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hansoulo · 4 years ago

Text

whisper scarcely breathing

part four of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NC-17, NSFW, explicit language, mentions of canon-typical violence, fluff, hurt/comfort but without the hurt, bathing and/or being bathed, choking, female-receiving oral, loss of virginity, unprotected M/F intercourse

Word Count: 6.1k

Image Credit: (x) by @/365filmsbyauroranocte, not meant to be a representation of the reader

A/N: this one is for the boys with the boomin’ system 😩💦

༓ series masterlist ༓

The datapad that you’d left in the garden was thrust back into your possession one morning by the hurried hands of a maid. Truthfully, you had forgotten all about it. The mind, when faced with matters as pressing as the press of a mouth, tends to forget about inconsequential objects.

You’d never met the girl standing in front of you before, and she avoided your eyes while passing over the small screen. She seemed eager to be rid of it. You couldn’t say you blamed her. “‘S yours, miss. The bounty hunter said you’d lost it.”

Did he, now?

“Thank you,” you replied sincerely, careful not to let the datapad drop to the floor as you tucked it back into the deep brocade of your gown pockets. You didn’t have the wherewithal at first to ask her when he’d found it or found the time to return it. But you also didn’t have the common sense to keep your mouth shut. “Could I ask when he gave it to you?”

The servant ducked her head. “This morning, your Highness. I- I was in the loading bay when they left, think he was tryin’ to get a hold of you but didn’t have the time, told me- told me to keep quiet ‘bout it.” A bob of her throat signalled a nervous swallow. “Princess.”

Poor girl, you thought to yourself absentmindedly. Boba probably scared her half out of her wits.

“Really, I can’t thank you enough.” You touched a soft hand to the servant’s shoulder in an misguided attempt to soothe. She returned the action with a nervous smile, eyes still downcast and trying not to shy away.

You never realized how afraid they all were. Of you.

The realization made your tongue tangle in your throat, tripping over some lie about a fever and champagne-induced amnesia as explanation for your exchanges with a man so ill-acquainted.

Hopefully, the maid didn’t make a habit of gossip.

Hopefully, you stopped making a habit of Boba Fett.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

A chaincode, a datapad tracking number, and the rest of your life flashed in backlit neon. You silently cursed yourself for not putting an opening passcode on anything, including the datapad that you now held with slightly tremoring hands.

In your defense, it’s not like it held anything of interest. Mostly just holonovels and some pictures of things you found intriguing enough to want to paint or draw.

But now there was a thing of veritable interest stuffed into a new folder titled “Your Highness” and glowing in galactic basic.

BF-18378-3263827

You stared at the numbers until they morphed into a strong, stern-featured face, muddy in your imagination against the ink night invading your bedroom. Boba left his tracking number there for you. If you wanted to, you could use them to message him or comm him or leave a holoprojection message. Whenever you wanted. Right now, even.

When did he even find your datapad? Why he found it (and why he returned it with the aforementioned numerical contraband) was probably a more apt question.

There was quite a lot to think about. Best to take stock of the present moment, lest you lose your head and go completely mad. As if you hadn’t already.

The facts repeated themselves in a half-conscious mantra, screen slipping out of your hands and onto the pillow beside your head. Facts. Facts were good. What were the facts, again?

Boba Fett was arguably the most dangerous bounty hunter in the galaxy.

Boba Fett was not much of a talker.

Boba Fett was a piss-poor dancer.

And Boba Fett was an unfairly good kisser.

The beginning three points held little negative sway, with the first adding much more appeal than it should, the second a welcome relief, and the third being… sort of endearing.

It was on the last point that your mind lingered the longest.

You didn’t even realize you’d copied numbers into the screen’s communications system until its microphone crackled to life.

One breath, two breaths, stuck in your sleep-thick throat. No words from either side yet. Did you get the tracking code wrong? Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe you were dreaming already, imagining the wind outside to be the quiet, husky inhale that sounded from the other end of the receiver.

“Not falling asleep are we, princess?”

Your eyes shot open. “No. No, I’m…” the words croaked themselves out as you fought down a yawn, “I’m awake.” His low chuckle. “I called you didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Boba assented. Quiet amusement colored his accent. “And you called because…”

“I wanted to,” you said simply, without room for teasing. You were too sleepy to be ashamed of admitting you sought out his company, as foolish as doing so was. No use in hiding what both parties knew to be true.

He let out a noise of soft approval and it rumbled a pleasant sunburst between your ears. “You seem to want a lot of things, don’t you?”

Makes me want… want…

Want what, Princess?

Want you.

You can have me.

The memory snaked a fever flush down your neck, over the still-tender skin and lightly mottled marks. Boba was remembering it just as well as you were. You knew he was.

It gave you a rush, a weird sort of power trip. Because as stupid as you felt doing this, wanting this, he wanted it too. Enough to let your hands thread through his hair and around his arms, then to the scar above his left brow and across his mouth. Enough to let you do it again at the risk of being caught. Enough to leave you his tracking number, like you were two teenagers trading love letters and not legal adults with judgement better enough to do otherwise.

You stayed on the comm for two hours, and only went to sleep because Boba threatened to cut your link off if you didn’t.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

It had been almost five standard months since the first time you’d spoken. Typed words continued to be exchanged under your covers, day after day, night after night. Sometimes you’d fall asleep talking, peppering him with questions about his ship and his job until your throat ached with the effort of keeping yourself awake. Sometimes you did more than talk.

He never fell asleep. Never seemed to sleep, period.

What a strange man. Strange, dangerous, interesting man.

You often missed each other by a hair’s breadth. Courtly flurry and galactic bounty hunting didn’t make much space for private conversation. Boba was still taciturn. You were still naive.

And yet…

You liked him. He listened when you talked about botany and painting, neither of which you imagined interested him. He was arrogant and cocky and insufferable sometimes, but he listened. He told you about his job and regaled your sheltered curiosity with lurid, gory details. He told you about his father.

And one day he somehow, miraculously, had a set of Nabooan watercolors left for you in the garden.

Biting down a juvenile grin with every new message, you watched the quiet ping! of the datapad.

Hello

are you busy?

In a way

how so

Had a brush with Hutt’s rancor

poor thing

Don’t get soft on me now

wasn’t talking about you

Very funny

I’m very, very sorry

Should be. The bastard nearly tore up my flight suit

… show me?

⫸———————————————— ⫷

BF-18378-3263827 HAS ATTACHED 3 FILES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

HOLOCALL DURATION: 02:45:35 HOURS

SAVE CALL RECORDING? PRESS YES/NO TO CONFIRM

Your damp hands tremored.

YES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

Six months, four days, and 20 hours. That’s how long it took for you to see Boba Fett again.

You’d started to think the entire ordeal was a mirage, an illusionary experience your brain conjured up for you as a one-time brush with what your life could have been. Who it could’ve been with.

But you did see him again. Foolhardy, reckless, and unplanned.

You didn’t listen to his explanation about having to leave in the morning, taking some third-rate bounty as an excuse to come back to Quas Killam for the first time in what seemed like ages—practically eons since his mouth had last been at your neck. He appeared on your bedroom balcony near midnight like an apparition, mounted by a still-burning jetpack that shut off with an arc of smoke.

You’d been sleeping, albeit fitfully, and woke the minute his knuckles rapped against the glass. You didn’t remember ever telling him where your bedchambers were, but given… everything… you couldn’t say you were surprised he knew. When he crouched down to shed the helmet, it made a soft thump on the plush carpet.

And then you kissed. And kissed. And kissed.

Boba’s fingertips dragged fire across your prickled skin with every pass. Whose breathing was whose didn’t matter. It was hard, heaving, and shared. Eyes closed, lips raw, every part of you dizzy. Dizzy.

The sneeze that left you was loud enough to knock his forehead against yours. Hard.

Feet stumbling until your legs hit the bedspread, you let your weakened knees carry you down into a sitting position atop the covers and tried to catch your breath. Boba only chuckled, seemingly unperturbed by the mild injury.

Of course your body had picked today to come down with a cold. And of course you’d forgotten to tell him.

In your defense (you seemed to do a lot of self-defending these days) you didn’t know Boba would be coming tonight. When you asked him a week ago—the last time you’d spoken—he’d said “soon.” Whatever “soon” meant, you hadn’t anticipated it being now. Your rumpled nightgown and deteriorating personal hygiene was evidence enough of that.

The day had passed in fitful naps, with you waving away all attempts at help until the servants who usually tittered about decided to give you a wide berth until tomorrow. They’d left the door locked and your curtains drawn, thank the gods.

“A hello would’ve been nice,” you mumbled. The lingering taste of him in your mouth mixed with the bitter medicine that you’d forced down a few hours ago.

Boba didn’t answer at first, only stalking forward with his silhouette glowing in light of the full moon. You brought your knees up to your chest to make room for him to stand in front of you. Every movement was bathed in slowness, in the reverence of caution and night-time silence.

His gloved hand brushed against your chin and tilted it upwards, thumb rubbing a small circle into your jawbone as he moved your face in one large grip. Left, inspecting a swollen mouth and puffy eyes, then right. Up to see the column of your exposed neck. Down to meet his bare, dark face.

He kissed you again, more gentle this time. “Hello.”

A soft whimper left your throat.

Oh, you hated it. Hated the way you sounded when he touched you, small and pathetic. Needy.

The balustrade doors were still open, and this fact was made known by a particularly biting gust of silver wind.

“You’re cold,” the man standing close to you noted with a deep downquirk of his mouth. Boba never had to conceal anything; his helmet did that for him. But when it was off, every thought flickered past his face in evening technicolor.

Your hands paused in their run up your arms to hold petulantly at your elbows, covered only by the thin fabric of your shift. Goosebumps rose against your neck with a new breeze and you fought down the urge to shiver. “M’not.”

“And stubborn.”

You glared at him, but it held no real venom.

“I appreciate the concern,” you sniffled again and your body trembled slightly. “But I’m the picture of health. I really have never been—” here you sneezed rather violently, crumbling any remaining sense of composure and making the final words thick with congestion, “—any better.” Boba hooked two strong arms underneath your knees and around your shoulders. “Wh- what are you doing?”

“C’mon,” Boba grunted and lifted you to his chest in one swift, easy motion. “Up.”

“I’m already up,” you grumbled, a headache you’d thought was all but gone now throbbing from the quick movement. Armor pressed to your cheek and you let yourself go pliant, curling up into Boba’s broad chest. He smelled nice. Like the outdoors. The real outdoors—not manufactured gardens or stone courtyards. No, dangerous things. Like deserts and leather and guns.

You queried him as he walked in long strides across the room. “Where are you taking me? Should have you—” another sneeze burned your airways, “—have you arrested for treason. A high crime or misdemeanor of some sort, kidnapping royalty...”

He only scoffed, shifting your slack body into his one-armed grip when he arrived at the entrance of your adjunct refresher. The door opened with a soft click. “You talk too much.”

Your head rolled back to face him, pressed so close already that the attempt made you cross-eyed. “And you,” a polished finger jabbed lightly at his chest plate, “are up to no good.”

You were only joking, but Boba didn’t deny it.

Green was your favorite color, even before you met him. It was the color of gardens. Of mint leaves. Of insects and jewels. Of him.

Gods, he was beautiful. Did he know that? Would he ever believe you if you told him? He was achingly, painfully, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The man set you down to your immediate protests. Funny how quick you seemed to change your mind. “Don’t whine,” he chided when you did just that, pushing you forward by the small of your back.

You walked into the refresher confused, that same confusion compounding when Boba strode over to the marble bathtub in room’s center with a surety that belayed the fact he’d never once stepped foot inside here. Were all bounty hunters this self-assured? Or was he just so full of bathroom bravado that your sprawling floor-plan didn’t faze him?

Whatever the case was, said bounty hunter was now crouched down on the tile floor and twisting the tub faucets until they sprayed out a gush of hot water, quickly filling the room with heady steam.

“Hot water helps.” A still-gloved hand dipped an inch into the filling tub and deemed it acceptable. “The steam’ll clear up those sneezes of yours. And the headache.”

“How did you know I-” your mouth opened and closed before you realized you didn’t do a great job of hiding your symptoms. Maker knows you looked a sight, all mussed and tired and sticky with cold sweat. He should make a run for it now, you half-joked to yourself. He’s only ever seen me stuffed into a corset and done up half to death.

He got up with a grunt and turned back towards you. Beskar and durasteel and tactical fabric suddenly made you feel, for the first time in your life, underdressed. “‘S not hard to tell, princess.”

“Oh,” was your only response as you pushed off the sink counter, fisting the fabric of your nightgown in an unconscious display of hesitancy.

Boba’s heavy boots made for the door.

It was probably just to leave you some semblance of privacy, but you panicked, not wanting to be left alone now that he was finally here. “Wait!” you burst out, reaching a palm onto his shoulder before he could exit. “Wait. Can— can you stay?” Of course he won’t stay, you dolt. He probably came to sleep with you, not babysit you. “Please?”

Both of his hands curled into themselves when he turned back to you, their leather squeaking in the tight flex. Then, they released limp by his sides. Each word was carefully measured, slow-simmering like a pot about to boil over. Like a trigger finger twitchy on a blaster. “If you want me to.”

You answered with a bobbing nod and a swallow. “I do.”

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba Fett had long since forgotten he was a man. Instead, he was armor. He was a code, a set of strict (albeit grey) morals, the steadfast honor he’d been imbibed with from the years with his father and then the years of tearing emptiness after.

Bounty hunters had no time for attachments. They couldn’t afford to humor every batting eyelash with more than a self-serving flirtation, and he’d had his fill of those already. He’d overflowed his cup ten times over with shallow pleasantries and quick release.

But those days were long-gone. Had been for years now. Now he was practically puritanical.

Had been, anyway.

He didn’t like thinking of himself as impulsive, wanting to leave the trait behind in his younger years but not being old enough to shake it off completely. But he wasn’t impulsive anymore. He wasn’t.

You were going to destroy him.

Low-ranking royalty on some Imperial-occupied factory planet; sheltered and pretty. You had the brightest eyes he had ever seen and a temperament that took no prisoners, and you were going to destroy him.

Boba thought you’d make him leave, but you didn’t. You wanted him to stay and told him so.

So he stayed. His armor was peeled off in your presence for the first time— carefully placed on a chair in your bedroom—and he walked back into the refresher to see you untying your flimsy nightdress like it’d done you a personal wrong.

When it dropped beside your feet, it took every ounce of self-control Boba possessed to stop himself from eating you whole.

He heard you kick it to the floor (his eyes had since been very determinedly fixed on a fascinating piece of groutwork near his left foot) before you stepped into the bath, sighing in a way that made breathing a work harder than it should’ve been.

His looking away wasn’t a request on your part, you didn’t seem to mind either way, but he didn’t trust himself to do otherwise. Not until the sounds of splashing had subsided somewhat, signalling your stilled motion. “Boba?”

Now there was permission to walk. Look down. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, the clawfoot of the bathtub. He had reached his destination.

A wet hand tugged at his belt loops and he finally allowed himself to look, meeting the sight of you sitting bare in the clear-blue water with legs pulled up to your chest. The arm not touching him was roped around your calves. Your chin rested on the wide, curved lip of the tub.

If Boba had any self-respect, it had been snuffed out the first moment you opened your mouth, six months ago in that cavernous palace hallway with your failed attempt at bravado. It was haughty, short-lived, and adorable.

Maker, you were beautiful. Did you know that? Would you ever believe him if you told you? You were blindingly, effervescently, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The position of your chin forced your lips into a slight pout. As if you needed another weapon in your arsenal of ways to make him question his judgement. “Could you bring me the tray on the counter?”

Of course he could. He could bring you anything you liked. He would bring you a rancor, a dozen rancors, a fucking sarlaac if it meant you would smile all soft-like the way you just did when he answered yes.

Boba Fett, mercenary feared farther than he would ever live to travel and hunter too expensive for the Imperial payroll, was now a bath attendant. It was torturous in its sensual irony.

The tray was brought over in short order, cluttered with tiny vials of Maker-knows-what and bars of who-knows-how. Individually they probably all smelled nice, but crowded together the heavy scents only made his head spin. He set the tray down on the floor with a rattle and held up each mystery soap for your inspection. No. No. No. No, not that one. Gods, you were picky. No. No. Yes, please.

You were Miss Manners tonight apparently.

“It’s floating archidia,” you told him, mind running through an endless backlog of plant indexes as he handed over the soap. You sounded clearer now, less congested and more alert. Needed to drink water, though. “The flower that this is made with, I mean. Native to the planet Nubia, rumored to have euphoric properties.” You snorted and ran a thumbnail along the bar’s waxy edge, bringing up a curled pink piece. “Whatever that means.”

“Do you think it does?”

“Have euphoric properties?” you hummed, considering it for a moment. “Maybe. But maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

“Wishful thinking,” Boba parroted.

The meaning of words can change when they’re repeated. Neither of your minds were on flowers.

His jaw tensed when you reached your other hand to his forearm, baring the rest of your body to the dim orange of the refresher lights’ night settings. The water rippled, warm now instead of steaming, and your fingers curled around the scarred skin of his wrist. “Take off the gloves,” you echoed, your voice suddenly desperate and distant as you traced over pale leather seams. “Please.”

He had refused the first time simply to toy with you. You weren’t used to being told no, and it showed. But he let you take off his helmet in a moment of thoughtless self-indulgence, scratching the part of his subconscious that itched to be touched, stroked, held. Shedding the helmet in front of someone else didn’t really mean anything in an honorable sense—at least not to Boba. Nothing tied him to the habit except a desire to keep himself and his motivations unknown. It was easier that way. Less messy.

He acquiesced. "Since you asked so nicely."

Wrinkling your nose, you guided newly-bare palms to knead gently at your shoulder blades. The skin there was soft and warm, pliant under his sandpaper touch. "Keep mentioning it and I'll go back to being difficult."

The soap made foamy bubbles across your back, over your arms and the velvet slope of your hips. Fingertips ghosted through the space between your jaw and ear, where he remembered sucking in a soft bruise.

He liked being known by you.

⫸————————————————⫷

You clambered out the tub with all the grace of a baby krugga deer and about as much shame. Which is to say, none at all. The subsiding cold had left you tired, bones like jelly and mind sloshing its thoughts around with no real order. Boba was here. Had stayed. Was standing in front of you now, watching tiny water droplets trail down your feet and letting you balance on his arm to keep you from stumbling.

A towel was wrapped around your shoulders. The press of his hot mouth against your forehead followed close behind. “Go sit on the bed.”

For some reason, you didn’t mind listening to him this time. Chalk it up to moldable exhaustion, you thought. Definitely not the fact that his voice sounded especially nice tonight, or any number of other questionable reasons.

He was going to ruin you. Or you would ruin yourself. Any way it was construed, Boba would play a part.

Still only in a towel, you drank the stale tea that sat on your bedside table and watched in mild interest as the mercenary’s shadow emptied out tepid bathwater with the thick glugluglug of the drain. It washed down soap and all your shared secrets.

Was it wrong that you still wanted him? More, now that he’d done this for you? Now that it wasn’t just cruel kisses and groping hands? What sort of a person did that make you?

Your mind whispered it when Boba walked back towards you. Someone lonely.

He helped you slide a new chemise on when you asked him to, quick and steady over the thin linen ties. I bet you do that with all the girls, you’d teased. No, he answered simply. Just you.

He was going to ruin you.

“Do you have to go yet?” you asked quietly and climbed under the covers. They were green today. Life enjoyed coincidences like that.

Boba crouched down on the floor beside your lying figure and shook his head. A wide fingertip smoothed away the crease between your brows. He was doing lots of touching. You were not complaining. “Not ‘til morning.”

“You might as well then,” you mumbled and lifted up the embroidered blankets with a sleep-slack hand. “No one’ll bother us, I promise.” you answered the empty air, too heartsick to comprehend any possible insinuations and too tired to realize the fingers tracing your brow bone had paused. “I told them all not to come back until tomorrow.”

His shirt and pants were shed in an unceremonious pile. You were already half-asleep when he climbed into the other side of the bed, slotting his legs against yours like puzzle pieces. Two question marks curled into each other, his chest to your back and his lips brushing your head.

“Goodnight, princess.”

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dreaming about him.

He was the burning sun that every single one of your thoughts had orbited around for the last six months and now he was invading your subconscious, dream-talons taking the form of dark hands rubbing soft circles against you and then invading your open mouth.

In your dream, Boba touched you softly and not at all, a tease even in your self-serving imagination.

Then you woke up, and it wasn’t a dream anymore.

Two thick arms encircled your waist with a grip unyielding in their strength. They’d pulled you impossibly close, pressed up against his sleeping body until every ridge of his muscled stomach could be felt against your back. Something else was against your back.

Your head reeled in its effort to sludge through the fog of sleep and reach the reality of masculine hips. They shifted in an unintentional grind against your legs until you couldn’t bite back the gasp that bubbled out from your voicebox, the sound quiet, keening, and lost in the shuffled sounds of fabric. It was still dark out. The water-clock in the corner of your room read 01:25:02.

You hadn’t put on anything underneath the new chemise. Why bother, when he’d already seen everything? Your body had grown to be a thing for display, a clothes-hanger and object to be prodded by strangers, and you’d long since rid yourself of any precocious modesty.

But this was different.

When Boba touched you, it wasn’t to sew flowers in your hair or drape a sash over your chest. It was simply to touch. The thought made you light-headed with newfound embarrassment, wiggling in his grip until you turned to face his sleeping form.

All the heavy things he carried on his shoulders during the day were gone now. His bottom lip pillowed out when he slept and he looked younger, the perpetual downturn of his lips now settled below the black hair at his temples. You felt a sticky sort of fondness settle in your chest.

“Boba,” you whispered, two hands placing themselves on his tanned cheeks. They traced the divots of scars and premature lines with all the reverence of worshipfulness.

“Mmm,” his voice rumbled with eyes still closed. A warm mouth kissed the side of your palm.

“Boba,” you repeated, more desperate this time but not knowing what you were desperate for. The space between your legs already knew what it wanted, hot and pulsing with a familiar dampness. Traitor.

“What do you need?” The question wasn’t accusatory, nor annoyed at your waking him. It was known that he would give you whatever you liked. Eventually.

You. Just you.

“I don’t,” you huffed, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your now overheated body as you squirmed, “I don’t know.” Lie.

“Think about it and tell me,” he whispered, eyes opening in their dark, heavy-lidded expectation. The moon and stars suspended outside offered light enough to see the smirk on his face. His skin was the color of burnt earth and of gods. Somewhere, far away in the canopy of carefully pruned trees, a single lark let out its warbled cry.

There was an old adage about being like a lamb to the slaughter. You’d never touched a lamb. Never seen a slaughter. But somehow, you knew it was true.

This lamb, dumb and tender-hearted, was willingly sacrificied.

"I...'' the word left you in the arc of your exhale, one whoosh of air that rattled your chest already wracked with fevered tremors. "I- want you to-"

"You want me to what, pretty thing?" His voice was low, dangerous. It made every part of you want him more. "Say it."

You weren't used to cursing. It was never tolerated and you barely ever heard it, but you'd learned enough to know what he wanted you to say. Which word he wanted to hear, and what it'd mean he would do.

"F-fuck. Me." you choked out, biting your lip to muffle the embarrassment of having to speak it out loud. The word was filthy and raw between your teeth. "Please?"

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dying. Possibly had already died. Were ascending up or barrelling down, you didn’t care as long as his wet mouth stayed between your legs and never, ever stopped.

Wide hands cupped at your skin and kneaded wherever they could reach, simultaneously rough and supplicating. Every pass of his tongue was enough to make you feel possessed. He was killing you.

“Good. Good girl.” he said against your swollen skin when your hips arced off the bed, your spine and toes stiffening for what seemed like an eternity during the damp lightning finish. It sounded like a growl, animalistic and vibrating. A burning, sweet hurt.

Some people call it “little death,” a lady’s maid once whispered underneath her hand in a giggle. “Little death?” you repeated incredulously. That seems a bit dramatic, don’t you think?

You understood now.

Boba didn’t let up, never once letting his touch waver even as you buckled and swayed, all sense lost and all sensation compacting. “Another,” he ordered. Your body listened, bending to his touch without complaint with eyes rolled back into your head.

You were dying.

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba let you lay against him in the downturn, rubbing mindless shapes into the bone of your wrists as you struggled to breathe. Your neck was cradled in one of his broad, bronze palms. It gave one tiny, imperceptible squeeze. An accident. A test.

You pawed at the hand resting heavy on your nape until it moved to leave completely, but was caught instead by your fingers and guided—slow and curious—to cup at your bared throat.

“Dirty,” the man noted in a dark rasp and rolled over to face you. There was a slight smirk in his voice, but that could’ve just been your imagination.

“I don’t see you...” your voice trailed off into a wheeze as Boba’s thick fingers pressed into the sides of your neck, “—see you complaining.”

He kissed you. And kissed you. And kissed you. An eternity was spent opening the seam of your mouth while he choked you softly, baring your pulsating soul with only your bedroom walls as witness to the present depravity. The air was filled with begging and grunting—simple noises that stuttered and left your sheets ruined.

You wanted more. You couldn’t help it.

His chuckle morphed into a groan when you reached down to touch him with widening eyes, squeezing him curiously after pulling down his boxers. “You’re a brave little thing,” Boba noted with a hint of greedy pride. “Never done this before, have you?”

Your own hands served as poor substitutes all these years. You shook your head no.

“D’you want to?”

Of course you did. This was the only thing you wanted. The only thing you would ever want, over and over until your body turned to dust under him. A million grains of fizzy, burning blaster powder. A million comets passing by a supernova.

You nodded and tucked your face into the space between Boba’s shoulder and neck, rolling onto your side and hooking a leg over his hip. Your chests met, damp with sweat as cool air flowed over bare skin. The covers had long since been pushed aside. “Safe,” you said in a heady moan over the shell of his ear. “Implant.”

Thank goodness for modern medicine.

⫸————————————————⫷

It hurt a little at first, but most of the discomfort melted away as he whispered to you, sweet and cloying praises alongside filthy things that you’d be hard-pressed to repeat in public. They wove together in an endless stream of baritone vowels, lapping over each other like ocean waves until everything was a gyrating, syrupy playback.

He let you move against him, mouth open and sloppy against your temple when you whined at the stretch. The hands at your back didn’t push. Only placated. “I know, I know,” Boba assured you with fingers rubbing sympathetic desire into your flesh. It would bruise, but you’d come to like the marks. Your hips bucked at their own accord when he pressed up against something tight, the friction burning a bright, numb spark. “Slow down,” he mumbled into your hair, “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Never in your life did you think this was how it would be. Your first kiss, more of a battle than it was a kiss, served as fuel for the expectations of your first time. Never in your life did you think he would be the one telling you to go slow.

It was for your sake, you knew that. But it was still surprising.

You huffed and bit the shell of his ear in childish revenge, blowing a puff of air where you knew it would tickle. Boba only growled and tightened his arms around your waist, rocking into you slow and deep. “Don’t tease,” he warned.

The new movements robbed you of the ability to speak until all you could do in response was lift your head from where it had rested on his shoulder, meeting impossibly dark eyes in lust-addled vision as a building pressure colored the entire world in shades of black, red, and green.

In a moment of complete and utter lack of propriety, you leaned forward, smiling like a woman deranged, and pressed a kiss to his nose.

Boba came undone the same minute you did. It was a rush of wet, rocking pleasure, spreading like thick webs of lighted fire from inside your blood and out to fill the room with quiet devotion. Panting, bursting, close, messy. You’d never felt so whole.

Your foreheads met and you went cross-eyed trying to look at him again. That’s all you wanted to do. Look at him. Uttered underneath his jaw, where the skin was smooth, was your finishing admission. “I love you.”

You didn’t say it to hear it repeated. It was just to give it a shape. Make it concrete. Said more to yourself than him, really.

But Boba did repeat it. Over and over and over. In the tangle of your arms. I love you. In the kiss to your breasts. I love you. In the towel brought between your legs. I love you. In the settled silence of new sleep. I love you, I love you, I love you.

⫸————————————————⫷

The watery light of dawn melted through heavy curtains and you awoke, body weighed down with lead and gold. Sweet soreness had made its home in your muscles and you were loath to get up, but the man you’d been using as a pillow had very rudely left his post.

“I have to go,” he said, already awake and standing sentry by your bed. You raised your head up from the pillows in groggy protest to meet his blurry figure. If you squinted, there were three of him standing there at once.

A shake of your head rid your vision of the doubles, leaving the lone man. He kissed you—quick and dirty, with tongue—and squeezed your exposed breast, prompting a low moan to tumble from your mouth before he slipped his blaster into the holster at his hip. It wasn’t even 6 in the morning and you were thoroughly debauched. What a scandal, you thought (not for the first time) with passing amusement. A bounty hunter and a princess.

Watching in a dim haze as Boba finished strapping on his amor, you tracked the reflection of the sun in the metal’s lazy movement.

He leaned over you. “I’ll be back soon.” Soon. What did soon mean? Another kiss, slow and careful on the bow of your mouth. One more on the slope of your forehead. For luck, you supposed. Whether it was for you or him didn’t matter much. “Promise.”

Slowly, as he climbed out onto your balcony and was gone with a flash of jetpack light, you wondered if it was a mirage; a dream, maybe. The entire night a hallucinatory haze, a figment of your overactive imagination and reckless romanticism.

But the towel left discarded on the floor and the pulsing ache between your legs was very, very real.

#boba fett x reader #boba fett/reader #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett x you #boba fett fic #boba fett oneshot #boba fett imagine

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dummysmile · 3 years ago

Note

Absolutely loved the minghao as a bf fic! Can you please do a similar one for Joshua as well! Cannot find much for shua baby 😋😘

MASTERLIST REQUEST HERE

note: I'm sorry, this took awhile! Tumblr doesn't load requests as quickly as I thought.

----------------------under the cut

love language: Touch AND affirmation

Touch:

so, basically you allow him to do whatever

he's cute so I don't blame you

he cuddles you 75% of the time

he'll cuddle you after work and tell you alll- about his day

"Me and the guys did this awful game and all I could think was holding my face between your boobs."

He enjoy's holding your hand, not really.

^ only because that means he most likely can't wrap his whole body around you

Affirmation:

having someone as humble as josh means you have to remind him that he's so much more than he lets on

he loves hearing affirming words while you stroke his hair

y/n: "I saw a tweet today talking about you. You truly are my amazing boy."

and to that he'll blush and his face in your...you guessed it. in the boobs.

Relationship (general):

Probably the most stable relationship

like there is full trust because the both of you just click.

he's the cutest little thing

example, when you're feeling down he'll bring out shua-bot just for you

"Shua bot wants to know why the pretty y/n is sad. Shall I eat your toes?"

he teases you pretty much all the time

which will turn into a competition

did I mention ya'll are mad competitive?

"Why are you trying to out laugh me?" y/n: "are you mad because I have a louder laugh?" Shua: "oh yea? AHAHAH"

Y'all progressively got louder -_-

y'all relationship mainly consist of those elements: Teasing, competing, and cuddling.

It gives 'high school couple everyone believes is gonna get married after graduation' vibes.

Seventeen

they're all 50/50

they hate when you come to the studio because everyone gets off task

Vernon: "Y/n, you should totally join the band!" Jeonghan: "so we can kick you out, that way you can sign a NDA and pretend you don't know us." :D

but love when you come to boring events

Jeonghan: "I wish you didn't have to leave. Please take me with you!!"

you know how Josh is quiet? mhm, once you're in the door frame he's DK + Seungkwan.

Joshua get slightly jealous T T

"everyones Eddie Murphy?" cue eyeroll

Carats are trying to find out who's bruising their joshikins (???)

Comfortability:

Super comfortable

like nothing's awkward

occasionally when you're in the shower he'll rip one out, turn off the light, and lock the bathroom door from the inside.

"Sorry baby, I was feeling silly. " He'll cackle

He'll toss out those I love you's like a frisbee

He bites too.

he'll go under the sheets and bite your booty cheeks

"I did that cause I love you."

kisses

JSDKHSJFHJSD

You know that "Can you feel the love tonight" song?

lets just say you be feeling it

that's a nasty boy

his hands steadily trace over your curves

his lips graze yours super slow and softly

he'll bite over your lips and tongue

Pulling it occasionally

it'll go on for minutes and feel like seconds

you'll have to beg him for seconds

and his lips are so smooth too..JEEZUS

arguments

He doesn't get "angry", he gets annoyed.

which is way scarier than angry.

He'll try talking to you about the situation

"Let's talk like ADULTS. I didn't pay the light bill"

if he feels like you're not listening or constantly blaming him he'll get annoyed

He speaks scary calm

"Okay, im a dumb bitch or not paying the light bill."

*eyerolls*

he doesn't do anything he just sits back and sighs while you talk

"You done?"

Thankfully arguments never happen unless they're playful

dates

Dinner dates are the only thing he knows

if he's feeling bold, he'll take you to a city event

you both switch between who pays

many pictures get taken so they can go to photo album

compliments don't stop

"you lookin good babe, sucks you have a boyfriend. OH WAIT, I be the boyfriend."

they're cute and corny that's all.

Sex

One word: switch

how ya'll day went determines who's in what position

He prefer bottom, but jeez this man is a HARD Dom.

"What the fuck did I just say?" He'll lash out, continuing to pound into you. He hums waiting for a response. "Not to cum." You mutter whining as you felt him insert a bullet vibrator into your ass. "And what did you do?" He seethed, teasing your rim. "I came." You cried out feeling nothing, but static and bliss. "But you keep adding fucking vibrators to me." You barked, as you neared your orgasm again. He flicked your mouth, showing he didn't like your tone. You got unfocused by the pop that you accidentally allowed yourself to cum again. "Did you just cum?" He stares at you. You violently shook your head no. "You're gonna lie to me? I felt that your pussy nearly swallow me whole." He whispers holding your face tightly. "Repeat after me: I'm a dumb slut who doesn't follow directions."

A whole cuddle bug after

"Sorry baby, you're so smart." As he lays in you boobs.

As a bottom, he's a whore.

"Please fuck me." "tie me up and do it." "Hurt me please" are some of the things you'll hear with him

he has a possession kink

"Mark me, so those staffs know I fucking belong to you."

he wants to own you, but also wants to be owned by you.

josh has hella kinks

Orgasm denial, degradation, choking, slobbing, restraining, anal, overstim, edging, you know throw in the whole BDSM dictionary. H

he's probably into it.

