy to sync that up with your fingers on your clit and the two digits still inside him. “Is this what you were begging for?”

He hummed, barely coherent as you started humping him, making him grunt and groan as he tried to get more stimulation, more sensations, something just remotely similar to your mouth sucking him off — obviously, to no avail.

You took only a few minutes to cum, deciding to do so with your hips over his face, too far for him to stretch out his tongue to taste you. And just to prove his patience further, you decided to press the softness of your boobs over his pelvis, one hand between your legs and the other one too busy to take care of him — which was actually a shame — still, you decided he was stretched and relaxed enough that you were probably ready for next step.

Plus, at this point, he was speechless, desperate and needy, begging you with a litany of ‘please’ and ‘Kitten’ and ‘let me’, all coherent thoughts out of the window as you finally came, gifting him with your open cunt right on top of his mouth as he pushed his tongue inside, humming and jerking his hips up when he finally felt your cum in his mouth, the salty, bitter tang of you so liquid and hot over his taste-buds that his eyes rolled shut and his nose sent a puff of fresh air tickling your overheated, drenched skin.

As you descended from your orgasm, slowly and carefully unstraddling Yoongi in the process, laying at his side and kissing his chest before you moved to reach his mouth, you realised he was the most incredible lover you could have ever wished for.

“Love you, baby,” you murmured at his side, watching him struggle slightly as his hands were still bound. He whined meekly as he found your lips once more, the kiss scorching hot as the two of you started moving in unison. “You still stretched?” you murmured, his confirmation coming with a brief delay as he tried to bring his brain to work.

“Do you wanna…?” Your question was vague, but Yoongi understood it nonetheless.

“Yes. I really wanna. I want it a lot,” he whispered, resting his face against the crook of your neck. You untucked him from there, drawing the shape of his lips with your finger before he swallowed one, tasting you.

You kissed the mole on his nose, on his cheek as he kept sucking, pushing your hand away as soon as you decided you needed to see him crumble. You removed the glove, reversing it inside out as you rolled it off. Next, you undid the handcuffs, making sure that Yoongi could be perfectly autonomous before you walked away from the bed to grab your required accessories from the drawer at the far corner of the room. Studying the straps and rings, you found out the correct holes for your legs to slide in, bending down to push the small harness up, getting a relatively small dildo in the ring fitting just on top of your mound, reminding yourself you should put a condom on it just to make the cleaning process easier.

Condom on, flared base holding the toy into the metal ring, you started doing the straps around your waist and ass, struggling to decide whether the harness was too loose around you.

“This is one of the sexiest things you’ve ever done,” Yoongi murmured gently from the bed, his eyes hungry and desperately in love with you. You gave a couple thrusts with your hips, feeling the addition at your pelvis and deciding that yes, it fit you perfectly.

Yoongi waited for you at the feet of the bed, kneeling, watching as you walked over to him and stood right before him.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, looking up at you, his eyes focusing on your blushing cheeks, on your turgid, red lips, at your swollen breasts and hardened nipples, following that line that lead from your sternum to your stomach to your belly, right to the toy at his eye level.

He licked his lips and kissed the tip, wishing with all of his heart that it could make you feel the same way as when he would press his barely agape lips to your clit. Grinning about your clean hand, you pushed it into his hair, combing it gently before he started taking an inch into his mouth, then another, then another, his eyes fixed on yours.

Even though you could feel nothing but the base of the dildo pressing into your skin, the sight was enough to give you a pleasure bigger than the physical one.

“You like it, my love?” you asked, watching him bob his head needily and gag before he backtracked, your thumb collecting the small tear that fell on his left cheek after his eyes watered. “You look beautiful, baby.”

He smiled and took the toy in once more, closing his eyes as he went further down on it, his hands placed on the back of your thighs as he pulled you closer, humming, sinking his pretty fingers into the flesh of your asscheeks.

“Wanna make you cum, Yoongi,” you murmured, using his hair to pull him off you.

He looked into your eyes, his lips messy with spit as he made his way to the middle of the bed, on all fours, trying to be as sexy as he could, but also feeling like he was miserably failing.

You smiled fondly at him, your reaction reassuring him as you climbed back on the bed. “How’s your shoulder, love?”

“Fine, but I prefer not staying on all fours,” he replied, getting on his knees and almost turning around before you stopped him with a hand around his waist. He knew his cock was leaking the very moment you put your hand on him, a white blob joining the ones caused by the feeling of your dildo inside his mouth and throat.

“Let’s do it like this,” you said, already pouring some lube onto the toy. “You love doing me like this,” you continued, getting both your hands around his waist and helping him scoot in between your parted thighs, the tip of the strap-on teasing the seam of his ass. “I want to feel the way you do.”

