#and if any of them find me and wanna fuck with me

[wildfluer]

✶ CHRIS LOVES WHEN YOU PULL HIS HAIR

the moment your fingers tangle in his curls, he feels a rush of pure need. chris’ lips press against yours, hot and needy. the kiss deepens as he pushes you back onto the bed, his hands wandering over your body like he can’t get enough. his mouth moves to your jawline, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

you tug at his hair again, harder this time, and he lets out a low groan. you feel his hips press against yours, the heat between you growing unbearable.

“you know what that fuckin’ does to me,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with need. his lips find yours again before he pulls away just enough to take you in—his eyes full of lust and his breath quick. his hands skim down your sides, fingers pressing into your skin as he moves lower, planting soft, wet kisses as he goes.

chris’ fingers grip your waist as his lips continue their path. he presses a lingering kiss just above your hip, hands tightening around you before he teases the soft lace of your panties. he teasingly runs his thumb along the damp fabric, letting out a low whistle. “shit,” he mumbles, grinning as his fingers hook beneath the fabric, dragging them down, his knuckles grazing your skin as he goes.

after throwing your panties somewhere behind him, his hands move to spread your legs as he leaves a soft kiss against your inner thigh, before getting closer and closer to your aching heat.

soon enough, your fingers are once again laced in his hair, gripping tight with every moan that spills from your lips. each arch of your back only presses you further against his mouth, his tongue gliding against your folds in a way that makes you see stars. he groans against you, the vibrations going straight to your core, and the sharp tug of your fingers in his hair only spurs him on.

his tongue dips deeper, swirling, flicking, tasting what he can never get enough of. his hands grip your thighs so tight that you’re sure there will be marks later. “mmmh, fuck—” you moan, refraining from grinding yourself against his face. the knot in your stomach only gets tighter with each passing second, threatening to come undone.

chris begins teasingly licking your clit in a rhythm that has you biting your lip to stifle your cries. “none of that shit. i wanna hear you,” he huffs, voice thick with lust before he dives back in, now sucking on your clit with renewed vigor.

“please,” you gasp, the word spilling from your lips before you can hold it back, desperation evident in your tone. you can feel the tension in your abdomen growing tighter, and you know you’re close. “fuck, don’t stop,” you cry out, throwing your head back.

he responds almost instantly, his tongue swirling around you with a perfect intensity. and just as you thought it couldn’t get any better, you feel him sink one of his digits into your cunt, pumping quickly.

the sensation sends shockwaves through your body, a loud moan echoing throughout the room as you gasp for air. chris finds the perfect rhythm, his finger curling as it brushes against that spot inside you that makes your whole body tremble. the mixture of his finger and tongue has your legs trembling, and your hands holding onto his locks in a way that must be painful. yet, he doesn’t mind—he loves it, a moan of his own vibrating against your pussy.

“please, chris, i—” you don’t even know what you’re begging for as you whimper, voice breaking as your body threatens to release. he can feel your walls tightening around him, the heat pooling low in your belly—the feeling becoming almost unbearable as you beg.

“you gonna cum, baby?” he asks, voice gruff as you nod quickly, unable to form words as you gasp. his eyes flicker up to watch you come undone, humming before wrapping his lips around your clit, curling his fingers just right. it all becomes too much, a cry ripping from your throat, your body trembling as a wave of bliss washes over you. chris doesn’t stop, working you through your high, drawing out the pleasure until you’re spent twitching beneath him.

your breath still uneven as you calm down. he presses soft kisses against your inner thighs, his hands gently running over your skin before he finally looks up at you, lips glistening with your arousal and eyes dark with satisfaction. “you good?” he asks, a lazy grin plastered on his face, and you nod slowly. his hair is a complete mess from where your fingers had pulled at it, strands sticking up in different directions over his eyes.

“your hair is a fucking mess,” you manage to mutter out, still slightly dazed from your previous high. reaching up to smooth it down, your fingers brush against his forehead.

he rolls his eyes, “shit, and whose fault is that?”

TAGLIST : @et6rnalsun @inspiredangel @sirenedeslily @freshloveee @miguelspvssy @plaidcowboy @filipowitch @sosasturns @chrissweetheart @delilahsturns @t0riiiis @sturn777

[orchidyoonkook]

Diving back into your glory with the second response! Kiki you once again absolutely spoil me. I had the biggest damn smile and the giggles reading through this <3

okay so the first thing that caught my eye was the warning yoon why????? a whole jk and ady warning i can't i don't think i can make it through them fucking 😩😩😩

I'm a big believer in not shying away from writing things that may make people uncomfortable. Especially if I find it to be crucial for the plot, like it is here. It's a very important back and forth, metnal conversation, sen reactions and visual scene and it. is. important!! THEREFORE! you get a warning that it is going to happen to prep yourself! I know folks dont really side pairings a lot of the time when the sex is included with them, but in this case I needed it to show an important contrast so I kept it in.

also! Because I can. :)

(this is also why i will fight to the death for all my horror, yandere, boundary pushing writers. Just because their work makes YOU (general use) uncomfortable or upset, doesnt make them wrong for writing it)

like oc and nel i can handle but jk and ady ugh nooooooo our boy our prince not her please anyone else i can take but not her (i just realized the hate train towards ady is strong damn my loyalty to oc ain't cracking) so i am just going to power through that part and take the angst that comes with it (which I welcome)

I hope you were able to see why it was needed!! (let me know if you wanna!) and I appreciate your dedication so much. I know it's tough when it's obvious to you as the reader why something probably shouldnt happen and ngl that makes it wayyyyyyyy more fun to write.

i did notice that subtle hint at of using someone and the fantasies uhmmmmm ok that must be the upside...

noooooooooooooooooo comment 😈

I honestly wonder why oc isn't mentioning her friendship with jk I honestly love it it's giving me little tingles,

She went over her reasoning in chapter three!! ☺ but that was a while ago so I cant blame you there. In a terribly summary she essentially wants to stay out of the public eye, keep the prince happy because she does emjoy his company, and not cause any drama with friends and family.

That being said! I love it too

i don't think i mentioned it but uhm this slow burn is everything its freaking burning and i think oc is definitely feeling it now that jk is with someone, the little encounter at the cafe and the texting they are just adorable and fluffy my face hurts from the smiles...

This is one of my favourite parts of the story. The banter, the subtle jabs, the build up upon build up, the realising of things and denying them, just all of it. Slow burns are my bread and butter, i can devour them always, and apparently I can somewhat write them too. Which is pretty cool

I just love how they have these opinions about each other's partners like the red flags they each see but they are all about each other's happiness, oc held back with ady but oooh jk isn't 😂 you go boy you tell her gosh i love his character in that scene....

This is another contrast!! It's intentional!! I love that you noticed because I try to be subtle about it. They both have their issues and deal with it in their own ways. OC very much deals with it in a small town girl way, whereas the freaking prince is, shockingly (not) very confrontational. I love that theyre opposites in this way.

oc and nel's scene had me pausing cause i literally went why the heck is she thinking about jk at a time like this and then she said it too it was epic oh oc you give me the giggles😂

AHA i LOVE this. I also love the fact their yours and her lines of thinking lined up. That's actually really nice feedback in a way because it means I was able to write OC in a way that actually mimics real life thought patterns when in certain situations and thats REALLY COOL to hear as the writer from the reader.

Also! Happy to make you giggle! Humor is another thing I struggle with writing wise, so I'm glad I can make you crack a smile now and then with mine.

wait what she didn't finish?!?!??!?!?! THIS IS MY ACTUAL REACTION IT'S LIKE OC IS IN MY HEAD ANSWERING ALL MY QUESTIONS OC BABYGIRL NO DIDN'T YOU LITERALLY GIVE YURI ADVICE ABOUT HER DATE AND NOW THIS 😩😩😩

The best advice often comes from those who have experience with things one way or another.

Ex: I never dated in highschool and yet I was the person ALLLLLLL of my friends came too for their relationship advice.

So, my darling OC was just looking out for her bestie in that regard imo, as someone who has trouble in that aspect of her life.

and we jump straight into jk's horror I can't help it this back to back is amazing, not me shouting no through out his entire scene why jk why, here's oc is having trouble and ady on her fourth whyyyyyyyy he better have oc on his mind

YOU DID SEE HOW THE BACK TO BACK WAS IMPORTANT!!!! YAYAYAYAYAY!!

oh I'm so happy, literally this was the "let me know if you wanna" from earlier. This is what I was hoping for!!

JK is allowed to make bad decisions every now and then unfortunately as no one is perfect and no one has perfect coping mechanisms the first time they encounter new problems. He's human, and therefore is prone to making poor human mistakes.

as for the orgasm ratio....noooo comment :)

i love how jungkook says nels name in full i can literally picture the disgust and the face he would pull (cue oc eye roll) italics and all..

AHA I love this. This is probably my fave part im sorry becaue I wrote this in intentionally as sort of a joke that turns into a habit and it's just.....so him. And i adore it because its SO. PETTY. and I live for it.

i am writing this as i read so everything scene/sentence i go to write something on my notepad so i hope it all makes sense

it does!!

and let's just say when he shut her up the scene was better to read

As the writer, I'm cackling. As a reader, FACTS.

ugh jungkook likes oc he likes her fuck can they get together already i am dying here this chapter was perfect (even if ady was in it) like the build up and their thoughts both being on each other oh that tension is building i love the progression between them and the next chapter is gone be golden ahhhhhh lemme run over

Literally the only response I can think to give is just a bunch of these guys: 😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈 and then a giant THANKYOU!

yoon you beautiful genius you have my heart this fic is everything and it's getting more and more captivating as it goes along i can't wait to see what more you do in this series seriously yoon with every update i go back and re-read everything again and I am in awe every single time and your talent, like this should be printed like i want a physical copy when it's done you are brilliant and such a star for coming up with this ily yoon i hope you know that 🥹🖤

SOBBING IN THE CLUB KIKI. THERES A SPOTLIGHT ON ME, IM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CROWD OF DANCING PEOPLE AND IM SOBBING.

And funfact! I can actually bind this when I'm done with it as I am slowly gathering all the materials I need in order to do so. So maybe one day it will have a physcial copy (or two)!

Once again I feel nothing but warmth and love and light and kindness from your beautiful words. As much as I enjoy writing, it's words like yours and lovely folks like you that make me want to keep writing.

Thankyou. Truly, truly.

Xo, Yoon.

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 6 | M

Title: Eastern Arrivals and Unwanted Doubt

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: Nel's here for the week and you couldn't be more excited!! Jungkook's another story though...

Warnings: M, fluff, smut, swearing, drinking, pining, angsstt, slight boundary pushing (not sexual), unwanted/ unneeded overprotectiveness, jealousy, lying, [reader eats bacon and eggs but it's not specified what kind or where it's from, just bacon and eggs, so whether that means veggie, vegan or normal is up to you], intentional pissing off of Nel, a little spat between major characters, sex as a plot device.

Mature warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 6,945

Release Date: April 20, 2:00PM

A/N 1: 6 months later and we have chapter 6! slow updates, but they will be written and they will be posted. I have no plans to abandon this, I just, very unfortunately, have a bit of an outernet life now. So not a lot of free time to be creative which I hate. But it's here!!

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

Mature Warnings: Consensual sex x 2, both reader with Nel and JK with Ady -> sorry not sorry cuz it's plot sex. We got us some: kissing, protected sex (as we should), missionary, fingering, oral (f. rec), tiny bit of groping (consenual), multiple orgasms, loud sex, like annoyingly, sex as a terrible coping mechanism (imo), fantasizing.

Bouncing lightly from foot to foot, you’re buzzing after finally receiving the text you were waiting on a few minutes ago.

Nelly <3 [10:10pm]: Landed. See you soon 😘

He’s almost here. He’s almost here!

Just a few more seconds until—

The gates slide open. A flood of people in a mixture of sweats and business casual wear with luggage of all sizes and neck pillows walk through. You hold up the sign above your head with both hands, a smile that could outshine the sun plastered on your face, and search.

Where is he? Where is he, where is he, where is he, you think as you scour the bodies filing out of the automatic doors. You can’t see him. He’s none of the nameless faces that pass you by as they find their family, friends or rides. 

Is this even the right group of people? What if his luggage got lost and he won’t be out with this group. What if he got taken aside for some reason, and now he’s being held in some dusty room being asked a bunch of stupid questions he doesn’t know how to answer? What if he’s fig—

But then there’s a gap in the crowd, and the boy you’ve spent the last half decade of your life with comes into perfect, crystalline view. His lips pulled taught, teeth beautifully bared as he sets his sights on your sign high in the air, then down to you.

And you're running. 

You’re running and dodging and swerving until you’re jumping into Nels arms as he abandons his suitcase in favour of keeping you both up right. He buries his face into your neck, holding you so tightly you think he’ll never let go. And that’s just fine with you as you hold on just as tight, taking in a big breath of him too. 

He smells like airplane and coastal breeze and most importantly, home. 

Nel smells like home.

A muffled, “Ohhhhhhh, I missed you,” greets your ears, and you melt into him even more if that's even possible.

“I missed you too,” you say, pulling back and kissing him. You don’t really care if there’s an audience or not right now. Not when Nel’s here, and he’s in your arms, and he’s yours for a whole 9 days and life is as it should be once again.

He releases his hold slightly, but your arms don’t leave his shoulders. The sign still clutched, now crushed and crinkled, in one hand. 

“Car?” he asks, a kiss to your nose.

“This way,” you lead, releasing your hold.

Luckily, his suitcase is small, so he forgoes rolling it, instead gripping the handle at the top and carrying it in one hand. Your own reaching for his other and not letting go. He’s going to have to peel you off him if he wants space right now. 

Nel’s wearing his usual fall attire; a dark green school sweater that has ‘ECAD’ written over the chest in a large, academic looking mustard yellow font, regular old blue jeans, and dark brown lace up boots. His short, dirty blond hair's covered by a hat you’d gotten him as a highschool graduation present, and his ocean blue eyes remain as gorgeous as they were the day you met. 

Passing through doors to the outside and back to lot J, you hop in the car as he puts his bag in the trunk.

“How have you been? What’s new? What’s not? Tell me everything,” he asks as he climbs in and sits beside you, hand finding yours again. 

Never gone for too long. You relish in the comfort and happiness that alone brings you. 

He’s finally here. You finally have him back.

“I’m great. Yuri’s still Yuri, classes are only a little more challenging this year, but I’m still at the top of them,” Nel slips in a ‘not surprised’ and you smile brighter as you continue. “They’re already telling us to start brainstorming ideas for our thesis show next year,” you have no idea what you’re going to do, but you’re working on it. “Campus is the same, dorms are the same, the cafe’s the same. Though, they have the egg tarts I like in more, which is awesome for my taste buds and terrible for my bank account.” 

Vivian stayed true to her word, and now they had the tarts in every week. 

“I can only imagine,” Nel jokes.

“Uhhmm, what else…” a thought pops up, and you guess you can tell him. It doesn’t reveal anything the whole world doesn’t already know. “The prince is dating Adaline Dupree.”

His eyebrows raise, remembering, “Oh yeah, that’s right, the prince goes to your school now.”

“Yep.”

“Have you met him?”

Is he seriously not completely shocked at the prince dating Adaline? You only bitched about her to him all the time.

“Uhhh… yep, once or twice, I guess.” 

You hate it. You hate lying, especially to Nel. You hate it so much, but it’s for the greater good. It’s to keep the peace. But that doesn’t stop the burning feeling in your chest nor the roil in your belly.

“The day he arrived Yuri dragged me down to see him speak. She made us sit front row because Yuri,” Nel nods, knowing exactly what you mean. “He had everyone assemble to hear why he was at school and tell us not to treat him like a prince. He wants to be able to study without his title getting in the way.”

You hit your blinker, making a one handed left turn. 

“Makes sense. Is he nice at least?” Nel doesn’t sound at all suspicious, and why should he? You’ve never given him reason to not believe you at your word before. Never lied to him before.

Fuck you hate this so much. It was so much easier when he was 5000 miles away. But now that he's right beside you? This week may end up being more difficult than you thought.

“He was very princely. Tried to kiss my hand like he did like every other girl there, but I made it a handshake instead. Figured if he wants to be treated like everyone else, I would liste—Oh!” you laugh before you can even get the words out.

“What?” he asks, intrigued but confused.

You can barely speak coherently. “You should have seen Yuri’s face when I called him Jungkook and not Prince or Your Highness...her eyes nearly fell out of her head,” tears are starting to form from laughing so hard. “It was great.”

“He didn’t mind?” Nel asks and you shake your head. Yuri’s face that day will forever be seared into your brain for whenever you need a pick-me-up. 

“No, he was grateful actually. I was the first person that had addressed him like that, the way he’d asked to be.” Stopping at a red light, you're finally regaining yourself.

“Well,” he squeezes your hand, “you always were good at first impressions,” and looks at you so softly you can’t help but smile into the kiss you give him. 

He remembers that school art fair just as fondly as you do. 

Nel pulls away first with a thought. “Is Yuri with us this time?” 

Yuri hadn’t been able to go home last year, her parents too busy on a work trip, so she stayed back and kicked it with you two, but also gave you your space when needed.

Lots and lots of space.

“Nope! Parents welcomed her with open arms this afternoon, I’m sure. They’re all on some tropical island down south. She’s bringing me an ocean bottle though, so I’m excited for that. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to add a new one.”

Everytime you travelled somewhere with a beach you got a glass bottle and filled it with half sand, half water, added in some shells or rocks and labelled it. Instead of towels, keychains, or magnets, you did ocean bottles. They lined a shelf in your room back home. 

You probably have at least fifteen of them by now. Your mum likes to travel and make sure you experience the world around you, not just your little corner of it.

“Oh that’s great babe! I know how much you love those.”

“Yeah, it is.” You lean your head on his shoulder, basking in his presence for as long as the light remains red. 

He’s here. He’s yours. 

You only have to do this for a couple more years and then you’ll be together all the time. God you can’t wait. But you are nothing if not disciplined. 

And it’s going to be so worth it in the end.

The rest of the ride to your dorm goes by quickly. 

Some more red lights, some more kisses. You point out the same things you always do on the way back, and Nel acts like it’s the first time he’s seen them, just like he always does.

His hand never leaves yours over the center console. 

Soon enough, you find yourselves flopping down on your bed. Bags, jackets and shoes, scattered. Nel pulls you into him, his head on your pillow, yours lying on his chest. True peace settling in for the first time in months.

“I can't wait until we’re done school and I have more than four and a half months with you a year,” he sighs.  “It’s not enough. I want more. Need more.”

“Me too. But good things come to those who wait.”

“Yeah…I’m just really sick of waiting.” 

“Me too,” you repeat in a yawn. 

Nel’s breathing slowly evens out as you lie there, content to be in your arms again. And you look up to see his eyes closed, warm exhales brushing over your face from his nose. 

You can’t blame him for being so tired. He’d had an early morning exam before flying out, even brought his suitcase to it so he could leave the second he was done. Then, the flight alone was ten hours, plus travel times to and from the airports was about an hour each way, and the wait time before boarding was another two. 

Shit, he’s probably been awake for around eighteen hours straight at this point because he’s also the type that can’t sleep on planes no matter what he tries. 

Oh, Nel...Of course he’s exhausted.

Giving him a squeeze before getting up, you take off his socks and jeans carefully, then tuck him into bed as much as you can. You’d try the sweater, but it involved too many working parts and you didn’t want to wake him, so you figure it’s best to have the window open tonight instead. 

Grabbing your phone, you tiptoe to the bathroom and do your night time routine. It’s not an overly complicated one, just brushing your teeth, washing your face and a simple 3 step skincare routine of cleanser, toner and moisturizer. Short and sweet, but it does the job. 

Halfway through brushing, you do your friend due diligence and send Yuri a ‘back safe’ text, just like she’d sent you her own ‘here safe’ when she’d landed.

You spit and rinse, moving onto washing your face and applying cleanser.

