#if a single person contacts me to say Stop Judging What People Enjoy!

[cheeeeseburger]

Dream girl Part 6

Next part

Sidney Crosby x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: A THIRD part in three days, and I'm already writing the next one? That's a first for me! This chapter was my favourite one to write so far, I literally didn't have to think, it bascially wrote itself!! All of this is because of yourkind words. Thank you guys so much for your kindness. Anyway, English is not my first language, apologies for the mistakes, enjoy!

It’s the middle of the night, and Sid’s phone is ringing. It’s not like he was asleep anyway. No, like most nights, his bed felt too empty, his sheets too cold and his arms longed for someone to hold onto. No, not someone. You.

He picked up the phone.

“Sidney, baby, it’s me!” Of course, he knows it’s you. Your name is flashing on the screen and his ringtone is that one song that you said you’d like to dance on top of the bar to. Even though your voice was expected, he still felt a thrill when he heard it.

“Hey, are you okay?” He’s immediately up, ready to put on a shirt and his shoes. You hadn’t contacted him since that night when you basically ran way, except to say thank you the next morning.

“I’m okay, for the most part. I mean, physically, I’m intact. I think I might be heartbroken, but not for the right reason.” Sidney can hear the sadness in your voice. He also hears loud noises in the background, and judging by your tone, he assumes you’re drunk and probably at a bar. He grabs his keys.

“What does that mean, not for the right reason? Did you end things with him?” By him, he means his teammates, but he can’t think of a single nice thing to say about him at the moment, so he prefers not to pronounce his name.

“No. I mean, I don’t want to think about it right now. I came to the bar to get fun drunk, but I ended up sad drunk, you know what I mean? All I want to do is drown in ice cream and sob on the couch at home, but I don’t even have a couch, nor a home, since he’s back in the condo. Why does he get to go back in the condo? He has so much more money than me. He could get a hotel room or something. And my friend, who I’ve been living with? Yeah, I think she’s sick of being my friend. I think a drink would make me feel better, but they are so freaking expensive so instead I’m calling you and I don’t even know why I’m calling you but you’re so nice to me and I like you too much and I think my crush on you is back but you’re just so hot and nice and perfect and maybe I should stop talking now!” Sidney hears you take a big breath after your monologue. His head is spinning and he’s not the one who’s had too much to drink. You gave him a lot of information in a few short minutes. He makes out two things out of it: one, you need a place to stay and two, you might be actually interested in him. He feels a rush of adrenaline, but he also knows you’re drunk, so he doesn’t want to get his hopes up. Still, a win is a win, right?

“Slow down, sweet. You’re calling me because you know I will always help you. I think we should talk about this in person. Text me where you are, and I’ll pick you up. You can stay in your old bedroom, or I can give you a new one, if you prefer.” Sidney’s already in his truck. You give him the address and he leaves immediately.

“Thank you so much, Sid. I know why you’re so nice to me, but I also believe to my core that you would be just as nice if that reason wasn’t there.” Your words feel like a puck to the stomach. He’s busted, but he doesn’t mind. It’s not like he was really discreet about his feelings anyway.

“Of course, sweet. I’m a few blocks away.” He looks at the streets filled with people half his age, including you. You're not hard to spot.

“I think I see you.”

“Yeah, me too. I’m going to hang up now.” Love you. The words almost slip away.

“Hey, Sid.”  He gets out of his car. You look away, too shy to meet his eyes. He finds it adorable, but he can also see the sadness you’re trying to cover up. He takes the time to notice your outfit too. You look too good to be true, clearly dressed for revenge, although you’re way too loyal to actually take any revenge, unfortunately.

“Hi, sweet. Are you ready to go? I got some water for you in the car and those granola bars you said you liked.” For some reason, your eyes got misty. That was the last reaction he expected.

Then you pulled him for a big hug. Okay, sorry. That was the last reaction he expected.

“Thank you so much, Sidney. I wish I was the one taking care of you for once.” The words sound distorted because you pronounced them to his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it, my love. You take care of me in so many ways already. Why don’t we go home now?” Your home. It feels so natural. Carefully, he picked you up and opened the car door for you. He buckled both of your seatbelts, and he drove away into the night.

When you arrived home, he parked the car then shut it off. Nobody dared to move. You were the one to break the silence.

“I would like to have a room upstairs, if you don’t mind, please. I’m too scared to go in the basement alone.” There has to be another reason why. When you lived in it with the rookie and they had to leave for away games, you were alone for many days, sometimes a week, and you never said you were scared. He doesn’t pick up on it though, but he stores away the information for later.

“That’s not a problem, sweet. You can stay with me for as long as you want.” Stay with me forever, he wants to add but doesn’t.

Like this was not the middle of the night and this happens everyday, you followed him inside. He wished it was a date and he would bring you home for the first time. There would be a kiss on the porch and hickeys in the entryway. Shoes would be flying, your dress on the railway. Your bra would be somewhere in the alleyway leading to his bedroom.

Instead, he lead you to the living room.

“Why don’t you sit down? I think I have some ice cream in the freezer. Rocky road is your favourite, right?” You nodded and fell helplessly on the couch. It was clear you had sobered up.

“I don’t have anything to wear. Would it be too much if I asked you to borrow one of your shirts?” Such simple words that have such an effect on him. He came back with the container and a spoon and nearly drops both objects. Seeing you in his shirt would be a dream come true, a new image to think about when everything seems grey.

Somehow, he swallowed and managed to answer. “Yeah, no, of course. I’ll go get one.”

He looked through his drawers, furiously trying to find the softest shirt he owns. He wanted it to be comfortable, presentable, and selfishly, he wanted it to smell like him. He finally landed on an old Rimouski shirt that met all the standards.

Sidney went downstairs and was stopped in his tracks by the sight that was you licking your spoon. It was obscene and he will never be normal about it ever again.

“Thank you so much, Sid. I feel so much better already. You’re so kind to me, it’s crazy. You really are making your country proud. I think you’re the best person I’ve ever met. I’m so sorry for making you do all this. I don’t know how I got so lucky, and how you don’t hate me.” You got up and crossed your arms, trying to comfort yourself. He just wanted to pick you up like a doll and take care of you. He wished you knew the lengths he would go for you and how this is nothing compared to what he would do for you. You’re my dream girl, and I would do anything for you.

“Sweet girl, you don’t ever have to apologize to me for something like that. You’re not obliviously to my feelings for you, and I don’t get how you don’t hate me for how selfish I am.” There, he said it. His insecurities and his feelings were all on the table, just like playing cards. You were the Queen of Hearts, and he was your loyal subject. Sidney had never laid his feelings like that before.

“Sidney. My heart aches for you. You have been nothing but selfless ever since I’ve met you.” For once, he was the one avoiding your gaze. You took a step forward and took his hands in yours.

“Please, Sidney, I need you to understand this. I’m the one who’s being selfish by playing with your feelings like that. In fact, I’m going to be selfish again, because I don’t want you to get rid of them. I want to do something about them, but I just can’t act on it right now. So please, Sidney, will you hold on to them for a while longer?” He squeezed your hands and held them tightly. This was an incredibly vulnerable moment for the both of you.

“My love, I will always have feelings for you. You’ll always have my heart. I think it only started beating when I first saw you.” You got on your tiptoes, and he bent forward so your foreheads could touch.

“Then I promise you this, Sidney. You won’t have to wait forever.”

His dream girl was no longer slipping away.

[jmdbjk]

JK's Seven live

JK starts off announcing his new single Seven. He immediately says he knows people will be disappointed it is just a single and not an album, but don't worry, he is working on a "full" album. It irritates me that he feels the need to even acknowledge this. JUST BE HAPPY HE'S CREATING NEW MUSIC OF ANY KIND.

He says he likes it and thinks we'll like it a lot and to look forward to it.

My take on perhaps what the MV might be like? He says its a feel good song that fits this time of year and since it was filmed in Los Angeles, the land of palm trees, sunny days and beaches I would expect a lot of outdoor scenes, people having fun, etc... because if it was all filmed on a soundstage, what was the point of filming in Los Angeles? Also, not a single leak of a pic of JK on set anywhere soooo hmmm...

The actor Han Sohee is supposedly very popular and edgy and I would imagine her fanbase and his will dovetail perfectly and the MV will be a match made in marketing heaven. The contact may have been made through Tae and his actor network. We don't know.

... and sorry, this won't be a p*rno film where they will be doing the nasty... no matter how much the homophobes think it will be. I mean... seriously? JK? Who had to get over his bashfulness of posing for cameras with no shirt under his Calvin Klein denim jacket?

Jimin had to gently break it to us that there would be female dancers just touching him (while fully clothed) in the Like Crazy choreo... and y'all think Kookie is going to be inserting his [blank] into a [blank] on camera? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.... HAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAA... AHAHAHAHAHAAAA....

Anyway...

He also explained his album process is one where he is still working out what his colors and voice are. Which tells me he is much like Jimin in that though he is part of BTS, his central being is not creating the music but performing it. I hope he learns a lot from this process and is able to express his colors and voice to his satisfaction.

He talks about "resting" for so long and how much he really enjoyed this lengthy personal time. Back in February when people were sounding the alarm that he was being held back and forced to stop work... welll... he just said he chose to be a lump on the couch for a long time and apologized. DON'T APOLOGIZE KOOKIE! He's been running as BTS since he was a middle schooler, he deserves to be a lazy lump, JUST LIKE THE LAZY LUMPS EVERY ONE OF YOU ARE WHO JUDGE HIM AND HIS CHOICES ALL THE TIME.

He says the song Seven came about after a meeting with Bang PD and he heard the song and said MINE! I can't wait to see what Kookie did. I suspect this is the song he was recording when we saw this:

[April 16, 2023]

Kookie explains his new piercing:

Like bondage? Wait, that came out of nowhere... never mind, DON'T WANT TO TRIGGER ANY CLOSE-MINDED PEOPLE FOR GOD'S SAKES.

... what were you saying Kookie?

They always try to show "a different side" of themselves in their work. Their photo shoots have run the gamut of concepts. But Jungkook has indulged in tattoos and piercings for a few years now, experimenting first with the fake studs on his eyebrows before plunging in (literally) with a real eyebrow piercing.

You look like a cuddly bunny? Like a sweetie? Cuz you are?

His desire to be less "round" and more "sharp" is intriguing. Edgy is what I believe he's going for. His personality is edgy but perhaps not in the way he perceives "edgy" to mean. So he wants an outward appearance of edgy: tattoos, piercings, the whole motorcycle aura thing which reminds me, when are we going to see him straddling one of the bikes he supposedly owns?

Oh this explains everything...

[Paraphrasing for people in the back: Jungkook says to fuck off, he can do whatever he wants to his own body.]

A TMI: he just had an English lesson earlier. He says the order is difficult and I know exactly what he's talking about. The sentence structure of English and Korean are not the same. English is subject-verb-object, example: Dogs eat kibble. Korean is subject-object-verb: Dogs kibble eat. Also, English past/present/future participles are HARD for those learning English. The brain has to do some mental gymnastics in translating. Takes a lot of practice. He's very good at reading English and pronouncing what he reads. I suspect his struggles with English are conversational English and vocabulary. Not only do you have to recall the correct words to say what you want, you have to construct grammatically correct sentences as the words leave your mouth and its really hard to do that. I am certain he 100% understands English when it is spoken to him.

Another TMI: he had been at the company earlier, and ate buckwheat noodles...

I feel the need to further explain some misleading terminology people are constantly throwing around... not all noodles are "ramen" or "ramyeon". I already explained the difference between "ramen" as Japanese style and "ramyeon" as Korean style but ramen/ramyeon noodles themselves are made of wheat. When Jimin was asked specifically about did he go to Jungkook's for ramyeon, and he said no, he has not been to Jungkook's for ramyeon... but perhaps he's been there for buckwheat noodles which are gluten-free and are what JK used in that last dish he posted a pic of on Weverse. We already know JK has been told to lay off the gluten.

Anyway... back to JK.

He explains his 20/4 intermittent fasting. Some call it the "warrior diet." No eating for 20 hours and then a 4-hour window to eat. This type of eating pattern may impact metabolism and glycemic levels in your blood. If he's been told to lay off the gluten, this type of eating pattern may also be a way of controlling certain levels of blood chemistry throughout the day, especially if he's also working out. The timing of the eating pattern also makes a difference and what you eat during the four hours also impacts the effectiveness. That's all I know about it. Just keep in mind, all the members have a staff of professionals helping them stay healthy and when they say "diet" they don't mean they have eating disorders or are doing anything extreme that would hurt their health, they are following the advice of their trusted professional staff. Jungkook says his eating window is from about 7-8 pm until midnight or so.

After going on for a minute or two about how awesome yet cute Yoongi is, he says he wants to be like that, play instruments and sing and dance and be awesome too but...

I'm only 18 minutes into this 1 hour 50 minute live...

He showed off his mullet:

He still doesn't understand how some comments disappear...

My explanation to Jungkook: there is a complex war of wills happening in the comments where different factions of the fandom attempt to impose control over each other using the "report" function in the live chat. And that some comments, seemingly innocent of motive, "touch your hair", "touch your nose", "make a funny peace sign with both hands", are actually an attempt to coerce you into sending secret hidden signals to those watching in order to confirm that you are half of a "hidden" couple within the group and that you are being controlled and forbidden from living your life freely. These hand gestures (that only they know) and the places on your face that you touch are being intercepted and analyzed and fed into a software program as you speak so that these idiots ... conspirators ... dumbasses um, individuals, can prove their baseless ... ridiculous ... disrespectful ... selfish ... uh ... their fantasies are real. For real. Don't laugh. Ok go ahead and laugh because that's everyone's first impulse.

But for real, stop fiddling with your new piercing because it might get infected if you are constantly touching it with your fingers.

Gratuitous armpit shot for our hairy armpit enthusiasts:

Someone asks him for a spoiler for the song:

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA SUCH A REBEL! This is the rebellion everyone insists proves that Kookie-pookie is being held back by the company. Right...

This is your rebel trying to invent his own "heart" gesture:

This is our dorky rebel, y'all... TAKE THAT, HYBE! (oops he gave himself a muscle cramp trying to make his goofy heart hands... our big, edgy, pierced, tatted up Kookie... love him)

And without any warming up, he commenced to working out on his home workout power tower.

Sorry, couldn't resist...

The whole time he's doing his arms work out he's whining about being so tired. Actually the ENTIRE time he's working out...

But he dropped another TMI too:

A shoot? What shoot, JK? And oopsie:

Every time he dropped those free weights to the floor, the neighbors below him probably fell out of bed...

[the chewed up corner of the coffee table is taking me out...]

At least he's not singing with his whole chest for 3 hours straight...

Then he gave himself a pep talk... to make himself do the workout... to finish it... to work on his solo activities well, to stop his habit of starting things and not finishing...

NO PAIN NO GAIN! YOU CAN DO IT KOOKIE!

Koo is gonna be hangry ...

That workout was a killer. Damn. Abs of steel.

As I've been making my way through this live, I've also been kept in the loop about a few things... Celine show has been cancelled. I was concerned that one of ours was in Paris while this turmoil was ongoing so hopefully Tae can get out of there. Maybe he can zip over to London and visit his bae at some point before heading back to Korea.

And hopefully no one gets triggered by this post since I kept it clean-ish. People are ready to call them lovers but saying they might be into certain sexual preferences is off limits? Seriously, check your prejudices before you start coming at me.

[6-hours]

Pretty much a diary entry

I just binged Nagata Kabi's stuff since I found it in the library and it felt like a thing I needed in the moment...

The cycle of feeling bad, then feeling good, then feeling bad, etc etc just reminds me that personal suffering doesn't have a narrative arc. You suffer, you overcome, and honestly the "overcome" part might not even be permanent. In the pit of suffering you can't tell if it'll ever get better and that makes it so much worse... Like what if this time, being sad is permanent.

This isn't the first time I got sad, and if my past experience is anything to judge by, I'll probably get over this sadness too. Then forget about it and go be sad about something or other again!!! It's a cycle!!!! It never stops!!!!

Anhedonia really sucks. But this time, it made me think, "If I'm going to do stuff and not enjoy it, I might as well do something that's good for me even if I don't enjoy doing it." It was that thought that pushed me to drop some covid weight, and do physical activity (which I'd never done purposefully in my entire life until right now!!!). (Like if I'm going to be sad at least I can try to be physically healthy I guess)

And I have a lot of time that I have trouble filling, so I take my time to do stuff that I'd always thought was annoying or a waste of time. Sometimes I walk 20 mins to the grocery store to get a single jug of milk. I take my time to actually clean the bathroom or kitchen. I don't resent maintenance chores as much as I used to. It's something that should be done, and I have time to do it, and the time isn't coming out of something I'd rather be doing. I haven't overcome that hurdle when it comes to cooking though... Thankfully my spouse is happy to handle food.

I'm working on a personal project that's supposed to be "as big as it needs to be, take as long as it will end up taking". I've always had a hard time with something like that because I guess external validation is very tied to my enjoyment of drawing. If I don't get some kind of feedback the enjoyment has to derive purely from my own belief in the project... This is something that basically drove me to utter sadness in thesis year college because I had shut down socially. When I wasn't talking to people, every missed point of contact played out in my head as a scenario where other people directly rejected me. (So and so didn't talk to me when I walked by them in the hall! They must have so little interest in me they don't even want to talk to me! Completely forget the fact that I said absolutely nothing to them!!!)

Anyway! I really took some time to dissect what parts about this project is

Something I wish I could be capable of doing

Something I kept thinking about doing

What are the hard parts about it that I thought I wasn't good enough for

What kind of work I need to put in to make the hard parts possible

I've managed to dismantle some illusions I have about "good artists" and how "good work" actually comes about. I also put aside the thoughts of "this isn't good enough for the kind of scope you want". (The prof in college that said "Do your research! People can tell when you haven't done your research!" really paralyzed me. I had no idea how much research is "enough", especially when it came to something I didn't obsess over, and if it's not "enough" I'll be scrutinized to the ends of the earth. Why put myself through that scrutiny? Why bother doing anything, ever? You can't be criticized for doing something badly if you never do it at all. Take that,!!!!)

The point of doing this project is, I think, to prove to myself that I did it. And at the end of it maybe do another one. Then at the end of all these projects, I can say to myself, look at the body of work you produced! It might not be good, it might not be liked by other people, heck maybe no one else other than you ever saw or knew it existed. But! I put all the thoughts in my head into a physical form. It gets to exist more than it used to.

[lesbiradshaw]

one of the reasons i almost NEVER read fics with CA steve and modern bucky is because they twinkify him and ..... i hate it so much. they always write steve as this super macho alpha man, and bucky as this modern virgin. likeeee where are my fics with middle aged bucky meeting CA steve a few years after he's out the ice, and being one of the first people to treat him like a person not a character. and who fucks steve slow and swee5 because "you deserve tender loving, sweetheart."

They sap everything that mcu bucky is, the charm, the charisma, the look and the experience and transpose it onto steve and it makes 0 sense

AUs are fun to me because you can change the time and place and universe of your chosen characters and yet their love and personalities stay constant no matter what ... so when AUs change their entire characterization and core aspects of their stories into something that makes them unrecognizable as themselves it’s like. what’s the point of choosing those specific characters then? and ofc you can change characters’ appearances in an au but the fact that SO many people make bucky this tiny hairless twig who is a decade younger than steve ... and steve this weirdly macho silver fox daddy dom ... when neither of them have ever displayed those traits in canon (especially bucky) ... it’d odd. what makes that version of bucky Bucky? they take away everything special about him and make him 2010s sebastian stan (and ditto with steve being made into 2010s cevans). what’s the point ... shrunkyclunks or whatever it’s called could be so good especially when you consider that without bucky a lot of steve’s life would have been spent even more alone and he would crave that closeness meeting bucky offers ... he could heal and find love and make a new home .. also making bucky modern doesnt mean he automatically cant have any trauma or lived experiences and not ALL of those experiences have to be him fighting in an ongoing war in the middle east as a backdrop to two white men dating in america or a romanticized version of an abusive relationship with rumlow 😭 my god. why can’t he have been in a car wreck and found healing through rock climbing as part of his physical therapy or something. why can’t he be a trainer at the gym steve goes to or steve’s neighbor who is in therapy works as a translator because he likes learning languages to help him focus past his anxiety. why is he always a barely 20s hairless college student with a twin sister and homophobic parents?! he’s canonically the oldest of the family and has said he and his parents were super close ... so why take that away ... what’s the reason. anyways. also let’s not pretend that changing the setting would change their private dynamic ... steve is a sweetheart who likes helping people and bucky is an asshole with a heart of gold who likes taking care of people too. it’s just who they are.

[taechaos]

Silent Treatment

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you.

warnings: slight angst, drugs, arguing, dubcon, cunnilingus, mild degredation

word count: 4.2k

tags: @mwitsmejk @1-in-abillion @kooookie

a/n: the request (contains some spoilers). i'm gonna take a very short break from this couple to write other requests!! hope u enjoy 💗

The shift in the Spring weather is unpredictable. One moment it’s chilly, and the other sunny. Humans can only adapt so much, and it causes an outbreak of common colds. Most people recover easily, handy medicine soothing their sore throats, syrups suppressing coughs, and nose sprays ridding the blockage. You, on the other hand, are not that lucky. With a weak immune system, you’re very careful to not get sick, but there must have been a slip-up because you’ve somehow lost your voice after catching a cold.

You sniffle and cough, but you can’t speak. It’s advised to not exert your vocal cords in cases like these, and that is just so unfortunate for you. The last thing you’d ever want to do is spread your sickness to Jungkook, and that meant not getting too close to him; it meant no kissing. 

A very large white placard is spread out in front of you on the wooden table, and you’re plastering printed images of a specific global issue on it. You’re sitting on a bench with two of your friends as they chatter mindlessly while you work. Jungkook has a project about climate change due in a few days, and it’s supposed to be very important for his final grade. You’ve already written him a script for his presentation along with a stick prop to point at specific pictures. It’s fun, glittery and he’s going to love it. 

“Hey,” Minnie, your friend, calls for you, “we’re going to get some coffee from Starbucks. Want us to get you green tea?”

Soyeon laughs when your eyes light up; it’s your favorite beverage, and it’s supposed to help with your sore throat. They leave with a smile after you give them a hyper nod and you’re alone as you adjust your woolen scarf around your neck. You need to heal as fast as you can so you’re no longer missing your beloved’s affection.

Jungkook has been feeling more inclined to approach you without reason lately, but that doesn’t mean it’s a common occurrence. Getting teased by his friend, specifically Taehyung, about having a sissy crush on a girl like yourself angered him to no end. A hit always got him to shut up, but not for long. He’s walking your way today because there’s no one around to judge him for talking to you. 

You’re tearing a double-sided tape when he sits on your table, carefully avoiding your materials. Your breath hitches as his eyes gloss over your work in progress. “Working hard, I see,” he comments with disinterest. He doesn’t say anything about your efforts, but he’s impressed. The corner of his lip tugs upwards before he leans in for a kiss. You have enough self-control and concern for his well-being over your desires to lean back before your lips make contact. His face is close to yours as he pauses and slightly frowns before trying again. He receives the same results and finally pulls back. 

“You did well,” he frowns at you and speaks as if you’re a child, “I’m praising you.” Your eyes are darting back and forth awkwardly and you don’t know what to do other than sit in silence. You put your hands on his knees as a resort and his frown deepens as he watches you. “I can take a hint, you know. You don’t have to fucking ignore me.” He roughly shoves your hands and stands up before storming off with a scoff. You’re torn between following him and being responsible over your belongings. You can’t let his grades go to waste because of a small misunderstanding, so you decide to text him instead. There’s always a possibility someone might steal his project. Or maybe after he’s cooled off? You delay the message, but somewhere in your heart, you’re satisfied by his reaction because it’s clear that he wanted to kiss you.

Heavy footsteps clomp against the sidewalk before Jungkook slumps on the seat next to Taehyung. It’s an isolated area for smoking students at the back of the campus, and his friend group is no exception to this role. They’re taking drags of cigarettes individually as Jungkook glares at his boots. They’re chunky and a bold black, and his dark outfit paints him as the big bad wolf. It fits, because he’s ready to attack when he’s filled with so much resentment. Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you. It doesn’t make sense, but you also grimaced at him, but then why were you doing his homework? He’s feeling frustrated, and upset all the same.

“Someone’s troubled,” Seokjin points out with a mouthful of smoke. “Kookie?”

Said boy only grunts in response.

“Did the lousy girl finally see you for who you really are and leave you?” Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to mock him with a pout. “Tragic.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tae,” Jungkook spits and sends him a death glare, fire flaming in his fierce eyes. “Go actually talk to a girl or something, and leave me alone. I can’t take your shit right now.”

The low blow doesn’t affect Taehyung in the slightest as he holds up his hands in defence with comically wide eyes. “Relax, tiger.”

“Moving on from Tae’s inability to talk to girls in broad daylight, what’s up with you Kook?” Namjoon butts in, earning a fake cough from the receiving end of the insult.

He pauses for a moment before babbling, “I hate those bitches. My mother for one, couldn’t stand wearing clothes whenever she saw a dude. Moving on from guy to guy, unless they’re a fucking asshole. What do they want? Why are they never fucking satisfied?!”

A moment of silence passes among the huddled friends before Yoongi breaks it with a joke, “Who’s the lucky girl?” It doesn’t land as Jungkook deeply sighs in response. “Did she cheat on you?” he tries again.

“No,” he murmurs.

“Then…?”

“She… I don’t fucking know, she gave me the silent treatment. She leaned away from me too,” he shakes his head with a quiet groan, “it just doesn’t add up. I got mad and left.”

“No way that could’ve ended up badly,” Taehyung chuckles but purses his lips when he’s sent another dirty look.  “How long was the interaction anyway?” 

“Like 30 seconds.”

“Are you coming out tonight?” Yoongi asks and puts out the burning tip of his stick. “Could help you feel better.”

“And we’ve got molly,” Namjoon adds.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

Alcohol’s effect on a person differs in moods, and Jungkook is usually a horny drunk. Being a sad drunk is a first for him tonight, but he’s just so confused. It made his heart drop when you outwardly refused his advances and anxiety blossomed in his chest, which he has no idea how to deal with. It kicked in fight or flight instincts, and he just… hated the idea of you not loving him, even if it’s momentary. He can’t bear staying in a situation that makes him feel so insecure, and that feeling is supposed to be left in his childhood. You just about brought out the worst in him without doing anything. 

You didn’t do anything.

It’s 10PM and he’s waiting on your usual good night text that he never responds to. It’s so pathetic, and he hates himself for being so used to your affection that it worries him when he’s deprived of it. He’s never doubted your love for him, but his insecurities are churning his gut. It’s an overflow of all of his pent-up emotions, and he can’t handle it.

“Here,” Taehyung pops in out of nowhere, clutching a pill in his hand. There’s a bottle of water in the other as he holds them out for Jungkook to take. “Stop moping and get laid.”

“I’d say the same to you, but you’d probably start crying during sex,” he mumbles and uncaps the bottle before throwing in the pill and washing it down with the water. “Thanks.”

“See that girl over there?” he ignores him and steps behind his miserable friend to point at the owner of the sultry gaze directed at Jungkook from the bar. “She wants to fuck you. Or maybe me, but I’m passing her onto you.”

“How kind of you,” he sarcastically replies.

“Uh-uh, so you’re gonna be in ecstasy in about 10 minutes. Don’t fuck this up.” He slaps his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. It’s a lonesome party because not a lot of people are allowed in when drugs are involved. Causing a ruckus, receiving a noise complaint and then getting arrested is out of the question. 

He isn’t interested in sex with a stranger - not today at least -, but he hopes for it to change as he waits to approach her. Maybe drugs will rile him up enough to have fun with someone else and rid his mind of you. It’s an annoying itch on his brain, so he rests his head against the couch to comfort himself with the soft fabric. He’s sleepy from the beer he drank earlier, and he doesn’t know how time goes by so fast when he closes his eyes.

A few minutes must have passed, because he’s starting to feel dizzy in his seat. A smile carves on his face as his mind grows slightly fogged, and he opens his eyes to find the girl quietly chatting with a friend. When she glances at him, he beckons her to come over. She mouths a “be right back” to her friend before strutting in his direction.

“Hey,” she smiles down at him before sitting on the couch. She’s aristocratic, chic and pretty. “Sorry if I weirded you out earlier.” Her voice is sweet like honey, and her words flow out of her tongue so naturally. A dream girl, really, and Jungkook is starting to get horny.

“I don’t mind,” he reassures with a subtle seductive tone, “what’s a girl like you doing with this crowd? You look too innocent.” He wraps a finger around a strand of her hair and twirls it. It feels strange.

“My friend sent me here, told me to watch over someone,” she lowly speaks. “I’m Soyeon.”

“Nice to meet you, Soyeon,” he breathes before crashing her lips with his. His hand reaches down to grip her thigh, tongue poking out to swipe the sticky gloss. It’s flavored, and it tastes of strawberry. When she kisses him back so slowly, innocently, it turns him on so much. His pants feel tight around his crotch as he runs another hand through her soft hair. Compared to him, she’s passionate whereas he’s sloppy. He’s starting to get dizzier, and it feels so fucking good, but he hates it.

There is not a single reason for him to not enjoy this, not when his mood is lifting so high. The hand on her thigh lands on her cleavage instead and she’s so submissive and shy, but something’s off. He groans into her mouth before biting her lip, ripping a whine out of her. Why does she sound so sexy and annoying?  

He pulls away from her before sighing in irritation. “Fuck, I can’t do this.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks worriedly.

“No, just, fuck.” He starts laughing before rubbing his palms on his eyes, “I really want to fuck, but I just can’t.”

“We can just chat,” she softly suggests. “What’s your name?”

“Jungkook.”

He removes his hands from his face when she goes silent. Her eyes are wide and she’s gaping at him… guiltily? “Crap,” she hisses quietly, “I was supposed to make sure you were okay. My roommate is like, super in love with you and asked me to come here.”

He says your name in a question, wondering if it’s you. When she nods, he asks for your dorm instantly.

“She’s in room 124… Why?”

When he stands up, there’s a sway in his posture but he recovers quickly. There’s an involuntary grin on his face as he thanks her ignorantly. He’s out of the villa in a rush, and he has the overwhelming urge to just run. The campus is a bit far away from the house, but he doesn’t care as his footfalls echo in the dark streets. He has so much energy to waste, and with his current stamina, he’s confident he’ll find you before dawn. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and he doesn’t care for catching his breath as the corner stores pass by him in a blur. 

Throughout the two hours of his reckless jog, where he mixed up directions multiple times, his mind is starting to clear up little by little. He’s happy because of what Soyeon told him, and he feels relieved upon seeing the familiar college building. He’s not allowed in dorms at this time, but he’s done this too many times to get caught. Except he was drunk in those instances, and being on MDMA was different. Sneaking past security was tough because he couldn’t bring himself to tiptoe without making so much noise. When they glanced at him, he thought it to be the only choice to just run past them. He’s in the elevator by the time they catch on, and the numbers look wonky in his eyes but he presses the button for the right floor. 

He’s shifting his weight repeatedly in an attempt to contain his excitement; he wants to see you so bad. The moment he hears the ding of the elevator, he’s running past the halls and stops upon seeing 124. He has to squint, but he knows this is your dorm. 

You wake up with a silent gasp when there’s a pound on the door. You clutch your sheets in fear until someone starts to sing your name. “Jungkook?” you mouth to yourself. You stand up and look through the peephole and there’s a man on the other side who’s bouncing on his feet impatiently.

“Open up,” he sings loudly. You’re worried when you swing the door open and yank him inside so he doesn’t wake up any other students. You try to talk but only a wheeze comes out, so you switch on the light to see him instead. The brightness hurts your eyes as you close them for a few seconds. “Well, well, well, look who we have here…��

He starts to circle around you slowly and stumbles behind you. “Sending people to spy on me after rejecting me like that.” His words are slightly slurred and you turn around to face him with a pout. You point at your throat to give him a hint, but his eyes don’t waver from your pleading ones. “What are your intentions, huh?” he weakly pushes you, “Sending me mixed signals. Who- who do you think you are?”

You hold his hands and place them on your neck, trying to communicate with him by mouthing, “I’m sick,” but he only chuckles. He seems sickeningly joyous, but he’s not over his anger. “Still not going to talk to me? What did I even do?”

You deeply inhale from your nose because he’s not paying attention to you. You’re frustrated with yourself until he yells, “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?” The surge of serotonin, his state of euphoria is crashing down on him the more you ignore him. He had believed the drug would only make him happy, but it intensified his sadness and anxiety just as much when he saw you. It helped him forget you in a social circle, but you confused him so much after he was reassured for so long - coupled with your silence, he’s raging.

“Why are you ignoring me?! What did I do that was so bad that you can’t bear talking to me anymore? You told me you loved me, please,” he chokes and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I-I’ll make it up to you, I’m so sad right now. Just say something…”

You’re watching him in shock and a hint of fear from his fluctuating mood. You want to cry at how pitiful he looks, but instead you aim to grab a piece of paper from your bedside table. He misreads your actions and pushes you against the wall. “Stop this. Stop!” He has your arms pinned and he’s trying so hard to intimidate you so you give in. A dry sob leaves you because he's going mad, but then he has a sudden epiphany. “Maybe you’ll love me again if I fuck you hard enough and engrave it in your brain that you’re mine. Yes, yes!”

He starts unbuckling his belt and you immediately try to stop him; he’ll get sick! He shoves you again and pulls down his jeans before mashing his mouth against yours. All of your efforts have gone to waste when his tongue forces its way down your throat. There’s no point to denying him now, so you hesitantly kiss him back. You’re so guilty, and he’s so careless as he roughly pushes his hand down your white cotton shorts. You’re wearing a navy blue sweater to match so you don’t get cold in the night, but the shorts are meant to prevent a fever. What’s the point now, then? He hasn’t even read your texts that you only remembered to send before sleeping. He missed a whole paragraph of your explanation and confronted you so angrily.

“I’m going to fuck you all night,” he growls against your lips, “then you’ll remember how much you love me.” Your moans are quiet and hitched as he presses down on your clit through your panties. His other hand is on his cock as he strokes it eagerly, ready to get inside you. “I missed you so fucking much in one day,” he whispers in a croak. Hearing it makes you feel even warmer inside as you nudge his hand to urge him to enter you. “You missed me too, huh?” he takes notice of your neediness. “Shouldn’t have fucking brought it upon yourself then.”

He removes his hand from your shorts and taps your thighs before demanding, “Jump.” You bite your lip in consideration until he taps them harder and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. Your shorts are relatively short, resembling loose boxers, so when your back is pressed against the wall he only pushes them and your underwear to the side before thrusting into you. A scream gets caught in your throat, and you forget all about your aches as he roughly fucks into you without caring for protection or lube. It stings only slightly, but the pleasure in feeling so full of him outweighs the pain.

Jungkook is moaning and groaning as he bruises your thighs in his hold. Your panting is all he can catch, and though the feeling of you is an amplified sensation because of the drug coursing in his system, he wants to hear you chant his name as well. “Still quiet?” he tuts and carries you to your narrow bed and you cling onto his shoulder while trying to catch your breath after the sudden attack. “Your cunt is throbbing though,” he says as he pulls out of you and drops you on the bed. He manhandles you by flipping you on your stomach and holds up your ass. He finally takes off your bottom clothing, but he’s slightly dizzy as he yanks them off your ankles. He spreads your thighs apart and you’re on your knees with your head against the mattress. “I wonder why that is,” he says before slapping your pussy, making you whimper quietly. “So wet, yet you don’t even make a sound. Some whore you are.” You purse your lips and muster a whine, but it’s interrupted when he pistons his cock inside you without warning. Your sounds are hoarse as he pounds into you from the back, hands kneading your ass to the shape of his hands. He gives it a spank as he moans loudly; the new position makes it feel so much more intense, and Jungkook loves it. His ears finally get to hear your pathetic mewls as he thrusts so deeply inside you that your vision blurs with tears and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You feel like a doll that can’t speak or move, and he’s evidently enjoying it going by his rushed pace. You’re challenging him with your silence, and he loves proving himself.

All of a sudden however, he stops moving. You look behind you with a pout and he quirks a brow at you. You grit your teeth because you know he's waiting for you to tell him to continue, or rather daring you to do something. A sudden surge of confidence overcomes you and you gently slam your hips against his, fucking yourself on his cock with your eyes screwed shut.

“Yes, baby,” he strains, “show me that you're still my good girl.” At his encouragement, you meet his thrusts faster and you're seeing stars at how amazing it feels. You want to be his good girl so bad, and you arch your back to savour the pleasure. “Your pussy is mine, all mine,” he affirms to himself and stills your hips to turn you around without removing his length. His fingers are digging into your flesh and your tits bounce under the fabric as he rams into you restlessly. Your mouth is open in a silent scream and he can barely make out your pupils, the whites of your eyes stirring his climax at how attractive you look under the poor lighting. “I love you so fucking much,” he cries, “say it back, baby.”

You try to, but you can only dryly cough. “You fucking bitch,” he hisses at your defiance and pulls out of you to pump his length. He’s close to his release, and he pushes up your sweater to see your hard nipples that make him salivate. He crawls to slide his cock between the valley of your breasts and it hurts when he harshly pushes them together. “Stick out your tongue,” he commands in a whisper, and you do so while panting like a dog. Every time he thrusts upwards, the tip of his head grazes your tongue and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s massaging your tits as he stutters between whines, and eventually his load spurts out to land on your chest and cheek with a particularly loud groan. His cum surges down his shaft as he rides out his high with the last slow thrusts. 

“Oh fuck,” he sighs airily and collapses next to you in the tiny space available. You clumsily turn on your side to give him more room and he pecks your swollen lips. He zips his pants back up and you’re still naked from the waist down. You’re staring at each other adoringly in the romantic, fragile atmosphere; another first.

“I love you,” you croak finally. It’s quieter than a whisper, and it makes you cringe at how hideous you sound; it’s painful as well.

His face lights up once he registers your words before noticing the tone. “What happened to your voice?”

“Sick.” You can’t bring yourself to say anything more as you snuggle into his side and he instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Shit,” he murmurs, “why didn’t you tell me that sooner, idiot?”

You slap a hand on his front pocket where his phone is, and he hastily takes it out to see a bunch of notifications from you. “You sent it at night, you’re still the idiot.” You giggle and roll your eyes. “A promise is a promise, though,” he purrs before cupping your bare heat. “I did say I would fuck you all night.” You widen your eyes when his head lowers down to face your sopping wet cunt, and he slowly licks up a stripe over your soaked folds, making you shudder and grip his hair. He’s leaving kitty licks all over your sensitivity, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against your clit every now and then. Your hips lift involuntarily, and he finally takes your clit in his mouth and sucks on it loudly. He slurps your arousal before spitting it back on your hood, and you can only squeak in response. Your hazed mind only tells you that you want more, and he doesn’t fail to provide.

Two fingers enter your clenching hole, and he’s scissoring your walls as he messily eats you out. The pleasure from earlier returns all too soon and you know you won’t be able to last long. His lids are hooded when you glance down at him and the way he’s looking at you makes it even harder to resist your orgasm. The knot in your stomach picks back up right before unraveling and your moan is raspy as you start twitching under his relentless mouth. He grows gentle and leaves kisses all over your vulva until your body falls limp on the sheets.

After another round of penetrative sex, the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion in your bed. It’s a first for the both of you, and Jungkook decides in his drunken mind that tonight won’t be the last. It feels so intimate when he cuddles you, and you won’t ever forget his love confession.

The next morning is not so pleasant however, as Jungkook wakes up with a loud sneeze and in his now nasal voice says, “God fucking damn it.”

[h03-ington]

Hiii could I request an Aaron Taylor-Johnson x chubby male reader? Aaron and MR were trying to keep their relationship secret cuz MR feels insecure about himself but the paparazzi find out and start shaming MR. Leads to very fluffy romantic and passionate smut at the end? With Top Aaron and Bottom MR. Thanks sm <33333

hii! here it is, sorry for taking so long, just wanted to make sure i wrote the smut well and didn't make the whole thing too short, enjoy my luvs :)

warnings: slight body shaming, smut

========================

both you and aaron were dreading this night. it was the avengers premiere, and aaron obviously had to go.

because you weren't ready to go public about your relationship, you avoided public appearances, which meant aaron had to go alone.

"why can't i just stay home with you?" aaron asked

you sigh. "i wish you could.. but it's your movie, i mean, you gotta go."

"you sure you don't wanna come with me?"

"yeah... i wish i could, really, but you never know what they might say about us, what it could happen to your career, it's not that easy.. it's all because of me, i'm sorry."

"hey, hey it's not because of you. the whole industry is full of bad people who do bad things.. i just wish we could go out, have our own little dates everywhere we want, be like a normal couple without the media out to get us with our every move.."

"me too.. one day."

"yeah. one day."

you put your arms around aaron's neck and pecked his lips softly, then you both smiled at each other.

"i'll miss your pretty face"

then you heard aaron's phone ringing.

"it's my manager?" aaron said in a questioning tone

he answered his phone.

"hi. yeah, i'm gonna start getting ready in a bit."

aaron then furrowed his eyebrows.