#joshua seventeen #seventeen #seventeen imagines #joshua smut #kpop headcanons

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omiscurls · 4 years ago

Text

omi doesn’t like flowers

sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader fluff

cw: the reader has a little sibling, i hope nobody minds, there’s one line of very slightly implied nsfw, you won’t even notice

meant for kiyoomi’s birthday! happy b-day to my favorite boy <3

one of the first things you’ve learnt about your boyfriend, even before your relationship started, is that he rarely shared personal information with anyone. he’d go as far as put up a fake birthday on his social media to avoid the awkward wishes and tons of yet another gifts from fans he so didn’t like going through. apart from that, there was a lot of weird things going on with birthdays, in his opinion: for instance people automatically thinking about zodiac sign or assuming other things, insisting to have a party, (a surprise one was his biggest nightmare) and a whole lot of other stuff he found appalling.

so it was just simply easier to say his birthday is “mid november” and get on with his life as if he didn’t just straight up lie. and truth be told, many times had you heard that “oh, in summer” or “right before christmas” before you got to know the truth. it wasn’t that easy on its own, but ever since his first little white lie, you knew he wasn’t true with you, and kept insisting, until he finally pulled you to the side and told you his real date of birth, the one only komori, atsumu, and, as he used to say, “unfortunately” his family knew.

march 20th was the date, and since you wanted to tease him, a grin appeared on your face before you mumbled “so a pisces, huh?” and earned a glare so cold and deadly, you visibly shivered before apologizing.

the next thing you learned about him and his birthday, was that he was picky about gifts. which went well with that “i’m an old fashioned gentleman” facade, because he could just say “oh, you don’t have to buy me anything. your company will be enough” with a slight smile he’d practice for years, and people thought he was just being humble and polite. spoiler alert: he wasn’t. he just didn’t want to deal with his own pickiness, and explaining to people what precisely would he like to get was too much trouble, and took away the magic of it even for someone as blunt as kiyoomi sakusa.

it’s not like birthdays were such a big deal for him, anyway, he didn’t need any gifts or parties to celebrate the fact that he just got one year older. what was so fun about that? but like the pain in the arse you were, you kept asking him what he wanted for the occassion way before he asked you out, and he hated it, but not more than he hated the way his heart jumped at the possibility of getting something you spent your time on.

the first year of your friendship, you got to know the basic thing: omi doesn’t like gifts. gifts make him uncomfortable, he didn’t know what to say, how to act, what to do with it... does he open it right then and there, or wait, but why would he immediately thank someone if he doesn’t even open it? schroedinger’s cat: if he doesn’t open it, it might as well be thin air inside the box.

it was confusing, and weird. you also learnt that it was all caused by the fact that no one was in the house to celebrate young omi’s birthday back in his childhood days, since his parents were working and his siblings long away in college, so he just assumed it was a holiday to be overlooked and not dwelled too much on, and got so used to it, that now it bothered him to be in the center of attention for once.

the third thing you learnt that year: it was almost impossible to find him a good enough gift, at least from your perspective. you spent literal hours at the store, looking at the different things he might’ve wanted, but nothing caught your eye. you called all his friends, yet he hadn’t mentioned the thing he’d like to anyone, not even komori. so you decided you’d go with instinct and remembered one cold morning when he showed up to practice grumpier than usual, and when he was asked what’s wrong, he answered:

“i woke up late and didn’t have time to make coffee”, half mumbling, half actually speaking, eyes too tired to be annoyed, legs slowly sweeping one before another as if he was forced to come here. And that’s where you got your idea.

His first birthday with you, being his 21st, had started terribly, because it was wishes from his family. He’d told you multiple times he’d rather have them forget that send those copied off the internet lines that mean less than a “go fuck yourself”

later on atsumu insisted or telling everyone and it took poor omi more than twenty minutes to convince him not to, and as both the setter and the spiker weren’t in their top moods nor form, MSBY lost a match they had that day. so all he wanted to do march 20th 2017 when he came home was to lay flat on his couch and play with his dog’s fur while watching a crappy TV show. he most definitely didn’t expect you sitting in front of his apartment’s door, tired, almost asleep.

he sighed, approching you and slightly nudging your foot with his, making you shake your head and look up.

“you’re back!” you said with a smile, and he raised an eyebrow.

“and you look like a homeless person” he responded upsentmindedly, avoiding you to reach the door lock. only after you got up did he see a small package you held behind your back. “it’s not a right day to be celebrating me, y/n” he added, opening his apartment’s door and letting you in with a hand gesture. you went inside, not for the first time ever, but every time the feeling was the same, intimidating and cold.

“why do you think that?” you said, taking off your shoes and putting them on a rack, and turning around to see him navigate you to the bathroom. you placed your bag and the gift on the floor before following his steps.

“didn’t you see the match? i fucked up big time” he chuckled ironically, looking at himself in the mirror, and you could witness the disappointment and anger in his eyes.

“so every time you guys win and you get the credit, you say that volleyball is a team sport, but if you loose, suddenly it’s your fault?” you smirked, but to your surprise he nodded.

“precisely”.

“well, regardless, it’s a minor set back. you’re still the best they make” you tried to cheer him up, but only received an eye roll in return. “aaaand, you’re a birthday boy today!”

“don’t remind me” he sighed, walking over to the kitchen to see what he can make for dinner for himself and his uninvited guest, meanwhile you grabbed your gift and walked up right behind him, tapping his shoulder lightly.

“happy 21″ you whispered, a slight, soft smile on your lips, as you handed him the package. he looked at you with a tired look in his eyes.

“you know i’m not the biggest fan of gifts”

“just open it, grumpy face” you whined, and he gently took it from you, placing it on the counter and carefully unwraping it, to see a thermal mug. he sent you a questioning look, before you explained “you were complaining about not having enough time to drink coffee before leaving, right? well now you don’t have to drink it before leaving”

there was silence for a long while before he looked up from the mug and gave you the softest smile you’ve ever seen. “that’s so thoughtful of you” he said, and laughed a tiny bit, probably to cover his emotion, which obviously didn’t work “thank you.”

omi likes thoughtful gestures.

over the second year of your friendship, as he and his career gained more recognition from the public, he was “forced”, as he’d reffer to it, to share such a personal information that is his birthday date. the managers always claimed that it’s not a big deal, that it’s just gonna be added to the oficial page and his wikipedia, but judging from the amount of gifts atsumu, bokuto and hinata always received, he had his reason to doubt that.

and as it turned out, he was right.

because starting from march 10th, his personal mailbox as well as the oficial MSBY’s mailbox has been FLOODED with different things that he really had no energy to go over. and so, he invited one of his best friends to help.

so it was late at night on march 19th, and you were both sitting on the floor of his apartment, a mess of ripped wrapping paper all around you, loads of different stuff laying on the table, as you still had a lot of things to open.

“what even is the point in sending presents to someone you’ve never met? i mean less to them than their neigbour’s dog and yet i’m the one getting gifts? this is messed up” he kept on complaining, opening another package.

“it’s called being famous, sakusa-kun. you mean very much to people you’ve never met, because your journey to where you are now inspires them to keep going on their path until they reach their dreams” you said with a smile, confident it’ll ease his worries, but it didn’t.

“don’t know if i consider being in the Jackals my dream, though”

“you mean, you don’t think being a key player in a division one team is not a dream come true?” you asked, shocked.

“no, no, of course i think it is, i’d never thought i’d reach this far, but, there’s more things to be done, it’s not like i’m an accomplished person just yet”

that, you found interesting.

“really? than what are your dreams, sakusa?” you asked in a low voice, eyes fixed on his face, as he focused on reading a letter in his hands.

“national team” he murmured “MVP, a golden medal, a legacy that goes beyond just me” he opened up as if it was nothing, as if he was talking about his grocery list “but that all wouldn’t mean a thing if i were there alone, though. i’ve received plenty awards and mvp’s over the few years that i played, but i guess what would really matter, and make everything else worth remembering, would be... having someone be proud of me, i guess”

you felt your heart getting soft and fuzzy at the confession, wanting to respond, before he handed you the note he was silently reading.

“this is a poem, y/n, a POEM! what the hell, i don’t even understand what’s going on there” he whined, throwing his head back to rest on the couch seat, as you giggled, reading the note.

“it’s nice” you said in a high-pitched tone, pushing down a laugh.

“it’s too... sophisticated” he uttered, looking at you, a tired look in his eyes. “that’s my mother’s thing, to be sophisticated, i like simpler wishes, they’re easier to believe”

omi doesn’t like fancy words.

you nodded, but before you could say anything, your phone rang, and both of you looked at the screen. the hour on display marked midnight, and as the alarm ranged, the words “omi’s b-day!!!” appeared on the screen. he smiled subconsciously, noticing how you always address him as “sakusa” or “sakusa-kun” but the notif in your phone stated “omi”.

“looks like it’s the 20th already, birthday boy” you grinned, turning off the alarm.

“don’t call me that, what am i, six or something?”

you decided to ignore the comment, and smiled at him warmly before speaking, almost under your own breath:

“happy 22, sakusa. i wish you only to be here to hear me say happy 23 next year. and say so with pride.”

his eyes appeared foggy and glossy, but it was probably fault of poor lighting and tiredness.

“why stop at 23?” he asked, before standing up, and offering you his hand to pick you up, too.

omi likes very real wishes.

over the third year of your friendship you became very close. ever since that night on his living room floor, both of you couldn’t wrap your minds about anything other than each other. neither of you oblivious idiots found out what it was about, but day after day and month after month it was harder and harder to spend time apart.

before he could notice, sakusa always tried to find you in the crowd before serving, and that’s how he always used up most of his time. once, he even heard ushijima complain “how much longer are you going to take? be a man and beat me without your good luck charm!”

his good luck charm, huh?

you kinda liked the sound of that.

you also found yourself texting him every random thought that came to your head, sending pictures of everything, becasue you wanted to share as much of your life as possible, meeting up whenever you could and facetiming whenever you couldn’t.

it all started to go downhill when atsumu, bokuto and hinata started noticing. noticing the way he’d smile at his phone, the way he’d wink, smile, tease, joke, speak, even the way his eyes wondered when left unfocused, and a dreamy look covered his vision.

and they started to tease, and joke, and make his life all more difficult, just because “omi has a crush!”

because he didn’t. right? he didn’t have a crush on you, for sure, and it only annoyed him, how childish they were about it, how insufferable. they got on his nerves so bad that he stopped responding to all the messages, stopped smiling, joking around, and all, just to prove his point,

his point he knew was no longer standing.

and so atsumu would ask, after one of their practices, “hey omi, is your lucky charm picking you up? some birthday dinner, maybe?” he’d nudge his side with an elbow, raising his eyebrows.

“i don’t know” he mumbled “and stop calling them that”. the brunette kept looking for something in his bag, just to avoid atsumu’s tiring, curious glance.

“fine then, how about your significant other?” he continued teasing. it’s not like sakusa would hate that scenario, of course he wouldn’t, yet his mind kept spiraling - what if you came in and heard that? what if you assumed he was calling you that behind your back?

what if you didn’t feel the same?

“stop butting in my relationships for once, miya! how many times am i supposed to tell you i’m not in any way romantically involved with them? i don’t even like them that much!” he lied, straight in his best friend’s face, fed up with all the jokes and smirks behind his back, and judging from atsumu’s shocked expression, and the color running away from his face, it worked.

“what, don’t you have anything to say to me now?” he kept going, before atsumu shook his head, and pointed behind kiyoomi’s back wordlessly. the spiker raised an eyebrow, turning around to see you, in the flash, eyes wide open, a tiny little package in your hands, wrapped so neatly in colorful paper, with a little bow tie at the top.

even from a distance he could already half see, half imagine tears prickling your eyes before you smiled sadly, dropped the box from your hand and let it fall to the floor, and began walking out of the gym room.

“no, no no, y/n, wait!” he started shouting out, but your ears seemed deaf to his pleas, as he ran up to the door you just walked through, leaving atsumu alone, but with a condescending smile.

“i don’t like them that much my ass, omi-kun” he whispered to himself before walking over to grab his things.

meanwhile sakusa ran out to the reception room of the stadium, but as it turned out, it was filled with fans waiting for them all to come out, so they could wish him happy birthday, and it seemed impossible to get through the crowd and reached you, especially considering you were already at the exit door.

he looked around himself and noticed all the people, how many of them were there, and how close to him, and got paralyzed in place, wanting to move, or disappear, that’d be for the best, and yet he couldn’t even move one foot.

soon enough he felt a hand on his shoulder, guiding him back inside, his savior apologizing to the public.

“sorry guys, we have one more thing to go through! he’ll be out shortly” atsumu laughed off, before closing the door and handing omi the gift you left.

the spiker mindlessly opened it, only to find out a spotify code inside, put in between a glass frame. he took out his phone from the bag and scanned it with his app, gasping audiably when the page loaded.

lay back in the arms of someone by smokie showed up on his screen, and a smile crawled up his lips before he remembered how badly he fucked this up a second ago.

he narrowed his eyebrows before looking up to find the blond setter’s eyes.

“atsumu” his friend’s eyes widened in surprise upon hearing his first name, instead of surname “is there a back exit from here?”

atsumu miya smirked.

“bet ya there is, mr i-fucked-up-big-time” he answered, theatrically offering his hand, before taking the lead.

you on the other hand, came home peacefully, although hot tears were streaming silently down your cold cheeks as you entered the apartment’s door and looked at the calendar, showing the date of march 20th. in a sudden wave of aggression you ripped it off, knowing that there’s nothing to be so pressed about: he had no duty of feeling the same way towards you, why would you even expect it?

you went on with your day, ordering takeout for dinner, snuggling up on your couch and rewatching a series, not granting your thoughts access to yourself, and it was really going well, until you heard the doorbell ring.

“nobody’s home” you yelled, assuming it was either atsumu or bokuto on their way to cheer you up, and they’ll probably let themselves in as soon as they hear your voice, but that didn’t happen. instead, the doorbell kept on ringing. “ugh, just come in!”

they didn’t come in, so you lifted yourself off the couch and walked over to the door, opening it and gasping a tiny bit when instead of your dumbass friends holding McDonald’s you saw a one hundred and ninety two centimeters tall figure of a man, struggling to catch his breath, leaning on your doorframe, his black coat unbuttoned, cheeks red, eyes puffy and hair in a mess, not even gelled into place as they always are.

“can i help you?” you asked in a cold manner, voice sending daggers into his poor, confused heart, as he finally looked up to meet your glance, an apologetic look in his eyes when he tried to form a sentence.

“i think i can... no, way, i think i might...” he kept struggling, to which you only rolled your eyes, waiting for the continuation of that sentence.

“spit it out, sakusa” you stated, sending shivers down his spine with how annoyed you seemed.

yeah, spit it out, sakusa, he thought to himself before taking a breath and finally speaking up correctly:

“i think i might be in love with you.”

your eyes widened for a second as you tried to find evidence of honesty in his expression, tone, voice, because you definitely didn’t believe his words.

his heart dropped when you scoffed.

“i don’t need your pity”

that’s when it hit him:

omi doesn’t like to spend his birthday without you. you make it not only bearable, but fun.

in fact, he never wanted to spend it without you again. and as that realization made it’s way into his brain, he caught you closing your door.

“i respect you too much to pity you” he spat out as he placed his hand in between the door and the frame, making you unable to close it, even if you wanted to.

and there was the honesty you looked for.

“then why—” you started to wonder, but he shook his head before interrupting, a helpless look across his face.

to lay back in the arms of someone

“i’m afraid of... of this, okay? i’m afraid of falling in love, if this is any explanation for you. it’s like... you make me feel as if i’m on the top of the world” he laughed nervously, making you raise your eyebrows, before continuing “and it’s fucking scary to imagine falling from that high”

you give in to the charms of someone

his glance wondered all over your face to find crumbs of understanding, scared you’d laugh his confession off, a grimace of worry replacing the insecure smile painting his lips, and he was just one step away from shouting “i’m telling the truth!” at you, but you cut him off by opening your door fully, and welcoming him inside with a warm smile on your lips, and a reassuring sentence on your tongue.

happy 23rd, kiyoomi

“i think i might love you back”

omi likes feeling loved.

the next year flew by on both of you pushing each other’s limits, challenging each other like the both of you always needed, being there for each other, finding out how nice it feels to have someone there. it was coming home with a sore throat after a night of yelling “one more point, omi-omi!”. it was carefully intertwining your pinkies together while shopping without even realizing. it was awkward dates, because the label “date” always changes the atmosphere. it was taking weird selfies, it was having to part for out-of-town games and facetiming from hotel rooms. it was butterflies in the stomach and a ball of fluff in mind.

it was everything.

the first year of your official relationship flew by in no time, kiyoomi finding new joy in his birthday since now it was really a day to be remembered, marking your anniversary.

and just as you got home to his apartment after dinner, ready to unpack all the fanmail once again, the janitor of the building stopped you.

“sakusa-san, there was a flower delievery for you” he sighed, going towards a locked shelf and coming back with a bouquet, at which kiyoomi stared for a whole five seconds before you decided to take it.

“thank you for taking care of it” he muttered with a slight bow, you pushing him to go up the stairs. “who’s it from?” he’d ask you a minute later, halfway through the staircase.

“don’t you wanna check yourself?” you asked, but he frantically shook his head.

“check it for me, please”

omi doesn’t like flowers.

you nodded wordlessly before checking a card.

“well if i’m not mistaken this is your surname” you furrowed, struggling to read the handwriting. in your defense, the kanji for “sakusa” are quite complicated.

he looked over at the text before admitting “yeah, that’s from my aunt, she insists on sending those ever since i got into MSBY” he finally got to his door to unlock it “kinda sad how she didn’t even bother writing a text before” he chuckled, making you want to throw the flowers away.

you knew he considered them worthless if that’s the story behind the nice gesture.

the apartment door remained opened, but he didn’t enter, you almost stumbled over him, focusing on the note, and glanced over to see what caught him attention and prevented him from going inside.

“this is your surname, for a change” he stated, showing you a buffy envelope over his shoulder, but didn’t let you take it when you tried. instead he opened it himself, a neatly wrapped package inside, with a note at the top:

i wore glowes making it! i swear!

there was a typo in gloves, and the writing style could use a little work on it, but that didn’t affect kiyoomi at all, as he was hypnotized with his package after noticing your surname on it. he carefully opened it, to find a keychain, made from cubes, as the ones used in different boardgames, on every one there was a letter or a number, together forming the writing “kiyoomi 15″ with a heart at the end. it was all on a black string, and almost shined with how many times it was wiped before sending. after holding it in his hand for a while, he noticed another card at the bottom of the package, taking it out and reading out loud:

“please take care of my sibling. happy 24th!” he uttered in sheer amazement, as he grazed his fingers over the delicate ornament, before wordlessly going inside the apartment.

you followed him, closing the door behind you, worried about his reaction about your little sibling’s present, only to find him crouching before his couch, his training bag laying there as he tried to attach the keychain to the it’s zipper, smiling when he managed to do so.

before he got to turn around to face you, you managed to take a photo of him smiling at the newest addition to his training gear, and send it to your family with a caption:

omi likes personalized stuff.

over all the years of knowing kiyoomi, you’ve learnt so much about him, his life, his habits, everything. you knew him inside and out, and so he knew you. you’re laughing at your confusion and fear while you were buying his first birthday gift, as you sit on the floor in your shared apartment, plotting his 25th, biggest yet gift, as if he isn’t about to walk through the door, coming back from practice.

it’s almost ridiculous, how you struggled, wondering if he’d even like a gift, when right now you have a whole list in mind:

although omi doesn’t like gifts, he likes little thougtful gestures. he doesn’t like fancy big words, but likes real, honest wishes he can really take to heart. he doesn’t like spending his birthday without you, he likes feeling love, doesn’t like flowers, but does like his gifts personalized and touching.

you realize all the moments in your relationship made you know his every emotion and expression, but you’ve never seen your precious boyfriend cry, ever.

and you decide to change that.

you’re gonna make him something that’s gonna mask all the memories of his birthday being forgotten, walked pass by, pushed into the back, and not properly celebrated. that’s gonna outshine every single gift he’s ever got. that’s gonna make him so happy, he’ll cry.

an idea pops into your head as you get a pen and start writing.

dear kiyoomi,

_______

“dear kiyoomi” you get to hear him say a couple of nights later, he reads it out on your plea, with a smile across his lips, as you, atsumu, bokuto, meian and hinata, as well as omi’s older siblings and komori and osamu sit at the table, a cake and two traces of his favorite cupcakes are taking all the space possible.

omi’s voice is colored with a couple of glasses of wine, so it’s easier to him to relax and genuinely grin at the paper as he’s reading, all part of your plan.

“when i first met you, the first thing i found out is that you’re a private person. not that i was freaked out or anything, but you did have, and probably you still do, a heavy aura around you that may have flustered me a tiny little— a tiny little bit? smiles, your hands literally shivered” he stopped to comment, making you roll your eyes at him.

“zip it and keep reading, birthday boy”

“... a tiny little bit, i agree. nevertheless, the first thing i actually felt, was that you striked my soul as someone weird. thanks, baby” he interrupted again, but you urged him to keep reading. “... weird in a way that made me feel like i’ve never felt before, the kind of safe and terrified at the same time. terrified of what, you might ask? well, kiyoomi, here i’d like to quote you. you once told me that me loving you is like i had the power to break you, and you loving me back was like giving me a map with all the points to strike at. well if that’s the definition of love we’re going for here, than i not only give you a map, i’ll grant you a whole GPS. the trust you put in me every day to not take advantage of what you’ve given me is inspiring, and hence, i surrender every single point of ressistance i’ve held against you, i’m yours to snap at a wish, and trusting you that you won’t do it is something i can spend my life believing in.”

at this point kiyoomi had to stop and take a deep breath and a sip of his wine before continuing, clearing his throat a bit, chocking back his emotion.

“... throughout my years by your side, i’ve memorized everything there is to memorize about you and gifts. you generally aren’t a fan, but you like them carrying a lot of thought, dedication, you like them meant exactly to you and to you only. you don’t want pointless blabbing and overused sentences, you enjoy sincerity. you need love radiating from them in order to truly acknowledge them as something special. now, the last thing i know is that you don’t like flowers, but i hope you won’t be too angry with me and with what i’ve prepared for you. enjoy, signed, your smiles” he finished, looking up at you, already moving towards the counter, grabbing a bouquet from behind it.

he watched in amazement as you handed it to him, taking it in his hands, realizing that-

it was a bouquet of origami flowers.

“please, y/n, this is so—” he tried to find the right words, but once again, nothing came to mind as he watched your careful work from every side possible.

“shh, there’s a special thing to them” you explained, sitting back in your seat, exactly in a straight line from him, watching every single change in his expression as he tried to find what you meant.

he realized every flower had a little card sticking out from it’s center, and pulled the first one, the closest one to him.

“the first reason i love you” he read in a weak voice, chuckling nervously again before he found the courage to read it out loud “you make me feel protected”

he looked up at you with such a gentle and caring note in his eyes that you almost didn’t want to encourage him to keep reading it, but you did.

“two. you don’t smile too much” after that he raised an eyebrow, but read the next one “three. ...but when you do, you outshine the sun itself. four. you memorized my coffee order within the first two times we’ve been to a caffee. five. you got supplies to redo my coffee order without going to the— hey i swear i didn’t mean anything bad by it!”

“that’s literally the reason they love you for, idiot” atsumu laughed, urgining him to keep reading with a hand gesture. “come on, this is adorable”

“six. you have a playlist with songs that remind you of me. yes, i know this, omi, we share a spotify account. seven. you claim you don’t like interacting with people, but let a little girl propose to you with a cereal ring in the park.”

“this is too cute, omi is a softie” bokuto whined, hiding his face in his hands, but sakusa only slapped them off.

“am not. eight. you keep a mental score of all the times you won over ushijima. nine. you take way too much pride in beating atsumu in service aces”

“true that!” atsumu shouted, hiding behind his glass.

“ten” sakusa shook his head. “you don’t enjoy PDA, yet gave me the kiss of the century when i met your mother, just to annoy her. eleven. your childhood photos are too cute. twelve. you blasted hopelessly devoted to you the morning after we— i’m not reading that, idiot!” he half laughed half whined, in a high-pitched voice.

“omi-san knows how it’s done, apparently” hinata wheezed, komori accompanying him.

“did i ask?” he rolled his eyes and went back to picking lines from the flowers. “thirteen, you tug the corner of my sleeves when you’re stressed in public. fourteen, you have me saved in your phone as your good luck charm. fifteen. you put my head on your chest when i can’t sleep at night, to calm me down. sixteen. you make me laugh when i’m sad. seventeen. you almost never intent to make me laugh, yet always do. eighteen. you always make sure i’m carrying all the emergency items all me at all times. nineteen. you make me call you when i get home from a party, if you aren’t there to pick me up. twenty, you always insist on picking me up from wherever i am, because you’re worried about me. i mean yeah, what kind of a boyfriend would i be if i weren’t?” he genuinely asked, half of the guest shaking their heads.

“come on, five more to go, you adorable, clueless idiot” motoya pat his back and looked over his shoulder to see your careful handwriting, before sakusa hid the message from him.

“twenty one. you make me not worry about my future. twenty two, you try to do all your little morning rituals in advance when you leave, so i don’t miss you too much. i still do. twenty three, you’re never afraid to be bluntly honest with me. twenty four, you always ask if you can hug me when i’m low or crying. and twenty five—” he stopped more suddenly than anywhere before, eyes visibly watering before he dropped his head down and his it in his arms.

“what’s on there?” several guys asked over themselves, as omi kept laughing slightly, hiding tears in the sleeves of his fitted shirt.

“you’re gonna be the death of me” he murmured into the material, making everyone laugh, including you, who decided to walk over to him and hug him, resting your head on his, taking advantage of the fact that he was sitting and you could reach it.

after a moment of weakness, he showed his red and slightly puffy face, two trails of tears fitting his smiling expression as he struggled to say

“twenty five. you make me prouder and prouder every day.” he kept laughing through his tears, really trying to hide his emotion and failing miserably. “you really did try to make me cry on my birthday, didn’t you?” he looked up to you still embracing him.

“i suppose i did”

“well then, i’m gonna outshine you” he said, shifting in his seat in order to get up, wiping the last remains of tears from his face.

“what do you mean?” you asked, met with his confident smirk.

“you’re gonna see in a bit, trust me” he huffed, dusting off his pants’ material on the knee level, and reaching over to his pocket, in his hand a tiny, little box.

with a little more than an origami flower.

#haikyuu sakusa #sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #hq fanfic #hq prompts #hq scenarios #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #sakusa x reader #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #sakusa fluff #fluff #hq fluff

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httpjeon · 5 years ago

Text

ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ — ᴋɴᴊ (ᴍ.)

namjoon/reader | angst, fluff, smut | dating service!au

wordcount: 10.3k

contents: date for hire, unsafe sex, sensitivity kink, size kink, dirty talk, fingering, car foreplay, safeword use, jimin cameo, panty kink (?), grinding, orgasm control, orgasm denial, cunnilingus, riding, wet&messy, creampie, light overstimulation

— synopsis: club ardor holds a special raffle for a free night with a man who will supposedly be the boyfriend of your dreams. you definitely don’t expect to win.

blog masterlist — series masterlist

The bar was a quiet and calm atmosphere, a Thursday night meaning it was just mostly people having a drink after work. As you wiped down the counters with the rag, you heard your coworker come from the back room calling your name.

"______, have you gotten a chance to check the raffles today yet?" she asked, grabbing a glass beside you to help clean it before you could.

You smiled in thanks, "No I haven't added them to the list yet but a few did pull a ticket today!"

"That's great," she smiled, giddy, "I think it's so exciting."

"A lot of people do seem interested in the service," you nodded, tossing your rag under the counter into the designated bin.

"I mean, how often is it that you get a free night with a man from Club Ardor?" she giggled, bumping you playfully with her hip, "Did you draw? I did."

"I haven't, no," you shrugged, smiling sheepishly.

"Why not?!" she gasped, grabbing another glass to dry off.

"I don't know..." you confessed, "I guess I'm nervous about if I win."

"Come on, it's basically a once in a lifetime opportunity!" she whined, turning around to grab the bowl and clipboard, "I'm signing you up."

You watched as she fished a paper from the bowl and handed it to you.

91294 was your number. She quickly wrote it down along with your name and contact information.

A worker from Club Ardor had shown up a week ago to explain the process of drawing and how to keep track. It was easy enough and there were already numerous spots filled on the pages.

You slipped your number into your pocket and turned around when a customer arrived at the bar to order a drink.

Somehow, you'd completely forgotten about the drawing.

It was your day off, after an especially rowdy weekend of working the bar, you were exhausted. Lounging on the couch, you munched from a bag of chips while watching TV.

From the coffee table, your phone began to buzz incessantly, making you frown. Turning to glare at the device, you saw an unknown number flashing across your screen indicating a call.

Wiping your fingers off on your sweatpants, you picked up your phone and accepted the call.

"Hello?" you sighed, hoping it wasn't a scammer.

"Hello, may I speak with Ms. ______?" a gentle, feminine voice filter through.

"Speaking," you responded, now curious.

"Ah, hello Ms. ______! My name is Joy, I'm calling on behalf of the raffle for Club Ardor," immediately, you were frozen in place, "I'm happy to congratulate that you've won the deluxe date package free of charge!"

"I...I won the..." you sat up on the couch, mouth open in shock as she laughed.

"Yes, you won," she giggled before you heard papers shuffling around.

"S-So...what happens?" you ask, heart beating loudly in your chest.

"Well, the winner is matched with Namjoon, he's the one we usually recommend for beginners," she explained, "You'll have 24 hours with him before it's over. The scene will be completely up to him—"

"Scene?" you repeated dumbly.

She hummed, "It's a term commonly used in BDSM. It's basically a planned encounter, meaning that everything that happens between you two is...essentially a role play, in this case."

"I...do we have to have sex?" you gasped at the mention of BDSM.

Joy chuckled on the line like she'd heard such a question numerous times, making your cheeks flush, "Absolutely not. You can if that is something you and he decide you want to do. If not, there is no pressure to do anything beyond talking. There is a safeword that the two of you can use if anything happens that makes you feel uncomfortable or unsafe."

"Okay..." you breathed in relief, "So...So what now?"

"Well, I'm going to ask you to download an app called Club Ardor. It will ask you for a password and it's the same as you raffle number. This will allow Namjoon and you to communicate safely without your numbers being revealed to the other."

"Oh...wow," you were impressed to say the least, "Alright, I'll do that. Thank you."

"If you have any questions of concerns feel free to call back!" she bid you farewell and you hung up.

After the call, you rushed to the App Store to download the app.

Just as you were told, the first screen that popped up was a code box and nothing held. You cursed, realizing you had no clue what the number on your ticket was.

Standing up, you rushed to your bedroom to find your laundry basket. Groaning, you began to dig through to collect all the pairs of your work pants that you had worn that week. You sat on the floor and began to search through the pockets of every pair.

"Ah-ha!" you cried as you pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

You stumbled with how fast you stood up in an attempt to get back to your phone. You completely ignored the mess left behind by your rummaging and went back to sit on the couch.

Picking up your phone, you typed the number on the paper in and pressed enter. A small loading screen popped up before a profile to fill out filled your screen.

It was simple, asking height, weight, and basic characteristics.

After filling it out, you were brought to a simple blank page akin to that of an empty text message thread.

Unsure of what to do, you sat and clicked around for a minute to see if you were missing anything but nothing new happened so you locked your phone. Placing it to the side, you sighed as the nerves finally began to fade.

"I wonder..." you unlocked your phone and clicked on safari.

You typed in club ardor in the search and got a website of the same name.

"Welcome to Club Ardor, an exclusive dating service dedicated to living out every woman's fantasy," is what it read.

You scrolled past the information about how they were formed and where they were located. There was a box that was used to presumably register online for a date instead of calling to schedule. You also noticed there seemed to be a male-exclusive Club Ardor that operated separately from the one you were on.

Finally, you found what you were looking for: the dates profiles.

"Club Ardor's Dates are hand picked into the most desirable archetypes," you clicked next and were immediately brought to the profile of 'Namjoon — The Boyfriend Type.'

To your dismay, there was no picture of him — only basic information such as his height, weight, and age. You were surprised to notice the winning raffle number was the date of his birthday.

'Namjoon is most suitable for beginners. He offers an authentic Boyfriend Experience unlike any other you will experience.'

Beneath that was a small notice; “Namjoon’s service comes in a Deluxe Package and Standard Package. For 24 and 12 hours of date-time respectively!”

Before you could click further to see the other men, you phone made an unfamiliar dinging noise before a notification came in indicating a new message on the Club Ardor app.

As you opened the app, your heart began to race. A new text thread became available from Namjoon.

"Hello, nice to meet you!" his message said.

You quickly replied back with a greeting of your own. It was indicated as 'read' immediately before he started typing.

"Our date is scheduled for Saturday afternoon," he said, "I'll let you know the details as soon as I have them. Do you have any questions?"

You read the message a few times, trying to think if you had anything to ask. Your fingers began typing before you realized what you were doing, "You plan the date by yourself?"

"Yes," he replied, "Every experience of my client is unique so no two women have the same date with me 😁! I will ask you questions to make sure that everything is to your liking so I don't plan something you may end up hating lol."

You smiled, instantly charmed by his personality as you replied, "Alright! I look forward to it 😇!"

Saturday was a week away and you had no idea how you were going to live through the anticipation. It'd been so long since you'd been on a date and now you're about to go on one that would supposedly be your dream date with your dream boyfriend.

Tuesday morning rolled around and you woke up to a couple messages from Namjoon.

ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟹:𝟷𝟾ᴀᴍ] ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪᴛ's ʟᴀᴛᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇʟʏ ᴀsʟᴇᴇᴘ ʙᴜᴛ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ ᴏʀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ? ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟹:𝟺𝟿ᴀᴍ] ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ᴏʀ ᴜᴘsᴄᴀʟᴇ? ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟽:𝟷𝟻ᴀᴍ] ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ 😜!

The messages made you smile and you quickly typed up your response before getting out of bed, "I work at a bar and I probably prefer casual...I only won this date, remember? I'm not used to luxury so...and good morning!"

You watched for a second, locking it after a moment when he didn't read it.

"No way, you won?!" your coworker, Yongsun shrieked before covering her mouth when a customer glared her way, "You won the date?"

"Yeah..." you chuckled, sneakily unlocking your phone to show her the Club Ardor app with Namjoon's name on the preview to the text thread.

"Oh my god!" she squealed, grabbing your arm excitedly, "This is crazy! Oh my god, you're going to have to tell me everything."

"Nothing's really happened," you chuckled, "He's just asked a little about me and said he's making the best date he can for me."

"He already sounds like a dream..." she sighed, lashes fluttering.

"Let's get back to work," you chuckled, pocketing your phone.

With your shift over, your feet were killing you and you nearly collapsed before you could get the door closed. Your phone gave a now familiar ding and you pulled it out to see a message from Namjoon.

ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟷:𝟻𝟽ᴘᴍ]

ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ?

You texted back letting him know your shift just ended and you were going to be heading home. He read it immediately and began to type.

ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟷:𝟻𝟽ᴘᴍ] ʟᴀᴛᴇ sʜɪғᴛ, ʜᴜʜ...ʙᴇ sᴀғᴇ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ʜᴏᴍᴇ. ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ.

You smiled, enjoying the way your heart fluttered in your chest at his words. He definitely had the 'boyfriend' role down to a science. Packing your things up, you bid goodbye to Yongsun and made the trek back home.

