#last week i went to their place and we had a little art night (the art didn't even last that long lol)

[cactusdodes]

.

[harryspet]

bambi eyes (3) r. cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

word count: 3.4k

In which you do your best to deal with your Daddy's mood swings.

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bambi eyes masterlist

You felt like you were seeing Rafe less and less as the next two weeks went on. He was stressed about what was going on with work. He often paced back and forth in front of you, ranting, although he was never specific about the details of what was going on. 

You noticed that he grabbed you tighter, pushed you harder into the mattress, and talked less during sex whenever something outside was affecting him. You were starting to accept it; it never hurt too much, and you’d be more scared if he weren’t interested in you in that way. If he didn’t want to be intimate with you, then there was a chance he wouldn’t want you anymore. 

As much as Rafe promised you this was permanent, you couldn’t fully believe him. He had done all of this just for you, so you had to be able to offer him something special in return. 

Like Rafe wanted, you established a routine. Every morning the birds would wake you up exactly at eight, and you’d make your bed which kept you from napping all day. Staying in your room was causing your imagination to stretch.  You found new ways to entertain yourself, including trying on all the clothes in your wardrobe and throwing elaborate tea parties with all your stuffed animals and dolls. 

One night that you thought would be like the last twelve nights, Rafe came to you after Lana had already brought you dinner. He wasn’t dressed in his usual khakis and dress shirt but in sweatpants and a pullover. You were curled up on the window seat, drawing flowers in a notebook, when Rafe came over to join you. 

“Hi,” You spoke softly. He placed a warm hand on your knee, and you slowly closed your notebook. 

“Hi, baby,” There was an ease and calmness to his voice that made you believe he’d actually had a good day, “What are you working on? Show me.”

You sat up, leaning closer, as you handed him the notebook. You hid slightly behind your knees as Rafe began to flip through the pages. At this point, you’d covered half of the pages in your doodles, “Oh wow, these are really pretty, Bambi,” He smiled with his entire face, including his bright eyes, “We should hang some of these on the fridge.”

You felt a bit of relief, hearing that he liked him, “I have more. Way more. I’ve colored a lot of the coloring books.”

“Go get them, I’ll pick my favorites,” Excitedly, you got up from the window seat. When you set several full coloring books in his lap, Rafe’s lips parted in shock, “Okay, wow, I don’t think I realized how much coloring you’d been doing.”

“I think it’s fun,” You said. 

“Good, I want you to have fun,” Rafe nodded, “But have you worn down all your color pencils? How come you haven’t asked for more?”

You shrugged when Rafe gave you an inquisitive look, “I try to take care of the ones I have.”

“Would you even ask Daddy for more coloring books if you ran out of pages to color?”

“Maybe,” You spoke honestly. 

The idea of asking for more than what Rafe had already given you did make your heart race. Rafe shook his head at something, “Daddy will get you lots more art supplies. Maybe you could try painting?”

“We could paint together?” You perked up. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Rafe assured you, “I’m really, really sorry I haven’t been here as much as I’ve wanted to. Needed to, really. It’s just … I’m working on a lot of things right now, you know?”

“I’ve been okay,” You said, “Lana has been kind to me.”

“Good, good, I want you to be happy here, you know? That’s why I want you comfortable asking for things,” You watched Rafe’s eyes wander towards the bookshelf, “Like your books. I never see you reading them. Do you not like them?”

“I do,” You said quickly.

Rafe started to stare deeply at you, “What-what is it?”

“I . . . “

“I can pick some different ones for you? What do you like?”

“I like it when you read to me, Daddy,” Rafe tilted his head and the mentioning of his nickname didn’t light up his features like usual, “It’s hard for me. I never needed to … do that.”

He paused, which made you think you’d done something wrong, “You’ve never needed to read?”

“I can do it,” You said, “It’s hard when they’re all together, and there’s so many… the words. I’m sorry you think I don’t like the books you picked. I really do. I will try harder–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Rafe rushed to put the coloring books aside and grab ahold of your face, “I just didn’t know, that’s it. You didn’t do anything wrong. At all.”

It wasn’t something you’d ever felt embarrassed about, but now you couldn’t help but feel stupid. Deep down, you felt a guy like Rafe deserved someone better. He deserved someone smarter than you. 

You closed your eyes, wanting to hang your head, but Rafe said, “Look at me, hey,” Weakly, you did, “I’ve been thinking that you should spend more time with Lana instead of being cooped up in here. At least until I can take care of this … one problem I have. She’d be happy to have some company. And, if you want to learn, she could help you with your reading.”

“You don’t care?”

“Not at all, look, don’t worry. I’ve got you, sweet girl,” He said. Rafe leaned in to peck your nose before he brought your lips together. You melted into him, realizing then how much you missed him when he was gone, “You know what I was thinking?”

You stared back at Rafe, who had a mischievous look in his eye. 

“We should take the boat out.”

“Now? Where?” 

“Just on a short ride to get you some fresh air. It’ll be cold, so let’s find you some warmer clothes, yeah?”

It was a rhetorical question; Rafe was already making his way over to your wardrobe. You looked down at the small silk pajama set you were wearing. You’d seen all the boats out by the dock but hadn’t imagined that Rafe would take you out on one. “Lift your arms,” You did exactly as he said, pulling a light blue sweatshirt over your head. He also chose long pajama bottoms, helping you get into those, too, “You want to bring one of your stuffies?”

Your excitement mixed with your anxiety as you put on your slippers. It was a hard decision to make about which stuffed animal you wanted to bring, but you settled on Fin, your silvery-blue dolphin, “Excellent choice.”

Rafe grabbed your hand, leading you downstairs, “Do you think we’ll see a real dolphin?”

“Well, they tend to be more active during the day, and it’ll be dark soon … but maybe if you wish really, really hard.”

The air was much cooler outside than you expected, and you certainly didn’t expect it to feel so strange being in the fresh air. You turned in a circle just so you could take in the sky, the trees, the house, and everything around you. 

You followed a determined Rafe across the yard and towards the deck. He chose one of the smaller boats, although there was room for at least four more people. You yelped when Rafe grabbed you by your waist suddenly and lifted you inside. Another yelp escaped your lips as the boat rocked under the pressure of your weight, “You’re okay, don’t worry,” He didn’t have to tell you to take a seat or be still; you decided you wouldn’t move at all, “One . . . moment.”

You watched through the corner of your eyes as Rafe untied the roaps keeping the boat tethered to the dock. The boat rocked again as Rafe hopped inside, causing you to grip Fin in one hand and grip the side of the boat in the other. 

You sat in the seat right across from Rafe as the boat slowly pulled off towards deeper water. As the boat became more steady, you turned your head and watched Tannyhill get smaller and smaller. The orange and blue sky reflected off the water, creating an insanely beautiful view. You sailed towards the horizon, the son looking half submerged in the water, “How do you feel?” Rafe yelled over the sound of the motor, “Wanna go faster?”

You nodded, a smile growing on your face, “My little daredevil, huh?” You sat up on your knees, wanting to see more. You get a better look at Figure 8, seeing lots of huge houses along the beach, although none of them compare to Tannyhill. Rafe pointed out different landmarks for you, including the country club and a huge lighthouse out in the water. In your eyes, this night made every other night where you worried about your place with Rafe worth it. 

“Go ahead, you can give it a taste test,” Lana conceded, allowing you to dip your finger into the chocolate cake batter. A few days after your night out with Rafe, Lana was showing you how to make the perfect chocolate cake. You thought she might be exaggerating about how perfect it was until you were licking your finger. An excited moan left your mouth and you bounced on the balls of your feet, “It’s great, isn’t it? Espresso powder is the key.”

“It really is,” You agreed. 

“Now, wash your hands. It’s time to pour our batter.” 

The entire day Lana had told you exactly what to do and how to do it. You didn’t mind listening or following her directions as she usually spoke to you warmly. Besides that, you wanted to learn exactly how to take care of things around the house, knowing that Rafe would appreciate your help when Lana couldn’t be here. The two of you cleaned the entire downstairs, did several loads of laundry, washed the windows in the glass patio, and even had time for a reading lesson in the early morning. She informed you that she homeschooled her youngest son and that she would try to teach you in a similar way. 

As you washed your hands, you glanced out the side window towards the dock. You could see Rafe far out on the dock, standing with the same business associate who came to the house a few weeks ago. They weren’t alone like you were expecting; someone was on their knees a few feet ahead of them, their head slumped over. You squinted your eyes, trying to see more of them, although Rafe and his business associate shouting at each other blocked your view, “What are they doing out there? Who’s that?” Lana came over to where you were standing, peeking out just like you were. 

Whatever business Rafe was involved in, Lana didn’t seem to care for it, “Mr. Cameron and Barry, they’re always at each other’s throats,” She shook her head, “Come, dry your hands. The oven is heated.”

You did as she said, turning your head away. There were going to be several layers to your cake, meaning you had three pans to fill, and after that, you and Lana would make the icing. Just as your mind wandered back to Rafe, you heard him coming through the kitchen door. 

He wiped the sweat from his forehead, pacing for a moment before his dark eyes landed on you, “Bambi, let’s … uhm, go upstairs,” His voice was shaky and deeper than normal, “Come here.”

“We’re-We’re just about to put the cake in the oven. It’s for tonight, and we’re going to make homemade icing too–”

“Now …please,” He said the last word like it was painful, “It’s time for you to go back to your room.”

No, no, no, a voice repeated in your head. 

“But Lana was going to teach me how to ice the cake, too and she —”

“Fine,” Rafe snapped, his hand slamming against the counter before he rolled his eyes, “Just stay here.” 

As Rafe stomped away, you knew you had something horribly wrong. You’d seen him in a similar mood before but he never directed any of his vitriol towards you before. Whatever had happened on the dock had clearly upset him. You really wanted to finish working with Lana. More than anything, you didn’t want to be locked in your room for another long period of time. 

After taking a breath, or attempting to take one, you turned to Lana, “I didn’t mean… I-I should go say sorry.”

“You might want to let him calm down a little bit, sweetheart,” You’d already made up your mind. You reached behind your neck to undo the top of your apron, “Turn around, let me help you. He’s not mad at you.”

“How do you know?”

“I know who he is,” She spoke simply, “Don’t take anything too personally with Mr. Cameron.”

“You can finish without me; I’m sorry, but thank you for today,” You said as you started to walk away. After you saw her nod, a sad smile on her face, you turned away and sped for the stairs. 

You approached Rafe’s bedroom moments later, hesitantly turning the knob, “Daddy?” You called, peeking inside. You called him again. He wasn’t in the main room but the shower was running in the bathroom, “Rafe?”

You jumped when he suddenly appeared in the bathroom doorframe, shirtless and his belt undone. This time, you notice his bruised hands and bloody knuckles. 

“I didn’t mean to make you upset, Daddy.”

“Get down on your knees,” He stared you down. When you tried to come closer, he said, “No, drop to your knees right there.”

You felt your knees brush against the bedroom rug, “Crawl to me.” 

If Rafe wanted you to feel even smaller, then his plan was successful. You did as he said, seeing no other option, and crawled towards him. You watched as he palmed himself over his briefs, and you could already feel him stretching you, pulling your hair, and leaving marks on your bottom. This wouldn’t last, you told yourself; he would be gentle with you another time. 

Your sage dress had ridden up your body, exposing your floral patterned white panties. 

“You’re gonna suck my cock and swallow all my cum. And then you’re gonna thank Daddy for letting you.”

You’d do exactly as your Daddy wanted, hoping he’d take your sore throat and tears as a sufficient apology. 

Once you were soundly asleep in his bed, Rafe slipped out. He had a huge, bloody problem waiting for him in the cabin of his boat. Luckily, JJ Maybank was still the degenerate he used to be, and no one except his Pogue girlfriend would come looking for him anytime, “Son of a bitch isn’t talking,” Barry grunted out, meeting Rafe at the beginning of the dock, “Knocked two of his bottom teeth out and he’s still not motivated.”

Rafe had done everything possible to limit any competition he might face in Kildare. All small-time dealers would be working for someone who worked for Rafe. This was meant to be Rafe’s island yet somehow, Maybank was getting supplies from the mainland and was stealing his customers. 

“We could take his girl.”

Rafe contemplated Barry’s question before shaking his head, “If she comes around trying to find him, we might have no choice. I’m sure that will motivate him.”

Rafe could see Barry’s eyes wandering to Kie. Part of him would love to see JJ squirm if they got their hands on her. You were the reason he didn’t think too long about that. Barry, on the other hand, Rafe would let him do whatever he wanted with Kie. In the end, Rafe wanted JJ to talk, to give up his sources, but he’d be just fine killing him. 

“I hope,” Barry crossed his arms, “Not exactly looking forward to dealing with the body.”

“We don’t have to deal with that shit anymore; I know who to pay to handle it,” Rafe said, “Speaking of, I think I-uh need some more security here. I want guards all around the perimeter. Because of the amount of merchandise and if we’re going to be taking captives, you know. I want this place to be a fortress.”

“Your merchandise, huh?” Barry flashed Rafe a knowing look, “You got any liquor in that big house?”

Rafe gestured his head toward the house, signaling to Barry to follow behind him. 

“If Kie doesn’t come for him and if he still has no information to offer us, we kill him. No more torture, no mess, one gunshot to the temple,” Rafe instructed, his mind racing with what their next moves should be. The more planning beforehand, the better, and the less likely it would come back to them, “That’ll send a message to the rest of the Pogues too. They work for me, or they work for no one.”

“And after you’ve cornered the market?”

“That’s just the start of everything else,” Rafe led Barry through the first floor, towards his office. Ward always used to keep his office stocked with liquor as it came in handy for important meanings. Rafe learned people will often let down their barriers and concede to more under the influence of alcohol. He opened the door for him, allowing him to enter. 

“Whoa,” Barry said, walking inside just as Rafe heard a soft gasp from a familiar voice. Eyebrows raised, Rafe entered behind him to find what had shocked him, “Is this the new Mrs. Cameron?”

With wide eyes, Rafe took you in. You were in the same clothes Rafe left you in, one of his white button-ups and your knee-high socks, “What are you doing down here?” You slowly stepped behind Rafe’s desk, and he could tell you were trying to hide yourself.

“I-I couldn’t find you.”

Rafe’s jaw jutted forward, his arms crossed, as he said, “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

Your lips parted to say something, but Barry interrupted, “C’mon, man, it’s not even midnight! Introduce me to your girl. We can all have a drink,” He grabbed ahold of Rafe’s shoulder. You would think Barry had one the lottery based on the look in his eyes. By complete accident, Barry had stumbled on Rafe’s biggest treasure, “I’ll behave, I promise.”

“She doesn’t drink.”

 Rafe was frustrated, mostly because he should’ve been keeping closer track of you. He’d given you that necklace for a reason. A new idea crossed his mind, one he wasn’t expecting, and some of his anxiety eased. He was far from embarrassed of you, he’d chosen you for a reason, but part of Rafe wanted Barry to envy him at that moment. 

Rafe sighed, waving you closer to the two of them, “Bambi, this is Barry. Barry, this is Bambi,” Smoothly, Rafe grabbed ahold of your waist, pulling you into him. 

“Hi,” You said shyly, “It’s nice to meet you.” 

 When Barry held his hands out to you, your eyes darted towards Rafe as if to ask permission. Agreement crossed his face, and Rafe watched you shake his hand. Barry was fully taking you in, of course, but Rafe knew a handshake would be the extent of his closeness with you. 

“The pleasure is all mine, beautiful.”

“Chill out, dude. Sit down,” Rafe instructed Barry, pulling you along. 

Barry made himself comfortable on the leather couch and Rafe motioned you to sit across in one of the leather chairs. 

“How you liking Kildare?” 

“It’s really nice,” Rafe heard you respond as he poured two glasses of whiskey for him and Barry, “There’s so many big houses, and … it’s just really pretty.”

“You ain’t seen much then, have you?” Rafe handed Barry his glass, flashing a warning with his eyes, “All the girls where you’re from, they as pretty as you?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” You laughed nervously. 

Rafe placed a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him,  “Why don’t you go get Barry a slice of that chocolate cake you made?” 

Rafe assumed it would ease your nervousness if you could share what you made. “Okay, Daddy,” You smiled at both men, and both men watched you closely as you walked out of the room, “I’ll be right back.”

“Pretty and obedient,” Barry whistled, “I need to travel more.”

A/N: Thank you all so much for your support on the first two chapters BUT psa you will not be added to my taglist if you're not reblogging the fic and letting me know your thoughts! It is crazy to me that people will ask me to tag them in the next chapter when they have neither liked nor reblogged the fic. Constructive feedback is more encouraging than just commenting "PART 4" or "tag me in part 4" :)

PART 4

[schrodingerscougar]

Hold it together (Simon Riley x reader)

Note: This takes place seven years after the second part. Warning: death.

It had only been three weeks since the funeral. The girls were still closed up like clams, shutting Simon out completely despite their young age. Lucy was seven, Nora was five, and he couldn't believe that they had to experience the death of their mother this soon. He was lost as well, having no idea how to deal with losing you.

While at the beginning he pushed you away, believing he didn't deserve the love you were trying to give him, later you became his other half, his partner in crime, the most caring and nicest lover he ever had. He would have never imagined he would once have someone like you in his life. And now? You were gone for good because of that goddamn accident.

Johnny loved the girls and whenever he was around, he had offered to look out for them while the two of you went out on a date. Now he was trying to lighten the mood, coming up with ideas for fun activities, but Simon saw it in his daughters that they weren't excited about them.

While he was waiting for his broken ribs to heal, the sergeant stayed with them to make life easier. One night Simon tucked in the girls and his heart ached when he saw the youngest getting ready to sleep with a photo of you on the edge of her bed.

“You miss mommy?” he asked as he swept a strand of hair out of her beautiful little face.

Nora was sniffling quietly as she nodded.

He loved both his daughters equally, but the balance was perfect. Lucy was a lot like him, a real tomboy who had been wanting to try martial arts ever since they watched the original The Karate Kid movie. She had been handling your death surprisingly well, maybe that's because her personality was a lot like his.

But this young lady was your carbon copy in and out. Seeing her missing you so much proved your strong connection, the one he would never be able to build with her. He had never seen anything like it, and this made it hard for him to console her if she was upset. She had always ran to you for support, but now she was sad because you were gone.

Simon pulled the girl against his chest, his eyes falling on his other daughter who was watching them from her own bed. He could see her eyes shining from the tears, but she held herself together. “It's okay, babygirl,” he whispered to Nora as he rubbed her back. “I miss her too, you know. And I'm sure Lucy misses her as well. But we're strong, aren't we?”

She mumbled something in agreement then pulled away to bury herself under the thick blanket. “Goodnight, Daddy.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He kissed her forehead then stood up and went over to Lucy, leaning down to give her a goodnight kiss too. “Sleep well, big girl.”

When he turned to the door, Johnny was already waiting for him, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest. There was a look of understanding in his blue eyes, and he put a hand on Simon's shoulder when they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“They're kids, they'll adapt and move on. Maybe not soon, but eventually they will,” he tried to assure him. “I'm not so sure about you, though. I woke up to you coming down the stairs last night. I swear you're moving around this place like a real ghost.”

With a sigh, Simon walked around the Scotsman and threw himself on the couch. “Her parents want custody,” he told him, finally giving him an insight into what was truly bothering him. “They're willing to drag me to court. I'm not suitable to be a single parent because of my job, they say.”

Johnny sat on the armchair next to him and rested his elbows on his thighs as he leaned closer. “Bullshit. Price would help you get an early retirement if you asked,” he said, looking way more upset than Simon.

“Who knows, maybe staying with them would be better for the girls.”

“Don’t say this. You need to fight for them. They need their father,” Johnny added.

This broke Simon. He couldn't hold back the tears anymore, the tears he had been fighting ever since that night. His friend being by his side helped him keep it together, but they never talked about what exactly he went through because he always said he couldn't remember.

But he remembered lying in the ambulance, asking about you, begging for crumbs to find out what happened to you, if you were also on your way to the hospital, but they didn't tell him anything. “I’m sorry, we don't know,” one of them said.

“Talk to me, Simon,” Johnny quietly said once he sat down next to him on the other side of the couch. “You need to get this out of your system or you'll go crazy.”

Still fighting his tears, the lieutenant took a deep breath and finally began to talk. “She was unconscious. I–I remember looking over at her in the wreck but she wasn't moving, wasn't responding to my questions. They later said I had a concussion so probably that's why some time fell out of my memory. I don't remember how I ended up in the ambulance.

They didn't tell me anything. In the hospital I got out of the bed and went to look for someone who could finally tell me what the fuck happened, but I bumped into a doctor who was talking to a police officer. That's when I found out she was dead by the time help arrived,” he finished with a shaking voice.

Johnny leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “Did you have the chance to say goodbye?”

“I might have threatened someone to be allowed to go to the morgue. Her body was bruised, scarred, and bloody. Not how I want to remember her. But yes, I could say goodbye.”

“You need to fight, Simon. For her. She wouldn't want her parents to take the girls away from you,” the sergeant told him firmly as he reassuringly put a hand on his shoulder.

Just when he was about to answer, tell him he felt like it was a battle he was sure to lose, they heard light footsteps coming from the door. It was Lucy who walked over to them, sitting next to his father and resting her head on his arm.

“Do Grandma and Grandpa really want to take us away?” she asked hesitantly as she glanced up at her father. Simon nodded. “I don't want to go. I want to stay with you, Dad,” Lucy said, already sobbing.

Simon let out a sigh before wrapping an arm around her small body and placing a soft kiss on the crown of her head. “I don't want you to leave either, trust me. I'll do everything I can to stop them, okay?”

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

[orchidyoonkook]

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 7

Title: Hard Goodbyes and Favourite Colours

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

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

Summary: Nel flies home, Yuri flies back, Jungkook can't stop thinking about the other night. And you? Gods, don't even get me started.

Warnings: T, language, fluff (?), angst, reader is ~not~ okay for a chunk of this, bye bye Nel! it was nice to meet you, Yuri being the bestie she is, playful antagonism, JK thinking a lot, some photography technical words but nothing scary, reader is painting again, shocker.

Word Count: 4,463

Release Date: July 9, 2024. 2:00PM

A/N 1: Hi this was supposed to be released like a month and a half ago but then i went to europe and my brain was anywhere but near electronics. Anywhooo here she is, as always thanks for waiting and I'll try to be more consistent now that post vacation depression has kicked in.

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

Sometimes life works out incredibly conveniently for you, like when Nel’s flight leaves a half hour before Yuri’s gets in at the same airport. 

But then it sucks again as your week with Nel flies by so quickly it feels like you’ve had no time at all while also having so much because of all the new memories you’ve both made. 

Currently in a rideshare and airport bound, because you will be in no way okay to drive back, your grip on Nel’s hand is strangling as you take in every last second of time you can get with him. He keeps giving kisses to your forehead, nose, cheeks, mouth; anywhere he can get access to really. 

He doesn't want this week to end just as much as you don’t. Fuck this fucking sucks so much.

The driver pulls up to the terminal drop off, and you both exit. Nel grabs his bag from the trunk, now filled with little mementos from your week as well as his clothes. A pressed flower from the greenhouse, museum postcards, a doodle you did for him while he was sketching, and more, all tucked away for safekeeping. All the only physical things he can hold onto until he sees you next. 

Walking into the airport, you make your way up to the check in desk, paperwork already in hand. Nel checks in and you request an escort pass, determined to spend every last moment together. 

There’s a lump forming in your throat that you’re trying to swallow. It’s thick, like a ball of unending peanut butter you can’t get down. And your chest feels like a black hole has opened inside of it, right where your heart is supposed to be. Every second that ticks away allowing another drop of the warmth you have with him to be sucked right out of your sternum.

Painful doesn’t even begin to describe this feeling. 

As beautiful as your week was, the reality of the present is setting in, and the closer you get to his gate, the closer you are to tears. You’re trying your best to blink them away, but you won’t be seeing him until winter break, and even then, that’ll only be for a day or two at most before you have to wait till summer to see him again. So it might as well be goodbye for those full 6 months.

It hurts. It hurts so bad to have to go through this over and over again, to have this separation from the one you love, even if it’s only temporary. Funny how temporary can sometimes feel like forever when you’re in the middle of it. 

Funny how the concept of temporary doesn’t make the gash in your heart open any less.

You don’t want him to go, but you know he has too. The faster he goes, the faster he can come back to you. 

You hate that he has to go in the first place. You just want him to stay. Please, just stay.

But he can’t. 

You reach his gate and before you know it, his flight’s being called to board and your tears refuse to stay inside any longer, the lump succeeding in its plot of victory. They spill down your cheeks in silent rivers, wet splotches on the neckline of your shirt forming as they flow. 

Maybe they’ll create a little lake in the hole he’s leaving you with. There’s certainly enough of them to fill it. Something to fill the void a little until you can see him again.

Nel takes one look before scooping you into a crushing hug, a desperate echo of the one from a week ago. His own tears now staining.