"wait what?"

"how?"

"really?"

"but i thought-"

...

"fuck. okay, bye"

aaron then hung up the phone, and looked at you, speechless.

- what happened?

- aaron?

- what's wrong??

- they know M/N..

- what?? they- how???

- like i said, out to get us with our every move..

- so? what now?? you still going?

- no. they told me it would be complete chaos if i would, surrounded by paparazzi asking questions the media can use against me. i'm staying with you. he smiles cutely.

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

it was about half an hour later, you were browsing movies for you and aaron to watch on your television. aaron had the snacks ready, you just had to pick. but you suddenly pressed the wrong button, switching to the news.

- tonight on entertainment weekly: famous marvel actor aaron taylor johson EXPOSED! the new actor was photographed with his new.. boyfriend.. and twitter is freaking out! here's what people are saying:

"since when is ATJ into fat gays?"

"why does atj's bf look like THAT"

"damn atj that's the best you could do?"

these comments destroyed you.

they're right, i don't deserve him, why is he even with me?

then you felt aaron rub your shoulder comfortingly after the tv had turned off.

"hey hey hey. don't listen to them, okay? they're just people with sad lives"

"but it's true what they're saying. be honest." you said blankly.

aaron sighed. "okay, M/N look at me." , he then grabbed your chin and turned it so you were looking at him.

"you are an amazing person. inside and out. you don't know how happy you make me every time i see you. i love you so much. i love everything on you. your body, your beautiful face, your personality, your kindness, you're just perfect.

"what about them? those other people.. they judge and judge and they never stop"

"fuck those other people! y'know, no matter what you do, the world will always complain and judge you. so it's better to do your thing in life, and not care what others say and think of you. it doesn't matter at all. you need to realize how amazing you are, M/N."

you took a deep breath, and laid your head on aaron's shoulder.

"what would i do without you?" you chuckled

"beats me" aaron giggles

you lift your head off his shoulder, then you both share a look, filled with love for one another, hope, and lust.

you then press your lips against aaron's.

you parted your lips for his tongue to enter, and fought with your tongues for dominance, him winning, as always.

the kiss was passionte, just what you both needed. you whined softly, which drove aaron crazy, making him pull away from the kiss, taking your shirt off, giving you light kisses along your body, starting from the neck down to your waist, making you moan softly.

"god, you're so beautiful."

you pull his head back up, making out with him, gripping his hair tightly.

"giddy up baby." he smiles and picks you up, holding your legs at his sides, still kissing you.

you reach your bedroom, where he drops you on the bed, taking your pants off, kissing your waist softly, looking up at you sweetly for permission. you nod and smile.

he takes your boxers off, and starts rubbing your right thigh, kissing the left one, then he switches. "fuck aaron. just like that" you moan

you love this side of aaron. gentle, sweet, loving, everything you could've wished for right now.

"i got an idea."

you chuckle "what idea?"

"69?" aaron smirks

"fuck yeah!" you laugh

you got off the bed, letting aaron lay down on his back. then you sat on his face, and bent towards his crotch, where he still had his clothes on. you could already see the tent in his pants.

he started licking around your aching hole, as you started taking off his sweatpants and boxers altogether, revealing his huge member, already leaking precum from the stimulation

"fuck i love this cock" you moan

"fuck i love this ass" aaron inserts his tongue deep in your ass, and slaps your ass hard,

"FUCK!"

you lick the tip of his rock hard cock, and start sucking it aggresively, ignoring your gagging

"fuuuck" aaron moans and slaps your ass again.

"AH! YES"

your spit was everywhere on his cock, and you could feel it throbbing, ready to release. you stop and aaron then switches your positions, so you where lying on your back, with your legs on aaron's shoulders. he reaches to open a drawer, putting a condom on.

"you ready for me baby?" aaron asks

"yes aaron, please." you look at him pleadingly.

you feel his dick enter your hole, and he doesn't move much just yet, to let you get used to him. while you wait, he leans down and kisses you slowly and passionately, as you put your hands behind his head, gripping his hair lightly.

"i'm ready aaron" you said in between the kisses.

aaron thrusts into you, slowly, each thrust filled with pleasure for the both of you. he knows your body.

"a-aaron" you moan, in between the on going makeout session

"moan for me baby. you're so fucking hot."

you whimper in response.

he pulls away from the kiss, and presses his forehead against yours, looking deep in your lust-filled eyes. you were moaning together, maintaing eye contact for a while, but you were enjoying every single second.

aaron also moved his hand to your cock, stroking it in sync with his thrusts.

"mmm! fuck me aaron!"

he keeps stroking and thrusting in you, and goes back to kissing you, your tongues dancing together. you couldn't help but leave scratch marks his back from all of the pleasure you were experiencing.

"i'm gonna cum baby." he breathed out.

"cum in me. please!"

he speeds his thrusts up a bit, and you kiss his neck, leaving little marks.

"FUCK M/N! SHIT SHIT!"

you could feel his cock explode and throb intensely inside you.

he leans down to kiss you and down your body, then strokes your cock intensely.

"cum for me baby." he looks up at you, smirking

this feeling was amazing. aaron looked so hot stroking you, you felt like heaven

"fuc- ah! shit!!" you shoot out your load everywhere on aaron's face.

seeing the mess on his face turned you on even more.

aaron then rests his head on your stomach for a bit, to catch your breaths.

"fuck that was so good" aaron breathes out.

"yeah."

"you look hot with my cum on your face, y'know" you chuckle.

"i should wear it more often then!"

you both laugh.

...

"i love you."

"i love you too."

========================

did i use too much dialogue and oohs and ahhs in the smut LOL sorrey x

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

“Are you here all night?” Jason asked, “or are you planning to, you know, be a human? I think those go home sometimes.”

High above Jason’s head, a swarm of bats entered the cave, winding among the stalactites and screeching a kind of garbled response.

Dick, however, said nothing. He remained bent over one of the long tables on the cavern floor, examining a map Jason could barely see from his own seat a short distance behind, ignoring Jason and his sarcasm both. 

Jason didn’t enjoy being ignored. 

Fine. 

“I have some tasks you could take over,” he suggested, in his least helpful voice, “if you’re in the market for an excuse to keep working. I know you make those sometimes.”

Nothing.

“I have some weapons to clean, if you want to do that. You could type out all my old cases, if that works, because I only have the originals and those are hard to work with.”

Still nothing.

“Take out the trash?” Jason tried. “Wash the dishes? I put a load of laundry in a couple of hours ago, but there’s a wool jacket in the mix, so be careful what you put in the dryer.”

Dick didn’t move. Jason was enjoying himself now.

“Write a sonnet? Map the White House?” Jason held up a finger Dick couldn’t see, like he had just remembered something interesting. “I think there’s a library on 8th that exploded a few days back, so if you could just grab the rubble from the street and rebuild it by hand, that would be great.”

No reaction. 

“Whatever,” said Jason, “I’m out of here. Get some sleep maybe? I know the whole work-to-outrun-despair routine is your ‘thing,’ or whatever, but it never looks good on you. Have you considered—”

Jason cut himself off as Dick finally turned away from the table. Looking him in the eye, Jason felt suddenly and inexplicably afraid. 

“Go on,” said Dick, quietly.

“I’m just… saying that it might make things worse, to shut off and—” Jason pointed at the mound of paper on the table, “obsess over this stuff instead.”

“You think?” Dick asked. “No shit.”

Jason blinked. “Wait, are you—”

“Did you think it never occurred to me,” said Dick, “that I might be spinning out?”

“I didn’t say you were spinning out.”

“Were you thinking that maybe,” Dick leaned back against the table edge and crossed his arms, carefully casual in a way Jason didn’t like, “hey maybe I, Dick Grayson, haven’t noticed how it feels to be forty-nine hours into a case and puking in the bathroom sink?”

“I didn’t—”

“Maybe I just haven’t realized why my vision blurs out and I can’t think straight, and it’s weird how this happens—” Dick held up a hand, and Jason could see his fingers shaking, “—if I keep going for too long.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Wow, yeah, now that you mention it, this might be,” Dick said, flatly, “bad.” 

Jason glanced down at his boots to break the eye contact. “I’ll back off,” he said. “I’ll go.”

“It might be bad that I can’t sleep until I’m falling-over exhausted. Maybe I shouldn’t be taking all these cases—”

“I said I’ll back off.”

“Or writing all these notes or spending weeks on research, more than that on training—”

“Listen—”

“I probably shouldn’t be leading all these teams, huh?” Dick smiled in a way that reminded Jason of what he should have remembered before he opened his own mouth: that Dick could be very, very dangerous. “Can I get your opinion on that?”

“I’ll—”

“I KNOW!”

Jason stumbled back a step in shock. 

“I KNOW that I’m working too hard!” Dick yelled, “And I KNOW why I do it!”

“Okay!” Jason backed away again. “Okay, I get it!”

“I work so I don’t have to think! I’d rather drop dead doing this shit than stop for the millisecond it would take to feel again! Are you happy now?”

“Calm down, okay? I didn’t—”

“I don’t want to feel,” said Dick, gesturing around him, “so I’m going to stand right here over and over again.”

“Fine!”

“And I’m going to keep shutting down because it goddamn WORKS!”

Dick turned away again, bending over the table like he hadn’t said anything at all. Jason stood frozen for a moment, staring. 

“Does it?” he asked into the silence.

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Do you have something better?”

Jason looked down at his own hands and saw that they were shaking too.

“No,” he said.

“Then fuck off.”

Jason turned to leave, but Dick, it appeared, wasn’t ready to let it go. 

“I’m alive,” he said. “I’m standing and walking and doing all the things that matter.”

“Yeah.” 

“I’ve had enough of— enough of asking for help and getting—” Dick jerked an arm above his head, still turned away. “I don’t want to hear that the way I live is self-destructive. I already know. That’s why I’m here, that’s what I’m saying, that’s why I’m trying.” 

“Yeah.”

“Just… show me something better, or let me self-destruct.”

Jason fumbled awkwardly for something to say. “I’m sure— I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but whoever that is— I’m sure they’re… trying to help.”

“You weren’t,” said Dick.

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You were trying to land a cheap shot,” said Dick, “and feel like you’re better than me.”

Yes, that was true. Jason wasn’t sorry, exactly, but he regretted it, and those were different things.  

“I guess that makes me an asshole.”

“And a hypocrite.” Dick turned around again and leaned back in the same way, quiet, in control. “You never stop either… not since the pit anyway.”

“Don’t.”

“I mean it’s different, obviously, because I don’t think you’re trying to hide it. Me, I don’t want cracks to show. I don’t want all this grief and anger and— you said despair, right?”

“Stop.”

“I don’t want the despair to show because I want to look whole, but you—”

“You’ve made your point.”

“You want to look like a week-old corpse rotting on the concrete, and may I say?” Dick smiled. “Excellent performance. You look exactly like that.”

Jason didn’t say anything.

“It’s a world of difference,” Dick continued, “because I— I’m pushing through pain… and you’re pushing to feel it.”

For a moment, they stared at each other, and Jason found that it was difficult to breathe. 

“I could yell back for that,” he said. It came out softly, more soft than he meant, as Jason shoved away something very close to shame.

“Do it.”

“No. I think it’s funny when people call me the angry one.” Jason looked down at his shaking hands again. 

“I am angry,” he conceded, “but you’re just as bad as I am.”

“Thematic,” Dick snapped. “Get out.” 

“No. You opened this book, so we’re going to read it. You’re right.”

“Leave.”

“You’re right, I do exactly what you just said I do. Sometimes I don’t sleep for days, and it’s not because I can’t.”

Well, that might not be fully true, so Jason stopped to backtrack.

“I mean,” he corrected, “I don’t know if I could sleep, if I really tried, but that’s the point I’m making. I don’t try. I don’t want to sleep.”

“I said leave.”

“It’ll be four in the morning and I’m slumped sideways on my couch watching surveillance footage I don’t need to watch, because I know when I finally drag myself to the bathroom mirror, I’ll look like hell—”

“Get out!”

“—and I want to! I feel like hell, I feel like goddamn Brutus in the Devil’s jaws, and I want to look like it. If I look like death, that means my pain is real.”

“Get out or regret it.”

“Oh, I know it’s self-destructive,” said Jason, smiling his best unnerving smile. “How could I miss it when I’m blacking out in stairwells and picking fights on purpose, just to get kicked around?”

That particular sentence, it appeared, caught Dick’s attention, because he stayed quiet this time, glaring from across the room.

Well then, Jason decided, it was time to push further. 

“Let’s get personal, shall we? Why do I live in this fucking city to see you or him or whoever else is living in the capes this week? I’m not shooting for reconciliation!”

“Well?”

“I’m going to stay here and cause problems until every single one of you hates me enough to shove me away. How’s my performance, by the way? Is it working? I’d love to get your opinion.”

Dick made a face that Jason couldn’t interpret, so Jason chose to press on. 

“It’ll hurt when I pull that off because I do actually care about you, but you know what? I’ll like that. Maybe someday all of this will kill me, and I’ll kind of like that too.” 

Jason paused a beat to let Dick interject, but Dick didn’t. 

“Your turn,” said Jason pleasantly. “Thoughts?”

Nothing.

“I like the aesthetic of self-destruction,” said Jason. “I’m going to look in the mirror tomorrow and see dark circles and scars, and it’s going to feel like being myself in a way that nothing else does.”

In that moment, watching Dick glare, Jason felt very tired— not in a way that sleep could solve, and not in a way that anyone could fix. No matter what Jason did, no matter what he tried, he could always feel himself sinking. He was empty and heavy at the same time, somehow trapped in place, unable to do anything except lie in his own blood.

A rotting corpse indeed.

“I’m not judging you,” said Jason. “I don’t have the space for that. I won’t tell you to just… change. I’m sick of hearing that too, hearing that I don’t have to do this to myself, that I am doing this to myself.”

Dick nodded. Jason wasn’t sure at what, but it felt like permission to keep going, so he did.

“I know I’m holding on to something I shouldn’t,” Jason admitted, even though it hurt to say out loud. “I know, but I can’t let go when there’s nothing else to take. I don’t have anything profound to say. I don’t… know what else there is.”

That was it. That was all Jason had, so he shrugged and stared down at the floor, waiting.

“I think if I stop working I’ll fall apart,” said Dick, finally, “and this time I won’t be able to scrape myself together.”

“Yeah.”

“I think fine, so I don’t have to keep going. I don’t have to shove away the dark and force myself through, but what would happen if I didn’t?”

“I don’t know.”

“I would be a shivering, hollow shape on my floor, maybe forever. I don’t know what I want to be, but I can’t be… I can’t be only that.” 

Jason understood.

“It’s hard,” said Dick. “I always hear— and say, I say this to other people— that things can be okay. I guess it’s true, but does it matter?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Unless I leave the cave right now and never come back, this is my life. I have an apartment and a fucked-up family—”

“Thanks.”

“—and I spend every night jumping through smog and the ghosts of everything I’ve ever done.”

“Saving people,” Jason noted.

“Win some,” said Dick, “lose some. How many times have you watched a person die?”

“A few.”

“A few.” Dick shook his head. “I know too much, but I have too much to leave behind.”

“I have a guy who makes passports on demand, if you change your mind,” said Jason. “He’s amazing.”

“Thanks.”

“Prints while you wait.”

Dick shot Jason a flat kind of look.

“What?” Jason asked. “It would simplify my plans.”

Dick half-smiled at that, and Jason got the sense that they were done yelling, maybe, for awhile.

“I feel trapped, and I don’t know how to fix myself,” said Dick, “while I’m still… here.” 

“Yeah.”

“I’m just trying to stay alive.”

“I know. Me too.”

“It isn’t getting any easier.” 

Jason thought about that for awhile. It would be nice to have an answer— something simple to say, some match to light in their common ground— but Jason couldn’t find one, so he shrugged again and hoped that understanding would be enough. 

It had to be something, didn’t it?

It was the best he could do. There were times, Jason figured, to talk about breathing exercises and the mess of self-help books piled on his dresser, but he knew this wasn’t one of them. They could call it catharsis, he decided, and leave it at that. 

“We could say it’s Bruce’s fault?” Jason suggested, since he was out of other ideas. “I like blaming Bruce for the shit I do.”

“You do?”

“Fuck off.”

Dick smiled fully at that one. “I’m not above it either.”

“Great,” said Jason. “Can I leave a note saying we blame him? No context at all, maybe on a single post-it? I think it would be really funny.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll bounce after that, for real this time.” Jason spun a finger in a circle a few times, pointing around the cave. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Yeah.” Dick tapped a finger against the table a few times, like he was thinking. After a moment, he pulled a bag from the edge and started packing up his things. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, me too.”

Fin.

---

art by @doc-squash​

[skinnyducky]

monsters (pt. 2 to maneater) // v.h.

This part went through so many changes. At one point, it was a backstory and at another it was a twilight fanfic. But I think this is where it should’ve went. Besides that, this is very much inspired by Supernatural and Teen Wolf and those sorts of shows. So, hope you enjoy!

link to part 1

Word Count: 1942, slightly edited

WARNING: language, sexual themes, mentions of blood/gore, partying, and supernatural creatures :)

---------

Your eyes shot open and sweat trickled down from your forehead. Your chest heaved up and down as you felt around, the feeling of rough leather coming in contact with your palm. Your sight became clear, and you were relieved to find yourself still in Vinnie’s car. You didn’t know what the hell that was about, but you knew something wasn’t right.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Your boyfriend, Vinnie, asked. He kept his attention on the road, shooting a few worried glances your way. “You look like you just had a nightmare.”

You leaned back in the passenger seat and gazed out the window. “No, no…it wasn’t that. This felt real, like I was actually living it, y’know?”

“What was it then? Was it a vision?”

“I think so,” you sighed, reaching for your water. “It was hard to tell. It was weird.”

Vinnie softly chuckled. “Well, I wouldn’t expect your visions to be normal. What was this one about?”

“You.”

“Me?”

You nodded. “You, and me. We were going into a room and-“

“I think I know where this is headed, Y/n.”

“No, it wasn’t one of those dreams.” You replied. “I was some sort of monster, and I was about to eat you.”

With furrowed eyebrows, Vinnie quickly pulled over and turned to you.

“Why’d you stop?” You asked.

“You know why I stopped, Y/n. You just had a vision, an important one at that.”

You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes at him. Your visions—or “gift” as Vinnie likes to call it—was something that came in handy in your line of work. Being hunters for the supernatural, your visions aided the two of you in finding clues and the whereabouts of monsters or entities. But unlike those visions, this one was different. Never have you been the leading actress in your visions, let alone have Vinnie guest star. That’s why you weren’t taking this as serious as he was.

“You know how they work, Vin. I don’t have visions with me in them. I haven’t even had a vision with you in it.”

Vinnie sighed, “Remember what your grandmother told to you?”

“Yeah, that I’m different from most psychics.”

“And your visions don’t just let you see things before they happen. They actually let you live through the people within them.”

You sat there confused, trying to figure out what he was trying to get at. “I’m having trouble understanding. Are you saying that I can sometimes live through others in my visions?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“If that’s the case, why were you in it? You’ve never been in them.”

He shrugged, starting the car back up. “Maybe it’s a sign or something. Maybe the person you were living through had an emotional connection with whoever they attacked. Just like you and me.”

“They didn’t though. It was at a party, and they didn’t know each other. Whoever the woman was lured her prey in.”

He paused. “Did you say it was at a party?”

“Yeah. I don’t know who’s party though. Just that whoever’s party it was, you…or the guy…was very unhappy about being there.”

You heard Vinnie gulp before he did a hard U-turn and sped down the road. You clung to your seat, fearing that this may be the end of your life. “What’s wrong, Vinnie?” You asked, gripping onto your seatbelt tightly.

“Jett.”

“I don’t understand. What about Jett?”

“Jett’s at that party, Y/n. He texted me an hour ago saying that some of the boys dragged him out and he’s bored out of his mind. Y/n, he’s me. Well, not me, but the guy you saw in your vision.”

“That makes sense.” You responded, chewing on your bottom lip. “If Jett’s in trouble, then we have to save him.”

“I’m already two steps ahead of you.”

It didn’t take you that long to figure out that the party was none other than at the D’Amelios’ house. It was a single release for Dixie, and she was throwing a huge party in celebration. Obviously, due to your work you and Vinnie couldn’t make it. But, given the situation…you wished you had shown up earlier.

“So, what do you think we’re dealing with?” You asked, following Vinnie in the house.

“You said she lured him in so…possibly a siren?”

You shook your head. “She didn’t sing to him, though. It was a look.”

“Gorgon maybe?”

“Why would a monster eat a statue?”

“I don’t know? For minerals?”

You ignored his statement and looked around for any sign of your friend. “If not a siren, and definitely not a gorgon…then maybe it’s-“

“A succubus.” Vinnie interrupted. “Look, we need to split up and try and find Jett before he becomes Jett à la carte. You check in the main room, and I’ll check the kitchen and the bathrooms.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You muttered, fiddling with your thumbs.

“Why not? We’d find the two of them faster that way.”                                                

“We’ve only dealt with one succubus before, and that one alone was a bitch. This one can’t be any different. We need to be cautious.” You huffed, crossing your arms.

“Y/n, we can’t play it safe this time! Our friend’s life is on the line!”

“And I understand that, but if we go into this gung-ho…then we’re more likely to scare her away and lead her to some other poor guy. I know Jett’s life is at stake here, but so is a bunch of other peoples.”

At that moment, a scream rang out through in the crowd and the music came to an abrupt stop. You gasped, dropping to your knees and covering your throbbing ears. Vinnie fell next to you, wrapping his arms around you.

“That wasn’t just your average scream was it?” Vinnie asked.

You kept your hands on your ears. “That was a banshee. While her screams are normal to a human…”

“…for the supernatural, it causes pain.” Vinnie finished.

You nodded, steadily getting back on your feet. everyone stopped dancing and mingling, trying to figure out what the hell happened.

“Jett’s not dead yet, is he? You know, with banshees being walking Geiger counters for death and whatnot.”

“No, Jett’s not dead. Don’t you remember? When banshees scream, it means that someone is about to die, not that they have already passed. It’s a prediction, just like my visions.” You explained.

The two of you saw a wailing Charli being carried out of the room by Noah and Chase. You raised an eyebrow and said, “Would you look at that. I think we found our banshee. Now where’s our succubus?”

You scanned the crowd, finding no sign of anyone feeling the effects of Charli’s scream. The succubus wasn’t there. You then remembered the two leaning up against walls, but surprisingly, there was no one clinging to them. Then, you looked to the stairs where you saw a familiar brunet making his way up them. There was no doubt it was Jett and judging by his state, the demon had him right where she wanted him.

You tapped Vinnie’s shoulder, gaining his attention. “They’re headed upstairs…just like in my vision. Ugh, why didn’t we think to go up there first?”

“It’s fine, Y/n. As long as we know where he is, we can get to him in time.”

Just as you two were about to embark on your quest to save Jett, the music resumed, and a herd of people got back on the dancefloor. You and Vinnie tried your best to push through the sweaty bodies, but it proved to be much more difficult.

“C’mon idiots, move out of the way!” Vinnie yelled, on the verge of decking people in the face. You on the other hand, had a sweeter disposition, nicely excusing yourself. After some time, you had finally got to the stairs and flew up them. Reaching the top, you both were met with no Jett and no succubus. There was, however, an elongated hallway with many doors.

Vinnie groaned, lacing his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Great, we lost them.”

“Maybe not.”

You closed your eyes and tried to remember your vision as vividly as you could. You steadily breathed in and out as it began to replay in your head. In seconds, your eyes shot open revealing nothing but ghostly white orbs. You stepped to the first door on the right. The minute your hand touched the handle, you were back to normal.

“It’s this one!” you spat, bursting through the door.

You and Vinnie ran inside, finding an unconscious Jett on the floor. Vinnie hurried to your shared friend and checked to make sure he was alright. You searched around the room in search of the demon to no avail.

In the midst of walking back over to Vinnie and Jett, you felt some light hit your shoulder. After feeling the spot, you took a look at your finger, seeing it painted with blood. Your breath hitched as you slowly looked up. There the succubus sat, hanging from the wall with a sick grin on her face and blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. She roared and dropped from the ceiling, falling on top of you.

“Vinnie!” You screamed, wrestling on the floor with the demon. Vinnie’s attention shot over to you and without hesitation, he charged at the succubus, punching the beast dead square in it’s jaw. She fell off of you and Vinnie took this chance to straddle her.

“Keep her steady, Y/n!” Vinnie ordered, reaching into his jacket pocket. You did as he said, planting your hands on the demon’s wrist, keeping her from moving too much. She flailed around, speaking in tongues and shouting out profanities.

Finally finding it, Vinnie pulled out his father’s bestiary. As he flipped through the pages, the succubus stopped moving and stared daggers at you.

“I know about you,” she cackled, “Y/n, the youngest psychic of your family.”

“Don’t listen to her, Y/n!” warned Vinnie.

You ignored his warning and responded to the demon. “You don’t know nothing about me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Down in hell, we know all about you. And we can’t wait for you to join us and your whore of a mother.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, not from fear…but from rage. You looked to Vinnie, watching as he stopped on a page. He glanced up at you. “You ready?”

“Kill the bitch.”

Vinnie read off a vanquishing spell and upon doing so, the succubus began to cry out in agony. You struggled to contain her but after a few minutes, she stopped squirming. Her cries silenced as her body dissolved into boiling liquid, creating an acid pool of flesh and blood.

You let out a breath of relief. “Well, that was easier than the one in Devil’s Kettle.”

“That’s because we were amateurs then.” Vinnie replied as he stood up, bringing you with him.

You smiled, patting him on the back. “I gotta give you props on that punch. It was actually kind of hot.”

“No one can do it like me.”

“Don’t let my compliment go to your head.”

He pouted and then turned to a frightened Jett. “You okay, buddy?”

Jett softly nodded, shooting the two of you a shaky thumbs up. “N-Never better. How’d you know I was in trouble?”

Vinnie pointed over at you. “Visions. Only, she didn’t actually see you. She saw me.”

“O-Oh,” Jett said. “I guess, t-that’s cool. Thank you, Y/n.”

“You’re welcome.” You laughed, turning to Vinnie. “We did good, babe.”

“We sure did. All in a day’s work.”

“And onto the next adventure.”

[yannowhatigiveup]

New but True

This is the 10k+ one shot I was talking about. I finished it as quickly as I could yesterday (with aching muscles WHICH STILL HURTS-) Any way enjoy!

Wordcount: >13k

Damian didn't know how he was expecting his day to go but he didn't expect it to go like this.

He woke up a little earlier than usual which was an annoyance since he would be doing patrol late at night. His brothers were also being a pain when he arrived for breakfast, but that was normal. What wasn't normal was the fact that he had this aching feeling in his stomach, a gut feeling, that something would happen. He wasn't sure whether it was something good or something bad, but he wasn't going to take any chances. He didn't pay any attention to Dick as he talked about how Kor'i and Mar'i would be coming to visit. The eldest, being his overdramatic self, let out a huff of taken offense when he realised Damian wasn't paying attention. His thoughts were interrupted by Jason's annoying snark.

"Demon-spawn's love life is nonexistent, did you really expect him to listen?"

Damian inhaled sharply through his nose, took a sip from the cup of coffee he stole from Tim, reached for a knife and looked Jason straight in the eyes. "Your life will be nonexistent, Todd"

As he was about to throw it, Alfred materialized behind him. "Master Damian, no throwing utensils at the table"

The green-eyed boy huffed, finishing the rest of Tim's coffee off. He left to his room with no comment and when he reached his room, he changed to go on a walk.

He didn't have a specific area he wanted to go to, he just let his legs do the walking. He made it to a paint shop, an antique shop, a small drinks stand where he bought a small lemonade from and a quiet street. Then the feeling returned only much stronger. Damian then felt as if he was being watched. His eyes squinted and scanned the area surrounding him only to be filled with dread as a wave of exhaustion hit him. Somehow someway, someone managed to drug him. Soon the effects of the drug went in full motion and he sank quickly into darkness.

~~~

Damian, still half asleep, tried to move around, only to feel a chains bounding him to the floor. Now he was fully awake. His eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room and he came to the conclusion that he was kidnapped by the League of Assassins. He was heavily and expertly bounded to the floor which was a bother. Then a voice made him realise he wasn't alone.

"Wh-where am I?" A faint, small and sweet voice asked in French.

Damian's head turned to the direction the sound was doing from, his vision was then locked with the other figure in the room. Green eyes met blue. Damon didn't know what to say after meeting the girl's gaze and instead observed her. She was beautiful, probably the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and she looked small, frail and weak. But Damian knew better than to judge people based on appearance alone. It could all just be an act, an image she's trying to portray. 'This girl has to be dangerous or has to have a great significance of some kind. After all, she was kidnapped too'. Damian was about to answer when an all too familiar voice answered instead.

"You're in the League of Assassins, little guardian" a female voice replied in french. Damian then turned to meet his mother's glare, giving Talia a glare of his own.

"...Why am I here?" Even though the girl seemed very fragile at that moment, her voice was intimidating.

"To be betrothed to my son"

"What?!" Both teenagers exclaimed in French.

"You heard me. You-" Talia pointed at Damian. "are the heir to the League of Assassins and you-" her finger pointed to the blue-haired girl. "are the Great Guardian, heir to the Order of the Guardians." she then crossed her arms. "It would be beneficial for both parties for this marriage to take place as it would create an alliance between the two opposing organizations"

Talia approached the blue-eyed girl first. "I have your kwami" she whispered furiously in French. "Go through with this, otherwise your kwami will take the punishment" Damian didn't understand what his mother was talking about and soon she was approaching him. "You refuse, the girl dies. You choose" she told her son in English. Talia was very certain the girl heard and understood her words.

He didn't know anything about the girl but he would be damned if he let her die. Damian and the figure both locked eyes again. Though neither face showed any emotion, their eyes conveyed a silent conversation, a silent agreement.

Talia didn't see this as she was already turning away from them. "You'll now be escorted to different rooms to change". At her command, more people entered the room.

~~~

He was forced into his assassin's gear and dragged to the alter, many assassins with weapons drawn warned him to remain where he was. Then the doors opened. The mysterious blue-

eyed girl was fitted in a dark red qipao, her long midnight hair, that was now let down, framed her face perfectly. If they weren't in this situation, he probably would have approached the girl himself.

Being brought back to reality, both him and the girl stood side by side, looking up at Talia who had a goblet filled with god knows what. The brown-haired woman then forcefully took the girl's hand and sliced her palm, letting the blood drip down into the beaker. Upon doing so, the blue-haired girl winced when the blade made contact with her skin. Talia then took Damian's hand and did the same, Damian didn't show any emotion when the action was done. The woman mixed the liquids and poured the concoction into two separate glasses. She chanted something in another language which he didn't bother listening to. Both Damian's and the girl's eyes locked once more before they both brought the chalices to their lips and drank. Damian ignored the burning from the liquid as it went down his throat but he saw the girl gulp in visible discomfort.

After the ceremony was complete, the newlywed couple were forced into a bedroom. Damian tried opening the door but it was, shut. He turned to face the girl who was now sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I'm truly sorry for these turn of events"

"I'm so sorry they dragged you into this"

Damian and the blue-eyed girl shared a small but saddened chuckle as they both talked, in English, at the same time.

"Like I said earlier I... I'm sorry you were forced into this" Damian murmured as he went to sit next to the girl, keeping some distance as to not make her uncomfortable.

"I'm gonna stop you right there" She put her hand up, indicating for him to stop talking. "You were roped into this as much as I was" the girl hesitantly placed her hand on his and surprisingly, Damian didn't feel the need to pull away. "The only person here to blame is your mother" her eyes widened at her own statement "Sorryifthatoffendedyou!"

Damian chuckled at her reaction. "It's fine. She only gets the privilege of being called my mother because she's biologically related to me" he thought for a moment and cleared his throat. "Since we're... married"

"We might as well try to make it work" she smiled at him and Damian felt his cheeks heat up ever so slightly.

He nodded. "Firstly, Hello, my name is Damian, Damian Wayne and I am your husband"

"Well hello too you too! I'm your wife and my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng... or is it Wayne now?" Marinette asked slightly flustered. Damian decided that he enjoyed seeing her flustered. He took the hand that was resting on his and gently kissed her knuckles. The bluenette's blush was far more visible now.

"Marinette" Damian hummed. "A beautiful name to suit a beautiful lady such as yourself"

She giggled, Damian revelled in the sound. "You're one to talk tall, dark and handsome" she abruptly stopped. "Wait, Damian Wayne?" Marinette tried to stifle her laughter but failed.

"What's so funny?" He shot her a jokingly glare.

"No it's just-" she tried to control her laughter and managed to lower it to giggles. "There's a girl in my class and she says that you and her are a couple"

The look of disgust on his face managed to throw her into a fit of more laughter. "The only woman that I love is my beautiful wife" he grumbled, pulling Marinette closer to him and wrapping his arm around her waist. Damian felt the blue-eyed girl's body freeze. "Sorry I-" he was cut off when Marinette leaned into his embrace, her head snuggled under his chin.

"I love you too, mon chéri"

~~~

In the few hours she really got to know him, Marinette fell for Damian, she fell hard. He told her about his pets and about Jon, his self proclaimed best friend. He then told her about his family, how they were actually the Bats and how infuriating they were, though she knew he loved them. In turn she told him about being Ladybug and the situation in Paris, he was furious about not knowing of this sooner. Even more so after finding out her relationship with her classmates but he kept his promise to not kill them, for now.

They hadn't noticed how much time has past until the sound of the door opening reminded the couple of where they were. Damian and Marinette both stood up, the bluenette slightly behind her husband as Talia entered the room. The older woman tossed a cage and a key at the two, she left without saying a single word. Marinette picked up the key and stumbled to cage, shakily turning the key. As soon as the cage door opened, the red blur flew out and hugged her cheek.

"Marinette I was so worried!" Tikki squeaked

"I'm glad you're okay Tikki!" The bluenette turned to the black-haired boy who was smiling ever so slightly at the reunion. "Damian this is Tikki, my kwami. Tikki this is Damian, my husband"

Damian stood and nodded curtly at the flying goddess. The kwami flew up, inspected for a second and hugged his cheek. Marinette giggled at the interaction. "He's right for you Marinette. But the moment I get my hands on that witch of a woman, I will get Plagg to deal with her"

Marinette, not wanting to stress her kwami best friend, suggested that Tikki get some rest and the kwami, though hesitantly, agreed. Now it was just Damian and Marinette awake. The green-eyed boy walked towards the window, Marinette followed suit.

"Tt, It's bolted down where we can't reach" Damian was referring to the window.

"I checked for any secret doors or passage ways, nothing"

"We need to escape somehow" he murmured. 'We could try to pick the door lock but there's an object obstructing the hole, only removed when the key is used. Kicking the door down could be an option but there could be assassins posted outside-'

"You look tired" Marinette's sweet voice interrupted his thoughts. "Go to bed"

"I can sleep on the flo-"

"It's cold sleeping on my own" she smiled up at him. Damian swore that her smile was brighter than the sun itself. He placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

"Alright"

Marinette was surprised at how well she trusted Damian despite the fact they had known each other for less than 24 hours. Yet here she was, cuddling up in her husband's arms. It was probably Plagg's influence giving her confidence. Then again, Damian must be thinking the exact same thing. She reached out to cover the black-haired boy completely with the blanket provided. When she was sure he was safe under the blanket, she kissed his cheek and snuggled back into his chest. They could escape later, right now she just wanted to spend time with Damian. Her husband.

~~~

A few days had past and they still hadn't made any progress of escaping. Though they had made progress in bonding. Despite the fact they had only been with each other for a few days, they felt as if they'd known each other for years. They knew each other's hobbies, favourite activities, body language. It's almost as if they could communicate through their eyes alone. Damian hate to say it, but he had to thank his mother for introducing the two. Though that small spark of gratefulness would soon flicker out.

One day, Damian woke alone. He noticed the lack of his wife's signature scent, vanilla and cherry blossoms courtesy of her shampoo, as well as the lack of warmth when he woke up. It hit him like a train, Talia took her. He stormed through the door, surprisingly it was left unlocked. He found his mother in a separate room, calmly drinking tea.

"Where. Is. My. Wife." He growled out. Talia looked at her son, put her cup of tea down and stared straight into his eyes.

"We've decided" she began slowly. "That we need more from their side of the bargain" A dangerous glint was in her eyes. "We've asked for the miraculous in exchange for protection but since they've refused, we're going void this bethrothal. By killing the girl. You are no longer needed here"

Damian's eyes were wide open. Marinette was the only person in the world he truly loved, she didn't judge him for his past and she didn't mind when he was stubborn and self-centered. He'd finally opened his heart to her fully, now his mother was going to kill her. His fists were clenched but before he could do anything, he was hit at the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

~~~

"Has Master Damian returned?" Alfred asked when he entered the living room.

"Nope, the brat's not home" Jason replied, too invested in one of his books.

"Is there something wrong, Alfred?" Alfred turned to where Dick was sitting on the couch, eager for his wife and daughter to return from Tamaran.

"Master Damian is usually home by now when he goes out for walks and it is almost time for dinner" he sounded as if he was going to say more but there was someone at the door so he went to see who it was, Dick followed thinking it was Kor'i and Mar'i. But before he left he told the other two men in the room to call Damian.

Jason tried first but succeeded no results. "You try Replacement"

Tim, who was losing it slightly as he had one less cup of coffee than usual, obliged, only to receive the same outcome. Getting slightly confused, he tried tracking his little brother's phone. Soon Mar'i came in.

"Hi Uncle Jay! Hi Uncle Timmy!" She looked around the room, her green eyes slightly glinting with sadness. "Where's Uncle Dami?"

Tim and Jason looked at each other, gesturing for the other to answer. Luckily Alfred stepped in. "He's out on a walk. Right now it's time for dinner so let's get you seated"

The little girl bounced with joy. "Okay Papa Alfie!"

The the two left, Bruce decided to walk in. He glanced briefly around the room. "Where's Damian?"

"He's not answering any calls or messages. I tracked his phone and-" he turned the computers screen around, showing a map with a circle indicating where Damian's phone was.

"Should we go get the Demon Brat now B or?" Jason asked.

"You can go Jason"

The second eldest went to the batcave to suit up and Tim sent the location. It lead Red Hood to a quiet street, and an unsupervised phone. He picked it up, saw all of the notifications on it and looked around the area. No Damian in sight. What was insight though, was a cup of lemonade, nearly finished. 'This is getting very weird very quickly' Red Hood figured it would be best just to take it back in case.

When he got back, he put the lemonade through for testing and went upstairs for dinner, Damian's phone in hand. When he arrived he was met with all the stares of anticipation. He sighed and put the phone on the table.

"I didn't find Demon Spawn" nearly all of the table sighed. "All I found was lemonade, didn't know he drank it"

"Did you get it tested for any sedatives?" Dick asked, worried for his little brother.

"In the cave now"

"Tim, he has a tracker on right?" Dick turned to the coffee-deprived boy.

Tim nodded and pulled his phone out. "It must've got damaged somehow, it's not appearing on the map"

"Has it got a tracked history of where he's been?" Bruce cut in. Tim fiddled with his phone for a moment.

"His last tracked location was the same location where we found his phone"

"Is Uncle Dami gonna be okay?" The small girl's voice echoed in the room.

"Don't worry my little bumgorf, I'm sure we will find him" Kor'i reassured her daughter.

Soon dinner was finished, Kor'i took Mar'i to her room so the others could find out what happened. When they reached the batcave, the lemonade, the only piece of evidence they had, had traces of a very strong sedative that would've knocked Damian out in seconds. They went out on an earlier patrol to see if they could spot the green-eyed boy. Nothing. On the regular patrol, no villain had claimed to taking Damian. Again, the patrol received no results.

"I'll try calling Jon" Dick's worried voice whispered.

After a few rings, Jon picked up. "Hi Dick! What's-"

"Have you seen Damian today?"

"No I haven't, why is something wrong?" The boy asked, getting worried for his best friend.

"He's not picking up his phone and his tracker for damaged"

"...o-okay I'll keep an eye out for him"

Dick thanked the young superhero and shook his head to all the people in the room. They all collectively sighed. 'Where did you go Little D?'

~~~

A few days passed and they still had no luck. Jason was getting worried, 'The Joker better not have him'. Though Damian is a little shit at times, he was still his younger brother. Jason was always the first to get out and look for him, he was one of the last people Damian talked to that day, and he wasn't necessarily happy about what he said to him beforehand. If he was captured, tortured and/or killed by the Joker, Jason would never let the feeling of vengeance grow.

Red Hood surveyed the area and his head darted in the direction of what sounded like a struggle. He alerted the others through his comm and headed towards the noise. It came from two hooded figures and...

"Hey!"

The hooded figures froze at the sound of his voice. They quickly left the area not before harshly throwing the third figure at the nearby wall. Red Hood ran up to the boy and he was right. It was Damian, battered, bruised and unconscious. But he was alive. Red Hood scrambled to his side, carrying him on his back. "I found him but he's not doing too good"

"Bring him back to the batcave, Agent A will take care of him. In the meantime, return to patrol"

When they had all finished, they returned to the batcave where Alfred was hovering over Damian, who was on a bed, covered in bandages.