He nodded, fixing the tip to his entrance, pressing it and tipping his ass down, feeling the head fit into his hole. “Fuck,” he breathed out, abandoning himself so slowly onto the shaft, the object making his walls part until it reached his prostate, getting him to crumble entirely and sink down. “Fuck fuck fuck, thank you, Kitten, thank you so much, love,” he babbled, wiggling his hips as he found his favourite spot and started rubbing it against the dildo.

He was so grateful, so immensely thankful that you’d challenged yourself, that you’d explored so far so he could have this moment with you.

It wasn’t the first time you had tried pegging, but you hadn’t done it that much either. It was maybe your third or fourth time, but Yoongi couldn’t care any less.

The simple fact that you had agreed on trying was enough for him to be entirely smitten over you. Neither of you had even taken it into consideration when you first started dating, and now Yoongi loved how dominating and caring you became every time he felt like receiving assplay, or full-on anal sex; at the same time, you loved how vulnerable he became once you took control, and how easy it was for him to melt in your arms, or underneath you, once you started teasing his delicate hole.

As you moved into him, his back sweaty against your soft front, Yoongi threw his head back, resting it against your shoulder, mouth open, eyes closed, so heartbreakingly beautiful. You found his hand close to yours, lacing your fingers together while he found your other one, repeating the gesture right before you wrapped his arms and yours around his torso, holding him tight to you.

“I won’t let go, love,” you spoke in his ear, his whole body relaxing against you right before you gave a tentative thrust, making him whimper before he growled. “You’re safe here.”

He pouted, begging for a kiss, stretching as far as he could to get your lips against his. “Please. I love you. I want you so much. I’m so hard.” He almost sobbed when he felt you move inside again. “Please, let me cum,” he spoke, babbling slightly as you started pulling out, the dildo rubbing against his prostate. “It hurts, Kitten. Please. I wanna cum,” he sighed, gasping when you pushed back inside.

“Like this, my love?” you asked with a teasing grin, leaving a gentle peck on his delicate neck, drawing the profile of his adam’s apple with the tip of your tongue. “You’re so pretty when you beg, kitty cat.”

He moaned and shoved his hips down, gyrating them as the perfect friction hit his favourite spot. “Don’t play with me, Kitten. It’s been an hour, I’m begging you.”

“I know you can do way more than one hour, baby.” You started drawing circles on his tummy with one thumb, refusing to let go as you twisted your grip so your palm could rest on his abdomen, his own hand clinging to yours as you let your digits tiptoe further down, to the base of his cock, skimming the underside of the shaft in a way that had him setting a crushing grip on your hand.

“Kitten, I’m going mad, please. I love you. Please. Why are you so cruel to me?” he wailed, his body shaking against yours.

“Because you love it, Yoongi. Because you love me.” You chuckled as you felt his hand pressuring yours into jerking him off. “Because you let me ruin you so cutely. You’re such a pretty sight.” You decided to be merciful, starting to stroke in faster. “Because you want this, don’t you? Or you could use your safeword, my darling. I wouldn’t hold it against you, you know it.” You kissed his temple. “I’m yours, in any way you want me.”

Yoongi brought your joined hands to his mouth, kissing the back of yours. And then it hit you.

Everything was perfect. He was perfect. You felt perfect with him. And you knew he would take you, no matter how you came to him. He would take you and hold you — sad, happy, scared, excited, serene or troubled, powerful or powerless. He would wait for you and hold his arms open for you. He would kneel if you knelt, and he would rush to you if you crumbled and fell on your way to him. And he would have you, without condition.

Just like that, you went slower again, but deeper. Harder. Your hand, still teasing his cock, once more played an emotional tango as your pinkie lingered on his skin while you inverted your positions, your hand hugging his as you wrapped both your arms around his middle.

“Kitten,” he murmured, noticing that something was shifting between the two of you. “Like that, please, yes,” he said, letting the sound sibilate, giving you the answer you were searching for.

“Marry me, Yoongi.”

He opened his eyes, licking his lips as he stared at you with the widest, most incredulous eyes. “What?”

You rolled your hips good for him, making him purr and swear. “Marry me, Yoongi,” you repeated, kissing his brow. “Please, marry me.”

He twisted his head just enough to kiss the sweet spot under your ear. “Are you trying to fuck me insane so I’ll say yes?”

You chuckled. “Something like that.” You wanted to caress his hair, but holding his hands was more important — the most important thing in the world. “My heart is yours. I don’t want anyone else having it.”

Yoongi inhaled and made you tighten your grip around him. “Please,” he whined as you started going faster.

“Please what?”

