#can barely reckonize him myself without his glasses

[sigmaelxgr]

Therrrre he is!

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 cherry lipstick : harry potter

▰▰ pairing: harry potter x fem!reader

when harry's curious about lipstick, she takes him by surprise— by showing him how it tastes.

mari talks! had to get this out of my mind, I'll always love flustered/awkward harry potter.

Harry had tried to keep himself away from her. He really tried. But how could he, when she has this pull on him that no one else has. Her effect is always immediate, every time she walks into a room, Harry feels the need to drop everything if only just to look at her.

She is beautiful, of course Harry is not the first or last one to notice it. But he is the first to be distracted enough by her to end up blowing up a potion on his own face. That had landed him a scold from Snape and then— detention.

Snape had made him come back after the day ended to clean the potions classroom without magic. And it was a mess, not only after the disaster Harry himself had managed to pull, but also because first years had been receiving class after.

What he wasn't expecting was for her to walk into the room a few minutes later. "you're late, miss y/l/n" Snape told her without even looking up from the book he was reading, his voice cold. "I believe, the reason you were assigned detention again was because you were late to class."

Harry, who was trying very hard to stop himself from looking at her, rolled his eyes. "She's only two minutes late, I'm sure she'll be fine." he mumbled, because Harry was never one to control his smart mouth.

Snape looked up just to glare at him for the interruption. "As I was saying, that's thirty minutes more added to your detention, miss y/n. And since Potter made it clear that he doesn't mind a few minutes more, he will stay with you."

He barely has time to react before Snape looks at the clock on his desk and shuts down his book abruptly, tucks it under his arm and strides towards the door. "I have a meeting. You two better stay here and have everything clean when I'm back or else you'll spend tomorrow night cleaning again."

And with that, he steps out of the classroom, the door behind him closing with a click.

Silence, then— "thanks for trying I guess." she tells him softly as she takes a rag and comes closer to help Harry clean the desks.

"Couldn't help myself" He replies without looking up, he doesn't want to make a fool of himself.

She giggles but doesn't add anything else so they spend the next thirty minutes in silence and it's starting to drive Harry crazy, but he doesn't know how to start a conversation with her, he's way too nervous. Instead, he steals glances at her from time to time.

She's the one to break the silence again when she stops and looks around. "Do you reckon Snape would know if we used magic?"

When Harry looks up, she's already looking at him with her head tilted, an amused little smile on her lips. "His greasy head always knows everything." Harry tells her, smiling when he hears her giggling again.

He's expecting her to keep cleaning but instead she drops the rag, reaching into her robe and pulling something small. Harry doesn’t know what it is until she takes the cap off.

Lipstick.

He just can't help but watch, helpless, as she twists the tube and leans against the nearest reflective surface to apply it carefully on her lips.

Oh Harry's doomed. He knows he is. His heart pounds so loudly he's almost afraid she'll hear it. But she doesn't seem aware of it as she glides the lipstick over her lips, then pressing them together softly before pulling back to inspect her work.

He's so far gone that he doesn’t notice her turning around until it's too late, and he's not able to look away before she catches him staring at her.

"What?" She asks, her voice soft but full of amusement.

Harry gulps down, pushing his glasses up his nose nervously. He desperately tries to think of a normal excuse, but he can only stutter his way through words:

"I- I'm just- I guess I'm just curious about—" he feels like he's choking on words so he stops, looking away, the red on his cheeks giving away how embarrased he feels.

Her eyebrows raise, but far from being offended like Harry suspected she would, she smiles. If anything, she looks mischievous.

"Do you want to taste it, Potter?" She asks, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Harry, ever oblivious, thinks it's just a tiny bit weird for her to offer her lipstick to him. But maybe she just finds it funny, so he simply agrees. "Yeah, I guess."

As she comes closer, he thinks she'll swipe some lipstick onto his lips. But then, she's stepping even closer and he's not sure he can even breathe. He finally understands what she was asking.

And before he can even think, she leans in— And kisses him. Soft, sweet. A simple press of lips, but Harry is so shocked into stillness that he doesn't think of doing anything, his heart racing.

When she pulls away, Harry's still frozen on his spot as her eyes flicker over his face, amusement shining through her expression.

"Well?" She asks, lips still so temptingly close to him. "Did you like it?"

Harry swallows thickly, and he has to stop himself from licking his lips as the cherry taste lingers on them.

"I—" he clears his throat, and he doesn’t even know where he gathers the confidence to keep talking. "I think I need to try it again. Just to be sure."

Her laugh is cut short by him pulling her by the waist to kiss her again, cherry lipstick melting against his lips.

The door creaks open almost an hour and a few more kisses later, and Snape walks back into the room, his face cold and unimpressed. Harry's just grateful they weren't caught, trying to act nonchalant and get his focus back on wiping down another table.

"Well, I expected a little more." Snape says as he surveys the room. "But at least you two managed not to destroy the classroom further. A miracle, truly."

While Harry hopes Snape doesn’t notice just out of it he is, y/n seems to be way better at keeping her cool, though he can swear he sees her trying to hide a smirk.

"I guess you're both dismissed, you can-" Snape interrupts himself once his eyes fall on Harry. "Potter, what is that on your lips?"

Harry's entire brain short-circuits. He could try to come up with some half-assed excuse, but— "Alright, Good night!" and then he's bolting out of the door.

y/n, much more composed, smiles at Snape as she walks pass him. "This was a lovely evening, professor" She says before casually following Harry out.

Snape doesn't have enough patience to try and find out what that was about.

Harry stumbles down the hallway, heart pounding, still flustered. It doesn’t take her too much time to catch up to him. "Leaving in a hurry, Potter?" She teases, her smile bright.

Harry groans, running a hand through his already messy hair—courtesy of y/n. "He was looking at me like he knew!"

"Oh he definitely knew." she hums, totally unbothered. "I mean, you did look suspicious with the whole— y'know." she gestures at his still stained lips.

He gapes at her, his cheeks burning. But he doesn't try to add anything else, his embarrasment still too big and his heart hammering in his chest as they walk side by side.

But when they're about to part ways, he can't help himself before he's blurting, "Go to hogsmeade with me this weekend."

For once, she seems taken by surprise, raising her eyebrows at him. "Like a date?"

He wasn't thinking about it as a date—well, he wasn't thinking at all to begin with. But the idea doesn’t sound bad at all. Who's he trying to trick? he really likes it.

"Yes, a date." He nods when he realizes she's still waiting for his reply.

She smiles, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You can try strawberry lipstick next, see if you like it."

Harry laughs, definitely caught off guard. "Is that a yes?"

She's already strutting away from him, but she throws him a smile over her shoulder. "I'd love to, Harry."

Harry's heart jumps at the way she says his name, and he watches her walk away before he races up the stairs.

A few minutes later, when he bursts into his room, Ron immediately points at him. "Mate why are your lips so red?" he squints "is that lipstick on your cheek?"

He can only groan in response, dropping onto his bed and covering his face with his arm. He swears he could die right now.

But the stupid smile on his lipstick covered face? Yeah, he's definitely not getting rid of that anytime soon.

[angelofsmalldeaath]

in the woods somewhere — a.h.b.

cw: being sick, fevers

“go away, you’re not supposed to be in here,” i groan from under the mountain of blankets, struggling to fully breathe. 

the room is somehow boiling hot and freezing cold at the same time. i take a peek and his frowning face, and shut my eyes again. 

“you were calling my name,” his voice floats in on the breeze, garbled as if i’m under water and he’s trying to reach me. “you sounded quite weak and pathetic if i’m being honest—”

“oi!”

“—scared me a bit.”

i sigh into the pillow and grimace when a sweat-soaked tissue touches my nose. i shouldn’t be this disgusted by it. every inch of my skin feels the same—sweat-soaked and grimy and icky. 

a moment later, a cold hand touches my forehead. then i hear a wince. 

“oh, you’re not doing so well are you?”

“miserable. but you should go. i’ll be just fine—” and then, just to drive home the point, my body breaks into a coughing fit. 

the cold hand moves to my back, stroking down my spine until i can finally catch a breath, get some air in my lungs. it burns, of course. it burns like i’ve swallowed the river styx. 

“quit being so stubborn, will you? don’t make me wrestle you into being a good patient.”

“oooh kinky,” i tease, my voice hoarse and barely even audible. another coughing fit threatens to take over me but he holds a glass of water in front of me before that can happen. 

i take one look at his unimpressed face and take the glass dutifully. 

“i don’t remember calling your name.” i set the glass aside and try to prop myself up. he immediately moves to prop up a few pillows behind me. 

“well you would if your brain wasn't so fever addled. i reckon it’s melting. because you refuse to listen to me.”

“i’ve listened to you all day!”

“and did you eat when i brought you that bowl of soup in bed or did you make a face?”

“right,” i pout, pull out the last arrow from my arsenal, “are we really gonna do this when i’m on my death bed?”

a laugh tumbles out of him, surprising us both. he presses a hand over his mouth to stop it, pretends to run a hand through his beard to cover it up. “oh now you’re too sick, are you? i thought you were ‘just fine’.”

“schrödinger’s sickness,” i shrug and silently celebrate when he has to fight another smile.

“alright, how about we make a deal,” he says and extends his hand towards me, all business-like and serious. “you have some of that soup, let me help you with a quick shower, and then i’ll stay away from you. you won’t get me sick.”

“if you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask.” i giggle behind my hands like a child. maybe he's right, maybe the delirium's really getting to me.

he huffs, close to defeated. “you’re impossible. why won’t you let me baby you, hmm? is it really so bad to lean on someone else?”

“okay,” i hold my hands up weakly, defensively, “fine. deal.” and even though his peeved expression is highly entertaining, i keep my laugh to myself. “how could i ever say no to you?”

“you have,” he points out, “multiple times, if i may add! and quit flirting. it’s time to let me do my job.”

“and what job is that?”

“nursing you back to health. making sure you don’t waste away like you so obviously want to.”

“and will you be by my bedside in a slutty nurse costume?” i snort, “you have the legs for it.”

rapidly, he mutters the words “delirious” and “impossible” among others under his breath but i don’t miss the way his face splits into a smile. how he shakes his head. especially not the fondness in his eyes when he pulls the blankets off me and holds my shivering body closer. 

without hesitating, i curl into him, into the crook of his neck, trying to fit myself into any cavities of his body that will have me. anything for his warmth. 

“i’m going to give you so much grief the next time i’m sick,” he declares, then picks me up into his arms. 

i kiss the exposed part of his neck, resting my head in the crook. “is that a threat, sweet boy? because i know how much you love being babied—”

“shush, aren’t you supposed to have a sore throat?”

i hum noncommittally.

a moment later he sets me down on the lid of the toilet, and flits around the bathroom gathering things. i watch him—i watch the crease between his brows and the stray hair falling out of his bun. i watch where his t-shirt slides off his shoulder to expose a collarbone and the was he licks his lips when he’s thinking. 

and when my sweat-soaked skin breaks out into goosebumps once more, i know it’s not the fever. 

[lilac-den]

can we have a little ✨spíce✨ with maverick doting mc while they're placed on his knees? and he just can't help but tease them since mc is all shy and gentle? (I reckon I'll miss all TSR ROs, but nah, I'm all weak for cool guy🤣🤣🤣

A little snippet of Maverick x Shy!MC

I can't stop my heart from beating so much.

It started yesterday, when Sylphina and I decided to visit the Whisht estate after receiving an invitation. It started raining quite late in the evening, so Sylphina and I ended up sleeping over for the night. After waking up and having breakfast, one of the servants quietly asked me if I could see their master, Maverick, for 'something of utmost importance'.

I had expected Maverick wanting to discuss about the Princess. Or Sylphina. Or even advise me about my etiquette training that I had been doing so slowly on.

But none of what I imagine came as I feel my cheeks heat up at the hand that rests on my lower back.

"Are you alright, Wanderer?"

The question was asked in such a casual tone, it almost baffles me on how this stone-faced prick had the gall to ask me such.

How? How can I be alright when I'm sitting on your lap, you dummy?!

"I'm...fine." I barely muster out the second word, hoping I didn't sound too breathy. The hum that escapes Maverick sends a tremor along my body. That tremor grows even more after Maverick grips the hand on my lower back onto one of my hips, pulling me close to his body.

I bit my lower lip and feel fire lick within my belly. Fuck.

"Do let me know if you feel too much discomfort," he says, his quill waving about in movement of his handwriting.

I barely give a nod, my toes curling and uncurling in an attempt to settle down the glee within me for being this close to him. To feel him hold me.

I mentally smack myself. Stop it. He's not holding me. This is...just...

What was it that Maverick needed me for?

When the servant told me Maverick needed me for something important, I rushed my way over here without running (harder than it looked but the servants either didn't notice or ignored it). I only got the question "What's the matter?" out of my mouth before Maverick gestures me to come closer.

And before I knew it, here I am - sitting on Maverick's lap very intimately.

I glance over to his face and take note of the features. Glacial blue eyes focus on his work, white bangs barely reaching above his eyes. His lips are a line, serious and straight. Even his glasses are perfectly perched on the bridge of his nose, settled and fitting to his diligent appearance.

Then I see his eyes widen and they turn to me. It took me a hot second for me to realize my hand is on one of his cheeks, something I retract quickly as if I touched fire itself.

"S-Sorry!" I swallow, the touch of his skin still embedded against my fingers. "You just...you..." The attempt to bring up a reason dies on my tongue.

But Maverick, with a curious gleam in his eyes that I'm far too familiar with, tells me, "you are welcome to reciprocate."

A skip occurs inside me. "What?"

Maverick puts his quill down and leans back against his chair, providing me more room. "You are welcome to touch me."

I was so ready to laugh it off, to take this as him making a joke. But two factors stop me.

One: Maverick doesn't joke easily. Sure, he has his quips and jabs with the occasional sass, but he wouldn't joke about intimacy, consent or anything of that order.

And two...I have fought too long to not tell when there's an opening. And right now, sitting on his lap, Maverick has his guard down almost entirely. A part of me begins to itch and after so many years, I give in.

"Please excuse me."

My words barely come out in a whisper to my ears, but Maverick nods with understanding. I reach up for one of his cheeks, hesitating when my fingertips are just centimetres away. My heartbeats are loud and pumping with vigor, forcing me to hear and feel just how nervous I am.

I touch his porcelain skin. Then I cup his cheek.

His face is warm under my touch. I watch him close his eyes and sigh, something in the mix of relief and ease. I move my other hand to cup his other cheek, examining him up close.

His eyes, while shut, display a bit of dark circles underneath as signs of having less sleep than one should. His snow white hair shines under the soft sunlight behind him through the window. His lips are parted, full and a soft pink shade.

I brush my thumb gently along his cheek. Reacting, he leans into the palm of my hand and relishes in my touch. Something lodges in my throat in that moment.

When was it?

When was the last time I saw Maverick like this?

He opens his eyes and my eyes sting.

They're vibrant and blue, sparked with intelligence and watching me with its gaze.

Something I prayed so hard for, the last time I saw those beautiful eyes close. When I only had them in my dreams and hallucinations in my previous life since the incident.

"Wanderer?"

And in that word, cold water splashes onto my trance.

I let him go and scramble to leave his lap. "I'm sorry, my lord. I..." I brush down my clothes and perform a bow/curtsy "Sylphina is calling."

Maverick frowns and moves to stand. "But Wanderer-"

It was a poor excuse. Even just hearing Maverick's 'but' is enough of an indication that he doesn't believe my lie. But I have to get out of here and build a bit of distance before I do something foolish.

So I run. I run out of the office, down the hall and let my blood pump with adrenaline.

But my heart continues to rattle and beat against my chest, even as tears fill my eyes.

They fall the moment I allow myself to imagine, just a little bit, that his eyes called my name with the familiarity of the past.

Something that is no longer there.

[helluvasweetheart]

“You only feel it when its lost, getting through still has a cost”

-Who we are, Hozier

TW: allusions to cursing?, drinking, a man being a man?

MDNI

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I kick the fence post with a frustrated grunt. “Son of a—”

A deep voice interrupts. “Need a hand with that, sweetheart?”

I spin around to see Jimmy Shaw leaning against a nearby fence rail, his trademark smirk plastered across his face. “Jimmy Shaw, what are you doing on my property?” I snap, planting my hands on my hips.

“Well, Ophelia, half the town could hear you cursing at that poor fence. Figured I’d drop by and offer a man’s touch.” He winks, and I glare back, my jaw tightening.

Jimmy’s grin widens, but I stay rooted where I am, refusing to give him the satisfaction of backing down. “If I needed help,” I say sharply, “I wouldn’t be looking for it from the likes of you.”

He chuckles, low and amused. “Come now, Ophelia. I ain’t here to make trouble.” His gaze flicks over the crooked fence, then back to me. “But that post ain’t gonna stand straight if you keep kicking it.”

“Thank you for the advice,” I retort, “but I can manage just fine without you.” I turn my back on him and reach for the hammer resting on the ground, my fingers curling around the handle with determination. I hear his boots crunching on the dirt behind me, coming closer.

“Seems to me like you’re making it harder than it needs to be,” he says, his voice suddenly softer. “It ain’t a crime to let someone give you a hand.”

I pause, the hammer halfway to the nail. The truth is, I am struggling. This farm has been a fight from the start, and each day feels like a new battle I’m barely winning. But I won’t let him see that. I won’t let anyone see that.

“I said I don’t need your help, Jimmy.” I straighten up and turn to face him again. “And I certainly don’t need you thinking you can just walk onto my land like you own the place.”

He tilts his head, his smile fading just a bit. “I’m just trying to be neighborly, Ophelia. If you’re too proud to take it, that’s your choice.” He steps back, tipping his hat. “But that pride won’t keep a roof over your head when winter comes.”

His words sting more than I care to admit, but I hold my ground as he retreats down the dirt road. When he finally disappears from sight, I exhale, the weight of the farm settling back on my shoulders. I glance at the crooked post, then at the farmhouse behind me—both stubbornly leaning, just like me.

“I can do this,” I whisper to myself, lifting the hammer again. “I have to.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

By the time the sun dips below the horizon, the air has cooled and the sky is awash in dusky blues and purples. I wipe the sweat from my brow and let the hammer fall to the ground, the fence still no straighter than it was that morning. A sigh escapes me. The farm can wait. Right now, I need a stiff drink and a break from the weight pressing down on my shoulders.

I saddle my horse and ride into town, the dim lights of the saloon flickering in the distance like a beacon. It’s already lively inside when I push through the doors, the air thick with smoke and the smell of spilled whiskey. The hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter drown out the quiet doubts still lingering in my mind.

I make my way to the bar and lean against the counter. “Whiskey, Charlie,” I call to the bartender.

He nods and pours me a generous shot, sliding the glass toward me. “Rough day, Miss Flores?”

I take the drink in one swift motion, letting the burn settle deep in my chest before answering. “Just another day,” I mutter. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“’Course,” he replies with a knowing smile. “But that farm’s gotta be a helluva lot of work for just one woman.”

I bristle slightly, but before I can shoot back a retort, a familiar voice cuts in from a nearby table. “Reckon she’s got more fight in her than most men around here, Charlie.”