"Master Damian is recovering quickly, he'll wake up soon" Alfred reassured the worried family.

Though not most of them wouldn't admit it out loud, they deeply missed and were incredibly fretful for their youngest. Bruce, Dick, Tim and even Jason all sat around Damian. Only after Alfred assured them to bed did they leave the boy's side.

Tim woke up early, as usual, and he decided to fix himself a cup of strong coffee. He grabbed his laptop from the living room and instead of doing work there, he went down to the batcave at sat besides Damian's bed. He'd felt a pang of sadness when his younger brother didn't return home a few days earlier as he didn't interact at all will him before he left.

Tim didn't register when Damian left, or the fact that Dick was talking, or even when Jason kept throwing remarks here and there. The thing he did register though was the fact that his coffee cup was no longer in his reach. "Who took my coffee?" He tried to sound threatening but it came out as tired and completely done.

"Demon Spawn took it" Jason scoffed.

Tim then reached for the familiar cup from across the table, only to find it empty.

"How dare he drink my coffee" Tim growled, a new source of energy arising from his anger. "The brat's definitely going to get it later"

All too soon, it was time for breakfast. Tim got up to leave only to stop when he saw movement in the corner of his eye. The coffee lover turned to face a half conscious Damian.

"You're okay! Little D's awake!!" Tim shouted to get everyone's attention.

"Could you not burst my eardrums Drake?" The green-eyed boy grumbled, his head still throbbing from the hit he had taken earlier.

One by one, the others filed into the batcave. Dick gave Damian a big hug, Tim flashed a smile of relief, Jason ruffled the boy's hair and Bruce gave a small hug followed by a pat on the head. Throughout the whole ordeal, Damian had blank stare. No scowl, no unpleasant looks. Nothing. No one knew what had happened, only that it wasn't good. Soon, Mar'i came running in and jumped onto his bed, squeezing him in a hug.

"Uncle Dami we were so worried!" The little girl sobbed. Though the contact did hurt, he pushed aside the pain from the injuries and patted his niece's head.

"I'm back now"

"Where did you go?" Mar'i's eyes shone in burning curiosity. It reminded Damian of Marinette, the first thing she said had the same curiosity.

"It doesn't matter" he choked out. The others must have mistook the question as a trigger for a bad memory as they instantly changed the subject, they had no clue of the real reason.

"If you are well rested, Master Damian, would you like to join us for breakfast?" Alfred entered the room, his eyes were empathetic. 'Pennyworth knows what happened, he always knows'

"Yes, thank you Pennyworth" Mar'i jumped off so Damian could stand up. He suppressed a wince as he put pressure on his right foot. Slowly, the others left to go upstairs and Damian was left alone with his father.

"Damian" The green-eyed boy looked up to where Bruce was standing. "What happened?"

"Mother" he states simply, he didn't need to add anything else.

"What did she do?"

"..." Damian didn't answer at first, he looked away, wanting to avoid eye contact as much as possible. Bruce patiently waited, however. The green-eyed boy's head lowered to the ground but his gaze was fixated on his father. They had a deadly, destructive, toxic tint that even disturbed Bruce. But he said nothing, not a single word left his mouth and whatever he wanted to say seemed to die down in his throat. Damian took a few steps to one of the exits before stopping and turning back towards Bruce. "I appreciate your concern, father" Damian's lips twitched, forming a small smile, and he walked away, trying not to show he was limping.

Bruce watched as his youngest walked, limped, away. Whatever Talia had done, it had taken a toll on Damian. Mentally and Physically. He wanted to know exactly what happened so he could give the help the green-eyed boy needed. For now, he'll let his son relax and heal, he deserved it.

~~~

Marinette woke to a lack of warmth and the lost feeling of strong arms around her body. One of her eyes fluttered open, she was in a different room, one she didn't recognise. The bluenette began to panic and searched for the door, it was locked.

"Dami?"

No answer.

"Tikki?" Luckily, the small goddess was in the room.

"I tried to stop them but they knocked me out, I'm so sorry Marinette!" The blue-eyed girl was quick to reassure her kwami when she heard talking down the hall.

"Where. Is. My. Wife."

Marinette immediately recognised it as Damian's voice. She wanted to call out but it would be a stupid move, there could be assassins posted in front of her door, she could put Damian in danger, the possibilities were endless. So she just listened.

"We've decided... that we need more from their side of the bargain. We've asked for the miraculous in exchange for protection but since they've refused, we're going void this bethrothal. By killing the girl. You are no longer needed here"

The blue-haired girl then heard the sound of something heavy being used to hit someone, then a loud thud. Marinette had to cover her mouth so that her scream would be muffled. She had to get out of there. Now. The bluenette didn't want to leave without Damian, but he would want her to escape. She quietly transformed and went to the window in her room, it wasn't bolted down like the room she was previously in so she used her yo-yo to break it down. And she ran, she ran as far as her legs could take her. When she was positive she was safe, she took her yo-yo and called the one person who could get her out of there.

"Pegasus?" She asked, her voice hoarse as she held back tears.

"Ladybug! We're getting worried, where are you? A Parisian citizen is missing and there's an akuma attack currently going on and if you don't get here we'll 100%-"

"Can you get my location, please?" Ladybug pleaded, hoping that the horse hero wouldn't get mad for cutting him off. Other than the occasional computer keyboard sounds, the line went silent. "When you do, please don't question where I am. Can you teleport me back to Paris?"

"Got it Ladybug" the ladybug hero then heard a muffled 'Voyage!' in the background and a portal appeared in front of her.

The portal lead to the Eiffel Tower and in front of her was a worried Pegasus.

"I'll explain everything later, let's deal with this akuma first"

~~~

After a difficult akuma and a Lucky Charm in the form of fairy lights, Ladybug felt her walls crumbling.

"Ladybug!" Chat's voice echoed from behind her. The black cat hero was followed by Pegasus, Ryuko and Honey Bee, Chloe's new hero mantle. "What happened? Where did you go?"

Before she could answer, Pegasus spoke up. "Sorry to interrupt but my miraculously about to run out and I need to return it"

"Oh right, come with me Pegasus" She lead him to a nearby building and he detransformed, leaving Max standing where the horse-themed hero once was.

"My friend Marinette is still missing, can you-"

"She's safe don't worry, she'll be home soon" After bidding Max goodbye, she returned to where the other three heroes were waiting.

"Alright Buginette, explain" Honey Bee exclaimed as soon as Ladybug arrived. Though the spotted heroine didn't seem to be listening. "Ladybug-"

She detransformed, wearing a black qipao with floral embroidery, and Tikki hugged her cheeks as tears rolled down them. The others were quick to rush to her side.

"Mari-hime... what happened?" Ryuko began slowly.

"I think it's best if she explains this at home" Chat Noir suggested.

"I'll take her, you two detransform and meet her at home. I'll come up with a cover story" Honey Bee said, carrying the woeful bluenette.

When Kagami and Adrien arrived at the Tom and Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie, Marinette's parents were busy in the baker but explained the story that Chloe had told them, how Marinette was a target for one of the Akumas and needed to leave immediately. They said she was up in her room. The two were about to walk up the stairs when Chloe burst though the door behind them, out of breath, and walked with them. As they opened the trapdoor in Marinette's bedroom floor, they found the bluenette sat on her chaise, being comforted by the small red kwami.

"You know how strong Damian is, Marinette. I'm sure he managed to escape and I bet he's as worried as you are right now" the three heroes heard Tikki say.

"Whose Damian?" Adrien asked. The bluenette only seems to then notice that there were others in the room with her. She sighed and gestured for the three to sit in front of her, which they did.

She took a deep breath. "So a few days ago I was kidnapped by the League of Assassins. They were the organization that the Order of the Guardians had been opposed to for so long. Their current leader decided it would be best to end this conflict and had me, along with her son, kidnapped for an arranged marriage. Damian is her son and before you bash him or something, he was just as forced into it as I was. He turned his back on his mother and the league years ago and I don't hold him for his past."

"Since the betrothal was sealed with magic, we both knew that there was no safe way around it so we decided to work with it. I got to know him, he got to know me et cetera. And I kinda fell hard for him. Earlier today I woke up in a different room than the one I had been locked in, luckily Tikki was with me. I didn't know where he was but I heard Damian confront his mother about my whereabouts. Then when she revealed she was planning to kill me, she injured Damian so that he would be unable to save me and I ran away." She composed herself and looked at Adrien's, Chloe's and Kagami's expressions.

"Now I don't know if Damian is okay or if he still loves me or if he hates me for leaving him behind-" she began rambling on again as her friends were still processing the information.

"Dupain-Cheng!" Chloe shouted, stopping Marinette from maundering on any further. "So you got kidnapped, you got married... and now your worried your husband hates you because you escaped?" The bluenette nodded slowly. "You get left alone for a few hours and you're already married..." she teased, trying to lighten up the mood.

Marinette's cheeks were tinted red but her expression didn't change otherwise. "You said he's the son of the one who kidnapped you right?" Kagami asked.

"Y-yeah"

"Does he know how to use a sword? I wish to duel him to see if he's worthy of your love" she stated simply. Adrien chuckled softly and Marinette smiled slightly.

"What's his last name as it's also your last name now?" The blue-eyed girl's cheeks got redder as she cleared her throat.

"Wayne, Damian Wayne"

If Chloe was drinking a something she would've done a spit take right at that very moment. "Damian Wayne? As in the son of Bruce Wayne the billionaire? The one Lie-la's lying about dating?" Marinette nodded.

"You were saying earlier that you think he might not love you anymore right?" Adrien tried to distract the girls from Chloe's spluttering.

"...yeah what about it?"

"Well you also said he confronted his mother right? Well he must've truly loved you to just go and yell at a dangerous person who was also the person holding them captive. Though you haven't really told us what he's like, I doubt he would just stop loving you like that" Kagami emphasized his point by snapping her fingers.

Marinette smiled. "Thanks for coming to talk but right now I'm exhausted"

"We'll leave you to sleep, Mari-hime" The Japanese fencer then pulled the two blondes out of the room as they both wished her a good nap. Marinette kept a smile until they left, it slowly fell and Mari sank in the pillows of her bed. It didn't feel right to sleep without Damian. She felt... incomplete without him by her side. The tears rolled down again.

~~~

It had been a few days since Damian was found and, honestly, he wasn't doing that good. He'd been quiet, ignoring all remarks from his brothers, hadn't issued any death threats, even his pets didn't seem to bring him more joy. What confused the bat brothers the most is whenever someone would call out for Mar'i, Damian would always glance at the direction of the sound, only to have a slight hint of disappointment in his eyes when he saw his niece but he would always put on a smile for the small girl, sometimes genuine, most times forced.

They didn't have a clue how to crack the case so they got the next best person to obtain information for the green-eyed boy. Jon.

When Jon appeared at the door, Alfred was quick to lead him to Damian's room. The sooner Damian had someone to talk to, the better. "Master Damian, you have a visitor"The door was unlocked so Alfred lead Jon in and promptly left afterwards.

There was silence between the two ad Jon sat down on the floor in front of his best friend, who was sitting on the end of the bed.

"Dami? Do you wanna talk about it?" Jon waited patiently for the green-eyed boy to talk. After a few heartbeats, Damian sighed.

"Mother kidnapped me for an arranged marriage" he murmured. Jon gasped lightly as Damian continued. "She and I were both kidnapped and forced to go through with it. That's how I got...this" He lifted his hand to show faint but noticeable, curved scar, made by a very sharp blade. After a few seconds, Damian put his hand back down. "We were trapped in a shared room so we took that opportunity to get to know one another"

Damian didn't continue after that and Jon came to a conclusion. "You realised you love her"

He nodded. "Now, it's my fault that she's been tortured. Because I wasn't fast enough to protect her..." This was probably the first time Jon had seen his best friend visibly melancholic so he gave him a small hug and surprisingly, Damian wasn't bothered to push him away. "I am so pathetic"

Jon noticed someone at the door, Dick perhaps, but he doubted they they heard anything as Damian's voice was above a whisper so that only Jon could hear. After hearing the person walk away, he decided to lighten the mood. "What's she like?"

"Beautiful, kind, smart, resourceful... She's the living embodiment of sunshine, a breath of fresh air. She isn't quick to judge and she's always got a plan in her head. She's persistent too, and it's adorable when she gets flustered" Damian smiled lightly to himself.

"What's her name? What does she look like?" If talking about this girl made the green-eyed boy happy, then that's what Jon will do.

"Her name's Marinette. Blue hair, blue eyes, short" Damian chuckled lightly. "A smile brighter than the sun itself" he paused. "I don't think she's dead, she's too strong to go down just like that. But I think she's absolutely livid at me."

"She loves you a lot right?, then she wouldn't be" Jon reassured his best friend. "I gotta go now but feel free to talk about her, kay?" Jon almost left the room but was stopped by Damian's voice.

"Hey, Kent" he turned. "Thank you"

Jon smiled brightly before leaving the room, he went down stairs to the living room and was greeted by Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Alfred and Kor'i.

"Well?" Jason pushed, eager to know what was bothering the brat.

He wasn't sure what to say until he heard Alfred whisper. "Let the young master tell them"

Jon shook his head. "Not my place to share. I'm sure he'll tell you eventually though, he just needs time to find the right words" 'He can't just waltz in and say "I got betrothed and now I think my wife hates me cause I left her at the mercy of my mother" They'll think he went mad!'

Bruce sighed. "Thank you Jon, how bad was the situation he was in?"

All the adults in the room were on edge as Jon took so time to formulate his answer. "The aftermath hurt him a lot" the others nodded.

"Wait" Everyone turned to the origin of the sound, Kor'i. "Why does Little D always tense when he hears Mar'i's name?"

"Yeah he does seem to do that" Dick murmured.

Jon was silent for a few seconds, 'What am I supposed to say? Damian's wife is called Marinette and "Mari" is probably a nickname for her. And your daughter just so happens to have the same name!' "Uh, Well Damian himself will have to explain that" The couple, though seemingly unconvinced, nodded.

"Thanks for your help, Jon"

~~~

A few months have past, Damian has slowly gotten better but he still hasn't quite been the same. He'd always have a scowl, as normal, and he'd issue death threats but only after a lot of probing. He'd also refrain from using his katana and other sharp utensils as a first resort. It was scary to say the least. He'd also spend a lot more time in his art room. Though he never displayed any emotions on his face, Damian's brothers noticed how whenever the green-eyes boy was upset, he'd always run his thumb on a long scar on his palm. Obviously from when he was kidnapped.

No one found out what happened as they never asked. Though they were curious. The curiosity grew when Jason managed to sneak into Damian's art room.

Jason was walking around the manor, looking for one of his guns that one of his brothers had hidden, he still didn't know who did it. Somehow, he found himself in front of the door leading to Damian's painting room and surprisingly, it was unlocked. Wanting to look for his missing gun and definitely not wanting to snook around, Jason waltzed in.

Briefly looking around for his gun, Jason came to the conclusion that it wasn't in this room but he stayed to look, admire, at his youngest brother's paintings, his fingers stroked through his two-toned hair. Though he would never admit it, Damian had real skill. One painting in particular caught his eye. It was small but held incredible detail, it looked like a scene frozen in time, but the detail wasn't what caught his eye.

The painting itself was of a long, sharp blade, it was covered in blood. Two different shades of blood. Jason suspected that this was the blade that caused the scar on Damian's palm, further supported by the still drying paint. Most of the paintings before the incident were either of the family or just landscapes, it was no coincidence that this painting was of a memory of what happened the the period he was taken.

Noting that the Demon Brat arrived back from patrol at 4 am, he was probably still asleep, Jason took the painting to bring to the living room.

"Any luck finding your gun?" Tim questioned mockingly.

"No" Jason replied in the same mocking tone but it quickly changed into a serious stare. The other adults noticed this change. He turned the painting in his hand around so that the artwork faced the audience. "I think I found a clue"

When that happened, they watched the boy's moves much more carefully. As well as monitoring the paintings in his room. Thankfully, the other paintings weren't of what happened, they returned to simple family portraits and landscapes. Though it could be debatable as they still had no idea what happened.

Bruce decided to host a competition, where the prizes would be an all-expense paid trip to Gotham and tours of WE for the next generation of work force, it was to write a letter detailing accomplishments and good-deeds as well as those who inspired the writer. He was going through the entries along with all his sons, Damian insisted on reading the ones he was given in his room, though not all of them wanted to help willingly. Expect for the occasional tapping at the computer's keyboard and thoughtful hums, all was silent in the manor. The silence was broken by Tim.

"Hey I like this one" he sipped on his coffee as Dick came to read the letter over Tim's shoulder.

"I think we found a winner" Dick chimed as Tim sent it to Bruce.

When he got it he read through it carefully. This was definitely one of the best they had received. "Very detailed, descriptive, the punctuation is on point, there's a tribute to their heroes as well" Bruce hummed. "Who's the one who submitted this?"

Tim squinted at the computer screen. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng, from Paris"

"You're gonna do a background check on her, aren't yo-" Jason paused mid sentence. "Why did the lady mention heroes?"

~~~

A few months have passed since the newlyweds were separated, Marinette still missed Damian every day. Adrien, Chloe and Kagami still didn't know how to cheer the bluenette up, they hadn't told Luka yet either as they were aware he still had lingering feelings for the blue-eyed girl. That was until one day a certain competition caught the school's eye. One being hosted by a certain Bruce Wayne.

When Marinette entered her classroom early, for once, Chloe and Adrien were already waiting for her. "Look at this Mari-bear!" The female blonde shoved a flyer in the bluenette's face. Marinette took it from Chloe, her eyes getting wider as she scanned it.

But he time she was done, one had was covering her mouth as her eyes began to water. "If you enter you'll get a chance at winning and that means you'll get to see Damian again!" Adrien encouraging smile was blinding.

The bluenette nodded. "Yeah, I'm gonna enter" Just as she finished her statement, the bell rang and the rest of the students filtered in and once all the students were seated, Miss Bustier entered. She was surprisingly on time, for once.

"Class, I have an important announcement to make" The incompetent teacher clapped her hands to gain the class' attention. They settled down after a few minutes. "As I'm sure some of you have heard, Bruce Wayne as announced a competition which the price is a trip to Gotham!"

"My Damiboo must've begged Bruce to host this competition as he could see me again" Lila gasped dramatically, her fake, faker than her tinnitus, crocodile tears threatened to spill. "I-I w-w-wasn't supposed to s-say a-a-anything. Please d-don't tell anyone!" The bluenette had to bite back a growl and merely settled for glaring daggers into the brunette's skull.

"We won't girl!" Alya comforted the liar, glaring at Marinette and Chloe at the back, as if daring them.

"Even if the competition was made for Lila to return for Gotham, we still need to have a good entry" Miss Bustier specifically landed her gaze onto Marinette, pushing all her responsibilities onto the bluenette, yet again. "I'll leave you to plan" The redhead teacher left the classroom, not even staying for a full 10 minutes. Marinette sighed and turned to Chloe.

"I'm going to write about our achievements as citizens, I hope I get chosen. I really want to see Damian again" The bluenette murmured, the blonde hugged her best friend.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll win. Then you and your loving husband will be reunited" Chloe's tone changed from sincere to teasing when she mentioned Marinette's husband. The bluenette flushed and went to ask Mlle. Mendeleiev if she could work in her classroom.

The science teacher had become Marinette's favourite teacher in the entire school, she saw through Lila's lies and did approach the brunette about them. Lila did her charm but Mlle. Mendeleiev never fell for it, merely making the liar believe she had. The science teacher never properly took proper action against the student in fear of losing her job but she did keep a folder of evidence against Lila, one that was shared with Marinette so when the time came, the bluenette would have enough evidence to fully bring the liar down. She was helpful for her teacher's help. To no surprise, Mlle. Mendeleiev allowed Marinette to do her entry for the competition in her classroom and quickly the bluenette got to work.

Miss Buster only just announced this and the school only decided to hang the flyers when the due date was five days away. Not to mention it had to be written in English, it was hard enough writing something long, let alone in another language, even though Marinette was fluent in said language. Though it was a pain, it was nothing a few dozen cups of coffee could fix. Surprisingly, Marinette managed to finish it on the second day. Though she still had to proofread it as well as make sure it all made sense. On the third day, she was confident with her letter. Adrien, Chloe, Kagami and Luka all came to read it so the bluenette would be sure it was good enough to send. Once giving their praises, she hit send. She just hoped her father-in-law thought it was good enough.

A few days later, Marinette got her answer.

She arrived early that day, surprisingly, Chloe was in the classroom waiting. "Well?" The blonde stated impatiently, Marinette titled her head in confusion.

"What?"

"The email!" Chloe shook her head as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It took a few moments for Marinette to process what her friend was saying. When she did, she jumped into her seat and opened her phone, her fingers shaky with fear and anticipation.

Dear Miss Dupain-Cheng

It's a great honor to tell you that your entry, out of the thousands that were submitted, was chosen as the winner for this competition.

As I first read through the letter you presented, I was intrigued and touched with the actions you and your classmates have done for your community. Each deed was different in it's own write and it was a great pleasure to have read through each and everyone, though, not many of your own had been written down. When you arrive at Gotham, I'd be delighted to hear your own achievements as I am sure, as proven by the way you spoke of your classmates, you have plenty of your own. I was also deeply touched at how you had a tribute to your own heroes in Paris. I was not aware before this that there were such important figureheads in the city so reading about them in your entry was fascinating to say the least. It was also a delight to read how the vigilantes of Gotham inspired you to help others.

The permission slip for the trip is attached to this email, please make sure the one in charge of your classroom has it signed for each student who wishes to attend. I'm sure you are aware that Gotham is a dangerous city and although we are taking extra security measures, it would be advised to have the class debriefed so they know what to expect in case a situation were to occur. If there are any requests or questions, please do not fail to contact me. I look forward to meeting you and your classmates when you arrive.

Congratulations once again,

Bruce Wayne

Marinette could barely hold back the tears of happiness building up in her eyes, Chloe got up and hugged the girl in celebration. Adrien came in soon after, both blondes hugged their best friend with too much force. Though it couldn't last long as the others were starting to file in.

"Class, I have some good news!" Caline Bustier announced. "We are the winning class for the WE trip to Gotham!" The class erupted into cheers, for a moment, Marinette was reminded of the simpler times when she just started out as a hero. Lila just had to ruin it.

"My sweet Damiboo!" The brunette had a hand on her heart, sighing dreamily. "I'm so lucky to have a kind, sweet and caring man as my boyfriend" The bluenette had to hold back a snort at the description, she settled with a small scoff.

Lila knew she was taking a risk a few days ago, saying that her 'Damiboo' had rigged the competition so that they could be together again but it was a calculated risk. Though she would never admit it out loud, Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a great student. Marinette is well-educated, well-informed, possibly well-born and the bluenette used to be well-loved. Her winning this trip just proved it but Lila wasn't going to let the girl claim the winnings. The brunette suspected that Marinette would at least try to hint at winning, but she didn't. It was an unordinary occurrence, 'Maybe she realised she's no match for me'

"Now I need you all to signs these permission slips and return them to me by tomorrow" Caline handed out the papers and promptly left afterwards, despite having yet to do a lesson. But that didn't matter to Marinette. She was staring at her palm, her thumb stroking the fading scar.

"I can't wait to see you again, mon démon"

~~~

"Oh no" Tim muttered after taking a final sip from his third cup of coffee.

"What Replacement?"

"Take a look at this" the sleep deprived CEO turned his computer to face the other men in the room, Damian was still at school. "If she has a tragic backstory, B might go into serial adopter mode" The screen showed a file on Marinette Dupain-Cheng, including a photo of her.

"Raven hair? Check. Coloured-eyes? Check. Looks? Check. Childhood trauma and/or tragic backstory? Maybe. Holy Shit, B is definitely going to adopt her" Jason listed while Bruce sighed.

"Is there anything notable in her file?" Bruce asked, trying not to submit to his sons' accusations which were, in fact, correct. "From the letter, she seems quite fond of the supposed heroes in Paris"

"Well from the surface she looks like the average teen girl" Dick replied, peering over Tim's shoulder. "But it could all just be for show, you never know" the eldest son shrugged.

Bruce got up from where he was sitting and went to his study, using the excuse of 'work' and 'finalizing the plane tickets for the class'. In reality, he was checking for blank adoption papers. He had a gut feeling about this girl, something was going on behind the scenes.

~~~

The trio made sure they were early to enter school since Chloe said it was possible for Lila to get them, Marinette specifically, left behind. Though, they did spend some time saying goodbye to Luka and Kagami. When they arrived to school, the blonde's assumption was correct since they started to get on the bus. The troublesome class managed to get through the airport in a breeze and without any trouble, there was a bit of a miss-hap during check-in but it was all resolved in a flash.

Marinette, Chloe and Adrien were sitting in the airplane, waiting to take off. She's gotten the seats in economy with extra leg room which were a few rows ahead of the rest of the classroom using the excuse of 'a lot of class president work to do'. Bruce offered to upgrade her and the two blondes to first class so that they wouldn't be disturbed but Marinette politely turned it down. She didn't mind where she was as long as she wasn't near the class, and the mention of first class was bound to cause an uproar.

The bluenette's inner child wanted the window seat, Adrien wanted to be in the seat next to the aisle so he could get first glimpse at the food they were serving, Chloe just wanted to be in the middle for warmth. The seating arrangement worked perfectly. Every once in a while, a flight attendant would drop by to offer food and drinks. There were a few times that flight attendants would ask for one of the three to remind the class of the rules when they didn't listen to the cabin staff, Adrien dealt with the situation since he was the only one they'd actually listen too.

Soon, they landed. The flight had been an easy one since they didn't have to deal with the class's shenanigans while they were in the air. However, that luxury had left when they exited the aircraft.

When traversing through the airport, there had been attempts to get the bluenette lost and attempts to trip her up or gain a significantly bad injury. All attempts failed. Marinette, Chloe and Adrien had managed to weave through passport control peacefully. Even when they were at the baggage claim, not many big efforts were made, besides the classic hiding of the luggage, to rid Marinette of anything. She should've found that suspicious but she was much too tired to care, she barely slept at all on the flight. So when they arrived at the hotel, the first thing she did was lie flat on the bed.

Marinette slept well over nine hours before she woke up. "Tikki, what time is it?"

The kwami too was asleep so at the mention of her name, she yawned. "It's 9:45 am"

"Oh my kwami!" Marinette shot up out of bed to check her phone. Sure enough, there where many notifications of miss calls from Adrien, Chloe, Alix and even Nino. The bus was scheduled to leave at 10:00 but knowing Lila, she was probably over an hour late. The bluenette quickly got changed, brushed her teeth and headed straight towards the hotel doors, ignoring any feeling of hunger.

She pulled her phone out for the directions of Wayne Enterprises and kept her eyes on the screen, completely ignoring the fact that there was someone in the distance directly in her path.

~~~

Jonathan Kent was walking through the streets of Gotham, looking for a present for his best friend. His birthday was in a few days time and the superboy still hadn't found anything. He went to some art shops. Nothing. He went to some antique shops. Still Nothing. He even went to look at kitchen knives. He was that desperate. Jon sighed and continued walking, some shop was bound to peak his interest eventually.

All of a sudden, he heard someone running towards his general direction. Before he could register what was happening, the person ran into him, nearly knocking him down completely.

"Je suis désolé!" A feminine voice shouted out in French. "I-I'm so sorry monsieur!"

Jon then looked up to see a small French bluenette offering her hand to help him up. He gladly took it and when he was back on his feet, he readjusted his glasses to look at the girl properly. She was short, pretty and resembled a Wayne. While this girl was panicking and apologizing profusely, Jon was excited thinking he found a new friend. Though, this excitement didn't last when he saw the state she was in. 'Her bones are a mess! How is she not screaming in pain?'

He waved his hands in front of the girl to get her to stop. "It's fine honestly!" The girl seemed to calm slightly but her face was still worried. "Why you in such a rush anyway?"

"My class and I are visiting on a trip" the bluenette started. "We're supposed to be on our way to a tour but they left me behind"

"They left you all alone? In Gotham?" Jon questioned, 'What kind of stupid are these people?'

"I know right? They-" she was cut off by a notification sound on her phone. "Sorry just a minute"

Jon only then realised how good this French girl's English was. She then let out a sigh of relief and put the phone back in her purse, the blue-eyed boy tried not to use his powers to invade her privacy.

"They're very early, the tour starts in an hour and from the map I'm not far from where I'm meant to be, thank kwami" The young Kent froze at the girl's choice of words, Damian had mentioned that his wife had a companion called a 'kwami'. This couldn't be a coincidence.

"Well since you have time," Jon got the girl's attention. "How do you feel about getting some food? I don't know about you but I'm starving."

"Oh, n-no I could possibly impose-" her stomach grumbled cutting her off. Jon chuckled as he heard the girl whisper profanities.

"Come on I know a place not far from here, you can get a very good few of the WE building" He heard the girl's heart rate speed up a bit, that confirmed where her planned class trip was taking place. He gestured for her to follow him as he sped walked to the location.

When they arrived, they both ordered, Jon ordered a burger while Marinette ordered a cinnamon bun, and sat down. The blue-eyed boy noticed how the girl would always have her thumb in her other palm. He thought her finger could've been resting on a scar similar to Damian's, if she was his wife of course. He decided to test his luck.

"Oh sorry, I forgot to introduce myself" he reached his hand over the table. "My name's Jon Kent" He watched as her eyes widened in recognition and how her heartbeat quickened. "I believe you're Marinette, right?"

Marinette's eyes developed a watery sheen. "Dami's talked about me?"

'Bingo!'

"He talks to me about you every chance he gets" Jon shook the hand Marinette offered and turned it so her palm faced the ceiling. On it was a scar more or less identical to he best friend's. "Whenever he got nervous, sad or overwhelmed, he'd always trace the scar on his hand. I can tell he's thinking of you whenever he does it"

Marinette let a few tears of joy run down her cheek before wiping them away. "S-sorry I'm not usually this emotional" she chuckled. "It's just- I didn't know how to contact Damian and even if I did, I probably couldn't bring myself to talk to him. I thought he hated me for leaving him alone at the League"

Jon snorted. "Him? Hate you? Please, he views you like your his entire world! He was afraid that you hated him! He's drowning in guilt for not being able to get you out of there."

The bluenette sniffed. "Really?" Jon nodded. "C-can I see him again?"

"I don't know where he is right now" Marinette deflated slightly at his words. "But you can definitely meet him! I feel selfish to ask but is it okay for you to wait two days?"

"I've waited many months, a few days is no problem. May I ask why?"

"Well you see his birthday is in a few days and I haven't been able to find him a good gift so... I thought having you two reunited would be a good present" Jon answered, the smile he received was almost blinding.

"That's so sweet of you!" Jon understood how Damian fell for this girl. If sunshine was a person, she would be it.

"So can I see this kwami of yours?" Marinette was confused at how he knew but then she realised that Damian must've told him everything, not that she didn't mind though. "I mean, see it properly?"

"X-ray vision, I should've known" the blue-eyed girl giggled when the boy blinked in surprise. She opened her purse and a red blob flew out. Though it was mostly hidden by Marinette's body, Jon could still see it clearly. He had to cover his mouth to avoid shouting in astonishment. "Jon this is Tikki, my kwami"

"Nice to meet you, son of Superman" Tikki squeaked and Jon's eyes widened in awe as he reached to touch the small creature.

"Wow, you're adorable!" The young boy cooed as the creature giggled.

Marinette wanted the two to interact more but one look at the time told her otherwise. She said goodbye to Damian's best friend and made her way to Wayne Enterprises.

~~~

Despite reading of all the good deeds, the French class were really getting under Dick's skin. First of all, a sausage-hair girl had nearly every student wrapped around her finger, telling stories that were way too good to be true. Secondly, the incompetent teacher didn't bother to control her students, she merely looked at her phone, waving off any students who had questions. And thirdly, they had arrived way too early. The only reasonable looking students that weren't crowding around the brunette were two blondes, one male and one female, and a short skater girl. The only emotions on their face were either anger, annoyance or anxiousness.

When the time for the tour to start was nearing, Dick asked for the teacher to do a headcount. He already knew how many were supposed to be there as he was given a specific amount of badges. There were fifteen in total, not including the teacher. From what he counted, there were only fourteen students, this was confirmed when the teacher's counting stopped at 'Quatorze'. Dick realised it was the class president that wasn't there, he started looking around the main lobby. What really pissed him off was the fact that no one seemed to care that she was left behind, in Gotham for God's sake!

"Have you found her?" A voice from behind Dick asked. It was the blonde boy. "Marinette?"

"No I haven't, the tour starts in seven minutes-" The man cut himself off when someone walked through the lobby doors. She looked to be part of the class. The young bluenette's hair seemed to be ruffled as if she was running for a long time. Dick took a closer look and she was indeed the girl from the file. Determining to know why she was last to arrive, he went to greet her. "Hello, my name is Dick Grayson and I'll be your class's tour guide today"

He didn't fail to notice how her eyes widened in recognition as she took his offered hand and shook it. "Hello Monsieur Dick, I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng though I suppose you already know..." her voice trailed off as her eyes lingered to somewhere else in the room before meeting back with his. "I'm really sorry about my lateness"

Dick held one hand to stop her from continuing. "It's fine, the tour starts in three minutes so you got here right on time" The eldest watched Marinette let out a sigh of relief. "I am curious, how come you were last to arrive?"

"Ah well the... bus left early because of something that came up and I wasn't aware of the changes so I got left behind" The bluenette noticed the older man's shocked and angered expression and blurted out, "But I'm here now!"

After some time he nodded and gave Marinette her badge. He then proceeded to gather the class and tell them all the rules and regulations. Soon the tour was under way.

~~~

"So how are the French class, Dildo?" Jason's snarky voice echoed in the manor as Dick entered. What they didn't expect was to be met with a seething Dick.

"Most of them are really horrible, the sausage hair and the glasses girl are the worst. They weren't bad to me though, only to the class president who is, actually, a literal angel" The eldest huffed. "They kept sliding in mean comments about her here and there, it was disgusting. The worst part is, she acts as if they do this regularly! You should've seen the way her eyes dulled as she got on the bus with that... that class!"

"That bad huh?" Jason asked.

The eldest son nodded. "Bruce is definitely gonna want to adopt her the moment he's in the same room as her"

Jason hummed. "I'd like to meet this girl your talking about, I'll ask B if I can join next tour as security. In the mean time, bet fifty I get the best gift for the Demon Brat"

Dick let out a overly exaggerated gasp of offense while laying a hand on his chest. "No way! I bet a hundred!"

~~~

The next day was the day of the next tour, Jason tagged along this time. Luckily, Marinette was on the bus when the class arrived but she wasn't looking too good.

"God, she looks exhausted and starved to death!" Jason muttered into Dick's ear. He nodded and walked over to greet the class.

"Welcome back to your second tour! Today, Jason"- Dick gestured towards the man with two-toned hair- "will be joining us today. As an extra security measure. Now, follow me please!" The eldest son began the tour with half-filled enthusiasm, this was Jason's queue to go to the back and interact with the class president.

The man stayed near the back, not making it obvious he was trying to start a conversation with the girl, when he heard the brunette at the front spewing lies. Jason hadn't spoken French in a while but he could still understand the language.

"You don't actually believe what she's saying do you?" Jason asked the young girl. She snorted in response.

"Of course not, only an idiot would believe the words that come out of her rotten excuse of a mouth. They aren't even that good" The older man laughed and the girl's eyes widened. "S-sorry! I don't usually think before I talk when I'm tired"

"No no, you have a point" Jason held his hand up, as much as he could considering her height compared to his own, to the small girl. "The name's Jason Todd"

The bluenette smiled and took his hand. "Marinette, Marinette Dupain-Cheng..." Marinette trailed off on her last name, 'Is that not her last name? The files are always correct so maybe... she's not proud of her name?' "So what's the real reason why you joined the tour today?"

Jason was impressed as she expertly diverted the spotlight of the conversation onto himself. "For extra security"

Marinette gave the older man an unimpressed look. "I deal with that liar all the time, Jason" He blinked before the girl was smiling once more. "You can't lie to me Jay" she said in a sing-song voice.

The older man jokingly sighed and ruffled her hair. "Well since you asked so kindly, Dickhead over there-" he nodded his head in the direction of his older brother- "noticed how most of your classmates are treating you. That was probably the most pissed I've seen him in a long time. So I wanted to see which little lady was able to cause an overprotective spark in him, now I completely understand why he felt that way"

The girl then sniffed and smiled at Jason sadly. "I...Thank you" she whispered to the man with two-toned hair. "It's been a long time since someone other than my friends have said that they were worried about me"

Jason's smile faltered before it turned into a sad but encouraging one. "Hey, Dick and I are here if you ever need someone to talk to. Wait-" Jason's attention diverted to the blonde boy in the room, the one that was originally hanging out with the small girl. "Hey isn't that your friend?"

Marinette turned in the direction Jason was looking at, there was Lila who was on the arm of a very uncomfortable looking Adrien. The bluenette sighed. "Yeah he is. If you're wondering why he's with the liar is because of his father. You see, back in Paris he's quite famous so his father can be overbearing. I odn't know what the liar said to him but now he wants Adrien to keep the girl happy at all costs"

"Can't he just disobey the old man?"

"He did try but the punishment was for him to be home-schooled which he has been more or less his entire life. But I guess it's gotten better since before Adrien didn't want to call out her lies since he thought they weren't hurting anyone"

Jason scoffed. "Her lies definitely hurt those involved"

"Exactly, luckily he managed to realise that after he overheard one of Lie-la's confrontations. He tries his best to sugarcoat his words when he's calling her out but he still hates conflict. He's just with her so she doesn't turn into an akuma. Not that it's working since she's already been akumatized more than seven times"

"Sorry, akuma what-a?"

Marinette shot him a confused look before her eyes widened slightly in realisation. "I can explain at lunch"

Jason seemed hesitant but nodded anyway.

~~~

Marinette grabbed her food tray, narrowly avoided all the feet that tried to trip her up and sat at an empty lunch table.

"Hi, Mari!" Dick's cheerful voice made his presence known as he sat next to her, lunch tray in hand. "So has Jason been good?"

"Yeah! It's nice to have someone to talk to-"

She was interrupted by Jason slamming his lunch tray on the table, sitting opposite Marinette. "Alright Pixie Pop, explain what an Akuma Matata is"

"Pixie Pop?" The bluenette giggled.

"Akuma whata?" The eldest asked.

"Pixie Pop because you're small and feisty. As for the Akuma thing, Pixie will kindly explain right now" Jason replied, eager to know what an Akuma is.

"Well-"

"I did not have enough coffee for this" A new voice spoke up from behind Marinette. The person it belonged to sit next to Jason, coffee cup in hand and slammed his face on the table.

"That's Tim, our younger brother" Dick answered the bluenette's unasked question. Tim's head looked up as if he just registered that there was someone else on the table.

Her reached his hand across the table with as much energy as a sleep-deprived zombie could give. "Tim Drake"

"Marinette" she returned the hand shake. 'I'm right, these are Dami's brothers' "So like I was saying, an akuma is like a butterfly infused with magic. When it comes in contact with an inanimate object that is being touched by someone who's experiencing strong negative emotions, it turns them into an akuma villain. " She paused so that the men at the table could process what she was saying. "Hawkmoth is the one who sends the akumas, once the connection is made they have no choice but to obey. Even if they try to fight him off, they all succumb eventually."

"So a magic butterfly man, got it"

"When you put it that way, it doesn't sound believable" Marinette giggled at Jason's conclusion.

"What kind of negative emotions does it have to be? Are the Akumas... dangerous?" Dick asked, clearly more concerned that his younger brother.

The bluenette's eyes seemed to age at his statement. "Humiliation, depression, rejection, isolation, anything that makes you feel disheartened really. As for how dangerous there are well... there are different levels to classify each akuma"

All three gestured for her to continue.

"Some are low level, level one, like Mr Pidgeon-" She here's a scoff but continued as if she wasn't interrupted. "- he's a regular but relatively harmless. The highest level is an akuma like Syren" she shuddered at the memory, "Her powers allowed her to flood the entirety of Paris, drowning nearly half of the entire population"

"H-how did this not make international news" Tim asked, bringing his laptop out and furiously typing, though, receiving no results for what the girl just said.

"That would be courtesy of our heroes. One of Ladybug's powers is to heal anything damaged by the powers of the miraculous, she can fix objects, buildings and even resurrect those who died. She can't get rid of the memories unfortunately" She said the last part bitterly, disappointed in herself for not being able to help her citizens.

"What's a miraculous?" Jason asked, trying to change the subject.

"Magical jewelry basically, its what gives the heroes their powers. Its also what Hawkmoth wants, the Ladybug Miraculous and the Miraculous of the Black Cat" she put a finger on her chin to mimic thinking like a civilian. "My best guess is that if he gets the miraculous, he becomes very powerful"

"Have you ever, you know... died?" Dick asked, concern weighing heavily in his voice.

"No, I'm I guess one of the 'lucky few' to not have been killed yet."