“I love you so much,” he says. You don’t see his eyes squeeze shut, nor do you see him memorizing your smell, as he kisses the top of your head. And his voice wobbles as he whispers, “It’s not forever, it’s just for now.” 

He says those words every time you two part, whether it was for a day or a year. Never goodbye or so long. Never see you later. 

They’ve always been a small comfort in otherwise shitty situations. 

“Just for now,” you get out through quiet sobs, gripping onto him even tighter as you shake. 

It takes you a couple deep breaths before you can say anything without breaking. “I love you too. Please be safe, message me when you land, and do well on your final exams.”

He smiles at that last bit, and your tears free themselves again. You’re going to miss seeing that smile in person.

Nel pulls you in once more, tighter. “It’s always harder when my good luck charm is halfway across the world, but I’ll manage.” Your sobs stutter with a broken laugh, and you’re pretty sure his sweater is going to have tear stains on it. “I promise I’ll message as soon as I can. And I’d wish you luck but you never need it. You always do well.”

The announcement for final boarding calls and both of you freeze in each other's arms. You don’t want him to go. He doesn’t want to go.

But he has too. 

You separate only enough to kiss. It’s messy and wet and gross, but you don’t care. It’s the last one you’ll have for a while and you never want it to end. 

But it does. 

Nel pulls away, and you reluctantly let him. He grabs his bag with one hand, the other holding onto both of yours as he backs away until he can no longer reach. Your arms drop to your sides with the traces of his warmth on your skin.

You watch as the boarding crew welcomes him on, and he takes one look back at you. 

You wave, mouthing ‘I love you.’

He mouths ‘I love you’ right back, and turns the corner.

You waited for Yuri at her terminal after dropping off Nel and taking five—okay ten—minutes to violently sob in the bathroom. 

She took one look at your half smile and puffy eyes and smothered you in a hug. Smelling like sunshine and ocean water, it was exactly what you needed. 

“It’s okay Sweets, you’ll see him again before you know it. This year will pass by so fast, just you see,” she tells you through your whimpers, the tears having returned the second her arms were around you.

They dry sometime on the way home. It was a thirty minute ride back to school, and they fell silently for a solid twenty before you even got in.

You hate goodbyes. 

But Yuri’s seen this three times now, and she always knew that a warm drink and junk food were in your immediate shared futures when she did. Screw healthy coping methods. It may be 9:30pm on a Sunday night, but that won’t stop you from downing a pint as you drown your sorrows in sweet, sweet cookies n cream. 

Yuri also knows you need a distraction, so she doesn’t hold back on telling you every detail of her vacation. 

The duke from a few weeks ago had been a dud. ‘Shit personality and even shittier sex’ according to Yuri. No consultation needed. 

But this new guy from the Ilcalos Islands sounds promising. He’s a Count of something she can’t remember but in her words, “big heart and even bigger dick.” 

That makes you giggle. And you’re happy for her. 

“Bitch, the second night he did this thing with his tongue and an ice cube and oh. my. god. I think I’m in love. That man could do whatever he wanted to me and I’d still say thank you afterwards,” she’s rambling at this point and you’re mentally apologizing to the driver for having to hear all of it. 

You, on the other hand, don’t mind at all; gladly welcome it actually. You want your mind anywhere other than the present right now. 

You don’t want to start crying all over again. By the morning you’ll be fine, you’ll have let out everything you needed too. But between then and now, it’s a matter of mentioning the wrong words or seeing an intriguingly designed building that could trigger those pesky tear ducts.

So you listen to Yuri go on and on about this guy, all his techniques and what she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about since she last saw him. His number is already saved in her phone under a very inappropriate name, but you expect nothing less from her. 

You love her for it. For this. 

For knowing what you need to stay afloat right now and not allowing you to throw the anchor overboard with your leg chained to the end.

You really fucking hate goodbyes. 

You’re staring at him. 

Like, full on, no bars held, staring at him. 

And Jungkook’s pretending he doesn’t notice.

You’re sitting in your chair and he’s back in his beside you at greenhouse cafe. Your half done painting of pink flowers sits in front of you, his laptop screen’s filled with this week's newly assigned ‘Studio Portrait Techniques 1’ homework. 

His half finished coffee on his table. An empty pastry bag on yours.

His hands on his keyboard, yours gripping a brush.

And you’re staring at him. 

He’s hoping it’s because this is the first time you’ve seen him since Nel left. 

But it’s probably to do with the fact that he hasn’t looked at you once today. Or the fact that he’s barely spoken at all when he usually can’t seem to shut up when it’s been more than 48 hours since he last saw you. 

Because it’s also the first time he’s seen you since he was with Adaline, imaging she wasn’t Adaline.

“You’re acting weird,” you say.

“No I’m not,” he responds a little too quickly, eyes still focused on his computer.

Yes he is. He really, totally is. 

“Yes you are, you won't look at me and you’ve barely said two words since I got here.” Well your knack for observancy is still intact.

Normally that's a good thing, but right now?

“Did I do something wrong?”

No. No you didn’t.

He did.

He let his emotions get the best of him in a moment of weakness. He let himself become so overwhelmed with feelings he isn’t allowed to have. He let them win for a single night.

And now if he isn’t paying the goddamned consequences. 

After that night with Adaline, Jungkook had woken up filled with regret. He’d crossed a line he didn’t even know he should have drawn in very dark, very permanent ink.

For letting himself, just for one moment, imagine what it would be like to be with…

And things are harder than ever to shove down now. He can’t look even look at you without thinking about it. About what he did. What he wanted. 

Wants.

Fuck, he’s in over his head.

Jungkook forces himself to look at you, putting his years of social training and emotional masking to good use. It sure as hell came in handy during times like this.

Because you can never know. 

He can’t lose you because he's unable to get his shit together. It’s not your fault he feels like this. 

So he lies. Both to you and to himself, hoping it might help him believe it.

“Nothing’s wrong Dali, just focused on my work is all. We got assigned a big project on Monday and I’m planning out all my shoots.”

You look hesitant, like you can see right through his bullshit excuse that was only a half excuse because this project is massive. 

“If you say so,” your tone implying you don’t believe him, but thankfully, you let it go and lean closer to him to see. He pretends his breathing doesn’t hitch, “What’s the project?”

“It’s my final assignment for a class, I have to do a series of five portraits. Each one with a different style, capturing a different emotion, and they all have to be of the same subject to show the true versatility of my work. It’s easy to make things look different when it’s different people being photographed,” he explains.

Therefore, this assignment, and all of its working parts, is huge. He’s glad it’s due in the middle of December because it’s going to take him almost a month of planning to get it all together; backdrops, concepts, costumes, previsualization, focal lengths, props, equipment, lighting setups, etc. And then when the planning is over: to shoot, narrow down and edit. 

But that’s the point of it. To have the students demonstrate they know how to effectively expand on the definition of a ‘portrait’ instead of having one concept in mind and sticking to it. 

‘To broaden your creative approaches to seemingly simple constructs,’ as his professor would say.

He loves the way this professor does assignments. How she layers them so that not only does he learn how to shoot multi-concept ideas for the same project type, allowing him to add to his creative portfolio, but they also force him to break out of the expected conclusions for an idea and think outside the box. 

“Oh wow, that is a lot,” you say. Because you understand long running projects. 50 hour paintings don’t just happen in a day. “Do you have any ideas yet?”

“Yeah! I have them all already, actually,” he turns his computer towards you and you see a point by point list of summarized ideas.

- Bright and bold - happy, bright smile, colourful gels - Black and white, soft light: gel or bounce? Silk diffuser  - profile with water falling on face - relieved - Focused on passion - candid, regular colour. Diffuser? Or silk flag? - Normal colour profile, stark lighting - serious, front facing body, profile facing left, no visible clothing, “regal” _|(_*-*)>_. Flag.  - Mysterious - black background, white smoke, barely visible model, lower half of face painted black, upper half white, striking purple eyes (contacts?). Flags. Gels? 

“I’m really excited for this project,” he says, “it’s just the prep that’s going to take a while. Getting it all mapped and planned out. It’s mostly concepts right now.”

You nod, understanding once again. Though very different mediums, visual arts and photography are similar in many ways. 

“Adaline going to be your model?”

It doesn’t surprise him you think that, but he has no intentions of ever using Adaline for assignments or homework. 

“Actually, I… uhh…” he trails off. Jungkook’s trying to get the words out, he is. But they’re surprisingly difficult for some reason, and getting caught in his throat. 

Which makes his earlier anxious state come back in full force. 

It shouldn't be this difficult. It won’t be the first, second or fifth time he’s asked you.

Get the words out Jeon. Put on your professional face, this is nothing new.

He fails, instead, his voice comes out barely above a whisper as he says, “I was going to ask you if you would.”

You somehow hear him. 

“Me?” you look dumbfounded. 

“Yes, you.” He’s always used you for homework assignments before, so he’s not sure why all of a sudden this is surprising. Maybe because it’s a final assignment versus a weekly one? The effort will be greater? 

“But you have Adaline? I assumed that she would take up the position of model when you guys started going out.”

Oh. That makes more sense. 

But that is one mistake he won’t be making again, because he did ask Adaline. 

Once.

It was recent, Nel was still here and he didn’t want to disturb you because of that. Plus Jungkook was just trying to get a jump on his upcoming assignments anyway, taking a page from your book.

So he asked Adaline. And she leapt at the opportunity, like he expected.

What he didn’t expect, was when she essentially directed, staged, lit and posed every. single. shot. so that she would look her best. 

All he did was click the capture image button when she said too. 

And after the shoot, before he could even think to look at the pictures, Adaline was already there, holding his camera, going through them and deleting any picture she deemed ‘ugly.’

He was left with less than 20 images from the shoot where he was ordered to take over 200. And she even made him switch out one of the three he narrowed down for one she liked better. 

So no, he would not be asking Adaline to model. 

Ever again.

“Nah. You’re a lot easier to work with because you don't care how the pictures turn out, and let me do my thing. Adaline cares a bit too much, and has to have approval on all of them before I submit.”

You snort. “Seriously? Is she that self absorbed?” a quirked brow places itself on your face to match the smirk now on your mouth.

That’s new.

Your tone towards Adaline has always been neutral, if not a bit sharp when he talks about her. 

But this one? It’s like you know her, and knew she was like that, but didn’t know it was this severe. 

Adaline is very popular...maybe you two met and it didn't go well?

It certainly sounds like you don’t like her, if those six words were anything to go by. Which, he guesses they shouldn’t, but he knows you well enough by now to know the difference.

And if he’s honest, that wouldn’t shock him in the slightest. You two are nothing alike, and thank god for that. 

He covers for Adaline, like any boyfriend would. Though it stings a little bit.

“She’s just careful about what images could be leaked to the press. Can’t really blame her for that.”

Your face changes minutely, as if a second of understanding passes through before you turn to go back to your painting, and mutter, “no, you can’t,” placing a splash of pink on a flower. 

He returns to his work as well, switching the portrait assignment out for a different one. He needs to get his mind off it for a while before circling back. 

And the fact that you didn’t answer him. 

Deciding on a Design and Visual Culture assignment due next week, he dives in head first, resuming his earlier state of focus and avoidance.

Jungkook’s editing a picture when you stretch. 

You often hunch over your work, so you try to stretch every 30 minutes or so. Your arms are in the air and he catches a peek at the nearly finished floral study. 

They’re some kind of vibrant pink dangling flowers, and you’ve captured the likeness of them quite well, to no surprise of his, so he goes to compliment it but you beat him to the punch.

“Shots blurry.”

Jungkook does a double take at his laptop screen. He’d spent the better part of 40 minutes editing the image and hadn’t noticed that.

Because it’s not. It’s perfectly crisp and clear.

When he looks back to you, you have a shit eating grin on your face. 

Ah, he knows that look. 

You love to tease him about little things like that, giving him mini heart attacks. ‘Pay back for that first day,’ you claim. 

Well…

Two can play this game, so he plays off your comment.

“Oh, you're right. Thanks,” and he switches to another image. 

Your grin falters but you recover quickly.

“No problem.”

See, while you know how to playfully harass him about his pictures, Jungkook knows how…particular you are about your colours. How they need to be labelled correctly instead of by their umbrella terms like ‘blue’ or ‘red.’ Because blue or red could mean any one of the dozens of ‘sub colours.’

‘It’s not blue, it’s cerulean,’ you’d remark. 

‘That’s not red, it’s burgundy,’ you’d correct him.

You’re always correcting him, and it makes his pants tighten a little bit every time. But that’s on the other side of the line he does not cross anymore. A nice, big, fat, permanent, protective line. 

Jungkook settles for a more subtle method of attack. Using this little fact and your ridiculously extensive knowledge of flowers against you. 

He never thought the defense and attack lessons his father put him through would come in handy like this. But he’s glad for them now. It was the only time he could ever outsmart you.

He gestures to your canvas. “Those pink flowers are pretty, what are they called?” 

“Their common name is Lady’s Eardrop. And they’re magenta.”

Hook, line, sinker. 

He doesn’t even have to try, you walk right into it every time.

“Lady’s eardrop? That’s a weird name…do they come in other colours besides pink?”

You don’t look up as you reply. 

“Magenta, and yeah. Some are plum and magenta, some are a buttery white and magenta, and then some have this like, almost dark tangerine hue, but they’re a different type, longer. Not the same as those,” you point with the end of your brush to the greenhouse, where the fully magenta lady’s eardrop sits in the window. 

“And are these pink ones your favourite?” he’s really trying his best to keep a straight face as yours contorts with an eye twitch at every use of the word.

“They’re. Magenta. And sure, but the plum ones are pretty too.”

“Noted, the pink lady's eardrop are your favourite among eardrops.”

You break, turning to him, voice raising in minor annoyance. Jungkook bites his cheeks to keep a smile at bay.

“They are magenta. Not pink. Pink entails a lighter hue, there’s more titanium white in pink. That,” you point again, “is very clearly, magenta.”

He has to. 

He can’t help it. 

You’re sexy when you're assertive, he thinks. Tip toeing on that nice, big line.

But also hilarious. 

“Same difference.”

He can see the fire in your eyes blaze.

“No, not ‘same difference,’ they’re magenta!”

He’s leaning in. “Pink,” eyeing your lips as you speak. 

You lean in too, enunciating every syllable to prove your point. “Ma-gen-ta.”

Your noses are mere inches from touching. 

“They’re pink, Van Gogh,” he backs off before he does something stupid that he’ll regret, “Don’t get so invested.”

You back off too, sass still very evident when you reply, “They’re fucking magenta, asshat. Two completely different colours and you’ll label them as such around me.”

You’ve always had a mouth on you. One you aren’t scared to use when necessary, especially around him. So he doesn’t push any farther, knowing he’s already gotten what he wanted and then some. 

But also because sitting has become slightly uncomfortable. There was a stiff breeze, he tells himself.

Thank god for baggy, oversized hoodies. 

Returning once again to his work, he puts an elbow on the table and places his hand on the left side of his face to hide the massive smile that’s trying its best to turn into a smothered laugh.

Unfortunately for him, he lets his Princely guard down around you and so he forgets to force it down to an uncomfortable degree like he would at the palace. His laugh slipping out as a strangled noise and he quickly turns it into a cough, hoping you don't notice. 

But you do, because it’s you. Of course you do.

And the look on your face is priceless.

“You did that on purpose!”

“What?” he says way too high pitched. “Nooo, I would never, one hundred percent intentionally, say pink just to get back at you for pointing out the non-existent blur in my perfectly clear picture.”

He can see you trying to control your features, can see you failing and giving up by facing your canvas again, smiling to yourself.

“I was wondering how many times I could get you to say it. I think that was somewhere around ten? Gotta be a new record.”

You roll your eyes at him, but your quirked mouth remains. 

“You’re such a dick,” you quip.

“Yet, you like me anyways.”

You mumble something incoherent.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Awe, c’mon now. Fess up.”

A pause, before, “I said I just remembered I don’t know your favourite colour.”

No you most certainly did not, but he’ll let it slide.

“Black.”

“Ugh, boring.”

“What?”

“Boring,” you say again with absolutely no hesitation and proceed to grace his eyes with your own. “And technically not a colour. Black’s a shade.”

Jungkook offers up a non-smothered chuckle, saving his throat from further shenanigans.

“Whatever, Seurat, it’s still black. What about you? What’s Miss High and Mighty All Knowing of Colours’ favorite?”

“It’s still a shade,” you repeat.

“It’s still my favourite. Answer the question,” he presses. 

You give him an unimpressed stare. 

“Violet. Royal violet. The one your dad wears a lot,” your expression softens to one of wonder as you continue. Like you didn't just refer to the King of the nation you live in as ‘his dad’ so casually. “And when it’s not that, it’s this bright yellow. Like sunflowers or daffodils. Or the colour leaves turn in the fall when the light hits them from above just right.”

It’s Jungkook's turn to stare now. You look lost in your own head, envisioning the colours you describe, seeing them dancing in your eyes. And he can’t help himself, you glow when you speak about something you're passionate about.

“Why two?” 

“Why not?” you answer, still dreaming, colours swimming in oceans of thought. Your voice is almost whimsical. “Don’t you get bored of one colour for too long? It’s nice to switch things up every now and then.”

His reply brings you back down to earth, albeit slowly.

“Red.”

“Hmm?” you touch ground.

“If you won’t accept black, then red. The rich dark one, like blood.” He chose the first colour that came into mind, not really caring which one. 

He did like red. Red looked good in many ways. On cars, clothes, lips...

But he chose the first one that popped into mind because after hearing your favourite colours and the reasons why, he started to like them more than all the others too.

“Red’s a great choice, strong,” you say, allowing him the blanket term just this once.

“Thanks.”

There’s a moment of comfortable quiet between you before you break it.

“When do you need me for the shoot?”

Jungkook’s eyebrows find his hairline. 

That was a yes, right? You’re saying yes?

“Uhm…soon, I’ll let you know the specifics when I do.”

“Sounds good.”

He was going to leave it at that, but adds, “Thanks, Y/N.”

He hasn’t said your name since the assembly. 

Always nicknames when talking to you. Always. 

Never your name. 

Not once in two months. Almost three.

You—

An inhale.

You…like it.

The way it sounds coming from his lips.

Exhale.

Chapter Eight: Photo Shoots and Blasphemous Discoveries

A/N 2: She's shorter but chapter 8 is like 11k so far, so I hope that makes up for it!

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

<- Back

[avatar-anna]

Assistant! Reader x Harry Styles Masterlist

April 2016

“Thank you for meeting me.”

Y/n settled into the seat across from Harry. Her hands curled tightly around her mug, apprehension seeping into her bones. “Of course.”

She had been surprised when Harry called her, asking to meet at the Beachwood Cafe. She hadn’t heard from him in months, not one call or text, not even an email. Not that Y/n really expected much when One Direction finally went on hiatus, but after zero communication, she wasn’t quite sure why he’d called her all these months later. 

“How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages,” Harry asked.

Y/n’s eyebrows raised a bit, but she answered him anyway after taking a sip of her coffee. “Fine, I guess. You?”

“Good!” Harry said excitedly. “Taking a break the last few months has been…I don’t know. Peaceful, but odd, you know? I’ve never had so much time to myself before.”

“Must be nice,” Y/n said, trying to hide the irritation in her voice.

“Yeah, but I realized that I kind of miss it,” he said. “I knew once we decided on the hiatus that I wanted to do my own thing, but I thought I would take a longer break, but I feel like I’m…itching to get back to work.”

That definitely seemed like Harry. Y/n had worked for him for years, and even when there were breaks between tours, he was hard at work—writing, going to Fashion Week, collaborating with other artists, vocal training, even trying new recipes in his state-of-the-art kitchen, which led to a phone call at one in the morning where Harry asked Y/n to come over and see if his macrons tasted "fluffy enough." It seemed only right that he rested for mere months before starting a new project. She could practically picture him at either of his homes in LA or London, scribbling in his leatherbound journal or playing new melodies on his guitar or piano (and the occasional late-night pastry party). As long as she’d known him, Harry had been a hard worker through and through. A little on the wild side when he had some tequila in him, but when it came down to his career, he was focused, determined. 

“Good for you,” Y/n said, meaning it. She always thought he was capable of more. “So what comes next for you? Have you recorded songs already?”

“Not quite. I’m planning a trip to Jamaica to write and record there. It’s remote, serene, a good place to get away. So we’ll have to start booking flights and places to stay and—”

“I’m sorry, ‘We?’” Y/n asked, her brow furrowing with confusion. 

Harry matched her look of confusion with one of his own. “Yeah, I mean—I need you. I can’t do this without you.”

The sentiment warmed Y/n’s heart for a moment, but his immediate assumption that she would drop everything just because he asked her to brought the irritation swarming back. “Mr. Sty—Harry, you know I don’t work for you anymore, right?”

“What do you mean? Are you talking about the hiatus? I just thought we could all use some time off, but…I guess I just thought—”

Harry didn’t finish his thought, but his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. Y/n would’ve found it cute if he hadn’t been so dense. Resentment still circled around her like a fog, and she wouldn’t let it go so easily, she couldn’t. 

“I was employed by your management, Harry. To be an assistant to a member of One Direction,” Y/n explained. “I was let go. I had to quickly find another job doing something else.”

“Oh.”

Y/n supposed she should’ve anticipated being fired, but she didn’t. There was a lot of information that she was privy to that most people weren’t, secrets that were tightly bound by an NDA when she was first hired, but talks of the hiatus was very hushed. She knew to suspect that somewhere down the line the boys would finally take a break, but it came a lot sooner than she was prepared for, and she was left jobless before she had the chance to line something else up. Y/n thought that Harry would give her the courtesy of a warning, but he said nothing about it to her, didn’t offer much except a side hug after One Direction’s last performance.

So yeah, she was a little bitter.

“I’m—I’m really sorry, Y/n. I know it doesn’t make up for…all of this and everything you went through, but I am truly sorry.”

“Thank you.” 

Y/n believed him, believed that he was sorry for everything that went down, but it still hurt to know she wasn’t someone he was close enough to talk to about all of this at the time. She was Harry’s assistant, she knew that, but they’d been through a lot together. But he was ever the professional it seemed, and it was her job to remember that, not his.

When she realized her coffee was finished, Y/n stood up. “Well, it was good seeing you, Harry. Good luck on your next project. I’m sure it’ll be great.”

“Wait, but—you’re not—you‘re leaving?”

“I have to run a couple errands before work," Y/n explained. She rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “But really, no hard feelings. I wish you all the best.”

She left Harry at the table, heading for the front of the cafe and toward the busy street beyond. Her heart felt heavy as she walked away, but she tried to shake the feeling that she was walking away from more than just her boss. Former boss. Like her mother always reminded her, she couldn’t be a personal assistant forever.

“Wait!”

Y/n turned on instinct, eyes widening as Harry jogged after her, his little bun bouncing with each step. He skidded to a stop in front of her, green eyes wide and searching. For what, she wasn’t sure, but the heat of his gaze was enough to make butterflies stir in her stomach.

Putting on her best front, she raised her eyebrows, waiting for Harry to say whatever he needed to.

“I wasn’t kidding earlier. I need you, Y/n,” he said. “I—You’re the only one who really knows me, who I know will have my back no matter what. I need a familiar face in my corner.”

I need you, Y/n. Those words were her kryptonite. Year after year, Y/n heard Harry's voice over the phone as he roused her from sleep, read the text messages while she was getting her nails done or watched TV in her hotel room, or on the rare occasion she went on a date. But she had to hold strong. Y/n had been devastated by her sudden layoff, but now she had a life, and she didn't want to get sucked back into Harry's very alluring web of charming smiles, cheesy jokes, and endless adventure. That was his life, not hers.

“I have a job, Harry. I can’t just drop everything and quit because you suddenly want me to—”

“What are they paying you?”

Y/n’s brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”

Harry pushed on. “What are they paying you? I’ll double it.”

Scoffing in disbelief, she said, “It’s not about the money—”

“Triple,” he countered. Harry took her hand in his and squeezed it. He looks desperate, Y/n thought.

“I can’t just quit my job because you remembered I existed,” Y/n said quietly, pulling her hand out of his. She clung to her resolve, hoping Harry would make this easy and just let it go, let her go. “I—I deserve more.”

More of what, she wasn’t sure, but Y/n knew it was true. Harry only reached out because he needed something from her, and that hurt more than she cared to admit. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Harry said, looking down at his shoes. A pair of scuffed Chelsea boots he wore practically everywhere. Y/n had bought him a pair of Vans one year, an attempt to switch up his wardrobe, but he still chose the boots nine times out of ten. “Just—At least think about coming to Jamaica. Please?”

“Harry—”

“Not as my assistant. As a guest. A friend,” Harry amended. “We’re planning on staying at a huge villa, and I want to make up for being an idiot. Just—Just think about it. Please.”