Teeth clean and face moisturized, you sneak into your room again. Nel's still out cold. 

You sneak out of habit—your mom wakes at the sound of a pin dropping. But absolutely nothing could wake Nel now outside of his mother’s voice and his morning alarm. It’s a talent of his you’ve always been jealous of.  

Removing today's clothes and tossing them in your overflowing hamper—reminder to self: do laundry—you slide on your pjs and climb into bed beside him, plugging in your phone and setting it down. 

A thought pops into your head and you pick it back up, shooting a quick text before you can think twice. 

You [11:26pm]: home safe

It pings not seconds later.

PJK [11:26pm]: Thanks Picasso  PJK [11:27pm]: glad ur home safe

Your heart beats a little louder at the nickname, and you chalk it up to the excitement still in you at having Nel here and being tired. 

But you sleep better that night than you have in a long time. 

A short, repetitive, rhythmic vibration. 

Picasso [11:26pm]: home safe

Jungkook is still standing in the same corner by the wall, Adaline somewhere in the crowd in front of him dancing with her friends. She asked him to join her, but he declined. He doesn’t need to see himself more than half drunk and dancing on the cover of tomorrow’s news cycles. Not to mention his security team would shut the party down the second a camera flashed.

His guards are carefully stationed throughout the house, all dressed down in casual wear, a few with empty cups in their hands. One is watching some sort of beer pong like game in the corner, another is mingling with some guys over in the kitchen. Three he can’t immediately see. And he knows his head guard is outside in a black car ready to get him out at a moment's notice.

Nobody can tell they aren’t here for the party, not unless they’re sober enough to notice watchful eyes continually making their way over the crowd as the night goes on. 

Your text woke him from the stillness he’s adapted from standing so long, trying hard not to draw attention to himself. 

You were home safe. Home safe from the airport. Home safe from picking up Cornelius. 

Your boyfriend. 

Cornelius, your boyfriend. 

He doesn’t acknowledge his teeth grinding.

You were home from picking up your beau but even then, you’d texted him to let him know you were back on campus safely. To let him know you were okay. 

It’s the first thing that makes him smile all night.

So he sends back, a bit to quickly: 

Me [11:26pm]: Thanks Picasso Me [11:26pm]: glad ur home safe

Because it means something to him that you deem him close enough to send a ‘home safe’ text too. 

That you want him to know you’re back.  

Want him to know you’re safe.

Whether you know it or not, your safety means a lot to Jungkook, so that little two word text makes his heart lurch. 

He needs to leave. 

He needs to get out of this fucking house and back to his dorm. He came, he drank, he observed, he fulfilled his boyfriend duty.

That’s enough for him. 

He shoots Adaline a text that says he isn’t feeling well and gets out as fast as he possibly can, dodging bodies left and right and doing his best to hide his face. 

Once he’s out, security team in tow, the cooling midnight air does him some good. 

“Someone make sure she gets back to her dorm safe,” he says in their general direction, brain too muddled to be polite in this exact moment, but it’s nothing they haven’t seen before. 

This is going to be such a long week.

He can’t wait till it’s over. Till he doesn’t have to share anymore. 

He was never very good at it anyway. 

The smell of bacon wakes you. 

And toast, and…

Eggs? 

You think, at least. Since when do you have bacon? Or eggs? Toast is a given, it’s part of your life’s blood.

Opening your eyes, you blindly reach for your phone, successfully unplugging it and bringing it to your face.

The screen is too bright but you suffer through it, squinting.

9:27am. 

9:27? 

You slept for ten hours!?

You can’t remember the last time you slept more than 6 consecutively, aside from recovery nights, and even then it was fitful.

Nel comes in with two plates, his full with a very Eastern breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon. Yours with two pieces of toast, lots of bacon, a bit of eggs and some fruit. Where did he—?

He smiles at your confusion, “You have a cafeteria that sells breakfast food, you know.”

You know that.

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because the look on your face says otherwise.”

You flop back down and pull the pillow over your head, mumbling incoherent nonsense. You rarely used the dorm cafeteria for breakfast. Much preferring the greenhouse cafe or simple toast and juice that you can make in your dorm.

He chuckles. “Two breakfasts for me then, okay, if you insist,” Nel moves to leave but you screech, uncovering your face.

“Noo! I want it. Please, sweet nutrition,” he hands the plate over when you sit up, arms out stretched, and you dig in. 

After a piece of bacon, you ask, “How long have you been up?”

Nel’s sitting with his legs crossed at the end of your bed, munching away, “Long enough to get changed, grab my wallet, get food and come back.”

The bacon is really good. You’ve never been so glad he knew you so well as you grab another piece from the dwindling pile.

“You slept well then, too? That’s good, I’m glad. You needed the rest.”

“Having you around always makes it easier to fall asleep,” he nudges your knee with his elbow.

Even after five years he can still make you blush.

“I know the feeling.”

You two fall into step, starting your weeks in advance prepared plans, the rest of your day passing quickly. 

Too quickly. 

And so does the next day, and the next, and the next. 

All of your activities are going great. The zoo, picnics, study dates, restaurant dates, historical, artistic and architectural museum tours. Even a swim at the school’s indoor pool, and there’s plenty more to come. 

Things slip back into being easy, just as they always have been with Nel, ever since that first day back in tenth grade. 

He knows you like the back of his hand and predicts your moves before you make them, just like you do for him. 

You know his favourite foods, and where he prefers to park when driving—always avoiding open curbs—you know his dream travel destinations, and who his favourite musicians are. You know his favourite pencils to design with and his favourite pencils to shade with, that he always put on his right sock first, then right shoe, then left sock and left shoe. You know that his drink order is an iced coffee with two cream and two sugar, that he prefers loose shirts over fitted ones, and that his favourite colour is orange.

It’s a pretty orange too, not just any orange. You wonder if it’s anything like Jungkook's–

Wait. 

You search your memory for the information, going through favourite foods, drinks, music—all discussed previously, because you know their answers. But colour?

Nothing.

How have you never asked what Jungkook’s favourite colour is?

Isn’t that usually one of the first things people ask when they’re trying to get to know one another? Funny. Guess you’ll have to inquire the next time you see him. 

Anyways, just like you know everything there is to know about Nel, he knows everything about you too, including your routines. 

Which is why at twelve noon every day, he starts getting ready to go to the greenhouse for your afternoon study session.

Including today.  

Your week’s already half over and you hate it. Time always moves far to fast when all you want it to do is slow the fuck down. 

You only have five days left. Five days.

You’re lucky the greenhouse cafe is open during break, some places on campus are required to stay open for the students who can’t make it home, but greenhouse chooses to. 

As you and Nel turn the corner you see a familiar figure sitting in his old spot at the back of the patio. The same hat, mask and hoodie, now paired with a leather jacket on top due to the weather starting to cool down.

You can tell Jungkook wasn’t expecting to see you by the way he stiffens before those all too familiar brown eyes of his meet your own. Which is fair, your schedule shifts a bit when you’re on break, he isn’t used to you being here at twelve on Wednesdays. 

But as quickly as he sees you, his gaze is back on his laptop, like he never saw you in the first place. 

Like you asked him to do. 

And a sharp pain stings inside your chest.

When you and Nel get to your table, he sits in the seat opposite to where you always do, leaving where Jungkook usually sits beside you, empty. 

A part of you is grateful for that, though you can’t figure out why and table that self discussion for a later date. 

Setting down your things, you ask Nel if he wants coffee. He answers yes, like always, and after a quick visit with Viv, you're pulling out your chair and setting down your cups. Your back faces Jungkook. It’s a small mercy you can’t see him. Maybe you can forget he’s here and actually focus on your work. 

But it’s also exactly because of your position, that you can’t see as Jungkook subtly watches you over the rim of his laptop while you and Nel talk quietly and study. 

Nel can though. 

It feels weird to ignore him. To pretend you don’t know one another when for the better part of the last seven weeks all you’ve done is talk, hang out, study or a mixture of the three, every day. 

When having him sit behind you and not beside you feels so wrong and so foreign. 

But this is your own doing, you caused this. So you need to suck it up and get used to it. 

This is exactly what you asked for all those weeks ago. The perfect solution to your problem. 

No one can know. 

Not Nel. 

Not anyone. 

But fuck, if it didn’t absolutely suck in practice. 

Setting some of your books out around you and on the table Jungkook usually uses, you dig into your business homework. Having a major and a minor are great for job prospects, on paper, and in practice after you’ve completed them.

But getting them? It takes years of hard work and dedication with no distractions. 

None.  

You spend almost every free moment you have doing homework or practicing, trying to get ahead, trying to stay on top.

…Trying to beat Adaline. 

But you just use that as fuel for your drive to be better. To be the best. 

Competition is healthy. Especially when you’re winning against the rich brat who’s used to getting what she wants. 

Not that you're petty.

Ehh…You are. But only a little bit. At least you can admit it.

Nel gets to work as well, the sunlight from his spot is great for drawing. He’s working on a rough version of his thesis project that’s due at the end of the year. He has to have multiple completed renderings as well as a scale model, and he’s been brainstorming since last year about what he wants to do.

Currently, he’s drawing up an airport, trying to design so that it’s not confusing and complicated for first time users. 

However, his occasional swearing and muttering to himself makes you think he’s having a tough time with it. 

You try not to laugh, but a small giggle slips out. 

“What,” Nel asks, a little distracted.

“Nothing.”

“No really, what’s up? I could use a laugh right now,” he insists, eyes on you at first. But then something behind you steals their attention every few seconds. 

Someone. 

“You just…you still make funny sounds when you're frustrated with a drawing. It’s endearing.” You reach to place your hand on his knee, trying to gain back his full attention. 

Ignore him, Nel. Please ignore him. 

“Yeah...” he exhales. “I guess airports are out,” his hand covers yours quickly and you hear a faint chair screech from behind you. Nel doesn’t miss it as he says. “But I do have a much bigger appreciation and understanding for all those who came before me,” pupils now unmoving from their target behind you. 

Fine. 

You’ll acknowledge it. 

“Is everything okay? You keep looking at something? Is there an animal or…” You know what he’s looking at, but go so far as to turn anyway, playing up the ‘confused girlfriend’ role. But Nel squeezes your hand, stopping you. 

He leans in, placing a fake mask of serene on and lowers his voice. “That guy keeps looking at us, moreso you. And he looks pissed off.”

Fuck, think of something.

Anything. Anythi—Oh!

You lean in too, so close your noses almost touch. “He’s probably just upset we’re talking. The greenhouse cafe is usually a quiet place to work,” good enough, you think. That’s believable, right?. “It’ll be fine. Let’s just ignore him and get back to work.”

You place a quick kiss on his lips but Nel isn’t letting up on his unnecessary vigilance. But then again, he doesn’t know that Jungkook is the opposite of a threat to you. So you reassure him, in your own way.  

“Babe, seriously. If you’re going to be all protective or whatever, don’t. I come here everyday when you're not here and I’m still alive and unharmed. Go get a sandwich or a refill to get your head off of it and say hi to Viv. She’s still here, and I’m betting she remembers you. You’re kinda hard to forget.” 

You can tell Nel’s about to reject the idea when you insist. “I’ll be fine, Nel. Promise. Three years and not a scratch on me.” 

He sighs through his nose, but relents. 

Placing his drawing pad on the table, he gets up, but not before placing another kiss to your forehead and mumbling, “Scream ‘cumquat’ if you’re in danger and I’ll come running, okay?” 

You laugh outright at that. “Will do.”

You watch him as he goes, and the second he’s inside, you’re racing for your phone, typing at an astounding speed.

You [1:45pm]: Didn’t your royal upbringing teach you not to stare so blatantly!??? Nel caught you

You hear a quiet ping from behind you followed by a small exhale that sounds more like a disguised chuckle. 

PJK [1:45pm]: Yes.  

You [1:45pm]: So you intentionally got caught?

PJK [1:45pm]: Maybe

You [1:45pm]: Shithead

PJK [1:46pm]: Rude

You [1:46pm]: You deserve it

PJK [1:46pm]: I know. I’m just making sure he’s treating you right.  PJK [1:47pm]: and trying to see if he acts differently when he knows he’s being watched. He’s very protective you know 

Jungkook saw the second Nel noticed he was watching you. 

His posture changed from easy going to on alert. His hand went so quickly to yours on his knee and his public displays of affection increased significantly. 

It was pathetic, really. It went above a normal amount of protection. Nel was claiming his ‘property’, making sure Jungkook knew not to touch. 

And the nasty look Nel gave him as he entered the cafe—gratefully still unrecognizable in his disguise—was another silent way to say back off, stay away, and don’t try anything or you’ll regret it. 

It was a red flag in Jungkook's mind. A small one, but it’s still there because his efforts are completely unneeded. After five years together, Nel should know that you can handle yourself. 

Hell, Jungkook knows that and it’s only been two months. 

You [1:47pm]: yes I know he is, and I already told you he treats me well because he always. Does. Not just in public or under watchful eyes  You [1:48pm]: and since when does my boyfriend of half a decade need your ~princely~ seal approval?

He ignores the small jab. You only ever brought up his title when you were mocking or upset with him. And he knows that in this case it's the latter.

PJK [1:48pm]: Since now PJK [1:49pm]: And it’s not that I don’t trust you at your word, but I usually like to decide for myself

That has you reeling. 

Where does he get the audacity to think he has any say in or about your relationship? Your very solidly built, five years strong, healthy, happy relationship?

Because he’s the Prince? You’re pretty sure you established on day one that you didn’t and still don’t give a fuck about his birthright. 

If he thinks he gets an opinion on any of this he’s got another thing coming the second he asks you anything about Adaline again. 

You’re in the middle of typing out a paragraph explaining all of this when another text comes in.  

PJK [1:49pm]: Because I’ve seen far too many women in love who are blind to certain things PJK [1:50pm]: And far too many hurt in the end because of it. 

You pause. Fingers frozen mid swipe.

Blind to what?

How many women did he know that were in love but missing something about their partner? Surely there couldn't be that many. Right? 

But this was Jungkook you were talking to, he’s lived numerous lifetimes already. That fancy birthright of his you don’t care about having given him far too many life experiences to have at his age. And they’re only going to increase from here.

So instead of hitting send and cursing him out quite spectacularly, you stop and think for a moment. 

What did he see that they didn’t? 

That you might… not?

You’re a decent judge of character if your record tracks. And it does. 

So your curiosity gets the better of you as you delete your rage paragraph and settle for a simple two word question instead. 

You [1:50pm]: Like what?

You can see that he’s typing out a response but the bell on the cafe door rings and you put your phone down. It buzzes with his response a few seconds after. 

You’ll check it later.

Nel takes his seat again, and you notice he has his sandwich, but also that he’s moved his chair and starts sketching from the new position giving him a direct eye line with Jungkook. 

You internally scoff at that. 

Nel has always been protective. But he was raised that way and you don’t mind too much. You don’t expect him to change his core values for you, just like he never expects you to change yours for him, even when a couple of his are just the slightest bit overbearing. 

But that’s part of a relationship. Give and take and compromise. No one person is going to be perfect for another. It’s healthy to have differences. 

That being said, Nel doesn’t change positions for the rest of the hour. Even as Jungkook packs up and leaves, Nel eyeballs him until he’s out of sight. 

That night while Nel is brushing his teeth and you're lying in bed, you check the text from Jungkook. 

PJK [1:51pm]: Like if they’re getting treated the way they should be or if they’re settling for the best they think they can get or for the first guy that showed interest. The one who hasn’t grown up even though time has passed. The one who’s holding her back by not setting her free

You stare at your phone. At the text. At his words. 

And dismiss it. 

You aren’t one of those women. 

You know yourself. 

You know what you deserve and how you should be treated. You didn’t settle, you just happened to find your love at a young age. That’s something special and rare and should be protected. And Nel has most certainly grown up as time passed. 

Jungkook is being ridiculous for absolutely no reason. Surely he’ll have seen that today. Seen how Nel loves you, treats you how you deserve to be treated, holds you up. Supports you. 

You’re confident he’ll be eating his words soon enough.

Finished brushing, Nel comes back to the bedroom and snuggles up behind you and you put down your phone. 

He cuddles you for a minute before placing a kiss at your neck. Then another. And another before he’s mouthing up your neck, and sliding a hand up your thigh and to your waist. It pauses on your stomach with teasing caresses, before dipping lower and lower, beneath the fabric of your sleep shorts, and under the elastic of your underwear. 

A small moan sounds in your throat at the touch. His fingers meeting your folds and the sensitive bundle of nerves at their apex.

You wanted this. 

Need it. 

He’s grown, you think; as a finger slips in you and you gasp at the stretch, legs opening wider for him. A second finger plunges in and you can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with every thrust. Just like you can feel a bulge forming behind you. 

You know what you deserve; as he uses them to scissor you open, making sure you’re ready. You roll over, now on your back with Nel over you as he pulls your shorts and underwear down to get better access, your own hands removing your shirt.

You’re not settling; as Nel moves down, tongue making a couple swipes at your entrance and you hiss in pleasure before he’s reaching over, grabbing a condom from the nightstand drawer and sliding it on, length hard and dripping at the sight of you bared before him. 

Nel wasn’t the first guy who’d shown interest, just the first you’d said yes to; and he slides in. Both of you moaning at the snug fit.

“Fuck...” he says and you nod, agreeing, before pulling him down into a deep kiss.

He eases into a slow, steady rhythm that has you breathy and his abs tensing. 

But it’s not enough. You need more. You need to erase these past two months without him, and take enough to last for the next two. It’s never enough, but you try. 

“Faster baby,” you beg, “Please…faster.”

Nel isn’t holding you back. Jungkook doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about. 

Nel picks up the pace and you start moaning, louder like you know he likes. Likes to hear he’s doing a good job. He’s grabbing your breast and sucking in a nipple, tongue swirling and you're bringing your hips to meet his with every thrust. 

It feels good. It always feels good with Nel. 

He was your first everything. First kiss, first intimate touch, first love. 

Only love.

And he makes you feel good with that love. That touch. His kiss.

He makes you feel safe, inside and out. 

Jungkook can go eat grass. He doesn’t know your relationship. Doesn’t know the first thing about it. 

“There, right there!” you whine as Nel hits your sweet spot once and you arch. He tries again but misses, continuing faster, his peak coming quickly. 

Jungkook can never understand what you two have. What you two have built in these five years. The understanding and security that comes with it. 

He’s being an unrightfully opinionated ass on something he knows nothing about and— 

Fuck! Why are you thinking about Jungkook? You’re having sex with Nel. You shouldn’t be thinking about anything or anyone other than that. 

Than him. 

So why can’t you get what Jungkook said out of your fucking head?

“Ahhh… oh fuck. I’m cumming.” Nel’s hips stutter, his face contorting in pleasure as he releases, filling the condom.

You kiss him passionately to rid yourself of your princely plagued thoughts, the ones filling you with unwanted and unnecessary doubt. You want them gone, gone, gone. Nothing but Nel in their place. 

And you slip an, “I love you,” in between kisses for good measure. 

Jungkook could never understand. 

Nel kisses you back just as hard, dramatically slowing his thrusts, drawing out his high for as long as possible. 

“I love you too.”

Jungkook doesn’t know anything. 

Nel groans into your lips when it becomes too much and pulls out. 

Removing and tying off the condom, Nel goes to the washroom to throw it out and starts the shower he knows you’ll be joining him for when you're done. 

A routine you’re all too familiar with. 

One you created. 

He knows you need a few minutes to get yourself off. 

You’ve never been able to cum from sex with a partner. No matter how hard you tried. No matter what you did. 

Most would think Nel wasn’t a good lover or wasn’t trying enough, but it was through years of constantly trying anything and everything that you learned you just…couldn’t. 

No amount of fingering or oral or penetration from your partner could make you orgasm. 

So Nel knows to wait for you in the shower as you finish yourself off, your own fingers making quick work of it, because you always could for some reason. 