They soon conversed in the topic of Hawkmoth and Mayura, each one of the men despised the villains at the end of her rant. All too soon, it was time to leave. She waved goodbye and rushed with her class back to the hotel. Once she reached her room, the bluenette rummaged through her suitcases, ignoring a confused Chloe. Once she found the outfit she wanted to wear, Marinette placed it onto her nightstand.

"I met Jon today"

"Whose he?" Chloe voiced her confusion.

"Jon is Damian's best friend" The bluenette reiterated. "He's bringing me with him to the manor so that we can see each other again"

"That's nice of him"

"To be honest, I think you and Jon would hit it off quite well"

Marinette stifled a giggle when she heard Chloe's signature 'Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous'. The bluenette fell onto her bed, she was going to get as much sleep as she could with her bubbling excitement.

~~~

The bluenette stared at her reflection. She wore a deep velvet, off-the-shoulder blouse with a black cotton skirt, her hair was tied up in an intricate design. Even with the compliments her two best friends kept showering her with, Marinette didn't feel ready. She would be meeting her husband after nearly a year long separation, of course she was a nervous wreck.

After some light encouragement from both Chloe and Adrien, Marinette went down the stairs to the lobby where Jon would be picking her up. It was delightful to see how far the boy was willing to go to make his best friend happy, it reminded Marinette of her friendship with Chloe, Adrien, Kagami and Luka. Upon reaching the lobby, she noticed the blue-eyed boy and briskly walked over.

"Hey Jon" she greeted the boy, he probably knew she was already there thanks to his powers.

"Hi Mari!- Wow! You look nice. I swear Dami's gonna fall for you all over again" Jon compliment made Marinette have an serge of pride. "Come on let's go! My father and Damian's family are waiting for me well, us really"

"Okay, how are we supposed to get there?" Marinette's question ignited a cheeky smile on the sunshine boy's face.

"Have you ever flown before?"

~~~

Clark Kent was at Wayne Manor, celebrating his best friend's son's birthday, who just also so happens to be best friends with his own son. 'That was too confusing for my own good'. He, along with Bruce and the others, have already given Damian his gifts. Jon insisted that he had the best present so he would go last.

"Since I'm his best friend, I have the best gift meaning that I should go last"

While waiting for his son to arrive, Mar'i gave Damian a piece of art that she made and he went up to his room to find a frame. In this moment, most of the occupants in the room turned to him.

"Have you heard Jon yet? I'd like to see what this 'present' is." Dick questioned first, Clark tilted his head but he didn't hear his son at all. He opened his mouth to answer before promptly closing it shut, Jon had just landed in the garden and was making his way inside, by them Damian and Mar'i had returned.

"Hello my very bestest friend! Happy happy birthday to you!" Jon tackled Damian in a hug before quickly pulling back as to not get pushed off. "It is time to present my gift to you!"

Damian's brothers perked up, they had bet on whether or not Jon was true to his present being the best, Dick voted for while Jason and Tim voted against.

"But no one other than Damian is allowed to see the present" Without seeing what their reaction to his statement was, Jon dragged Damian outside. The brothers huffed before running upstairs, Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing and followed his sons onto the upper floor window with Clark close behind. Clark knew that Bruce was just as curious as his boys, he just hid it very well. When they made it to the window, they saw Jon telling Damian to sit on one of the garden's benches with his eyes closed.

"Is this really necessary?" They heard Damian's unamused voice. Upon hearing Jon's confirmation, Damian sighed and closed his eyes. The adults watched as Jon went off to somewhere out of their vision.

~~~

"Yep!"

Jon's voice echoed through the garden, hitting Marinette with the realisation that her and her husband would be reunited. A flurry of emotions dawned in her head. First nervousness, then excitement and finally, anticipation. She had gotten so caught up that she barely noticed the blue-eyed boy bounding up towards her. He gave her an encouraging smile before gesturing for the bluenette to follow him. Sensing her anxious hesitation, he gently took her wrist and pulled the girl towards the green-eyes boy, who was still sitting on the bench with his hands over his eyes.

'Here goes nothing'

~~~

He'd heard Jon's footsteps scurry away around a minute ago, he didn't know why but he tingled with anticipation when he heard his self-proclaimed best friend return. Though as soon as Damian heard the boy return, he immediately ran off to god knows where. But before the confusion settled in, he was hit with the familiar scent of vanilla and cherry blossoms, the scent he thought he'd never have the privilege to come across again. Damian's head shot up to face the beautiful bluenette he had the honor of calling his wife. The voice to whom the aroma belonged to spoke.

"You know, you really should've told me when your birthday was. I could've made you a gift..." Her voice, though barely above a whisper, was as loud as needed for Damian, her voice trailed off as the tears in her eyes built up.

Without at a moment's hesitation, the bluenette was soon spun in the air with the end result being engulfed in her husband's arms. "Having you in my arms again is the best gift I could have asked for"

Marinette couldn't hold back the tears of pure euphoria that rolled down her cheeks. Damian had noticed Jon spectating form the side, radiating excitement like a puppy, but he paid no attention to his self-proclaimed best friend. All that mattered was they were together once more.

The way fate had designed.

———

Bonus:

Dick: hang on he's coming back with, mARINETTE?!

Jason: WHaT?! How does the brat know her?!

Tim: what are they saying, Clark?

Clark: *smiling while wiping a fake tear of happiness* how sweet

Dick: im confused

*batfam (and clark)* run down the stairs and go outside to see Jon nearly combusting in joy*

Jon: *turns to the fam* told you I'd get the best gift

Jason: okay demon brat tell me how you know pixie pop!

Damian: *turns to face jason with an unimpressed look with mari snuggled under his chin* she's my wife

Batfam: *exe.batfamily has stopped working*

Dick: WHAT :D?!

Jason: WHAT THE FU-

Tim: WHAT

Bruce: *whispers* there goes the adoption papers

Bruce: well it's a pleasure to meet my daughter-in-law in person, but how did you end up getting married in the first place?

Damian and Marinette: *look at each other* Mother/ His mother

Bruce: *sighs*

Jason: okay let me go get my guns to murder that sausage-haired girl

Damian: todd no

Jason: *whips around, confused* wh-

Damian: i want to be the one to spill some Italian blood

Jason: *evilly grins*

Bruce and Marinette: nO KILLING-

[celestialrry]

bunny

6.3k

summary: Harry's shy and you need a tutor.

warnings: like none, cursing?, severe fluff

You rushed into class, and scrambled over to sit in your chair, huffing as the clock struck 9:00 a.m. the moment you touched the seat. Why you signed up for a morning class you knew you would never want to wake up for is beyond you. Why the class you were taking was about English literature, a genre you had only read less than 3 books in was also beyond you. Being undecided in your major didn’t have many perks, you had come to find.

“Alright class, first things first, you’ll be having a test in this class next week about what we studied this past month.”

As your professor droned on, your heartbeat started to pick up. A month into your second year of university and you already had a test? This was absolute torture. You were psyching yourself out at this point, almost positive you would fail, until you zoned back into class to hear a deep voice speaking.

The boy with the curls almost reaching his shoulders in the back of the class, Harry, you thought. He was terrifying and intimidating, but he raised his hand almost every other question and got it right. Always. He was the answer to all of your problems. The one who always wore those tattered brown Chelsea boots and long coats. You had even seen a peek of tattoos on his hand once.

The rest of class was spent thinking of ways to ask him to tutor you. So far, you would suggest to pay him for his time, do it only when he’s available (you would switch your schedule around for him, you were already going to ask a lot of him), and just try to be really nice. You always tried not to judge on looks, but Harry seemed quite scary, and you were afraid he’d turn you down immediately.

Soon class was dismissed and you grabbed your trusty bag (it had survived multiple sleepovers at Niall’s and that boy could destroy anything by just touching it) and slung it over your shoulder, looking to see Harry walking out of the classroom. You hurried over to him out of the doors and caught up to him. “Hi, um, Harry?” You asked, and he stopped in his tracks.

He looked back at you and his eyes widened. He had to look back down for a moment so you couldn’t see him flush out of surprise. He looked back up at you and smiled softly. “Hello.” Harry mumbled, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. No one really ever spoke to Harry all that much. People just never approached him and he had no idea why (his friends had tried to clue him in that he did seem a bit intimidating with his brows furrowed almost all the time, his body littered with tattoos, and the fact that he’s quite a buff guy, but you couldn’t really tell from his oversized sweaters that he seems to wear every single day, but that’s besides the point) and it confused him a bit. It also made him a bit shy around anyone he didn’t already know, because he didn't want to come off too strong at first and scare anyone away.

You smiled at him and introduced yourself before you continued to ask him what you had been dreading out of pure nerves. “Um, I know this is weird, but we’re in the same English lit class and I notice you know like, all the answers to what Mr. Reeves asks, n’I just really wanna pass this test so I was maybe wondering if you could tutor me or something? I would pay you of course-”

“You don’t-you don’t have to pay me.” He interrupted you from rambling on for too long because you tended to do that a lot, and Harry had no idea but he had just saved himself about ten minutes of time. If you were his chance at a new friend, he wouldn’t want it to start off on money, because helping a friend wouldn't be a job. “Oh!” Your mouth formed an “o” shape and your eyebrows raised at him. “Are you sure? I mean that's fucking awesome if you really don’t want money, but I would just feel so bad taking up your time without giving you anything in return.”

You prayed that he would say that you really didn’t need to pay him anything. If he meant it, it means this boy was a godsend and you would be happy spending time with this bloke if he is really that sweet all the time. You wouldn’t expect it just because he rarely ever speaks to other people. The most words you had ever heard him speak was when he was answering a question from Mr. Reeves-

“S’fine, really. If I tutor you, um, it's basically like studying m’self so...” He trailed off scratching the back of his neck, and bringing you back to Earth. You broke out into a grin and bounced a bit on your toes, because he was going to help you pass the final and you didn’t have to pay him. “Perfect! Wow, Harry, you’re an angel. Thank you so much,” You complimented him as you grabbed your phone from your back pocket and as your eyes darted away from his face for a few moments, he attempted to bite back his smile, because you were talking to him, and calling him an angel.

You pulled your pink-case covered cell and unlocked it, handing it to Harry and saying, “Here, put your contact in so I can text you about meeting up, s’that cool?” To which he nodded and took your phone gently and began typing his name and number in, and biting back his tongue when he was about to tell you he had the same phone case as you, because you probably wouldn’t care (you actually would care a very great deal, but Harry had been so used to being ignored he figured he wouldn’t muck up his one chance at a new friend). he handed your phone back to you and you just shoved it back in your pocket, the smile never leaving your face.

“Thanks again Harry, it really means a lot. I’ll text you later, yeah?” You said, slowly beginning to walk to your next class. He just offered you a small smile before continuing the way he was before you had asked him to tutor you. Why he didn’t want money was still itching at the back of your brain, mostly because when you told your best friend, Niall, about it later that night he had said “What kinda college student turns down money?” before going off into a rant about how he wished he actually knew what he was learning so he could tutor someone and get some extra cash. You reminded him he already had a job, but it seemed tutoring was “so much easier than dealing with kids whose parents didn’t give a rats-ass if they yell in the restaurant.”

｡:°ஐ

You and Harry had arranged to meet on Wednesday, because you only had one morning class as did he, and would meet in the library at 12 p.m. You don’t think you had ever been so anxious walking into a library before, but here you were, opening the double doors and swiping your student I.D. (which had a horrid picture on it, they really never tell you when they take the photo) before your eyes scanned the front part of the library you could see. It was safe to say you weren’t in the library very often, if seeing your frazzled face as you zig-zagged through the rows of bookshelves was enough to go by.

You made your way to the back, where you assumed the tables for studying and reading would be, and as you turned the corner of one of the oddly tall bookshelves, you thanked your instincts for the first time, and scanned the area until you found a certain flop of messy brown curls hunched over at a table.

“Hi Harry,” You chittered, flopping down in the seat across from him and immediately pulling out your notes and the book you had been reading for class, Pride and Prejudice. “How are you?”

For the first time, you noticed he wore glasses, when he looked up at you and pushed the clear tan frames up the bridge of his nose, a bit startled by your arrival. “M’good, you?” He asked, no emotion or tone behind his voice really. It sounded like he just wanted you to stop talking almost, but you settled on the fact that it was your nerves telling you he hated you.

“’Bout as good as I can be with teachers up my ass all week.” You said, and a small smile struck his face. You wondered what it would be like to make him laugh. Shaking your head from your thoughts, you cleared your throat and looked at your notes before back up at him. “Alright, so m’a bit confused on why Charlotte marries Collins? I mean, ignoring the fact that they’re all related, I’ve re-read it so many times but the old English they use is so confusing.”

After your question, Harry delves into the answer, not going on an extraordinarily long tangent, but a decently long one, explaining the relationship between them, and why they married when he wanted Elizabeth first, and so on. What was even better was that he explained it all so easily you understood it all (and his voice was sweeter than honey), you just kept wanting to ask more questions, so you did.

Harry was talkative when you kept asking him questions, and it seemed like he was enjoying himself, but whenever the conversation swerved into personal life, Harry shut off and became more quiet. It wasn’t like you were asking him about his family drama, the conversation had smoothly sailed into something about high school.

“I wish I read this book in high school when they gave us the chance.” You sighed, flipping through the pages to where you had put a sticky note to write down your confusion. You truly regretted not being one of those reading types, but you preferred to hear things more (like Harry’s voice), and listening to music became your ‘hobby’ instead.

“Yeah, reading it earlier makes it pretty easy now.” He shrugged, going through his own notes. “I just wasn’t much of a reader, did you read a lot in high school?” It's an innocent enough question, and after spending about 2 hours with Harry, you already knew you would want to get to know him more, but it seemed he didn’t feel the same. “A bit.” He said, tensing up. While you were mildly confused by his body language, Harry just didn’t want to talk about highschool. He read a lot, and was so in his own world he found it hard to really have many friends. He had a few loyal ones, but books would always be there, as cheesy as that was. High school wasn’t fun for anyone, he was sure of it.

“You seem like you’d read a lot, you just give off that vibe, y’know?” You said, looking at him. He lifted his gaze from his notes and you truly could not tell what he was thinking. He gave a small “hmph” in response to your question that wasn’t really a question and looked back down at his notes, gathering them all quite fast. “I think we’re good for the day, just text me if you want anymore help.” He mumbled, slinging his bag over his shoulder and rushing out of the library. You sat there with your mouth slightly open in shock at the way he left so abruptly. After a few moments you packed up your own things and practically ran after him, bursting through the double doors and trying to find him, to-you actually didn’t know what to do. You didn’t even know what happened. That’s why you found yourself on your couch with Niall as he ate all your snack food, deep in a long-winded advice session from him.

“He just ran out Niall, I don’t even know what happened, like did I say something?” You asked, picking your nails in distress, your eyes following the chip that disappeared in his mouth seconds later. “What’s this bloke’s name, again?” He asked, after chewing (Niall could be vulgar, but he wasn’t an animal). “Um, Harry. Longish brown curls, pretty green eyes, y’know? I-I don’t even know his last name.”

The blonde’s icy blue eyes widened in recognition after a moment of thinking, and he slapped your bicep gently. “Harry Styles! I’ve heard o’him. Apparently he has like two friends and never speaks, s’not hard to believe you have a thing for him, bug.” Your brow raised incredulously, and you were quick to defend yourself, and Harry. “I do not have a thing for him, and just because he doesn’t have many friends doesn’t mean he’s a-wait what do you mean it's not hard to believe?”

Niall rolled his eyes and sat up a bit more, turning to actually face you. “You like the quiet types, s’why we aren’t dating, obviously, n’I never said he was a dud, love, just tellin’ you what I heard.” You just nodded, deciding to not worry about it so much. “There’s many reasons we aren’t dating Ni.” You gave him a compassionate smile and pat his knee. The two of you then burst out into laughter and your worries about Harry faded away.

Until the next morning that is.

You had been going over the study guide Mr. Reeves had emailed everyone that morning and realized you weren’t sure about quite a few of the things you were supposed to know. Sighing, you opened your phone and clicked on Harry’s contact typing out a text.

Hey Harry! Wondering if you could meet up sometime again this weekend just to go over the study guide?

You hit send and prayed that he wouldn’t just ignore it, especially after running out last time. After looking back at the email, you heard your notification bell go off just a few minutes later.

I can do Friday at 8pm, and Sunday around 3.

A smile of relief graced your face at his quick response, no matter how short his texts were, he was still willing to help you, and you were extremely grateful. After texting him back and agreeing to meet back at the library, you went back to working on another assignment, happy that you were able to get more studying in, not about the fact that you got to see the quiet and unusually attractive Harry Styles again. That was not the reason.

｡:°ஐ

Eventually it was Friday night. Your friday nights usually consisted of Niall dragging you somewhere you did not want to be, like a frat party (he always made sure you got home safe though), or you sitting at home, watching a movie and binging on cookies that you had baked just 30 minutes prior. Tonight was different however, and you were attempting to open the doors of the library, because it was locked, but you were positive the library wasn’t closed.

A soft voice said your name, and you turned around to see Harry standing a few feet behind you, his hands in his pockets and his bag on his shoulder. “Harry,” you exhaled in relief. “I was about to text you, but it’s locked and I know for a fact it shouldn’t be closed because the hours say 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. every weekday.” You stated matter of factly, pointing to the hours painted on the door. He walked a bit closer to the door and adjusted his glasses a bit, pursing his pink lips as he read the hours. “You’re right.” he said simply, his sage eyes darting to the handle. You wordlessly stepped back and he went to the handle, pulling the door a bit, and pushing it. It moved a bit for him, but it was obvious it was locked.

Your mind raced for solutions, the only ones you were able to find was going to your flat, or wherever he lived, and you were almost positive he wouldn't want you in his house. You heard a little sigh leave his lips as he let go of the handle, and stuck his hands back in his pockets, rolling on the balls of his feet adorned with black boots today. “We could go to my place? If you’re comfortable with that of course, I won’t force you, but it’s like the only place I can think of and my roommate won’t be home tonight to distract us, something about staying the weekend at her boyfriends, but-”

“Sure.”

Your eyes fell back onto his face at his words and you gave a small smile, happy that he had agreed. “Alright, c’mon then.” You said, walking towards the direction of your flat. Only a few moments after you began taking steps he stopped you with his voice. “Wait, you walked here?” He asked, his face twisted up with something you couldn’t tell. “Yeah, m’only fifteen minutes away.” You shrugged. “It’s pitch black-um, come with me, I drove here and you can just direct me to yours.”

You just agreed and followed him to his car, which was an awfully nice black one, you weren’t sure of the brand, but as you got in, you could tell he took really good care of it (not that that was attractive to you or anything). Your words during the drive consisted of you telling him the four turns to take before directing him the best place to park in your lot. You ignored his gaze on you as you led him up the two flights of stairs to your hall, because “The elevator has been down for ages, and I’ve sent about four letters to the landlord, but all I’ve gotten in return is just unnecessary exercise for two months.”

He chuckled a bit at that and you swore your heart grew two sizes as you led him down the hall to your door. You unlocked it, and let him in, quickly walking in front to scan and make sure it wasn’t messy. You were never one to leave the house while it was dirty, but Niall had come over earlier to convince you to come to a party, and you were scared you hadn’t picked up his mess. He truly was like your child in a sense. Taking a sigh of relief at your clean flat, you turned around to see Harry closing your door and you brushed against him to lock it, you never kept your door unlocked at night.

You led him to the living room and dropped your bag on the floor next to the couch, and he did the same, pulling out your books and notes, as well as your laptop. Harry followed your actions and you could tell he was a bit uncomfortable in your flat, or at least that’s what it seemed like. “Do y’want some water or anything? I’m not sure what other drinks I have because I’m pretty sure Niall drank everything in here, and ate it probably as well.”

He looked up at your words and hesitated, bringing his bottom lip between his fingers. “Erm, I’ll have a water, please.” Now was not the time to ask about Niall or who he was to you, he told himself, because it didn’t matter. You nodded and stood up, hurrying over to your kitchen and grabbing two glasses of water for the both of you before handing one to Harry and sitting down on the couch again.

It was a bit weird at first, but soon enough the two of you slid into an easy conversation about the study guide, it was mostly you asking and Harry answering, but occasionally he would ask you something (that you were sure he already knew), and you would answer. It was a good back and forth, and you found yourself thinking about how it would be nice to talk to Harry like this about himself. You wanted to know everything, his favorite color down to the weird little quirks he has (you’ve already picked up on one, like when he itches the bottom of his nose with a curled index finger and slides it to the button of his nose before scrunching it).

“We’ve been studying for about two hours,” You noticed, looking at the time on your computer screen reading 10:03 PM. “I’ve just about filled my brain with enough information about fictional characters for today.”

You looked over at Harry to see him grinning a bit at your joke, and for the first time you noticed he had dimples. You were positive there was nothing wrong with him, other than the fact that he didn’t seem to want to be your friend (it wasn’t his fault, you could be a bit too much for people sometimes). “Okay, I should probably get back home to Luna anyways.” He said, his offhand comment filling your brain. Luna? You prayed you haven’t been taking his time away from a girlfriend, and before your brain could catch up your mouth was already moving. “Oh, who’s Luna?”

Harry looked at you like he forgot he mentioned her and his eyes widened a bit. “Oh, um, she’s m’kitten.” A wave of relief rushed over you, as well as another reason to want to get to know him more. A man so intimidating people didn’t approach him, had a kitten? Harry was flushing out of embarrassment of telling you this little fact, and looking down as he put his things in his bag to avoid eye contact with you, you did not care about his kitten, and you were indirectly telling him to leave, he didn't think he ever hated speaking more.

“That’s such a cute name!”You exclaimed. “Do you have any photos of her? It’s okay if you don’t want to show but I love cats, always wanted t’get my own.”

Nevermind.

30 minutes later, and he was sitting next to you awfully close on the couch, showing you his photo album of Luna. Some of the photos had Harry in them, one in particular, a mirror picture, where he was wearing sweats and had chosen to go without a shirt, holding Luna in one hand by his side. He swiped off of that one with lighting speed, and although you were telling yourself he obviously was embarrassed by you seeing his bare torso, which he shouldn’t be because wow, you couldn’t help your curiosity. “How many tattoos do y’have?”

He moved his head to face you, and only then did he realize how close the two of you were sitting. “Uh, I don’t know, fifty-something? I lost count a while ago.” Your eyes lit up at his words and a grin spread across your face. “Wow, that's so cool. Did it hurt a lot? I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo but I have no idea what, and where. I thought a small little butterfly on my ribs or something would be cute for a good year, but I don’t have much connection to butterflies really, and I feel like if I get something tattooed on your body for forever I would want something that really sticks with me.”

He couldn’t help it.

As you watched Harry while you were rambling on about tattoos you could see him smile. Truly smile, one where his teeth showed and everything. You tried not to get too giddy about it, but it was just so beautiful. “It started hurting less the more I got, and tattoos don’t have t’be something y’really connect with, I have a bunch jus’ because I thought they looked cool and had a decent meaning,” He said, and you were positive that’s the most he’s ever spoken to you. “I actually have a butterfly on m’tummy.”

“What other one’s do you have?” You asked, attempting to get him to talk as much as he could.

It worked, because soon the 30 minutes became an hour, and the hour became two, and he was in your flat at midnight. It seemed the two of you had no idea how much time had passed, because when you checked your phone it said it was five past midnight, and you reluctantly told Harry.

“Shit!” He muttered, and that was the first time you’ve heard him curse before. He looked at you, concern taking over his features. “M’so sorry for staying so long, I didn’t want to impose, I-”

“Harry, it’s okay, I promise. If I didn’t want you here, I would've told you to leave.” You said, and that seemed to calm him down a bit. “I’ll walk you down.”

You slipped on your coat and grabbed your keys, while Harry grabbed his tote and the two of you made your way down the stairs, this time a comfortable silence overtaking the stairwell. You reached his car and smiled at him as he unlocked it. “Thank you Harry, for everything, m’sure after Sunday I’ll be aces at analyzing characters.”

He smiled at you and fiddled with his sleeve before stepping closer and wrapping his arms around you. You were surprised to say the least, but your arms found their way around him as well and you reveled in his warmth. He stepped back after a moment and let his hands slide down your arms before bringing them back to his sides. “M’sorry, I should’ve-I just-you’re so nice n’I just-thank you.”

You couldn’t help but watch him try to stay afloat as he struggled to explain the hug. He really felt like he did though, because you were just so sweet, possibly the sweetest person he’s ever met, and you wanted to know about him, and his tattoos, and his kitten, and he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to be with anyone for a hours on end, but he’s already decided that he’d want to be trapped in a room with you for days.

“No need to thank me, get home safe okay?” You smiled at him, reaching out and squeezing his arm and holy shit he’s fit. He looked down at your hand for a moment before smiling big and nodding, parting with a “G’night, I’ll see you Sunday.” before hopping into his car and insisting you walk up first. Rolling your eyes you smirked a bit and started walking up your stairs, turning around and waving at him before he sped off. That was quite possibly the best Friday night you’ve ever had.

｡:°ஐ

Harry was reeling, in the best way possible, but still reeling. After you got together to study on Sunday (and after you both aced the test, which you had given him the largest hug and a kiss on the cheek for), the two of you had hung out almost everyday after.

You met Luna during that following week, and he was expecting her to stay in his bedroom, because Luna didn’t really like new guests all that much, but she had immediately scurried up to you and walked in figure-eights around your feet. Your giggle of excitement was the best thing Harry had ever heard, and he had to take a moment not to squeal out of adoration.

He had opened up to you about, well, a lot. Told you how people just didn’t approach him, which was why he was so off-put when you did, and that he just didn’t want to scare anyone away. You shook your head and sat closer to him on the couch, lifting your hands to pinch his cheeks and pout as you said that he was “the sweetest person” you knew and you had “no idea how anyone could be scared of such a softie.” It was safe to say his face was flushed the entire conversation.

You had also commented on his sweater collection once, and everytime you would shiver, he’d pull off his own sweater and give it to you to wear, even in the courtyard when the weather was reaching 30 degrees. You had refused due to the fact that he would be cold, and eventually he just gave you a sweater you had expressed your liking for. He had handed it to you and you frowned in confusion and said, “Did you bring that just for me?”, because he was already wearing his own, and he had nodded and once you put it on he mumbled, “Keep it.” You did.

It got to the point where the two of you had spent so much time together you introduced him to Niall, to which Niall had commented, “So this is the Harry bloke you’ve been talking about all the time. Nice to meet ya, mate. So, how did you grow your hair out so long?” You had hit his shoulder for embarrassing you, but it seemed Harry didn’t even skip a beat when he started talking about how he had decided to grow his hair out. It was a story you’d heard before, but with Harry speaking, you would listen to the same words over and over again.

When you each went home for winter break, Harry had hugged you tightly and kissed your cheek, telling you that it was only 2 weeks, and the both of you would be back before you knew it. When the two of you weren’t texting, you were calling each other, and he was right, because you had both gotten back yesterday, a day full of hugs of goodbye’s from families, and full of cheek and forehead kisses, along with hugs and cuddles from Harry. You teased him about the gift, a book you had told him was the only one you wanted to read, he mailed you, and he teased you about his gift, a sweater with  a hand-stitched (by you) small little moon where the left breast was, for Luna, and posters of his favorite artists, because he didn’t have anything on his walls.

Today was a day of “movies and cookies, it rhymes” as Harry had put it, and you had just knocked on his door, adorned with the sweater he gave you and some sweats. He opened the door almost immediately, a large smile on his face as he brought you in and gave you a large hug, to which you returned. “Missed you.” He mumbled into your shoulder. “I saw you yesterday, dimples.” You said, squeezing him before letting go and poking the indent in his cheek that just got deeper. “I told you I hate that nickname, bunny.” He smirked. “Oh, shove off.” You smiled, making your way to his living room where Luna was curled up on the couch on the right side, close enough to the end that no one could sit there, but close enough to the middle that practically half of his couch was taken.

“Don’t move her,” He said, walking up beside you. “She’s been crazy all day and she's finally relaxing, little devil.” You just shrugged and looked at the cookies he had already set out. “As long as I get these, I don’t mind where she is.”

The two of you settled next to each other on the couch as he chose an old horror movie that you begged not to watch but according to Harry, “S’not even scary, pet. Nothing is realistic, swear.” You just grumbled in defeat as he started to play it and just stuffed cookies into your mouth as you fell against the back of the couch.

Half an hour later, and your head was tucked in Harry’s chest, while your legs fell over his own. His hand was splayed across your back, rubbing up and down gently and mumbled “It’s okay”’s and “I’ve got you”’s while you peeked out to see the giant ant’s taking over. He really couldn’t believe it, you of all people were in his arms at night. He wished it could be every night, and when he heard your breathing slow down he suddenly took it back.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

You hadn’t planned on sleeping over, but just the other day were you complaining about not getting enough sleep because of your “stupid Philosophy professor”, and there was no way in hell Harry was going to wake you up. He hesitated for a moment, before turning off the T.V. because in the time he was deciding on what to do the movie had long stopped playing, and wrapped his other arm under your knees, gently picking you up and taking you to his bed.

He laid you down and tucked you under the covers, grabbing a pillow for himself before making his way to the couch for the night. He made sure to set an alarm to wake up before you did, and make you breakfast.

When you opened your eyes, the last thing you were expected to be met with was a white ceiling with a sleek silver fan nailed in. You sat up groggily, looking around the room to recognize it as Harry’s room. You had only been in here a few times, mostly to scavenge his closet, but you knew his room when you saw it. You swung your legs out of bed, and slowly made your way to the living room, where you were met with a sleeping Harry, spread out on the couch in his sweats, without a shirt. You tried not to linger your gaze on all his tattoos and abs as you walked by him to check the time on your phone. Almost 9 a.m., and by the vibrating phone next to yours, with the same case, you could tell he meant to set an alarm but forgot to turn his ringer on.

He had an alarm set for something, and he never told you what he was doing this morning, so you decided you would wake him up, just in case. You grabbed his shoulder gently, and tried not to think about how warm he was, shaking him gently and calling his name. “Harry…” You said in a sing-songy voice a few times. He pouted in his sleep and grunted a bit, before scrunching his eyes open. He practically jumped back when he saw you and his head fell back against the arm of the couch. Of course he wouldn’t wake up before you. “Morning.” You grinned. “G’morning. M’sorry if you were confused when y’woke up. I just brought y’to my bed cause you fell asleep, n’I was gonna wake up before you but obviously that didn’t work out.”

You just shook your head and smiled, trying not to think about his morning voice. There were a lot of things you had to try not to think about with Harry. “No worries, wanna go grab breakfast at the diner down the street? Heard they have killer hashbrowns.”

And all thanks to you, Harry wonders what he had to worry about in the first place.

After breakfast, you went back to your place, Harry in your living room while you got dressed for the day, changing your sweats to jeans and slipping back out of your room. “Alright, what’s the plan?” You asked, tugging the sleeves of his sweater down to make paws. It wasn’t like Harry hadn’t seen you with his sweater on, but it seemed to make him more flustered everytime you did wear it. He shrugged and looked you up and down quickly. “I like your sweater, where’d y’get it?” He joked, in an attempt to mask his blush.

“From this really cute guy, he just gave it to me one day.” You shrugged, and watched as he bit his bottom lip in an attempt not to smile too much. “Really cute?” He asked as you stepped closer to him. “Mhm, his name is Harry.”

“Please stop.” He said, and you stepped back, confused by his sudden change in emotion. “I’m just joking, Harry.” You said, attempting to save the moment. His bottom lip trembled and he sat down on your couch, his head falling in his hands. “I know, n’I don’t want you t’be.” He mumbled as you sat next to him. He pulled his head out of his hands and looked at you, his heart beating faster than it ever has.

“I really like you, bunny. And I don’t wanna ruin our friendship because you’re the best thing that's happened to me in a really long time, but I cant- I can’t listen to you joke about how you think I’m cute if y’don’t feel the same.”

You swear your heart bursted at his confession. A smile overtook your face and you moved so you were right next to him. You placed your hands on the sides on his face and kissed his nose. “You think I don’t feel the same? For someone so smart, m’surprised you haven’t realized it before,” you said softly, as he looked at you in wonder and shock. “I really like you too.” You leaned in and placed your lips on his, about to pull back when he didn’t respond. He then began to kiss you back and his hands found a home on your hips. When the two of you pulled away, he smiled like a fool and pecked your lips once more.

There was never anything to worry about with you, he was sure of it.

[wroteasongabouther]

can’t stand to see you lonely: part 1

a/n: oh my god guys it’s finally here!😬 i really hope i didn’t hype myself up too much and that you guys actually like it. overall i just wanted to put out a story that revolved around christmas and this is what i came up with! so without me babbling too much, i hope you enjoy part 1 of my new story and as always any feedback/reblogs are very much appreciated.

and of course, thank you to the lovely jess @arrogantstyles and jill @havethetimeofyourstyles for beta reading this part for me and giving this rusty old writer the help i needed lol

word count: 17k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, some sexual tension, and an over consumption of starbucks holiday drinks.

fic page // let’s chat // cstsyl playlist 

“What floor?” Harry asks, eyes stuck on the many buttons in the elevator instead of seeing who had entered the small space with him. He can tell it’s a woman, and they smelt lovely.

“Six please,” her soft voice replies.

Harry looks over his shoulder in what he hopes is a smooth motion to get a quick peek at who was behind that sweet voice. Her eyes were squinting slightly as she smiles at him. She must be my new neighbour, he thinks as he hits the number six button and it lights up before the elevator begins to move. He steps back, standing in the opposite corner of the young woman. Harry assumes that she is maybe a few years younger than him, but one thing he knew for sure was that she was very pretty. He may even say she was stunning. She's all bundled up with a long coat and a thick scarf as he guesses she had just gone out for some shopping, judging by the few large white paper bags hanging off her arm.

“Did you just recently move in?” He questions, catching her eyes switching from gazing at the wall to his own instead.

She smiles again and nods, “yeah.”

“I thought I heard someone move in beside me,” he exclaims. He was certain that someone had moved in beside him. It caused him a bit of a headache hearing all the moving around. And then on top of that, his new neighbour had decided to get right to hammering in on the wall they shared. Little did he know, there was a determined and beautiful girl on the other side.  

“Oh you’re my neighbour then?” She says, bringing Harry back from his memory of a few days ago.

“Harry,” he introduces himself, reaching a hand out into the space between them. She switches her Starbucks holiday cup into her other hand in order to shake his. Her hand is warm from holding the drink and it causes Harry's stomach to erupt with little bitty butterflies.

“Y/N,” she says in the same gentle voice as before. He wanted to hear her talk more. There was something about the soft tone of her voice, like he could listen to her speak into the late hours and early mornings and never once get tired of it. He blinks a few times and drops her hand at his intimate thought.

Harry didn't believe in love at first sight per say, but he was known to develop an infatuation of sorts very quickly. A crush as some would call it. Well, to be precise, Mitch teases him the most of his little crushes. There was that one time that Harry fumbled over his words over and over again when they had gone for dinner and had a rather attractive waitress, having asked for her number at the end of the night too. Mitch mocked him for days about it, asking if she had ever texted him back - she didn’t. And Harry didn’t even want to think about the time he spilled an entire blended margarita on his white vans when a certain handsome lifeguard had winked at him during their trip in LA last summer. Mitch still doesn’t let that incident go either.

The elevator doors open, and Harry gives her a smile and motions with a hand for her to walk out before he does. His mom must’ve raised him well, Y/N thinks at her new neighbours mannerisms. First holding the elevator for her, then offering to press the elevator button, and now letting her exit first. Suppose it was just minor things, but growing up in this lovely city that is New York meant she was used to the rudeness of people and sadly the simplest of gestures can make her heart beat just a bit faster in her chest.

“If you uh,” Harry pauses as Y/N stops at her front door but looks back at him as he speaks. Harry slows his steps to keep eye contact with her. “If you ever need anything, don’t feel shy to knock on my door.”

Y/N smiles again, nodding at his offer while she twists her key in the lock and opens her front door. Harry's walking backwards now, just a few steps to that same door he’s saying she can knock on. His eye contact is intense, but addicting, like every word she had to say to him mattered. His eyes are green, just green, nothing crazy and yet she found them very endearing. Would it be cliche of her to say she swore she saw them sparkle?

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” she says and before she can say anything else, she steps into her new apartment and shuts the door behind her.

Y/N finds herself standing there for a moment, remembering every word Harry had spoken to her as she slips out of her shoes. She then remembers his facial features while undoing her coat and hanging it up along with her scarf. The bit of facial hair he was sporting, how it seemed like it may have taken a while to grow so he kept it minimal. Or that little mole by his mouth, she even took note of that in their short time together. He had a cute nose too, she thinks. Harry takes up every inch of space in her mind for over an hour before she’s brought out of whatever dream state fog she was in. She lets out a deep breath and shakes her head a little before going about wrapping the presents she had bought earlier in the day while sipping her Christmas Starbucks drink, falling back in love with the holidays all over again.

“No, no, no, no,” Y/N groans as she twists and turns the knobs for her shower, and yet, nothing happens. Only a few drops fall to the tiled floor causing her to let out another string of curses. “This can not be happening,” she says.

But it was. Y/N’s hair was a mess, beyond greasy and a bit matted from her sleep last night. Not to mention she smelt like sweat from bringing up the box that held her new fake christmas tree this morning. She had been tempted to walk down the hall and knock on Harry's door, but she didn’t want to be annoying and fall into the stereotypes of the helpless young female living on her own for the first time. So instead she grabbed a cable knit sweater, tugged on her old dirty ugg boots, and went down in the elevator to meet with the Amazon delivery person. Little did she know that the box was way too tall for the elevator. So, she ended up bringing it up herself. All six flights of stairs, Y/N pulled and dragged that box up to her floor which caused her to break quite the sweat. Thankfully, it wasn’t so heavy, but she couldn’t help but think that she went through all of this just so she could get her new fake christmas tree up. Freaking fake! Not even a real one because apparently that wasn't allowed at her apartment building. Oh, how she was going to miss the smell of a fresh christmas tree. And oh, how she wanted to get rid of this disgusting smell of sweat she embodied now.

“Why me?” She winces, looking up at the ceiling and letting the glass door for her shower close as she gave up on the water magically appearing.

Is this the most appropriate time to not be shy and knock on Harry's door? Suddenly, her Apple watch vibrates, and she brings her arm up to see the reminder she had set before to tell her of the tight schedule she’s on for the day. With only 45 minutes left to get ready, she needed to get moving quickly. Y/N curses herself for wasting the past fifteen minutes on her phone, reading over her newest Instagram comments and aimlessly scrolling through her feed. So she tugs both sides of her purple robe that she had changed into anticipating a shower in her own home. Y/N pulls it tighter and ties the belt around her waist into a bow, and before she can give it a second thought, she’s out the door of her own apartment and starting down the hallway.

Harry didn’t know when he thought Y/N would eventually knock on his door. A part of Harry was hoping that she would have knocked sooner than a week later. But nonetheless, when there was a frantic knock on his door, he didn’t miss how his heart skips in his chest as he imagined Y/N standing on the other side. Peering through the peephole in his door he saw her standing there - in a bathrobe? Harry's brows pull together in confusion as he unlocks the door and heaves the door open.

“Is your water working?” She asks, her voice sounding as panicked as her knocking had been. But before Harry can answer she starts talking a million miles an minute. “Cause mine’s not, like not a single drop and I need to shower. So badly. And I know it’s probably super weird and rude of me to just bang on your door and ask to use your shower. Honestly, I can’t even believe I am but I am in such a hurry and I have the busiest day ahead of me with work and going to the-”

“Y/N,” Harry cuts her off abruptly. Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and blinks up at him. “You need to use my shower? Is that what you’re getting at?”

Harry is a bit thrown off, not once did he think she’d come knocking for this reason. He glances down the hall awkwardly. He hopes that that noisy neighbour of theirs across the hall wasn’t peeping into their conversation, or seeing Y/N in this bathrobe. Mr Matthers can be a bit of a creep, Harry thinks. At the thought he hears a creak come from behind the door that’s across the hall.

She nods, “I know it’s like super strange to ask but mine is not working and I don’t have time to figure it out.” When Harry looks back at her, he notices she’s staring down at the ground between them, her eyes blinking rapidly as if she’s realizing what she’s gotten herself into. Harry didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable.

“S’alright, really, come in,” Harry says while opening the door to his apartment wider.

Y/N gives him a smile of appreciation before stepping into his home. The layout of Harry’s apartment is really just the opposite of hers, but the interior design he’s gone with is a lot better.

He’s gone for the classic monochrome look with blacks, white and greys. But with pops of colour where it matters, like a blanket over the back of his large L-shaped couch that looked handmade. She wonders if a family member made it, quite liking the light blues and pinks blended together. He’s got the same hardwood flooring like her own apartment and the plain off white paint on the walls - but with a few very unique paintings hung up on them. There’s two tall shelves, full of vinyls and novels and some picture frames too, that are on either side of his large flat screen tv which he took the time to hook up on the wall. It’s got a TV show paused on the screen, in her quick glance she can’t tell what show he was watching before she knocked but it looked like a cooking show. The corners of her lips twitch up into a smile at the thought of Harry being into cooking or baking maybe. He’s got a matching chair to his couch in the living room too that looks like she could fall asleep in it within a second. Overall it simply seems more grown up than her apartment - more put together and clean, that’s for sure.