I turn to find Jimmy Shaw sitting with a couple of his friends, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of them. He’s leaning back in his chair, his hat tipped at a casual angle. The moment our eyes meet, his mouth quirks up into that same infuriating grin.

Ignoring the sudden heat in my cheeks, I set the empty glass down with a thud. “If you’re finished running your mouth, Jimmy, maybe you ought to head home before you end up on the wrong side of trouble,” I say, raising my voice just enough for his friends to hear. A few of them chuckle, and Jimmy’s grin only widens.

He stands up and crosses the room, his boots echoing on the wooden floor. “Trouble, huh?” he says, stopping just a step away from me. “You sound like you might be spoiling for it.”

I don’t back down, meeting his gaze with a steady glare. “Or maybe I’m just tired of listening to a man who thinks he can solve every problem with a little charm and a lot of whiskey.”

Jimmy laughs, a deep sound that rumbles in his chest. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I brought plenty of both,” he replies, reaching for the bottle on the bar and pouring me another drink. “But if you’d rather sulk in the corner all night, that’s up to you.”

I hesitate, my pride warring with my exhaustion. The whiskey glistens in the dim light, and for a moment, it feels like giving in. But then again, maybe a drink is exactly what I need to forget about the crooked fence, the empty fields, and all the things I can’t seem to fix. I snatch the glass from his hand, my fingers brushing his for the briefest second.

“Fine,” I say, lifting the glass to my lips. “But don’t think this means I’m taking your help.”

As the whiskey settles in my chest, warming me from the inside out, the saloon doors creak open. The conversations around us quiet for a moment, and I glance over my shoulder to see who’s arrived.

A woman stands in the doorway, framed by the dim light spilling in from the street. Her dark hair cascades down her back in loose waves, and a fringed shawl drapes over her shoulders. She steps inside with a confident grace, her eyes scanning the room like she’s taking its measure. There’s an effortless beauty about her—something striking and unfamiliar.

She catches me staring and, to my surprise, offers a small smile before making her way to the bar. Charlie, the bartender, immediately pours her a drink, his usually gruff expression softening as he speaks to her in Spanish. She replies in the same tongue, her voice smooth and melodic.

When she lifts her glass, she meets my eyes again. “Salud,” she says, tipping her drink in my direction.

I nod, raising my glass back. “Salud,” I echo, though my Spanish isn’t nearly as elegant.

The stranger’s lips curl into a smile, and she steps closer, her skirts whispering against the floorboards. “I’m Athena,Athena Cabral” she says, her gaze flicking between me and Jimmy with a curious glint. “Just passing through. I couldn’t resist stopping for a drink.”

“Well, Athena, you’ve picked a good night to walk in,” Jimmy says, leaning against the bar, his eyes sparkling with mischief. ���I’m Jimmy Shaw, and this lovely lady here is—”

“I can introduce myself,” I cut in, not keen on Jimmy speaking for me. “Ophelia Flores.” I extend my hand, meeting Athena’s gaze directly.

She takes my hand with a gentle firmness. “It’s a pleasure, Ophelia. I’m just looking for a place to stay while I’m in town. Any recommendations?”

I hesitate, glancing over at Jimmy, who’s smirking. “You could try the inn,” I say, but I can’t help the slight edge in my voice. “Though it might not be the safest option. It’s run by Jimmy’s parents.”

Athena raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Is that so? What’s wrong with the inn?”

I lean in slightly, lowering my voice. “Let’s just say they have a reputation for being… unwelcoming to newcomers.”

“Is that true, Jimmy?” Athena asks, a teasing lilt in her voice.

He shrugs, still grinning. “My folks are just traditional is all. They don’t take too kindly to strangers.”

Athena crosses her arms, tilting her head. “Sounds a bit unfair. It’s not like we’re all out to cause trouble.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t mind causing a little trouble,” Jimmy says with a wink. “Especially if it involves a pretty face like yours.”

I roll my eyes, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “Don’t mind him, Athena. He thinks he’s charming, but he’s really just a pain.”

Athena laughs, and there’s something so genuine about it that I can’t help but smile. “I’m sure there’s more to you than that, Jimmy.”

“Of course there is,” he replies with a wink, leaning closer to Athena. “I’m also incredibly helpful. You need a place to stay, right? I’m sure I could convince my parents to give you a special rate.”

“More like a special lecture,” I interject, crossing my arms. “You’d be better off sleeping in a barn than in that inn.”

Athena looks thoughtful, then glances between us. “You know, I’d be perfectly fine with a barn. At least it’s quiet.”

I nod, feeling a surge of unexpected camaraderie. “My barn is empty, and it’s a lot safer than the inn. You’d be welcome to stay there until you find something better.”

She smiles, and there’s a warmth in her eyes that makes me feel lighter. “That’s incredibly kind of you, Ophelia. I’d appreciate it.”

“Just don’t think it means I’m taking any help,” I say, attempting to sound firm but feeling my resolve soften.

Athena tilts her head, clearly amused. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I can hold my own, but I also know a good opportunity when I see one.”

Jimmy’s expression shifts, and he looks genuinely impressed. “You two seem to be hitting it off. I guess I should have expected that.”

“Let’s not make it a habit,” I say, my voice teasing but firm. “Besides, I have enough on my plate without adding any more drama.”

“Drama? Who said anything about drama?” Athena replies with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I think we could use a little excitement around here, don’t you think?”

The tension in the air lightens, and I find myself laughing along with her, feeling a flicker of hope in the warmth of her presence. Maybe tonight won’t just be about escaping my troubles after all. As the night unfolds, I can’t shake the feeling that Athena Cabral might just be the spark I need to reignite that hope.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Here is the second part! I hope someone, somewhere in some dark corner of tumblr finds this and enjoys it :)

Ophelia and Athena have a meet cute?

[caliburn-the-sword]

finished reading scarlet; last thoughts and reactions and ponderings

was about to be like "ew wtf did not want r*pe in MY y/a book" AND THEN HE SLIPPED HER AN I.D. TO ESCAPE

thorne is SO real for only being concerned about his jacket despite human bites being very dangerous lol

why are these werewolves acting like vamps

it's kind of nice how cool thorne is with lunars with all the lunar hate there is - i remember when reading cinder being apalled about how she generalised them all as corrupt

YES SCARLET KNOWS SHE KNOWS NOW

NO NOT GRANNY I'M LITERALLY IN STUDY PERIOD RN I CAN'T CRY (note: i managed not to cry in study period but god my eyes burned for a while lmao)

tf i thought wolf was just being possessive in like a protective way against ran and not just a plain old possessive way. he's honestly making me nervous rn like goodness i can literally feel scarlet's fear rn. STOP WITH YOUR I CAN FIX HIM DISEASE AND RUN (note: okay he got brain fucky wucky by mind control so this isn't him)

HOLY SHIT THEY'RE ALL FINALLY MEETING I'M FROTHING AT THE MOUTH

i think kai is going delulu. i bet his office isn't bugged and he's got a spy. literally since cinder my money has been on torin. but maybe huy

omg kai's recognition of cinder's sacrifice by going to the ball <3

gotta agree with everything cinder's saying about kai's marriage because it's everything i've been thinking since kai decided to marry levana. i wish he would see how it's a bandaid for a stab wound. he's barely fixing a short term problem, which is gonna have the same long term problem regardless

the girls (all current pov characters) ARE FIGHTING. not mad tho because i'm a messy bitch who lives for drama <3

"She'd had the bridge built for herself out of very special glass, so that she could watch (...) all without being observed herself" levana YOU MEAN A TWO WAY MIRROR??? don't go acting all superior you're not special

from what wolf has described of his Tragic Backstory there is NO way he ISN'T a virgin. i'm so sorry that was my only takeaway but i'm trying to distract myself

"We met less than a week ago and in that time I've done nothing but lie and cheat and betray you" FKSDHFSDK sounds JUST like ouat rumpelstiltskin and yet he's STILL healthier than him and not toxic LMAO

wait did wolf need to pretend betray scarlet without her knowing instead of just making THAT the plan because those supersoldiers can smell hormones?? i bet they can. i reckon he needed her to feel REAL fear (note: now that i think about it it's probably just the bioelectricity crap but also ONLY the thaumaturge would be able to detect that???)

if i keep having to read "alpha female" with my own two eyes, i'm going to need bleach. marissa meyer you owe me financial compensation for the psychological distress i've been caused. 3 is in fact 4 times too many. it is a crime that it was ever thought into existence

predictions for cress

didn't do this last time between cinder and scarlet but figured it would be fun!! you guys get to silently laugh about how wrong i am, no spoilers

first off, doc erland's place in africa becomes the home base and cinder starts her training

someone tries to recreate garan's device since it will be useful for the rebellion - could be a joint effort between cinder and cress since they have the hardware and software down respectively. idk who's gonna fill the last role of like. bio stuff and the surgeries tho but we'll see

MORE THORNE BACKSTORY

definitely more wolf pov chapters now that marissa no longer needs to make him dodgy

cress is at least a LITTLE bit delulu wackers bonkers cray z lost her marbles etc etc from being so isolated for so long. i would LOVE to get into that mindset and character voice. would make for a very interesting pov

on reading the blurb:

i'm REALLY fucking dumb it finally occurred to me that in rapunzel the hero falls from the tower and gets blinded by thorns. so that tells me exactly who carswell thorne is (rip to when i thought he was the prince from sleeping beauty cause that's embarrassing). i wonder if he gets ejected into space from the satellite and his eyeballs freeze out of his sockets or something

i wonder WHY cress would be locked up by the queen BEFORE she was even able to hack since she wouldn't have been useful then. my first thought was that glamour doesn't work on her like with shells but she's not a shell herself but that wouldn't make sense because the thaumaturges seemed surprised by cinder and michelle benoit so it can't be that. for the sake of my running joke of every fairy tale character either being related or knowing each other, i'm just gonna pin it down to her being somewhere in the family tree and leave it at that

can these people STOP getting separated from each other?? i can't handle it. from the blurb it seems like the boys got cut off from the girls??? and then kai is also separated from all of them lol. this is a prediction only in the sense that i'm trying to guess who's getting separated from who. i think it would tie well into separating everyone from their love interest like poor cinder

i wonder if this will be the book that we meet princess winter since with royal etiquette and all that her presence will p r o b a b l y be required during all them wedding preparations and what not

@eddisfargo @francforever @winterrhayle @winterpinetrees

[spacecadetspe]

A snippet from last year...

Sept. 14, 2023

I awoke the other morning with three shattered chakras; solar, sacrum, and root.  I found myself in Phantasos' villa, but with no memory of the previous night.  He took me out and showed me a crack up the face of one of the nearby buildings.

"An earthquake?" I asked.

"Just a small one."  He pulled out something that looked like a massive, very dense cocoon.  "You passed another aspect."  He'd had to wrap it so tightly in dream magic that he could barely carry it.  To prove its heft, he simply dropped the thing and cracked the pavement.

I took a step back.  I knew exactly which aspect I had passed; the one of my vengeful insistence on hyper-vigilance.  The one which would know no peace until X was gone.

Phantasos asked if I wanted her to be part of the Reckoning of the Ages, but I recoiled.  As powerful as she is, I'm not sure I trust her to be part of my infinite blade.  Let the dwarves have her, or let the Hellkin eat her.  It's... just time I let her go.

I had a pair of spectacles commissioned from the Nailsmith.  Lucidity crystals are the only real stabilizing element of the Dream World; otherwise it's far too mercurial to travel in, let alone build in.

Once, while I was still honing my sight, I was scheduled to do physical therapy in the infirmary.  I was in a rectangular pool, learning to use my depth perception to find the edges and feel out my own buoyancy.  My therapist finished up, praised me for doing a great job, and left me to float for a bit while she finished her paperwork.

Very suddenly, one of the crystals that was upholding the integrity of the building gave out; turns out it hadn't been cleaned properly.  The result was a massive hole in the side of the building where I happened to be lounging in that little pool.  And as such, I was flushed out with the water and landed in the middle of the courtyard, coughing and sputtering.  I had a good laugh about it, but it was quite the scandal for the poor oneiros who was supposed to be dedicated to cleaning those crystals.

Without those crystals, we would not have been able to build the world as we have.  Each of the dream gods carries one on their person and cleans it regularly, but mine tend to stay dirty, for all the traveling I do.  The one thing I clean fairly regularly in the mortal world are my glasses, and so I thought I might be able to carry that concept into the Dream World.  Otherwise, unless I'm with one of the deities, I'm unable to perceive much of anything clearly.

Phobetor arrived a few nights ago with my spectacles, and the first thing I remember is him sliding them gently onto the bridge of my nose.  He had picked them up on the way to the palace, since he had his own reason for coming.

The Hellkin were a bit on the rowdy side (this is normal), but what had puzzled Phobetor was their attraction to something they had found in the Wilds.  When I went back with them, the small group was huddled around a burrow of some kind, each of them fighting to dig into it.  I wasn't able to get close enough to them to determine what it was they were after, but they didn't seem to be causing much trouble otherwise, as far as I could tell.

One of the beings wandered up to me; bloodless-complexioned and having no perceptible eyes in the dark pits of its sockets, it reminded me a bit of a zombie or a thrall.  It was almost completely white, and shambled a bit as it made its way to me.  I hopped up into a nearby tree's branches to observe it, but the entity just stood there at the bottom of the tree looking at me.

I still have no idea what was going on.

I learned that Thanatos has been a visitor of the Archipelago recently.  His decaying aura doesn't seem to have an effect here, so it's refreshing for him to get out of his shell a little bit.  Seeing him in board shorts and a Hawaiian shirt was a real kick, too!  It's nice to know that Phantasos can have a little fun with his uncle.

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 2 of ?)

read part one here!

a/n: hey loves! i'm finishing up school rn, but i had to get this out and i'm about to start working on a tommy request immediately after i upload this. anyways, i'm so excited to post this series, it's incredible and i can't thank my bestie @stxdyblr-2k enough. she is a fucking genius :)

prompt: you can't get john out of your head. lo and behold, here he is.

warnings: fluff, mentions of smut, angsty af, soft john (ugh my heart)

Despite your best efforts, you'd been unable to stop yourself yearning for John Shelby. Your pokey flat now often lay empty; you were far too busy to mope at home due to your career as a personal assistant to a local solicitor who was allied with the Shelby's, attending rallies and lectures with Ada and the drunken nights you'd spend at various mansions, galleries and club openings with the "razor chasers" you'd become friendly with due to their refusal to leave Ada alone. Yet still, in those odd seconds of calm you seized over a cigarette, the first seconds after a bump of Tokyo, when you carefully applied your makeup, styled your hair or bathed, you'd think of him. The way the pads of his fingertips felt on your skin, how he’d muttered in your ear how pretty you looked.

But this was different to when you were dreaming about John at 15; he was no longer the allusive older brother of Ada who had a string of beautiful girls on rotation. He wasn’t a fantasy anymore. He was true flesh and blood, and for a moment he had wanted you.

It would be delicious if the whole situation hadn't left a bitter taste in your mouth. Of course you came back to Brum to only immediately fuck it up. The first night, and already you were so close to ruining everything? Looking back, now that you were so close with Ada once more, now that you knew who John had grown to be, that night was cringe inducing. Luckily, no one had seemed to catch on. Luckily, you thrived in the Small Heath rumour mill once again. All the gossip about you was mainly about your substance use, the lads you were seen curling up with outside nightclubs, your intelligence, your helpful nature, sometimes your questionable politics but that was all. John's was far darker, stories of blood, death and gasoline. Recently, the tales of his conquests had quietened, but only due to the lurid delight taken by the factory workers in talking about the recent blinding of some poor fucker who'd crossed the wrong person. Obviously, a lot of the detail had to be exaggerated for shock value and to boost the Shelby status, solidifying them as notorious throughout Birmingham city and its rural surroundings. There were murmurs everywhere about the violent John Shelby: ruthless, cocky, vengeful. It seemed impossible that the same man who cracked shit jokes just to see you smile, kissed you with so much desperation, and prioritised getting you off first could cause such harm without an ounce of guilt or shame to slow his swagger.

Whispers of war were far more constant, but then again, people would say anything for a reaction. You didn't bring it up with Ada. You refused to (openly) partake in mindless gossip on principle, yet you were hungry for information about him.

***********

You'd long forgotten whose wedding you were at. Some loyal blinder, a close friend of the Shelby's, the occasion calling for a large white marquee to be built onto one of Tommy's gardens, fully staffed with the best chef and service team money could buy (from a London restaurant at short notice; when Finn told you the extortionate figure Tommy had paid, your jaw had dropped). The cake, dress and decorations were stunning; you weren't sure exactly what the groom had done for the Shelby's but you could only assume the worst for what they'd splashed out on him.

However, thinking like that only spoilt your night: you'd realised at your fifth club takeover, now you repeated it like a mantra constantly. You'd quickly learnt every excess the Shelby's granted to those outside their circle were due to some perceived sacrifice for being associated with them. Well, that's what you chose to believe after John had sent a junior blinder to your office with a bouquet, the Monday morning after he turned you down. So, it was best to smile and take the shit, get paid, and get out as soon as possible. You were to keep your head down until then.

Yet, keeping your head down was difficult tonight. Ada had treated you to a shopping trip to London for the occasion this morning, Arthur forcing the junior blinders to tag along next to you on the train and trailing less than two metres behind you for hours. You missed the days when it was just you and Ada. It was far more simple without the stares whenever the two of you stepped out. Ada had gotten used to it, she'd devised her own methods of being completely alone; complex plans involving leaving a window open, knotting sheets into a rope and twisting her ankles. Not that she minded, she reckoned the suffocation of being a Shelby was much worse than a few bruised ankles.

You were wearing a clingy emerald green dress from some fancy French boutique you couldn't even pronounce, the diamond necklace sitting along your collarbone and the jewels dangling through your ears were on loan from Ada. You felt eyes unpicking you the moment you entered the after-party. Your arm was linked through Ada's as per usual, she looked equally stylish in a peacock blue number that set off her eyes, her delicate features perfected with makeup.

You'd quickly found your gaggle and began drinking and dancing the night away. Whispers about snow arose from your table, people disappearing to the toilets to rail a line on the bathroom counter, then to the dance floor or to the lap of the poor fucker who'd hold back their hair while they vomited in just a few hours. At least the Blinders were polite about it. Isaiah would kill them if they weren’t. You'd let your arm be tugged on various bathroom trips, treated among your group like secret missions although you weren't entirely subtle about it.

What you weren't aware of was across the marquee, you were being watched by the three men in your life who you'd never want to see you in this state: the Shelby's.

"Looks like Finn's taken your spot, John." Arthur yelled in John's ear over the loud music, gesturing to the youngest Shelby sat at the table next to you who was staring up at you in complete adoration as you chatted across him to Michael, seemingly arguing with him. By the looks of it, you were winning.

John pulled a face at Arthur. “Fuck off, old man. That'll never happen. Finn’s too young for her." He immediately regretted the words that had fallen out of his mouth, revealing far too much for his comfort.

"It's not impossible."

"He's just not right for her, yeah?"

"And you are?"

John didn't bother to bless him with a verbal response, instead flipping him off and downing the rest of his whiskey. "It's not like that."

"What's it like then? Because from where I'm sitting, it's pretty fucking clear, John." Arthur slurred, glass of whiskey sloshing onto his sleeve.

