#colored lines take me awhile like hours and hours but they are finally cute!

[unknownjpegs]

had

Benji drops his fork with a clatter, boot jerking out to nudge Xavier’s innocently kicking foot. Nobody’s witness to the little display of immature violence: the diner, although not the one to which Benji lovingly referred to as his last pit stop, is mostly empty. Save their waitress, who is more busy popping bubbles and texting behind the counter, and the line cook, who has taken four fifteen minute smoke breaks in the last hour. 

Benji knows both well — but not well enough that he wants either overhearing what Xavier has just leaned across their red-top laminate table to whisper. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, rolling his eyes and trying to stave off the blush. “You are on one tonight, huh?”

“Hm.” Xavier’s eyes flash with a playful glint. “Definitely one I’d like to be on, that’s for sure.”

He’s long polished off the stack of pancakes slid in front of them by Maura, the occupied waitress. Benji suspects all that high fructose syrup might have settled funny. 

He shakes his head with a silly, stuttering laugh. Maybe it’s meant to self-soothe, but he thinks it really only betrays how jittery the comment has gotten him. It peeters out awkwardly loud with a punctuated cough.

“Whatever the fuck they put in those blueberry pancakes—“

“So it has been awhile.”

Xavier looks smug as he says it, chin propped on curled fingers. The other is sliding slowly across the table, index and middle walking a funny little march towards Benji’s own hand. 

“Yeah, a’right? Been awhile.”

Xavier leans forward another few centimeters, nose dipping coquettishly. He bats his eyes a few times.

Benji quirks an eyebrow. “You got something you want to say?”

“I mean, sort of.” All at once, he flings himself backward in the seat. Adopts a weird set to his jaw, a glare, and makes like he’s got a massive cigar between his fingers. In the worst, most confusing accent Benji’s ever heard, he grumbles: “I wanna make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

Benji stares at him expectantly, a little grin starting to curl the corners of his mouth. “Who’s that then?”

“I dunno.” Xavier says, snapping out of the impression. “Tess does that all the time, though.”

The waitress comes round to collect their dishes, eventually. Which as far as Benji’s concerned is awful nice: she could just sit there on her phone, tap at the screen with those long nails she pokes against Xavier’s signature on the check to call it cute. 

Ah, he realizes. That’s why. 

“You’ve got a crush.” 

Xavier wiggles forward on the other side of the booth, head tilted and mouth stretched in one of his perfect, toothy grins. “Oh, for sure. Want to guess who it is?”

“Couldn’t if I tried.”

“You mean ‘haven’t the foggiest’, right?”

Benji leans closer too, their heads tucked close and slightly tilted. They’re still far — to a spectator, they probably look just engrossed in conversation. Flirtatious maybe, if someone wants to read too into the interaction. 

“You havin’ a laugh at me?”

“I love when you say that,” Xavier sighs. “It sounds so stupid.”

The hand that’s been inching across the table finally reaches him, fingers brushing just at the edge of his sleeve. Squirming under, the tiniest movement, to tap on his wrist. 

“Not an awful effective way to talk to a guy you’ve just been begging to fuck, hey?”

Xavier flushes with color, takes his turn to glance around with an embarrassed did anyone hear that nervous grin. 

“I wasn’t begging —“

“Yet,” Benji interrupts in a chirp.

“— shut up — I was asking how long—“

“Since you’ve let someone take care of you?” 

The quote is whisper-quiet. Absolutely inaudible to any sets of ears besides theirs. And yet, Xavier’s flush deepens, his hands coming up to cup his own cheeks as his shoulders curl inwards.

“Yeah.” Benji snorts. “Bit different hearin’ it back.”

“You’re being an asshole,” Xavier whines. He slumps in his seat a bit more, knees nudging at Benji’s thighs beneath the table. That impatient fidgeting that means he was ready to leave an hour ago, means that Xavier might be…needy. Maybe Benji will soon find himself pinned up against the car and thoroughly explored in the parking lot, under a street light sleek glimmer of a rain-soaked night.

His own foot begins tapping; vaguely, he recognizes it as a song that’d been playing on the radio during the drive here. He pinches his fingers together at Xavier, smiling. 

“Hand me your keys.” 

“Why?” Xavier juts his bottom lip out. “Are you going to leave? Oh no — you’re finally done with me.”

“Sure am fuckin’ done with your dramatic shit.” Benji scoffs, unable to keep the fondness from his tone. “M’not bothered by the cold, was gonna go warm it up for you.”

Xavier blinks at him for a moment and then fishes quickly for his keychain, crammed in the pocket of his big jacket. “You know, I was kind of like — well, I wasn’t kidding. I definitely would…like I want to — but now? Man. Uh, I really, really actually am going to speed on the way back.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Benji slips a hand briefly into his hair as he stands and rounds the booth, collecting the jingling keys. He stoops a little, then glances over Xavier’s shoulder to the counter. Both the waitress and the line cook are trying not to look at them. Benji ducks his head to hide a smirk in Xavier’s hair, then tilts his chin up and kisses him firmly.

Xavier freezes and then immediately relaxes, a gentle sigh leaving his parted lips. The kiss stays fast and chaste, but from the way the two employees suddenly look anywhere but their direction - maybe not as chaste as they intend.

*

“You don’t do that often,” Xavier says from the doorway. He’s got a towel around his hips (distracting) and one messily drying his hair (also distracting). Benji leans back on the edge of the mattress, his own skin dotted with droplets from their shower.

“Hm?” He asks, hum low and far-off. Slowly, his gaze crawls a slowly lingering focus up Xavier’s stomach, his chest, circle his red face to find his eyes. 

 “They’re up here, dude.”

“Got there eventually, dude.” Benji mocks, sticking his tongue out. “N’what do you mean, do what often?”

Xavier pushes away from the frame. He takes two slow steps into the room that Benji watches with rapt interest. His pale fingers are curling between the crimson towel, which made certain cleanups less of a hassle, and hipbone. Benji strays only once to the curve of his growing erection, but it’s a generously long moment. 

“Kiss me.”

Benji swallows at the soft, whispery tone. It settles over his shoulders, makes the hairs on the back of his neck prick. Xavier goes to his knees and — his hands, too.Benji’s fingers dig into his own thighs as he starts fucking crawling across the remainder of space. It feels like an eternity, their eyes locked together and Xavier’s dangerous little smirk growing, growing. When he’s between Benji’s knees, he settles with hands on either side of his hips, his cheek stark against brown skin. 

“I kiss you all the time.” Benji somehow finds the strength to manage those words; Xavier turns his face and begins a series of kisses at his knee. 

“In public.” 

His murmur tickles, makes him fidget. Two massive palms rise, quick as a flash, and pin him with a splay over the tops of his thighs. Benji bites his bottom lip, stifles a moan. He feels the flex of tendons in Xavier’s forearms. If he focuses, he thinks he could pick out the vibration of each tiny strand of tissue, each clench and release of muscle. He feels, sometimes, that he has come to know Xavier that well — cellular. Not even just from the gift of his blood, but the time they spend together. The topics they fall naturally, sweetly into conversation over. Each joke met with laughter before its punchline, each unspoken observation finished exactly how Benji himself would conclude it, each instinct turn towards the other.

“Well, ‘course not.” Benji replies. He swallows a lump in his throat as Xavier slowly ascends his body, pink mouth touching gentle, gentle, gentle up the outside of his leg. They slide together, chest to chest and hips to hips. The towel tossed over his lap gets pushed away, and Benji drops his head back with a groan when he feels the slip of tacky, blood-warm skin to his stomach. 

“Why?” 

Xavier’s fingers come to bury at the nape of his neck, tugging gently until Benji acquiesces. He can feel the exact amount of strength it would take to pull away — not much, barely a twitch — and submits to the human difference. He lets himself be held down, maneuvered, pressed into the mattress. Does so with a soft noise, a bit of apprehension; he hadn’t been lying. 

Awhile.

Benji finds himself twisting as warm hands coast up his sides, give him an encouraging squeeze to the ribs. He lifts his arms, offering Xavier more room, and finds himself nicely weighted as more of them slide together. Eventually he’s bracketed, pressed firmly into the give of the bed. He soaks in that feeling for a moment: Xavier’s warm and ever-expanding chest against his still one, a wet tongue dragging across his neck, and the sensation of skin brush, sticking together. 

“Because.” Benji mumbles, a hitch to his voice. He’s being touched, appreciated, held; he’s alive with it, a tingle of something like hot liquid in his veins. Like he’d just fed. 

He isn’t sure how to explain that he knows Xavier’s next noise is a soft prompt for more, but he does. Because, why? He imagines him saying.

“Dunno. You —“ he gasps. Xavier has bent a little, dragged himself back down Benji’s torso to start at his stomach. More wet kisses touch a line up his skin, each of them increasingly distracting. “You’re special. Don’t need to prove it.” His lips twitch. “Blush’s cute. Gatekeepin’ that one for myself.”

“Kinda selfish.” 

Benji snorts, slings an arm around his shoulders when he rises up for a kiss that seems unavoidable, fueled by desire neither of them can ignore. Quick and messy, one they both smile into.

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely.”

It’s too difficult not to continue the consuming kisses, after that. Each slow press of their mouths becomes slowly more frantic, more desperate. The soft noises dial slowly to loud and Benji finds that nice floating headspace in the process. Xavier’s mouth and hands are greedy, pawing at him and sorting him thoroughly out with dizzying kisses. Each one against his lips he imagines pushes him further and further backwards, down; until he melts into the bed. Becomes the closest adjacency to pliant his preturnatual physiology will allow. He feels present and held, but also like Xavier has flattened his body into Benji already, although for now they just press together in delicious places. He feels corralled backwards, coaxed there, until his brain rests in the furthest curve of his skull. 

Benji shivers. His chin tips towards the ceiling, mouth dropping open as a clever mouth chases up the center of his torso. There’s the bite of teeth that makes him hiss, wet suction around his nipple earning a full-body twitch. All the while Xavier makes more noise than even him. No moan is muffled despite how occupied he seems to be, single-minded in his attentions. 

Benji can��t say it’s anything new — he’s had mouths on him like this, been left with (however fleeting) marks in the shape of teeth. But it hasn’t been like this. Soft and dream-like, despite the heat of it all, the I want you hastening every kiss, every roaming spread over flesh. Xavier’s fingers move expertly, and eventually begin to move the seeking, selfish touch back down his body. 

He makes the mistake of letting his eyelids flutter open, allowing his chin to drop to his chest. And Xavier takes the same exact moment to pause, to look up — the immediate electricity in their joined gazes has him arching his back, hips rocking upwards. Xavier’s green eyes are deadly and dark, his cheeks red; but that look is all determination. A bit of ego, because when the flat of his tongue presses over Benji’s pectoral at the same time a big hand cups between his legs, his head flies back. 

“Oh, fuck.” He gasps, fist shooting up to his mouth. He bites down on curled knuckles, one fang scraping a bit too hard and drawing blood. Xavier sees that happen — or smells the coppery tinge. He sits upright and snatches Benji’s hand, presses a kiss to the center of his palm before lapping at the gush of red trailing down his wrist.

“Not really what I had in mind when I said prep.”

“Would you relax?” Xavier snorts. The heat dissipates, even if momentarily, with his amusement. “I’ve done this before.”

“No you haven’t.” Benji insists cheerfully. “You’ve never fuckin’ touched anybody else, yeah?”

“Right. Never even looked at no one.” He sits back on his haunches, a lovely vein in his thigh pulsing. He looks so tall above Benji like this, shoulders only slightly curved to ensure they can look properly at one another. And they do — Benji does, at least. Xavier is staring.

“Just me.”

He nods. “Or touched.”

His vision shakes as one of those big hands slides over his hipbone, closes around his so far neglected cock. The light from the street spills into the room through the window, and the rain hasn’t ceased yet; everything feels syrupy, his senses slowed in a way that reminds him of humanity. Not dull but heightened, each second trickling long enough to bask in, to enjoy. He doesn’t get intoxicated anymore, unless it’s at Xavier’s expense, so this is — it feels —

“Xavier, don’t stop.”

There’s another quiet laugh. It’s buried, he realizes, in his neck. Hot breath there immediately after, urging his hands to bury into red hair. Something squeezes his chest; if he knew better, he would say it was the double-tap of his heart. 

“I won’t. Unless, y’know. You ask me to. I was joking when I said that — offer you can’t refuse shit, obviously. You can always —“

Benji whines, gives a little kick and puts some of his strength into the tug of his fist. Xavier gasps and falls forward, their chests sliding together again.

“Don’t. Stop.”

*

He doesn’t, and Benji is worse for it. Or better. He can’t tell. There’s not much happening outside him, at the moment. Everything feels — all inward. In his chest, the pit of his stomach, static buzz arcing across his skull in bursts of heat-lighting want. Xavier had been thorough; he feels stretched all over, pliant in a lovely way but empty in the worst. And all it does is make Xavier mean. Gives him an ego. He keeps prompting Benji for another noise, another, another. He buries a smile into his neck, tongue and teeth leaving those tragically temporary marks, as his fingers move. 

“Taking your time.” 

“You said it’s been awhile,” he’d teased with a nasty quirk of them inside Benji, making him shudder and moan outright. “I’m just trying to be thoughtful. And maybe, like a little bit, only a teeny tiny bit, totally enjoying revenge.”

“You’re in for revenge once I — fuckin’ hell, Xavier. Oh, shit.”

Xavier smarmy bragging seems more a distraction than anything. He takes that exact moment to line up and push forward. Benji grits his teeth and hangs on, giggling a breathless laugh at the mental image of clutching the railing of some churning ship. He feels unmoored like that, tossed over waves and feeling as though the world pulses around him. His eyes slip shut, arms tight around Xavier’s waist. Holding him there, steady and still until he wants the movement. And he does — needs the rocking of those hips into him. 

He’s trying to avoid adding gasoline to the fire. Turning the crank that adds more and more ;deviousness to that grin. His chest heaves, expanding for breath he won’t need ever again. He’s trying, he is, but it feels too good. Too enveloping, all Xavier inside and out. 

“Fuck.” He whines, a micro adjustment of his hips accomplishing nothing but making him gasp again. “Fuckin’ hell. More, more. C’mon, bastard.”

Xavier pulls his head up with what seems like great effort, and Benji has to groan and shut his eyes against the vision. He thinks maybe the number of times someone has been above him, their faces so close, bodies touching this intimately —

It’s been violence, hasn’t it? It’s been violence. 

But Xavier cups under a thigh, kisses his cheek, moves against him mindfully, purposefully. There’s power in every thrust, a punch of sensation that makes him gasp, jolt. Not a fight. Not violent. But something that touches him all the same; both are an intimate knowledge, and Xavier’s using it to make him feel good. Feel handled, known, enjoyed.

And Xavier’s thrown onto his back for the trouble, tossed and wrists pinned as Benji slips into place with that blink-fast blur of motion. He sinks down, pausing just for a moment to adjust before he puts his weight into the churn of his hips. Xavier turns wild under him, barks out a laugh and murmurs something incomprehensible before his head falls back, before the end comes roaring up to meet them both.

It’s quick and messy. Benji’s thighs burn, or he imagines it — muscle use doesn’t feel the same, anymore, so whatever this is close. It’s close, Xavier always brings him to the feather soft edge of humanity. Tastes that way, or helps Benji remember, or makes him feel in ways where it’s so, so obvious that it never drained from him at all. 

He babbles praise as the orgasm swells up in his stomach, empties warmth into his chest. Xavier is chanting yes, yes, and it’s only then that Benji realizes his fangs touch against the pulse in Xavier’s neck. Present, there, asking permission. Making an offer. Warmth spreads in him; the blood and its intoxicating life zipping through cold veins. But also Xavier’s moan bouncing around his skull, tacky release on his thighs.

Benji’s huffing with the comedown high, laughter stuck in his throat as he laps at the fresh punctures. Below him, Xavier twists and jerks and paws at his back, his ass, pulls him into little ghostly facsimiles of the desperate pace they’d just fallen from.

“Holy shit.” Benji finally murmurs, mouth slick and warm with blood as he lays kisses down Xavier’s sternum. 

“JesusMaryn’Joseph,” Xavier slurs in another awful, goofy accent. And that’s all it takes — Benji kicks off. His stomach aches with the force of his laughter. A different ache than the burn in his thighs, his abdomen, the almost-human feeling of muscle use. Strain. He can’t keep himself upright.The laughter sends him slumping to the side, his cheek sliding off Xavier’sarm. Which tucks around him, reels him in and stops him from slipping right off the bed to the floor.

When he settles,he opens his eyes to find Xavier’s face close. So much so that he can feel the heat against his own cheeks. In his own cheeks; he knows he’s flush from the blood, the laughter. That it will be temporary. Like the hickeys, the five-point ovals on his hips, stomach.

“Holy shit.” Xavier agrees in a whisper…and they’re off again. Clutching at each other, knees jerking and legs kicking helplessly at sheets. Fueled by the rush of dopamine, each others’ unending laughter. They clutch at each other and Benji only lets himself think temporary for those marks.

Not this — never this. Never Xavier. This he’s determined to have forever, however he’ll be had.

[la-appel-du-vide]

08•11•23 - Nashville, Beach Bach Day 1

Day One

We knew this was going to be a full and exhausting weekend, but it is somehow still surprising to me how jam-packed it was. It didn't help that Beach was in Lake Powell until the day we left, meaning we had to take a later flight than I wanted, plus there weren't any direct flights at that time. But it was her party, of course, so we worked around it. Kena decided to go out early, to be there longer and spend time with an old friend. I get it, but it did suck that she didn't come with us, because she missed the big reveal. Beach obviously knew we were going, and knew we were flying somewhere, but I didn't want her to know where it was going to be until we got to the airport. So of course it would have been more fun to do that together. But don't worry, I made the most of it. When Beach got to my house, I first gave her her sweatshirt for the weekend. Hers was white and said "Here comes the bride" on the back, with a cute little ring icon. Kena and I got maroon ones, trying to match the wedding colors, that say "Here comes the party" on the back, with a disco ball icon. I figured it would be the perfect way to kick things off, and a great plane outfit. Meanwhile, Kena was already in Nashville, and having a really hard time getting into the Airbnb. The hosts weren't responding, we didn't have the codes, and it was a little scary for a minute. I was dealing with that, while trying to pack and realizing that I couldn't find my driver's license - which is obviously a huge problem when you're planning to be in bars all weekend. So it was chaotic and stressful for a bit, but everything panned out. I found my ID, I got everything packed in time, and Kena was eventually able to get in to the Airbnb. Problems solved.

When we got to the airport, I made Beach sit to the side while I got checked in, so that I could do a more dramatic reveal. I was nervous that she had suspected Nashville, so I'd been trying to throw her off for awhile, by telling her lies about what the weather would be like, and things like that. So when I did decide to do the reveal, it came to me last second to play it like Atlanta (which was our layover) was our final destination. I had her close her eyes, then I handed her the Atlanta ticket. She actually did seem excited, despite what a random, weird choice that was, although she did say she'd always heard about "Atlantic City" being a great time hahaha. I was dying. I had to inform her that that is different from Atlanta. But then I gave her the real ticket, and that was even more fun. Even though she'd been suspicious, she was super excited, and so was I! It didn't take long before we were on the first plane and on our way. It didn't leave until midnight, so I was super exhausted after a long work day especially, but I still didn't sleep all that well. We didn't get to sit together, and I always hate that, but oh well. We do what we have to do I guess. After a quick layover, we flew the last hour out to Nashville, where Kena picked us up and we were ready to start our busy day!

We made a stop at Walgreens so Kena could get some supplies for her first (which really was falling apart, and super gross), and then went back to the Airbnb to get ready for day one! Despite the trouble, the Airbnb was super cute, modern, and comfortable. We were really happy with it. Day one's theme was "Last Hoe Down" - meaning, dress like a cowgirl. Everyone killed day one outfits! We looked GOOD if I say so myself. I had printed out our itinerary for the week, and covered each line with a thin sheet of paper, so that Beach could reveal one activity at a time. First up? Brunch at Stateside Kitchen! It was fun to drive through downtown Nashville for the first time. Stateside Kitchen was an adorable place, and a great start. Kena and I split a breakfast burrito and an omelet, and while the burrito was my personal favorite, everything was great.

Next, we headed over to American Paint. I was super excited about this one! We got to make our own, authentic cowgirl hats. You pick a hat base, decide what wraps, charms, and feathers you want on it, put custom burn marks or stitching in, decide how to shape the brim, and can even add branding! It was hard for me to make decisions, since I'm super indecisive, but I had a blast. I went with a traditional brown hat, burned it up good to make it darker, left it's original leather wrap and clothespin on it, added some fabric wraps, added a small letter A charm, and then had them brand a small flower on the back. It turned out so good - and so did Beach's and Ken's! We all did something very different, and that's what made it so fun. We noticed Five Daughters Bakery next door, and even though we were supposed to stop there Sunday morning, it made sense to just try it while we were already right there. So that's what we did! We all tried a doughnut and specialty soda. It was good, but not my all-time favorite for sure.

We made a visit over to Centennial Park, for some pictures with the iconic Parthenon, and to see the bench that the Mayor built and dedicated to Taylor Swift when she was in town for the Eras tour. That's because the first line of invisible string says, "Green was the color of the grass where I used to read at Centennial Park." So the bench says, "For Taylor Swift - a bench for you to read on at Centennial Park - Welcome home, Nashville." Too cute! We made Beach play a game where we'd play a song related to the next activity and see if she could guess it. So we played her Invisible String, and she guessed things like "greenery" (lols), yogurt shops, bookstores... she claims she said the park, but she sure didn't hahah. She also probably didn't know that Centennial Park was in Nashville before, but it's just like Central Park in NYC. Nashville is HUMID, and we know how I feel about that. Pictures were so hot. We were all absolutely dripping sweat out on the grass. It got more tolerable when we went up into the Parthenon columns, but still. Hot, hot, hot - but beautiful. And the pictures were worth it.

Then it was time to cool off at dinner, and the restaurant was Hampton Social! It was so, so cute. I can't get over how everything in Nashville is just so girly, and decorated, and artsy. It is SUCH a bachelorette party destination, and they are just everywhere! I loved that is felt like our own little Barbie world. Everyone was so sweet to each other, and it made it feel more safe hahah. Beach fell asleep on our way over there, and who could blame her? We really had to rally all day long, despite being so tired. Dinner was great- especially the mac and cheese!!! Ugh, I loved it. It was more like cheese tortellini in a creamy cheese sauce, and I was obsessed. We had a great view of the John Seigenthaler Pedestrian Bridge, and Nissan Stadium.

Beach's next clue was the song, "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy." She obviously guessed a Thunder Down Under type of show, but we messed with her telling her she was off, and guiding her in random, fake ways to get her all turned around. But really, it was Cowboylesque! Nashville's favorite bachelorette party show! This ended up being Beach's favorite part of the whole trip. It really was a blast. The men were hot, shirtless cowboys in blue jeans, the music was mostly country favorites, and there was even some comedy and singing as part of the show! While I think the Thunder Down Under men were more attractive, I liked this show better because they spent a lot of time out interacting with the crowd, rather than always pulling people up on stage. So everyone got more personalized attention hahah. It's just so fun.

The rest of the night was just dedicated to getting wild on Broadway! We started at Nashville Underground where we could ride a mechanical bull - a must-do for the bride if you're going to be in Nashville, especially if your bride is Beach haha. It was confusing trying to figure out where to buy a pass and where to wait in line, but we made it, and we all got two chances. Beach went first of course, and she killed it. On my turn, I was very nervous, but it went ok! I held on so tight that it hurt my finger and bruised my inner thighs, but I did better than I expected. I did make it at least 8 seconds the first time hahah.

Broadway was similar to the Strip, but smaller and more compact. It feels SO CROWDED, because there are less places to spread out. It might have been the heat, but I've never had so many people throwing up all around me. The smell was pretty horrific at times hahah. Vegas feels SO clean in comparison. We went over to Jason Aldean's and had to wait in line for a hot minute even to get in the door. But it was like that for every bar. What's fun about bar hopping in Nashville is that it's free to get in, and there is always live music. We hung around Jason Aldean's for awhile because there was a cute girl performing cover songs, and it was such a vibe. We went up to the rooftop bar, which was also a miserable experience waiting in a huge line, and sweating to death, where Beach had her first Broadway drinks, and Kena attemped (but completely failed) doing a shot. That video of Kena ended up being one of Beach's favorite things hahah. We made our way over to Luke Bryan's side and hung out for a bit, and then went down and across the street to Ole Red's - which is actually Blake Shelton's bar. We hung out there for awhile, and Beach got a little trashed by the end of that one, so we decided to call it a night and head back. I was able to find the car, which is a miracle, and then I drove back to the hotel. Beach was just going off about so many topics - she never stopped talking. She texted Jason how important she was in her sash and hat about 6 times, and her favorite topics of discussion in the car were how responsible she was, and how much she loved us. She did try to plug her seatbelt into a soda can opening for quite some time, so that's silly. She wanted to navigate us home, which would not have been possible in her state, but she could see the maps on my phone hanging on the dashboard. She was looking at it, and asked how long until we were back. It said 1 minute, and I knew she could clearly see that, so I said, "20 minutes." But apparently, she was not registering what she was seeing, because she was shocked by that. She asked if we could stop at a gas station so she could use the bathroom, and I said sure. Obviously, we pulled up to the hotel right after, and she was blown away by how fast the 20 minutes had passed haha.

When we pulled in to the parking garage, it was nearly full. I was scared to park the car in the one remaining space, because it was so tight. Kena said she could do it, because she felt fine, so I got out and let her. I'm not sure if the small amount of alcohol she'd consumed affected her, or what else it was, but she proceeded to run right into the car next to us, and then into the wall. That was an unfortunate part of the day. It had all gone so well up to that point. Beach was wandering around the parking lot at this point, since she couldn't get into the building without us, so we decided to take her upstairs and come back to deal with it. We took some cleaner down with us, and Kena was able to get all of the black paint marks off of their white car. It had left a small dent, but she didn't want to leave a note and didn't think it was that noticeable. I claim no part of her decisions. Luckily for me, she rented the car. So if they notice any damage to ours, that's on her. There was a bachelor group in the garage when we went down again, in the same situation. One friend was not doing well, and was throwing up RIGHT in front of us. Lovely. We went back upstairs, and I couldn't have been more excited to shower. I had been sweating ALL day, and my clothes were so uncomfortable at that point, and I was ready for BED. We tried to get Beach to shower, but she was already passed out. I got some of her uncomfortable clothes off and left her there for the night. After I went to bed, I woke up to running water at like 3 AM. I went out to see what was going on, and the bathroom faucet was just running. I turned it off, and went to check on Beach, and she was just standing behind her door. She told me she didn't feel good, and was going to go sit in the bathroom for awhile. I told her not to leave the water running, and then called it a night and went to sleep. So yes, definitely a rough ending to an otherwise perfect day.

[creamecream]

🦇💛🐸

[stealforreal]

Future kids - Todoroki Shoto I

Todoroki meets his children from the future. Part 2 is up now you can find it on my tumblr masters list. Or click [here]

Todoroki Shoto x F! Reader

Warnings: none

Todoroki was understandably confused. One moment he was eating his cold soba in peace and quiet, the next a little girl came barreling into him. Clinging onto his pant leg for dear life, tears streaming down her chubby cheeks. Todoroki tensed, even if he was coming out of his shell, dealing with a little child while not having complete control over his flames terrified him. What if he ended up hurting her, when he wanted to help? He refused to be like his father. hurting small children.

A small tug on his leg brought him out of his thoughts, and back to the reality that a young girl probably no older than 6 was clinging to him. He could feel his pants getting wetter by the minute, drenched in the redheaded little princess’ tears. Kneeling down to her height, he put a hand on her head and pattet it gently. It was the only form of comfort he could think of would be appropriate. “ Hey snowflake, where's your parents?” Todoroki asked the little girl, making her look up at the stranger whom she was clinging to. A small gasp escaped her lips, as she began to sob harder and cling to him even more if that was even possible. “ I-Im so so sorry daddy *sniff* I can’t find Ren” Todoroki stiffened. Daddy? He wasn’t a dad, not yet anyways. But that didn’t matter when he was comforting a young girl, so he would play along for the time being. Besides he felt drawn to the little snowflake, maybe it was the fact that she was comfortable enough to seek comfort from him. Maybe it was the fact that she looked like him, with beautiful heterochromia eyes, one classic Todoroki cerulean blue and one e/c.

“ Take a deep breath, little snowflake. Can you tell me what year it is?” His usual monotone tone, took on a softer note talking to the girl. He was kneeling at her height, rubbing small circles on her small back, while she clung to his shirt, sobbing in his chest. She looked up at him with her big mismatched doe eyes brimming with tears “ Its 20xx” okay weird that is 15 years in the future, Shoto wasn’t stupid this was probably the work of a quirk. He then proceeded to ask her if she was indeed hit by a quirk.

She told him that apparently her and her twin brother Ren, were playing with some of their friends at a park. But when they were playing tag one of their friends got their quirk, and the twins got separated. When Reina, as she told him her name was, woke up and couldn’t find her twin brother Ren she began to panic. Then she began looking for him, but then she recognized the dual colored hair and ran to him.

In between her telling the story and sniffling quitely, Shoto had picked her up. While she was calming down in his arms, he began making his way back to the campus grounds. Mr.Aizawa would hopefully know what to do, and maybe they would find Ren on the way. It broke his heart to hear her sniffle, his little snowflake crying was heart wrenching. Even if she technically wasn’t born yet, she was still his little snowflake and he would protect her no matter the cost. He was so possessive of his little girl already and he had only met her 1 hour ago, he promised himself then and there that he would be a better father than Endeavor ever was.

Her sniffles and sobs stopped, and her trembling figure relaxed in his hold. He could feel the little one's gaze on him, and he turned his head to her tilting his head a bit to ask what was wrong. “ Why do you look so young, daddy? '' She asked with the little innocent voice of an angel, he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at her question. “ Well my little snowflake, right now I’m 16 and you haven’t exactly been born yet. I’m guessing your friend's quirk is something along the lines of time travel” he patiently explained to her, she nodded her head along as if she understood him. And if she inherited his intelligence, she just might have understood what he just told her completely.

The walk back to the dorms were filled with idle chatter, Shoto asking Reina about his future and how he was as a father. To which she exclaimed with a bright toothless smile ‘Daddys the best daddy in the whole world’ and he was so relieved that he wasn’t a horrible father like his own was to him. He ended up stopping for a minute so Shoto could pepper her with small soft kisses all over her cute slightly chubby cheeks. Her squeals of excitement warmed his heart, and a soft smile made its way on his face.

To onlookers they looked like a cute set of siblings, and small aw’s and so cute were heard in the background. But inside their little bubble, nothing could burst Shoto’s happiness at knowing he wouldn’t repeat his fathers mistakes. The long walk back to the dorms felt a lot shorter with his little snowflake talking his ear off. It was adorable really, she stumbled over a few words every once and awhile. She told him all about her and Ren’s adventures, how they accidentally froze their teacher when Ren got his quirk, and how he had to come and free the teacher.

Shoto was inexplicably happy that Ren got his quirk from his mothers side. But one thing caught his attention was the mention of their mother. He realized that Reina not once had mentioned her name, and as much as Shoto would hate to admit it he was beyond curious as to who he would ultimately spend his life with. A big part of him hoped that it was you, since he had finally found out what the fuzzy feeling he had around you was. Yep Todoroki Shoto was utterly and completely enamored by you, your personality was sweet and you would do anything for family and friends. Alongside Midoriya you were his best friend, and he was in love with you.

The closer to the dorms the two Todorokis came, the more his curiosity nagged him to ask his daughter who her mother was. When he could see the height alliance building a little longer down the road, his curiosity won. “ Snowflake, you never told me your mom's name. '' Reina brightened when he asked about his future wife, a big tell that his little girl adored her mother as much as she adored her father. '' Silly daddy, mom's name is Todoroki y/n of course, ``she said giggling. A bright smile adorned his handsome features as Todoroki stepped into the dorm's living room with Reina still in his arms with her head on his shoulder.

Class 1-A consecutively looked towards the door when it opened. They were trying to calm down the child that was crying on their sofa, who also happened to look suspiciously like their dual haired classmate. The young boy had dual colored hair and cerulean blue eyes, his hair was half white and half y/h/c. The child was obviously confused and scared, and had only stopped wailing when Kaminari short circuited. But alas he was still sobbing and the class was almost out of ideas. He had been asking about his parents, and calling for a person named Reina.

There in the door stood a smiling Todoroki, holy damn was the world ending. But what also caught their attention was the little redhead in his arms hugging him, the little girl's voice reached them and their jaws dropped. “ Daddy, is this the place you and mommy met?” It was such an innocent question, but 1-A was in a frenzy, so much so that they didn’t notice the little boy springing up from the couch and dashing toward Todoroki and the girl. They only came back to earth when a small happy “Daddy” was heard.