It isn’t your ideal situation, and it isn’t anyone’s fault. But it works. You both get the intimacy you crave and you accepted a long time ago that you were just one of the unlucky few. 

Screams fill Jungkook’s ears as a hand finds his hair and nails rake against his scalp. 

Adaline isn’t a quiet receiver. 

“Ohmygod!” She shouts for the twentieth time. “Yes! There…so goo-oohhhh,” the last syllable turning into a loud moan. 

He’s holding her downwith a forearm by her pelvis, mouth full as he brings out her third orgasm of the night, juices flooding his tongue. 

He’s working out earlier frustrations and proving a point to himself in this fucked up version of self therapy. 

He shouldn’t be. 

But he does.

Has to.

Seeing you today with Cornelius spurred feelings within him that he didn’t know he had. Sure, there were bits and pieces of something stirring he refused to name, but today? 

They were in a whole different ballpark. Different than anything else he’s ever felt before, brewing inside him, bubbling up to the surface even though he’s been trying his best to pop them and shove them down.

Anger? 

Feelings he doesn’t want to have. 

Jealousy? 

Does have. 

Wanting you to look at him the way you look at Nel?

Can’t have. 

Not for… 

He admits he provoked Nel because he could. Dick move, but it was because Jungkook knew just by looking at him that giving you any form of attention would piss him off.  He seemed the type. 

Overly possessive, overprotective. 

Overbearingly so. 

Suffocatingly so. 

Because Nel knows how lucky he is. That you chose him. That you still choose him. 

He knows he has to keep others away. 

Knows he isn’t good enough for you, holds you back. But keeps you anyway.

The selfish prick. 

So Jungkook eyed you up and down, leisurely, and for as long as he wanted. Purely out of the need to prove to himself he was right about his little assessment of your boyfriend. At least that’s what he told himself. 

Was it childish and unnecessary? 

Yes. 

But he was right. And that felt good. 

He could see in your posture and your hushed words you didn’t want Nel’s protection, didn’t need it, and that Nel ignored that wish of yours. Did what he wanted to instead of respecting your ability to make decisions for yourself. Bulldozed your opinions. 

It pissed Jungkook off. 

He’d left a little while after sending you that text to read, but you never did. At least not since the last time he checked. And so he’d made plans with Adaline the second he was out of your earshot. Calling her up and setting a time for what’s currently taking up his primary focus. 

Because even though it was Adaline underneath him, for the very first time, that’s not who he imagined it was. 

Not who he just dragged a fourth orgasm out of with his fingers because he could. 

Because he would. He would be so much better. Give so much more. If only… 

Fuck.

Jungkook stands and drags his cock over Adaline’s entrance, whacking it against her clit a couple times before running the tip through her folds and pushing in. He hisses at the feeling. At who he was sinking into in his head, splayed out in front of him. Skin glistening with sweat mixed with arousal. Mouth open, slack jawed in pleasure. 

Adaline moans loudly and it dissolves his visual. 

His tattooed hand moves to hold her hands above her head, the other silences her mouth. 

“Quiet now,” he whispers, low and deep. A bead of sweat dripping off his brow, hair sticking to his neck and temple.

He intends it to be sexy for her, but in reality, he’s just sick of hearing her. It’s ruining his mental image. Not that she’ll ever know that though. 

To Adaline, this session is all about her and making her feel good. 

But constant screams and loud, pornographic moans aren’t appealing to him in the slightest. They're taking him out of the mood. Making him soft. 

Once or twice when it’s genuine? Sure. But the constant assault she loves to give his eardrums? Not even a little bit.

He sets a fast, rough pace, and Adaline’s eyes roll back in pleasure, screams finally subsiding in white hot bliss, replaced by bitten lips and smothered whimpers.

He is going to prove this point to himself over and over again. All night if he has to. 

And he has to.  

To get whatever it is he’s feeling for you out of his system.

To keep his sanity. 

To forget. 

And while it’s Adaline’s name is on his lips when he cums. 

It’s not the name he repeats in his head like a prayer. 

Chapter Seven: Hard Goodbyes and Favourite Colours

A/N 2: Thanks for waiting for this chapter. I'll try my best to have 7 out as soon as I can get it. I promise.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

[writingsfromhome]

Unspoken Signals

A/N: reaaaallly tried to get this out for v-day. It’s been a while, I’m a bit rusty, but this is a quick fic w Harry and you as coworkers and a casual something else. Hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

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“Well this is different,” I comment.

Before me sits a dozen children and they’re all very quiet. It’s music to my ears after the last hour.

“I didn’t know kids could even do yoga.”

“You didn’t know kids could stretch?” I raise a brow.

“The meditating part,” Harry clarifies. “I didn’t know they could quiet their minds and their demon mouths.”

I laugh softly and turn back to the kids. A couple are starting to get restless, peeking one eye open or scratching their noses—picking them more like. But it’s nice for the few minutes.

Both Harry and I worked at an art museum that had recently lost some of its funding and had decided to open up revenue streams by introducing “kids fun weekends”. So despite having zero training in early education, staff at the museum found ourselves having to look after children and host workshops from time to time.

So far we’d been volun-told to help with a crafts day, a movie night, wellness day, and an upcoming museum sleepover.

And I was so not being paid enough to deal with hyperactive children.

“Why do kids even need a wellness workshop?” Harry continues to whisper back to me. “They’ve got stressful jobs or something? Bloody put me on one and let me go home.”

“Anyone can experience stress Har,” I roll my eyes. Harry was one of those people who didn’t care about being politically correct when he spoke. Which led to a lot of bickering between us that most of our coworkers had gotten used to.

“The stress of any of these kids does not bloody compare to the stress of an adult.”

“Don’t be such an ageist,” I reply.

“Ageist? What the fuck,” he swears. “Do you just put a word in front of -ist and create a new prejudice?”

I gasp and hold his shoulder, “prejudice? Where did you learn such a large word?”

“Now you’re just being a word-ist,” Harry says smugly.

I snort despite myself, “And you’ve always been a prick.”

“Piss off,” Harry whispers. “This is unfair.”

We stand in silence, forced to do our job of keeping watch over the kids. But as they grow more agitated and so does Harry, I realize I really didn’t want to be here either.

“Well have you seen the new fake-Monet collection?” I ask.

It wasn’t actually fake-Monet. It was a local artist we were hosting in our community gallery that showcased…local artists. The first piece we ever saw hung up looked like a Monet so we took to calling him that.

“No. Not after that first forgery.”

“Wanna ditch this and check it out?”

“Fuck yes.” Harry’s eyes finally draw some life to them.

We leave our two other coworkers to deal with freshly-meditated children and sneak away.

The art museum wasn’t a large building; the ground floor was taken up by the open lobby, offices, the gift shop, and some of the more permanent exhibits. The second floor had revolving galleries and the community gallery sat on the third floor.

“D’you think anyone’s actually going to buy the guy’s fakes?” Harry asks.

“Probably,” I jam the button for the lift. “I saw a couple more pieces and they were beautiful.”

“You find any piece of art beautiful.”

“Well they are! It’s easy to find beauty in a lot of things if you’re not a prick.”

The lift arrives and the doors open; the reflection inside show a tall curly-haired annoyed bloke. Walking in with him is a shorter girl, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not a prick.” He looks down at me. “I just have standards.”

Suddenly in the enclosed space of the lift we’re gravitating towards each other like we tended to do. I smile up at him sweetly and he tsks and pushes me away by my chin; a conversation taking place with just our eyes.

The thing with Harry and me—because it was just a thing we didn’t label, was simple: we liked being around each other (despite being able to get on each other’s nerves).

We kinda just orbited each other and we were comfortable with it; some days he would follow me home and we’d hang out, get dinner, sleep together, and other nights I’d show up at his and we’d fold right into one another.

It was fun, and it felt cool not to label it. It felt very adult, like Harry and I were mature enough to appreciate the other in every aspect without being possessive enough to need to label it. Like somehow we were proving just how secure we were by doing it like this.

“You just like being judgemental,” I say and as the doors open onto the third floor I turn to walk out. “Because you’re an idiot.”

Outside stand at older couple who’ve definitely heard the last bit. I apologize and pray they don’t complain to anyone about the staff.

“Very unprofessional,” Harry goads as he laughs. “Do you harass all the elderly at the museum.”

“Shut up!” I shove him against the wall and he stumbles down.

“Oi!” He calls out as I walk away. “Oi! Help me up!”

“Help yourself!” I finally turn. He’s sprawled on the ground like this was his bedroom—because I’d seen the inside of his bedroom I would know. But he stays for so long I hurry back, not wanting anyone to walk past and get us in trouble for laying in the middle of the hall.

“I knew you’d come,” he smiles sweetly, his large hand in the air ready for me to grip.

“C’mon—“

I see it coming too late and he’s already trapped me in. He pulls me forward and I stumble into him, nearly catching myself on the wall. Nearly. I tumble into him instead.

“Grow up!” I scramble off of him as quick as I could. Because the one unspoken rule in this thing between us was staying nothing but platonic coworkers at work.

And that was the other thing about us—this unlabelled situation we were in. That as casual as we appeared there was a lot of orchestrating going on behind the scenes in order to be this nonchalant.

For example, only touching outside of work, not asking about dates the other went out on the weekend before, like saying you’re funny and where’ve you been when it’s been a while so as not to say I really like you and I want to be around you more and when you’re not around I miss you more than an unlabelled half should. Like getting drunk when I spot him at a club with another girl so I can continue to convince myself I really didn’t care all that much.

It was just Harry. At most we were just friends.

“This is me grown up,” Harry catches up to me. He can sense I’m annoyed and maybe he’s crossed a line so he lingers slightly behind.

I ignore him as I push the glass door into the gallery. This was one of my favourite spaces because of the large windows and views of the garden below planted by friends of the museum.

But mostly I loved it because it was a revolving door of local artists and it reminded me that everyone had a story to tell. And every story was beautiful.

“Don’t cry this time,” Harry whispers to me as he walks down the gallery to the far end.

“It was one time,” I mumble. That I actually cried. Usually I just teared up.

I couldn’t help it though, there was so much meaning and time put into these pieces. So much love and grief and every emotions on the spectrum. And I felt it all.

I decide I’d stop calling the artist fake-Monet because with a few more paintings I began to recognize his own signature style. He paints about personal community and finding it in public spaces—pockets around London.

“Hey look at this one,” Harry says when I’m a few pieces away. I walk over.

It’s unmistakably Hampstead Heath, the park a half hour walk from here and 15 from Harry’s place. It’s where we spent a lazy summer day a month or so ago. We were both free on the Saturday, our calendars opening up. I met Harry at his and we’d trekked through the hazy city to feel the cool breeze of the sturdy trees and the splash of the water. Despite the stickiness, we’d tucked into each other and pretended the shade was enough to keep us cool—enough to be so close. We read our book, took a summer nap, ate our picnic, and chatted about the rest of our lives. Passerbys would see two friends, or maybe two something-mores.

It’s only when the sun slinked down towards the horizon did we pack up. We walked back to his flat, took a shower together. We had dinner with his friends. It had been such a beautiful day I had ached with it because I knew how temporary it was.

But how perfect it had been. It had felt bigger than us.

Harry pointing it out toes that line again; he remembered it too, as something to reference. As something to compare to the beautiful richness of the tapestry before us—lavenders and lilacs, pinks and blues, sage, and dusty hues.

“Beautiful,” I murmur. We’re standing shoulder to shoulder now, I can’t tell who’s leaning on who.

“It…actually is.” Harry says in a hushed voice back. “I’m sorry fake-Monet that I doubted you.”

I look up at him in surprise, Harry rarely changed his mind. “Actually?”

“Yeah.” He looks down at me. “I think I get it.”

The expression in his eyes as he says this, as they fill with meaning, I have to look away. But the painting doesn’t help. It’s too full of my own meaning. Our meaning.

But there was no our.

“Wow.” I straighten up and move closer. “Look at that blending. And the details those are actually people.”

“They’ve all got their own shadow too.” Harry moves closer towards me again. He points it out.

“I’m gonna go look for shadows in the others.” I chirp just so I can get away. So I can keep denying.

A few hours later, the day is giving to nightfall. I badge out with Harry and we walk down the steps towards the iron gates.

“See you tomorrow?” I ask.

“I’m not in tomorrow.” He reminds me.

“Oh yeah your parents are in town?”

“Yep,” he fidgets with his phone and we stand in silence for a beat.

“Well I should-“ I say just as he asks, “Would you want to-“

We pause, awkward laugh. We were never awkward.

“You first,” I urge, wanting to know what he was going to ask.

“No it’s nothing. I should go. Got to clean my flat before my parents see how I live.”

“Don’t forget to hide the rolling papers from your bedside,” I tease. “And the magazines under the bed.”

“Oi I haven’t got magazines under the bed,” he smiles. His dimples make a handsome appearance. “They’re loud and proud on the coffee table now.”

“Except you haven’t got a coffee table.”

“If you know so much about my flat how about you come home with me and help me clean it? You can stay over.”

Come home with me. Casual, so casual.

But I know how calculated it had to be. I’d been there. Somehow I knew this is what he’d been trying to ask in the first place.

“What time are your parents getting in?” I ask.

“They’re early birds. Probably after 8.”

“8? Holy hell.” I swear.

“They want to do breakfast and then take me to visit my grandparents.”

“Right. Yeah well, imagine I’m still not out by the time they show up. That’d be so awkward. And there’s no way in hell I’m getting up before 8.”

His cheeks take on a slight blush. “They’ve…it wouldn’t be the first time they came over to a girl in my bed YN. I’m not 16.”

“I know. But…still awkward.”

“So?”

“I…don’t want them to get the wrong idea. We’ll see each other the day after. You’re working then right?”

My heart squeezes a bit at his crushed look before it’s swapped for happy, for easygoing. “Yep. Can’t get rid of me that quick.”

We part ways, I go mine with a heavy heart.

***

“So,” I check in with Harry at lunch the day he’s back. It had been a hectic day yesterday with a new group of kids and a new workshop to facilitate. Plus someone was quitting after being yelled at and Harry had missed it all so I wanted to update him. “How was your day off.”

“Shite,” he says. We walk a few streets over to a Pret. “Mum and dad wouldn’t stop whinging about my future and about settling down like I’m a fucking balding man in my 50s losing all prospects. I’m only 25!”

“Yeah total bummer having a day off for that,” I comment even though I have a hard time getting my next breath in. I can’t imagine my own parents caring that much about my life to spend a whole day with me talking about it. And what if I had stayed the night and accidentally bumped into them—would they have approved?

Should I even care?

“Then my nan basically told them to piss off but they started filling her head with it and then she’s asking me about any girls I’ve taken on dates lately. Started giving me relationship advice!”

“What was that?” I tease. “Take her on a walk and buy her some flowers? Go star gazing? Movie for 2 quid?”

Harry glances at me and his seriousness throws me off balance a little.

“What?”

He opens his mouth, then shrugs and closes it. “Nothing.”

“Sorry did I offend you?” I try to think of why he might be reacting this way.

“No, she actually did say some pretty old-fashioned shite. But I can take it from her. It’s my parents that drive me nuts.”

“Well I wish you were at work. Want to hear what happened?”

So I change the subject and we talk about what he missed. He’s more subdued today and I don’t read into it. He wasn’t mine to read into, I have to remind myself.

We talk about the gallery sleepover in two weeks, whether we were actually going to come in our PJs. When we get back to work we’re on different floors and I try not to miss him again.

***

“I actually brought mine—the appropriate pair.” My coworker jokes. We’re in the staff kitchen making an afternoon tea. Tonight was the gallery sleepover and I was not looking forward to it. But because I was working it I had the day off tomorrow and at least that was something to look forward to.

“I just brought a ratty tee. I don’t think I’m sleeping anyway.” I say.

“I hate that we got picked for this,” she continues. “I actually don’t even like kids. Why do you think I have none?”

“Well tonight will just be birth-control.”

“Trust me I don’t need it.” She cackles and walks away. My phone buzzes with a text.

Harry: Might be late tonight. cover for me if anyone asks?

Y: ur not even working the day how are u gonna be late?

Harry: got a thing. Just cover pls?

Y: obv

I wonder what was going on with him.

We hadn’t had a lot of opportunities to hang out the last week and work had been too busy to properly catch up. Plus our manager had been putting us on conflicting projects so I really had been missing Harry.

Even though Harry and I were friends there was something about distance and fondness that was proving true lately. And I hated it. So I’d gone on a string of dates this week. Hence my busyness.

I’d gone out on a date a week ago and even though I ended up going back to his place all I wanted to do was text Harry. Ask him if he was up, what he was doing. I’d forced myself to shut my phone so I wouldn’t be tempted.

After we close the doors to the public that evening we begin setting up for the kids’ sleepover. It’s so hectic nobody notices Harry’s late but he slides right in helping me string the lights in our biggest gallery. We work on the projectors next, I yap to him for 10 minutes straight and he barely replies. He’d been quiet since he got here.

And for the next few hours Harry and I entertain and help children have fun, we put on a fancy puppet show loosely based on famous artists—art projections included.

We sneak away to the kitchen after we take our bow for a tea break.

“Wouldn’t happen to have a flask on ya?” Harry sighs as he strains his tea bag.

“God I wish,” I stare into the dark abyss of my earl gray. That performance had really taken it out of me. “Who d’you think’s most likely to have something stashed away?”

“Well,” Harry yawns like he hadn’t slept all week and points to an upper cabinet. “Behind the cleaning stuff.”

“What?!” I gasp. “Seriously?”

“Well last time I saw it was last Christmas. Probably got some alcoholics here. I dunno if the stash is still there.”

“Well this is naughty,” I find a couple travel-sized liquor bottles like the kind you get on planes. I take one so that somebody else can have the delight of the other.

Harry sticks his mug out and I empty half the bottle, doing the same to mine.

“Make sure it’s covered,” he advises when I throw it in the bin. I shake it around until I can’t see it.

“Much better,” I cheers my mug to his. He catches my eye and it feels like we’re co-conspirators again. I pass a smile that’s only half-returned. “So what’s the deal with you?”

“Hm?” He doesn’t look up from his drink.

“I’ve barely seen you all week. And you’re late tonight. And you look haggard as hell.”

He shrugs, “I’ve been helping one of my mates out with moving out of his girlfriend’s. They broke up. He’s a mess so…”

“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that. “That’s kind of you.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Do I?” I widen my eyes.

“Piss off.”

He cracks with a smile—a full Harry smile and I feel my heart beaming just to soak it in.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” I ask tentatively. I knew he had the day off too.

“Uhm,” cagey Harry returns. “Maybe. I’m not too sure right now.”

“Ah okay.”

We sip in silence that threatens to smother us. I get up as quickly as I can without wasting my precious drink.

“I’m gonna head back out.”

“Alright.”

I head back to the star-lit room where sleeping bags are laid out like mismatched brick throughout the floor. Some kids are cozied within, others sit on top. They’re all engrossed in the “bedtime story” being told by a local author.

It’s sweet, I think. This would become a core memory for a lot of these kids, drinking in the whole night through all their senses. I wish I had more memories like this. Maybe then I wouldn’t be so fragile all the time.

Adults staying overnight got their own gallery blankets and I drag one over to the far end, enough for any kid who needed assistance could find me but far away that I could be on my phone and not distract them.

Some time later another body joins me with his own blanket.

“Sorry,” Harry says as he sits.

“For what?” I play pretend. Just like these kids were doing tonight. What could you possibly be saying sorry for? What could I possibly feel entitled to you for? We’re just friends.

“For being weird earlier. I…well I have to tell you something and I’m being weird instead.”

My heart begins to thump in my chest.

“Tell me what?”

“So I’ve um…I’ve got a-“ Harry clears his throat. I glance up at him and he’s looking out towards the ceiling. “I have a girlfriend. I know we…we’re not…”

“Jeez Har,” even though ever atom inside of me is keeling over with something I can’t exactly examine yet, I play the joker. The friend. “If this is you telling me you’re getting serious with someone that’s all you have to say.”