Despite everything, Y/n found herself wanting to say yes. It was that magnetic pull she felt toward Harry that had kept her working for him for so long. He was an important person in her life, and up until he’d all but ghosted her after the hiatus, she thought she was important to him too. In spite of his misgivings, Y/n still wanted to believe that she was. 

It was so stupid, but it felt good to be wanted by him. She was an idiot, she knew that. But her friendship with Harry was legitimate, he'd just acted like a complete idiot. She'd known him long enough to know he was very capable of acting like an idiot. So even though she shouldn’t, even though she had carefully lined up her reasons not to in a little line, she started to cave. 

But she couldn’t make the decision now. Not when Harry was looking at her with pleading green eyes and his sad little puppy dog face, his cologne dizzyingly lovely. No, she owed it to herself to really think about what she wanted. If getting sucked back into that whirlwind was worth it. Worth getting her heart properly broken when she knew he would never feel the same about her.

"I'll show up at work, you know," Harry said. "I'm not above it. You might think I am, but I'm not."

Y/n had no doubt in her mind that he would. Along with being an idiot, Harry was very stubborn, and very persistent. She had years with him to know that. Did she really need Harry Styles showing up at her place of work?

“Fine, I’ll think about it,” she finally said, trying to pretend like her heart was screaming to just agree. But her heart was an impulsive little shit that was bound to get her in trouble.

Harry’s face broke out into a wide grin, one that displayed those famous dimples and lit up his entire face. It was hard to feel like he didn't think she was the only person on earth to exist when he looked like that, like he was convinced she’d already said yes. “I’ll take it.”

[thrillered]

Couples Tattoos | Spencer Agnew x Reader Oneshot

Here's my little blurb about a tattoo I noticed during this vid and I'm obsessed with it. I know the pic is blurry asf but I had to screenshot it from the smosh mouth ep 😭

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"I think I want to get a tattoo.” you mentioned offhandedly while you were working on your laptop, sitting near Spencer. 

“You should, I think it’ll be cool.” Spencer agreed. 

“I just want it to be important I guess.” You remarked, scooting closer to Spencer. “At least for my first.” 

You didn’t have any tattoos. You always wanted to get one but felt nervous about putting something so permanent on your body. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, had many tattoos. He frequently got tattoos; he had gotten 4 since you got together. You adored his tattoos, you thought they were so nerdy and fun but made him extra attractive. 

“Can we get one together?” You asked.

“Seriously?” He asked, turning his whole body to face you, with a surprised face. “That’s a big commitment.” 

“Well I love you and I don’t plan on ever not being with you so..” 

Spencer couldn’t help but smile at this. The sentiment made him giddy and why not? You had been together for years and Spencer planned on marrying you one day. 

“Let’s do it.” Spencer agreed, wholeheartedly ready to make an appointment. 

“Really?” You asked, the widest smile on your face. 

“Fuck it man.” He laughed, both of your work long forgotten. “I’ve gotten tattoos of absolute bullshit, at least this would be meaningful.” 

—

You and Spencer had been brainstorming tattoo ideas for weeks, doing intense research on styles and artists. As excited as you both were, neither of you had any clue what to get. Spencer wanted to let you have the final decision since it was your first. 

You were laying in bed with Spencer, watching a movie. You flipped over, settling your head on his chest and laying your leg over his, straddling his side slightly. This was your favorite way to cuddle, it felt intimate. Spencer knew this about you. It was something he had noticed very early on in your relationship, and he loved it. Something about the way you loved being close to him brought him a lot of joy. You settled into Spencer, sighing when you found the perfect position. 

This was when Spencer had an idea. He didn’t want to wake you, as you were on the verge of sleep, but he immediately wrote his idea down on his phone. 

The next day when you both went into the office he made his way to the art department. “I need one of your guys' help.” He said, walking up to the group of desks. 

“Okay?” Erin Kushner asked, pulling her headphones off one ear. 

“I need a concept design for a tattoo, doesn't need to be anything crazy.” 

“Yeah sure, what's the tattoo?” Erin agreed. 

Spencer explained his idea, getting teased by Erin for how cute your relationship was. Erin quickly drew up a perfect picture for him. He was incredibly excited to show you it, knowing you would fall in love. 

—

He waited until you were home and settled. You were cuddled on the couch with him, watching as he scrolled through twitter. “I think I have the perfect tattoo for us.” Spencer said, pulling the paper out of his pocket. “I thought of it last night but wanted to get it drawn out to show you.” 

He showed you the drawing Erin did, noting the gasp that left your lips. It was a Keith Herring-esq drawing of two figures lying together, cuddled up in your favorite position. 

“Wait, I love it, that’s so cute.” 

“It's the way we always lay together.” He explained, even though you already knew, he was just excited to talk about it. 

“This is the sweetest thing ever, it’s perfect. I love you Spence.” You squealed, smiling into a sweet kiss you placed on his lips. “Wait! We can fill in the one that represents us.” You offered excitedly. 

“I love that.” Spencer smiled, his heart swelling at your excitement. “I’ll book an appointment tomorrow? We’ll probably get in within a few weeks.” 

You agreed, rambling about where you should get it. 

—

Three weeks had gone by and today was the day of your tattoo appointment. It wasn’t until yesterday that you decided your placement, you and Spencer both wanting to get it on your inner arm. 

Spencer got his tattoo first, showing you it would go just fine. It eased your nerves, calming you down before you got in the seat. 

He held your hand the entire time. You told him it was okay and the pain wasn’t awful but he insisted on holding it the whole time to “keep you calm”. 

When the appointment was over you and Spencer had the most beautiful couple tattoos. Your artist took some pictures for you and you both immediately posted them, excited to share it with the world. 

Even though everyone knew you and Spencer were in love, now you both had a depiction of your love immortalized forever.

[paper-daisy]

Like many of us I'm doing a TWD rewatch, looking for all those pre-relationship moments, and a great little one in 4x01 is after Michonne arrives back at the prison -- there's a moment where Daryl tells her "Glad to see you're in one piece." HOWEVER, when he says that he turns to look directly at Rick. Who in turn quickly looks away, almost bashful.

You can just imagine what Daryl had to put up with, with Rick in those early days. So I had to fic it.

Rick never said the words aloud. He never outright said, "I'm worried about Michonne. I hope she's okay. I hope she comes back." He was never that obvious. But to someone like Daryl, a man naturally of few words himself, it was clear as day that their fearless leader was never fully relaxed whenever that smartass/badass - who was more than capable of taking care of herself - wasn't safely tucked away behind their walls.

But what Rick would say when she was gone was - "There was a herd moving south, right?" Where Michonne had last gone hung unspoken between them. And when Daryl answered Yeah, Rick would just place his hands on his hips and nod, jaw tight, as he scanned the perimeter of the compound as if waiting for someone to magically appear.

He would say - "There's a lot more bandits out there, roaming in packs. Isn't that what you said?" A grunt and a shrug from Daryl, and Rick would nod like they'd just had a conversation and go back to his farming, digging the shovel into the dirt with a bit more force than necessary, making a point to not look at the fence. They hadn't heard from Michonne in two weeks.

He would say - "Nights are getting cold," while standing outside at the communal kitchen, plate in hand, his gaze always drawn to the barely visable fence line. Daryl had hummed in agreement, fighting the urge to tell him that Michonne should be fine as she had pilfered his poncho, something Rick already knew.

And on one strange occasion he said, "Do you think we should get some more ... art? In here?"

This had stopped Daryl in his tracks. "What?"

Rick shrugged, perhaps a little sheepishly, but continued. "We have a library, potted flowers, even some toys and things for the kids. This is our home now. Thought ... maybe it could use a bit of ... brightening?"

Daryl just starred blankly. "You want me to, what? Bring back pictures?"

For a moment it looked as if Rick was about to finally say what was actually on his mind, before he instead gave a rueful smile and waved his hand in the air as if to dispel the conversation. "Nah, nah, never mind. It was just a thought."

He walked away, leaving an utterly perplexed Daryl behind who simply shrugged and went on his own way. It was only later that day as he passed by Michonne's empty cell did his eyes fall upon that weird colourful cat thing, the one that looked like it was about to start a fight. It was such a stupid, useless thing but Daryl remembered how Michonne had presented it to him with an air of triumph, as if it was the most gorgeous thing in the world. He didn't get it.

Did Rick really think that if he made the place more art-filled, Michonne might want to hang around longer? he wondered, then immediately dismissed the idea. Well, clearly not because he gave up before he started. Like with other things.

Only once had Daryl said the unsaid thing.

Almost everyone was asleep. Well, Carl was hid under his blankets reading comics and there were low conversational sounds coming from some darkened cell, but for the most part things were quiet.

And they were kept quiet by an exhausted Rick, pacing back and forth with a fussy Judith, bouncing her non-stop so her cries wouldn't awaken the entire community. He'd nodded to Daryl, who in turn took a moment to ask if he needed help putting Judith to sleep tonight.

"No, thankyou" said Rick tiredly. "I think she's pretty much worn herself out by now. Should be sound asleep soon."

"You too."

Rick sighed. "Yeah. I just ..." He shifted Judith a little, "Even when I do get to bed, I can't seem to stop thinking. Thinking of plans for the future, for the people we have in here. The people we bring in. How to protect everyone inside these walls. Keep our people safe despite ... well, despite everything." Rick looked at Daryl as if he might have the answers to those questions he hadn't quite asked.

All he could do was shrug. "We just try. Trust that we all know what we're doing. Lookout for everyone here. Not much more we can do, is there? Future don't care about anyone's plans."

Rick didn't look totally reassured, but he still smiled slightly as Daryl's efforts. "Yeah. I just worry, is all."

"I know." And as Daryl passed by he gripped Rick's shoulder and muttered, "Shouldn't worry so much. Michonne'll be back, all in one piece. You'll see."

And the man had the audacity to look confused, stuttering out, "Yeah, I know that, but - but I wasn't talking about Michonne, specifically. I'm not worried about her. She can take care of herself, I know that, and she always comes back, it's just ... with everything ..."

As he trailed off Daryl eyed Rick critically for a moment. He really thinks he's selling it, he thought, before giving a soft grunt that was akin to laughter and wandering off to bed, leaving a somewhat disconcerted Rick behind, gently bouncing a sleeping Judith.

And the very next day who should come riding through the gates but one Michonne, smiling, baring gifts and all in one piece, as Daryl made sure to point out to Rick, who's ears suddenly went bright red as if Michonne might somehow be able to figure out that they'd been taking about her just that night before.

But she didn't notice. She was too caught up in her almost obsessive search for the Governor and already planning her next venture out, unaware of Rick's barely suppressed disappointment or of the sigh that Daryl kept clenched behind his teeth as he tried to subtly talk her out of another long run. It wasn't her who was stuck with Rick and his wordless pining.

Because it was pining, even if he never said nothing. If they were in school Daryl might've suggested he pass her a note.

When she had quickly offered to go back out again with the rest of the scavenging party - even though, as Carl had said wistfully, she'd just got back - and Daryl could do nothing more than give Rick a comforting pat, grimacing slightly as the man's expression said exactly the same thing his son had vocalised.

God, this was going to wear thin soon.

Ah well. Wasn't like they had TV anymore.

[leejihoonownsmyheart]

The Art of Humiliation (M)

Part two of Pathetic series (you guys responded so positively to Pathetic I cranked this out as fast as I could 🫡 and I think it is of good quality)

Simplified tags: 7.7k words, Porn with Plot, frat boy!Jeonghan, college student!y/n, best friend!Jeongyeon, soft!dom to hard!dom Jeonghan, mean!Jeonghan (and y/n loves it), submissive!y/n, female!y/n (sorry gender-neutral friends), heavy degradation, light masochist!y/n, sadist!Jeonghan, mild pain kink, vaginal fingering, cunnulingus, creampie, spitting, slapping, spitting, mentions of safe words but they’re never used, big dick!Jeonghan, blowjob, slight public play, phone sex, y/n has a humiliation kink, mentions of aftercare but I don’t write it happening he just says what he’ll do

Officially dub con but off the book I think the consent is pretty explicit, again just tagging it so because it is an intense fic.

Guys I didn’t think I could outdo the filth that is Pathetic, but I really think I did and I don’t think I’ll be able to top this.

-

“Yoon Jeonghan?” Jeongyeon blurted, dropping her burger onto her tray. You shushed her not wanting the entire University cafeteria to know exactly what you had gotten up to on Friday night.

“Sorry, it’s just…” Jeongyeon whistled. “Jeonghan sleeps with a lot of people but not just anyone. And you- you don’t ever sleep with strangers.”

“It was a frat party,” you grumbled. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at frat parties?”

“That’s what I do at frat parties,” Jeongyeon corrected. “But you? I don’t know it’s just uncharacteristic.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Maybe… Can we just focus back on the food?”

Jeongyeon sighed and picked her burger back up between for fingers. She went to take a bite but stopped.

“Are you going to see him again?”

You choked on your sprite.

“See Jeonghan?” You blurted. Your head dropped, your face burning red. Now you were the one too loud. “I highly doubt he’ll want to sleep with me again. Doesn’t he… Sleep around a lot?”

“Yeah,” Jeongyeon agreed, nodding her head slowly. “I don’t think he’s ever slept with anyone twice.”

You shook your head in disbelief.

“Imagine being so attractive that you have that many people at your disposal willing to sleep with you,” you said in awe. “I bet his one night stands beg him for a second turn.”

“Is he actually that good?” Jeongyeon asked, her eyebrows briefly disappearing beneath her bangs. “I always assumed that the rumors were dramatized.”

You snorted.

“No, not dramatized at all,” you said with a shake of your head. “I never thought a man would make me come.”

“See, that’s the good thing about Jimin,” Jeongyeon said. “As much as I hate to say it- He uses his fingers very well.”

You rolled your eyes at the mention of Jeongyeon’s enemy but that was all the commentary you placed on it.

“I suppose if he reached out and wanted to…” you trailed off, one of your fingers subconsciously brushing against one of the bruises that he had left on your hips. On the bright side of the whole night, he hadn’t left any visible bruises on you.

You swallowed a little too hard, remembering the way that he had looked at you as he drilled into you.

Maybe the lack of visible bruises was a con.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said dismissively. “Everyone knows that Jeonghan doesn’t fuck the same person twice.”

-

“You look troubled,” Seungcheol observed. Jeonghan sighed, a bit dramatically he would admit, and rested his head on his hand.

“I guess.”

“Last night’s girl not up to your standards?” Jihoon observed. Jeonghan shrugged.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but, my already boring escapades have felt even more boring since our party last week,” Jeonghan admitted. Jihoon’s eyebrows shot up.

“Really? Since you stole y/n from Chan?”

Jeonghan nodded, not even bothering to argue the statement that he had stolen you. Even though it wasn’t remotely true.”

“She…” He trailed off. “Well, she was everything I wanted and more.”

“Romantic,” Seokmin commented, knowing full well it wasn’t that.

“Well? Are you gonna sleep with her again?” Seungcheol pressed. “Is she the long awaited…” He took a deep sigh of regret before saying: “Whore?”

“I don’t sleep with anyone twice,” Jeonghan dismissed. “She’ll be out of my system by the time I get the next girl in my bed.”

The room groaned.

“And here I thought our school population was finally safe.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, his thoughts turning back to you.

He wondered what he would do if he were to find himself in the same room as you again.

-

“Alpha Mu, Alpha Mu, Alpha Mu,” Jeongyeon chanted, running around the small dorm room excitedly. You rolled your eyes at her, trying to bat away her hands.

“Come on, can’t I have one Friday night of peace?”

“Jimin was-”

Your threw your hand over Jeongyeon’s mouth, your eyes wide.

“I’ll come if you just promise not to tell me whatever dumb thing Jimin did.”

Jeongyeon’s tongue darted out to the palm of your hand, making you squeal in protest. Jeongyeon just smiled sheepishly at you.

“Alpha Mu!”

You didn’t really understand why Jeongyeon insisted on inviting you to these parties, because she almost never actually spent any time with you at the them. Jeongyeon dragged you into the party, tugging down your short skirt, fluffing your hair and readjusting your crop top before dropping you off with Kim Mingyu and rushing to Jun’s side.

Mingyu was a nice guy. Fun to be around at parties when you were drinking, but you weren’t in the mood for a hangover when you knew you had to work tomorrow. You ended up just wandering away from him.

There wasn’t anyone at this party that you knew- that was practically immediately noticeable.

Sure, there were familiar faces, but aside from the Alpha Mu boys, you couldn’t really name anyone. You couldn’t even name all of the boys in Alpha Mu.

You had been at the party for about an hour, considering just leaving before your eyes fell on just the person that you had been hoping you would see.

Jeonghan was standing, a water bottle in hand as he tucked his dark hair behind his ears. He smiled at Soonyoung, saying something that you couldn’t make out.

You looked away from Jeonghan.

This was why you hadn’t wanted to go to the party. You knew that you would see Jeonghan and you knew that you would want him all over again. Just looking at him you felt your core begin to heat, wondering what he would do if he put his hands on you again.

It didn’t help that you had stupidly avoided touching yourself all week. Your thought process had been something that you could only blame on mind break. You were so drunk on the idea of Jeonghan’s dick that you had refused to do what he should be doing yourself.

You risked a glance back at Jeonghan, hoping that no one would notice the look. You were desperate for his attention and at the same time terrified for him to notice you.

But you supposed you weren’t doing a good job of hiding the fact that you couldn’t keep your eyes off of Jeonghan. You felt someone nudge into you, shooting you a sharp glare.

“Are you looking at Yoon Jeonghan?” The girl snapped. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“Maybe,” you said. You felt your chin tilt up slightly, trying to show this girl that you were obviously much taller than her. You weren’t really sure what she wanted, but you could tell by the way she was looking at you that she was ready to fight you if needed. “Why do you care?”

“Because I’m going home with him tonight,” the girl said back. “So stop eyeing him up like you have a chance.”

You scoffed, unable to help it.

“I think you’d break in half if you went home with Yoon Jeonghan,” you insisted. “There’s no way you could handle him.”

“Oh, I get it,” the girl replied, not even hesitating between responses. A small smile crept on her face. “You’re one of his used toys. He tossed you aside because you weren’t good enough and now you want what you can’t have.”

The girl laughed, and flipped her long dark hair out of her face, hitting yours with it.

“Well, at least one of us will be of use to Jeonghan tonight. After all, everyone knows...” She leaned close to your ear. “He doesn’t double dip.”

She turned away from you and began to walk away from you. You watched her, your chest heaving as you tried to calm yourself down. Your face was burning red, and your fingers were balled at your side.

You watched as she walked up to Jeonghan, placing her hand on Jeonghan’s chest. She slipped her hand beneath the collar of his shirt, getting on her toes so that she could brush her lips against his cheek.

Jeonghan didn’t seem upset by the touch but he seemed surprised. His arm came around the girl, his hand falling on the small of her back. He murmured something to her, his eyes trailing around the room as if to try and find the reason for her sudden affection.

His eyes stopped when they fell on you.

You cleared your throat in surprise, turning your attention away from the two to try and make it seem like you weren’t looking and like you weren’t jealous, but when you glanced back towards him, he was still staring at you.

His eyebrow quirked when your gazes met and he tilted his face down so that his lips were against the girl from before’s ears.

He whispered something to her, something that made her look embarrassed and glance over at you. You looked away quickly, but you could feel eyes still on you.

You needed to disappear.

You wandered over to the punch bowl, picking up a cup. You looked at the liquid in the bowl, unable to help the way that your fingers tightened around the cup in frustration.

God, how pathetic were you to be wet? Jeonghan hadn’t even done anything to you. He was spending all of his time paying attention to that dumb girl and yet… If he asked-

“Someone looks frustrated.”

You glanced over your shoulder, surprised to see a man you had never seen before. You squinted at him, trying to place him even as someone you passed in the halls but he was ringing no bells. He seemed to notice your confusion and held out his hand. “Yongtae.”

Your nose wrinkled slightly.

“Not interested,” you commented. Yongtae laughed in surprise, throwing his hands in the air.

“I hadn’t even proposed anything yet.”

You sighed. He was right, but still. You didn’t really want Jeonghan to see you talking to someone else. It was stupid but if he did, it might dissuade him from fucking you again. You furrowed your eyebrows in frustration.

“I suppose not.”

Still you put a little bit of space between the two of you.

“Your boyfriend must be pretty possessive for you to be so closed off to a guy talking to you at a party,” Yongtae observed. He took a cup from the table and lifted it towards you. “I mean as he should be. Look at you.”

He gestured towards you.

“The short skirt? The crop top? People are practically fighting to keep their eyes off of you,” Yongtae continued, turning his hand to wave and to the crowd. “I hope I don’t sound too much like a pig.”

“I’ll certainly complain about this conversation to my best friend,” you commented. He nodded, scrunching his nose.

“Deserved. Sorry.”

He was silent for a moment.

“But if you have a possessive boyfriend that makes you not even want to talk to other people at parties, why is he making you stand alone?”

“Have you ever thought that maybe I don’t want to talk to you for my own reasons?” You snapped. Yongtae’s eyes widened slightly.

“Okay, okay, sore topic,” he agreed. “Look. I’m just super bored. The Alpha Mu boys are practically untouchable. I don’t know anyone here.”

“Look, I-” You sighed. “You seem... Better than most people here.” That wasn’t saying much. “But I’m not looking for company tonight.”

“But... We could talk another time?” Yongtae asked. “I’m new to school, I don’t really know anyone. Genuinely just need a friend to talk to.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at him but you couldn’t really find malice in his eyes. Yongtae proceeded to produce a sharpie.

“Have a paper?”

You shook your head, offering him your arm instead.

“I’ll just lose a paper.”

Yeongtae seemed surprised by the suggestion but didn’t hesitate to take the sharpie and write his phone number on your arm. You looked down at the numbers and nodded.

“Okay, cool. I’ll call you.”

“What do you want to do?” Yeongtae asked, leaning on the table beside him.

“Get lunch or something... I don’t know...” You trailed off. “I need to keep moving.”

“Who are you worried about seeing you anyways?” Yeongtae’s eyes trailed through the room. “The only one looking at you right now is Yoon Jeonghan.”

Your eyes widened, and you tightened your grip on the cup.

“Fuck can I-” You looked down at the drink in your cup. “Can I throw this on you?”

Yeongtae’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Well, I guess-”

You threw the drink in his face practically instantly.

“Now stop talking to me!” You said loudly. Then, a little quieter: “I’ll text you or something.”

You turned away from Yeongtae on your heel and once again pushed through the party before stopping in the corner. Your face was hot with the stress of having been caught talking to Yeongtae. You were so screwed.

If Jeonghan had been even considering sleeping with you tonight, those thoughts were in the dust now. You hadn’t been good enough. You wanted to scream. Jeonghan was going to go home with that stupid bimbo and she was going to be just like you were the week before: Desperate and begging for his cock.

“What are you doing here?” You looked up, your mouth going dry when you realized who was standing in front of you. You stepped back, eyes wide.

“Je-Jeonghan,” you managed to get out. Your eyes dropped to the ground and you cleared your throat. ”Jeongyeon brought me.”

“Ah, yeah, I thought I saw her earlier,” he agreed. You looked back up at him, noticing that he had you fixed under an intense gaze. “She always finds someone to take home. I suppose you’ll need a place to stay tonight.”

“I’m practically used to hiding underneath my comforter,” you said with a sigh. “What about you? I saw you hanging out with that girl.”

“Who?” He asked, his eyebrows raising. “You mean, Chaedom? She was in the books. But she seemed to think she had some competition... What do you think? Do you think she has competition?”

As Jeonghan spoke he stepped closer to you, his arm wrapping around your body. He tugged you up close to his chest.

“I don’t know,” you said quietly. “I think... I think that you shouldn’t take her back to your place.”

“You sound jealous. Do you think I’m yours just because we spent one night together?” Jeonghan sounded amused as he spoke. “Don’t you know?”

“You don’t fuck anyone twice,” you replied immediately. “I know.”

Your eyes dropped back to the ground, obsessed with the feeling of Jeonghan’s hands on your exposed back. You cleared your throat.

“I just... Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, is all.”

Jeonghan hummed.

“Do you think you even deserve to be fucked again?” He asked you. “Do you really think that you deserve that?”

Your face was burning all over again.

“I mean...” You trailed off. “I would try my best to make it worth your while.”

Jeonghan’s fingers dipped underneath your shirt, searching for your bra. You looked up at him, just as he realized what you knew he would.

“You’re not even wearing..” He interrupted himself with a laugh. “Why’d you turn down that guy earlier, huh? He seemed like he would have taken you if had let him. That’s all you want isn’t it? Just a little bit of cock to fill that stupid cunt.”

A shiver wrecked through your body. You started to feel even more of your body warm, your fingers itching to touch Jeonghan the way that he was touching you.

“I didn’t want his cock,” you murmured. “I want yours.”

Jeonghan snorted.

“Beg for it.”

Your eyes widened at the request, but you weren’t above doing so.

