#me tip toeing my way through the semester

[rangerbarbz]

Serving Up Romance pt. 3

Author's Note: guys this semester has been raw dogging me tbh. curse my damn zoology classes. anyways love being a woman in stem and I love Stan Pines. I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO COME OUT IVE BEEN SO BUSY. ALSO I AM SO HONORED AND THANKFUL FOR ALL THE KIND RESPONSES YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO ME <3 (If there's typos my bad im running on like 2% capacity and horny)

You couldn’t remember the last time you were this eager to get home. The car ride back to your house was mainly spent in comfortable silence between you and Stan. That was alright, though. His hand was on your knee drawing lazy circles with his thumb while you played with the hair at the nape of his neck. It was pure bliss. 

The radio then started to play a love song that you couldn’t remember the name of anymore. You smiled and began to sing along quietly, tapping to the beat of the song on Stan’s skin. You heard him chuckle. 

“Sorry, I’m doing a drum solo on your neck,” you joked, increasing the speed of your tapping. He grinned, still looking at the road. 

“S’alright.” He then looked over at you fondly. “I like your singing, by the way. Ya got a voice that matches your face” You rolled your eyes playfully. 

“I don’t know about that, but thank you,” you replied. 

You soon saw the familiar opening of your driveway. Stan parked his Diablo behind your car. He then unbuckled his seatbelt at the speed of light and flung open his door. He jogged to the passenger side to open the door for you. He stood with his back straight like he was your bodyguard.

You giggled, stepping out of the car. “You’re real chivalrous, Pines,” you cooed, patting his cheek. 

He winked at you. “I did my homework.” 

“Well,” you stood on your tip-toes to whisper in his ear, “let’s see how you do on the final exam.” You swore you could feel the heat from his blush radiating off him. 

“Yes, well, I hope, I mean- I will pass,” he stammered as you took hold of his hand. You guided him up your front porch stairs to unlock the door. Once you were inside, you both began to kick your shoes off. “Nice digs you got here, doll. I especially like this thing.” He had walked over to your dining table while you were still unstrapping your sandals to pick up a clay structure you had found at an antique store. You weren’t sure what it was, but it was colorful and was a perfect centerpiece. 

You figured he was being sarcastic so you responded, “Aw, leave it alone!”

He looked back at you with a raised eyebrow. “What? I’m being serious. I like art. There’s a reason I’m banned at museums.” You laughed and threw your shoe on the floor. You crossed over to him as he continued to examine it to wrap yourself around his midsection. He hummed and set the piece down to caress your forearms. 

You kissed his back through the fabric of his button-up. “You wanna go to my room?” you asked softly. He turned around and swiftly picked you up, your legs hooking around his waist. Your eyes were as wide as saucers, face beginning to flush. His hands were digging into your thighs to support you; they felt rough against your soft flesh. 

“Where to, sweetheart?” he mumbled, planting kisses on your jawline. 

“L-last door on the right,” you squeaked. He started to walk carefully with you in his arms to your room before laying you down on your bed. His cheeks were tinged a light pink as his lips met yours once again. He kissed you firmly, his forearms bracing himself on either side of your head. You snaked your arms around his torso to pull him closer to you while your tongue slipped past his lips. He tasted like the cheap cigars he got from the Dusk-2-Dawn in town, but you needed to taste more of him. 

Your hands moved to his dark hair, entangling it in your fingers. You groaned as the kiss became more sloppy. His right hand dragged down the side of you, outlining your waist and hip and eventually stopping to grip the outside of your thigh. Stan then broke the kiss to take a look at you. Your makeup had been smudged and your hair was spilling out behind your head. You were a vision. 

“Fuck,” Stan groaned, resting his head in the crook of your neck. His finger slipped underneath the strap of your dress. “Can I take this off? Please?” His voice was dripping with lust as he kissed you gently on your cheek. Oh, shit was this really happening? You talked big game outside, but now that it got down to it, you were getting a little nervous. 

“Uh, yes. Let me get up real quick.” He rolled off of you to let you stand up, your back facing towards him. You began to unzip your dress, but it got stuck at the top of the zipper. 