As soon as your door was shut and locked behind you, you pulled out your phone to text Namjoon.

ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟷𝟿ᴀᴍ] ɪ'ᴍ ɢʟᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏᴛ ʜᴏᴍᴇ sᴀғᴇʟʏ. ɪᴛ's ʟᴀᴛᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴘʀᴏʙᴀʙʟʏ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ. ɢᴇᴛ sᴏᴍᴇ ʀᴇsᴛ.

You bid him goodnight, and held your hand to your chest. He was dreamy. You wondered what he looked like.

His personality only gave you so much and you wished you could put a face to the man who seemed to increasingly make you swoon.

After getting ready for bed, you sat down and combed your freshly washed hair before pulling your phone out of the mess of blankets you'd thrown it into.

ᴛᴏ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷:𝟶𝟷ᴀᴍ]

ᴄᴀɴ ɪ ᴀsᴋ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ?

ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷:𝟶𝟷ᴀᴍ]

sᴜʀᴇ, ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ.

The pet name immediately had you blushing and you bit back a smile.

ᴛᴏ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷:𝟶𝟸ᴀᴍ]

ᴄᴀɴ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ʟɪᴋᴇ?

He read the message and you waited to see if there was a response. When he didn't begin typing, you deflated slightly and sighed — taking it as a no.

As you tossed your phone to the side, you stood up to go to the bathroom to brush your teeth. Once finished, you crawled back into bed and picked up your phone.

You paused when you saw three minutes ago Namjoon had sent you a picture.

When you opened it, you felt like all the air had been punched out of your lungs.

He had blonde hair that was pushed back off of his forehead and thick, pretty lips. You could see the faintest hint of dimples on the flawless skin of his cheeks.

He was probably the most good looking mad you'd laid your eyes on.

As you stared at his picture, another text from him came in.

ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷:𝟶𝟽ᴀᴍ]

ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ɴᴇʀᴠᴏᴜs ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀɪɴɢ, sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ.

ᴛᴏ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷:𝟶𝟽ᴀᴍ]

sᴏʀʀʏ...ɪ ᴡᴀs ᴊᴜsᴛ sᴜʀᴘʀɪsᴇᴅ. ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ...ᴠᴇʀʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ.

ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷:𝟶𝟾ᴀᴍ]

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ sʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ғᴀᴄᴇ.

You frowned, feeling self-conscious as you had to follow up a picture of your own face after seeing his incredibly attractive self.

ᴛᴏ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷:𝟶𝟿ᴀᴍ]

ɪ'ʟʟ sᴇɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏᴍᴏʀʀᴏᴡ.

ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷:𝟶𝟿ᴀᴍ] ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴏɴ ᴇᴅɢᴇ. ɪ sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇ, ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ. ɪ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ғᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ɪᴛ.

The teasing tone and pet name had you flushing, unable to respond as you locked your phone and plugged it in for the night.

When you woke up, you had a text from Namjoon greeting you good morning once more. It brought a smile to your face and you texted him good morning back before once again leaving to get ready.

As soon as you got to work, you showed Yongsun the picture of Namjoon. You were sure she nearly had a stroke as she covered her mouth to scream gleefully before gushing about how good looking he was.

"Man, Club Ardor really...really did choose well, huh?" she hummed, zooming in on his face, "Look at his lips, man, if you don't get at least one kiss from him I will make your life hell."

"You trying to live vicariously through me?" you giggled at her dramatic nature.

"I can't any other way! I'm too poor to snag a date with one of them," she pouted, putting her work apron on with a sigh, "It must be nice to be rich."

"He keeps calling me pet names, it's honestly..." you quickly tied your hair up as you spoke, "He really feels like a boyfriend, it's crazy."

"Club Ardor lives up to its reputation," Yongsun nodded, "I thought it was only a 24-hour thing, how come you've got him for a week in advance?"

You shrugged, putting your phone on silent before pocketing it, "When I won, the lady said it was a special deluxe package. I didn't think to ask. Maybe I'll ask Namjoon later."

"I wonder how many women end up falling for them by accident," she mumbled, opening the staff door leading to the bar for you, "They must have broken numerous hearts if everyone is as authentic as Namjoon seems..."

"I guess that's the price you pay for a fake date with the man of your dreams," you replied, sighing, "They ruin you for anyone else."

Getting home, you noticed you didn't have any messages at all from Namjoon. It was odd but you didn't think anything of it. Heading to the bathroom, you touched up your makeup and fixed your hair before taking several selfies until you found a suitable one.

Taking a deep breath, you quickly sent it to Namjoon with an attaching message reading "as promised!"

When you didn't receive a reply, you decided to just head to bed.

Waking up that morning, you quickly realized it was going to be a shitty day. Your alarm on your phone failed to go off properly — you must have forgotten to turn it on the night before. It led you into getting ready as quickly as you could to get to work on time.

You arrived at the last minute, Yongsun having arrived earlier than you so you didn't have a chance to talk to her.

When your lunch break rolled around, you had the first moment to check your phone. Opening the text thread with Namjoon, you noticed he had seen your picture shortly after you sent it the night before but hadn't responded.

It made you feel bad, your already low mood easily receiving another hit from the bad day.

Putting it on silent once more, you put it in your pocket and returned to work.

By the time you got home, you were beyond drained. Your mood was in the toilet, your feet hurt, and you had barely gotten any tips.

You took a shower, hoping to relax the tense, sore muscles in your back. The hot water and soothing atmosphere helped to clear your mind.

By the time you got out, you were feeling a little better and decided to curl up on the couch for the night in comfortable pajamas and fuzzy socks. Covering yourself with your favorite throw blanket, you turned the TV on and let yourself settle down.

Before long, you were dozing off. You had gotten several episodes into a drama and decided to call it quits once the current turned off. In an effort to keep yourself awake, you sat up and grabbed your phone off of the coffee table.

When you unlocked it, you were surprised to see several text messages from Namjoon.

ғʀᴏᴍ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟷𝟾ᴀᴍ]

ʜᴇʏ sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ, sᴏʀʀʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴀʙsᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʜᴏᴡ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ?

ғʀᴏᴍ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟸𝟸ᴀᴍ]

ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴜᴘsᴇᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ, ɪ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛᴏ ɢʜᴏsᴛ ʏᴏᴜ.

ғʀᴏᴍ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟸𝟾ᴀᴍ] ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏᴛ ʜᴏᴍᴇ sᴀғᴇʟʏ.

You couldn't help but smile as you unlocked the phone and typed out your reply.

ᴛᴏ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟹𝟸ᴀᴍ]

ɪᴛ's ᴏᴋᴀʏ. ɪ'ᴍ ʜᴏᴍᴇ.

ғʀᴏᴍ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟹𝟸ᴀᴍ] ɪs sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ?

You were surprised both by his quick response and ability to tell that something was wrong.

ᴛᴏ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟹𝟹ᴀᴍ]

ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀ ʙᴀᴅ ᴅᴀʏ. ɪs ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴏᴋᴀʏ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ?

ғʀᴏᴍ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟹𝟺ᴀᴍ]

ʏᴇᴀʜ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪs ғɪɴᴇ. ɪ ᴊᴜsᴛ ɢᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʙᴜsʏ sᴜᴅᴅᴇɴʟʏ!

ᴛᴏ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟹𝟺ᴀᴍ] ᴏʜ? ᴡᴀs ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄʟɪᴇɴᴛ?

You were quite curious about the aspect of his job. It was such an unknown world to you that it actually made you want to know more about what happens behind the scenes.

ғʀᴏᴍ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟹𝟻ᴀᴍ]

ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ, ɴᴏ. ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀ ʙɪɢ ᴇxᴀᴍ ғᴏʀ ᴍʏ ᴄʟᴀss. ɪᴛ ᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ.

ᴛᴏ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟹𝟻ᴀᴍ]

ᴄʟᴀss? ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ sᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛ?!

ғʀᴏᴍ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟹𝟻ᴀᴍ] ʏᴇᴀʜ! ɪ'ᴍ ᴀ ʙɪᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ᴀᴛ sɴᴜ.

You were stunned. SNU was a tough university to get into, and the fact Namjoon had — he had to be smart. You were confused why a man like that was a date-for-hire. It felt too invasive to ask so you simply replied with an impressed 'that's amazing'.

He immediately began typing again and you waited just a second until the message popped up.

"I've got to go, something with work came up. I just want to say that I enjoyed your picture, you're absolutely beautiful and I can't wait to see your beauty in person. Sleep nice, sweetheart."

For the first time that day, you felt happy.

Friday morning, you were a mess of nerves. You still had work and you were thankful that it would be able to take your mind off of it.

As you worked, you felt your phone buzz and you heart raced in response. You hoped it was Namjoon.

It wasn't until you lunch break that you were able to open it.

He had asked how you were feeling which you replied with an honest 'nervous'.

Before your break ended, you got a sweet 'don't be nervous, baby. It'll be fun, I promise!'

Once you were home, you found yourself opening the text thread with Namjoon to greet him. He didn't respond quickly so you jumped in the shower to wash off the filth that had started to cling to you. You'd gotten off earlier than usual but there had still been the loud, smoking, drunk patrons that frequented on weekends. The smell of cigarettes stunk up your hair so you eagerly washed it, enjoying the scent of your lavender shampoo.

You stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your body as you used another to scrunch your hair dry.

Taking a seat on your bed, you noticed the screen lit up with a notification.

ғʀᴏᴍ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟶:𝟷𝟻ᴘᴍ]

ʜᴇʏ ʙᴀʙʏ, ɪ'ᴍ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʟᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴅʀᴇss ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴍᴏʀʀᴏᴡ. ᴡᴇᴀʀ sʜᴏᴇs ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ sᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪɴ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ.

ᴛᴏ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟶:𝟷𝟼ᴘᴍ]

ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ! ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀ sᴋɪʀᴛ ʙᴇ ᴏᴋᴀʏ?

ғʀᴏᴍ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟶:𝟷𝟼ᴘᴍ]

ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ғɪɴᴇ, ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ. ɪ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ғᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ!

ᴛᴏ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟶:𝟷𝟽ᴘᴍ]

ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɪᴛ!

You locked your phone and put it on to charge for the night after bidding him goodnight. Sighing, you stood up and made your way to the closet. Luckily you had an outfit idea in mind and you stood up to fish it out.

Feeling giddy, you hung it up on the hook on the back of your door and picked out a pair of flats. You'd had them for a year, they were still in excellent shape but they'd been worn enough to be more than comfortable.

Then you finally laid down in bed, curling up with your blankets around you.

You woke up at 11 — your alarm pulling you from a deep sleep. Sitting up, you stretched and let out a groan as you joints popped. You tossed your feet onto the floor and stood up, making your way to the bathroom.

When you came out, you spotted the outfit today's date on the door of your closet and smiled. Your heart fluttered in your chest and you eagerly picked up your phone, unlocking it when you saw a message from Namjoon.

Your fingers trembled as you read that it was a simple address.

"Meet me here at 12:30...we're having lunch!"

You decided to get dressed and use the hour you had to do your hair and makeup. When you were ready, you let out a slow exhale to steady your nerves as you slid your shoes on and headed out.

It was wonderful weather and the light breeze felt nice on your bare legs. The skirt made you feel cute and encouraged you to hold your head high.

The address led you to a small, family owned restaurant. You opened the door, taking a look around. It had a rustic vibe and there were a couple people scattered around. You inhaled, the smell of cooking food making your stomach growl.

Realizing that Namjoon wasn't at any of the tables, you decided to choose a booth that was located in a quiet corner.

A waiter stopped to deliver a menu to you before asking if you wanted a drink. After ordering a coke, he disappeared and you opened the menu.

You checked the time, frowning when you realizing it was 10 past the time he'd told you. The waiter placed your drink down and you thanked him.

"Do you want to order anything?" he asked, holding a small pad and pen.

"Um no...not yet, I'm waiting for someone," you replied sheepishly. He nodded and put the pad away before he disappeared again.

As you resumed looking at the menu, eyeing the burger options, someone dropped down into the booth seat across from you. You jumped, head jerking up to meet the brilliant, dimpled smile of Namjoon.

"Hi," he greeted, his voice smooth and rich. It made your heart flutter and your cheeks burn. He was gorgeous, deep dimples and pretty brown eyes that sparkled. His hair was honey blonde but was hanging in his eyes, giving him a boyish appearance.

"H-Hi..." you breathed, looking away when you couldn't hold his stare any longer.

"Cute..." you heard him chuckle before he leaned back in the booth, "Sorry I'm late...work held me for a bit longer than I anticipated."

"I-It's fine," you mumbled, the two of you being interrupted by the waiter placing another menu down for Namjoon and asking him for his drink order.

"Can I get a coffee black," he asked, smiling before looking down at the menu, "Got any clue what you want?"

"I kind of want a burger..." you mumbled, eyeing the different options.

"You read my mind," he chuckled, sending heat to your cheeks once again, "The burgers here are to die for."

"You come here often?" you asked, raising a brow when he nodded.

"Usually after class, it's on the way to my apartment so..." he shrugged.

"Here you go, sir," the waiter said, placing the cup of steaming coffee down in front of Namjoon, "Do you two know what you want?"

After the two of you ordered, you were left alone. Namjoon looked effortless at ease, a small smirk playing on his lips as he looked at you.

"You look cute," he complimented, smiling gleefully when you became flustered, "Do I make you nervous?"

"N-Not nervous..." you mumbled, biting your lip, "It's just..strange, I guess."

He nodded, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand thoughtfully, "I get it. There's build up to it and then when it finally happens it sort feels unreal."

"Yeah," you chuckled, lifting your glass to your lips to take a sip from the straw, "I was meaning to ask you...er," you paused before you voiced the question, "Are you okay with...talking about your...job?"

He chuckled, "Ask away."

"How come you're going to a school like SNU...but working this job?" you asked, "I mean there's nothing wrong with a date-for-hire job but like..."

"I get it," he nodded, sitting back to sip his coffee, "To be honest, I just needed a way to pay my way through. I didn't exactly...expect to pass the entrance exam, it was just a spur of the moment decision, and then when I did...I realized I had absolutely no way to pay for it," he sighed, a smile playing on his lips, "So I was looking around and...the opportunity to work for Club Ardor came up so I took it."

"That's interesting..." you hummed, stirring your drink with the straw, "You've got to be pretty smart to pass the exam without even expecting to."

He chuckled, dropping his head. You could see his ears turn pink and you realized he was shy, "I just...do my best," he cleared his throat and looked back up at you, "So you work at a bar?"

"Unfortunately," you huffed.

"You don't like it?" he asked.

"Not really," was your reply, making him frown, "Kills my feet and it's usually shit pay and tips. I'd quit and get a new job if I could but I can't risk losing my apartment and stuff..."

"I understand," he said and looked like he was going to say something else but the waiter interrupted with the plates of food.

The two of you fell into a surprisingly comfortable silence as you began eating. You hummed at the delicious taste, making Namjoon smile.

"Good right?" he chuckled when you nodded enthusiastically, taking another bite.

After you both had finished your burgers, he ordered a piece of chocolate mousse cake to share. It was wonderfully easy to fall into Namjoon's rhythm, you realized. He was calm, easy to talk to, and witty — making you laugh by barely doing anything.

You were comfortable with him.

However, there was a heavy feeling deep in the back of your mind as you remembered that this wasn't real. It was his job to make you have fun — he was paid to make you feel nice.

You were surprised to find that the two of you had been there for a while — it was nearing four o'clock. He seemed a bit surprised as well as he checked the watch on his wrist. You couldn't help but notice how expensive it looked.

"I think we should get going, our next destination awaits," he stood up, slapping down a couple bills from his wallet as a tip.

"There's more?" you asked, taking his hand when he offered it to you.

He chuckled, lacing your fingers together as he nodded, "Of course, wouldn't it be disappointing if this is all we did? A whole 24 hours to kill...man, I would not be worth my salt."

"I-I guess..." you chuckled, acutely aware of the way his hand felt in yours, "Where are we going though?"

"Ah...you're not getting information out of me that easily," he teased, opening the door for you to let you out first, "It's a surprise!"

"What if I hate surprised?" you asked, teasingly raising a brow.

"Well..." he stopped in front of a sleek black car and smiled, "I guess you better learn to love them pretty fast."

He didn't let you answer before he was opening the passenger car door and ushering you inside. Once he was sure you were comfortable, he shut the door with a slam and jogged around the front to slide into the driver's seat.

As he began driving, he turned on the radio and let a comfortable silent settle in. You took a moment to take him in; his long, pretty fingers gripping the wheel and the way his jeans hugged his thick thighs. As he stared ahead at the road, you could make out the sharp of his jawline and how his lips glistened in the sunlight after he dug his tongue across them.

He was dreamy to say the least.

"You okay?" he asked, smiling that pretty smile, "Do you want to AC on?"

"No, I'm okay," you replied, looking away at almost being caught.

However, you were quickly forced to look back at him when you felt his hand slide over yours on the middle console until you let him lace your fingers together.

"We're heading out of Seoul," he said, "We should be at our destination by 7."

"Is there something interesting going on out of Seoul?" you asked, making him shake his head.

"Interesting for other people, no. Interesting for us...very much so," he squeezed your hand, bring it up to his lips to press a kiss against the skin.

Your heart hammered loudly in your chest as his lips lingered.

He was good at his job, you'd give him that.

The time passed with the two of you talking; he introduced you to his favorite music and made you laugh as his sang along off-key. He even took a bit to passionately explain a recent portion of his course in college to you — even though you barely understood anything. He looked so cute with bright eyes as he excitedly spewed things off from memory.

It was nice. It was comfortable.

His hand in yours felt nice.

The sun was just beginning to set, casting a vibrant orange glow on the world around you when the two of you suddenly pulled into a side road. The pavement gradually turned to gravel before it was just dirt.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were bringing me out here to murder me," you joked as you watched the heavily lined trees pass.

Namjoon laughed wholeheartedly from beside you, "Oh darn, you caught on."

His sarcasm made you smile, your eyes focused on the road in front of you. After several minutes, the trees finally vanished Namjoon stopped the car.

You stepped out of the car when he opened the door for you, grinning.

Looking around, you realized you were in a huge grass field. There wasn't anything in sight as far as you could see. It was a vibrant green, almost glowing in the orange light.

"What...what's here?" you asked, looking to him as he leaned back against the hood of his car.

"Just wait, baby, come here," you flushed at the pet name and let him pull you into his chest.

His arms wrapped around your waist and you could feel his breath fanning over your ear. He smelled incredible, a musky — almost spicy scent of his cologne making your eyes flutter.

You relaxed, your back to his chest as you both stared out over the seemingly endless field.

As the minutes ticked by, the sun began to sink lower and the light diminished further. You were eager to know what exactly you were waiting for.

Suddenly Namjoon hummed, "There they are..."

Your eyes moved from his face back to the field and you couldn't help but gasp at what you saw.

The field was lighting up with seemingly millions of little lights. You stepped forward, eyes wide as you watched the lights dance around endlessly as the field vibrantly came to life.

"This is..." you gaped for a second before looking back at Namjoon, "Incredible!"

"I heard about this place a couple months ago," he explained, pushing himself off the hood of his car, "A friend of mine took his kids out here and it sounded so magical I wanted to come. I didn't have the opportunity to until now."

"I'm so glad you decided to take me here," you whispered, beginning to make your way into the field.

The grass was thigh-high, clearly unmaintained but you didn't mind. The fireflies surrounded you, landing on your body and flickering their little lights brightly.

"I'm glad I took you here too..." he said, making you jump as he was suddenly behind you.

As you looked up at him, you could see the way the fireflies lights reflected off the deep pools of brown in his eyes. He looked ethereal, smiling down at you as if it were just the two of you in the world.

He turned you around, wrapping his arm around your waist and reaching up to cup your cheek. Your breathing stuttered as he leaned down just slightly — hinting at what he wanted.

"Can I kiss you, ______?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Y-Yeah...I'd like that..." you replied.

He smiled just slightly before his lips descended down upon yours. They were soft and as his thumb softly stroked your cheek, you returned the kiss. Your hands found purchase on his chest and you stood on your tip toes to deepen the kiss. He eagerly reciprocated, cupping the back of your head to tangle his fingers in your hair as his lips moved effortlessly against your own.

When you pulled away, you were both panting and he wore a small smirk.

"Ready to head back?" he asked, voice a few octaves deeper.

A shiver went down your spine when you felt his way his hands lingered on your body. You nodded and let him take your hand to lead you back to the car.

The atmosphere between the two of you changed drastically from before. It was tense and heated.

You could feel his gaze shifting to you every few minutes, lingering in a way that had your body heating up. With every second that passed, the more you thought about that kiss.

He was a good kisser. You wondered what else those lips could do. He had pretty hands. You wanted them on your body — wanted to feel his touch on your skin.

It seemed Namjoon shared the same idea as his hand suddenly found purchase on your thigh — bare from the skirt you wore. Goosebumps rose along your skin in response.

His fingers inched towards the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You let your thighs separate for his wandering touch and you heard him release a breathy exhale.

"Tell me if you want me to touch you," he said, making you lick your lips, "I'll only do it if you say yes."

"Pl-Please touch me, Namjoon," you breathed shamelessly eyes fluttering when his hand forced your legs further apart so he could cup your clothed core.

"The safeword is firefly," he growled, the sound only dampening your panties. Your breathing hastened at the soft, teasing touch of his fingers, "Say it."

"Th-The safeword...is firefly," you breathed, letting your head fall back against the headrest as you arched you hips further into his touch.

"Good girl," he grinned, never taking his eyes off the road.

His fingers were skilled and precise, forcing the damp fabric between your folds to find your clit. You shuddered at the rough friction against your hardening bud, biting your lip to hold back from crying out. He let out a breathy chuckle, clearly enjoying teasing you.

You were getting wetter with every second that passed, making your panties stick to you almost uncomfortably.

"Can you take your panties off for me, babygirl?" he asked, taking his eyes off the road to take a look at you as you reached under your skirt. Hooking your thumbs beneath the band of your panties, you tugged them down. You pulled your knees up to your chest to tug them off of your feet.

Before you could toss them away, Namjoon grabbed them and sat up to shove them into his pocket before his hand found purchase on your thigh again.

"Spread your legs wide, baby," he mumbled, licking his lips as you did as you were told.

With your pussy completely exposed, he could see the way your wetness glistened in the passing light from outside. He let out a breathy groan when his digits found their way between your folds, spreading them apart to make you shiver as the AC breezed over your sensitive slit.

You let your mouth fall open with a small whine when he slid his middle finger into your entrance, the long digit easily finding your sweet spot — which he immediately began to abuse. When you looked over to him, you could see he wore a smirk on his lips and it made your walls flutter around him.

He hummed, pulling the digit out to circle your swollen clit — your own arousal allowing him to make effortlessly quick circles on the bud until you reached down to grab his wrist.

He chuckled, letting you slow him, "Sensitive, baby?"

"Mhm..." you sighed, not releasing your hold on him as he moved to sink two fingers into your cunt, "Feels good..." you whispered.

"Yeah?" he chuckled, licking his lips as he slowly pumped his fingers into your wet pussy, the noises almost obscene in the otherwise quiet car, "So tight, baby."

You didn't offer a response, merely grinding your hips down to get him to touch that spot again. When he did, you jolted and moaned. Namjoon hummed, his cock painfully hard in his jeans. He wanted to relieve the ache but both hands were too occupied.

"Hey baby?" he asked, smiling at your dazed 'hm?', "Can you unbutton my jeans for me?"

As you reached over, fingers ghosting over his hardness through the material of his jeans, he added a third finger. It made you paused, instinctively gripping his cock. He groaned, biting his lip at the feeling until you finally pulled the button out of the loop and pulled the zipper down.

"Fuck, that's better..." he mumbled to himself, angling his fingers in your hole upwards to press that spot again — enjoying the way it made you tremble.

He paused in surprised when your hand dove beneath his jeans to cup his cock through the cotton of his boxers, "You're...big..." The comment had him grinning, ego boosted, "You know how to use it, right?"

"Do you think I don't, babygirl?" he growled, pulling his fingers from your cunt to lightly slap your clit. You jolted and covered your mouth with your hand to quiet the shriek you let out in surprise at the sting.

You hummed, squeezing his cock, "I hope you do but...sometimes guys have big cocks that they just can't use."

You felt a rush of excitement as you saw his tongue poke the inside of his cheek angrily, clearly not happy with your challenge.

"You'll see how well I can use this cock soon, baby," his voice was low and dark, "Until then, sit back and let me play with your little cunt, huh? I don't wanna hear anything but moaning from that pretty mouth, got it?"

You didn't answer, resulting in a sharp slap to your sensitive bud again.

"Answer me," he growled, stroking his fingers over your folds to sooth the sting when you voice your understanding.

It seemed like everything turned into a daze around you. You could only focus on the incredible feeling of his hands touching your cunt. Every time it seemed that you were close to release, he'd back off and ease you away from orgasm.

You were growing frustrated, nearing tears when the car came to a sudden stop. Blinking yourself out of the daze, you looked around to find you had pulled into a small parking garage.

You sat up in the seat, pulling your thighs together and shivered when you felt how wet you were. Namjoon opened your door and helped you out, slamming it before you heard it automatically lock — deafening in the garage. He took your hand and tugged you in the direction of the doors.

There was a red carpet leading up the two darkened glass doors which Namjoon easily opened with a slide of a card in the reader that sat on the wall. When you stepped inside, you were stunned to see that it was a breathtaking, extravagant sitting room.

It was furnished mostly white with a couch and chairs, even a TV and table. There was a door on the other side that also appeared to be locked with a card reader.

"This is restricted to the guys and clients only," he explained, leading you over to an elevator. He pressed the button to call it and the two of you fell silent.

You squeezed your thighs together at the lingering arousal, only increasing when you felt his hand trail beneath the back of your skirt the graze over your folds. The elevator dinged and slid open, the two of you stepping inside. Namjoon pressed a button and the elevator doors closed.

He suddenly turned around, pinning you against the wall of the elevator. The metal railing pressed against your spine but you paid it no mind because his lips were quickly pressed against yours. You sighed into the kiss, gripping his shirt tightly in your hands to pull him closer to you. His body was warm and firm, hands gripping your hips to grind his still hard length against you with a groan.

The elevator dinged with the arrival to the correct floor, his lips lingered on yours for a second before the doors began to open. Before either of you could step off, you were greeted by another man who stood with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"What're you doing, Jimin?" Namjoon asked, sounding surprised as he stepped aside to let the other on.

"I was going to go out but now I'm stuck in an elevator with you for another minute," the new man mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back.

You took a moment to look him over, black hair pushed back messily to reveal strong brows and sharp eyes. The man oozed intimidation and you felt your heart speed up. Namjoon seemed unaffected and you assumed it was because he'd been around the stranger, Jimin, a lot.

The elevator dinged once again and opened up. Jimin gave Namjoon a short wave when you both stepped out before he reached over and pressed a button. You caught sight of a smirk on his full lips before the doors closed.

You let out a sigh, letting Namjoon take your hand once again.

"Sorry about that," he chuckled, "We don't usually run into each other like that."

"He's another...date?" you asked as he led you down a hallway. There were several doors that you passed but he was taking you to the very end of the hall it seemed.

"Yeah, that's Jimin," he responded.

"He was...scary," you mumbled, making him laugh.

"A couple of the guys are pretty intimidating," he said, "A lot of girls are into that type though."

"I see..." you said, the run in with another date only seemed to pull you out of the daze you'd gotten into with him. It reminded you that you were only part of his job, and that thought made your chest ache. You felt almost pathetic and you realized how lonely you would feel after you left him.

"Again, sorry," he sighed, seemingly realizing you had been pulled from the scene. He stopped in front of a door at the very end of the hallway, pulling out the card he used for entry and slid it into the door like a hotel keycard. The red light turned green and he pushed the door open.

"It's okay..." you assured, smiling politely when he let you walk in first.

He flicked the light on and you paused to look around. It was a homely, casually decorated room. There was a TV and a couch connected to a kitchen. You could see through a doorway across the room that it was a bedroom. The carpet was soft and warm beneath your feet when you took your shoes off.

"This is our room for the night," he smiled, placing his keys and wallet into a drawer next to the door, which automatically locked with a keycode, "I chose it just for you."

"There are other rooms to choose from?" you asked, wandering further into the living room to take a seat on the couch.

"Yeah, this whole floor is actually mine," he said, kicking his own shoes off, "We all have our own floor. Each room is furnished and styled differently according to client and scene."

"Interesting," you sighed, letting yourself relax on the couch as Namjoon wandered into the kitchen.

You watched him open the fridge and pull out a couple bottles of coke. He placed it down on the coffee table in front of you before he sat down as well.

"Thanks," you smiled as he put his arm around your shoulders and grabbed the remote, turning the TV on.

After a moment of him channel surfing, you realized you needed to pee. Excusing yourself, you followed his directions into the bedroom to the bathroom.

The bedroom was designed just as homely as the living room, with a bed of several fluffy pillows and a bedspread that looked soft. There was a dresser and bedside tables as well. It sort of looked like a bedroom a couple would share.

Shaking that thought from your head, you stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.

Namjoon sat on the couch and sighed when he heard the bathroom door close. He could tell you felt strange about everything now and he cursed Jimin's appearance.

The only way the scenes worked was if he was able to make his client feel like their relationship was real and genuine. Usually he would let his client figure her own way around and he'd move on with his job but for some reason he really wanted to see you lost in everything with him.

You weren't familiar with this life whereas his clientele consisted of women who regularly used dating services. The way everything was so new to you was endearing and he wanted you to have a good time.

He broke out of his thoughts when you sheepishly called his name from the doorway of the bedroom.

"What is it, baby?" he asked, glancing at the way you gripped the edge of your skirt.

"Y-You still have my um..." a smile bloomed across his face as you inched closer to him until you were standing in front of him.

"Your what?" he asked, cocking his head to the side in faux confusion.

"M-My panties," you grumbled, holding your hand out, "Give them back, it feels weird not wearing any."

"I think I prefer you without them," he grinned, sitting forward.

Your breathing stuttered when his hands gripped your thighs, urging you forward until your standing between his spread knees. His fingers found the edge of your blouse, pulling it out of the band of your skirt. Your hands naturally found purchase on his hair as he leaned forward to press a soft kiss against the soft skin of your stomach.

His hair was soft and he sighed when you tugged it as his lips ghosted over a sensitive spot. Pulling back, he reached up to undo the first button of your shirt, pausing to give you a chance to stop him. When you didn't, he continued to undo the buttons until it was hanging open. He licked his lips as he sat back to admire you, your breasts looking wonderful in the pretty bralette he knew you wore just for him. It wasn't lost on him that it matched your panties.

His hands traveled up your body until he cupped your breasts through the bra, making you sigh and arch your back for him. He pushed the bottom up until your breasts came into view and he felt his cock throb in his jeans at the sight of your perked nipples.

Your cheeks burned hot as he shamelessly drank in the sight of your bare breasts. You quickly stripped the article off, leaving you in your skirt alone.

He released a shaky breath and grabbed your hips, urging you forward until you fell into his lap. Cupping the back of your head, he brought you down for a heated kiss. You could feel his length, so hard, beneath you and you reached down to unbutton his jeans once again. This time, however, you pulled his cock free. You could see precum glistening on the tip and as you gave him a quick squeeze, you watched it drip down the head to meet your hand.

He pulled you down so you were suddenly sitting on his cock, the shaft sliding between your wet folds. He groaned, head falling back as you immediately began to grind against him, your clit sliding along the sensitive underside of him.

"You're so wet..." he breathed as he felt you dripping down his cock, "Does it feel good, baby?"

"So good," you whined, gripping his shoulders as you eagerly ground yourself against him, your clit throbbing as you were reminded how you were edged and denied by him earlier.

The high you'd missed out on was rapidly growing again, making you tremble in anticipation. Namjoon sensed your impending orgasm and quickly stopped you, forcing you back onto your knees.

Before you could voice your complaints at being denied again, you were roughly pinned down with Namjoon hovering over you. He leaned down, cupping your cheek as he pulled you in for a kiss.

You gasped into his mouth as you felt his cock at your entrance. You could distantly register the crinkle of a condom wrapper but were too absorbed in the kiss to think about it.

You both froze, eyes locking as he sunk into your tight cunt, your walls squeezing him so perfectly that it made his lashes flutter. Neither of you wanted to wait, you arched your hips, grinding down on him until he pulled back.

When he sunk into you completely and you cried out when he found your sweet spot with practiced ease.

"Holy shit," you whined, clinging to his shirt as he focused on hitting that spot.

"Feel good?" he asked, a cocky smirk on his face when you nodded, "Think I know how to use my cock?"

"Fuck, yes," you panted, losing your grip on him when he suddenly sat back on his knees.

He gripped you beneath your knees and pinned them to your chest. You were left deliciously exposed and the angle allowed him to hit your spot even better. The orgasm you continued to be denied was growing once again.

Sweat caused Namjoon's hair to cling to his forehead and there was a dark glaze in his eyes as he watched the way you hungrily took him in. Your cunt was creaming wet as you gushed on him, painfully close to cumming but unable to without him touching your clit.

He grinned as you whined, dangling so close to the edge, he kept building you up but never let you fall over. The desperate way you ground against him made his cock throb, close to his own orgasm.

It turned him on, having such control over you. Knowing that he was the only one who could make you cum in this moment.

"Please, please make me cum, Joon..." you practically sobbed.

The nickname took him by surprise, throwing him off guard and it pushed him over the edge. You whined when he stilled, feeling the way his cock was throbbing in the throws of his orgasm, the lovely little groan he gave as pleasure coursed through his body.

He pulled out, watching the way you trembled. The denial was painful, leaving you with teary eyes and pouting lips.

Suddenly, he was sinking two fingers into your entrance and there was the hot feeling of his tongue on your clit. Your hands flew down to grip his hair. He pumped his fingers upwards, hitting your spot as he sucked your bud into his mouth.

Your walls fluttered and tightened around him with your high. Your whole body tensed before you were cumming. He groaned, releasing your clit from his lips but flattening his tongue against it as it pulsed in time to your orgasm.

You were crying out, the orgasm that had been denied several times being one of the most powerful you'd ever experienced.

Before long, you were whining in overstimulation until he finally pulled his fingers from your cunt. Giving you a final lick to your clit, enjoying the way it made your body jolt, he pulled away.

He brought his cum soaked fingers to his lips, meeting your gaze as he took them into his mouth. Your squeezed your thighs together at the way he moaned at your taste, swirling his tongue around the digits until he deemed them clean enough.

Then, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours — letting you barely taste yourself.

The two of you were panting, worn out from the intense session.

"We should get cleaned up," he breathed, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

"Yeah," you nodded, letting him pull you up and lead you to the bathroom.

He closed the door and began to strip. The only thing you had to do was push your skirt down until you were completely nude.

"I've...never done that before," he suddenly said as you both stepped beneath the rainhead shower, hot water pouring over you both.

"Done what?" you asked, smoothing your hands over you skin to quell the goosebumps.

"Used my...mouth," he mumbled before quickly shaking his head, "I-I mean I've eaten girls out before, I've had girlfriends obviously but...I've never done it with a client."