Todoroki was about to answer Reina’s question, when he heard the little cry “Daddy”. He turned his head towards the sound and so did Reina, she began bouncing in Shoto’s arms. “ Ren '' She shouted, making Shoto bend down and extend his arm that wasn’t holding Reina. Ren launched himself into Shoto’s chest, and Reina began hugging her twin brother as much as she could in their fathers embrace. “ Don’t worry my little snowflake, daddy’s got you” He whispered softly, calming Ren immediately. The rest of the class stood gobsmacked, daddy?

“Now my little snowflakes, let's go find Mr. Aizawa, so you can go home” Shoto’s arms were full, his little boy on one arm and his little girl on his other arm. How is he supposed to open the door? “ Midoriya, would you come with me to open the door?” Shoto’s tone was monotone as always, but slightly softer in the presence of his children. Midoriya simply nodded dumbfounded, nobody said a word. What were they supposed to say, with all the daddy claims, and seeing the children in the arms of their classmate confirmed it. They looked like the spitting image of the dreamy heterochromia boy, but with some tweaks. There were the y/h/c and the girls one e/c eye, that obviously must’ve come from their mothers side.

On the way to the teacher dormitories, the twins talked excitedly with each other, while Shoto explained the situation to Midoriya. Midoriya felt like he had seen the features on the twins that certainly didn’t come from Todoroki’s side, but with how much they looked like their father it was nearly mission impossible.

Coincidentally on her way to Mr. Aizawa as well, you spotted the tuft of green hair and tufts of red and white hair. Hm, must be on their way to Mr.Aizawa as well you thought. Jogging up to them, you poked Midoriya’s shoulder. Even if you were in class 1-B, you had a pretty good friendship with the cute green haired cinnamon roll. Your quirks were similar in a sense, since yours was a boost of strength as well. Not nearly as strong as Midoriya’s, but still. That is why you were training partners, and through him you had met his friend circle. It wasn’t an unusual sight to see Midoriya and Todoroki together.

But when they turned to you, you were left flabbergasted by the two cuties in Todoroki’s arms. Before the boys could react, Ren began squirming chanting ‘mommy’. Shoto sat him and Reina down, because she too began squirming once they caught sight of you. The two children that were previously in Todoroki’s arms, now tackled you in a hug. “Daddy look, we found mommy” they said in unison. Two children around 6 years old launching at you, could make even the best of them fall on their butts. Which was exactly what happened, they were squeezing you as tight as their small forms would allow.

Choosing to ignore the small ‘mommy and daddy’ comment, you carefully scooped them up in your arms. The look that Shoto gave you was enough to go along with this little charade, he looked at the three of you like you were his entire world. His eyes were shining with happiness, and his lips quirked up in a small smile. Lightly bouncing the ecstatic but sleepy children in your arms, you turned your attention to the two males before you. “ You wouldn’t happen to need Mr.Aizawa as well, would you?” You raised a knowing eyebrow. The two boys nodded, and you began walking again towards the teachers dormitory. You sent Todoroki a small pointed glare, silently commanding him to explain the situation.

The walk to the teachers lounge felt shorter than usual, since your attention was occupied. Todoroki explained his theory that a quirk sent the twins to the past, and that the two of you were their parents. As crazy as that sounded it made so much sense, and looking at the children you would lie if you said you didn’t see the resemblance. Midoriya explained how Ren was crying before Todoroki arrived, and how confused they were when they heard the little boy yelling ‘daddy’. Ren was probably the most scared, since he didn’t recognize anyone in his panicked state. Besides, most of the students probably look a lot different in the future, so it's kind of a miracle that the twins recognized you. Shoto will always be pretty easy to recognize, with his distinct hair, eyes and the showstopping scar. It complimented the handsome teen next to you so well, no wonder he was one of UAs top heartthrobs. Stopping for a second, you just realize something. If the twins in your arms are you and Todoroki's, then that means that you ended up scoring the half-n-half quirk user. Nothing could wipe the shiteating grin that made its way on your face, eliciting concerned and curious glances from the males beside you.

Mr.Aizawa had his fair share of strange situations. He had been teaching at UA for some time, and student’s quirks weren’t always a walk in the park. Never had he ended up in a situation quite like this though, he had to rub his eyes twice to make sure it was real. In front of him were 2 out of Class-1A’s trouble makers and one of his favorite students from Class-1B, they had two small children with them. Easily recognized as twins, and they looked like the half - n- half troublemakers children.

This was going to be a long night.

[harryspet]

sweet sister | peter parker

[Warnings] dark peter parker x innocent reader, reader is extremely innocent, manipulation, male/female masturbation, somnophilia, stepcest, hj, vaginal sex but not really? 

A/N: This is based off a request I got for a innocent reader where Peter teachers her about sex. Reader is 18 and Peter is around 21. DARK THEMES SO READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

In which you’re May and Happy’s foster kid and Peter takes advantage of your innocence. 

Like, reblog and let me know what you think!

word count: 2.9k

You came home from school like it was a normal day. Walking up the steps to your family’s brownstone, clad in your school uniform, and loud music blaring in your headphones, “May!” You shouted too loudly, walking down the hallway towards the kitchen, “Did my package come?”

You stopped in your tracks as you saw three figures standing in the living room. Happy, May, and … some kid you didn’t know. Your eyebrows raised in confusion at the young man standing with your foster parents. 

“Y/N, this is my son Peter!” May smiled, trying not to be awkward. She approached you, urging you forward. Now you recognized him and your eyes widened because of how easily you missed it. He was in all the photos on the mantle but, now, he looked a bit older. 

You were not what Peter expected, at all. By May’s description of you, he thought you might be a middle schooler. His eyes trailed over you, the way you filled out your uniform … Peter snapped out of it, moving forward to hold out his hand to you.

“Hi, I’m-” Interrupting him and surprising him at the same time, you went in for a hug. Peter hesitated for a moment before hugging you back. You noticed he had a strong grip. 

“She’s a hugger,” You heard May whisper. 

You pulled away and offered your hand for him to shake. He took it, smiling, but still a little confused by the long greeting, “I’m Y/N. You look just like May! I mean, you’re very pretty like her.” Happy always went on about how pretty May was and you always agreed. 

You watched as his cheeks reddened. Was it something you said? ''Thank you very much, I haven’t heard that one before.”

You looked back at May who seemed to improve the interaction. You smiled, worrying that you had made him nervous, “Peter finally has a break from his busy schedule to come see us. He’ll be here with us for at least a week. May and I thought this would be a good time for you two to get to know each other.” 

May had taken you in two years ago but this was the first time you were officially meeting Peter. He was always halfway around the world fighting crime and could only stop at May’s work every once and awhile. You never thought you’d ever have a full family like all the people on the television did. 

“That sounds like a lot of fun,” You heard Peter say and your heart did a little backflip. Your very own big brother.  “What’s this about a package?” 

“Oh,” Your face fell, “Uhm, they’re just books.”

Peter gave you a look of inquiry, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “You like to read? What kind of books?”

You opened your mouth to make up some excuse but Happy interrupted you, “I put your package on your bed, sweetheart. Why don’t you show Peter his new room?” Right, you had taken Peter’s old room. 

“Okay!” You perked back up, glad the subject of books was over, “Follow me, big brother!”

That was easy, Peter thought. She didn’t seem to give a second thought about accepting him which was endearing but scared Peter to a certain extent. How trusting was she exactly? May had warned him that she was a little eccentric … and a little emotional. 

Peter tried to keep his focus up as he followed you up the stairs. A part of him was a little let down that you were wearing shorts beneath your plaid skirt. 

“May says you have like a sixth sense. And that you can sense when danger is near. She talks about you a lot, you know? You call it a Peter tingle, right? I thought that was a really cute name but I’m not supposed to bring it up around you apparently-” You were rambling, as usual, and had passed your bedroom but you noticed that Peter wasn’t following you anymore. 

“You made it pink,” You heard Peter say as he peeked into your room. He adjusted the black backpack on his shoulder and you couldn’t help but notice his muscles. He was like the boys you read about in your books but … he was technically your stepbrother. 

You walked toward him, “May said I could decorate it how I wanted. Do you hate it? You hate it, don’t you? I’m really sorry. It’s just that it’s my favorite color and-”

“No way, I like it!” He quickly assured you, not wanting to see what happened when you finally ran out of air. Peter walked inside and you followed him. There was no twin bed anymore but a regular-sized bed with a white canopy. 

There was a pile of stuffed animals in the corner that Peter noted, “You have a lot of stuffed animals …”

“Those are the ones they give you in family court,” You explained to him before pointing over to your bed, “I keep the ones Happy and May give me on the bed, those are my favorite.”

“I see,” You spoke so casually about being in family court that it made Peter wonder what your story was. There were at least ten stuffed animals there, “Which one’s your favorite?”

You liked that question, smiling wide, as you walked over to your bed. Peter watched you carefully as you bent over to grab a gray penguin, “I like penguins a lot. My first Christmas here, May got me this and a penguin puzzle. I’ve done it a million times now but we could put it together if you wanted.”

“I can’t imagine anything better, Y/N.”

You were going to be very fun to get to know, Peter thought. 

+

The family had gone out to dinner that night and had been the rest of the evening putting together a hundred piece, penguin puzzle. It was one of the best days of your life and, as you expected, having a family was wonderful. Having Peter was just an extra bonus. You wished he didn’t have to leave. 

The next day, as you walked down the steps that lead from your school, you didn’t expect to find Peter waiting for you. You ran up to him and hugged him, of course, and you savored the moment when his strong arms were around you. Some girls you didn’t know gasped and practically swooned as they watched you two. 

“I have strict orders to take you straight home so you can start right away on your homework,” You frowned until Peter continued, “But I think we should stop for ice cream.”

You were practically bouncing with excitement as Peter grabbed your hand and lead you down the street. 

At the small parlor, you licked at a cone of chocolate ice cream while Peter stuck his spoon into his ice cream sundae. Peter’s eyes wandered over to your mouth, imagining your wrap your lips around his-

“You never said what you liked to read, Y/N.”

You blushed, your nose wrinkling, as the embarrassment filled you, “It’s silly … you don’t want to hear about it.”

“I do,” Peter insisted, “I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry.”

You took a breath, “They’re … they’re romance novels. It’s a series one of my friends at school told me about. She thinks I’m too … too babyish. Apparently, there are scenes in it ... “

“Scenes like what?” You blushed even more. 

“Bad scenes,” you whispered and Peter pretended to think the subject was taboo, “She wants me to learn about … dirty stuff. These guys are taking us to prom and she wants … she wants us to have our ‘first times’ together. I don’t even know what that means! But I can’t tell her that or she’ll think I’m even weirder than I already am to her.”

Buried treasure. Peter had stumbled upon pure gold.

“Y/N, you’re talking about sex?” Peter narrowed his eyes at you. 

“Sex?” You spoke the word like it was completely foreign on your tongue, “I think that’s it. Sounds gross, right?”

Peter couldn’t help but chuckle, “It’s kinda gross if you think about it too deeply but it’s not meant to be gross. It’s not as scary as you think. It’s quite beautiful, actually.”

Her eyes went wide, “You’ve done it a bunch, haven’t you?”

Peter shrugged, “A few times but only with special people. If the guy who’s taking you to prom isn’t special then you definitely shouldn’t give him your first time.” Peter would have to do some research on this guy and make sure he didn’t even think about coming near her. 

You looked solemnly at your melting ice cream, “I must be a total weirdo then …”

“You’re not, Y/N, trust me. Eighteen is still young.”

You leaned forward, whispering, “I haven’t even kissed anyone, Peter. People do that in middle school.”

Peter leaned forward next, entrancing you with his eyes, “Do you really want to get some experience? Because … I could help you. I’m probably better than those trashy books.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Do brothers and sisters normally talk about stuff like this?”

“Don’t you want to be friends too?” You instantly nodded, “Then I can help you out, as a brother and a friend. But if you want to read your books-”

“No, no, you can teach me!”

And you easily stepped into his trap. 

+

That night, Peter slipped out of his room clad in his pajamas. Your door slowly creaked open and you sat up in your bed. You rubbed the tired from your eyes as Peter peaked in, “My room is freezing … and I can hear Happy snoring through the walls.”

You pulled back your comforter, patting the spot next to you, “You can sleep in here with me,” Peter entered all the way before slowly shutting the door. 

“Really? I can sleep on the floor …” 

You shook your head, “It’ll be like a sleepover.”

Peter moved in the darkness, climbing in beside you. You pulled the covers over him and you both lay down. Peter watched as you turned over before tiredly murmuring, “Goodnight, Peter.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Peter waited a good hour before moving closer to you. In a slow movement, he had pressed himself against you, taking in the scent of your hair, as he admired the lines of your body. It was a risk but he touched your waist, his hands trailing over to your stomach. He felt the soft skin of your back as well before reaching into his pants. 

He touched himself to the thought of you and he almost panicked as you moved. You turned to your other side, not facing him. Watching your sleeping face sent Peter over the edge and he muffled his grunts with a pillow. 

He wasn’t in your bed when you awoke the next morning. 

+

Happy had surprised May with a romantic dinner that night so Peter and you were left alone that evening. You were brushing your teeth in your jack and jill bathroom when Peter walked in suddenly. You looked over to see him only wearing a pair of basketball shorts. 

You blushed, looking back at the mirror before spitting out the foam in your mouth. He stalked closer to you and you noticed something different in the look in his eyes, “I was thinking something, Y/N, about what you told me at the ice cream shop.”

You put away your toothbrush, turning off the sink before wiping your mouth with a hand towel, “I thought you had forgotten …” 

Peter smirked, “Far from it, actually. I was thinking about how you said you want more experience. With kissing boys and things like that, right?”

You nodded slowly, growing nervous. 

“I think the first thing you should learn is how to pleasure yourself before you learn about pleasuring someone else,” He held your hand, rubbing soothing circles into your palm. 

“Pleasure?”

Peter nodded, “Sex is all about pleasure,” Peter held your hand it slowly brought it against his crotch. You felt something hard and flinched away, “It’s okay, don’t worry.” 

It was such a weird feeling. Only recently had you learned that boys and girls even had different parts. 

“Right here is where guys can feel pleasure,” Then Peter reached out to touch you. Through the fabric of pajama pants, you could feel his fingers brush against your folds, “This is where girl’s feel pleasure. Let me show you.”

He assured you that everything was going to be okay as he slid down your shorts. Before you could step out of them, Peter swiftly lifted you onto the counter and you yelped at the sudden movement. 

He took your hand and pressed your fingers against your crotch. He tried to guide you as best as he could, standing between your spread legs, “Oh my stars …” You breathed out, savoring the foreign new feeling. You wanted to run away from it and run to it at the same time. You looked at Peter with frightened eyes as he slowly moved his hands away.

“That’s it, good girl, keep rubbing,” He praised you, loving the sight of you discovering your own body. You kept going, rubbing circles over that sensitive area through your light pink panties. You leaned back, lifting a leg on the counter, so you could get a better angle.

“Is this good Peter?”

“You’re doing great, Y/N. Doesn’t that feel good?”

You nodded, practically whimpering. You looked at Peter differently than before, you didn’t see the boy you saw before. You thought about how handsome he was and how sweet he’s been to you all week. You felt the wetness growing beneath your legs and you blushed as you look down, “Peter, I-I  think I’m peeing …”

Peter gave you an amused smile, “That just means that you like it, Y/N. That you’re aroused,” Peter grabbed your hand and moved it away from your crotch. You found yourself missing the feeling and you watched as he slid off his pants and underwear. The sight of his manhood felt foreign but aroused you at the same time. 

Peter slowly palmed his manhood as he leaned into you. You practically froze as his lips touched yours. He didn’t even have to speak because as he slowly left soft pecks on your lips, you started to lean back into him. Your hands touched his neck as you started to move your lips against his. You liked it … No, you loved it, “Your lips feel squishy,” You gushed and Peter laughed, turning his head as the kiss became more passionate. 

You let your leg fall back over the counter and, as it did, Peter slowly slid off your underwear. Then suddenly, he lifted you. You wrapped your legs around him as he carried you into your room. He sat on your bed, leading you to straddle him. 

“I want to try something,” Peter said before pecking your lips again. 

You were all in. 

He laid back on your bed, and you sat on his legs, “Touch my cock,” You thought the word was silly but you could tell what he meant. It felt harder than you expected and as you gripped it on your hand, a guttural moan exploded from Peter, “Spit on it.”

“Peter-”

“It’s okay, it’ll feel better that way,” He tried to assure you and you hesitated before pulling your hair back. The trail of spit fell onto his member and you felt gross for a moment until you saw his reaction. 

That sound he was making you even wetter. 

Peter grabbed your legs, pulling you up more until your private parts were positioned right over his, “I want you to rub yourself against me, can you do that?” Peter asked. With all his fantasies coming true, he wasn’t sure how long he’d last. 

You nodded. You held onto Peter’s chest as you slowly dragged your private parts against his. His cock was pressed against his stomach and your lips moved up and down his length. You felt it then. That pleasure and his pleasure mixing. You kept going, starting to feel something building up in your core. 

You bit down on your lips, liking the feeling of when his tip rubbed against your sensitive bulb. Your wetness acting as even more lubrication, you thought you were making quite the mess but Peter didn’t seem to mind. 

You moved faster, Peter’s groans encouraging you and your curiosity of that thing building up inside you kept you going. Your toes curled as you got the feeling of a waterfall rushing off a cliff. Your mind went blank for a moment and your body shook as that damn finally broke. 

You moaned, riding out the feeling and that's' when you felt Peter convulsing. You felt his cock twitch as white spilled from the tip of his member and onto his stomach. Peter’s head rested all the way back and you couldn’t help but smile as you realized that you had both reached your tipping points. 

“Well, was that it? Did I do sex?”

“Sort of,” Peter said, completely out of breath. The eagerness in your eyes wasn’t something he expected, “You have a lot more to learn, Y/N.”

“Then can we do it again, Peter?”

+

Hope you enjoyed this! Feel free to check out my masterlist for more Peter fics! There is a short sequel to this! 

PART TWO

[shotofire]

A Life Saver

•LEVI ACKERMAN x READER

•Overview: Levi saves you, someone he barely knew, from certain death

•Warnings: mentions of death, gore description, cursing, near death experience, bit of angst, very brief mention of sex

•Season: season one range with a few altercations

-

At first, you didn’t want to become a scout. The thought of putting your life on the line wasn’t appealing, and it really just scared the hell out of you. Serving in the military police was a path you chose to go down. It was what you wanted for awhile then things started to not feel right.

The scouts were putting other lives before their own and you began to admire their bravery. Even when things looked like there was no light on the other side they pushed through. They proved that even mass death can result in a small victory that gave the people hope, something to help the nation push forward.

After serving in the military police for many years you decided it was time to step down. You wanted to become a scout, you wanted to help make a change. Your comrades thought you were absolutely insane, and they begged you to not make the choice. You refused, and soon you joined the scouts.

Mission after mission you survived and killed titans. You lost friends way too often, and the hurt and loneliness that came with the job would make anyone break. You’d been broken from the inside out in ways you’d never imagined. At the end of the day, you knew it was for the greater good.

The hope for a change only became greater when a boy showed up with the abilities of a titan. You knew to have such strength on your side was promising, and you saw light at the end of the extremely dark tunnel.

You’d served many long heart wrenching years by the time hope like that had shown up, and it only pushed you to keep going. You longed to live in a world without titans. All you wanted was to run free in field and see new things.

Today was a normal day, but that’s how any bad day starts. You’d woke up early to watch the sunrise with your close, and pretty much last friend, Molly. She was the best person you’d ever met and had been by your side for years. You had never admired anyone more than her.

“You know that titan kid is only fifteen, isn’t that insane?” She says before taking a sip of the coffee you had made her.

Your eyebrows raise at her words, “Wait really?”

The women laughs a bit at your shocked reaction then nods her head. She sets her coffee on the blanket you two are sitting on then leans back onto her hands, staring up at the sky that swirls with colors of orange and pink.

“To have this kind of hope is the best feeling i’ve had in years,” she says, “this is going to unlock so many closed doors we don’t know about. I think that finally we’re going to get some answers about how the hell the world turned into this mess.”

The smile on her face was full of such joy. She truly was excited for the future, you’d never seen someone actually look forward to what is lying ahead. A few days ago everyone thought titans would rein for hundreds of more years. Then all of the sudden that perspective has changed and no one knows what is going to come next.

“Yeah, I hope the future is bright,” you whispered.

You lay down to stare up at the sky, and Molly follows your movements. The two of you lay there in silence, thinking of a peaceful world where so much fear and death does not exist. You turn your head to look at your bestfriend to find her eyes are already on you.

“Our futures are bright, (y/n),” she says with a smile, “We’re going to live in cute little houses by the ocean!”

You can’t help but smile and roll your eyes at her. She always brought up this big body of water she’d read about in an illegal book when she was a teenager. The women could go on an on about it, as if she’d seen it before herself.

“If the ocean is even real,” you say with a smirk.

She scoffs at you before rolling her eyes harder than you just had, “Of course it’s real!”

You two spend the next hour talking about what you’d do or who you’d be doing if life were different. Molly wished for a family, to fall in love. She’d talked about it many times before but she refused to bring children into a world like this. You felt similar, expect children weren’t really on your radar. You longed to fall in love and grow old with someone.

But everyday brought death and destruction. You didn’t want to fall madly in love and then watch your whole world crumble as a titan took them away from you. The pain you had from your friends screaming your name as monsters had them in their grip was already too much to bare.

Heavy footsteps came in your direction at high speed, and soon you could hear heavy breathing along with it. You and Molly sat up quickly and saw one of your comrades running at you with pure fear in their eyes.

“Wall rose has been compromised!” They scream, voice laced with panic.

Molly’s eyes widen right as yours do. The feeling of uncertainty course through your veins almost instantly. You’ll never get used to the way your stomach drops when you hear things like that. Who could ever get used to that? Knowing you’re about to watch more people die would make anyone feel this way.

Before you know it you’re running to get your uniform on and strap on your gear. No one saw this coming. Then again, how the hell would they see this coming? You scramble to find you gear and you panic as it’s no where to be found.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You yell as the panic begins to set in.

Hands grab each of your shoulders to hold you still, and that’s when you see Molly’s worried eyes. She looks at you with concern. The last mission had both of you on edge more than ever before. Both of you lost someone dear, someone who was close to you as you were to each other. Knowing that today you could lose Molly was making your mind and body think like a mad man.

“You gear is with my stuff, remember? You didn’t want to lose it so you asked me to hold onto it,” she reminds you.

The sweet women pulls you into a tight hug, and you can feel her body trembling. The two of you had no time for this, people were probably already being slaughtered. Right as you begin to think this a scream rips through the air, one that makes you two grip one another tighter.

“We’re going to fight and we’re going to survive,” she says sternly, “do you hear me? Don’t you dare die on me (y/n).”

You nod into her chest as tears begin to form in your eyes. So much could change in an instant and you wished time could freeze so you could hug your bestfriend forever. But reality was sinking in and you knew you had titans to kill and lives to save.

The hug was short lived, and soon you were faced with the destruction held within wall rose. Titans stomped around mindlessly, some with those creepy smiles that you absolutely hated.

Your blades cut through nape after nape and your head was starting to spin. Somewhere along the way you lost Molly, which had never happened before. You hated not having her around. The constant fear of not knowing what position she could possibly be in made you sick to your stomach.

You flew through the air at a high speed, trying to get leverage on the abnormal that was chasing after you. It’s mouth hung open as it’s disgusting blood drenched touched dripped into the buildings below. You’d never faced an abnormal and didn’t expect it to dodge your attack minutes ago.

Sure you were extremely skilled but it’s hard to work your way around a fast moving titan. It’s arms flew in the air behind it, the beast was an odd sight. You’d never witnessed a titan act so strangely before.

You’d been observing the monster too closely, but only for a few seconds. But as any soldier knows, a few moments can cost you your entire life. You turned your attention back infront of you but you didn’t have time to react before you slammed into a chimney. Out of all things that could’ve contributed to your death it just had to be a damn chimney.

The impact made your vision blur and you couldn’t even really feel the pain. The sun beamed down on you as your body layed limp on the rooftop. The sky was a beautiful shade of blue, and you wished you could fly up there with the birds and be free.

The abnormals hand picked you off the home as if you were nothing, only a small ant compared to it. It’s eyes were completely lifeless as it stared at you with hunger.

“Don’t you dare die on me (y/n)!”

Molly’s words rang through your mind but you couldn’t move. The injury to your head made you feel as if you were in a dream. There was no sense of reality right now, you couldn’t even comprehend that you were about to reach your end.

In a way you knew, reality wasn’t too far off. But you couldn’t find the energy to fight back. It had all been drained from you as the battle continued, and the final blow left you motionless.

You closed your eyes hoping somehow that’d stop you from feeling the coming pain. Every part of you didn’t want to die. Molly’s dreams about living by the ocean had become yours as well even if you wouldn’t admit it. The thought of leaving her with no body brought tears to your eyes.

That’s when you tried to move with the little energy left in your body, but it was no use. The tears began to stream down your face and the fear began to set in. Fear like this had never been within you, it was a brand new feeling. You guess certain death does that to you.

“No!” You say as loud as you can, “Someone please help me!”

Knowing this is what so many of the people you loved had to experience broke your heart. It was already bad enough to know they were gone and you couldn’t have saved them. But this was so much worse, they died with such fear. Fear that almost paralyzed you.

The sound of blades ripping through skin filled your ears. The titans grip on you loosened, then let go completely. You felt yourself falling, but you kept your eyes closed. Fear had already made its way to every inch of your body and you couldn’t move even more than before.

Right before you slammed to the ground below strong arms caught you. A grunt slipped past the unknown persons lips at the impact of your body. They carried you into a near by tavern that was deserted of people, then set you on one of the tables.

“Hey,” the deep voice said, “c’mon now I know you aren’t dead, don’t go out like this.”

Your eyes fluttered open to see the dangerously handsome man in your face. He was awfully close, you could feel his breath on your nose. His eyes were wide with concern.

“Captain Levi?” You asked followed by a gut wrenching cough. Blood splattered onto your lips and you groaned.

He couldn’t have been the one who saved you, right? You’d only talked to Levi a handful of times, and all were him giving you orders. You’d never had a desire to talk to him even if you found him incredibly attractive.

You’d admired the man for years as well. He has lost as many people as you, maybe more. He had already been on the scouts for many years before you joined. The man had watched the passion you held as you killed titans at alarming speed. He knew exactly who you were and what you had to offer, that’s why he saved you.

He smiled softly at you, not even enough for you to notice. For a second he thought you wouldn’t wake up and he’d be carrying a lifeless body back to medical. You cough a bit more before sitting up. A gasp slips past your lips and pain shoots through your body.

“Holy shit that fucking hurts,” you curse.

You see the fresh blood on your hands and wonder if it’s yours. The pounding in your head only increases as you move. The room felt like it was spinning and you may vomit any second.

“Do I need to take you to medical?” He asks with concern in his voice.

Your vision looks at the raven haired man and your memory starts to come back. One second you were flying through the air and then stupidly slammed into a chimney. And that damned titan was about to feast on you, what a bitch. Then you realized Levi was the one who stopped you from your near death.

“Why did you save me?” You ask without answering him first.

He sighs at your question. He had only moved that fast to save someone a handful of times. It just felt right to save you. He was there, you were there, he couldn’t just let you die. It wasn’t too far out of reach, he had already been headed in your direction.

“Because you’re strong and the scouts need you,” he answers, “now tell me if I need to take you to medical.”

His features were stern and it made your stomach flip a bit. If there weren’t titans outside and pain wasn’t consuming your body you may have thrown out a stupid flirtatious remark due to your bubbly personality. But this wasn’t the time and place no matter how good the captain looked right now.

“I just need a minute,” you said softly as you pushed your weight off the table.

You hissed in pain before stretching your body. The bones in your body crack loudly and you let out a low grunt at the feeling. The pounding in your head began to simmer and you took deep breaths.

“Thank you captain Levi,” you said, “my friend would’ve personally brought me back to just kill me herself.”

He chuckled a bit at your remark and you couldn’t even recall captain Levi smiling let alone chuckling. This whole situation was weird and unrealistic to you. Maybe you were already dead and this was your afterlife. A hot guy saves you and later you two will go to bone town, sounds pretty fun.

“I literally ran into a chimney,” you grumbled.

Levi’s eyes squinted at your words in confusion, “You what?”

“I didn’t get caught by a titan while trying to kill it heroically. I wasn’t paying attention for like three seconds and slammed into a damn chimney, not too sure the scouts really need me,” you say.

He shakes his head at your words and was becoming annoyed by your self doubt.

“I know, I saw,” he says and your cheek almost immediately turn red, “and I still saved you cause I thought you were worth it.”

You couldn’t get words out after what he said. You only stared at him in shock. He saw you make a foul out of yourself but yet still risked his life to save you. Levi truly was an interesting man.

“Well then, thank you again,” you say, “maybe I should thank you in a different way.” You wiggle your eyebrows then let out a laugh into your palm as his face falls at your words.

“Holy shit i’m kidding, please don’t make me do laps for that. Jokes make me feel better,” you still were holding back laughter at the face Levi made. You never thought you’d make the captain flustered like that.

“Uh,” his cheeks redden, “We need to get back out there. It’s starting to get worse, are you sure you’re okay (y/n).”

You take a deep breath before nodding your head. The two of you immediately begin to speed walk towards the open door of the tavern.

“I’m going to need you to follow me. The titans are huddled in the west and help is needed there,” he orders you and you respond with a yes captain, which always makes you cringe.

“Oh and by the way,” he says with a smirk, “that other way of thanking me is always welcome.”

This time he leaves you flustered. He heads west and you stand there for a few seconds before you remember you’re supposed to be following him. His remark might have you slamming into another chimney.

After fighting for hours many people had been successfully moved to wall sina. Some titans still mindlessly walked around within the walls of rose, but atleast many people were saved. There was still a great heartfelt loss that day.

When you got back to base your heart was pounding in your ears. All you could think about was Molly and if she was okay. You hadn’t seen her since you two got separated during the hell bent events. Your eyes scanned frantically through the base, searching for her everywhere.

Your mind went to the worst place possible and you begin to panic. She had to be okay, she was all you had. You needed her more than anyone else. If she’s gone you might as well let a titan eat you during your next mission. Molly kept you alive, and kept you fighting.

“(y/n)?” You hear a familiar deep voice ask.

You spin on your heals and are met with the same deep brown eyes that saved you earlier today. Levi looked upset, face a bit fallen. That’s when your heart sank to your stomach. Did he know where Molly was? Or if she had even made it back?

“Follow me,” he says without any other detail.

He starts walking and you immediately follow as your heart races. At this point you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. Your eyes scan to a sign that says medical as Levi opens the door below it.

You’re led to a the back of the room and you gasp at the sight. On the bed layed Molly with bandages covering many parts of her body. Your eyes fill with tears at the safe shes in, this was too much.

“She’s going to be okay, and the nurse told me she should be up soon,” he says.

You nod your head at his words before reaching to hold Molly’s hand, it was cold as ice.

“Can you please get her a blanket,” you state, it wasn’t even a question. It was more like you weren’t letting go of her hand, more like you couldn’t.

Levi nods and fetches her a couple blankets. He covers her for you and you thank him. The tears still run down your face, but you had already stopped wiping them away. It was no use because they just kept coming harder and harder as you looked at your bestfriend.

“Thank you Levi, I would’ve gone crazy looking for her back there,” you smile through the hurt.

He only hums in response to your words, letting silence fill the air. His hand comes to rest on your shoulder and his fingers move slightly to give you some comfort. It truly was a nice feeling to have someone with you right now, you might think too hard if he wasn’t here.

“I’ll give you some space-“ “no,” You cut him off, “please don’t go.”

Levi sees the hurt in your eyes. He could tell you needed someone right now even if he wasn’t much of a comforting person.

“okay,” he whispers.

He then pulls up a chair next to yours and sits with you for the next few hours in silence. It was somewhat nice, for both of you. Molly begins to stir in her sleep and your perk up. Her eyes flutter open and the first thing she sees is you and she smiles.

“We’ll look at that,” she smiles, “you’re just obsessed with me aren’t you (y/n).”

You laugh through happy tears forming in your eyes. She takes a deep breath and tries to stretch her body but the pain to still too much. She feels your grip on her hand and she squeezes at yours.

“You didn’t think i’d go out that easily did you,” she asks with a smirk on her chapped lips.

“Not for a second,” you said back almost immediately.

She lets out a small laugh at your words. For a second she did think she was going to die as a titan smacked her body mid-air, but that’s all she can remember. It was that, and then she wakes up in medical confused as hell. But seeing you made her know she definitely was okay. Her eyes scan to the figure next to you to see captain Levi. You’d told her before that you’d totally jump his bones if he let you.