"You're too gone to even know you're chatting shit." John sneered, standing up, "I'm off for a smoke and some fresh air. Try not to fuck anything in my absence, both of you."

His brothers cursed him out as he left. John took a second to figure out his route, purposefully having to cross your path, gesturing for you to follow him subtly. He was surprised you came trailing after him, telling Michael that you weren’t done yelling at him and you’d be back. When you were both only metres from the marquee, he knew you were fucked. You were instantly bored, begging him for a cigarette, which he lit for you, shaking his head at your state.

"You're a fucking mess, love." He said, mouth sloping attractively to one side.

"Takes one to know one, John-boy. Where are we off to, then?"

"Somewhere fucking quiet, can barely hear myself think. Plus, you need to sober the fuck up, lass." He said, softly, as he walked across the dew soaked grass. You followed, heels in hand, holding your dress up as not to ruin it. He sighed, taking the shoes from your hands and wrapping his blazer around your shoulders, linking your arm through his for stability. He kept the distance respectful, but there wasn’t any denying the thick tension in the summer air between the two of you. Ahead, there was a small stone bench sat at the foot of one of Thomas' manicured gardens, and John offered his hand to help you sit. You made small talk and caught up on each other's lives, and you noted John only seemed to glow when you asked about his kids. He talked at length, the drink seemingly unhinging his jaw. There he was again, the John you knew and had admired for so many years. You could sit here forever, watching his blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. Yet, it just wasn’t meant to be. You wished you could stop time just for a bit, give you enough moments to memorize the freckles on his skin.

"You know the night I first came home?" The alcohol and snow had loosened your lips. You were teetering on the edge of your boundaries, but you couldn't care enough to hold back.

"The night where absolutely nothing happened?" He joked, raising an eyebrow at you, cautious that you'd randomly brought it up in your state. "Sweetheart, this can wait."

He was warning you. For a second you managed to bite your tongue, but curiosity tipped you over the edge.

"But something nearly happened, right?"

"Y/N. Don't." He warned, his tone icy, suddenly distancing from you, hiding between an emotional boundary which he didn't wish to explore.

"John, it's just us. Can't we even talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about, though. You were off your face then, and now. That's fine. We know where we stand. It can't happen."

"I wanted to. I do want to."

"You don't. Trust me. You need a nice lad who'll marry you and look after you. Just need to keep your nose clean long enough yeah?" He teased, trying to lighten the mood, blue eyes begging you to move on.

Your head turned to face him, your face contorting in a mixture of confusion and irritation. "You don't get to tell me what I want or need. The last thing I want is to marry any lad, nice or not."

"I didn't mean it like that, right? Look, I just meant you deserve better than Shelby scum. You're going places you know? Don't settle for Small Heath." John responded with a pained sigh. He didn’t want to get into it with you; not here, not like this. He'd thought about it, naturally. You were constantly on his mind, yet only problems ever seemed to appear, never solutions. It was best for him to avoid you. Why the fuck did he drag you out here? Horrible idea.

"Your family isn't scum. Where the fuck did you get that from?" Your face was screwed up in genuine rage. "I-"

"Y/N, fuckin’ leave it."

His face had hardened completely now. He'd snapped at you. His voice hadn't raised, it was just the power he spat his order out with. You held up your hands in mock surrender, pointedly taking a cigarette from his front pocket and light it silently, not saying a word.

"Why are you so bothered, anyways?" He asked, breaking the silence like you knew he would. John always had to ask questions.

"Fuck off with that, John. I'm not in the mood."

"What do you mean?" He looked completely lost.

"We nearly had sex. Just sex, nothing else right?"

John remained silent.

"Would it be the worst thing in the world?" You asked, your voice wavering. It was hard enough to get the words out, let alone imagine the response.

"You're far too wasted to chat about this, love."

"John, I’m not-"

"I'm serious. You're fucking mashed like my brothers aren't you? Like all those other fuckers in there." He sounded genuinely angry. In the glow of the sunset he looked so much younger, so hurt and lonely. Why hadn't you noticed before?

He turned to you, eyes widened and shocked at his own outburst. "You're not the only one gone yeah? Ignore me, I'm fucked, sorry."

You reached out your hand and linked your fingers through his in silence, the warm evening wind ruffling your hair and dress, blocked from your skin by John's suit jacket which was wrapped around your shoulders. Not that anyone would notice or care. As long as Ada wasn't with you, you could disappear for hours without any alarm. There you sat in the tranquil last few moments of the day, your hand linked with John's, both beyond tipsy. You weren’t thinking properly but it felt right. You felt safe. You didn't want to have to return to the chaos of the party, to have to catch up on who your friends were currently trying to screw. None of that seemed to matter anymore.

Was it too much to ask for something to be simple? Maybe you didn't have to fuck him. Maybe just these small moments were enough. You laughed at the thought when it crossed your mind; neither you nor John were known for consistency or stability in relationships, you being admittedly rather inexperienced, only having been with a few men, and he had his fair share of escapades. But he was just so different. You wouldn't admit that he'd gotten your attention in any way than purely sexually (which surprised you to admit) and for fun, but you genuinely enjoyed his presence.

He was right though. It wasn't a good idea at all to hook up. There was far too much baggage for both of you to make it worth it.

Just once?

You glanced over at John. He rolled his eyes at you, but the edges of his lips were slightly upturned, his dimples faintly peeking through his defined cheeks.

Just once couldn't hurt.

***

The sky was streaked with shades of gold, amber and blood. John could feel the friction from your knee barely knocking against his, the pressure putting him on edge. In fairness, he had drunk heavily, and that's what happens when you let your guard down around beautiful women. He couldn't believe you had told him you wanted to have sex with him still. He'd chalked the whole situation down to a drunken mistake that would have progressed into a far more significant drunken mistake. Ada would never forgive him if he went for another of her mates. Especially Y/N. No matter if he said that Y/N could be different, that you wasn't just another conquest. But who'd believe him?

Far better to keep his mouth shut.

Far better to play safe.

As you were called back to the party by the gaggle of girls John vaguely recognised from hanging off the arms of other blinders, he realised (despite his state) that you were right. Having sex with you wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it might be one of the best.

Just once?

He watched your figure disappear back into the marquee, waiting for you to turn back and look for him. You do. He would have done the same if it was him.

Maybe just once wouldn't hurt.

***

to be continued!

[wwilloww]

sh. | ot7 | chapter five

PAIRING ot7 x reader

RATING Explicit.

GENRE smut. fluff. angst. nonidol au. wildnerness au. roommates au. friends to lovers.

SUMMARY Six months of quarantine have kept you apart. Somehow the distance sparks something new in each of you: questions, unfinished conversations, threads once chased now left cold. So when your roommate invites you to come with him to a mysterious house in the mountains with your friends, how could you even think of saying no?

WC 8k

WARNINGS AND TAGS protected sex. friends with benefits relationship. dirty talk. power play dynamics. angst. semi-public nudity. mentions of open relationship. sexting. reckoning with feelings. talk of alcohol use. 

AN: One million bazillion thanks to the best beta and geologist out there, @hesperantha. Everyday I think to myself, how the fuck would this series exist without this magical lady? And every day I am thankful for her beautiful existence. 

Also, if you haven’t seen /the trailer, you might wanna check it out. Just because I had a lot of fun making it and it was super fun to visualize the characters and their tiny little world. 

Going forward, you can read with they/them pronouns by navigating to the series m.list and reading from there. 

That said, LETS JUMP IN!

← || series m.list || →

©️ wwilloww do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.  

chapter five

January 2020

What is left when you’re not sure where to turn?

You know there’s Yoongi. Dependable, familiar, predictable Yoongi. Predictable in the sense that you know, unabashedly, that no matter what, you can always count on him to draw a short term — but important — curtain over whatever notion, anxiety, or complication that happens to be singing in your mind that day. Erase it, temporarily, with those long fingers, gliding over your skin in expert patterns, drawing you and your pleasure exactly where he wants it to be.

And predictable in the sense that you know you will be perfectly and endlessly satisfied at the end of the night, no matter what.

See, Yoongi doesn’t mess around. He doesn’t tease you. Doesn’t draw you out and dangle you over your own pleasure. He gives it to you. Over and over and over and over again. Extends his palm and pulls as many orgasms from you as you can physically muster and then lets you collapse in his arms. Dependable, see? Dependable, always.

Once you’re settled in his lap, Yoongi lets you grind on him for a bit as he undresses you expertly, long fingers slipping under the fabric of your clothes before tugging them off gracefully and tossing them across the room. This, this he did love to do. Loved to scatter your clothes around and then watch you from the bed as you tried to piece some semblance of an outfit back together after he fucked you senseless.

“Don’t throw my bra behind the furniture again,” you murmur as you kiss down his neck. “I know you thought it was a great tactic to get me to rearrange your room the last time — but I’m not moving a hundred pound dresser to get my very expensive bra back again.”

He chuckles. Murmurs, “As you wish.” And then throws your bra someplace you can’t see.

Now that you’re topless, he lets his long fingers skate up the skin of your back, tracing the flesh of your hips and with such delicacy it almost tickles. That is, delicate until his hand weaves itself up your neck. His grip tightens at the root of your hair, tugging your head back in a swift motion and exposing your neck to him.

“How do you want me to fuck you tonight?” His voice is deep and it raises goosebumps on your skin. He lets his teeth trace a line up the sensitive skin of your neck until he reaches your ear and bites down hard.

“Fuck,” you breathe as a shiver runs through your body. Yoongi always took particular care to curate a library of knowledge about your ticks, turn ons, and vices. And then he played them out for you in an expertly coordinated hand.

“Yes, that’s in the cards. But tell me specifically how you want it.”

Behind him, the large bedroom is equipped with enough musical equipment to run a fully functioning studio. Instruments hang on the walls and a large black bed rests in the center of the room. The dark tones of the wood and sheets make the otherwise sparse room feel warm and dark. Compared to the shabby little apartment that you share with Namjoon, this is luxury. Your gaze rests on the large wall of glass that looks out over the city.

“The window,” you say.

He grins.

The glass is cold against your bare skin when he presses you to it. The difference in temperature between the fired heat of your skin and the iced window slices right through you, makes you gasp as his hands run over your body, taking you in as you are: bare and ready for him.

You watch as he strips off his clothes, gracefully and swiftly. First the shirt, then his pants. It’s no surprise to you that he’s not wearing any undergarments at all. Delight lights in his eye when he notices how greedily you watch him.

“Do you want me to—” He begins to lean down, but you stop him and pull him up.

“Just fuck me.”

He turns you around in one movement, your hands flying up to stop the impact, your chest — and your nipples — pressing to the glass. The sensation overwhelms you as he slides two fingers between your folds, collecting the slickness that has gathered there.

“You’re already so wet for me.”

A smile spreads across your face as you hear the condom packet rip and he slots his cock against your cunt, coating himself in your arousal.

“Don’t tease me,” you say, a hint of a whine slipping into your voice.

“Don’t worry. I have no patience for that tonight.” And he pushes in. “How’s that?” he says, the lilting tease in his tone cutting sharp against your ear as his dick sinks into you, inch by delightful inch.  

It feels like you have to catch your breath to speak. “Is it always this good?”

“Baby, if it isn’t, you should ask for a refund.” He punctuates the last word of his sentence with a harsh thrust that rams your chest up against the glass.

“Fuck—” you hiss.

Memory whitens like it’s been covered in a blanket of snow as he begins a punishing pace, hips rutting up into you before drawing almost all the way back, tip barely inside of you before thrusting back into you, all the way to the hilt. Sensation overtakes thought. The slicing coldness of the glass against your nipples paints a stark contrast to the softness of lips pressed to yours, softness of a hand cupping your cheek—

You should be thinking of anything but that.

And it’s easy to do, in this moment. To focus on Yoongi, his commanding presence, the way he plays your body like one of the carefully polished instruments that hangs on his wall.

You cry out when he hits a particularly soft spot within you, and he pauses his movements, drinking in the sound of you.

“God, you sound so fucking good.”

He pulls out of you, turns you around, and pushes your back against the glass.

“Hop up,” he says, and you frown in confusion before realizing what he’s referring to. You wrap your arms around his neck and with a jump, wrap your legs around his waist.

“Fuck—” With a grunt of effort, he holds you up while slotting himself against your folds and pushing inside again.

The most you can do in this position is tilt your pelvis and grind down on him — while holding onto dear life — and you do, rotating it against his waist, drawing the most delicious sounds from his lips. Your hips begin to move in tandem, each pushing closer to the pleasure that you both so desperately desire.

This is better. This is worse.

See, the two of you have fallen into patterns in your hookups. Rules, even, although no one but you thought of them as such. But the habit — and therefore the lines — were clear to you:

You didn’t kiss. You didn’t confess your love. Hookups only, and breakfast together the morning after. Usually he takes you from behind, because, as he once commented to you, “the ass cheeks are the eyes of the heart.” Which to you, made no sense at all, but you still obliged him. Plus, at the end of the day it was all a little more impersonal that way, anyways. Easier to separate from the rest of your relationship.

But looking into his face, pressed so close — there’s something there. A warmth. An understanding. Too much.  

Your head falls to his shoulder and his grip tightens on your thighs as he fucks up into you. Several heavy breaths before you bite gently at the sensitive skin of his neck and he hisses.

“You’re too sensitive,” you chide, although the teasing lilt of your tone is broken up by him fucking into your body — and you both know you love the way he lets you know he likes things done.

“And you’re too shy,” he cuts back. “Why don’t you look at me when I fuck you?” It’s posed as a question but you know it’s a command.

Slowly, you draw your head back and look at him. His eyes are deep and dark, his hair tousled and face lined with pleasure.

“That’s a good little pet,” he whispers. It falls too softly.

It makes you want to kiss him. All you want to do is —

You press your lips to his. Just a peck — the smallest, lightest of pecks.

But the plush of his lips, the way they part so slightly when your lips meet... it leaves you wanting more. So you kiss him again, pressing yourself to him, chasing the feeling of his softness.

He responds, opening his mouth to yours, his tongue darting out to meet yours. His pace doesn’t falter as he continues to fuck up into you. His lips move against yours, fierce, needy, demanding. And it’s then that your stomach drops. It’s as if the winter chill that lays just beyond the door at your back slices through your veins.

You pull back.

“No,” he says, and pulls you back to him. “Stop running.” He brings your face close enough to yours but doesn’t kiss you, just waits.

And you meet him in the middle, kissing him again, afraid of losing the warmth you sparked between you. He groans against you as your hips swivel around his cock, and bites down on your lip.

“Fuck,” you hiss.

With one arm wrapped around his shoulders, you let your other hand press against the nape of his neck, nails digging in just the way you know he likes it. You both have always been in rhythm, in tune with one another, but now with him kissing you — something new sparks between you. Something new, something terrifyingly warm.

When you pull back he smiles.

“Shit,” you whisper, your eyes widening. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Yoongi says, an edge in his voice, his hips still circling against yours as he presses your back to the window. “You have nothing to apologize for.

“I shouldn’t have—”

“Shh... stop. It’s okay. It was good.” He punctuates his meaning with a thrust, a small groan slipping from his throat. You want to swallow the sound of his pleasure whole, but still. You let the guilt in your chest rise to your throat.

“No, no, it’s not,” you say, though the coil that’s winding tighter and tighter in your belly makes it difficult to speak. You take a shuddering breath in as he hits your g-spot, your eyes fluttering closed.

“Yes. It is,” he grunts, and you can tell he’s close too. “You fuck better when you kiss. You feel it. You get into it.” Your brow purses at his words. “Now be good for me, forget it, and cum on this cock.”

You nod.

“Tell me what you’re going to do.”

“I’ll forget it, be good for you, and cum on your cock.”

“Good,” he smiles.

Each thrust brings you a step closer. He kisses you, again waiting for you to meet his lips, and together you move like dancing partners closer and closer to the edge.

You cum, clenching around his cock and crying his name into his mouth.

The two of you breathe heavily, foreheads resting together for a moment that stretches long enough for you to call it a distance.

“Fuck—” Yoongi says, pulling out of you and smiling gently as he lets you down. “I’ve never heard you come like that before.”

Heat rises to your cheeks.

“Hold on, let me get you a towel or something,” Yoongi says, pressing his thumb to your forehead and wiping away a bead of sweat. You watch as he shuffles about his room, looking for anything to give you. “One second, I think there’s clean ones in the dryer.”

He wanders out of the room wearing absolutely nothing at all.

When you turn back to the outside world, the glass is fogged and the world feels a million miles away. The tension that rises up in your chest feels like a wrought iron ball and you need out, out, now.

There’s a fuzzy blanket on the dresser next to you and you snatch it, wrap yourself up tightly and push open the glass door to the tiny balcony. With a held breath, you step out. The cold concrete sends a chill through your body as you step out. Blue washes through you, shocking the pleasure-numbed nerves in your body back to life.

When you suck in a deep breath of snow-cold air, it feels as if clarity settles into you. You take a second, but shuddering, breath as you realize with a lucid sharp pain the reality of your situation.

Yoongi didn’t erase tonight from your mind. Sex didn’t remove Hobi’s kiss from your lips. An orgasm didn’t ease the unnamable want in your chest. If anything, it all just burns a little brighter.

This thing with Yoongi — it’s not supposed to be a distraction for you, or a means to make you feel something else. It’s supposed to be its own thing, a compartmentalized friends with benefits situation that has always been clear and defined between the two of you. But as soon as you showed up on his door with an ulterior motive other than sex, it became something else. As soon as you kissed him, you made it something else.

Fuck.

Around you, fat flurries drift down from the dark sky. They melt as they land on your bare skin. There’s no escaping this thing inside you. But the intensity of the cold seems like it keeps you here, grounded, in Yoongi’s home and facing actuality. As if any form of warmth would leave you wandering into the sickly sweet honeytrap of the what if’s that already threaten on the edge of your mind.

“Come to bed,” Yoongi calls from inside. When you don’t, he comes out onto the tiny balcony and wraps himself around you from behind, his head notching on your shoulder. “Christ, you’re freezing.”

“It feels good,” you say, nuzzing your body back against his.

“I know I didn’t work you up that much that you need to stand in the snow to cool down. Come to bed.”

Still wrapped around you, he waddles you inside, earning a giggle from you as you tumble into bed and he slams the door closed with a bit of a shiver.

“Here,” he says softly, wrapping you in a blanket before settling beside you.

He’s close. Wildly close. His breath brushes softly against your face as you look at each other. You take in the flushed pink of his face, the way his hair is tousled into a gorgeous mess from the effort of your intimacy.

You could kiss him again, you think and a shock runs through your body at the thought. Christ, his cock’s been inside you a million times and yet you balk at the thought of kissing him, of pulling him right where you want him, where he fits so perfectly, where he feels so warm —

“What are you thinking?” Yoongi says softly.

“What are you thinking?” you cut back, just a little too quickly.

Yoongi chuckles. “I’m thinking that you keep yourself so tightly together.”

You smile tightly. “I don’t know what that means.”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

You bite down on your lip.

“You’re thinking so loud I can almost hear it,” Yoongi says. “Just tell me. You know there’s nothing you could say that would upset me.” When you don’t say anything, he continues. “For god’s sake, I’ve seen your asshole. It doesn’t get much more personal than that.”