"Oh..." you hummed, meeting his gaze. He seemed almost nervous, "Th-Thanks...for doing it with me, I guess?"

He chuckled, nervously reaching up to comb his now wet hair back, "Don't take this the wrong way but...I really don't know why I did it. I just...had this overwhelming need to taste you..."

The confession send a shiver down your spine and you bit your lip, "And...was it up to your standards."

He grinned, stepping forward until he was towering over you, "Exceeded them."

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, sighing into the kiss. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulled you closer to him.

"I want to do it again," he mumbled, reaching behind him to shut the water off.

"Wh—!" you were cut off by him suddenly picking you up. Clinging to him, you were paranoid he would drop you but before you could enjoy being in his arms, he was tossing you onto the bed.

Neither of you cared you were soaking wet from the shower, he spread your legs and dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed. He was perfect height to slide his tongue through your folds, making you sigh. You were still sensitive and eagerly spread your legs for more.

He was good with his tongue, letting his tongue find its way into your entrance — hot and wet. Mouthing at your clit, he swirled his tongue around the bud, enjoying the way you whined at the stimulation. Reaching down, you ran your fingers through his wet hair and tugged.

Namjoon was in heaven, the taste of you sweet juices on his tongue going straight to his cock. It was maddening how you had such a strong effect on him.

Wrapping his arms around your thighs, he slid his tongue between your folds with a moan. He took your clit into his mouth, the tip of his tongue flicking lightly to make your thighs jump.

"I'm gonna cum..." you whined, arching your back as you abandoned your hold on his hair in favor of the sheets.

"Cum," he urged, never stopping his tongue on your clit, even as you arched and let out a low moan. You trembled in his hold and gasped, clamping your thighs around his head to stop him when it quickly turned into overstimulation.

He stood up, eagerly crawling onto the bed, meeting your lips for yet another feverish kiss. Reaching down, you wrapped your hand around his hardened shaft, pumping it a few times until he moaned and pulled away.

"Ride me?" he breathed, making your heart skip a beat.

You nodded, the two of you moving effortlessly together until you were positioned above his cock.

"C-Condom?" you asked, remembering how he had gotten one earlier.

"Fuck..." he dropped his head back, eyes following your wetness as it dripped onto the head of his cock, "I...You can say no but...I don't fucking want one."

"Me either," you confessed, prodding the very tip of him at your entrance.

"I trust you're clean?" he asked, watching you nod though he was fully aware that you could be lying, "Fuck, take me in, baby."

You did so without hesitation, the two of you groaning as you sunk down on him — walls stretching to accommodate his thick length. You rolled your hips against him, grinding your sensitive clit against his pelvic bone. Sighing in pleasure, you pulled yourself almost completely off before dropping back down.

Namjoon /whimpered/, gripping your hips as you eagerly began to ride him. You reached up, pinching your own nipples as you effortlessly moved. Your walls spasmed and clenched around him, the feeling of him stuffing you full intoxicating.

"Th-This is so fucking reckless," he choked out, knocking your hand away to cup one of your breasts, "I never...do it bare but fuck...I've never wanted it more."

"Y-You feel so good..." you whined, resting your hands against his chest for more leverage.

"That's it, good girl," he praised, pinching your nipple to make you cry out.

You could feel him throb inside you, obviously close. Your wetness coated his cock, dripping down his shaft to his balls. The fact you got so wet for him only turned him on more. He tightened his grip on you, urging you to quicken your pace.

You were more then happy to oblige, leaning down to pull him into yet another kiss as you rode him. Your thighs were burning, sore, but there was nothing in the world that could stop you in that moment.

"Gotta feel you cum around me," he panted, urging you to sit back up. You leaned back, putting your weight on his thighs.

"Please," you begged, biting your lip.

He watched the way your breasts bounced in time to your movements. He brought his thumb to his mouth, wetting the pad of it with a quick lick before pressing it against your little clit. Your eyes rolled back and he could feel you clench tighter around him, your mouth falling open in a silent moan.

"Cum on my cock, babygirl," he ground out, clenching his teeth to hold back his own orgasm, "Come on, do it for me, baby."

With a final, exuberant cry, you were cumming. Your walls spasmed and you trembled above him, nails digging into his thighs. He didn't mind, the sting only adding to the pleasure.

"Fuck, where can I cum?" he asked, voice tight was he forced himself to stop from blowing his load inside you.

"Inside, please, cum inside," you begged, resuming rolling your hips against him even though you were painfully sensitive from your own orgasm.

Namjoon let out a loud groan, "Fuck," as he came. His grip on your hips tightened as you felt the hot rush of his cum filling you up. It dripped from inside you, running down his shaft and making a mess but neither of you minded.

His hissed, "Stop, stop," until you stopped moving.

The two of you sat for several long minutes until you finally pulled off of him. His cum gushed out further but you only laid beside him, uncaring. He wrapped you up in his arms, and kissed the top of your head.

"I can't believe I did that..." he said, an almost gleeful chuckle escaping his lips.

"Y-You don't ever do it bare with...clients?" the word rolled awkwardly off your tongue.

He nodded, "It's not technically against policy but...it's urged. Some of the other guys order STD tests before a meeting so they can go bare but...I don't usually."

"Then why with me?" you asked, looking up at him through your lashes.

He was quiet for a moment, eyes analyzing your face, "I don't know. I think I'm addicted to you."

You were surprised by his words, eyes widening. He gave you a small smile and urged you to lay your head back down.

With his heartbeat pounding against his chest, you couldn't help but wonder what would happen when the 24 hours were up.

#bts smut #namjoon smut #rm smut #bts scenarios #namjoon scenarios #bts imagines #namjoon imagines #bts reactions #namjoon reactions #bts preferences #namjoon preferences #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #namjoon x reader #namjoon/reader

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all-things-fic · 5 years ago

Text

Stay Still

A/N: Welcome to another day in quarantine. Here’s part two of Quarantine Harry which I wasn’t expecting to happen, to be honest with you all. Hopefully it lives up to any expectations. As always, stay safe and let me know what you think! Loads of love to you all.

Shout out as always to people I have pestered with this one. @waitingfortwilight for always being the ultimate babe, @harryfeatgaga for being hype woman of the century, @huccimermaidshirts for telling it to me how it is and @haute-romance-quotidienne for fuelling fantasy and possibly making it so we could get a part three!

Enjoy everyone! .x

***

You frowned softly at the intrusion of the morning light against your eyelids. The sound of a soft whistle hit your ears as you slowly roused for another day in quarantine. The sound of the bathroom tap shutting off brought a sense of stillness after Harry had brushed his teeth and washed his hands.

Keeping your eyes closed you heard the way Harry tip-toed around your bedroom, his feet heavy against the flooring regardless of how much he tried to overcompensate in trying to be as quiet as possible.

A small smile pulled at your lips as you imagined him acting like some drunken teenager trying not to wake his parents as he entered the house after a night out; worse for wear and not interested in being read the riot act for not sensibly drinking.

The sheets next to your feet felt heavier than usual, before suddenly becoming lighter again. You heard the rustle of clothing, followed by a light grunt from Harry as he got dressed at the end of your bed.

Head pushed through the neck of his hoodie, Harry fixed the hood on the clothing item before walking the short distance to the drawers that housed his undergarments and socks.

The sound of the wood sliding against the draw hinges caused you to cringe, before you bit away your smile as he whispered ‘shit, shit, shit’ quickly in succession due to how unsuccessful he was in not being noisy.

Turning around, Harry saw the way the sheets moved, the up and down of your shoulders letting him know you were laughing at the awful job he was doing.

“‘S that you laughing at me over there?”

Harry’s deep morning voice broke through the sleep-filled silence. He stood, still at the end of the bed, looking down the length of your body and willing you to pop your head up to look at him.

“Can see your shoulders moving under the sheets y’know?”

Still hidden by a mound of sheets and luxurious duvet, he heard your less than impressed response. “You’re so shit at being quiet.”

“Who even said that ‘m trying,” he scoffed, trying to pass off his clumsiness as something he had planned, letting his feet take him over to the other side of your bed. To his side.

You felt the familiar dip to the bed, and as he sat down you rolled over to your opposite side to be greeted with the expanse of his back. A soft groan left Harry’s lips as he leaned down to pull on his socks, you guessed his socks simply from the way you heard the band snap against his calves.

When he sat back up straight, you watched as he stretched up and rolled his neck to the side, left and right.

You weren’t prepared for his stare when he turned his head quickly to his right, looking over his shoulder at you. God, he was so frustratingly handsome.

Over the last couple of days, you’d watched Harry relax in a way that you’d yet to completely get to enjoy. His hair had grown to a length that had your fingers itching to braid at the locks sitting at the top of his head, his facial hair becoming darker, the thicker it got with each passing day that was crossed off on the kitchen calendar.

And his body. Where did you begin?

He had confessed to you a couple of nights ago he was considering getting a lock for the fridge. The two of you for some unknown reason falling into a fit of giggles after he’d said it as you lay along the couch together.

It was something to do with the desperation in his voice when he’d confessed his lack of self control. The rant he’d gone on about how much bread he was eating and how he knew he was ‘just being a greedy bastard’ but he couldn’t help it.

The thing was, he was working out with it too. You knew that simply because you’d spent far too many hours of the day telling him to ‘shift these bloody weights’ as you stubbed your toe for the fifth time in the space of a week.

He definitely was putting you to shame.

Quarantine really was working out for him. His thighs spoke for themselves, and you were sure one day he was going to split the shorts he appeared to be pouring himself into each morning to either do a weights or HIIT session in the middle of the lounge, or the garden if he fancied a change in setting.

The only thing you had found yourself lifting had been the fork that housed carb after carb. Pasta and potatoes mainly.

You were also lifting liquids to your lips too, staying hydrated was key in quarantine. And luckily for you the cases of wine and champagne that had gone untouched at your wedding towards the latter end of the previous year were buried in the garage of a house that you hadn’t ever thought you’d call home. Lack of flight paths back home and the closing of borders had changed that thought for you however.

Burying yourself deeper in the pillow beneath the side of your face, you watched Harry as he softly smiled taking in your less than impressed expression.

“Woken up on the wrong side of the bed or summat?” He teased, watching the way your expression scrunched up at him and his annoying love of early mornings.

“It’s not my fault someone kept me up half the night-“

“Didn’t ‘ear yer complaining last night,” his voice teetered off, eyebrows raised.

“Well, ‘m complaining now,” you pushed out your bottom lip, challenging him in a petulant way.

He laughed down his nose, shaking his head as he reached up to pick at the strings of his hoodie. Chin tilted up to the ceiling, you heard the way his tone of voice changed to a strain as he concentrated on tying his usual bow at his neck.

It was almost like he thought of himself as some form of present.

“‘Av at it then,” he encouraged you to bitch at him with whatever it was that had made you moody. “Eating into m’workout time so best be a good’en.”

“Piss off, you’re not even interested,” you scowled at him, knocking away at his hand as it reached out to touch you.

“Oi,” he frowned. “Don’t do tha’, don’t be like that.”

“‘M not being like anything.”

Harry’s eyes hardened as they looked at you, holding your gaze with his. You didn’t dare look away or crack a smile, even when you saw his lips start twitching as he found amusement in your childlike pouting.

Before you knew it, Harry had twisted his body so he was leaning over you, his presence welcomed rather than intimidating. His forearm pressed into the pillow at the side of your head as his free hand brushed at your slightly wild bed head.

“Gimme a kiss,” he muttered, his lips close to yours. You shook your head, with a small frown thrown at him. “Really gonna let me leave wi’out one?”

You hummed “‘s what you deserve.”

“‘S what I deserve? Me? What ‘ave I done?” He questioned. “You ‘ad a bad dream ‘bout me or summat?”

The silence that lingered after his question had you blushing under his gaze, as you focused anywhere but his eyes.

“Wha’ did I do this time?” He chuckled, feeling you shift in the soft hold of his arm. “Sorry that dream me is a bit of a knob’ead, I’ll ‘av a word.”

“You better,” you huffed.

“‘S as good as done, ‘f you let me have tha’ kiss,” he whispered, leaning in and pressing his face against the skin of your cheek.

His attempt at bribery meant he had basically won you over the minute he rubbed his lips down your chin and jaw, the feel of his beard harsher against your sensitive morning skin that still held its warmth from your nights sleep.

“Harry,” you giggled, wanting to curse yourself out at how you had buckled under him. Body tense as your head dipped into the pillow below as you tried to get away from the tickle of his facial hair.

Mouth pressed to your neck, Harry chuckled before opening his lips and leaving a gentle suckle against your pulse point while your fingers wove into his longer than usual hair. He knew he had you in the palm of his hand.

Your voice was breathy when it next spoke to him, velvety and happy as he nudged his nose lovingly along your skin. “Stop being a daft git.”

“Know exactly what would sort you out,” he whispered in return, making his way back up to your lips. “Come an’ hike wi’me,” he drawled, watching the way your eyes lulled to a hooded gaze.

You started to groan as Harry left a soft but pert peck to your lips. “‘M leaving in five,” he said, hand sliding down your back that was covered in your duvet. “Up yer get, meet you downstairs.”

The jolt of his hand against your bum, two swift and dull claps against the duvet material surprised you, before he pushed his body up and swiftly left your bedroom ready to start a new day.

***

You didn’t like the message that was on his hat.

You hated even more so that you were letting it bother you.

The horrible 70s font of ‘free and easy’ was unnecessarily winding you up. This man was a married man. Hardly the correct message to be portraying.

Eyes watched as Harry walked heavily in front of you, attacking the hill that you were both climbing, you lingered behind him.

His legs, the muscles in them we��re enticing to you but only in a way that was winding you up. How was he so fucking tanned already? His skin was so weathered that it always managed to piss you off at just how quickly he became a lovely shade of golden. His legs tanned better than yours did. In fact his everything tanned better than you did. His everything in general was doing better than yours.

Here you were once again being irritable. Frowning at anything and everything. Snappy but unable to figure out why. He was always so happy, you know? And you loved it, you really did but sometimes it was too much.

California had many a hiking spot. The knowledge of making it easily one of the best things about the place. Anything else, you could do without, but the hiking was always worth the struggle it took to even convince you to take part in the first place.

The sound of the gravel beneath your trainers, the sun beating down onto your skin, you watched as Harry’s trainer clad feet started to turn to you as he began to halt his pace.

Huffing and puffing your way behind Harry, you watched the way he tugged at the straps of his backpack and trekked along the desert like ground beneath your feet.

Looking up at him, you saw him move his sunglasses off his eyes and you swore if he placed them on top of the peak of his hat you were going to divorce him. Luckily, for him, he didn’t.

Sunglasses folded in his hand, you squinted up at him and waited for whatever it was he was going to say. “Told you, you should’ve brought a hat,” he shouted down to you, his voice carrying as you were surrounded by nothing but open space.

“I’m fine, just need to keep hydrated,” you held your water bottle up to him.

“You sure? You’re so slow-“

Before you could stop yourself you snapped at his teasing, “I’m social distancing, Harry!”

His eyes were wide from your response, his lips rolling into his mouth as he looked on at you harshly pulling open the lid of your water bottle and taking a large sip of your drink.

“Alright,” he dragged the word, his tone pitched slightly higher. “Like a bear wi’a sore head this morning, aren’t ya?”

“‘M beginning to think dream you is a lot better than real-life you,” you spoke, eyes refusing to look at him as you checked to see if anyone was around while you.

“‘S not true,” he softly responded, walking back down the hill to be closer to you. You knew he was right as well. “What’s up with you?”

Again you stubbornly took a sip of your water and squinted in the sunlight. “Darlin’,” Harry coaxed. “D’ya think-“

“No,” you stopped him before he could even begin to let his head carry himself away down the rabbit hole of baby talk. The baby talk that had been planted by his mother to begin with, the one thing that he had previously been trying to nip in the bud.

He was back to being amused again, you knew before you even chanced a glance at him from the corner of your vision.

The smile he wore was fleeting, barely there but reassuring all the same. Just one look in your eyes, properly, made him aware of the rush of uncertainty you had felt about the whole thing.

“Alright, ‘s fine either way though. Just so you know.”

***

Had your husband always been this hot or was it because he was about to feed you?

That was a question that was more and more frequently popping into your head with each passing day.

By the time you’d gotten back home from hiking, you were edging closer to lunch time and the growling of your stomach meant your mood was only going to get worse. If that were even possible.

You’d taken great delight in letting Harry know that no uplifting endorphins had found their way into your body after spending just under two hours, including the time you’d hiked and the time you’d been stuck in California traffic.

He had done nothing more than take every single thing you had thrown at him, as he wrapped his hand around yours and kissed at your knuckles affectionately.

Now you sat on the island counter in your kitchen, legs lightly swinging as you watched Harry boil pasta and simultaneously let your meat simmer away.

Next to you sat a glass of white wine, taunting. Harry’s wine was half-drank on the kitchen side as he talked through some tour logistics with Jeff. It felt like a massive elephant in the room. There was no denial.

Harry had picked your favourite wine, made this big deal about putting a ridiculous amount of effort in cooking lunch when usually the two opted for some picky foods of breads, meats and salad, given the hotter weather than you were used to at this time of year.

You warmed thinking about the trouble that he was going to but it wasn’t enough to shake the way you felt on edge with nerves.

“Speak to you tomorrow, mate,” he chuckled. “Stay safe, tell Glenne I’m sorry she’s stuck inside with you.”

A small smile played on your lips as you heard expletives through the other line from Jeff, before Harry cut him off.

Phone tossed to the side, the noise of sliding it along the counter filled your ears before Harry spoke over the noise of his cooking, “Even he’s pissed of wi’me. Got it in stereo at home from the wife and from m’mate.”

You knew he was joking from the glance he threw at you as he stood in front of you, before reaching to his right for his glass of wine. Your eyes were drawn to his Adam’s Apple as he swallowed, wine glass clinking down before he spun around to walk to you.

As you admired him, you smiled thinking about how he’d yet to take a shower. Instead he’d let you go and enjoy the first soak of the day, underneath the steamy hot water.

“Legs,” he commented, requesting you lift them up straight so he could get to the cutlery drawer that you were covering.

You did so, feeling his right hand wrap gently underneath your one calf to help you keep them up. His left hand pulled at the draw, the rattle of the metal knives, forks and spoons, sounding heavily into the room.

He plucked up a fork easily, pushing the draw back into its place with his hip.

“I do appreciate you, you know?” You questioned, watching the way he lingered close to you. You watched him, messy hair in his eyes and knotted to high heaven. “Sorry for being in your ear all day,” you continued, eyes careful as you looked at Harry.

“Can’t quite hear yer over the cooking,” he mused. “Wha’ was tha’?”

“You heard me fine.”

He smiled, repeating your words back to you. Humming happily, eyebrows slightly raise, “I heard you just fine.”

Arms boxing you in, Harry’s shoulders were hunched as he stood between your legs. “Gonna let me have tha’ kiss now?”

“You’ve had plenty-“

“Not a proper ‘un,” he protested, enjoying the feel of your fingers brushing back his hair out of his eyes. Face wincing as you tried to remove any of the knots from his chestnut brown strands.

“Need to do something about this,” you spoke wistfully, changing the subject, eyes concentrating on your fingers as they continued to comb through his hair, taking it away from covering his expressive, as ever, face.

“We’re not at that stage in quarantine where we start having to cut me hair, no chance,” he deadpanned, his eyes enjoying the way your expression lightened with his lack of desire to your addition to the conversation.

“Reckon I could give you a lovely bowl cut,” you shot back, realising how quiet he had gone on you. Softly slowing the movements of your fingers, you let your eyes drop down to meet his gentle gaze. “What?” you asked, voice barely there, his expression very pleasing to your eye as his hair softly fell in a middle parting, tousled and very nineties.

“‘Seem a bit happier, hm,” he acknowledged, enjoying the way your hands had moved from his hand now to rest lightly at the sides of his neck. “Not fancy your wine?”

And just like that nerves swirled in your stomach again.

You scrunched your nose up at him, giving him a soft shake of your head. His eyes brightened and you knew exactly what he was thinking. You hated that you were thinking it too.

“Think I’m late too,” you admitted, seeing the way his nostrils flared as he took a deep breath in. His chest heaved, before he blew out the most happy sigh.

“‘S fine,” he responded.

“Don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.”

“You’re not.”

“If you could see your face,” you shook your head, dropping your hands away from his neck.

“If I could see my face, what?” He jutted out his lips in question, his hands gently clasping yours and lifting them to wrap around the back of his neck this time.

“How you’re looking at me-“

“How I always look at you,” he mumbled. “Like you hung the fuckin’ moon. Stop worrying.”

Running your tongue across your teeth, you took in a deep breath. “Stop it,” Harry warned, the two words clipped, his hands setting themselves to the top of your thighs. “We’re just prepping a nice lunch, gonna eat it out on the patio, in the sun-“

“I don’t even think we’ve got a test lying around here, if we’d have been in London-“

“Baby,” he cut you off.

You swallowed heavily.

“When you think about it, this couldn’t have come at a worse time-“

He spoke your name harshly as he cut you off, his face hardening at your words. Nervously chewing on your bottom lip, you fidgeted under his gaze. “I didn’t, I don’t mean it how it sounds,” you knocked your head back so your eyes met the ceiling of your kitchen.

You could feel him scrutinising you. His gaze never fleeting as he watched you come to terms with all the possibilities.

“I mean, we aren’t even going to be able to get to a doctor. They aren’t seeing anyone right now and-“

“And we don’t even know if we are,” he soothed, reaching for your face and wanting your eyes back on his. He hated the worry that had stolen this moment from you. The shy giggles and nervous rambles, around passionate kisses and lingering pecks that usually were part of any pregnancy talk between the two of you.

But I think I want to be, you thought, eyes glossy as they looked at Harry. Leaning forward, he welcomed your weight as you rested against him. With a heaved sighed you spoke, “God, I could really use that glass of wine right now.”

***

The record player in your lounge was the only thing keeping you sane at this point in the afternoon. The soft hum of Billy Joel playing around the room on the lowest volume, enough to keep you out of your own head.

There was something about songs that were piano heavy that managed to instantly soothe you.

It had felt like forever since Harry had slipped away from you as you stood at the kitchen sink, rinsing off your empty plates before placing them into the dishwasher. Your eyes glancing over at him just in time to watch him pull off his sweat laced t-shirt, tugging the collar upwards and revealing his broadening back.

Since then all you had heard alongside the crooning of your favourite record was the sound of the shower running, the occasional croon also leaving Harry’s throat slightly drowned out by the sound of running water.

As you sat, head tilted against the back of your couch, a soft smile hit your lips when you heard the water shut off. Not long after the soft, low singing voice of Harry filtered through your landing and downstairs.

The sentimental softness in that moment had you sinking further into your hoodie and pressing your nose into its neckline. You couldn’t help but smile as you heard how heavy footed Harry was being upstairs, a harsh contrast in comparison to the softness of his singing voice.

“‘S one of your faves, this one innit?” You heard his voice boom, cutting through the peace and quiet that had formed of its own accord after he’d dragged himself upstairs. You loved it when he commented on songs you liked.

Eyes closed, you imagined him leaning over the banister on the landing and shouting down the stairs to you in conversation between the floors of your home.

Choosing not to answer, you continued to mutter under your breath the lyrics and tried to ignore the havoc Harry was making upstairs in your bathroom.

There was a loud crash upstairs, before you heard a delayed curse of ‘bollocks’ from Harry.

His voice suddenly became clear as he shouted down, “‘s fine, nothing’s broken just knocked off some stuff of the ledge. Definitely not watching it leak everywhere right now.”

Your mother used to always tell you she used to count to ten with your father. Now you understood what she meant in saying that.

Men really liked meddling when they were bored. You were used to it by now. Pick your battles. Let it be like water off a duck's back.

Continuing to try and tune him out, you listened carefully as he pottered around upstairs. It wasn’t much after that you heard him descend down your stairs, and pad his way through your house into your lounge.

Harry stood in the doorway, watching as you sat with your eyes closed, trying to find some form of stillness. Softly clearing his throat, he kept his one hand behind his back while the other clasped tightly at the white towel that sat against his waist.

Eyes fluttering, you knocked your head slightly to your left and stayed quiet as you took the vision in front of you.

One thing that always amazed you about Harry was the way that he managed to almost fill the entirety of a doorway but never look menacing. His body was broader, the pecs of his chest more defined. The hair between them darker regardless of how he’d been shirtless in the sun. You took delight in that cause that meant his chest hair was getting thicker.

You eyed him, spending time on enjoying his rounded tummy and how much he was clinging on for dear life to the towel.

“No big towels left in the airing cupboard,” his voice broke your shared silence, causing you to sweep your eyes back up to his face. “Think you need to do some laundry.”

The smarmy, amused expression after his comment, made you shake your head. “You’ve got hands as well, you know?”

He didn’t answer your question, continuing to let the wet strands of his hair drip over his face and down his naked chest. “If you stand in the middle of the doorway any longer people will think we’ve got a flasher in our home.”

The frown that pulled onto his face made the smallest amount of laughter leave your chest.

“‘Ere,” he lazily spoke, throwing an item onto your coffee table. The noise of it sliding along the wood pulled your eyes away from watching him and onto the item that he had just gently thrown. “Just found this hidin’ at the back of the cupboard under the sink.”

That explained what all the knocking was.

Barely lifting your head to take in the item, you already knew what he was referring to. Eyes back on him, you watched as he fidgeted with his towel again. This time, opening the item slightly wider than necessary as he pulled it tighter around his thickening body and folded it in to keep itself together.

Turning his back to face you, you watched as he tried to drop his body down onto your couch. You made a noise of disapproval, seeing him still in a hunched over position. Harry turned his eyes to look at you over his right shoulder. His stare asked you what the problem was.

“You’re all wet,” you lightly screeched at him, watching him softly roll his eyes and twist his body to plonk himself down onto the coffee table opposite you instead.

In the silence, Harry once again began to pull at the towel at his waist. “For god sake,” you whispered, “put it away, will you?”

“‘S wha’ ‘m trying to do,” he argued in return, as he fidgeted with the white cotton and tried to cover his modesty. “Christ, you could just keep your eyes up ‘ere.”

“What’s happening here,” you joked, lifting up your foot from where it sat perched on the coffee table and poking at his stomach with it. His stomach really was rounding out and you found yourself loving it, any comment you were making simply out of pestering affection. “That’ll be those twenty trips a day to the fridge.”

“I’m possibly eating for two but I won’t know without the test,” he deadpanned, reaching up with both his hands and brushing back his wet and heavy hair. You smiled when it fell back in his after he pressed his forearms into his thighs, wanting to lean forward to get closer to you.

He wasn’t trying to conceal himself at all, his man spread the biggest you’d seen from him for a while. The towel gaped more than ever.

“Like you need anymore of excuse,” you responded, flashing him a false smile. You watched as he pressed his tongue to the corner of his mouth, trying to stop his laugh at you jokingly commenting again on his quarantine eating habits.

“‘S not very nice is it, that? To the potential father of your unborn child.”

You howled at that one, head falling back against the couch. “Potential father,” you squealed. “I’ve not been holed up in the house shagging anyone else, have I?”

Your laughter was too much. His silence said it all. There was no doubt a scowl over his features as you laughed at him.

“Dunno? Have you?” He sulked as he spoke back, annoyed you’d got one over him. “Might’ve done, this house is bloody massive.”

Letting your laughter die down, you pressed your lips together as you looked at him. Swinging your legs down you leaned in, squeezing his chin and jaw in one hand.

You melted at how pouty his lips became, his cheeks smushed as you pecked at his lips.

“One man, that’s it.”

He hummed, as you dropped your forehead to him. “Must have decent swimmers.”

“Swear to god,” you muttered under your breath, causing him to breathily chuckle.

This was the man you’d chosen to marry.

***

His back faced you as he slept. The dim light from the early morning seeping into your room from the slight crack that had been left in your curtains, thanks to the way Harry had poorly pulled them together the night before.

The sound of Harry’s deep breathing had your eyes lulling as you continued to allow them to roam over the expanse of his bare back and tousled hair.

Hazy eyes tried their best to zone in on Harry’s figure as he lay sleeping. It was nice to wake up before him, to get the opportunity to admire him at your own pace rather than peeking a glance his way as he whooshed through the room like a tornado like every other morning.

The smell of your newly washed bed sheets was alluring as you lay against your soft mattress, almost too alluring.

A faint snore left Harry causing you to softly smile as you saw the way his week had somehow managed to catch up with him. He’d done this thing where he’d taken it upon himself, to make himself work. He couldn’t tour, that was out of his control. And you knew that regardless of how much he tried to play it off, he was struggling with how he couldn’t change it.

Probably why he was throwing himself at every radio station possible.

Part of you was jealous that he was still sleeping, but the other felt warm in knowing he was allowing himself to switch off for this long today. That his work had been forgone and he was allowing himself to rest.

The last couple of days had been strange as you had become hyper-aware of your body and how it felt, the way in which it was reacting to smell and taste. To the touch of your husband.

And touch you he had. Harry was always tactile but as the potential news that you could be having a baby had made him even more so. His hands never really left you.

They were against your thigh when you sat close to him as you ate your breakfast together every morning. Fingers usually softly cupped around your thigh, sometimes trapped between both thighs if he thought he was being funny in dragging his hand higher up your leg in an outdoor setting.

That would usually drag a lazily, morning laugh from him. Pleased with his flirtatious antagonising.

Fingers would gently take to playing with yours in the evening, as Harry seemed to master the art in eating his evening dinner with just one hand. Gone was the use of a knife, as he would tilt his fork to the side to cut through whatever food you had cooked that evening.

The fork would even clatter against the plate to allow him to reach for his evening tipple of choice, rather than break how he was holding your hand, which was usually your left.

You’d noted he was still so enamoured by your wedding band which had joined your engagement ring. He usually would find himself gently plucking at the cushion cut diamond to make sure it was sitting central on your finger.

In this moment as you lay in bed, you supposed him taking time to touch you was his way to stay grounded. He’d been outrageously busy since your hike just three days earlier, more for someone who was in lockdown and made his living by singing music live.

The work was a blessing in disguise though as it had drawn his attention away from the pregnancy test that had found its place back under the bathroom sink, connected to your room.

It had allowed you to get out of your head for the last seventy-two hours. Breeze around like the newlyweds that you were, still basking sickeningly in how amazed you were by everything the other was doing.

It was hard not to get in your head now, though.

Laying awake and in a dream-like state, you always felt your body’s sensitivities more so when you had first woken up. It was one of the things that made morning sex your favourite.

But your body sensitivity seemed to linger more so now than ever. It didn’t make itself known solely in the morning. It was around when you took the chance to lay in the morning sun just before it peaked at midday.

You’d found that your skin became itchy, a form of prickly heat spreading over you, a lot quicker now and while it wasn’t something new your worry was already heightened tenfold since the pregnancy suggestion had even become a thing.

The first time it had happened, and you’d become irritated Wednesday, you cursed at your body for playing some sort of sick April Fools trick on your with it being the first day of the new month.

Harry’s deep chuckle against the soft skin of your shoulder hadn’t done anything to soothe you. “Just sit in the shade, grab one of m’old shirts and lounge in summat loose,” he had suggested a couple of days earlier.

You’d panicked at the time, regardless of his calm demeanour when hours later the red dots on your skin had remained, “I just don’t understand where this small rash has come from.”

“Where?” He’d set his tone, “Lemme ‘ave a look.”

From where he stood behind you, you shifted your - his - baggy dress shirt from where it was loosely buttoned up and draped over your body. His chin was resting against your shoulder as he looked down your shirt, catching sight of the light sprinkle of red dots on your skin.

“Looks like prickly heat t’me,” he hummed, knowing just how itchy heat rash could get. “Come take a cool bath wi’me, it’ll help.”

That cool bath had helped, a lot actually.

But away from your thoughts, in the present moment, the cool bath that had previously soothed you wouldn’t help this time. This sensitivity was the kind that had you wincing when clothes ran against you.

To put it bluntly, your tits were hurting.

There were no two ways about it.

And you didn’t even need to google how that linked to pregnancy because you knew it was a symptom women often had in their first trimester. However you’d had that symptom before and you and Harry were still baby-less.

It didn’t stop the anxiousness that flowed through you, however.

Could be solved by you taking the test though, couldn’t it?

That thought wasn’t wrong. Yet, it was scary.

It would change your life in two ways. Either you were going to become parents or it would make you realise you wanted to become parents. A sense of happiness while splintered with apprehension would either be your feelings of choice, or simple and unbridled disappointment would linger.

Harry’s deeper snore had you blinking yourself out of your blurring stare and let him come back into focus.

Wouldn’t hurt taking a test would it? It’s not like you were officially doing it without him. If you kept the door open as you peed, he would basically have been right there with you.

It would stop you thinking irrationally about the pains in your chest anyway.

Releasing a nervous sigh, you reached out towards Harry and softly touched his bare back. His back that was broadening more and more as quarantine went on. Fingertips lightly tracing at his skin, before your fingers slid up and wove through the hair at the nape of his neck.

You scratched lightly, before pausing when Harry’s breathing patterned changed. All movement from you froze, waiting for him to let you know if he was still sleeping. Instead of waking, you saw the way his body sank back down to relax into the mattress once more.

This noise of contentment left his lips in his sleep, Harry rolling further onto his tummy and pressing his face deeper into his pillow.

He was practically telling you to piss off and leave him be, even in his sleep.

Your hand, from his new position naturally fell away from his head as he was just a little bit out of reach now.

Taking that as a sign to get up and do what you’d been putting off for long enough, you slipped gently out from underneath the duvet.

A sense of sadness flew over you as the sleepy warmth of your bed fell away from your body while you walked around the bed and closer to the bathroom.

Eyes dropping down to your bed, you took in Harry’s face that was less than elegant as he slept. Mouth slightly ajar, his pouty lips were still framed with his thickening beard and a light divot sat between his shaped eyebrows. You fought against the urge to reach out for him and smooth out the disruption to the otherwise even contour of his forehead.

Footsteps sounded loud to your ears but were nothing more than soft pats as you turned to your left and entered your bathroom.

You felt nervous about shutting the door, not wanting anything to wake Harry in that moment. Leaving it ajar to avoid the click it would make as it connected to the doorframe, you bent at the knees and pulled at the cupboard door.

Sleepy eyes landed in the box that had become familiar with you now, slightly shaking hands reaching out for the item and pulling it towards you.

Standing, you - for some reason - couldn’t bring your eyes up to take a look at yourself in the mirror that practically covered the entirety of your sink and hand washing station.

The edges of the box had become quite worn which was hardly surprising given how many times it had been passed between you and Harry on that last day of March.

You didn’t need the instructions. There was no point reaching for them. Instead you went straight for one of the two pregnancy tests that sat wrapped inside and pressed your legs together.

You needed the toilet, of course you did. You’d just woken up. It wasn’t going to be an issue. And that was part of the problem as you stood in your stark white bathroom.