“Did you screw the captain while I was out?” she asks playfully.

You and Levi’s breath hitch at her words and she can’t help but let out a laugh. It hurt her chest to laugh that hard but it also in a way made her feel better.

“Really Molly? You were just half dead a few minutes ago and that’s what you wanted to say?” You couldn’t help but laugh along with her. You’d rather her make you and the captain flustered than her be dead.

Levi couldn’t help but smile widely, but he put his head down to hide it. That day you and Levi developed a liking for each other, and both of you couldn’t remember the last time you felt this way.

The lives you each led was going to make it hard, but feelings are strong.

After an hour or so of talking to Molly she fell back asleep for some well needed rest. Levi walked with you down the hall back to your room, making small talk that was hard to even keep going.

“Thank you again Levi,” you look at him with sparkling eyes, “I’m pretty sure anyone else besides Molly would’ve let me be titan desert.”

“Of course, I would never let you be titan desert,” he mumbles the last part. He’d never heard someone refer to themselves as titan desert before, it almost made him laugh.

You stop at your door and look at his with an adoring gaze. He truly was nice looking, and incredibly brave. You wanted to be just like him, you wanted to be even stronger than him one day.

Before you could think you were leaning in to kiss his cheek. His eyes widen and his face heats up. The action rendered him speechess and he watched as your reached for the handle and opened the door before slipping in your room without another word.

He stayed in the hallway for a few seconds staring at where you just stood.

“Shit,” he whispered.

That only sparked his feelings for you further, and he knew this was the beginning of something he’d been avoiding his whole life.

Love.

[hansolmates]

jjk; off-league

summary; you decide to do a little boudoir photoshoot for yourself—a little sexy lingerie, some bunny ears, maybe even a little nudity to make you feel more body positive about yourself. that little photoshoot doesn’t end up being for yourself anymore when you accidentally send those sexy pictures to your stupidly hot, stupidly talented childhood friend who you haven’t spoken to since middle school graduation.  pairing; photographer!jk x fem!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers!au, flangst, mutual pining, feelings of insecurity and body image, suggestive language, nudity  w.c; 6.2k a/n: i was feeling a lil meh about this fic after finishing it but a month later it finally makes its debut! for @btsghostiewritersnet​ BGW Bingo Bash! today’s trope is “childhood friends to lovers” which surprisingly isn’t a favorite of mine so it was definitely a challenge to write! 

“C’mon, I need your opinion. Deadass. Don’t just say shit to make me feel better.” 

“Gimmie those nudes, baby girl,” Johnny makes an impeccable fuckboy impersonation, making you feel a little squirmy to your stomach. 

It’s an hour away from being the ass-crack’o-dawn and your impromptu pin-up photoshoot just needs the sexy-star-of-approval from your best friend. Johnny Suh is also up for reasons unmentioned, but you had a feeling his pretty boyfriend is fifty percent of the reason. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your frame against the black bodice of the sheer teddy. The only parts that are fully concealed are the parts that don’t matter. The sheer bodice reveals your pert nipples concealed by a thin black mesh, coupled with the deep V in the sweetheart neckline, accented by a little black bow in the dive of your highlighted cleavage. The silky a-line raceways to a set of black garters hugging your thighs, barely hanging onto a pair of lace thigh-highs. 

It doesn’t leave you butt naked, but enough to make you feel confident about yourself. These pictures are for you, and Johnny. And Johnny’s boyfriend if he’s being nosy. 

You tug off the silk bunny ears from your head, flinging it somewhere in your room. The wire started to dig in your brain, giving you a major headache. 

“Sending them now,” you hang up and start compiling the pictures in a folder on Google Drive. Once that’s done you copy the shareable link, sending it to Johnny’s number. It happens all so fast, and you feel kind of giddy. As you were posing for the camera, taking your time to find all the right angles, you felt good, you felt sexy in your little get up. Channeling your inner Ariana Grande was one of your childhood dreams, your fifteen year old self would be proud. 

Five minutes pass, fifteen, and by the twenty-five minute mark you’re pissed. What’s taking Johnny so long? 

Makeup scrubbed clean and face bare, you shuffle in your duvet, far too tired to be waiting up this long. Punching in his number once more, you cry, “Hey! Why haven’t you looked at them yet?” 

“What?” your friend’s voice sounds pebbly through the line. Was Johnny sleeping? “You never sent them!” he whines tiredly. 

“No, I definitely sent them!” you pull the phone away and keep Johnny on call, ready to prove him wrong. 

But to your surprise, the last message you sent to Johnny was this afternoon. 

The most recent message is to a person named John Kook. 

You scream. 

Johnny screams back at you with an equal amount of force, “What the fuck? Did someone break in? Are you being mobbed? See, this is why I wanted to put the baby monitor in your room—” 

“Worse!” you’re well prepared for any break in, but not for this. “I sent my pics to the wrong John!” 

“Well… is he at least cute?” 

“I mean, in the fourth grade he looked pretty cute with that front tooth missing,” you find your output of frustration, your bunny plush, pulling it by the ear and hitting it against the bed. “His name isn’t even John! It was just his English name for a silly project we did in middle school. This is so embarrassing, all I can picture is a twelve-year-old Jungkook mortified from sexual harassment. I basically sent him nudes!” 

“Tasteful nudes.” 

“I’m gonna die.” 

“He’s gonna die, of happiness.” 

Jeon Jungkook was a classmate from elementary through middle school. Time and time again was he the object of your affections, from the first grade at the roller rink to the speech he made at graduation. But really, who cares? You’re old and have a job, and it’s not like you’ve communicated with any of your former classmates. 

Your horror amplifies when the Delivered receipt is changed to Read 3:41AM. 

“Fuck! Fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget he saw it!” you cry, “does he still have my number? What if he deleted my contact, would that be even weirder?” 

“Girl, stop.” Johnny sighs, and you can already picture him running his thumb between his brows. “This doesn’t change anything, alright? You two don’t know each other anymore. Block his number and go to sleep.” 

Johnny leaves you alone after that, and you’re left alone to mull over the implications of sending Jeon Jungkook your nude photoshoot. 

You do block his number, knowing that waiting for a reply would drive you nuts. The one thing that you do which is possibly worse, is look him up on Instagram. 

Of course, he’s stupid hot. 

He doesn’t seem to like being on the receiving end of the camera however, in favor of his timeline being filled with romantic shots of the beach and city. In between the picturesque views and watercolor sunsets do you see glimpses of him and his current life. You can’t help but smile when you see him with his brother and parents during his college graduation, easily towering over all of them. He looks tall with fluffy cocoa hair, big pearly whites gleaming proudly at the camera. He grew up well. 

To torture yourself even more, you even look through his story. Twelve hours ago, he was at the gym lifting weights. Normally, you’d be disgusted by people trying to show off their grunt faces drenched in sweat, but of course Jungkook has to have on a silly smile and pump his fist up after he deadlifts. The sweat clinging to his shirt is also a high plus. His gorgeous display of abs has your hands fluttering over your own belly. Maybe you need to exercise more. 

Four hours ago, you see him and a pretty woman with their cheeks squished together, using the puppy filter. Of course he has a girlfriend. 

Reluctant, you open up your Google Drive and scroll through your photoshoot. Deflated, you frown at the pictures that once made you beam with pride, picking at every little detail that bothered you. You really can’t believe you sent these to Jeon Jungkook, no longer a fourth grader with one front tooth, but a man way out of your league. 

By the time you will yourself to sleep, the sun peeks from the horizon, telling you to move on. 

“Hey Gyu,” you tiptoe over to the table much too small for Mingyu’s frame. The string bean is slumped over his iPad pro, drawing intently at some chibi OCs. “Got a plot for that one?” you ask, pointing at the little pink and blue creature decorating the screen. 

Mingyu grunts in reply, obviously engrossed. It isn’t until you slide him a matcha frappe from Starbucks that he becomes intelligible, muttering a “thank you” as he blends with his pen. 

Sensing that it’s going to be awhile before you get through to him, you take your usual rounds around the front desk and lobby of the cosy photo studio. There’s pretty pictures of Mingyu’s work, along with the other employees Minghao and Hoseok. Each section of the wall features a different taste of each person’s interest. Mingyu is a divine lover of soft bed sheets and hot tea, many of his photographs and paintings featuring cafes or perfectly messy beds you’ve seen on hotel advertisements. Minghao is a tasteful artisan, splotches of color retaliating against neutral backgrounds. Finally, Hoseok manages to find balance in the people, large cityscapes telling both large and small stories.

“Alright,” Mingyu’s deep voice forces you to curl your head, where he’s sipping at his drink with haste. “What’cha here for?” 

You frown, “Don’t you remember? I told you last week I’d be stopping by to get my photos developed,” you gesture to the Pentax in your hands, an heirloom from your great-aunt. While you did take digital photos for sending them to Johnny, the ones you wanted developed were taken side-by-side with the film camera. You figured that film would give a little more authenticity to your photoshoot. 

“Shit, that’s today?” the camera falls like deadweight, slapping against your sweater as you watch Mingyu frantically look through his digital calendar. He looks at you, dejected. “How many prints?” 

“I don’t know, maybe like six. Or eight?” 

“That’s gonna take too long, I’m heading down to Hidden Grounds for a vision meeting at two.” 

“Alright, I’m free all day. What about after?”

“Nah, you came all this way. I can just let the new guy help you.” and Mingyu makes a show of cupping his hands in the direction of the open hallway, “Yah, Jeon Jungkook! Get your cute ass out here!” 

The Pentax around your neck suddenly feels like weight akin to a two-ton boulder, and you surge forward, not caring that the corner of the table is digging into your belly. “Mingyu,” you garble, and Mingyu is shell-shocked by the desperation in your eyes. “Isn’t Minghao around or something? Or I can come back another time? These photos are really personal and I don’t feel comfortable having a stranger see them.”

“What? We’re professionals, don’t belittle us.” 

“No, seriously,” you whine, you tug at the collar of his denim jacket, noses practically touching. “These pictures are different. My tits are out and my legs are spread—”

“—interrupting something?” 

You hear some shuffling, and you turn around to see Jeon Jungkook’s back, comically turned to face the entrance. 

And damn, he did have a cute ass. Nothing is going to hide the glory in those jeans, absolutely nothing. 

“Hilarious,” Mingyu drawls, and you push him away. “Forget it, Kook. She doesn’t feel comfortable letting a stranger develop her photos.” 

Sensing that it’s safe to turn around, you watch as his black bangs flutter as he faces you. You hope your body language doesn’t betray how you’re really feeling, because you are a mere mortal and you’re weak in the presence of god-like figures. 

“Oh, what a relief then,” he smiles at you, and his voice sounds like honey. If there was malice or surprise in his tone, his good-natured expression betrays it. “Because I’ve known this friend since elementary school. We go way back.” 

You ignore the burn in the back of your head, as you are positive Mingyu knows you’re hiding something. 

“Really, what a coincidence.” Mingyu replies carefully, and you feel utterly stuck between these men and their banter, locked up like cream in an Oreo cookie. 

Nothing argues against Jungkook as he easily weaves through the thick wave of awkwardness, hands reaching out to touch your camera. “Wow,” he marvels, holding the object in his hands, “my dad has one of these.” 

“A-ha,” you take a step back, only to bump into the corner of the table, again. Ouch. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’m actually busy today so I can come when Mingyu’s free–”

“Oh, I thought you were free all day,” Mingyu drawls, looking up through his lashes as he sips languidly at his drink. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says good-naturedly, as if Mingyu just didn’t out you. “We got a lot of catching up to do anyway, c’mon.” 

Jungkook moves to place a hand in the small of your back and that’s enough to get you to rev up. Refusing to let any contact get between the two of you, you zip ahead down the familiar hallway, turning your head to catch Mingyu grinning with all canines, shooing you with his fingers like a puppy. 

You send Mingyu a stream of “fuck yous” into his inbox for later, unwilling to settle with this curse. Busying yourself with your phone, you avoid eye contact with Jungkook until you reach the dark room. The red light turned off at the top of the doorhenge signals that the room is not in use. Jungkook makes a move to open the door and that’s when you pounce, blocking the doorway with your small body. It’s comical, really. 

Jungkook raises a brow at you, but says nothing. 

“I really can wait, Jungkook,” you steel yourself, forcing a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t like you developing my pictures—”

It’s then that his pretty cupid’s bow unfurls into a full-fledged grin. “Girlfriend... you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” 

“Fuck, well I had to!” your face is as red as the dark room’s alert light, now on because Jungkook flicked the switch and he’s between your arm to unlock the door. Your hand brushes his as you both reach the knob. “I’m really really sorry I sent those pictures. They were for Johnny—you remember Johnny Suh from English class? And I saved you in my contacts as “John Kook” so it was an honest mess up.” 

Jungkook hums, so light that the breathiness in his chords flutters your grip on the knob. He forces the door ajar, and you’re left to follow him in the dark room, cluttered with solutions and fancy equipment. 

“Thought so,” Jungkook shrugged, giving a one-over at the materials in the room, mulling over his next steps in developing your film. 

You’re still petrified at the doorway, holding your Pentax between both hands like a lifeline. Jungkook’s head lols to you, and you get a pretty view of the way his bangs brush over his forehead, Adam’s Apple bobbing. His expression is a little tired, but overall unreadable. He sighs your name, lethargic. 

“We’re already here, so might as well get this done,” he gestures to the camera in your vice grip. “Do you wanna pick the shots or do you want me to?” 

He’s already seen the digitals, what’s so different about getting a couple prints? With a slight pout you drag your feet over to him, relinquishing your camera. “I’m thinking you have a better eye for this than I do.” 

“You think right.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Cocky, but what you’ve seen on Instagram definitely justifies his sentiment. Jungkook pays no mind to you, busying his hands with the various containers in front of him, measuring the solutions for the developer, stopper, and fixer. You were always entranced by the process of developing film, especially in highschool where their photography club holed themselves in the darkroom like a secret lair. 

“Alright,” he pops open the canister, carefully laying out sections of the film in groups of four. “Want me to pick a random one for a tester?” 

You frown, “At least put some thought into it.” 

“Always,” it looks like he already decided way before he popped the question, immediately taking a negative and placing it in the carrier. 

His fingers are nimble as he takes the time to clean off the dust and any debris that could potentially ruin the image. Then he turns off the lights and begins the process. You dive around him, trying to keep your distance but still too curious to leave his side. If he’s annoyed he fails to show it, in favor of humming whatever song comes from his Echo Dot. 

You always got the solos in choir. You wanted to reminisce, but you’re too nervous to say it out loud. 

Even though it’s his job and he’s being a professional, you romanticize the experience, watching as he carefully puts the print in each liquid process. Your image blooms to life, and you feel your stomach churn as the photo develops before your eyes. 

After a final dip in the solution stopper, he places the first product in a bath of water. Even though you are mere centimeters away, you can clearly see the image of you swimming around the container. 

“Alright!” Jungkook hangs the finished picture on a pastel pink clothespin, tacking it in place. “Whaddya think?” 

Your breath catches in your throat, feeling heavy as you look at the image of you reflected in the glossy paper. You’re perched on your bed, a hand splaying between your legs as the other hand toys with the silk bunny ears. You’re leaned slightly, giving an ample view of your cleavage. However, the image of you is definitely different from being blown up in comparison to the negatives, and you squirm uncomfortably at your full display. 

“I look,” you bite your tongue, internally debating whether you like it or not. Not to spare Jungkook the theatrics you shrug, “It’s good.”  

The lack of enthusiasm seems to dissatisfy Jungkook however, as he has to take a double take and look back and forth between the image and the real thing. “What’s wrong with it, do you think Johnny’ll not like it?” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, breaking into a nervous laugh. “Johnny has a boyfriend. I just wanted his opinion. This photoshoot is for me, y’know? Just something to make me feel good about myself.” 

Jungkook’s lips morph into a little ‘o’, and you see a little bit of the child you once knew in the way he’s mulling over the situation. 

“Then can I give you my honest opinion?” Jungkook clips off the half-dried photo, holding it between you two. “Stop thinking so hard about every little thing you don’t like about yourself. If I was your boyfriend and you gifted this to me, I’d be creaming my pants. You look fucking sexy, all grown up since you cried in the fourth grade.” 

You’ve just been flung a litany of words you have no brain capacity to digest. Along with that, the immense heat you didn’t know you’ve been suppressing surges to your belly, low and simmering. Jungkook stares at you in earnest, despite his sudden gush of honesty, you don’t know what to say. There’s a dash of pink staining his cheeks, betraying the confidence he previously displayed. He stiffens when you don’t reply immediately and moves to clean his materials, his sudden bout of bold honesty quickly shrinking. 

“Y-you know,” you look down at your feet, “the only reason why I cried in the fourth grade was because you told me Santa wasn’t real.” 

Jungkook softens, tilting his head. “Sorry about that.” 

“Thanks though,” you gently reach for the photo in Jungkook’s grasp, looking at it without contempt. “But won’t your girlfriend be upset if she knew you were saying things like this about someone else?” 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, if you looked through the rest of my Instagram story,” Jungkooks cards a hand through his already mussed hair, splitting the ends. “You would see that she’s not my girlfriend, but my tattoo artist.” 

For added measure, he wiggles his fingers in front of you, revealing pretty ink and silver bands across his knuckles.

“Oh,” your voice is feather light, and you’re sure you’re drooling as you stare far too long at the letters that mark his hands, curious as to what they symbolize. 

“So, as a singleton telling another singleton,” he continues, “I know it’s meaningless if you don’t believe it yourself, but I’m telling you, you’re attractive.” 

“Thanks,” you hold the picture tightly in your grasp, eyes flickering to the negatives in the room ready to be galvanized into a full-fledged picture. “Why don’t we wrap this up, huh? We can continue another time.” 

If he notices how much the paper wilts in your grasp, he doesn’t comment on it. “Are you sure? I know it takes a lot of time, but I don’t mind.” 

“I’m sure,” you force a smile, one hand on the lightswitch. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready, okay?” 

Jungkook swallows, nodding mechanically. “Okay.” 

“It was really nice seeing you, Kook.” you blurt before you could chicken out, letting the room bask in darkness a little longer so he can’t see your flustered state. “I’m not even going to downplay it, you look great.” 

You half-expect a cocky remark, or a little chest pumping from the compliment. At the sound of his nickname however, 4th grade Jeon Jungkook resurfaces and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Like I said, so do you,” he replies easily, sending you a soft smile and opening the door for you. 

The door closes shut behind you and you exhale, patting your cheeks and willing for the chilly air to calm you down. 

When you get home that day, you shuck off all your clothes and crawl into bed. You cry out when the metal framing of your bunny ears stabs you in the back, and you fling it to some unmentionable part of the room. You reach for a bag of half-opened sour gummy worms, flipping open your MacBook to continue streaming the soft magical girl anime you’ve been hooked on these past few weeks. 

Not even Sailor Uranus can distract you; however, by the time it’s dark and you’ve run out of distractions, you finally pull the plug and unblock Jungkook from your list of contacts. 

Your phone buzzes, the incessant vibration relaying all the messages you’ve missed. 

[March 12th, 3:53AM]

You: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/0343…

John Kook: ??? 

John Kook: you probably sent this to me by accident… sorry i clicked on it

John Kook: is it weird if i said you’ve done a massive glow up since the middle school dance?

[March 12th, 12:02 PM]

John Kook: are u mad

John Kook: you’re mad

John Kook: am i makin this weird by continuing to text you

John Kook: im making it weird. 

[March 31st, 6:24 PM]

John Kook: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/049…

You tilt your head at the folder link, it was sent only a few hours ago. With a click, you’re enlightened to a set of digital photos. Your photos from your photoshoot, but not quite. They’ve been expertly edited, not too much to distort your looks, but only to enhance your features. A small, barely there smile creeps from your subconscious, ultimately touched by the gesture. 

John Kook: sorry if i pushed too hard today. 

Guilt overrides your nerves, prompting you to immediately press the call button on his contact. Not to your surprise, Jungkook’s light voice calls your name through the line after the second ring. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you blurt, forgoing the hellos. “It was the right amount of push, I feel better, really. If anything, I’m sorry. I blocked your number because I was scared to read your reaction.” 

You hear him sigh along the line, and you feel that breath ripple through your nerves, as if he’s right next to you. “It’s fine, I would’ve done the same thing.” 

“The pictures you just sent, they’re really beautiful. You did a good job.” 

“Thanks, I had a bit of help. I didn’t have to do much.” 

“Oh, did Mingyu come back from his meeting?” 

"No, I uh," Jungkook chuckles, and while you don't really know why, the sound is nonetheless pleasant. “It was mostly the lighting and coloring I fixed up. Didn’t need to do much since you already looked so pretty as it is.” 

You choke on your saliva. 

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you cough, “just choked on a snack I was eating.” he hums in reply, and you pray he doesn’t hear your stomach fervently retort that you haven’t eaten since lunch. “So, I think I’m up for developing more of the film. When can I drop by?” 

“I’m free Saturday,” Jungkook chirps, “I have a shoot until noon but you can come anytime after that.” 

“Sounds good, I’ll be there,” you clutch the phone with both hands. “I can bring lunch. What do you like to eat?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m already buying for Minghao,” you lie, “do you like burgers?” 

“I can’t say no to a good burger,” Jungkook’s smile feels almost palpable against the line, “do you remember our field trip to the national museum of history? We had burgers on the street!” 

“Oh, those were so good,” you moan, fuzzy memories of a middle grade field trip resurfacing to clarity, “but you ate like, ten of them!”

“I still get nightmares,” he warns, “don’t let me go to bed like this.” 

You giggle, letting your body meld further into your warm mattress. “Maybe I’ll just show up with ten burgers for you tomorrow.” 

“I’ll throw up on you, try me.” 

Minghao’s adjusting the frames on their display wall by the centimeter, and it’s pissing him off. 

“Ah, it’s off,” he mutters to himself when you walk in, indicated by the electronic bell. He turns to you briefly, pulling a leveler out of his overall pocket. “Doesn’t this look off?” 

“Uh,” you look towards Mingyu at the front desk, who is paying no mind as he continues scribbling on his iPad. You tilt your head towards your former college classmate. “It doesn’t look off from over here?” 

Tacking the leveler on one of the frames, he whines, “It’s five degrees off.” 

Mingyu puts his pen down to reach over the counter and grab the paper from your hands, steaming with the scent of fast food, “He’s been like this for hours, don’t mind him.” 

He doesn’t even ask whether the food is his, Mingyu sees grease and he claims. Reaching for an oil-wrapped parchment, he unfolds the paper to reveal a handsome burger with all the fix-ens. 

Barely satisfied, Minghao steps away from the art display. There is a sizable gap in the display, now divided between four artists instead of three. You wonder how Jungkook’s work will look amongst the other artists. 

“Cute ‘fit.” Minghao mumbles, nodding approvingly at your clothes as he digs into the bag for his own burger. 

You send a half-smile his way. If an outfit is Minghao-approved, that means you’ve gone above and beyond. At least, you tried to play it off like you didn’t try to look cute. It’s not like you’re intimidated by Jungkook, living with a major fifteen-year glow up. After all, he’s already seen more than you can imagine. 

Mingyu takes notice, eyes going south to where your white blouse meets your cleavage. You hurl a fry at his face, “Eyes up here, perv.” 

He scrunches his nose, lifting a greasy thumb to slide a manila envelope over to you. “Here’s the developed pictures. Intercepted Kook and I finished them this morning.” 

You frown, “Jungkook’s not done with his photoshoot yet?” 

“Oh, he’s been done.” Mingyu’s eyes roll back to one of the studios. “But I’m saying is, you got what you needed. So you can leave if you want,” but he grins at you, canines so sharp you feel his stare jabbing you in the proverbial neck. “Unlesssss you want to go in and say hi.” 

If he has any inkling of what’s going on in your head, it’s definitely confirmed when your face turns hot. Damn body, you’re betraying me! With a flourish you grab the fries from under Mingyu’s nose, along with whatever’s left in the fast food bag. 

Minghao’s smiling through his burger, knowing if he pulls any type of savagery his lunch would certainly be pulled from under his chin. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, drop it or the burger will be going in your ass instead of out.” You mean to sound menacing, but the Min-squared and their boisterous laughter follow you down the hallway and into the occupied studio. 

“Hey Jungkoo—wow.”

You’re sure you look like Alice, enthralled by the little wonderland she just stepped into. The set is beautiful, right out of a fairytale. It has a very old-romance vibe, like Morticia and Gomez Addams. There lay a couch made of the darkest, richest wood, with velvet red cushions covering the body. Across the floor laid hundreds of black rose petals, blanketing the floor in a sea of ebony. 

“It’s for a wedding, gothic themed.” Jungkook supplies helpfully, still fiddling with whatever he was looking on his digital camera. He’s looking utterly soft in a matching grey sweat combination, something that would easily disgust you during high school, but unfairly works with him. 

“The shoot must’ve been beautiful.” 

“It was.” 

“I uh, got this for you.” Your fingers start to sweat from clutching the bag so hard, and you place it on his work table. 

He finally looks up from his camera, giving you a wan smile. “I thought you got those for Minghao.” 

You mentally slap your cheeks, trying to ignore the way his smile made your stomach do somersaults. “He got his own. Your portion has a cookie in it, so.” 

His cute teeth unveil themselves at the mention of sweets, and you can’t help but smile back at the familiarity. 

The two of you take your time in enjoying your lunch, not meaning to stay but the very back of your mind hoping he’d like to share a meal with you. After all, Mingyu and Minghao are probably at the front relishing in your very obvious attraction. What can you say, first crushes never die. 

Between sips of your milkshake, you’ve taken to flipping through Jungkook’s portfolio. There’s a myriad of different subjects: beaches, people, the occasional squirrel. Each section of the portfolio feels like you’re being transported to a new side of Jungkook and his artistry, and you ached to know more. 

“Wow,” you point at an action shot of two girls in a dance studio, “this duo looks like Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

He swallows his (second) burger, having the audacity to sink sheepishly in his sweater. “It is Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

You nearly choke on your cookie. “That’s amazing.” you say breathlessly, looking closer at the image. In fact, the beautiful women photographed are famed hip-hop choreographers Chungha and Hyoyeon. You can’t imagine how good Jungkook must be to manage a photoshoot with them. 

As proud as you are of Jungkook, it reminds you that since middle school you two have lived completely different lives. You wonder if Jungkook gets these kinds of gigs all the time, hanging around with gorgeous, talented people like himself.

Jungkook says your name once, twice. He looks at you concerned, and you’re melting in his large carmine eyes. If he notices your usual overthinking, he doesn’t say anything, and gestures to the section at the end of his portfolio. “This isn’t my best work, but it’s one of my favorites.” 

There’s something familiar about this set. A playground with a busted swing set. Children riding on bikes and colorful class shirts. Ice cream melting on fists. 

Thirteen-year-old you hanging on top of your middle school’s leafless tree, clutching your baseball cap as you shade yourself from the sunset. 

“Was this the first time you took pictures?” you ask, thumbing the picture of yourself. 

“Yeah. It’s when I decided it’s what I wanted to do the rest of my life.” 

“I know we didn’t know each other that well and we’ve only recently connected but,” you give him a shy smile, “I’m really proud of what you’ve grown up to be, Jungkook.” 

He looks like you’ve hung him the moon and stars, his half-eaten burger loosening in his grasp. His lips are parted cutely, like a kitten who’s just been offered a fresh glass of milk. You cough at the sudden pause in conversation, feeling self-conscious of your impulse confession. You don’t even have it in you to be disgusted when Jungkook hastily shoves the second half of his burger down his throat, tips of his ears pink. 

Leaving him be, you press a palm to your cheek, looking at the wedding set. 

Jungkook downs half a water bottle before he speaks again. “Y’know, it would be a shame to clean up this set already. It was kind of expensive.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, standing up and kicking off your slippers. You kick your feet in the air, watching the black petals kiss across your ankles.

“I have an idea,” he wipes his hands on his sweats, “why don’t you go back home and get an outfit you really like. Lingerie, a cute outfit, whatever. Let me give you a photoshoot you’d love.” 

You look up from your petal dance, balking. “Jungkook! That’s not necessary, I told you the photos I took were okay.” 

“Yeah but, you didn’t seem entirely happy. C’mon, I got a camera and a beautiful set. Why waste it?” his hands naturally gravitate towards his charging camera, already turning it on. “I can do lighting, I know all your good angles. What’s stopping us?” 

Really, what’s stopping you? Your hands fiddle with your open flannel, the soft material comforting you as you look across the set. You try to imagine yourself, your body draped across the velvet pillows and black petals. Would it look good? Would you feel good? You think back to how you felt the first time, how scared you were when someone other than Johnny would be looking at your photos. You remember how something weird and sour contorted in your stomach when you scrolled through Jeon Jungkook’s Instagram, no longer the little boy you knew but a man who could have everything he wanted—

“Stop thinking about it.” Jungkook suddenly snaps, and you break from your reverie to catch him looking upset. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him like that. 

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking that you’re out of my league.”

“Excuse me?” 

“You were like this the other day too,” and he looks sad, and puts his camera down to come closer to you. “Why are you feeling this way. Is it me?” 

“Not necessarily,” you huff, hugging yourself.

“Do you not feel beautiful? Do you not like your body?” 

“No, I do.” you say to yourself, and you mean it. Even though there will inevitably be days where you may not feel one-hundred percent positive about yourself, you know at the end of the day, you love you and all its parts. “I don’t know, Jungkook. I had no problem letting Mingyu develop the photos originally, because he knew me in college and I was already sure of myself back then. But I guess when I sent them to you, I felt like I did when I was a little girl, y’know? Going through puberty, and worrying about what other people think.” 

And it’s not like Jungkook teased you or made you feel lesser of yourself. In fact, Jungkook was the student you wanted to be when you were younger. Someone sweet and caring, and unabashedly confident about himself. 

“I guess seeing you so successful and the fact that my stupid childhood crush came back from a time where I always felt low, made me feel a little insecure again.” 

Something sinks in and you feel hyper aware of how crushed Jungkook looks at your declaration. “There’s no leagues, you got that?” he says quietly, walking so close that he’s hovering over you, sneakers brushing. “I get it. I get unsure and insecure just like you. Hell, I was nervous this morning, wondering if you’d really come. We may not feel insecure over the same things, but middle school wasn’t that great for me either.” He makes a funny face, and you feel a smile twitch across your lips. “But it’s okay. Because we’re human and we grow. But now, you are successful. You’ve grown from your time growing up and you’re a wonderful, powerful person. I’m proud of you too.” 

“I know,” you mumble, leaning your forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around you in response, holding you snug.

“And for the record, I thought you were the most beautiful person in the world in fourth grade. Even though my world was pretty small back then, I can say now that what I thought back then still stands true.” 

You look up from his embrace, where he’s leaning down to press a slow, cotton soft kiss to your forehead. He backs up a little to read your face, and you give a tiny nod in response to signal it’s okay. Jungkook exhales in contentment, relaxing against your frame. 

“Thanks, Kook,” you crack a smile, feeling your insecurities slowly evaporate. You feel better, light, knowing that these negative feelings are only temporary, and you’re not alone. Being in Jungkook’s arms, an honest boy turned man you’ve known all your life, it feels almost like home. 

You two stay like this for a while. Exchanging feather-like kisses, feeling irrevocably young and hopeful. Suddenly feeling emboldened, you tug him by the strings of his hoodie to press a long, hot kiss to his lips. There’s a stutter, and you’re pretty sure Jungkook choked on his saliva at the sudden change of pace but you continue, letting Jungkook catch up and follow your lead. 

“Wow,” Jungkook pulls away and his lips are shiny and flushed. Adorable. You think 7th grade Jungkook would be rolling in his Naruto sheets if he knew you two would inevitably end up together. Conversely, 7th grade you would be squealing in your kitten plushie, proud that you managed to nab your childhood crush to live out all the fantasies you’ve imagined since the 4th grade. 

“Jungkook,” you let your flannel fall to the floor in a heap, only leaving your baby blue top in a thin ruched camisole. “I think I want to do the photoshoot. Can’t pass up these pretty petals, y’know?” 

He runs a hand through his hair, gaping. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” you press a wet kiss to his neck, “anyway you want me, baby. Full creative control. I want you to like this as much as I do, okay?” 

With the permission to hold the wheel, Jungkook’s lightheaded and spinning. His eyes rake up and down your gorgeous form, wondering how many good deeds he’s done in his past life to earn a right just as this. 

“In that case,” he presses a palm to your shoulder, pushing you to sit along the velvet cushion, “strip for me.” 

[reidswritings]

the three times that it was obvious

word count; 1.9k

warnings; nothing i think-- just fluff (and a lame ending and also probably some spelling errors haha)

authors note; this is like part 2.5 of times they were just too cute so read those is you want, but you dont have to cause it’ll make sense on its own,, anyways, as always, i hope you enjoy! [ part one and part two ]

bonus— times Spencer was just a little too in love with his girl

There was no one he loved more. That was a fact. Another fact was that everyone knew that. No one questioned his love for the Pretty Girl— well, no one except aforementioned Pretty Girl. That was usually on her bad days though, but on all of the other days, she knew it better than he did. There was many times that he proved it to himself— though, not that it was a competition or anything. 