“Jeonghan, I really want you to fuck me,” you spoke immediately. You hesitantly raised your hand to his chest. “I’ll do whatever you want me to. I’ll take you however you want. I just need you. I’ll be better then that stupid bitch would be in a million years. And-”

You raised yourself up a little so that you were closer to Jeonghan’s height. You lightly breathed in his face.

“Not a drop of liquor-” Jeonghan interrupted you by raising his hands to the back of your neck, smashing your lips together. You immediately melted into his touch. “Please, choose me,” you mumbled into his mouth. “I’ll be so good, anything you want-”

Jeonghan raised his grip to your hair, pulling back sharply.

“You-”

His eyes trailed down your body before suddenly stopping.

Jeonghan’s eyes darkened as he grabbed you by the forearm, sharply exposing your arm for him to see.

“What’s this?” He demanded. “You were being good all night but clearly I missed something.”

“That’s just-” You stammered over yourself trying to find your words. “He just wanted to be friends. I told him I wasn’t interested in anything else.”

Jeonghan didn’t look very convinced.

“Get it off.”

Your eyebrows shot up.

“What?”

“Get. It. Off,” Jeonghan repeated.

He didn’t have to say it again. You were quick to rush through the party, desperately searching for the kitchen. You rummaged through the cupboards, trying to find something that would help get it off. Why had you let that man write in sharpie on your arm? Why hadn’t you just taken his phone number in your phone? Where you stupid?

You found an alcohol wipe and grabbed it, rubbing frantically at your arm. The color faded but, unfortunately, didn’t completely disappear. You rushed to the sink and grabbed a sponge and some soap, rubbing your arm desperately with the sponge under some hot water. You scrubbed at it quickly, but despite your efforts the most it did was smudge the numbers.

You felt frantic but before you could try even more you felt yourself get roughly grabbed. You turned around to find Jeonghan standing there.

He exposed your forearm to himself and snorted.

“Stupid slut.”

He pulled you close to him again, looking down at you with narrowed eyes.

“You want to be fucked tonight?” He hissed at you. Despite it all you nodded eagerly.

“Please.”

As Jeonghan dragged you through the party he mumbled to you a few things, the most important of all those things being a safe word.

“If you use it at any point of the night I will stop immediately. No shame in my actions being too much for you, okay? No matter what I won’t be upset at you.”

You nodded. He made you promise that you knew what the word was, making you repeat it at nauseam before finally you were in his room and he was slamming the door shut behind you two.

“Now strip.”

You practically ripped your clothes off, excited to find that once you had turned around Jeonghan’s clothes were off too. You tried to hide your excitement but your core was burning in a way that was practically uncomfortable. You needed to be touched so badly, but you had to be patient.

Jeonghan wandered to his bed, sitting at the edge, with his legs spread wide.

“Come here-” You took a step forward but before you could get far, Jeonghan raised a finger in the air.

“No, no, no,” he laughed. “Crawl.”

Your eyes widened but you dropped down to your hands and knees, crawling over to Jeonghan. He laughed at you again, shaking his head.

“You’re so pathetic,” he said. “Don’t you have any sense of shame? You’d really crawl for me huh?”

Once you had closed the distance between the two of you, you situated yourself in between Jeonghan’s knees. His eyebrows furrowed at you and he roughly grabbed your chin.

“I spoke to you,” he snapped. “I expect an answer, or I will force an answer out of you.”

“I would do anything for you,” you replied immediately. “Ask me to do anything and I’ll do it, I will, I just need you to touch me.”

Jeonghan snorted, pulling his hands away from you.

“Then prove you deserve it,” he stated. “Come on, show me how good you can be. Can you take my cock like you did last time huh?”

You nodded.

“I can, I will-”

You wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock, your mouth practically drooling as you looked at his long thick cock. You whined, as you raised your eyes back up to him.

“Can I... Can I please suck your cock?” You begged. Jeonghan’s hum was guttural.

“You better be good.”

You eagerly sucked the tip of Jeonghan’s cock into your mouth, and began to tease the slit on the tip of his cock with your tongue. Your could feel wetness seeping out of your pussy as you sucked his cock into your mouth, but you did your best to ignore that agonizing urge to be fucked. You began to work more of his cock into your mouth but Jeonghan sighed.

“I appreciate that you are trying to be a stupid little tease, and I admire the fact that you are trying to be good and patient but every other girl I’ve slept with has been so fucking unsatisfying.”

He tightened his fingers in your hair, ripping you off his cock.

“I’m going to use your throat like a fucking flesh light. You think you can handle that?”

You nodded excitedly, your fingers curling and uncurling against his thighs.

“Please.”

He smiled.

“And what should you do if you need me to stop?”

“Tap your thigh twice,” you replied immediately.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice airy. “You remember so well.”

He guided your mouth back to his cock and you opened your mouth obediently.

Jeonghan roughly pushed you all the way down on his cock. You gagged immediately but reminded yourself that you needed to breathe through your nose. You were quick to gather yourself, but just as you were getting comfortable Jeonghan was pulling you up on his cock and practically slamming you back down. He placed his hands on the sides of your face so that he had a better grip and true to his word began to use you as if you were nothing but a toy. His grunts filled the room, tumbling out of his mouth in a way that only made yourself leak more on Jeonghan’s floor.

“I want you to touch yourself whore,” Jeonghan said. “You want that don’t you? Your stupid pussy needs some attention. Go on and touch yourself for me.”

You lowered one of your shaking hands between your thighs, your fingers pressing on your clit. You moaned out at the feeling, and began to rub your clit in small circles, careful not to stimulate yourself too much, knowing that it would just make you cum.

“I don’t want you to just play with your clit,” he snapped. “I want you to fucking fuck yourself as if I’m fucking you.”

Jeonghan pulled your face off of his cock and you gasped for air, nodding.

“Right, I’m sorry,” you mumbled. Jeonghan’s hand lowered to your chin, his fingers spreading your spit all over your face. You looked at him, panting as you slid two fingers into your pussy. A whine left your lips at the feeling.

“You sure this isn’t too much?” Jeonghan asked, his voice soft like it had been after you two had finished last time. “Your mascara’s running.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. You raised your free hand to wipe away the tears that you hadn’t even realized were running down your face but Jeonghan’s hand caught yours.

“Don’t apologize,” Jeonghan said. “I like how it makes you look. Pathetic.”

You felt your face heat at his words, knowing that it wasn’t necessarily a compliment but it felt like one anyways.

“Get up on the bed,” Jeonghan said after a moment. Your eyes widened and you pulled your fingers out of yourself scrambling onto the edge of the bed. Jeonghan hummed, getting down on the floor himself.

“My biggest regret from last time?” Jeonghan asked, his voice low again. “Not getting to taste your pretty little cunt.”

Jeonghan situated himself between your knees this time, pressing your thighs apart with the palm of his hands.

“God, your cunt is gorgeous you know that? For a slut you are so fucking beautiful. Impossible not to stare at you at a party,” Jeonghan mumbled. “Can’t imagine how many boners men must get when they see you.”

He reached forward, his fingers sliding between your leaking folds.

“And if they knew how dirty you are? I would have trouble keeping you to myself,” Jeonghan commented. You moaned as two of his fingers slipped into you. He pulled them out and slid them between his lips. A smile crossed his lips. “And if they knew how good you taste?”

Jeonghan leaned forward, his tongue darting out to flick over your clit. You whined, leaning back as his lips attached themselves to your clit. He sucked hard on it for a few seconds before his mouth trailed down.

He always criticized you for being sloppy but he wasn’t any different. He practically devoured you, his fingers digging into your ass as he held your pussy as close to his mouth as he could. He dipped his tongue into you and flicked your clit, and practically sucked you dry.

You couldn’t help the tears that sprouted from your eyes at the pure pleasure.

“Jeo-Jeonghan,” you stuttered out. “I can’t- I’m going to-”

You panted hard, forcing yourself to keep focus.

“I’m going to c-cum. Can I? Can I-”

Jeonghan growled against your lips.

“You want to come all over my face?” He murmured against your pussy sending vibrations through your core. “You think you deserve to be the first to come?”

You shook your head no, even though Jeonghan couldn’t see what you were doing at all and he didn’t really seem to care.

“Come all over my face baby,” Jeonghan mumbled. “Let yourself go. Don’t think about anything. Just think about how much you love my mouth on your cunt.”

Your fingers clenched tightly at the bed sheets as your thighs shook around Jeonghan’s head. You felt your pussy clenching as you came all over Jeonghan’s mouth.

You were sure he would be mad at you for it but instead he wiped his lips with his hand and then pressed two fingers into you.

“You’re so messy,” Jeonghan mumbled. “Can’t help your cunt leaking out everywhere. I make you like that don’t I? Desperate and wet.”

You mewled as he slowly worked those two fingers in and out of you, the sensitivity at having just come starting to disappear.

“Fucked stupid and I haven’t even actually fucked you yet,” Jeonghan mumbled, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at you. Your brain was already starting to feel a little hazy but you tried your best to focus on Jeonghan’s face, on his eyes.

“You know this is your fault right?” He asked you softly. “You’re fault that your making a mess all over my room, your fault that I’m hard, your fault that I have to punish you for being such a slut and letting another man write on your arm.”

As he spoke he accentuated each word with a deep press of his fingers into you, curling them deep inside of you. You moaned loudly in surprise, your fingers clenching the sheets so tightly you felt like your fingers were gonna break.

“Jeonghan,” you murmured, your face burning. “I don’t want your fingers.”

Jeonghan’s expression darkened and he roughly thrust his fingers into you. You cried out.

“You think you get to decide what you get? Are you about to tell me you want my cock? Pathetic whore thinks she deserves to get off on my cock?”

Your toes curled as Jeonghan pushed his fingers impossibly deep inside you.

“I’m s-sorry,” you managed to get out. “But pl-please. I want to make you feel good so badly.”

You felt tears of frustration sprouting in your eyes again as you tried to fight your own hazy pleasure to focus on the overall goal you were trying to achieve.

“You think that a little cock sleeve like you is good enough for me?” Jeonghan asked. “I could fuck anyone at the party and come to the same outcome… What makes you think you’re special?”

“I don’t,” you responded instantly, your thighs shaking. “But please Jeonghan, I’m here. I’m the closest. I’m the easiest. I’m currently at your disposal, use me, please. I’m yours.”

Jeonghan’s fingers came to a still inside of you and your eyes widened, worried you had said something wrong. He leaned forward, dragging you into a hard kiss.

“I like hearing you say that… You’re mine…” He pulled back, slipping his fingers out of you and giving your pussy a smack.

“Fuck.”

“On all fours. Now. Before I find someone else to finish me off.”

You didn’t think you had ever turned around so quickly. You pressed your head down into the sheets, shifting your knees apart so that you were spread out for Jeonghan. He hummed, one of his hands rubbing over your ass.

“You’re so lucky that I’m wasting my time on you,” he mumbled. He slapped your ass, so hard your whole body jolted and then rubbed his hand back over the spot. Before you could think too much about his words he was sliding his cock into you: fast and hard. “Thank me for my cock.”

“Thank you,” you gasped out. “Thank you so much Jeonghan, I need this so badly.”

“It’s almost disgusting how desperate you are,” Jeonghan chided. He slowly pulled his cock out of you and then slammed it back in. Again your whole body jolted, and you struggled to keep yourself upright. “Are you finally happy? Finally sated with my cock in you?”

“Yes,” you admitted desperately. You could hear the smile in Jeonghan’s chuckle as his fingers dug into your hips.

“You’re such a good little slut.”

If you had thought Jeonghan had fucked you hard last time, he was a literal animal this time around. His thrusts were sloppy but they were so hard and deep that it was making tears roll down your cheeks with every thrust as your body buzzed with pleasure.

You couldn’t think about the party you had abandoned, or think about the pride that you had certsinly left at the door. No, all you could think about was Jeonghan’s grunts and moans and practical growls as they filled the otherwise quiet room.

Suddenly, Jeonghan grabbed something. He thrust his hands forward, holding out a phone.

“Call him.”

Your eyes widened.

“What?” You blurted.

“Call the guy who you let write on your arm,” Jeonghan hissed. You failed to take Jeonghan’s phone fast enough and his fingers buried in your hair, pulling you back by it. “Your orgasm depends on this phone call, so you better make your decision fast.”

If you were thinking clearly, you would have probably safe worded and gotten out of the phone call. You would be crazy, after all, to willingly call someone you had just met while getting railed by some frat boy.

But you weren’t think clearly. You were with Yoon Jeonghan.

You clumsily took the phone in your hands, heavy pants leaving your lips as Jeonghan relentlessly pounded into you. You looked down at your arm, the smeared numbers barely being intelligible. You typed in the numbers with shaking hands, putting the call on speaker phone.

The phone rang and you silently begged for him not to answer. Jeonghan was in no way easing his pace on you. His hand still fisted in your hair as he bounced you on his cock, driving so deep inside you that you were once again barely able to think, much less able to hold the phone to your face.

Unluckily for you, the phone rings stopped and a “hello?” Echoed out from the phone’s speakers.

“Tell him who it is,” Jeonghan instructed. You nodded the best you could.

“It’s uh, it’s y/n from the party,” you managed to get out trying to keep your voice steady. The effort was not lost on Jeonghan, his hand came down on your ass and you yelped.

“Tell him what you’re doing,” Jeonghan continued. Your eyes screwed shut as your face blazed with embarrassment.

“I’m getting f-fucked,” you stammered out.

“Uh…” Yeongtae was at a loss for words it seemed. But then again, that was fair. You had no clue how you would react if you were to get this phone call. You hoped that he would just hang up.

“Tell him why, tell him who.”

“It’s by Yoon Jeonghan. I’m getting fucked by Yoon Jeonghan and he made me call you because I was bad for letting you write your number on my arm.”

Tears sprouted at the corners of your eyes. Not because the call was too much but because you were so desperate to come. Desperate for Jeonghan’s approval in your actions.

“It’s my pussy I’m fucking, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you cried out in agreement. “My pussy belongs to Yoon Jeonghan. I belong to Yoon Jeonghan.”

“What a little slut,” Jeonghan chided with a few clicks. “Tell him how much you enjoy this, hm? Tell him how you get off on me hitting you and telling you how pathetic you are why don’t you?”

“I-I-“ You tried to get the words out but you were so blissed out you could barely keep your head straight. “Jeonghan, Jeonghan, please.”

You were babbling nonsense at that point, and it earned you a slap across your face.

“Do what I tell you to,” Jeonghan reasserted.

“I’m sorry, I love this so much Yeongtae. I love it when Jeonghan humiliates me and hits me and treats like a whore,” you blurted out. “It’s all I could think about tonight. I need his cum so badly. I-“

Before you could finish Jeonghan hooked his fingers into your mouth.

“Shut up.”

His grip in your hair loosened and you fell forward on the bed, gagging around Jeonghan’s fingers. He sighed and with his now free hand took the phone from your hand.

“You can be friends with y/n all you want,” Jeonghan said suddenly, his voice gruff. “But she is mine to fuck. Only one person is good enough to make her like this and that’s me. So if you have any other intentions with her you can fucking forget about it.”

You heard Jeonghan toss the phone to the side and he grabbed you by your forearms.

“Aren’t you even the least embarrassed of what you just did?” Jeonghan taunted. “What do you think Yeongtae is going to think of you now? He isn’t going to think you’re some innocent little girl is he?”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t physically think you could anymore. You just let moan after moan leave your lips, your head hanging at the pure stimulation.

“But he will know that you are a very good little slut.”

He lowered one of his arms, his fingers pressing firmly down on your clit. You cried out at the contact.

“J-Jeonghan I need to come, please let me come today,” you begged lightly. “I haven’t come since the last time we fucked.”

Jeonghan leaned forward, pressing his chest to your back. He hummed against your cheek.

“Really?” He asked, a pleased tone leaving his lips. “Not even when you were alone? Touching yourself?”

Your face blazed hot.

“I didn’t...” You trailed off. “I didn’t touch myself all week.”

Jeonghan’s hips stuttered against you, his breath hitching.

“You’re lying,” he whispered.

“I’m not!” You cried out. “I needed you to tell me I could. I need you to let me or else I c-can't.”

Jeonghan scoffed.

“Stupid whore,” he mumbled but even as he said it. You felt his cock pulsing inside of you. “Can’t do anything unless I tell you to. Can’t do anything without me to help you do it. Go on then, come you stupid whore. I guess you deserve it.”

You felt yourself go limp against Jeonghan as pleasure washed over your body. For a few seconds you felt like you had stopped breathing, only able to blabber Jeonghan’s name on repeat as you quite literally milked Jeonghan’s cock. Only a few seconds after you had regained sensation, you felt Jeonghan’s cum begin to squirt deep into you. You arched your back in pleasure at the feeling, expecting Jeonghan to ease up on you, but instead he just pushed your face down in the sheets, his palm on your cheek.

You whined, your body shaking at the over stimulation but instead of safe wording, your fingers tightened in the sheets. You began to mumble thank you’s, defaulting into the mode of making Jeonghan cum.

Jeonghan’s grunts filled the air as he pummeled your pussy, only lasting a minute before he spilled his cum in you all over again. Jeonghan’s thrust started to slow down, but the feeling of being so full of his cum was absolutely intoxicating. Jeonghan slid out of you, sitting back on the bed, his hands holding him up but before he could completely relax you straddled him, lowering yourself down on his cock.

“I know, I know,” you babbled as you sunk down on his cock. Your breath hitched as his cum got push deeper into you again. You pressed your hands on his shoulders and began to shakily raise yourself up before dropping yourself back down on his cock. “I just n-need more cum. I need you to feel really, really good. I need to be better than every other person you’ve ever slept with I-”

Before you could finish Jeonghan’s fingers gripped on your hips and he stilled your motions. For a second you thought you were going to really get it. You tentatively raised your eyes to Jeonghan’s, only to find that they were glossed over, and a small smile was on his lips.

“No one I’ve ever fucked has taken three loads from me before,” he said.

He began to raise you up and down on his cock, his fingers digging bruises back into your hips. His movements were hard and rushed and a little clumsy but your moans and incoherent begging dragged a third orgasm out of him anyways.

“I know you want to,” Jeonghan mumbled in your ear as he fucked you. “Go on- Come again. You deserve it.”

You obliged instantly, unable to believe that you were given a whole third orgasm. Your arms wrapped around Jeonghan’s chest as you came again, pure bliss warming your body.

You and Jeonghan were silent for a while, your chests rising and falling against one another. After a few minutes Jeonghan lowered the two of you down in his bed, his limp cock still keeping his cum from seeping out of you.

You weren’t really sure what you were allowed to do. With former boyfriends, there was no question that you would cuddle into them. Maybe even fall asleep. But this was Yoon Jeonghan and you had managed to even exhaust him. What was the protocol?

You unsurely tilted your head up, intending on glancing at Jeonghan. Maybe you needed to suck it up and get out of his bed? But you were startled to find that he was looking down at you with a surprised expression on his face.

You blinked.

“What?” You asked him, suddenly acutely aware of everything that you had let Jeonghan do.

“Just wondering what to do with you,” Jeonghan replied, his voice soft. One of his hands lowered to your face and he closed his thumb and index finger on your jaw. He moved your face from one side to the other.

You didn’t do anything to stop him- Honestly feeling the pit of your stomach coil at being so casually toyed with.

“You’ll just let me do anything to you, won’t you?” He asked.

“I have limits,” you insisted with a roll of your eyes. “You’ll just haven’t pushed me there yet.”

Jeonghan loosened his grip on you his thumb brushing your bottom lip. He pulled your lip down.

“Can I hit you?” He asked.

“We’re alone,” you replied. “You don’t have to ask.”

Jeonghan’s hand came across your cheek, but it wasn’t as much of a slap as it was a sharp pat. He squeezed your chin again between his fingers.

“Good girl,” he mumbled. “You’d do anything for me wouldn’t you?”

You wished you could look away from Jeonghan but even if you wanted to, his grip was tight.

“Jeonghan, you’re embarrassing me,” you murmured, your voice quiet. Jeonghan laughed and his grip loosened on your chin so that you could look away.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just genuinely surprised. I’ve never slept with someone who let me do so much to them and liked it so much. I’m starting to think you don’t remember our safe word.”

You repeated the safe word under your breath, just to prove that you still knew it.

“Where does the control stop?” Jeonghan asked. “How often can I do this sort of thing to you?”

That earned Jeonghan your gaze back.

“How often...” You trailed off. “Like, we’re going to do this again?”

You couldn’t keep yourself from being surprised.

“But you never sleep with anyone twice?”

“We’re not going to be dating really,” Jeonghan said. “If you agree with it, I mean, but I want to see you at parties. I want you to be my eye candy. I don’t want you fucking other people.”

You nodded.

“Done, done, and done,” you agreed. “You can be controlling in public. I don’t mind the way that you physically move me around, and I like it when your grip is tight on me because you don’t like the attention I’m getting...”

You trailed off.

“But you can’t hit me in public. You have to let me talk to who I want to. The reaction with Yeongtae was...” You cleared your throat. “Hot... As long as you don’t actually mind me talking to him.”

“You’re going to talk to Yeongtae after that phone call?” Jeonghan asked, his voice high.

“Absolutely not, I’d rather die,” you laughed. “But you know what I mean.”

You glanced away from him.

“I... You...” You sighed. “I don’t think any man has ever made me come before,” you admitted. “I’d do anything to still be your fuck buddy.”

Jeonghan stared at you for a little bit.

“Give me a phrase for if I’m doing too much in public.” Jeonghan stated. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in a way that you don’t like.”

“I think Jennie texted me,” you replied instantly. Jeonghan nodded, his eyes drifting to the side for a moment in thought.

“Done.”

Jeonghan’s hand slid down to your neck, his thumb pushing up your chin. His nose brushed against yours and he pressed his lips to yours. It wasn’t chaste like you were used to after sex. It was heavy, controlling, almost as if Jeonghan wanted to turn you back on all over again.

But before he could do much his lips pulled away from yours and his thumb rubbed your neck.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so drained by a partner,” Jeonghan said with a laugh. He shifted, slipping his cock out of you. You whined in protest, but Jeonghan completely ignored you. He pulled away from you, stretching once he was standing upright.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he said. “You have to take a shower.”

You groaned in protest.

“I don’t need it. I’m fine.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes and without warning dipped two of his fingers into your pussy, pushing his cum deeper inside of you. You mewled at the feeling.

“So you just want to keep this inside you, huh?”

He withdrew his fingers, shaking his head.

“I’ll come back for you, so you can get in the shower,” he said. “What do you want to eat?”

“I’m not really that hungry,” you stated, but that wasn’t really true. You were starving.

“Don’t care. What do you want?”

You sighed.

“Mac and cheese?”

“Done,” Jeonghan said. He smiled at you. “Now be a good girl and put on one of my shirts.”

-

Waking up before Jeonghan, you decided to just let yourself out. Jeonghan hadn’t really told you when he wanted to see you next but regardless, you didn’t want to find yourself in an awkward post one night stand situation. You weren’t really sure how to act around Jeonghan if you weren’t being railed by him after all.

You didn’t quite escape without being sighted. You sent an awkward smile to a tall boy sitting at the kitchen table, shooting you a scrunched nose look.

“You can walk after that night?”

Your face blazed, and all you could manage to murmur was an apology and a good bye.

After a second shower and a breakfast with Jeongyeon recounting your night in as little details as possible you went to work at your job on campus. By the time your shift was over, your memories of the night before were hazy at best.

“...Y/n?” Confusion riddled across your face and you turned around, taking one of your airpods out of your ear. You searched for the source of the voice and when you found it, your face paled.

“Oh my god-”

And yet, those memories weren’t nearly hazy enough.

Yeongtae smiled at you, raising a hand to rub the back of his neck.

“It’s good to see you,” he greeted. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes ran over the part of your body that he can see. “I’m surprised he doesn’t leave bruises on you that people can see. He sounded possessive on the phone.”

“I-” You weren’t entirely sure what to say. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what comes over me when he’s in control but I just can’t help but do whatever he wants me to and-”

Yeongtae raised his hand in the air.

“It’s fine. People have their own things they’re into,” Yeongtae said. “Some of the things... Weird and disturbing, but their own things nonetheless.”

“Have you had lunch yet?” He continued. “Would your boyfriend care if we got something to eat?”

“Jeonghan and I are not dating,” you denied with a roll of your eyes.

“You know that makes the phone call I received worse right?”

“Why were you on the line for so long?!” You snapped back. Yeongtae laughed at your quick clap-back, and the smile on his face actually made a smile appear on yours. “You’re fucking weird Yeongtae.”

“Weird, and hungry. You down for a lunch date or what?”

You thought over the invitation, but the decision ended up being easy when your stomach grumbled in protest at the lack of food.

“Yeah, okay but cool it on the weird shit.”

“Says the one who got off to telling me they were a slut over-”

“Okay, what did you want to eat?”