“Fine,” you say.

“Fine,” he grins.

“Maybe we should…” You trail off and bite the inside of your cheek.

Yoongi rolls onto his side, propping his head up with one hand.

“Maybe we should…?” He prompts. “Join a sex dungeon?”

You laugh, the thought of going to one with Yoongi is one that sends a thrill through you. “That sounds like a wonderful idea, but that’s not what I was going to say.”

“What were you going to say?”

You take a deep breath. “That maybe we should… stop. This.”

He doesn’t ask what you mean. He knows. “That, my dear, sounds like quite the antithesis to going to a sex dungeon with me.”

You laugh. “I can’t believe you’re making jokes when I am friends with benefits breaking up with you.”

“What? Were you expecting me to be angry?”

“I mean I expected a little bit of a fight. Or at least… I don’t know. Questions.”

“Do you want questions?”

You look at him.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay. Well. Why are you ending things.”

You flop onto your back. Look at the ceiling. The way the lights of the city reflect paley onto the white surface. They look like ghosts.

“I don’t really know.”

He pulls you to him, rolling you onto your side and tangling your hands together. “Okay.”

And then the two of you just lie there, staring at the ceiling in silence, the weight of your decision, of this ending, settling over you with a concrete taste. There’s something uncomfortable in this kind of silence. But it’s not him, it’s not an awkwardness, or the building of tension or resentment. None of that lies between you. It’s the fact that within the silence the answers rise up in you, and you find the words spilling from your mouth.

“I don’t want it to be complicated, Yoongi.”

He waits a moment before responding. “Is it complicated?”

“Well.” You sigh. “No. Not with us. Us is easy. I feel like I can tell you what I need or what I want and I trust you to be able to either give me that or set a boundary.”

Yoongi hums. “I feel the same. So then if it’s not us...?”

“I made a mistake tonight. Crossed a line I shouldn’t have crossed.”

His brow furrows. “Not with me you didn’t. I don’t underst—”

“Not you. It’s me. It’s — it’s always me. I don’t want things to spin out of control. And I feel like they’re about to.”

Yoongi is silent for a long moment.

“I don’t want you to feel that way.” He pulls you closer to him, his grip tightening on your hip. “Really.” You stare down at your intertwined hands. “Look at me.” He waits until you do, summoning an inner strength you didn’t know you needed to look at your friend. “There’s a part of me that wonders how much of this is you punishing yourself for something that you don’t have any reason to be punishing yourself for.”

You can’t help the nervous laugh that shoots from your chest.

“What!? Are you laughing at me!?”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “Just… I don’t know what it is, but if anyone were to look right through me and see everything that’s going on, it’s you.”

He smiles softly.

“Do you want to stay tonight?”

Do you want your friend to wrap himself around you? Pull you in tight to his warm chest? Remind you of the summer that lies on the other side of this long, long winter?

“No,” you say slowly. “I think I need some space. To… process.”

He nods. “Well, as my newest friends with benefits ex, I agree, you should probably leave. You know. So it doesn’t get awkward.” He grins.

“Yeesh, you’re so quick to kick me out.”

“I know. I guess I just need some space. You know. To process, too. Grieve.”  He paints a fake frown on his face and does a dramatic rendition of a very gross sniffle.

You giggle.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

Together you get out of bed, Yoongi — for once — rifling through his room in search of your clothes. With every piece of clothing you put on, you feel like you take another step backwards. Away from Yoongi, away from the vulnerability in you that feels like it tears open everytime he looks at you. His comfort. Each new piece of fabric is another wall resurrected. But when you go to hook your bra behind your back, he steps behind you, taking the straps from your hands and gently hooking the clips together.

“Here.”

When he’s done, his fingers linger on your skin just a moment too long.

“Thanks,” you say softly, turning back to him.

His eyes are still blown wide, his hair perfectly disastrous. There’s something so deadly soft about him. He looks just as he did when you marched into his bedroom earlier in the night. And yet, on the other side of this night, you feel like a totally different person. As if the stranger inside of you has finally stepped forward and introduced herself.

You turn away hastily, heading to the living room. He follows and pulls your jacket from the couch and helps you into it.

Shoes on, jacket on, you’re all ready to walk out the door. And still you linger. Yoongi glances at his watch.

“Well, I’d say six hours is a proper mourning period. Breakfast tomorrow?”

“How about brunch? I’m not getting up at 9am for eggs.”

“Oh and I’m the one who needs space huh?” He smiles softly. “11am. You’ll get up at 11am and I’ll buy you a breakup brunch.”

“Yeah,” you smile up at him. Even as you taste the edge of fear — of anxiety — on your tongue, there is still a kind of undeniable warmth that blossoms in your chest every single time you look at him.

You broaden your smile. Push it down.

There’s one last thing.

“And—”

But he already knows what you’re asking. He steps forward, taking your head between his hands and pressing a kiss to your forehead. The shock that runs through you is quick and cold.

“I know,” he says. “This’ll still be our little secret.”

When he steps back, there’s something soft in his gaze — too soft, you can’t help but think. Tenderness, surrounded by acceptance and strength. All the things that make Yoongi, well, Yoongi. And yet it feels like too much to handle. Too much to be looked at, to be seen, to be understood when you can barely wrap your mind around what’s going on.

“Sleep well, buttercup.”

Different taxi, different driver, different route.

“Home,” you tell the woman at the wheel when you give her your address, her over-bleached and curly hair forming a kind of halo around her in the seat.

“You got it,” she says smacking her gum and throwing you a wayward smile.

As the car pulls away from the curb and picks up speed, you feel a kind of numbness wash over you.

It was the right decision to end things with Yoongi, you remind yourself, even as you feel a kind of twinge in your chest. You haven’t lost a friend. In fact, you’ve probably preserved your friendship. Saved it from wandering into the brambly bushes of complication and ultimate destruction. Even if it means the loss of killer sex.

You phone dings, and you instinctively brush a hand over your body to make sure you left with all the clothes you arrived in.

When you look at your phone, it’s not who you imagine. It’s not what you imagine.

tae: I forgot how loud you are when you orgasm.

You choke, hand snapping up quickly to cover your mouth.

“You alright, hun?” the driver asks.

“Yeah, yeah, just fine,” you say, but your voice is strained. You immediately type out your response.

you: fuck. i’m so sorry. you: it won’t happen again.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, embarrassment and confusion tightening around your throat. How much more can you really take tonight? Hobi, then Yoongi — now this? You tap your foot as you wait for the response, which takes just a minute to pop up on your phone.

tae: oh… well that’s too bad. I actually didn’t mind it all that much.

Oh.

Oh.

Before you know what you’re doing, you’re typing out your response — and turning down the brightness as if it will hide the loudness of your message from the world.

you: is that right?

tae: i said it didn’t i? ive always been a man of my word. brings me back to the old days, in a way.

you: oh?

tae: you know…

you: do i?

tae: you do.

you: it’s been a while. why don’t you remind me?

tae: you’re playing coy tonight. two very loud orgasms and you’re still not done playing?

you: i’d send that shrugging emoji but i can’t find it you: what can i say? I can be needy

tae: should i remind you tae: when we used to park behind the grocery store tae: there was never anyone around but you’d still get so shy and embarrassed tae: and try to cum without a sound tae: but i didn’t hear a single note of shame or restraint tonight tae: shamelessness looks good on you tae: **sounds good on you

you: you were always quite shameless yourself

tae: it gets me far in life

You blink down at your phone, not really sure what to say. Taehyung’s hearty banter is something you’re used to. Even after all these years, your quick back and forth was still twinged with the smallest teasing edge of sexual interest. But you had always kept it within strict boundaries, never returning to your previous relationship, never suggesting—  

tae: but my question is how far will it get me with you?

Your breath freezes in your throat. Never suggesting that you return to anything of the past.

tae: jk tae: unless…?

Taehyung’s sexually laced messages have your head spinning round and round on its pedestal. It’s not as if you had never thought about it, never considered it. But there was a line there, was there not? A line you shouldn’t cross, shouldn’t even think of crossing, no matter how you wanted to. With a deep breath, you respond.

you: i don’t know if we should be having this conversation right now?

tae: why? because you’re my ex? or because of Jin?

Before you can even manage to type out the long list of reasons why you shouldn’t be dipping your toes into the perilous waters of sexting your very happily taken ex, the screen is lighting up again.

tae: if it’s the latter, don’t worry. he’s here too. tae: he says to tell u you’re hot   tae: which is news to me tae: not that you’re not hot, but that he thinks that tae: and he says hes “sorry he missed the show earlier”

you: tbh that was NOT the response i was expecting to get.

tae: we’re very open about these things. he’s quite… encouraging actually

As if this is the opening, you walk through it.

you: in what way?

tae: he likes visibility in a specific way. he likes to watch. likes to be watched and… the attention, especially when its directed at me, especially when he knows that at the end of the day i’m crawling back into his bed

Your heart races in your chest.

tae: sorry, maybe that’s tmi.

you: don’t apologize. i don’t mind tmi

tae: then i won’t apologize.

you: good.

tae: good 😂 tae: you know, i liked it.

you: sorry, liked what?

tae: hearing it tae: hearing you cum

you: did you?

tae: more than i expected

you: more than you should?

tae: that’s not what i said

you: well, like i mentioned, it won’t happen again

tae: why not? You finally get me to admit i didn’t mind it and now you’re telling me i won’t get more? :(

You chew on your bottom lip before responding.

you: it’s complicated.

tae: an orgasm is never complicated.

you: …

tae: but you know what is complicated? tae: feelings. tae: you’re having feelings. tae: oh my god you’re in love with yoongi

you: i am nOT in love with yoongi you: surprisingly it has very little to do with yoongi

Even as you send the text, you know that’s not entirely true.

tae: okay, then what’s going on??? pls don’t play cryptic with me, it’s too late for that shit

you: i don’t even know what’s going on.

tae: oh. tae: so we’re talking big boy emotions

you: i don’t have *emotions*

tae: you’re a fucking liar

you: hey you: language

tae: alright then let me rephrase it tae: what are you so afraid of will happen if you let yourself feel?

Your heart catches in your throat. Oh.

“We’re here,” the taxi driver says, and your head snaps up from the light of your phone to see your apartment complex towering high and familiar above you.

“Oh!” You blink yourself from your reverie and hand the woman the cash for the ride. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks,” she says, twisting around to look at you as you skootch across the backseat. “Hey—” You pause, looking at her. The orange glow of the streetlights rings like a halo around her head. “You take care of yourself, alright?”

“Alright,” you smile and nod.

A haze settles around your body as you climb out of the taxi. The hard edge of soberness and the sharpness of the winter air mixes and shocks life back into you as his question rings around your head. What are you so afraid of will happen if you let yourself feel?

Your breath feels strained as you climb the echoing stairs to your home. The sound of the key fitting into the lock rings with a harsh click, but it brings you back into your body, to the little marks where Yoongi’s hands dug into you, to the confusion that rattles around your mind, and finally, and most devastatingly, the warmth that has sunk deep and inextricably into your heart.

The apartment is dark when you enter.

“Namjoon?” you call out.

No one answers. You don’t bother to flick on the lights as you feel your way blindly through the darkness, hand brushing against the soft fabric of your sofa, the bumpy texture of the wall, and finally the cold knob of your door. Instead of pushing the door open though, you lean against it, taking what feels like the first full breath of the night.

You look at the screen of your phone, Tae’s question, his voice, spiraling around your head. With a shaky breath you respond, fingers flying across the blue light of the screen.

you: something feels off. I don’t… i don’t want to mess anything up. I feel like the only way to keep things in order is to keep myself out of it all.

tae: can i call you?

you: yeah. Joon’s not home.

You finally press into your room. All that silver light from the city reflects off of the white flakes that flutter softly down from the sky. It spills onto your bed like a pool of molten silver, waiting, chilled and cold for you. You flop down onto it, your breath coming out in a long huff.

When your phone rings, there’s a second of hesitation before you hit the answer button.

“Hello?” your voice is shakier than you expected.

“One second.”

You hear the rustling sound of Tae getting out of bed and the door shutting.

“If I can hear you orgasming, Yoongi sure as hell can hear a phone call,” Tae whispers, a slight chuckle to his voice. “Unless you’re just always unreasonably loud.” You can imagine the sly smile that plays across his lips right now. Another door opened and shut and he sighs. “There. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I…”

You trail off. You don’t know what to say. Don’t know what there is to say.

He says your name softly into the phone, the syllables forming such a familiar shape on his tongue. “Are you okay?”

“I...I don’t think so. I don’t feel great.”

“You’re home? Safe?”

“Yeah. I’m home.” You look around your room. Art on the walls, your little desk the messiest place in the room, stacked high with papers and photos and plants.

“Good.” Taehyung takes a long breath. “So. Tell me what’s going on.”

You want to. But your voice freezes in your throat and you can feel the way your silence falls around him.

After breaking up at nineteen, you and Taehyung had always remained friends. The truth was that even though you loved each other, you were so caught up in the physicality of it all that the rest of your relationship — and your relationships outside of that — began to deteriorate. No more sex, you both had decided. And at the time, that meant no more romance. There weren’t lingering feelings of resentment, but you did know — because you both talked about it — that you were both plagued with the lingering question of what if. What if…. But the answer was simple. You both needed more than what the other could offer.

Best friend turned lover turned best friend. If the lingering sexual tension was the only consequence of that, you could handle that. And if you were honest with yourself, you enjoyed it, in a safe, flattering kind of way.

But the reality was that the consequence of your relationship wasn’t limited to just a couple of sex dreams here and there or comments about your former sex life thrown about as jokes. The truth was that there was a permafrost of cautiousness that sat like a layer of ice beneath all of your interactions; one that only thawed away after midnight or a second drink.

Right now, the clock on the wall reads: 3:12am.

“You don’t have to tell me—”

“No — I want to.” You shake your head. “I should… I should talk to someone about this.” You take a deep breath as the sharp images of tonight’s events spiral around your mind. When you speak, it comes out a whisper. “I kissed Hobi tonight.”

“Oh. Shit.”

“Or he kissed me. I don’t really — don’t really understand what happened, we were just standing there and had both had some drinks and suddenly it was happening and I should have kept everything within the normal boundaries, I shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have overstepped our friendship, but we kissed and I…” Your voice trails off.

“And you liked it,” Taehyung finishes for you.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I did.”

“And it scared you.”

“Yeah.”

“And then you both ran away from it.”

“Yeah.”

“And your way of running away from it was to go fuck Yoongi again, huh.”

“Goddamnit, Tae,” you huff, annoyed by how right he is.

Taehyung chuckles. “Babe, I’ve known you way too long for me to not pick up on these kinds of things. These kinds of patterns.”

“Patterns?”

Taehyung sighs through the phone. “I love you, dude, but… yeah. Yeah. It’s a pattern.”

As you let his words sink into you, you realize. It is a pattern.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asks. “Do you really want to know what’s going on here?”

You laugh softly, even as fear nibbles at your heart. There’s a part of you that wants to turn into blindness. That wants to shield your heart from the reality of the situation. From the reality of yourself.

But there’s also something about facing into the truth — clear and cold like the night waiting just beyond your window. You want the shock of truth through your body, glaring and sharpened like ice. Because at the end of the day, you’ve had enough of this numbed ignorance.

“Yeah. Go for it.”  

“This might be out of the blue. And you might not want to hear it. I could be totally off—”

“Tae, it’s okay. I want to hear it.”

He takes a deep breath. “But maybe… just maybe, it’s time to think about the way you push people away.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you whisper, although the reality of what he’s saying is already dawning on you, even if it’s at a glacial pace.

“How you let people in just long enough, just far enough, to let them see something authentic of you. But you don’t really let them take any real stake in your life.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“And that’s okay!” He adds quickly. “At least, it has been okay. We do what we need to do to keep ourselves safe, but… I think you’re past that all now.” You take a shuddering breath and he pauses. “That place in your life where you need to keep the walls and the rules so strict for fear of falling. You’re not there anymore, babe. Maybe it’s time to start looking at the wall that you’ve built and considering letting yourself tear it apart.” And then, so softly you think his voice might be made of something as delicate as a flower petal: “You know, maybe it’s time to think about how you want to start letting love in again. Because you deserve it.”

It’s not until you brush your hand against your cheeks that you realize they’re wet. You look down at your fingertips, glistening with fallen tears, shining silver in the snowlight.

“Fuck, Tae.”

Taehyung lets loose a light, but pained, chuckle.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You sniffle. “Goddamn it.”

Silence settles between the two of you. Tears slip silently down your face as you hold the phone to your ear. You can hear him breathing softly on the other end, but Taehyung doesn’t say anything. It’s as if he knows you need a minute to process.

His words slide right under your skin. Directed straight at the thing that has felt so heavy in your chest all night now, it’s as if the whole thing has been broken open within you. Suddenly, you can see it all.

The past years, this game of cat and mouse with your own vulnerability. This façade of carefully curated openness and faux vulnerability. All of the things that you kept as reminders of your freeness, your unlocked heart — the hookups, the fast and furious romances that ended in nothing but silence, the friendships you kept so carefully defined — were actually all just markers of the opposite:

A deep and abiding fear that if you let someone love you, a fear that if you let them close enough to really, truly see you, they might see something they won’t like.

Better to keep things clearly organized. Clearly marked and known and understood. That way you’d know exactly when things were spinning out of control and when someone was just about to get too close.

“You know, there are so many ways to love,” Taehyung says. “It doesn’t just have to be in that one way of fucking and falling in love and then a big white marriage, tada! the end. And, uh, it’s okay to want love. It’s really, really okay, actually. In whatever weird way love shows up for you, even if it’s not the traditional way. It’s even more okay to let yourself have that love, even if you don’t know what it is — don’t know what to call it.”

When your breath comes out shaky and ridden with tears, you can hear a soft oh echo through the phone.

“Hey,” Taehyung says with all the love in the world laced so delicately through his voice. “It’s okay. It might not feel like that right now. But opening up again — if, you know, if that’s what you want — that’s something you can do. It can be done.”

“I-I do, Tae. I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want to keep fighting this.”

It’s as if you can hear his smile through the receiver.

“That makes me really happy to hear,” he says.

“Where do I even begin?” It comes out a whisper, your voice cracked from the tears that have begun to slow. You’re half afraid to even hear the answer. Half afraid to walk down the path riddled with your greatest fear.

“I think you begin by going to sleep. And in the morning I’ll call you. And I’ll keep calling you. And we’ll work through this together. You know, this isn’t something that you have to do alone.”

You’re silent.

“You’re in bed?” crackles through the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Go put on some pjs and go to sleep. You don’t have to do this all in one night.”

You nod, wiping the rest of the tears from your face and sniffling. “Yeah.”

“Alright. I love you to the moon and back, no matter what. You know that. Right?”

You close your eyes. For a second you imagine accepting that it’s true. It fills your chest with a new kind of warmth. One you want to sink into.

“Yes,” you say. “I love you too, Tae.”

“Get some rest then. Goodnight.”

“G’night.”

The dial tone clicks and the room falls into complete silence. Only the sound of your breath breaks through, too loud and uncomfortable amidst the darkness. But still, you climb out of bed, dump some water on a towel and wipe at your face, and change into the largest t-shirt you can find in your drawer.