It had just been so long since he was able to openly love someone as much as he loved His Girl. Growing up in the closet, he was never able to be open about who he loved— in fear of getting beat up, not that that saved him from any beatings. Then, when he was older, he fell in love with the beauty that was JJ. But she got pregnant and then fell in love with his best friend— Emily Prentiss. Not that he was questioning her taste in women— because Emily was probably the hottest one of the whole BAU Team. There was no competition on that one. 

And once he finally got over her, it was on to the beautiful Doctor Maeve Donavan— but that was over before it even began. Damn stalkers, damn unsubs, damn everything that came with the horrible situation. 

That one crushed him. Took away his spirit along with his belief in love. Took away his belief in anything that wasn’t himself. Well, maybe even took himself with it too. That was the one that left him with more trauma than he cared to admit. 

That was the one that he was afraid that he’d never heal from.

But then there was her. Then, he met the love of his life. Then was the moment he felt his heart begin to stitch itself back together. 

The moment the beauty walked through the huge glass doors was the moment he felt like he could breathe again. He was beyond grateful for the Pretty Girl. And he’d spend the rest of his life making it up to her, even if she was never actually his. 

Luckily though, the universe owed him one and she was head over heals for the scrawny agent. It didn’t take long for them to find each other, actually it only took a week of knowing each other (and Spencer following her around like a lost puppy), until he asked her out to coffee. He had learned from his mistakes before. He had learned not to wait— he had learned that nothing was guaranteed. Not even the next breath. 

He learned to go for what he wanted— even with his fear of rejection, it was better to know. 

Spencer Reid was not the best with words— ironic, considering he knew all of the words, even ones in different languages. The one thing he was good at, though, was showing her (and everyone) just how much he loved his Pretty Girl. He wasn’t aware of it at first— he just did the things. It was second nature to him. It was as easy as breathing for him.

The only reason he was fully aware now was because of his lovely friend, Derek Morgan. It was a normal day at the work place— bad guys doing bad things and innocent people dying because of it. 

His girl was being sent out to get said bad guys while he was forced to stay back and work on the geological profile (not that he was complaining, he loved doing it). The only down side of loving someone on The Team was watching them run into danger rather than from it. 

He never underestimated his girl— he knew she was a badass who could handle her own, but it was still nerve-racking, not knowing if he’d see her again (he was as dramatic as he was genius).  

So, with his heart thumping with anxiety, he had kissed her, like it would be their last time, just before she ran from the police station, and said, “We kiss before and we kiss again after, okay?”

She had agreed to this like it was nothing— because it made sense to her. She wanted that last kiss, just in case. 

Just in case. 

The dark-skinned hunk had witnessed the whole thing. The older man had snorted and muttered under his breath, “Smooth, Reid. Didn’t know you had it in ya.”

Derek never let him live it down. And Spencer let his friend poke fun, because that meant that he got another day with his Pretty Girl— he knew the day that Derek stopped teasing was the day that he no longer got to love Y/N. And that was a day he wasn’t willing to have. 

Another time he noticed it was again because of a BAU Team Member. It was yet another long night at the office— paperwork calling their names and sleep calling them even harder, stress headaches creeping into their skulls and necks aching from leaning over desks for so long. 

The Genius had watched his Pretty Girl yawn for the umpteenth time and he sighed, leaning back in his uncomfortable chair. It was routine, she’d groan in frustration, yawn, flex her shoulders and then get back to burning the midnight oil. He assumed that she was growing frustrated with the seemingly growing pile of folders on her desk— Spencer had made his way through his stack and was now finishing up his last. Not everyone had his special power of memorization and speed reading.

The young agent stood, cracking a few bones as he did so. Grabbing his now empty coffee mug, he stalked over to his girl’s desk. Upon reaching, he leaned against the large table, cup balancing on his folded leg. Y/N looked up at him, eyes tired and longing to be taken home. Though, she smiled at him and it warmed the boy’s heart. 

“Hey,” it was soft, only meant for her. He was smiling too, he was smiling the smile reserved only for Y/N. Emily, who still sat at her desk, looked over and welcomed the break from the gruesome paperwork on top her cluttered desk. 

“Hi,” it was no louder than Spencer’s words, but loud enough for Emily to hear. 

“You doin’ alright?” Spencer’s head was ducked down towards his girl. One of his large hands was still wrapped around his mug while the other one had found its way to the shoulder of one very tired Y/N. Her head was leaning on his hand, leaving a small kiss. She smiled at him like he was the only person in the world that mattered— and in her small world, he was. “You want me to take some off your plate?”

She sighed, leaning back in her chair now. Emily watched still, smiling. She was happy that the two had finally found happiness away from the horrible world they all had created for themselves. “No, it’s okay. Thank you though, Spence.”

He smiled. She continued, hands holding another empty mug. “You know what you could do, though?”

“Hmm?” The boy raised his eyebrows, mouth shrinking into the smirk that make Y/N weak in the knees. 

“Get me more?” She smiled, lips parting to show her teeth. Spencer blushed, ducking his head again. His hand moved to take the mug from her, standing. They had been dating for awhile now, but she still managed to make him breathless. Their fingers brushed and he felt his stomach erupt in excitement— he hoped that feeling never went away. He would give up forever with her just to keep feeling the way he did in that moment. 

“Anything for you, my love.” He bent down to her level, a kiss leaving itself behind on her forehead. Their eyes closed, savoring the moment— that is until the loud voice of Emily Prentiss rang out. 

“I could use some more, too!” The lovebirds looked over at their mutual friend. She was cheekily smiling, arm hanging in the air, fingers closed around her own empty mug. The Genius Boy straightened up, frown present on his once smiling lips. 

“What?” She laughed, red lips still stretched into her characteristic smile that she more often than not wore, “You’re going that way anyways!”

Spencer’s mouth opened to protest—probably— but Emily spoke again. “You’ll get Y/N some, but not me? After all I’ve done for you? My heart hurts.”

The boy snorted, “Yeah? Well, I’m in love with her, not you, Em.” 

The last time that proved that Spencer loved his girl more than anything was something that everyone in the office knew of. The lovebirds liked to pretend that it was their little secret, but in reality they both knew it was one shared with most everyone. 

It wasn’t a secret that Spencer and Y/N were hopelessly in love with each other— in fact it was very clear to anyone who walked through the BAU doors. Though in love, they were not the biggest fans of PDA. However, Spencer and his Pretty Girl were still very, very, lovey with one another at the workplace. 

Of course, that doesn’t mean they were making out against Spencer’s desk or having secret sex in the BAU bathroom— no, it means that they often shared glances from across the bullpen and small touches when the other is getting just a bit too frustrated and knowing smiles every other hour. 

It was the little things they did that kept them on their toes— kept them head over heals. It was special to them that they kept up the romance, no matter what was going on in their very hectic lives. 

For example, the two very often left small little notes for each other around the BAU. Nothing inappropriate or out of line, it was usually just something that would be sure to make the other smile. And it wasn’t anywhere that was obvious either, it was almost always in a spot that would only be discovered by Y/N or Spencer. 

And sometimes, just sometimes, another member of The Team would stumble across the colorful sticky notes stuck to the back of a chair or to the side of one of Spencer’s many, many, books or to the tip of a pen or even on a coffee mug in the cabinet— unfound by The Lovebirds yet. The Aforementioned Team Member would just smile like they were in on some little secret—because they were—and place the note back so it could be found by a Lovesick Agent later. 

They were sentimental people, keeping each and every note— which The Team so desperately wanted to poke fun at, but they let them have this. They let them stay in their little bubble just for a little while longer— as long as it made The lovebirds happy, it made The Team happy too. 

In fact, once JJ and Emily had stumbled across the small box that held each and every sticky note. They didn’t pry— well, they tried not to, but curiosity got the best of the two girls. They ended up reading each one, and they were so goddamn adorable, they just about cried. 

If there was one thing The Team could agree on, it would be that Spencer and Y/N were perfect for each other and that they all would rather die than let anything happen to the two. 

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Pink Chains

Punk! Kyotani x Bubbly F! reader. Aka my favorite cliche trope. It lives in my head every second of the day.

This is the FIRST HALF because its too much words to fit in one post ! :(

Kyotani owns a grunge /punk apparel shop after leaving the Sendai Frogs after a incident with the Black Jackals. He designs his own clothes and hires Oikawa & Iwaizumi as his employees. Everything goes smoothly for awhile, till you walk in; pink dress, big smile , and bubbly personality. His whole life stops in that moment. 

“Excuse me sir? Do you have a fitting room?”

He blinks finally realizing you are in front of him looking a little huffy, bunching up your cheeks waiting for his answer. Kyo rubs the back of his neck showing off his wolf sleeve to you along with his tone muscles after playing volleyball in highschool. He points with his chin towards the left. “In the back” he tells you. The smile you give him just about melts his fucking heart

***

Oikawa can be heard having a stroke pretty much in the background and a loud slap making him shut up. Kyo shows you where the fitting room is and its more like a room with a curtain on it . You skip past him going in and before you close the curtain you smile at him again.

“Dont leave! I want a second opinion, okay?!?” The curtain whipped closed.

Kyo looked over at his friends and Iwazuimi just nodded fast while Oikawa gave him a thumbs up. Kyo rolled his eyes looking down at his clothes while he waited. A black shirt with a wolf on it , black jeans with rips in them , chains hanging around his pockets and tan boots . He rubs his volleyball tattoo and glances at his sleeve thinking for a minute. Not once had he seen someone like you in his store, even on his day off his friends would text him if such a thing ever happened. So what exactly were you doing?

You flipped your dress over the curtain and Kyos eyes immediately caught it. He looked over his arm and the two were trying not to panic. When he looked back you peeked out from the curtain smiling.

“Ok ready? Be honest ok?”

“...sure..”

you moved the curtain and posed for him. “So?”

It was wonderful, the skirt the shirt the way they fit perfectly on you , the colors looked great on you too even if the shirt was a mix of dark colors and the skirt was red. Kyo gulped taking it in, god he hoped you would be a regular after this.

“Its perfect sweetie.” He said , eyes wide in disbelief.

“Ee really?!?”

“ yes.”

You giggled closing the curtain again and pulled your dress down. Kyo looked over his shoulder again and Iwazuimi had his head on the register and Oikawa was just giving him a thumbs up.

You skipped outta the dressing room holding the items and giving Kyo a smile . “Ill take em !” You told him full of eagerness.

“Okay okay.” He motioned for you to follow him to the register , giving his friends a look till they moved. Kyo went around the desk and rang up the stuff abd of course Oikawa had to say something.

“Never seen a cutie like you before in here!”

Kyo looked over at him and Iwazuimi pulled him away. “I just remembered a shipment came in”

“Iwa-chaaaan”

It was just you and him now. Kyo had no idea what to say to you , fuck he really was awful with girls. He placed the bag on the register and you took it from him , your fingers touching his knuckles and rings for a second. Kyo rubbed his knuckles with his free hand not looking at you.

“Thank you!”

“Uh huh. Anytime.”

He was waiting for the bell on the door to go off, signalling that you left but it never came. Kyo was getting slightly annoyed, not at you but himself. He cant even make conversation.

“I like your tattoo!!!”

He blinked looking over at you to see you pointing to his wolf sleeve. “Its so pretty!!”

“Thank you.”

“Uhm i know people dont like their tattoos touched but i wanted to tell you its pretty.”

“.....you can touch it…” good, cmon Kyo… “i dont mind.” He held his arm out.

“Really?!?” Her hands hovered over it and Kyo nodded slowly.

Slowly you placed your hands on his arm on the first wolf. Kyos hand was in a fist he was so nervous , no female had ever asked to touch his ink before let alone talk to him . You were so soft, feeling your fingers glide over his wolves was the best thing he felt in a long time. It was almost as satisfying as spiking the ball.

“All so pretty!!” You ran your hands up while you spoke. “I want one but im so nervous!!!”

He couldn't help but smile at that. “Oh yeah? Of what?”

“Mm!! I love red pandas.. they are just so cute and tiny !! But also kittens are cute.. “ you stopped at the biggest wolf on his upper arm. He felt you squeeze his muscle.

“Red pandas and kittens would be cool” he told you , trying to flex his arm without you noticing.

“Mmm!!! But the red pandas… they are so fuzzy . And im a little scared of the pain.” Squeeze squeeze.

“It only hurts for a little while.” His face felt red and his hand was no longer a fist. “Maybe i can go with you if you decide to do it. My guy did all my ink.”

You jumped and squeezed for a minute before letting go. “REALLY?!? I . Well uh, youll be there if i get scared ?”

Kyo gave you a smug smile as he rubbed his sleve. “Yeah yeah, you can squeeze my hand if you get scared or it hurts too much.”

“Ah yay!!” You pulled your phone outta your bag and handed it to him. It took him a second to realize what you wanted. Kyo put his number in and you took the phone back giggling.

“Kyo! Okay! Ill see you tonight!!!” You waved goodbye leaving the store and Iwa and Kawa ran over tackling Kyo to the ground .

They teased him till he got fed up and pushed them off . They all sat on the floor just taking in the moment. The look on Iwas face was perfect, he was so proud of his friend and Kawa was too but also he wanted to make jokes . Kyo leaned on the register just staring at his rings with a smile. His phone buzzed a minute later and as soon as he read the text his heart fluttered.

“Hi!! Its y/n! Im so excited for you to with me! Ill meet you outside your shop kay?!? ✨✨✨✨✨”

He smiled and replied back.

“Okay sweetie.”

***

Safe to say Kyo was on edge all day , thank god Iwazuimi was there to help customers whenever Kyo shut down and just had that angry look on his face. Oikawa was stuck on stock duty even though he finished a half hour ago . Kyo just gave him odd jobs till he had enough.

Oikawa went over to the register leaning down on it to see Kyo staring at his phone at the text , he shot Oikawa a look and he just had a smug look on his face.

“Is the summer line out …”

“Yep. Did that about two hours ago.”

“Well go fold something.”

“How about you tell me how this girl has you all messed up Mad Dog.”

Kyo looked up, putting his phone down standing up , he grabbed Oikawas shirt and the smug boy put his hands up grinning.

“Its okay to be nervous Mad Dog.”

“Im not...nervous.”

Iwazuimi looked over and hurried to his friends pulling Oikawa back. “Knock it off.” He told him.

“Iwa-chan tell him he cant see this girl if hes gonna get all angry and pouty.”

Iwazuimi leaned onto the register thinking it over, Oikawa was right , as much as he hated admitting it . “Kyo..shitty Kawa is right.”

Kyo turned to his friend and Oikawa walked away feeling accomplished.

“I know she was super happy and bubbly and you were all closed off in the beginning but you let her touch your ink. You have never let anyone touch your ink before. Your not who you were in highschool Kyotani, dont scare her off .”

He leaned on the register looking at the rings on his hands . “I really fucked myself with that attitude i had didint i, im lucky the Sendai Frogs even picked me up when they did.”

“Remember how annoying it was to hear those girls scream whenever Oikawa served the ball?”

“Mhm.”

“Its your chance to stick it too him , that girl paid no attention to him. And she looked really interested in you. Just calm down and breathe.”

Kyo looked over his shoulder to see Oikawa chatting up a punk girl who was not interested. Iwazuimi stretched while he watched. “This isn't his element anymore. Its yours Kyo.”

He rubbed his tattoo taking in a deep breath. “Damn right it is.”

••

8 o clock finally came and Kyo was still inside writing down the weekly income while Iwa and Kawa locked everything up. Business should pick up soon with his new summer line , he was looking forward to the extra money but not the longer shifts. Iwa and Kawa went over to the desk and Iwazuimi took the key from Kyos hand.

“Excuse you.” He said looking up.

“Your dates here.” Kawa said looking over his shoulder.

Kyo got up looking over Kawa to see you outside the door holding a pink shoulder bag . She really showed up..

“We will finish the records” Iwa told him

“Iwa will finish them” Kawa said

Iwazuimi grabbed his shirt preventing him from leaving. “We, will finish the records.”

“Ugnnn…”

“Lock up after.” Kyo grabbed his jacket putting it on , it was light blue with zippers all over it.

Kyo opened the door feeling his heart in his throat, he was nervous but he could do this. What was he so afraid of ?

You turned around hearing the bell and gave Kyo a big hug and a smile. “Hi Kyo!!!”

Oh fuck.

He lightly put his arm around you and you jumped back smiling . “Ready?”

“Y..yep. Yes. My guy does great work.” He said walking with you.

“Whats he like?!?” You asked walking with him happily.”

“Mmm well, hes nice . Likes to sit in his shop all day. Bit of a wise ass.” He looked down to see you looking at his sleeve again. You glanced up and jumped .

“Sorry!! “

“Dont be, i think you love it as much as i do .”

“Ive always liked wolves but everyone told me they were too scary for me to like.”

Kyo smirked walking closer . “Oh yeah? They aren't all bad.”

“I know!” You poked at his arm. “You are really cool so that just proves they arent all bad.”

It took him a minute to register what you said .”i'm flattered sweetie.”

“Tell me about you!”

“Mm..” Kyo rubbed his sleeve, giving everyone they passed the death glare. “I played volleyball in highschool, those guys at my shop played too on the team. I got picked up by the Sendai Frogs for a bit but after awhile i wanted something calmer”

You stopped walking and Kyo stopped looking back to see you with big eyes. “Whats.. wrong?”

“You did professional volleyball?!?”

“Yep. But i wanted to design things , and Oikawa and Iwazuimi came along with me. My tattoo guy was on our highschool team too.”

“Thats.. AMAZING.” You grabbed his arm following him going on and on asking about being a professional and what it was like.”

Kyo felt really nice inside, he even told you about his attitude in highschool and you just thought it was so silly . “What?!? But your so nice and calm now!”

Safe to say his heart grew after hearing that. He squeezed your hand and let go to open the door to the tattoo shop.

“Thank you sweetie, were here.”

••

The tattoo shop had music blaring as soon as Kyo opened the door making you blink a few hundred times.

“Oi Mattsun!! where are you.” Kyo said, lightly pushing you inside so he could close the door. You found yourself clinging to Kyos arm looking all around trying to adjust to the music and this very bright room . It had art Everywhere. Posters, free hand, digital, tattoos, everything. You could not tell what color the walls were. In the center was the stations with a desk to the left when you walked in and a waiting area in the corner on the right.

“Oi!!!!”

“Shaddup! Your ruining the best part!!!”

You looked up at Kyo watching him yell with a huge smile on his face.

“OI!!!!”

“KYOTANI I SWEAR ILL FUCK YOU UP IF YOU DONT-... oh my”

The music cut off and a tall man appeared from the other side of the desk . He was covered in tattoos from neck to ankles. Very spiky black hair and a lip ring with ear piercings . He had on loose shorts and black Vans with his tattoo shops shirt on. He made his way around the desk looking you over then giving Kyo a look.

“Who's this?”

Before Kyo could speak you let go of his arm and jumped in front of him. “Im y/n! Id like a tattoo please!”

Mattsun folded his arms smirking and looked over you to Kyo who was half smirking half trying to figure out why the hell you did that.

“ shes with me Mattsun, “

“Alright alright.” He put his hands uo turning his music back on but at a more bearable level and brought you to his station with a sketchbook. You sat down fixing your dress and Kyo took your bag to hold it . Mattsun snapped a picture and Kyo grabbed his shirt.

“Dont.”

“Too late.! Cant wait for Oikawa to see”

“Fuck you Mattsun”

“Uhm..”

They both looked at you and Mattsun chuckled, swatting Kyos hand away and scooted closer to you in his wheely chair . “Okay Y/n , what would you like hmm?”

“Uhm.. a red panda!”

Mattsun looked at Kyo and then you then Kyo then the art on his walls then Kyo again.

“ what did you bring me.”

Kyo was leaning forward in his wheely chair moving back and forth looking very satisfied with this situation. “I mean if you cant do it ill go to 13 Tattoos down the street”

“Fuck you Kyotani you step one foot in that shop and im never inking you again”

You poked Kyos arm and he looked over at you .

“Uhm.. kyo.”

“Yes sweetie?”

“Youll hold my hand right i..”

Mattsun saw Kyo get flustered for a second and chuckled into his sketchbook while he drew a red panda. Good for you Mad Dog.

Kyo looked down at her hand, he was hesitating. He just needed to grab it. What was he doing? She likes you Mad Dog . His arm inched forward and you placed your hand in his , god the clash with his sleeve and your skin was the best thing hes ever seen. So innocent, fragile, excited. And he was loud, lashed out, swore, pushed buttons… god he loved it.

“Y/n hows this look?” He turned the sketchbook around and you looked along with Kyo.

It was in fact a red panda up on its back legs with its little paws in the air with a happy face and some hearts around it.

“Is SO CUTE !! Kyo kyo look!!!”

“I see it sweetie.” He couldn't help but laugh at the little panda and Mattsun. “Its cute, Mattsun”

“Of course!” He set the sketchbook down and got his gear ready. “Im happy you like it y/n, where would you like it?”

“Oh oh! My arm please the inside a little above my elbow ?”

He smiled scooting closer . “Okay, hold it out for me y/n”

You held out your arm and rubbed Kyos hand with your thumb, he jumped in his skin looking down at you but you were focused on Mattsun drawing the panda on you. He lightly rubbed back on your hand enjoying how soft your skin felt against his thumb.

Mattsun peeled the paper away and picked up his tool, turning it on. “Ready?”

“Yes!..”

“Hold still for me y/n” he leaned forward and started on the outline on your skin.

It hurt, oh it hurt.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz

You can do this y/n

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

“Still got my art on the wall huh?”

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz

“Why wouldn't i? Hows Kawa and Iwa?”

Zzzzz…..

“Same as always. You should see Oikawa strike out at work Mattsun”

Zzzzzzzz…. it was getting hard to keep a straight face..

“That sounds hilarious is he still complaining over the skinny jeans?”

Zzzzz...z.z.z..zzzzz

“God yeah.”

“Ky..kyo..”

he looked up from the tattoo to see you on the verge of tears, you kept looking down and trying to fidget but Mattsun had a firm grip on you. “Stay still for me y/n okay? Don't move”He glanced at Kyo and leaned back to change ink colors then started on coloring.

“Kyo..-“

He reached up with his free hand to cup your cheek and turn your head so you could see him. “Look at me.”

“K..”

“ sshh.. just focus on me okay? Tell me why you like red pandas .”

“ they.. are fuzzy.. i love fuzzy stuff.. and they are troublemakers getting into.. all sorts of things..”

He lightly ran his thumb under your eye getting rid of a tear .

“Dont..dont let go of my hand..”

“I wont Sweetie. What else do you like about them “

“Doing great Y/n, almost done”

“Uhm.. they.. i love red. Its my favorite color. And they like to flop around and tackle each other.. I heard a zoo nearby has them but.. i dont know where.``

“Miyagi zoo, would you like to go sweetie?”

“Y-yes i..” your eyes wandered away from Kyo and he brought you back to him gently.

“Ssh , look at me. Just me remember?”

“Just.. you.”

“Yes sweetie. Youre doing so good.”

“Done.” He wiped the panda a few times and scooted back taking a picture with his phone. “My apprentice is gonna have a stroke. Okay y/n if you wanna go look my mirror is right over by the wall”

Kyo helped you up and wiped under both of your eyes with his thumbs and you smiled up at him holding yourself. “I..i did it..” you choked out a giggle.

“Yes you did. Go take a look .” Kyo told you and let you go. He watched you make your way to the mirror and Mattsun yanked him over to his desk getting behind it to record the order in the laptop. They were quiet for a second .

Mattsun looked up at Kyo, he was leaning on the desk with his arms up on it.

“How the fuck did you meet her”

“She came into my store, Mattsun. Do you see her?”

“Did she buy ANYTHING?”

“She bought the plaid red skirt and the kitten guitar shirt”

“What the fuck Kyotani.”

“Ask Iwa and Oikawa, they could not keep it together.”

Mattsun took his phone out texting Oikawa.

“I let her touch my sleeve, Mattsun”

His friend dropped his phone looking up at this hard and angry punk guy staring at him.

“She told me she thought it was pretty and I let her touch it, every wolf.”

“I did the ink and i can't even touch it”

“Shes just.. i don't even know Mattsun. Shes different.”

“From your usual? Uh yeah i'd say so.”

“ i wanna hold onto her, but i dont know how, im scared ill.. scare her off.”

“Dont be gettin all sentimental on me Mad Dog, if she didint run off from my music, your swearing or your store shes not gonna run off now, she was going to have a panic attack in my damn chair if you didint calm her down.”

“Shut up, im not sentimental.. she was gonna .. cry.”

“God..”

“Fuck you, how much is the tattoo”

“$40 because im feeling nice and its about time you had a girl interested in you”

Kyo took his wallet out and put the money on the desk, “keep the change”

“Oh what a baller.” He teased taking the money and coming around to shove his friend. “Good to see you, lets all get together soon for some beach volleyball “

“Yeah yeah, and fine. But you call everyone , “

“Killjoy.”

You skipped over hugging Kyos sleeve and showing him your panda and thanking Mattsun over and over.

“Of course y/n , happy you like it.” He pat your head.

••

Kyo said his goodbyes and was walking down the street with you , it was 9 at night now and he did not want to leave yet.. you were still hugging his sleeve not talking much .

“Hey..”

“Yes kyo?”

“You told me your name and i've still been calling you sweetie, why haven't you said anything? “

You let go of his arm skipping in front of him smiling. “Well, i like it. Its cute to hear you say it..”

He smirked, rubbing his head trying not to look at you. “Will you laugh if i say i don't want to leave yet.”

You shyly took his hand holding it. “No, I wont. I uhm.. i have class in the morning but.. do you want to spend the night? N-not for uh .. uhm.. i mean.. i.. uh.”

Kyo laughed pulling his hand back bringing you with it, he wrapped his other arm around you. “That sounds nice sweetie, id love too.”

“Yay!! Youll get to meet Mocha!!!”

“Mocha?”

“My kitten!!!”

He sighed down at you giving you a hug and you squeezed him. “Thank you.. for calming me down …”

“Of course. You did great sweetie.”

You giggled, swaying a bit. “Ahh easy my arm kinda hurts heh..”

“Oh right, it will be tender for a week or so.” He held you close keepin an eye on your arm. “You did great , you really did.”

You nuzzled into his chest feeling full of bliss . “Thank you Kyo.”

••

@zoppzoop

@nekxrizawa, @kyovtani thought you would enjoy this !

[m-y-fandoms]

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu x reader (fluff + angst) - (COMMISSION)

When I get a commission that isn’t Danganronpa related, I keep the client’s name private and switch names and some paragraphs around to fit a Danganronpa character so you all can enjoy it. This commission best fit Fuyuhiko’s personality, so here you are - Admin Kokichi

SFW, gender-neutral reader

     I walked through the halls of Hope’s Peak Academy, still toweling off my scalp after a shower in the gym’s locker room. Heavily I sighed, thankful for the much-needed sustenance that was soon to come when I finally reached the cafeteria. Sport after sport, activity after activity, it really wore the body out. Hope’s Peak really stressed the importance of the Ultimate-level students honing their skills. That’s why we were there, after all. Yes, we took general education classes like any normal student, the basics like the many different types of mathematics, general art, history, government, sciences and all that, but each student in the Main Course had several hours a day blocked out of their schedule dedicated to their specific talent and that talent only. It was rigorous, obsessive, and exhausting. 

     At times like this, I envied those who sat down for their talent, like animators and gamers, for I, the Ultimate Athlete, was always on my feet. Not that I’m saying art and gaming don’t take a lot out of those students, I just wanted a break from physical exertion once and awhile. My brain wasn’t stimulated quite as much as I’d like. Even the other athletes, like Aoi Asahina, the Ultimate Swimmer, and Akane Owari, the Ultimate Gymnast, had one set training area, and trained one sport for long sessions during the school day. As the all around Ultimate Athlete, the administration of Hope’s Peak had me training lots of different sports and exercise methods in short bursts. This meant running across campus from the pool to the dojo, from the gym to the baseball field, from the wrestling mat to the biking trails. Every day, a different muscle was sore, but I suppose I can’t really complain. It is an honor to be selected to attend Hope’s Peak. I mean, there were hundreds of regular students paying extraordinary rates to attend, just to be mocked and berated for being Reserve Course students anyway. I was lucky to have been chosen as the Ultimate Athlete at all, considering they already had so many types of athletes here. I think the appeal of my talent was that instead of being the best at one sport alone, I was above average at every single sport there was. Well, there was no use wasting time dwelling on my burnt-out body, because immediately after lunch, I was expected back at the gym with no delay. The longer this walk took, the less time I had to eat.

     Picking up the pace, I sprinted - something I excelled at - through the courtyard that connected the Reserve Course and Main Course wings for what was a well-known shortcut to the cafeteria. Reaching the other side, I slowed my pace, my eyes landing on a curious scene that caught my attention. Three Reserve Course girls - distinguishable by the ash-black of their identical uniforms as opposed to the customizable (and optional) Ultimate uniforms - were whispering in hushed tones in front of one of the cream-colored pillars of the courtyard surrounded by some well-tended flowers. They trembled slightly, a bit jittery it seemed, and were clearly gossiping profusely like the gaggle of hens they resembled. There was malice and fear in their expressions as they looked back and forth from the object of their scrutiny then back to each other to deliberate and discuss. My eyes followed their line of sight to the opposite side of the courtyard, where the pond and benches sat. Of course, it was him. How did I not notice him as I passed by from that end? I must have been in some hurry.

     Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, the Ultimate Yakuza, sat on the ground leaned up against a wall on the opposite side of the courtyard, scrawling notes into a notebook in his lap. His brow was creased, fairly engrossed in his studies. I could tell he heard the girls chattering, they weren’t being subtle and weren’t very far away, but Fuyuhiko was paying them no mind.

     “Do you think his dad threatens the teachers if they give him a bad grade?” A blonde gasped, as if the thought had just occurred to her.

     “Probably, I wouldn’t put anything past that clan of brutes,” another plain-looking girl whimpered in reply.

     I stopped to watch the situation play out, hiding behind a nearby pillar and ready to step in if it continued, as rumor-spreading bullies were something that I just couldn’t stand by any means. I knew Fuyuhiko could handle himself… err… maybe I was just being a bit nosey to be honest.

     After a few more minutes of the clique getting louder and bolder with their insultingly toxic babble, I saw Fuyuhiko’s head snap up, throwing them a pointed glare. The flock gasped in unison, with looks of horror on their faces, and scrambled away past me and into the hall. I smirked merrily: now that reaction was the more typical one. I was just thinking how brave these girls must have been to be provoking a Kuzuryuu in the first place. Many people in the school, and just the country in general were terrified of them. I myself felt a bit indifferent about Fuyuhiko. He was in my home room and never caused trouble. 

     The Kuzuryuu Clan was the largest and most powerful Yazuka clan in the country, with ties to national governments, huge drug rings, and a hand in many influential corporations throughout the country. People knew to fear them and not to mess with them, like any gang. Fuyuhiko was the only son of the head of the clan, and next in line as its leader, but if you’d spoken more than two words to the guy, you’d see that it was wise to respect him, but there was no need to fear him. In fact, his little sister Natsumi, who terrorized the Reserve Course girls, probably was the reason Fuyuhiko’s reputation around the school was smeared by association. People saw her bitterness, her jealousy, her need to harass or threaten anyone who she felt inferior to, her horrible attitude, and probably transferred that fear over to her older brother, thinking the siblings must be similar. It was just ridiculous. If anything, he was an asshole at times, but not dangerous.

     Plus, how could someone be afraid of a guy who looked like that? Fuyuhiko was both adorable in some ways, and handsome in others. His cute side came out through in his meager height, the way his pale skin blushed easily when flustered, the softness of his blonde hair, the small pout he wore at times. He didn’t even have ink yet like most Yazuka. His skin was milky and untouched. On the other side of the spectrum, he was handsome and manly in the way he spoke, the elegance of his expensive suits and ties, his intelligence, the way he carried himself, his sharp and intense gaze. I always thought it was more reasonable to be attracted to him rather than afraid.

     He did have a bit of an attitude problem, but I often felt bad for him because of it. The quipping, feisty exterior he presented was clearly a coping mechanism, a method of self-defense after years of pressure to be a pillar of his family and being misunderstood by his peers. It probably wasn’t easy to be expected to watch or even perform drug deals, interrogations, or even murders - who knows? Then after all of that, you come back into normal society and get judged for being tiny with a baby face behind your back while people are scared of you to your face.