“Yes,” he groaned. “Yes, yes, yes…” he said, starting to bounce on your lap, using you as he felt his cock swell, his eyelids quivering before they finally rolled shut, his release shooting out, against his chest, against your forearms and his abdomen. “Yes!” he finally growled, his expression becoming ecstatic as he rode you until not an ounce of pleasure could be drawn out anymore.

“It’s all mine,” you reminded him, his pleased smile getting even wider before he started nodding, only one of your hands leaving him as you wrapped it around his cock, even more cum coming out as you squeezed him, knowing he could be overstimulated, and that he would love it. “This cock is mine.”

He nodded, out of his mind, moaning as he reached the deepest pits of pleasure.

“And this sweet ass is, too, all mine.”

He nodded even harder, his lovely locks tickling your shoulder, his grin lopsided as he opened his eyes, brow furrowing as you smeared the cum on his chest with your fingers. “Your heart. Right here. All mine.”

“Yes, yours,” he confirmed, again getting worked up, all the edging and foreplay rewarding him with one more growing orgasm. He felt slightly sorry that you had cum only once through the night, but all his worries faded as your dirty fingers reached his lips. “These lips?”

“Yours,” he replied, automatically, opening them to suck at your digits.

“All your pleasure?” You went harder on him, ramming your hips up, feeling his muffled moans against your hand as you gritted out, “mine.”

He freed his mouth. “Yours,” he confirmed, fucking himself onto you as once more he shot another load onto his chest and abdomen, this time only barely less abundant than before. “It’s all yours. Everything. Everything,” he repeated, entirely spent as he tumbled forward, the dildo exiting him as he laid on the bed and rolled on his side, his entire body shivering with the aftershocks of pleasure as he still rolled his hips shyly, cum pooling at his slit and rolling down in heavy, white, blobs, all pressure gone after the insane amount of semen he’d shot all over himself and on the sheets.

You found a quick way to get rid of the strap on, laying behind him before he turned around, his body messy and tired. Still, you rubbed your hands all over his strained muscles, trying to ease out the sensory overload he’d just gone through.

“Yoongi,” you breathed out, before his eyes grew glittery. He smiled as the first tear rolled down.

“Did you really ask me to marry you while you were fucking my ass?” he joked, trying to hide just how emotional he felt.

“We can make up a more appropriate story to tell family and friends,” you joked back, your hands touching his face in a way that matched the feelings in his glance.

“We might have to, yes...” he conceded, finding the vaguely greenish mark between your breasts, kissing it before he renewed its bright red colour. Soon it would be purple again. “Do you really want me to be your husband?”

“I really do,” you replied without hesitation. “Do you really want to become my husband?”

“You will also become my wife in the process. Are you ready for that?” he teased, chuckling together with you.

“I’ve been told I’m a fast learner,” you cocked an eyebrow. “Great versatility,” you went on, giving him that cheeky smirk that made him know exactly what you were referring to. “I’ll learn on the go.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to agree to your proposal. You know… Taxes… Health benefits… Saving on all those boring law procedures…” he mused, his eyes telling you that it was for the most antithetical reasons that he was saying yes.

Love, faith, trust, devotion, commitment. True companionship.

“I could use a very expensive diamond ring to pay for a sugar baby once you’re old and boring.” The joke made him snicker before he placed a kiss on your lips.

“Already thinking of substituting me,” he mused, kissing you again. “I’ll buy you one of those fake stones.”

“Then I guess I’ll be stuck with you forever.” You replied, grinning. There was nothing better you could think of.

When Yoongi woke up, he felt slightly dizzy. He had slept all the way to mid morning, the aftercare so gentle and relaxing that after the bath he crashed on the fresh sheets, nuzzling his face into your chest before he fell asleep like a baby. And apparently his sleep was so heavy that he’d managed to sleep through you messing in the kitchen, baking a cake and icing it too. In your messy handwriting shining bright blue on top of the cake, the words read: ‘thank you for letting me peg you’, which genuinely stole a giggle from his throat.

What didn’t steal a giggle was a small piece of rolled up paper planted on the cake, almost resembling a small candle. He untucked it, rolling it open and reading it twice, feeling his heart swell with pride and love and gratefulness. ‘Thank you for agreeing to become my husband.’

Yoongi smiled at it, feeling his eyes growing wetter as he groaned an ‘aigoo’, standing up from the chair and finding his wallet inside his jacket. Opening it, he found the spot where he kept the cinema ticket from your first date, and the passcode to your apartment door, slipping in one more trinket of your story together.

Yoongi looked around as the other boys worked out. Maybe he shouldn’t… Maybe he should just… keep it on the down low.

And then Jeongguk, shrugged and removed his shirt, an avalanche of definitely-not-mosquito-bites covering his chest. Namjoon, spotting the maknae’s puffed out chest, pride prickling at his ego, also removed his tank top to expose the eight matching red lines down his back. He grinned even more as he turned around, small bite marks appearing at his collarbones and delicate crescent-shaped indentations on his pectorals.