Tonight, you dream the first dream of many in a line that will haunt you — and spark you back to life. It’s Yoongi, his body pushing you up against the ice cold glass, his hands in your hair, his lips whispering, over and over and over again: Is it complicated?

In the morning, you lay awake, just feeling the way your breath falls heavily in your chest. You text Yoongi to tell him you can’t meet up. You look outside.

The world is covered in a blanket of snow. Unrecognizable. Beautiful. Washed clean.

Something hopeful flutters in your chest.

When you look down, your hands are clutching the collar of your sleep shirt. With a deep breath, you wrap your arms around your torso in a hug.

“I don’t really know how to do anything else other than this,” you admit to Tae one day over the phone, flourishing a hand you know he can’t see to emphasize the point you know he already understands.

“Well. I don’t know how much of it is really choosing to be different. Instead, maybe you ought to try looking at it like an undoing. Whenever you match up against that impulse to run, think about sitting with it. Feeling it. And then choosing to move in another direction. Yeah,” he says, and you can tell he’s nodding on the other end of the phone. “An undoing.”

What does this kind of undoing look like? you wonder.

When the world comes to a screeching halt around you, you don’t expect to find your answer. The reality of the pandemic and quarantine — the emptiness of it, the long, drawn out days that feel long and drawn out when you’re in them but that then seem to blend together into one long, monotonous, anxiety riddled day and leave you wondering and wishing for the end — it’s hard. It’s hard in that quiet way that’s easy to ignore and push off, and hard in the way that there’s a big ache in your chest every time you go to sleep, one that crawls straight into your throat and sits there until the morning. It’s hard, and you learn to live with it. It’s hard, but somehow it brings you what you need. When distance seems to be the defining feature of your life, you don’t expect to find clarity. But you do. As you sink into the new routine of quarantine and pandemic life, and as life begins in a new rhythm with new rules and new realities — slowly and wildly new and sometimes horrific — it becomes clear to you.

What does this kind of undoing look like?

It looks a lot like feeling the emptiness in your home when Namjoon is away. Silence louder, space smaller. You find yourself reflected back to yourself, as if you are staring in a mirror.

It looks a lot like distraction. Emotional exhaustion turning into physical. You do distract — and it’s good — with a new drama or a new hobby. Exercising in your room until your cheeks are flushed. Cooking something new and delicious every night. Or sometimes just letting the small rectangle of light in your hand absorb you until the lingering discomfort is numbed, until you’re ready to fall asleep.

It looks like listening to your thoughts, really, truly listening, for the first time. Hearing the stories that you’ve built up in your head over the ears and how deeply they’ve sunk into your reality. It looks like noticing them, and wanting them to change. It looks like standing in the empty hallway of your apartment, feeling it all, and deciding to do something about it.

It looks like weird-ass sex dreams. Once dreamless nights are repopulated with strange and specific sexual fantasies featuring none other than your seven gorgeous friends in various states of undress and revelry.

It looks like letting people in again. Laughing on the phone until tears well up in your eyes. Building up the courage to tell Jimin about your vivid, even pornographic dreams. Writing letters when facetime just doesn’t do it anymore. Telling your friends just how much they mean to you, even when that voice warns you that you ought to keep your feelings held tight to your chest.

It looks like falling asleep one night, the traffic of the city now quieted by reduced travel, and the silence offering you a new kind of truth:

Love can be without limitation.

Love can be without limitation. It is allowed to flow from you without doubt or embarrassment. It is allowed to exist in the world — and in you — without needing to be reciprocated or validated. And you are allowed to ask for it. To demand it from life, even if, at times, it feels like the only place it pours forth from is from that great gaping space in your chest.  

The phone rings a couple of times before it’s cut off in the middle of a digital brrng. You’re ready to hear the familiar buzz of a robotic voice reading: the caller you are trying to reach is not available—

But instead, the deep, heady voice you’re so familiar with comes over the speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hoseok?” His name feels foreign on your tongue. After all this time, pushing it away, pushing him away, welcoming his name back into your body feels almost like a fresh rain, washing away the dust on your skin.

“The one and only,” he chuckles. “What’s up?”

A ball of emotion wells up in your throat and the phone line hangs in silence as you try to glue together what you want to say, what you had practiced to say, what you should say. But it feels as if it’s all disappeared. 

“I thought—”

“Did I mess up?” he blurts.

You blink in confusion. “What? No, I—”

“That night, I had so much to drink, I’m worried that… I messed up, that— ”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Hoseok.”

You can hear the breath release from his lungs and shudder through the phone. “Oh.” It’s silent for a moment. “Oh. Okay.”

“I just…” You close your eyes. Take a deep breath. “I just miss you.”

“I miss you like there’s an ocean between us,” he says, laughter mixed with sincerity threading through his voice.

“It feels like there’s ocean between us,” you sigh.

“I know,” he says, too quickly for him to realize the meaning behind your words. “But I promise this will all be over soon, babe. How long can something like this really last? In no time it’ll all be done with and I’ll be right back beside you. Right?”

You smile. “Right.”

← || series m.list || →

THANK YOU FOR READING!

→ if you enjoyed this, please consider telling me what you think by leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! → want to read more?

[capsicle-evans]

Just for Show

Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: The Evans Christmas Family get together is coming soon and Chris has to come up with a plan as to who he is taking with him

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

“What do you recommend?” I lean in to whisper to Chris, everyone too busy looking at their own menu. “I don’t know what to pick”

“Mmm the chicken parmesan pasta is always a great idea” Chris points at the small picture of the dish. “If you pair it with white wine, it’s the cherry on too”

“Mmm I don’t think I should be ordering wine” I chuckle, placing the menu back on the table. “Wine gets me in a sexy mood”

“Uff, then the more reason to do it” He grins at me, placing a hand over my knee. Oh two can play this game, Evans.

“Maybe tonight” I grin, leaning in closer so that my perfume scent engulfs him. “But I’m warning you, Evans. I can get really messy when wine is involved”

“I can handle messy, Miss Y/L/N” He says this as his hand rises up to my thigh just a little bit.

“Then I’ll make sure to be in my worst behavior” I lean in as slowly as I can, Chris’ eyes so focused on me, his lips barely open. I close the distance between our lips, the kiss a little more hot that what would be considered appropriate for a family lunch but for everyone it can look like a small kiss because I grab Chris’ neck to pull him closer so that he can conceal me for when I grace my tongue over his lips.

When I pull away, Chris’ eyes are so dark and stormy, his chest heaving. “Nobody is watching, Y/N”

“Oops, I guess I forgot” I grin. Chris is about to say something when the waiter interrupts him.

“Can I get your drinks?”

I’m the first one to order so without taking my eyes away from Chris, I tell him what I want. “I’ll have a pinot grigio”

“Do you think you are going to be able to handle yourself?” Chris whispers into my ear while everyone is ordering.

“It’s not myself that I’m worried about, Chris” I sit sideways, trying to face. “After all, you were the one watching me shower”

“But you were the one who left the door opened” He winks at me before turning back to the waiter, leaving me with my mouth wide open.

***

“Yeah, were not going out with you looking like that” Chris stands up from his couch as I reach the first floor, ready to go out with Chris and his siblings.

“Why?” I pout, looking down at my outfit. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, babe” Scott waves Chris off. “You look hot as fuck”

“Language” Lisa giggles, earning an eye roll from Chris. “No but you do look gorgeous, honey”

“I know! I never said she didn’t” Chris reaches my side and grabs my waist. “But so will the rest of the bar”

“Oh but I only have eyes for you” I bop his nose, knowing that Chris won’t actually force me to change.

“You’ll freeze to death” He counterparts, still trying to fight me.

“I’ll take a coat” I pat his chest before looking around the room. “Where are my girls?”

“Coming” Shanna shouts as she and Carly walk up to us.

“Lets goo” I clap my hands happily as we all get up, ready to leave.

***

I call already feel sweat running down the back of my neck, my whole body buzzing after the four shots of tequila Scott dared me to drink. It’s been so long since I’ve danced like this, so freely and feeling myself.

“Damn Y/N” Scott slaps my ass playfully, earning chuckles from his sisters. “You do know how to move”

“Thanks” I grin but then I roll my eyes. “Well, at least you notice it”

“Is this about my boring brother over there?” He nods his head to the direction where Chris is. He has a glass of whiskey in his hands, the other one on his phone, his eyes not moving away from the screen.

“Yeah, he hasn’t looked at me even for a minute since we got here” I try to not sound as disappointed as I actually feel but based on the look my fake in laws give me, I know that I’m not doing a good job at it.

“No no no, you go there and you force him to look at you, god every man in this bar probably wishes they could be grinding behind you” Shanna tells me, looking back at her brother. “If you don’t go, I’ll do it myself”

“You walk there and make him want you” Scott nods before giving me a soft push towards Chris’ direction.

I try to steady my breath, trying to come up with a plan to seduce Chris without making a fool of myself. I mean, I could blame it on the alcohol just in case, but I rather not have to do it.

When I close enough, without a warning, a grab the phone from his hand and before he has a chance to protest, I step myself in between his legs, sitting down in his lap. “Can you give me back my phone?”

“Nope” I reply, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Can you give me your attention?”

“Why? Is the attention of all the men in this bar not enough?” he scoffs, leaning back and away from me.

“Is that what this is all about? Are you jealous?” I move from his lap to rest both of my knees in the little space between his legs and I place my arms around his neck again, so basically I’m laying on top of him. “You know I don’t care about that, right? I only want your attention”

“You don’t have to lie, Scott and the girls are not close enough to hear you” He rolls his eyes before moving them away from me.

“God you are so stupid” I groan, grabbing his head to bring his focus back to me. I bring my lips up to his mouth, my tongue darting out to get a taste of his mouth. His lips are warm and soft and I can’t help but moan when his tongue meets mine.

Thank god the lighting in this bar is so dark, otherwise people would have seen the entire show Chris and I are putting on. He finally sits up straighter, his hands grabbing the back of my thighs as I dig my hands into his blond mess. I pull his head back by his hair, making him look me in the eyes.

“Chris” I try to speak but I’m so out of breath that it comes out as a moan.

“Fuck” Chris curses, his chest heaving and his hands giving my thighs a hard squeeze that earns him another moan. “We can’t do this”

I’m about to step away from him, feeling rejected when he adds “not here”.

I give him a quick kiss before standing up and stretching my hand to him. “Come dance with me then”

Chris bits his lips, a grin trying to scape, before standing up and grabbing my hand. “Lead the way”

“You know, now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dance, Captain” I walk backwards, my hand still in his. “That time at Robert’s house you denied me of such a pleasures”

“It was for your own good” He grins, pulling my arm to stop me on my tracks. “You wouldn’t have been able to keep you hands off me”

“Cocky much?” I roll my eyes, pressing my hands against his chest as his arms circle my waist.

“You know I am, Baby” He winks at me before giving my side a squeeze. “No but all jokes aside, my dance moves suuuck”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that, Cap” I pull him closer to me, keeping my eyes on his. “Now, let’s dance”

***

“MCDONALDS MCDONALDS MCDONALDS” Scott and I chant loudly as Chris, who is sitting between us in the back, rolls his eyes.

“Shanna, we are going to have to stop at McDonalds or they won’t stop” Chris leans forward to pop his head between his sisters. “Y/N alone is a force to be reckoned with but you add Scott to the mixture and it’s worse”

“Fine, I’ll look for one not to far away” Carly pulls out her phone to look for one close as Shanna just laughs.

“You are in for a good one, brother” She giggles as Carly gives her the directions.

We finally reach the restaurant and after ordering from the drive thru, we are back in the road to home.

“Don’t get ice cream on the couch” Chris looks at me sternly as he holds my ice cream cone.

“Or what?” I flash him a grin before leaning in to suck on the ice cream still in his hand.

“Fuck” He breaths out lowly, just for me to hear. “You are killing me, woman”

“Good” I dip my finger into the ice cream before rubbing it on his cheek. “Oops, let me clean that”

I lean in, sticking ny tongue out to seductively lick the sweetness of his cheek. “Better?”

“You two knock it off” Scott fake gags as he takes his eyes away from us.

“Nobody told you to look” Chris waves off his brother before grabbing me by the back of my neck to pull me to his lips.

“Stop it or I will jump of the car”

***

“Goodnight” Chris whispers to his siblings before closing the door to his bedroom.

“Tonight was so much fun” I beam at him, my cheeks still red from the alcohol and the hot kiss Chris gave me on the car.

“You know, I get what you got nominated for an Oscar” Chris chuckles, kicking his shoes off.

“What do you mean?” I frown, popping my head from the bathroom door as I pull up my pijama shorts.

“You and the whole act you put on today” He looks at me as I step back into the room. “I’m sure everyone is convinced we are in love now”

There’s a part in me that instantly breaks, I fell my legs go numb, like my whole body just got thrown down a hill. “Oh, yeah.. the act. I mean that’s what I’m here for after all”

“Thank you” Chris stands up from the edge of the bed to place a kiss on forehead before walking towards his closet to pull out his pillows and blankets.

“No problem” I whisper softly before walking up to the bed and letting the bed spread engulf me.

“Every thing okay?” Chris asks be as I turn my back to him.

“Yup, just tired” I reply, trying hard not to cry right then and there.

“Okay” I hear him say before laying down on his made up bed. God, men are so oblivious. “Good night”

I don’t reply, already feeling the tears in the back of my eyes and my throat drying up.

“Y/N?” Chris asks again when I don’t reply.

I don’t know what happens but suddenly I’m sitting up and facing him. “No, Chris, actually, everything’s not fine because I wasn’t acting and for a second there I thought you weren’t either. For me, pretending to be in love with you stopped being an act a long time ago. Fuck I don’t think it was an act at all. And I know I promised to help you with this little stunt but I feel like if I stay and I keep pretending that this is all fake to me, I’m going to end up so heartbroken beyond repair so I think it would be best if I leave tomorrow morning”

“Y/N”

“Don’t. I don’t need your pity nor an apology or whatever it is that you are going to give me. I know that this isn’t your fault, you made it pretty clear that this was all an act and that you don’t want a relationship right now and I respect that but I also hope you respect my decision to remove myself from this situation before it gets me” I know that I’m crying now, big tears running down my cheeks.

“Can I talk?” Chris asks me from the floor where he is sitting.

“Sorry, yes” I clean my tears with the back of my hands as Chris moves to sit on the edge of the bed, next to me.

“The fact that you think that this was all on act to me is beyond me” Chris brings his hand up to caress my cheek. “I seriously thought I was being so obvious about how you made me feel that I was scared that you were just acting so that’s why I said what I said. I didn’t say it because I wanted it to me an act, a lie, I said it because I was trying to convince myself of it. Because I thought that that’s what it was to you, I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to love me back because I knew it was unfair. I’ve spent the last couple of days fighting this urge to hold you all the time, not just when my parents or my siblings are around”

“Chris, I-”

“I love you, Y/N”

*************************************************

Pleaseee dont hate me!! I had scheduled this to be posted on friday but I think I did it wrong since it didn’t! Sorry!!!

Also, this is not the last part, I’m doing one more so that should be up by friday.

Hope you like this❤️

Tag List: @patzammit @hollandprkr @hauntedmuffinoperarascal @denisemarieangelina @marianas-studyblr @justjulie1105 @itsscottiesstark @phillygirl19 @prettymuchawhore @cevansfics  @jennamarieee623 @chrisevanisliterallysir @spookyscot   @c00lkidvibes @duskangxls @supraveng @syms-things-5 @sabstrang

[the-slasher-files]

Temper, temper - pt 3

INCLUDES BO SINCLAIR ONESHOT

TW: nsfw, rough sex, dirty talk, angst

WORDS:  2069

“BO” You yelled in the living room barely obstructing the sound of breaking glass in the kitchen “BO, STOP”

Again, he was lost, lost somewhere in his uncontrolled rage. Usually your voice would snap him out of the anger, but not tonight. It was a long, long night. Undenounced drifters found the town of Ambrose this afternoon, not knowing their fate by the end of the evening. You were at work in the next town over when you got the text from Bo “Travelers, don’t come home until I text you” That  was all you needed to know, he would be killing tonight.

Following his instructions, you waited and waited. Stopping in at a local shitty bar trying to calm your nerves with whiskey and rum, constantly staring at your phone on the counter. The drifters came in around 1 pm and it was now pushing 2 am. No text, no call, no nothing. Worry, guilt and anxiety all formed a pit in your stomach. Usually they were done by now. Was he hurt? or dead? you thought, zoning out on your black phone screen, swirling the brown liquid in your glass. 

“You ok lady? Do you want me to call someone for you?” The bartender spoke making you jump. Shaking your head you placed the cash on the bar, gulping the last of the alcohol grimacing at the burn in your throat. Grabbing your phone and purse you hopped into your jeep, checking the messages one last time before pulling away. 

Tears were trying to force their way from your eyes as you sped down the pitch black highway. You were so consumed in your thoughts that your body just automatically drove you home. 

At the washed out road Lester’s truck was sitting there, as if he was waiting for you. Both you and Lester jumped out of your vehicles, running up to each other. “Lester where is he? I need to know?” your voice breaking

“Now, now you don’t wan’ to go up there,” Lester reckoned, holding your shoulders trying to force you back to your vehicle.

“L-Les please, let me see him” You didn’t care if he was beaten or just raging, you needed to know if he was fine.

“Look, if you go up there... It ain’t pretty, the kills were not clean.. There was a lot of struggle, Bo-” he was cut off from his explanation.

“Bo is what?” you asked quietly trying to control yourself.   

“Bo is a mess right now, ragin’ madly.. He is madder than a bull righ’ now... I haven’t seen him like this in a long while” Lester warned you, but could see in your eyes how badly you needed to see him. Bo’s brothers had seen you tame his temper before, so maybe tonight you were the sight for sore eyes he needed.

Lester let you go, running up the dirt path to the hidden town and up to the house. Bo’s truck was sitting outside, the front hood was dented and covered in blood. One of the house windows was newly broken, letting the yelling and clashing out into the cool night air.  

So there you were, yelling his name trying to get his attention without getting too close. “BO ENOUGH!” you shouted, finally grabbing his attention. Whipping around with a wild look in his eyes, they were no longer baby blue, they were dark and hardened, this wasn’t the same man that you left this morning. 

Bo was covered in a combination of sweat and blood, a few open wounds surrounded his body. His dark hair was dishevelled and formed curls from his dampness. This was a man he had only let you see a handful of times, and yet it was still jarring. Crazed, wild, not man nor beast. 

“Baby,” You sweetly spoke to him trying to release him from his anger. Relieved to see him walking around and ok, you could breathe again. Bo’s temper always controlled him and it was something you knew how to handle or at least get him to come down from, but tonight might be different. “Babe,” 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He bit back at you, kind of hurting your feelings, you knew it was in rage but it just stung. “I didn’ call you or text you, why’d you come home?” 

“I needed you.. I needed to make sure you’re fine-” He cut you off from your easing voice.

“FINE?! Fine? You don’ think I can handle myself?” Bo questioned turning around to knock whatever was on the counter off it with loud smashes and clangs. Anytime he thought you questioned his abilities, especially to protect or take care of himself he lost it. 