To give her some credit, she has just moved in while she’s sure Harry’s been here for a while. Harry steps away from the door after locking it again, taking a few steps in order to be in her line of sight. With an arm thrown up, finger pointing down the hall, he gives Y/N another smile. He can’t help it, she looks rather adorable in that purple bathrobe. Was that all she was wearing? He thought to himself. He clears his throat as his mind goes on to imagine what’s under that plush purple material she’s wearing.

“Bathroom’s the first on the left,” he states, “did you bring your own soap or anything?”

“Honestly, no, I just kind of ran out of my place in quite a hurry and didn’t think twice as I got the sudden nerve to come over here.”

“Well, lucky for you I care about hair care, so there’s some good shampoos and even a nice hair oil to put into your hair afterwards when it’s damp. It’s in a small clear bottle with a white and gold label, by my toothbrush,” Harry explains. Y/N nods and starts towards the bathroom. With each step further into Harry’s home, she realizes what exactly she’s done. She can’t believe it really - just asking a complete stranger to let her shower in their home. She could be a murderer for all Harry knew, and he just opened his home up so freely. She steps into the bathroom, switching on the lights and the fan, she shuts the door and sighs. Lifting her arm up her Apple watch lights up to show the time. She had twenty minutes tops to shower, that’s all.

The bathroom is clean, very clean actually. Y/N lets her gaze wander around the space for a moment. There’s matching hand towels and all his skin and hair care are placed neatly on the small counter space too. She assumes he’s a bit of a neat freak. Turning to the shower, she opens the glass door gently and instantly reaches for the silver knobs. As she turns them water falls from the showerhead above her.

“Thank God,” she whispers while looking up at the water.

Y/N adjusts it to her preferred temperature and then she works on untying the knot of her robe. Words can’t describe how grateful she is that it held together in front of Harry. Him seeing her in the robe and with her hair in the state it’s in is embarrassing enough. Honestly, she can’t believe she even knocked on his door in it, and without any clothes to change into afterwards too. Stupid, she thinks while opening the glass door once more and stepping into the shower.

As Harry had said, there’s many bottles littering the built in shelves of the shower. Her fingers lazily turn the bottles so the labels face her. They’re all scented lavender of some sorts, helping with curly hair and volume. Well that explains why his hair looks so lovely, Y/N thinks as she opens a bottle of shampoo and squeezes it till a good amount falls into her other hand. As she hums ‘Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas’ she lathers up her hair and massages her scalp. Rinsing it out after and then doing the same with the conditioner. While she lets the conditioner sit in her hair she scans the few other bottles on the shelves for a body wash. She didn’t want to come out of the shower smelling like a pre-teen boy, but she also did not want to smell like sweat. Goats milk and lavender infused, Y/N reads the label of what looks to do a locally owned product. She can’t help but smile as she reaches for it and pours some into her hands before rubbing it over her skin. There’s something so sweet knowing that Harry supports local businesses. He really doesn’t seem like the guys that Y/N is used to.

Three sharp knocks on the door startle Y/N, bringing her out of her day dreams. She quickly brings her arms up to her chest, trying to save herself some modesty if Harry did walk in. Because of course she didn’t think to lock the door. God, what if Harry is a murderer? Y/N thinks. She doesn’t know him, he could very well walk in here with a large kitchen knife and stab her multiple times in the chest while the water begins to run red and she dies right here all because she thought his dimpled smile and green eyes were enduring. Didn’t she learn anything from the whole Ted Bundy thing? Hello, hot guy doesn’t immediately mean nice!

“Y/N?” Harry calls out from the other side of the door, raising his voice just slightly so she could hear it over the running water. She shakes her head from her ridiculous thought - no more Criminal Minds at night for her, she takes the quick mental note.

“Yes?” She responds.

“I just realized I didn’t give you a towel,” he says, his voice sounding strained as he closes his eyes and tries to not imagine his neighbour naked in his shower. Harry’s fist tightens around the towel as his mind ignores him and thinks of how the water is dripping down her skin.

“Oh, yeah,” she breathes out. Looking around the bathroom beyond the foggy glass. There weren't any towels that she could see. Maybe they were under the sink.

“So I uh, I grabbed one for you. I can just open the door really fast and drop it in, I wouldn’t look in I swear, I’d face the hallway and just reach through,” he clarifies, “wait, you locked the door didn’t you?”

“Actually, I didn’t,” Y/N says, “so yeah just drop it in, please and thank you,”

Harry nods, regardless of the fact Y/N can’t see him. He takes a deep breath before turning the doorknob and opening the door just a crack. The towel doesn’t quite fit through, so he opens it a bit more. His eyes are on the towel as he makes sure it gets into the bathroom. He notices the steam pillowing in the small space and just before he looks the other way, he sees Y/N’s purple bathrobe on the floor. Only her purple bathrobe. Harry swallows and drops the towel to the floor and quickly shuts the door again. Y/N jumps at the sudden slam of the door, her heart having been beating out of her chest as she stood under the warm stream of water and listened to Harry deliver the towel.

He spins around and walks away from the bathroom in a brisk walk, making it to his kitchen in record time. He takes a few breaths and blinks at the view from his kitchen window above the sink. It’s beginning to snow. Something tells him this will excite Y/N - just a feeling he has. He hardly knows the girl and he’s been conjuring up versions of her in his head these past seven days. He’d heard her play music through the walls Tuesday night, he recognized the artist after a few moments. Van Morrison, one of his favourites. What were the odds? He had thought. But then he quickly shut that thought down because many people liked Van Morrison, and just because his very cute neighbour liked the same music he did, that didn’t mean she was meant for him.

Then on Thursday in the middle of the day he had seen her running across the street from his apartment. One thing he loved about his apartment facing the front of the building is how he got to see people coming and going. That day it looked as though she was carrying a take out bag from his favourite restaurant. Again, what were the odds that she liked the same place? But again, he had another hard conversation with himself saying that it was a rather popular place in this area and lots of people liked to go there. Y/N was still a stranger to him. A naked and attractive stranger who was in his bathroom right now.

Harry breathes in deeply and leans both hands at either side of his sink as he watches the large snowflakes fall over New York City. He still couldn’t believe he lived here sometimes. Having grown up in a rather small town in Northern England, where the most exciting thing was the bakery he used to work in as a young teen or maybe the fun graffiti on some of the walls downtown, living in NYC always seemed a bit unrealistic to think of. But this was always a dream of his. To be in one of the biggest cities in the United States and doing what he loved the most.

“It’s snowing?” Y/N’s voice full of irritation catches Harry off guard. He turns around to see her standing in the threshold between his kitchen and living room. That purple robe, which would be making an appearance in his dreams he’s sure of, is back on her now clean body while the towel he had given her is wrapped around her hair atop of her head.

“You don’t like the snow?” Harry questions, both of his brows raised high at how off he was about his instinct of her loving the snow.

“No, I mean, yes I do,” she shakes her head slightly, “I just don't like driving it in. New York drivers already freaking suck and the moment snow starts falling it’s like they forget how to drive altogether.” Y/N explains, crossing her arms at her chest.

“It’s the same in London, nearly got into a few accidents in my early years of driving thanks to it,” Harry reveals. Y/N smiles at the knowledge about himself he had let slip, regardless of how irrelevant it is.

“Anyways,” she sighs, “thank you for letting me barge in here and use your shower.”

“It’s no problem, really,” Harry assures her.

“No seriously, you saved me a lot of trouble.”

Harry’s chest swells at her words, mirroring her smile as he stuffs his hands into the front pocket of his trousers and leans back against the edge of the counter. Y/N takes this time to look over Harry’s outfit. He’s got on a cream collared ribbed t-shirt, a beaded necklace adorning his neck, a pair of brown pants that flare out and nearly hid his white sock covered feet. He doesn't dress like the men Y/N sees day to day. It's different, kind of old school, but she likes it. Suits him, she thinks, despite the fact that she barely knows him.

“You’ve got to drive somewhere?” Harry questions, unsure if he’s prying.

“Yeah, JFK unfortunately,” she frowns.

“That’s going to be a nightmare,” Harry says.

“Thanks for the reminder, yeah,” Y/N teases him while fighting back the smile pulling at her mouth.

“Sorry, I just meant that it’s sort of a long drive and airport terminals are a pain, that's all.”

“I’m just bugging you. It most definitely is going to be a nightmare,” Y/N agrees with a chuckle, “and I’m going to be late if I don’t hurry.” She adds while jabbing a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of her own apartment. Harry nods and notices how her robe’s a bit looser than before as she drops her arms and it falls a few inches down her shoulder - exposing more of her soft looking skin. Harry has to look away and walk towards his front door with Y/N before his imagination gets the best of him.

Harry unlocks the door and holds it open for Y/N to walk out of his home. He liked having her in his space. Harry internally curses himself for yet another intimate thought about his neighbour fogs up his mind. Just as she steps over the threshold of his apartment, Y/N spins on her heels quickly and reaches up with both hands to grab the twisted up towel around her hair. Harry nearly comes undone right then and there. The sight of her wet hair falling down effortlessly around her freshly washed face causes Harry’s mouth to feel dry suddenly. But as she makes the move to reach up, pulling it off of her head, and then holding out the towel in front of her, all of this causes her robe to fall even more off of her shoulders. Now both of her shoulders were fully exposed for him to see. Which Y/N notices right away and blushes, rushing to try and readjust herself, then only holding the towel with one hand while she bares her other arm over her chest to keep the robe from falling open completely.

“Nearly stole your towel,” Y/N breathes out.

She’s distracted by how her robe is slipping apart and how Harry’s eyes are falling with it. Harry clears his throat and takes the towel from her, giving her a chance to fix her robe, and he leans against his door for support as his head spins from the scene he has played out in his head. Her robe falling apart, seeing the swell of her breasts, how her nipples must look. He imagines they’re hard from the chill in the hallway, pebbling into little buds. Then he’s imagining how he’d pull her back into his apartment, kissing and touching all over her skin till she’s left breathless and begging for more.

“Thanks,” Harry says and drops his arm to hold the towel down at his side.

“I owe you one,” Y/N states, “for letting me use the shower,” she adds. She’s not sure what else he would think she’s talking about, but she just felt the need to clarify. And she really needed to get back to her own apartment and finish getting ready. “See you around, Harry,” she says with a smile before walking away and hurrying into her home.

Harry thinks of how he should've wished her a safe flight, or even said goodbye. But instead he heard her door shut and followed suit by closing his own. Harry walks into his living room - discarding the towel on the back of his large arm chair, before moving his acoustic guitar from where it was laying on his couch and taking a seat. He then reaches for his cell phone that was left on the coffee table. Opening his contact, he finds the building's maintenance number and calls them.

“Hey Phil, how are you doing?... Good, I’m good yeah, uh, I’m just calling because the water in 602 isn’t working...Yeah Y/N, she actually had to leave in a bit of a rush, so I just wanted to make sure someone got in there as soon as possible to check it out,” Harry explains the situation to the building’s head maintenance man. “I’m not entirely sure when she’ll be back home, maybe you could give her a quick call and double check... Just being a friendly neighbour, Phil… Thanks Phil, have a good day and say hi to Georgia and the kids for me… Bye.”

Harry hangs up the phone and sets it back down onto the table, looking at the open notebook beside it. He hadn’t written anything all morning. Just had a few good cords stuck in his head. Harry picks up the guitar once more and plays the cords.

“Tangled wet hair, soft silk skin, looking so good it should be a sin,” Harry sings softly. It’s not his best and it’s not even that good, if he’s honest with himself. But it seems that Y/N sparked some inspiration inside of him. He grabs his pen, and starts scribbling down the words that now flow through his mind. Finishing with writing ‘Plush Purple Robe’ in capital letters before dropping the pen and going back to strumming the guitar.

He wrote nearly an entire song, thanks to how Y/N looked in that damn bathrobe standing in his apartment, and he just knew this would result in some teasing words from his friends when he brought it into their studio session next week.

Y/N was tired and her third Starbucks of the day wasn’t helping her out at all. She brings a hand up to cover yet another yawn that escapes her. Her eyes feel heavy, drooping as she blinks slowly a few times at her screen. She feels as though she might doze off if it wasn’t for the loud bang of the mail cart smacking against the elevator doors signalling it’s arrival for the day. It jolts her upright once again and she takes another big gulp of coffee, and sends a prayer up above, before she begins clicking away again at her laptop trying to finalize her schedule for the upcoming month of December.

Fittings, photoshoots, buyers meetings, and more fittings, there was rarely any free time in the first two weeks of the month. But thankfully her boss isn’t a complete Grinch and gave her minimal work during the last two weeks. Plus Y/N really did love her job. She lived for the magic world of fashion. The way her bustling office just meant that the designer’s creations were coming to life as A list celebrities and New York's elite fell in love with the pieces she’s gone through lengths to get for them.

She also loved Christmas just as much, if not more, as her job. Even thinking about everything she was looking forward to this holiday season made her feel all giddy inside now. Growing up in the city meant she knew the thrill of skating in Central Park and seeing the Rockefeller Christmas tree being lit up. Her smile was as bright as the lights. She loved going to the annual Christmas markets that were held; walking around with hot chocolate in her hands as she browsed the many homemade soaps and ornaments, and even clothing too. Y/N even enjoyed shopping at the Macy’s down the street and gasping at their holiday displays, and found herself buying a few too many decorations for her home while there. Over the past few days - with any free time she had off work - she had gone into full blown decorating mode in her apartment. It was like Santa’s village and it filled her with so much joy as she set everything into its rightful place in her new home, smiling from ear to ear at the twinkling lights and tinsel lining the perimeter of every room.

“Earth to Y/N,” her co-worker, Sammy, sings while leaning back in his desk chair to try and make eye contact with her.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, zoning back into reality and turning her own chair away from her desk that was up against the large floor to ceiling windows.

“Daydreaming about that hot new neighbour of yours?” Sammy teases her with a smug look on his face. Y/N rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest.

“No, I was not,” she says, “I’m regretting telling you about him already,” she adds. Sammy returns the eye roll.

“There’s no shame in having some eye candy as a neighbour you know,”

“Yeah there is when-“

“Y/N!” Her name suddenly being yelled across the room cuts her sentence off and makes Sammy and herself look over to where it came from. They both see their boss, Amanda, standing in the doorway of her office with both hands up in the air and a look of annoyance across her face. Y/N’s watch vibrates just on time to remind her of her meeting with Amanda. She’s always at least five minutes early; suppose daydreaming about the holidays - not her hot new neighbour - had put her behind schedule a bit.

“Better not keep her waiting,” Sammy says as he rolls his chair back over to his own desk while Y/N closes her laptop, taking it and a notebook with her quickly before slipping her feet back into her black heels. She always took them off when she sat at her desk to give her poor feet a break. As she broke into a speed walk across the office space, nearly avoiding the mail cart, she internally went over what today's meeting entailed.

“Sorry Amanda,” Y/N apologizes as she steps into the office, closing the glass door behind her quietly.

“It’s alright, you’re rarely even a few minutes behind that schedule of yours, so I was more surprised than anything,” Amanda states as she smooths her dress out and takes a seat at her desk. Y/N takes a seat in the chair across her desk, setting her laptop on her lap and then the notebook on top of it while she keeps her favourite pen in hand. It had a cheesy Christmas sweater snowflake pattern on it, which Y/N had bought a whole set for her and Sammy at Target last week.

“I wanted to quickly talk about your time with Miss Woods a couple days ago,” Amanda says, referring to one of the clients from North Carolina that had visited recently. “She said you showed her great hospitality and were a true New Yorker in her eyes, her words exactly.” Amanda gives Y/N a proud smile. “So, great job. She ended up purchasing those Gucci purses we had bought in hopes she’d like them even though she didn't ask for them. All thanks to you putting her in such a good mood, really.”

“Well she was a blast to be around, age really didn't slow her down,” Y/N and Amanda share a laugh. “She turned up my radio every time we got in my car, ordered doubles at dinner and brunch, and even talked about boy issues with me. It was a great time,” Y/N explains while adjusting herself in her seat and crossing a leg over the other casually.

“I think it’s your energy. Your love for this city can be infectious sometimes Y/N,” Amanda says. Y/N’s lips pull up into a smile at her words, they made her feel warm inside.

“Thank you,” she says softly with a nod.

“Now, onto what’s happening over this next week, let’s see how our schedules look,” Amanda starts as she opens her large planner than was always either on her desk or brought home in her large Louis Vuitton purse.

“I got an email from the lovely Mrs. Archibald this morning,” Y/N states. Amanda shakes her head as her face twists up at the mention of one of their bigger clients who happens to be married to the richest man in New York City. It’s just too bad she’s a real bitch sometimes because her attitude could make doing their job a bit harder at times. But Amanda and Y/N loved a challenge, and Mrs Archibald was just that. “She has a last minute dinner party tomorrow and she needs the newest item from Gucci that we can find immediately,” Y/N explains.

“Shit, our new stuff from Gucci doesn’t come in till next Monday,” Amanda curses, eyes roaming around her desk as if the answer to her problem would pop up somewhere.

“I know, which is why I went ahead and called Greg at the store on Fifth and Fiftieth, he said they just got a handful of exclusive holiday pieces early and would gladly have one of us pick a couple items up for Mrs Archibald,” Y/N says. Amanda’s sour look fades instantly and is replaced with a wide smile.

“What would I do without you, honestly!” Amanda exclaims. “Head over to Gucci after lunch today, and then we’ll get Mrs Archibald in first thing tomorrow.”

“Will do,” Y/N says while jotting down her after lunch plans onto a blank page in her notebook.

“How’s your influencer work going for you?” Amanda asks, her eyes on her planner in front of her instead.

“It’s been good, getting closer to five hundred thousand every day. I think the holidays will push me over the mark soon enough,” Y/N states.

“Great, make sure you’re getting close up shots of the dresses Greg shows you. Tease the people of what an exclusive holiday gown looks like,” Amanda suggests. Y/N smiles and jots down the note.

Having an audience was never the goal for Y/N. In fact, she thought of suspending her Instagram account all together once she got the promotion at work. She was worried that it would cause a conflict of interest, but Amanda and the rest of the team saw it as a plus. Having so many people follow Y/N’s life, being interested in what she’s interested in, wanting to get their hands on what she had, all lead to good publicity for the company. It even got them a few A list celebrities because of her account as they saw the company’s name in her bio, which led to contacting the company about setting some fittings up.

And with that set up, they settle into the rest of their itinerary for the week, making note of who needed to be involved with what, and who would be coming into their offices. Jennifer freaking Aniston was scheduled for a fitting this Friday and Y/N was praying she made it back from picking up an order of Louis Vuitton scarfs in time to see her in her custom grown that their team's seamstresses had been working tirelessly on with Prada’s team.

By the end of her and Amanda’s meeting, it was time for lunch. Sammy was waiting by her desk with his black Gucci backpack in hand that Y/N was sure held a Kardashian sized salad. Y/N was glad she meal-prepped teriyaki chicken and rice, so she didn’t have to eat yet another salad seeing as Sammy had gotten her into the over sized salad eating last month; she’s had enough of it.

“I’ve gotta head over to Gucci on Fifth Ave after,” Y/N states with a smile as her and Sammy walk into the conference room that they used for lunch sometimes, shielding themselves away from work a bit - even if the walls were glass and they could still see everyone working around them.

“Lucky bitch,” Sammy grumbles, “Greg always hooks you up with some free pieces when you go there, I swear.”

“Hey it’s only been a few items, nothing crazy,” Y/N defends herself before taking a bite of her lunch.

“Oh I’m sorry, two rings and a pair of tights are nothing crazy? Every other influencer would kill someone for those tights. Firstly, they’re so cute. And secondly, those rings cost my monthly rent.”

“I’m not complaining about any work perks. Maybe you could come with and get to know Greg a bit and get your own ring or two?”

Sammy chews his mouth full of salad, “no thanks, it’s so freaking cold out there. I’ll stay inside where it’s warm,” he says.

“Then don’t complain when I get another pair of tights and you don’t,” Y/N scowls playfully.

“I’d look so much better in those tights, you can’t even deny it,” Sammy says and pokes his fork at Y/N. She raises her hands up in surrender.

“Oh I wouldn’t dare to deny it, ever,” she smiles. They eat a few bites in silence. Y/N starts to feel a bit more energized by the protein she’s eating, thankfully. She now had a long journey to the Gucci store and back as well as a ton of emails to filter through too - which she’s sure will follow her home till the late hours of the night.

“What are you planning to wear for the Christmas office party?” Sammy chimes in, his eyes still on his phone.

“I don’t even know,” Y/N sighs and brings up her Pinterest app on her phone. “I found this outfit and am dying over it every day but I really should just find something in my closet and restyle it, I'm getting more broke by the day.”

“Blame your excessive christmas shopping habits,” Sammy deadpans while glancing at her phone screen.

“I’m aware of why I'm broke, thank you,” she deadpans back, narrowing her eyes at him. “Maybe Greg will have it in his heart to lend me a special piece for the party,” Y/N taunts Sammy with a smile on her face.

“Shut up,” he groans. Y/N laughs and is just about to shut her phone screen off when a phone call comes through from her apartment building maintenance.

“Hello?” She answers. “Hi Phil… Oh that’s awesome news thank you so much for getting it fixed so soon… Yes, I’m glad Harry called in about it right away too…” Y/N notices how her friend's eyebrows fly up at the mention of Harry’s name. “Lovely, thanks again Phil… Have a great day… Bye,” she hangs up the phone and sets it on the table in front of her.

“What did Harry do now?” Sammy questions without a second to spare. Y/N rolls her eyes, but can’t stop herself as she smiles.

“He called in about the water in my apartment like right after I made a mad dash out of his place to go pick up Mrs Woods in time. I hadn't even thought of calling about it and then I got a call on my way to the airport from the head maintenance guy saying Harry told him about it and asked for verbal permission to enter my apartment while I was out,” Y/N explains to him. She was still shocked by Harry’s kindness. Not only did he offer his shower to her, but he then got hers check out that same day. She probably wouldn't have called about it till the next day, if she was lucky to have any free time to stop by her house between entertaining Mrs Woods.

“What a neighbourly thing to do,” Sammy says smugly.

“Shut up, he’s just a nice guy.”

“Mhmm,” Sammy hums while stabbing his salad again for another bite.

The two of them continue to enjoy their lunch break and catch up on what’s been going on in the office. Their fellow associate Kate was trying to sleep with the mail cart boy. He seems freshly twenty one, if that. Just seven years younger than Kate, but she’s a well known cougar - it’s been a thing for, like, two years now. And Julianne was sick again, for the third time in two months. That was the extent of the office drama, sadly. Y/N packs up her bag with her left over lunch, notebook, and laptop before heading back to her desk with Sammy to get her coat and bundle up to brace the cold weather.

At least it wasn’t snowing.

The snow is coming down like a blizzard, making it hard for Harry to see in front of him. It was a colder day, his weather app had called for cloudy skies and a chance of some light flurries - but that all changed  in a split second and had Harry racing home from the coffee shop a few blocks away. He’s just praying his notebook full of new song ideas, based off his people watching this afternoon that’s now in his tote bag, doesn't get wet in the short trip he has to walk. Just as he’s about to turn left down the last block till his building, he sees a young woman struggling to walk along the sidewalk in her heels just in front of him. She’s carrying a large beige garment bag, having it folded over her arm as she tries to maneuver around the busy sidewalk and everyone is rushing to get out of the storm. Harry’s just behind her now, that’s when he recognizes the jacket and scarf.

“Y/N?” Harry says, trying to not startle her. But of course, as Y/N turns around to look behind her at whoever had just called out her name on the busy streets of New York, she slips.

“Oh my god!” She squeals, trying to keep the garment bag up so it doesn’t damage the dresses inside, but that means she doesn’t have any hands to throw out to catch herself. Harry sees her begin to fall and reaches out without hesitation. “The bag,” she says, trying to get Harry’s attention to saving the garment bag rather than her. But of course he manages to wrap his arms under hers and hold her upright, standing straight to get her back on her feet once more.

“Shit, I’m sorry, shouldn’t have scared you like that,” Harry says.

Y/N squints at him through the thick snowflakes, he’s standing so close though that she doesn’t have troubles staring into his enchanting eyes. She smiles, adjusting the dresses and her bag before motioning to their apartment building only a couple blocks away. “Let’s get out of this snow storm,” she suggests.

“Right,” Harry agrees and lets her start the walk - that way he can stick close behind in case those death heels of hers cause her to slip again.

Y/N regrets her decision of wearing heels so much right now. She’s sure her cheeks are still red from embarrassment of nearly falling on her ass in front of so many people. Harry’s seen in her purple bathrobe, which is already  embarrassing, but falling in heels in this snow storm would’ve only added to her list of making a fool of herself in front of him.

When she arrived at Gucci it was  just cloudy, but then after nearly two hours inside the store - mostly chatting with Greg and his associates, she walked outside into the blizzard. Her office was too far of a walk, she knew getting a cab or an Uber during the storm would just be a nightmare  and she didn’t want to wait around. There was no way she was going to risk taking the subway while carrying the garment bag that said Gucci right on it and have some lowlife steal thousands of dollars of designer clothes from her. So, she went with the most obvious option of getting these pieces out of the snow storm and headed  to her apartment building that was only a few blocks away, thankfully.

“Thanks for saving me back there,” Y/N says with a sigh as Harry uses his key to let them into the building. They both brush the snow off themselves as they walk across the lobby and to the elevator. “I would've been dead if this fell into a puddle or something,” she states while lifting the garment bag.

“Does that say Gucci?” Harry asks, eyebrows raised as he looks at the label on the bag.

“Yeah, I just had to pick up a few things for work,” Y/N explains vaguely. Harry has followed Gucci on Instagram for years, he loves their pieces and finds what they make to be so wonderful. He wishes he had the money to spend on a shopping trip there and yet here is his neighbour - who he may or may not be crushing on - with a large garment bag with Gucci items inside. “I can’t even imagine what Mrs Archibald would've done if I messed these up, god she'd have a fit,” Y/N says with a chuckle, looking at the floors lighting up as the elevator moved.

“Your boss?” Harry questions.

“No, a client, super rich and super bitchy,” Y/N answers, emphasizing both times she says super to really get her point across. She moves the garment bag from one arm to the other, leaning back against the elevator wall.

“Client? What kind of work do you do?” Harry tries to ask casually, not trying to seem creepy or invading in any way.

Y/N smiles, “I’m a part of the, oh so lovely, fashion industry.”

“You don’t like it?” Harry questions, eyebrows furrowed together.

“No, I do,” she corrects him.

The elevator opens then, Harry motions for Y/N to exit first as he had before. She smiles and walks down the hall to her apartment. Just as she fishes her keys from her coat pocket she turns back and looks at Harry when he walks past her. “I owe you, again, for saving my ass, literally from falling,” she says. Harry stops walking and looks at her, she smiles and tilts her head to the side. “And for calling the maintenance guy for the issues with my water,” she adds. Seems Phil spilled the beans, Harry thinks.

“I um, I wasn’t sure how long your trip was, and I just thought it’d be the nice thing to do by making sure they could get it fixed as soon as they could,” Harry explains.

“I actually didn’t go on a trip, I just had to pick someone up from the airport. But regardless it was very nice to know you thought of it for me. So thank you, I owe you, Harry,” she says again, giving him yet another one of her dreamy smiles. Harry’s heart did a little pitter patter in his chest as he looked over her face, taking in how her wispy hairs were wet from the snow that had melted on her head and how her eyes seemed to sparkle under the dim lighting of the hallway. But her lips, he’s been imagining those lips for two days now. Along with that purple bathrobe being on his floor again - his bedroom instead of the bathroom though.

“How about dinner?” Harry blurts out. Y/N had turned back to her door, having it unlocked and open as he had fallen into one of his daydreams about her. She pauses mid step and looks back at where he had stood still, her eyebrows are furrowed together as she thinks he misheard him. Oh shit, abort! Abort! Backtrack and say nevermind before she flat out rejects you, Harry thinks while he waits for her response.

“I, uh, I,” Y/N stops her stuttering and closing her eyes for a moment. She lets out a sigh and opens her eyes again to meet his nervous stare. “I have to hang this up, and change these shoes first,” she says.

“Of course,” Harry nods.

Y/N ponders over it for a moment before coming to the realization that the weather outside was truly frightful and they shouldn’t go out anywhere. “Honestly we shouldn’t go back out there. What if I just ordered something in and you came over? You like pizza?”

“Love it,” Harry smiles. Y/N nods and opens her door further, stepping in to survey the state of her apartment. It’s not messy, thank God. She had time this morning to put away her clean laundry that had taken up her couch over the past few days. There’s a couple hoodies draped over the back of the couch though, a half full glass of water on the coffee table and her kitchen has a pile of dirty dishes beside the sink that she hadn’t gotten to putting in the dishwasher yet. She quickly bends down to put away the few pairs of shoes that were kicked off in whatever direction they went, and turns on the two light switches by the door to light up her living room and hallway.

“Well, come on in,” she says as she turns back to Harry. He smiles as she lets out a deep breath and opens her front door for him.

He should’ve guessed that it would look like Santa had thrown up in her apartment. It was traditional, which Harry loved opposed to the new all white or all gold themes some people went with, but there was a lot of it. A red and green checkered throw blanket over the back of her grey couch, a decent sized tree filled with lights and tinsel and ornaments that all matched, a family of snowmen in one corner of her living room, and many little vintage looking nicknacks along her tv stand, and few shelves around the space. Not to mention the priceless looking tiny christmas village that was set up on top of the desk by her front door, fake snow laid on top to really pull it all together. So much Christmas, and he was only looking in one room. He imagined this festive feeling went throughout her entire home.

“It kind of seems like a lot whenever someone new sees all of my Christmas crap,” Y/N says, breaking Harry’s stare away from her living room and back to her now. She had hung up the Gucci bag on the closet door to her left, and had slipped out of her shoes and was now undoing the buttons of her coat. Her eyes are on the decorations around them though, looking unsure as she takes it all in.

“It’s lovely, honestly, not crap at all,” Harry assures her. Y/N turns back to look at him and mirrors his smile.

“I just have a big soft spot for the holidays, I can’t help myself from buying four Christmas themed throw pillows if they make me feel all warm inside,” she explains, motioning to the couch that did in fact have four pillows on it.

“If it makes you happy, you don’t have to have any reason for buying ‘em.”

“I suppose so,” Y/N hums, finally taking off her coat and hanging it up.

Harry quickly takes his off too as she reaches for it, to hang it beside hers. He gives her a small thanks and then takes his shoes off, setting them beside hers . Y/N has walked into the threshold to the left that led to her kitchen. He notices the tinsel hanging from the beam and smiles before taking a quick peek into her kitchen. As he guessed, it’s all decked out in Christmas stuff too. Towels and nicknacks that seem to replace everyday things like salt and pepper shakers and her soap dispenser that was spaced like a snowman.

“I’ll order a pizza right away. Hopefully this weather won’t slow them down. Have you ever eaten at Sal’s down the street?” Y/N questions.

“Tons,” Harry says. He leans against the threshold to the kitchen and watches as Y/N sets her purse on her small kitchen table and fishes through it for her cell phone. She’s got this crease between her brows as she can’t seem to find it, but it instantly goes away and is replaced with a smile as the iPhone is in her hands.

“Do you like anything on your pizza?” She asks, eyes on her phone screen and she brings up the menu. She typically just gets a cheese, sometimes spices it up with a vegetarian pizza cause she likes the green peppers and red onions.

“I’m actually a vegetarian,” Harry states. “Well, I eat fish on occasion so I guess I’m a pescetarian.”

“Oh cool,” Y/N says, looking up to see Harry’s watching her from the space between her kitchen and living room. The way he’s leaning against the small space of wall, arms crossed at his chest and head tilted to the side - he looks good. He’s dressed in a pair of beige trousers, straight and baggy as his last ones were too, and has a white tank top tucked into the waistband while he layered with a fun patterned button up shirt. She can’t quite make out what is printed on the shirt, but the little squares seem to each have a picture in them.

“Where did you get that shirt?” Y/N can’t stop herself from asking, the fashion lover in her wanting to know.

Harry glances down at the short sleeved shirt on his body, then shrugs, “I think I thrifted it back home in England a few years back,” he says.

“I like it,” she says, then brings up one shoulder in a shrug to make it seem more casual. It’s not weird to compliment your neighbours clothing, Y/N thinks as she glances back down at her phone. “I’m going to order a cheese and they have a great vegetarian pizza too that I like,” she tells Harry while punching in her order on her delivery app.

“Yeah, I’ve had it before, it’s pretty great,” Harry agrees. Y/N can’t help as her body reacts to how low and slow Harry’s voice is. How she gets small chills throughout her body, as if threatening to pebble goosebumps along her arms, and how her mind feels foggy almost as she listens to him speak. She rolls her lips into her mouth and stuffs her phone into the pocket of her fitted black pants. He could tell her the most pointless story and she would let him, just to hear his voice and that accent that went with it. Moving to her fridge, she finds the bottle of red she had opened last night. It’s such a normal thing for her to have a glass or two after work that she doesn’t even think of her guest. He might not even like wine.

“Do you drink?” Y/N asks, looking over her shoulder to see Harry still in the same spot but his hands now in the front pocket of his trousers.

“What are we drinking?” He asks with a smile.

Y/N smiles back, as she always does, and reaches for the wine she had her eye on. “I opened this bottle of wine last night, it’s red. Would you be interested in a glass?” She asks, holding the bottle up for Harry to see.

“I’d love a glass, thanks.”

“Perfect,” Y/N nods and sets the bottle down on the counter beside her fridge. “You can get comfortable on the couch, I’ll bring our drinks in a moment.”

“Sounds good,” Harry nods. With one final glance up her body as she reaches high in her cupboard for two wine glasses for them, he shakes his head and turns around. He has to stop checking her out, he has no idea if she’s into him or not. She’s simply being a nice neighbour, and here he was, fancying her so much he’s checking her out like some horny teenager.

Harry runs a hand through his hair, walking around the back of the couch to take a seat on the corner furthest from where the Christmas tree lit up Y/N’s living room. He really did like all of her joy that she’s put into decorating her home. There’s no doubting her love for the holiday, not a single space feels like it was forgotten as she must have spent all day setting it up. He especially liked the framed photo on the side table to his right, where there was also a rather plain lamp and a Santa spaced coaster too. Inside the frame was a small child who he knew immediately was Y/N. There was no mistaking that smile of hers even at such a young age. She’s sitting on a man’s lap, a man dressed as Santa, but it’s truly the most realistic mall Santa he’s even seen. Harry thinks back to his home in that moment, imagining the many photos of him and his older sister with many variations of mall Santas that must be littering his mum’s house by now. Truthfully, many of them didn’t leave the shelves during the year.

“Here you go,” Y/N says as she holds out a wine glass nearly half full of red wine to Harry. He takes it from her, his fingers brushing hers for a moment and sending those childish tingles through his body.

“Thanks,” he nods and brings the glass to his lips to have a taste. If he wouldn’t be so infatuated by Y/N, he would have told her that he typically didn’t drink red wine. He typically doesn’t drink at all, except for the occasional night out with his mates. But he saw that look on her face that said ‘I need a glass or two’ and he couldn’t say no, knowing it’d make her feel awkward and  end up not having a glass herself.

Y/N lets out a long sigh as she takes a seat on the other side of the couch, relaxing alongside Harry as if they aren’t complete strangers. He liked that she felt comfortable around him. She did in fact enter his apartment the other day in a bathrobe and use his shower after all. After she takes another long sip of wine, she sets it down on a matching Santa coaster that sits on the coffee table - Harry notices now that she had brought the bottle of wine with her too.

“Long day?” He questions. Y/N nods, tucking her legs under her as she gets comfortable on the couch beside him. She clears her throat softly before answering him.

“Uh, yeah, work’s just been a lot lately and I’m actually looking forward to some time off,” Y/N says, running a hand through her hair, and then leans her arm on the back of the couch. Harry watches her movements, bringing his glass of wine to his lips to have a small sip, which he notices she watches him do. He likes her eyes on his lips, he thinks before turning his body slightly and setting his wine on the side table. When he turns back and looks her way he notices the slightly tint of pink flushing over her cheeks. Harry fights the tug at his lips to smile at how she seemed to catch on that he caught her staring at his lips.

“That’s always the worst, feeling as if you’re counting down till the days off,” Harry exclaims.

“I typically don’t, to be honest. I love my job,” Y/N states. “It’s my career so I better,” she adds with a chuckle.

“So you’ve already found your career at such a young age then, that’s awesome. Have you always known you wanted to be involved in the fashion industry?” Harry asks, his eyebrows pulled together as he does find himself very curious of how she herself a career so young.

“First off, twenty four is really starting to not feel young anymore so let's not label me as a youngster or anything alright-“

“Um, twenty four is young but okay,” Harry cuts her off with a playful look on his face. Y/N rolls her eyes and chooses to ignore his teasing. He’s always hung out around people older than him and typically dated women older too. But Y/N doesn't seem young. From what he’s seen from her, she doesn’t fit the mold of any twenty four year olds he’s known before - most being rather rude and partying their youth away while it’s obvious that Y/N worked hard during those years. Y/N looks as though she's got the whole world figured out already, and he admires that a lot.

“And secondly, yeah, I guess I sort of did know, not at first, of course, but it was always an interest of mine,” Y/N states, bringing Harry back to their conversation.

“What did you want to be when you were a youngster then?” He questions, using her choice of words back at her which makes Y/N chuckle. She shakes her head and looks up at the ceiling for a moment as she falls back into memories of her childhood. She remembers being emotionally attached to a pair of plastic pink princess slippers and how she slept in her matching tiara for nearly a year before her mom put a stop to her fantasy.

“I wanted to be a princess-“

“Me too,” Harry says.

“Stop interrupting me,” Y/N laughs and reaches across the couch to smack his arm. Harry's head feels light, his cheeks hurt from grinning at Y/N so much. He hasn’t felt like this in quite a while. Being able to have a light conversion with a pretty girl. How she makes him smile and laugh so easily too, it’s a really nice feeling.  “But you’d make a much prettier princess for sure-“

“Not at all,'' Harry disagrees, managing to cut her off yet again. She glares at him but can’t help the smile that's still on her face.

“Anyways, I wanted to be a princess and then I wanted to be one of Santa’s elves-”

Harry chuckles, “of course,” he says as he’s not so surprised to hear her say so - seeing as it looked like Santa’s village inside her apartment.

Y/N chooses to ignore his short interruption this time and continues on. “But then as I got older and got ahold of the internet, I wanted to be a model cause I thought it was the most glamorous thing, but I wasn't as beautiful or skinny as Candice Swanepoel so that was out of the question-“

“This is the last time I'll interrupt you I promise,” Harry says, Y/N presses her lips tight together and gives Harry another look as if to say yeah right. “But I cannot let you sit here and say you aren't pretty or skinny enough to be a model, Y/N, because you are one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen and your weight is nothing to ever question,” Harry pauses as he looks down at the sofa between them, realizing that he had said all that out loud. He was slightly embarrassed as he’s not sure how she’d take her neighbour saying all that to her.

My heart needs to calm down like now, Y/N thinks as she wets her lips and fidgets with her own hands as she watches Harry. “Y/N, don’t ever think less of yourself,” he adds in a gentle voice that sends chills down her spine.

Y/N doesn't respond right away, because honestly she's speechless. No one has ever said something so kind and so genuine to her. Sure, she’s gotten compliments from people, but the way Harry immediately stopped her from talking poorly of herself had made her stomach stir and her heart race. They had only just met, only had a few interactions - they were all good, great even - but Harry wasn’t like most people she’s met before and she’s beginning to realize that. She looks up to see Harry's watching her, his green eyes staring back at hers. Something switches in the air between them as Harry feels like he should lean in. Should he lean in? Would she want that? Does she want him?

“Thanks,” she smiles, bringing Harry back to their conversation. She clears her throat and sits up straight again, flipping her hair over her shoulders and snuggling into the couch some more. “If I ever feel down about myself again, I’ll be sure to knock on your door and demand you shower me in compliments,” Y/N teases.

“I’d be honoured to,” Harry says. There's another beat of silence, but it's not quiet inside his head. All he’s thinking about is how he should've made a move. She felt it too, right? Harry stops himself before he can go too far inside his head again while thinking about Y/N. “I won’t cut in again. Continue from the dreams of being a model - which you’d be a great model, by the way, don't count that one out just yet.”

Y/N smiles again, not even sure if she’s stopped smiling honestly. “Right, well, modeling led me into the world of fashion. Not that I hadn't known about Vogue or any of the high fashion houses since I did grow up in New York; fashion week had always been a highlight for me. But I actually started to look into the other sides of it. Designing wasn't an option, I just didn't feel original enough. So I did some personal assistant stuff during my high school years at fashion week, working behind the scenes at shows.”

Y/N pauses to lean forward and grabs her glass of wine again, needing liquid to coax her throat before she continued. Harry noticed that she was talking so passionately, probably not even realizing how much she was using her hands while speaking or how her eyes lit up at the world she painted for him. “And then I got a scholarship into FIT, the Fashion Institute of Technology. I was lucky enough to get an internship at my current workplace but quickly got offered a position on my graduation day, and now I'm one of our senior associates.”