     He projected the anger he was taught was normal, and used the years of being raised in the Yakuza to adapt and mold his personality. He often cursed out or blew up at others, was stubborn and hard to work with, did his own thing, and despite how well he thought he hid her, his personal bodyguard being around the corner ready to kick someone’s ass at a moment's notice deterred many potential friendships. Most of our home room were friends with him, but I rarely talked to him. I really only made myself known to a few of the quieter kids in our class like Komaeda and Tsumiki, even Peko herself at times… but other than them I mainly kept to myself.

     I just wished…. he’d talk to me first. I was desperate to get to know him without the fear of feeling like I was bothering him.

     Ok, so maybe I wasn’t as indifferent as I let on before. Now that I’ve given myself away, I suppose I’ll just say it:

     Yes, I was a bit biased on the topic of Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu because… I had a massive crush on him.

     And it was hard, so very hard to see him in class everyday, at the dorms, around campus, and not be able to make those feelings known. I couldn’t tell if it was fear of judgment, fear of rejection, fear of him just cussing me out until I pissed myself, maybe a mix of all three? But now we were alone… save for Peko, who was undoubtedly spying from somewhere close by. Why should I care what anyone thinks? I was sure he’d never tell anyone if he rejected me anyway. He wasn’t the gossiping type, and he only told people what he needed them to hear. Steadying myself, I took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the decorative colonnade. As I shakily stepped across the grass, lunch became the last thing on my mind, and I approached him. He didn’t even look up until I began to speak, cowardice lining my tone.

     “H-hey,” I mumbled, towering above him like some weirdo. He squinted in suspicion, a small pout settling onto his lips as he silently acknowledged me. “Are you studying?!” I yelled more than spoke, my nerves taking hold. He rolled his eyes, holding the notebook up with one hand. I couldn’t help scanning him, taking in the way the sun bounced off the yellow fluff of his buzz cut, the way his chest heaved slowly, the cute little mole under his bottom lip. I was sweating, wondering if Peko would knock me out for getting too close, but also entranced in his hazel eyes.

     “What does it look like?” He huffed, irritated by my very presence. He probably came out hime to be alone, after all. Now he had to deal with me right after those insufferable girls.

     “Ah, haha, yeah, well anyway, I wanted to say that those girls were obnoxious and wrong. You shouldn’t let their words get to you. They’re meaningless. Y-you shouldn’t care about what they think. I-” I spoke quickly, nervously, and he parried my words instantly, tired of me wasting his precious time.

     “I don’t give a shit what they think. Since you’re such a fuckin’ creep and were apparently watching the whole time, you must have seen me scare them off, yeah? I obviously don’t care, and I don’t need some rando to come give me a fuckin’ pep talk! What do I look like to you, some fuckin’ kid that got his feelings hurt by some bullies? Fuck those bitches and fuck you! If that’s all you had to say, get lost,” he spat, and I flinched backwards. He was feeling vulnerable, and biting back was the only thing she knew, like an abused dog lashing out at its rescuers. I knew not to take it personal, that Fuyuhiko sometimes said things he didn’t mean out of anger. I knew all of this, but I was still taken aback and thoroughly intimidated. Almost as soon as he’d snapped at me, he settled back into his calm studying, opening the notebook again. That was Fuyuhiko, a little ball of rage that could be turned on and off like a switch.

     “Well, I, um-” I cut off my own words, swiftly turning on my heel and marching out of the courtyard, clutching my bag like it could save me from this humiliation.

~

     “Fuck… I’m such an idiot.” I shook my head, involuntarily replaying my blunderous attempt to ask Fuyuhiko out in my head over and over again. Could it even be called that? I mean, I didn’t even get to the asking out part before I made a complete fool of myself and pissed him off. I was now rushing through the corridors of the first floor, trying to make it to what was my last class of the day after a very short lunch and some extremely demanding training. The gardening class was mainly unsupervised and casual, but I hated the feeling of being technically late nonetheless.

     The term “class” is used loosely hime. At Hope’s Peak, each student was required to choose an elective course that “gave back” to the community or school in some way. It was thought to boost the school’s reputation, along with the student’s resume. That was the sentiment the school held, anyway. Some students volunteered at local retirement homes, some, like the eccentric Gundham Tanaka, lead clubs that tended to rescue animals and raised them. Others tutored exchange students in Japanese, some did maintenance around the school to earn the credit. I chose the gardening club, where students would break up into little groups and tend to all the plants, flowers, grass, vegetable gardens, and courtyards on and around campus. Sometimes we even took “field trips” to tend to other local greenery. I found it to be the most calming and quiet option of all the electives. There was very little human interaction, and it was satisfying to see the (literal) fruits of your labor grow.

     Today I would be tending to the garden in the secondary courtyard behind the school. This one was more hidden away, rarely ever used, and that’s what I loved about it. But… as I turned the corner, my box of gardening supplies in hand, I froze dead in my tracks, shuffling back to hide behind the cover of the wall.

     Fuyuhiko was sitting there on his hands and knees, pruning weeds from the garden. The coat of his uniform was discarded, and she sat in only his slacks and a button up dress shirt with a tie. He had little towels folded up as make-shift knee padding, green gloves on, and was leaning into his work with such fervor.

     What?! I screamed internally, panic taking hold of me. I had been a member of the gardening club for months, and not once had I seen him on the class roster or in rotation. I’d been to every station, been assigned every task at least once, and I’d never been paired with him. So of course, on the day I was thoroughly humiliated in front of him, here he was, ruining what was supposed to be the most relaxing part of my day. I considered leaving, simply lying about my hour of gardening time on the school’s check-in portal, but something in me told me to stay. I sat there, fighting with myself, nearly collapsing with anxiety, and then he began to speak, tearing my from my thoughts:

     “Now now, how are you gonna grow big and strong if you keep lettin’ these little punks fuck you up like this…?” He huffed, almost fatherly in his tone. I peeked around the corner, wondering who the hell he was talking to. Maybe this shift wouldn’t be so awkward with a third party to distract me from him, I thought, but when I hazarded a glance, not a soul was in sight, save Fuyuhiko. Taking a closer look, I noticed his calloused hands nestled around the leaf of a plant, and he tsk’d, observing the bite marks left by pestiferous insects and small animals. He was talking to the plant?! My cheeks started to warm up, my heart melting at the realization.

     Fuyuhiko began to hum, then to sing softly, a lullaby of sorts for this injured little green darling. Holding my breath, I nearly crumpled against the wall, feeling my flush spread from my cheeks to rush throughout my entire body. This is so fucking cute, I thought to myself, glancing once more, perhaps a bit riskily. I was getting greedy, greedy for even a glimpse of seeing him in the state of happiness I knew he deserved. I couldn’t care less if Peko was sneaking up behind me with a bamboo sword at the ready.

     When I looked, he was smiling, truly smiling. I’d never seen him smile like that before, a smile birthed out of an innocent and serene joy, and now I never wanted it to stop. There was no way I was turning back now.

      I took a few steps back down the hall, then stomped loudly toward the courtyard, allowing him to save face by thinking I had only just approached. I knew I would be in for quite the sour retaliation if he knew I had caught him singing. He may have even gotten up and left. He looked up, still leaned over his plants but now dead silent as I entered, and when he realized who I was, his breath caught in his throat. Another expression I rarely saw from him: one of being caught off guard.

     “Hey… so, I didn’t know you were in the gardening club? I’ve been in it since the start and I’ve never seen you.” I set down my box next to him and pulled out some gloves. I was hoping that acting like earlier never happened was the best course of action. Something can’t be awkward if it doesn’t exist, right? Luckily, he played along… or rather, just didn’t bring it up, either.

     “Uh, yeah. I was hoping to avoid all the bullshit of the whole, volunteer-but-not -actually-because-it’s-a-requirement class thing altogether. I just don’t have time for this shit, but my academic advisor caught on and forced me into gardening. It was the last one with spots left open…” he grumbled, as if he weren’t absolutely loving it mere moments ago.

     “Huh… and they aren’t penalizing you for, you know, losing all those points from the first few months you missed?” I inquired bravely. Maybe those girls were right earlier about his father threatening professors…?

     “Nah, I guess not. My advisor is super chill. She worked something out…”

     “That’s lucky…” my words trailed off, and we both got to work. The longer the silence grew, the more the awkward energy imposed itself on both of us. I could tell that he was thinking back to our earlier encounter by the way he made eye contact and quickly snatched his gaze away, the way she would open his mouth then close it without a hesitant word.

~

     Half an hour passed, and my nerves were beginning to stand on edge. What was more daunting than being alone with your crush? Being alone with your crush who verbally ripped you a new one that same day.

     Now mere inches away from him, focusing in on the same patch of flowers, we both reached for a small watering can at the same time, and our hands touched briefly, fleetingly before he snatched his own back, a shade of pink dusting his soft cheeks. He turned away, embarrassed, but I couldn’t have been more excited by the small interaction. Still, for both our sakes, I felt the need to break the silence.

     “You… you seem happier - now, I mean… as opposed to earlier today…” It was time to bring up the elephant in the room. I saw his body tense up, his spine stiffen, and he turned to face me, dirt staining his forearms and a swipe on his cheek where he’d scratched an itch earlier.

     “Yeah… I should probably apologize for that, bein’ a dick and all. I was just, really pissed and stressed. I shouldn’t have attacked you like that… it’s just… those stupid, loud-mouth, air-headed-” I saw his fists clench, his gloves squeaking a bit under the pressure. I continued where he left off, not wanting him to force himself to relive the gossip or the anger attached to it.

     “It’s fine, seriously. I get it. There will always be assholes like them in the world. I don’t blame you for being upset. Besides, I’m sure it was weird to have a stranger just approach you like that, trying to give you unsolicited advice and bothering you by-”

     “Well, you’re not really a stranger, are you? I’ve seen you around plenty of times… and you’re in my home room.” He spoke reluctantly, clearly fighting against the compulsory need to deflect and defend.

     “O-oh, yeah, you are. I didn’t think you’d notice.” I felt my heart rate speed up. Of course I’d seen him many times in the back of the classroom, but I had no idea he’d given me even a first glance, much less a second one.

     “Of course I noticed. Sports, right? Exercise, fitness, an’ all that?” He nodded, smirking. God, he was so hot… I didn’t know how to contain my excitement. I was trying my best.

     “Yeah, exactly. Sports, exercise, fitness. That’s me.” I chuckled a bit, finding myself more and more drawn to him with every second spent in his presence.

     “Shit’s cool. I can respect someone who’s disciplined and keeps in shape. I’ve seen a few of your games,” he let slip.

     “You have?” I immediately picked it up, a shiver of anticipation running over my skin and setting my pores on fire. Fuyuhiko wasn’t on any of the teams I played for and his Ultimate talent had nothing to do with sports. He wasn’t the type to go watch a sports game for fun, and didn’t have the free time for it anyway.

     My eyes widened slowly, and I’m sure he could see the moment I made the connection deep inside myself almost as soon as I’d made it. 

     That was the day I realized that Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu liked me back. 

     An obscene shade of red flooded onto his face and his nose scrunched up, his voice cracking as he spoke:

     “Stop starin’ at me like that! The fuck’s wrong with you?!”

[cupofteaguk]

are you really going to leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?

FROM THE PETALS COLLECTION

[pairing] :: yoongi x fem!reader

[genre] :: kiki delivery service au + fluff 

[word count] :: 6.3k

.

Your eyes flicker open to a window of ocean and summer breeze drifting into your bedroom. One look at the sun tells you that you’ve overslept just a little bit, but the memory of your long travel the previous day justifies the action. You had to fly practically to the other side of the city to deliver a basket of freshly picked vegetables, and it had taken a lot out of you especially under the heat of the sun. 

And yet, today is a new day. 

You let out a sigh. “I should get up,” You tell yourself, pushing yourself up into a sitting position. The morning light has stretched across the space around you, highlighting the little desk and small collection of plants that overtake the remaining walls of your tiny bedroom. In the corner is your broom, looking as if it’s glimmering at the thought of another adventure for the day. 

With a little rub to your eyes, you look down and see the little black cat curled up at your side. Despite its appearance of comfort, the black cat has it’s big navy colored eyes fixated on you. As if it had been watching you for a little while. “Finally decided to get up,” The cat notes, also pushing itself up into a sitting position. 

Your fingers go behind your back, curl together, and stretch at the muscles of your shoulder. “Give me a break, Tobio,” You say, now moving to bring your hands up and over your head. “We had a long day yesterday.” 

At long last do you push back your blankets. You slide your feet down onto the carpet below and continue with the rest of your preparations. You slip on the heavy black dress you have been wearing since your arrival to the city. Fingers gather into the strains of your hair, pulling half of it into a ponytail to keep it out of your face. 

You run a hand through your hair, deeming is acceptable because you immediately make your way towards the bedroom door. “Tobio, I’m going to the shop now!” You call over your shoulder, looking over to find that your cat has settled himself comfortably at your windowsill. At your calling, however, the cat leaps over the ledge and makes his way over to where you’re standing. Tobio climbs up your frame, setting himself atop your shoulder, prepared for the day. 

With your black cat settled, you open the bedroom door and continue down a small hallway. Every few steps is a small window overlooking more of the ocean and cityscape below you, a little vase of plants or flowers growing on each sill. The occasional photo hangs on the empty spaces—a little girl riding her bike, a small family enjoying a picnic, a couple at a beach, that same little girl now with pigtails with you wrapped underneath her arm. Closed doors also line the hallway, all closed and leading to different parts of the house. You brush past all of them. The hallway ends, opening up into a kitchen with more sunlight pouring in through the windows. The stove is off but a pot still rests atop. It must have been used to make some morning tea. 

The emptiness of the upstairs apartment unit gives little indication about where your roommate is. At the end of the kitchen is an incline of stairs that go down, one that you follow and open the door at the end of the stairs. The door reveals a flower shop: the cashiers station in the back, rows of different colored flowers and types along the middle, and windows across the entire front of the store. 

The crowd for the morning is light, just one or two people strolling through the different aisles. The quietness is interrupted by the movement near the cashier. 

The little girl from the photographs stands behind the counter. She’s not a little girl anymore, and her hair is no longer in pigtails—she holds herself as an adult. She even talks like one too, as she opens her mouth to scold you. “You overslept.” 

You sigh. “Not you too, Karly.” From your shoulder, Tobio snorts something underneath his breath. You join her behind the counter, grabbing a bundle of daisies that most likely had come from the morning delivery. “You know how awful my delivery was yesterday! The grandmother made me stay for over an hour so she could tell about all the vegetables she had received and how amazing her granddaughter was for growing them all! Do you realize how exhausting it is to hear about cucumbers over and over again?” 

“Well, do you know how exhausting it is to fill out all your order forms for you because you slept through the opening routine?” Karly returns, not looking at you. Her gaze is too focused on counting the cash in the register. “For your information, it’s very exhausting.” 

You put down the daisies for a second to turn your attention towards the basket of ‘to be completed’ order forms. Raising an eyebrow, you reach your hand into the basket to pull out—! 

“Two order forms,” You report, turning to glare at your roommate. “It was exhausting to fill out two order forms?” 

“So exhausting,” Karly repeats, but a glance at you makes you immediately see the smirk across her lips. You have half the mind to throw the order forms at her, but their value for your business keeps you from doing such a thing. Instead, you nudge her with your shoulder before turning your attention back to the order forms. Of the two, one required an immediate delivery while the other one could be delivered in the later afternoon. Knowing these deadlines helps you construct a mental schedule for the day. “So how does your day look today?” 

You shrug, looking over the order form requiring immediate attention. “Same old.” You brush past Karly away to enter the apartment unit once more, climbing the stairs and pacing towards your bedroom at the end of the hall. You quickly grab your broom from the corner and make your way back towards the shop. 

The door at the bottom of the stairs opens as you approach the kitchen. It’s Karly. “Your favorite customer is here!” She exclaims, broad grin on her face—the kind of grin that shows that she knows something you don’t. 

You frown, playing the broom on your shoulder. A favorite customer? You can’t think of anyone you prefer over the others… “What are you talking about?” You ask, making your way down the stairs. “I don’t have a favorite…” You trail off as soon as you enter the flower shop and see a very familiar figure lingering amongst the flowers. Just as it always does, the words get lodged in your throat and everything around you feels warm suddenly. “Min Yoongi!” You exclaim.

He looks good today with his black sweatshirt and skinny jeans—although you’re sure the boy could show up in a garbage bag and still manage to render you this way. His hair is fluffy, falling across his forehead that looks like he had just run a towel through it. Or his hands. Either mental image is nice to think about. 

Min Yoongi is the shy boy from across the street who was one of the first to greet you after you landed in the city all these years ago. He had been curious about your broom and your background, intrigued by the thought of you being a witch. He had been a lot younger back then, naturally, wide-eyed and shy. He’s still like that: wide-eyed and shy, that is. Except nowadays, he’s grown in certain features that may have previously made him lanky and awkward. He’s taller, older, cuter. It’s a rather troubling thought, one that you more often than not do not spend too much time pondering. 

Min Yoongi is a cute boy: a very cute boy you’ve known since you were thirteen. And yet the only thing you know about him is that he comes in practically every week to request your delivery services. Nothing more, nothing less. An occasional smile once in awhile, a breath of back-to-back conversation, but never anything beyond that. After all, Yoongi never bothers with something more meaningful, because he’s not interested. Right? Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work? 

Karly’s raised eyebrow directed at you seems to be telling a different story—as do the actual words that come out of her mouth every time Yoongi comes by for a visit. But you ignore all those as you turn your attention to the boy. “Yoongi, hi,” You say, realizing a moment later that you had already said his name and had already technically greeted him. 

Karly was definitely going to use this against you one day, as seen through the way she ducks her head to hide her snort. 

Yoongi stands there, so unassuming and wide-eyed as he looks at you. He utters your name. “Hey,” He returns. He starts to make his way to the counter, already well accustomed with the delivery process you’ve created. 

“How’s it going?” You ask, moving back behind the counter and pulling out an order form. 

“It’s good, how about you?” Yoongi returns, noticing Tobio situated on the counter. “I see Tobio is doing well,” He says, reaching out to scratch the cat behind the ear. Tobio purrs at the gesture and you smile at that. Tobio doesn’t need to say anything for you to know that he’s enjoying himself—not that Yoongi would be able to understand Tobio’s comments anyways. 

“He is,” You say. “We both basically knocked out after this long delivery we had to make. But we’re both good now.” You place the order form flat on the counter and take out a pen. “Alright, so what are we delivering today, Mr. Min?” 

He gummy smiles at your formality, but he digs through the contents of his backpack and produces a small notebook from his backpack. “I just need to have this delivered to my friend,” He says, placing his hand atop the notebook. You stare at his fingers for a second too long. “It’s part of this thing we’re working on together and I just need to get his input for what’s written in here.” He takes his hand off the notebook.

You look at the object, a small black-bound book that looks worn from constant use and travel. Even just from the outside, the pages look pressed into and look so full of life that you cannot help but stare. Not that your usual deliveries for Yoongi were anything out of the ordinary, this feels like the first time Yoongi has asked you to deliver something he’s been working on. 

“This thing looks like it's been through a lot,” You note quietly, picking up a pen and starting to fill out the form. You start with the name, and contents of the delivery: since both answers to those questions are situated in front of you.

“That’s because it has,” Yoongi answers with a smile that looks just a little smaller, just a little shyer. “I bring it with me everywhere. This thing is really important to me.”

The desire to ask about what could be so special that Yoongi feels the need to bring it with him everywhere feels too strong on your tongue. Yet, you elect to keep your mouth shut. It doesn’t seem right to ask something like that, especially during your job. “Sounds good,” You say instead, looking up and noticing that Yoongi’s gaze is still trained on you. “Who is the delivery going to?”

“A friend of mine, Kim Namjoon. He lives just over the river.” He looks down at the map you’ve got taped to the top of the counter. A tiny red pin sticks from the paper, nailed right into the current location of the flower shop. His eyes scan the map for a moment before his eyes find what he’s looking for, because he taps his finger on the surface. “Right here. He has a green roof, and lots of plants around the house. You’ll also see a wooden mailbox with his last name across it. Shouldn’t be too hard to notice.”

You take a mental note of these directions as you nod. “Alright then.” You take the notebook and slide it into one of the shipping envelops you have in the shop to keep certain packages and deliveries safe. “When do you need it delivered by?”

“Preferably just by the end of the day,” Yoongi says with the brush of his hand. “No rush, I know that you can be really busy sometimes.”

“It’s just part of the job,” You reply with a smile as you place the now fully completed order form in the basket. “Well, I’ll have this package delivered, Yoongi. Thank you for coming in. Pleasure doing business with you.”

Yoongi grins. “Likewise.” He utters your name, a beautiful sound that makes feel like the ground has just given up underneath your feet. “I’ll see you around?”

You nod. The sunlight seems to be streaming  directly through the window. Why else would your face feel so warm all of a sudden? “Yeah, I’ll see you around.”

Yoongi stares at you for a moment longer before he nods, more to himself than to you, and turns around to exit the shop. You hear the ringing of the bell at the door signaling his departure, and yet you remain rooted to the ground, staring at the door.

Karly hits you on the back between your shoulders. “Okay, but what the fuck was that?”

You flash out of your trance pretty quickly and give your roommate a look. “What the fuck was what?”

She jerks her chin towards the door. “Is that what you call flirting?”

You turn hot at the word. “Flirting?” You repeat. “What are you talking about? There was no flirting. In fact, I think you need your eyes checked. Where was the flirting? I wasn’t flirting, and Yoongi definitely wasn’t flirting. No one was flirting. I was just doing my job—stop that!” You push at her shoulder when you realize she’s looking at you like you just pissed in her cereal.

“You know, for a smart witch, you can be really dull sometimes.”

“What are you talking about?”

Karly glares at you. “I'm talking about how Yoongi is looking at you like you personally flew up into the sky to hang up all the stars and you do the exact same, and yet you’re both talking like you’ve never had a casual conversation with a human being before!”

“Not this again,” You mumble under your breath. “Karly, I’m not sure how much I need to tell you this. Yoongi isn’t into me that way. We’ve known each other for so long. If he was interested, we would have had a conversation outside of any new magic tricks I’ve learned or me asking him what kind of package he wants delivered this time.”

“C’mon, even I can tell you what kind of package he wants to deliver—specifically to you—!”

“Karly!”

Tobio perks his head up from the counter. “She has a point—!”

“Not you too!” You snap to the black cat on the counter.

"Okay, okay, fine, I”ll stop," She says, backing up with both hands raised in surrender. “I’ll drop it. But I’m serious! I really think you should consider the idea of Yoongi liking you!”

“Are we really talking about this again?” You scowl, moving back from around the counter to collect the package that required an immediate delivery. It’s a basket of freshly picked strawberries, from a mother to her daughter. “I don’t have time for this. Tobio, I’m leaving!”

Tobio meows in acknowledgment as he leaps from the counter to your shoulder.

“You have time on the ride over to think about Yoongi’s package—!” Karly calls from the shop as you shut the door to the shop before the girl can finish her sentence.

You sigh, cheeks still warm from the encounter and the following conversation. “I can’t believe this,” You mumble underneath your breath.

“I think you should keep him,” Tobio says, licking his paw and running the paw through the fur at his head. “He’s nice. He smiles at you the way Karly smiles at her flowers. It’s a little sad on Karly’s part, but it should prove something.” 

“I don’t want to hear about this anymore,” You protest, instead choosing to shift your attention to the broom in your hand. You ready it, straddling the handle of the broom, before you leap off into the air around you. Nevermind the tiny smile that pitches the corner of your lips the entire time.

.

Min Yoongi is in the shop the next day, hands in the pocket of a denim jacket. Karly looks like she’s about to burst, with her lips pressed together and her wide-eyes observing Yoongi’s wandering. Tobio doesn’t look too far off from saying another snarky comment. 

“He usually comes in once a week, what is happening—!” Karly hisses in your ear. You immediately cut her off with an elbow to the gut. 

“Hey Yoongi,” You greet loudly, hoping to drown out Karly’s coughing. “What brings you in here? I thought you only come by once a week.” 

Yoongi looks at you for a moment before he ducks his head a little, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t know you kept track.” 

Karly kicks your ankle. She gives you a look, her eyes flashing. You swallow, your fingers immediately curling into the strands of your hair. “W-Well, it’s just that… hard not to do that for you.” 

Yoongi presses his lips together. “Is that so?” He asks, not really looking at you. There’s some pink dusting along his cheeks. 

You feel warm again. Why on earth did you think to say that? Sure, yes, you’ve known about Yoongi’s weekly visits for years but saying it like that? Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut? 

“Anyways,” You bring up again after a moment, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Since you’re here so soon after your last, uh, visit, it must be urgent. Something I can help you with?” 

“Oh, right.” Yoongi blinks, seeming to remember what he was doing here. He takes out an envelope, something small enough to just hold a letter. “I just need this to be dropped off at Namjoon’s house—the guy whose house you had to go to yesterday. It’s just some updates to the notebook I had given him. I also need you to bring the notebook back here. Namjoon already knows to give it to you.” 

You nod at that, smiling as you take the envelope. “Been away from your baby for too long, huh?” You ask, looking back up at him. 

Yoongi joins in your laughter, a small breathless sound that includes a slight shake of his shoulders. “Honestly, it feels like a piece of myself has been missing.”

You pull out an order form from the counter, already moving to fill out the different questions. “Do you…” You start, stopping yourself for a moment, realizing that the question you have in mind probably isn’t either appropriate or welcoming. You trail off, thinking that Yoongi would ignore it or not care enough to take notice of your voice cutting itself off. 

“Do I what?” Yoongi asks. He’s leaning against the counter now, arms resting on the surface, close enough that you can see the glimmer of curiosity and encouragement in his eyes. You could pull away, but you don’t. Instead, you smile and look back down at your work. 

“Oh, nothing, I just… I was going to ask you something, but I realize it might be too personal. Or intrusive.” 

Yoongi tilts his head, some of the black strands of his hair falling across his forehead. “We’ve known each other since we were thirteen. C’mon, no question is too personal or intrusive. You can ask.” 

You ponder this for a moment, before you finally decide to give in. You place your pen on the desk and look up to face the boy once more. He’s still looking at you. “I just wanted to know what was so important about the notebook you want back. It seems to mean a lot to you, especially because you carry it around with you.” 

“Ah, that’s a good question,” He replies, taping his chin and looking around the shop for a moment. He returns his gaze back to you. “It’s my writing journal,” He explains. 

“Are you a writer?” 

“Well, kind of. Not really. Actually, um.” He goes back to scratching his ear, biting his lip. “I’m more of a songwriter. I like writing music.” 

You grin. “That’s pretty cool. What kind of music?” 

Yoongi pauses. “Just, personal lyrics, I guess? I don’t really do anything with the lyrics—I haven’t turned it into actual music yet. That’s what my friend Namjoon is around for, we’re helping each other out. I just needed help going over some lyrics I had written, so now that he’s done I need the notebook back to keep going with my work.” 

You nod. “Totally understandable. I’ll have the notebook back later today, so you can come by tomorrow to pick it up if that’s okay.” 

Yoongi smiles. “More than okay. Thank you for doing this.” 

“I’m just doing my job, Mr. Min,” You say. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

He nods. “It’s a date.” He turns around to leave the shop, the bell ringing overhead. As well as in your head. 

The trace of a smile is still on your lips as you place the envelope in your bag and exit the space of the counter. Karly is in the middle of the store, organizing a small collection of lilies that have just come in that morning. She hasn’t said anything about the encounter, surprisingly, but the thought quickly disappears when you see the cat-like grin across her face. 

You tap her lightly on the head with the handle of your broom. 

“Hey!” Karly exclaims, laughing as she watches you make your way towards the exit of the store. “He literally said it was a date, Y/N, you can’t argue with that!” 

“He’s just being silly, alright, goodbye!” You exclaim, shouldering open the door of the shop. You take a glance at the cat on your shoulder, who has been strangely quiet during the interaction. The wide eyes of the cat, though, do not go unseen by you. “I don’t want to hear about it.” 

“I wasn’t saying anything!” Tobio complains. He stays quiet for a moment. “Although he did say it was a date. He looked excited to see you tomorrow, too—!” 

“Alright, enough,” You say, taping the cat on the nose before readying yourself on your broom. It’s a lot easier to take off now—you remember when you struggled a lot in your younger years, how much concentration it took to fly and stay off the ground. Nowadays, it comes like second nature to you as your broom moves towards the sky. There was no need to go over the map, since you still remember the route you had taken yesterday to reach the home of Kim Namjoon. The summer breeze is a little cooler today, a little stronger, as it brushes through your hair and your clothing. 

Today, you spare yourself the momentary distraction in staring out at the ocean in front of you, the bright blue and the line separating sea from sky. 

Tobio nudges into your cheek with his head. “We’re coming up on the river,” He tells you, and you look down to see the upcoming river from memory. 

“Awesome,” You say, passing over the river and beginning a descent back towards the ground. You quickly make out the green roof, the greenhouse in the background, the pathway of weeds. You land on the sidewalk in front of the house, smiling at the terrariums situated along the porch. Kim Namjoon is painted on the mailbox. 

You make your way up the pathway towards the house, knocking on the brown door. After a few seconds, it opens to reveal the man himself. He’s a little taller than Yoongi, fluffy cardigan across his broad shoulders, black framed glasses, and a polite smile across his face. 

“Ah, Y/N!” He greets. “My favorite delivery girl. Come in.” 

“Mr. Kim, I’m the only delivery girl,” You say, placing your broom on the porch and stepping into Namjoon’s house. It’s a small little cottage space, lots of windows and light streaming and highlighting bookshelves and typewriters. Namjoon is a writer, something you learned quickly yesterday from the first impression and from a small conversation with him. He’s actually published a book or two, but lately he’s been diving more into poetry and lyrics—hence, this is where his friendship with Yoongi comes into play. 

“Here’s the notebook Yoongi needs,” Namjoon says, picking up the aforementioned black notebook from a low table and handing it to you. “He should be happy to see it again.” 

You laugh, taking it from Namjoon. “He was already going through some separation anxiety.” 

Namjoon smiles at that. “You’ve known Yoongi for awhile, right?” 

You nod. “Since we were young. He lives across the street from me, so he was one of the first people I met when I first moved into the city.” 

“That’s cute,” He says, that smile still present on his lips. It’s the kind of smile Karly has given you for years in response to Yoongi’s weekly visits. “He does talk about you a lot. He’s pretty quiet though and keeps to himself for the most part. Although I’m sure you know that already.” 

You laugh, nodding again. “I do. But he’s really sweet.” You look down, unable to see the smile growing on Namjoon’s face as you dig through your bag to produce the folded envelope Yoongi had given you yesterday. “He asked me to give you this.” 

Namjoon takes the envelope. “Thanks. Hold on a second so I can get your payment, okay?” 

You watch as Namjoon turns around and takes his leave into another room, leaving you alone in this miniature library. Books cover one wall, and you glance over at the titles before looking back down at the notebook in your hands. You wonder what sort of lyrics Yoongi writes, how much of his heart he pours into pages. 

You look down at it for a few more seconds before you shake your head. It would be rude and frankly, inappropriate to look through something so personal without permission. Regardless of your relationship with Yoongi, regardless of his openness to share things with you, this would probably be crossing the line. You hold the notebook by the spine, the opening to the pages facing the ground as you move to place the notebook into your bag. 

Until a small slip of paper falls from between the pages. 

You blink at the paper, immediately kneeling down to pick it up and slide it back into the notebook. However, the writing at the top of the folded slip makes you pause. It’s your name. You pick it up. 

You hear the growing sound of footsteps from the other room, signalling Namjoon’s return. Quickly, you stuff the paper into your pocket and move to slide the notebook into your bag. Namjoon emerges just as you’re gathering the signature booklet. “This should cover it,” He says, handing you the money. 

You pocket it. “Thanks a lot, Namjoon. If you can just sign this, that’ll be great.” 

He takes the pen from you, signing on the dotted line. “Well, Y/N, it was good to see you again.” He says as he leads you back towards the front door of his house. “I’m assuming Yoongi will come by the shop tomorrow to pick up the notebook?” 

You pick up the broom from the porch. “Most likely. I doubt he can handle another day without it.” 

“Sounds like a date,” Namjoon says, walking you to the sidewalk outside of his house. There’s a teasing curve to his voice as you situate yourself on the broom. It’s a good natured noise, one that is still present in the air as you turn back to look at Namjoon. Maybe you would ask what he meant by that, if he had known Yoongi said the same thing. However, by the time you turn to look at Namjoon, the man is already making his way back to his house. Effectively ending the conversation

You turn back and float towards the sky once more. 

“Namjoon said what Yoongi said earlier,” Tobio notes in your ear once the pair of you reach a suitable height to cruise back home. “What do you think that means?” 

You sigh. “I don’t know, Tobio,” You say. The weight of the note in your dress pocket feels like it’s expanding, drawing your attention more and more to what could possibly be on that note the longer you’re in the sky. For a moment, you think maybe the note had been from Namjoon—but it takes less than a second to debunk that thought. You’ve seen Yoongi’s handwriting for years. It was definitely his note to you. But what could it be? 