“Oh, hold on, sweetheart. I got you.” Stan stood up to maneuver the slider so that it went down easier. You bit your lip to suppress the grin forming over something so domestic. “There we go,” he said, unzipping your dress the rest of the way. This was still Stan. You had nothing to be worried about. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, turning to face him. His eyebrows lifted as you let the dress fall from your shoulders and crumple on the shoulder. Both of you were blushing from the vulnerability of the situation. You stood before him in a lacy bra push-up bra and matching light pink panties. 

He swallowed hard. “I, wow,” he ran his hands through his hair and exhaled, “you’re…beautiful.” You gave him a wide smile. 

“Your turn now, handsome.” You kissed him and began to unbutton his shirt one by one while his hands slid down your back. His hands began to wander over your hips, waist, and down to your butt where he squeezed roughly. He swallowed the squeak you made by colliding his lips with yours. His shirt fell to the floor showing off a broad, hairy chest. You ran your fingers through the coarse hair before grasping onto his burly shoulders for balance. His teeth and tongue fought with yours while he sat on the edge of the bed, bringing you into his lap. 

“Fuck, you’re so soft,” Stan whispered, fumbling with the hook of your bra. You felt some light pressure as it came undone. He tossed it to the floor with the growing pile of clothes. His eyes then became transfixed on your breasts. You saw him swallow and his face turned an even deeper shade of red. 

“Are they okay?” you asked self-consciously. 

His eyes met yours immediately. “Okay?” He glanced back down at your breasts and the back at you. “Babe, they’re…” he shook his head, “they’re fucking smokin’.” Your laughter from his blunt compliment was cut off by a sharp inhale. His lips had latched on to your right nipple while he fondled the other breast vigorously. Your fingers weaved into his hair, nails scraping at his scalp, and his tongue swirling over your areola. 

“Stan…” you breathed, grinding down on the bulge in his blue jeans. He had started to repeat his same ministrations on your other nipple, giving it a gentle bite. You yelped; he looked up at you with that shit-eating grin that said Ha, I made you make that sound. He then pulled you to him as he laid his back against the comforter of your bed. 

“You mind if I take these off, doll?” Stan asked, tugging at the waistband of your panties. You grinned. 

“I don’t mind,” you replied. “What are you gonna do when they’re off?” 

Stan rolled his eyes playfully. “Not tellin’.” He carefully slid his panties over the globes of your ass. “That’ll ruin the surprise.” He suddenly flipped you over so that your positions were switched. He smirked at the surprised expression on your face. “Learned that from boxing,” he joked, now watching as he removed your panties the rest of the way. He licked his lips; the lacy material grazing your calf. He eventually set them at the end of the bed, eyes never leaving your molten core. 

“Stan?” you asked. His eyes darted to meet yours. His pupils were insanely dilated…Hungry even. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just… Fuck, you’re so sexy.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Would you mind if I…” his voice trailed off. He leaned down to peck at your kneecap. Oh.

“Oh, you mean, like oral?” you stammered. 

“I mean like eating you out,” Stan clarified. So you were right. 

“Y-you don’t have to do that if you don’t want to.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to?”

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t mind, but don’t you want me to take care of you?” To be honest, you weren’t used to guys putting you first. 

Stan frowned. “Toots, I have been thinking about your legs around my head all night. This is for me as much as it is for you.” You felt every part of your body heat up. 

“Oh, okay then. Yes, I think that would be very enjoyable,” you replied nervously, unsure of how to respond. Stan laughed before placing his hands at your thighs to gently part your legs further. 

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he murmured, head moving down to leave open-mouthed kisses up your leg. His hands were splayed on the outside of your thighs; his mouth was slowly inching to where you needed him most. Your breath shuddered, clutching the sheets to brace yourself for his touch. 

“So pretty,” Stan groaned, pressing his lips against your labia. You gasped at the contact, making him chuckle. “So wet for me, too.” His big hands moved to your hips while the tip of his tongue teased your slit. He then pulled you closer to his mouth to give your swollen clit the attention it needed so badly. He swirled his tongue around the bud carefully, the pads of his fingers sinking into your hips. 