“And what does your job really entitled to exactly?”

“We do a lot of things, but we’re really a personal shopper and stylist company. Working with many of New York's elite, even some of the east coast’s elite really, as well as celebrities too, which is always fun to see the dress you styled at the Met Gala or the Grammys. I just do a lot of running around, it feels like,” Y/N explains, “like how I had to rush to the Gucci store on Fifth Ave in order to get some pieces for Mrs. Achibald for tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds like a real tough job,” Harry taunts. Y/N returns his smug look and narrows her eyes at him playfully.

“Right, well what do you do then? You always seem to be home, I’m starting to think you don’t even have a job. Maybe you’ve just got a sugar daddy, hmm?” Y/N jokes. Harry lets out a loud laugh, throwing his head back. Y/N laughs with him before taking a sip of her wine that she had almost forgotten about.

“Definitely not a sugar baby, although that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh, totally,” Y/N nods in agreement. They both chuckle again. Harry reaches for his wine to take a sip before answering her question for real this time. Blame the wine, he thinks, for any longing looks or laughing too much at her jokes just blame the red wine in his glass.

“I’m actually in the music industry, kind of,” Harry states.

“How are you kind of in the music industry?” Y/N questions curiously, her brows pulled together as she takes another sip of wine.

“I am a studio rat, as people in the industry would call it,” Harry says, Y/N’s face scrunches up at his words utterly confused at the term. “I pretty much live in music studios most of the year. Most of my time is taken up by writing. So I guess I’m a songwriter, but I also make demos for my songs with a few people I’ve grown close with in my studio, so I end up doing some instruments for artists' studio versions of songs. I do a bit of producing too, but I mostly leave that to my buddy, Tom.”

“Wow, that sounds like a really cool job. And here I was jabbering on about my job when you’re a songwriter? That’s so cool,” Y/N repeats, another sip of wine going down her throat as she stares at Harry. His cheeks are starting to turn red, eyes avoiding hers as he fidgets with his rings. “Have you written any songs I’d know?” She asks, trying to get more information out of him.

“Maybe,” Harry shrugs.

“You’re not going to tell me?” Y/N asks, brows pulled together.

“Nope,” Harry shakes his head.

“Shouldn’t you be proud of your work?”

“Of course I am,” Harry says, bringing a crooked finger up to his nose before rubbing it twice. “I just know that my music might not be everyone's favourite.”

Since the beginning of his freelance songwriting career, Harry's always been nervous to show people what he’s poured his heart and soul into, especially to people he’s friends with, or people he likes. What if they hated it? He couldn’t bear listening to the fake “it's great” with an even faker smile. Although he knows people do like his songs, those people were mainly artists that bought his songs and their fans, of course, along with his fellow colleagues. He just doesn't want Y/N to hate his work.

“Well, I'm sure it's brilliant,” Y/N says. “And maybe one day you’ll show me.” She adds with a smile, not wanting to force the subject, over the rim of her wine glass before taking another sip and finishing off the red liquid in one small gulp. She frowns at the empty glass and sets it down on the Santa coaster on the coffee table. “Do you write all the time then?” Y/N asks, bringing her gaze back to Harry’s.

“Pretty much, although I’m in the studio less in December due to it being so close to the holidays. I’ve actually got my last session with my mates just in a few days.”

“Counting down the days till you have some time off?” She asks, referring to what he had said earlier to her.

“Not particularly,” Harry says.

Y/N is about to ask why, but then her phone bings from her pocket. It’s then that she realizes she hadn’t thought of looking at her phone once since sitting down with Harry. She had been so engrossed with their conversation, and feeling a light buzz that she managed to forget about the pizza she ordered. The notification on her screen read that her pizza had arrived at the building, and the delivery person would be here any second. Then her phone starts ringing.

“Hello,” Y/N answers the phone in a sweet voice. Harry has to stop himself from staring, instead finding himself grabbing the red wine that he wasn’t too fond of, and has a few sips as he listens to Y/N talk to, what he assumes, is the pizza delivery. She buzzes them up with one tap on her phone before the call ends. “Our dinner is finally here,” she tells Harry, even though he had gathered as much, but he still smiles in response. She stands from the couch and adjusts her pants by pulling them up slightly. They fit her so bloody well, Harry thinks. “And we are both nearly done with a glass of wine each before we’ve even eaten,” Y/N chuckles as she walks past Harry and to the kitchen to her purse.

While Y/N pays for their food, Harry takes it upon himself to top off her glass of wine. He was content with his last few sips between bites. Y/N sets the two pizza boxes on the coffee table before rushing into the kitchen to grab two plates and some napkins for them. They work together in a comfortable silence to get things set up; both boxes open and Y/N settles back onto the couch before they dig into the large New York slices.

Y/N brings a piece straight from the box to her mouth, once she bites into the greasy food she moans around her mouthful of cheesy pizza. Harry is just about to take his first bite as well but stops just short at the sounds that come from Y/N. He dares to glance her way, throat bobbing as he takes her in. Both eyes closed, her head hanging back and lips turned up into a smile as she chews her food. He watches her swallow, utterly mesmerized by her soft skin moving just slightly. Dear god, Styles, get it together, he thinks as he imagines her swallowing something else.

Y/N opens her eyes at the sound of Harry clearing his throat, turning her gaze to him and seeing him lift his piece of pizza to her in a ‘cheers’ manner. “Thanks again for the meal,” Harry says. There his voice does it again, sounding all low and throaty as it makes chills go down her spine.

“No problem,” Y/N nods. She tries to focus back on eating her food, willing the thoughts in her head to go away. But she can’t stop them from entering her dreams later that night after Harry and her had said their goodbye - Harry noticed her yawn a few times and began to clean up their plates and empty wine glasses while he continued to tell Y/N about his time in school before he was writing songs full time on his way to the kitchen. Y/N watched him from her spot on the couch, smiling at how he didn’t think twice on cleaning up after them. She was pretty sure that’s how her dream started too, but then it led to Harry’s voice whispering in her ear, asking if she’s been naughty or nice this year while they laid in bed. Y/N blames the large glass of wine. One hundred percent she blames the wine.

There wasn’t a more perfect day in the year, Y/N was sure of it, as she sat on a bench in Central Park. It was t-minus three weeks before Christmas Day and she had just gotten off work. The sun was slowly setting in the horizon as she stared at the sparkling snow that covered the ground and trees around her.

“Y/N?”

She turns her gaze away from the skating rink in the distance to see who had called out her name. A smile tugs at her lips as she sees Harry a few feet away. He’s dressed in a long dark coat that reaches to his knees, one which was exposed from a rip in his loose fitting jeans. With his outfit he wore a pair of chelsea boots upon his feet that trudged through the snow. Y/N noticed that he was bundled up with a grey scarf around his neck and a matching beanie upon his head too. She liked how his hair flipped up at the ends, sticking out of the beanie.

It has been almost a week since their pizza night together, and thankfully, those wine induced dreams had stopped after that one night, which to be fair were rather innocent compared to some other dreams she had thanks to too much tequila - regardless, it’s making it much less awkward to face him now.  

“Hey,” she greets him as she meets his eyes once more. Harry stops by the bench, motioning at the open space to her left.

“Mind if I sit with you?” He asks. Y/N shakes her head and moves to her right just a bit to make more room for him. “Was going for a stroll, thought I was imagining you sitting here by yourself to be honest.” Harry states.

“New York City can seem rather small some days,” Y/N says with a smile.

“Some days, yeah,” Harry nods. “What brings you out to this lonesome bench in Central Park?” Harry asks, looking out at the scenery before them.

“This,” Y/N answers with a hand out to the park.

“It's rather pretty.”

“Very, and calming. And after my day at the office today, I desperately needed to just sit here by myself and disconnect from the world for a moment.”

“Oh,'' Harry says, bringing Y/N’s gaze away from the couple holding hands across the pond and to him instead. “I'm- I'm sorry if I barged in. I just thought it’d be weird if I didn’t say hi.”

“Oh no, it’s totally okay,” Y/N assures him. “I’ve been out here for a good while now.” As if her body realizes at the same time, she shivers beside Harry.

“Did you want to head home?”

“Not particularly,” Y/N hums. Her eyes falling back to the sights before her. The sky is becoming a soft hue of pinks and oranges before their eyes. It warms her heart despite her entire body is cold.

“How about a cup of hot cocoa?” Harry suggests as he sees the cart serving hot drinks just to their right. An older couple and, what seems to be, their grandchildren are being served steaming cups and candy canes too. That seems like something Y/N would like, Harry thinks as he stands from the bench. He's about to offer his hand but thinks twice about it, sticking both his hands into his coat pockets before he can make a fool of himself. “My treat,” Harry adds with a smile.

“I would love that,” Y/N beams while standing from the bench and falling into step with him.

Harry orders for the two of them as they step up to the small cart. Y/N discreetly takes out her phone and opens her Instagram app, swiping to the right to open her camera before she’s bombarded with notifications. She holds down on her screen to begin filming her pointed Versace boots that she had been gifted from work this winter; they had become a staple as the weather grew colder and the snow kept coming down since they had the thickest heel of all the shoes in her closet. Holding the phone up, she catches half of Harry’s body as she films the hot chocolate cart. His back is to the camera, his large coat and beanie covering any angle she did get of him so she’s not afraid to post the story after adding a quick filter to it and typing ‘pro tip: always get a hot chocolate when you’re feeling chilly in central park’ tagging her location as well before hitting post to her story and feeding her nearly five hundred thousand followers with some content for the first time all day.

“Thank you,” Y/N says softly as Harry hands her a to-go cup without a lid since there’s an abundance of whipped cream on top. Her smile turns into a grin as he also reveals he bought her a candy cane. She gasps and is quick to unwrap it and stick it into her mouth.

“Woah, you’re like a toddler itching for a sugar rush, huh?” Harry teases as they begin walking along the path and away from the cart.

“Candy canes are my weakness,” Y/N states as she pushes it to the left side of her mouth in order to talk more clearly.

“Good to know,” Harry smiles over the rim of his cup before opening his mouth and licking off some of the whipped cream. Y/N has to look away as she’s brought back to her dream.

Shaking her head slightly, she brings her phone back up to her face and it unlocks for her. Since it’s still open on the Instagram camera, she holds out her heaping cup of whipped cream and attempts to take a picture as they walk. The first two turn out blurry, then she stops walking, in hopes it’ll turn out nice before Harry can notice she stopped. Only it doesn’t of course, so she ends up furrowing her brows and sucks harder on the candy cane in her mouth before trying three more times to take the perfect snap.

Suddenly, Harry’s hand is in her shot, a blur over her whipped cream. She gasps and looks up to see his forefinger in his mouth, obviously licking off the bit of whipped cream he managed to steal. She’s surprised he did it, and she can tell he is a bit too, but then she huffs out a short chuckle while her mouth is still agape, which makes Harry grin. He doesn’t think twice as he reaches out to swipes his finger over the sweet cream again.

“Stop stealing my whipped cream!” Y/N glares at Harry as he licks his finger clean once more.

“It’s gonna melt anyways, you're taking so bloody long to drink any of it.”

“I'm busy enjoying my candy cane, jeez,” Y/N rolls her eyes and takes the candy out of her mouth, having forgotten about the picture, her phone screen turns blank. Harry shrugs and reaches forward again to steal more. Y/N is faster this time, and moves her cup away from him while bringing her candy cane up and pointing towards him. “Do it again and I'll stab you,” She warns. Harry throws his free hand up in surrender, but both of his cheeks have those deep dimples showing. I’m beginning to really like those dimples, Y/N thinks.

“You get rather hostile over your holiday treats, hm?” Harry questions, raising a brow before slowly retreating his hand to hold his own hot chocolate with his other. He brings the cup to his mouth with both hands and takes a sip.

“Yes, in fact, I do,” Y/N mutters, looking down at her own cup and notices that the whipped cream is nearly gone now. Suppose Harry was right, she missed her chance to enjoy the extra sweetness.

She takes a few sips as they continue to walk together through Central Park. The sky is beautiful as the sunset is in its full glory with dreamy pinks and purples littering the skies. Y/N debates taking a photo but decides against it as she slips her phone into her pocket. Just as she’s about to return the candy cane back to her mouth, she glances over at Harry and notices just as he brings down his own hot chocolate from his mouth that he’s made a bit of a mess.

She chuckles before saying, “you’ve got a little,” Y/N points to her upper lip, “uh, a whipped cream moustache.” She giggles as Harry pokes the tip of his tongue out and swipes it over his top lip. Y/N chuckles some more and offers him her napkin.

“Thanks,” Harry says before wiping it across his mouth, looking back to her to ask, “did I get it all?”

Y/N finds herself staring at Harry for a few moments longer than it would take to give a simple answer if his face was clean or not. She’s never felt so comfortable around someone before, not even her childhood friends or Sammy honestly. There’s this ease around Harry the few times they’ve been around one another, and it makes her heart swell up in her chest. She rolls her lips into her mouth and inhales deeply through her nose, breaking her gaze away from his face and to the ground. In order to not seem weird or awkward, she looks back up and finds his eyes on her while she nods her head.

“Yeah, you’re good,” she tells him. They start their walk through Central Park once more, heading towards home at a slow pace. Y/N has her candy cane back in her mouth, alternating between it and her hot chocolate before it got too cold. She could live off them both one hundred percent; two of the best things ever invented.

“So, tell me about your day,” Harry says, bringing Y/N out of her own thoughts and meeting his gaze again.

“It was a pretty good day, I guess,” she sighs, “we just have a lot of clients that like to do last minute shopping during the holidays and have some pretty crazy demands, but we want to deliver for them so we bend over backwards to do so.”

“I’m sure that can cause you to be rather exhausted then, yeah?”

“Very,” Y/N nods, “but I’m sure your day was much more interesting than mine, so tell me what kind of songs you wrote today?” Y/N asks with a smile.

Harry chuckles and lets Y/N lead the way to their left on the path home, he wasn’t the most confident with getting around sometimes since he usually stuck to the few places in the city that he was familiar with. While he has learned that Y/N is a New York City Native, he trusts her way direction over his, that’s for sure. He thinks back on what he had done today, including a quick run on the treadmill in the gym in their building that ended sooner than he thought as he got a burst of lyrical inspiration out of nowhere.

“I was in my apartment for most of the morning and a bit of the afternoon, then got in a bit of a rut after writing a new song about love, of course. Then I decided I needed to get out of the house and hope for some inspiration from people watching, which I have done a lot since living here,” Harry explains. Y/N takes a big gulp of her nearly cold drink, leaning to her left to get to the garbage they are passing in order to throw out the empty cup. Harry takes the chance to throw his empty cup out too.

“Do you always write about love?” Y/N asks, not thinking twice if it may be a bit too personal of a question. Harry is taken back at first by how that’s all she got from what he had said, but he only clears his throat and shoves his hands into his pockets now that they are free.

“Mostly, yeah,” he nods, “most relatable thing in life, I suppose.”

“Sometimes, I guess it can be,” Y/N agrees and goes back to sucking on her candy cane. She wonders how many times he’s been in love? How many times has she really been in love? Y/N sighs internally and focuses on her steps, avoiding a puddle by having to step closer to Harry. She sniffles from the cold at the same time and is hit with Harry’s scent - lavender, as it always seems to be how he smells. She still thinks it’s lovely.

The two of them make more casual conversation on their fifteen minute walk home through the busy streets. Harry tells her about an elderly couple he had seen just before seeing her, maybe in their 80s, and looking more in love than he’s ever seen before. He wrote a few things about how they looked before going on his way. Y/N tells him about how her grandparents used to go on walks through the park when she was younger, which then brings them into the topic of grandparents in general. Harry tells her about how his grandpa refuses to retire and how his grandma ends up bugging his mom because of how lonely she is. Y/N is smiling the whole time, loving how he must feel comfortable around her too as he’s able to talk about his family like this. Y/N also yawns many times in their short walk. She’s tempted to invite Harry into her apartment for some wine and pizza again but decides against it and simply gives him a smile and soft goodbye at her door, deciding to get into her night routine earlier than normal due to how she can’t stop yawning.

After hanging up her coat, double checking her door was locked, and slipping out of her boots, Y/N pulled her phone out of her pocket to check out what text she missed while on her walk home. She liked how she wanted to feel so present around Harry, having no want to look at her phone but instead being more interested in his little stories about his grandparents. Her face ID unlocks as she looks at the screen. It’s still on the photo she last tried to take for her Instagram. Harry’s hand was a bit of a blur as he stole her whipped cream off the top of her hot chocolate. There was no way to not know it was Harry’s hand, though, his rings being so unique and noticeable in the photo as well - her favourite being his initials wrapped around his fingers in gold. Some would think it’s maybe a bit narcissistic, but Y/N thought it looked good and really there’s no harm in being a narcissist sometimes right?

Y/N saves the photo but doesn’t post it, deciding to simply keep it for herself instead of letting her many followers see into a small yet sweet moment between her and her newest friend. She could call him that right? They were friends? Y/N did hope that Harry thought of her as a new friend too because she was enjoying this time with him a lot, maybe even a little too much.

It had been another day spent at the cafe down the street for Harry. Marking only one last day off till his final studio time this year, he was itching to get to work in a couple days and see his mates too. Over the almost two weeks, he’s written more than he had expected himself to and he knew he could thank a certain new neighbour, or I guess, a new friend, Harry thinks to himself as he turns towards his apartment building. There was no denying the feeling he got around Y/N. He wanted to become more than friends, eventually, no rush of course - but he couldn’t ignore the feeling he got around her; the butterflies and heart racing nearly every moment together. And he couldn’t forget the constant smiling, which he was doing right now just thinking about her.

Harry walks up to the main doors of his apartment building and notices a man beside the main doors. Harry furrows his brows at him. He didn’t look like some strange man trying to find warmth during the beginning of the evening here in the city that had fallen to freezing temperatures as the first week of December came to an end. In fact, he had a brand new iPhone in his hand and rather expensive looking clothes keeping him warm.

“Hey, did you need inside?” Harry asks the man standing by the intercom system. The man looks up at Harry, eyes narrowing at him. He seems Harry’s age, maybe even a few years older judging by the lines around his eyes. He’s got dark eyebrows which makes Harry think he must have dark hair under the beanie he wore under the hood of his thick winter coat. Harry waits for an answer, staring back into the stranger’s brown eyes.

“Yeah, girlfriends not answering and I know she’s inside,” his voice is low and gruff, he then lifts a Starbucks hot cup up - Harry recognizes the holiday pattern anywhere now since Y/N seems to always have one on her even in quick passing in or out of the building. “Even got me to pick her up this stupid drink on my way too, her fault if it’s cold now I guess.”

“Guess so,” Harry mumbles, kind of put off by the man’s attitude. He decides to give him the benefit of the doubt and holds the door open for it. The man walks in without so much of a thank you. You’re welcome, Harry sarcastically thinks to himself.

They walk together to the elevator in an awkward silence. Once the doors open Harry steps up to the buttons and hits the sixth one, not bothering to ask the man what floor he needs as he steps away. The stranger gives the lit up button a brief look before he’s staring down at his phone. As the elevator moves Harry’s mind wanders off to how he’d assert himself into Y/N’s evening today. Maybe he could make her dinner, then ask if she’d like to walk over to Central Park after because he knows how much she enjoys it there, and when they decide to take a break from walking and find a bench he’d finally get the nerve to make a move - maybe reach for her hand during the walk even. One thing was for sure, he liked Y/N and he needed to buck up and do something about it.

He’s still deep in thought about Y/N when the elevator doors open. The man he let into the building steps out first without even glance at Harry. Typical New Yorker, he thinks. Harry finds himself looking at where Y/N’s apartment door is over the man's shoulder as they walk down the hall, he’s debating just walking right up and asking her to hang out right away. But then the man stops in front of the door that reads 602 - Y/N’s door.

Y/N hears the knock on her front door and blinks rapidly at her laptop screen, unfocusing from her long email that she was to send to her boss, Amanda, within the hour with an update on how the first week of December had gone. She glances at the time and sees it’s nearly four in the afternoon. Took him long enough, she thinks while rolling her eyes and standing from the couch. Just as she’s a few steps away there’s another knock on the door. She sighs and unlocks it, quickly throwing the door open to reveal Mark standing on the other side.

“You are home,” he says, that attitude she knows so well is thick in his voice already. Y/N opens her mouth, about to sass him back, but then she notices a certain tall figure with a mess of brown hair walking behind Mark.

“Harry,” Y/N breathes out, hoping he didn’t even hear it honestly. But he slows his steps and gives her a tight lipped smile once facing her. It’s one she was not familiar with and makes her stomach feel as though it was full of rocks.

“Hey,” he says with a small three finger wave.

“You know this guy?” Mark, her boyfriend, questions. Bringing her eyes from Harry’s green ones and to his brown ones instead. “He was nice enough to let me into this place since you were too busy,” he states.

Y/N tucks her lips into her mouth and looks away from Mark and back to Harry. She knows he’s questioning everything by the look in his eyes. She tried. Well, maybe not hard enough, but she wanted to tell him about Mark, even just casually and quickly. Y/N didn’t intend to give Harry any sort of mixed signals during their times together, she really was just being polite and ended up enjoying being around him so much that she thought there was no harm in making a new friend. But she’d be an idiot to try and deny she felt something more than friendship with Harry.

“Yeah, uh,” she clears her throat and waves a hand between the two young men, “Mark, this is Harry my uh, my neighbour. Harry this is Mark, my boyfriend.”

Well shit, that’s not ideal, Harry thinks as he looks into Y/N’s eyes and prays he heard her wrong. But he knows he didn’t. So, he just takes a deep breath and forces a smile to stay on his face while holding a hand out to Mark, even though it hurt him to be polite to the guy that was dating the girl he’s been crushing on for nearly two weeks now.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Harry says as Mark grasps his hand and shakes it lazily. Shit handshake, he thinks. “I would love to stay and chat but I’ve got some work to get to,” he says quickly after taking his hand out of Mark’s and backing away from the situation towards his own apartment.

Y/N opens her mouth, but the words don’t come out. She just watches as Harry turns on his heels and his posture hunches as he gets to his door and tries to unlock it quickly. Mark is suddenly pushing past Y/N, saying something but she’s too focused remembering the look on Harry’s face just moments ago. She steps back into her apartment and doesn’t look over to where Harry is shutting his own door before closing her own gently.

Really fucked this up didn’t you, Y/N? She thinks as she turns the lock on her door and listens to Mark complain about his day while flinging his belongings around her living room. What is she going to do? What is she going to say? If Harry ever talks to her again, that is. She sighs and closes her eyes before making her way towards where her boyfriend was lounging on her couch, giving him a small smile as he opened his arms for her to sit with him.

“I did miss you these past few weeks while I was away,” Mark says, planting a quick kiss to her hair as she leans into his body - praying he doesn’t question why her heart is beating so fast. She’s sure he wouldn’t enjoy knowing it’s because of her growing feelings for her new neighbour, and seeing the realization in Harry’s face at the fact she wasn’t single kind of hurt to see.

“Missed you too,” she mumbles, lying. Y/N hadn’t thought about her boyfriend all that much these past, almost, three weeks that he was away for a business trip.

“Do much without me?” Mark asks.

Y/N shakes her head, “no, not much at all,” her soft voice replies while she begins to zone out on the wall that was between her and Harry’s apartments, noticing how it made her feel more separated from him now more than ever. 

>> part two <<

thanks for reading, please reblog/leave some feedback if you enjoyed it! until next week 😘

*like this post if you’d like to be added to the cstsyl taglist!*

[bethansfandoms]

I have a quote prompt it is “if the world ended tonight I would be glad your by my side” .

As Remus sat on the astronomy tower, the pleasant summer evening slowly turning into night, he wondered how long he could get away with sitting there before anybody found him or noted him missing.

It had been the full moon the previous night. His last one at Hogwarts. In four days the train would pull into kings cross station like it did at the end of every year. Except, this time, Remus wouldn’t be catching it again the following September.

He stayed sat against the wall, hugging his knees as the final dregs of daylight faded away and were replaced by darkness. The moon was clearly visible and reflected its pearly image into the black lake. Remus smiled slightly. How strange it was that something so beautiful could do such terrible things.

“There you are.”

Remus snapped out of his daydream and turned his head. Sirius was standing there in what appeared to be his pyjama t-shirt and school trousers, as though he had been half way through getting ready for bed and then changed his mind.

Sirius smiled and sat down next to him. “What’re you doing up here?”

“Thinking.”

“About?”

“About how I was quite enjoying the peace and quiet before you showed up.”

Sirius laughed and gently nudged their shoulders together. “Very funny. Feeling sentimental yet?”

Remus sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “A little. I don’t think I’m ready for the real world yet.” It was so truthful that it scared him a little bit. “I think Hogwarts has given me a very deluded view of how easy it’ll be for people like me.”

“People like you?” Sirius questioned. “What? Smart? Top of the class? Passionate? Give me a hint.”

Remus sighed and looked at Sirius’ profile, his skin slightly illuminated by the moonlight. “None of that will matter to anybody as soon as they find out I’m a werewolf.”

“Do you know what I think, Moony?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”

Sirius smirked slightly. “I think you spend so much time belittling yourself that you fail to see that not everybody in the world will judge you for that. Case and point, moi.” He clutched a hand to his chest for emphasis.

“Potential employers will. I just... I wanted to have it all figured out by now, I wanted a plan.”

“If you could do anything, imagining there wasn’t a war on, what would you do?”

“Imagining I wasn’t a werewolf, too?”

“Remus,” Sirius said, sadly.

“No, don’t pretend it isn’t an issue. If I could do anything... I’d teach. Here. And that’s never going to happen because nobody will want me anywhere near their children so... yeah. I’ll join Dumbledore’s order and I’ll fight in a war and if it’s ever over, then I’ll be left with nothing.”

“For the record, you would be an excellent teacher. And don’t say that. When the war is over, you won’t have nothing. You’ll have me for a start.

Remus sighed. “Living with me can’t be your life plan, surly.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well... James is moving in with Lily, isn’t he? One day you’ll find your Lily too.”

“You say that like you won’t.”

“Sirius,” Remus said, his voice laced with the faintest traces of frustration. “Dating means telling them what I am. I can’t conceal it from someone, that isn’t fair.”

“Merlin, Moony, how many times? You are more than that stupid affliction. You’re smart and you’re funny and you’re caring and you... fuck, Remus, you’re one of the best people I know. Not everyone will care about the werewolf thing, I don’t, do I?”

Remus hugged his knees a little closer and rested his chin on them. “You’re sure you want to live with me?”

Sirius turned his head, studying Remus before looking back up at the stars and huffing. “Did you listen to a single thing I just said? I want you by my side, Remus.”

Remus nodded slowly, glancing at Sirius. “Sorry for being all... pessimistic. It just— leaving Hogwarts, fighting in a war. It just feels like the end of the world, you know?”

Sirius shrugged. “The world is always ending. And if it did, if the world ended tonight, I’d be glad you’re by my side. Got it? You’re not this... unemployable unloveable person, Remus. You’re you. So just... don’t forget that.”

Remus didn’t quite understand what Sirius had meant but he smiled and pointed up at the night sky. “That’s you,” he said.

Sirius looked to where his finger was pointing. “How’re you always so good at finding that star, huh?”

“The only reason I took OWL level astronomy was so I could perfect that talent. There was a question about Sirius in my astronomy paper, did I tell you?”

“No?”

Remus chuckled slightly. “Sirius is the brightest star in what, was the question. I put quidditch for a laugh.”

Sirius rotated himself so he was sat facing Remus’ profile, Remus turned to face him too. “You didn’t.”

“Hand on heart,” Remus said, placing his hand on the left of his chest for emphasis, “it was one of two marks i dropped on that whole paper. Professor Merak confronted me about it, said it was funny but exams were no laughing matter. Got an O anyway.”

“I guess now would be a good time to tell you about my defence against the dark arts NEWT exam...”

“Oh no, what?”

“You know the question about how werewolf attributes were different to normal wolves?”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“I put that they were cuter.”

Remus shoved his shoulder. “I would lecture you about that but given what I just told you... I probably shouldn’t. Also, cute?”

Sirius bit his lip slightly and broke eye contact. “Yeah... well. You’re quite cute.”

“Cute like adorable or cute like good looking?” he teased, regretting the question the moment it was out of his mouth.

Sirius shrugged. “Why not both?”

“Sirius...”

Sirius clearly thought for a moment before announcing “Fuck it.” He turned his head to look at Remus slightly.

“Look, we’re leaving Hogwarts this weekend and you’re right, the real world is going to be terrible. There’s a war and I’m trying to stay positive about it but it’s really hard. Do you want to know why I asked if you wanted to get a flat with me?”

“Because I have no money?”

“No,” Sirius laughed. “Because I meant what I said earlier. You’re right, it’ll feel like the world as we know it is ending but the one thing I think could make it bearable is having you by my side so... do with that what you will. I just thought you should know before we left.”

“Know what?”

“That—” Sirius stopped and laughed nervously. “Haven’t said it out loud before,” he muttered. “That i’m in love with you, Moony. I have been for a while. Even if you don’t feel the same, there’s your proof, I guess, that there are people in this world capable of loving you and if you don’t want me to be that person for you then—”

Remus had to stop him talking and so he took his face in his hands and kissed him, hard. Sirius did nothing for a moment before tugging at the front of Remus’ robes and trying to pull him closer. When they broke away for air, Sirius had a grin plastered on his face.

“Sorry for dropping the L word on you like that,” Sirius mumbled.

“I love you, too.”

Sirius looked at him with another smile, this one brighter than the star named after him or the moon or even the sun. “You do?”

“Yes. For a long time.”

“Shit. I should’ve said sooner...”

Remus smiled and rested his head on Sirius’ shoulder, Sirius quickly wrapping an arm around him. “Oh, Padfoot?”

“Yeah?”

“If the world ended tonight I’d want you by my side, too.”

[forever-rogue]

Hi! For the prompts could I please request Maxwell Lord + "it's you. it's always been you" from fluff & romance in the second prompt list? 🥰

Just some Maxwell softness. Enjoy!

Maxwell Lord x Fem!Reader ; warnings: none

Pedro Character Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

“What’s wrong, love?” you gently put your hand on the side of Maxwell’s face, drawing his attention back to you and away from whatever seemed to be troubling him. He offered you a small smile before shaking his head, causing a dark lock of hair to fall into his eyes, “what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” he whispered softly as you reached over and brushed the stray lock out of his eyes, “just tired.”

“You’ve had a busy week,” you agreed quietly, “and your class schedule is jam packed right now. You should rest and make sure you’re taking care of yourself too.”

“It’s the last semester,” he reminded you as you nodded; the fact that your college days were soon coming to an end was enough to terrify you and excite you all at once. But soon you would be free from the confines of the institution and onto a whole new adventure, “I wanted to make the most of it.”

“But don’t let it push you over the edge either,” you grabbed his plate and kissed the top of his head, “you’re no good if you’re running yourself ragged and worn down. I love you, Maxwell.”

“I love you too, Hermosa,” he was already reaching for one of his books to carry on studying as you set everything in the sink, “soon we’ll be out of here and into the real world and I will have everything, and I will be able to give you everything you deserve.”

“You will build an empire Maxwell Lorenzano,” you grinned at him as you flounced over back to him, putting your hand under his chin to turn your face up to meet yours, “but I already have everything I want - you. That’s all that matters to me.”

“But you deserve so much more,” he whispered as you leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his soft lips, “I will give you everything.”

“As long as you’re there,” you whispered softly “I have everything.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

You woke up with a sharp inhale as you stared at your ceiling, your heart beating wildly inside your chest. It was that same damned dream again - so sweet and happy, but just as horrid in reality. It served as a reminder that things had turned out very differently from the life you had once envisioned. 

It was all supposed to be so easy, so effortless - just you and Maxwell and whatever the world threw at the two of you. But oh - how wrong you had been. How very, very wrong. 

After graduation, it was like Maxwell had turned into a completely different person. Gone was the sweet, gentle, caring man you loved so deeply and wholly, and he was replaced with a man who barely knew - a workaholic only concerned with success, success, success. Money and making a name for himself came before everything else, and you were left to the wayside. 

It was never supposed to be that way. But life rarely worked as you’d envisioned, and while the reality was harsh and biting, it was something you came to terms with. 

You were gone one day, almost as if you were a phantom, making it appear as though you’d never existed. Every piece of you was gone from the apartment you shared, as were you. Maybe it wasn’t the best way to handle the situation, but at the same time, you’d tried to talk to Max about everything so many times, and he’d either ignored you, downplayed your concerns, or was so unpresent in the conversation that it was like talking to drywall. 

When you couldn’t handle it anymore you’d just left. Packed up your bags and left everything behind without so much as a single word - no note, no explanation, nothing. Rash? Yes. Wrong? Maybe. Needed? Yes. 

You’d never wanted things to end like this - to end up so distant and separated from the man you had once loved so desperately. And fuck - you’d still loved him, you knew you always would. But somewhere along the line things had changed and your Maxwell was no longer yours. 

But it didn’t matter - he never once looked for you or tried to come and find you, to ask why, why, why. He never came for you and you never looked back.

Just like that, everything changed. Most importantly, or perhaps worst of all, it was like neither of you had existed to the other. It hurt, but over time it got easier and easier and almost like he never existed.

But of course he had. Of course you'd loved him. Of course you still did. You always would, even if he didn't know it.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Alistair?" you asked as he sat at the table, coloring away with a little frown etched onto his, "what's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Daddy was supposed to be here half an hour ago," he was dismissive as he started down at his paper, "he said he'd pick me up since he has time with his new job."

"He's probably just running late bub," you promised him, ruffling his dark hair, "it happens! Do you want to play a game or go outside? Its just the two of us left and we can do whatever we want!"

"Can we play on the jungle gym?" his eyes lit up as you nodded, watching in amusement as he packed up his bag. You'd always liked him, feeling more drawn to him than a lot of the other kids in your after school daycare. You'd never met his father; it had always been a nanny up until now, sent when he was with his mother or father. Looks like things were changing...maybe he wouldn't need daycare much longer. The thought made you sad for a moment...you really like the young boy and enjoyed his company. But that could all be figured out later; or now you were just going to enjoy his company.

"Come on," he called for you, holding out his hand for you. Nodding, you eagerly went over to him, taking his smaller hand in yours and letting him lead you outside. It was beautiful outside, and you took a large breath to take in some of the fresh air.

Alistair eagerly hopped on one of the swings, and it felt so natural for you to go and help him swing. He was such a fun, energetic child and his enthusiasm was infectious.

Even though he was a young boy still, he was wise beyond his years and spoke of anything and everything that crossed his mind. There wasn't a single dull moment behind the two of you, and before you knew it, the sun had started to go down and was painting the sky in brilliant crimsons and oranges.

"Alistair!" a warm voice called out to the boy and his face instantly pulled into a large grin. You slowed the swinging and let him jump off as he ran at the approaching figure. Remaining behind, you let the two of them have their moment. He held his son tightly, pressing kisses to the side of his you heard him say, "hi baby - I'm so sorry I'm late!"

"Its okay, Daddy," he said as the man set down again, but not before taking his father's hand and leading him over to you, "I was worried at first, but we've been playing and having fun!"

"Good, I'm glad," he beamed at this son. As the man came closer, you couldn't help but think that he sounded familiar. But then, as he stopped in front of you with Alistair at his side, your jaw dropped as you were sure your heart stopped. At the same time, the man mirrored your actions before his dark eyes widened, "Hermosa?"

"Maxwell?" this couldn't be happening. No, no, no - out of all the people in the world...surely Maxwell couldn’t really be standing in front of you. Except...this Maxwell was not quite the man you once knew. Gone were the well loved and worn clothes, replaced by much finer garments. Out where the dark locks you use to love to run your fingers through; instead they were golden strands. Missing was the silly little imperfect smile you adored, replaced by only the best money could buy. 

But underneath the shiny exterior, you knew those eyes, along with that singular dimple that appeared when he smiled. He shook his head in amusement, amazed by this stroke of fortune as he held his hand out to you, "hi - wow that feels so wrong to say. Not quite good enough for the moment...but hi."

"Hi," you breathed back as you took his hand and shook it. The simple contact was enough to send shivers up and down your spine; even after all these years, his touch was ever the same, "I..umm...I had no idea you were his father. His last name…"

"Its the same as mine," he said as you gave him a surprised look but didn't question him. Somewhere along the line, Maxwell Lorenzano became Maxwell Lord. You wondered what else had changed...judging by looks alone, apparently many things were different now.

"Ahh," you said softly, the realization that he must have changed his name at some point hitting you. It was a momentary sadness as you realize what it meant; but it was no matter. What mattered was he here in the flesh and had been back in your life and you hadn't even known it, "I...umm...I guess I should let you both go. Don't want to get home too late."

"Of course," he said with a soft smile as he picked up his son again, "thanks for keeping him later - it won't happen again. New job and it ran late."

"Not a problem," you reassured him, "Alistair is a wonderful kid and we had a lot of fun. I guess I'll see you around, Maxwell. And you too, kiddo. See you tomorrow!"

"Good night," they chimed in unison as they started to walk away, stopping for a moment to grab his things before heading off.

You were positive you heard the big sleepily mumble onto his father's shoulder, "do know her?"

You had to turn around and hide your own grin, not wanting to get caught up in your excitement. It meant nothing, you kept trying to tell yourself, none of it meant anything. Sheer, simple continence was all it was.  But still...you had a lot of questions - when did he get married and have a son? What happened to his appearance? Who was he now?

Either way, it was all said and done and you were relative strangers. Your paths had diverged many years ago and yet...somehow life has brought you back tomorrow. Maybe it meant something after all…

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next couple of weeks were spent with many visits from Maxwell, none of which you minded of course. He was often on time to pick Alistair up, but would linger and talk to you. In some ways it was like no time at all had passed, and the conversation was easy and flowing, and despite the golden outer layer, you still saw the boy you'd fallen in love with.

It was easy like this, getting to know him again, and in some ways you felt like no time had passed. You learned about the ups and downs of his own life, more about his marriage and divorce, about his struggle to become everything he had dreamed - all while reassuring him that he was okay, and he would always be okay. But, he was eager to remind you, the best part of his life, the shining beacon, would always be his son. And it was easy to see how much he adored the boy. 

In turn, you’d told him all about your own life that you had created. That it was modest and lacked what most people would consider grandeur, but you still loved it. He listened to you, hanging onto every word as he felt like that same dopey college kid that had fallen head over heels for you. Gods, he had missed you, even when he hadn’t realized it. If only things would have been slightly different and...but it was no matter. You were here now and so was he, and really that was the only thing that mattered to the two of you. 

“Hermosa?” he had been halfway through walking out the door with Alistair hanging onto his hand. You turned and raised an eyebrow at him, indicating for him to go on, “would you...do you want to go to dinner sometime?”

“Yes,” you answered softly, unable to fight the giant grin on your face, “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

“Great,” he seemed relieved as the nervous look left his face, quickly replaced by one of joy, “it’s a date...I’ll call you later.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“What?” you asked as you found Maxwell watching you closely, a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth as he reached over and put his hand on your face. You leaned into his touch as your eyes fluttered closed, “Maxwell…”

“Hermosa,” his voice was gentle and still thick with sleep as he leaned over and nuzzled his nose against yours, “go back to sleep. It’s still early.”

“That’s what I was doing,” you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your lips. His arms were wrapped around you, holding you close to his chest as your tangled your legs with his, “but I’ve got someone staring at me and it’s kind of hard to stay asleep under such a watchful gaze.”

“Can one not admire such great beauty?” he asked quietly before pressing a kiss to your forehead and closing his own eyes once again, “everything I love is right here in my arms...and down the hall. Forgive me for being happy.”

“I’m happy too, Maxwell,” you promised, feeling like your heart might burst with joy, “I love you. I have always loved you, and I will always love you.”

“I love you,” he agreed, “it’s always been you. Even if it took some time to realize that. Now, rest and get some sleep. You were up last night…”

“I wonder why!” you laughed as he pulled you close and kissed you deeply, “no complaints though - never.”

“Good,” he grinned against your lips, “now sleep, Hermosa. The world can wait.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[writer-ish]

in the lambent light

pairing: mason x detective (grace bennett) word count: 2.4K words | rating: T (language)

summary: On the rooftop of the Warehouse, Grace and Mason have an honest conversation about sexuality, small towns, and love (sort of), with the revelry and light of Unit Bravo’s first Wayhaven Pride in the background.

For Week 1, Day 1 of @wayhavensummer: First Pride + #wsfchallenge “belonging”.

*

She finds him on the roof of the warehouse, of course, kicking his feet idly as they dangle over the edge, a thin wisp of smoke coming up steadily from his cigarette.

When he sees her, he puts it out and links his fingers together, eyes following her as she comes to sit beside him.

They're high up – too high; if she looks down she feels a bit dizzy – and he grunts, his eyes narrowing as she dangles her legs, too. She looks at her colourful socks - one purple, one pink - as she tries not to think about how steep the drop would be if she lost her balance or even just shuffled forward a bit.

She wonders if maybe he'll put his hand out to hold her steady, or force her to sit back.