“Really?” He turns to me and on the shiny hardwood floor so does half his body. I ignore how his knees feel pressing into mine. “You’re…okay?”

His voice is anything but casual.

“Yeah! It’s not like we’re a thing.”

Even still, I can’t say it. I die a little more.

“Yeah well I wasn’t expecting it. She’s the daughter of someone my dad knows? Pretty sure they orchestrated it but we went on a couple dates and then she asked…well she wanted to be exclusive I…”

“Well that’s good. For you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.”

“Thank god,” the air whooshes out of his lungs.

“I feel like I should be offended. You thought I was going to be mad or something?”

“No not mad…” he trails off. I look at his reaction and find him looking at me already. Even though it’s dark I can still see his eyes and they feel like they’re reading everything on my face. In a hushed tone he repeats himself, “not mad.”

I shrug, biting my lip hard to feel something other than the emotions threatening to overwhelm me. Emotions I never thought would surface this strongly.

“I’m good. Actually I’m not good. I think that bottle we found was rubbish I’ve got to go toilet—“ I use his knee to pull myself up. “Save my spot.”

I walk away without sparing a glance back because my act is crumbling. I’m crumbling. And I don’t understand it.

If you asked me two weeks ago I would have gone on how fun it was to be with Harry but how the idea of being with him seriously would be weird. Would throw off our balance. But now I want to puke my guts in the toilet at the idea of having to let him go. Because he’s the one who moved on.

And as hard as I try tears still escape my lashline and make trails down my cheeks as I study myself in the brightly lit mirror. How could I be mad when we were just casual? How could I hate him if all he did was look for something serious. Someone serious.

Suddenly what had felt fun and mature feels childish and disposable.

I was disposable fun.

“Get it the fuck together,” I tell myself. “You’ve got nothing to cry over. You could get yourself a boyfriend too. He’s not your soulmate or something jeez.”

I blow my nose and give myself another pep talk before exiting the toilets back to where Harry waits for me.

“You alright?” He asks. A loaded question.

“Yeah. Regret doing this for the whole night though.”

“You could sleep. I’ll take first shift.”

“I’ll get in trouble.”

“Who gives a shit,” Harry tugs me so that I fall against his shoulder and it’s the worst thing in the world.

I don’t curl my arm through his like I might’ve before. Or cozy into his chest. I stay there like a stiff robot until sleep takes me. Even then it’s not long enough.

—1 month later—

I’m heading home after an uneventful day, ready to sink into bed and turn my brain off. These days my brain talked too much and I really wish there was an on/off switch for it.

“Um hiya?” A soft voice says as I exit the turnstile in the lobby. I turn towards the voice and it belongs to a sweet looking girl about my age with harsh features softened by a layered bob. On me it would look ridiculous but she looks like she was born to rock the style she was in.

“Hi,” the rule of thumb was even though you were clocked out if you exited from the lobby in work clothes and somebody stopped you, you had to help them. I’d forgotten to tuck my badge away today damnit.

“I’m waiting for someone? He hasn’t been answering his texts I was just wondering if-“

“You could ask reception?” I point to the desk behind her. “They can page who you need.”

“They weren’t really helpful,” she shrugs. “I’m assuming you work with him? Harry?”

It’s the last name I’m expecting from her lips. I nearly stumble back trying to take her in again with the new knowledge of who she might be.

“H-Harry?”

I’d heard her the first time. I’m just trying to grasp at a second to collect myself.

This must be his girlfriend. The one who wanted to be exclusive. And I hated that I’d liked her in our two minute interaction.

He hadn’t spoken much about her since he told me a month ago but since half of our relationship before her was being intimate, we barely talked and when we did it was mostly just work and the relationship felt really fragile and rough.

I could see what Harry saw in her—she was attractive. And not pushy; she let Joey at reception push her around which was hard to do. And she was meeting Harry here, at work. It must be getting serious.

All these thoughts race through my mind in a millisecond.

“Oh! Harry yeah,” I nod when she confirms. “Of course I know him. I think he was in a meeting might be why…I can go back in and check if you-“

“Oh no! Sorry I’m not trying to be a bother. You’re probably going home I just wanted to make sure he was still in?”

“Yeah! Yeah he’s in. I’ll tell Joey—reception, to page him if he’s out. He’s nicer than he seems.”

“That’d be perf,” she beams. I die a little more, unsure why I was helping her this much. Unsure why it bothered me this much.

Ever since Harry had ended the thing we didn’t have, my life had felt haunted. The ghosts of every emotion I killed in the moments we’d been together began to surface and they were torture. Biggest of all was regret and shame. Regret over what could have been if I’d just admitted how deeply I felt months ago. Shame because I wasn’t supposed to feel this way for Harry. Because he obviously didn’t feel the same way, he never would, and it would be embarrassing to ever admit it.

Our actual relationship had gone like this after that night—avoidance -> awkward small talk -> light bantering -> finally, being able to talk semi-normally again.

We stopped hanging out outside of work however, so every day I got to see him was a day I was excited to go into work. My friends told me I had to do something about it—confess and see what he says, or move on.

And I’d tried to move on. But every guy I tried to date didn’t hold a candle to the flame that warmed my heart; to the idiot I had the misfortune of falling for after we ended things.

Or maybe I was just the idiot.

And here I was self-sabotaging by helping his girlfriend. There was definitely something wrong with me.

“Elsie!”

Both our heads turn to the voice.

“There he is,” I say but she’s already squeezing my arm and walking towards him. Harry doesn’t realize I’m standing there and I watch him smile at her in a way that sends a spike to my heart. Then he notices me.

“Oh YN,” his eyelids flutter a few times too many. “Uh-“

“YN god sorry I didn’t even get your name,” Elsie turns back to me. “YN was helping me.”

“Yeah? Thanks,” Harry looks visibly relieved and flashes me a grin. I raise my brows and smile back.

Home. I had to get home.

“Well I figured Har already had a hard time finding a girlfriend, I didn’t want him to lose her so quickly. This isn’t even a very big place.”

Harry’s expression is unreadable but Elsie laughs.

“Very funny,” Harry responds.

“I know.” I gear myself up to say bye. “Well I’ll see you tomorrow, let you get to wherever you’re going. It was nice-“

“Well we’re just hanging out with some friends,” Elsie says.

“YN knows a few of them,” Harry says. I watch his eyes bug a little as he realizes he’s stepped onto a minefield and watch him back away smoothly. “Some of the younger crew go out for drinks sometimes.”

“Ah,” Elsie says as Harry wraps his arm around her shoulder from behind. He was laying it on thick but I don’t think Elsie noticed his hiccup. “Well why doesn’t she come!? YN you should join us! One more friend!”

“Oh I don’t think she wants to-“

“I was honestly just gonna go ho-“

I stop talking the same time Harry does.

“No you should!” Elsie says. “Don’t listen to Harry.”

I catch his eye and they’re saying please don’t.

Don’t tell me what to do, mine say.

Don’t be stubborn.

Challenge accepted.

“Ok! Maybe one drink.” I say as Harry huffs. It felt dangerous, having a non-verbal conversation in front of his girlfriend.

I was an idiot, I confirm. An idiot making bad decisions.

“Yay! Let’s go.” Elsie takes Harry’s hand and drags him to the front door. I nearly laugh at his face as he’s dragged past me—he was mad.

And it comes out a couple hours later. By then I’d had more than a single drink, have befriended most of the people I don’t know at the table and have caught up with those I do know. Harry had been mostly attached by the hip to Elsie and I tried not to stare daggers at it.

They’re an interesting couple, you can tell Harry is distracted most of the night and she tries to accommodate by being around and talking to him. He leaves a hand on her at all times but she doesn’t wrap herself around him the way I used to. Maybe she wasn’t touchy.

Maybe I was being obsessive.

So I distract myself with everyone, with drink, with a particularly cute boy who introduced himself as Elsie’s uni friend. Who happened to be brother’s with Harry’s old flatmate. Small worlds.

“YN,” Harry tugs my sleeve as Grant and I talk—if you can call heavy flirting just talking.

“What?!” I snap after the tugging gets aggressive.

“I need to talk,” He points to himself and then me, “to you.”

I could see he was well past tipsy. It wasn’t often Harry drank to this point so I follow him to find out what was going on.

I follow him to a patio table that had just been vacated, empty glasses littering the surface. An untouched shot sits in the middle. The tableau tells a story—art was everywhere.

“What?” I ask.

“What’re you doing?”

“What am I?” I laugh. “What are you doing? I think you’ve had a few drinks too many mate.”

“You’ve got drinks,” he replies.

“Yeah…” I look back at the half finished drink I left at the bar. “I did have more than I thought. I feel like I drink a lot more when there’s a lot of people around? Otherwise I’m just nursing my drink-“

“Why did you decide to come out tonight? When you’ve met my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

“When I’ve…what?! Your girlfriend invited me no thanks to you.”

“Yeah but you never come out anymore. And suddenly you want to come out when Elsie asks?”

“What d’you mean I never come out anymore?”

Harry sighs. “You stopped hanging out.”

“Yeah because you got a girlfriend? You stopped inviting me out!”

“No what? No! You’re always…it’s an open invitation I don’t need to specifically invite you out I-“

“So why did you invite me specifically before?” I call him out, feeling more sober than I was a few minutes ago. “You stopped inviting me. We stopped hanging out. And so I stopped inviting you when I went out cuz I thought you had a girl and I didn’t want to make it complicated I-“

My voice catches on an unfiltered emotion and I want to die. I feel heat creep up my cheeks as I try to swallow it down and hope Harry doesn’t notice. Fuck!

“Anyway your girlfriend invited me so I came! It’s not a big deal.”

“I didn’t…” Harry scratches his nose and looks uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean to stop. I…it was complicated and I-“

“It’s fine. Whatever Har.”

“It’s not,” his brows come together. “Obviously s’not. I’m sorry? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel…”

I almost laugh at what he’s said and how it sounds: I didn’t mean to make you feel. Well, neither did I.

“Yeah whatever. I’m not mad about it.”

“Sorry.” He says instead.

“Thanks,” I clear my throat for good measure, not wanting to be too emotional. I want to tell him I missed him but I don’t think it would be appropriate.

“I thought-“ he breaks off with a laugh. “Nevermind.”

“What?” I push him lightly. “You know I hate when people don’t finish their thought. It’s going to drive me crazy—what?”

“No this one you won’t like. Nevermind.”

“Tell meee,” I poke his shoulder until he slaps my hand away.

“Stop that! I hate when you do that!”

“I know.” I say smugly. “So?”

“It’s stupid. I thought you came here to annoy me or something. And then you’re practically sitting in Grant’s lap…”

He’s right. I wouldn’t like it.

“Hold on,” I bring my hand down on the table. “You thought I was flirting with Grant to annoy you? Why would I-what!?”

“Like I said,” he doesn’t make eye contact. “It was stupid. Nevermind!”

“No it’s not nevermind. You don’t drive what decisions I make in my love life.” Lie. “Got that?”

“Jeez you can’t get angry after forcing me to say!”

“I can!”

“Can you quit bitching I don’t have time for this.”

“I’ll be as big of a bitch as I want to be.” I cross my arms.

“Unfortunately, I know.”

“That’s a completely stupid thought to have-“

“Surely not all your thoughts are winners. That’s why you don’t say all of them.” Harry says, then laughs. “Actually you do. And I always have the displeasure of hearing all of them.”

My jaw drops. “It’s like you’re purposely saying the stupidest shit right now. Like you want to be a prick.”

“C’mon you little shite,” Harry tugs my arm until they uncross. “I’m joking, remember jokes?”

I want to say something snippy, tell him off, but as my arms fall away his hand slides down until the tips of our fingers brush. It makes me feel touch-starved, like I’d been isolated in the woods for the last two months growing crazy for human touch.

Harry senses the shift and his smile dies down, his throat bobbing up and down.

How was it that Harry, out of every man I’ve ever met and continue to meet, has this effect on me? How can one touch quiet my mind so completely while pushing my heart into overdrive.

Why, I want to ask the universe. Why was it this man in front of me that made me feel so intensely?

“YN,” he says.

I should pull away. I should because his fingers creep further now pressing into my palm. I want them to slide higher until they’re tangled in my hair, pulling me closer. I wanted him closer.

“I missed you,” it comes stumbling out. And the shock of it pulls me out of whatever trance I just found myself in.

I pull my hand away and Harry straightens up, his gaze clearing too.

“Sorry.” My heart is in my throat now. “Sorry. I didn’t—that was inappropriate. I’m gonna go back now…”

“Wait,” he calls out as I head back to Grant knowing my heart wasn’t in it anymore. That I was going home.

“Hm?” I try to blink away the shame as I turn back towards him.

“D-do you…regret anything?”

I raise a brow and he flushes. I was making this torture for both of us but I wanted him to ask.

Stupidly, I wanted him to know.

“Between us. I know we never…we’re just friends. But did you ever regret…us?”

I shake my head. “No. No. Never. It was some of the best times.”

It’s like I’ve said the wrong thing. His face falls and I decide I had to go. Had to. I was afraid what else might be spilled out between us.

I don’t even remember what I tell Grant, just that I grab any of my belongings that I can spot, ask him to throw his number into my phone, and hightail it out. And I nearly make it to the tube when a warm hand grips my arm.

“Get off—oh!” I nearly whack Harry with my purse but he ducks anyway. “What the fuck Har!?”

“Sorry. Sorry sorry!” He lets me go and I miss his warmth. “I didn’t realize!”

“Yeah! You can’t just grab a woman at night like that!”

“Obviously! I wasn’t thinking! I was just trying to get to you-“

“Why?”

“Bloody hell you know why YN!”

I stare at him. His face doesn’t hide a single thought, a single emotion. It’s vulnerable, and terrifying.

“Don’t take the piss.” He grabs my arms and gives me a shake. “You know. You know.”

“I-don’t do this. Har, you have a girlfriend. I don’t want to be that girl ok?”

“Why?”

“Why? Because that’s awful and-“

“No! Why didn’t you say anything when we were together? Any time we were together? When I told you I had a girlfriend? Why were you always so…cool?”

“Me? Cool?” I laugh. “There’s nothing cool about me Har.”

“Well you’re hard to fucking read then! I dunno! I was always leaving hints and signals that I actually liked you. And you always ignored them!”

“Hints? Signals?” I gape. “When the—what the hell do you call hints?!”

“I…I wanted you to meet my fucking parents for god’s sake. Did you really never-“

“If I’m hard to read so are you mate,” I lean against the closest thing—a mailbox. My legs are jelly. “Was that when you vaguely suggested I wake up in your bed while your parents were down?!”

“Fine well I bought you chocolates that one time, I’ve even got some of your tees in my room! I-I tried to plan romantic dates for us—Hampstead! I tried to tell you-“

“What?” I’m not asking him anything. I’m just questioning everything; everything I avoided and played off had meaning. Of course it did. Everything had meaning, but I’d just thrown our dictionary out the window so it would mean nothing. Because I was afraid.

“Really?!” Harry sighs. He crouches down and runs his hands through his hair. “Am I that bad? I thought I was making it so clear but you always brushed it off. I felt like an idiot for falling for you when it was just s’pose to be casual. I thought I was being a bloody simp.”

I inch down to where he crouches.

“You fell for me?” I whisper.

When he looks at me it’s with eyes that look like broken seaglass. With a mouth curved down so low that I want to kiss into a smile. Into a laugh.

He cups my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. I give in to the sigh and his lips lift ever so slightly.

“How could I not?”

“I thought I drove you crazy?” I grasp his hand. “I thought I was just a fun distraction I-“

“I never said the second part.” He interrupts.

“You sure?”

“You were reading the wrong hints.”

I laugh and so does he. It almost turns into tears.

He stands and extends a hand that I take, his warm palm covering mine.

“Now’s when you return the confession,” he says without letting go. “So?”

“What? I’m not hiding any confessions!”

“Liar,” he tugs me close. “Your heart’s racing.”

“That’s from getting up so quickly.”

“You’re full of shite.”

We’re smiling so hard I’m sure we look like crazy people on the street.

But he had a girlfriend. Oh god. A sweet girl I’d just met today.

His expression grows confused as mine must turn to worry. I untangle myself.

“Harry…”

“I know.” He finally clues in.

“We can’t-“

“I know.”

We stare at each other for a heartbeat.

“I’m gonna go. Or else…”

“Just like that?” He asks.

“How else is it supposed to be?” I demand. “We can’t do this Har. And please…if you like her…respect her at all—don’t break up with her just to be with me. I wouldn’t be able to stomach it.”

“Then I’m just lying to her.”

“I…” I shrug. “I dunno. I just don’t want to be the reason for her heartbreak okay?”

“You’re being a sensitive snowflake. Breaking up with her is the right thi-“

“You can’t call people snowflakes-

“I can if that’s what they’re being-“

“I’m going home.” I tell him. It’s the last thing I want to do.

He opens his mouth with whatever quick retort he always had. But he must think twice about it. His face draws into a frown.

“Sort yourself out.” I instruct him. “Just sort it out. And then one day soon we can see…y’know.”

I half turn away, but can’t bear to leave without touching him one last time. Who knows when the next time will be. I flit to him so I can press my lips against the warmth of his cheek, so intoxicating. Like an addict only sniffing the alcohol in their cup. And when I feel his body loosening, about to hold my own, I flit away and rush into the tube without a glance back.

I don’t register anything on the ride home. I’m too shocked to even cry about it.

I wash the day away, the scent of him and the look on his face when he realizes we each had been trying to hold out own glaring neon signs to each other.

It’s late when there’s a knock on my door. I figure it’s my roommate forgetting her keys, and since I’d been laying on my bed in my towel after my shower too numb to sort myself out I end up opening the door basically naked.

It’s Harry.

His eyes roam over my terryclothed figure with a smile.

“What—what are you doing here!?” I grab the edge of my towel to keep it in place.

“Were you expecting someone else?” He asks.

“No-stop!” I push my hand into his chest as he crosses through the doorway. “Why are you here?”

His eyebrows draw together, hurt. “I…I didn’t think I was that drunk—we did just admit our feelings to each other a few hours ago right?”

“Yes but!” I put my hand down because his heart is beating fast under my hand and I don’t want to feel it a second longer. “You were also supposed to sort yourself out and-“

“Can you just let me in?”

I stare at him.

He stares back.

“Fine!” I give up and move aside. He closes the door behind him. That’s when I notice his hands. “What’s that?”

“For you.” He holds a bouquet up. “I know they’re shitty. I couldn’t find much at this time of night-“

“No hold on, I don’t understand.”

“We’ve wasted enough time throwing out shitty hints that apparently neither of us could read. We should never be detectives.”

I stay still, waiting for an explanation. Any bloody explanation as to why he’s here and not with his girlfriend!

“I went back to Elise. She knew something was wrong right away. I tried to deny it. She asked if something was going on between us-“

“God seriously Har! I said not to-“

“Did you want me to go back and pretend to be in love with her when I just had a fucking bomb go off in my life!? I know you don’t want to be that girl YN but I don’t want to be that shitty guy who stays with someone because he feels bad! What does that make me?”

I can picture Elise’s face in my mind. Oh god.

“She wasn’t mad-“

“You wish.” I snort.

“No she wasn’t. Well she was at first because she thought I was with you and her at the same time. I explained. I apologized. She got it. She…turns out she was still hung up over her ex. That she really liked me but she was mostly doing it to get her parents off her back. Because they never like who she dates. Which wasn’t a great thing to hear but…I’m pretty sure I saw her catching a cab as I was leaving. Maybe she went back to her ex.”

I’m dumbfounded with his retelling of what happened after I’d left.

“She’s okay. Are we?” He asks when I don’t reply.

The bouquet looks rough, like it was maybe clutched too hard and the flowers are nearing the end of their life. I imagine Harry rifling through a flower stand to find something for me. Coming here because he couldn’t wait.

I was kidding myself. I couldn’t wait either.

“Okay.”