It wasn’t pretty, was it? Anything about pregnancy, you were sure wasn’t going to be airy fairy. The fact you were likely to get pee on your hand in order for you to find out in the first place, summed it up pretty well.

Breathing deeply, you hated the negativity you were forcing yourself to feel as a way to combat your anxiety. Swallowing, you lifted your eyes cautiously to take in your figure.

Wild hair met your eyes first, followed by an incredibly creased white shirt of which the sleeves half swamped your hand. You liked being engulfed in an item of Harry’s clothing, however. It was so hard to come by when you’d first started dating, up until the latter years where he’d taken it upon himself to bulk his body up for tour.

Breathing out a heavy sigh, you rucked up the bottom of the dress shirt and turned to sit on the toilet, clenching your eyes together as you placed the test where it needed to go.

And then you went for it.

How else were you supposed to describe it.

Not that you would ever need to describe this part to anyone. No one ever talked about this part.

Lifting the stick out from between your legs, you pressed it onto the counter to the side and sorted yourself out. Toilet flushed and hands washed, you cringed when the faucet created a noise louder than you wanted but it was out of your control.

Drying your hands you frowned at the faint call of your name, not sure if you were imagining it. Hand wrapped around the door, you pulled it open and caught sight of Harry gently looking at you.

He looked partly disoriented, blinking quickly before he set his gaze on yours. The softest smile you had sworn to have seen grace his face, since you had walked up the aisle to him, met your stare.

Not a word was spoken as he raised his left hand out for you to take, his right arm tucked securely underneath his pillow and he lay down.

“Come get back in back,” he mumbled. “‘S early innit.”

The bathroom light was turned off before you could even say ‘pregnancy test’. The item swamped in darkness as you shut the door and gently walked to your waiting husband.

Eyes dropping from his you noticed the way he’d folded down the covers so they sat against his lower abdomen. The span of his upper body on show for you to see.

“‘S late,” you corrected him when you were stood next to his side of the bed. Hand in his, Harry pulled it and gently placed it against his face, eyes slowly shutting when you found his hair and gently wove your fingers through his unruly waves.

“Refuse to believe it,” he mumbled into your wrist, lifting his head slightly from his pillow to kiss your skin.

“Why? Cause it makes you lazy bones,” you softly laughed, it turning into a squeal as he pulled you down to him, legs straddling either side of his body.

“‘S ‘nough out of you,” he hummed, chin dropping to his chest as he reached up to brush your fallen hair out of your eyes.

You let your eyes flutter shut as you felt the way the pads of his fingers gently skimmed across your face. His gentle touch tickled your skin, a smattering of goosebumps lining in the wake of his touch as he showered you with affection.

You had no other choice but to press yourself down onto him, as he lay against the mattress.

“Bloody obsessed wi’you,” Harry confessed, his eyelids hooded as his vision of you blurred and any light in the room was taken from him from your hair curtaining around your both. “I’d do some foolish fuckin’ things for you.”

“Would you?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, voice low. “Surely you know it an’all.”

“Might do,” you felt the way his lips pulled up into a smile, your lips resting against his rounded cheek. “Might not.”

“You fuckin’ do,” he groaned, head knocking back causing your lips to fall further down his face, “Would give you the clothes off my back, would give you anything.”

“That’s a loaded statement, sure you don’t want to retract it.”

He shook his head, swallowing as he said, “Do with me what you want, doll.”

The rawness to his voice as he spoke had you brushing your nose against his beard, the tickle of his hair something you had grown used to over the never ending days.

He turned his head waiting for you, the sound of his softly gasped name falling off your lips and straight onto his as he hummed happily in return. His hands brushed your hair behind you again as it continued to get in the way.

Breathing heavy against his lips, he smiled when you pulled him closer to you, squashing your noses together as you devoured him. A hum low, in the back of his throat, as you slowed. A confidence warmed you, fingers carding through his hair and gently pulling at his chestnut locks to create a gap between the two of you.

He tried to nudge forward to reclaim your lips, but you stopped his movement with a commanding, “Stay still.”

His jaw clenched, before you soothed the back of your fingers over it. Harry wasn’t always used to you taking charge in any situation, especially not in bed anyway. Not all the time and not with such an authoritarian tone anyway. Usually you played it lightly, a flirtatious push and pull between you both.

“Said I can do what I want with you,” you hummed, watching the way his nostrils flared as his breath picked up. “Gonna take my time-“

You ducked your head, lips sucking his skin the minute they came into contact with the light dusting of his beard that scattered down his throat.

“Never usually get to take my time with my husband,” you trailed off, teeth naughtily grazing at the top of his rounded pecs. He’s usually far too greedy, you though, keeping it to yourself.

Harry’s breathing was heavy now, his chest expanding as he tried to anticipate what was to come. His stomach tensed as your hands got lower.

“Your husband,” he emphasised.

“Know this is your favourite,” you watched him bend his left arm behind his head, raising his head slightly as he looked up at you sitting in his lap.

An amused chuckle reverberated through him. “If it’s with you, yeah, it’s my favourite.”

You dropped your eyes to his right hand as it came up to fiddle with the buttons on his dress shirt. Whilst there weren’t many buttoned up, he still couldn’t see as much of you as he would have liked.

As he unbuttoned, from the bottom up, you began to rock your bare nether region against Harry’s pubic bone, before you pushed back some more and came into contact with the sensitive and wet head of his heavy and waiting cock.

“Mm, found it,” he breathed, biting down on his bottom lip and tilting his chin upwards, eyes peering down his nose at you. “Tha’s what you wanted.”

You knew you should’ve been mad at the way he wasn’t doing what you had asked but there was something about how his right hand sprawled it’s way across your stomach as you rolled yourself messily on top of him. How it had just stayed there, resting, warmly.

With hooded gazed, you watched the way his bottom lip bounced away from his teeth, tongue enticing licking at the luscious pinkness and shining up at you.

“‘S tha’ look for?”

Frown etched between your brows, you appreciatively gasped as you felt the way his cock tucked between your folds as you humped against his wetness.

You were looking at him whatever way you were, because you were obsessed with him too.

Harry slowly pushed himself up, so you were chest to chest now. His lips bumped clumsily to rest on your chin, hand sliding around from your stomach and down your back before gripping at the top of your bum cheeks to keep you to him.

“Glowing, y’know tha’,” he huskily mouthed against your jawline, your head slowly tipping backwards and starting to show the expanse of your heaving chest to him.

Eyes dropping down, he quickly glanced at your boobs, how they pushed against the material of his shirt and how rounded they looked. Definitely looked bigger to him.

He knew he should stop himself, but he couldn’t. He was dying to strip you of the clothing item so he could get a proper look at you.

His hands travel back up the span of your back, nails catching against the cotton of his shirt. You felt him start to bunch the item up as you slowly brought your head back up, just in time to catch the way he set his jaw as he pulled at the final button of the shirt to make it fall open.

That button ripped away from the fabric, lost somewhere forever, mixed between the sheets until you would find it sometime later next week and it would pull you back to the memory of this time you’d had sex.

Harry’s head was already tilted back, his mouth now slightly ajar and lips still shining and pouty. Regardless of how much desire filled his face, you could tell he was waiting for you to tell him off.

He was being too handsy for someone who had been told to stay still.

“You’re not listening to me,” your soft whines were met with this breathy laugh down Harry’s nose.

The silence between you was short before his deep voice said, “Can’t help wanting to have a proper look at you.”

Your bum pushed back into his hands as a response, gliding easily against him regardless of how he held your center snug to his crotch.

“I’m getting hot,” you admitted, the cotton shirt becoming nothing more of a nuisance as it rustled around you. “This is getting in the way.”

Knowing you’d need help to pull the item off, Harry’s hand found their way to the middle of the shirt, slowly peeling the fabric away from your body.

He heard you suck in a breath through your teeth, the wince cutting through the room as he helped you remove the shirt you had picked to sleep in. Hair cascading down your back, you felt him sit up further, pulling your face to his, as he cupped the back of your neck. Shirt long thrown to the bottom of the bed.

“What was tha’?” His question was half lost against your cheek, his hands sliding down your nude back again, his grip strong as his palms found your arse and pulled you tight to him. He tugged you closer to him, a groan of lustful appreciation omitting from his throat.

“Bit tender, this morning,” you whispered, head dropping back as Harry pressed his softly smiling lips against the skin of your clavicle. “Stop it.”

“‘M sayin’ nothin’,” he spoke with a sing-y lilt, far to pleased with himself, softly lifting up and pressing his forehead to your collarbone. “Gonna have to suck on summat else if they’re hurting.”

“Haven’t done that in a while,” you mused, lips lifting as he hummed in agreement.

“Not since the full beard came in,” he wistfully replied. “Come and sit on my face.”

“Harry-“

“Alright, I’ll get back in m’box,” he jested. “Want you that way before I shave it off, at least once. At least-“ he trailed off when you took his mouth with yours again.

It never got old feeling him between your legs, and the two of you just staying like that. Kissing heavily like teenagers and neither of you making the first move.

“Don’t always get what we want.”

“I’ve done alright so far-“ he chuckled when you stilled against him, annoyed at how he had an answer for everything.

Wrapping his arms securely around your back, you felt him lower the two of your back down to your bed. Forearms resting in the sea of pillows, you gripped at the side of his face, “why won’t you just let me have my way?”

“‘S fun like this,” he whispered, keeping his mouth hot and heavy against yours as he breathed.

“You’re just spoiling it for yourself,” you tried to reason with him.

“Believe me I’m not,” he groaned, feeling you start to brush your aching centre over him once more, “I’m driving myself mad with want. Know you are too, know you’re gagging for me.”

You whimpered at his suggestion, breathing getting heavier by the second as you desperately rocked against him in slow, purposeful rubs.

“Darling, just put me in,” he dropped his eyes to look at the rock of your hips, “Have the real thing, have it properly, go on.”

His lazy but deep tone was too much to say no to as you lined him up at your aching warmth.

“Fuck yea,” he bit down on his bottom lip, breathing heavily through his nose. His voice was spent, as he let his mouth hang open, dry and desperate for him to swallow. “Take me,” he barely murmured, as you felt his tip sit at your entrance.

“God,” his worn out voice sounded, his clammy hands moving to rest underneath your nicely raised bum cheeks , “Take me. All of me.”

And just like that he was proved right, you were gagging for him.

His length slipped easily inside you as you sat down upon him and released a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding out in one almighty pant.

You didn’t waste much time once he was inside, leaning your body back and placing your left hand on the top of Harry’s thickening thighs for support, this mass of hair cascading down your back, the tips tickling at the tops of his knees.

Creating a 45-degree angle with the use of his legs, you put yourself on show from him immediately. You both knew this angle helped target you in all the right places, while still giving you ample control over the speed and depth of the thrusts.

You’d gotten exactly what you wanted.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed with Harry how your reclined position was an obvious invitation for him to stroke away at your clit. However, he found himself far too mesmerised by the way your body looked above him to bring himself to do anything but watch.

Your body had changed since he’d last taken you this way, or let you take him. He wasn’t sure where the power lay now and he didn’t care; not in the slightest.

You’d blossomed nicely, a bit more for him to grab onto since your wedding and he found himself flushing at how he could been fucking you like this and you be pregnant with his child.

He was convinced you were. Your boobs heaved above you, bigger than he’d ever seen them and he could’ve sworn you tummy was slightly more rounded than before. His gaze was getting lower, hands fighting with themselves where to go first and eyes trying to help him make the right decision.

As they dropped, he swallowed heavily. You had started to get hairy, a sign of laziness but also of being comfortable. He remembered so vividly the first time he’d taken you when you hadn’t shaved, and you weren’t as brazen to share it with him as you were now.

“Look at you shagging me,” he hoarsely caught your attention as your right hand moved from where it was pressed against his stomach and swiped up your own body to smoothly bring your hair around to your front. “Tits look incredible.”

His head dipped back as he saw your desperate expression as you brought your head up to sit your body up straight. Your adopted rhythm had been more of a rub and roll of your hips, rather than a drop and grind. It was almost as if the minute you had taken him inside, you didn’t want him to leave.

“‘M dying to play with ‘em,” he confessed, his hands coming up to your sides, before stroking back down. His hand cracked against your bum without warning, as you rocked forward with more fervour. “Fuck me, go on. Please keep fuckin’ me, don’t stop.”

His voice was choked and as you looked down at him, his lust filled hooded stare was waiting for your frowning expression, as your hands found his chest and softly slid up to his neck.

They rested there lightly, until you saw Harry raise his chin upwards to open the expanse of his neck and throat to you. He looked alluring like this, lying beneath you and exploring something you’d yet to discuss together.

You lightly stroked your thumb against the center of his throat, feeling the way his Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed. The feel of it causing you to panic, your hand starting to retract. How did you even know this was what he wanted? Just cause he had shown your more of his neck, didn’t mean anything.

Before you could get too far away, you felt him gently take your hand and encourage you to keep exploring. His eyes were dark with arousal as he whimpered up at you. The stubble that lightly decorated the underside of his chin was more than taunting enough; never mind anything else.

“You want that?

“Want everything wi’you, do it properly,” he pressed heavily against your hand, jaw clenching before your eyes were greeted with his falling shut and his mouth hanging open. A wanton moan, fell off his lips. “Use me.”

Keeping your eyes on his face you saw the way it began to flush with colour as your took away his ease to breathe.

The stifled groan of approval that left his lips as you rolled your hips up and dropped back down onto him with a clap of your thighs meeting, caused the most shit-eating grin you’d ever seen him wear, to pull up onto his lips.

The leverage you had changed from digging your fingers into his throat. The position allowed you to press yourself hard down onto his cock, so much so that you could’ve sworn it was the deepest he had ever been.

You stayed that way for a while, the echo of your skin clapping together as your thighs began to burn. His hand smoothed over your skin and gripped at your hips to encourage you to not give in.

“My wife, pleasing me,” the roughness to his words, voice broken as you let his neck go but kept your hand there. “Doing as she’s told.”

You fell forward and brought your lips to his, his laugh at his previous statement mingling with yours. He knew he’d pissed you off saying that, a self confessed wind up merchant. He definitely didn’t wear the trousers here and he knew it.

“Remember where my hand is,” you faux-threatened, soft raise to your brows.

“Darling, you've had me by the balls since I first clapped eyes on you. Having me by the throat is nothing.”

Now it was your turn to be smug. To drop your hips down upon him again and hear him submit a groan confirming his willingness to please you just as much.

You felt yourself fluttering around him and it took everything within Harry not to hold you to him and just thrust upwards, giving you what you both wanted.

He liked that you had wanted to drag it out, to roll your hips over his this entire time and let your clit rub against his pelvic bone on every thrust. He wanted you to get it how you wanted, to hold out for you and have you draw his release out of him.

The whine that left your throat as you cupped around his neck and brought his face back to yours had him muttering words of approval that you couldn’t decipher. He knew you liked that, when you couldn’t quite figure out what filthy things he was saying to you to try and get you there.

A playful mystery which summed the two of you up perfectly.

“God, I love you,” you desperately gasped, face flushed and feeling clammy from your exertion.

“D’yer?” He roughly spoke. “You love fucking me, hm?”

“No, I love you,” you whimpered at him, breathing deeply and eyes wide. “Say you love me.”

He chuckled at your sense of needy showing itself, “‘course I love you.”

He softly smiled when he saw how blissful your face fell, his hand finding the back of your head and holding you to him. “Love having sex with you too, hm. Fuckin’ love it.”

You hips pressed down onto his as roughly as they could, a mixture of your arousal and his everywhere inside your thighs. Back and forth you moved in quick succession, panting matching how much you wanted it.

“Love it when you get like this, all messy and desperate for me. ‘S not like you, usually so put together and so good.”

“‘M so dirty for you-“

He groaned louder, feeling himself somehow press deeper in you. “Mhm,” he agreed against your jaw. “Yea, you are. Gonna come for me?”

“Dunno, ‘m thinking about it,” you smiled before fluttering around him and dropping your hips again. “Yes,” the motion of your hips started to get quicker once more.

“Don’t stop this time,” he quickly whispered, pushing his chin up and catching his lips with you. “Want you all over me.”

As your movements got more abrupt the sound of the mattress beneath you made itself known. The rustling sounds of sheets, a tangled mess against your merged together limbs, spurred you on.

He knew how much you loved the sound of the mattress like this, really showed how heavy you were going at it.

His awe for you was written all over his face as he looked at you. “Bit more baby,” he clenched his teeth, pushing up into you for the first time since you’d taken control. “Let me help you, hm?”

As he brought his hands down against your cheeks and hips, he pulled you down onto his strong thrust up causing you to reach for his face. “Come on, come on,” he whispered, sweat running down his temple and disappearing into his hairline.

The minute your mouth fell against his he knew he had you. Pliant as ever. You felt slack everywhere than around him. Tight and then gently fluttering teasingly around him.

And he knew was done for.

“Keep going, bit more,” he encouraged, just needing you to press down once more to meet him. When you obliged him, he spoke, “That’s my girl, yeah.”

Pulled down hard onto his pelvis, Harry vocalised how grateful he was. Pushing in further each time you squeezed and let him have it. So physically deep you don’t know where he ended and you began.

He loved how you fell against him, shaking arms wrapping around you and holding you gently to him; keeping your face tucked against his sweaty neck. The two of you shook against each other, allowing your unsteady breath to even itself out.

As you felt him begin to soften before your legs, you shifted your body slightly, Harry mewling at the loss of contact as he slipped out of you.

He nudged his nose into your hair, enjoying how the two of you were taking time to stay close.

“Come share a bath wi’me,” he mumbled against your cheek. Feeling you shake your head, no. “No?”

“I don’t want another go,” you mentioned

He chuckled, “I don’t wanna shag you, I wanna treat you to summat.”

“But I’m tired-“

“Yeah, ‘s hard putting all the work in, in’it.”

His statement caused you to bury your face into his neck even deeper. “Tell you what,” he hummed. “How ‘bout if I run the bath and you get to lie here while I do it? Sound better?”

“Yeah,” you childishly responded.

“‘Kay,” he hummed, amused, “Gotta let me out first.”

Not happy in the slightest at how you had to move, you gently rolled away from Harry and moved onto your stomach. Face pressed into his pillow, turned away from Harry he took his opportunity to run his eyes down your body.

The dip between your shoulder blades, how soft your skin looked to the naked eye, never mind felt to the touch. He couldn’t resist dropping forward, choosing to climb over your body rather than slip off the bed by his side and walk around.

“Think you should take that test,” he murmured, into your sweaty shoulder, as you lay sprawled out facing away from him.

“Why?” You asked, question weary and voice slightly wetter than usual. You already had taken it.

“Just think you should,” he happily hummed, nose running against the curve of your shoulder. “Call it a hunch, husband’s intuition.”

When he was met with silence, he decided to throw out a comment he knew would he incite a reaction from you. “Thinking of taking the bike out later.”

His motorcycle, which had definitely seen better days, was absolutely not something you wanted him going near. Regardless of how attractive he looked on the bloody thing.

“Are you trying to start an argument?” You mumbled your question, half of it lost against the pillow.

“Alright I’m going,” he replied, hanging half over your body. The way he chose to climb over you, caused you to press your face into your pillow to hide your smile.

“D’ya want bubbles or not?” He asked, standing in the doorway of your bathroom, and looking over his shoulder. You stared at him, feeling a sense of nervousness swallow you. “Baby-“

“Sorry,” you blinked softly. “Surprise me.”

He lingered, trying to see if you were okay, before he turned to enter your bathroom. Door kept open, you could see his bare arse as held any over the tub to push the plug in and turned to look at something to add to your bath.

The sound of bottle shuffling around filled you ears before he asked, “We’ve got the muscle relaxant one of you-“

He’d seen it. The way he’d stopped talking let you know.

The shuffle of his feet was heard before he appeared at the doorway again. “What’s this?”

“What’s it look like?” You nervously replied, not even letting your eyes move to the item in his fingers.

His softness of his face had you sinking into the bed, further than you thought possible. “Have a look, ‘s it say?” You asked him, watching his eyes blink before he turned to look at the item and read over what he had already seen once more to be completely sure.

Harry blew out this sigh. The kind that really caused his body to move down. “What do you want it to say?” He asked, voice deep.

You hated how his expression was so hard to read. Usually he was so expressive that he tended to give himself away, not this time.

You saw him flick off the light in your bathroom, feet carrying him to you and letting his knee dip into the bottom of the mattress. Eyes following his every move, you dropped them down to his hand and saw the way that you clenched the item in his grasp.

The longer he took to let you know what the outcome off your test, was the worst you began to feel. His eyes were shining when they met yours again, them taking in the worry etched upon your face.

“You’re making me nervous, stop it-“ you let your eyes flit between his as he silently crawled over you. “Harry, seriously-“

Dropping his nose to yours, he breathed out a happy laugh. This close lipped smile brushing its way into his lips as he let his lips hover over you.

“Let’s go take that bath together, Mommy.”

***

Excited to hear all your thoughts! Thank you for reading .x

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fific7 · 4 years ago

Text

Dangerous and Divine - Part 6

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff & lemon zest 🍋 with a side of angst. The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: Some drinking & swearing.

(My GIF)

He made it out onto the street, looking around him in all directions, heart sinking as he couldn’t see her anywhere.

Running his fingers through his hair, Billy continued scanning the crowded streets. No.... nothing. He grabbed his phone and dialled her number. She didn’t pick up. So he texted her.

“Angel, just saw you in the restaurant. I was there for a business lunch, really hope you don’t think there was anything else to it cos there wasn’t. Please - call me back or pick up when I call.”

He tried another couple of times including FaceTime but no, she definitely wasn’t picking up. Trying once more, he let it ring through to voicemail, and left basically the same message on there. He had no intention of returning to Madani and continuing lunch - too many awkward questions to face there apart from anything else - so he went back to his car, got in, slamming his hands down onto the steering wheel a few times before starting the engine, and driving back to Anvil.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You and your friend had only gone a few doors down to another restaurant, and luckily they had a table available. Once you’d ordered and had glasses of wine in your hands, your friend Karen had fixed you with a steely gaze and said, “Okay, give.”

She worked as a reporter at one of the big newspapers, and you hadn’t had the chance to catch up with her for a good few months. And you knew she wouldn’t let this go until she’d wrung all the juicy details out of you, so you took a big sip of wine and sighed.

Catching her up from the whole ex-boyfriend situation to the cocktail party and meeting your new love interest, through to becoming lovers and maybe thinking it could go somewhere, you finally got to today’s fiasco.

“So, literally as soon as we sat down, I look up and that big fucker’s walking in with some pretty girl and looking extremely comfortable with her!” You gave what could only be described as an angry growl, “I mean I’d sussed out from the get-go that he was a player, but ... uhhh!!!... how could I be so damn stupid to fall for his shit talk?!!! Telling me I was his girlfriend!!!” You blew out a big breath.

“And then...“ you switched to your fake “man” voice, “‘Oh, I got a job I’ll be on for the next couple of days, angel.’” Another angry huff from you. “Yeah, right, on a ‘job’...he was obviously gonna be ON her! For about 48 hours by the sound of it. Bitch! And he’s a fucking jerk.”

Once Karen could get a word in edgeways when your rant drew to a close, she said in a calming voice, “Honey, it sounds like you had a lucky escape. There’s a lot of them in New York, you know... fucking jerks, I mean.”

You felt your eyes welling up, but blinked the tears back fiercely, you weren’t going to cry over that stupid big douchebag. You pulled your phone out of your bag, “I mean, look! Look at what he literally put in my phone yesterday evening...” and, ignoring your notifications for the moment, you scrolled to Contacts and turned the phone towards her.

Karen rolled her eyes, “Urrrghh, how lame is that? ‘Your Boyfriend’?” shaking her head. Even though you were furious at him, you felt a twinge of annoyance at her comment. You’d thought it was quite cute. Well, you had before that little shitshow. Then she put her face closer to the screen, “Hey, wait a minute!.. lemme see his photo?”

You handed the phone to her, and she peered at the image. “Oh my god,” she breathed, looking up at you, “...what’s your guy’s name?” “Billy Russo,” you spat back, loath to even voice it. She handed you the phone back. “Well, that’s just damn spooky,” she said, looking amazed. She leant in to you, “I’ve been seeing a guy for a couple of months, his name’s Frank,” and your mouth dropped. “Billy’s got a friend called Frank!” you said, staring at her. She nodded, “Yep, works at Anvil which is owned by the one and only Billy Russo!”

She sat back, taking a long sip of her wine. “What a freaking coincidence this is,” she shook her head. “Frank’s told me a little about him, you know and I’m afraid you’re right - he sounds like a total player.” She looked at you sympathetically, “Sorry.” You waved a hand in the air, “Nothing I hadn’t guessed for myself, Karen. But... he seemed so sincere.” You laughed self-depracatingly, “I was gonna be the one who tamed the bad boy. Huh!!”

You scrolled through the notifications, realising they were all from Billy. “I think he must’ve seen me! He’s called and texted.” You read the text, huffing and showing it to Karen, who raised her eyebrows and commented, “Nice recovery, Russo.” “The voicemail’s the same,” you said, as you listened to it. “What a load of bullshit. I mean, c’mon, who walks a business lunch date to the table with his hand on her back?”

Karen nodded, “No-one, unless they wanna get slapped with a lawsuit.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy slammed his office door behind him, and threw himself into his chair, tapping out a staccato rhythm on his desktop with a long finger. He reached down, opening his bottom desk drawer and taking out a bottle of whisky and a glass. A moment later, the door opened and Frank came in, looking concerned. He took in Billy’s less-than-immaculate hair, bouncing knee and tense demeanour.

Billy waggled the whisky bottle and quirked an eyebrow at him, but Frank shook his head.

“Okay, Bill, what’s up? Something go wrong?” Billy looked up at him, scowling ferociously, “Fuck yes!” he bit out, “Frankie... everything’s gone wrong.”

Before he could say anything else, Frank’s phone rang and he held a finger up to Billy to say he was going to take the call.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he answered it, “how’re you?” Billy heard a big outburst of indecipherable speech from the phone, and then saw Frank’s eyes flick over to him. “Oh, uhhh okay.. umm right, yeah he’s here. Yeah... yep, I’ll let him know. Will I see you later?” He smiled fondly as he went on, “Okay! That’s great, see you then.” He hung up, hand going to his jaw and running over his stubbled chin, looking worried.

“Bill...” he started, just staring at him and Billy stared right back, “What?”

Frank said a name to him, his angel’s name, and continued, “You know her?” Billy nodded, “Yeah, that’s my girl.” Frank plopped down into the chair across from him, “Not sure that’s the case now.” Billy nodded, “I know. That’s what I was about to tell you. I took Madani out to lunch and my girl was in the fuckin’ restaurant.” He shook his head, “She ran right outta there and I followed but couldn’t find her. So I headed back here. Left Madani sitting there in the restaurant.”

He poured a generous slug of whisky into the glass and knocked back most of it. “Now my girl’s mad at me and Dinah’s mad at me, and this operation could be down the tube.”

Frank sighed, rubbing his big paw over his face. “And Karen’s her friend, can you believe that? So she’s mad at you too. Fuckin’ hell, Russo.”

“Yeah,” said Billy, also sighing. “How the fuck am I gonna fix this?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Dinah Madani was not a happy bunny. She stomped into her office, yelling out “Sam!!!” as she went. He hurried in behind her. “Something wrong, Dinah?” She gave him a contemptuous look, “I see you’ve been working on your powers of observation. Well done! Yes, something’s wrong!” Sitting down behind her desk, she glared up at him, “Russo!!! That’s what wrong. That piece of shit.”

Inwardly, Sam laughed to himself. Despite Madani’s sarcastic gibe at his perceptiveness, he’d quickly realised as soon as Russo had popped up in this case that Madani had the serious hots for him. She thought she’d been getting somewhere with him, both on the case and personally, but now something must’ve put a spanner in the works on either one or both of those.

“What’s pretty boy done now?” he asked, trying and failing to completely hide his smirk. She scowled at him, “We’d gone out for lunch - to discuss the case,” she hastily added, and Sam thought to himself ‘yeah, right, and what were you hoping dessert was gonna be?’

“He spotted someone leaving the restaurant and off he goes, saying he’s got to catch up with them.” She viciously powered up her laptop. “Think it was a woman,” she mumbled. “Sorry, what?” said Sam innocently. “I said, I think it was a woman!” spat out Madani, “are you deaf or something?”

Sam smirked again, “Oh. Dear. Someone to do with the case, you think?” She stared at her screen, “How should I know? But that bastard’s got some explaining to do.”

Well this afternoon was gonna be a complete blast, thought Sam.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d returned to Chelsea, and spent the whole afternoon getting under your team’s feet in the café. Not wanting to sit and brood in your office, you’d busied yourself ‘helping them out’, when in fact they didn’t actually need any assistance. And you could sense you were vaguely irritating them. But you didn’t feel up to telling them what the problem was.

Eventually, you’d asked if one of them wanted the rest of the day off as paid leave, and Gabrielle had jumped at the chance. Her older sister had just recently popped out another baby, and she was keen to visit and fulfill her role as doting aunt.

The two guys had watched you warily for the rest of the day, in case all your nervous energy ended up causing some kind of coffee-shop catastrophe. You sent them off at the end of the day, saying you’d close up yourself. Which turned out to be a mistake. Looking vacantly out at the street, you closed and locked the door when they left, and that’s when you spotted the Wraith, parked diagonally opposite the café.

Resting your forehead against the cool glass of the door for a moment, knowing you should really have anticipated that this would be Billy’s next move when you didn’t respond to his attempts at contacting you. Either turn up here or at your apartment. Not difficult to work out. You got the fright of your life as the doorway suddenly darkened, and long legs clad in suit trousers and a pair of shiny black shoes appeared in your line of vision. You’d jumped back in surprise and Billy leant one one arm on the door, staring in at you and mouthing “Please?” at you, followed by (you thought), “I just wanna explain.”

You’d looked away from his pleading eyes, contemplating what you were going to do. Let him in, don’t let him in. You couldn’t deny you wanted to hear his explanation. In all its no-doubt manufactured glory. So, heaving a big sigh, you unlocked the door and immediately walked away to the counter, leaving him to actually open the door and walk in. A small victory, you thought. You hadn’t actually let him in after all. Sort of.

“Coffee?” you asked over your shoulder. “Please.” You made an Americano for him, and a caffé corretto for yourself. You weren’t too fond of grappa, so topped up the espresso with some brandy. Billy, who was leaning on the counter watching you, raised an eyebrow at you. “Ooh, that bad, huh? Can I get some too?” You just stared at him, and he added, “Please?” so you added a shot to his coffee and handed it to him.

Sipping your own strong and bracing beverage, you leaned back against the unit behind you, face neutral, waiting. He took a long drink of his fortified coffee, eyes never leaving yours. He carefully placed the cup back into the saucer, leaning his arms on the counter and looking back up at you, the tip of his tongue swiftly moving over his bottom lip.

“I know you’ll probably think this is total bullshit, but I promise you it’s not,” he said into the silence. You nodded, “Mmhmm.” His eyes drilled into yours, sincerity shining out of them, “That was purely a business lunch. She’s a Homeland agent, and Frankie and I are... in the middle of something with that agency. I can’t tell you any of the details... yet. I’m sorry.”

You huffed out a long breath. “Firstly, Billy, since when does a business lunch entail walking the woman to a table with a hand on her back?” He winced, but you weren’t finished, “And right now, to me, the only thing you looked like getting into the middle of was her.” This time he flinched back from the venom in your voice, but he maintained eye contact with you.

“Angel, I swear to you... On. My. Life. There is nothing and will never be anything between me and Agent Madani.” So.... Agent Madani, your brain rolled the words around your mind. “We’re in a joint operation with them, and I need to make sure she doesn’t drop us out of the loop, they’re good at doing that.”

“And how’re you doing that, Billy? With ‘business lunches’, with lots of flirting? She got the hots for you, hmmm Billy? Yeah? So, ultimately with sex? Keep her really sweet?”

Damn, you knew you’d hit the nail right on the head. His face had flushed, guilt written all over him and he’d slid back on the counter slightly. You’d like to bet that If he hadn’t met you, that’s exactly what would’ve happened. Maybe he’d just not got that far down his timetable with her yet.

You stared intently into his eyes, “Slept with her yet, Billy?” He straightened up to his full height, looking down at you, a strange distant expression in his eyes. “No, angel, I haven’t. And I can’t deny what you’ve just said. That was the plan. Me and Frankie need to know what information and leads she’s got. Yeah, she’d like to fuck me, she’s made that pretty obvious. But we hadn’t quite got to that stage yet.” He took a deep breath, and said in a rush, “We had a drink after work one night, and I kissed her.”

“Uhuh. Did you.” Statement, not question, folding your arms over your chest.

“Before we met!” he hastily added, emphasising the ‘before’, “...it happened days before we met. And it was purely business to me. Nothing more.” “Really? She’s pretty hot.” You could tell he spent a split second thinking how best to reply and keep his balls intact at the same time. “Well, yeah she is... but the spark’s not there for me. She doesn’t float my boat. Not like you do.” You smirked, good answer Russo!

“So what would your schedule have been?” He looked at you, puzzled, “What d’you mean?”

“Flirt, tick. Kiss, tick,” you made little air ticking motions with your finger. “Fuck...? Now, just when would that’ve been on the table, Billy?” He looked away from you, shaking his head, “I dunno. Whenever it would’ve been necessary.” Glancing back at you, “Look, I know this sounds really...” “Shitty?” you supplied. He allowed himself a small grin, “Yeah, shitty,” then the grin dropped. “But this is life and death, angel, and it means finally clearing our names as long as it all goes down okay.” You decided to spare Billy the verbal barb which had popped effortlessly into your head, along the lines of ‘would it depend on who went down on who?’

But you didn’t, instead saying. “Oh right, that’d be clearing your name from when you and Frank got arrested by Homeland, yes?” Billy gave you a hint of a smile, “So, you have been digging after all.”

You nodded, “Yes, I have. Not that I found out much. The dead CIA guy, him having funded you, you guys getting arrested. That was pretty much it.” He nodded, “That’s the bare bones of it, the important parts though. I promise you that as soon as I can, I’ll tell you the whole sorry story. We’re still right in the... it’s all still goin’ on right now.”

You smirked to yourself, you knew he’d changed what he’d been about to say as he was saying it, in case you took another dig at him about exactly what he was in the middle of.

He moved round the counter, and stood next to you. His dark eyes looked huge as they stared into yours, “I promise you, angel, you’re the only woman I’m interested in. The only one I want to be with. Please say you believe me.” The annoying thing was, you did. You didn’t like what he’d told you - that basically if you hadn’t been on the scene he’d have slept with Madani to keep her ‘on side’ - but you did believe that he hadn’t had sex with her. You thought that the small snippet of her body language you’d observed had screamed ‘I want him’ but not the casual touching and languid looks of ‘I’ve had him’.