Jimin blushed as he decided to pass. His marks were way too low to be shown publicly.

With a smug grin, Yoongi decided to keep his dongsaengs humble, removing his shirt only to expose a line of bruises starting at his stomach and disappearing at the waistband of his shorts.

Everyone hollered at him, Jimin chuckling before chanting, “Suga-hyung won!”

Tagging: @hesperantha

#Yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi x kitten #sub!yoongi #domme!reader #min yoongi smut #yoongi x yn #thebtswritersclub #houseofddaeng #52hertz #bangtansorciere #thetruthuntoldnet

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mrs-march-ahs · 4 years ago

Note

CONGRATULATIONS ON 900 !! 🥺 you deserve every single follower and you’ll be at 1K in no time!! we love you so much!! please don’t put too much pressure on yourself!

you don’t have to do this at all and it’s kind of lame but,,I’d love some evan hc’s with a (gn or male) reader who just- loves spoiling them? truth be told all of these boys have been through a lot and I just wanna take care of them yknow so 👉👈

Reader Spoiling The Evans

THANK YOU!! I LOVE YOU!! That’s sooo sweet, thank you babey<3 it’s mostly gender neutral, until half of Kai, i’m really sorry about that, but i couldn’t really think of many ways to spoil him, there are still a few things for Kai that are neutral!!

I did very specific snuggling with Tatey because @tatesimper wanted it, no problems, I got you darling<3

ALSOOOO I just really quickly wanna say that I made a

roleplay account for James March and Kai Anderson called @murder-daddies,

if you want to send a message on anon (or off!) or follow, that’d be great! I thought it’d be really fun to have an rp account:)

okay, enjoy! :)

Tate

-Loves being spoiled with your attention more than anything else -Any sort of praise or reassurance makes him soft and blushy -He loves cuddling and would melt completely if you initiated cuddles -Him standing at the end of your bed and you open your arms - “c’mere” -He’ll timidly climb and crawl over to you and flop in your arms -He’d love to hold hands with you as you cuddle together -He would love to hear you read to him -Give him big slobbery kisses “mwah” -Obviously listen to him when he talks -Rub his back -Let him lay on your boobies/chest and play with his curls -Share your snacks with him, but feed them to him and he’ll love it -Perfect scenario is watching a film or documentary, Tate laying between your legs while you shovel popcorn into his mouth

Kit

-The best way to spoil Kit is to do things for him or make things for him -He’s grateful every single day that you make dinner and says thank you every single day - “She’s pretty, she can cook, is there anything you can’t do?” -Baking cupcakes or cookies for him is one of his favourite treats as Kit has a huge sweet tooth -Kit loves when you buy him little gifts, even like flowers -Though you don’t have much money, so maybe stick to baking -Although Kit loved when you bought cigarettes for him, or lit them for him, or even occasionally smoked them with him, he would be willing to quit if you wanted him to -You would have to help him and support him to the nth degree -He would come home frustrated after a long day and not have anything to calm him down since he’s trying to not smoke -Let him take his frustration and anger out on you:) -Also tell him that every time he gets an urge to smoke he should kiss you -Which leads to your cheeks always being wet -Listen to him rant about work even though you don’t understand any of the specifics

Franken Kyle

-If you give him literally anything he will treasure it, because you gave it to him so it’s special -If he’s supervising (trying to help, but really just watching) as you cook, you have to give him a spatula to stand and hold so he doesn’t feel useless -He’ll stand there and take his job of holding it very very seriously, and if you take it from him to stir, you have to put it back in his hands -If you put it on the counter, he won’t pick it up he’ll just whine until you give it back to him -He absolutely adores soft cuddly things, so every stuffed animal you give him he cherishes -He earns a present when you leave him with somebody else while you have to go do adulty things -Even though you obviously can take him everywhere if you wanted to, sometimes it’s just easier to leave him at home while you quickly go out and buy food or sort things out -If you leave him with somebody, he doesn’t interact with them much and only needs them to keep an eye on him -But he’s always very whiney when you leave, so if he’s a good boy and stays at home with Cordelia or Fiona, then he gets a stuffed animal brought back -They will not leave his arms, even during dinner -He’ll try very hard to bring them into the bath with him but you won’t let him, so you compromise and leave the stuffed teddy on the sink, facing Kyle so he can watch him have a bath -If you give Kyle a kiss goodnight you have to also kiss the teddy -Kyle loves to cuddle up to you and absolutely loves when you play with his hair or stroke his shoulder or something -Whines if you stop touching him, even for a second to scratch your nose -Wants to be the sole focus of your attention -And he always is