“Bo that’s not what I meant, you know that... I- I just couldn’t stop thinking about the worst... Like if you were injured or even killed.” It went quiet for a second as he gripped the sides of the sink huffing and puffing. “Bo... baby” Softly talking to him walking to the kitchen, seeing the broken glass all over the floor. Stopping at the doorway, you waited. Waited for him to do something. “look at me Bo, please” 

Shooting back his gaze meeting yours, his eyes were still dark and wild. You could tell his mind was working in overdrive, a war between good and evil fought inside his head. One of his biggest fears was hurting or even killing you out of anger. Bo was suddenly hovering over you in the doorway, looking at you like a wolf about to hunt an injured lamb. “Bo” you tried to get him to snap out of himself for a minute. 

Reaching his bloody hand up looking like he was going to caress you for a minute, he grabbed your throat instead, pushing you against the doorway almost lifting you. “Christ.. Bo” Clawing at the deep scar tissue on his wrist, trying to not go too hard for fear it will set him off into rage more, remembering his childhood.   

With his other arm he grabbed your waist making your legs wrap around his, he growled when you adjusted yourself, grinding against him. “You need to learn how to listen to me... I did not text you... I did not want you here yet,” Bo heaved, pressing himself against you, forcing the doorway uncomfortably into your shoulder blades. “Comin’ home early you get to see this.... this fucking monster” He spoke about himself with a hint of sadness in his voice, trying to break himself of his own anger. 

The sentence broke your heart, but before you could dwell on it his large hand came off your throat and carried you to the pool table in the middle of the living room. Trying to recover your breathing from his hand, Bo placed you on your back with your head lazily hanging off the wooden edge, knowing what was coming you just prayed Vincent and Lester would not walk into the house, or hear your impending screams of pleasure and Bo’s dirty talk.

Quickly Bo undid his belt and opened his blood covered mechanic pants letting his half hard cock free and immediately roughly forced it into your mouth, moaning as he did it. “Fuuuck.. what a good girl” Bo snatched your hands that were trying to grip onto something, letting you clench his forearm and numb wrist as he thrusted in and out of your mouth. His other hand trailed down to your jeans, unbuttoning them and rubbing your increasing wetness. 

“All wet for me already... you little slut... getting off on my rage” He growled picking up pace, repeatedly hitting the back of your throat. So incased in lust he didn’t notice the fact your skull was being banged on the solid wood, or the fact that you were making choking noises around his now fully erect member. 

Bo looked down seeing the stream of tears coming from your eyes, and the spit that was creating strings along your face. He loved this sight, he could stare at it all day. “You are such a good cock whore” Smirking at the names he called you. Bo always loved to say things that would make a sailor blush, it was just him in this state, all day he would call you angel or baby girl but in this world right now, you were his little fuck toy. 

With his hand still teasing you over your underwear, making you a needy mess, Bo suddenly pulled the fabric aside pushing 2 thick fingers inside making you moan loudly on his cock. Precum coated your tongue and his member twitched in warning that he was about to reach his climax. Bo pulled out of your mouth leaving you gasping and coughing. 

Your eyes blurred with tears, as you tried to wipe them away you noticed Bo was gone, not standing above you anymore. Once you were ready to ask where he was, he grabbed your ankles from the other side of the pool table making you squeak. Bo pulled you to the middle of the table ripping off your clothes until you were completely bare, so vulnerable, like prey. 

Climbing on top of you, his smell was overwhelming, cigarettes, sweat, and iron. His body was heaving and shaking possibly from the sex or still from his anger. Bo’s eyes were still dark and his body was tense, elbows on either side of your head and he straddled your body, caging you, looking at you like a feast. Kind of making you uncomfortable.

Without warning he thrusted into you letting your back arch so you were chest to chest. “Fuck your cunt is tight... so perfect” Bo sharply inhaled as all of him filled you, touching every place you needed. “You need to be fucked more” 

His speed was growing and growing with each thrust, pulling out of you almost fully before ramming back into you, leaving you whimpering and writhing in pleasure under him. “Bo” you cried as his elbows were now digging into your shoulders having his thrusts moved you up, pushing the bones into your muscles. “Ah fuck, Bo”

“Louder” he hoarsely demanded, not in the state of mind to care about what his brothers heard. “I said louder”

“Bo.. BO, please BO” you were so close to your end, the heat coil burning in your stomach 

“Let it go you slut... let the whole fuckin’ town hear you” growling against your neck now biting it 

“BO” you screamed clenching your walls around his cock making him lose it as well, coating your insides with his seed. You went lifeless on the table. The night had too many emotions and feelings that your body had just given out, as did Bo’s. He rolled next to you, heavy panting filled the room. 

Turning your head towards him, observing him, seeing what he was going to want next, but he looked dead tired, he looked almost broken. Bo turned his head meeting your eyes, his baby blues were back and the tension had released throughout his whole body as it shuttered. Your man was back, and he looked sorry. 

You reached your small hand over his jaw, wiping away any sweat, blood or dirt from the eventful evening. “Bo.. baby... You are not a monster” recalling back to what he had said in the kitchen 15 minutes before. He just closed his eyes and kissed your hand as it came to his lips.

 “You don’t deserve what they did to you.” your free hand gently caressing his closest wrist, rubbing the hard scars of the past. It was hard for him to feel anything there from the damage of the nerves and the tough skin, but he knew what your hand was doing. Your touch and words almost made him tear up, no one was like you, you were his world. The only one that could calm him and save him from himself. Bo left his eyes closed not wanting you to see the salty water trying to escape.

He groaned as he pried himself off the table, his injuries beginning to sting and become sore. Grabbing the blanket off the couch he wrapped you in it and lifted you to bed, placing kisses on your forehead. Pulling you close in bed once he undressed and showered.

“I’m sorry” He quietly spoke “You’re my everything angel”                   

[secretsniper3]

Part 4: Tough Day

I awake with my hands where they can usually be found in the morning, clamped around my belt while fluid pours out between my legs. Master has kept me on denial for 3 days now and I can barely take it any more. only 2 days ago I was edged in a electricity fuelled nightmare and yesterday i was edged by a mystery woman and forced to walk for hours as a latex maid, sweeping up dust and cooking duties. To go from such a high back to the normal, well, I wanted the high again, Craved it even, to feel the caress of another on my body and be pleasured beyond reckoning. with my morning edges still out of reach and my clit throbbing even now I stand to get ready but hear a knock on my door as my Master enters the room.

“We are having a party today, my Dear, and I want you to look your best, red lips, high heels and a dress.” he says as he walks to the wardrobe and pulls out a blue silk dress. “this dress will do nicely. You will wear nothing else and wait here till i come and get you.” he says as I hear a knock on the front door. I nod as he leaves and begin to dress myself..

---------------- Meanwhile --------------

As the front door opens I stand there in all my glory, long blue hair caressing my back in my black dress and heels, im welcomed into the house by the Master and step inside, he takes my coat and offers me a refreshment. Gladly accepting he returns with 2 glasses of champagne and hands me 1. “To a glorious party!” the Master says, I raise my glass and drink to the toast and begin to discuss the entertainment, glancing at the stairs knowingly and as I do I feel light headed. Grasping my head I quickly put the glass on the table moments before my world goes black. “YOU will be MY entertainment later on.” the Master says with a laugh.

Waking up but keeping my eyes shut I shift around a bit, making a barely audible grunt in the process, my attempt to rub my eyes is met with immediate resistance and my eyes fly open and, to my horror I find Im bound. Ropes crossing all over my body as my attention is pulled to the tubes running out of my nose and mouth. The Master playing with my bound form I shift around and make my reawakened state known to him, with a laugh he tells me to relax as I feel plastic push into my urethra I wince at the discomfort. Having another laugh at my expense he leans in close to my face and says “you were never invited to my little party my dear, i simply wanted you here for a little fun for a few days.” and with that he checks that my bindings are secure, arms in a strict bind behind my back, elbows and wrists pressed against their counterparts and then pushed against my back, useless there but I guess thats the idea. My pussy and ass have intruders and they are not small, my ass stretched wide to accommodate my new friend in there and my pussy feels like its near capacity if it isnt already. My clit feels pressure from a suction cup and my new Master, seemingly reading my mind said “it vibrates too.” Im in trouble and I know it, but powerless to stop it. Looking around for anything to help I see a box nearby and a hatch in the floor is raised, my heart skips a beat and a half.

Confirming I am completely trapped he places earpieces in my ears and a hood over my head to lock them in, I can still see and theres holes for my tubes, my hair poking through the back as it always does. Lifting me into the box Im glad to feel and see its padded with foam covered in black silk, I barely fit in there but he manoeuvres me into the box without much difficulty. Pushing my tubes and earpiece cables through the wooden lid, I know that when he closes it I wont be able to open it without first releasing myself, highly unlikely, as he seals me in I feel my new home lifted again and then lowered, landing with a soft thud I hear another lid closing, Im in another, bigger box.

Before I think this could get much worse for me I hear something in my ears, its soft but among the words are “slave.. submit.. property..” its too quiet to make out what words that are in-between.. Drinking in the darkness thats swallowed me my ass, pussy and clit hum to life with a speed that makes me jump, or I would but I could only manage a slight twitch, these binding were too strong for me. Hearing nothing over the humming the words grow louder in my ears! Hearing it clear as if spoken right in front of me its saying “you are now a slave, you will submit as you are now property”. Eyes widening further as it repeats in my ears, its all I can hear, the hum of my tormentors only scratching at the noise Im hearing. Above me, hard at work my new Master has plugged my mouths tube to a tube under the floor, my nose tube running up the legs on the table placed above me, noone will know Im even there at all.

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

Waiting patiently on my bed for my Master he enters wearing a black suit, looking incredible as always and seemingly effortless I stand and let him inspect my clothes. “very nice indeed, youll be the life of the party” he says with a smile. Leading me downstairs as someone knocks at the door, the guests have arrived. Standing up straight as my pussy relentlessly pulses juice down my legs I lower my head as the guests enter, Women and Men dressed for a fancy dinner, 3 even bringing slaves of their own. The party begins and everyone has a chance to mingle, I stand at my Masters side as he brags about me to his friends, I wait patiently, unable to speak without permission as a hour passes.

Making his way onto a elevated platform my Master calls for attention. “im so glad so many of you came to enjoy the show, my slave has been denied for days on end with potent drugs keeping her thighs slick with her pre.” pointing at my legs, they shine with my fresh coatings, I blush as everyone looks at me. “let the entertainment commence!” my Master shouts as he takes my hand and pulls the cloth off of a small box on the platform. A Sybian with a large, hollow dildo with holes all over it, it will fill me and collect my juices and cum completely. Without wasting time my Master tears my dress from my body as I scream at the aggressiveness, other men hold my arms as my Master removes my belt from my hips and with a loud clang it hits the floor. Pulling me down Im forced onto the dildo, it sliding effortlessly inside me and metal restraints are secured around my legs and waist, a armbinder goes around my arms and is pulled painfully tight in a way that pulls my elbows together, thrusting my bare breasts out for all to marvel at.

The crowd gazing at me as my Master puts a large glass bowl with a hole in its base on a tube protruding from the ground, clearly, whatever goes in that bowl is going down that tube. My Master doesnt go easy on me as the sybian bursts to life and I start my orgasmic fuelled torture, cumming only microseconds after the first vibration, inserting the dildo having brought me to the brink, within seconds Im screaming again as I cum again and again. My Master pulls a gag out of his pocket and silences my screams as men and women surround me and the men start stroking their cocks while the women rub their clit, being told by my Master to cum in the bowl as much as they want with 4 men obliging immediately, shooting hot cum in the bowl as it flows down the tube to its destination as my eyes roll back into my head, a never-ending orgasmic hell of a day ahead.

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

“You are now a Slave, you will Submit as you are now Property.. You are now a Slave, you will Submit as you are now Property” it burns into my mind! Etching itself into my very core as my orgasms continue to crest and flow, my pussy gushing and my blue hair wet with sweat I feel something touch my tongue. Its hot, sticky and tastes weird, opening my eyes in darkness as I realize its cum, and not a small amount either, It keeps flowing into my mouth! Jamming my tongue into the tip of the tube solves nothing as my new Master has drilled holes around the tip to ensure Im getting my food, its slick and coating my throat and Im forced to keep swallowing as my mind fills with my Masters words. “ You are now a Slave, you will Submit as you are now Property.”

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

Pleasure beyond imagination, thats all I am now. Orgasm after orgasm after orgasm being torn from my pussy with reckless Abaddon with no way to stop it, you tried thrashing around but they simply added a corset and posture collar to make it more fun. Nipples clamps bring the promise of pain and white pads on my thighs speak to a different pain as they light up with electricity. Flowing from 1 pad through my pussy and to the other pad, as well as from nipple to nipple. My screaming now escaping my gag as the currents keep increasing. Orgasms followed by pain only to be dulled by the next orgasm! its endless! a sharp pain on my chest causes me to look for the source, a man holding a flogger, my abused, electrified nipples copping more punishment from a man I dont know while my Master talks to his guests. 5 men now stand, beating off to the orgasming girl before them, cumming in the very full glass bowl and showing no signs of stopping, glancing to the table of food and drinks I see a glass with blue pills in it. This is going to continue for a long time as my Master steps up to me, hard cock in hand. “you must be hungry for something” he says, removing my gag only to replace it with his throbbing cock. Fucking my throat is easy enough at this point, I have no resistance to mount from my orgasmic overload, shooting his load down my throat I swallow as I cum in turn, moaning in a mix of pain and pleasure as the cock is removed. Another cock pushes into my mouth and fucks away, its 1 of my Masters guests making use of me and after he is done the cock is replaced with a soaked pussy, the woman grinding greedily away at my tongues assault on her horny folds.

Now men and women are cumming in the offering bowl, and I see a tube leading from the sybian to above the bowl, a clear fuid running into it, Im contributing to the offerings whether I like it or not, the vibrations increasing in speed catching me off guard I moan into the current pussy sealed around my mouth as my orgasmic pace quickens, now cumming with passion I didnt know I had the fluid from my pipe beating out the cum shooting from the men and women, Im easily besting them all by myself Though they havnt spent days being edged nonstop but if I only knew where it was going I wouldn't be turned on by that. More people join the line-up to fuck my face as I continue cumming. No longer having individual orgasms, they have fused into 1 continuous orgasm pouring cum into the dildo I straddle with reinforced need, I dont want this to end, Im afraid I'll never get a chance to cum again after today my arousal heightens as my mind goes blank.

Awakening in a familiar pose, I realize Im still straddling the sybian and it still going at full speed. Having passed out, even momentarily, my senses are through the roof now as I scream into the cock now in my throat. Cum flowing freely down my dildo and into the bowl as well as down my throat. People have started to calm down around me, the drug induced haze clearing from them, but not me as they are not bolted to a sybian at max speed. 1 by 1 the partygoers leave untill its just me and my Master, and a still maxed out sybian with a stream of cum flowing into the bowl, my Master places a chair infront of me and sits, cock in hand as he plays with his throbbing meat. Taking the opportunity to look around, the house is spotless, the only mess in the room is me with a cum stained face and the bowl before me. Shooting a fresh load into the bowl my Master laughs and walks away, leaving me to moan as the sybian does what it was build to do, and then some.

With a gut full of fresh cum Im unbolted from the hellish device, unable to stand under my own strength my Master carries me to a chair and sits me down, Im amazed Im not sitting on a dildo now, but my pussy feels sadly empty now, spending all day with it inside me I now miss it dearly. My Master turning off the sybian Im led to the showers where he cleans and massages Me, my Master always knew how to reward me after such a marathon. Towelling me off Im amazed that its 8pm already, how time flies when your having fun cumming in a whirl of pleasure, my chastity belt reattached when I return to my room, my ballet boots locked on and a latex hood and gloves are added. With a kiss on your head and a simple “Goodnight my Slave” I lay in bed and instantly fall asleep.

Walking down the stairs My Master stares at a rug under a table with a smile on his face. Turning to set up the next device will be fun knowing the blue haired beauty will be done in a few days time. “Sleep well my new Slave” he mutters under his breath with a laugh.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 27

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: If you read carefully, you knew this; if you didn't: reader was drugged at the party. Hangover from Hell ft. boys being cute, Loki being best friend material and reader fully integrating him into the Gen-Z community via Monster energy drinks and depressive music whilst being sad. I live for Loki/reader friendship tbh.

So folks, this is the last big plot thing before the endgame. I reckon it's about 10-15 chapters left until out happy ending and the next bit is going to focus on developing reader's and Stephen's relationship. There will be smutty parts too - either chapters or interludes, idk, depending on how well they'll integrate into the story.

I love y'all.

Ow, was my first thought upon waking up. My head throbbed something fierce, the pressure behind my eyelids was unbearable and my mouth tasted like a bog on a sunny summer's day. I was warm, from both sides, and one of the bodies felt foreign in everything besides the smell - sandalwood leaked through the lead curtain of alcohol and sex.

Needless to say, I had trouble piecing together the fine details of last night but had enough coherence to remember our... Activities. I was sore and Strange's long arm was still possessively draped over both me and Tony. The luck was on my side as I carefully wiggled out of his grasp, padding to the bedroom on quiet feet. The sorcerer barely moved, only grumbling briefly at the loss of my warmth and immediately quieting, shamelessly snuggling into Tony.

I would have not exaggerated if I said it was the worst hangover of my life. It was baffling, really, because I'd gone way wilder and didn't suffer half as much after effects; my first attempt to brush my teeth ended with my face resting against the toilet bowl, my empty stomach rejecting what little liquid in it was left as the room spun on its axis. That was incredibly embarrassing and I hoped my boys wouldn't wake up to witness my best impression of a bum - and they didn't, both men still sound asleep and interwined like snakes when I put on the shirt closest to me and departed in search of coffee.

My mood only worsened. Steve and Bucky were already up, shoveling an impressive amount of eggs and bacon, as Bucky quietly teased Steve about his own hangover. The blonde man was slightly greenish, disheveled - we traded equally glum looks and nodded to each other in silence. The smell of food made my stomach churn and I retreated, one black coffee in hand, towards Bruce's lab, having been informed by Friday that neither Tony not Stephen planned on waking up.

"Morning, Princess," Bruce smiled kindly, pushing his glasses out of the way to hold me close and give me a sweet kiss. "Had fun? The boys still asleep?"

I giggled at Bruce calling Tony and Stephen boys. "Yeah. I wouldn't be wearing Stephen's shirt if he was up and about, I think." I pointed out the obvious.

Bruce chuckled, holding my face to give me a long, thoughtful look. I stared back, hoping convey my respect and adoration without having to say a word; like Tony, I wasn't particularly apt when it came to talking feelings. Whatever Bruce was looking for, he found it, and sealed it with another kiss, twice as long and twice as sweet. We stood like that, my head on his shoulder and my arms firmly holding him to myself, until the elevator dinged behind the glass wall, revealing a shirtless Stephen and Tony in his pajama pants, both men bickering animatedly.

"Aw shit, here we go again," I rolled my eyes, unhappy about the possibility of the magic being broken. I rather preferred all three men to be like yesterday: friendly, kind and relaxed.