You gave a big sigh. “Okay, Russo, I believe you.” A look of pure relief crossed his face, and he immediately grabbed both of your hands, pulling you close and kissing you hungrily. You pulled away after a few moments, just as he was trying to deepen the kiss. “But you’re on parole for a while.” He groaned, which became a laugh, “Okay, yeah... whatever you want, angel. For however long you want. I guess I deserve some punishment.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After closing up, you and Billy crossed the road and headed towards his car. He beeped his car remote at it as he approached and then opened the passenger door for you. As you folded yourself into the seat, he put one arm on the door frame and leant in to kiss you again. “Sneaky,” you said as you moved your lips away from his. “Always,” he replied and smiled widely at you. He seemed very happy to have been granted ‘parole’, you thought.

As Billy drove off in the direction of his place - realising this produced a part-exasperated smirk on your face - you contemplated what a fucking awful, emotional, but ultimately good day you’d had.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Someone else was stewing about precisely the same thing. Only without the good ending.

Dinah Madani had a furious scowl on her face as she put her SUV into Drive and pulled out into the traffic flow, following Billy’s car.

She’d just watched that whole little pantomime as he’d opened the car door for that woman, then leant in and obviously kissed her, although she hadn’t been able to actually see that from her vantage point a couple of cars behind his.

When she’d followed Billy from Anvil out to Chelsea earlier on, for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why he’d headed into a coffee shop, of all places. She’d discovered that she couldn’t see into the café from where she was parked, and didn’t want to break cover and walk over to the window in case Billy spotted her.

Then out he’d trotted, hand in hand with whoever this woman was - a waitress in a coffee shop? “Classy, Russo, very classy,” she said out loud, in a bitchy voice. She could ask him about it, she thought, but knowing him he’d more than likely tell her it was none of her business.

Well, she was going to make it her business to find out whatever she could about this apparent liaison of his. She pulled over and watched as his car disappeared into the underground carpark of his apartment block.

It could have some bearing on the case, she thought, trying to justify this course of action to herself.

She ignored that other little voice in her head which said to her that she was just plain jealous.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine

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rfadaydreaming · 4 years ago

Text

the rfa playing minecraft

oh the chaos a mysme minecraft server would bring ♡

jumin

• does not know how to move in any direction except straight

• keeps falling into caves because he just… walks

• stands there in the dark for a few seconds to process what happened

• “the game broke, i cannot see”

• yoosung is like wtf how is it broken

• cave noises start to happen

• “h elp”

• seven has to track him down and it takes absolutely forever just because jumin does not know where he is… not even a hint... he was just walking around

• finally seven finds him and brings him up with a fishing pole, but when he finally gets him up, they both get blown up by a creeper

• “i don’t like this game very much.”

• has a house with v because there’s no way in hell he’s about to share a home with zen

• their house is actually so cute, modern on the outside but super cozy and cute on the inside

• here’s some reference pictures of what i think their house would look like !! starter home / end game home

• his room is so naked omg v comes in and adds a desk, some pictures, plants, just to make it more homey

• has so many cats to the point where it lags HEAVILY when you enter his room, it’s just a giant barrage of meows

• his playstyle is fishing, taming cats, naming cats, fishing again

• he gets lost in the boats so much though, you have to come save him because he’s stranded in the middle of the ocean

• you show up and there’s a cow stuck in the back of his boat, he’s starving to death, the phantom is killing him

• but the nice part about fishing all the time is he gets really good loot and enchantments so he’ll give them to whoever wants them since… well he doesn’t really need them

• except zen omg he gives him like. chain link boots, seaweed, paper

• zen breaks into his room and takes whatever he wants though because jumin doesn't know how to make a locked chest

• he’s honestly just here for the vibes, he’ll lay on his bed even when no one else is sleeping and listen to what everyone’s talking about in the voice chat

• you cannot even see him on his bed because it’s just a sea of cats + a drop in frame rate the second you open up his door

zen

• he’s so bad with technology so he has to read the tutorial like three times before he plays

• takes awhile to get used to the controls so he’ll stop walking, jump over a block, pause, keep on walking

• it’s cute to watch actually

• he follows everyone else around and likes to pretend he knows what he’s doing? but really doesn’t

• beats the shit out of jumin for just existing

• gets stuck in a village well and silently flips out because he’s too embarrassed to ask for help

• jumin finds him and they just stare at each other in silence… jumin figures out how to hit him one singular time before running away

• he lives in a dirt home with the green top for so long it’s actually embarrassing

• inside is just a torch, furnace, crafting table, basic bed and chest literally just a straight mans home

• it’s so ugly

• v tries to spruce it up a little because he just does not like to look at it… every time he walks by he gets the ick

• jaehee eventually adopts him out of pity and they live together, but she has to do all the hard work

• their house looks like this

• he mooches so hard oh my god she’ll spend an entire day cycle mining only for him to take all the iron and make himself a silly little outfit

• she never complains though because he’s really appreciative about it

• will give her little flowers in exchange for outfit materials

• and of course gives you flowers just because you’re you

• leaves them in a pot in your room with a sign that has a little winky face

• is always changing his clothes, every time he wakes up he changes into something different

• jaehee works so hard to find diamonds for him so he can be the first to have some diamond armor

• seven kills him the second he steps out of his house and snatches it from his dead corpse

• zen’s playstyle is just following everyone else around and pretending to help but he doesn’t do much, being sweet to jaehee and you, annoying jumin

• he gets bored easily so he doesn’t play for very long :( also gets mad at jumin and rage quits omg

yoosung

• absolutely loves minecraft and he’s been playing for years, he’s really good at it!!

• so sweet and fun to play with hehe he’s like the cheery little team leader

• helps everyone get settled and works hard to make sure the newbies have a nice amount of starter materials

• even if they die and lose them all he’s like “oh that’s okay don’t sweat it you guys!!” and runs to get them new stuff

• hums to the music while he’s playing, always updates people on what he’s doing and asks if anyone needs anything

• a man on a mission, gets to work on gathering materials with jaehee the second the game loads in, knows exactly what he’s doing

• he’ll move fast to make a quick little community house for everyone to sleep in for the night

• doesn’t like the day one dirt homes it gives him anxiety

• it’s a little small but cozy!! makes everyone a chest and puts a sign above it with their name on it

• adds a “:D” at the end of everyone’s names on the signs, but a “♡” to your name only!!

• zen goes off and makes his gross little dirt house because he doesn’t wanna sleep next to jumin

• he ends up just expanding off the community house once everyone leaves and lives solo with his little parrots

• unless you want to join him!! go ahead he’d love the company

• so nervous in caves and will only go into the shallow parts where the sun still hits, a very silent miner because he’s concentrating

• he’ll go deeper into mines when seven and saeran are with him but he almost pees his pants when the cave noises start to play

• gets startled so easily and screams whenever something happens, it's so loud that the mic automatically cuts it off– so you hear 0.2 seconds of a scream, dead silence, then suddenly “yoosung fell from a high place” it’s so funny

• 9 times out of 10 seven pushed him off too

• takes it seriously, wants to play until the end of the game but everyone else is busy running around with gremlin energy

• his playstyle is a little bit of everything, he’s not a bad builder but he doesn’t spend too much time on it. goal for him is survival and exploration

• if anyone needs anything he’ll run to get it without a second thought doesn’t get the appreciation he deserves >:(

• seven picks on him so much oh my god, once he asked him to come help mine diamonds but actually pushed him into lava and yoosung started to cry

• everyone made seven feel kind of bad for it so he apologized with a full set of diamond armor, tools, flowers and a cake… it still hurt though

jaehee

• minecraft queen

• plays by herself a lot, the music, building on peaceful mode, all the alone time she gets

• loves it a lot actually, especially after a hard day at work

• but she gets so stressed out playing with everyone else

• it’s kinda bad for her health

• sighs into the mic whenever someone’s acting like an absolute fool

• tolerates no bullshit

• do not hit her. not even by accident. do not do it

• it’s so tense, she slowly turns around stares at them for what seems like forever it’s actually so scary

• only you’re allowed to hit her because for the two of you it’s not a smack, it’s a boop

• she does it back too

• “boop!” with a cute little giggle afterwards

• instantly goes to get the basics set up when the game loads in, sticks with yoosung in the beginning to get a bunch of starter materials gathered together

• is always running around doing something but no one knows exactly what because she doesn’t share. she is doing something though, a very productive crafter

• she has never died, ever. probably the highest level here out of anyone else

• the resident necessity provider, will throw you stacks of bread exactly when you need some, it’s like a 6th sense

• has basic mining chests set up for everyone to take from if they want to, so torches, food, tools, dirt, armor etc

• she really likes to decorate more than build, but she’s still really good at it!

• loves designing up floor plans

• not the best at adding the little details though

• her homes always look kinda square so v helps her out with that

• she organizes other people’s chests because she just hates how messy it looks, seven gives her so much anxiety especially

• she’s always cleaning up after him and shutting his doors since he leaves them open constantly

• her play style is a little bit of everything, not afraid of the caves whatsoever so she’ll mine if no one else wants to do it

• you can usually find her decorating though

• spends so much time making a cute little kitchen in her house especially

• a “coffee machine” is definitely a must in her house, also has a really pretty and huge bedroom

• white concrete and dark wood slabs, her house looks so lovely

• decorates zens room for him too

• she doesn’t talk much in the voice chat when jumin’s in there because she doesn’t wanna get fired

• likes to come into peoples houses and jump around a few times to say hi before running off again

• her and zen throw flowers back and forth to each other while crouching up and down like a couple of nerds ♡

seven

• the second the game loads he is off to the races, he is gone baby!! no one knows what he’s doing but everyone knows he fears nothing so it must be exciting

• “GOD707 was slain by enderdragon”

• we’ve been in the game for an hour max how did he- nvm don’t question it

• he’ll randomly show up to the community house out of nowhere, do a few random things here and there, leave again for a few days

• comes back on a skeleton horse, enchanted diamond armor, a fleet of dogs, elytra, the wandering trader enslaved on a lead

• saeran follows him around most of the time so they’ll usually be off doing something together

• seven dies so much omg every five minutes there’s a death message in the chat

• if you manage to track him down you find that he is living absolutely lavish

• has so many bases scattered around like this, this, or this

• spends a lot of time building once everyone else goes offline, does not sleep until his base is done and he’s actually an amazing builder

• v loves to go around in his bases and just gawk

• he does not decorate whatsoever, that's for saeran to do! jaehee comes and organizes because he just throws everything into a chest and leaves

• his playstyle is chaotic horrifying, he does a bit of everything but the main goal is to get to the void and beat the ender dragon with his bare hands, he wants to become god

• never shuts his doors so there’s just big creeper explosion holes in his home that he’s too lazy to fix, claims it adds ~character~

• he loves spelunking so you can find him running around in caves most of the time, there is no fear in this man's soul whatsoever, loves battle and fighting mobs, insults them most of the time while killing them

• throws his diamond armor into lava just for the funsies, always parkouring in caves, you will get so much anxiety being around him

• sometimes mimics the cave noises just to scare yoosung

• burns down villages, starts random fires, jumps into holes, beats up any animal he sees

• sometimes he comes in to hit jumin’s cats just to hear him raise his voice a little and be like “Hey!” it’s really funny but annoys jumin

• he edges the creepers omg gets them to the point where they almost blow up but backs up before they actually do

• redstone master!! builds so many insane things out of it, has an entire theme park dedicated to himself, definitely has a torture room somewhere in his mansion

• he’s always joking around with everyone, especially with you

• “hey mc, hold this for me?”

• he slowly gets real close to you until your hands are touching and your heads are almost morphing into each other

• “bro... are we ab to kiss rn...”

• will come into your bedroom when everyone’s asleep does NOT knock first this man barges right in and stands over your bed, silent for a few seconds before suddenly tossing hundreds of diamonds down on you, throws back some ass a few times before running off once again

• hits people for absolutely no reason and yes he will hit with the intention to kill

• “no swearing in my christian minecraft server”

• gets motion sick at video games usually but he actually really likes minecraft!!

• a complete dad so he takes a little bit getting used to the controls but warms up quick

• don’t you dare hit him. that’s evil. he’s like “woah!! something just happened, i got attacked out of nowhere!! we have to be more careful you guys!”

• he’s genuinely so confused and concerned for everyone’s safety

• adores building so much, not just houses but also little structures here and there

• he’ll make greenhouses, vineyards, beach homes, treehouses, statues

• villages get completely revamped if he thinks they’re ugly which most of the time, he does

• his playstyle is completely just building and decorating, sometimes he’ll send jumin out for supplies but it ends badly most of the time

• aka jumin gets lost and/or dies

• he helps build everyone their own little structures so jumin gets a luxury cat mansion, zen gets a shrine dedicated to himself, yoosung gets a stage for his parrots to dance on, jaehee gets a coffee shop in the village, seven gets a giant ph pepper statue, saeran gets a sunflower farm all to himself, and of course you get whatever you want! omg he’d make you a heart shaped nether portal

• he��ll help when he’s needed but he doesn’t really play, he just builds

• everyone brings their spare materials to him if they don’t need them, yoosung and saeran help him farm for stuff if he needs something in particular

• really loves giving house tours when he’s done with a build and it is the cutest thing in the entire world

• he is just so insanely giddy and excited as he shows off all the little details, you can hear the smile in his voice

• everyone validates him and matches his energy too it’s so sweet :’)

• he’s always complimenting everyone on anything and everything they do

• “look at you, finding diamonds! good job!”

• “this house is so very lovely, i love the warm energy it brings.”

• he likes to wander around and find white cats for jumin to tame

• on the rare occasion he comes caving, he’s always the little cheerleader for everyone else of course

• “good luck down here everyone, please stay safe and call out if you need anything. we’re all here to help each other, alright?”

• two seconds later yoosungs drowning in lava, seven is mining bedrock, jumin is being shot by a skeleton, jaehee is fighting off a mob spawner, zen is lost, saeran is riding minecarts around

saeran

• he’s pretty quiet while he plays so no one ever knows what exactly he’s up to, he’s just shy

• picks flower fields absolutely clean, not a singular flower in sight, only if he finds a beehive somewhere then he’ll leave some for them

• has a lot of dye because of that, resident banner creator!!! he’ll make anything that you’d like

• he follows people around– especially seven, and just goes with the flow of whatever they’re up to, chaotic or not

• sometimes you think he’s afk so you just stop and stare at him but then he moves and you jump a little

• yoosung and him will just spam crouch for minutes on end together when they’re bored

• by himself a lot of the time, you can find him playing with some turtles on the beach somewhere or planting flowers

• builds a lot on his own solo server, but doesn’t really like to in the main one because he gets insecure comparing it to v’s and seven’s work.

• he does have his own little house away from seven’s mansion basement though

• if you come in and start complimenting it he gets so shy and blushy

• “thanks… it’s not that impressive i just whipped it up really quick…”

• seven knowing damn well that house took him several hours: 👁_👁

• he hits people to get their attention and then crouches all guiltily when they turn around, throws them a quick little flower before running off

• he has a ton of pink sheep collected outside his house, an army of jebs live in his basement

• his playstyle is just doing whatever he feels like. sometimes he’s getting materials for everyone, other times he’s just sliding around on ice with the polar bears for awhile

• he likes enchanting potions and that kind of stuff

• smacks seven with random potions like slowness, fire, poison

• had a pet fish in a little aquarium at his place, one day it despawned and he nearly burnt down his whole house from being so upset

• still convinced seven killed him

• he doesn’t get scared from the mines

• the nether though is is a different story, it’s terrifying to him

• especially ghasts and the sounds they make. will not go in there unless you are and you beg him to hold your hand or something

• has secret little minecraft pinterest boards full of silly statues and stuff that he likes to build around randomly

• blames herobrine for all of them which scares yoosung

mc (hey thats you!!!)

• jumin lets you name his cats, dye their collars, anything you want even if it’s silly. if you have your own cats then sometimes he brings his favorites over and they have little baby kittens together, you both spam crouch and jump around afterwards from the excitement of it all. don’t worry he pays child support !! you don’t know where he got diamonds but. you’ll take them anyways

• zen brings you random little presents that he thinks are super useful but… are not. you don’t have the heart to tell him that though. thinks spider eye is like the rarest thing in the entire game, secretly comes in to give them to you and message you something like “shh… keep it secret jagiya~ ;)” it’s the thought that counts

• yoosung is always so sweet with everything he does, he’ll bring you any sort of materials, tools. anything you need it’s yours. once he ran in front of you to take the hit from a poison spider when you know he’s absolutely terrified of them so you could get away safely. he tries his best to be brave for you <3

• jaehee invites you to her kitchen for taste testing, you’ll come in and try all the lil cakes she has sitting out while giving your feedback on all them in detail. mm yes very good, love the electric taste of the pixels in this one! finally she’ll be like wtf are we doing

• seven surprises you by making a cute little heart shape out of redstone, you press a button and it lights up red, fireworks go off, he’s jumping around throwing flowers and diamonds at you. he’ll put a sign down that says “will you… put your minecraft bed next to mine?”

• v is constantly checking in on you, he’ll say “knock knock!” before coming into your room, you’re like hey what’s up!! he replies i missed you! i just wanted to say hi :) before leaving again, comes in every day cycle with snacks to make sure you’re eating properly of course

• saeran brings you flowers all the time, he’ll shyly sneak into your room, crouch over to the bed super slowly, suddenly start throwing stacks of flowers all over you, crouch up n down a couple of times before running for the hills. forgets to shut your door and runs back real quick to shut it before leaving again

thanks for reading! find more on my mysme masterlist ♡!

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oneoftheextras · 4 years ago

Text

brother-in-law | two

masterlist | tip jar

yandere!aizawa where he is married to your sister but circumstances keep making things less than ideal

the amount of people that asked me for a part two of this made me soooo happy - i’m so glad people like my writing! this part is going to move away from the halloween theme that it was originally written in

this is my late christmas present to you

warnings: 18+ themes, mentions of covid-19 (i thought i would make it topical) cheesy circumstances, guilt, yandere themes, toxic relationship and of course, family

Part 1 | Part 2

That night still played on repeat in your head, you felt terrible. Of course, you hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, not a single living soul -unless you counted your many potted plants- knew about what happened in those short couple of seconds. But for some reason, it kept you up at night.

Shota had moved in next door pretty quickly. Your sister had banged on your door the day he arrived, and asked you to help bring in all of the two boxes he had brought with him, one was filled with work clothes and his uniforms for his Hero work, and the other was a coffee machine. That sounded about right.

At least it gave you an excuse to be nosey and see what his space looked like, you weren’t surprised when it was exactly the same as yours, just with less furniture. It had all the essentials in the kitchen, that came with the apartment, but that was it. The living room was bare, only a couch and a TV, it was a skeleton of an apartment and reminded you of when you first moved in.

He had lived next door for a month, causing no trouble, barely even seeing him apart from passing in the corridor when you were going to get laundry or going somewhere when he was coming back from school - your schedules meant that you would always be coming back from work before him and he was leaving for work before you.

That was until one night when you decided to bring someone home after a girls night out on a Friday evening. If truth be told, you had rarely ever done the whole one night stand thing, but it had been a while and you needed to get your mind off Shota.

You were more than a little bit drunk, and so was the guy, you barely knew this man, but you knew his name and that he worked for the same company as you. Either way, you had spent the night in bed with him- and up the wall, on the couch and various other places. It was fun. And you even got to ignore the awkward morning conversation when you woke up and he was nowhere to be seen.

It was all going so well, until you decided to check your phone, seeing a text from ‘Maybe Shota’, you weren’t sure how he got your number but if you had to guess you would have said it was your sister. Your heart dropped when you read the words that had been sent to you at 4:32am “Next time you get that drunk, text me to come get you so you don’t bring the bar home with you”, if he was awake at that time there was no doubt that he had heard you.

Trying to shake off the embarrassment you were feeling you decided to start your Saturday morning off with a mug of coffee on the balcony, it was 8:02am and luckily not feeling as groggy as you thought you were going to.

Besides, watching the sunrise from your bean bag on the balcony was worth waking up early for.

It was peaceful and distracted you from all the madness that was going on at the moment.

That was, until you heard the sliding door to your left open and close, it seemed like someone had the same idea as you. “Good morning” you heard a deep grumbly voice say, he had clearly just woken up as well, giving him that rough morning-voice. “Good morning” you said back politely, this was the first thing you had said to each other in over a month since you helped him move in.

“How’s the hangover?” He asked, being annoyingly more talkative than normal, “You know, hanging” you mumbled, half-assing a joke. He turned to face you, seemingly concerned “I have some aspirin if you want some?” He gestured to his apartment behind him, “No no no” you laughed to yourself, “I was joking, I’m fine, I didn’t drink that much” you confessed.

He pushed some air out of his nose harshly in as an unhumoured laugh, “Could have fooled me” he commented dryly. You didn’t really know what to say back, so you said nothing, to be completely honest he still made you nervous.

“Have you spoken to your sister recently?” He asked you in a rather drastic change in subject, that pit of guilt in your stomach started to gurgle, “Not really, why?” You were becoming concerned that something had happened to her and you hadn’t been told yet.

Shota looked down into his coffee and then up out at the morning sky, you were trying not to stare at the side of his face but the way you were sitting in your bean bag made it a bit hard, “Just wondered” he shrugged, “She’s not very happy with the new restrictions on travel” he continued.

“Oh” the sound that left your mouth was barely audible, but you realised he was talking about the pandemic that was going on worldwide. “I had a feeling she wouldn’t like them” you added to your noise, you realised that you weren’t really giving him much of a conversation when he clearly wanted to get something off his chest.

He huffed and you watched the air leaving his mouth turn into a visible cloud in the sky, it was starting to get colder, “I’m guessing she wants you to go home?” You said for him, you knew your sister and she didn’t do well being on her own without someone to wait on her every whim, Shota nodded in agreement. “But I can’t” he leaned forward, putting his forearms on the railing and dangerously hanging his coffee mug off the edge while holding it with both hands, “My school is still open, they’ve said places of education don’t need to close” he was visibly distressed by it.

Another sigh left his mouth as he stood up straight again, he was fidgeting, something you’d never see him do. “She’s not happy with me” was all he said as he subconsciously fiddled with his wedding ring, “When is she ever happy with you?” You inputted as a joke, but when he rolled his eyes behind closed lids, you knew you were right.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t be talking to you about this” he shook his head while he apologised and finally looked towards you - you were wearing your pyjama shorts and a vest, but the way his eyes trailed up your legs, across your chest and eventually to your face, made you feel as though you were wearing nothing. You watched his Adam’s Apple wobble in his throat as he swallowed his saliva.

He had locked eyes with you, and it felt like the wind had been knocked out of your lungs, immediately you were back in your parents house with his arm around your waist as you danced to the music. “It’s fine, you can talk about anything with me” you found yourself saying, his tongue darted out between his parted lips to wet them, and you had to admit your mouth was getting dry too.

“Yeah, you too” he muttered, luckily your balconies were connected but with a small metal railing down the middle, otherwise you wouldn’t have heard him, “Can talk to me about anything I mean’ he explained, not that you needed an explaination - “I stay up quite late so don’t feel bad knocking on my door at any time” his eyes were basically begging you to come over.

“I will” you said, before thinking, “Uh- I mean, you know” you stuttered, you had gotten too lost in his gaze that you’d forgotten how to speak. You watched his soft expression turn into a sideways smirk as he had realised what he had done.

“I should let you go, I’m sure you’ve got loads of papers to grade” you awkwardly stood up and shouted a goodbye before basically slamming your sliding door closed.

Placing your hand on your chest, you could feel your heart pounding through your rib cage and into your palm. You needed to get yourself under control, you thought to yourself. It wasn’t right to be thinking of Aizawa this way, he was your sister’s husband for Christ sake. It didn’t matter how many times you told yourself this, your heart would still flutter whenever you thought about him or heard your name.

Later that night, you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket, and then you saw the screen your stomach dropped as it filled with a sick feeling of guilt, it was your sister.

“Hey!” You smiled as you swiped to answer the video call, “Hey” she said in a less than emphusiastic tone, “What’s up?” You asked as you propped your phone up on the side and continued to cook your dinner, “My idiot husband” she snarled, she was obviously in one of her moods - you couldn’t help the little voice in your head saying ‘He’s not an idiot’.

You decided it was best not to say anything and just let her talk, she was going to start her monologue either way, she took a deep breath in as she began “He wont listen to me! I’ve told him to come home so many times and he just wont, I don’t understand why he wont listen to what I say” she was clearly very angry, almost like she had just finished an argument and wanted to get someone on her side.

It was an amazement to you how you had managed to be in between this couple drama considering they barely spoke to you before now.

Her pause was long enough to tell you that she wanted an answer, “With all the new travel restrictions, I don’t think he has a choice” you tried to say it in the most level headed and logical way you could, you couldn’t take sides in this. But your sister wasn’t having any of it, “Of course he has a choice! He still travels to his school every day” she put emphasis on the word ‘travels’ as she tried to use your own words against you, again you couldn’t help yourself from defending him, “That’s his job, he has to go there” but your pleas were falling on deaf ears.

The next 20 minutes was her explaining all the reasons as to why she was right and how Aizawa was wrong, after the second objection you realised how useless it was. “So I told him-“ your sister was finally starting to conclude her lecture, “-it’s me or the school” you were half-listening to her at this point, but that made you stop and think over whether or not you actually heard what she just said or if you thought it up.

“You didn’t actually say that to him did you?” You took a sip of your drink and turned back towards the camera, you had been out of shot all this time and she was too busy talking about herself that she didn’t even notice, “Of course I did’ she said as though she was proud of it.

“What did he say?” You prodded, interested in how he would have handled that situation, all the years you’d known Aizawa you could never picture him having the energy for such an argument. “He hung up the phone” she said flatly, and you had to stop yourself from spitting out a laugh. Of course he did.

“So what now?” You were probably asking more questions than you should about your sister’s relationship, “I think I’m going to give him the week, and if he doesn’t come home I’ll start filing for a divorce”, that time you actually did spit out your drink. “That’s a bit drastic don’t you think?!” You were shocked she would say such a thing.

The way your sister was, she had never worked a day in her life, all the income to her house was from your parents and Aizawa. If they got a divorce then she would have to go back to work, and that’s not what your sister would want to do at all - this had to be for effect.

“No, I don’t think so. If he doesn’t want to come home to me now then he doesn’t want to be with me” she sounded as though she had fully convinced herself of this, “I have to go, but keep an eye on him for me, will you? And let me know if he has any guests over” you knew exactly what she meant by that. You weren’t happy with what she was implying.

“I will’ you lied, you had no intention of keeping an eye on him, his business was his business and you had to find a way to distract yourself from all of this, focusing on what he was doing would definitely make it worse.

With that she hung up, and almost immediately after you heard a slam come from next door. Your brain told you to go and check on him and make sure he was okay, in your opinion, your sister was being out of line. But you couldn’t say that.

You felt as though it was your duty to Aizawa to tell him what your sister had told you, but you hated drama and wanted nothing more than to not be apart of it. Instead you opted for a short and simple text that said ‘I hope you’re okay, if you need anything let me know’ you prayed that he didn’t think into it too much, but you still checked your phone every half an hour to see if he had read your message.

Another week of avoiding Aizawa as best you could, and restrictions only got worse. You had moved to working from home completely remotely now, which you enjoyed because it meant you could work in your pyjamas and no one could tell you otherwise.

You were starting to get comfortable, until everything started to go wrong.

As you stepped into your shower and twisted the knob to turn on the water, you let out a guttural screech when only freezing cold water came rushing out onto your unsuspecting body. Jumping out of the shower as quickly as you could and wrapping yourself in a towel, you went and checked on the plumbing. Sure enough, the hot water was gone.

You ran the water in the sink in the bathroom, and in the kitchen, all the water was freezing cold. Before you could investigate too far, there was a pounding at your door and you heard your name being yelled, when you opened it you saw Shota looking at you with concern. Subconsciously, you pulled your towel up to cover more of your chest, this was the second time he would be seeing you this way.

“Are you okay? I heard screaming” his voice was raspy and he was clearly out of breath, something you didn’t think someone as athletic as him could be. “Yeah, I’m fine” you laughed as you visibly saw him relax, “My hot water’s gone, I wasn’t expecting the cold water” you explained as he stopped looking over your shoulder into your apartment.

He stood up straighter now that the potential danger was gone, you noticed how he had his scarf bundled up in his hand as though he had quickly grabbed it on his way out. “My water is fine, you can come and use mine” he offered to you, gesturing to his apartment door.

You didn’t know what to say, you really wanted a shower but would it be weird to use your brother-in-law’s shower? Standing there with beads of cold water still running down your shoulders, you shivered and that made up your mind, you wanted hot water.

“One second” you held up a finger before going to your bedroom and grabbing the clothes you were going to wear as well as your body wash, shampoo and conditioner, if you were going to do this you may as well get everything so you didn’t have to walk back to your apartment naked.

Exiting your bathroom you almost dropped everything you were holding when you nearly collided with Shota. You were about to ask him what he was doing but it was obvious that he was being nosey and wanting to take a look at your space.

It was your fault for leaving the front door wide open, that’s probably why he came in, he thought you were inviting him in with the open door.

“Ready?” he asked you in a low voice, you didn’t audibly respond, but you nodded at him and he lead the way.

Taglist:

All:

@mylife-demonstrates-murphys-law @hereticpriest @enagmaticether @anxiousgoddest @kodzu-ken @moonnei @diesinspanishbcimhispanic

Aizawa:

@raine-needs-help @waitwhatsrealityagain @multifandomshitblog @annepamgkrth @fvckmeupyoonz @porkcracker

#aizawa x reader #shota aizawa x reader #eraserhead #brother-in-law #part 2 #oneoftheextras

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bibliocratic · 4 years ago

Text

tim and jon

part of a series of archive polycule oneshots (minor cws and mentions in the tags - ask if you would like anything added. these cws are explained in more detail in the ANs on A03)

“Would you hurry up?” Jon hisses at him, his eyes scattering skittishly to dart and interrogate every night-echoed noise. His expression is bow-strung and embroiled in a hundred outcomes where they get caught, and he furiously shakes his head when Tim indicates through rough and basic mime the next stage of this impeccably-organised plan. There is a flurry of disagreement about who gets to take the starring role in the next part, performed entirely through gestures and whispers before Jon, snapping a ‘fine, fine’, takes the leg-up Tim’s offering. There’s a medley of ‘shit’ and ‘woahwoahwoah’ as both of them adjust to balance and Jon clings to the wall for a moment, psyching himself up prior to shimmying his lanky body worm-like through the open letterbox-shaped window.

There is a clattering, a worrying thump. Tim winces, and cautiously calls out “Boss?” as loud as he dares.

He gets a seething cats-hiss of “Keep it down!” so he presumes Jon’s not too badly damaged.

A minute or so later, Jon is opening the lock from the inside to let Tim into the building. His jumper is rumpled, his hair and face caked with dust like a talc bottle’s gone off in his face.

“Bit grubby there,” Tim grins. Jon gives him a look that promises untold violence and an unmarked grave if he doesn’t behave himself. Tim mimes zipping his lips shut before passing Jon the spare torch.

Despite Jon’s protestations, this outing was his idea. The security tapes and records are in here somewhere, the owner was cagey enough that it’s practically a given, and if they can use them to prove a case of a possible active entity, well, a little sneaking around can’t hurt. Jon had avoided calling it exactly what it was (‘It’s just some looking around’ / ‘It’s trespassing, boss’ / ‘It’s harmless, we’ll be in and out, we’re not really stealing anything valuable’ / ‘It’s breaking and entering and trespassing on private property’) so much so that Tim had laughed, declared it a case of Schrödinger’s illegal and told Jon he’d buy them both some gloves for their night-time ‘looking around’.

Moving further into the property, the flashlights they’ve brought arc with echoes of illumination a split second slow, like the dragging light of a Bonfire sparkler, eventually casting over to a metallic-walled office tucked off to the side. This place looks like a pre-fab, out on an industrial estate somewhere, and from contents inside, has spent the last few years being a motorcycle showroom. Gleaming structures are displayed proudly and buffed to shining in lines, the large open-plan room interspersed with load-bearing pillars. Off near the end, there’s the accessories part of the space, with metal shelving and stands and racks where helmets and gloves and leathers are clustered.

The office is locked. Jon wordlessly pushes the torch over to Tim, who holds both it and his own pointed at the lock, and pulls out a black rectangular carry case. Kneeling down, he unzips it with a quiet tug, revealing its contents as an honest-to-god lockpicking kit.

“Are you serious?” Tim expels in a high breath, his mouth curved high in delight.

“Childhood hobby,” is the only thing Jon will say, and any further questions are refuted with a ‘I am trying to concentrate’ or a stone-wall silence. Tim files all a hundred and one of his follow-up questions for a later time. He’s half tempted to snap a photo for Sasha, but then remembers with a guilty jolt that that would probably be a bad idea if anyone catches them.

The office is no better than their archives, and Jon is visibly disappointed at the lack of an easy job. Stowing away his kit back into his pockets, they settle into a routine after a few muttered back-and-forth suggestions. Tim takes the paper-drowned desk, the stuffed layers of the in-tray and the desk drawers, while Jon braves the rattling filing cabinets taller than he is.

For the most part, they work in silence, which means it’s a surprise when, after a few moments rifling, Jon says in a painfully faux-casual way:

“So. You and um. You and Martin.”

“Hmm?” Tim replies. His eyes flick over several receipts, a few carbon-copies of CBT papers and full licenses. He tries to separate some, only to find that they’ve started to stick together, and he sighs with irritation.

Jon remains quiet. Tim turns to look at him, and he’s still got his hands in the stomach of the highest and dustiest filing cabinet, obviously no longer looking with the entirety of his attention but still trying to keep up the charade.

“Was there a point you wanted to make, or…?”

Jon pulls his hands out and swings his face around, and Tim can’t read his expression.

“At the… At the Institute party. You seemed… close.”

No closer than usual, Tim had thought. Martin’s efforts hadn’t been enough to completely vanish his anxieties over the socialisation. He’d stuck close to the other three all night, tugging at his new jacket at intervals, running his fingers over the fabric to settle himself. He’d avoided the alcohol entirely, and had picked at the snack foods. Tim had been as free with his affections with Sasha as usual, casual touches to her hip, the small of her back, calling her ‘babe’ and ‘love’. Sasha had pressed a kiss to Jon’s cheek and dragged him over by the hand to their merry band when he’d arrived later than the rest of them. Tim and Martin hadn’t touched because Martin had confessed earlier that he’d prefer if they didn’t, not in this setting, not where other people could see or comment or judge, and so Tim respected that and kept his distance. Apart from once, when they were sat off to the side on plastic-backed chairs pulled out of some store cupboard somewhere, unnoticed by anyone else. Sasha had been drawn into conversation with Rosie about something political, and Jon had been extricating himself from talking to Elias after being summoned over to meet a few of their investors, and Martin had nudged Tim’s hand with the back of his own and murmured ‘Thanks. For, um, convincing me to come’ and then he’d glanced around before leaning in and kissing him demurely before moving back, his cheeks clawed with pink. Tim had felt a bit like a firecracker going off.