Jimmy

-That boy is a snuggle machine -He loves having you close like most of them do -But he specifically melts at kisses -A single kiss on his cheek or his hand will make his entire day -He’ll automatically smile and put his hand to his cheek where you kissed him, before promptly regretting it as now he can’t feel the imprint of the kiss anymore -Loves when you show you listen to him -He’ll tell you that he’s super worried about doing a certain new act, but he’ll be rambling while you brush your teeth, assuming that you’re not even listening -But then the next day you’ll go with him to the main tent and give him a big smooooch on the cheek and tell him that he’ll kill at his new act -His whole face will light up, not even realising that you really were listening to him -He’ll be so happy and confident from your kiss that he’ll do great at his new act -To really treat him, take him somewhere -He loves the reassurance that you aren’t embarrassed to be around him -He also loves drinking so -Take him to a diner or bar, or to be super special, maybe for his birthday (June 23rd), you could take him on a mini vacation -Save up, and if Miss Elsa is in a generous mood, she can give you a few pennies to help you out -Most likely pay for the taxi to the hotel you booked -Jimmy loves spending time with you so he’ll adore being on a one-on-one holiday with you and just you -Have lots of sexy fun time

James

-He yearns to be with you, feel you, smell you and touch you -Spoiling him with attention and affection will make him melt inside -He also wants to feel comfortable and safe around you -Being there for him and listening to him when he’s a little down or frustrated about something means the world to him -He adores to listen to you too -Before going to bed you take it in turns to talk -Because you love his voice so much he will lay in bed with you snuggled at his side and read aloud The Great Gatsby, or a different book he’s reading -Either a literary classic or a murder mystery -If it’s your turn, you’ll snuggle up to him and stroke his hair -His hair when wet gets a little curly and you tease him about it -Wrap his little curlies around your fingers as you tell him a story about a strong knight in shining armour saving a princess called Y/N from an evil dragon - “Isn’t that a little juvenile, darling?” - “Do you want to know how it ends or not?” - “Apologies, please do continue”

Kai

-The best way to make Kai feel spoiled is just to not make his ‘job’ any harder than it already is -Don’t resist pinky powers or murder missions and just listen to him and be obedient to him -He’ll feel so much more comfortable around you if he doesn’t have to constantly fight with you -Although he wants strong people in his cult, he wants sheep that are devoted to him a lot more -If you murder somebody near him, you’re showing that you’re hard and strong but just be sweet to him -The sweeter you are to him the more vulnerable he’ll become towards you -Letting him talk to you about his parents and how he feels, even if his thoughts don’t make much sense -Honestly, the biggest compliment is Kai coming to talk to you about his feelings, even if his thoughts and feelings don’t make sense -Because if he has it all figured out, he already thought about it for a long time by himself -But if he doesn’t know what to think himself, then clearly he values your input and needs you to help him figure things out -Willingness to do everything for him -Listening to all of his plans and only contributing if he wants you to -I’m sorry, I know you requested gender neutral but the rest is about making babies, Kai is hard -If you’re willing to start a family with him he’ll convince you that the only holy way to do it is to get married first and do it properly -He’ll probably never ask you to marry him or be his s/o, because that’s a little cheesy -He’ll just take you out and take you to a jewellery store with some savings and ask you which ring you like, and then take you to get married -He’ll tell you and reassure you how good of a cause it is that you’re giving him a Messiah -You’re everything he’s ever wanted in a woman -Obedient to him but defiant against everybody else

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

taglist<3

@milly-louise @amourtentiaa @kitwalker02 @tatestripedsweater @therenlover @maria-akira @tatesimper @margaretboothsear @mossybank @ahsxual @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess @mrs-march-ahs-biggest-fan @kitwalkerangel @kitisagoldenretrieverboy @darlingkitt @blackbat2020 @divinerulerluvr @undeadcortez @whiiiiplaaaaash @kaismessiahbb @elaineygrace

#american horror story #ahs #tate langdon #tate langdon x #tate langdon x reader #kit walker #kit walker x #kit walker x reader #kyle spencer #kyle spencer x #kyle spencer x reader #jimmy darling #jimmy darling x #jimmy darling x reader #james march #james patrick march #mr march #james march x #james march x reader

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dontworrysunflower · 4 years ago

Text

Merry Fucking Christmas | h.s.

a/n: i’m baaaaccckk!! lol idk it took me a while to finish this and i was gonna have it finished before christmas but then i was exposed to covid so i was little paranoid but anyway (i’m good tho). merry christmas and happy holidays!! i know this years been hard but hopefully we can make it a little better :)

warnings: drinking, angst?? idk not proof read word vomit, some language too

word count: 3.1k

also thank you @watchmegetobsessed !!

feedback/reblogs appreciated

You knew the holidays this year were going to be difficult. You procrastinated on getting gifts for your friends. Your work seemed to pile up on your desk since you got your promotion. You weren’t able to fly back home, and you still had some thanksgiving weight you weren’t able to put off.