"I will kick them out if I have to," Bruce shrugged, turning me around to face them.

Tony smiled, seeing me, stopping mid-conversation. "Princess, I am disappointed in your lack of manners. You left me with Merlin and he is mean." The engineer unceremoniously snatched me from Bruce and smooched me, hangover breath and all.

"Gross, Tony," I rolled my eyes, giving the man a light shove in the chest. "Morning, Steph," I addressed the third man who had gone back to his usual stoic expression. Just to see his resolve crack, because I loved pushing his buttons, I gave him a good morning kiss too, and was unexpectedly blown away by the eager response from his side. As I pulled back, I noticed his cheeks dusting a light pink.

"I came to get my shirt but I think you'd rather keep it," The sorcerer's fingers caressed my skin beneath the collar of his shirt, voice still low and scratchy from sleep and those magnetic eyes fixated on the exposed flesh of my chest, no trace of previous awkwardness.

"You sure 'bout that?" I pushed one of the sides off, exposing my shoulder, seeing Tony gulp the remainder of my coffee, one hand already messing with the screen that Bruce was focused on. "I think I look better without it," I would never miss an opportunity to tease the uptight man.

"Quite," He grinned, "It's a shame I didn't get to see much last night..." Two could play this game, okay.

"Oh, but you will," Tony piped up suddenly, a hint of smugness in his voice barely covered by Bruce's fond chuckle. I really didn't know what to say, suddenly overwhelmed with the attention, my emotions amplified by the hangover - party drugs tended to exaggerate my anxiety on the comedown.

And what a comedown it was. My social energy ran out very quickly so I complained about a nasty headache and retreated into my room, Bruce's gentle hands pressing a bottle of Ibuprofen into my own. Despite my attempts to tame my rioting body, it got worse before it got better and shortly before lunch, I had thrown up twice more. Pissed off, I ran a bath with cold water and sat in it until I felt somewhat human to prepare myself for a journey to Wanda's apartment - as a last resort, I was going to chug on of Pietro's Monster energy drinks that I knew he kept hidden there.

The retrieval was a success. Cans securely hidden in the kangaroo pocket of Tony's oversized hoodie I had thrown on, I had to make a haste detour to throw up once again - the closest bathroom was in Loki's apartment and I only managed to knock twice before throwing open the door and making a mad dash for the porcelain throne, a very confused Asgardian following my movements with raised eyebrows.

"Hangover from Hell," I croaked once the first wave subsided. Loki nodded in understanding, waved a hand to summon me a water bottle and shut the door behind himself.

As I sat there, desperately trying to understand why was I feeling like utter shit... It clicked. Bile rose to my throat once again, and I just dry heaving, mulling my revelation over and over again.

I didn't take any drugs. I had been drugged. My memories became hazy and dream-like shortly after someone had given me the drink... Someone, who? It was a split-second moment; Sam, even in his drunk state, didn't keep his eyes off me for too long. Maybe it had been someone the team knew? Possibilities began playing out in my head. Cursed was my overactive brain - the anxiety from the leftover drugs was making me panic.

"Fuck, FUCK," My hands shook - I only noticed it because I had spilled water on myself, adding cold and wet to the unpleasant sensations I was already experiencing. "Why am I such a fucking fuck-up." Taking a drink from a stranger seemed downright idiotic now. Middle school bullshit.

"Are you alright?" Loki's worried voice interrupted my inner monologue.

"Yes," I replied, voice cracking. "No. I don't fucking know."

The door all but flew open, the Asgardian taking several long strides to take a good long look at me. The frown on his face tells me all I needed to know about my physical and mental state.

A slender hand tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "What happened?"

I laughed tersely, feeling tears to begin welling in the corners of my eyes. "I'm an idiot," Seeing his face get annoyed briefly, I conceded: "I got drugged yesterday. My drink."

The hand that he had slid between my shoulder blades froze. I felt his whole body go rigid and his nostrils flare, the smell of ozone and something foreign - magic - filling the small space. The air around us became charged with the power of his anger. "Pardon?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

I physically fought with the need to flinch away from him, settling for lowering my eyes and staring at the dark stain on my hoodie. "I got carried away dancing. Someone handed me a drink and my stupid ass just shotgunned it," I confessed, picking at the wet spot. "And I can't tell anybody because I had a threesome with Stephen and Tony," I suddenly realised, my voice raising in pitch. "They're gonna think I didn't want it and feel bad. You know how Tony blames himself for everything under the sun..." Another wave of dizziness and nausea hit me as I leaned against the wall closest to me.

"Alright," Loki conceded after a brief pause. "We absolutely are telling the others. I'll make sure they understand," The Asgardian stated firmly in a tone that bore no argument. Seeing me lift my head to protest, he interrupted me before I could say anything: "Did you... Did you want it?" He asked me, hooking a single finger under my chin to look me in the eye.

I nodded, feeling my face heat up.

"You're not lying. The team knows of my ability to detect lies. Nobody will blame anyone..." Loki trailed off, obviously already plotting something. I wished it were a prank both of us were conspiring on instead of... Trying to make sense of this cluster fuck of a shit show. The circus called, they seemed to have left their clowns behind. "Although I will have a word with Sam." The Asgardian muttered darkly.

"No, it's not his fault. I just got too relaxed, I need to pucker up and be responsible for myself," I protested, damn well knowing it wasn't the Bird's fault. Everyone was drunk and I should've known better.

"It's not yours either," Loki sneered, seeing right through my self-loathing. It took a deep, slow sigh for him to calm down. His expression softened and the hand that was on my back resumed the gentle stroking as he scooted closer to me to press my side against his chest. "Vile people of this kind aren't exclusive to Midgard. It could have happened to anyone."

I nodded, my logical part briefly taking over as the waves of nausea and dizziness waned. I stifled a giggle, coming to another sudden revelation. "You holding up my hair as I barf out my hangover? That makes you qualified for the position of my Best Friend," I stated with a snort.

Loki chuckled, relaxing bit by bit. "I accept the position," His voice was unusually soft and a little bit shaky; I chose to tactfully ignore it. "Shall I call for assembly in the war room?"

I sighed, the dread and anxiety creeping it's way back in. "Can we just... Wait a bit? I have something- hold on-" I rummaged around my pocket, taking out two cans of Monster. Loki eyed them curiously and I extended one to him. "It probably won't do much for you but for me it's a last-resort hangover cure." I popped open the metal cap, seeing him do the same. "Be warned though, it tastes kinda funky if you're not used to it," I announced the disclaimer but it simply egged Loki on.

The scrunched up face he made was pretty funny. "It's sour but sickeningly sweet at the same time? I can't tell," He briefly eyed the written ingredients on the can.

"There are a bunch of flavors. Pietro likes the plain one, I like the purple one better, it's not so tongue-burning." I paused to inhale loudly. "If this is what college life looks like, I don't want to go," Mustering up my courage and gathering my balls in a knot, with one broad motion I closed my nose and poured the carbonated acid down my throat until my eyes watered. "Gimme a minute," I hiccuped, trying to keep it down.

Wide-eyed, Loki took a chaste sip of his own drink, eyeing me warily. He looked part impressed part disgusted with the little stunt. "I am pretty certain that is counter-productive."

"Caffeine make brain and body go skrrt," I argued back. "Friday, play my "grant me the sweet release of death" playlist. I'm upset," I announced and the AI obliged silently, the first notes of Placebo's 'Exit Wounds' beginning to play. If I was going to mop in a stranger's bathroom, I was going to do it with style. Even if said style was just simply stealing in my own misery with emo background music.

Loki stared at me, I stared back, both of us lost in our respective minds. At one point, he began swaying to the music slightly, resting the cool tin of the can against his cheek; I followed suit, mouthing along to some of the lyrics. It took us about a dozen songs to finally finish the liquid acid that was Monster energy drink and my ass felt like the bathroom tile itself: flat and hard.

"Do you ever feel like the universe just hates you for no fucking reason?" I groused, taking Loki's outstretched hand and slowly feeling the blood rush back to my legs.

"You wouldn't believe," He rolled his eyes in solidarity, vanishing away the empty containers. "Norns, give me a Hel-damned break."

I laced his arm through mine as we exited his apartment, feeling considerably less upset than I was before. I couldn't protect myself, but one look at Loki's sullen, irritated expression was bound to scare off anyone who dared to interrupt our mission.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

[p1harmonyofficial]

[📰] Get to Know the Members of K-Pop Group P1Harmony With These 10 Fun Facts! (Exclusive)

P1Harmony is a rising global K-Pop troupe, but we wanted Just Jared readers to get an exclusive chance to know them a little better!

The talented six-member boy group first arrived on the scene back in October of 2020, embarking on their international music career with the release of their first mini album DISHARMONY: STAND OUT and feature film, P1H: A New World Begins, which positioned the group as a force to be reckoned with in the music scene.

Amid the pandemic, the group continued to make new music for their fans with the release of their second mini album, DISHARMONY: BREAK OUT, including their slamming, hip-hop infused title track “Scared,”” along with an accompanying music video full of street-style dancing and intense visual effects.

Watch “Scared” and check out these 10 Fun Facts about P1Harmony inside!

INTAK

1. I have more eyelashes on my right eye than my left. Right after my debut, I didn’t really know how to remove eye makeup, so for a while, I used to just rub my eyes really hard with soap and now, I have more eyelashes on my right eye than my left. 2. I used to love oysters, but now I cannot eat it. I was an oyster fanatic, until very recently. I ordered raw oysters after watching a TV show at night with JONGSEOB, and after one bite, I couldn’t eat it anymore. The taste of the “sea” was so pungent. Now, I’m too traumatized! 3. I saved a man’s life. I went chestnut picking with my dad, and found a guy hanging on a cliff and struggling to get back up. We immediately helped him get up. He was really grateful and I remember feeling so proud to have saved someone’s life! 4. I have a small horizontal scar on the right side of my face, and I kind of like it. I got this scar when I was about four or five, and although it’s not that visible now, sometimes I like it because it makes me feel like a charismatic, bad guy! 5. I love dogs. I love dogs, so I have been watching a lot of dog-related videos but I’m terribly allergic. I can’t stop myself from petting them when I see them on the street, and always regret it afterwards because I turn all puffy and itchy! 6. I fantasize a lot about time travel. I even tried and feel like it can really happen one day! I lie down in my bed, put my blanket over my entire body and focus really hard on the idea, but this brings me nowhere but to the future. [Laughs] 7. I have a gold tooth. 8. I have a brown spot (mole) on my middle finger. 9. I love my Crayon Shin-chan character earphones. I get happy just looking at it. 10. I go to the convenient store so much that there isn’t anything I have not tried!

THEO

1. My right shoulder is more developed than my left. I used to play volleyball and would strike with my right arm, so my right shoulder is more developed than my left. 2. I have a red mole. I recently got a red mole on the side of my right neck, but I have no idea where it came from and why but it’s not going away! 3. I can’t burp, literally. I don’t know how to burp and have never burped in my life 4. I only drink carbonated drinks. I rarely drink anything that is NOT carbonated. 5. I don’t like lettuce and tomatoes in my burgers. 6. I had a burst appendix and didn’t know it for a while. I was hospitalized for two months, because they couldn’t find my appendix. Apparently, my organs are shaped and structured differently. 7. I love slippers. Unless I am going to an official engagement or doing promos, I am always in slippers, (even during winter)! 8. I have never cried in front of people until I turned 20. I was watching a very emotional episode of “Animal Farm,” and got caught crying in front of KEEHO, SOUL and JIUNG. Since then, I think I’ve gotten more emotional. I once cried watching JONGSEOB cry, too. 9. I can’t stay still when I’m on the phone. I have to walk around or do something when I’m on the phone. 10. I love singing songs to my friends over the phone.

JIUNG

1. I love Tonkatsu (pork cutlet). I have been addicted to tonkatsu these days and have been eating it almost every day for the last few months. 2. I have the same birthday as my younger brother. My younger brother and I share the same birthday, which is Oct. 7. We were also born around the same time. 3. My younger brother and I have a similar birth time as well. I think he was born like 8 minutes before me or after! 4. I love raw garlic and don’t like kimchi. 5. I only drink flat coca-cola. I purposely decarbonate my coke by shaking it and letting the air out multiple times until the bottle doesn’t expand anymore and the coke is completely flat. 6. I still fit into my hats from my adolescent years. My head is so small that I still fit into all my hats from elementary school. 7. I think too much. I make daily memos and write down almost everything to organize my thoughts. 8. I like to dance and sing when the streets are empty. When no one is around and I’m in a good mood. I love walking down the empty street thinking I’m shooting a music video. I sing, dance and act. Last time, I bumped into someone and I ran away in full embarrassment! [Laughs]. 9. I have a scar on my eye. 10. I may look picky, but I’m not a picky eater! I love trying a lot of different cuisines.

KEEHO

1. I love collecting sunglasses and glasses although my eyesight is near perfect. I love wearing glasses even though I don’t need them to see. I also have been collecting a lot of sunglasses lately. 2. I talk during my sleep, apparently! According to my members, I sleep-talk a lot (almost every night), but I don’t remember any of it and I never have dreams. 3. I have the same birthday as my dad! 4. I can eat salads all day. I love salads! I love eating vegetables, especially celery and carrots, and prefer dressings like ranch and oriental. 5. I am not good at smiling. I have a hard time smiling so I’m still in the process of learning how to smile naturally! I have to make sounds out loud to smile [during photo shoots]. 6. I used to hate wearing sweatpants. I don’t know why but I hated sweatpants and never wore them when I was younger― even if I had to wear something more uncomfortable like slacks or jeans.. Now, I wear them all the time! 7. I rarely cry alone or in front of people. The only person who has seen me cry is INTAK. I was going through something heavy and was alone at a park by myself when INTAK came to pick me up. He started crying as soon as he saw me, and that made me cry. 8. I used to pull all my loose baby teeth. I hated having something loose in my mouth, so instead of waiting to go to the dentist, I used to pull them out on my own. 9. I have a light (barely noticeable) mole on my big toe. 10. I have curly hair, so unless I blow dry it, it goes wild.

SOUL

1. I used to collect beetles. I think I had up to 30 beetles in one big box. 2. I only wear Air Jordans. I only wear Jordans and my favorite design is the Air Jordan 1s. 3. I love dolls! I love buying and collecting dolls. I like anything that is cute and fuzzy. 4. I don’t like taking pictures of humans except KEEHO. I only take pictures of nature, architecture or like a beautiful scenery. The only time I would take a picture of a human is of KEEHO. 5. Me and my younger sister found an important historical stone artifact. We were just digging stuff up and found a stone artifact. We later learned it was a historically valuable artifact, so we donated it to a museum. 6. I wear my pants backwards. 7. I don’t like electric fans. I don’t like when wind blows in my face 8. I once had the same dream three times in a row. I had the same dream three times in a row, but every ending changed depending on the choices I made [in my dream]. 9. A bird pooped on my head while I was on my way to school. Without having much reaction, I just walked to school and waited until I had to go to the bathroom to wash. 10. I don’t get scared or surprised easily. I used to get yelled at for bowing down and saying hi to all the actors playing zombies, monsters or ghosts at haunted houses in theme parks.

JONGSEOB

1. I like books that are thick and with small letters for no particular reason. I tend to buy books that are thick, whatever the genre is. I think it’s because I’m a fast reader. 2. I never had cavities! I love eating sweets like jellies and candies. I can go through a whole pack in one sitting, but I’ve never had cavities! 3. I have something called a “knee hyperextension and/or back knee. My knee bends backwards in a straightened position unlike many people. 4 I love the dark. I usually don’t turn on the lights unless I really have to. 5. I could sleep for long periods of time. I once slept up to 16 straight hours, and I barely have dreams. Maybe like five times a year?! 6. I don’t like/eat seaweed or seagrass. 7. I love walking into a room that is super cold. I turn on the A/C and close the door for about 30 minutes so it can be ice cold before I walk in. 8. I want to learn how to play bass guitar one day! I watch random videos of jam sessions, and one day would really like to play bass guitar. 9. My eyesight is different on both eyes. I am near-sighted on one, and far-sighted on the other. 10. I am pretty good at playing games on my phone.

[wxlfstxrx]

Your O'Knutzy writing is my favourite thing! I feel like Logan is very clingly...wanna write me so cute/soft headcanons abt it? Or when they boys are sick?:))))

hey hey, so i.... deviated... from the prompt I’M SORRY. like i was writing sick logan and somehow i couldn’t channel the clingy whiny part of him. maybe bc i get all awkward, guys-i’m-fine-stop-fussing when i’m sick sooooooo. honestly ngl this took a while to write, it’s been a rough two or so days and i’m just exhausted at the moment. it’s far from how i wanted it to be, but it’s bugging me and i want to post it, so here it is. hope you like it anyway! characters by @lumosinlove.

Logan wakes up one Sunday morning, head pounding and freezing his butt off. He has no idea what time it is, and he tries to open his eyes to check the time on his phone screen, but the moment he even tries to move, it feels like he’s going to throw up. 

His whole body hurts and he’s sweating under the covers, but he simply cannot find the energy to throw them off him.

Exhausted, he lets himself drift off into unconsciousness again, until he’s woken up by knocking on his door some time later. He groans, pulling his pillow over his head and hoping that whoever it is will stop fuelling his raging migraine.

When he hears Dumo’s worried voice, however, he sighs and musters up enough energy to yell a very hoarse and scratchy come in that makes him sound like a crying horse.

Dumo nudges the door open with his hip and enters the basement, holding a tray with a bowl of soup and a glass of water with some pills in his hands. “How are you feeling, mon fils?” He asks softly as he approaches Logan’s bed.

“How—” Logan’s voice cracks and he coughs. “How did you know?”

“Well, five out of seven people in this house are currently down with the flu, and it’s currently eleven in the morning but you’re still not up yet. Wasn’t hard to figure that you’d be the sixth,” He shrugs, placing the tray on the cramped nightstand by his bed. He sits on the edge of the bed, and Logan scoots closer under the covers so Dumo can press the back of his hand to his forehead.

“Merde, you’re burning up. Do you want me to bring down some painkillers for you?” Dumo asks, frowning as he combs Logan’s long brown fringe back, away from his sweaty forehead.

“Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, Dumo,” Logan rasps out, choking at the end as he dissolves into another round of coughs.

Dumo tuts, shaking his head worriedly as he clasps a hand on Logan’s shoulder before standing up. He mumbles to himself in French while he lets himself out of the room, and Logan buries himself further under the covers.

He wakes up again when a warm hand brushes his face, tracing across his cheekbone. He frowns and crinkles his nose, making an incoherent sound as he sniffles, trying to clear his blocked nose.

“Hey, did I wake you up?” A quiet voice asks apologetically, and Logan instinctively leans into the touch. Leo.

“Mmmm, but s’ok,” Logan whispers, his hand emerging from under the duvet to close around Leo’s wrist.

“How’re you feeling?” A second voice pitches in.

“What do you think?” He scoffs, turning his head for a moment so he can sneeze into his elbow. 

“Ooh, someone’s moody,” Finn’s grinning face comes into focus as Logan blinks a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the light. He scowls, and Finn’s gaze softens. “Aww, I’m just teasing you, babe. C’mon, can you sit up?”