Part Three: Not a Friend

[harrysmimi]

Okay okay soooooo this is my request. You totally do not have to but I thought it was cute. So Harry is himself and YN is a teacher at an art teacher at a school and he comes to visit them and the kids react to them being a relationship with himmmmm👀

Also I love your writing and I think you’re amazing❤️❤️

Idk about art that much. But music counts as art as well. Hope you don't mind.

Lunch Time

Synopsis: One where YN's students are shocked to see her husband (WC 1365)

More of my work

"Oh my god! Ms. YLN, Harry Styles literally has the same jumper as you!" Mary, one of YN's students exclaimed as soon as she walked in.

"Oh my— that's literally the same thing!" John, the other one from the very corner of the classroom.

YN was a highschool Music teacher, she was a big part of the art department of her school. All students loved her for some reason she never can pin point.

Today she wore one of her husband's jumper, a old brown one with green designs on the hem and the above the cuffs of the sleeves. When she originally picked it out of her husband's side of the closet she never thought it was something he wore in public where he was pictured.

She's been having symptoms of common flu lately after she visited her mum who had flu as well. Her husband being away on a tour from past six weeks. Though he's returning home later today she still felt the meed to put on one of his jumpers. They are soft, they're warm and they smell like him even though they've been washed.

She could not take few days off as she had already taken all her paid leaves to go see her husband at his Manchester shows. She needed that money to pay off her students loans.

YN never in a million years thought her students, who are bery obviously her husband's hardcore fans to recognise his clothes. It wasn't her first time wearing his clothes to work, that's all she wears om days she doesn't feel like dressing up.

"Oh thank you Mary, it's a gift." YN said. "Okay class settle down now." She began with her class her music history lessons. Taking a small five minutes break to go bring her water bottle she forgot at her office like an idiot.

Just as was about to leave her office, she got a text from her husband. He was coming home early when she told him a yesterday that she was starting to feel sick. He'd seen her be sick just once and it was just awful. He took the first flight home immediately after his show last night from France, which was very late in his opinion.

Mister⭐

- Hiya my love.

- I just landed in London

- Will bring your fave lunch today and we can go see a doctor.

- I love you so much! xx

It warmed her heart to see that. She sent him her lunch time.

- Yes, please.

- I'll ask later if I can take rest of the day off.

Mister⭐

- Yeah, do that baby.

- See you soon!

YN went back to her class but dismissed them early to move onto her next class with her headache boring holes into her skull from inside out. Again she had her students pointing out her jumper.

......................................................................

"How is Mrs. Styles doing?" Harry asked as soon as he stepped into her office with a bag of food from her favourite place, he carefully placed it on her desk.

It had been over a good six months of them getting married and he's still obsessed with her calling that name, especially since she had been so adamant about wanting to take up his last name. He's smitten like a little baby kitten.

"I took a painkiller for my headache but I think I still need to sleep on it." She explained, getting up from her chair and metting him halfway around her desk to take upto his welcoming hug.

"Yeah? We'll go home soon, okay?" He caressed her hair feeling her shake her head in agreement to him. "Gimme a kiss before we eat and I take you to go see doctor."

"I'm sick, don't want you to get sick." She lifted her head up to look at him.

"I literally won't get sick." He counter and got his kiss, smearing his lips onto her.

"We can actually go now, I already talked about taking a sick leave for the rest of the day and tomorrow." She shared.

"We can eat first, I know you skipped your breakfast." He made her sit down and eat as he talked about the shows she misses, which were all of them except for the London and Manchester shows. About the One Direction shirts someone threw at him which he brought with him, the other one he saved for her. Just as she was about say something, there was a knock on her door.

"Ms. YLN do you mind if I come in?" It was Mary, from the class earlier.

YN's head shot to look at her husband who looked completely unphased chowing down his noodles with his best chopsticks using abilities.

"What?" He shrugged.

"She's your fan!" She whispered. Having him caught off guard.

"Go on, I don't mind." Was his answer to her surprise.

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Come in, Mary." YN called but not before taking another glance at Harry.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt your lunch time, Ms. YLN, I needed help with this assignment that—" the girl with blue dyed hair was completely froze to surprise seeing someone at her professor's office she never could have expected. "Oh my god!"

Harry actually chuckled earning a glance from his wife though he had his shy kode switched on there, "What do you need help with, Mary?"

"I, uhhh... I actually forgot..." She stuttered looking back and forth between the couple, printed notes in her hands, "this, this assignment— I'll come in tomorrow."

"No it's alright, I'm taking a day off tomorrow." YN shared, "don't want your assignment to be delayed."

"Oh— okay." She gulped nervously.

YN went back to her chair behind the desk and had her students doubts cleared up. Though it took her long time to realise she probably did not get a thing.

"Email me your doubts, I'll and refer to the sites I recommended." YN said, writing down a couple of referrals for online sites. "It's okay, you can talk to him."

"Oh my god, Harry! I'm such a huge fan!" Mary bursted out pointing at her Fine Line hoodie.

"Thank you so much." Harry smiled shyly.

"Can, can I ask for a picture?" Mary asked but regretted it as soon as she spoke.

"Actually do you mind if we don't? I can write you up a note." Harry suggested instead.

"That's totally fine! Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" She freaked out.

"It's alright." Harry assured her. YN smiled and handed him a pen and her sticky note pad. Harry scribbled a sweet note for the girl and signed it for her. "Thank you."

"No, thank you so much." Mary smiled accepting the note Harry gabe her.

"Mary, please don't tell anyone just yet about this if you can." Harry spoke. "Maybe wait for a few days.

"Yeah, no I won't. I really won't." The girl was freaking out, she waved at him before leaving.

"She won't tell anyone Harry, don't worry." YN assured him getting back on her previous seat next to him.

"You think so?"

"I know so." She affirmed, "I've known her for quite a long time now. She's one of the nicest students I have."

"I'm gonna take your word on that." He smiled.

"Oh, and I got my new professor's ID today." YN reached for the ID kept on her desk face down. It had her name changed on her to Prof. YN Styles which had Harry smirking.

"Still won't be able to fathom we're actually married!" His cheek muscles ached from smiling so much in the moment seeing the ID card.

"Neither can I." She chuckled.

They'd known each other for only a year when he proposed and they got married a few months later. It wasn't rushed. But it was still surreal.

Harry was still anxious about Mary trying to post about their little interactions but she didn't. Harry never saw anything on the internet about them. He was relieved to say the least.

YN students liked her enough to not talk shit about her. Plus they needed their good grades to pass out of school.

......................................................................

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[fortheloveofwonderland]

Me & You & Everyone We Know | Chapter 20 FINAL | S.R

Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary - It’s eight months later and Spencer’s life has changed dramatically. Did he ever get his happy ending?

A/N - Final chapter folks! 'Bout time, right?

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, smut minors DNI.

Warnings - some light angst but overall long overdue fluff. WC - 5.3k

Chapter 20 - First Day of My Life

And I don't know where I am, I don't know where I've been,

But I know where I want to go.

And so I thought I'd let you know,

Yeah, these things take forever, I especially am slow,

But I realised that I need you,

And I wondered if I could come home.

“How did you find me?” 

“I know a guy.”

“What do you want?” 

“It’s time we had a long overdue talk.”

“What could we possibly have to talk about?” 

“Spencer. We need to talk about Spencer.” 

***

Eight Months Later

Spencer Reid had a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he slotted the last handful of books into their new home on the bookshelf in his new office. 

He ran his fingers over the spines and the smile started to take route, blossoming and growing until it reached all the way to his eyes. 

He surveyed the room, tucked away at the back of the second storey of his new home. His old trusty desk sat beneath the old bay windows with the most gorgeous lighting drifting in through the open curtains from the surprisingly glorious winter day outside. 

He slid into his leather chair and brushed his fingertips over the dark wood desk. 

He’d officially moved into the old gothic style house back in the fall and the rest of the home had come together nicely. But his office had been a slow process, a tiring process. 

This room more than any others in the new house had to be perfect. He would be spending a lot of time in this room and it had to be just right. And after weeks of shuffling furniture around, it finally fit his criteria. 

Eight months ago Spencer had made a decision about his future. He’d quit teaching, never returning to Georgetown after the summer break. Instead he struck a deal with BAU Unit Chief Emily Prentiss. 

On the weeks Maeve had the girls he would work from Quantico or go away with the team on cases. When he had the girls he would work from his home office as a consultant. 

His FBI badge sat next to his computer along with his new credentials and every time he looked at them he couldn’t help but smile. 

The BAU was his home. In all the years since he’d left he’d felt like something was missing from his life. But now he had found his way back to his rightful place in the world. 

It allowed him to feel fulfilled in both his home and work life. He didn’t have to give up any of his precious time spent with his daughters and he was able to work a job he loved with every fibre of his being. 

Since the incident the night of the art show, Spencer had not had a single sip of alcohol. He was closing in on nine months sober and honestly he’d never felt better. 

He still took his antidepressants, but a much lower dose now and he’d quit seeing Doctor Sanchez months ago. 

His relationship was Maeve had slowly repaired itself over time to the point he would now call her one of his closest friends. 

Eight months ago he would never have believed he could be this happy again. But it just went to show what a little hard work and determination could do. 

He ran his fingers over the desk again as he got to his feet. He walked past the desk and across the room. 

In the doorway he turned back for one last glance around the room.

Yes, everything was falling into place. 

***

You fought with the zipper on the back of your dress, huffing and puffing through excretion. When you finally got the thing all the way up your arms fell back to your sides and you let out a large breath. 

You gave yourself a once over in the mirror, turning this way and that and scrutinising your appearance. You’d looked better, that was for sure. But given the circumstances you didn’t look half bad. 

The pile of papers on the dresser caught your gaze through the mirror and you rolled your eyes as they seemingly taunted you. 

Tomorrow was paperwork day. Today there were more pressing things at hand. 

You’d received your doctorate in August and since Doctor Spencer Reid’s sudden resignation from the university you had taken over teaching his classes. 

It wasn’t your end goal, but for now you couldn’t deny you loved teaching. Maybe one day you’d look elsewhere but as of right now you quite liked your place in the world. 

The past eight months had been a whirlwind to say the least, and where you’d found yourself was not at all where you imagined ending up. But you couldn’t pretend you weren’t happy where you were. 

You moved over to the bed, your stomach coiling a little as you sat down on the edge of it. You slipped your feet into your shoes as your mind wandered back some eight months. 

“How did you find me?” You scrutinised the woman on your doorstep, recognising her from one fleeting sighting of her some time ago. 

“I know a guy.” She shrugged simply. 

“What do you want?” You folded your arms across your chest. 

She was the last person you expected to see here and the last person you wanted to be face to face with. 

“It’s time we had a long overdue talk.” She mirrored your action and crossed her own arms. 

“What could we possibly have to talk about?” You scoffed. 

“Spencer.” She rolled her eyes. “We need to talk about Spencer.” 

Having the former Mrs Reid show up at your apartment had thrown you through a loop. You’d been so shell shocked you’d actually invited her inside. 

Maeve proceeded to tell you all the reasons you needed to give Spencer a second chance. She explained to you why he’d lied to you about not being in love with you, how he was simply trying to protect himself from getting hurt again. 

She went into great detail about how she knew you and Spencer belonged together and that you were the loves of each other's lives. 

You hadn’t spoken much, simply listened. And when she left she tried to put the whole thing behind you so you could move on. You still had no idea to this day how she knew where you lived and could only assume someone at the BAU had given her the intel. 

Two months later you’d gone back to work to find Spencer had quit the university. And for some reason the thought of never seeing him again undid all the hard work you’d put in over the summer to get over him. 

“Y/N?” He blinked at you as though he wasn’t sure he trusted his own eyes. “Uh, what are you doing here?” 

“Can I come in?” You hugged your arms around yourself. 

“Yeah, sure. The place is still a mess, I literally only moved in a few days ago.” He held open the door to his new home and let you inside. 

Boxes were piled up all over the place. A couch and a coffee table were the only visible furniture. 

“How did you know where I live?” He hovered between piles of boxes. 

“Maeve,” you croaked. “She came to me a few months ago and left me her number. I didn’t ever expect to use it but when I found out you’d quit I just…I wanted to know why. So I called her and she gave me your address, said she has the girls this week.” 

“Maeve came to you? Why?” He frowned, scratching at the back of his head. 

“She wanted to explain some things. About you. About why you lied to me.” 

“Right,” his frown deepened.

“So why did you quit?” 

“That’s why you came here? Really? You want to know why I quit Georgetown? I haven't seen or heard from you in months and that’s what you came here for?” He looked at you somewhat indignantly. 

“They offered me your job. I just want to know if you plan on coming back before I take it.” You shrugged. 

“You got your doctorate?” His lip quivered into something resembling a smile. 

“I did. So are you coming back or can I take your job?” 

“I rejoined the BAU.” He rolled his lip between his teeth. “Not a full caseload like I used to work, I can fit my hours around the girls now Maeve and I have joint custody. It’s where I belong.” 

“Fine.” You finally let your arms fall to your sides. “That’s all I came here for.” 

You turned away from him, back towards the old mahogany front door with the stained glass window in the centre but you didn’t get very far. 

“I shouldn’t have lied to you.” He spoke and when you turned back around he was a few steps closer to you. “I thought I was protecting us both but really I was only hurting us.”

“I didn’t come here for this.” You shook your head. 

“Well you certainly didn’t come all the way out here to ask if I was coming back to work.” He chuckled dryly. “I may always have complicated feelings towards my ex but my feelings for you are anything but. I love you Y/N. I love you more than words can describe and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Please don’t walk away. Please give me another chance.” 

Your eyes misted with tears but you were not going to let them fall. You bit the inside of your cheek in hopes of keeping them at bay. 

You straightened your back, clenched your jaw and spat a simple, “no.” 

You pushed yourself up, wobbling slightly as you did so. You pinched the bridge of your nose and closed your eyes to try to ease the dizziness. 

You gave yourself one last look in the mirror, smoothing down the front of your dress which was a little tighter than you would have liked it to be, before shaking your head and pushing out of the door. 

***

“You really don’t have to do this.” Maeve rolled her eyes at him through the mirror. 

“Oh please, I’m great with kids.” Spencer scoffed, nudging the rocker a little and smiling down at the little dark haired bundle of joy. 

“Well yes I know that,” she huffed, toying with the strap of her dress. “But it seems weird to have you look after my son.” 

Little Elijah, Daisy and Lily’s half brother, was twelve weeks old and Spencer had almost forgotten how tiny babies were. 

“It’s really no big deal. He’s my daughter’s half brother, he’s basically family.” He shrugged. 

“And what a weird family we are.” Maeve laughed as she turned back to face Spencer. “So, how do I look?” 

Spencer glanced up from baby Elijah and onto her and tears immediately filled his eyes. He stood up and crossed the room towards her, gaze flicking up and down her frame. 

“Good gosh Maeve,” he breathed. “You look incredible.” 

“Don’t cry.” She shook her head. “Because if you start I’ll start.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” He shook his head, rubbing his eyes with his palms to try and dismiss the tears. “But seriously, you look amazing.”

She smiled at him, glancing down at her white, satin dress. She felt like a princess, and judging by Spencer’s reaction she looked like one too.

“Thank you,” she took hold of his hands and squeezed them. “And you’re sure you don’t mind watching over Elijah for the day?” 

“For the one hundredth time I do not mind at all. For the record, I hate weddings anyway so this kinda works out great for me. If he cries I have an excuse to leave early.” He smirked at her and she removed her hands from his so she could slap his bicep. 

“You’re such a cynic.” She rolled her eyes. 

“What can I say?” He shrugged. “I heard eloping is all the rage.” 

She rolled her eyes yet again. 

“Can you believe we’re here? I never in a million years thought I’d ever get married again.” She sighed wistfully. 

“I always thought when I got married it would be forever.” He nodded. “And after all we’ve been through I never thought we’d end up here.” 

“Friends you mean?”’

“Is that what this is? Huh. Good to know.” He chuckled, yet again making Maeve roll her eyes. 

She turned her back on him again and toyed with her hair in the mirror. Spencer moved back over to where baby Elijah was dribbling down his chin, making little gurgling noises. 

He picked up the rocket and attached it to the frame of the stroller so he was ready to make a quick exit when needed. 

Just then the door to the bridal suite flew open and his two boisterous daughters barrelled in, wearing their matching purple bridesmaids dresses. 

“Mom!” Daisy gasped. “Oh my gosh you look amazing!” 

“Mom you’re so pretty!” Lily agreed excitedly. 

“Thank you sweethearts.” Maeve turned and held her arms open for the girls who quickly embraced their mother.

“I mean, I’m also here.” Spencer shrugged. “I thought I looked pretty good too.” 

“Shut up dad.” Daisy rolled her eyes at him. 

“Yeah dad, you’re not the one getting married.” Lily also rolled her eyes. 

Since turning eight a few months ago, Lily had started becoming more and more like her sister by the day. Spencer couldn’t remember the time she’d called him daddy or the last time she’d asked him to read to her. 

Life was moving way too fast for his liking. His little girls were growing up, soon enough they’d be leaving him. Now wasn’t the time to get down about it though, he still had exciting things in his future. 

“Fair enough,” he sighed. “I’m going to take Elijah and get a seat. Try not to upstage your mom, kiddos.” 

“He’s such a dork.” He heard Daisy say. 

“Yeah who says kiddos?” He heard Lily reply. 

He smiled to himself as he left the room, pushing Elijah’s stroller towards the large ballroom down the hall. 

Soft music played through small, indiscriminate speakers, as people started taking their seats either side of the grand aisle. 

Maeve had always dreamed of a big wedding, their own nuptials at city hall had left a lot for her imagination to desire. And Spencer was glad she was finally getting everything she’d always wanted. 

He came to a stop by the door where Bobby, beaming with pride, was waiting to greet people. He spotted Spencer and his son heading his way and waved at them. 

“Hey, how’s my little man doing?” 

“I’m not bad, thanks.” Spencer joked, now making Bobby roll his eyes. “Oh you mean Elijah? He’s good aren’t you buddy?” 

Bobby crouched down and cooed over his son for a moment or two, placing a kiss on his forehead before standing back to his full height. 

“Thanks for being here, man. It means a lot to Maeve that you approve of this.” Bobby smiled a gentle smile at him. 

“I just want her to be happy.” Spencer shrugged. “And I’ve never seen her happier than when she’s with you.” 

Bobby extended his hand and Spencer took it, shaking his ex-wife’s soon to be new husband's hand. 

It was probably extremely weird if he stopped to think about it, but that was a thought for another day. 

“Are you happy, Spencer?” Bobby surprised him when he asked. 

A smile toyed on Spencer’s lips as he closed his eyes briefly and gave thought to his life. When he opened his eyes again his smile grew. 

“You know what? I really am.” He nodded. 

Bobby patted him on the shoulder before Spencer took the stroller again and headed through the doors. 

He headed towards the bar in the corner, spotting JJ, Will and the boys already in their seats and offered them a wave as he passed. 

Towards the bar he saw Luke and Garcia, holding hands and giggling between themselves. Nearby Rossi sipped his scotch and tilted his glass at Spencer as he passed. 

Cameron was hovering on the other side of the room, looking much like a spare part. He didn’t know anyone here and was instructed to wait patiently for his girlfriend while she fulfilled her bridesmaids duties. 

The rest of the team were due to be here but the ceremony wasn’t due to start for another half hour so he had no doubt they’d be here soon. 

He pushed the stroller up to the bar and applied the brake, ordering himself a club soda and leaning on the bar top while he waited. 

Elijah started to stir, his gurgling noises starting to sound a little strained. Spencer stood back up and peered in his stroller. 

“Hey you,” he reached towards the tiny boy and unclipped him from the seat. “It’s ok.” 

He lifted Elijah from the stroller, his little face contorted as though he may start crying at any moment. Spencer held the back of soft head and brought him to his chest, cradling him in his arms. 

“It’s ok, it’s ok.” He bounced him gently. “Don’t cry, it’s your mommy and daddy’s big day. We don’t want tears.” 

He rocked him back and forth and thanked the bar tender when he placed his club soda on the bar. Elijah continued to gurgling, but the rocking motion seemed to calm him. 

“It’s ok.” He kissed the side of Elijah’s head. 

He’d missed this. He missed when his girls were this small and they didn’t talk back to him and one cuddle from their daddy solved all their problems. 

He missed sneaking into their rooms at night just to watch them sleep when the baby monitor wasn’t enough. He missed the way they would cling to his hand so tightly, the way they’d once thought their dad was a superhero. 

He loved his girls, more than humanly possible. He loved them as babies, as toddlers and he loved them now, one as a teenager and another who thought she was a teenager. 

But as time went on Spencer felt like his girls needed him less and less with every passing day. He sometimes felt redundant as a parent, like his job was done. 

Elijah was brand new. Maeve and Bobby would have all those things he’d taken for granted with Daisy and Lily. 

Sometimes he wished he could go back in time, really savour those moments. In the blink of an eye his girls would be going off to college, having families of their own and then they really wouldn’t need him anymore. 

He held Elijah a little longer than he needed to, momentarily pretending he was Daisy or Lily and he had a chance to do it all over again. 

“You’ve got your whole life ahead of you little man. And you got so lucky. You’re mom and dad love you so much and you have the two best sisters in the whole world. And this extended family of yours…” he trailed off, glancing around the room at his family, his BAU family. “You don’t know how lucky you’ve got it kid.”

He started getting a little misty eyed as he stroked Elijah’s head, still rocking him in his arms. Elijah made a happy little cooing sound and Spencer smiled to himself. He closed his eyes and breathed in that new baby scent, imagining one of his daughter’s in his arms when they were so small and vulnerable. 

“That’s a good look on you, daddy.”  

His eyes snapped back open and he couldn’t hold back the smile on his face. He cautiously laid Elijah back down in his stroller, buckling him back in. 

“Just remembering what it was like, it's been a while.” He chuckled, reaching out his hands. “You look like a goddamn dream.” 

“You say that like you didn’t see me this morning.” You laughed, taking hold of his outstretched hands. 

“You somehow look more beautiful every single time I lay eyes on you.” He pulled you close by your hands and moved them to cup your face. 

“You’re not going to cry are you?” You teased him as he kissed you. 

“I can’t promise anything.” He laughed against your lips. 

“I may always have complicated feelings towards my ex but my feelings for you are anything but. I love you Y/N. I love you more than words can describe and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Please don’t walk away. Please give me another chance.” 

Your eyes misted with tears but you were not going to let them fall. You bit the inside of your cheek in hopes of keeping them at bay. 

You straightened your back, clenched your jaw and spat a simple, “no.” 

Turning away from him towards the door, you soon felt a hand on your shoulder. 

“That’s not good enough for me.” He turned you back to face him. “I cannot let you walk away again.”

Before you knew what was happening, Spencer caged you back against the door and kissed you. And despite everything, all the pain and hurt he’d caused you, you kissed him back. 

And the rest, as they say, was history. 

You didn’t walk away, couldn’t even if you tried. You hadn’t walked away in the six months since and you knew you never would. 

Four weeks later you moved into his new home with him and the girls. 

Daisy and Lily adored you and in return you loved them just as much. They enjoyed having another woman around and oftentimes the three of you would gang up on their dad, much to Spencer’s chagrin. 

Daisy talked to you about things she wasn’t always comfortable talking to her parents about. Lily liked it when you braided her hair. They both enjoyed the shopping trips you took them on. 

Spencer kissed you once more before letting go of your face and taking hold of one of your hands again. 

“This place is fancy.” You spoke as your eyes flitted around the grand room. 

“I did try to explain to her the benefits of eloping.” Spencer shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

“It’s not for everyone.” You chuckled.

Spencer raised your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles, right next to your gold wedding band. 

“Do you regret it? Not having some big fancy event like this?” 

“Are you kidding me?” You pulled a face, glancing down at his matching band. “The only person I needed at our wedding was you, Doctor Reid.”

Some might say it was too soon, that the two of you had rushed into things but they would be wrong. 

When you know, you know and you both knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you were meant to be together and didn’t want to waste a second not being married. Nothing had ever felt so right as standing up in that little Vegas chapel and promising each other forever. 

“I love you so much. Doctor Reid.” He squeezed your hand. 

The kiss lasted several minutes and by the time Spencer pulled back you were both panting. 

The look he was giving you was like no look anyone had ever given you before. And it told you all you needed to know. 

This man was incomparably in love with you, and would go to the ends of the earth for you. This man would do anything for you. 

He’d made some mistakes, but so had you. Life wasn’t always perfect, there would always be bumps in the road. But with any luck the hardest hurdles were now in your past. 

He loved you and you loved him and it was just as simple as that. 

“I don’t want the best days of my life to have passed me by. I want it all, Y/N. I want to get married, I want to have more kids. And I want it with you.”

“It really is a good job we don’t both work at Georgetown anymore, two Doctor Reid’s is just confusing.” You laughed.

“Well I think it could be done. There would just be the hot Doctor Reid and the other Doctor Reid.” He shrugged, his eyes sparkling playfully.

“Which one am I?” 