(He does neither.)

"You don't have to do that, you know." She gestures belatedly to the ash of his crumpled cigarette still smoking lightly on the concrete. "I know I gave you a hard time before, but really, I don't want you to stop on account of me."

He shrugs. "It's fine. I don't even know why I still do it when I don’t even really need it anymore. Habit, I guess."

She opens her mouth to insist, say how she doesn't want him, doesn't need him to change for her – but her mouth clicks shut instead. It's easier to let it slide. To not delve too deeply into why he doesn't need it anymore.

They sit in silence for a bit, the evening breeze settling on them.

The sounds of revelry in the town square continue. Grace can hear the celebrations, the music, can feel the general aura of happiness radiating from below.

When she’d left to seek out Mason, Tina had been painting a rainbow on Adam’s sharp cheekbone as he sat very still, giving the situation a gravitas that it perhaps didn’t deserve, but was still heartwarming to see nonetheless.

Eric and Verda had been watching indulgently as their girls got spoiled with treats provided by Nate, who had been doing his very best to succeed at the task of “enjoying his first Pride”.

(When he’d asked if he was “doing it right”, Grace couldn’t help but give him an impromptu hug.

“You’re doing perfectly,” she’d said warmly and he had smiled down at her, eyes sparkling.)

Felix, for his part, had been bouncing around, examining the stalls set up to highlight the queer-owned business in Wayhaven, coming back to hand Nate a new trinket or snack or pin he’d purchased, and then bounding off again, the excitement practically vibrating off of him.

She smiles wistfully at the memory of how the town embraced Unit Bravo as their own, as she regards it all from a distance now, a bloom of warmth in her chest – a collection of the happiness and pride that she feels towards her little town for coming together in this way year after year. To celebrate its people; the people who make Wayhaven what it is.

To celebrate love.

She turns to Mason, spontaneously dropping a hand to his knee. He looks down swiftly and then back up at her, silver-grey eyes meeting her own.

"Was it all too much for you?" She nods in the direction of light, laughter, colour, and music. "Down there?"

He shrugs. "I respect the idea behind the celebration and I'm glad the others are happy and having fun. But yeah. It's not really my thing."

She nods slowly, going quiet again. He idly begins to play with her fingers, splayed out on his thigh. Tracing them with his own, up and down.

"You know it's not—"

"You know that we—"

They both go to speak at the same time, their voices stuttering to a stop as they realize.

"You go," Mason says eventually, the side of his lips quirked up in a small smirk. "You do most of the talking for us anyway."

"Hey!" Grace squeaks out indignantly. "I do not. Most people say I don't talk enough."

Mason snorts. "People who don't know you, maybe."

Her cheeks grow warm with pleasure at the unspoken confirmation. It feels like what he really said was: "People who don't know you the way I do."

And he's right.

"I was just going to say, Wayhaven has been doing this for years now. Decades even. We used to come when I was a kid.” She laughs in reminiscence. “There’s this picture of me – maybe eighteen months old or something – on Rook’s shoulders, watching the parade as my mom smiles up at us both.”

She feels her own smile go soft, like the edges of that faded cherished photograph. She shakes her head to clear the cobwebs of nostalgia before turning to him again. He’s regarding her in a way that can only be construed as fondness and her heart twists, ever so slightly.

“I’m glad you guys got to be here for your first Pride,” she continues, steering the conversation back to the present. To safer territory. “You hear all these things about the intolerance of small towns, and lord knows it’s true in some cases, but I dunno." She shrugs, a small smile gracing her lips once more. "It feels nice to be part of one of the good ones."

He's quiet and she turns to look at him after a moment of prolonged silence. He's still staring at her, this time a more inscrutable expression on his face. She can't tell what's going through his mind, whether it's concern or agreement or even anger. His fingers have stilled overtop hers and his large palm rests on her hand, warm and steady.

It takes another beat before he clears his throat and breaks eye contact, moving his hand off of hers. The cool air rushes to the spot where his hand used to be and she finds herself missing its warmth and comfort.

"It's true," he says finally. "It is one of the good ones." He looks at her carefully. "And you’re right. They aren't all like that."

There’s a wealth of meaning in his simple statement and it’s her turn to stare at him now, processing his words and trying to formulate an appropriate response.

"Have you…" She hesitates, trying to parse her words carefully. "Have you experienced… bad ones?"

He lets out a sigh. The very human sound, probably borne from a habit he could never quite kick, sends a tender pang straight to her heart.

"Listen, sweetheart." He leans back and looks up at the quickly dimming sky, the summer heat dwindling to a more tolerable mildness, the breeze picking up slightly and bringing with it the sweet scent of the magnolias below them. "It's no secret that I am not what people would call…"

He smirks and shoots her a side-long glance, his mischievous look belied by the glint of a single fang. "Discerning."

She stays quiet, waiting for him to continue.

“I’ve never seen value in—” He pauses, appearing to search for the right word. “—In curbing my desires to fit into a certain mold. I like what I like, I like who I like, and no real external factors – like gender or appearance or the shape of your tits or your bits – have ever really come into play.” He shrugs and pulls a cigarette out of his shirt pocket, fiddling with it without lighting it. “Some people have a problem with that and some places like to make it known more than others.”

Something about his final sentence causes her pulse to quicken, her thoughts jangling in her head. She tries to gather them up before she speaks.

“Do you think…” She hesitates. “Do you somehow think that I… have a problem with that? That I don’t understand?”

“Do you understand?” He looks straight at her then, his eyes sharp and intense. Not intimidating or cruel, but as though he’s looking for something – perhaps the honest answer to a question he’s not sure he’s even asked properly.

“I mean—” She feels indignant slightly, even though she tries to tamp it down. “If you think I somehow have an opinion on who people love and the circumstances around that, then I feel like maybe you don’t know me that well.”

“Whoa, whoa.” He holds his hands up, unlit cigarette still between two fingers, lip curling slightly. “Who said anything about love? I’m talking about who I decide to fuck.”

That one stings. She purses her lips and looks away, trying not to let him see just how much, inhaling deeply as she tries to get her feelings under control.

“Yes, yes,” she says finally, looking away with a wave of her hand. “Fuck, love, whatever.” She turns to him again, eyes narrowed. “I might not understand in the way that you do, through lived experience, but I care enough to try. And I certainly don’t judge.”

“I never said you judged, Gracie.” His voice is soft and the way he says her nickname – so rare from his lips – makes her breath catch in her throat. He flicks the cigarette between his fingers now, back and forth. “I just want everything to be out there between you and me. So that there’s never any—” He hesitates. “—Surprises.”

“Oh, you mean like finding out you’re a centuries-old vampire?” she quips, raising an eyebrow at him, arms crossed.

He barks out a laugh. “Watch who you’re calling centuries old, sweetheart.”

She chuckles along with him, before getting serious once more.

“The least surprising thing about you, Mason, is the fact that you have no qualms about who you choose to be with. I’ve never met a more accepting and open person.” He looks like he’s about to argue with her, so she holds up a hand to stop him. “And just because we aren’t—exactly the same, in that regard—” She looks down, feeling her cheeks warm slightly. “—Doesn’t mean I don’t get it. Or respect it.” She shrugs, laughing self-deprecatingly. “I find it hard to believe you’re interested in my boring ass, to be honest.”

“Your ass is the least boring thing about you, Detective.” For that comment, he’s rewarded with a light whack on the leg. He laughs and wraps his arm around her. “C’mere.”

Putting the cigarette behind his ear, he tugs her closer. He holds her tightly against him, thighs touching and feet brushing against each other.

“I’m going to say something cheesy as fuck and you’re going to listen. And then you’re never going to repeat it again. Got it?”

She nods quickly, eyes widening in anticipation.

“I see people—not for what they look like or any of that shit, but for what’s in here.” He taps gently, right above her left breast. “Yeah, I don’t get mixed up in all that love stuff, and attraction does play a big role in who I seek out and why, but it’s not an attraction to physical things. I just get this—sense of who a person is, I guess. And if I like what I sense, I follow through. If I don’t, I move on.” He gives her a squeeze. “You understand?”

She bites her lip, breath growing shallow as the impact of his words infiltrates her blood stream and causes her heart to flutter painfully.

He smiles slowly, a cheshire grin, and she curses his ability to hear the increase in her pulse.

“And guess what, sweetheart?” His voice has dropped an octave now, mouth close to her ear.

“What?” It comes out as a hoarse whisper.

“I like what you’ve got in here.” Another tap, same spot. “And I’m not ready to move on.”

As far as grand romantic statements go, Grace knows this one won’t make anyone’s top ten list. But for Mason, it’s a lot. And for her, for right now—it’s everything.

She leans forward and kisses him softly, sweetly, on the lips. His hand comes up to cup her cheek, but neither makes a move to deepen the kiss in any way, keeping it gentle and close-mouthed; an affirmation rather than the initiation of anything more. Pulling away, she looks at him, feeling the softness she sees in his face reflected in her own.

Giving him one more brief kiss, she scooches back and stands up carefully, dusting off the bottom of her blue shorts.

She catches him watching the action intently and he catches her catching him. They share a smirk that turns into a laugh and it feels comfortable and fun. It feels like an inside joke.

Like belonging.

“Let’s go, hot shot.” She holds out her hand to him and he takes it, swinging his legs around and standing up, his full height enough that she needs to tilt her head to look up at him.

“Think you can manage to rejoin the party?” she asks, her hand still in his as she tugs him to the door that will lead them back through the warehouse. “We’ll stick to the quieter corners. I’ll hold your hand the whole time,” she adds, smiling up at him, her tone cajoling, teasing.

There’s something about summer in Wayhaven, something about Pride in Wayhaven – the air feels lighter, sweeter. Grace feels lighter. Bolstered by love and friendship, warmth and comfort. All the good things about her little town seem to be highlighted during this time.

All the good things about her little life, she thinks, glancing at their joined hands.

Mason snorts and looks down at her, amused, before giving her hand a squeeze.

She squeezes back, feeling happier than she can remember ever feeling before.

“I’ll even buy you a snow cone without the syrup,” she offers as they leave, bumping his shoulder with hers.

He grunts and then stops short. “Isn’t that just ice?”

She bites back a smile, feeling laughter in her throat, and nods.

There’s a pause. He blinks once. Twice. Then—he bursts into loud laughter. The sound is so free, so surprising yet pleasant, that she can’t help the grin that spreads across her face. And when he pulls her even closer and presses a kiss to the top of her head—well. She’s not sure that smile will ever go away now.

“Lead the way, sweetheart,” he murmurs, keeping her close to him.

And she does.

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 10.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: filmed sex/voyeurism/exhibitionism as usual, sub!jungkook, dom!reader, pegging, anal play, rimming, multiple orgasms, crying during sex, jk being a good good boy, dom!namjoon, sub!reader, bath sex, ageplay/DDlg, fingering, unprotected sex, pet names, spanking, creampie, aftercare in both cases

dedicated to my sfhs girls, everyone in the villa discord, and jk’s ass

DAY EIGHTEEN

All things considered; you were rather lucky to be sharing a room with Yoongi when you wake up that morning.

The second consciousness returns to you, it brings a feeling of nausea so abrupt that you’re careening off the bed and rushing to bed over the toilet without a second’s thought, body running on survival mode.

You’re not sure what wakes Yoongi - the sudden absence of pressure and heat against him, or the sound of you throwing up all the food and alcohol you’d consumed last night – but it takes mere moments before you feel him gently caressing your trembling body, lifting your tangled hair back off your face.

“Just let it out,” he coos softly as you bend over miserably, the sour taste on your tongue making your stomach turn again, “you’ll feel better after, I promise. That’s it.”

The moment you finally have nothing left to empty out, you collapse sideways onto the cool bathroom tile, hand curling over your stomach. Yoongi gets up to flush the toilet and gets out a spare toothbrush from under his sink, pressing it into your hand already prepped with toothpaste. “I’m sorry,” you mumble lowly, nose running slightly as you sniffle. “I think I drank too much. That green apple soju fucking sucks, too.”

The doctor has the good graces to smile at your attempt of lightening the mood, but it’s strained, waiting for you to begin brushing the acrid leftovers from your mouth before speaking. “You’d better have a light breakfast, okay? Some toast and maybe a cup of herbal tea to settle your stomach. Can you stand? I’ll get you some fresh clothes from your room while you take a shower here.”

Your heart warms at his endearing bedside manner. “I’ll be fine, Yoongi.”

“It’s non-negotiable, I’m afraid,” Yoongi says with a mock sigh. “Come on; you can wash your hair, too. Feeling nice and clean will help.”

Sniffing one last time, you give him an agreeing nod and hunker up on your knees, before standing. God, but why do you still feel so nauseous? That fucking soju. Yoongi must see the discomfort on your face, because he gives your shoulder a squeeze. “Not to worry, I’m sure I have something here you can take which will make you feel better. You aren’t the first person to not handle their liquor in the villa.”

You give him a questioning frown, your throat feeling raw as you clear it lightly. “What do you mean? Everyone seemed okay yesterday.”

“Hoseok texted me,” Yoongi answers with a shrug. “I didn’t see it ‘til after you fell asleep, but apparently poor Tae was curled up with a hot water bottle last night feeling rather sorry for himself. I think he got a little trigger-happy on his Sprite and soju mixers.”

Your brows furrow in concern, your own condition forgotten. “Is he alright?” You mentally kick yourself for not being more attentive to him. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel excluded now that he was voted out.

“He’s fine, I’m sure. Hoseokie and Jimin apparently actually spent the night in the bunk room with him, because both refused to leave. Stranger things have happened, I suppose.”

“Holy shit,” you muse. “If you weren’t so busy filling me like a cream puff maybe we could’ve witnessed that.”

Yoongi’s mouth gapes at your jibe, and you let out a hiccupping giggle when he rushes you, jabbing at your sides. “You little shit! That’s how you repay me after yesterday?”

You chuckle, feeling significantly more cheerful than when you woke up. “I gotta keep you humble, Doctor Min.”

His shoulders jump with a fond huff. “You’re impossible,” he gives in with a begrudging smile. “Now go; shower! I’ll be back.”

By the time you’re downstairs, enjoying some lightly buttered toast and an aromatic peachy-tasting tea - laughing with Taehyung who has slunk downstairs like a viscous goop, slumped on the table sucking on a vitamin table - any concerns or worries about your brief vomiting spell have entirely left your mind.

--

Jungkook is antsy.

He cycles madly between intense eye-contact and complete avoidance of your existence, looking for all intents and purposes like a deer in headlights. You imagine it’s because he wants to do his prompt today, and you certainly could dispel the awkward tension by just asking him if he wants to go upstairs or texting him to dig a little, but where would the fun in that be? You much prefer cuddling with Taehyung and a chunky blanket, pretending to watch The Voice of Korea while you really watch Jungkook squirm instead.

Taehyung sighs wistfully as a contestant finishes with a belted high note, all four judges slamming down their buttons and giving the cameras big reactions once they turn and catch a glimpse of the singer. “I wish I could be on the show,” the masseuse says with another slow sigh.

You grin, poking him in the cheek with a single finger. “Is our puppy a good singer, huh? Do you reckon you’d win?”

“What?” Taehyung asks distractedly, his eyes locked to the screen. “No, I wanna sit in those big chairs and spin around. It’d be so fun.”

Your surprised laugh makes Jungkook jump in his seat, even as he sits on the opposite couch to the two of you and glares intensely at the pages of a comic book he’d stolen from someone, spending far too long on one page to actually be reading it.

Hoseok, who sits completely silently next to Jungkook - extremely strange for the normally bubbly man - is even more suspicious. Every few seconds, he shoves his phone under Jungkook’s nose, before pulling it away and typing furiously.

You had no doubt in your mind that he was giving the youngest contestant salacious tips, instructions, or both, judging by the way Jungkook’s cheeks get hotter with every message.

A lazy day after the drunken entertainment from the day before, the four of you had chosen to collapse onto the couch and stay there, flicking between channels as you idly enjoyed each other’s company. Namjoon had texted the groupchat and put a note on his door warning people that he was studying for an exam for a summer course he’d signed up for. This was the first you’d heard of said course, but his messages had contained several exclamation points, so you knew it was serious.

Jimin was also making the most of his privacy. The only glimpse you’d seen of him at all today was while you and Taehyung were cleaning your dishes. He’d rushed down in a fluffy white bathrobe, covering his face with his sleeve, bemoaning the drinking that had done serious damage to his clear skin. When he dropped his sleeve to bundle some ice into a paper towel, it looked fine to you, albeit pinker in the cheeks and forehead than his bare face had been before, but he swore the two of you to silence and determined he was going to lock himself into his room until he no longer looked like “an evil stepmother.”

Jin and Yoongi were nowhere to be found, though most of the house were almost certain they’d become something akin to fuckbuddies considering how often they disappeared together, and how rampant and shameless their sexual tension was whenever they cooked together for the rest of you.

It had taken a while for Taehyung to bounce back from his hangover, Hoseok fussing over him like a child as Tae clung to you for some tactile comfort. Spending a day by yourself hadn’t really been an option when you’d been cuddling with him for hours, but you were far happier spending some quality time with the masseuse.

It takes no more than three new contestants on the TV show to have their moment in front of the judges for Jungkook to break. Hoseok’s given up on the phone messages, instead whispering directly Jungkook’s ear as the boy clutches the open comic book in front of his lap  so hard his knuckles go white.

Laughing at the flustered camboy, Hoseok loses all tact and stops damping his voice, his natural level loud enough that you can make it out over the garishly aggressive appliance store advertisement on the TV. “Come on, Kookie, it’ll be great!” he insists, Jungkook cringing at the volume. “Switching things up will help your chances for fan favourite too, and surely you’ve done-”

Jungkook stands up abruptly, comic book still propped up in front of his crotch as his cheeks and neck go bright red. “If you like pegging so much, why don’t you do it, then?” he blurts with a cry, before the realisation of what he said aloud hits him. Choking on air, he just about trips back onto the couch in his haste to leave, stomping upstairs like a wronged teenager.

Everyone goes silent, a cheery female voice announcing that Subway’s quality is higher than ever being the only sound in the room. Mouth open, you blink over to Hoseok. “Should I… go check on him?”

“Uh- Yeah, maybe,” he admits, a slight pained look of guilt flickering across his face before he brightens up. “But it’s dangerous; you should take a strap with you.”

You pause halfway through standing up, Taehyung letting go of you and curling deeper into the pile of blankets. “Have you no shame, Hoseok? You humiliated the poor kid!”

Hoseok grins broadly. “He only reacted that much because he liked the idea,” he protests, before leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “And what about you, princess? Do you like the idea?”

You swallow, straightening up fully. “I haven’t really thought about it until now, I guess,” you offer up slowly. “I’m not- I’m not opposed.” But even as you say that, you begin to picture it. Jungkook on all fours in front of you, or perhaps spread out on his back, brows furrowed in pleasure, clingy and whiny. Though it was certainly new ground to you, most things were these days, and you’ve started craving fresh experiences, feeling more alive and excited about sex than you’ve ever really felt before.

A lightly huffed laugh leaves Hoseok’s lips. “I’d say you’re a little more than ambivalent, judging by that look on your face. Go upstairs now, princess; Jungkook’s ass needs you.”

You scoff, patting Taehyung’s cheek goodbye before leaving the way the maknae left earlier. Upstairs, Jungkook’s door is open the slightest sliver. A shy invitation.

You knock anyway, calling out his name. When his sullen voice invites you in, you slip inside and shut the door behind you. With his head hanging, shoulders slumped, poor Jungkook looks miserable. “Oh, Gukkie, baby, you’re okay,” you soothe, rushing to his side.

Folding his hands cutely over his crotch, he keeps his head down, but nuzzles against your stomach when you pull him into an embrace, running your hands through the long, heavy black locks of his hair. “‘M sorry,” he murmurs, lifting a single hand to ball his fist in the fabric of your shirt.

Your heart warms at the little action even as it aches for his sadness. “What are you sorry for? You don’t have to be sorry.”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you can just about hear the pout. “Embarrassed,” he explains shortly. “You probably think it’s gross.”

“Of course I don’t,” you deny in a soft yet firm voice, still stroking his hair. “Baby, if you want me to do it for you, I will.”

He looks up suddenly, chin propped up on your stomach. “Really?” he asks in hope, eyes glittering like entire galaxies.

You shrug. “I mean, I haven’t used a strap-on before, so it probably won’t be very good, but I wanna try if it’s something that would make you happy, you know?”

Jungkook’s mouth parts sweetly, before he lets out a dejected breath. “I don’t know,” he says with a sigh, letting his head drop off you again. “I still feel really embarrassed. Hobi-hyung was te-teasing me so much.”

You wince at the way his voice hitches and wobbles, like he’s on the verge of tears. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” you coo. “I think he was just trying to encourage you. But if he made you uncomfortable, I can go down there right now and-”

As you start to shift away, a hand shoots out and latches onto your wrist, snagging you in place. “No,” Jungkook interrupts quickly, before turning sullen again, lifting up his head so that you can just barely see his eyes, gleaming with unshed tears. “Can you just stay with me?”

Reaching forward to cup his cheek and bring his gaze up, you send him your warmest smile. “I’ll stay,” you promise, “want me to help cheer you up? I don’t like seeing my Gukkie so sad.”

His bottom lip quivers as he nods, fingers tightening around your wrist, tugging you back to his side. “Yes, please,” he asks politely, voice still so hesitant as his gaze drops like he’s too shy to meet yours, face pressing into your palm. “Want you to make me feel better.”

Your breath hitches when his eyes dart up, just for a second, and reveal a glimmer that isn’t tears so much as mischief. You realise quickly that perhaps Jungkook is pulling on your heartstrings intentionally, luring you in just like he did the day after the fight, when everyone in the house bent over backwards to give him what he wanted. But you aren’t mad; truth be told, every second that passes, you grow more excited about what’s to come. “Of course I will,” you reply warmly. “Can I give you a kiss, baby?”

One thing you aren’t prepared for as you carefully straddle his lap and press your lips against his is just how differently he kisses when he’s in this submissive frame of mind. You’d associated Jungkook with hunger, fierce passion and need. This Jungkook was needy, but in a very different way. Lips parted, he tilts his chin and lets you take over, his fingers curling tightly in the fabric of your shirt, his long hair tickling against your cheeks.

And unlike the more dominant Jungkook that would kiss you until you couldn’t breathe, the camboy now seems impatient, hips shifting under you and whines leaving his throat as he breaks apart, lips swollen. “Will you fuck me, Y/n? I need you.”

Sucking in a breath, you’re nodding before you’ve even really processed his words. “How do I, uh, what should I-”

“The stuff’s in my nightstand drawer,” Jungkook offers up in explanation. The young man bites his lip, looking positively delectable. In a starch-white t-shirt that simultaneously swamps his figure but exposes his delicate collarbones with the v-neck, and his long locks tucked behind his ears, no imagination is required to see how easily he fits into this subby persona. Even as he’s physically much larger than you, and there’s no hiding his thick thighs and broad shoulders, his expression and posture alone convey plenty. “But, um… Could you- could you help prepare me first? I can if you’re uncomfortable, you know. No pressure.”

“I can,” you assure quickly, standing up when he wriggles meaningfully beneath you. “I mean, I want to. Is it, you know…?” You trail off, watching Jungkook scoot himself back so that his feet don’t quite touch the floor. He tilts his head in confusion. “Clean?” you hiss softly, cheeks flaming.

Jungkook freezes, eyes wide and mouth parted in a small o. “I- Yeah, it’s, uh, clean, I-”

“Sorry,” you grimace, “that totally ruined the mood, didn’t it? I’m new to this.”

“You don’t have to, honestly,” Jungkook says with a small voice, fiddling with the loose threads in the rips of his jeans. “I can do it.”

You’re really fucking this up, huh? “No, no, I want to, it’s fine!”

“I swear, I won’t be offended if it weirds you out-”

Without a pause to think, your lips are moving. “Pants off, Gukkie, I’m going to finger you,” you announce in a firm voice, chin jutting forward in your determination.

You hadn’t even intended to use it as power play, more so just insisting what you were okay with, but his reaction is undeniable. Jungkook visibly melts at your command, eyelids fluttering for a moment and shoulders going lax. Even his socked feet turn inwards, the complete posture of submission. The image of it sends heat through you, and you feel alive with it.

“Th-thank you,” Jungkook stutters, chest hitching. “How do you want me?”

Even though you don’t know the least about fingering or prepping, you’re quickly growing addicted to the way he responds to your authority, so you make a split second decision. “All fours, baby. And clothes off for me.”

Jungkook bites down a whine - how you wish he wouldn’t muffle himself - but obeys quickly, stripping all the way down to his socks, toeing them off hastily before getting on his knees. Clearly a position he’s used to, the camboy wastes no time in presenting himself, upper torso flat against the bed and back arched up to expose himself. With a cheek pressed against the mattress to look back at you, his hair slips over and covers his face.

Before he has the chance to huff, you reach forward and tuck it back behind his ear, tapping your finger once on his nose to make him scrunch it, a toothy grin on his face. “Y/n!” he protests with a hiccupy giggle.

“What?” you ask innocently. “I’m just trying to help out, baby. Can I ask you a favour?”

Jungkook’s grinning so widely that his eyes crinkle. “You’re the dom, Y/n, you don’t need to ask favours, you know?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right,” you muse. It’s so easy to forget that the control is yours, especially when you’re a bit out of your depth. Resolving yourself to be more authoritative, you clear your throat and school your expression. “Mouth open, Gukkie.”

Following your command so quickly that there’s an audible sound, Jungkook braces himself up a little with his forearms so that he can face you better with his jaw wide open and tongue lolled out on his bottom lip.

When you place your first two fingers of your dominant hand on that pretty pink tongue, you don’t even have to command him to suck before he’s wrapping his lips around them and hollowing his cheeks, blinking up at you for approval.

You try and use the past couple weeks of dirty talk from the guys to inspire you when talking to Jungkook, using your other hand to comb the hair back from his face again. “That’s it, baby,” you croon, “nice and wet; soak them for me. What a good boy.”

Keening under your praise, still bent over on his knees, Jungkook swirls his tongue and salivates over your digits diligently. It feels strange; the hot wet cavern, the muscle covering every inch of your skin. Your stomach flips in arousal when you begin to tug your fingers out and he pulls off them with a pop, drool on his chin and pupils blown wide.

“Alright, Gukkie, stay there,” you indicate, holding your spit-slicked fingers aloft as you get on the bed behind him. Cock dangling hard between his legs, he’s hunkered down, heels pressed against his upper thighs. You could easily reach him from here, but there’s something rising within you, an urge to play with him a little rougher.

He jumps and lets out a surprised cry when you rain down your other palm on his asscheek in a swift spank, head falling back to the mattress.

“Did I say you could lie down? Ass up, Gukkie,” you spit sharply, satisfaction curling around your ribs as he lifts his hips without delay, back arching beautifully to present himself once again. A roughly hand-shaped pink flush on his otherwise unblemished skin makes you bite your lip. “Colour?”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, fingers fisting the sheets. You fear the worst for a second, but it seems like it just took him a second to comprehend you, because just as soon as the worry rises, he lets out a cute gasp of realisation and spreads his knees further. “Green, so green.”

“Good boy,” you praise, relief clear in your voice. “A single hair out of position without my permission and there’ll be more where that came from.” Though you secretly admit spanking the responsive boy feels good in some odd way, you’d feel a lot better knowing when he’d intentionally stepped out of line, and so giving him a specific avenue assuages some of your potential guilt over the impact play. He seems to understand too, nodding his head sweetly and visibly flexing this thighs to keep steady.

This isn’t usually an angle you’re used to seeing on a guy, but as you gently circle the tight muscle of his rim, you marvel at how Jungkook still makes it look good. Entirely free of hair, ass, thighs and back thick and sculpted, it’s clear the visual is an important thing, especially in his line of work.

You can feel his body go slightly stiff when he holds his breath, but the slightest pressure makes him tremble, his eyes loosely shut as he focuses on pure sensation. Wary of the spit drying off your fingers too soon, you swiftly but smoothly slide your first finger all the way inside of him. There’s resistance up until the first knuckle as he clenches, but once you reach a certain point it’s like his body is letting you in. So tight that you can feel his walls flex, it’s an odd sensation to get used to, but you know from experience that the first intrusion feels odd to receive, too, and that only building up stimulation helps get past it.

For that reason, you don’t pause much before you begin fucking your one finger into him, using your other hand to grasp the flesh of his ass and part him. “Doing so well, baby,” you compliment when Jungkook lets out a guttural, drawn-out whine. Minutely, you feel his hips rock, seeking stimulation in the right place. You know he’s probably aching for his prostate to be touched, but you haven’t the slightest clue on where to find it.

Instead, your next best option is external. Once you draw your first finger out and start to stretch his rim on two, you reach around and under him, hand wrapping around his cock.

Startled, Jungkook goes iron-tight around your two fingers and cries out. You freeze, worried you’ve done something wrong, but he rocks himself back, burying your fingers deeper inside him.

Even in your uncertainty on how to proceed, you know one thing: he’s actively chosen to move out of place.

This time when you drop his length and come back up to spank him, he moans, face going lax and dopey. “Fu-fuck, please,” he breathes, “I’m sorry, I need more.”

“You need more?” you ask, soothing a palm over the reddened skin. “I didn’t realise you were in any position to be making demands, baby.”

Jungkook swallows heavily. “Please give me more, I can take it, please.”

“That’s more like it,” you state proudly, before cringing at how cheesy the words sound to your own ears. Although taking control is fun, you don’t feel as at ease with a filthy tongue like you were used to the others being. Jungkook however, unable to see your reaction, just makes a needy noise in his throat, hotly anticipating your next move.

As you start to move your fingers again, however, they don’t glide like they did before. Unlike a proper lubricant, his saliva has evaporated away, and the dry friction certainly can’t be pleasant.

He’d said the supplies were in his nightstand, but that’s well out of your arm span, so, thinking quickly and not wanting Jungkook to feel uncomfortable, you pull your fingers out gingerly, bend down and spit directly onto his winking hole, some of it disappearing inside as the rest runs down to his balls.

Since he insisted he could take it, you hook three fingers inside him, his hole stretching around you as he groans. There’s so much pressure on your fingers as you plunge inside, the friction aided by your saliva, and you can feel the way he tries to relax himself, clenching periodically.

As much as the spit helped, you become paranoid that it’ll dry out again as you stretch him on your fingers. Still too far from the lube, the thought occurs to you that you could keep him wetter if you just used your mouth.

The thought isn’t entirely unappealing to you. Sure, he doesn’t have the same nerves that make you feel so good when someone goes down on you, but you’re sure he’d enjoy it, and you’re reassured that he’d cleaned himself.

The second your tongue traces his rim, pressing between the tight ring and your knuckles, Jungkook gasps, before letting out a moan so high and keening that you practically salivate.

With your free hand inching around to grip his thigh and steady yourself, you press your chin between his ass cheeks and lap at him, fingers speeding up now that they’re better lubricated.

His hips won’t stay still, but you can’t blame him. From the constant trail of cries and whimpers, there’s no doubt Jungkook is extremely sensitive. Slowly, the thought of stretching him out for a purpose leaves your mind, and you begin to take your time with him, enjoying the feeling and sound of him falling apart from your touch.

You could get used to this; the meaty thighs trembling, the heaving breaths, the moans of your name on his tongue. At one point, your middle finger grazes a slightly protruding spot inside him, a different texture to the rest of his walls. The second it does, he jumps like he’s been electrocuted. Aha.

“Oh, fuck, feels s-so good, please do that again, fuck,” Jungkook babbles hopelessly. Your grip on his thigh quickly morphs from steadying yourself to holding him steady, as he jerks with every repeated stroke of your finger against his prostate.

Unable to respond verbally, you stiffen your tongue and push it deeper inside him as your fingers speed up, all corkscrewing directly towards that sensitive spot.

So noisy that he buries his own face in the blankets, rocking back desperately onto your face and fingers, Jungkook’s pleading and praises are garbled, one long stream of need until he finally lets out one loud, sharp cry and paints the mattress white.

Lifting yourself up to watch him cum, you speed up your fingers to ride him through it, devouring the sight of his red, untouched cock twitching and shooting ropes of cum as his whole body shudders with it.

There’s the undeniable warmth of pride in your chest at watching him cum so beautifully, at hearing and seeing the pleasure you’ve given him. You’d give anything to make him cum at your hands over and over, and in the back of your mind you marvel at how so many things the guys did to you when they dommed you make sense now.

Slowly, he comes back down from his high, chest heaving rhythmically as he catches his breath, going slack. You guide him to roll over onto his back, avoiding the puddle of quickly-cooling cum, and sit beside him brushing back the hair that clings to his sweaty face.

A dopey smile puffing up his cheeks, and eyes hazy, he blinks up at you. “That was so good,” he breathes.

Keeping your voice sweet, you raise a brow. “Do you think we’re done just because you came, Gukkie? I don’t think so.”

His smile falters, eyes regaining some of their clarity. “I- Oh, you didn’t- Do you want me to...?” he trails off, eyes falling down to between your legs, still fully clothed.

Though you’d love for him to make you cum - truth be told, your nerves feel like they’re working doubletime right now, and you know it wouldn’t take much - you shake your head, standing up off the bed. Jungkook whines and sits up slightly as you pull away, but freezes once you begin to undress in front of him.

Unbuttoning your shirt, you feel his eyes follow your movements hungrily. “I never even gave you permission to cum, baby,” you point out. “I also didn’t ask you not to, so I won’t punish you. But you did ask for me to fuck you and make you feel better.” The fabric of your shirt falling to the floor, you leave your bra on and slip off your pants instead. “So I don’t care how sensitive you are or how many times you cum, I’m going to fuck you until you feel so good you cry. Is that understood?”

Where such vulgarity came from you don’t know, but it triggers the right reaction, Jungkook going limp against the bed, grabby hands flexing at the sheets as he nods as quick as he can, one drifting dangerously close to his still half-hard cock. “Please, I wan’ it. Yes.”

“Wait patiently, then,” you command in a cutting tone, discarding your underwear without ceremony, “and no touching.”

He lets out a quiet huff, leg kicking out and hand slipping under his back to stop temptation. You would laugh at the bratty display - or perhaps even punish him for the attitude - but you’re too focused on stepping into the black harness of the strap-on you got from  Jungkook’s nightstand, working out how to tighten the straps and sit it right.

It takes you a moment to get right, but it’s surprisingly comfortable once you get it into place - which probably is the point. Though it’s odd feeling weight extending from your pelvis, the dildo is supported by a leather belt-like strap that runs around your waist. Right on the outer line of each hip, adjacent straps run down, under the curve of your ass and connect to the central one that sits between your legs like panties, albeit narrow and stiffer than fabric.

You’d seen ones with a second dildo facing inwards to go inside the wearer as they fucked someone else, but this didn’t have one, so instead your only stimulation was the slight heat when the leather would drag against your swollen clit. Happy to forgo your own pleasure for the sake of pleasuring Jungkook, you reach in the nightstand drawer again to pull out the lube.

Unlike Hoseok’s travel-sized bottle, the base of the drawer is littered with sample size packets of multiple brands. Mixed in with foil condom packets, you spy oil-based lubes, water-based ones, some scented, self-heating, even one that claims to be strawberry flavoured. Reaching for a basic water-based one, you rip it open and use it to slick up the dildo.

Jungkook watches you raptly, hips wiggling against the bed either in impatience or the effort it takes not to touch himself. Hyper-aware of the appendage that dangles in front of you, and how slippery your hands currently are, you imagine hunkering on the bed without using your hands probably isn’t a very sexy look, so instead you stand to the side of the mattress and instruct him to come to you.

He does so with obvious enthusiasm and anticipation. The earlier haze of his orgasm dissipating, his eyes are alert and his lips are stretched in an unconscious grin. Splayed out on his back, legs dangling on either side of your hips, Jungkook looks so content to hand over his dominance to you that your heart swells slightly at the sentiment of it.

Clearly Jungkook isn’t feeling as soft as you. On the contrary, his cock looks so hard it must be physically hurting him, the tip weeping precum onto his belly as he arches his back to entice you. “Please, Y/n,” he whines, hitching a foot up onto the edge of the mattress to bare himself more fully. “Gukkie needs it.”

Though it’s more your own hesitation rather than any desire to make him beg for it, you can’t deny that the sweet entreating voice is music to your ears and core, and pushing aside all worries you find yourself guiding his opposite leg up with a slippery hand, before lining your synthetic cock against Jungkook’s rim.

Immediately, before you even enter him, he keens, and although you can’t literally feel him rocking back towards it, you watch it catch on the muscle and begin to slip inside, and the resistance can be felt as a pressure against your pelvis where the base of the dildo is fastened.

“De-deeper,” Jungkook makes out with a gasp, his fingers reaching up to clutch at your wrist, and you push past the resistance to drive the dildo inside him, slowly but smoothly. His breath hitches, back lifting off the bed as his body tries to process the intrusion, and instinctively - a word you wouldn’t typically associate with domming - you grip onto his waist to hold him still.

Though your palms and fingers are still slick with lube, you manage to keep them steady on his skin by slightly digging your nails in. Jungkook’s mouth parts in a gulped moan, and you feel the pressure in front of your crotch suddenly increase as he stiffens.

“Green?” you check in quickly, so quick to fear the worst.

Jungkook is even quicker to dispel your worries. “Green, fuck, harder, please,” he babbles, shifting as much as he can under you to spread his legs wider in invitation.

You let out a breath of relief but pair it with a snapped thrust to mask it as exertion. Jungkook lets out a cry of pleasure that sounds more like a hiccup, his body rocking on the bed with the force of it.

It’s hard to tell how intense or rough your thrusts are when all you have is his response and the feeling of the leather base pressing against you to go off, so once you start to fuck him in earnest, you’re sure to pay close attention to him.

Not that you’d otherwise be apathetic by any means. Whether his beautiful reactions are a skill learnt from camming or he began camming because of his reactions, you don’t know, but you think watching him like this could never get old.

His hair’s splayed back on the pale grey duvet like a dark halo, red hot streaks highlighting just how long the strands have gotten. His eyes, when he manages to open them, glitter like constellations and plead like puppy eyes. Though he has the bone definition of a god, gravity works against the strong lines and puffs up his cheeks instead, making him look small and sweet.

With lips so pretty and swollen, he pouts and whines and pleads, teeth poking out to nibble at the pinked flesh when the dildo hits his prostate and he muffles a whine.

It takes a surprisingly little amount of time to find a rhythm. Though you’re certainly inexperienced in the art of fucking someone else, it’s really a very natural motion to make your hips rock up against him. Albeit tiring, you find yourself able to pick up the pace until he’s writhing under your hands, his own nails scratching at the meat of his thighs with the restraint it takes not to touch himself.

Taking mercy on the poor thing, you lift one knee up on the bed to give yourself sufficient momentum to drop one of your hands from pinning him down and wrap it instead around his cock, doing your best to time your strokes together.

Jungkook lets out a low keen and goes stiff, back in a violent arch. “Fu-uck,” he cries, and his face would almost look scrunched up in pain if you didn’t know better, the poor camboy overwhelmed by finally being touched there.

“Does that feel good, Gukkie? Am I fucking you good?”

He nods hastily, bottom lip trembling as your thrusts don’t let up for a second. “Suh-so good to Gukkie,” he confirms in a wobbly voice, “please fuck Gukkie harder!”

Quickly tiring, you don’t know if you even can, but you engage your core like it’s a workout and speed up your hips, the insistent rub of the leather over your pussy lips and clit actually beginning to tighten a coil of pleasure low in your belly.

“Yes,” Jungkook wails when he feels the dildo spearing him quicker and quicker. You use your thumb to press at his slit, dripping precum in obscene amounts as he sobs and bucks between your hand and your fake cock.

Once his thighs start to tremble violently and he can’t seem to take in a full breath, you know he’s close. Steeling yourself for the final lap, you ignore the rub of the leather and the pressure of the dildo base against your pelvis, and focus fully on Jungkook and bringing him to a second powerful orgasm.

“Are you close, baby? I wanna see you cum again,” you request, punctuating it with a squeeze of his cock to make him cry out.

Such a polite boy, he composes himself enough to answer. “Baby’s so close,” he whines. “Gukkie can cum?”

You smile fondly even with gritted teeth from exertion, glad his eyes are scrunched shut with pleasure so he can’t see you melt for him. “Gukkie can cum, baby.”

You make good on your promise for him to feel so good he cries when he reaches that high shortly after receiving permission. Tears spilling over his cheeks, his moan comes out strangled but stuttered and airy at the same time, almost like he’s giggling at the feeling that overcomes him. Barely anything comes out of his cock, already milked from the first orgasm, but his body is wracked with sensation and his lips are stretched in a dopey grin, struggling to catch his breath.

If you were a meaner - or fitter - dom perhaps you’d fuck him past the point of oversensitivity, but as it is, you quite happily come to a stop buried deep inside him, lazily stroking his cock as it softens until he hisses at the contact.

Using the duvet to wipe away the last of the lube and cum off your hands, you lean forward and cup this cheeks to brush the tears away and press a kiss to the button of his nose.