Leo slides a hand under Logan’s back and helps him shift into a sitting position, propped up against the headboard with the pillows cushioning his back. Finn picks up the bowl of soup and crosses over to the other side of the bed, carefully climbing onto the mattress and planting himself beside Logan, cross legged and facing him. 

He gives the soup a few good stirs with the spoon in his hand, squints at the bowl, and frowns. “It got cold.”

Without another word, he gets up and stalks out of the room. 

Logan blinks. “I could’ve just drank that. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Leo’s mouth quirks in a lopsided grin. “You know what he’s like. A complete baby at times, but he’s such a mom when it comes to things like this.”

Logan manages a weak laugh, which tapers off into a dry cough. “Fuck, I hate being sick.”

Leo grabs the glass of water and brings it up to Logan’s lips, and he closes his fingers around the glass, taking a few big gulps, letting out a satisfied ahhh when he drains the glass within the span of several seconds.

“Dumo called you two over?” He asks, frowning slightly.

“Mmhm, texted us saying you were ill, that the whole family’s ill, actually—” Leo tosses him a sympathetic look. “But yeah, Dumo’s alone in this, even Celeste can barely get out of bed, so we’re his reinforcements.”

He grins, and turns around as Finn re-enters the room with the same bowl of soup, now piping hot.

“Right, ‘m back, went to reheat the soup, Dumo’s a mess up there, with the kids just, y’know,” Finn rambles absentmindedly as he climbs back onto the bed, the soup sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the bowl.

“I swear, if you spill that…”

“I won’t, now stop talking and drink this,” Finn chides without malice. He scoops a spoonful of the scalding soup, lifts it to his mouth to blow on it gently, and turns his wrist so he can direct the spoon to hover right in front of Logan’s face.

“I— I can do it myself, Harz,” Logan splutters.

“I’m sure you can, babe, I’d be worried if you couldn’t. Now hurry up before I actually do spill this.”

Logan sighs and parts his lips, letting Finn tip the spoonful into his mouth. He sighs, closing his eyes as he feels the warm liquid slide down his throat, and he instantly feels a lot less groggy. 

Finn insists on feeding him the whole bowl of soup, whereas Leo helps to bring in a cold, damp cloth from the bathroom to press against Logan’s forehead. 

“Mes amours, I’ll be fine,” Logan awkwardly chuckles and rubs the back of his neck, not used to having people fuss over him like this. 

Leo gives him a strange look, and Finn grins. “You’re blushing! How adorable. I never thought I’d see the day where you’re embarrassed by people taking care of you.”

“No, I’m not,” Logan says indignantly, but Finn bursts out into laughter.

“You so are. I love this, oh my god.”

“Fuck you,” Logan rasps out, and does a weird, painful combination of a sneeze and a cough. 

“Okay, okay, let’s get some rest, hmm? But,” Leo points a finger at him. “Medicine first.”

Damn it.

Logan was hoping that they’d forget about it. He slowly slides downwards, further under the covers, and looks away when Leo holds out the pills in his hand.

“Wha— C’mon, babe,” Leo’s free hand attempts, and fails, to tug the covers off of Logan. “You’re not gonna recover if you don’t take your meds.”

“Don’t wanna,” Logan replies, voice muffled by the duvet covering his mouth.

“Is it the pills?” Finn frowns. “You still don’t take pills after all these years?”

Logan glares at Finn, who looks genuinely surprised for a moment, before he schools his expression, giving the brunette a small smile.

“Okay, okay,” He holds his hands up in front of him in surrender. “Hey, Peanut, give me those. I’ll be back.”

Leo hands Finn the pills, and the redhead leaves the room once again, Leo staring at the door closing.

He slides his hand beneath the duvet and locates Logan’s hand. He laces their fingers together, resting over Logan’s heart and he smiles at him tenderly.

“S’ok, mon chou,” He squeezes Logan’s hand, and he melts at how loving and caring his two boys are towards him. He lets himself snuggle closer to Leo, and Leo runs a hand through Logan’s hair soothingly, helping to ease his headache into a dull throb.

When Finn comes back into the room, grinning like the cheshire cat, Logan can’t help himself.

“What the fuck?” He croaks out.

“Is he allowed to eat that?” Leo asks, startled.

“Yeah, ice cream’s actually good for when you’re sick,” Finn answers, giving them a smug grin. He climbs back onto the bed, beside Logan, and hands him the bowl.

Logan eyes the two scoops of dark chocolate ice cream warily. “Where’re the pills, Harz?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Finn retorts with an exaggerated wink.

“You know,” Leo’s hand freezes and he leans closer to Logan’s ear. “You need to take your meds if you wanna be strong again, hmm? You’ll definitely need your strength for what I’ve planned for you.”

Logan shivers as Leo’s breath tickles his ear and the hand closed around his moves lower, trailing lightly across his abdomen.

“Playing dirty, eh, Peanut?”

“Oh, I’ll show you dirty,” Leo licks his lips, voice low and tone teasing.

Finn clears his throat and nods his head towards the bowl still in Logan’s hand.

“You’re gonna make me finish this, aren’t you?” Logan sighs defeatedly, rubbing his face against the sleeve of his hoodie wearily. 

Finn does a mock bow, which looks ridiculous considering he’s seated down, body half twisted to face him. “Any time now, Your Highness.”

Logan rolls his eyes, but lets go of Leo’s hand to pick up the spoon. He tries his best not to think about the pills buried somewhere within the scoops of ice cream, and he shovels spoonful after spoonful into his mouth while leaning against Leo’s side.

He reckons he tasted the bitterness of the pills at some points, but overall he has to admit that it’s better than he expected. Finn looks like a proud mom when Logan finishes the final scoop and leans his head back against Leo’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut.

Leo pulls the empty bowl out of Logan’s hands and turns around to place them on the nightstand. 

“How’re you feeling, baby?” Finn whispers, moving closer so he can wrap an arm around Logan’s shoulders. 

Logan just nods and hums a noncommittal response, full and warm and satisfied. He feels Leo adjusting his position so they’re lying side by side on the bed, Logan in Finn’s arms and Leo spooning him from the back. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs into Finn’s chest, feeling his mind drift in and out of focus once again.

A soft kiss is pressed onto the top of his head, and he mentally thanks Dumo for calling his boys, his perfect boys, over to the house. He feels much better now; his head has almost completely stopped pounding, he’s stopped sweating through his hoodie, and he feels loved. 

Logan falls right back asleep with a smile on his face, not even stirring when the door creaks open and Marc stumbles in, piling on top of the boys, right between him and Finn. He definitely doesn’t stir when Dumo stands in the doorway with his phone out to snap a picture of the four boys huddled together on the bed, tired beyond belief, but with the biggest smile he’s ever had all day.

[golddaggers]

girl crush

pairing: best friend!harry styles x reader;

warnings: none really just a smidge of angst but plenty of fluff. 

a/n: so here we are! i just ask of you to go kind on me because this is my first time, ok? and sort of self indulging. anyway. leave a comment/reblog if you do like it!

word count: about 2,8k. it’s a quick little thing.

It was a typical Tuesday, I’d woken up, drank my large-sized cup of coffee, and then spent almost five hours straight staring at my computer screens. Not that all of those hours had been any good, I searched and searched, but still hadn’t cracked just how I was supposed to solve the problem. Hell, about three times I was yelling at the machine, calling it ‘bloody stupid’ before trying another approach, still proven worthless. 

Lunch had been skipped, I barely took a bite of my grilled sandwich before diving back to the code lines, analysing. I’ve always been so good at cracking things, finishing hard puzzles… At least I needn’t worry about a deadline breathing down my neck, this particular feature would only be out to the end-users on the major release. 

Either way, the idea of not being able to come up with a solution bugged me. I could never leave things well enough alone if they were unsolved. It was only when one of my friends texted me about some old high school chick we both used to hate that was pregnant that I realised how late it was. My back hurt from spending too much time sitting down on my chair and I could feel my eyes tired, staring at a computer screen for so many hours wasn’t exactly too healthy. 

At least it put the tornado of thoughts I’ve been having for the past couple of weeks to ease. I didn’t want to think about how I had the worst timing ever. Or how I was a big coward for keeping this to myself. 

But… I couldn’t just tell him. Falling in love with your best friend seems easy in the movies, in reality, I was overwhelmed with anxiety. Harry and I grew up together, we were inseparable from the first time we shared toys in our old town’s playground. Never before I would’ve thought I’d be here, with butterflies rioting in my stomach when he flashed his green eyes at me. It’d be easy if I could just open up, only opening up meant I could lose our 20 and something years of friendship. That was just too much to lose.  

Now it seemed as if I had lost my chance. He’d gone out on a date with a girl. They’d been going out for a while. She was… breathtaking. Golden hair, brown eyes, freckles, and a body I wouldn’t ever have. Harry wasn’t the easiest to commit to someone, not that he was a womaniser or something within those lines… He just had problems. Like we all do, I suppose. He seemed genuinely interested in her, though, and it killed me inside to realise it. 

I looked toward a corner where a tiny pink ukulele rested and decided I could do with some singing. So I go over to pick it up, playing a couple of notes to see if it was tuned. It’d been a while since I last took it between my hands. Hadn’t enough time to do anything, if I was being honest. 

Sat back on my chair, I take my time to reminisce over a song I heard him humming a few days ago. Harry had been doing the dishes, something he hated, but I’d cooked for the two of us, so it was the least he could do. He laughed like a child all the way to the sink, even put on my pink apron. It wasn’t unusual for him to do them when he was in fact at home - which happened only a few handfuls of weeks at a time. 

Leaning against the counter top, I watched him. Then the humming began. One would think a singer would get enough on the stage, well, maybe they do, not him though. In the shower, sending texts, doing the dishes… Harry was always singing something. Low and more to himself. I couldn’t lie, even if I wanted to, that I love when he’s home, his entire being enough to warm up the place. 

That night I had been wearing one of his old tees, he leaves them everywhere. And it wasn’t unusual for me to “steal” some for myself, besides being comfy, especially the cotton sweaters, they all smelt like him. Felt homely to be inside them, as if he were sleeping next to me. 

“I’ve got a girl crush…” I start, unsure if I’ve got the tone right, “Hate to admit it, but I got a heart rush, it ain’t slowing down.”

My legs are crisscrossed as I rest further back onto the black cushion of my chair. Each note fueled the turmoil growing inside my chest. It was so true, every time I looked at her, the pictures on her Instagram were flawless… I wanted to have everything she had. Because if I did, maybe he would look at me differently, he’d see me in a different light. 

The very instrument on my hands had been a gift from him. I have always enjoyed playing the guitar, I came to write a few songs myself… But I’ve never seen it as something I’d want to do for a living. Didn’t like the spotlight very much, not that being friends with a worldwide known popstar helped. Paps seemed to be everywhere. It was just annoying how we couldn’t enjoy a single outing without being awakened with a buzzing phone. My other friends texting me the several headlines saying “Harry Styles has been seen yet again with childhood best friend, could they be dating?”

Got worse when we moved in together. The thing was… We didn’t really live together, yes, the house, more like a mansion if I was being honest, belonged to him and he stayed there whenever he was in London, which, if he was working too much, seldom happened. So no, we didn’t live together. Harry just thought it’d be nice for me to stay there since it was so empty all the time and I only said yes because I needed saving money to pay off the loan I had taken to cover my university tuition. It felt like a lifetime away. 

I stayed because I had grown spoiled. At first, I was annoyed he didn’t let me pay for the expenses whenever he was away, I was nowhere rich, but now I made more than enough to cover the bills, even for a house as big as this one, since most of it was inhabited. He insisted on me keeping it, doing fun things I wanted to do, and I shouldn’t worry about anything else. A couple of months later, I saw the appeal to his offer. I also knew my best friend well to know he was a stubborn son of a bitch.  

Everything changed when Harry told me about his golden girl. After so many years, we had grown aware of the other’s quirks, as I like to put it, we knew how to deal with one another. My point being was… Harry could be a bit sensitive when I told him about my dates, now it lights a spark of hope within me, back then, however, I brushed it off as him trying to act as a protective big brother. He, on the other hand, never had problems when talking about the people he dated to me. Often I wouldn’t care. This time… It happened right after the fatidic Tuesday. 

The pain stung like a sharp edge of a knife against my heart.  

“I wanna’ taste her lips, yeah, ‘cos they taste like you… I wanna’ drown myself in a bottle of her perfume...” The notes come out soft, I can hear a little metallic sound as my hands switch the notes and I keep singing the sad lyrics, “Yeah, ‘cos maybe then, you’d want me just as much...” 

“Thought I had a nightingale in this room,” His accent slipped through the sentence like butter on a warm toast, “‘lo, love.”

His presence startled me, I almost dropped the ukulele. It was way too early for him to be back home from his date. Part of me wanted to ask how it’d gone and in any other situation, I would’ve. Not tonight, though. Didn’t wanna know if she had kissed him good night. If he gave her his signature green-eyed glare when he wanted something… If he’d asked for another date. My heart wouldn’t be able to cope. 

“You scared me.” 

“I reckon you said I was fit like a daydream,” He stuffed his chest and I couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Are you actually quoting your ex-girlfriend?” Harry rolled his eyes, dismissing my comment completely, “Why are you home already?”

“D’ya want me to leave?”

“You are ridiculous,” I say as I stand up, the Fleetwood Mac tee I had on falling to my mid thighs. It was oversized because it didn’t belong to me,  which doesn’t go unnoticed by him, who has a cheeky grin directed at me. “Stop looking. You keep ditching them and I just happen to like these shirts.”

“I didn’t say anything, doll. But I was looking for that one, though I settled for that old pink striped sweater of yours.”

“So it’s with you?” My indignation seeps through, “I went nutty looking for that.”

“Looks better on me anyway.”

“Nonsense.”

The laughter shakes his whole body, yet again I am plowed with our childhood memories, that right there hadn’t changed. Harry still laughed like a little child, a boy with his blue truck toy. I felt warm inside, to watch him like that. To still have, after so long, a friend like he was to me.  

Harry goes quiet then, bright green staring right at me. I know what’s coming. It’s happened before - I sang about the boys I liked quite often, I suppose. So it was obvious he wanted to know who was stealing my attention this time. He wanted to know who I was singing about. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Wha’? I didn’t even open my mouth.” 

“I know you,” Back on my feet, I grab my plate with the remains of what was supposed to be my lunch and head out to the kitchen. He followed me around like a stray puppy. 

The kitchen is an enormous place. Wooden cupboards with just about every piece of china one could dream of, fine crystal glasses for wine and champagne, bowls, plates, even goblets could be found. Inside the several drawers, besides the silver cutlery, I had managed to fold some table sheets I bought at a flea market. Harry would lose his mind if he knew where they came from. On the left corner, a tall two-door grey fridge, with a shopping list on its door to remind me that I needed to go out tomorrow to get things. Next to the two basin sink, was an electric cooktop that had become my best friend, I loved to cook there, staring out the window - the yard was beautiful, green grass all year long, though during spring the most gorgeous flowers blossomed. I loved that place very much.

Right in the middle was an island, my lone cactus trying to make it a little less plain. Which wasn’t that hard, the dark marble surface glimmered under the led light.  

After I threw out the sandwich and put the plate on the sink, I started pacing around to gather things for dinner, fresh tomatoes to make the sauce with homegrown onions and garlic. I liked cultivating my food. I got flour, eggs, olive oil, and salt. It was all I needed to make the dough.  

I could still feel his eyes on me, as I moved effortlessly through his kitchen, collecting everything I needed. 

“What do you want?”

“You’re too stressed,” Harry says, standing up straight and standing next to me, “Is it about the boy you were singing about? Or girl. I dunno.”

“Seriously?” Can’t help but shake my head, “That’s your approach? ’M not telling you, H.”

“Oh, you’re keepin’ secrets from me. That’s new.”

He grabs the knife on my hand, starting to chop the onion into tiny cubes. Always skillful with his hands, he was.

“‘M not keeping secrets. It’s just none of your business.” 

“Ouch.” Harry pours the onion into the pan, stealing the tomatoes to start chopping them as well. I focused on the dough. “You’re so adamant about not telling me I’ll start thinking it’s me.” 

The entire world stills for me when he says that out loud, and I don’t know what to say, so I keep cracking the eggs, pouring them over the flour then adding, by eye, what I considered to be enough of olive oil. At last, I put two pinches of salt into the mix.  

My silence seems to annoy him further. 

“C’mon, it was a joke.” He tries, gently grabbing my arm and I see myself having to stop mixing, “I really want to know, though, have to make sure you’re with someone worthy of you.”

“Why?”

Couldn’t look him in the eye, I have them glued to the bowl with the sticky batter. The hand on my arm sneaks to my back, he’s warm and I tremble under his touch, my breath comes out a bit harsher. 

Harry takes a deep breath before answering, “I care about you, bunny.”

“Is that all it is?” Now I dare to look up, to find those emeralds. I liked quite a lot to look at them, they were akin to shiny jewelry and I was the dazzled child. Right now they showed nothing but a shade of confusion. 

“What else?”

A tightness in my chest grows, I know right away I am about to cry and I don’t want to. Don’t want to fall apart in front of him. In the middle of cooking. When things seemed to be going amazing for the two of us. Despite my most intimate wishes, I ended up doing just that, my dirty hands falling limp as he held me in his arms, asking over and over what had happened. 

His chin rests on the top of my head and I can hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. My bottom lip is quivering. I was so tired of being tough, I just wanted to be loved. To be loved by him. 

“I need to tell you something,” A sniff makes me sound whiny, “Promise me you won’t be mad.”

“Never,” Harry speaks so quietly I believe him. “Could never be mad at you, bunny.”

“Okay…” 

I bring his much bigger hands into my own. They warm up under his touch. If I’m being honest, I warm up completely. Body and soul. He gives a soft squeeze, urging me to speak. It’s needless to say that he’s anxious, always being the curious one between the two of us.

“The song… Well, um, I was singing for you.” It was as quiet as a whisper, “I like you.”

“Don’t be silly.” His face goes serious, “You’re not kidding me, are ya?”

“Do you think I would?”

There’s a lump at the bottom of my throat, tears still falling. I didn’t have a problem being vulnerable with him, or opening up - now I was embarrassed. I would apologise if I hadn’t felt his warm lips start kissing my salty-teared cheeks, only to finish up with a chaste kiss on my own. 

“What are you doing?” I pull back, shocked that he’d kissed me. “Do you...”

“I am so glad you’ve said first, fancying you for the longest time hasn’t been easy. But I suppose it gave me quite the inspiration.”

“You’ve written about me?”

“More times than I am proud to admit.”

This time it’s me who kisses him, standing on the tip of my toes, losing my fingers into the soft curls. It seemed very much unreal to me. He never struck me as the type to keep feelings in check or to himself. I should’ve seen something. Or maybe I did and didn’t want to face that the best person I could’ve fallen for was right in front of me. 

Then I think about her. The golden-haired beauty. She wouldn’t be too pleased.

“She’s just a friend, bunny.”

“Reading my thoughts now, Styles?”

“Nah, just know you too well.”

“Yeah, I guess you do.”

Harry lifts me, kissing me again. And I can’t help but feel whole. Like a bit of me that was missing had been set on its place. 

Bless the will to play a song.