“You will never know, my love.” He chuckled, pulling you close again and kissing you slightly more fiercely than was appropriate for the current setting. 

Before things could get too hot and heavy, Elijah whined, tearing the two of you apart. You both moved to his stroller and looked down on him.

“Hey little man, what seems to be the problem?” You stroked his wrinkly forehead. 

He kicked his tiny legs, blowing little spit bubbles in his mouth. Spencer cooed at him while you continued stroking his head. 

Within a few seconds he calmed down again, perhaps he just wanted some attention. Baby’s and dogs weren’t all that dissimilar, Taco had a penchant for whining when he wanted attention. 

“Oh jeez, I’m sorry. I didn’t ask if you wanted a drink.” Spencer stood back up and picked up his club soda. 

“Just water, please. I’ve been feeling a little queasy again this morning.” You rubbed your stomach. 

“Hopefully that’ll pass soon.” He kissed your cheek before getting the bartender's attention again and ordering you a glass of water. 

Soon after handing it to you, Daisy and Lily in their beautiful dresses, carrying bouquets, were heading your way. 

Spencer saw the coy smile Daisy sent in the direction of her boyfriend and it made his stomach tighten. How he wished he could slow down time so his daughter never got older. 

“You need to go sit, it’s starting in a minute.” Daisy demanded. 

“Sit please.” Lily echoed. 

Spencer looked between his girls and you and little Elijah who could now barely keep his eyes open. He was flooded by nostalgia, weddings always did have that effect on him. 

The girls turned to leave, to finish their rounds but Spencer stopped them. 

“Hey, pumpkins?” His voice cracked a little as he spoke. 

“Stop it.” Daisy frowned at him, hearing the way his voice broke.

“Stop what? Spencer frowned back. 

“I can see you getting sappy. Don’t do it. Please, dad?” She begged him.

“Yeah please, dad?” Lily repeated.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.” He looked over at Elijah again. “I just miss when you girls were that little. When you needed me.”

You slipped your hand in his, giving it a squeeze to try and tether him to the present before he went down a rabbit hole into the past. 

Daisy and Lily looked at each other, communicating subconsciously in the weird way sisters seemed to be able to do. 

“We’ll always need you, dad.” Lily spoke as they looked back at him. 

“You will?”

“Of course, you’re our dad.” Daisy shrugged.

“We love you.” Lily insisted. 

“I love you both so much.” His voice cracked again, eyes misting with tears.

“Oh god,” Daisy groaned. “Do not cry. Stop it.” 

“Make him stop, Y/N.” Lily looked at you pleadingly. 

“I wish I could.” You chuckled, giving his hand another firm squeeze. “But you know your dad, he’s an emotional kind of guy.”

“We can’t stay little kids forever, dad.” Daisy offered him a slightly sad smile.

“I know, I know.” He nodded, using his free hand to wipe his eyes before any tears fell.

“But hey, at least you get to do it all over again.” Daisy shrugged, nodding towards your belly. 

“Hey Y/N?” Spencer spoke to you from the bed of the Caesars Palace Honeymoon suite. 

“Yeah?” You called back from the bathroom. 

“Let’s make a baby.” 

You frowned to yourself and put down your toothbrush, padding back into the bedroom.

“Excuse me?” You leant against the doorframe, your new husband lying naked on top of the covers.

“Let’s make a baby.” He repeated.

You’d come off your pill a week or so ago after you’d discussed wanting to try for a baby at some point in the future. You were still using condoms though and Spencer still never finished inside of you. 

“Right now?” You questioned.

“Why not?” He shrugged. 

“We literally just got married like five hours ago.” You laughed, stepping further into the room. 

“I don’t want to wait.” He reached for you as soon as you were close enough, pulling you down to the bed. “Let’s make a baby.” 

Your hand involuntarily went to your growing stomach, the one that you could barely fit inside this dress. You were at fourteen weeks and only just starting to show, it wouldn’t be long now before none of your clothes fit you.

“That is true.” Spencer looked at you with a smile that lit up the entire room. 

He was now for three for three. Three times in his life he had unprotected sex, finishing inside of someone, and all three times he had gotten them pregnant. He often wondered if he had some kind of super sperm. 

He placed his free hand on top of yours on your stomach, on the future addition to his pumpkin patch, to his crazy, slightly unconventional family. 

He wouldn’t change his past, wouldn’t change Daisy and Lily or the way they were brought into the world. But this new baby growing inside of you, you at his side as his wife; this was the life he chose and the life you both chose to make.

“Anyway, you seriously need to go and sit down, mom will be pissed if you miss this.” Daisy snapped him out of his revere. 

“Please don’t use that word.” Spencer rolled his eyes.

“Whatever,” Daisy shrugged. “Come on Lil, let's get the others.” 

Lily happily followed her sister while the two of them rounded up all the guests and motioned them towards their seats. It wasn’t lost on him the way his youngest lit up when Michael LaMontagne smiled at her.

He swore one day he would be at their wedding. 

Spencer glanced around and spotted Matt and Kristy hand in hand, closely followed by Emily and Tara who were chatting between themselves as they found seats near JJ and Will. He looked back at you, tears now back in his eyes.

“Don’t.” You shook your head. “I am a hormonal mess as it is. If you start crying, I will too.” 

“Sorry,” he sighed wistfully. “I’m just so damn happy.” 

“Me too, Spence.” You agreed, leaning in and kissing him. “Me too.” 

The two you hung back with Elijah now asleep in his stroller while everyone else took their seats. Your own eyes took in the room, the girls, the BAU members and everyone in between. 

This family had found you and accepted you as one of their own with open arms. The Reid family, the BAU family, without really meaning to you’d become a part of something you never knew you’d always wanted. 

It may be slightly unorthodox, but it didn’t make what you had any less special. In fact in your eyes, the oddness of this family dynamic made it even more exceptional. And you wouldn’t change a single thing. 

Spencer let go of your hand and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, placing a soft kiss on your head while reaching for the stroller with his free hand.

“Looks like it’s just me and you, angel.” He held you close, he always held you so close. 

You glanced at Elijah before looking back around at all the faces in the room.

Daisy and Lily were waiting by the doors with their baskets of confetti, awaiting their cue to take to the aisle. Bobby stood proudly at the end, his best man at his side as they waited for the music to begin.

You looked over at JJ and Will, at Penelope and Luke; Matt and Kristy. You surveyed Tara, Emily and Rossi before you looked back to your husband. 

“Yeah,” you smiled as you leaned closer to him, closing your eyes and breathing him in as though it was the very first time. “Just me and you and everyone we know.” 

@foxy-eva @kbakery @chrissyflo3 @simxican @aysixdy @givemeth @loonalockley @shamelessfangirl-3 @derekm24 @pinkiceee-prose @werewolfbansheelove @mindbelova @weridothatwrites

[peachy-panic]

Wrong Place, Wrong Time (pt. 1)

DO NO HARM.

Whew. After months (almost a year?) of marinating this chapter, I've decided to cut it in two. Thought about titling this chapter: Shit Hits The Fan. Enjoy!

WARNINGS: BBU setting, struggles with bodily autonomy, recovering alcoholic, mentions of violence

Jaime hits the ground with more force than he expects. His back takes the brunt of the fall, and for a moment, he is rendered breathless. A few weeks ago, the impact might have triggered a memory of real violence. Now, he gulps in a few deep breaths, feeling the grass at his back, until Ezra’s face eclipses the sunlight overhead. 

“That was better,” Ezra says, extending a hand. Jaime takes it and lets himself be pulled to his feet. 

“I can’t seem to stay on my feet,” Jaime huffs, frustrated. He swipes an arm across his face, pushing aside the hair that clings to his forehead.

“You’re doing fine,” Ezra says. “Getting knocked down is half the process of learning.”

Jaime grimaces. “I must be learning a lot, then.”

Ezra grins. “You are,” he says, sounding like he might actually mean it. “You’ve already improved from where we began. For now, take five and drink some water.”

“I can go again,” Jaime insists, already rocking back into his sparring stance. 

“We have all day.” Ezra grabs Jaime’s water bottle and pushes it gently against his chest. “You’ll burn out quickly if you don’t pace yourself.”

At the finality in his tone, Jaime relents and collapses back onto the grass. He downs half his bottle in one go. 

It’s been over a month since Ezra offered to teach Jaime how to spar. At first, the idea unsettled him in a way he couldn’t pin down. He didn’t understand the point of it. Ezra knew more than most how little Jaime’s ability to fight mattered; it isn’t an imbalance in physical strength that keeps him in his position. It is the law, the society, and the institutions decades in the making that hold the end of Jaime’s leash. Something about learning the art of self defense and knowing he is never allowed to exercise it feels more cruel than not learning at all. 

One session, Ezra had wagered. Train with me once and see how you feel.

The first time, Sebastian stayed to observe at Jaime’s request, perched on a piece of exercise equipment in Ezra’s basement gym. Jaime, who spent the week leading up antsy and nervous, watched with rapt interest as Ezra wrapped his hands. 

They started slow. 

The first time Jaime hit the ground, the room went silent. In the split second of shock and pain, a flare of violent memories flashed before him: a handler shoving him onto his back, his foster father slamming him up against the hallway wall. Distantly, he heard Sebastian’s voice break through the budding panic. “Maybe we should call it a day?”

Something about that—the grounding reminder of where he was, who he was with, and that the choice was his to walk away—snapped him back into his body. Ezra watched him from where he stood several feet back, not coming to his side and not saying anything in response to Sebastian’s concern. Instead, he watched Jaime, waiting to see what choice he would make.

The choice was his.

Jaime pushed himself onto shaking legs, nodding once to Sebastian before meeting Ezra’s unwavering gaze. “Let’s go again.”

Ever since that day, Jaime has taken to training with a level of enthusiasm he didn’t realize he was still capable of feeling. There is an itch for it under his skin when he wakes up some mornings. When he stretches, he relishes in the way his muscles burn from their previous session. On his morning runs, he thinks through new techniques Ezra showed him and commits to perfecting them next time they meet. 

On the evening after their third sparring session—Jaime still sweat-damp and shaking from exhaustion in the passenger seat of Sebastian’s car—he realized that this feeling was familiar. It was a sense of liberation he hadn’t felt since he last sprinted across a soccer field under the stadium lights, since the night he tore off across the backyard of a party with Derek at his side, high on the revelation that he might want to kiss him. It was the realization that training with Ezra made Jaime feel in control of his body for the first time in a long time. And that is a gift he can never repay. 

Ezra sinks down onto the grass beside him, uncapping his own water bottle. It’s almost embarrassing how he barely breaks a sweat against Jaime. Maybe one day he’ll give him a run for his money. 

From the screened window above the kitchen sink, Jaime can hear laughter from inside the house. He titled his head and smelled… something? Sebastian and the others insisted they would take care of dinner tonight and leave Jaime and Ezra to their workout. Jaime doesn’t know much about Sam and Aria’s skills in the kitchen, but…

Ezra smiles at him, nodding his head toward the sound. “How do you think it’s going in there?”

Jaime shrugs and lets his head fall back, enjoying the sun on his face. Spring is starting to blossom, slowly but surely, and it’s the first warm day of the year. “Nothing is on fire,” he says. “So it can’t be that bad.”

****

“Cilantro can substitute oregano, right? They’re basically the same thing?”

“No,” Sebastian and Aria say at the same time. Sam’s expression falls. The frown paired with the 1950s-housewife-style apron creates quite the endearing image.

“It’s not too late to order Thai food,” Aria mutters, pouring herself another glass of wine. Sebastian chuckles around a swig of lemonade. 

He didn’t make a big deal about staying sober these last few weeks, but he’s pretty sure Aria clocked it anyway, judging by the way she has kept the bottle out of arm’s reach of him all evening. He pretends not to notice. She pretends not to notice him not noticing. 

It’s been a good day. 

He can tell Jaime tried to hide his enthusiasm about a return visit all week. He never asks him about it outright, but his demeanor visibly perks up at any passing mention of Saturday dinner at Sam and Ezra’s. Sebastian offered to take him over there before work on any given weekday so that Jaime didn’t have to spend the day alone in the house, but that’s where his enthusiasm waned. Jaime isn’t quite comfortable enough to be alone with anyone except Sebastian, but Ezra comes close, he thinks.

It’s good. It’s so good to see Jaime like this—surrounded by people who care about his well-being, expressing more autonomy than he has ever been allowed in Sebastian’s presence. It’s moments like this that tempt Sebastian into believing that it was worth it, slogging all these months through the misery of WRU, just to bring him to Jaime. To bring Jaime here.

And maybe it was worth it so Sebastian could meet the others, too; his first friends in a very long time. 

They are laughing when the front door opens, so none of them hear the unexpected entrance until Julian Hernandez is suddenly standing in the doorway.

The room goes silent. Sebastian nearly shatters the glass in his hand to keep it from slipping to the floor. 

“You need to leave,” Sebastian says, the panic overriding any facade of politeness.

Julian, who is skeptical of Sebastian on his best day, says, “Excuse me?”

“Shit,” Aria says, stepping up beside him. “Jules, he’s right.”

Julian looks around, taking in the sight of all of his friends there without him, and Sebastian thinks he sees a quickly masked flash of hurt pass through his expression. “You asked me to take a look at your transmission last week,” he tells Sam. “I brought my tools.”

“I did say that,” Sam says. “But I didn’t mean tonight. I’m sorry. This… isn’t a good time.”

His mouth presses into a thin line. He glances over at Aria. “Yeah,” Julian says. “I can see you’re busy.”

“It’s not like that, Jules.” Aria insists. “Tate’s—” she starts to say. But it’s too late. It’s too fucking late. 

Because then the back door slides open and Jaime steps through, trailed by Ezra. They’re mid conversation, murmuring quietly. Both of their shirts are soaked through with sweat, clumps of hair clinging to their foreheads. Jaime is smiling—honest-to-god smiling—and Ezra is laughing at something he said, until his eyes meet Julian’s from across the room and he goes still. He puts a hand on Jaime’s shoulder. 

“Fuck.” It’s Julian who says it, a breathy whisper as he realizes the clusterfuck he has just set in motion. 

It’s the last sound in the room before shit hits the fan. 

Jaime is the last one to spot the new presence in the room, and when he does, his entire body locks up. The blood drains from his face, making his pale skin nearly translucent. His knees hit the ground before anyone can intervene. 

****

@whumpervescence 

@shiningstarofwinter 

@distinctlywhumpthing 

@whumptywhumpdump

@nicolepascaline

@anotherbluntpencil

@hold-him-down 

@crystalquartzwhump 

@maracujatangerine 

@batfacedliar-yetagain 

@thecyrulik 

@pumpkin-spice-whump 

@finder-of-rings 

@melancholy-in-the-morning 

@insaneinthepaingame 

@skyhawkwolf

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump 

@mylifeisonthebookshelf 

@dont-touch-my-soup 

@whump-world 

@inpainandsuffering 

@cicatrix-energy 

@quietly-by-myself 

@whumpsday 

@extemporary-whump 

@the-whumpers-grimm 

@thebirdsofgay 

@firewheeesky 

@whumperfully 

@hold-back-on-the-comfort  

@termsnconditions-apply  

@cyborg0109  

@whumplr-reader  

@pinkraindropsfell  

@whatwhumpcomments

@honeycollectswhump 

@pirefyrelight 

@handsinmotion  

@alexmundaythrufriday 

@scoundrelwithboba 

@starsick1979 

@b0rgid

@whumps-and-bumps

[d10nsaint]

LOVE SONG | Lawyer! Nanami K. x fem! reader

syn: Nanami Kento was your work partner. Nothing more, nothing les-said no one. ever. Request is here.

notes; HAD TO CRACK MY LAPTOP OPEN FOR THIS ONE !!! this is prob the most plot i’ve ever put into my writing… i’ll proofread tyis later (no i wont) can someone tell me the wc🙏

Nanami let out a deep sigh as he loosened his tie. It was way past the normal time he left, the sky dark and all the lights from the city settled outside his window. He would’ve left hours ago if he didn’t have to revise all of his notes for a very important case tomorrow. He’d been working on it for weeks, and losing this case would be a major fuck up. As he rubbed his temples, he heard a faint knock at the door.

“ I’m back,” You said, slowly opening the door with your back, your hands full with a tray of two takeout coffee cups and a bag of snacks. “I got coffee from the place a few blocks down, got some snacks too… just in case…” You said, muttering the last part, looking at Nanami. The man was a work of art, defined jawline, gorgeous veins and harsh muscle made him, turning him into pure eye candy.

“Thank you,” The man says as he stands up, stretching a bit before walking over to the little coffee table that you set the food on. “How much was it?” He says, his jaw slack a little, looking at how much you got. “I’ll pay you back tomorrow-” “-after we win this case,” You finish for Him, smiling while taking a cup of coffee from the plastic holder and taking a stride to your desk.

Nanami watched you, completely infatuated with your confidence. You were sure of yourself—not like Gojo—you’re the kind of sure that made 100% of his heart know that you two were going to win. He smiled at you, watching you furrow your brows as you quickly went back to work. He grabbed his coffee, and walked to your desk.

“May I see what notes you have?” He says, as a strong arm with a rolled up sleeve pulls a chair next to you.

He was going to be the death of you.

You were practically bouncing off the walls, Nanami almost struggling to keep up with you.

“I told you, didnt I? that we’d win?” You exclaim, cheekily stepping out of the courtroom. The other attorney—Hiromi Higuruma— walked out afterwards, with a long face and a deep sigh. He walked over to you, shook your hand, and then walked away, running his hands over his face. He looked like he was fucked, Nanami thought as he walked towards you after you shook Higuruma’s hand.

“I kinda feel bad…” You say, frowning. “His eyebags are at his chin. i’ve never seen someone with such sunken eyes before, either..” You cross your arms over your suit jacket, tapping your foot.

“Would you rather that have been us?” He looked down at you, both of his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a suit—like always, but he usually doesn’t wear the jacket, and now that he is, you kind of wish he did. Made him look sexier.

“No…i’m just saying,” You sigh, as you shrug. You sneakily smirked at him as you remembered one thing from last night.

“You still taking me out to pay me back?”

“I cant beleive of all places I couldve taken you, you asked to go to a club.” Nanami says, as he scoots a stool out for you, letting you sit. Ever the gentleman.

After making sure you were seated, he pulled out a chair for himself and sat down. “I mean, where else were you going to take me?” You retort, before you ask the bartender to give you the strongest fruity drink they have.

“I dont know… Maybe a nicer place.” He looks around at his surroundings, making sure that everything seemed okay to relax. After he calls over the bartender and orders an old-fashioned whiskey, he takes the jacket off, and It totally suits him.

“Like, a nicer place that serves steak or..?” You take a sip of the drink, and feel a wave of colors wash over your vision, and the taste of pineapples lingers on your tongue.

“A nicer place with a stricter dresscode,” He grumbles, as he catches a glimpse of a woman who’s top looks like a bra and a thong so high that he can feel the wedgie. You turn around to see where he was looking at with such disgust and start giggling. You order another one of those drinks, fully intending to get your money’s worth from Nanami. You take another long sip, as He finishes his whiskey, ordering another.

“Well, maybe next time, we can go somewhere fancier,” You say, shrugging happily as you order a third drink. Everything starts to look pretty and all the colors feel so nice around you. You down that one in a single sip and your body starts to rock back and forth.

Almost instinctively, Nanami gets up and holds your body upwards, afraid of you falling. He keeps a hand on your back and a hand on your stomach as he holds you. He looks at you with worry littered all over his face, and you take a glance upward at him.

“…you look so pretty like this, Nanami.” You say, a cheesy smile on your face. His eyes widened and his cheeks reddened, but he ignored the statement.

“Are you alright? I think you should stop drinking. Come, let me take you home,” He mumbled, as he used his hand to call over the bartender to pay for the drinks. His voice had a certain emotion to it—it was almost romantic, the way he cared for you. He turned his back for a second to get his coat, and slung it over his arms.

He held your hand as he guided you out of the club, calling a taxi over. Even when you two were waiting, he rubbed his hand on your back. As a taxi pulled up, he opened the door and let you get in first, then slid in.

He tells the driver your address, and then his. While you wonder why he knows it, you really don’t mind. You snuggle into his chest, smelling his woodsy cologne, and he doesn’t stop you.

“You must be so tired…” He says, as he strokes your hair. He adjusted his body a little so you could comfortably rest on him, although he was uncomfortable himself.

“You’re so comfortable…I always wonder why a man like you is single.” You mutter, letting your head comfortably rest on him as you fall asleep.

He sighs, and looks down at you.

“I wonder, too.”

[missmists]

First bookbinding project a success. I think that my cat approves because he would not stay out of my photos. Five months in the making, but I couldn't be more pleased with the results.

I started with @armoredsuperheavy's amazing fanbinding tutorial to create a typeset of each work in @erisenyo's Burning Bright AU published on Ao3. Then had to reread the works in the new format and edit as I went to make sure everything was formatted correctly, (combined word count somewhere around 1.3 million) that took over a month all by itself.

I picked up a copy of Introduction to Bookbinding & Custom Cases by Tom and Cindy Hollander from my local library, to look at some detailed how to images and get multiple perspectives on construction methods. Excellent book, I do recommend.

My hunt for materials included a trip to Detroit with a side stop at Blick to look at decorative papers in person. Blick and the fine people at Hollander’s ended up having everything I needed to make covers. So between my brother kindly 3d printing me a punch cradle, making a DIY sewing frame of my own invention (courtesy of scrap lumber and a trip to the Lowe's hardware department), and three reams of late night printing, I managed to amass all my supplies.

Folding three reams of paper into signatures (the little bundles you sew together) takes about five days if you don't want to lose your mind or your place, and longer if you discover you need to fix things because that definitely happened. Then you get to unfold them to stab holes in them which is as terrifying at first and therapeutic by the end as it sounds.

Next came weeks of sewing books together, a magical process. I learned three new knots, repeatedly stabbed myself (because all forms of creation forcibly demand blood sacrifice) , and felt like I was roleplaying a monastic librarian from the time of Gutenburg. That's 600 years ago, 24ish generations, over 8million ancestors since then (by geometric progression, which excludes the possibility that any of my peasant ancestry is from small towns which is you know likely but I digress) and here I sat sewing pages together in a basement because story is the most sacred of human arts as it binds communities together and shapes perceptions of the self and our brethren, of outsiders allies and enemies, of the world as we know it and as it may come to be. Did I mention sewing books felt magical.

Then came the glue. So much glue. Multiple types of glue. All sticky. all stuck to me. I smeared glue with my fingers like a child.

At last it was time for the covers. Choosing combinations of the decorative papers and bookcloth and making sure I could get enough out of each material for what I needed. Precise cutting so many thanks to the architecture school professors who showed me how to properly cut chipboard. Then measuring and gluing, and more measuring, and more gluing. At last press a little groove by the spine and repeat eleven times.

Then I get to impress all my people with my latest and possibly coolest maker skill unlock, I am a book binder.

Bottom to top in the stack or left to right at the bottom are: These Things Written  These Things Unsaid with Without Consent These Things Known with A Third Chance (or a First) Oh, The Way Your Makeup Stains My Pillowcase That Love You've Been Looking For  All I Need Is To Be Struck (By Your Electric Love) To Open Every Door to Night, To Meet Each Rising Sun (my favorite) Love Is In the Hair (fanart of this one originally lead me to read the series, thanks @ash-and-starlight) Lessons in Proper Asset Management Tangled Up With You  To Be Named, To Be Known (To Be Loved)

[shady-swan-jones]

Captain Swan Fic Recs are back, baby! - April Edition

Hello, cs friends! It's been like, what, seven years since I last did this? Who's counting. Enjoy the fruits of y'all's labour and some amazing stories. Keep writing, we need you

-Sophie

when Emma falls in love [from the vault] by @spartanguard

Inspired by "When Emma Falls In Love" by Taylor Swift, part of series based on songs from the vault

everyone's wondering why Emma doesn't screw the hot bartender already, it's not like he hasn't given signs. but with emma's romantic past it's not like she's throwing chances to anyone, scruffily attractive as they may be. yet, it's not her past that's worrisome. will they break the curse?

rated T | 6.2k words | AO3

Untie Me | captain swan fic | office romance | mature | 3/5 | 5.9k | in progress, by me

“Didn’t you pay attention to trigonometry, Jones?” she balances her weight on the stick, languidly, in a way that ticks something into his already drowsy brain.  “Is this the part where you offer to teach me, Swan?” he says, advancing to her. 