“You’re a bit late for any juicy office gossip,” Tim replies slowly, uncertain of where this conversation is going. “I mean, it’s not a new development.”

Perhaps Jon had seen him and Martin, although it wasn’t a crime, what they did, wasn’t inappropriate for work. He’d assumed Sasha would have told him, on the nights when Jon stayed at hers. Martin doesn’t tell anyone about them, but Martin doesn’t tell anyone about a lot of things, and they’ve spoken about his insecurities and fears both unfounded and painfully historical. Tim doesn’t mind Martin’s reticence, doesn’t mind the slow-building thing between them. Martin pretends not to smile at his jokes and beats him at Mario Kart every time and oversalts his chips and undercooks his eggs and finishes Tim’s onion bhajis when he’s ordered too much and scolds him for forgetting about the bins again and has started to kiss him for the first time like this isn’t something he’s going to lose. Martin hasn’t said he loves him, and that’s alright. Tim’s pretty sure he’s been gone for Martin for months now.

“Does he know?”

Jon’s follow-up is flint-strike, whiplash-corded. He’s set his jaw and his mouth in a tight line that looks like a wound in the unsettled torchlight.

“What do you mean?” Tim asks nonplussed, and if anything, Jon winches his body tighter and says, almost impatiently.

“Does Martin know about Sasha?”

“What about her?”

“About you and Sasha?”

“I mean… yes?”

“And does Sasha know about you and Martin?”

“Have you talked to her about this?”

“Well, no. I wanted to ask you first.”

Comprehension rocks him tidal with a sudden drenching wave.

“Christ, Jon!” Tim hisses out, and Jon gestures him to be quieter and it’s only with real effort that he manages: “Of course she knows. They both know about each other – I’m not a complete bastard!”

“I didn’t say that!” Jon counters defensive. A coil of embarrassment has begun to wind its way through his tone.

“Is that what you think? That I’ve, what, started seeing Martin on the side and just… what, haven’t told Sasha about it? That you’ve uncovered some sort of sordid little office scandal? The fuck, Jon!”

“Keep your voice down!”

“You’re the one who wanted to have this conversation right now,” Tim snaps back.

“I – ” Jon huffs, irritated with himself. The torchlight makes his expression stretch, take on more weight. “That wasn’t what I meant, and I didn’t intend it to come across that way.”

“What way did you intend it to come across then?”

“It – it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, it sounded a lot like you were a second away from accusing me of cheating on either one or both of them, so no, actually, I do want you to give me an explanation. Like, right now…. Is this some jealousy thing, with Sasha?”

“What? No! No, Sasha can, Sasha can date who she likes. It doesn’t bother me that you two are together as well.”

“So, what, Jon? What’s the problem?”

“I…” Jon makes an aggrieved noise. “I’m not explaining myself well.”

“You can say that again.”

Jon breathes hard. He fiddles with his fingers and Tim waits, making Jon be the one to speak first. Because for all Jon’s protesting that he didn’t mean it like that, Tim’s hurt, slighted by the idea that Jon might think that of him, might read callousness or deception into his actions so easily.

“I don’t think that of you,” Jon says eventually. “I know – you wouldn’t hurt Sasha and you wouldn’t hurt Martin. I didn’t think you were cheating. I just… I didn’t know that you and Martin… I thought that you and Sasha, not that you were exclusive, but that … and then I saw you with Martin and I wanted to make sure, because I don’t… so, I get that Sasha, she likes you and she likes me and that’s – I get that. But I don’t understand how you – what, you were with Sasha, and then you just… what, started dating Martin? How does that work? How are you with one person, and then you meet another and then you want to be with them as well?”

Tim does not have time to teach Jon Polyamory 101, considering they’re in the middle of something that, pretty euphemisms aside, is definitely a crime. If Jon was better at communicating, this was something he might have been able to broach with Sasha, or with Tim at literally any time other than right now.

Jon’s intensity is misplaced. He’s always been good at that, reflecting the inward out to something he feels he can tackle. Tim privately thinks that Jon’s had these little boxes in his head of what he understands poly to be, and that Martin’s involvement has jostled them out of alignment. That Jon might not be as monogamous as he’s previously considered himself to be and is having to work through all the baggage which comes with personal growth.

Tim’s seen the way Jon looks at Martin when he thinks no-one is looking.

“Jon,” he says, and he does well to strip the irritation from his voice. “Me and Sasha, we talked about it, early on when we first started seeing each other. About the whole exclusive thing. And like adults, we came to the agreement that we were happy for the other person to be in a different relationship if they felt drawn to be so, as long as all parties were informed and consented to the arrangements. And then, this thing with Martin came along… and I told Sasha about it, and she suggested I try seeing if he’d be interested. And luckily, you know, he was, and the three of us have talked about the logistics of it all, and it’s working out. I’m not sure what you’re finding difficult to understand.”

“So… Sasha and Martin are together too?”

“Nah. They’re, um – how did they put it… ‘incompatible in a few key areas’. But they love each other in their own way, and they’re happy, and that’s all there is to it.”

Jon ruminates on this for a bit before he seems to mentally prepare himself for another question.

“And how did you feel, when Sasha started seeing me?”

“Er. Fine. Questioned her taste in men a bit, but…” Jon’s face is a picture at that moment. “I’m joking! I was fine about it. Is… is that was this is about?”

“It’s… not exactly…” Jon looks at the dust on his shoes, rubs at a grubby spot on his face that he’d missed with his sleeve. “When she told you that she wanted to see me, it didn’t… it didn’t make you feel, I don’t know, hurt? That you weren’t enough for her?”

Tim loves Jon dearly but god, he can be an idiot.

“It doesn’t work like - Look. You’re not – it’s not about one person being ‘enough’, yeah? It’s not a finite resource, kay, people can love their friends and pets and family and partners and it’s not… it’s not going to run out or anything daft like that. When Sasha started seeing you, and going to pub quizzes with you, or when she’d be at mine one night and then she’d leave in the morning to go on one of your museum jaunts or whatever…. You being there didn’t reduce how she felt about me, or make our relationship any less meaningful. And when you’re with Sasha, you don’t feel she cares about you less because I’m in the picture, right?”

“No.”

“Exactly. She loves you differently, not less. And the same when me and Martin got together.”

“I… I understand,” Jon says slowly.

“Then, what about this is bothering you exactly?” Tim says, and his voice has quietened now.

“Sasha wouldn’t feel… hurt. If I wanted to, um, hypothetically see someone else. She wouldn’t think that I – I wasn’t happy, or that I wanted more than what we had together, or that she wasn’t… enough for me. And if I did see someone else, they wouldn’t feel like I was, I dunno, messing them around?”

“Jon,” Tim says. “I think this is a conversation you should really be having with our girlfriend, yeah? But… personally, I wouldn’t worry. Wanting to date another person isn’t bad. You just need to be honest and communicate.”

There is a long pause.

“Thanks, Tim.” Jon looks tired, mulling over things, but his face is plastered over with something like relief compared to his earlier tension. “I do – er. I do appreciate you. Talking to me about… about all this.”

“Don’t get soft on me, boss,” Tim says, and he gives Jon a wink. A deliberate gesture that says ‘it’s alright’. “I know I’m a delight to be around.”

Jon relaxes and his expression flint-sparks into a small smirk.

“Whatever Sasha and Martin have been telling you, you’re absolutely not that charming.”

“Please. I’m a catch. Irresistible.”

“I seem to be immune.”

“You sure about that?” Tim teases and Jon rolls his eyes and gives him a put-on look-over.

“You aren’t my type.”

“It’d be different then, if I was, say, a winsome-looking redhead?” Tim says. “If I looked like I’d fallen backwards into a tragically retro clothes shop. Would that, perhaps, be a little bit more your type, boss?”

It’s too dark to see if Jon’s complexion has flared with embarrassment.

“Where are you going with this, Tim?”

“Nowhere!” Tim sing-songs and turns his attention back to the desk. One of the drawers is stuck and he yanks at it before it opens with a complaining screech. “Nowhere at all.”

Jon doesn’t respond. For a few moments, they sink back into their search.

“He’s seemed happier recently,” Jon says after five minutes or so. “You’re good for him.”

“You could be too,” Tim says.

“Well. Ahem.” Jon has definitely gone a different colour at that thought.

And then his face hardens. He clicks off the torch sharply, and he's yanking Tim forwards by the arm, tugged him next to him into the cramped space next to one of the filing cabinets. Tim would have yelped, but Jon gives a sharp 'shhh', and grabs at Tim's torch to press it off as he pulls them both down crouching. For a moment, there's nothing but breathing, Tim trying to ask Jon what's wrong with his limited movement and Jon equally communicating that he needs to shut up immediately.

Then Tim hears the noises outside.

He thought they'd have more time. The doors to the office and the main building aren't locked, and they won't be able to get out now, not without facing whatever is out there that the statement giver warned them about.

"What'll we do, boss?" he whispers to Jon, the words threaded onto one breath.

"Plan B?" Jon suggests. He passes his torch to Tim, and goes for the inside of his bag again, bringing out the items Tim had argued repeatedly for bringing and Jon had repeatedly shot down.

Tim grins despite himself.

"Plan B," he affirms, and helps Jon light the firework.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #tim stoker #tim/sasha #martim #pre-jonmartin #mention: cheating and infidelity #cw misunderstandings #cw implied internalised polyphobia #jon/sasha

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edie-k · 4 years ago

Text

Cost Nothing (R/Hr, PG-13)

Title: Cost Nothing

Rating: PG-13 (mild sexual humor)

Pairing: Romione

Summary: "Compliments cost nothing, yet many pay dear for them." Thomas Fuller

When Harry and Ginny point out a shortcoming of Hermione's, she turns to Ron to set the record straight.

Notes: Thanks to accio-broom for the beta work and lovely feedback.

Happy birthday to Ron! To celebrate properly, I called upon the OG of the Ron Weasley Defense Squad, one Harry James Potter.

Link to AO3 or click below

“Hey,” said Ginny, flopping down on the blanket next to Hermione.

“Oh, are you finished playing?”

“Just a break. Get this - Percy sent an owl and said he, Charlie and George are coming back at 4 to play.”

“Wow, he’s really trying to make this up to you all,” said Hermione, impressed. She glanced up to see Ron and Harry walk towards her, brooms in hand. She used her bookmark to hold her place.

Harry dropped his broom to the ground and laid down between the two of them. “Hermione, your cooling charms are just as great as your warming ones.”

Ron stood in front of them. Hermione shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked up at him warmly. He smiled back and stuck his arm into the air above her blanket. “Bloody hell, that feels good.”

“Come lay down,” said Hermione, patting the blanket next to her.

“I won’t get up if I do. And I was thinking I should run up to the house and grab some drinks and snacks to bring back here?”

“Ah, great idea, mate,” said Harry.

“Cute and brilliant, what more could I ask for?” said Hermione with a smile

Ron flushed and gave her a grin. “I’ll be right back.” He walked up to the house.

Hermione pulled out her wand to expand the blanket and cooling charm to give them a bit more space. As she was putting her wand to the side, she caught Harry looking at her with a bemused expression. “What?”

“I am just not used to that yet,” said Harry. “Especially from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve never heard you compliment him before. Certainly not on his looks,” said Harry.

“Harry Potter! You know that I think Ron’s wonderful and always have.”

“I’ve thought Ron was great for almost a decade now. I assumed that you did too. I’ve just never heard you say it.”

“You’re joking!”

“To be fair to you, you were quite complimentary of his basilisk fangs idea during the battle, but I otherwise stand by my statement.”

“Ginny!” Hermione appealed to her friend that had been observing silently. “You’ve heard me compliment Ron before, right?”

“To his face? Never. To others? Also never.”

“Well, the two of you aren’t around us all the time,” said Hermione.

“It’s true. There were dozens of minutes over the last year that I was away from you two,” said Harry.

Ginny laughed. “It’s fine, Hermione. You just don’t hand out compliments easily.”

“That’s not true,” said Harry, shaking his head. “You’ve said loads of nice things about me.”

“Did she?” asked Ginny, quirking an eyebrow.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Harry, I’d recommend not triggering that Weasley jealousy. You’re my best friend, and who else was going to bolster and build you up? It certainly wasn’t based on any personal interest I had. I was just passing along the gossip and giggling I’d hear in the loo.”

“And Ron Weasley, bastion of self-assuredness, was in no need of compliments,” said Ginny drily. “Especially when you’re showering Harry in them.”

Hermione’s face darkened. “That’s quite rich coming from someone who compared Ron to his best friends just to embarrass him. I fancied him, and you expected me to tell him that Bridget Nichols wanted to quote, ‘climb him like a tree’? Besides, I seem to recall that he wasn’t lacking female attention at the time,” she sniffed.

Harry sat up, looking nervous. “Uh, look, there’s no need for you and Ron to rehash sixth year.”

“Ron and I have already come to an appropriate understanding on that. What there’s really no need for is the two of you butting into our relationship.”

“You’re right,” said Harry. “We should-”

“It all checks out,” said Ginny, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You complimented Ron constantly, which gave him the confidence to never make a move.”

“Oh, and what about him? It’s not like he was showering me in praise!”

“Well, he did -” Harry stopped his sentence short. “No. I’m sorry I brought any of this up; it was a careless joke.”

“Finish what you were going to say,” Ginny and Hermione demanded in unison. Hermione looked at Ginny, surprised by the synchronicity before glaring and looking back at Harry, who she could tell desperately regretted the whole conversation.

Harry looked between the two and sighed. “All I was going to say was that Ron has told you how brilliant you are loads of times over the years.”

“Well, so has Professor Flitwick, but I didn’t think that meant he was trying to get in my knickers.”

“It’s Ron, though. He hardly ever misses an opportunity to put his foot in his mouth, yet I can still think of dozens of times he fawned all over you.”

“Those aren’t exactly signals a boy gives you to say he’s attracted to you,” said Hermione.

“No, I suppose not,” said Harry, laying back down. He looked as if he wanted to say more but was holding his tongue.

“I think that what Harry said originally is true. Neither of you ever explicitly told us you liked the other, but we always knew Ron thought you were amazing. We had to assume that you thought Ron was too,” said Ginny, the edge now gone from her tone.

Hermione opened her mouth and then closed it. She knew they were wrong, but she just didn’t have the proof yet.

They lay contemplating for a few minutes before Harry broke the tense silence. “Ugh, I’m still trying to decide what’s more disturbing - Flitwick trying to get in your knickers or Ron.”

“Ron doesn’t have to try,” Hermione cheeked. Ginny laughed, and Harry’s face contorted.

“What don’t I have to try?” asked Ron. He had returned with a basket filled with cold butterbeers, crisps, biscuits, and a couple of apples, which he set next to Hermione as he eased himself down. While the others stretched around to grab snacks, Hermione cringed as she noticed he looked uncomfortable to have discovered them discussing him. She decided to be straightforward.

“To get into my knickers,” Hermione responded with a grin. His ears burned, but she saw a light in his eyes when he noticed Harry’s continued cringe.

“Oh,” he said as he sat down next to her. “Are you actually wearing knickers today? That’s disappointing.”

Harry broke a biscuit and threw half at each of them.

**********************************

“Hey Hermione?”

“Yes?” It was well after dinner now, and the two of them were taking a walk as dusk began to settle in. The decision to take a walk was met with teasing from all of his brothers that left Hermione rolling her eyes. It was truly only a walk. After years of seeing only the downsides to his status as the youngest brother, he was finally reaping a benefit - his parents were turning a blind eye to the fact they were sharing a bed in a silenced and locked room so an uncomfortable roll in the orchard was unnecessary.

“Yes?”

“Why were you talking about me getting in your knickers with Harry and Ginny?”

Hermione bit her lip while Ron continued on.

“Don’t get me wrong. I would be comfortable taking out an ad in The Daily Prophet bragging about shagging you, and I’m sure they knew well before today. But as fun as it was to make him squirm, I thought we’d been trying to not make Harry uncomfortable.”

“He sort of brought it up.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. After you walked away, he mentioned it was odd to hear me call you cute.”

“And brilliant,” he said with a rakish grin.

“Of course.”

“But how did that lead to your knickers?”

“Oh, it was infuriating. The reason he thought it strange was that he couldn’t remember me ever giving you any compliments.”

“Oh.”

“And I was telling him how silly that was.”

“Right.”

“Obviously, now that we’re together... I’ve been attracted to you for as long as I can remember, but it’s certainly easier to tell you now, don’t you think?”

“Uh, sure. I mean, previously I worried that telling you how gorgeous and sexy you are would get me slapped, and now I’m just curious which one of us ends up on our back.”

“Stop,” she giggled. “But before we were together, I always told you how highly I thought of you.”

“Well, I don’t think you hand out unearned praise.”

“Of course. But I’ve complimented you loads over the years. Right?”

Silence hung between them.

“I love you?” Ron finally responded.

“You agree with them?”

“I really love you?” said Ron.

“You truly don’t think I ever complimented you?”

“You… tried once. When I got the prefect badge in 5th year,” he said.

“The only reason I didn’t have anything was that I couldn’t think of a way to say it without hurting Harry’s feelings!”

“Really, love, don’t worry about it. You said things about my Quidditch performances as well. At least the good ones.”

“No! We.. we cleared the air on all this. Viktor, Lavender, the locket. Why didn’t you say anything then?”

“What would I say? You should have complimented me more? How self-involved would that sound? And now that we’re together, you do compliment me all the time. If I’d said something, maybe I’d question if you were being genuine or not now.”

Hermione was quiet. “I never realized that I wasn’t. It all ran through my head so much, but I guess I never… things would have been so different if I had.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Really?” she said with disbelief.

“Yes, really. I won’t lie - compliments couldn’t possibly have hurt. But you basically asked me on a date, and my mind still couldn’t process that you wanted to be with me. And at that point in my life, the praise to Harry would have still bothered me, so the locket would have glommed onto that.”

“I would never have said-“

“Hermione! Listen to yourself! You didn’t do anything wrong telling Harry those things. His life was shit, and he’s your best friend. It’s not your fault I was an immature prat.”

“I was really just passing along what the girls were saying about him in the loo.”

Ron looked amused. “Is that how girls talk in the loo about boys?”

Hermione laughed. “I’m not even sure what I told you.”

“At the risk of reinforcing what an insecure git I am, you mentioned how tall and fanciable he was and went into all of the Chosen One and Ministry persecution stuff,” Ron said. “I’m just saying that is not how we talked about girls in our dorm.”

“Ah, yes, I did clean it up a bit, but they did at least talk about Harry with a bit of reverence and respect as opposed to treating him like a piece of meat as they did with you. But I’m interested in how the boys discuss girls.”

Ron winced. “Sorry, I never even thought about what she might say that you’d have to hear.”

“No, that was a whole different set of issues. These were other girls.”

Ron stopped. “Other girls? What did - nevermind, it uh, doesn’t matter.”

Hermione was surprised to find that his aborted question hadn’t even bothered her. “I won’t tell you everything, but I did already tell Harry… Bridget Nichols said she wanted to climb you like a tree and -”

“What?!”

“Yes,” she laughed. “And you remember Tori Daylon?”

“She was that short little thing, right?”

“She thought she was the perfect height to make you very happy.”

“Merlin, you girls are just as bawdy as us,” Ron laughed.

“We have hormones too.”

“You never said anything about me, did you?” he asked. Hermione shook her head. “But what type of review am I going to get in the bathroom this year from you?”

“You’re incorrigible,” she laughed.

“Is that a compliment?”

“Absolutely.”

#Ron Weasley #RON WEASLEY DESERVED BETTER #ron weasley defense squad #ron x hermione #romione fanfic #romione #hp fanfic #hermione granger #harry potter

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avengerscompound · 4 years ago

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The Tower: Family - 6

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 4012

Warnings: Pregnancy, smut (bisexual orgy, baby making, edging, over-stimulation, oral sex, anal sex, rough sex, throat fucking, face sitting, vibrators, cock-rings, electrostimulation, multiple orgasms).

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family. When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 6: Making a Baby

Immediately after the ceremony, we had to sign all the legal paperwork and we had some photos taken. The bots Tony had made when we were in Asgard had taken some photos at the bonding but as that had been interrupted by a large battle, there were none posed of us together as a family. It was definitely nice we got to have this moment recorded when the bigger one hadn’t been.

The sun was setting by the time we walked over to the area on the beach set up with tables and hanging lanterns that would host our reception. There were two large round tables, one for us and one for the guests, and next to the long tables where the buffet would be set up, there was a small round table with a large cake shaped like the Avengers Tower.

Waiters had been walking around handing out tropical-themed canapés that included coconut shrimp, chicken skewers with pineapple and mango, and mini black bean and corn empanadas, while the band played soft rock songs by Tony’s favorite bands.

When we arrived, the band stopped playing and Rhodey went up to the podium.

“Well, well, well,” he said. “Looks like our little group of deviates has finally arrived, all official and everything. Can we all stand and welcome them, complete and whole, and two of them legally married.”

Everyone stood and clapped as we moved up to the dance floor. Tony and I moved to the center while the other’s circled the edge. The band began to play ‘Nothing Else Matters’ by Metallica. Tony spun me into his arms and we began to slow dance to it, turning slowly around the dance floor. Steve and Bruce stepped out onto the dance floor and Tony spun me into Steve’s arms before turning and pulling Bruce against him. We danced in pairs for a few bars and Natasha, Wanda, Bucky, and Thor moved in. Wanda began to dance with me and I kept my cheek pressed against hers as we moved around the floor. Finally, Sam and Clint moved in and we all switched again. We spent the rest of the song slow dancing around each other and switching from partner to partner until we had each danced with everyone.

The song ended and we took our seats and Rhodey got back up to the podium.

“Now, we all came here from pretty far away… not like when they dragged our asses to Asgard, but still, it was a trip. But we all know why we’re here,” Rhodey said as the staff began to set up the buffet with the starters. “These guys are our family. So thank you all for coming to celebrate with them. It looks like they’re bringing out the food. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Let’s go eat.”

Our table went first. The buffet was set up in sections. One had a selection of cold seafood, like shrimp, oysters, and smoked salmon, one had things like crab cakes, different kinds of skewers with things from fish to tofu, stuffed mushrooms, tacos, and warm tartlets with tomato and bocconcini. There was a salad station, and one with soups, as well as a table full of tropical fruit. There was also a bar that was specializing in brightly colored tropical cocktails.

“Thank god,” Tony said as he began loading up his plate with crab legs. “I’m starving. I’ve been fasting so I’d look good in a suit.”

“Are you kidding?” Natasha asked. “You’re basically a coat hanger. Everything looks good on you.”

Tony chuckled. “Thanks, Red,” he said. “But I didn’t want to be all bloated.”

“Well, eat up, you dope,” I teased. “Gonna need your energy.”

“Already calling me a dope?” Tony asked.

“You are a dope,” I teased. “And don’t drink too much either.”

“Wow, Elise,” Tony deadpanned. “We’re married two minutes and you’re already trying to change me.”

“I need you at your peak performance tonight,” I whispered and headed back to the table with my plate piled high with different things.

“Pfft,” Tony scoffed as he followed along after me. “That’s what Thor is for.”

“I can only ensure that you are fertile. I can’t ensure you’ll be able to perform,” Thor said playfully.

“But if you’d like one of us to get Elise pregnant,” Steve added.

“Woah now,” Tony said, putting his hands up. “Let’s not be hasty here.”

We ate our starters and drank and talked and as the plates were cleared away Rhodey got up to the podium again with a glass of champagne. Waiters started filling everyone’s glasses. There was a hibiscus flower in syrup sitting in the bottom of each glass and when the champagne was added to it, the flower appeared to bloom in the glass.

“Now, platypus,” Tony said. “No bad mouthing me. You promised.”

“I feel like this speech should have been done in Asgard. But then there was some battle with angels and it became a little like work. So we’ll do it here,” Rhodey said. “I met Tony way back at MIT. He was just an annoying kid who liked to show up all the students who were at least three years his senior. But he has a way of growing on you. I don’t know what I expected him to do with his life. He was smart and funny and partying hard and that never ended for a long, long time. For a while, I was worried he was going to burn out hot and leave a pretty corpse. But it turns out, he’ll most likely outlive us all. Back then I didn’t really see him as the marrying type. Yet here we are. At his wedding. The official Earth one after he just committed himself for 5000 years to 9 other people. If you’d asked me back then if I thought he’d do that I’d have thought you were as drunk as Tony probably was.”

Rhodey looked over at Tony affectionately and Tony winked at him. “I’m so happy for him. He deserves a happy ending and he’s found it. I know he loves them all. And he loves being a dad. He’s finally seemed to find that exact thing he needed. A loving family. I know it’s unconventional. It took me a long time to understand it. But Tony isn’t conventional. Conventional was never going to work. And while he went in reluctantly at first because a woman he got a crush on was gently leading him in, it’s been exactly what he needed,” Rhodey said and raised his glass. “So I’d like you all to raise your glasses to finding your people and unconventional love.”

Everyone toasted to unconventional love and clinked their glasses together before taking a drink. Rhodey returned to his chair, ruffling Tony’s hair as he passed him.

Steve stood and approached the podium. “That’s quite the speech to be following,” Steve said. “But I’d like to follow with the same theme about not believing what the future would bring. I was born in 1918. Over one hundred years ago. I had a list of ailments that was taller than I was. I was told I wouldn’t make it to adulthood. Despite being told all the things I couldn’t do, I was determined to do them. I made it to adulthood. I started dating the boy I had a crush on for so long. I even managed to ride the Cyclone at Coney Island. But if you had told me back then, I would not only be marrying that boy but also eight other people, one of them an actual god, on a completely different planet, well, I probably would have had an asthma attack.”

There was laughter from everyone and Steve looked over at us all. “Here we are though. I didn’t expect it, let me tell you. Someone once told me that if it wasn’t for war I was nothing. It took nine people to make me realize otherwise. And I love them all. They each touch a part in me that’s unique and I��m so happy that… well, we all fell into this little arrangement.” He took a breath and looked over at us. “It hasn’t been without its obstacles. But you can’t say you have a strong bond until you’ve overcome some obstacles together. And we made it. We’re getting our happily ever after. So let’s toast to that. Happily ever after.”

He raised his glass and everyone repeated ‘happily ever after’ while raising theirs. Steve came back and took his seat and I went up next.

“We like to joke about being in the bad dad’s club,” I said as I stood in front of everyone. “Most of us have our own stories of parental neglect. I was raised being told I needed to marry rich, lock him in with some kids, and not care who he was sleeping with. It made me reject all of that I barely dated. I expected to just die alone. And then one day I knocked a certain red-head over when I was running late for work and it changed my life forever.

“I have had my two kids. And I did marry rich. I also don’t care who my husband sleeps with. But I don’t think my parents had this in mind. They’d hate this. I don’t care. I am happy. I love these people. I love the thing we’ve built together. I’m excited about our future and what that means. I’m excited to see how our family grows and what that means for us. I love them all so much. I never thought I’d ever want anything like this, but love is like a drug and I’m addicted. Now I have it, I can’t imagine it being any other way.” I lifted my glass. “So I ask you to raise your glass to finding your family.”

I took a drink while everyone repeated me and then returned to my seat. Natasha grabbed my hand as I passed and pulled me down into a kiss. Tony got up and spanked my ass as he passed me and I made a choked giggle into Natasha’s lips.

“So,” Tony said as he waggled his glass and a waiter came back over to refill it. “We've all heard I was a bit of a mess. All I ever knew was abuse, manipulation, and neglect. So it took me a while to even think about trying to attempt monogamy. And well, we're here today, so obviously, that didn't work out for me either.” There was laughter from everyone and Tony paused until it died down. “These guys started up their little den of iniquity under my nose. Oh, they invited me to join. In fact, they told everyone else I was part of it, completely ignoring how closed off and angry I was. They really didn’t want to take no for an answer, but I guess, I am me, so who can blame them?” There was more laughter and he looked over at me. “Then one day, I found this stray roaming around my tower. I tried to resist her. I even tried to get FRIDAY to kick her out of the building. But she managed to crawl right in under my skin and take up residence there. It hasn’t been smooth sailing. Like Spangles said, there have been some rough and downright scary times. I kept locking them out, scared I was going to get hurt or end up hurting them. It took a long, long time for them to teach me they were here for me and I was worth it. Slowly, I realized I was healing. That I was in love with all these people. So I guess that is proof we all have hearts. So I ask you to raise your glasses to love. Whatever form it finds you in.”

I got up and kissed him deeply as everyone toasted and he pulled me close. “I love you so much,” I whispered.

“Alright,” Sam said standing. “Enough talking. Looks like the second course is here, let’s eat.”

The reception turned a little more party after that. We ate, danced. Cut the cake. Bucky shoved his slice right into Steve’s face much to Tony’s amusement. The cake was 10 different flavors and I was pretty determined to try them all. The kids were taken to bed by their aunt and uncle just after the cake and by the time we left I was a tipsy, exhausted, and yet completely hyped up.

“Alright,” Tony said, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind and kissing my neck. “Let’s make a baby.”

“Not so fast, Tony,” Steve scolded. “We all want to be part of this. We are a family after all.”

“Besides,” Thor said. “I thought you wanted my assistance.”

“Oh, yes,” I said as Sam approached me. He ran his hands up under my skirt, pushing it up at the sides as he moved his hands to my ass.

“I don’t like the tone,” Tony said, suspiciously. “What exactly are you people planning?”

“You people?” Steve teased, pulling Tony back against him and palming his cock through Tony’s pants. Sam brought his lips to mine and began to kiss me deeply and lovingly. “Come on now, Tony. We’re family.”

Tony made a choked groan and leaned his head back on Steve’s shoulder as Thor approached Tony. He leaned in and kissed Tony hungrily and slipped one large hand into Tony’s pants and began to massage Tony’s balls. There was a spark and a ripple through the air and Tony groaned loudly into Thor’s lips.

“All the other babies were conceived in an orgy by accident. The only reason we know paternity is because Thor just knows that kind of thing,” Natasha said running her fingers down my neck. “This is the first time we’re planning to get pregnant and we all want to be part of that even if we are planning paternity too. So, little Elise here is going to be overstimulated. We’re each going to make her come over and over and over until she can’t take it anymore.”

Thor released Tony and moved over to me, pressing himself behind me and kissing my neck. Sam pulled back and Thor tilted my head back and kissed me deeply. He pressed his palm low on my stomach, just above my pubic mound. There was that same spark and ripple as with Tony, and a dull ache ran through my core.

“You on the other hand,” Natasha said, grabbing Tony by the lapels and pulling him toward the bed. “Will be edged until you're begging us to let you come.”

Thor pulled my dress off over my head and everyone else began to undress, either themselves or each other. Clint picked me up and carried me to the bed tossing me on it. Tony was on the far side of the bed. He was naked and Natasha was sitting on his thighs and putting a cock ring on him.

Clint crawled between my legs and pushed them apart kneeling down and nosing at my cunt. He pulled off my panties and licked a stripe up my folds, making my skin buzz. Wanda climbed up on the bed beside me and straddled my face. I hummed and lapped over her cunt, swirling it over her folds and dipping it inside her. Clint began to flick his tongue over my clit and sucking on my pussy.

My hips jerked under him as Wanda’s rolled on my face and her fluids dripped down into my mouth. I was vaguely aware that the others were kissing and grinding on each other near me and right on the other side of the bed Thor was sucking Tony’s cock while Natasha rode his face.

Clint thrust a finger inside me and began to suck on my clit. He hit my g-spot immediately like his fingers had a magnetic attraction to that sweet spot inside me. He sucked on my clit, flicking his tongue back and forth over it. I moaned loudly into Wanda’s cunt, trying to focus my tongue on her clit, moaning louder each time she shuddered over me. Clint’s fingers pushed harder and harder on my g-spot sending a jolt up my spine each time he did it. My legs began to shake as my orgasm approached being fed by the feelings the others had and intensified. I focussed on Wanda, sucking hard on her clit and pushing my tongue inside her. I knew she was close too, I could feel it through her thread. She always sat close to the edge once the rest of us began to enjoy ourselves. I nipped at her clit and she moaned, coming on my face. I let myself relax and as soon as I did, Clint pushed hard on my g-spot with two fingers and twisted his wrist. I screamed out and came hard, bucking my hips against his face.

Clint got up and crawled over to where Tony was and Wanda climbed off me. Natasha, Steve, and Bucky approached me. Natasha guided me so I was straddling her face and Bucky pushed me forward so my face was at Natasha’s cunt. Sam had pulled Wanda into his lap and they were kissing hungrily, while Thor was fucking Tony, and Tony sucked Bruce’s cock.

Bucky poured lube onto my ass and pushed a finger inside, fucking it slowly. I moaned loudly and nuzzled at Natasha’s cunt as Natasha lapped over mine. Steve slapped the head of his cock on Natasha's clit and teased it over my lips. I sucked on the head and he thrust shallowly in and out of my mouth.

More lube was added to my ass along with a second finger. I mewled and tried my best to relax as Bucky worked to loosen me up. Steve pulled his cock from my mouth and sunk into Natasha. I licked over his base and flicked my tongue over Natasha’s clit as Steve began to fuck her. Bucky pulled his fingers out and added more lube. I felt the head of his cock press against my ass and he began to ease into my ass.

“Fuck!” I gasped. The sound muffled by Natasha’s cunt.

Natasha gave my ass a spank and I clenched hard around Bucky’s cock, making him groan loudly.

Steve was fucking Natasha at a steady pace and I lapped over her cunt and the base of his cock, drinking up her arousal as it ran down his shaft. Bucky fucked me slowly as Natasha sucked on my clit. My muscles spasmed and clenched and I struggled to keep myself up. The way I clenched and moaned seemed to spur Bucky on. He picked up his pace, adding to the burn through me. I started panting against Natasha’s cunt and she moaned and bucked under me. I sucked her clit into my mouth and pressed my lips against it and flicked my tongue back and forth quickly. Natasha mirrored my action and we both came moaning into each other. Bucky and Steve fucked us through it before slipping out. I rolled off the top of Natasha and lay panting as people moved around me. Thor, Sam, and Bruce approached and I looked up at them and swallowed hard. “How many times have you climaxed, my queen?” Thor asked as he lifted me and moved me so my head was hanging over the end of the bed.

“Two,” I answered as I let my head drop over the edge of the bed. I could see what the others were doing to Tony now, but I knew he was struggling to hold it together.

Sam tutted. “That doesn’t sound like nearly enough. I think we might need the vibrator boys.”

He went to the drawers and pulled out a small bullet vibrator. Bruce and Thor both lubed up their cocks and Bruce put pillows under my hips and eased his cock into my ass. Thor straddled my chest, pinning me to the mattress and pushed my tits around his thick shaft and slowly began to roll his hips. Sam gave Bruce the vibrator and he turned it on and pressed it onto my clit. The setting was low but it still made me buck up and moan loudly.

“Open up, princess,” Sam said.

I opened my mouth and he pushed his cock into my mouth.

Thus began one of the most intense sexual experiences I’ve ever had.