Oh yeah, another thing. Harry was still with his girlfriend.

You met Katy, Harry’s girlfriend, at his birthday party in February. She was the epitome of ‘his type’. She had bleach blonde extensions and the bluest eyes you've ever seen. She was tall and really, really loud.

Since then, she’s all he ever talked about when they weren’t together, but when they were in the same room, boy did you want to gag.

You thought they would last maybe three to four months, you were so sure, you bet with some of your other friends.

Needless to say, you lost quite a lot of money.

You tried not to let it bother you, really. But it was so hard when Harry is the literal sweetest person you’ve met, had the voice of an angel and wasn’t bad to look at.

You felt you were the closest with Harry when you moved to London. He made you feel welcome in your little friends group. There was a little flirting game between the two of you that you didn’t even notice until one of your friends brought it up.

“Oh c’mon, it’s so obvious you like each other.” Margot slurred, her second glass clinking against the table as she finished every drop.

“What?” You asked, baffled. Your eyes were wide and your face started to heat up. “He doesn’t like me.”

“But you like him?” Ava, a friend from work, smirked at you.

You stumbled on your words, wiping at the condensation on your glass.

But since he was in a relationship now, you felt almost icky around him. You felt so uncomfortable around him that you did whatever you could to not be in the same room as him.

You were ready for the holidays, you thought. It would give you a break from constantly thinking about him being so busy with your family back in your hometown.

You should’ve known London weather wouldn’t be in your favor. It rained constantly everyday and the fog seemed to get closer to the ground every other day. The weather was getting so bad that you started working from home, the roads too wet and icy to drive on. So honestly, you weren’t that surprised when airports closed due to the weather, meaning you had to spend Christmas in London.

With Harry.

The day after flights were cancelled Harry texted on your group chat saying he could host a dinner and party on Christmas eve and everyone was invited. You watched texts from your other friends flood in, some excited vulgar words were thrown in there as well.

You never responded. Not only because you still felt weird around him for having this massive crush on him, but because things haven’t really been the same between you two.

You can’t remember the last time you had a full on conversation with him before you had to excuse yourself because you couldn’t take the ache in your chest when you were around him, and he wasn’t yours. You can’t remember the last joke he ever told you or when you went out for lunch or drinks when it was only the two of you. You were sure he noticed how weird you were around him, but never said anything, so you let it be.

As the day neared, your mind would change on whether you were going or not. You didn’t want to seem bitchy and cold on what was supposed to be the happiest and cheerful day of the year, so you thought you would go. You thought of every reason you shouldn’t go that had nothing to do with Harry, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle seeing him cozy up with his very serious girlfriend.

But there would be alcohol, so you decided to go.

•••

Hey (y/n)! Think you come over early and help me set up for tomorrow? H xx

You stared at the text for what seemed like hours, but it was only a couple seconds. Before you could even register what your fingers were doing, you tied up a quick message and hit send before you could stop yourself.

Of course!! See you tomorrow!

You hated yourself for the rest of the day. Why would you do this to yourself? You could barely be in the same room as him and some other friends. How would you survive being alone before the party started?

•••

The butterflies in your stomach have not been able to settle since you woke up Christmas Eve morning. Just the thought of seeing him made you nervous. You almost didn’t get out of bed that morning. But you pat yourself on the back when your feet finally hit your wooden flooring and moved on with your day.

Your shoulders hung low beside you as the time to meet up grew closer, the sun lowering behind you, Christmas lights and inflatable decorations coming to life as stars dotted the sky.

You sighed heavily as you styled your hair and naturally did your makeup.

You slid on your silky, tight dress and grabbed your coat and quickly made your way to your car to get away from the bitter cold.

You rubbed your hands together, blowing into them to regain some feeling before turning the key into the ignition, quickly turning the heater on, Mariah Carey blasting through your speakers.

You were about to pull out of your driveway, mumbling along to Mariah’s notes when you realized you forgot the gifts.

•••

Your shoulders were hunched up as you knocked on the white door, your foot tapping against the brick stairs of Harry’s house as you waited for him to open it in the freezing cold.

You could hear shuffling from the other side and watched the doorknob wiggle, Harry having trouble with his lock since June and still hasn’t had anyone fix it.

The door swings open to reveal Harry in his glory, brown corduroy pants and an ugly Christmas sweater under an apron that’s tied around his slender waist that you’ve always been jealous of.

“Hey, sorry, come on in.” Harry said to you before moving out of the way, a bowl nestled between his side and his arm.