Read on Ao3 or ff.net

I, lost, was passing by - by @dykelilypage

Five years ago, Emma's father had given her a necklace for her birthday. It was a beautiful ruby encased in a golden chain, that sat heavy on her chest. It was safe to say then, that Emma was more than a little bit pissed off to discover that it had been stolen from right around her neck. The one stroke of luck to the whole ordeal was that she knew exactly who had taken it. Killian Jones. rated E | 6267 words

love scare by @exhaustedpirate

it's a little canon-compliant one-shot that i place during the six weeks of peace, more specifically, like a day or so before 4B rated G | 922 words | ao3

Expecting a Secret [3/3] by @walviemort

Summary: After the events of 3x19, Killian is at his lowest after being rejected by Emma. When Snow’s labor turns out to be a false alarm, Zelena offers Killian a deal: she’ll leave the Charmings alone…if he gives her the baby she needs for her spell instead. There’s just one hitch: he has to keep it a secret. At least it will only take 10 days, right?

The Heart of a Villan (5/5) by @beckettj

There are only two people that can make me care about football: Ted Lasso and this. Words: 6181 ~ AO3

Perilous Harbor by @veryverynotgoodwrites

Emma Swan is heir apparent to her parents' kingdom in the Enchanted Forest, and a powerful wielder of light magic. This makes her the most wanted woman in the realm, not only for marriage, but for leverage against the king and queen. While her parents have been able to keep her safe so far, an attack is launched on Princess Emma that leaves her no choice but to seek the protection of her worst enemy - Killian Jones, infamous captain of the Jolly Roger and his pirate crew. ao3 in progress 19/23

a work of art by @sotangledupinit

“I always have to clean up your messes,” she mutters to herself angrily, eyes glaring down at the red liquid on the floor.

Between Waking Life and Our Dreams (12/?) by @nachocheese-itsmycheese

Season 3b canon divergence: Storybrooke is still missing when Emma, Killian, and Henry reach the town line. AO3 T

The Fluffy Problem by @ineffablecolors

"Oh, I'm going to have fun paying you back, Captain."

ff.net

The Cure for Loneliness (4/?) by @laianely

Killian went to the world without magic to finally kill Crocodile, but instead he met Emma in Gold's shop. And his whole life turned upside down overnight.

E 16k words in progress AO3

Pan Says... (8/?) by @hollyethecurious

After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.

To Cleave Destiny by @iamstartraveller776

She was going to pass the night the same way she did every year in adulthood: by getting drunk enough to forget that the world was incredibly unfair. Ao3, in progress, T, 4k

Note:

Don't forget to comment and show some love. To me too. Come on. Anyone else who wants to be tagged can request it.

If you have more fic recs or more links, drop them in the comments and I'll include them. You creative mermaids, love ya.

@kmomof4 @caught-in-the-filter @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @justanother-unluckysoul @karlyfr13s  @snowbellewells @xarandomdreamx @klynn-stormz @omninerdgirl  @facesiousbutton82 @finmnsoh56​ @followbatb @killianxswan @booksteaandtoomuchtv @exhaustedpirate @anmylica @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @undercaffinatednightmare @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @stahlords @lfh1226-linda @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @motherkatereloyshipper @soniccat @jrob64 @beckettj @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic @zaharadessert @bluewildcatfanatic @once-upon-a-happy-end @ultraluckycatnd​

[lemoncrushh]

Tattooed Heart - Part VI

SUMMARY: You are a cocktail waitress at a swanky lounge. Harry comes in one night, and you instantly dislike him. But another encounter eventually changes your opinion.

PAIRING: Waitress Y/N x Artist/Tattoo Artist Harry

TROPES: Enemies to Lovers

MUST BE 18+ TO READ

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

STORY PAGE

“Hey, gorgeous! How are you? I’ve been so worried about you!” John exclaimed enthusiastically into the phone.

“I’m pretty good, actually. How are things at Zelda’s?” While you didn’t necessarily want to know the answer, you’d always considered John a friend and knew he had your back. Which was why you decided to give him a call.

“Oh girl, things have changed dramatically since you left!”

“Really?”

“Yes! We got a new manager. His name is Rafael, but we’re allowed to call him Rafi. He’s a dish and a half, let me tell you! Not like that last asshole.”

You chuckled. “Good, I’m glad for you.”

“Yeah, sucks for you though! If only you could have stayed. Hey, want me to put a good in for you with Rafi?”

“Um…no, that’s okay, John. I’m kind of happy where I am.”

“Seriously? Where’s that?”

You told your friend about working at the cafe. Then proceeded to tell him how Harry got you the job.

“To make a long story short,” you said, trying to do just that, “he’s not the jerk he appeared to be. And…well…now we’re dating.”

“Hold up! Stop right there. Rewind! I need to hear everything, Y/N! EVERYTHING!”

You laughed at the way John enunciated every syllable. And you’d expected as much. For the next hour, you went into every detail with him like he requested (at least as much as you were willing to divulge), and by the time you finished, it was time to get ready for your date with Harry.

“Oh my God, girl, that’s so crazy!” squealed John. “But I’m happy for you. If you’re happy.”

“I am.”

“Good. Just don’t forget about me, okay? Pop in some time, maybe with Handsome.”

“I will,” you promised.

After pulling on a pair of jeans and a stylish top, you brushed your hair and touched up your makeup. You were meeting Harry at his place, where he was making you dinner again, and then you were going to a movie. It seemed to be the first Saturday you were both off since you’d met. And you were looking forward to having a normal, mundane date night.

The last couple weeks had been both hectic and amazing. Since that evening at the gallery, Harry had been extremely busy finishing up his moon series paintings. Donovan McNulty had still been showing interest in Harry’s art, and specifically voiced that he wanted to know the minute his newest pieces would be available. And you’d been picking up extra shifts at the diner to make a little extra money. But any moment you were both free had been spent together. You took turns, rotating your visits at each others’ apartments. You enjoyed leaning against his kitchen counter while you watched him cook, and Harry enjoyed teasing Shae when she was around, and nibbling on the soft spot behind your ear as you watched TV when she wasn’t there - and sometimes when she was.

Your feelings for him were growing daily, and while you told yourself it was still too soon to have such feelings, you used your free time away from him to write them down. You expressed every emotion from the way your heart skipped when you’d see him sitting in his usual chair at the cafe, to the way your body ached for him as you laid in your bed staring at the ceiling. You even included the way it had felt when you’d seen Nicolette at the cafe and at the gallery, even though Harry assured you tenfold that he had broken off all contact with her. You didn’t want to be jealous of his ex. You knew deep down that it would not bode well if you were going to take this relationship to the next level. And you definitely wanted to.

Harry greeted you with a smile as he opened the door, a glass of wine already in his hand waiting for you. When you stepped inside, you gave him a quick kiss before accepting the glass and taking a sip.

“Mmm, something smells yummy!,” you commented, turning for the kitchen.

“Chicken Piccata with roasted radicchio and sweet potatoes,” Harry announced proudly as he followed you. “It’s almost ready.”

“Chef Styles, when are you opening your own restaurant? This is way too impressive for just me.”

“You’re the only one I care to impress,” he said, pushing your hair from your neck to softly brush his lips across your tender flesh.

You reached behind you for his hands, bringing his arms around your waist. He hummed against your skin as he gave you a squeeze. The timer on the oven sounded then with a friendly chime, and Harry hesitantly released you in order to remove its contents. Watching him serve up the meal, you joined him at the table with your wine.

“I have some news,” he announced after you’d taken your first bite and raved about its deliciousness.

“Oh? What is it?” you asked enthusiastically.

“I’m having another gallery showing. For the moon series.” Harry stabbed his fork into his chicken before lifting his eyes to you.

“Are you kidding? That was quick!”

“Well, yeah,” he grinned. “I brought them yesterday for Sherrod to see. Apparently he phoned McNulty, gave him some rubbish about how brilliant they are, and he’s flying down Thursday to see for himself.”

Quickly dismissing the fact that he’d degraded his own art, because you knew he didn’t really think it was rubbish, you focused on the positive.

“Oh my God, Harry! That’s wonderful! I’m really proud of you.”

“I know, babe. And I appreciate all the support you’ve given me. You'll never know how much.”

“I have an idea,” you jested. “You spoil me with this delicious food.”

“That’s just because I can,” he winked. “And because I want to. It’s not a payment.”

“Good to know,” you said before popping a bite of sweet potato in your mouth.

“I would like your help with something, though.”

“Sure, anything.”

“Could you help spread the word about the exhibit?” Harry requested. “Maybe invite some friends? The more the better. The cocktail party was nice, but I’d like it to be a massive event.”

“Ooh, yes! I’d love to!”

Rising from your chair, you reached over the table to plant a kiss on Harry’s lips, to which he happily accepted.

“When would you like to get your tattoo?” Harry asked as you laid twisted in the sheets, his bare thigh crossed over yours, his fingertips tracing nonexistent lines down your arm.

You turned your head to the side to look at him. If it was possible, he appeared even more beautiful than ever, his eyelids heavy, his pillowy lips swollen, his scruffy jaw threatening to produce more facial hair now that the morning was nigh. The evening of lovemaking had been blissful, Harry having brought you to orgasm not once, not twice…but three times. And while you worried you’d never walk again, the man beside you looked completely fucked.

You couldn’t help but be elated by the knowledge that you’d made that happen.

“I’m not sure yet,” you whispered, reaching for his stubbly chin. “Soon, I guess.”

You felt Harry breathe out of his nose, and while he tried to hide it, you could detect the frown on his lips.

“Do you not want it?” he inquired after a beat.

“I…no, I do,” you nodded.

“‘Cause you don’t have to get it,” Harry added. “The one I designed, or any other one. If you don’t want a tattoo, it’s fine. I’ll understand.”

“No, I want one.”

Harry continued to draw his finger down your arm. You could tell the conversation wasn’t over, but you were unsure what else to say. So you let Harry gather his thoughts instead. Finally he sighed, his gaze returning to your face.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“What for?” you asked.

“If I made you uncomfortable. It just dawned on me that I might have been a bit presumptuous with the tattoo. I know they can be very personal, and I…I should have just let you pick what you want.”

Blinking, you rolled over onto your side to face him. “Harry, no. That’s not it at all. I love the one you designed. I told you I loved that painting.”

“Then what is it?” Harry lifted a hand to brush your hair from your face, twisting the end of the strands between his fingers. “Any time I bring it up, you kind of hesitate or change the subject.”

“I…I didn’t realize,” you looked down at his chest. “I apologize.”

“Baby, look at me,” he insisted, urging your chin up. “Talk to me. Are you af-”

You stopped him mid-sentence with your finger on his lips. As you shook your head, Harry chuckled. Then tugging on your wrist, he released your hand from his mouth.

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say,” he remarked.

“Just don’t use that word.”

“Alright,” he softened his expression, returning his fingers to your hair. “Am I moving too fast for you? Is that it?”

You gulped and sucked in your lips. Then you let out a nervous chuckle of your own. “It seems ridiculous to admit that after what we just did.”

“Not really,” Harry shook his head. “Sex can be separate from feelings. Although…I’m going to confess right now…for me…it’s not. Not with you.”

“Harry…” you breathed.

“Babe…” he murmured, pulling you closer. “I reckon I’ve conveyed my feelings for you already…at least a little bit. But if you need me to back off…I will.”

You stared at him, this gorgeous man. You couldn’t believe in just a few weeks you’d gone from hating him to…whatever this was.

“No,” you argued. “I don’t want you to.”

“No?”

“No, because…I’m feeling…things too.”

Harry’s voluptuous mouth curved into a sexy grin. You felt his hand on your back, his fingers dancing up your flesh.

“I’m just…a little hesitant, I guess,” you added, “about getting the tattoo…because it’s such an intimate thing to do, you know? To get ink on my skin of something you gave me, art you designed for me. And it’s…forever.”

Harry blinked slowly with a nod. “I completely understand, love. I didn’t mean to pressure you.”

“You didn’t. It’s just me. Like you said, it’s personal. And I would feel horrible if something happened between us, and-”

“Shh, baby…” Harry interrupted you this time. “It’s okay. I get it. Take all the time you need.”

You gave him a gentle smile before he pulled you into a deep kiss. Your eyelids heavy, and sleep threatening to take over, you tugged on the sheets. Getting the hint, Harry grinned, situating the covers over you before reaching for the lamp.

“Goodnight, baby,” he whispered. “Sweet dreams.”

You hummed in agreement as he held you against his warm body, and before you could even think any more about tattoos, you were sound asleep in his arms.

The rest of Sunday and most of Monday was spent making phone calls. You promised Harry a grand party, and you were determined to deliver. After telling Shae your plan, she was more than happy to come through by offering to tell her coworkers as well as some of your mutual friends. You called John to let him know as well, and he said he was already going to ask for the night off, and maybe even bring Rafi with him…if he was available, as he put it. You also called the gallery Monday morning, unbeknownst to Harry, to speak with Sherrod yourself. He told you how excited he was for Harry’s new exhibit, which put your mind at ease a bit.

“I really want this to be special for him,” you explained. “Is there anything I can do to help? To get the word out? More advertising? Do I need to hire a caterer or something?”

“Don’t you worry about a thing, darling,” assured Sherrod. “I’m already having my secretary making contacts as we speak. And I personally phoned my caterer on Friday.”

“Oh, fantastic,” you said. “The more people we can get to come, the better. There’s just one thing…”

“Don’t worry about that either, my pet. You have my word Miss Waters will not get an invite.”

“Ohh. For some reason I thought…” you chuckled nervously. “I don’t know how art galleries work, forgive me.”

Sherrod laughed heartily through the phone, catching you off guard. “Nothing to forgive, darling. Harry and I have already spoken about this as well.”

You breathed through your nose. Of course they had.

“Thank you, Sherrod. I appreciate everything.”

“It’s going to be a splendid night, you can be sure!”

Hanging up, you felt a heavy weight lift off your chest. It was quickly replaced with a glittery excitement. You couldn’t wait.

When you arrived for your mid-day shift at the cafe, you made a beeline for Jill who was making a cold brew for a customer. The look on her face when you told her the news about Harry’s exhibit was priceless.

“Of course I’ll be there!” she squealed. “Are you kidding me?”

“Bring some friends too, okay? I want to show him all the support we can give.”

That night, you sat in front of the TV writing in your journal. You soon found yourself mindlessly doodling in the corners of the page. Harry was at work, and you didn’t want to bother him. Yet you couldn’t stop thinking about him. He truly had been the only thing on your mind all day.

“Pppfff, more like for the last month,” you admitted out loud.

Tossing your notebook to the side, you leaned back on the couch and ran your fingers through your hair, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Jesus Christ, what am I doing?”

Getting up from the sofa, you slipped on your shoes, not bothering to change out of your lounge-at-home outfit - a dark green tunic and black leggings. The only effort you made was to brush your teeth and touch up your lip gloss before heading out the door.

The neon sign in the window seemed to glow brighter than you remembered, an enticing greeting to lure you in. Not that you hadn’t already planned to go inside.

Swinging the door open, you noticed an empty waiting area and counter. Smooth, instrumental jazz played through the speakers as you peeked your head through the doorway to scan the tattoo stations, but still saw no one. You were just about to walk through the shop to Harry’s office when you saw Kyle emerge.

“Oh, hey,” he grinned. “You’re Y/N, right?”

“Yes,” you nodded, happy that he knew. Surely he didn’t remember you from the last time he’d seen you in the shop, but perhaps Harry had told him about you and he put two and two together. The idea made you blush a little.

“Harry’s in the back. I’ll go get him for you.”

Before you could retort, Kyle disappeared through the doorway from which he’d just appeared. And within seconds, your handsome, cheery boyfriend replaced him.

“Hi, babe!” he beamed. “What are you doing here?”

You shrugged, shyly. “Came to get my tattoo.”

His eyes widening, Harry stepped closer to you. “Really? Are you sure?”

Licking your lips, you nodded. “Positive.”

His dimples on full display, Harry pulled you into an embrace. You could feel his heart beating in his chest as he whispered in your ear. “I’m so happy.”

Then stepping back, Harry gestured toward his station. “Go ahead and have a seat. I’ll get everything ready and tell Kyle he can go home.”

“Oh!” you mouthed, surprised. Harry disappeared into the back room again before you could argue.

Situating yourself in Harry’s chair, you gazed at the art on display around his station as well as photos of various clients’ tats. While a few pieces looked to be fairly common, most of them were exquisite, no doubt one-of-a-kind works of art. You were staring at a large dragon piece on someone’s back when you heard a voice behind you.

“Bye, Y/N,” Kyle called. “Have a nice night.”

“Oh, thanks. Same to you,” you waved just as Harry walked up.

“You didn’t have to make him leave,” you said under your breath. “You’re not closed yet, are you?”

“I am now,” Harry wiggled his brows before walking to the front door and locking it, turning the OPEN sign to the CLOSED side.

With pursed lips, you tried to hold back a smirk as Harry returned, his own smirk tugging on his mouth.

“Slow night?” you inquired when he sat down on his stool.

“You would not believe. That’s why we were in my office. Kyle helps me with my website.”

You hummed in acknowledgement as you watched Harry get his tray ready just like he had the day you’d brought Shae. That already felt like a lifetime ago.

“You always surprise me with your music choices,” you commented as you listened to the soft jazz.

Harry chuckled with a nod. “This is my focus, slash wind-down music. Since it was slow, I switched it from grunge whilst we worked on the website.”

“I like it,” you grinned.

Harry gazed up at you from under his lashes before his eyes roamed down your body. You felt a tingle as his gaze made its way back up to your face.

“What?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“Was just recalling the last time you were sat in this chair.”

“Oh my God, Harry,” you blushed. “Please tell me you sanitized it!”

His eyes squinting as he giggled, Harry scooted closer to you. “You’re too much, babe.”

“Why, because I like cleanliness?”

“No, because that’s your first thought. It certainly wasn’t mine.”

You stared into his jade eyes that were now inches from your face, the irises appearing to have a dark line around them.

“That was…um, some kind of night,” you murmured softly.

“Indeed, it was.” Harry’s hand landed just above your knee then before he slid it slowly up your thigh.

“Hmm,” you nodded. “Are you trying to seduce me again?”

Harry puffed out a chuckle. “No. Don’t reckon I had to try then either.”

Dragging your tongue across your teeth, you focused on his mouth and the way his hand felt on your leg. “Fair enough. What do you remember most about that night?”

“How sweet your pussy tasted on my tongue,” he quickly replied, as if he’d had his answer ready before you’d even asked the question. “And how you tugged on my hair and your thighs trembled as you called my name.”

“Harry…”

“Oh, it was much louder than that.”

You blushed again, but this time you didn’t bother hiding it. Leaning towards you, Harry placed a soft kiss on your lips. Followed by a second, and a third. By the fourth, your fingers were in his hair, his tongue in your mouth. You reveled in the sensation, urging him with your own. When a gentle moan escaped your chest, Harry’s hand that had been on your thigh made its way between your legs. You began to grind against him in your seat, knowing your leggings and panties were already soaked through. His other hand traveled underneath your t-shirt, and when his fingers met your bare skin, you gasped.

“Are you…,” you gulped, “planning to eat me out again on this chair?”

“No,” Harry shook his head, a devilish smirk on his face.

“Oh.”

“I have other things in mind,” he added, echoing the exact words he’d said to you that night before taking you home.

“Oh…”

Harry sat back on his stool and raised a brow. “I thought you wanted a tattoo, love.”

“Harry Styles! Are you teasing me?” you exclaimed.

Giggling with glee, you noticed his eyes dancing. “Maybe.”

“Rude!” you frowned, tugging your shirt down. Your pussy still throbbing from his hand, you pouted.

“I’m sorry, baby. It’s my fault. Seeing you in this chair…it turned me on, and I got carried away. I do want to play. But I think we should get started on this tattoo, don’t you? It’s gonna take a bit.”

You nodded with a sigh. “Okay.”

Harry gave you a peck on the nose and one on the lips. “Now, did you decide where you want it? The ink, I mean,” he smirked.

“So, I had considered getting it on my side, like down my hip. There’s plenty of room to make it big. But then I changed my mind.”

“Too much?” Harry asked.

“Nope. Not enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nobody’s gonna see it there. Except you. And while the idea is sexy, I’d rather have the art my boyfriend designed to be in a spot everyone could see.”

“Baby…” Harry breathed, his hand over his heart.

“I know, I’ve been hesitant about this,” you explained. “About us. But I have no clue why. We’ve spent all this time together. You’ve shown me time again that you’re interested in more than just…a fling. Every time I’m with you, I feel butterflies and moonbeams and…all the cheesy things.” You let out a nervous sigh as you looked down at your hands, then back up to his gorgeous face. “The truth is…I’m crazy about you, Harry.”

“Sweetheart,” he cried, pulling you into another kiss. Then leaning his forehead against yours he murmured, “You make me so happy.”

“Good,” you grinned, your right hand on his cheek as you held out your left. “That’s why I think we should put it right here, below my elbow, down the inside of my arm.”

“I think that would be lovely,” he agreed, misty-eyed. Then he kissed the inside of your wrist before rising from his stool. “Let me go get the stencil, and I’ll be right back.”

When he stepped away, you suddenly felt butterflies in your tummy, and not just from the notion of getting a tattoo. You’d almost told him more than you’d planned. The truth was, you weren’t just crazy about him. You were falling for him. Hard. Perhaps you had been falling bit by bit every day. And you were finally willing to admit it to yourself. But you weren’t quite sure yet if you were ready to say it to him. It still felt too soon. But you loved the look on his face when you’d revealed what you had. His delight gave you hope that perhaps he felt the same.

Harry returned with a big smile on his face. Placing the stencil next to him, he pulled on his gloves. Then reaching for the rubbing alcohol and a cotton pad, he eyed you.

“Still wanna do this?” he asked.

“Definitely,” you beamed.

Taking your arm, he gently rubbed the soaked cotton pad down your arm, from the elbow to your wrist. Then he took a new disposable razor and gently shaved the area, just like you’d seen him do on Shae, back when you still hated him. The idea brought a sour taste to your mouth.

“You okay?” he asked again.

“Yeah, sorry. Was just…thinking.”

“About?” Harry raised a brow.

“How far we’ve come in just a short time.”

Harry’s face softened. “I think about that a lot.”

“You do?”

“I thank my lucky stars every fucking day that you forgave me. That you were able to see the real me and change your mind. I only wish…”

“What?” you asked.

His gaze seemed to burn into you as he looked deep into your eyes. “I wish we had met some other way. Like some random day at the cafe, or maybe here when you’d come with Shae. Or maybe even at Zelda’s on a night I was alone. Some other way that you could have met the real me instead of that prick I pretended to be.”

You sat in silence as you absorbed Harry’s words and watched him place the thermal paper on your arm with the stencil. When he peeled it off was when you spoke.

“What would you have said?”

“When?”

“If we had met in a different situation. What would you have said to me?”

“In which scenario?” he smirked.

“Let’s go with the first one. Obviously I wouldn’t be working at the cafe. But let’s say I came in one day that you were sitting there working on your iPad.”

Harry chuckled loudly, catching you off guard. “Well, I can’t really say for sure, can I? There are other factors involved.”

“Alright,” you agreed. “But you said you’ve thought about it. What happens in your…wish?”

You swore you caught a tiny bit of color in his cheeks as Harry pulled his tray closer to him. “We have to get serious now, babe. I’m about to stick a needle in your arm.”

You puffed out a breath in humor, then sat up straight in your chair. “Fine. Mark me.”

Harry’s nostrils flared as he chuckled at your joke. Then he made a few adjustments to his tattoo gun before getting to work. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as bad as you thought it would. You watched as Harry traced the stencil, starting with the dripping moon at the top. After every stroke, he would wipe your skin. He seemed so focused, so gentle. You stared at his face for a little while, and every time he’d bite his lower lip, it sent your heart all aflutter. When he finished the outline, he looked up at you.

“Still doing okay?”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded.

He gave you a smile before returning his focus to your arm. You were both quiet for a moment until he spoke again.

“I probably would have stared at you for a bit.”

“Huh?”

“At the cafe. If you had been sat near me at a table by yourself. I would have kept sneaking glances at you, but making sure you didn’t notice.”

“Well then, how am I supposed-”

“At first,” he interrupted. “Then I would have wanted you to notice. When we finally made eye contact, I’d have smiled at you.”

Lifting his head, Harry gave you just the smile he was referring to. And your insides ignited.

“I would say that’s very cheesy and cliche, but it’s not. I like it.”

“So what would you have done if I’d come over to your table and asked you your name?”

“I would have told you, and hoped to God you’d ask me for my number too.”

“Alright then,” Harry snickered. “That’s one scenario. But it didn’t happen.”

“It’s fine, Harry,” you said. “Something else happened instead. And we’re here anyway.”

“Yes, we are.”

You watched Harry continue on the tattoo, the moon starting to look realistic with the shading. As always you were in awe of him and his talent. Just like when you would watch him work at the cafe, you found yourself completely mesmerized. It was utterly sexy to you, from the way he focused on his project at hand, to the curls that framed his face and neck, and even down to the way his own tattooed arms flexed as he worked. As you studied him you let out a deep breath, feeling the wetness pooling in your panties again.

“Still okay?” Harry suddenly asked with a tiny smirk, as if he’d noticed.

“I’m wonderful,” you answered dreamily.