You don’t say anything, you don’t admire the view. You just function on autopilot, directing your broom back over the river and allowing yourself to land outside your house without a thought. From the distance, you can make out Karly having a conversation with a customer, laughter evident in her face as she wraps a bundle of hyacinths. You watch the interaction for a moment, before you make your way around the shop, situating yourself at the side of the building. 

“You’re not gonna go in?” Tobio asks, eying you with a touch of concern and curiosity. “Still thinking about that note? It came from his notebook… maybe he doesn’t want you to read it.” 

You take the note out of your pocket. It’s haphazardly folded, crumbled slightly as if he had rolled the paper into a ball before folding it into the uneven square you see before you. “Probably,” You say, turning it over in your hand. “But why would he even write something like this? If he wanted to tell me something, he could just come over and say it. It’s not like distance is a big problem in our ability to communicate.” 

Tobio licks at his paw. “Maybe it’s something he can’t say to you.” 

“Hm…” You hum, staring at the note, a flash of his penmanship catching your attention. A part of the note that his folding didn’t cover up. There’s a line drawn across the words, but it’s clear what he had written. Coffee shop. 

Your narrow your eyes, fingers moving to unfold the note without a second thought. What kind of note would include your name and the mention of a coffee shop?

It’s a whole page, written like a letter. Your name is written at the top, messy flowers and stars doodled around the scribble. 

A few verses of something are written directly underneath your name. 

I’d touch the sky and cross the field, if you were waiting on the other side 

A line is crossed through it. 

You make me feel like I am everything/Teaching me to be the universe/Drawing me the stars and galaxies beyond/All along the palm of my hand

Another line through the words. 

This is only a field of flowers rippling in the wind/But like morning light like it scatters the night/To make the day worth living

And another, but the line doesn’t erase the imagery that sprouts in your heart. It does not erase the corners of your lips upturning, because as small as these lines are, it feels like a window to Yoongi’s world. To have your name associated with these lines of hope and desire feels overwhelming and comforting at the same time. 

Underneath the words is a letter. Your name. 

I’m writing this in the shop right now. There’s a little bench Karly put down, and I think she’s thinking of starting a little cafe in this spot one day. I hope she does it. There’s something comforting about this place, and I think she knows that. You’re here today too. You aren’t doing deliveries today. Today is Sunday, so that makes sense. I’m glad for days like these, when you aren’t being whisked away on your broomstick, traveling hundreds of miles a day to bring people together and make everyone feel connected. You’re like the sunlight, bringing happiness across the sky, down the river, through the windows. Even just right now, you’re just standing behind the counter radiating. You’re wearing the apron Karly made you wear, with these little flowers embroidered across the front and looking so fucking cute. 

Moments like these realize how important you are to me, and why I keep coming into the shop. I do need to make deliveries, but I do also like seeing your face on the mornings I come in. I’ve always wondered what you would do if I asked you out. I’d take you to a coffee shop and buy you any pastry you want. Anything to light up your eyes. I’d take you on a walk around the city, show you the world from my perspective. And maybe we’d be able to see the world from your perspective. These are daydreams I have, and every single one I conjure up of the two of us are very important to me. I don’t think I would ever have the courage to share those hopes with you. For now, I like the talks we have when I come in. I like the talks we have when you drop by. I like you. I want these things to happen, as I have ever since I met you. 

If I can muster up the courage to ask you out one day. 

You don’t realize that you’re in a trance, staring at the letter, smiling to yourself, until you hear the bell ring from the shop. You snap out of it, folding the paper back together just as you watch that same customer from earlier leave. As soon as the customer is on the sidewalk, you make your own way up the pathway and enter the shop. The bell rings overhead. 

Karly is at the counter, arranging a bouquet—an explosion of purples and pinks. “Oh hey!” She greets upon seeing you. “I didn’t see you land. How was your delivery?” 

You smile. “We’ll see tomorrow.” 

.

The shop opens to a bright sunny morning, and you’re drumming your fingers. The place is empty, as it usually is right at opening. This is expected. What is unexpected is how anxious you feel about what is supposed to be happening later today. How much later, you aren’t sure. Maybe that’s why you’re so nervous about the ordeal. 

“Your boyfriend will show up eventually,” Karly butts in, currently situated in the middle of the store with her own personal broom in hand. She’s dusting the floor. “He did say it was a date, after all.” 

You flinch, blinking out of your trance. “I’m not waiting for Yoongi. And just because he said it was a date doesn’t mean anything.” 

Karly’s lips twist up. “I never mentioned a name.” 

Your eyes widen, flush immediately coating your cheeks. You pout, looking back towards the door. “Shut up.” 

Karly’s giggling is the only thing that is heard for a little bit, until you catch sight of the familiar figure making his way up the pathway towards the shop. The way you straighten up and fix your hair happens much quicker than you are willing to admit. 

“Morning, Yoongi,” You greet as Yoongi enters the shop, white t-shirt and denim jeans and an undercut that makes you want to cry. How could someone look so pretty? “Nice haircut.” 

He stills at that, rubbing the back of his head as if he hadn’t expected you to notice. “T-Thanks,” He stammers, making his way towards you. “You look nice too,” He says, gesturing vaguely to the bow you’ve put at the top of your head. “Your hairpiece looks cute.” 

You flush deeper. You had forgotten you put it on. It came with the box of bonsai trees that came in this morning. “Thank you,” You say, choosing to dig around underneath the counter to find what you had been preparing to give over since yesterday. “Your notebook.” You produce the thing, gently sliding it over to him. “In wonderful condition. Namjoon took good care of it.” 

Yoongi takes the notebook, looking pleased with himself. “Nah, I think the credit goes more to you.” He smiles, eyes taking in your appearance once more. 

You shrug. “Just… doing my job, Min Yoongi. I’ll see you around?” 

He hesitates at that, looking like he wants to say something. Your heart skips a beat. He, however, just returns back to his shy smile. “Of course. See you around.” He turns around, making his way back towards the door. 

You almost bite your own tongue, almost keep your words to yourself. The paper weighs like a lead in your dress pocket. 

“Min Yoongi!” You call. 

He stops, whirling around. “Yes?” 

You take in a breath, looking at Karly, looking at Tobio. For two different creatures, they both wear a similar expression of exasperation, of urge, of encouragement. Swallowing, you reach into the pocket of your dress and produce the folded slip of paper. You hold it up. “Are you really going to leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?” 

[glenncoco4]

What Happens Next?