You mumbled a quiet thank you before stepping in, your cheeks reddening at the warmth enveloping you as you walked through the foyer of his home.

“Mm,” he hummed as he remembered something. He puts down the bowl he had on his white kitchen counter and waddles over to you, a small curve on his lips as he wrapped his arms around you. “Merry Christmas, love.”

You hate that nickname. But you don’t. You hate the butterflies that flutter in your stomach when he says that word. You hate the goosebumps it causes you and the hairs sticking up on your neck when he says the one thing you feel too harshly for him. And you hate how much he doesn’t feel it back.

“Merry Christmas, Harry.” You mumbled into his neck, his cologne flooding your senses bringing you comfort.

He doesn’t let go of you yet, but he backs up just a little to see you. “You look gorgeous, (y/n).”

The air gets stuck in your lungs and you almost forgot how to formulate words. You hoped Harry thought the pigment on your cheeks would be from the cold because it totally was. Before it was obvious how his words affected you, you stuttered out a few words. “Thank you, you look nice too.”

He chuckled at you, the breath passing his lips hitting your neck, a tingle passing through your spine. “You don’t have to lie, darling.” He squeezed you one last time before letting you go, your body instantly becoming colder as he backed away.

There's a low hum of Christmas music playing in his surround sound system, a tall tree tucked in a corner between his burning fireplace and window looking out onto the street.

You turn your attention back to Harry as he speaks up again, his famous dimples puncturing his cheeks. “Thanks fo’ comin’ early to help me out.”

You rolled your coat off your shoulders and hung by the door, walking up to him as he moved around the kitchen. “Oh yeah, it’s no problem. Not like I had anything else to do.”

He gave you a small sympathetic smile before throwing a tray full of greens into the oven. “I’m sorry you couldn’t go see your family.”

You shrug as you run your finger on the edge of his marble counter. “It’s alright, nothing I can do much anyway.” You perk up when you remember what you’re doing here so early in the first place. “Guess that’s why I’m here, no? What can I help you with?” Your heels click as you move around the counter closer to him.

“Nope.” His lips puckered as he pushed you back to where you were standing. “Just stand there and talk to me. Wine?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you blindly nod, watching him uncork a bottle of Moscato. Your favorite.

He hands you a glass of the sparkling wine before turning back around to the dishes, prepping food of all kinds for everyone and most importantly; eggnog.

“But, you said you needed my help.”

He chuckled nervously, his cheeks reddening. From your comment or from the wine? You weren’t going to get your hopes up. “I just need some company before the party. Just stand there and look pretty.”

You try your hardest ignore the blush on your cheeks. You twirl the wine glass from the neck, watching the liquid swirl around in the depths of the glass. “What about Katy?”

He sighs deeply, opening the oven to check on the food. “We’ve been kind of fighting lately.”

You did your best to stop the grin from forming on your lips, hoping he did notice your sudden burst at the new information. They are still together, so you can’t act on anything. “I’m sorry. Can I ask what’s going on?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know really. Anything and everything. Every little thing I do annoys her and anything she does annoys me. It just wasn’t the same.”

“Is she coming?” You ask before you can think about it.

He shrugs again, shoulders hanging more than usual. “I don’t think so. She said she was staying home since she can‘t fly back to her family either.”

A silence hangs between the two of you when neither of you said anything, not really sure of what needs to be said next.

“I don’t think I feel the same way for her as I did in the beginning.” Harry mumbled, arms crossed over his chest as his hip leaning against the counter, his usually bright eyes a little darker, a little sadder.

You walk up to him and lay your hand on his shoulder, giving him a small smile. “It’s not my business but, if you really feel that way, you shouldn’t lead her on, it’ll only hurt both of you.”

Harry looks down at the floor as he nods. “Thanks, love.”

There’s a wave of silence between you again as he raises his head to look at you. You almost felt small under his gaze. Something about his crystal green eyes always made you nervous. You were scared he could see what you were really thinking.

And you also swear his eyes fell to your lips.

•••

The dinner party was in full swing now, people’s laughter bleeding in with the loud Christmas music playing around the house. Some people were dancing in front of the fireplace, drinks being refilled every once in a while.

You were standing by the counter with your friends, Margot and Ava, chatting and drinking your eggnog instead of the wine you had before the party started. You had completely forgotten about the wonderful man hosting this party, the conversation you had earlier with him slipping your mind as the drink in your hand lowered to the bottom of the glass, intoxicating your thoughts.

Even though you offered to help, Harry didn’t let you help with the rest of dinner before everyone came over, so now the food still wasn’t ready as people flooded in. You heard him say something about potatoes and that was as much as you knew of the food preparation and when you would be able to eat.

The music is lowered a bit and then a clicking sound was heard, everyone turning their heads towards Harry, who clinked a fork against his glass. “Dinner is ready!”