“You need to move your elbow a little?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure,” you nodded as Harry sat back to let you. Your arm had been in one position for a while, and you were starting to feel the effects.

“Okay, I’m good,” you commented as you reached your arm out again. “Tell me about your next project. What are you working on?”

“Just a second,” Harry muttered. As he scooted closer again, you wondered what he was doing until he beckoned you with his gloved hand. “Kiss me.”

You grinned widely before you happily obliged, giving him a few more kisses than he’d asked for just for good measure.

“Mmm, thanks babe. It’s hard to be around you for this long without touching your lips.”

“You’re welcome. And you’re the sweetest.”

With a wink, Harry returned to his task, this time moving onto the shading of the heart. “I actually haven’t started anything new yet,” he replied to your previous inquiry. “With the moon series now at the gallery, I’ve kind of been trying to finish up some older pieces.”

“Oh? I didn’t know you had anything that was incomplete.”

“Yeah. You saw the citiscape one, right?”

“Yes, that was gorgeous! That wasn’t finished?”

“Not yet. I keep feeling like there’s something missing, but…I dunno. I’m also not sure if I want it to be a series or a stand alone piece.”

“Well, whatever you decide, I know it’ll be amazing. As always,” you offered emphatically.

“Thanks, babe. This is why…” he left his thought unfinished as his tattoo gun rounded the edges of the heart.

“Why what?”

Harry lifted his head, giving you an easy grin. “Why you’re a wonderful lady.”

You watched Harry finish the heart on the tat while you thought your own heart could burst. You thought he was going to say it for a second, but you understood why he hadn’t. It seemed like such a mundane moment to express those three words.

Changing the subject, Harry chatted with you lightly about the upcoming exhibit, about the cafe, about food. You told him about your pal John, and how he was planning to come as well as Jill and Shae.

“Thanks again for doing this for me, babe,” he grinned. “I truly appreciate you.”

“Of course, Harry. I honestly think I’d do just about anything for you.”

Raising his eyebrows, Harry gave you a sexy look before quickly looking back down at your arm. “I think we’re done, babe.”

“Oh. Oh!” You tore your eyes from his to gaze down at your new tattoo. It was extraordinary to say the least.

“It’s…so beautiful, Harry,” you choked. “I love it!”

“It’s yours,” he commented. “And only yours.”

Your eyes began to well up with tears, making your vision too blurry to even see it. But you knew he was right. You had a one-of-a-kind Harry Styles work of art on your arm. And you couldn’t be more proud.

“C’mere, you can look in the mirror,” Harry beckoned, gesturing to the mirror behind him on the wall.

Standing in front of it, you wiped your eyes with your fingers until Harry handed you a tissue.

“Don’t cry, love,” he cooed. “You’ll make me think you made a mistake.”

“Of course not, silly man.” You stretched your arm down to look at the full length of the ink on your skin. “No mistakes here.”

“I’m glad,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chest on your shoulder as you took in the image of you both in the mirror. Grabbing his phone, Harry then took a couple of quick photos of your arm. “Let’s go ahead and put a covering on that so it won’t get infected.”

“Oh, how long do I have to do that? I wanna be able to show it off this weekend.”

Harry smirked at your pout. “Just a few days. You should be okay by then.”

Once again, you sat in his chair while he applied the dressing and bandage. Then he explained to you the aftercare, which made you giddy. You knew it was his job, but you enjoyed seeing him being professional.

“I’ll give you some information to take home with you as well,” he added as he removed his gloves, “but right now, I really need to touch you.”

You opened your mouth, but before you could make a syllable, Harry slid his hands under your jaw and pulled you into a warm kiss. He soon deepened it, his tongue invading your mouth as his hands traveled around your neck to your hair. When he finally released you enough to take a breath, you gasped.

“Wow.”

“Uh huh,” he voiced so low that you barely heard it. Then he licked his lips before sliding his hand up your thigh like before. “Exactly.”

You stared at Harry, his eyes darkening as he fingers began to tease you between your legs.

“So, what…mmm,” you swallowed at the sensation, “what other things did you have in mind?”

“Oh, you really wanna know?” he quirked a brow.

“Mmhmm. Yes, please.”

“Hmm, you ask so politely. But I might wanna keep teasing you like this. Make your legs tremble until you can’t stand it anymore. Until you’re begging for me to make you come.”

“Mmm,” you moaned again as he applied more pressure with his thumb, his hand cupping you, still over your clothes. “I don’t think I would be opposed to that.”

“No? You like being teased?”

“I like the way you tease,” you replied, breathy.

A low chuckle rose from his throat, and you felt the vibration as his face was just inches from yours. Then he surprised you by rising from his chair, his hand leaving your throbbing core to tug on the bottom of your t-shirt.

“Off, sweetheart,” he demanded.

You lifted your arms for him to remove your top, careful of your freshly tattooed area. You nearly came unglued at the sight of him biting his bottom lip.

“Sorry I don’t have on fancy undies,” you said, looking down at your cotton bralette.

“Are you kidding?” he snorted before he helped you remove that garment as well, his hands quickly palming your bare breasts.

You closed your eyes, reveling in the pleasure of his calloused thumbs skimming across your perky buds. He was so light and gentle with his touch, that you almost pouted, but you knew this was his intention. To drive you crazy.

He kissed you again, his hands still on you until he backed away suddenly. You opened your eyes to see him removing his own shirt, his tattooed torso on display. Your mouth watered instantly, an automatic reaction now.

You and Harry had good sex. There was no denying it. Not that you liked to compare, but Harry was the best in bed. He already knew what you liked, what buttons to press and which ones not to (not that there were many). But the best thing about the sexual part of your relationship was that it was never boring. Even when it was just quick fucking, it was amazing. Even when it was sweet, sleepy sex, you were left satisfied.

So Harry implying - albeit obviously - that he wanted to fuck you on that tattoo chair was no surprise. But the thrill was still as strong as ever. Everything he did excited you. Jesus, just looking at him sent a bolt of electricity down to your cunt, making you squeeze your muscles together.

Letting out a breath, you reached for his belt, pulling it from the loop and releasing it. He gave you another smirk as you tugged on his jeans with your non-tattooed arm, frustrated when the button wouldn’t come loose.

“Let me help, baby,” he growled, keeping your hand in position as he covered it with his own hand and helped you pull. The button popped open, the zipper separating along with it as your tug was determined. Then Harry assisted you further, his hand guiding yours down the front of his pants.

“As if you had to help me with that,” you scoffed with a grin.

“Maybe I wanted some help,” Harry eyed you.

“I don’t think that’s necessary either, big boy.”

His sexy low chuckle vibrated through your hand while you found you were a hundred percent correct. Standing from the chair, you pulled him from the confines of his jeans, the pink, bulbous head of his hard cock greeting you.

“Mmm,” you sounded. “Maybe I could help a little.”

You released his erection for just a moment to run your hands down his chest, your fingernails raking over his pecs and the light dusting of chest hair around his nipples. But it didn’t take long for Harry to reach for your tits again, squeezing them in his hands.

“Wait…I thought I was supposed to be teasing you,” he groaned.

“So you don’t want your cock in my mouth?” you teased back.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Fuck, babe, I don’t know anymore. You’re so hot. I’m so turned on.”

“I can see that,” you grinned, wrapping your palm around his cock again. Before he could protest, you fell to your knees.

“Babe…” you heard as you barely licked the tip.

“Just let me, Harry. Please? I’m begging,” you looked up at him with puppy dog eyes, batting your lashes.

Letting out a breathy chuckle, Harry gave you permission with a nod and heavy eyelids. You took your time, wetting the head first, then slowly dragging your tongue underneath his length, from the base to the tip. Then licking your lips, you wrapped them around his hard cock, giving a generous amount of suction.

You heard his heavy breathing get louder and faster as you steadied yourself with your other hand on his hip. His own hands were everywhere at first, starting in your hair, then trying to paw at your breasts, then finally settling back on your head, gently urging and guiding you.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good at this.”

You’d never considered yourself a pro at giving head. You couldn’t even take all of him, for fear of choking. But he didn’t seem to mind. Your mouth and tongue along with your hand seemed to do the trick. After a few more swirls of your tongue, you allowed your other hand to reach underneath, grabbing his balls. He moaned loudly, another expletive rising from his chest.

“Baby. Baby, baby, stop. I don’t wanna come yet.”

Popping off of him, you smiled up at him, saliva dripping from your chin. You enjoyed pleasuring him, but you were excited to move on to phase two. With another low groan, Harry ran his thumb across your chin, guiding you back up to your feet.

“Y/N. I need to be inside you. Now.”

“Aw, you mean I don’t have to beg?”

Harry didn’t bother replying with words. Instead, he pulled down your leggings with fervor, your panties clinging to them so they slipped down together, pooling around your ankles just like Harry’s jeans.

“Turn around, sweetheart,” he patted your hip while wiggling his brows.

More electricity surging through you, you happily did as you were told, bending over the tattoo chair. You felt Harry run his hands down your ass before grabbing your hip and situating himself at your entrance. He slid in slowly at first, like he always did in order to get adjusted. But as soon as he let out a gasp that echoed your own, you knew it wouldn’t be long before he started to move faster.

Harder. His fingers dug into your flesh as he pounded into you. You bit your lip at first, then thought it silly since you were alone. As you began to moan, so did Harry. The sounds intertwined with the sexy, slow jazz were intoxicating. And when Harry bent over to grab your hair and talk in your ear, you thought you might come.

“Pussy’s so good, baby. Been thinking about it all day. Always so wet for me.”

“Mmmm,” was all you could manage.

“You like me fucking you like this?”

“Yes!”

“You like my hard cock pounding into you, my balls slamming against your wet pussy?”

“God, yes!”

“Yeah. It’s mine, innit? Your gorgeous cunt is all mine.”

“Mmhm.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s all yours, Harry. I’m all yours.”

Moaning in your ear, Harry slowed down. You wondered for a moment what was happening as you knew he hadn’t come yet. Then you felt a chill on your back as he stood up, his hands at your hips.

“Let’s get these off the rest of the way,” he said with heavy breaths, indicating your pants.

Blinking, you wiped your eyes and toed off your shoes, stepping out of the leggings as you watched Harry do the same with his jeans.

“Sorry, babe, for the interlude,” his voice cracked. “I wanna try something else.”

“Okay.”

You watched as he readjusted the chair to lay flat. Then he laid down on it.

“C’mere, babe,” he beckoned. “Climb on top of me.”

You shifted your eyes nervously. “Are you sure we won’t break it?”

“Only one way to find out,” he smirked.

Sucking in your lips, you climbed on with Harry’s assistance. You giggled at the awkwardness of it all as you straddled him.

“Just a second, honey,” he said when you were about to aim his cock. “Let me look at you.”

You glared at him, once again wondering what was going through his head. He acted as if he’d never looked at you before. But as you smiled down at him, his own lips grew into his dimpled grin, making you warm all over. He brushed your hair from your face, his thumb grazing across your cheek.

“You’re like an angel,” he murmured. “You take my breath away.”

“Harry…” you exhaled.

“I’m all yours too, honey.”

You beamed at him, knowing it was a reply to your previous admission. Then lifting yourself onto your knees, you looked into his eyes as you sank down onto his cock. You hissed as he closed his eyes, both of you already sensitive.

You rode him with determination, needing to chase the release. After bouncing on him a few times, Harry took your left hand and held it to his chest, making sure you didn’t put too much pressure on that arm. You giggled awkwardly as you tried to keep your balance, but your boyfriend was good at helping.

As you started to reach your high, the burn imminent both in your thighs and your core, you began to cry out.

“Harry….it’s so good, baby…oh, God…Harryyyyy.”

Bucking his hips against you, his hands both now on your own hips, he stared you in the eyes.

“I know, honey. Tell me.”

“Mmmmm…I’m all yours, Harry,” you bit your lip, throwing your head back.

“Y/N. Look at me.”

Blinking, you gazed down at him, his gorgeous face flushed. He groaned in pleasure before wrapping his arms around you.

“Tell me, baby. I wanna hear you say it.”

“What?”

“Tell me you love me.”

Your eyes widening, you stared at him in…no, not disbelief. Because you absolutely believed it.

“I know you feel it, baby. Just like I do. Tell me. Please.”

You’d slowed down your hips, Harry having paused his thrusts. But as you began to resume, moving faster, his gorgeous mouth hanging open, you nodded.

“I love you, Harry.”

His lips twitched before he licked them, then pulled you to him for a kiss.

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

A tiny giggle escaped your throat as realization kicked in. You were in love. And all his.

You rode Harry to the finish, reaching orgasm just before he cried out those three words again. He kissed you deeply, his tongue letting you know how pleased he was. His head falling back, his eyes closed in complete bliss, the biggest, dopiest grin on his face.

“Say it again, babe.”

You kissed his salty chest and neck, then gnawed on his stubbly chin.

“I love you,” you sang softly before kissing his lips.

“And I love you,” he echoed while your face hovered over his, your hair surrounding you both like a secret garden. “So much.”

Chatter filled the room and your ears as you suddenly heard the clink of a fork against glass.

"Ladies and gentlemen! A toast! To our man of the evening!" announced Sherrod. Harry turned to him with a bashful grin. "It has been my utmost pleasure to host this soiree for such an incredible artist. He is a viable part of this community, and I know you all join me in congratulating him at completing another remarkable series. To Harry Styles!"

As everyone clapped and cheered, raising their glasses, you heard Stan shout, "Hear, hear!"

Smiling at your boss, whom you had been thrilled to see arrive with his wife, you watched him make a taste of his own.

"Harry, my son, I've watched you sit at that same table in my cafe for over a year, doodling on your notepads and…thingamajig…" he gestured, making the guests chuckle. "To be honest, I didn't understand why my coffee shop, or why that table…or why only flat white lattes…" more laughs erupted as he patted Harry on the shoulder. "But I knew you had talent. And ambition. I'm proud of you, son. And I'm proud to say I knew you when."

"Hear, hear!" Sherrod and others cheered, raising their glasses again.

"Thank you, Stan. Thank you Sherrod," Harry choked. "This whole night means more to me than you'll ever know. All of you. I'm so humbled that each of you came tonight. This truly was special. I'll never forget it."

Harry's eyes met yours during his final words. Then as the chatter resumed, he stepped forward and pulled you into a long kiss.

"Alright you two," said Jill behind you. "Don't go find a room just yet. I need to take pictures."

You giggled as your friend held her phone up and you posed for several photos with Harry, including one where you were kissing him on the cheek. Satisfied with her shots, Jill squealed with joy and announced she had to take some more with her other friends next to Harry’s art.

A waiter came by then with more champagne, and you gladly took another glass, handing him your empty one.

“I’m so happy to see you having a good time,” beamed Harry, his arm still around you.

“I may have had a few too many of these,” you snickered, covering your mouth with your hand.

“No matter. We have that limo, thanks to you.”

“You can actually thank Shae. It was her idea.”

“Where is Shae, by the way?” Harry turned his head to search for your roommate. He spotted her next to the shrimp, talking to Kyle. His chest shook with laughter as he turned back to you.

“What?” you asked. “Kyle’s a nice guy, right?”

“Yeah. Too nice. She’s probably giving him an earful, and I’ll have to hear about it later.”

You playfully slapped his arm in your friend’s defense, though you knew he was right.

“Good idea, by the way, showing off your tattoo right away. I already have some clients lined up.”

“That’s awesome!” you cheered. You figured one of them was the nice lady you were talking to last time, since you saw her again soon after you’d arrived.

“Harry, my good man, congratulations!” another voice sounded. You both swiveled to see Carlo, his arm already stretched to give Harry a hug.

“Thank you so much for coming, Carlo.”

“Anything for you, my friend! Y/N, I don’t believe you’ve met my beautiful wife, Jossalyn.” Carlo gestured to the stunning tattooed brunette to his right.

You both gave each other salutations before Harry pulled her into a hug as well. Then they announced their exit and said their goodbyes.

“You have a lot of friends and admirers, Harry,” you commented.

He nodded. “Seems that way. I need to remember to count my blessings.”

You lifted your hand to his handsome face, and he covered it with his own, gently shutting his eyes.

“Y/N! We have to be going, guys!” John shouted, breaking your reverie.

“John, thank you so much for coming!” you told him as you squeezed him. “And for bringing Rafi.”

“Told you he’s a dish,” he whispered in your ear.

You nodded as you watched his partner shake hands with Harry, then you did the same. As soon as they left, Harry leaned into you.

“Rafael is interested in my art.”

“Your art, or something else?” you quirked a brow. “I saw how he looked at you earlier.”

Harry cackled. “I promise it was strictly a professional conversation. But if it makes you feel any better, I’ll remind him I’m taken.”

As he slid his arm back around your waist, you shook your head as you smiled up at him. “I was teasing you. I wouldn’t blame anyone in this room for wanting a piece of you…professionally or otherwise. But I appreciate the sentiment. Also, I trust you.”

“Yeah? I’m glad, baby.”

Harry brought his hand up to slide under your jaw, and he was just about to kiss you when the other man of the hour interrupted.

“Harry, lad, I have an early flight in the morning, so I must bid farewell,” said Donovan McNulty. This evening he wore a black suit with a red bowtie. You smiled at him, holding out your hand.

“Mr. Nulty, thank you so much for coming. You’ve made Harry so happy.”

Donovan leaned in and kissed your cheek, then the other. “My dear, I reckon it’s the other way around. Besides, it looks like he’s found his happiness right here, with his muse.”

He gave you a wink as he squeezed your tattooed arm before shaking Harry’s hand and waving goodbye.

The party continued for another hour or so. You and Harry both gave a lot more thank yous and farewells. Then when no other guests remained (Harry insisted on seeing everyone out to show his appreciation), Sherrod finally shooed you out to the limo.

“Thanks for helping with everything, sweetheart,” cooed Harry as he necked you in the back of the car.

“I didn’t do much,” you conveyed. “Sherrod set up most of it.”

“No, you did more than you know. I love and appreciate you.”

“Same here, handsome,” you grinned before caressing his soft lips. “By the way, I have something to show you when we get to your place.”

“Yeah? Is it under your dress?”

You giggled as his hand wandered under the flimsy fabric of the new dress you’d purchased just for this occasion.

“No,” you playfully tugged at his wrist. “It’s something I left there while we were getting ready. It’s in your nightstand.”

“Handcuffs?”

“No! Harry Styles, I’m trying to be romantic and open, and you’re being naughty.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, babe. I can’t help it. It’s just where my mind went.”

“It’s okay,” you tutted.

“What is it?”

“You’ll see.”

Harry held your hand as he walked you to his apartment. The glow of the moon shone through the balcony doors, punctuating the end of the moon-themed evening like a full stop. Although you weren’t ready for it to end just yet.

You laid your clutch bag on the counter next to his keys and wallet before he pulled you in for yet another kiss. Throwing your arms around his neck, you let his tongue tangle with yours, tasting the champagne you’d both consumed. Then he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you into the bedroom.

“Are you gonna show me now?” he asked between kisses after he laid you down.

You simply nodded, then reached for the bedside table, opening the top drawer. You retrieved a small notebook, the one you’d been writing in. Opening it, you flipped to the page you wanted to show him. When you handed it to him, he looked at you inquisitively.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Remember when you asked me if I had a hobby, something that I was passionate about? And I mentioned I used to write?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You inspired me.”

With an easy grin, Harry sat back on the pillows, crossing his ankles. You sat next to him, your legs tucked underneath you as you bit your bottom lip nervously.

Brilliant, blazing, glistening, glittering

The celestial satellite shines by the light reflected from the sun

Its beautiful mystery soothingly captivates us

All aglow, seemingly from within

Feminine energy that affects the rise and fall of the tides

A big balloon, luminous and serene

These are words used to describe the moon

But they are also words to describe my heart

For my heart is now a big balloon

All aglow and alight from within

From the light of your heart, the sun

Brilliant, blazing, beautiful

Wondrous and astral, my heart is now home

Lowering the notebook after reading your poem, Harry looked at you.

“It’s kinda short,” you offered with a hesitant chuckle. “But it took me forever.”

“Baby,” he said, scooting closer to you and reaching for you. “This is beautiful.”

“Really?” you crinkled your nose, still not completely confident.

“Yes, baby, really. I love it. I love you.”

Your expression softened, easing into a smile. Harry pulled you to his chest, brushing your hair back from your face.

“Thank you for writing it, but even more, for sharing it with me.”

“I figured I should, since you share so much with me.”

“That’s what I mean, love. Not only did you share your heart with me, but you put it into words on paper. It’s stunning. I’m…”

His hands still in your hair, he paused his words.

“What?” you asked as you saw a tiny tear escape from the corner of his eye and down his cheek. “Harry…”

“Can’t help it, baby,” he choked as you wiped the tear. “I’ve fallen so hard for you.”

“Me too,” you whispered.

“Tell me again, Y/N.”

“I love you…” you said, his lips capturing yours once again before you could say his name.

You didn’t mind that he asked you to say those words. In fact, you liked it. You would tattoo it on your heart if you could.

THE END

And there we have it :). Please like, comment and consider following me if you enjoyed it! Feedback is love x.

[trulyumai]

Kisses and Ceramics

Synopsis: You decided to go to an Arts and Wines studio with Nanami, who looks displeased with his end result. Luckily, his adoring (future), wife, is there to comfort him.

Pairing: Nanami x Reader

Warnings: None (Just a Fluff Overload)

Authors Note: I thought of this cute little blurb while studying for my exam and I just had to write it before I forgot! That and to procrastinate my studying, but shhh!

Enjoy this fluffy piece!

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Nanami wondered if it was a mistake coming here. 

Sitting across from him was you; with your tongue peeking out as you lightly pressed a brush against a bowl you had displayed so proudly. Swiftly and slowly making pink flower designs on the white ceramic, you didn’t notice the man's sour mood just yet.  

His cup sat pathetically, it was uneven and bumpy. he didn’t dare put more effort into it,afraid he would somehow make it worse

It looked like a child scribbled lines on it, sneezing as they traced upon the cup making the blue vertical stripes come out uneven; sloppy. 

Wincing he grabbed the wine glass just beside him, sipping it down in one go before staring back at his disaster in front of him. 

Noticing the blonde haired man hesitancy, you swallowed. 

“Everything okay, Kento?” Slightly smiling, you put on a worried face. 

Maybe asking him to go was a bad idea, he wasn’t much into arts and crafts and you should have taken the hint when you first brought it up to him 

He didn’t exactly seem… ecstatic… to go. 

Recalling back you remembered when it came to fruition 

 The day had just ended, you both were lying comfortably on the plush couch adorning the middle of your living room.

His arm was around your shoulders, while your head was leaning comfortably on his chest. 

It came to you in the spur of the moment, jumping up and startling him you blurted it right out. 

“Kento! We should dine and paint this weekend! Satoru- he went with his date last week and he said it was really fun!”

Squinting at the name of the white haired man, he had to resist letting out a sigh. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he made anything. Painting? It really wasn’t his forte, but you sat there staring at him 

Looking at him with those glossy orbs of yours and who was he to say no to such a face? 

Putting on the best expression he could muster, he stroked your cheek, placing his hand on your chin tilting it upwards.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” leaning in he placed a chaste kiss to your lips, savoring the sweet and minty taste before pulling back, glancing once more at the television. 

The sound of laughter brought you back, the couples around you giggled as they compared crafts, hugging and kissing each other often. 

“Kento,” you giggled, pointing at his cup with a dainty finger. 

“Let me see, it can’t be as bad as you’re making it-” 

“Absolutely not.” With a firm hand he pushed your finger back to its space. 

“Please? I swear I won’t make fun!” Bottom lip protruding you talked once more.

“Pleaaaaaase, Ken?” 

That was all it took. With a sigh, he squinted his eyes, grabbing the poor excuse of a mug and handed it over.

“Thank youuu!” You sang, taking it and going over each divet and bump with care. 

“It’s great! It has more personality than any of theres I bet,” she eyed the other couple by them, who he noticed had painted the cups a solid yellow. 

“Satoru doesn’t have anything on th-

“Don’t say it,” he mumbled, bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. 

He remembered Gojos cups, as they were shoved in his face the night prior.

It was frustratingly perfect, glazed with a sheen and a light blue color adorning its circumference. 

“See if you can do better!” The white haired man had laughed, loud and arrogant as usual and his urge to punch him was strong. 

“Satoru,” he heard you behind him, and relaxed his shoulders.

“No showing off! but how did you get it so shiny?!” 

Staring at you now his eyes softened. 

You held it with such care, turning it slowly to admire each and every groove. 

“Don’t forget to put your name on the bottom, honey,” 

Looking up you met his gaze, it was sweet to see him already staring, with loving eyes and a light smile instead of a frown.

He hummed in agreement, taking back the cup delicately, no longer hating how rough it felt.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad, placing his finished project next to yours he leaned forward, leaving  a kiss on your forehead. 

“I’ll send a picture to Gojo, he’ll wanna see em!” 

He sighed once more 

He was never going to live this down. 

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