“Okay??” He asks but he’s closing the distance because he’s reading me. He already knows me.

“Fine.” I say as he loops his arms around my waist. I stretch my arms up around his shoulders, clasping them at his neck. Something throbs deep in my chest. I missed him.

“I missed you,” he says. Always reading my mind.

“I didn’t know I could.” I say to him. His eyes are filled with a raw emotion that mirrors whatever’s aching in my chest.

“You’re like something from the gallery,” he cups my face. “Beautiful and original, breathtaking and you pass by it every opportunity you get just to get another glimpse. It makes you realize what you’ve been missing your whole life.”

“Aw Har,” my voice wobbles. If this was Harry when he was direct and not giving shitty hints I don’t know how I was going to survive us.

“What?” He whispers.

“You’ve got a soft side. You’re not actually a prick.”

His dimples make an appearance as he smiles. “I told you. I’ve just got standards don’t I.”

I wanted all of him—god how did I fool myself this whole time. I wanted all of him. He was just so lovely. “I think you’re going to ruin me,” I whisper back. His grin disappears and he tugs me ever closer.

“You’ve already ruined me.” He says. “I can’t look at any piece of art without thinking of you. I can’t go a day without wondering about you.”

“Is that healthy?” I murmur. My heart drums.

“Who the fuck cares about healthy?” He laughs.

We gaze at each other, the blood rushes through my body at high speeds.

“Mutual ruin?” I ask.

He responds with a kiss so passionate that I forget how to breath. I’m sure my towel was being held up by our bodies at this point.

“Mutual ruin. Or you can just ruin me.” His lips brush against my ear, feather down my neck. “I’m madly in love with you YN. There’s nobody but you.”

I don’t know whether to laugh from giddiness or cry from how my heart overflows.

“Har, I think I get the hint.” I say instead. He laughs.

“Fucking finally.”

💟💟💟💟

[soggyriceee]

HEY ITS ME AGAIN💞💞 can i rq any konig public smut ?

or oh-shit-we-have-to-sleep-on-the-same-bed-and-now-we're-fucking

THANK U POOKS AND MAKE SURE TO TAKE CARE OF URSELF

camping

you and Konig loved camping. it was a hobby for you, but practice for him. he was often in the woods because of his job, and you had wanted to see for yourself what it was like. so, you often went on camping trips with him and the guys, as long as it wasn’t for work of course.

“today we’re gonna go fishing.. i don’t know if you and maria would like to stay back or go?” Konig asked, referring to Simon’s wife. (idk man). “if it’s swimming water i’ll go.” you nodded, lifting your shirt up and off to put your bikini on.

Konig smiled as he watched you, hands immediately going to grab your boobs. you laughed as you tried to push him away, only the thin fabric of the tent hiding you both. the others were slowly trickling in, just you both, Simon and Soaps group.

“just in my mouth.” he whispered, pinching your nipples. his lips attached to them, his tongue doing circles on the sensitive buds.

you let out a soft whine, falling back on your hands. he took advantage of your weak balance and pushed you to your back. “maybe a quickie..” he said, hands already running up your legs.

“konig the guys will hear us. come on at least let’s find a more secluded spot.”

but he wasn’t listening to you. his hands were already shoving his pants down to his knees, one hand pumping his cock as the other pushed your bikini bottoms to the side.

you had on a simple skirt, the bikini bottoms on under it. “then you better keep quiet.” he smirked.

he laid on his stomach, spreading your legs before pressing his lips to your wet cunt. your eyes closed tight, feeling his warm tongue swirl gently against your clit. his hands gripped your thighs , watching your body react to him.

“so wet for someone who didn’t wanna fuck ..” he mumbled against your pussy, taking his fingers and pushing them inside you. your hands clasped your mouth, toes curling.

he pumped just enough to get you nice and wet for him, knowing you’d be so tight regardless of how much he prepared you.

“konig, Gaz said he’ll be here in about 10 minuets then we’re out fishing” Soap called from outside. “got it!” Konig responded, already pushing himself up above you.

you opened your eyes, looking straight at his cock. he pushed your legs to your chest, looking into you panicked eyes. he knew you’d never shut up with his cock inside you, he was excited.

“here.” he placed a spare shirt in your mouth, at least giving some muffling to the noise you were bound to make. the birds outside and sound of the lake of course could limit the amount of noise you make as well, but he knew it would give you more comfort and allow you to relax more if your mouth was covered.

he gripped his cock slapping it on your pussy before slowly shoving the tip inside. he sighed heavily, closing his eyes. you gripped his arms, squeezing your eyes shut as your teeth clenched down on the shirt. “relax angel .. lemme fuck you ..” you whispered , cupping your cheeks.

he inches forward, moving his hips back and forth to get deeper in you. it hurt, per usual. feeling him stretch you out like this. he was already so deep into you, you hadn’t noticed him picking his pace up.

he watched as his cock came out covered in your white mess, hissing in awe at how wet he got you in such little time.

you were a mess beneath him, moaning into the shirt as your surroundings began to slip your mind. what once worried you became irrelevant in your eyes. and konig loved it. “you love taking cock in front of my friends huh libe?” he grunted, leaning down to your ear.

you nodded frantically, opening your eyes to meet his. nothing soft or sweet was in those eyes, no. he had a dark look, almost sinister. it was always a fantasy of his to fuck you in front of his friends. the risk, the vulnerability. “say it. say you love taking this fat cock.”

you muffled it back to him, enough for him to understand. he twitched inside you as he pumped faster. soon, it wasn’t just your muffled moans and his quiet whimpers. your pussy began to squelch around his length, your wetness dripping down your ass and covering his shaft.

“i’m n-not gonna be able to hold it ..” he grunted, looking around the tent. he heard Simon call out happily to greet who he was assuming was Gaz and his girlfriend.

“gonna let me fill you up before we go talk to my friends?” he looked back down to you, a sinful smirk painted on his handsome face. you nodded, looking up at him and batting your pretty lashes.

he took the shirt from your mouth, gripping your face. “say it.”

his hips pumped faster, pushing your legs up to let his cock hit you deeper. you cried out, biting your lip quickly after. “come on baby before they get back over here.” he whispered into your ear, already feeling his balls tighten.

“oh fuck Koni.. f-fill me up please” you whined, praying it wasn’t loud enough for the others to hear it from across the camp.

he shot his load just as you finished your sentence, dropping his head into your neck to muffle his own pathetic whimpers. his hands grasped your hips as he held you steady, fucking his cum deeper into you.

his body shook before collapsing onto you, his cock slowly softening inside your sticky cunt. “i love your pussy baby..” he breathed out, taking his thumb and placing it over your wet clit.

“k-konig they’re coming back now.” you said, looking up to listen better to the approaching footsteps. “just cum on my cock baby then we can go out.” he said tiredly, wanting to nkw fall asleep instead of going fishing.

while it did feel good, the voices of his friends getting closer made you nervous. “it’s okay baby trust me..” he said, picking up on your nervous demeanor. “just focus on how good in making this clit feel.

he was making it feels good. you were already so close when he was pounding into you, it didn’t take much for your bundle of nerves to bring you your high.

just as they came back, you covered Konigs once again hard cock with your cum, the mixture of yours and his seeping out of you. he smiled, kissing your flushed cheeks.

“Konig Gaz is here.” you both would hear Soap call out. it was impossible they didn’t know what you both had done, but Konig simply pulled his pants back up, quietly buckling his pants before fixing his slightly messed up hair. “you get ready.. i’ll tell them we took a quick nap.” he winked, before leaving your lifeless body and sore pussy to get up and ready.

thank you for your request bby i love writing public stuff😫😫 requests open !!

[chelseaknoo]

Valentine’s Day with Eminem

Eminem x Reader

Caution: semi-sexual content and Marshall’s baby fever <3

Note:sorry it’s a day late! And any era of Eminem you want!

For the past two years, you and Marshall had been together, and despite his usual tough-guy exterior, you knew how much he loved you. He showed it in his own way—whether it was pulling you closer in his sleep, always making sure you were safe, or spoiling you just because he felt like it.

With Valentine’s Day right around the corner, you wanted to do something special for him. Marshall wasn’t the type to get overly sentimental about holidays, but you knew he’d appreciate the thought, even if he acted like it wasn’t a big deal.

After weeks of planning, you finally settled on the perfect gifts—a luxury watch, custom jewelry designed specifically for him, and, of course, a fresh pair of sneakers. You knew he had more shoes than he could ever wear, but the man had a weakness for them, and you loved seeing his face light up when he got a new pair.

The packages sat neatly wrapped in your closet, hidden from sight. You were excited to give them to him, but Valentine’s Day wasn’t here just yet.

One evening, as you sat on the couch scrolling through your phone, Marshall strolled into the living room, his brow slightly furrowed as he looked at you suspiciously.

“You been actin’ sneaky as fuck lately,” he muttered, flopping down next to you. “What the hell you up to?”

You smirked, locking your phone. “What makes you think I’m up to something?”

He narrowed his eyes. “’Cause I know you. Every time you try to hide shit from me, you start actin’ all innocent like that. What is it? You plannin’ some kinda bullshit prank?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, Marshall. Not everything I do is about messing with you.”

“Mm-hmm,” he grumbled, still unconvinced. “I swear, if you put hot sauce in my coffee again, I’m dumpin’ your ass.”

You rolled your eyes. “That was one time, and you deserved it.”

“The fuck I do?” he shot back. “I ain’t do nothin’ to you!”

“You called me a brat all day just because I didn’t wanna watch Scarface for the hundredth time.”

Marshall scoffed. “First off, Scarface is a goddamn classic. Second, you are a brat, and third—” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing again. “Wait, why are we talkin’ about that? Don’t change the subject. What are you hiding?”

You smirked, leaning in closer to him. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t like that.”

“You’ll live,” you teased, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before standing up.

He grabbed your wrist, pulling you back onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Nah, see, now I really wanna know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck.

You laughed, pushing at his chest. “You’re not gonna distract me.”

“The fuck I ain’t,” he muttered, nipping at your skin lightly.

You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered. He really did have a way of making you melt, but you weren’t about to give in that easily.

“Marshall,” you warned playfully.

He sighed dramatically, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Fine. Keep your little secrets. But if I find out you got me some corny-ass matching couple shit, I’m tellin’ you right now, I ain’t wearin’ it.”

You bit your lip to hold back a smile. “Not even if it’s really cool?”

“Not even if Jesus himself came down and told me to put that shit on.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

He groaned, tightening his arms around you. “Fuckin’ hate waiting.”

“Too bad,” you teased, kissing his cheek again before slipping out of his grasp.

Valentine’s Day was coming soon, but for now, you’d let him suffer in suspense.

-

You stirred awake to the faint smell of coffee and something sweet—pancakes, maybe? Your brows furrowed as you turned onto your side, reaching out, only to realize the other side of the bed was empty. That was unusual. Normally, Marshall stayed in bed as long as he could, clinging to you like a damn koala.

You rubbed your eyes and sat up slowly, your hair a mess and your body still heavy with sleep. Just as you were about to call out for him, the bedroom door pushed open, and there he was—your grumpy, foul-mouthed boyfriend, holding a tray of food in one hand and a massive bouquet of deep red roses in the other.

"Happy fuckin’ Valentine’s Day, baby," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips as he made his way over.

You blinked, still half-asleep. "Marshall…?"

"What?" He quirked a brow, setting the tray down on your lap before plopping onto the bed next to you. "Look at that, I ain't completely useless. I ain't burn the fuckin’ kitchen down or nothin’."

A slow, sleepy smile spread across your lips as you looked down at the tray. There was a plate stacked with pancakes—heart-shaped, even—alongside crispy bacon, eggs, and a cup of coffee, just how you liked it.

"You… made this?" you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Well, no shit. You see anybody else in this house?" he scoffed. "I ain't about to let some random motherfucker come in here and cook for my girl."

You chuckled, picking up a piece of bacon. "I mean, I wouldn’t put it past you to have Paul do it."

Marshall snorted. "The fuck would I look like, callin’ Paul at six in the morning talkin’ ‘bout, ‘Yo, come make my girl some breakfast’?"

You laughed, shaking your head before glancing at the roses. "And these?"

"These are also for my girl," he said, handing you the bouquet. "Real as hell, just like you."

Your heart swelled, and you traced your fingers over the soft petals, inhaling the fresh scent. He wasn’t the biggest romantic, but when he did things like this, it meant even more.

"You really went all out," you murmured, looking up at him.

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well… you deserve it."

Your chest tightened at his words, and you set the roses down beside you before leaning over to kiss him. He cupped the back of your head, deepening it, his other hand slipping under the covers to squeeze your thigh.

"Mmm," you hummed against his lips before pulling back slightly. "This is really sweet, Marshall."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, trying to pull you back in. "Eat your damn food before it gets cold."

You smirked. "You just don’t wanna admit you’re a softie."

"The fuck I do," he grumbled.

"Making me breakfast, getting me flowers…" You tilted your head. "You gonna write me a poem next?"

He deadpanned. "You want me to?"

You burst out laughing. "No, no, I’d rather keep my ears intact."

He narrowed his eyes. "You a real fuckin’ comedian, huh?"

You winked, picking up your fork. "Only for you, babe."

He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he leaned back against the headboard, watching you eat.

-

After finishing your breakfast, you leaned back against the headboard, completely satisfied. “Damn, Marshall,” you said, dabbing your lips with a napkin. “That was actually really good.”

He smirked. “The fuck you mean ‘actually’? Like you expected me to fuck it up?”

You giggled, stretching before glancing over at him. “You said you wanted to take me out, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, running a hand through his short blonde hair. “Figured we could do somethin’ nice since it’s Valentine’s Day ‘n’ all.”

You grinned. “Aww, look at you being all romantic.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t push it.”

Laughing, you hopped out of bed and stretched again. “Alright, well, I need to get ready.”

Marshall gave you a look. “How long we talkin’? ‘Cause if it’s some two-hour bullshit—”

Before he could finish, you cut him off by playfully shoving him toward the bedroom door. “Go do something productive while I get dressed.”

“I was doin’ somethin’ productive—sittin’ here lookin’ at my beautiful ass girl,” he shot back, smirking.

You shook your head, laughing as you finally managed to push him out and shut the door. Now it was time to get ready.

Thirty Minutes Later

“Babe!”

You heard Marshall’s irritated voice from the other side of the door.

“Yo, what the fuck is takin’ so long? We goin’ out today or next Valentine’s Day?”

You smiled to yourself, carefully applying the last touch of gloss to your lips. “Be patient!”

“Patient? I been sittin’ here for thirty fuckin’ minutes! You better be comin’ out lookin’ like a goddamn supermodel or some shit.”

You smirked at your reflection. Oh, he was definitely going to eat his words.

Finally satisfied, you strutted over to the door and swung it open, stepping out dramatically.

Marshall, who had been leaning against the wall, looking down at his phone, glanced up—and instantly froze.

His blue eyes widened as they slowly traveled from your head to your toes, taking in every damn detail. You were wearing a form-fitting, deep red mini dress that hugged every curve just right. The fabric clung to your body like a second skin, accentuating your waist and hips. The plunging neckline showed off your cleavage, and the thin straps left your shoulders completely bare. The dress stopped mid-thigh, revealing your smooth legs, paired with sleek black stilettos that made them look even longer.

Your makeup was flawless—dark, sultry eyeshadow, long lashes, and your lips painted a soft glossy red to match the dress. Your hair cascaded in perfect waves, framing your face effortlessly.

You smirked. “Well? Supermodel enough for you?”

Marshall blinked, his mouth opening slightly before shutting again. He looked you up and down one more time, then dragged a hand down his face.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

You giggled, stepping closer. “Is that a good ‘Jesus fuckin’ Christ’ or a bad one?”

He scoffed. “Oh, it’s good, alright. Good enough that now I don’t even wanna go nowhere.” His hands found your hips, pulling you in. “Matter fact, how ‘bout we stay our asses right here?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing at his chest. “Nope, you said we’re going out. Let’s go.”

He groaned, but reluctantly let go, stepping back. “You doin’ this shit on purpose,” he muttered, shaking his head as he grabbed his keys.

You smirked, picking up your clutch. “Maybe.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath as you both walked to the car.

Once outside, Marshall opened the passenger door for you, but just as you were about to get in, he grabbed your wrist.

“Hold the fuck up.”

You turned to him, confused. “What?”

His gaze darkened. “This dress—where the fuck is the rest of it?”

You burst out laughing. “Marshall—”

“Nah, I’m serious. This shit barely covers anything,” he grumbled, eyeing the way the fabric stretched over your curves.

“You’re being dramatic,” you teased, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Dramatic?” he scoffed. “Nah, ‘cause I already know muthafuckers gonna be lookin’ at you, and then I’ma have to beat somebody’s ass.”

You giggled, sliding into the seat. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“I ain’t jealous,” he muttered, slamming the door before walking around to the driver’s side.

When he got in, he cut you a side glance, still frowning.

You smirked. “If it makes you feel better, I only care about your eyes on me.”

Marshall grunted as he started the car. “Damn right you do.”

You shook your head, still smiling. The night hadn’t even started yet, and it was already entertaining.

-

After getting into the car, Marshall still hadn't gotten over the dress you were wearing. He kept throwing glances your way, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel as he drove.

“I swear to God, if one muthafucker even thinks about staring at you too long, I’m knockin’ his ass out.”

You laughed, adjusting your seatbelt. “Marshall, relax. I dress like this for you.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, well, I don’t like sharin’.”

You smirked, reaching over to rest your hand on his thigh. “Then maybe you should take me shopping and pick out what you like.”

Marshall gave you a look, raising an eyebrow. “Shopping?”

You nodded innocently. “Mhm. You said it’s our day, right?”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Aight, fine. But if you think I ain’t keepin’ an eye on what the fuck you’re buyin’—”

You grinned, cutting him off. “Let’s go before you change your mind.”

At the Mall

Marshall should’ve known this was a bad idea.

Not because he didn’t want to spoil you—he did. Hell, he’d give you the whole damn world if he could. But damn, the way you were tossing clothes into the shopping bags like money wasn’t a real thing? Yeah, that was starting to fuck with his head.

“Yo,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he eyed the price tag on one of the bags. “You tryna make me go broke?”

You giggled, slipping your arm around his. “Marshall, you have millions.”

“And at this rate, I’ma have zero.” He sighed dramatically, watching as you picked up another outfit. “What even is this? That shit ain't even enough fabric to be called clothes.”

You held up the tiny lace lingerie set with a smirk. “Oh, this? It’s for later.”

Marshall’s jaw clenched, and he snatched it out of your hands, tossing it over his arm before grabbing your wrist and pulling you close. “You are wearin’ this for me, right?”

You batted your lashes. “Who else?”

His blue eyes darkened slightly before he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You know what? Fuck it. Get whatever the fuck you want. Just remember, you wear this little shit outside? We fightin’.”

You laughed, kissing his cheek. “Noted.”

By the time you were done, Marshall was carrying way too many bags, grumbling under his breath the whole time.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” he muttered as you both walked toward the exit. “Why you need this much shit?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” you reminded him, smiling. “You said you wanted to spoil me.”

“Yeah, but damn.” He shifted the bags in his arms. “Next time, I’m takin’ you to Target.”

Lunch Date

After dropping the bags off in the car, you and Marshall headed to a nice little restaurant nearby.

As soon as you both sat down, Marshall leaned back in his seat, stretching. “Aight, now this part I don’t mind. Food? I can get behind that shit.”

You smiled, flipping through the menu. “Oh, so you don’t mind spending money on food but clothes are a problem?”

“Damn right,” he muttered. “Food don’t make me question my fuckin’ bank account.”

You giggled, shaking your head before deciding on what you wanted. When the waitress came over, Marshall ordered for both of you, making sure you got exactly what you liked.

Once the food arrived, you could tell Marshall was in his happy place. His entire mood shifted the second he took that first bite.

“God damn,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “This shit good as fuck.”

You laughed, watching him practically melt into his seat. “You act like you’ve never had a meal before.”