Everyone cheered and started making their way towards the dining room. Most people had already filtered towards the next room when a knock on the front door was heard.

You turned your head as Harry twisted the knob. You were sure Harry's face mimicked yours when you saw who was standing at the doorway.

There stood Katy, hair newly bleached and a little overdressed.

She wasted no time in wrapping her arms around him, her plump lips repeatedly marking his face with the bright lipstick.

“Oh god,” you waltzed over towards Ava, who was pouring herself a new glass of eggnog. “pass me the eggnog, I can’t stand this sober.” You pushed her over slightly and grabbed the handle of the ladle she was using, filling up your cup almost to the brim.

Ava looked at you in curiosity at your sudden change, carefully looking over at the lovely couple still by the door. “Wait, I thought you told me they were fighting.” She whispered beside you, eyes widening as she watched you gulp down some of the eggnog you just served yourself to give yourself some more.

“Guess fucking not.” You were much less sober now, on the brink of tipsy and drunk. Your words slurred, eyelids heavy, vision blurry. “Let’s go fucking eat.” You dragged Ava by the wrist towards the commotion in the dining room, almost, but not quite forgetting about the couple behind you.

•••

You’ve had four glasses of eggnog. Or was it five? But now, you stand in front of the bowl, pouring some into your glass again, making it six.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” You hear his sultry voice behind you, his tone a little sassy and annoyed, but you didn’t care.

“What are you gonna do about it?” You slurred, turning around to face him. His pink lips were turned down in a frown, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration, his buff arms that were constricted in his sweater cross in front of his chest. “Gonna go kiss your girlfriend some more?” You stumbled on your feet, your drink almost spilling over the rim.

“What does that have to do with anything?” His face changed from annoyance to confusion. His thumb twisting the ring on his other finger nervously.

You open your mouth to retaliate, but even in this drunk state you knew not to say anything. You chug the creamy drink, keeping eye contact with him, watching his face change again. You didn’t care.

He obviously didn’t care either.

You sighed dramatically as you finished the drink. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

•••

You had sobered up quite a bit after your little encounter with Harry, mainly because there was no eggnog left.

You realized it was for the better though, so you made your way back into the kitchen, doing your best to not stumble or bump against anything as you grabbed an empty cup to fill with water.

“I am really sorry.” You knew his voice anywhere. But it wasn’t his usual chirpy, charming voice he had that always soothed you, it sounded more sad and somber.

“On Christmas? Out of any day you chose today?” Katy sniffled, voice wobbly and hurt.

“I know but, you know we can’t go on any longer, we’ll just hurt each other more.”

“I think I'm going to head out.”

You don’t hear Harry say anything back, but the sound of the door clicking open catches your attention and you almost turn around to watch.

“I just have one question.” Katy said weakly.

You walked away before you could hear anything else.

•••

Even though you were still a little upset at Harry (For what? You weren’t sure anymore), you stayed behind as everyone left to help him clean up before you head home.

You were putting things back in his refrigerator when you heard the front door close, the light chatter and drunken goodbyes silenced by the wooden door.

You kept your back towards the door, suddenly nervous of the words that would be spoken between the two of you.

“(y/n), can we talk?” Harry’s voice was low and sultry, your knees almost gave out.

“I should um-I should get going. It’s late.” You hurry around him to grab your things and for the door, but he holds your wrist.

“Please?” He sounded desperate, and for the first time in what felt like days you looked up into his emerald eyes. There was that desperate look in his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and lips turned down into a frown.

You sigh and nod slowly.

He lets go of your wrist and stuffed his hands in his back pockets, his pink cheeks either from the cold or from nervousness.

“I’m sorry.” He said suddenly. “I didn’t mean to get mad and I know I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Is that it?

You weren’t going to lie, you thought he would profess his love to you or something.

“I um- I also,” he swallows and takes your hand, his rings cold to the touch. “I broke up with Katy.”

Your mouth opened for words to come out but nothing ever left your lips.

“Do you want to know the real reason why Katy and I were fighting?”

You’re still speechless, scared of the answer, even though you have an idea of what he'll say.

“I’ve always liked you, (y/n).” His shoulders rise in a deep breath. “I guess, I don’t know, I thought if I started seeing someone else it would it easier but, not being with you this past year has been hell and I know I haven’t made it any easier with being with Katy but—”

Your lips crash on his, your arms wrapping his neck, your fingers immediately tangling in his brown locks.

He stumbles back in shock but grabs at your hips, bringing you closer to his chest.

His pink lips press against yours, the corners slowly turning up into a smile, breaking your kiss.

“Merry fucking Christmas to me.”

•••

Taglist:

@samaratheweirdo @sarcasticallywitty15

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