A/N: Chapter 12

~~~~~~~~~~~~

She had a feeling this day would come sooner or later. Her husband being the Assistant District Attorney, her team doing what they do...that and the fact that she’s almost 5 months pregnant and starting to show, this meeting was inevitable. So here she is, sitting in the court room as her man does his thing, Sam and Callen nowhere to be found. Just as Marty calls his next witness, the ex-Navy SEAL and his partner make their way into the semi-quite room, taking their seats on the empty bench behind the two brunettes.

After the prosecution brings about new evidence, the judge calls recess until the next morning. Marty smiles, sending his wife a wink. He likes to show off in front of her, and he’s super glad that he does’t have to miss their afternoon plans.

As the rest of the team walks into the rotunda, Kensi stands at the door in wait for Marty to wrap up what he’s doing with his colleagues. She exchanges pleasantries with the familiar faces as they begin to trickle out the door until the golden locks finally appear in front of her. “You ready for this?”

“You talking about you meeting my team or finding out the gender of this peanut?”

“Either…both?”

“Both. Definitely both.”

“Did you talk to Talia?”

“Yeah, she’s more excited about seeing the looks on Sam and Callen’s faces than I am.”

Sam and Callen watch on as their teammate and the lawyer have a conversation, sharing smiles. Curiosity getting the best of them.

The ex-Navy SEAL turns to the other brunette of the team, his brow furrowed. “Hey, Talia, I didn’t know Kensi was so chummy with the ADA.”

All she does is smile, shrugging at the question about two of her best friends. God this is gonna be good.

“If he’s as smooth with the ladies as he is in the court room then I’d half expect to see him more often.” Callen takes in Kensi’s sudden change in demeanor as she continues to talk to the lawyer. She almost seems less tense…happier even.

“I guess sooner than we expected.”

Talia turns her attention to see her partner and the ADA walk towards them, a knowing smile on her face.

Once they reach her teammates, they exchange smiles before Sam stretches his hand out in greeting. “Hey, nice work in there, man.”

Marty returns the smile as he takes his offered hand. This may be funnier than his wife imagined. “Thanks.”

“Eh, I’ve seen better.” Talia spirts, playfully challenging the lawyer.

He raises his brow, accepting her challenge. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, I was in court last week when James destroyed that blonde lawyer.”

“First of all that was a debate and second of all-“

“Miss Congeniality is better than A League of Their Own, yeah, yeah.” Talia rolls her eyes, knowing exactly what was about to come out of his mouth. It had been one Friday night where the couples couldn’t decide what to watch so both Marty and James decide to take the matter to ‘court,’ court being the Deeks’ living room.

Sam and Callen exchange a look before spreading their attention between the other three. “Are we missing something here?”

“Yeah, do you guys know each other?” Callen follows up with his own question.

“Oh, yeah, I met Marty here awhile ago. He actually set me and my husband up.”

Affronted by her partner’s words, Kensi feigns outrage. “Hey!”

“What?”

The agent looks at her partner as if she reminding her that she was there as well even though it was her husband’s idea.

Talia just rolls her eyes, turning back to Sam and Callen. “Sorry. And his wife.”

“Oh, so you’re married.” Sam states.

Marty’s eyes light up at the mention of the woman who he’s so deeply in love with that sometimes it’s sickening to others. 6 years together, 3 years married, a kid with one on the way…yeah, he’s smiling. “Yeah. Going on 3 years now.”

Callen takes in Kensi’s smile, caught off guard because he really thought she was flirting the lawyer earlier. “And how do you know him?”

“Actually he and his wife set me and my guy up as well.” The brunette bites back a smile as she hears her husband and partner try and stifle their laughter. She shouldn’t be having this much fun, but it’s pretty great knowing something that these two “operators” think they have figured out.

Sam’s brow furrows, mirroring his partner, both clearly lost. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“I don’t.”

As if on cue, Talia catches sight of the clock on the wall. Perfect timing. “Hey, don’t you have the-“

Marty looks at his watch, a birthday present from his wife, and his heart picks up speed, seeing the time. “Oh, yeah, didn’t realize the time." In a couple of hours they should know the gender of their peanut and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping for a little girl. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

Shaking each of the men’s hand, Marty begins to walk off towards the entrance before turning around, noticing that his wife isn’t following. “Um, baby?”

At the sound of her husband calling for her, she turns her head, a questioning look across his face when it hits her. “Oh, right. Mommy brain.” Shaking her head, she bids her teammates a farewell, not missing the deer in headlights look written across the ex-Navy SEAL and former spook’s faces.

“Wait, you two?”

The pregnant agent raises her arms in victory as she walks towards her laughing husband.Yeah, that was fun.

XXXX

Kensi finds herself practically being drug into the ocean front shop by her husband, much like she was 2 years ago. This was their plan from the get go but after her doctor’s appointment, Marty got even more excited. She can’t help but laugh at their attire, he in a 3 piece suit and she in pencil skirt and blouse. They definitely don’t look like the usual customers.

As soon as they step through the doors, the blonde lawyer makes a b-line to the tiny surf boards, already knowing exactly what he’s getting.

The agent watches in amazement as her husband walks straight up to a board and takes it off the rack. “You weren’t kidding when you said we wouldn’t be long.”

Heat rises to his cheeks at her words. “I may have scoped out ahead of time to make sure they had one in stock.”

She gives him a knowing look, a grin playing at her lips at how adorable he is, but also not believing him for a minute.

“Okay, so maybe I came in yesterday to stare at it.”

“You’re cute. You know that?” Leaning forward, her lips find his. A smile plays at his lips as he leans in for one more. Yep, adorable.

Carrying the board under one arm, his free hand finds her, intertwining their fingers as they make their way to the familiar face behind the counter.

“Hey, guys.”

“Hey, Mark. It's been awhile.”

The shaggy brunette sends the couple a smile. “A few months, and I see congratulations are in order.” He takes the piece of fiberglass from the lawyer much like he did two years ago but this time there’s one distinct difference. “Purple Channel Island. So you got yourself a little Betty on the way.”

“Yeah."

Kensi looks at her husband, seeing the dreamy look across his face and turns back to Mark unable to keep the smile off her own face. “He’s been like this ever since the doctor confirmed it an hour ago.”

“Understandable.” He nods, knowing first hand what Marty’s feeling. “So, the same font and color as Finn’s board or do you guys want to switch it up?”

She shares a knowing look with her husband giving him the go ahead. “Same.”

“Alright, if I can get the name.”

As the couple’s baby girl’s name comes off Kensi's lips, Mark types the letters, and clicks the mouse a few times. Once he’s pleased, he turns the screen to the couple, giving them a nice view of what the board will look like once completed. “So this is the rendering. If everything looks good, I’ll get started on it tomorrow and call you when it’s ready.”

“That’s great. Thanks, Mark.”

“You’re definitely welcome, guys. And hey, bring little dude by and we’ll set him up with one of our new baby training boards.”

“They make those?” Marty’s brow furrows.

“It’s pretty new technology but Kelly Slater uses it with his little one so I’d say it’s pretty reliable.”

“Cool. We’ll stop by this weekend.” Kensi takes hold of her husband’s hand, now the one pulling him to the entrance because if she doesn’t they’ll be here all day and she’s really hungry.

“See you guys.”

Once they step onto the board walk, the fresh evening air hits them, her arms immediately encircling one of his. “How about we go pick up Finn and then have dinner at the pier?”

His lips find her forehead. “I like the way you think, my love.”

[jamielea81]

Conversations

Chapter 1 

Description: You accompany your friends on a day trip to Animal Kingdom Theme Park where you meet Scott Evans by chance. This one afternoon leads to a year long friendship with both Chris and Scott over text messages and phone calls. 

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing

A/N: Welcome to my new series! If you’re new here, thanks for stopping by, if you’re a returning friend, you know right off the bat this will be a slow burn. That’s just how I roll. There will be lots of flirting, cuteness, snark, and some angst. I recommend looking up a ride through of Expedition Everest if you’ve never been on it. A cast member is what Disney calls their employees. I think that’s all you need to know for now. Tag list is open, please send an ask. Likes, comments, and reblogs are wonderful.

“My feet hurt,” you whined, sticking out your bottom lip for added affect. “Go on without me. Just promise me you’ll remember me always.”

“So dramatic. Go sit down, you big baby.” Jana said, giving you a light shove.

The two of you were just outside of Pandora at Disney’s Animal Kingdom Theme Park waiting for her husband Brooks to use the restroom. It had already been a long day. You rarely visited the parks during the day anymore unless family or out of state friends were in town. After moving to Florida from the Midwest for college, you decided to stay. The heat was something you never truly got used to, but with so many career opportunities in the Orlando area it was hard to pack up after graduation. Twelve years later and you were still here.

Jana and Brooks had a rare weekday off and begged you to join them at the park. Because of the heat and the crowds, you generally avoided the parks. Unfortunately, their idea of a park day started at park open. Today the park happened to open at eight in the morning. You compromised and told them you’d meet the two of them at nine. There was slight protest from Jana but she was happy you were even going.

Brooks had been your friend for the last seven years. Taking a job at the Orlando Sentinel was unexpected, but it turned out to be quite the dream job. On your first day, you managed to get turned around and ended up on the floor that held mostly sales and advertisement employees. Brooks took pity on you which you took for flirting until his girlfriend called while he was walking you to your cubicle. That girlfriend later became his wife and your best friend, so it worked out for the best.

“You know I’m scared of that ride anyway. It goes backwards for Christ sakes. Backwards,” you muttered again shaking your head.

You’ve only ridden Expedition Everest twice and that was more than enough. Disney has great theming, but even a great attraction can’t make you want to ride it. It’s first flaw is how high the coaster goes up. The second flaw is at one point it goes backwards. And the third and final flaw is the huge drop. Yeah, your stomach did not agree with riding it. The wait time was posted for seventy-five minutes and you had no desire to stand in line that long for something you didn’t want to do.

“Y/N, your ridiculous. It’s a roller coaster. At Disney. Children ride it,” Jana said.

Brooks caught up to the two of you, intertwining his fingers with Jana.

“She doesn’t want to go?” he asked.

“That’s a big nope,” you replied popping the p.

The three you walked across the bridge leaving Pandora and into Discovery Island. Tiffin’s was a nice restaurant on Discovery island, but a little on the expensive side, so you hadn’t dined there. But Tiffin’s had a bar called Nomad Lounge with an outdoor covered patio that you very much had visited. Several times to in fact. With its dark wood floors and ceiling, billowy curtains that were always only partially tied back, large wicker couches with colorful pillows and small intimate tables that lined the patio railing looking out into a sea of trees, it was your favorite spot. Over the last year it had become increasingly popular, but you still loved it and visited it for a drink on every outing to the park.

“You two go ahead and stand in line for over an hour. I’m going to sit my butt here,” you said pointing to the lounge. “Let me know when you’re done and I’ll meet you.”

Brooks rolled his eyes at you, pulling Jana along who kept turning back to give you sad eyes.

When they were out of sight, you walked onto the curved patio looking for an open table. You passed an open couch, but you always felt selfish taking one up for just yourself, so you continued on. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be much else open, being that if was after two and most people had the same idea as you in needing a break. Turning yourself around to head back to that couch you passed near the entry, a couple stood up from a small table. You waited patiently for them to grab their backpacks and bags before quickly sitting down on one of two chairs pushed into the table. You picked up the menu quickly passing the selection of beers. deciding it was more of a cocktail afternoon. A Hightower Rita with its mixture of tequila and watermelon sounded perfect.

You set the menu down on the table, grabbing your phone from your jean shorts pocket, to post a few pictures of the day onto Instagram. When the server had not stopped by to clear the table and take your order, you opened your e-mail. A few sales ads, a forwarded e-mail from your mother. People still send those? And a new assignment. The Jonas Brothers at Amway Center next month. You actually liked a few songs off their new album, so you were pretty excited for this concert.

When the server still hadn’t been by, you let out an annoyed huff. Sure, Jana and Brooks were still in line with a long wait to go, but at this rate you weren’t going to be able to finish said drink by the time they were done.

You stood up and looked around from your spot, not wanting to stray too far from the table and lose it to the vultures circling the patio for a spot of their own. Not seeing a server in sight, you huffed out loud again before plopping yourself back in the chair. At least it was padded so it didn’t hurt with how fast you dropped.

You heard a slight chuckle from the sectional couch that sat against the restaurant’s outer wall in front of you. Choosing to ignore it because the lounge was packed, it was really none of your business what was happening at other tables.

“You’re at Disney, smile,” you heard a man’s voice say.

This time you did look up and sure enough, a man sitting across from you was looking directly at you. He was sitting with two other guys who were in a loud conversation and completely ignoring what was apparently happening.

“I’m sorry?” you asked. You couldn’t help the bitch face you were apparently sporting.

He laughed again. “No, I’m sorry. I just can’t help noticing the huffing and puffing that’s going on,” he said.

You took a breath and tried to relax. “It’s fine. I just hate when people say smile, as if life stops just because you’re in a theme park. I just really need a drink and for whatever reason, the server is on break or quit or whatever.”

He laughed again before standing up. “What do you want?”

“Huh?” you asked a little puzzled as to what this stranger was doing.

“I asked what you would like to drink. I’ll go grab it for you.”

“No. No, no. You don’t have to do that. I’m sure he or she will come back at some point this month,” you said, slouching in your seat.

“Just tell me. I’m going to get one anyway.” He crossed his arms and tapped a foot.

It was your turn to laugh. “A Hightower Rita. And thank you,” you said offering him a small smile.

This was quite the surprise. Generally, strangers weren’t nice for no reason.

A few minutes later he was back, placing the drink in front of you. Reaching into your packet to grab out a ten dollar bill, you heard him clear his throat. You looked up to see he took the seat next to you. His very own Hightower Rita in front of him.

“My treat,” he said, giving you a wink.

“Thank you, really,” you replied. You offered him your hand. “Y/N, by the way.”

“Scott,” he offered, shaking your hand as well. “So, do you normally come to Animal Kingdom in a grumpy mood?”

What a smartass.

“I haven’t been grumpy all day, I’m just tired. And thirsty,” you replied.

You lifted the glass and held it out to Scott. The two of you clinking your glasses together before taking a generous sip.

“I’m not on vacation, I live here. My friends dragged me out of bed to come with them, so it’s been a long day.”

“So, a local huh?”

“Yeah, by way of Minnesota. Came for college and never left.”

He nodded his head in understanding. “And where are these friends of yours?” he asked.

“In line for Expedition Everest.”

“You don’t like roller coasters?”

“I do. Just not that one. I’ve ridden the others several times. Big Thunder Mountain is one of my favorites. I just can’t handle that one.”

“Scott! What are you doing? Leave the poor woman alone,” one of his friends from the table shouted.

“I’m making new friends. Mind ya business,” he replied.

You chuckled at him shaking your head.

“What do you do here, Y/N?” he asked.

“Here in the park?”

“Really?” he deadpans. “What do you do for a living?”

“My apologizes,” you laughed. “I’m a writer. A little bit of everything, but mainly I review entertainment in the greater Orlando area. Theme parks for instance.” You waved your hand around. “Like a new ride opening or a hotel or restaurant. Also concerts and events that come to town. I pretty much can make up my own schedule that way. Every once in awhile I’ll write a piece for me, like a think piece that I’ll send out and if I’m lucky, various magazines and newspapers pick it up. That’s what I prefer to do, but it doesn’t pay the bills as well.”

“That actually sounds like a lot of fun. My family and I love coming to the parks, so it would be cool to be invited to grand openings,” he said.

You nodded your head in agreement.  “What about you?”

“I’m an actor. Nothing exciting,” he says shrugging his shoulders which enlists a laugh from you.

“Obviously,” you tease. “Are they your family?” you ask pointing to the two guys sitting on the sectional. Both have ballcaps on backwards that you almost asked if the bros were his family.

“Yeah, that’s some of them. It’s a big group, they’re around somewhere. I got stuck with the weak links,” he jokes. A small smile tugging on his lips. “I’m having way more fun talking to you.”

Shaking your head at his comments, you take a peek at your phone to check the time. It had only been about a half an hour, so you had plenty of time to relax.

“Let’s do a shot!” he exclaims out of nowhere.

“What?” you ask. But he’s already out of his seat, heading back inside before you even get the word out.

Scott’s relatives give you a look and all you can do is quirk your mouth and shrug your shoulders.

A minute later he’s back sans shots. “They’ll bring them out,” he mutters as he sits back down.

The allusive server appears a few minutes later with a tray of two shot glasses, limes slices, and a salt shaker. She sets the contents on the small table and asks if you need anything else. You ask for a water and she promises she’ll be right back.

Scott picks up his glass and holds it up. “To new friends.”

“To new friends,” you repeat before downing the tequila in one go.

You quickly grab a lime slice and suck on it before grabbing another. You hadn’t done a shot in so long; you feel way out of practice.

The server does return with a couple of glasses of water shortly after you’ve taken the shot. When she asks if we need anything else, Scott starts to order another round of shots but you cut him off.

“One and done, buddy.”

He laughs and tells your server the two of you are set. As odd as this day has been, meeting this new “friend” has been a welcome change.

“Scott! Let’s go do something.” One of the bros calls out. “I already texted Sarah, she’s on her way.”

He waves him off and turns back to you. “Let’s go ride Expedition Everest.”

You look at him like he’s crazy. “No way. I already told you, I don’t ride that coaster.”

“You’ve got liquid courage now and you’ll be riding with me. I promise you’ll have fun.”

Shaking your head, you look back at your phone. “My friends are probably still not on it. The wait time is posted at seventy-five minutes.”

“We got an in,” he says so casually that you have no idea what he’s talking about.

Out of no where, a plaid wearing Disney cast member appears asking the other two guys where’d they like to go.  

“Expedition Everest. Please.” Scott interrupts.

“That works,” the bearded bro says, getting up and flipping his cap around.

“And we’ve got one more joining us, Sarah,” Scott said.

Bearded bro raises his eyebrows and Scott just smiles.

Before you know what the hell you are doing, your walking with Scott, Sarah, and the two bros. Weaving in and out of crowds as she leads. You make it to Expedition Everest and enter through the exit because apparently Sarah can do that. The four of you are ushered into the last two rows to wait for the next train to arrive. Just as it pulls up, Scott moves behind you, getting out of the waiting row.

“I can’t ride in the very back. It makes me sick. Chris, switch with me.”

Chris groans, but comes to stand right behind you.

You’re on the verge of a panic attack as you look over to Scott in the next row.

“Y-you were supposed to be my ride bu-buddy,” you barely manage to get out.

You didn’t want to go on this damn ride anyway and now you weren’t even sitting with your almost friend. Now you’re stuck with a stranger who hadn’t even spoke to you yet.

“You’ll be fine. This is my brother, he’s a good ride buddy. I’ll be right in front of you anyway,” Scott says. He reaches over the barrier to squeeze your hand but it does little to comfort.

The train car pulls up and you’re climbing inside your seat pulling the lap bar up and pushing it into place. You pull on it at least three times to make sure it’s in place.

You look over to Scott’s brother who you know can tell you’re freaking out. He offers you his hand and you shake it.

“Chris,” he says.

“Y/N,” you reply.

He smiles and it suddenly dawns on you who you’re sitting with. Why Sarah escorted your group through the park. Why you were able to enter through the exit and get on the ride almost immediately. Chris is Chris Evans. Actor. Movie star. Whatever you want to call him. You’re pretty sure you follow him on Twitter.

Jesus.

In your line of work, you’ve met plenty of celebrities before. Some at various Disney grand openings, others have been musicians for concerts and albums you have reviewed. But this is different. You take a breath and try to go back to freaking out about the ride rather than about who you are sitting next to.

The coaster takes off, winding around a grass and tree lined path. All too soon you are ascending up “the mountain.” You keep your gaze straight ahead at the back of Scott’s head rest. Every few seconds he looks back and gives you a smile. You’re too frozen to return it, but that doesn’t deter his. It’s honestly a smooth ride and it doesn’t take long to get to the top where the “broken tracks” are. You hear the train switching tracks right before your hurtled backwards down the track into darkness. You can’t help but scream the whole way while you hear Chris laughing next to you. The train comes to a stop again, this time in the dark and you see the shadow of the Yeti against the interior wall. The train starts to move forward and you see the outside light in the distance. You death grip the lap bar and try to reach for the side of your seat with your other hand, but instead you grab Chris’ hand. He gives yours a squeeze back and doesn’t let go.

“I’ve got you,” he says just as you hit the big drop.

Your eyes are plastered closed and all you can do is scream. You don’t dare open them until you start to feel the coaster slow down. You let go of Chris’ hand and hesitantly look over at him. He’s smiling at you with a big cheesy grin.

“I’m sorry about the whole grabbing your hand thing.”

Your face feels like it’s on fire and you’re sure your hair is a mess.

“S’no problem. Really,” he replies.

The two of you climb out of your row and find Sarah waiting for you. She leads the four of you out of the ride, stopping off to the side to see where they would like to go next.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Scott asks.

“Dude, I’m never going on it again. No chance.”

He laughs and throws his arm around you. “Just drink more next time.”

“Not even then.” You shake your head. “Listen, I should probably find my friends. I want to say thanks, but I don’t feel like I should.”

He starts to laugh and it’s pretty contagious that you can’t help but join in.

“It was nice meeting you, Y/N,” Scott said.

“You too.” You give a wave to the three of them. “Enjoy the rest of your vacation,” you call back as you start to walk away.

 You were in the middle of writing an article about for the Sentinel when your phone rang. Generally your phone only rang during business hours and even that was rare. E-mails and text messages were pretty much standard in your day. Seeing that it was Jana that was calling was even stranger. She probably hadn’t actually called you in five years. You mind instantly goes negative thinking something must be wrong. Maybe Brooks was deathly ill or they were in a car wreck.

“Jana?” you answer, trying to keep your voice as even as possible.

“You bitch!”

What the fuck?

“Excuse you,” you reply.

“You fucking met Chris Evans and on top of that, you rode Everest!” Jana shouts.

“Oh yeah, that. Um, how’d you find out about that?”

“It’s on Twitter. I just tagged you in it.”

She did what now?

“Tagged me in what exactly?”

“The ride photo. It’s of you and Chris holding hands on the ride. What’s that all about and why didn’t you tell me?”

You sighed. “It’s a long story. Can I tell you tomorrow over coffee?”

“You better. I’m still mad at you. I thought I was your best friend,” she muttered.

“And you are. I promise I’ll explain tomorrow,” you said.

“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 It had been three days since your trip to the park where you met the Evans brothers. You were surprised that photo even made it on the internet. You were also surprised Jana even saw it.

You opened your Twitter app and searched Chris Evans. Sure enough, one of the top trending stories was that ride photo. It was a mix of “how is she related?” to “is that his new girlfriend?” You didn’t dare click into any of the tweets because you knew they would be full of negative comments about you. It didn’t help that your face was super scrunched up with your eyes closed. Leave it to your best friend to recognize you.

Within a matter of minutes, your notifications started to go off like crazy. You had gained at least one hundred new followers, but one stuck out the most. Scott Evans. You added him back, remembering how nice he was and the drinks he bought you. You closed the app, not wanting to deal with the notifications any longer. Besides, that article wasn’t going to finish itself.

Right before climbing into bed, you checked your Twitter account and saw that you had another 100 followers and one new direct message. How people quickly figured out it was you in the ride photo, just by Jana tagging you in one post made no sense. You updated your security preferences so that people would have to request to follow you instead being able to do so automatically.

Clicking open the message, you were surprised to see it was from Scott Evans. Sure, he added you, but he was messaging you now?

Scott: “Hey grumpy Disney girl. How’s my drinking buddy?”

Why did it feel like life was about to get a whole lot more interesting? Or is complicated a better word?

Chapter 2

Tag list: @tanelle83​ @pinknerdpanda​ @allaboutthebooz​ @estillion14​ @panicfob​ @patzammit​ @heartislubbingdubbing​ @collinsstanharbour​ @twittytelly​ @thefandomzoneisdangerous​ @linki-locks11​ @mywinterwolf​ @ab-baybay​ @rda1989​ @impalaimages​ @mustangshelby04​ @bellaireland1981​ @carolina-thiell​ @sullyosully @straightforwardly​ @torntaltos​ @denise1605​ @mcuclintasha​ @southerngracela​ @iam-cj @humandasaster​

[zoessecretjournal]

Monday, April 19th, 2021

Today was a great day! I didn’t sleep so well despite the full on beach day we had the day before. It was Taylor’s last day here, unfortunately we really only got to say goodbye today as I was leaving at 11am this morning to meet up with Ryan. I let her sleep in my bed and she gave a groggy goodbye as my Lyft approached the apt. On the way to Ryan’s I listened to Shygirl and started out the window, trying to stay cool. It was the first time I would see him since all of our serious talks, and he had been spending the weekend trying to help Kathleen get to LAX (she mixed up the dates apparently) so I expected him to be tired. I got there around 11:30 am, dressed in my chartreuse green baby doll dress with a white soft tee underneath. My gold earrings, white tennis shoes and gold lobster broach as accessories, and a natural style face. When he came to collect me from outside he certainly looked tired, but happy to see me. When inside, he complimented the color of my dress and drew in to kiss me, and then he held me for a long while. He genuinely gives really good and meaningful hugs.

As soon as I sit down on the couch he plops his head on my lap, wanting me to scratch his head. I tell him he’s just like a cat and he gives me a look to suggest “so?” in a cute way. Whenever I scratch his head, he always ends up doing it to me at the same time, as well as using his other free hand to hold mine or touch me in some way. We stay this way, catching long gazes at each other intermittently, for about half an hour. He asks me about my Hinge profile and how I must have a line of suitors. I tell him about my date with Daniel and how cringe it was, but not before he asked if I kissed him!!! I lie and say no, because I never wanted to really kiss Daniel in the first place. We have fun reveling in how basic Daniel is, and then Ryan proceeds to tell me about his coffee date with someone this week with someone from Hinge. Apparently she is also “ethically non-monogamous” and only wants to make friends. Whatever.

Then we decide to walk to his car to head off to the LACMA. Ryan shows me how they just laid out new tar on his street and someone had ruined it by driving on it, he really isn’t happy about it apparently. I honestly don’t really understand the big idea, but maybe I would care if I drove. On the way to his car he is of course quiet and a really slow walker, I feel like I fumble all the time trying to keep his pace while traversing the uprooted side walks of East Hollywood. Ryan thought he got a ticket as we were walking to his car and my stomach dropped, knowing how much that has effected other people I’ve dated in the past. Thankfully it ended up just being a “thank you” note from someone he helped get a spot behind his car. I could breath a sigh of relief, honestly. On the way there he held my hand, put his hand on my though, squeezed my fingers while catching my glance a few times. He doesn’t talk much in the car and I’m learning he really shows that he cares in a lot of non-verbal cues, which is so different from the Ryan I knew as a friend.

At the muesuem, Ryan gets a iced espresso before we get in. The place was pretty empty and we weren’t in a rush, it was a nice change of pace to be outside with him somewhere in the day time. Ryan took a second picture of me (The first was while i was sitting on his couch) in front of the dome next to the LACMA. Both were prompted by him, which made me feel pretty good. During the Nara exhibit, I found that I was much more talkative, I actually expected him to make jokes about more of the art but there were none! He didn’t even laugh at some of the funny ones! I respected his approach though, very contemplative. There were some really beautiful pieces, and I take a long while to stop and stare at everything. I really appreciated his patience and how he kept pace with me, he was interested in seeing it all with me.  The big paintings of Nara’s work were pretty amazing to see up close. I’ve seen a lot of this work in art books, but those photographs and scans can never capture the way the skin of the character’s look in person. They literally look alive, you see all the blue, pink and yellow hues that make a breathing person, but with this simple illustrated, petulant face. The eyes were also a kaleidoscope of colors, his techniques I've tried to commit to memory. especially the white dot technique.

After the exhibition Ryan thanks me for inviting him, saying no one ever invites him to things like this or things in the day time. I ask why he thought that was? He replied “I don’t know, covid?” and then he sings “or maybe I’m secretly cancelled!”. I wish I would of said this at the time, but I suspect it’s because he’s sober, and I hope that doesn't happen to me. He asks if I am hungry, and I say that I am, he suggests Korean BBQ by his place, to which I agree. We drove down 6th st which apparently he had never gone down and he remarked on how beautiful it was, it certainly was, I had missed it. We still hold hands, and even tighter this time as we make our way to K-Town. We both order the Bulgogi and while we wait for our take-out order Ryan discusses with me his thoughts on the exhibit. He spoke about how long Nara had been an artist and expected to do the same style over and over because it’s what sells and rarely to those artists get to do other stuff. He then started relaying it to his own work and how dispensable art is and how we just eat content like McDonald’s. I agree with him, I explained how I felt disenfranchised for those reasons as well. We get our food eventually and head back to his apt. On the way back from the car, Ryan makes a few stories on people leaving bagged dog shit in random places in his neighborhood. He doesn’t have a lot of shame when it comes to his musings in comedy. A quality I both admire and am fearful of. When we get inside I take off my shoes and spruce up a little. We eat in his kitchen next to his two open windows with the honey suckle veranda directly outside. We both had a non-alcoholic beer with our meal which was surprisingly good.  I can’t remember much about what we talked about, I think we just were eating and played footsie a little bit.

He invited me to lay down with him in his room after we were done, so I followed him there. We laid down for some moments, very close and comfortable.I was caressing him all over, I genuinely like to do that with my partners, but specifically Ryan, hes very receptive to touch. We end up kissing and he stops and asks me if I really want to do “this” and I tell him I do. We end up having sex twice, both times Ryan tries hard to focus on me cumming. I don’t but I think he thinks I did the 2nd time. For some reason I’m having a hard time with that, and also getting wet, but I still had a great time (I was really close though) . We felt closer some how, less stress involved. I even fell asleep with his head in my chest. When he woke up, he woke me up. He caressed my neck and grabbed my face to look at it, my eyes still half-way closed. He gets up to go take a bath and I slowly come to and retrieve my phone and go sit in the kitchen next to the open window. I respond to everyone I can, Matt (from Hinge, who I met yesterday at the bonfire) had messaged me to tell me he was free all week, and he was making carbonara if I wanted to stop by. I think I’m going to see him tomorrow.

When Ryan gets out of the Bath and dressed (in a matching green playstation shirt might I add) he puts on a podcast, gets a sparkling water and lays down on the couch. I assume, no room for me, so he wanted to be alone. He was quite quiet as well again. So I decide to purchase somethings from amazon (sewing machine, humidifier, etc) and when I finally put my phone down I look over at Ryan and he was looking at me. He immediately puts his arms up to say “Come here”. As I approach he says that I can lay on him any way I like, face up, down etc, and so I lay down on him stomach down so I can still see him, and he starts to massage my shoulders. We listen to this podcast for awhile like that, and talk about random things relating to it. at some point they get onto the topic of Randonautica, in which I explain to Ryan, who had never heard of it, what it was all about. As I’m explaining it, he downloads the app! I had dared him to do it, but he actually was really interested. Funnily enough, the pin it dropped was right in between his ex-gf’s apt (Dani) and his good friend Shawn’s apt (Who they both date apparently) which really freaked him out. But just as he got the pin, his friend Shawn messaged him on facebook! He looks at me bewildered and asks if I want to meet his friend Shawn and go check out the pin and I agree. I had expected to sleep over but felt instantly rejected, but realized we had spent a lot of close time together so I should just deal with my feelings right then and there. Ryan gets my attention and re-assures me it’s just because he hasn’t had much space the past few days and he had a really lovely day with me. His serious tone made me feel better and I assured him that I was ok.

Before we head out I ask if we can take a Polaroid together, unfortunately both times they are incredibly blown out. He lets me borrow a jacket of his, even though I just gave him back his sweater and we head off. I tell him that I have a bunch of mushrooms I’ve been waiting to take and ask him if the next time we hang out if we could do them/he could babysit me and he enthusiastically agrees. Even though I tell him I am quite the handful on them in large doses, he had a look of reassurance that he can handle it. We’ll see.

We arrive in the area and walk to the pin, Ryan points out where Dani lives as we pass by. The pin was behind a residential gate with an old mustang stored in it, with both its hood and trunk open and a shovel up against it. Ryan tells me his “intention” he set for it was for us to see a UFO, which there was none. But we did see a cardboard cutout of Vegeta from Dragon Ball Z, so I guess him being an alien is close enough. We walk to his friend’s house, which Ryan had the access code memorized, they must be very close. Shaun and his friend seemed to be working on something music oriented for a game as we walked in, Shaun was very nice and welcoming. We end up talking for awhile and he offered me a Kombucha, Ryan seemed to really enjoy himself and liked that I got along so well. We hung out probably for about half an hour and then decided to head out so Ryan could take me home. He asks me how I’m doing and I say that I am having a really nice time, and he looked really happy about that and confirmed he was too.

On the ride back he had his hand on my thigh and I had my hands on his hand and the back of his neck, giving him a light massage while we listened to the tail end of that podcast. When we get to my place he tells me I should borrow his jacket again, that it looks nice. I tell him that I’m going to be busy all week but we will see each other soon, he tells me he is also going to be pretty busy. He reiterates what a great time he had that day and gives me a deep kiss and a long hug. We part ways and I arrive back home to tell Johnny some of the snippets of today while I respond to all my messages on my phone. I ate sushi and got ready for bed. Ryan texts me a bit in the evening, telling me again! how nice today was and what he was up to. It felt really easy and nice.

[callunavulgari]

fic tag meme

I guess I was kind of inadvertently tagged by @wildehacked because they said to do it if you wanted to, and well, I was bored and needed something to do while watching Watcher Weekly+ so!

Name: Heather! Otherwise known as callunavulgari on all platforms. Except fanfiction.net. I have not gone back there to even consider changing it.

Fandoms: I am currently only actively writing fic for Buzzfeed Unsolved and The Adventure Zone (because I have no self control and finished the finale today). That said, I’m pretty actively involved in The Untamed, Buzzfeed Unsolved, The Magnus Archives, Hades, and Persona 5. But I also delve back into old fandoms constantly, so it’s really hard to say. Tropes: Enemies to lovers is my absolute favorite trope in the entire world. In fact, I think the only thing I like MORE than your garden variety enemies to lovers is FRIENDS to enemies to lovers. Because like, you’ve got the UST but you’ve also got ANGST and YEARNING. I’m just weak to it. 

I also really like fusion AUs, soulmate AUs, and canon-adjacent AUs where everything is the same except one or both parties is some kind of monster. Creature? I love myself a creature feature. Bonus points if it’s got political intrigue and killer world building. I’m sure there are others, but eh.

Fic I spent most time on: Probably either Rubatosis or when the wild grasses weave. 

Rubatosis was a Percy Jackson fic where Percy and Annabeth fall in love with Nico, aka the personification of death. Also, Annabeth is a serial killer. It is single-handedly my favorite thing I’ve ever written and I wrote it in a handful of months for the 2014 PJO Big Bang.

where the wild grasses weave, on the other hand, was a Spirited Away/Kingdom Hearts fic that I wrote for the Kingdom Hearts Big Bang like half a decade ago. It was an idea that I’d been toying with for awhile and the Big Bang gave me an excuse to finally do it. It explores the darker themes of Spirited Away and honestly, I’ve been meaning to go back and tinker with it for awhile because there are definitely parts that could be shaped up better.

Fic I spent least time on: Probably all the really short prompt fics that I’ve posted between now and 2010.

Longest fic: Also when the wild grasses weave, which is almost 43k. And if you know me, that’s a full 30k longer than the usual things I go for.

Shortest fic: nowhere to run is an Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier fanfiction that I wrote about a year after First Class came out in 2012. It is FORTY words and was written for a tumblr three-sentence meme. It was definitely only three sentences, but somehow managed to get 25 kudos and 5 comments anyway.

Most hits/kudos/comments/bookmarks: Top kudos/bookmarks/hits: i don't believe in fairy tales (but i believe in you and me), which was written on September 5th 2014 and is just over 3k of Derek accidentally getting a glimpse of Stiles’ penis. On his phone. It is the dick pic fic and it has 5239 kudos, 712 bookmarks, and 81,838 hits. I feel like the fact that this is my most popular fic should be upsetting since it took me like an hour to write. Top comments: Que Sera, Sera, which was written on June 14th 2014 and is almost 4k. It’s the second part of my Teen Wolf/Addams Family fusion and has 146 comments (most of which are people and not me, because I don’t typically respond to comments, which is a horrible failing on my part).  Favorite fic you’ve written: I actually have an Author's Favorites list on ao3, which needs pared down horribly because it’s got a bunch of really old fic that has not aged particularly well. Rubatosis is probably my favorite? Again, it’s definitely the one I’m proudest of.  wake up in a city that never sleeps was another PJO ot3 fic that I wrote where Percy is Nico’s TA and is also pretty up there. I do genuinely love the Teen Wolf/Addams fusion.  take me to church is one of my favorite Teen Wolf fics, mostly because it’s the soft epilogue that I wanted out of the show.

and i'm always tired, but never of you is a Bright Sessions ot3 fic where Sam and Mark cross paths with Damien years later and I’m really attached to that one. I don’t know. I go back and read these things sometimes and I remember that my writing isn’t like pulling nails all the time. That sometimes it’s really very good.

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: A couple of the older Big Bang fics I would love to go back and rewrite just because when rereading I can tell where I was running out of time or where something should have been cut but wasn’t so I could pad the wordcount. I do eventually want to write at least one more part of the Teen Wolf/Addams series. And I kind of want to write a coda for that Bright Sessions ot3 that I mentioned.

Share a bit of a WIP:

Part of the Buzzfeed Unsolved tattoo AU that I’ve been working on since uh, Christmas. Whoops.

He’s getting ready to text the guy back to let him know that he’ll have to book another appointment when the bell sounds from the front of the door and someone spills through the doorway.

And look, Ryan had gone into this appointment with expectations. Four weeks ago, when the guy had first emailed inquiring about booking an appointment, Ryan had asked him what exactly he was looking for. He’d asked the usual questions, all pretty standard. Style, colors, if he had a preference when it came to the artist, if he had a hard limit on price. 

An hour later, Ryan found himself typing the sentence, ‘so when you say puppet…’ 

Ryan doesn’t really know what he’d expected. He’d done a couple marionettes. Faceless pinnochios. Skeletons dangling from razor wire. A character from Coraline. It was very ain’t no strings on me, complete with shadowy hands puppeting the faceless silhouettes. Creepy, but you know. Kind of cool. 

Precisely ten minutes after he hit send, the guy had ruined all of his expectations by typing back, ‘No, man. Like a muppet.’

He’d even included an attachment. So naturally, Ryan clicked on it.

The creature that looked back at him was monstrous, like a cross between Elmo and the Cookie Monster, its empty eyes dead and staring. It was wearing an outfit that made Ryan think of Indiana Jones, complete with a tiny hat and a miniature fanny pack. On anything else, the little outfit might be cute. 

As Ryan was pondering how to politely pass the job off to Mari, another email came through. This one, thankfully, did not include another attachment. The body of the email was blank. The subject line read simply: ‘He’s called The Professor.’

[vanchlo]

The Firsts / #2 “The First Time Bringing Him Home”

*not my gif*

---> NEXT BLURB: I hope that I can put it out on October 19th, following the every other week rule, but I’m not sure with my busy schedule. Keep an eye out for updates on the series masterlist!

---> READ BLURB #1

READ THE ASSISTANT, AKA WHAT CAME FIRST

SERIES MASTERLIST          

READ ON WATTPAD

-> SHOULD I CREATE A TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES? IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED, LET ME KNOW! :)

LEGEND:

+ : a break in the story; a time jump.

italicized words : a flashback.

WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 10.7k words (!!!)

SONG:  And I Love Her by The Beatles  (CLICK TO LISTEN)

                          * SNEAK PEEK, DUH BC ALWAYS *

“A tear collects at the corner of my eye, reminding me that at times like these, I expect to blink and it’ll all be gone. I wait for myself to wake up from the dream, and to have him ripped away from me, just like all of those other times he was. But it doesn’t, because how could my dreams beckon for me when my life was finally better than anything I could dream about?“

“She thinks that there’s one soul out there, just for her. One that will stay by her side forever and that someday, she’ll find it.”

- Kazuya Kujō, GOSICK -ゴシック-

*

“Are you kidding me?” 

Groaning, I drop my purse in the doorway where it falls with a thud, and my quick steps echo down the hallway. “Harry Edward, I swear to God,” I mutter under my breath, narrowing my eyes at his laughing figure at the other end, but the happy sound only grows further and further away. 

“What would you ever do without me?” I ask nobody aloud, coming to a stop in a patch of sunlight dancing through the tall window. Rounding his desk, I find his brown messenger bag that I still smile at every time, and begin to pack his stuff up.

Pulling open a drawer, I find his Macbook charger that I may or may not be stealing for the tenth or twelfth time. After the last of the unwrapped cord comes out, something pink flutters to the marbled floor. Huffing, I shove the charger into his bag and bend down to pick it up, smoothing down the end of my skirt against my bottom. The thought of standing back up comes to my mind, but as a hint of his recent Sage and Citrus candle trickles through the air, I stop at the words I see. 

“Huh,” I sigh, my lips curling into my cheek as the writing on the Post-It clears before my eyes. A certain somebody’s handwriting that I could recognize instantly, but my noggin takes a moment to rouse the reason for this very note. 

I hope your case went well today, Harry, and I’m sure it did because you’re so good at what you do. I just wanted to let you know that I really like working with you, and I’m so glad that I found this job, and more importantly, you. You’re one of my best friends, Harry, so thank you a lot for that. 

Your Becks xxx

The space between my eyebrows softens when the jigsaw pieces click inside my head, but then it’s followed by the smallest of tears in my chest when I notice that my name is smudged. The paper all over has smudge marks, and looks almost crinkled, as if somebody spilled something on it . . or shed tears onto it. 

“Oh, Harry. I hate to think what you did do without me,” I whisper, brushing my thumb over the note I wrote so many years ago, and yet, he still clung onto it. Standing back up, I clear my itchy throat and tuck the note back into the drawer where it sat in the little divider surrounded by coins and pink erasers. 

“Can I help you with sumthin’?” a voice teases from the doorway. I almost jump when I hear it, the sleek wooden drawer closing without a sound. 

“Yeah, you can stop making us late.” 

“What, we’re not gonna be late, Becks.” 

“We will if you don’t stop it with your Minnesota goodbyes,” I quip, draping the cloth strap over my shoulder and stepping forward. 

“Whatever tha hell that means,” he titters with knitted brows, that breathy laugh escaping his lips to grace the air. He closes the distance between us and I feel zings of electricity on my forehead where his lips touch. “Here, gimme. I was jus’ sayin’ me goodbyes t’ My’ t’ make sure we’re all set with bein’ gone t’morrow and Monday, and you as well.” 

“If you say so,” I exhale, letting him take the bag from me. Somehow, it only makes him all the more attractive, clutching onto it across his chest, clad in a teal and black paisley suit with a button up the color of raven feathers beneath. 

“C’mon, brat. Let’s get this show on tha road then,” he complains ever so annoyingly, making me roll my eyes. 

“Hey! Watch it, you’re on thin ice, bud!” I exclaim, whipping around to find him giggling after pinching my ass. 

“Oooo, ‘m so scared!” 

+

“Harry, hurry up already! I don’t want to hit rush hour traffic! What more do you need to bring? It’s only a three-four day trip,” I call up the staircase, my hands slapping against my thighs in impatience. 

“‘m comin’! Would ya chill yer tits, woman? My God,” Harry chuckles, appearing around the corner of the staircase a moment later. Shaking my head, I catch sight of the large box wrapped in floral paper. “Don’t smile now, Becks. Dontchu’ smile, babe.” 

Stifling a giggle, I turn around fast and thread my fingers through the cloth handle, “Dammit, Harry, what do you have in this bag? It weighs a ton.” 

“‘s yer birthday presents, bug.” 

“It is?” I ask excitedly after an intake of air. His steps stop in front of me, but I ignore him and push aside the fabric of the large reusable cloth bag. 