He shrugged, taking another bite. “Shit, I ain’t sayin’ that. Just sayin’, whoever made this needs a raise.”

Smirking, you picked up your fork and held a piece of food out to him. “Here, try this.”

Marshall raised an eyebrow. “You tryna feed me now?”

“Come on, don’t be shy,” you teased, wiggling the fork in front of him.

He rolled his eyes but leaned in, taking the bite. He chewed for a moment before nodding. “Aight, I see you. That shit good too.”

Smiling, you wiped a little sauce from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You got something—”

Before you could pull your hand away, Marshall smirked and suddenly took your thumb into his mouth, sucking it clean.

Your eyes widened slightly, heat rushing to your face. “Marshall!”

He chuckled, letting go. “What? You wiped it off. I just finished the job.”

Shaking your head, you picked up a fry and held it up. “Here, your turn.”

Marshall smirked, but instead of taking it with his hands, he leaned forward and took it straight from your fingers with his mouth.

“You are so dramatic,” you muttered, laughing.

He chewed and winked. “You love that shit.”

After finishing your meals, you both sat back, completely full and content. Marshall took a sip of his drink before glancing at you.

“Aight, what’s next?”

You smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He narrowed his eyes. “See, now I’m worried.”

You giggled, leaning over the table to kiss him. “Relax, babe. The day’s not over yet.”

Marshall sighed, running a hand down his face before mumbling, “I got a bad fuckin’ feelin’ ‘bout this.”

You just smiled. Oh, if only he knew.

-

The night had finally arrived, and Marshall had been quiet for most of the drive, the soft hum of the car's engine filling the spaces between you two. The city lights flickered outside as you both made your way toward your dinner destination, but you had something to share before it all went down.

"Hey," you said, breaking the silence and shifting slightly in your seat to grab the bag you had stashed beside you.

Marshall glanced over at you, brow furrowed. "What?"

You smirked, reaching into the bag and pulling out the small box with the watch you’d bought for him. "I got you something. For Valentine's Day."

He raised an eyebrow, looking over at you in surprise. "You didn’t need to get me shit," he grumbled, but his tone softened as his curiosity grew. "You know I ain't about all that gift shit."

You shrugged, holding the box out to him. "Yeah, well, I wanted to. So just take it."

Marshall hesitated for a moment before taking the box from your hand, his eyes lingering on you as he carefully opened it. Inside, a sleek, expensive watch glimmered under the interior lights of the car.

"Yo... what the fuck?" he muttered, his eyes going wide as he lifted the watch. "This... this shit’s expensive as hell, babe."

You just smiled. "You deserve it. You’ve been working your ass off."

Marshall laughed, shaking his head. "Damn. I don't even know what to say." He let out a low whistle, admiring the watch before slipping it on his wrist. "You're gonna make me feel guilty for not getting you something that costs this much."

You waved him off. "You already spoil me, Marshall. It’s not about the price."

Before he could respond, you reached into the bag again, pulling out more boxes. "And there's more."

He turned his head toward you, an eyebrow cocked in suspicion. "You serious? You get me more shit?"

You chuckled softly, handing it over. "You’ll see."

He opened it slowly, his expression changing from confusion to shock as he revealed the custom chain—his initials carved into the thick gold links, designed with care and made specifically for him. Then the expensive sneakers, which also blew his mind.

"Goddamn..." he whispered, clearly impressed. "This is... this is fuckin' next level."

You grinned. "I figured you’d like it."

"Like it? Babe, I fuckin’ love it." His voice softened, and his gaze turned to you, his usual tough demeanor melting away. "You didn’t have to do all this, though."

You shrugged, feeling a little bashful at the sincerity in his eyes. "I wanted to."

Marshall smiled, shaking his head. "You're something else, you know that? Thank you." He took a deep breath, looking down at the watch and chain once more. "I feel like a damn millionaire now."

You laughed. "You *are* a damn millionaire."

"Yeah, but this... this is a different kind of flex," he said, the grin on his face growing wider. "I’m not tryna show off, but damn, I look good."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile. "You always look good."

He shot you a playful wink before pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant. "Alright, now it’s my turn to take care of you."

You glanced around at the fancy cars parked in front of the restaurant, feeling the anticipation building up. "Where are we going?"

Marshall parked the car, turning off the engine. "It’s a surprise."

You raised an eyebrow, but before you could say anything else, he was already getting out of the car and opening your door. "Come on, let’s go."

You took his hand as he led you toward the entrance of the restaurant, the warmth of the night air brushing against your skin. The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with the unmistakable scent of luxury—wood paneling, rich leather seats, and the soft clinking of silverware.

The hostess greeted you both, giving you a nod as she checked the reservation list. "Mr. Mathers, your table is ready."

Marshall smirked, glancing over at you. "I told you I got this."

As you followed her to your table, you couldn’t help but notice the view—this restaurant had a balcony seating area that overlooked the entire city. The lights below looked like a sea of stars, and the atmosphere was quiet, intimate.

The hostess pulled out the chair for you, and you sat down, still in awe of the beautiful setting. Marshall slid into the seat next to you, his eyes scanning the area as he looked satisfied with himself.

"Damn," you whispered, taking in the view. "You really went all out, huh?"

"Only for you," he said, his voice low and genuine. "I told you, I’m makin’ tonight special. You deserve it."

You reached across the table, taking his hand in yours. "I don’t need fancy stuff, Marshall. I just need you."

He squeezed your hand, his thumb running over your skin as he looked at you with a soft smile. "Yeah, well, I want to give you more than that. I want you to know you’re the best thing I got."

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face. "You’re not so bad yourself, Slim."

He chuckled at the nickname, leaning back in his chair. "Guess I got a soft spot for you, huh?"

"Guess so," you teased, leaning forward as you eyed the menu. "So what are we ordering?"

Marshall scanned the options, but you could tell he was still lost in thought. He stared at you for a moment, his gaze lingering before he looked away. "I’ll let you pick. You know what you like."

You raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Are you serious? You’re not even gonna help?"

He leaned in, his voice lowering to something more playful. "Hell no. It’s your night. I’m just here to enjoy the view."

-

You couldn't resist. There was something so satisfying about pushing Marshall’s buttons, especially when he was already feeling the weight of the night’s lavish surprises. The waiter stood at your table, waiting patiently for your order. Marshall was leaning back in his chair, trying to look casual, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. You decided it was time to have some fun.

"Alright," you said, flipping through the menu one last time. "I’ll have the lobster bisque as a starter. And, uh, the Wagyu beef, medium-rare, with a side of truffle fries."

Marshall's eyes widened as he leaned forward, clearly about to say something.

"Also, throw in the foie gras. Gotta go all out, right?" You grinned, knowing full well he’d start to get worked up.

Marshall’s mouth hung open for a second before he snapped it shut, glancing at you with a mix of disbelief and amusement. "You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," he muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. "I’m tryna treat you right, and you’re gonna hit me with that shit?"

The waiter, trying his best to be polite, wrote down your order and nodded before walking off to place it in the kitchen. Marshall turned his attention back to you, looking like he was about to burst.

"You really gonna make me pay for all this?" he asked, an amused yet annoyed look crossing his face. "I mean, I get it, it’s Valentine’s Day, but fuck. What’s next, a bottle of 200-dollar champagne?"

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair, enjoying the show. "Maybe," you teased, trying to hold in your laughter. "Why not? You only live once, right?"

Marshall shook his head in mock disbelief, his hands running over his face as if he couldn’t believe the audacity. "You are somethin’ else, you know that?" His tone was half exasperated, half impressed. "I swear, you’re gonna bankrupt me before this night’s over."

"Yeah, well, I like to live dangerously," you said, still grinning. "You knew what you were getting into when you started dating me, Marshall. Don’t act all surprised."

Marshall let out a deep sigh and rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' crazy," he muttered under his breath, though his lips were still curling up at the edges. "You really are a pain in my ass."

"Yeah, but you love it," you teased, giving him a wink.

"Love it? Hell, I’m just tryna keep my bank account from catchin' fire." He paused, glancing at you sideways with a smirk. "But... I guess you do look good enough to justify it. Maybe."

You laughed, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe?"

"Alright, alright," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "You look damn good. I’ll give you that. But don’t push it, alright?"

The waiter returned soon after with a basket of freshly baked bread and a bottle of sparkling water, which you immediately ignored, still grinning. "The bread looks good, but I’m holding out for the good stuff," you said, leaning forward, clearly relishing the moment.

Marshall grabbed a piece of bread, tearing into it with a sigh, clearly trying to calm himself down. "I swear, if you order another thousand-dollar meal, I’m gonna fucking lose it."

"You’ll be fine," you said nonchalantly, enjoying every second of his misery. "It’s not like you’re gonna go broke over this."

"Don’t jinx me, babe," he shot back, shoving a piece of bread in his mouth. "You’re making me second guess every damn decision I’ve made tonight."

You leaned back in your chair, taking a sip of the water. "Relax, Marshall. You’re not gonna die from a fancy dinner."

"Well, if I do, I’m blaming you," he said, taking another bite of bread. "I told you I didn’t want any of this shit. But here I am, gettin’ sucked into your ridiculousness."

You smiled smugly. "You love it. Don’t lie."

He threw his hands up in exasperation, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Alright, fine. I love it. But damn, you’re gonna make me broke doing it."

"Hey, at least I’m worth it," you said, giving him a wink.

"Yeah, yeah," Marshall muttered, shaking his head as he reached for the wine list on the table. "You better be worth it, or else I’m putting my foot down."

You leaned over the table toward him, your smile widening. "You wouldn’t dare."

"Try me," he shot back with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. "You know I’ll do it."

As the conversation continued, the food started to arrive, each dish more expensive and extravagant than the last. The lobster bisque came out first, and it was rich, creamy, and perfect. Marshall hesitated for a second before taking a bite.

"Okay," he said begrudgingly. "This actually tastes pretty damn good."

"I know," you said, taking a spoonful yourself. "Told you."

The next dish, the Wagyu beef, arrived, perfectly seared and looking like it belonged in a five-star restaurant. You cut into it with ease, savoring the flavor. Marshall just shook his head, staring at the plate in disbelief.

"You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me," he muttered. "How the hell is this worth that much money?"

"Because it’s amazing," you replied with a grin. "It’s like the best steak you’ve ever had, but a hundred times better."

Marshall finally dug into his steak, pausing for a moment before looking up at you. "Alright, I’ll admit it. This is... fuckin’ delicious."

"Told you," you said smugly.

As the night went on, you both fed each other little bites of the various dishes, laughing and teasing each other along the way. You'd fork a piece of your steak and hold it out for him to eat, and he'd do the same with the truffle fries. You could see him start to relax, though he still had that playful edge to him.

After a while, Marshall leaned back in his chair, his arm casually resting on the back of yours. "You’re a handful, but damn if you don’t make this fun."

You rested your head against his shoulder, content. "And you love every second of it."

"Yeah, yeah. Don’t get cocky," he grumbled, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

As the night wore on, the atmosphere at the restaurant was starting to feel a little different. The balcony where you were sitting had a great view of the city, but with that view came a lot of attention. You were halfway through your meal when you noticed the first pair of eyes lingering on your boyfriend. Marshall didn’t seem to notice at first, but as you looked around, it became obvious that people were staring, some of them even sneaking pictures and videos on their phones.

You sighed and glanced over at Marshall, who was still focused on his food, though you could tell something was starting to bug him. He could sense it too. His brow furrowed, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath, his gaze darting to a couple sitting at a nearby table, their phone held up just a little too obviously in his direction. "Do these assholes have no shame?"

You tried to shrug it off, giving him a small smile to reassure him. "It’s fine, Marshall. Let them take their stupid pictures. We’re here to enjoy the night, right?"

But that didn't seem to calm him down. His jaw tightened as he leaned back in his chair, clearly irritated. "Yeah, I get it. But it’s like, can’t a guy just have a fucking dinner without being treated like a damn zoo animal?"

You could tell he was starting to get worked up, so you reached over and put a hand on his, squeezing it gently. "I know, but this is what comes with the territory, babe. You’re Eminem. People want a piece of you."

He shot you a look, his eyes narrowing with frustration. "I don’t give a shit about all that. I just wanna eat my fucking food in peace."

"Yeah, I get it," you said, trying to calm him down, "but they’re gonna do it anyway. Might as well not let it ruin the night."

Marshall leaned forward, shaking his head. "It’s just annoying, man. Every time we go out, it’s like I’m fuckin’ on display." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You’d think they’d give me a break, especially on a night like tonight."

"I’m fine with it," you said, leaning in close. "I’m used to it by now. It’s not a big deal. Let them stare. They’re not important."

Marshall shot a glance at you, his lips pressed into a thin line, clearly still frustrated. "I just don’t like it. Makes me feel like I’m some fucking animal in a cage." He turned back toward the table, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. "I want to be here with you, not with a bunch of fucking strangers watching me eat like I’m some kind of freak."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his over-the-top reaction, but you understood. Being in the public eye like he was, it was no surprise that sometimes he’d get sick of it. Still, you didn’t want it to ruin the vibe of the night.

"Okay, okay, I get it," you said, smiling as you reached for your glass of wine. "But how about this? Let’s just enjoy the meal. If they wanna stare, fine. But you and me, we’re gonna have a good time tonight. Just us."

Marshall looked at you for a moment, his eyes softening slightly. "Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re right. I’m just so fucking tired of it sometimes." He let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his face with both hands.

"I know, babe," you said, squeezing his hand again. "But let’s not let them ruin our night, okay? We deserve this."

He gave you a small, reluctant smile, his mood lightening just a bit. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Fuck 'em."

You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Exactly. Fuck 'em. They’re not important."

Just as you said that, a couple at the next table discreetly took another picture, trying to be sneaky about it. You caught them and shot them a pointed look, but the couple quickly turned their attention back to their own conversation. Marshall noticed it too, and his lips twitched in amusement.

"See? Told you," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Fucking ridiculous."

"Don’t let them get to you," you said, smiling. "They’re just fans. They’ll get over it."

"Yeah, well, I hope they do before I fucking snap," he grumbled. But even though he was still irritated, you could tell his mood was lifting a little.

The waiter came back around to check on you, and Marshall put on a strained smile, though you could tell he was still agitated. "Yeah, we’re good," he said, though his voice lacked the usual enthusiasm. "Just, uh, you know, dealing with some bullshit over here."

The waiter smiled politely, unaware of the tension. "Of course, sir. Is there anything else I can get you?"

Marshall shook his head, his grip on his wine glass tightening. "Nah, we’re good for now. Thanks."

Once the waiter left, you turned to Marshall, trying to make him laugh. "You know, if you just smiled at them, they might stop."

Marshall shot you a side-eye, his lips curling in a sarcastic smirk. "You want me to smile at them? Like a fucking puppy?"

You burst out laughing. "Well, it might help."

"Yeah, well, fuck that," he grumbled. "I’m not here to entertain anyone. I’m here with you." He finally relaxed in his seat, his mood starting to shift as he took a deep breath. "Sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to be a dick. Just... sometimes I wish I could have a night out without all this shit."

"I get it, really," you said softly, reaching across the table to touch his hand. "But we’re here now. Just focus on me. I don’t care what they’re doing."

Marshall’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his earlier frustration fading. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Eminem leaned back in his chair, eyes sparkling mischievously as he glanced at you. You’d been enjoying the rest of your meal, laughing and joking around, but his demeanor had changed. You could tell something was coming.

"Alright, baby," he said with a sly grin, leaning toward you. "I’ve got one more surprise for you."

You raised an eyebrow, feeling the excitement bubble up. "Another one? What is it?"

He just shook his head, a little smirk playing on his lips. "Nope. You gotta trust me. Close your eyes."

You narrowed your eyes playfully at him, not quite believing him. "You’re not gonna make me do something weird, are you?"

He chuckled. "Nah, I wouldn’t do that. Just... close your eyes. Trust me."

Rolling your eyes but smiling, you obeyed, closing them and folding your arms on the table. Your heart started beating faster as the anticipation grew. "Alright, I’m trusting you," you said, your voice a little shaky with excitement.

"Good. Keep them closed."

You could hear the slight shuffle of movement, the sound of footsteps, and then a long silence. It was killing you not knowing what was happening. You felt a nervous laugh bubble up inside you. "Marshall, what the hell are you doing?"

But there was no response. Only the sound of people quietly whispering in the background. You felt a sudden shift in the air, a tension that you couldn’t quite place.

"Okay," Marshall's voice broke through, soft yet full of confidence. "Open them."

You hesitated for a second, unsure of what to expect. Slowly, you opened your eyes—and your breath hitched in your throat.

There he was, kneeling right in front of you. Marshall. Your Marshall. On one knee. And in his hand was the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen. Your heart immediately pounded in your chest, and your eyes stung with tears.

"Shit," you whispered, feeling the tears start to well up.

He laughed softly, the sound a mix of amusement and something deeper—something you couldn’t quite place yet.

"You know," he started, his voice growing serious, though there was still that familiar playful tone, "you’re the most annoying fucking bitch I’ve ever met."

You laughed through your tears, wiping your eyes quickly. "What?!"

"You are," he said with a smirk. "You drive me fucking crazy."

Your lips parted in shock, and you almost laughed, trying to push back the tears. "I—"

"But..." He paused for dramatic effect, his gaze never leaving yours. "You’re also the most smoking hot woman I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life. You’re beautiful as hell, and yeah, you’re an annoying bitch, but I don’t wanna spend another fucking day without you."

Your chest tightened as you fought back more tears. Marshall wasn’t exactly the type to spill his emotions, but when he did, it was always raw.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he continued. "You drain my fucking bank account, but I don’t care. I’d spend every fucking dime just to see that smile on your face." He paused, his hand shaking slightly as he held up the ring. "You’ve made my life better, and I’m ready to make you a fucking promise. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I’m asking you to be mine... forever."

Your eyes were brimming with tears now, and you struggled to find your voice. "Marshall, I—"

The crowd around you was now murmuring, a few people filming the whole moment with their phones, but you didn’t even care. It felt like it was just you and him, in that moment, the world fading into the background.

"You’ve been my fucking rock through all the bullshit, and I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you," he continued, his voice growing a little more intense. "I’m a fucking mess, but you’ve helped me put myself back together, piece by piece. So, yeah, I’m a stupid asshole sometimes. But I’ll be the best fucking man I can be... for you."

A single tear slipped down your cheek, and you wiped it away quickly, trying to steady your breath. "You’re not a mess," you whispered. "You’re everything."

Marshall gave you that trademark smirk of his. "So, will you marry me, you crazy ass woman?"

You paused, your heart racing, your mind spinning. Everything around you was fading—just you and him. You looked down at the beautiful ring in his hand, and then back up at him.

"Yes," you said, barely able to get the words out. "Yes, yes, yes!"

The room erupted into cheers as Marshall slid the ring onto your finger. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t know what to say, so you just threw your arms around him, pulling him in for a kiss. It was rough, filled with passion and love, and you could feel the relief and joy flooding through him.

"I fucking love you," he muttered against your lips. "Don’t ever forget that."

You smiled through your tears, your heart full. "I won’t. I love you too."

-

Once you and Marshall got back to your place, the whole day felt like it was still buzzing through the air. The car ride home had been quiet, but it was a comfortable quiet, one that said more than words could. Marshall's hand had been on your thigh the entire drive, and every now and then, he’d glance at you with that knowing look that made your heart skip a beat.

You knew he was excited, not just about the day, but about the life he was promising you. And hell, you were excited too. Everything had been building up to this moment—this moment where he was finally yours, and you were his.

When you walked through the door, you didn’t even bother with small talk. You wanted to keep the night going in the best way possible. "I need to change," you said, already pulling your coat off and walking toward the bedroom. "Don’t follow me," you added with a teasing glance, knowing he’d be on your heels in an instant.

But this time, he listened.