He shivers happily, lashes fluttering, and lets out a hum. “Thank you for taking care of Gukkie,” he whispers, before wincing slightly and correcting- “taking care of me. Sorry, I tend to do that when I’m-”

“You don’t have to explain,” you reply easily, kissing each of his cheeks in turn, tasting the salt of his tears as he giggles again at the tickling feeling. “Did you enjoy it, baby?”

Jungkook lets out a breathless chuckle, chest still heaving. “Fuck, like you wouldn’t believe,” he jibes, throwing a hand over his eyes and heated cheeks when you pull away. “But really; thank you.”

You slip the dildo out of him carefully, hearing him make a low noise in his throat as his hole flutters, empty. Rubbing his thigh comfortingly with one hand - if you knew one thing from being on the show, it was that you needed to shower Jungkook in aftercare now - you unfasten the strap-on carefully with your other. “You don’t have to thank me. I had fun too.”

The crook of his elbow lifts just slightly to expose the glint of his eyes, disbelieving. “You did?”

You beam warmly. “Definitely. You’re so fun to play with, Gukkie,” you praise, “plus, I feel like getting a new perspective has been really enlightening, you know?”

“Ah,” he muses, “entertaining and educational. I’m glad my ass served you well.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of your throat; the quip a clear sign that Jungkook is returning from that hazy, contented plane of subspace you’ve grown used to. “Better put that on your CV.”

Jungkook sits up, affronted. Two fat drops of cum run down his stomach, quickly drying out once they spread over his skin. “My ass has been listed on my CV as a skill for years, Y/n, I’m not an amateur.”

“Oh, a professional ass man,” you tease, sighing at the release of pressure once the strap-on harness falls off your hips and to the ground, leaving your lower half bare. “Is that why you got on the show, huh?”

The camboy pouts. “I got on for many reasons,” he insists, “I’m very qualified, you know.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you return immediately, and pause. “Fuck. We were meant to be bantering but I’ve just been complimenting you, haven’t I?”

He nods like it was intentional. “Yet another one of my skills.”

“You’re impossible,” you sigh, but even when he convinces you to join him in the shower, the conversation between you flows without a hitch, and your fondness for the boy only grows.

--

In retrospect, you probably could’ve worked out Namjoon’s prompt based on how he treats you that dinner.

Subtlety isn’t his strong suit, but you’re so hungry from earlier that you barely notice the signs. It’s not uncommon for the guys to pile food on your plate, but Namjoon’s repeated insistence of feeding you directly perhaps should’ve been the first flag.

The way he fills your glass of water for you, ruffles your hair, continuously calls you little… Yeah, you blame Yoongi’s delicious fish cutlet and rice meal for not paying enough attention.

Luckily for you - or perhaps for him - an opening appears when you’re cleaning up the table with Taehyung and accidentally fumble a small dish of dipping sauce all over your hands and front.

Immediately, Namjoon as at your side, taking the ceramics out of your hand and tsking gently. “Oh, love, that’s no good,” he coos in a low timbre, “you’ve gotten yourself all dirty.”

You could just offer to go rinse your hands off in the sink and change shirts, but you’re wired up from fucking Jungkook without your own release - the camboy was so chipper at dinner that everyone had surely cottoned on - and so a better idea comes to mind. “It’s running down my sleeve,” you offer with a faux pout, “I’ll probably need a shower to get it all off. Care to join me?”

Namjoon’s brows lift as he surreptitiously ensures no one else is in earshot. With a hand on the small of your back, he leans in and presses his lips against your ear. “How about Daddy gives you a bath, baby girl?”

You suck in a breath, nerves alighting. Oh. You can work with this. Straightening up, you latch onto his shirt sleeve near the cuff and soften your eyes. “Only if you take one with me,” you bargain, “I’m only little, Daddy.”

He pulls back quickly, and were it not for the hot flares of lust in his eyes, it would almost seem like he’d been shocked. “Go to your bedroom then, love,” he instructs, “and no running on the stairs.”

Of course you aren’t really an impulsive child but, as it is, his command  is actually difficult to follow. The urge to clamber up them as fast as you can, knowing you’re finally going to get fucked good, is hard to suppress.

You manage, however, and soon enough Namjoon’s in the bathroom with you, filling the tub. As you wait, toes wiggling against the cool tile in excitement, he unbuttons his cuff and rolls up the sleeve.

“Okay, clothes off, kitten,” he instructs, hunkering over the edge of the tub to dip a hand in up to the forearm, checking the temperature and stirring up the water, “it’s just about ready.”

You obey, tossing your clothes in a growing pile in the corner. Though it’s no bubble bath, he has drizzled some body wash in to give it a comforting scent, floral and sleepy like ylang ylang. When he pulls his arm out, there’s a ring of suds, and spots of water have already gotten onto his shirt. “You’ve gotta hop in too, Daddy,” you point out, smirking when Namjoon visibly falters at the title.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he confirms, shucking off his shirt and pants, “get in first, kitten, it’s all ready.”

The water is divine, a blooming heat that seeps down to your bones, warming you to the core. You immediately see your skin start to pinken, but the water isn’t unbearably hot, and it’s a pleasant flush.

The heat below contrasts with the cool air on your upper back and shoulders, causing you to shiver, but before you can complain you feel the water level rise, Namjoon’s arms wrapping around you from behind.

As you let him lean you back against his chest, you feel his hardness, but neither of you feel the need to comment on it. This is a porn show, and you’re going to fuck soon, sure, but for now there’s nothing better than a hot bath.

“Give me your hand, let’s clean this sticky sauce up, huh?” It isn’t until Namjoon begins to soap up a loofah and delicately scrub away at the black trails of dipping sauce that have run down your arms that you realise just how fantastic this prompt is. If you played your cards right, Namjoon would take care of you and pamper you all evening, fuck you silly, and then presumably put you to bed like a good Daddy. Holding your hands out obediently, you’re quite content to oblige.

“Sit up, kitten,” the academic commands softly with a press to your shoulder. Once the skin of your arms is unmarred again, Namjoon dips the loofah in the chest-level water, pulls it out dripping suds and water, and laves it over your back, making you sigh at the warmth. “Feels nice, hm?”

Your lips stretch in a lazy smile as you recall asking that very question yourself just earlier today. As much as you had fun domming Jungkook, and wouldn’t be averse to switching things up - quite literally - again, there’s no denying that your soul really sings when you’re the one being taken care of, played with, and pleasured. “Really nice, Daddy.”

The loofah gets dipped again, this time sliding over your chest and stomach. Letting your eyes slip shut at the relaxing treatment, Namjoon’s low timbre washes over you just like the aromatic suds of body wash. “I’m glad,” he coos, “I like taking care of you. You’re too little to do it all yourself, aren’t you? Need Daddy’s help?”

“Too little,” you parrot sleepily, “need Daddy.” With every word, with every touch of his large hands on you, you truly begin to feel little. Curling your toes against the base of the tub, you make a low noise in your throat and lean back against his chest again, head lolling back over his shoulder. “Will you give me a kiss, Daddy?”

He smiles at your entreating plea and wide eyes, eyes like crescent moons as he dips his head and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “All better now?” he checks as he sits the sopping loofah on the side of the bath.

You bite your lip and shake your head. “I’m not all clean yet, Daddy.”

“You aren’t?” he asks with mock surprise, dimple deepening and brows lifting. “Well, that’s no good, is my kitten still dirty somewhere?”

With a single decisive nod, you grab his hand and lead it down until the tips of his fingers brush your folds. “Daddy didn’t clean here, ‘s still dirty.”

You let out a blissful sigh when he cups you, middle finger curling up to barely dip inside you. Namjoon grins. “In here?” Rather than wait for your answer, he smoothly pushes it deeper, massaging at your inner walls. “Alright, kitten, just close your eyes and let Daddy finish cleaning you up.”

A smile graces your lips as your eyes flutter shut again, head comfy in the crook of his neck and shoulder. You could get used to this.

He doesn’t tease you, but nor does he fingerfuck you with intensity or vigor. It’s methodical and diligent, like he really is cleaning you out. One finger quickly becomes two, and his other arm winds around your waist on the other side to roll your sensitive clit, making you moan softly.

Raring to go from unfulfilled pleasure that morning, your nerves go into overdrive, a building wave growing quickly in your belly. When Namjoon adds a third finger, crooking them inside you thoroughly to stroke your g-spot, it takes less than a minute for you to fall apart, thighs clenching tight around his hands.

He works you through it, only stopping when you whimper from oversensitivity, but that doesn’t stop you from whimpering unhappily again when he pulls his fingers out and you’re left empty.

“You’re all clean now, kitten,” Namjoon states, running his palms over your inner thighs to relax them. “Time to get out.”

You sit up suddenly with a pout. “But Daddy!”

Narrowing his brows, you don’t miss the slight twitch of Namjoon’s lips at your sudden outburst. “No buts,” he reproaches, “I don’t want you pruning up.”

You huff, scowling when he deftly tugs out the plug and the water level steadily sinks. “You haven’t even fucked me yet, Da-mmf!”

Namjoon sends you a cutting glare, his strong hand cupped over your mouth. “I should wash your mouth out with soap for using that language, little one,” he warns, “now out of the bath.”

You whine behind his hand, but once he drops it you obey and scramble out of the quickly-draining tub. Your body feels heavier without the buoyancy of water, and you’re dripping onto the bathmat like a drowned rat, but Namjoon pays it no mind, getting out himself with powerful thighs and a heavy cock dangling between them, passing you a towel wordlessly.

You dry yourself off, pout never leaving your face. He’s really just gonna stay hard like that and not fuck you? “Daddy…”

“One more protest and I’m taking you over my knee,” Namjoon says with a sharp tone. “I thought my kitten was better behaved than this.”

You open and close your mouth, unsure how you can get what you want without using vulgar words. Then again, perhaps making him punish you would rile him up enough to fuck you, and you certainly weren’t against some spanking. Sucking a breath in to establish some resolve, you stomp your foot on the bathmat. “You’re so mean, Daddy!”

Namjoon gapes at you, the way you’re bundled in a towel from your chin to your knees, scowling at him. “You want it, don’t you?” he mutters quietly, receiving a small nod in return. Relaxing for a moment, he slips easily back into that position of authority. “That’s it,” he spits, taking you firmly by the wrist and leading you - still naked himself - into your bedroom, “I gave you plenty of warnings but you still won’t listen.”

You squeak as he rips the towel from you and tugs you onto his lap on the edge of the bed. Adjusting you so that your crotch is right above his aching erection, his legs are so long that your toes barely brush on the carpet, all your balance resting on him. This had been the roughest he’d ever been with you, or at least the most domineering, and your mind whirls with how much he’s coming into his element with this prompt.

He gives you no warning before he’s laying his hands on your ass, small pats to warm up the skin before a sudden, stinging strike laces your nerves. You cry out, wriggling in his grip, but he uses one broad hand to link your wrists together in the small of your back, your face pressed onto the mattress as you’re held up fully by him.

He’s carefully merciless, spanking you hard enough that it burns, tears pricking your eyes and lip swollen from when you bite it, but whenever your cries of pain and pleasure turn too much to genuine discomfort, you notice he gives you an extra second of reprieve and swaps out to lighter hits.

“Apologise to Daddy,” he commands gruffly as you sob beneath him, swatting you without pause.

You sniff and swallow before you can compose yourself enough to reply in a wobbly cry, knees buckling and trembling. “Suh-sorry, Daddy, I’m so sorry, I learnt my lesson, ple-ease!”

You could cry when you feel his hand land on you one last time, soft and soothing the stinging flesh. Namjoon shifts, and then you feel light kisses being pressed all the way from your reddened ass up your spine, making you shiver. “Thank you, kitten,” he murmurs in your ear, and gently sits you up, lying you on the mattress.

You hiss when you feel the fabric scratch at your skin, but it’s cool and soothing if you stay still, so you take deep breaths and feel your heart slowly return to normal, Namjoon running his fingers over your now-dry body.

Blinking up at him with what you hope are sweet puppy-dog eyes, you call his name softly to bring his attention to your face. “Are you really not gonna, you know…?”

He grins fondly at your attempt to evade the word fuck, silver hair flopping over his brow as he leans over you. “You took your punishment so well kitten, I think you deserve a reward, hm? Some special time with Daddy?”

You light up, sucking on your lower lip as you spread your legs to bare yourself shamelessly, hooking one foot around his waist so he’s between them. “Extra special time with Daddy,” you insist in a small voice, lip curling now that you’re finally going to get what you want.

With a light laugh, Namjoon centres himself so that he’s facing you head-on, your legs comfortably resting aside his hips. Stroking himself a few times, he taps his hard length against your already-swollen pussy lips. “Relax for me, kitten,” he guides, and you keen as you feel him begin to push inside you.

You try to stop yourself from clenching around him, but it’s been a while since you’ve fucked him, and as usual the biggest cock in the house takes getting used to. “So big, Daddy,” you breathe with a groan, brows pinched together at the stretch.

“You can take it, kitten, you’re doing so well for me,” Namjoon promises, holding you steady and open with a hand hooking your knee up high by his chest.

By the time he’s bottomed out, hips flush against your still-stinging ass, you feel so deliciously full that you can’t breathe. You lay back, eyes scrunched, and focus entirely on the feeling of his girth stretching you open.

“Feels good?” Namjoon checks in, and you nod, wriggling your hips against him to indicate he can move. “Hold on tight, then.”

Even though it’s barely been a day since you were last fucked, it feels like so much longer, and having Namjoon fill you up over and over is so satisfying on a deep level, that you don’t bother muffling your moans, letting yourself clutch at his arms and enjoy the ride.

While Namjoon certainly isn’t the most lithe or experienced member, his cock is a force of nature in and of itself, and this time, with the heat of desperation and the excitement of your altered dynamic getting to him, he fucks you without holding back.

If he’s like this on his third time, you think, he’ll be a beast before the show ends, but then the head of his cock strikes right against your g-spot, and the thought shatters as a cry is ripped from your throat.

“Oh! Daddy, yes, right there!”

He obliges you by adjusting his hips so that every stroke rubs against you just right, and your mind melts, colours and sounds and sensation blurring together in one full note of all-encompassing pleasure.

You cum without warning, not expecting it yourself, and Namjoon curses lowly in his throat as you clench around him. The orgasm is powerful enough to leave you shuddering hopelessly on the bed before going fully slack, drained.

Warm, fuzzy tingles settle in your fingers and toes and chest in the aftermath as Namjoon fucks you through it, not taking long himself to spill inside you. He drops your leg to the side and leans in, pressing slightly ticklish kisses to your neck and collarbone, hands on either side of your chest to keep his weight off you.

“So good to me,” he breathes out lowly, nuzzling your chin up to give him a better angle to sweetly kiss you on the lips, languid and unhurried as he slowly comes down from his own high.

This time when he pulls out of you and you’re left empty again, you don’t complain, too thoroughly fucked to do anything but let out a contented sigh. Namjoon cleans you up, apologising when oversensitivity makes you twitch at the slightest contact, and then washes up himself.

Just as you feel your mind lifting out of that mental space of feeling little, sitting up a bit on his bed and trying to work out if you’d be able to make it to your dresser to put on some pyjamas, Namjoon returns and does it for you, helping you slip into a baggy t-shirt that you like to use as a nightie.

“Are you going to stay?” you ask softly as he lowers the hem over your head, arms slotting through the holes.

“Do you want me to?” Namjoon counters with an edge of hesitation, scratching lightly at his opposite arm, still naked.

You nod, patting the bed beside you. “If you don’t mind.”

Namjoon gathers his clothes and slips them on, not really appropriate for sleeping. Once he sees your look of confusion, he tilts his head towards your bedroom door. “I’m just going to duck out for some comfier clothes for sleeping, are you going to be alright for a moment?”

By the time he’s come back, you’ve already quickly brushed your teeth - hobbling to and from your bathroom like a newborn deer - and slipped under the covers, getting comfortable. Namjoon returns in grey striped pyjama pants and a white shirt, but he has something in his hands.

“You might think it’s silly,” he offers by way of explanation, the mattress springs squeaking as he gets on beside you, “but I like reading before bed, and I thought maybe you’d find it calming.”

With a dubious smile, you look at the book in his hands. It has the clean edges of a cared-for book, with the creases in the spine of a well-read one. On the cover, golden embossed stars and swooping font read The Little Prince. “You want me to read it?”

Namjoon returns your smile, warm and dimpled. “I want to read to you.”

The two of you cuddle together without words, one of his arms wrapped around your back as you lean on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Propping the small novel up on his stomach, he peers over your head to read.

“Once when I was six years old,” he begins, “I saw a magnificent picture in a book called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest. It was a picture of a boa constrictor in the act of swallowing an animal. Here is a copy of the drawing.” He pauses, tapping you twice on the crown of your head to indicate you should look. “In the book it said…”

As he recites the novel aloud, you feel more than hear his voice, a low rumble in your ear like a rushing river or a slow-moving thunderstorm. It’s soothing, lulling you into sleep. His voice wraps around every word like a hug, enunciating each syllable with such care and colour and love, and always pausing when there were photos, even when your eyes slip shut and you begin to drift off.

Slowly, everything fades away. All sound is reduced to that regular heartbeat and warm rumble; all sensations are narrowed down to just the heat of his skin where it meets yours, his fingers lazily swirling patterns on your scalp. All thoughts simplify, the last six words in your brain, I could get used to this, before they wink out to nothing at all, and you sleep.

[moonlit-han]

part i: he came in through the bathroom window

genre: college au, neighbor au, fluff, humor pairing: femme reader x 3racha in poly relationship part word count: 5k part warnings: suggestive, alcohol consumption, explicit language request: yes and no~ a/n: this is in no way represents stray kids or bang chan, seo changbin, and han jisung, as it is a work of fiction. and to my readers: this is the first part in a series that’s rather dear to my heart, and while i’m not sure how long it’ll end up being at the moment, i hope you enjoy it!

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

↠↞

Just before your final year of college, you moved into a new apartment—well, your part of a shared house that had been made into several apartments. There was another one on the ground floor with yours, and then two upstairs. It was clean, with lovely light and a surprisingly nice kitchen. Your bedroom was nicely proportioned, too, with amazing closet space. The bathroom adjoined your neighbor’s, and there was even a little door that connected the two, for some reason. You quickly found that you had to leave the window open, even just a crack, to air out the room—an old house meant no ventilation fan. Occasionally, the proximity to your neighbor made it a little weird when you ended up taking a shower at the same time because he sang in the shower. On more than one occasion, you had to stop yourself from joining in.

You later found out that said neighbor was a music student at the same university as you, and you were sure you would have never met him if he hadn’t been your neighbor. He didn’t hang out with the same people as you, didn’t have any of the same classes, seemed to spend all his time shut up in his apartment occasionally strumming on a guitar, and was just generally an introvert. He did seem to have two best friends whose laughter you heard through the walls on a regular basis.

On the second day you lived there, a Friday, he knocked on your door, a mango in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. 

“Hi, I’m Jisung,” he chirped. “I live next door. I brought you a house-warming gift—sorry it isn’t fancier. Hope you like it!” Jisung thrust the wine and mango into your surprised hands and then darted away to the other side of the house before you could even invite him in. You just stood there for a solid two minutes, staring into nothing with the mango and bottle of wine.

Wow, he was hot. Shit.

For the rest of the day, you went about your business, unpacking and arranging your things. The bottle of wine drew your eye but you resisted temptation, knowing that you wouldn’t get anything done if you opened it in the mid-afternoon. Occasionally, you heard music or slightly worrying thumps from Jisung’s apartment. But, you’d only just moved in and didn’t know him well enough to feel comfortable going to check on him. Surely he was fine, right?

Around 6 pm, you gave in and got the bottle of wine. Rummaging in one of the boxes still lounging on the kitchen floor, you found a wine glass, and miraculously, the bottle opener, too. As you poured out the liquid, it smelled fruity and a little sweeter than you normally liked wine, but it was a gift and you’d been working all day. You couldn’t pass up free alcohol. And perhaps because you’d been moving in all day, the wine tasted delicious and you soon poured yourself another glass. Thinking there had to be a reason for Jisung including a mango, of all things, with the wine, you sliced it and ate a few pieces in between sips of wine. The combination was perfect, and you wondered how Jisung had discovered such a lovely pairing.

As you settled in for evening, your thoughts strayed to your new neighbor. He seemed nice enough, albeit a bit shy, and was thoughtful enough to bring a housewarming present. That had to count for something. But what you couldn’t get out of your head was just him—the way his eyes sparkled with mischief, the way his hair swooped around his face. And with the hoodie that practically swallowed him whole, Jisung was absolutely the cutest, most handsome guy you’d ever seen. 

Pausing the show you were watching on your computer, you had to take a few deep breaths to calm your racing heart. You’d only just met the man, and you hadn’t even said anything! How could you be falling for him already? Heck! Giving up completely, you decided to go to bed . . . on the sofa you were currently occupying because you hadn’t set up your bed yet.

 ↠↞

Three months later, you were successfully moved in and your classes were in full-swing. You’d seen Jisung a few times as you came and went from your apartment, but you hadn’t really talked much. You were okay with that, though—classes were busy and it wasn’t as if there was some mystical Book of Rules for New Neighbors that you had to read and follow directions from. When you did talk, though, he was perfectly nice, making sure to ask how you were doing and actually listening to what you had to say—a rare quality, you’d found. He always gave you a toothy grin that seemed to light up his whole body, too.

Your door knocker barely ever got used, which was why when very loud knocking echoed through your apartment on Saturday, you were sure the apocalypse was coming. Cautiously, thinking of all the bad things that could happen if the person on the other side of the door meant you harm, you opened your front door. Revealed on the threshold was Jisung, along with two other young men who could only be the best friends you heard so often. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Jisung said, moving slightly to the side so you could see his companions. “So, I figured I’d introduce you to my friends, since they’re around a lot. Also, I usually ask one or both of them watch the apartment when I’m gone sometimes.”

“Oh. Okay,” was all you could manage while being stared at by three highly attractive young men.

“Can we . . . come in?” Jisung asked hesitantly.

“Um, yeah sure,” you said, blinking, and moved out of the way.

So that was how you ended up with Jisung and his two best friends lounging on the couch in your apartment. They seemed perfectly at home, not noticing or simply not caring about the mess of books and mugs on your coffee table, nor the—

Oh shit, the laundry. 

Your laundry—underpants, bras, and all—was hanging on a drying rack in the corner of your living room under the window. You scurried over to the rack and quickly threw a towel, which had been catching any rain that happened to fall on your windowsill, over the clothes. Turning round, you found the guys looking at you. You smiled nervously, knowing you were blushing.

Jisung put his head in his hands. You felt like doing the same thing just then.

“So, let me guess,” said the one sitting on Jisung’s left, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re name’s Reina, right? Since you’re lovely as a queen?”

You burst out laughing. You couldn’t believe someone had actually just used such a ridiculous pick-up line on you. “Sorry to disappoint,” you said, still giggling. “My name’s Y/N.”

“Oh well,” Chan said in mock-sadness, “that’s a pretty name, too. Just about as pretty as you!”

“Chan, fucking hell, man,” Jisung groaned. “Can you not flirt with every single person I introduce you to?”

“Sorry, ’Sung.” He still winked at you, though.

“Yeah. Okay.” Jisung addressed you again. “So this,” he pointed at the one he’d called ‘Chan,’ “is Chan. And the other dork who insists on being friends with me is Changbin. They’re also studying music composition and production.”

“Nice to meet you. And honestly,” you added conspiratorially, “I don’t understand why you’d want to be around Jisung either. Did you know he sings in the shower?”

Now it was Chan and Changbin’s turn to burst out laughing, falling onto the sofa’s arms.

“Jisung, your neighbor’s cool!” Changbin chuckled once he got himself under control. “Why didn’t you introduce us sooner?"

Jisung blushed faintly and grumbled something about not getting the chance. He’s really cute when he blushes, you thought.

“But yeah, we’re the bane of the Music Department’s existence,” Changbin said cheerfully. His voice was slightly husky, but somehow melodious, too.

“Just call us 3racha—because we’re spicy like Sriracha sauce!”

“Chan!” Jisung hissed, shoving his friend but he couldn’t wipe the grin off Chan’s face. Even though he seemed determined to be the cheesiest person ever, you noticed that Chan had extremely cute dimples and kind eyes.

“Wow, you three really are something,” you observed, with only a hint of sarcasm tinging your voice. “Jisung, did you really just come over and insist on coming into my apartment just to introduce your friends? Or, did you need something?” It came out slightly harsher than you’d meant it, but still. He’d practically barged in!

“Um, yeah, pretty much,” Jisung said. “Like I said, I wanted you to at least know who the people coming and going were.”

“And if you ever need anything,” Changbin added, “we’ve got you.”

“Thanks?” you said, not quite sure how they’d be able to help you, since you’d a) only just met them, and b) didn’t have any way to contact them. Although, Changbin did have a quiet confidence about him that was actually quite reassuring.

Jisung sighed, a little fidgety. “Well, I think we’ve trespassed on your time long enough. Let me know if the music’s too loud, okay?”

All four of you stood at the same time, Changbin leading the way to the door. “See you later, Y/N,” he said. “It was lovely to finally meet the person we’ve been hearing so much about.” And then he winked, too. 

What was with these guys and winking? you groused to yourself, trying to keep ahold of your expression. Wait, he didn’t mean… oh fucking hell. Judging by Changbin’s smirk that’s exactly what he’d meant. Why did the walls have to be so thin? Why!

Clearly exercising all the self-control he had, Chan just waved and said “Bye” on the way out. Jisung stopped as he was halfway out your door.

“Sorry this was unexpected, Y/N. I just thought you’d like to get to know them.” Jisung smiled a little sadly, and with that, carefully shut your door after himself.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding just as a small scuffle broke out on your front step. You could almost hear Jisung berating his friends for something. Running a hand through your hair and massaging a temple in the process, you walked back over to sit on the couch. As you continued massaging your head, your eyes were caught by a folded piece of paper on the coffee table. 

Strange, you thought, I don’t remember ever having that pattern of note paper. You picked it up and opened it to see. . . 

Wow, the audacity.

One of the guys had left all three of their numbers for you on that slip of paper. Chan’s even had a heart next to his. They really had some nerve. Then again, you weren’t exactly complaining that three hot guys had just left you their numbers. You never knew when that could come in handy.

↠↞

You were finally snuggled in bed when you heard a crash. You went stiff for a moment, thinking through the various things that could have made that sound in your apartment. The sound seemed to have come from the bathroom. Okay. So, it might have been the mirror or a glass you forgot to move off the edge of the sink. It didn’t have to be the window. Besides, there hadn’t been any other noises after the first.

Reluctantly, you got out of bed and trudged to the bathroom to see what had happened. The shelf you’d put up two days ago lay on the floor surrounded by the shards of a vase you’d placed on said shelf just earlier that evening. 

“Damn it,” you muttered, bending to pick up the shelf and the larger pieces of glass. The weight of the vase must have been too much for the shelf, even though you’d properly attached it to the wall. You methodically cleaned up the glass and reattached the shelf to the wall, not putting anything on it this time in hopes that it wouldn’t fall again.

When you woke up, the shelf was still up and you felt rather smug for putting it back up properly. And when you got home, the shelf was still up, too.

That night, you took a lovely bath—taking care to crack the window to let out the steam—twisted your hair up into a comfortable top-knot, and then laid down on your bed with just yourself for company. You sighed gratefully. It had been a long week and you desperately needed some rest.

But, before you could even settle into the softness of your mattress, you heard the distinctive sound of shattering glass. From inside your apartment.

Fuck, not again.

You slipped out of bed, throwing on your sleep shorts and a loose tank top before padding out of your bedroom. Walking as silently as you could, by putting your the balls of your feet on the ground before your heels, you made your way to the bathroom.

You heard a thump just as you put your hand on the doorknob. If that shelf had fallen again…

It was not the shelf.

None other than Han Jisung was sprawled on your bathroom floor, arms and legs going everywhere, and a look of distinct puzzlement on his face. He shook his head, clearly having banged it on the floor. There were bits of broken glass scattered all around him, and you could see a light dusting of it in his hair.

“What the fuck?” you shrieked, backing up to just outside the door.

Jisung looked up at you and grimaced. “Hi?”

“What the hell are you doing in my bathroom? How are you in my bathroom? You had better have a damn good explanation, Han Jisung.” You couldn’t believe it. You’d thought Jisung was nice, that he was normal. But this? Sneaking into your bathroom at 12:30 am? That was just too much. Only a creep would do that.

Jisung scrambled onto his knees, his back to the wall. Under the window. The window that had just been broken. “I can explain!” he said, hands going up in front of him as his shoulders shrugged, as if expecting a blow. 

“You’d better talk fast,” you said, your voice dangerously low. 

“So, like a dumbass, I forgot my key.” He gulped, then took a breath. “And the guy who lived here before you used to let me come through here when I forgot my key because there’s the connecting door.”

You glanced at said door, which you’d assumed was sealed permanently. Apparently not. You glared at Jisung, who continued.

“Um, I thought I’d just climb in and go through the door. I didn’t mean to break the glass, I promise! My foot just got stuck and so I kind of tripped through the window, if that makes sense? I’m so sorry, Y/N! I thought I’d told you about the whole window thing!” Jisung’s face was screwed up like he might cry, his whole body tense as he made himself as small as he could.

You almost felt sorry for him. Almost. But, you didn’t say anything, waiting for Jisung to provide more of an explanation.

“I— My front windows don’t open and the back and side ones open onto the hill, so there’s nowhere I can use to climb into my own apartment. That’s the only reason this has happened. Really, I’m sorry!”

“So,” you said, hands on your hips, “you’re telling me that you used to climb through this window whenever you forgot your keys.” Jisung nodded. “Did you ever think of making of copy of the key and hiding it under a rock or something?” You were in utter disbelief—how hadn’t he done that? Or given Chan and Changbin keys? You mentally rolled your eyes.

“Shit,” Jisung lamented. “No, I hadn’t thought of that. Like I said, he just let me come in this way and it seemed to work fine. Plus, I don’t think the landlord would like us making copies of the keys, right?”

“Jisung, right now that’s the least of your worries. Please remember that you’re sitting on my bathroom floor. At 12:45 am. I was in bed!” You sighed loudly. Jisung just looked so dejected, you couldn’t stay angry at him for long. “For fucks sake, come here,” you said, reaching out a hand.

He took it, careful not to step on any broken glass from the window, and let you pull him up. His hands were calloused from playing the guitar. And suddenly, Jisung was very close to you. Very close. You could see how long his eyelashes were and the place where he must bite his lip when he’s nervous—you could smell his shampoo. You were also all too aware of just how thin your tank top was, and, it would seem, so was Jisung. You crossed your arms, hoping he’d just think you were cold from the breeze coming in the open window.

“I’ll contact the landlord tomorrow and say I was playing baseball or something and accidentally hit a ball through the window,” he said quickly, stepping back and trying not to look any lower than your face.

“Okay,” you replied, heartbeat faster than you’d care to admit. “Thanks. Now please get out of my bathroom, Jisung. I really do want to go to bed.”

“Yeah, sorry. Really, Y/N. I’m so sorry about this. I’ll— I’ll go get some cardboard and tape to cover the window. I’m sorry!” Jisung seemed like he would start rambling wildly any moment now.

“Just go back to your apartment. I’ll take care of the window, okay?” you tried to be as firm as you could, but Jisung could do sad puppy eyes better than anyone you’d ever met. Dear god, this boy… You gave in. After all, it would be one less thing for you to do. “Fine, Jisung. You can patch the window. Do it quickly, since I want to go to bed.”

With a soft, apologetic smile, Jisung went to the half-door next to your bathroom cabinet. After a moment of him fiddling with the latch, the door swung inward to reveal a small space through which he could crawl. Sighing, Jisung bent down and looked up at you. It did not escape your notice that this was the second time that night that you’d seen Jisung on his knees. 

“Again, I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’ll be right back to fix the window—just go back to bed.”

Before you could respond, Jisung was crawling forward into the slightly dingy area between your apartments.

↠↞

Jisung did, indeed, take care of the window getting fixed. When you went out to check how it looked, you noticed a conveniently placed log that would make it much easier to, say, climb through the window above. You estimated the height from the ground to the windowsill, and realized that Jisung would have had to jump and then pull himself up just with the strength in his arms in order to get through the window. Yes, the wood shingle siding provided fairly good footholds, but not that much. Damn, you thought appreciatively, he’s strong. You were suddenly glad for the chill in the air to cool your now too-warm face.

You found yourself thinking about Jisung at the most inconvenient times, such as in your lecture classes, and quickly realized that, even though you didn’t know him as well as you’d like, you had a crush on your neighbor. Strangely, you still hadn’t run into each other on campus, but you’d seen Chan and Changbin—in the distance and too far away to talk to. You weren’t sure what to make of the fact that you were into Jisung, but your daydreams had certainly become much more vivid.

That one night was just the first time of many that Han Jisung crawled through your window in the middle of the night. By the sixth time it happened, you decided to talk to Jisung.

You heard the familiar rattle of the window and immediately raced into the bathroom in time to help Jisung down. It was a bit sad to see him on the floor after he accidentally caught a piece of clothing, his backpack, or, one memorable time, an earring, on the window. You held out a hand to him, and he took it, hopping into the room like a lady exiting a carriage.

Holding Jisung’s hand was surprisingly nice. His grip was firm and comforting, as if he were transferring his warmth and affection—

Wait, affection? Huh . . .

You quickly dropped Jisung’s hand, but not after checking that his feet were planted on the ground.

“Jisung, why don’t you come into the living room, okay?” you said, hoping you didn’t sound nervous.

“Oh. Sure!” Jisung was clearly baffled, since you’d never done anything like this. Remembering to shut the window behind himself, he followed you into your apartment. By now, he should have been almost used to seeing you in your pajamas, but he wasn’t. Your tank tops left nothing to the imagination, which was maddening for him.

You pointed Jisung to the couch, and he took a seat, sitting with his back ramrod straight and an expectant look in his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile a little as you curled up on the other end of the couch. Jisung, who took this as encouragement, smiled back. 

“Jisung, I’ve noticed that you’ve come through this way once a week for over a month,” you said. “There’s no way you’ve actually lost your key every single fucking week. So, why have you been coming through into my apartment every week?”

You knew it sounded a little silly, but he had been appearing between 9:30 pm and 1:30 am every Friday. 

“Um, yeah. I may or may not be really bad at keeping my keys on me. Also . . .” Jisung’s voice trailed off so quietly that you couldn’t hear him properly.

“What did you say?” you asked.

“I’m really bad at keeping my keys on me?”

“No, the other part,” you said slowly.

“Damn, I was hoping you wouldn’t hear that,” Jisung grumbled.

“Jisung, what the hell?”

“I wanted to see you,” Jisung said and ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed.

You were stunned. It almost made sense—Jisung was clearly an introvert and seemed to be one of those people who would rather do something outrageous than actually have to talk to someone, much less someone they had a crush on. Neither of you had exactly made many other attempts to see or talk to each other, besides random meetings at the mailbox and leaving your apartments at the same time. Although, he had asked you to bring him soup when he got a cold in September, and you’d happily taken him some. Amazingly, the fact that he’d been all but sneaking into your apartment for the last six weeks didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. That, you realized upon later reflection, probably had something to do with your crush on him.

“You . . . wanted to see me?” you asked, voice soft. You barely noticed as you uncurled your legs and shifted closer to Jisung. Your hands rested on the upholstery beside you. 

“Yeah.” Jisung had moved closer, too, and now you were sitting side-by-side, facing each other.

“But why?”

“Because,” Jisung said as he reached out and linked his pinky finger with yours. You nearly jumped, the contact seeming like a spark leaping from him to you. “Well, you’re beautiful and kind, and I’d like to get to know you better. And whenever I hear you laugh at whatever silly thing you’re reading or watching, I end up giggling because it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard. Did I mention you’re beautiful?”

You were silent for a minute, staring into space level with Jisung’s elbow; he shifted nervously but you didn’t let go of his hand. Your mind raced nearly as fast as your heartbeat.

“Kiss me, then,” you said, and Jisung’s eyes went wide. “Kiss me, Jisung.”

Jisung hesitantly placed his hand on your waist as you gently cupped his cheek—you could feel his pulse jumping in his neck. His touch was light as a feather and you could feel his hand shaking, even as he drew you closer. He leaned forward at the same time as you did, too, and a dull ache spread through your forehead where it had hit Jisung’s.

You crinkled your nose, leaning your head against the couch, and rubbed your brow.

“Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay?” Jisung said, not even thinking as he ran his hand over what was now a slightly red spot of your forehead.

You giggled and said, “I’m fine. Are you okay, though?”

“I’ve had worse,” Jisung chuckled. He also leaned against the couch, resting his arm on its back as, throwing all caution to the winds, he traced the arch of your cheekbone with a fingertip. “Here,” he said as he leaned toward you again and placed a kiss on your forehead. 

“Aw, you’re too sweet,” you said. Jisung was directly in front of you and you thought, Well, since he’s already this close. So, you leaned in and placed kiss after kiss down his jaw. Still hesitant, Jisung turned his head slightly and brushed his lips against yours. It was only for a second, but you immediately caught his lips with yours, wanting more. As you took the lead, Jisung relaxed into the kiss. His lips were warm as you renewed the kiss over and over. 

You took a breath, smiling and moving your free hand to Jisung’s hair—It really was as soft as you’d always expected. He hummed contentedly, leaning his head back slightly into your hand.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for so long,” Jisung breathed, letting out what might have been a laugh or a sigh. 

“Me, too,” you said, still carding your fingers through his hair.

“And now you’re too far away,” Jisung pouted, and slanted his lips to yours again. Continuing to twine your fingers around his hair, you let your other hand run over Jisung’s arms and chest, then down to wrap around his waist. As you did, Jisung held your hip and pulled you closer so you were nearly sitting in his lap. Not that you minded. You transferred a hand to his shoulder so you wouldn’t topple over. Jisung swiped his tongue along your bottom lip and you gladly opened to him. He tasted of the vanilla chapstick he clearly used, and as you explored each other’s mouths, you slipped your hand under the hem of his shirt. 

The feeling of your hand on his skin nearly made Jisung faint from surprise and he gasped against your lips before kissing you even more enthusiastically. After long moments of wonton kissing, your arm ached a little from resting on the back of the couch and, reluctantly, you broke the kiss. Jisung’s lips were very red and swollen.

“Are you okay?” Jisung asked, worried as he pulled back, just in case. You didn’t let go of him, though.

“Can we change positions a little, Ji?” The nickname had just slipped out and you didn’t realize you’d call him that until you saw his expression.

“Of course.” Jisung paused, not exactly sure what to do next. “Um, what do you want to do?”

“Well,” you pretended to think for a moment, “we could lay down a bit?”

Jisung blushed a little at the implication that hung in those words. “That’s,” he began and cleared his throat. “That’s just fine with me.” 

Taking a deep breath, Jisung slouched back onto the arm of the couch, bringing you with him. You had to do some scooting yourself, and soon found yourself straddling his legs. Jisung reached up and pulled you down to him, running his hands up and down your back as he did so. You rested your forearms on the couch behind Jisung and brought your lips back to his, leaving little kisses around his lips before fully kissing him again. Kissing him was like finding a lucky penny: unexpectedly sweet and such a simple yet exciting thing that you couldn’t help but want to leap with joy. All of a sudden, a giggle burbled up out of you and you hid your face in the crook of Jisung’s neck. 

“What?” Jisung asked.

“Nothing,” you mumbled.

“No, really. What is it?” Jisung was quite curious now.

You lifted your head, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I kind of want to see you shirtless now,” you admitted and immediately burrowed your head in his shoulder again.

Jisung laughed, really laughed, as he said, “Yeah? Well, I can’t take my shirt off with you on top of me.”

Still quite embarrassed that he’d even considered what you’d said, you sat up and Jisung lifted the hem of his t-shirt. You couldn’t help yourself once his shirt was off: you whistled, murmuring, “Holy shit.” While you’d guessed that Jisung had nice muscles, you weren’t expecting him to have abs for days and killer arms, not to mention perfectly proportioned pecs.

Jisung smiled, a little embarrassed. “Um, like what you see?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you said, and trailed a finger down his chest. Jisung let out a shaky breath and you felt a hard pressure underneath your bum. Your pajama pants felt quite thin at the moment. Swooping down, you captured his lips again and continued to run your hands over every inch of him you could reach. Jisung moaned every time your hands returned to his chest, and he slipped a hand down to your bum to hold your hips to his. Your kisses were soon so heated they were almost desperate, your hands ranging over each other’s bodies as the warmth inside grew.

“Jisung,” you said, breathing hard. You sat up, realizing, belatedly, that your top was dangerously low now. “If we don’t stop now—”

“I don’t want to stop,” he whispered. “But if you do, we will. It’s okay, I promise.”

Jisung was so gentle and careful, you could almost cry. “Oh, Ji,” you murmured, and kissed him again, lingering at his bottom lip before pulling back. “I don’t want to stop either.”

Jisung craned his neck to kiss just below your ear. “Then we won’t.” As you continued kissing, any hopes of going back to sleep disappeared like mist in early morning sun. But you didn't want to go to bed, not when Jisung’s hands were slipping under your tank top.