It started slow, Thor massaging my tits as he fucked them slowly, Bruce matched his pace as he fucked my ass and held the vibrator against my clit, and I sucked Sam’s cock. It very quickly escalated. Each man seemed to be spurred on by the others. Bruce started fingering me as he fucked me and Sam started fucking my throat.

The first orgasm hit quickly and Bruce upped the setting of the vibrator. I cried out and bucked under them and Thor sent a jolt through me making me come again. Each time I came they went harder and upped the buzz on the vibe. By the third my vision was going fuzzy thanks to the brutal pace they were setting. Bruce groaned and jerked hard into my ass coming inside me. He slipped out and Thor moved down and took his place. He was large and his cock stretched me painfully, but I was light-headed and fuzzy and I welcomed the pain. He upped the buzz on the vibrator and I came immediately.

Thor made an almost graphic squelching sound each time he thrust into me as Bruce’s come acted as a lubricant for his cock. Sam groaned and pulled back slightly as he came into my mouth, coating my tongue with thick, salty ropes of semen.

I moaned and swallowed it but Thor didn’t even seem close. Bruce and Sam stayed close to me as Thor kept fucking my ass. Sam massaged my breasts and pinched my nipples and Bruce took over with the vibrator leaving Thor free to just hold my hips and fuck my ass hard. One orgasm just blended into the next and I couldn’t focus on anything else. I screamed out and everything went black. When I came to Thor had moved me a little and was no longer inside me. “Oh good,” he said smiling. “Did we push you too far?”

I shook my head slowly.

“Good, because Tony is ready for you,” Thor said, gently and kissed me softly.

He moved away and I opened my arms. Tony crawled up between my legs. “I’m not gonna last long,” he said, apologetically as he eased inside of me.

I moaned. “Good.”

He chuckled and slowly rolled his hips as his body stayed pressed close to me. Everything ached but my cunt welcomed him. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight and we began to kiss. Everyone else was just sitting around us watching. Tony was right though, he was sitting right on the edge and it was only a minute before he groaned and was releasing inside me. I didn’t care that I didn’t come again. I had done more than enough of that. I hummed happily as he filled me and collapsed down on top of him.

“Was that it? Is she pregnant now?” Clint asked.

There was laughter in the group. “Takes a week or so, Clint,” Bruce said, with no patronization in the tone, just kindly educating his husband.

“It will, though, right?” Clint asked.

“They are both at peak fertility,” Thor said. “It still may not happen and I would recommend that Elise and Tony try again tomorrow. But it should work.”

I hummed and kissed Tony’s neck. “You hear that?”

He hummed in return. “Yeah. More sex or us.”

I giggled and nudged his cheek with my nose. “Not that part.”

He laughed and kissed me just under my ear. “Yeah. We’re gonna have another baby on the way.”

// NEXT

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miloscat · 3 years ago

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[Review] Castlevania: Lords of Shadow 2 (PS3)

Despite being generally maligned, I liked this a lot better than the first game! Spoilers and content warning for self-harm.

It’s no secret that this game had some difficulties. People who worked on the game have talked about a messy development cycle, an overbearing director, lack of support from Konami, and mass layoffs. The game itself can feel a bit disjointed or rushed at times, but on the whole the gameplay improvements, the new structure, and the setting won me over and I had a great time. Well, except for one thing I should mention up top.

About halfway or two thirds through my playthrough, I experienced a game-breaking glitch so bad I had to make a new save file. You see, I wasn’t sure how to trigger an autosave in the game as it’s easy to lose progress with a careless shutdown. So I pushed forward to the next plot-relevant area before backtracking to find optional stuff. When I eventually returned, none of the enemies had spawned in the new area, including one I needed to progress. I tried reverting to my last checkpoint in the menu, hoping that would jog the triggers; instead, the game locked immediately after I spawned and nothing could be done to advance. This is such a huge bug to happen after 12 hours of play that it speaks to the game’s troubled development, but it also just sucks as a user. I powered back to that point in 3 hours by turning down the difficulty, skipping cutscenes, and passing up collectibles, but it certainly put a cloud over the experience.

Luckily I overcame this and I had a better time than with LoS1 or Mirror of Fate. Gabriel/Dracula is at his most sympathetic, the combat has been tightened up with upgrade mechanics to incentivise trying out a broad variety of techniques, and traversal is more fun thanks to a more acrobatic protagonist with vampire powers. I got on better with the overall game flow too, as it’s now a more Metroidvania-esque thing in 3D, with maps! They also cut out most of the puzzles, which I don’t mind too much.

The open world is broken up by loading zones, masked by Star Fox Adventures-style busywork. It takes place in two distinct settings: one a near-future metropolis, built over the remains of Dracula’s ruined castle. It mixes modern trappings with gothic architecture and thus ends up feeling like Batman’s Gotham City, or at times the Warhammer 40K Imperium. The other is a dream version of Dracula’s castle, populated by embodied memories like a young version of his son, his dead wife, and his previous minions such as Japanese horror movie versions of the Gorgons.

The plot is a bit all over the place but basically involves the return of Satan 1000 years after his defeat in the last game. His demonic minions are using biochemical agents to turn people into ghouls, weapons to corrupt law enforcement, and false faith to mislead the populace and summon monsters. Zobek (with Patrick Stewart reprising his role) enlists a decrepit Dracula to stop them, regaining his powers along the way. You mostly get them from the dream castle, where the cursed blood, a representation of Dracula’s inner struggle with his dark nature, possesses creatures to try and stop him from abandoning his role as “Prince of Darkness”. As an excuse for exploring these settings the story works, it’s just handled a bit messily.

Along the way you meet some colourful characters, although many don’t stick around long and end up dying after a few minutes. The game can be abrupt about this, especially towards the end where a boss gauntlet rushes things to a conclusion. The DLC is an interquel where Alucard does some table setting for the events of the main game; in terms of plot it’s inconsequential but he’s fun to play as, there’s some new locations and enemies, and they bring back puzzles; I’d recommend it.

It’s worth noting an element that I found offputting: the game earns its R rating, not just with the copious volumes of goopy blood, the cigarette smoking, and I think one swear; the real actual thing that bothered me was the self-mutilation that Dracula does as a matter of course. To activate various mechanisms in the game world he has to give up some of his blood (they introduced this in the first game’s DLC, but here it just happens all the time without loss of health). Often this is accompanied by him tearing his own flesh or forcibly interacting with sharp objects. I get the purpose of this thematically, or maybe it’s just being edgy, but I often had to look away from the screen. There’s also a scripted scene early on where you’re forced to graphically slay and feed from a protesting family of innocents that Zobek has arranged for you to regain your vitality from your desiccated mummy-man state as seen in the first game’s epilogue scene. It’s unpleasant to say the least.

So aside from some issues, I had a great time here. The forced stealth sections and rat transformations are brief diversions, not game-ruining missteps. The story is not any more muddled than its direct predecessors. And they added a menu options to entirely disable QTEs! Apart from anything else about the game’s cool environments and smooth mechanics, this is a huge thumbs up from me and reason enough to recommend this one, although it’s hard to suggest it on its own given how much it references and builds on the other two games in the sub-series. Overall the three games are a fascinating and flawed but successful alternate take on Castlevania, and I’m glad I played them.

#Castlevania #Castlevania Lords of Shadow #castlevania lords of shadow 2 #MercurySteam #review #ps3

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dr-charlie-eppes · 4 years ago

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SHOOTING MY SHOT - A RedFinch College AU

HAPPY HOLIDAYS, @kathreestars. I was your Secret Santa as part of the @newsies-secretsanta gift exchange.

I really hope you love your gift. It is a RedFinch College AU, as per your request. I have never written either of these things, so I hope it’s good and in character (but no promises :D!) It turned out WAY longer than expected, too :P. Oopsie daisies!

The story begins below the cut, and I will also include a link to when I have cross-posted AO3 (sometime in January).

Please enjoy!

“Shooting My Shot” - A RedFinch College AU

0000

It was the night before Albert moved out of his childhood home and went to college. He was nervous and excited and rushing through packing his boxes. Sure, he should have done this earlier, but that didn’t matter now. Folding his last sweatshirt into a box, his mind wandered.

Tomorrow was the first day of a new chapter of his life. He was about to move to New York City to study paediatrics, starting his career as a children’s nurse. It was what he’d wanted for years; he was more than happy it was coming true. All the same, he was full of nervous energy. The next few days held so many unknowns. He was struggling to wrap his head around what was going to happen next.

A small mountain of pristine cardboard boxes, a visual representation of what mattered enough to bring with him, lay before him. Each was adorned with a great many strips of duct tape to keep them shut. He hadn’t labelled any of them since he would just unpack them the second he arrived, and he only had to open them to know what was inside. It seemed like a waste of time to go digging through his things to find a Sharpie to deface the boxes.

His phone dinged twice is quick succession. One was from Jack, letting him know he was on his way over from next door. They were travelling to college together in the morning, seeing as they had made it into the same school. The second was from Race, wishing him luck.

Race had been Albert’s best friend since kindergarten. They hadn’t spent more than about three days apart since they met, living in each other’s back pockets and practically joined at the hip for as long as anyone could remember. They had planned on going to the same school, rooming together through college. However, Race had been accepted last minute to his dream school in Brooklyn and was leaving Albert, following his passion for dance. Albert wasn’t mad, not at all; in fact, he was thrilled for his friend. Brooklyn wasn’t that far, so he was sure they’d see each other often. However, without Race, he wasn’t sure who he’d be rooming with.

Continuing to pack his boxes, Albert’s mind wandered to his roommate situation. He was, admittedly, nervous. Without Race, he would be rooming with an unknown student. By the time he’d worked that out, the deadline had passed to submit a request to be paired with someone specific; He would be added to the lottery to be paired up at random with his new roommate. He was worried about that: sharing his space with a whole stranger, stuck together in close quarters, learning to get along. What if he was paired with someone disrespectful, or homophobic, or creepy, or just plain annoying? Albert knew he could be hard to get along with, tending to mistime jokes and miss queues, rubbing people the wrong way. He could sabotage their relationship without even knowing. And even if he didn’t, that didn’t guarantee it’d be smooth sailing. They might not get along, but what could they do? They’d be stuck together for at least two semesters. Dorm rooms were sometimes roomy, but not enough to avoid each other.

The anxiety wasn’t productive: Albert knew that. He couldn’t help it. Change was hard; he didn’t feel ready.

And Jack Kelly was not helping matters. Sure, Jack was one of his best friends - basically a brother, really - but he was an ass. He would do anything to embarrass or inconvenience Albert. That was in part due to their prank war, which had started in ninth grade when Jack replaced his gym shorts with a purple tutu and was still going strong on their first day of college. Of course, he’d never miss an opportunity to get Albert back. Nothing was sacred, no object or situation safe from Jack’s interference. All things considered, Albert should have seen this coming.

Jack offered to help him carry them to the car; there were a few, and it was already late, so Albert accepted. That was his first mistake. Jack took one look at them and started goading him.

“You should label your boxes, Al.” He said as he picked them up.

“No.”

Then, on the landing, “How are you gonna know what’s in ‘em? It’ll be a pain to unpack.”

“I know what I packed, Jack.”

“They look naked without labels.” He whined as they walked out the front door.

“Shut up.”

They started to load them into the car, slotting them in the trunk with the lightest ones on top.

“What kind of psychopath just puts their stuff in a box and closes it up?” Jack questioned with an edge of challenge.

Albert rolled his eyes, taking a medium sized box - possibly containing his desk lamp - and stacking it on top of the others.

“This ain’t a pass-the-parcel, Al, you’re allowed to know what’s in the box.”

“If you don’t shut up, Jackie, so help me, you’ll be trying to run without kneecaps.”

The seemingly endless prods and pokes continued as they loaded all his unlabelled boxes into the car. Jack continued his stream of nonsense, his arguments devolving into snipes and jabs. Albert shut the trunk forcefully, fixing Jack with a look.

“I ain’t labelling ‘em,” he stated with finality, “I know what I packed, and I’ll just unpack when I get there. If they ain’t labelled, Ma can reuse the boxes for something else later without having to scratch the writing out. It’s just easier.”

Jack gave him an unconvinced look but shrugged and let it go. Al should’ve known that was suspicious. Jack never could back down from an argument. Why would this one have been any different?

His second mistake was leaving the car unlocked. They lived in a good area; there wasn’t any reason to lock it. Besides, who would want to steal a bunch of blank boxes full of sweatshirts and towels? However, this turned out to be his downfall. The lock was the only barrier between Jack and his boxes, the last defence. Without needing to steal Al’s mom’s keys, there was nothing standing in his way. He was free to wreak havoc on his things.

His third mistake was not checking his boxes in the morning. They were in a hurry to get on the road - which was not unusual - so Al planned ahead and double checked everything when he brought the boxes down. He knew he had everything he needed, saving time in the morning. Without those last minute checks, he had no chance of catching Jack's little prank before they arrived at the campus.

Jack hadn’t let on that anything had happened. Crammed in the back seat, surrounded by his own boxes and bags, he appeared to the world perfectly angelic. Well, as angelic as Jack Kelly could be. In truth, he was the same snarky and sarcastic man he’d always been, cracking jokes like normal. Albert had no reason to suspect a thing.

So you could imagine his shock and regret when he lifted the trunk to find his boxes, all labelled in Jack’s scratchy block letters with obscene and embarrassing labels. Roadkill - California to Texas. Grandma’s ashes - This way up! (Decorated with arrows pointing to the bottom of the box, naturally). Meditation CDs - Pokémon, Ru Paul, My Little Pony. And right on the top, the Crown Jewels of Jack Kelly’s mayhem: Dildos - Size M-XL.

It was hard to embarrass Albert - it really was. He’d spent his high school years being tormented and humiliated by Jack and had grown a tolerance for this kind of thing. Carrying a box labelled ‘dildos’ across campus was far from the worst thing he’d ever had to do. However, he did worry about what his roommate might think. If he was worried about being paired with a weirdo, others must be too. This was one of those first impressions you couldn’t take back. Joy of joys.

Undeterred, he grabbed the box and braced for impact. Making his way swiftly and unashamedly to his dorm, he ignored the stares and snickers of his peers. Look at my box of dildos, folks. Take it in. They could have guessed that this was a prank, but the surprise of it still caught most of them off guard. Albert pressed on through the crowds, rolling his eyes.

If they can’t tell that this is a joke, then they ain’t smart enough for college.

He just hoped his roommate could see the humour in it.

Speaking of his roommate, he rounded the final corner with his package. The door was slightly ajar, and he could see shadows moving under the door. Taking one final, bracing breath, Albert shuffled the box onto his forearm and pushed the door, embracing his fate.

A trick of timing, the universe’s cruel joke, caused Albert to enter the doorway at the precise moment that his new roommate fired a sticky dart from his Nerf gun. The dart shot through the air. It travelled with a great deal more speed than it should, zipping through the room. No doubt it would have continued into the hall had the doorway been empty. However, it was stopped by Albert’s moving box, adhering at the dead centre of the “O” in dildos.

All movement and sound stopped as Albert looked eyes with his new roommate.

What a first impression.

0000

Moments earlier, Finch had been alone in his dorm. The last few weeks had been a blur of emotions, and he was trying to wrap his mind around it before his new roommate arrived. His first impressions were often lacking, and he hoped that he could start out this relationship on the right foot.

His decision to come to this school had been rushed. Life had spiralled out of control, leaving bad blood between him and his folks. He got an offer to move here to Manhattan, far from them, and he jumped on it. His new life was stretched out in front of him. King of his own destiny, he surveyed his territory. And sure, a cramped college dorm room that he had to share with a stranger wasn’t much of a kingdom. But the hum of the radiator sounded like freedom, and the carpet was soft. He could learn to be happy here.

He was already unpacked, all three of his boxes piled up in the corner. In his hand, he held six plastic Nerf targets. He’d bought them at the dollar store in the ninth grade, using sharpshooting as an escape from life. Since then, his skills had grown, and he frequently moved them around to give himself more of a challenge. Mapping the room, he weighed his options. He was, of course, limited to his side of the room, which made it harder to place them in a way that would challenge him. Still, he was resourceful. And maybe his new friend - he really hoped they would get along - might let him spread them around a bit.

There was one classic place, though. In all the time he’d had these targets, one place stayed constant. He went and hung the first bullseye at the dead centre of the door on the inside. He could hit it with his eyes closed, in his sleep, or with his hands tied behind his back, but he didn’t care. The target on the door had been the most stable relationship he’d had in years, always there, always within reach.

He dumped the rest of the targets on his bed, liberating his Nerf gun from his backpack. It had been his first, and it was the favourite of his whole collection. Modelled like a sawed-off shotgun, it was easy to aim and familiar. He’d carried it with him everywhere since he’d gotten it. This little green and orange eyesore was practically an extra limb, an extension of Finch himself. He’d gotten more high-power guns since, ones that could throw darts faster than he could blink, but he loved this one the best.

Loading in a sticky dart, he aimed for the door and pulled the trigger.

In a statistically remarkable series of events, someone pushed the door open at the precise moment he pulled the trigger. They got in the path of the dart, the new target of the shot. Thankfully, the person was carrying a box - otherwise, they would have been hit square in the chest; not exactly a great first impression. The dart, however, sailed gracefully through the room and stuck to the stranger’s box with a satisfying sticking noise. It lined up perfectly with the writing on the box, centred in the middle of one of the letters. If he’d been aiming for it, Finch would have been impressed with his shot. As it stood, he wasn’t sure how to respond.

Bullseye, I guess.

0000

Both men stood, frozen in time. All the sound had been sucked from the room, leaving only a thick silence. Neither was sure what to do to break it. Albert wanted speak - he really did. Wanted to laugh, introduce himself, settle in. However, his mouth was dry, and any words died before they could reach his throat, all systems at a standstill. He couldn’t even walk through the door for fear he would break the spell.

Why? Well, the man in front of him - his new roommate, the one holding the Nerf gun - was insanely hot.

He looked like a Renaissance painting. Classically beautiful, without being plain. A long thin face that reminded Albert distantly of a horse, smooth angles that caught the light and held it. Bright pearlescent teeth and unnaturally brown eyes. He looked as if he had stolen the light from the sun, soaking in its warmth and making it his own. All his brightness and sharpness was contrasted with his soft, green sweatshirt and bare feet, the picture of domesticity. All of it was at odds with the keenness of his shot, the Nerf gun still aimed dangerously at Albert’s chest. Nonetheless, every inch of him was beautiful.

Of all the things he’d been afraid of, falling in love with his roommate was the least expected.

He was suddenly a lot more worried about his first impression.

0000

He needn’t have worried: because on the opposite side of the dorm, the same things were going through Finch’s head.

Finch had always been a sucker for a redhead; the man in front of him, with his strikingly fiery curls, was no exception. Every line of his face was beautiful - from the creases around his eyes to his goofy grin. His eyes were a sweet brown, like Nutella or hot cocoa, deep and inviting. They caught the light like a Pokémon trainer catches them all. His lips were pulling slowly out of a grin into a shocked gape. Even in his confusion, he was breathtaking. His arms cradled his moving box like Cupid cradles his bow - invitingly and full of undiscovered love. His legs were obviously strong, judging by the way his jeans were stretched over them.

Finch couldn’t move or breathe or look away. He needed to lower his Nerf gun, introduce himself and explain, something, anything. Instead, he stood, transfixed and in awe. If this man were the moon, then Finch were the tides - unable to move without his say-so. His every thought was directed by this beautiful stranger.

His new roommate.

His roommate.

His.

That snapped him out of it.

0000

The beautiful stranger cleared this throat.

“Sorry!”

“Nice shot,” whispered Albert.

The stranger smiled, brushing the back of his neck. He spoke again.

“Uh, hi?”

Albert nodded. That was exactly what he’d been trying to say.

“Hi.”

A moments more of silence settled around them. Neither was entirely sure how to come back from that introduction, and both were too transfixed by the other to risk saying the wrong thing.

Albert eventually found his courage. Shuffling his moving box onto one arm, he extended his hand in greeting.

“I’m Albert.”

Tossing his Nerf gun to his bed, the stranger followed suit.

“Patrick, but the guys back home called me Finch.”

“Why 'Finch'?” Albert asked.

“I put a bird in the principal’s office 'cause he was homophobic,” the boy - Finch - shrugged, “It’s my greatest achievement to date.”

Albert didn’t know if he could fall more in love than he was already. His heart felt like it might explode. This adorable, Nerf-gun shooting, homophobe-hating man was all he could think about. He was distantly aware that he needed to bring his stuff in from the car, needed to put down the dildo box and unpack, but he was happy just standing in the doorway watching Finch.

However, his standing was misinterpreted by his new crush, who suddenly smacked his forehead and stepped to the side.

“Oh, sorry, I’m totally blocking the way. Come in.” He swept his hands to the side like a waiter, ushering Albert in.

He took his chance, stepping in and putting his box on the empty bunk. It tipped merrily onto one side, revealing another of Jack’s secret messages. Albert flopped his head back with a groan. Finch caught sight of the new scribble as well. He couldn’t help but chuckle.

Albert excused himself to get the rest of his boxes from the car, but also so he could get some fresh air. Finch was beautiful and badass. He was unlike any other guy Albert had met. If he blew his chance with him, well, he’d never forgive himself. He might be getting ahead of himself, but he kept wondering what Finch might look like in a tux and what song their first dance would be to. His mom had always called him a hopeless romantic, so had Jack. He was inclined to agree. He loved the idea of falling in love and marrying his favourite person ever, having a husband to share life’s moments with. And yeah, he’d only known Finch for ten minutes, but every fibre of his being seemed to think this guy was the perfect candidate.

He daydreamed all the way back to the dorm, trying to think of something charming to say to Finch. A pickup line? Or maybe some poetry. Where was Jack when you needed him? That man could charm the pants off of anyone. Although, from memory, he and Davey met when Jack accidentally tipped his paint water out over the art room balcony and all over Davey’s head.

As he stepped through the door of his dorm, he took a breath and prepared to ask Finch out. However, his new roommate was already speaking, pointing at the box on his bed.

“Okay, I gotta ask-“

“-It’s not dildos, I swear,” Albert cut him off.

“-who defaced your box?”

“Oh.” Wasn’t expecting that. “Um, Jack. Pain in my ass.”

Finch nodded, snickering, and gestured the box in Albert’s arms. This one read TIME MACHINE - DISASSEMBLED.

“So is he ya boyfriend or something?”

“Oh, fuck no.” Albert laughed - imagine him dating Jack, yuck - and clarified, “He’s sorta my brother? Lived next door to me and my Ma. He’s just up the hall now, helping Davey unpack.”

“Davey?”

“Jack’s boyfriend,” Albert shrugged. He wondered what Davey saw in Jack but decided not to think too hard. Davey was a least twice as smart as Albert would ever be; he would have his reasons. He expressed this to Finch, who laughed and offered a similar anecdote about a friend called Spot who was dating some extroverted Manhattan twink with a sarcastic streak a mile wide.

“They’re perfect for each other because no one can understand them,” Finch smiled, “the peanut butter and jelly of people.”

They continued to laugh and talk about their friends, bonding over their weird friends with weirder names.

Albert ducked out for more boxes. He moved every crass title from his car to his dorm, unpacking them as he went to discover their real contents. Finch offered the help him carry them back to his mom’s car when they were empty.

On the way, he asked about Jack’s prank again.

“So, Jack’s a prankster?”

Albert nodded, “Yeah, we’ve had a prank war going since the ninth grade.”

“War, huh?” Finch raised an eyebrow. “How you’re gonna get him back?”

“No idea yet, but it’s gonna be big.”

Finch was sure that it would be. He told Albert as such.

“Let me know if you’ll be wanting help,” he smiled, playfully elbowing his ribs, “I’m a sharpshooter, after all.”

Albert wasn’t sure how that would come in handy, but he filed it away for later use.

0000

In their first week together, they circled around each other, teasing and testing. It was an easy tension of learning each other’s habits and personalities.

As it turned out, Finch was a troublemaker. With his keen eye and trained aimed, he and his Nerf gun could wreak all kinds of havoc. Albert found himself stuck with more darts than he’d ever seen. He learned to listen for the quiet ‘snick’ sound of the gun being loaded, hyper aware of the bright orange darts as they landed around him.

Finch used his talents for good, sometimes, shooting bananas off the hand with a carefully modified ‘knife dart’ - which turned out to be a Nerf dart with a straightened out paper clip in it. He could also switch the lights off from his bunk with one flick of the trigger. Both were pretty cool tricks, but Al found himself loving Finch’s cheeky moves more.

He had returned to the dorm after class to find that Finch had used his posters as target practice, using strategically placed darts to block out certain letters and leave crude messages for him. The next day, he was greeted with a flurry of darts as he entered the room, Finch raining down on him with his most quick-firing gun. He also left Albert notes on the dorm door, where anyone could read them - thanks for letting me borrow your toothbrush! and Adam from the butt-lift place called - they can fix your pancake butt! and Where’s the haemorrhoid cream?

Albert loved it. In return, he reset Finch’s ringtones to weird and embarrassing sounds and short-sheeted his bed. He also stole Finch’s hats and sweatshirts, basically combining their wardrobes into one mega-wardrobe. He also replaced all of Finch’s stationery with sticks of gum, which turned out to be less of a prank and more of a genius ice-breaking hack.

They grew closer. All the pranks led to them getting to know each other’s likes and dislikes, their insecurities and routines. The more Albert learnt, the more he wanted to know. Finch was becoming his best friend. The crush he was nursing grew into a warm and unexplainable thing. Each passing day brought new moments of friendship and growth. Finch challenged him, distracted him, entertained him. He was bright and annoying, glued to his hip like a loyal puppy and floating around him. Albert grew to love his company, loved how he would ask questions while you studied - that was more helpful than he could have known, helping Albert to identify the gaps in his knowledge. Finch was the puzzle piece he had been missing.

Finch felt the same, although Albert didn’t know that. He loved the way that Albert would respond to his cheek and snark with jibes of his own. Albert enjoyed his pranks and put thought and time into retaliating. He was quieter than Finch, happy to just share the room with you without needing conversation to fill the void. He seemed to light up when Finch asked him questions, explaining the complex medical topics he was learning. He was full of adrenaline and grace, not often static. Finch found himself following Albert’s movements when he paced, drawn in. Albert was his muse. He couldn’t get enough of the beautiful redhead.

0000

At the opening of their second week, Albert returned to their dorm with a twinkle in his eye and a bagel in his hand. Finch, with Nerf gun in hand, shot a dart into the hole of the bagel.

“You!” Pointed Albert.

“Me?” Questioned Finch playfully.

“How would you like to help me get back at Jack?”

Finch nodded, “I’m in. What’s the play?”

As it turned out, Jack had planned a secret date for Davey. They hadn’t had a lot of time since coming to college, so Jack wanted to do something nice. He’d told Albert that he and Davey were going to have a picnic on the sports fields in the evening. Super romantic, at least it was supposed to be.

“I want to crash their party,” explained Albert, “but I need your help.”

He then explained that they needed a way to get in and out fast. If they lingered, Jack’s wrath would rain down upon them. Speed is of the element, Finchy, Albert had said. Luckily, Albert had become sort-of friends with one of the security guards. This guard, Denton, agreed to ‘accidentally’ leave the keys in one of the school’s golf carts for their use. As long as they returned it in one piece, no one would be the wiser.

“Where do I come in, Al?”

“I want you to get your best Nerf gun -one o’ those ones that shoot really fast. While I'm driving, I want you to spray ‘em with darts. I got some toilet paper to throw. I just didn’t think that was enough. Plus, you’ve got a wicked sense of aim. I could use a little help.”

It was a solid plan. Like Jack’s box prank, it wouldn’t hurt anyone. Albert assured him Davey would think it was funny too. He was almost as much a part of the war as Jack or Albert. If anything, he'd take it as an invitation to get his own revenge. No one’s day’s gonna be ruined.

“I’m your guy,” smiled Finch, “when do we start.”

“We ride at six. Wear something stealthy.”

0000

Six o'clock rolled around quickly. Finch had ducked out to the dollar store, picking up some more sticky darts. When he returned, he found Albert. His crazy roommate was dressed like a cartoon cat-burglar, complete with a black turtleneck and war paint. He was hastily stuffing toilet rolls into his backpack. They were armed to the teeth with Nerf darts, toilet paper, and biodegradable party confetti.

“Looking good, Al,” laughed Finch.

He was also dressed for the occasion, a mismatched all-black ensemble. He even opted for some fingerless gloves he saw at the store. He had never been one to half-ass a prank. Besides, going all out might impress Albert.

“Ready?”

“Born ready, Finch.”

“Funny, I thought you were born ‘Albert.’”

A roll of toilet paper hit him in the head.

0000

The plan was in motion.

Denton had left the cart parked by the dormitories. They were set to go, just waiting for confirmation that Jack was in position. Sure enough, Davey posted a sappy picture on his Snapchat story, toting Jack’s merits as a caring boyfriend. They were clearly on the sports field, spread out on an honest-to-goodness checked rug, picnic basket and all. The sunset painted pastel lines behind them.

As the light of sunset faded to night, they started up the cart. Crammed in with the ammo and a truly gigantic nerf gun, Albert and Finch were pressed into each other’s sides. Unbeknownst to them, both were enjoying the contact, pining for more than just the necessary contact of the cart. They drove at agonisingly slow speeds towards the sports fields, staying in the cover of the shadows of the campus. If they were caught, it would all be over. Luckily, the pair thrived on adrenaline.

Their trip to the sports fields was short and silent. Albert couldn’t help but hold his breath as if the sound of it might give their location away. It didn’t occur to him that the sounds of the cart would get them caught before his breathing would. Finch kept directing him with hand signals, guiding the cart through a maze of secret tunnels that kept them hidden.

Eventually, the great secrecy of it all got the better of them. Albert could picture them, both dressed like the bad guys in a cartoon spy movie, zooming through the campus with reckless abandon. They weren’t going fast at all - he thought it might not even bruise if he fell out of the cart. But here they were, leaning and ducking with each move as if they were in a Fast and Furious movie. Finch was holding onto the roof to stabilise himself. They were surrounded be a hoard of completely harmless weapons, yet they acted as if they were heading into a war. That last thought, along with the image of what they must look like, cause Albert to giggle.

Once.

Twice.

A snort.

Then Finch started.

Their silent voyage was overrun with laughter. Finch was shaking, trying to contain his sounds. Albert was hiccuping out barks of laughter. The noise grew until it drowned out the hum of engines. Try as they might, there was no stopping it. Tears filled Albert’s eyes. Finch took hold of the wheel and directed the cart as he snorted. They continued on, the most joyful caravan in the country. They couldn’t stop their noise until they saw the sports fields.

It was a bracing and sobering experience. Two weeks of thinking and planning had led them to this. The importance of their mission overcame their joy. They pulled their adrenaline back in, the noise level dropping below the noise of the cart. It was time.

The light from the fake tea light candles on the rug guided them. A moment of quiet and a few hand gestures revealed that there would be no way to sneak up on them. The cart was too big, the moon too bright. The element of surprise would be lost too quickly if they approached cautiously. Albert made the motion for ‘step on it’, pressing his palm out in front of him. Finch nodded. Mouthing the words, Albert counted down from three. He threw the golf cart into gear, shredding across the lawn at max speed.

The pickup in speed caused them both to shout. Any semblance of sneaking in was abandoned as Albert and Finch began a deafening war cry of whooping and cheering. They bounced across the field, the cart shaking with effort. One hand on the wheel, Albert loaded himself with a roll of toilet paper. Finch aimed his Nerf scope, fixed on the happy couple.

Jack caught sight of them too late.

“ALBERT!”

A shower of Nerf darts cut off his cries. Albert hit him square in the chest with a roll of paper. Davey, shocked and excited, burst out gleefully at the shower of multicoloured confetti, picking up handfuls and tossing them at his boyfriend.

The drive-by took only a few seconds. There was chaos as they unloaded all they had at Albert’s friends. It would long be remembered as the highlight of the whole prank war. The picnic rug, previously set out romantically with breadsticks and candles, was now littered with darts and rolls of paper and a sprinkling of reflective paper strips. It was glorious. Strangely, it looked like the leftover mess from a child’s birthday party. In Albert’s eyes, this was perfect revenge.

“That’s for the boxes, Kelly!” He screamed as they sped off.

The cart barrelled across the fields and out of sight, leaving Jack and Davey in its wake. The boys, happy with their successful mission, tore off into the night in fits of giggles once more. They didn’t stop until they were well out of sight. Only when they had pulled the cart to a stop outside the security office did they finally calm down.

Pressed close and sweating awfully, they breathed through the rush of adrenaline. The whole evening had come to a crescendo. They both smiled, calming down.

“That was awesome,” Albert laughed, “Thank you, Finchy.”

Finch slung an arm around him, “Always, Al.”

They stayed intertwined for a second. Albert liked the feel of being so close to Finch, tucked into his chest safe and warm. He didn’t want to pull away, but he was becoming more aware of how close they were. This was closer than friends. He was sure Finch knew that.

Pulling back, he looked to his roommate.

“Finch?”

“Hmm?”

He took a deep breath. It was now or never. He was going to say something.

“Would ya like it if we-“

He was cut off by Finch’s lips on his.

Oh, yeah, let’s do that.

His brain went offline, surprised by the kiss. Finch’s lips were dry from the cold night air but soft and cool against his own. He could feel the flush of Finch’s cheeks. He gasped through his noise - a noise of shock and approval.

Finch pulled back as he tried to reciprocate. He looked him cautiously in the eyes.

“I sure hope I didn’t read that wrong.”

Albert chuckled. He pulled him in by the shirt, nearly tipping Finch out of the cart with his enthusiasm. This kiss was perfect. Longer and deeper than the other, they were chest to chest by the end. They weren’t yet used to this motion, so their chins and noses bumped as they moved, prompting little giggles between their lips. It was the happiest kiss Albert had ever had. Finch was warm and close and all his for a few moments.

Finch bit his nip with a mock growl, pulling back to smile at him. Albert looked flushed and overwhelmed. However, the smile that split his face betrayed his emotions.

“I hope that’s my last first kiss ever,” Finch whispered.

Albert looked shocked, but his smile didn’t fade.

“Okay,” he nodded.

They tumbled out of the cart a minute later. They knew that wasn’t the end of it. Finch was sure he wanted to marry Albert, but there was more to do. They needed to get to know each other more and finish college and meet each other’s families. They weren’t at the end yet, but this was a damn good place to start.

They walked back to the dorm with hands intertwined. No matter what happened next, Albert knew this was the start of a beautiful life.

0000

He was right, too. He and Finch got married six years later, after college. Never had there been a better couple, better friends, or better lovers. They had grown into the most badass and unstoppable team.

They drove away from their wedding with cans tied to the back of a golf cart.

0000

Again, happy holidays and seasons greetings, @kathreestars. Hope this is everything you hoped for. Best wishes, Corbin.

#Newsies!#newsies secret santa #for @kathreestars #gift exchange 2020 #redfinch #Albert Dasilva/Finch #college AU

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