You closed the bedroom door behind you and slid the lingerie you’d picked out at the mall earlier that day from the shopping bag. It was a black lace set, the kind that was sexy as hell but still had that mysterious, classy edge. You smirked to yourself as you undressed and slipped into it, checking yourself in the mirror. It was tight in all the right places, hugging your curves and accentuating your figure. You weren’t even going to lie, you felt fucking amazing.

You could hear Marshall out in the living room, probably pacing back and forth, anxious to see you. The anticipation was almost suffocating, but in a good way.

When you finally opened the bedroom door, his eyes immediately locked on you. He was sitting on the couch, leaning back with his elbows propped up on the arms, but when he saw you in that lingerie, he froze. His mouth parted in shock for a second, and his eyes traveled over every inch of you like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

"Goddamn, baby," he muttered under his breath. His voice was low, hoarse, like he was struggling to form the words. "You are a fucking masterpiece."

You walked toward him slowly, swaying your hips, loving the way his gaze followed every movement. "You like it?" you asked, your voice dripping with confidence, a little playful but still needy.

"Like it?" Marshall snorted, his lips curling into a smirk as he leaned forward. "Babe, I don’t just like it, I fucking love it. I can’t wait to fucking tear it off of you."

You laughed, stepping closer to him until you were standing between his legs. "You don’t have to wait much longer, Marshall."

His eyes burned into yours, and you could feel the heat rising between the two of you. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer, his breath heavy against your neck. "I swear to God, you’re gonna be the death of me," he grumbled, his hands moving up to grip your back, pulling you even closer until there was barely any space left between your bodies.

"Yeah?" you teased, your voice soft as you let your fingers graze through his hair. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"Shit," he cursed, his hands slipping down to grab your ass, pulling you flush against him. You could feel how hard he was already, and you bit your lip, your heart racing. "You’re fucking mine," he growled. "God, I can’t wait to make you mine forever. I’m gonna marry you, you know that?"

You gasped a little, feeling the weight of his words settle deep inside you. You’d known it was coming, but hearing him say it, so raw and real, hit you harder than you expected.

"You keep saying that," you said, trying to hide the emotion that was creeping up on you. "You keep telling me how much you want to marry me."

"Because I fucking do," Marshall said, his voice filled with sincerity as he looked you dead in the eyes. "You’re it for me. I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I want to wake up next to you every fucking day for the rest of my life."

You felt your heart swell, your breath catching in your throat. It was rare for Marshall to get this vulnerable, but when he did, it made everything feel so much more real.

"You mean everything to me, baby," he continued, his voice soft but intense, "and I’m not going anywhere. I want to marry you and fucking spoil you. I wanna do all the shit I never thought I’d do, just to see you smile. You deserve all of it."

Your chest tightened with emotion, and you couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath. "I love you," you whispered, your hands trembling slightly as you slid them down to his chest.

"I fucking love you too," he murmured back, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. "And when I’m done with you tonight, you’re gonna know exactly how much."

-

Extra:

Marshall’s hands roamed over your body, every touch sending sparks through you as you kissed each other harder. His lips trailed down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. When he pulled away, he looked at you, eyes dark with desire.

“You know,” he murmured, voice thick, “we should have kids. Yeah, seriously. You’d look fucking amazing pregnant.” He smirked, his hands moving down to your waist. “I can already picture it. Your tits getting all full of milk, your body getting even more plump. Shit, you’d be even sexier as a mother.”

You couldn’t even respond, your mind too clouded by desire. His words only made your pulse race faster, and you could barely focus on anything other than how badly you wanted him. Your body was already overwhelmed, and you couldn’t do anything but let him continue, caught in the heat of the moment.

[spideysbruh]

busy woman

requested- need a Timothee social media au with sabrina carpenter fc

a/n- since the deluxe is out !!!!!!!!!

~

@y/n just tweeted- please.

@shortyn replied- so real

@realchalamet replied- please

@billiexyn replied to @realchalamet- WHAT DO YALL KNOW?!?!?!??

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y/n i know i have good judgement...

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tchalamet probably my favorite music video of yours

confidentyn WE'RE GETTING A MYSIC VIDEO TOOOO OH MY GODDD

dejavuyn LETS GOOO NEW MUSIC FINALLYYYY

lauriesvest IS THAT NOT TIMMY ?!?!?!!!!!

laylayyn the way she's flipping him off lmfaooooo

liked by y/n, tayrussell and 2,288,883 others

tchalamet toooooonighttttttt

view all 73,665

xmasyn these two never make any fucking sense istg

y/n tonighttttttt the minutes seem like hours

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tchalamet the hours go so slowlyyyy

itaintmeyn couples that don't make sense together, stay together!!!!!!!

liked by tchalamet

liked by tchalamet, billieeilish and 1,098,276 others

y/n tonight 😳😳

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tchalamet 🥵🥵

historyyn AHHHH YALL ARE A COUPLE IN IT !?!?!!

ynsbeatbox CANT WAITTTTT

beautifulyn he's a CRIMINAL in it ?!?!!!

liked by tchalamet, florencepugh and 977,488 others

y/n can't wait to see you all and be incredibly horny every night 🫶

view all 87,288 comments

tchalamet ... i don't know if I want you on this tour anymore, babe...

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y/n it's too late buddy

changinyn LMFAOOO NO WAY SHE SAID THATTT

rachelynstan she's so funny bro 😭😭

noticeyn ILL SEE YOU IN CHICAGOOOOOOOO

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- writing about me?? 😳😳 busy busy...

@timmyandynupdates just tweeted- Timothée and Y/n seen in New York recently!

@starsyn replied- MY PARENTSSSSSS

@prettyyn replied- i hope he's there for the opening night of tour🥺

@ynsjuicebox replied to @prettyyn- me too he's always so entertaining at her shows😭

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tchalamet this pretty girl's tour kicks off tonight. she works harder than anyone else i know. I'm endlessly proud of her.

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y/n i love you.

y/n I JUST DID MY MAKEUP FUCK

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tchalamet sowwy :(

liked by tchalamet, rachelzegler, billieeilish and 1,263,488 others

y/n one week down, nine more to go 😳😳

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coincidenceyn PLS ARREST TIMMY FOR ONE SHIWWWW

lovethechals this out of context is so funny 😭😭💀

bobdylyn FUCK I WANNA GOOOOO BUT ITS SOLD OUT 💔💔💔

tchalamet wowwwww that first picture is so pretty, that person is definitely a good photographer.

liked by y/n

tchalamet best show ive ever been to

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y/n just posted a story!

caption- my honey beeee 🍯

liked by tchalamet, sabrinacarpenter and 1,432,488 others

y/n two days off, I make the best of them

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compyn is that a collage of timmy ? 😭😭

y/n he goes to my work, I go to his 🤷🏼‍♀️

tchalamet how are you the prettiest fucking girl in the whole entire universe ?

liked by y/n

rachelzegler my pretty best friend !!!

tchalamet my busy pretty girl

outlawyn his comments oh god im so lonely 💔💔💔

liked by y/n, doechii, ellefanning and 3,009,199 others

tchalamet i hit the jackpot with you

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y/n oh stopppp 🤭

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snoozeyn GIRL THE PICTURE SHE POSTED ON HER STORYYYY FUUUUUUUCKKKKK MEEEEEEEEE

acompletetimmy may a love like theirs find me 😭🫶🫶🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

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y/n performing or whatevaaaa

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spideyyn HOW IS SHE SO GORGEOUS

timmyxyn i bet timmy took those last two pics🥺🥺

timmysgreeneyes how tf did timmy bag suchhhh a baddie bro

tchalamet stg i could spend every single second of every single day of my life with you and never get bored

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y/n 🥺🥺 i love you

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- 😍😍🤩🤩🤩😍😍🤩🤩😘😘😘😘😘😘😋😋😋😋😋😋

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y/n why are we lowkey giving flynn and rapunzel

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tchalamet you were my new dream 😔✊🏼

y/n boy stop imma cry

bobsyn the prettiest couple ever

dontthinktwiceyn can I be yalls nepo baby pleaseeeee

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- 🫦🫦🫦😋😋😋😋

*

[rafesweetie]

so, how did kitty!reader and john b meet ?

you truly were like a cat, prowling through the crowds of people at the boneyard. you had snuck out of the house an hour ago because god knows your father, deputy shoupe, would never let you leave the house to go to a keg party hosted by the pogues. especially because a man had just been found dead in the ocean after the hurricane, your father would take no risks with his innocent and sheltered daughter.

shoupe couldn’t tell you what to do. he’d always tried, but you made up her mind a long time ago that you were better off without his judgement.

you walked over to the pogues, sneaking up behind them to ask for a beer. you were quiet, but less like a stray cat, and more like a black panther. the pogues were startled when youshe appeared behind them, because you’re quiet, even in her black kitten heels.

they seem to be on edge for whatever reason. you’re an innocent-looking girl, they have to reason to be tense. they usually wouldn’t give a fuck if you were the deputy’s daughter, but they’re already on the run, and they can’t take any chances.

so john b does something that normally jj would do in this situation — he charms the enemy. “hey pretty, do you want a beer?” he offers.

“yes please,” you say gently, confident and meek at the same time.

he nods and pours one for you, then hands you the full solo cup. “thanks,” you say, then turn to go. no, he can’t let you leave yet. what if he’s made a bad impression, then something goes wrong with the cops, and you do nothing to protect him?

“hey, wait,” he grabs your shoulder to spin you around. “d’you wanna hang out with me? it’s boring handing out beers here on my own,” he smiles and it’s so sweet.

“i’m actually looking for a friend—“

he shakes his head no and interrupts you. “i’d just love to get to know you better, s’all,”

you gaze up at him, hesitant and on guard, but you nod. he’s cute and he seems nice enough. “okay,” you stand beside him.

“i’m john b routledge,” he introduces while handing a beer to some touron.

you blink up at him, eyebrows furrowed. “big john’s son?”

“yeah, that’s me.”

“oh,” you say. “my dad talks about you,”

“good things?”

“not so much.”

he laughs and you don’t expect it. usually when you find out the deputy of your town hates you, you don’t find it funny. but john b is different — in a good way. that laugh makes you like him instantly, because you realize you’re not the only person who doesn’t worship your dad.

“yeah, figured, your pops doesn’t like me very much,” he shrugs.

“why not?” he’s noticed all your answers are short. you remind him of kiara, a bit closed off.

“nothin’ serious, pretty girl, don’t worry about it. i just don’t wanna be put in fucking foster care, and shoupe and plumb don’t like me living on my own,”

“oh.”

you hear your friend call to you when she spots you in the crowd. you glance up at john b, as if you’re… asking for permission to leave him for your friend? you’re just so used to an overbearing single father, that being around any man makes you think they’ll act the same. truthfully, john b normally would act like that. you’re sweet and innocent and he wants to bring you out of your shell. of course shoupe would be protective, anyone would! but, topper thornton calls his name from another direction, and he knows something will go down.

“yeah, don’t worry, you can go,” he assures.

you nod up at him. “it was nice to meet you john b. i’ll see you around?”

“‘course you will,” he agrees, staring at topper coming closer.

he doesn’t realize just yet how everything is about to go down, and he’ll be seeing you around and begging for help to escape your father before you both know it.

[rinnivin]

hi guys im bored so im just gonna reply to one of these for the first time ever

FAVORITE COLOR: Red!! literally any shade of red, it can be paired with anything. (unless its purple i hate purple/j/j/j/j)

CURRENTLY READING: Duty & Inclination … do we think im cooked cause i heard theres some freaky shit in here

LAST SONG: Ever Seen by beabadoobee (playing as i write this). oh nvm dont wanna break up again by ariana grande. no masterpiece by anthony ramos. nope bed chem by sabrina carpenter YOU GET MY POINT

LAST MOVIE: Uhhh….the Equestria Girls movies. the only movies i watch

LAST SERIES: Wordgirl! or if we’re counting it alien stage (FUCK I CANNOT DO THIS ANYMORE DONT WATCH WIEGE.)

CRAVING: Pancakes. i could make them right now but im too lazy to get up from bed.

TEA / COFFEE: Gatorade

CURRENTLY WORKING ON: 2 commissions in the works (i have a cashapp option now! dm me at hamilrin on discord to set one up), 4th episode of my hamilton au, the bullet’s character sheet in my au, animation of my. au. thats really it

uhhh i dont have anyone to tag…i dont know 9 people on here im particularly wanting to find out more about no offense but reblog if you want 😭😭

rules: tag nine people you want to get to know better

Tagged by @indrid-hot - thanks a bunch!

Favorite Color: A nice, warm, sunny orange - but also honestly most other colors of the rainbow and then some.

Currently Reading: The Tevinter Nights Dragon Age short story collection.

Last Song: L'appuntamento - Ornella Vanoni

Last Movie: Ah, gosh. HM. I haven't watched anything that's not a TV show in a while. I semi-voluntarily caught the last fifteen minutes of Scrooged over the winter holidays I guess?

Last Series: Last series I watched any part of is, as always, "Emergency!" because I will never not be stuck in 70's paramedic hell. If we're talking new-to-me shows, a friend's making me watch Grey's Anatomy (early seasons) once a week, probably because observing my growing despair about the characters' poor life choices is fun. I don't even normally watch medical shows, and yet here we are lol

Sweet, Savoury, Spicy: Savory if I had to pick

Craving: Some good spaghetti with olive oil and obscene amounts of lightly toasted garlic.

Tea/Coffee: Yes please, lol

Currently working on: OH BOY WHAT A QUESTION.

Spinning: Gotland on my spindles (4-ply, one single per spindle, for funsies - except I accidentally mixed up which bits of fiber go with which single on which spindle, so that'll be fun to sort out...), 7oz/200g of red Merino on the wheel (for a crochet hat, followed by 9.5 oz of red and black Merino for a woven scarf). But also 24.5oz/700g of grey Merino. And cotton on the supported spindle. And I've got some laceweight viscose on the mini turkish spindle that I should really work on...

Crocheting: Half a dozen things, including a lacy collar that needs buttons and blocking, a gigantic star-shaped wrap-around shawl, an incredibly boring granny square top for my little sister, and too many others to count.

Art: The Emergency! tarot as the eternal never-ending WIP; I also have some Dragon Age Veilguard related plans revolving around the Grand Necropolis and irl Catacomb Saints and I'd love to get some DA-style tarot cards done for all my player characters.

Writing: I still have a couple unfinished fanfics that need another chapter, as well as two deeply self-indulgent OC/Emergency! crossovers that friends are making me write, and I also have some Dragon Age stuff in the works - though if anyone will ever see that is another question entirely.

Music: Practicing various stuff for LARP; also slowly chipping away at Hozier's Work Song because my partner asked nicely.

With no pressure, I will tag: @geminyde, @caseyscraftycorner, @swords-n-spindles, @alpacazappa, @rosesonneptune, @rose-of-pollux, @zooarchaeologyatdinner, @kalikatze aaaaand I can't decide on a 9th person to tag so whoever wants to do this: You're It!

[rainbowchaox]

I wish people just were like me. And accepted the Arcane Trifecta in your hearts.

Caitvi: Season 2 had it issues and I wish CL gave Caitlyn more of a concrete arc. But they were peak in season 1. And fucking hell no matter if you ship or not. They finally gave us a lesbian sex scene! Bubbline, Korrasami, and Catradora all walked so they could ran. That’s so important especially now in such an uncertain times with actual censorship going down about the gay community. Plus it’s not like fandom never had a season that sucked. That’s why Fix it fics exist. SO STOP BEING ANNOYING about not liking the ship. No one is forcing you to like it. Let the lesbians have their fun and make cute fanart or fics.

Jayvik: You guys know I ship them so much. And they are so important to me. Not only is it a beautiful love story (which if you see it as queer platonic you are just as valid) but it’s gay love story where one is disabled and not babied or demeaned for it. Whether they will ever become canon or not. You can’t say Jayvik is not a fandom phenomenon. Disabled people see themselves in the ship. Gay men see themselves in the ship. ASEXUALS SEE THEMSELVES IN THE SHIP. (That’s me I’m asexual and making them both Demi). I fully hope they do become canon because I think people deserve it. ESSPECIALLY how rare it is for any disabled character to have a romance much less a queer one.

Timebomb: I won’t lie I never saw it until season 2. There’s something so precious in two broken childhood friends finding each other and falling in love. I normally never ship straight ships. But Timebomb is special. Under bruises and blisters they love eachother. People need to see enemies to lovers is a trope for a reason. They also super cute! I love all the fanart I see.

Which all these ships again show me what arcane was about. LOVE. Arcane was always about love. Ship what you wanna ship. Each dynamic has their charms. Everything always been about love. It’s why I adore Arcane. Love is literally the backbone of the show. Every mistake and every win comes from love. (So please everyone accept the trifecta or multishipping in your heart and stop having stupid ship wars). Each ship is valid. And most importantly have fun.

[pleasantspark]

GAH! WHY THE FUCK CAN'T I COMMENT OR REBLOOOG ON THE NEO-NAZI POST!?!!?!

Well you guys did it, you have restricted my replies to EVERYTHING. Shitting up and sperging and defending blatant neo-nazi rhetoric and shitting up my comments with your complaints ruined any sort of productive conversation.

Instead it resulted in defending or blantly disregarding the seriousness of Shota and Loli and all and all being a spectacle and disrespecting my main wish of not forcing me to repeat myself.

I will clarify.

She has not responded to the allegations and she did TWICE and defended that behavior

If you think its fine because its a character in the movie, and try to pull the "South Park DID IT DEFENSE." you're a idiot, because Viv isn't South Park nor the levels of Sasague Party, she's supposedly a staunch supporter of POC and LGBTQ+ Rights but drew shit that goes against it, thus making her a hypocrite

If you wanted to debate bro me, do it to where you're not adhomeiem me nigga seriously, I am a BLACK POC and I find it annoying most of y'all act brand new because of a accusation she can debunk.

Kiss my ass

VivziePop is never gonna answe, because she already implied her fans were neo-nazis and if she were to address it now, it's too little too late.

She defended the subhuman tweet as them being "exhausted of criticism." Ah yes, because I am exhausted of people saying Cell x Orion is shit so I like a tweet calling an entire group of people from different walks of life (including Jewish heritage) a term that Nazi's used. That's completely fine!!!1!!!

I am only accepting asks for Dragon Ball now, because two people have ruined my day and misconstrued every single point, if you really think she's not a neo-nazi ask her to respond, do it and come back to my profile.

You can still reblog from me but reblogging to start shit or inboxing me to start shit will result in a full scale call out once again starting an infight I am fucking done bringing assessments to a table and having the knee jerk response times of a people who consider these statements and drawings as fine or not enough, y'all niggas need to settle the fuck down and understand that these are allegations and not fucking claims.

Comments are restricted to mutuals and I hope KiwiFarms sees this SHIT. Because I am READY for the Critical Community to get a fucking thread.

Y'all have become an oboros of constant sperging and harassment to the point y'all wanna harass others who try and claim their sides or downright harass others for their involvement with another creator you don't like, you need to all grow the fuck up and block one another.

I am welcoming to this thread because everyone wanna claim I am a POS for one singluar fucking post, this is why I hate this community and I rather die then justifying my claims, she's a fucking neo-nazi and I'd kill myself on this hill for that, she's never gonna change and you need to accept that, instead of living in lala world.

Sorry if I am mad, it's just that those shitting up comment threads been going on for three days with no end.

I am done giving the benefit of the doubt, so if you wanna talk to me about DBZ go ahead, but for now only mutuals can mention and comment, do not drag me into infighting circles or talk shit about me to other critics because you got mad I called a racist and general transphobic woman a neo-nazi. Grow some pairs and learn to grow the fuck up.

I'm leaving this for you guys.