“They’re wrapped, silly. Hey, you were gonna cheat and take a peek, weren’t you?!” Harry exclaims. Looking up slowly, I press my lying lips into a line and shake my head. His own pair rise to pinch his cheeks and now, it’s his turn to shake his head. “Naughty, naughty, Becks. Hmm, maybe I should jus’ leave ‘em here and you can open ‘em when we get back on Monday. Fo’get ‘bout openin’ ‘em up t’morrow mornin’ on yer birthday.” 

“Harry, no!” I almost shout, but his stern look dissolves into a giggle. A spark ignites on my cheek when his thumb brushes along it, hooking his fingers into my hair. 

“Don’t worry, sweets. I can hardly wait t’ give ‘em t’ you, let alone anotha few days,” he winks, and I feel my shoulders relax when I breathe out. “Now, let’s go put this in tha boot, and get goin’. Yer dad’s expectin’ us soon,” he hums, bending forward to sponge a kiss under my eye. I can’t remember when he had started doing that, but I smile at the feeling of his warm lips on my birthmark. 

“Hey, what’d I say earlier?!” I argue a moment later, almost jumping into the air after he pinched my bum. 

“I don’t care. Yer gonna be tha one makin’ us late now, if ya don’t hurry that cute bum o’ yers along.” 

Giggling, I open his glossy, black front door to step onto the front stoop. Humming a tune, Harry helps me to get the heavy bag into the boot of his Rover, fitting it and his large box amongst his suitcase and my own. Things are shoved to the side, including his windshield scraper, a jumper or two, and his bag of workout clothes with his highlighter yellow Nikes spilling out. 

“Becks, I get t’ pick this time!” 

“No, you don’t. I don’t even remember who picked last time, but I got to your phone first. That’s the rule,” I return with a mischievous grin pointed towards him. Huffing, he adjusts himself in the driver’s seat before pulling the seat belt across his chest. 

“Pick sumthin’ good please, and would ya plug me phone in then?”

“Sure, and wait, what do you mean? I always pick good music!” I say, turning to look at him as he presses the button to start the car. 

“I love ‘Dancing Queen’ and ‘Bohemian Rhapsody,’ babe, but please, can we have sumthin’ different t’day? ‘s a three hour drive, I don’t wanna be listenin’ t’ those songs or bloody ‘Hannah Montana’ tha whole way.” 

“You’re no fun,” I groan, finding the words I had just said feeling heavy in my throat when I see his lock screen. A giggly picture of us from the other night fills it, the first time I’ve seen it. Smiling, I unlock it regrettably, and find his Music Library. 

“Alright, Ms. GPS, where am I goin’ exactly? ‘s been awhile since ‘ve been up this way, y’know,” Harry says, adjusting the air conditioner until it flows softly. 

“Thanks for driving,” I tell him first, squeezing his hand and watching his eyes scan over to me. They instantly fill with the smile that follows on his face. 

“Welcome, babe. Take all tha time ya need with gettin’ back t’ it. But, y’know, ya should start lookin’ fer a new car.” 

“I don’t wanna talk about this right now, Harry-,” I begin in an upset tone, scrolling through one of his playlists. 

“Ya, but I do. I don’t see why you won’t lemme help you pay-.” 

“Harry, I can afford it, I’ll be fine. The settlement money will be enough for a used one,” I disagree, settling on a Haim song just to have something to listen to already. 

I just hope it’ll help me tune out this impending argument. 

“Ya, a shitty used one, Becks. ‘m not gonna let you drive ‘round an unreliable car, I-.” 

“Well, I don’t remember needing to have your permission before I did something,” I retort, setting his phone down above the radio on the little mat, noticing his fingers darting around on the touch screen. 

“That’s not what I said, Becks, y’know that . . Ya don’t ever need me permission t’ do sumthin’, I can’t believe ya’d think that ‘bout me,” Harry sighs, stabbing at the screen one last time before backing away from his closed garage. 

Closing my eyes, I let my head fall against the window, regret pooling inside of me darkly. I try to swallow, but the words I want to say sit there, unsaid. 

“I don’t think that about you, Harry, I-.” 

“Then why fookin’ say that, Becks?” he spits back, harshly switching gears before zooming along as the directions are spoken to him. 

“Because I’m upset and people say things they don’t mean when they’re upset, and I’m tired of-.” 

“Doesn’t fricken ‘scuse what ya said, actin’ like ‘m controllin’ when ‘m not like that. You know ‘m not,” Harry grumbles under his breath, stopping suddenly in front of a changing stoplight. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Ya well, what have you said t’ me befo’, huh? ‘Sorry doesn’t always cut it,’ ‘cuz y’know, it doesn’t mean a whole lot when it gets overused all o’ tha time,” he continues, a bite in his voice. I soon taste blood in my mouth and release my tongue, unaware I was taking out my frustration on it, as well. 

“I don’t want your help buying a car, Harry, why can’t you just accept that already?” I almost explode, wishing I wasn’t, but the words were shoved up and away before I could stop them. 

His sigh is automatic and unavoidable, as is the click of his tongue, “‘Cuz we’ve argued ‘bout this how many times, and ya still won’t tell me why not.” 

“Fine, because I don’t want to take your help- your money. I-It’s just how I was raised, I don’t know. It’d be so embarrassing, Harry . . ,” I trail off, my voice growing small and choked. 

“Oh, Becks,” Harry says in an exhale, lacing his hand with mine and pressing a kiss to it. “Ya don’t hafta be embarrassed, love . . I know that you’d pay me back, and however long it takes ‘s fine.” 

“Thanks, but . . I don’t know. I don’t like ‘talking money’ with you, no offense or anything. It’s just . . weird with you being my boss and signing my checks, like you say. You know how much I make, and I know you pay me a little more than an associate because you like me.” 

“‘m sorry I give you shit ‘bout tha check thing, but y’know that other part’s a bit o’ an understatement,” he wheezes, squeezing my hand in his. Breathing in, I move my head to look at him and watch his eyes turn to me and soften. “It ‘s. I liked you afta a few weeks o’ knowin’ you at tha firm, then I really liked you, and then I loved you.” 

“Harry,” I say with a sigh, looking away and finding our laced hands sitting on his thigh, right where he always places them. 

“What, ya aren’t gonna reciprocate me love?” he giggles, and I remain quiet. “‘s okay, love, ya don’t always hafta.” 

“I love you too, but-,” I start, but cut myself off, just in time. Or, so I think.

“But what?” he asks, his indicator making a ticking noise while he switches lanes. It takes me a few moments to notice the absence of the music. I think that he’s lowered the volume, but then, I gather that he’s turned it off altogether. “Becks, what’re you thinkin’ bout?”

“Bug? Yer scarin’ me, what’s tha matter?” he says, hurrying through his words. My lips are dry when I swipe my tongue over them, but the landscape outside my window is anything but that. It’s green in between the buildings and the hot sun shines high in the sky. 

“I feel like a burden to everybody . . the last few months . . ,” I admit in a small voice, focused on the sensation of him twirling a ring around my finger. An old one I had found in a drawer the other day, from my uni days with Skye. “What are you doing?” I ask hurriedly when I notice he pulls off the road onto the shoulder, and parks. 

“Becks,” Harry says firmly, pressing his thumb into my hand, but it doesn’t wake me up quite yet. “Rebecca Holte, listen to me. No, I need you t’ look at me too,” he continues, cupping the side of my face and pressing on it until I look into his eyes overwhelmed with something. “You are not a burden t’ anybody, let alone t’ me. I love you, Becks, mo’ than I thought I could ever love somebody. Hell, mo’ than ‘ve loved anyone. Yer never a burden t’ me, ‘ve told you this fer years, and I wish you’d believe it, love. I really don’t mind givin’ you lifts t’ work, and I know Skye doesn’t either. How else would I know that you secretly love Miley Cyrus’ music, or ya still jam t’ High School Musical or The Lion King? I love ridin’ t’ work and home with you ev’ry day, I honestly cherish gettin’ that extra time with you. Sure, ya drive me nuts sumtimes with yer odd music tastes, but I love you fer that. I love you for yer stubbornness, even with this bloody car issue, ‘cuz I dunno if we’d be t’getha if it weren’t fer yer stubbornness. I love you fer how good you are with yer money, tha effort you make fer those you love, like spendin’ tha weekend at yer Dad’s fer yer birthday with Robbie. I love you fer yer dedication t’ anythin’ and anybody that you love - throwing Asher a surprise birthday party tha other week, or organizing that baby shower fer Rose next week. Yer amazing, you blow me off me feet ev’ry day with sumthin’ new ya did. You could never be a burden t’ me, yer tha complete opposite, bug. You make tha world spin ‘round fer me, always done that, you have. Ya make me excited t’ get up in tha mornin’, t’ be a lawyer, hell . . t’ be a person, and mo’ importantly, yer boyfriend and best friend. I never wantcha t’ think yer a burden, ‘specially t’ me, ‘cuz that’s tha last thing you are t’ me. I love you mo’ than I could ever begin t’ tell you,” Harry divulges and not for the last time do I feel like The Grinch, because it feels as if my heart has grown another size, or two. 

His warm laugh dances across my head when I fall into his arms and pull him against me for once. 

“Dontchu’ cry on yer birthday weekend now, bug,” he jokes against my temple, his lips making a smacking noise against my flushed skin. 

My favorite song in the world fills my ears as his words from before drunken my mind with their never ending meanings. I never thought I could love somebody this much, either. Sorry, Skye. 

Sniffling, I brush my hand against my itchy nose and peer up. His greens brighter than the grass outside my window peer down at me, softer than can be. 

“I love you too, Harry, so much. I don’t know what more I can say after that,” I croon with happiness plastered across my face. “But, thank you.”

“Ya don’t hafta say anymo’, that’s mo’ than enough fer me, sweets,” he assures me, pressing his lips to mine. “‘m sorry ya didn’t get mo’ settlement money, ya would have if it was me who fought yer case.” 

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s okay?” I giggle and he nods with those dimples on full display for me. He nibbles at his bottom lip, leaving short white imprints amongst the rosy color. I sometimes still amaze myself at getting to run my fingers through his hair whenever I want to, like now. The clean, citrus smell of his new shampoo wafts over me as he smiles down at me, making me think all of my dreams have come true. Almost all of them. 

“I know, bug, but it was disappointin’, tha settlement.”

“Your friend at Williams and Knox did great, Harry, and you couldn’t have argued it with your connection to me. Nobody at the firm could, seeing as how I work with them,” I explain to him, my thoughts brushing over the redundancy of it all. 

“‘ll tell ya what, I have an ol’ mate who works with cars, and I bet he could knock off a few grand fer me-.” 

“Harry!” I begin to protest, but it’s soon whisked away by the softness of his lips against mine. Our giggles tickle the others, and his hand is cold against my hip when he slides up my shirt. “I don’t want you to-,” I start again after he pulled away, but he dives back in for another kiss. Now, I don’t really care if we happen to be late. 

“Ya gonna stop arguin’?” he wheezes after ending the kiss, brushing the tip of his nose against mine. My lips part and he raises his eyebrows in response, making me nod moments later. “Good. Now, as I was sayin’, he owes me a favor so ‘ll see what I can do ‘bout gettin’ you a new car. Actually, I think a lease would be best fer you.” 

“But, Harry, new cars are too expensive and the insurance as well, and-.” 

“Hush,” he whispers against my lips, soon letting me taste his coconut chapstick for the third time in the last minute. Then again, time has seemingly gone out the window these last few minutes, and I couldn’t care if I tried. “I really do think ‘d be best. Ya, insurance would be higher, but then ya have a new car, guaranteein’ no problems, and if there are, tha dealer place fixes ‘em free o’ charge. Inna few years, ya can buy it, or trade it in and sign another lease.” 

“Okay, Mr. Convincing Lawyer, you do have a few good points,” I at last agree, watching his sixty-watt smile only grow brighter at my surrender. 

“Yer music t’ me ears, y’know that?” 

“Ditto,” I say, smiling up at him.

“Maybe if ya continue t’ be good  and give a li’l less lip at work, ya jus’ might get a raise when it comes t’ yer six month review next week,” he jests with a lift of an eyebrow, a shit-eating grin plastering his lips. “Reckon that’d help with tha car, bug.”

“Is that so, Mr. Styles?”

“Mmmhmm, it ‘s indeed, Ms. Holte,” Harry answers, but I ignore him and choose to get lost in his lips, and the baby curls on the back of his neck. 

+

A Paul McCartney song hums around us, the soft twang of acoustic guitar filling the holes as buildings pass on by. Yawning, I shuffle my feet in front of me and tip my head against the window. The song comes to a gentle end before a Bowie song follows, and I find my thigh warmed by his touch. I lose myself in the lyrics as his thumb leaves circles through my jeans first above my knee, then higher, and higher. Turning away from the window, I peek a look at him to find him biting at his nails while focused on the road. 

“Stop biting your nails,” I whisper, my hand falling onto his and dragging it back towards my knee. It’s difficult, but I hold back the grin begging at my lips when I watch him blink with emphasis. 

“Stop movin’ me hand. Y’know what, it took me tha last ten minutes t’ get that high,” he retorts without moving his eyes from the traffic in front of us. 

“Why are you trying to get so high, huh, Mr. Styles?”

“Yer not helpin’ things by callin’ me that. Y’know how I feel ‘bout you callin’ me it,” Harry sighs, his thumb falling from his lips, and he turns on his indicator. After switching lanes, he reaches into the middle compartment and offers me a stick of gum before shoving a piece into his mouth. 

“And how do you feel about me calling you that?”

“Stop,” he says, turning his head to look me straight in the eyes when a light has turned red. “Playin’ dumb, Becks.” 

I avoid his eyes with a giggle and peer out at the landscape where buildings soon become far and in between, knowing how it gets to him and in a good way. His tsking tickles my ears and I shove his hand away, sure I’ve only made matters worse. The next few songs tick Queen off the list, as well as The Stones, and Simon and Garfunkel before a Beatles song follows. 

“Penny Lane is in my ears, and in my eyes,” the radio sings back to us while Harry cruises at a steady 68 miles per hour. His distracted humming along eggs me on, and without a thought more, I slide my hand across the divider and onto his thigh. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything, and when I glance over, he’s blowing bubbles between singing along. “And in his pocket is a portrait of the Queen. He likes to keep his fire engine clean . . ,” he nods to the words, and smacks loudly on his gum. I take the chance and slowly lift my hand from the warmth of his leg, and find another spot a little higher up. 

“Yer cheatin’,” is all he says while sitting back further and adjusting his hand on the wheel. 

Huffing, I look away guiltily and try my darnedest to hide the smile blooming on my lips, “I am not.” 

“Yes, you are. Only slidin’, no liftin’, Ms. Holte. Start over, then.” 

“Fine,” I groan, replacing my hand to above his knee where I had begun in the first place. His chuckle irritates me, but when he picks up my hand to press a kiss to, I find it hard not to melt next to him. 

Throughout the next few songs featuring Jagger, Backstreet Boys, and McFly, I don’t get very far. I hardly beat my record when he picks up my hand and places it back at the starting point. 

“Harry!” I exclaim in annoyance, turning to face him. His dimpled cheeks round out with a pink smile. “No fair, I almost won!” 

“Ya, and ya were gettin’ a li’l too close t’ me junk, y’know.” 

“That’s the point of the game, silly!” I argue but it only collapses into a laugh that he reluctantly echoes. “We don’t actually . . touch each other, you know that.” 

“What’re you talkin’ ‘bout? You did jus’ tha other day!” 

“Stop it!” I whine, crossing my arms over my chest and facing the window once more with hot cheeks. With my face smushed into a line, I find only a few bits of relief when my forehead meets the cool glass of the window, wishing I hadn’t heard those words. “Don’t,” I mutter when he pries at my stubborn arms that coax me back together. 

“Babe, I was jus’ jokin’ with you. It was only an accident, ya don’t still hafta feel bad ‘bout that, Becks,” Harry insists, but the harmless giggle feels anything but that when it interrupts the new Busted song. 

“I would if you’d stop bringing it up! You know that I’m never going to hear the end of it from Skye, and now, you too!” 

“Bug, it was funny. We all agreed it was, ‘s nuthin’ t’ be ashamed of still, I promise you.” 

“Oh, hush,” I say through gritted teeth, shaking off his hand only to hear his depressed sigh. 

His voice grows low, and somehow, I let his hand remain when it graces the round of my knee, “I didn’t mind y’know, ‘s rather flatterin’ actually-.” 

“Would you shut up about it, please? I touched your crotch the other day, I know because I was there, and it was in front of Skye. I almost died from embarrassment when it happened, and if you don’t stop bringing it up, I actually will die from embarrassment and it’ll be all of your fault.” 

“Becks, chill out, babe,” he titters, the emphasis held in his hand that tries to rub the worries away, but I remain pouting. “Stop it with tha poutin’, love, ‘s not lost on me. It was an accident that ‘m sorry I keep givin’ ya grief fer. I like our li’l game, and I know ‘s harmless. Maybe one o’ these times ‘ll make it up t’ you and let ya win.” 

“Stop talking already, you know I hate it when you let me win.” 

“Young lady, ya better stop it with tha whining, cuz yer stuck with me for tha next three-four days, and ya best bet ‘m stealin’ all o’ tha covers,” he gripes, and I at last look at him with my body too. 

“Harry Edward, you will not!” 

“I will too, ‘specially if ya keep on poutin’ ‘bout that thing, ‘s not worth it,” he insists, pulling free one of my hands to lace with his one, and smatter the skin of with kisses. “I jus’ hope ya like what ya felt, but ya should know, ‘s mo’ impressive when ‘s hard.” 

“Harry, would you stop it?!” I shout, yanking my hand away from him and shrinking against the window with a shiver. “You’re gross.” 

“What, like ya haven’t thought ‘bout me dick befo’?” he wheezes with that breathy laugh I’m trying not to love right this moment. Sighing, I close my eyes and try to focus on the song, but it’s becoming too difficult as his words spring a leak in my mind. 

This little ‘game’ of ours had started shy of a few weeks ago, and I can’t even remember why really. One of us had started laying our hands on the other’s thigh and as a joke one night, I think after some drinks, I got a little handsy and tried to see how far I could slide my hand without him noticing. It’s become a competition ever since and harmlessly, given the fact that a few steamy makeout sessions as of late hadn’t progressed to anything besides that. Running across some old photos the other night with Skye when backing up my phone made me realize again just how lucky I’ve gotten with him. The man I never thought I’d be able to love, and here I am, embarrassed because my boyfriend is talking about his dick that may or may not occupy my thoughts at times.

God, if I could tell Past Becky that sometime in the near future sh-we may get to see Harry naked, she wouldn’t believe me, or the fact I probably get to sleep beside him the next few nights with him wearing nothing but shorts. I can’t decide which outweighs the other, the excitement, or the fear of the f- that kind of future. 

+

“No,” I whine, continuing to comb through the contents, despite the fact that I already know that it’s not there. 

“Yer bedroom ‘s cute, y’know. Look at all these posters, I love ‘em. Bloody hell, ‘s that a Scooby Doo stuffie? Powerpuff Girls too?” he giggles from across the hallway, and I hear things being moved around. “Becks?”

“I know I packed it, what the heck?”

“What’s tha matter?” Harry coos, coming up from behind me and circling his arms around my waist. 

“I forgot to pack a razor.” 

Apparently, he finds that very funny, because within seconds he’s laughing, “Why ya frettin’ over a razor, bug? We’re only here three nights.” 

“Because . . I didn’t want my legs to be prickly when we sleep together,” I reveal softly, and that sweet sound of his returns, soon muffled against my hair. 

“I honestly don’t care if yer legs are hairy t’night, or t’morrow, or tha night afta that. I never have, love. But, if it really matters t’ ya, ya can borrow me razor. Lemme find it.” Facing him, I watch as he picks up his small, black toiletries bag and plucks a silver handled razor from it. “Here.” 

“Uh, no thanks. Forget I asked,” I rush, occupying myself by grabbing my toothbrush and toothpaste from the bag to set on the counter beside his gray one. 

“What, why ya look scared, Becks? Ya never used a safety razor befo’ or summat?”

“No,” I reveal slowly, untwisting the cap of the white tube, and squeezing a dollop of the blue gel onto my toothbrush. 

“‘s really not that bad, I promise you. I like it better, doesn’t gimme razor burn and goofy bumps, or ingrown hairs as much.” 

“I’m fine, no thanks,” I mumble with the toothbrush in my mouth as I move it around, scrubbing my teeth. 

“Becks, c’mon. Really, ‘s not that bad. Hey, why dontchu’ help me shave t’night, and that way you’ll learn how t’ use it. Reckon ‘s easier t’ use on yer legs, not havin’ all tha contours o’ yer face and jaw t’ nick.” 

“Really?” I ask, placing a hand against the cool countertop, and facing him. “Wait, but I like your stubble and it was just coming back after you had shaved.” 

“I leave the upper lip area and chin, but tha cheeks get patchy, so I shave those. I guess yer gonna hafta put up with tha stache again.” 

“That’s okay, you know I like it. You’d really trust me to shave your face?” I respond, turning on the sink and filling a cup with water. 

He nods, and with an eager smile, fishes out the large tube of shaving gel from his bag. 

“What if I cut you?” I almost whine moments later, with the heavy handle in my hands. 

“Babe, ya won’t, and if ya do, I won’t be mad. Rememba, like I showed you - forty-five degree angle, short strokes, and tha lightest pressure. Rinse every few strokes under tha tap. You’ll be fine,” Harry insists with the emphasis placed in his rising eyebrows. “Promise you that I trust you.” 

“Okay, I’ll try it a few times, but that’s it. If I don’t like it, I don’t want to continue. I don’t want to hurt you, Harry.” 

“Ya won’t, bug. This ‘s how ya learn, anyways. Now, c’mon, give it a go,” he coos, pulling me closer to him by his hands pressed to my hips. 

Exhaling, I lift my hand and leave a gap of air in between the safety razor and his cheek covered in the white foam. Tilting it like he had said to do, I wait for him to open his mouth to pull the skin taut. I go with the grain and pull the razor along with short strokes, listening to his encouragements as his cheeks slowly reappears before my eyes. 

“God, you look like a baby like this. I’ve always wondered what you looked like as a teenager, I want to see more pictures.” 

“Noted, ‘ll hafta have me mum bring some over next time,” he replies  and I nod, being careful when his face slopes with his cheekbones, but I save the jawline for him to do. 

Goodness, Becky, you’re shaving your boyfriend’s face. Sometimes, I still catch myself when I call him that, Harry.

+

“Bloody hell, ‘s yer dad good at cribbage. I thought I had that last game 'til tha end there,” Harry chortles from across the hallway. Nodding to myself, I flick off the bathroom light, and stop in the doorway to find him snuggled under the covers of my childhood bed. Talk about a sight for sore eyes. 

“I told you that I learned from the best,” I reply, closing my door softly and then getting the light. Dashing across the room, I almost jump onto my bed. 

“Come warm me up, bug, ‘m freezin’ with that fan on,” Harry says, his teeth chattering, but I wonder if it’s only for the comical effect. “And then, God, what he said when we brought our suitcases in.” 

“What’d he say again?” I ask, burying myself underneath the plain, gray comforter, and draping the rainbow colored quilt on top. 

“How could ya forget, Becks?” he chuckles from beside me, the sound surrounding me when I place my head on his chest. His laughs continue and grow deeper over the next several seconds whilst I get comfortable under the blankets and his arms find their way around me. “Hey, Dad, where should Harry sleep? Have him sleep with you in yer old bed, I’m not getting any younger y’know, I want some grandkids soon, and Robbie isn’t looking too promisin’.” 

“I can’t believe he said that either, I could have died from embarrassment right then and there,” I comment, my laugh joining his to echo around the room. His chest and belly shake and then squeeze beneath me as I nuzzle my head into the middle of his chest.

Little old me had nearly all of her dreams granted after I kissed this fellow, including getting to feel his toned body any time I want to, or lay my head between his solid pecs. Christ Almighty. 

“Once again, ev’rybody, but us, thinks we’re havin’ sex,” Harry says, his laugh seemingly not going anywhere. My cheeks warm at his words and I wish that I could bury my head deeper into him, but I only feel the lukewarm metal of his cross necklace against my cheek. 

“Hey, that’s not too bad of a deal. We didn’t have to do anything, and people think we are.” 

“You have a silly mind, li’l one. I mean, I don’t care what people think, but I wish our parents would stop askin’ fer grandchildren, seein’ as we’ve only been t’getha four months,” Harry giggles, and I nod, remembering my dad missing vague and going straight to obvious when he said he was traditionally named after his father. His elbow into my side didn’t help his case, either. 

Suddenly, a disturbing thought whisks my laugh away and I don’t find the joke very funny, anymore. 

“Why aren’t you laughin’, hmm? Here, then - it was funny when he hinted he wants a grandson named afta him. Our parents really are obvious, aren’t they?” Harry chirps, and I nod silently, only now noticing the callused tips of his fingers dancing along my arm. “‘m sorry, I overplayed tha joke, didn’t I? ‘s not too funny afta a few goes, ‘s it?”

“No, you’re fine,” I say, but the thoughts kicking up dust in my head don’t feel very fine. No, they don’t make me feel ‘fine’ at all. 

Why is it that she always has to ruin everything, ever since I was little? Even now, with her well out of my life, she’s still there despite the fact she’s not . . here. 

“What ‘s it, Becks? Did I say sumthin’ wrong, love?”

“No, it’s not you, Harry. I don’t know, just overthinking things,” I reveal, letting my hand rest on the curve of his bicep, wishing I could see his tattoos in the dark to trace them. I know that that wouldn’t make them go away, though. 

“Wanna talk ‘bout it, or jus’ go t’ bed?”

“I dunno,” I almost laugh, wishing this was ironic and that it was still funny. But, it’s not. “It’s hard to think about being a mum and mine not being there for it. I know that’s how I’d want it to be, though. It’s just . . hard, knowing how much other mums rely on that and enjoy getting to share the experience with theirs.”

“Oh, love, ‘m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” he pipes up, resting his head against mine, and I welcome the closeness. 

“I know you didn’t, it was just my thoughts stirring up ‘what if’s.” 

“Hey, ‘m sure when ya get t’ know me mum betta and Gemma, that me mum would be happy t’ step in fer that role, and me sister too. I already know with Gem that me mum would be all over my babies, and she’s a wonderful grandmother. I only wish she lived closer, but she’s always joked if I had kids, that that’s what would take her t’ move t’ London,” he says into my hair, and I nod into his smooth skin, my cheek tickled by his chest hair. 

“Gemma must have been annoyed with that,” I titter and he agrees. 

“‘ve thought ‘bout it too, y’know. Me dad‘s ‘round fer Harper and Ollie, but I dunno if ‘d ever want him ‘round my kids. He fooked up things with me, so why would I let him do tha same with me kids? I don’t want them wonderin’ why their granddad doesn’t come t’ their birthday party this time but did tha last, or t’ see us have a row . . It makes me sad, but y’know, ‘m glad we can relate t’ each other on this stuff, whatta load o’ rubbish it all ‘s.” 

“Me too, Harry,” I breathe, tracing the shape of his necklace as his heartbeat thuds in my ear. “I can’t ever see things changing with my mum, but maybe it could with your dad someday . . It’s a good thing we’re not having kids anytime soon, huh?”

“Ya, reckon so, but ‘m already thirty, Becks. Time’s a tickin’ fer me in that father department,” he shares gently, and I wish I could see his eyes and lose myself in them, and maybe drag him along for the ride too. It’s all that I can think of to get rid of the sour remnants of this conversation, one that’s all of my fault. 

“Oh, hush. My dad was thirty-four when he had Robbie and I, so you’ll be fine.” 

“Ya, but I dunno, rather sure ‘d want kids soon afta gettin’ married,” he hums happily, a longing for the future in his voice. Boy, is it contagious. “Prolly within tha year.”

“Okay, would you chill it with the future talk? As you just said, it’s only been four months, Harry,” I laugh, nervously. A similar sound rumbles through his chest as he hugs me in his arms, smattering kisses along my head. 

“Well, maybe four months will turn into forever one day, ya never know, bug,” he says with a lilt in his voice, teasing dripping from it. “C’mon, ya don’t know yet whether or not ya wanna be my Mrs. Styles one day?”

“I can tell what your answer to that question is,” my answer comes out in between apprehensive laughs, my cheeks surely scarlet against his skin. 

“I never reveal me secrets, Becks,” he whispers, as if I don’t know it by now. “So, will ya marry me one day?”

“I’ll have to think about it . . ask again in a few months, weirdo.” 

+

The streams of sunlight tease at my eyes while a sensation tickles my neck. Groaning, I shuffle my legs under the covers but they don’t get very far, knocking against another hairy pair. 

“Wake up,” somebody coos softly into my ear, followed by a stream of gentle kisses down my face. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to pull the covers higher, but they don’t budge. “Becks,” they say, dragging out the sound of my name as they rub circles into my stomach. 

I lay there for a little while longer, dipping in and out of sleep, amongst the sound of my name and indiscernible humming. The next time I open them, the sun is beating through the window and the standing fan whirs along. A pair of arms is secure around my waist, and although used to it, I feel somebody’s prickly stubble against my cheek. I smile into the soft kisses pressed along my face and then a last one to my nose. “Wake up, Boops, ‘s yer birthday. ‘s my baby Becks’ birthday t’day,” Harry croons and I feel his cheeks rounding out from a smile against mine. 

“Mmmmm, my twenty-seventh birthday,” I reply, stifling a yawn. They reply with an ‘mmmhmm’ before they hide their face in my neck. “And I get to spend it all with you,” I hum, my thoughts waking me quickly. It’s black and white from my birthday last year, pining away for him as he loved somebody else and ignoring his presents. 

No matter how hard I could try, I wouldn’t be able to remember how long it’s been since I’ve had a birthday as good as this one already is, and undoubtedly will be. 

“‘m so glad I get t’, bug, ‘s ‘bout time,” he yawns from behind me, stirring under the covers. I whine when his leg moves away from mine and takes its warmth with him. “I didn’t imagine ‘d be wakin’ you up in yer childhood bed, but here we are,” he giggles. “Tha first o’ many birthdays spent t’getha, babe.” 

“Yeah,” I reply distractedly, propelled back to this day last year and how robbed I felt of a day that was supposed to be all about me and being happy. That was the last thing I was, it seemed, and it’s like a different life to think about that while Harry kisses the hollow below my ear. My boyfriend, who kicks off a blanket with a groan, a laugh rising from my lips as he complains about being hot.

“‘ve taken off all tha clothes I can and ‘m still bloody boilin.’ God, Becks, could ya be any mo’ o’ a heater, love?” he sighs and I only reply with a loud laugh that grows when his hands roam my body to tickle me. I find his sleepy face painted with a smile when I turn around to face his naked upper half, and it makes me wonder how he could ever be any more perfect than he already is. “What? ‘m sweatin’ over here,” he wheezes, carding a hand through his mess of curls while his eyes shine back at me. 

“Nothing, I just . . “

“You jus’ what, love?” he murmurs, threading his fingers into my hair and stroking it away from my face. 

“I just, really love you,” I confess, watching the contentment blossom on his face to almost embarrassment. 

“I love you too, Rebecca Ann,” Harry beams with that contagious smile again, dipping forward to peck me. “More.” 

“No, I do!” I protest, fingering his gold cross necklace that’s warm in my fingers. “I love you most! There!” 

“Okay, okay,” he titters, batting a hand at me before pulling me into his chest. “‘ll let you have it, but only cuz ‘s yer birthday, my love,” he coos, surrounding me with his arms and covering my head in kisses. 

I silently roll my eyes but I know he hears my huff, “Don’t be a pout on yer birthday, jus’ be happy ‘m lettin’ you get yer way with e’rythin’,” he remarks, muffled against my cheek where his warm breath wafts over me. 

“Everything, you say?” I tease, and his intake of air eggs me on. 

“Oh, what d’ya want now?”

“Hey, it’s my birthday. I get whatever I want on my birthday, isn’t that what I told you on yours?”

“I don’t rememba those exact words, but yes, my girl can have whatever her heart desires on her birthday,” Harry responds softly, his eyelashes leaving butterfly kisses against me. “What ‘s that li’l brain o’ yers cookin’ up now, huh?”

A laugh peeks out from my lips and he groans in response as I ready my proposal, sure he’s falling back asleep in my arms. 

“A baby,” I divulge, and begin to count the seconds after the words have met the air. 1 . . 2 . . 3. 

“‘Scuse me?” Harry exclaims, pulling away from me and looking at me with a wild pair of eyes. I find it so hard to hold it back when his green eyes widen further, accompanied by a sudden pallor to his face. “Rebecca Ann-,” he begins adamantly, but the moment the chuckle pours from my lips, he stops. “Woman, I swear- Jesus Christ, ya really are gonna gimme a heart attack one o’ these days.” 

“The look on your face, Harry! I wish you could’ve seen it,” I giggle profusely, only fed by the crimson appearance of his cheeks as he shakes his head. 

“You li’l smart ass, you,” he tuts, swiftly flipping onto his back and pulling me on top of him. “Y’know, ya kinda hafta be havin’ sex in order t’ have a baby, love, sumthin’ that doesn’t quite exist fer us yet,” Harry remarks with the cutest double chin from below me. I adjust myself lying on top of him so I’m not crushing his lungs, or well, his baby making junk. 

“Not yet, anyways,” I murmur with a smirk, enjoying the squirming he does at my words. He giggles and covers his face with both of his arms, exposing as well as hiding some of his tattoos. 

Propping my chin on my hand, my elbow finds a place on the mattress as my finger finds its way to his chest. I trace the numbers in my handwriting above his heart, so entirely grateful for this year and mostly all that it’s brought along with it. 

“Maybe one day I’ll have a baby with you.” 

I hear his wheezy laugh and the happy sigh, because they live inside of me too. His greens are stuck on me from between his peeking hands when I look over and my smile brightens. 

“If we’re havin’ kids, ‘s gonna be mo’ than one, ‘ll tell ya that right now, missy.” 

Somehow, my lips spread even wider, “How many then, Mr. Styles?” I pose aloud with a raise of my eyebrows at him. 

“Five.” 

“Harry!” I exclaim and he giggles from behind his hands that his eyes peek out from. At last, he drops them and peers across at me, making me believe in the cuteness that is triple chins. “Five children? Five mouths to feed, lunches to pack, activities to put them in, bedrooms, pairs of shoes, car seats, bums to change, new school clothes and well, new everything every year, and five babies for me to push out of my crotch?”

That really gets him going and soon, a deep chuckle rumbles through his chest and from his lips, but I really couldn’t be complaining. It sparks one from mine too, and only makes me think of what it would be like to do this with him every morning. One day, with a swaddled baby lying to the side, or on his chest. What have I started now? 

“Yes, five . . Five kids t’ cuddle, make memories with, take on adventures, introduce Harry Potter t’, bake and cook with, watch grow and do great things, have mosey into our bed at night, maybe teach guitar or piano t’ one or two, teach ‘em so many things, and I hope they all have yer eyes and yer laugh . . Can you imagine all that love, Becks?” Harry says, dreaming aloud with an effervescent look in his eye that I’ve only seen a few times before. “Hey, don’t you do that on yer birthday,” he tuts, but I’ve already started and go to sniffle into the crook of his neck. “Did I say sumthin’ wrong? ‘m sorry if ‘s too soon and-.” 

“No, you said everything . . right,” I whisper against his neck, the absence of words letting me feel how it moves with every tick of his pulse. Gulping, I wait for him to answer, but I get it when he begins to hum our song amidst running races up and down my back with his hand. 

“Maybe one day- Wait, no. Not ‘maybe,’ hopefully one day,” Harry coos as I stare into the darkness, but this time I’m not afraid or fleeing. I could never feel anything but safe in his arms, and I know our children would too. “Mmmm, ‘m lovin’ tha cuddlin’, but holy shit, am I warm!” he continues, our skin sticking together as he separates from me between our laughs.

+

After a few trips to the bathroom between us, Harry plops onto the bed and pulls me onto his lap. His lips sponge kisses along my cheek and his arms surround me, almost swallowing me with their span. 

“Well, are ya jus’ gonna stare at ‘em or go and open ‘em, bug?” he coos, the hairs on the back of my neck lifting at his words tickling my neck. Turning my head, my excited eyes connect with his, and he nods. “Go already,” he says, kissing me before I leave his arms. 

“Which one first?” I ask, crossing the bedroom to kneel in front of the line of gifts set before my dresser and our suitcases. 

“Whichever yer li’l heart desires,” he answers. I grab one of the smaller ones and look over to him. “Savin’ tha biggest one fer last, I see.” He folds his hands together, his long arms already turning golden this early in the summer, and so are his legs that his arms drape across. 

Giggling, I stand up and make a few trips to bring the presents to the bed. 

“Openin’ ‘em up here, are we?” Harry asks with dumbfounded astonishment gracing his tired features. 

“Mmmhmm,” is all I say as I settle onto his lap again, and relax when he wraps me up inside of his embrace. Tipping my head to rest on his shoulder, I stare down at the pink and purple flowers that branch across the crisp wrapping paper, and suddenly, it’s like for the second time. 

I’m not going to let it happen again. No, not sitting on the floor with his presents before me, and him so far away, if only a few steps. His chest rises and falls with rhythmic breaths and I remain there, moving my ear until I hear the song his heart plays, needing this to feel all the more real. A tear collects at the corner of my eye, reminding me that at times like these, I expect to blink and it’ll all be gone. I wait for myself to wake up from the dream, and to have him ripped away from me, just like all of those other times he was. 

But it doesn’t. 

I blink and the tear falls, and his lips rest in my hair, waiting for me. His large hand leaves waves and blossoms against my back, and hopes and promises. I make them too, just as silently against him. I promise myself that I’ll never give up on him, and although he doesn’t know, I promise that to him too. 

“Open it up, bug, what’re you waitin’ fer? ‘m dyin’ with anticipation here!” 

Smiling, I lift my head and don’t waste any time finding his lips with my own, just because I can. He moans a sound against mine and holds onto me, and I know that he would never let me go, either.

No, not again. 

“What was that fer?” he breathes half a minute later, staring deep into me. 

“Just ‘cause,” I respond and he only smiles back at me, but then he tips his head to meet mine, resting his forehead on mine. He winks and brushes his nose against mine a few times in a different kind of kiss. 

“I hope I get anotha one o’ those afta ya open yer presents.” 

“We’ll have to see about that, Mr. Styles,” I grin and he amplifies it with a snort, bumping his shoulder against mine to remind me of the present I hold, and his affable impatience.

+

Wrapping paper still litters the floor, so do purple bows, and Amazon boxes. The shadows of our mingled laughs pepper the air as his hair falls through my fingers, and his slow breaths are whispers against my skin. I let my head fall and my hair dance across his skin before my lips do, ever so gently. 

“Sweet dreams, love,” I barely whisper, careful to leave the bed without waking him. At the last second, I turn back and pull the comforter and quilt up his thighs covered in gray shorts, and past his bare shoulders. He’ll need it with his personal heater gone from his side, I think. 

Tip toeing across the room, I take careful steps around the pile of presents still sat by our suitcases. The elation and disbelief comes over me in another wave when I see them one by one, starting with the lilac colored Kitchenaid mixer. 

“Ya need it fer yer bakin’, love. I know tha kneadin’ part o’ recipes ‘s a bore, and yer handheld one was almost shot. We both know that. Maybe ‘m tellin’ you t’ bake fer me mo,’ I dunno,” he had laughed after my jaw had fallen to my chest, and his faced turned a proud crimson. 

“We’re already halfway in, might as well make sure we have tha whole boxset fer when we wanna rewatch it,” Harry told me after I had opened the large box with the five Friends’ faces on it, assuring me that it was just as much a present for him as it was for me. He had kept making it known that that was the theme, so I would stop complaining about him spoiling me too much. 

“I can’t take any credit fer that one, which ‘m quite sorry ‘bout, but mum wanted t’ knit ya sumthin’. Told her ya loved blankets, and here we are. Reckon I might have ya keep it at mine so I can steal it too,” runs through my head as I once again rub the chenille type yarn between my fingers at the end of the bed where the knit blanket lies. With a proud grin, I grab two corners and drape it over the sleeping man in my childhood, twin-sized bed, a dated McFly poster hanging over his head. 

“This one’s jus’ as much fer me as it ‘s fer you, too,” he kept saying, then for Paul McCartney’s second show at the O2, and then for another pair of tickets to his daughter Stella’s fashion show in just a few weeks.

The same phrase, give or take a few words, flowed from his lips when the bag of candles graced my hands. He explained that we nick so many candles from each other’s offices that it was only natural that he bought me some, seeing as how he’d be stealing some here soon, especially the Tobacco Vanilla, Whiskey Cedar, Sage and Lemon, and the highly coveted Cinnamon Roll one.

The cribbage board was just a bonus, him claiming that he could finally bring his office one home and keep mine at work for us to play on. 

What he couldn’t claim his rightful ownership to as well was the card full of unintelligible scribbles from Harper and Ollie, that thank the Gods, Gemma helped them write. The tears in my eyes since the first present grew and grew, and didn’t waver at the message of how Harper wanted to have a sleepover at Harry’s soon with me - nail painting, baking cookies, and all.

But, when I met his eyes with my sad, puppy dog pair, he melted right then and there.

“Harry, this is too much. I can’t accept all of this,” I had told him and he shook his head, lifting my own with his thumb to look in his eyes.

“Please, Becks. I-I hate t’ say it, but I have too much money than I know what t’ do with, and ‘ve been so excited to give you all of these. Don’t worry ‘bout tha money. Alright, my love?”

I gave in, and with the kisses he smothered me with, there was no way in hell I could say no to that face.

He stirs underneath the covers behind me, and so do my thoughts, but with a huff, Harry returns to snoring softly. I carefully open my suitcase and fish out my last clean outfit, and without a sound, walk across the hall and into the shower. 

I thought I had made out like a bandit, but when I slip back into my room in search of Post-Its and a pen, I find that somebody else is awake. 

“Where are you goin’, Becks?” they rasp, pulling themselves up to sit and the covers pool on his lap. Rubbing at his eyes, Harry cards a hand through his tousled curls, quickly yawning. 

“Oh, just to run an errand quick. Go back to bed, I won’t be gone long.” 

“Mmmm,” he groans, knuckling at his left eye. “Can’t it wait ‘til we leave this afternoon, bug? Y’know I can’t sleep without you, I get too cold, and miss havin’ you in me arms.” 

“No, it can’t. I’m sorry . . You’ll fall right back asleep, Harry, I promise,” I shush him, stepping forward and pressing on his shoulder, but he doesn’t fall back in any of the ways that I’d hoped. 

“I’ll come with, then. We can grab some pastries from that bakery you love fer brekky with yer dad.” 

“It’s okay, I will if you want. Please, Harry, go back to sleep. You were up late, you must have a headache from all of those drinks with Robbie. I dunno why you pair had to have a shots competition,” I insist, and my distraction makes a raspy laugh fall from his mouth. 

“I like yer brotha, y’know, he’s a funny git,” he drawls, rubbing his hands down his face once before pulling back the covers. “Can I come? ‘ll be mo’ awake after I have a shower.” 

“I dunno,” I nervously laugh, tucking a wet lock of hair behind my ear. Huffing, I smooth down the floral skirt of my dress and sit on the edge of my bed. Thoughts whizz around in my head, flying to that destination and the next, but this one isn’t sure where to go. 

“If ya really don’t want me t’, ‘s okay. ‘m sorry t’ pressure ya, babe.” 

“It’s okay, Harry. I’d like you to come, but . . I dunno,” I reveal, toying with the ring and starting at the corner of my eye, I watch his hands still my pair that wring each other. 

“Don’t hafta tell me if ya don’t wanna, I trust you y’know.” 

Nodding, I wonder how I had ever gotten so damn lucky with this one. A split second giggle tickles at my lips, and then the toying turns into twirling, and then, telling. 

“She would’ve been eighty-five today, I think,” the whisper fights to make itself known, and I can’t meet his eyes, but I think I hear it in his breathing when he connects the dots. The spinning of the ring, and the tracing of the flower, frozen in time. “I bring her flowers every year, just wildflowers I find on the side of the road. I’ve wanted to bring a cupcake and sing before blowing it out, but it seemed odd to eat it sitting there, when she can’t,” I continue, the frog jumping into my throat at the end there. 

His words are absent, but they’re the least bit of that and so is my surprise when my head meets his shoulder, and his fingers trickle through my hair. 

“You don’t have to come with, if you don’t want to,” I pipe up, grabbing hold of the smooth chain around his neck. The swallows beckon for me, and I trace their wings slowly, wondering how silky they’d feel if they were alive on his chest. 

“I’d like t’ come with, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, it’s more than okay,” I respond, my thumb and finger holding onto the cross when my arms go around his neck, and he lifts me onto his lap. 

“I wish I coulda met her, yer Grandma Ann . . but bringin’ flowers t’ her grave sounds rather special too. Yer tha sweetest, Becks, y’know that?” 

“So do I, she would’ve loved you,” I say, watching the tear glide down the slope of his back, and past the golden hairs lit by the sunrise behind the curtains. 

“Does yer dad go with you?”

“Sometimes, maybe he will today.” 

“‘d like that,” Harry coos, drawing the letters of my name, one by one, along my spine. I only know that because he’d told me last night when I couldn’t fall asleep, and he was happily buzzed.

I think that’s why I couldn’t, because how could my dreams beckon for me when my life was finally better than anything I could dream about?

+

“Ya mean it, tha best ever? In tha whole, entire history o’ birthdays, ever and ever?” they titter and its feeling against my cheek brings one forth onto my lips. 

“You’re so silly, but yes. I had an amazing birthday, Harry. One to remember.” 

“Good, bug. ‘m glad t’ hear. Only tha best fer me favourite girl,” he coos, dragging his nose along my cheek. 

“Maybe next year for my birthday you can grow your hair out again for my birthday present.” 

“Oh, really? That’s whatcha want? Hmm, I was thinkin’ o’ givin’ you a baby fer yer twenty-eighth,” he giggles, the rich smell of coffee hinting on his breath. Now, it’s my turn to giggle and I share it into his neck, our chests bumping when he pulls me closer. I steal a kiss from his swallow and nuzzle in deeper as he drapes the blanket his mum knitted for me over us, sinking further into his sofa. 

“Stop it with the baby talk, marriage comes first, dumbo.” 

“Fine then, ‘ll getchu a ring fer yer birthday,” he continues and I hide my reddening cheeks in the place between his shoulder and neck. Monica laughs at something on the TV behind us, but my focus darts to the melodic kisses he sponges along my neck, and his nose nudging at my shirt. 

“Shush it, I’m not going anywhere,” I insist, revealing my scarlet cheeks to his smiling eyes. 

“Better not, I dunno what ‘d do if ya did.” 

“It’s a good thing neither of us have to worry about that, huh?” I return, tapping my finger on his nose. He nods and brushes his thumb under my eye where he often traces the imperfection that lives there. 

“‘m lookin’ forward t’ mo’ weekends at yer Dad’s. It was loads o’ fun gettin’ t’ see where ya grew up, tha house ya grew up in, yer old schools, tha park at tha pond, and bloody hell, that night out back by tha bonfire,” he says, words falling into a sound of happiness. “I can’t remember tha last time I had so much Tequila. Fook, can that brotha o’ yers drink, and yer dad too. And that pizza yer dad made, ugh, ‘m gonna need anotha one o’ those soon. I miss playin’ board games so much like that, I see where ya get tha love o’ it from. I ‘specially loved playin’ on yer family piano with you, reckon we might make a good pair if we practice some mo’.” 

Giggling, I agree with him as my fingers mingle with his necklace, “Yeah, it was a birthday to remember, that’s for sure.” 

“Reckon so, and I couldn’t be gladder to hear that, bug. Remember last year’s wasn’t tha best, you’ve said. I hope they only get betta and betta, my love,” Harry croons, and I nod, sure that they will. 

It all seems to be a hill that I get to climb by his side, but it’s the least bit tiring, and all the more exhilarating with every step that I take.