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Metaphorical in-law sleepover

Barbie dolls: Touya Todoroki m(after war) x gn!reader

Word:1.5k

inspo

Summary: Shoto hangs out at you and Touya's apartment for comfort after his dad yelled at him

Warnings: brotherly love don't be weird, um after rehab and war Touya 🎉 he's my fav I j wanna bite him, sex mentioned in front of family members but it's nothing crazy it's j like a conversation that would maybe happen alin a sex positive household, that you and Touya now are I've made that decision for you, you and Touya would definitely be the couple that show up to the family reunion and hour late and couldn't give less of a shit bc you're so fucking lucky I'm here at all, um probably a little off from canon but Touya says his siblings hid in his room when their parents fought, I've decided it happened, yappa yappa

An unexpected consequence of having an apartment with your lover Touya was the family visits. Fuyumi and Natsuo weren't terribly frequent. They dropped in occasionally to take a break from the family troubles, breathing slowly on your couch as you and Touya watched from the kitchen. Shoto however was an entirely different situation. 

Enji seemed to find him the most angering, their fights were the most frequent. You weren't even sure if some of them were fights, more of Enji yelling and Shoto listening. Before you and Touya got an apartment, the fights ended with Shoto practicing or sitting in his room staring at the wall in silence. Now he threw his things into a backpack and walked to your apartment. It was frequent enough you gave him a key. 

No, you weren't shocked when he was waiting patiently on your couch when you got home but it still made your heart sting. You wished he felt safe enough at home to stay there but you were glad he found comfort in your home. 

Fuyumi and Natsuo joined you three for dinner, all crowded around the small table you had gotten for you and Touya. They didn't mind that their knees and dishes touched, happy they could laugh and feel free even if it was for a minute.

After they left you tucked Shoto into his makeshift bed on the couch, gently brushing your lips against his forehead. You brushed his hair with your fingers, smiling at the relaxed sigh that followed from him. Touya followed after you, smacking his hand on top of Shoto’s head and ruffling his hair around. Shoto groaned and shooed his hand away. Touya snorted and headed for your shared bedroom. 

You gently held Touya's face as you both lay in bed, the blankets pulled over your shoulders. His hand was resting on your back, arm over your side. 

“I'm going to tear your father a new one,” you whispered like a love confession. Maybe it was. Touya slowly opened his eyes, the blue somehow still shining in the dark. He sighed happily. It was a love confession. 

“I would help but it'd probably land me another few months of rehab,” Touya muttered. You hummed in understanding, gently dragging your thumb over the scar under his eye. Touya sighed through his nose, content. 

“I can't believe he treats Sho like this. How can you look at his little face and not want to just squish him and give him candy?” you thought of Shoto's young face. He was too kind and gentle to be treated the way he was. Touya rubbed your back with his warm hand, nodding against his pillow. You pulled your hand from his face, tugging at his white hair.

You still hadn't decided if you liked him more with white or black hair. You liked his scars a little more healed and more moisturized. You never minded them but he looked healthier without them looking so dry. You didn't mind any of the new changes because there was a new sound he made. It was quiet and barely distinguishable.  A breath of air that slowly pulled in before pushing out his nose, a sigh that told you he felt complete. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his cheek, teetering between the scarred and non-scarred skin. 

“When I was younger Sho, Natsuo, and Fuyumi would hide in my room when Mother and Father fought. I couldn't decide if I hated or loved it. I felt worth something when they did but it also felt a little suffocating. I like it now. I like them hiding here.” Touya whispered eyes closed. You realized a few months into your relationship, years back, that he communicated best in the dark with his eyes closed. He never had to face you but you were still right next to him. 

Touya leaned toward you, pressing his nose into your cheek. He tugged you closer, dragging your body through the sheets to press you into him. You relaxed against him, sighing into his warmth. 

Just as you were slipping into your slumber, your bedroom door squeaked open. You lifted your head, staring at the door. Shoto was standing in the doorway, the light from the lamp in the living room making him look like a shadow figure. He was cradling his pillow to his chest and standing like a toddler struggling to make the crib to big boy bed change. 

“Can I sleep in here with you two?” Shoto whispered, scared of letting his words be any louder. Touya lifted his head, looking back at Shoto. You didn't bother waiting for Touya's opinion, you already knew it. 

“Of course, you can stay in here.” You said, watching Shoto. He closed the door behind himself and walked to Touya's side of the bed. He threw his pillow onto the ground next to Touya's bedside table. Touya threw his hand away from you and gently grabbed onto Shoto's arm. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Touya asked, looking down at Shoto’s pillow. Shoto shrugged, looking over his shoulder at you to see if you would say something. 

“Getting ready to sleep,” Shoto said like it was as simple as that. Touya shook his head. He gripped onto your shoulder and leaned over the edge of the bed. He snatched up Shoto’s pillow and smacked it between yours and his. 

“I don't know who you think I am, but you are not sleeping on the floor,” Touya said, dropping his arms from you and scooting back towards the edge of the bed. You scooted back just enough to be more flush with the edge but not to fall off during the night. Shoto stood awkwardly by Touya, staring like he was in trouble or calculating. Touya looked over at him, gesturing for him to move. 

“Get in bed, damn. Can't even fuck my partner in peace.” Touya mumbled as Shoto finally decided to start moving. Shoto wiggled his way up in between you two, slipping under the blankets. You pushed the hair away from his forehead and hummed gently. 

“We weren't fucking, he's just talking. We would ‘partake in such activities’ while you're here.” you said repeating one of Shoto’s phrases. Shoto hummed and leaned into Touya. He pressed the top of his head to Touya's chest. Touya paused and glanced up at you for help. You gestured for him to hug Shoto. Touya gently rested his arm over Shoto’s pajama shirt, rubbing his shoulder with all the comforting abilities of a cardboard box. Shoto didn't seem to mind, humming and slowly drifting off towards sleep. You slipped your arm over Shoto's chest next to Touya's. Touya raised his eyes over to you and puckered his lips up. You leaned over Shoto, quickly pecking Touya’s lips. Touya hummed as you separated and laid back. You glanced down at Shoto to see his eyes plastered open. 

“Gross,” Shoto whispered. Touya scoffed and flicked Shoto’s nose. Shoto’s face scrunched up, his hand flying up to rub at his nose. Shoto sniffed as you pushed his hair from his forehead. He didn’t like it up, showcased too much of his scar. He was similar to Touya in that way. Touya kept long-sleeved shirts and hid most of his skin. The only time you ever saw his body without some covering was in bed for sleep or otherwise. You gently pressed your lips to Shoto’s scar, a soft kiss to push the nightmares away. 

“Goodnight Sho.” He hummed at you, snuggling closer to Touya. Touya groaned like he hated it but wrapped his arm around Shoto tighter. You rested your eyes, holding onto Shoto.

You thought of how you could make another person under your roof would work. The couch could only work for so long. Maybe you could find another apartment. Your brain was working a thousand miles per minute, so split your bedroom in half, though with a teen that wouldn’t work plus you enjoyed your privacy. Sure he stayed in the school dorms most of the time but he should feel comfortable when he comes home. It wouldn’t be fair to make him sleep on the couch on the weekends that’s just inconsiderate. You didn’t have an office which would’ve been beneficial. Maybe you could just get a pull-out couch like Touya mentioned before, it wouldn’t be perfect but it was better than sleeping in the same house as Enji.

You opened your eyes when a rather warm hand nudged your arm. Touya stared at you, a soft smile pulled at his lips. You hummed in question, trying to keep quiet so as to not wake up Shoto. Touya cupped your cheek, arm pulled over Shoto’s chest. He ran his thumb under your eye and knocked your cheek with his knuckle. Touya dropped his hand, intertwining it with yours over Shoto. You sighed and finally slipped into your dream with your mind at peace from Touya’s touch. 

[deepsthroats]

PUSH2START: rafe cameron gets turned on when reader (THEE brand-new hot young singer), went to outer banks to record her next music video, from her smash summer song.

———————————————————————

NOTES: HEAR ME OUT that idea came into me bc i think tyla and drew would make such a hot couple mdjjdjdj…also english is not my first language, so apologies for any mistake!

WARNINGS: male masturbation,erotic fantasy, rafe and his disturbing troughts about fucking reader.

“Jesus..fuckk” rafe’s dirty words sounded more like a curse while stroking himself to the image of your doll-body, tan sun kissed skin and bambi eyes. God, you were just so fuckable- the way ur hips were movin while dancing to “pushin' on my buttons with no hesitation”, -makin rafe actually wanna push all of your buttons deeply…he remembers your foreigner accent calling him:

“Hay Mr. rafey cameron” you said with a big smile, on your way to hug him. He hated how he loved that hug so much, stayin’ a litte longer with his hand on ur waist, squeezing a lil’ bit.

A big popstar like you coming to a small city like outer banks of course kept the place curious. Everyone were looking foward to meet u ever since the media leaked the place you were going to shoot the music video for PUSH2START. But u def didn’t disapointed. Everyone were stunned not only by your unreal beauty, but about how kind and sweet was your personality. You made sure to take pictures with all the fans, talk to them, and even payed some food for the tired fans.

The Cameron family, as the richest clan livin in outer banks, were the ones taking care of the whole musicvideo. The shoots, the recording, the marketing…everything. So, ofcourse rafe cameron would be present. Sarah and Wheezie were having a blash about meeting the most pretty, talented, funny and successful it girl of the time. Mr Rafe, could not care less..i mean, he did in fact not give a fuck about pop divas, so it was just another boring ass event he would have to attend cuz hes ward’s cameron son.

That changed the minute he saw you. WHATTHEFUCK-the only thing that passed by his head. He could not move or speak, cuz all the blood from his body went straight to his cock. He had too many thoughts- all ending up with you screaming his name while he pounded hard into your tight pussy. was a fucking torture to him watch you all day, seeing you with those small jeans, top cropped, showing your belly piercing he desperately wanted to lick, and your pretty legs that we wanted to grab and squeeze.

In fact, he did tried to flirty with you all day. Calling you princess, beauty, doll, honey…tried to keep eye-contact, laying his hands on your body- but you were just naive and innocent. You had this confident hot woman recording the music video, but you also had a very sweet and kinda dorky girl in the behind the scenes. Rafe wanted to get you all for himself, and beat the hell up of any boy who tries to hit on you. All these patetic losers guys could not workship you the way he would. FUCK you were driving him insane and honry as hell.

So, when he got home, his dick hurting for so much time being hard, he opens his phone, and finds the pic he was taking of you. Rafey’s mouth started to salivate just by looking at your wet skin- he wanted so bad to get you like this-. He zoomed at your perfect face, and lowered his hand at his drooling dick, givin a long squeeze. took his pants n brief almost immediatly, he was high by how honry he was.

Cameron felt at his stomach his pink, big cock, leaking precum on the top of it, and slowly started to move. Stroking himself meanwhile movin hips, imagining he was slamming the hell out of you-pushin all of your buttons-felt so goddamn amazing. It was so hard to keep holdin his phone with ur pic w the free hand, so lost in his imagination and burning desire.

“Oh my princess..fuck” he screams when his orgasm hits like a bomb in his body. Cum were all over ur picture from his phone. And one thing he knew- he needs u badly and it must make HASTE.

[realhumangay]

Eagerly awaiting your reaction to episode 3 😊💜

ask and you shall receive! (i’m not actually waiting for people to ask dw, it was just good timing ahahah)

prefacing this with flatmate and i deciding to watch it and saying at the same time to each other ‘i’m scared’ 🤡

(alsoooo i may have had erik’s death spoiled - i didn’t know when or how, but i quickly realised that it was coming when wille got called into the office, so im afraid im robbing you of that big reaction, SORRY)

after heart-eyeing the screen for !!wille and simon basically giggling at each other during the choir!! and !!let me teach you sheet music!! and then honestly laughing so much at the chaos of wille saying to forget about it only to literally the day after realise he can’t (obsessing over how accurately babygay that is 🥹)

i then proceeded to write one whole note whilst watching:

i’ve been icked out for about 15 mins straight

^this was at the parents cause Oh My God Get Them All To Therapy Immediately. and maybe tax them just a bit.

but then wille being the fucking cutest ever with simon’s mum 😭😭

also. i see now that august is truly and fully getting his own story line, and i am concerned. the pain in his mothers eyes in that scene??? and just the whole ‘my family are broke’ except he could easily sell his assets he just doesn’t want to loose the status AHH

actor geek moment again, i just want to mention how ive literally just come back from a day long workshop with a director and one of the things that we talked about that resonated with me was about how when you play a villain actors often have the tendency to try to sympathise with the character. the director said how that’s often boring and that what often really resonates is to bring out empathy with the audience- make them see the human in the bad decisions, and understanding even if it’s uncomfortable to admit. and august in that scene was so that for me!!! like what a dick!! but fuck? i get it? kinda?

and simon disappointing his friends :(( they didn’t get it clearly. and that’s so valid tbh

(a slight ick though at ayub waiting for simon to speak only to say ‘i don’t wanna hear it’ and rushing off…interesting directing choices but ill forgive it in light of the rest of it being genius so far)

also i spent this entire episode expecting the fish tank scene and it was nowhere to be seen??? my spoiler knowledge is clearly false/i have terrible memory for numbers

these are my thoughts, i can’t believe ep3 is halfway through s1, it’s felt like ive only just started and now somehow im in the thick of it?

and finally, to any new yr followers, apologies and also please enjoy the influx of san remo content on my blog- if you don’t know it, it’s a italian song contest, i lived in italy for two years and have accepted it as part of my culture. i’m afraid there is no way around this. (literally as im posting this mahmood premiered his new single im going insane if you don’t know him go find out especially if you like omar’s music i reckon you’d like this)

k im done bye thanks for reading xx

[gremlin-girly]

Grem's 20 Characters with 20 Questions for 20 Tropes Challenge

In celebration of 250+ followers (thank you all very much!!), I wanted to do a type of writing challenge. So here is the 20 characters with 20 Questions for 20 tropes Challenge!!

You can really tell this is my first time making something like this - why the hell did i pick such a long title lmao??? I do love a bit of silly fun tbh so here we are

I should also point out that regular postings (like the Green Collection, Sun, sea and sirens AND whatever long fic wins this poll will still be posted regularly!)

How to play:

You have to be 18+ to play :)

Tag me @gremlin-girly and use the tag #grem's 20 questions so I can read, reblog and tag fics onto the masterlist! If I miss a fic, please remind me either by tag in the comments or dm!!

Pick a character (or characters) from the list below, a question and a trope.

You can pick any number of questions and tropes but there must be at least one of each. (E.g. no character + Q2 ; it would need to be character + Q2 + Trope 4 OR however many tropes/questions you wish to use)

Either send in a submission (✨️) or send me a request (🍑) with your question(s) and trope(s). E.g. Caracter(s) + Q__ + Trope ___

The fic(s) you enter/request can be fluff, smut, angst - whatever you want! (As long as they are tagged accordingly and if you want to know what I will NOT include/write you can find them in my blog rules here)

Make sure you tag your work accordingly (trigger warnings, content warnings etc.)

There is no word count limit but any work over 250 words needs a wee "read more" section

I am being silly and saying you can request/submit an unlimited amount (but beware!!! I will be reading/writing these so they may take time to get through them)

Submissions will be open from the 14th of February to the 30th of April 💕

Your work will be added to the Grem's 20Qs Masterlist and shared accordingly 😉

Happy writing! I'm looking forward to see what comes out of this 💕 if you have any questions please message me and thank you all again 🥰

Navigation | 20qs for 20 tropes Masterlist

The 20 Characters

Chris Evans Characters

Ari Levinson

Lloyd Hansen

Jake Jensen

Curtis Everett

Ransom Drysdale

Steve Rogers

Johnny Storm

Andy Barber

Frank Adler

Pete Brenner

Sebastian Stan Characters

Bucky Barnes

Nick Fowler

Chris (Destoyer)

Lance Tucker

Sheriff Lee Bodecker

Blaine (Hot Tub Time Machine)

Mickey Henry

Other Characters

Loki

Baron Helmut Zemo (Daniel Brühl)

Logan Howlett

The 20 Questions

1. "Do you think sharks get sad about their representation in the media?"

2. "Do you ever shut the fuck up?"

3. "How much have you had to drink?"

4. "Why do you insist on wearing that?"

5. "Why do all of my problems lead back to you?"

6. "When were you going to tell me about this?"

7. "Will you stay as far away from as humanly possible please?"

8. "Welp... looks like this is it. How do you wanna do this?"

9. "Please tell me you remembered to turn off the oven?"

10. "Sweetheart? Sweetheart?"

11. "What time do you call this? "

12. "Do you taste as pretty as you look?"

13. "What are we going to tell the others?"

14. "Are you trying to die?!"

15. "What, and I cannot stress this enough, the fuck is that?"

16. "How the hell did you get up there?"

17. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

18. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?"

19. "I love you. You know that right?"

20. "What have you done to me? I used to be scary and now I'm all gooey inside."

20 Tropes

1. Only One Bed

2. Soulmate AU

3. Enemies to lovers

4. Cowboy AU

5. Grumpy x Sunshine

6. Dad/Brother's/a relation's Best Friend

7. Mutual Pining

8. Meetcute

9. Supernatural AU

10. Fake dating

11. Arranged marriage

12. Amnesia

13. Second chance

14. Forced proximity

15. Opposites Attract

16. A/B/O

17. Mafia AU

18. Time Travel

19. Sex Pollen / Fuck or die

20. 5 + 1 things

No pressure tags for some moots who may enjoy ☺️

@steviebbboi @stargazingfangirl18 @mrs-elsie-barnes @brunchable @late-to-the-party-81 @brandycranby @bigtreefest @vunblr @mercurial-chuckles @stellar-solar-flare @ronearoundblindly @misscherry-26 @buck-star @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

[notfknapplicable]

I saw your tag about Sense8 on that post about how some 9-1-1 fans reacted to Buck and Tommy flirting and I just wanted to let you know it really tickled me (and also you're 100% right)

Oh hunny. The first time we see the heroic trans lesbian hacktivist character, she is receiving the strap from her Black lesbian girlfriend in the gayest place on earth. All to cure a headache that turns out to be much, much more. But some folks are clutching their pearls over a throwaway daddy kink joke made between two boyfriends eating dinner. I mean, we all know why they're in their feelings about it (because they want their own ship to be canon and are searching for any way to bash the Tommy character because he's been paired with one half of said ship) and they are absolutely showing their asses in the worst way.

I've been participating in fandoms and fan spaces for literal decades and I am no stranger to a ship war. But I've really never seen anything like this. I can only compare it to what happened with Arrow when they managed to bully the writers into getting rid of the Green Arrow's canon love interest in favor of a raging Mary Sue, and it made the show demonstrably worse. I really hope that they are not able to pull that off with 9-1-1 because I think they've struck gold with BuckTommy. It makes the most sense, and also let's keep it 100 here - Eddie is straight. The creators and the actor has said as much many, many times. Personally I try not to pay much attention to what creators and actors have to say because I feel like it poisons the well of fanworks and fandom, but some folks don't wanna accept that this shit walks and talks like a duck. Eddie is a heterosexual. It's on screen in the text and it's come down from the people actually creating the show.

I have only been watching this show since two Saturdays ago and I gotta say that the tinhats and BoBs here are WILD. The other day I saw a post suggesting that someone bomb the studio because of BuckTommy. Not to mention the posts claiming pain, suffering, and mental anguish over their ship not being canon after years of "campaigning." These folks either have no idea or don't want to accept that the industry simply doesn't work that way, not to mention HEY it's just a tv show you should NOT be letting it have THIS much power over you. If you're really slipping into depression over not seeing two fictional white men slappin' each other's meat, then there's something more at play here. I don't really wanna get into all of that, but I do wish those people healing.

Also, as a newbie, all of this drama and mudslinging has only made me more resolute in my decision to support the canon ships and canon queers of this program. Watching Buddie shippers get legit unhinged (bombing the studio? harassing actors on their personal social media? reviewing bombing?) over fictional people does not make me wanna break bread with them. I like plenty of non-canon queer ships (most of mine aren't canon, actually) and at one time I might have been down to get on board with that ship, but uhhhhhhh not now.

[peacockrulz]

N tries to tell another joke (gone wrong)

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