“Oh, God,” you cried out. You quickly covered your mouth with the palms of both your hands out of embarrassment. 

“Uh, uh,” Stan chastised. He lifted his head to gently take your wrists and uncover your face. “I want to hear everything.” He then positioned your hands to the back of his head. “And don’t be afraid to take what you want, sweetheart.” Stan delved back into your cunt, not being as tender as he was before. He was fucking you with his tongue, tasting every bit of you that he could.

You gripped his hair and squeezed your thighs around his head. “Stan! Please,” you exclaimed, “don’t stop.” You were now grinding your clit against his strong nose, hips swiveling to their own accord. Stan sighed dreamily, using the flat of his tongue to lick a stripe up your pussy. You accidentally tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck causing him to let out what can only be described as a guttural whimper. That was the cause of your undoing. The build-up developing in your abdomen reached its peak by gushing onto Stan’s mouth and sending shockwaves through your body. 

When you came down from your high, Stan was laying there wide-eyed in awe of what he had just witnessed. “That…” he breathed, “was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He laid his head on your stomach and gave it a quick peck. “Ya know, if you’re up to it, I got a rubber in my-”

“Yes,” you interjected. “I need to feel you in me right now.” 

“Oh, alright. Hold on let me just,” he fumbled over his words, reaching into his pocket to reveal a worn leather wallet. He pulled out a square golden wrapper and ripped it open with his teeth. You crawled over to him to unbuckle his belt, kneeling at the end of the bed.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing this,” you confessed, unzipping his pants and pulling them down. 

“Oh, fuck,” Stan groaned as you exposed his throbbing cock form his boxers. It was painfully hard, precum leaking from the tip. You wrapped your lips around it, sucking it slightly before dragging your tongue down his shaft. He threw his head back as you used your fingers to fondle his balls gently and take him further into your mouth. His fingers wove into the hair above your ear, cradling your head. You gazed up at him to see his face flushed and eyelids hooded. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’m not gonna last much longer like this, and I really want to feel ya,” Stan apologized. You nodded and removed your mouth from his cock so he could slide the condom on. You laid down on the bed and let him hover over you, lining himself up with your entrance. This was really happening.

“Okay, I’m about to put it in. Just, let me know if I hurt ya, okay? Let me know what feels good too,” Stan instructed lovingly. He caged your head in with his forearms and gave you a sweet kiss. You then felt pressure in your lower half of Stan entering you. You and Stan gasped in unison at the feeling. 

“Stan,” you breathed. “You feel…so good.” He started to move his hips back and forth, eyes studying your face and how it scrunched up in pleasure. 

“You do too, Y/N. Oh, God.” His pace began to pick up. He looked from side to side at your arms in search of something to anchor him. He interlocked your hands in his and put his head in the crook of your neck, grunting into your skin. It was so much. It was so sensual. He made you feel so beautiful. That familiar feeling was approaching as his hips slammed into yours. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and starting to shake. 

“I’m almost there, Stan.”

Stan’s eyes met yours, his hair a mess and sweat starting to bead at his temples. “Come on, baby, let me feel it. Give it to me,” he begged. Once again, his gruff voice was the cause of your intense orgasm. You screamed his name while he chased his own. His thrusts were no longer uniform but sloppy. 

You felt his body tense up and relax as he came. He pressed his forehead into the valley of your breasts and just breathed. You played with his hair absentmindedly, still feeling the effects of your own orgasms. 

He eventually pulled himself from you, making you feel empty. He went to the bathroom to toss the used condom and came back to hold you flush to his chest. He kissed along the shell of your ear and held you by your waist. 

“Breakfast is on me in the morning,” Stan whispered. “I’ll make you my special: Stancakes.” 

You burst into a fit of giggles as you shifted your body to face him. He was giving you a dopey smile. You planted a kiss on his nose. “Can’t wait.”

People who wanted to be tagged (i love y’all): @lucas1253 @vitality-falls @daniel-meyer-03 @marvelous-maniac @daisysinadarkmedow @lordbelkamort @mayhaps-nerd @ziragus

[winterreigned]

@prodigum me throwing another starter at u despite all my drafts

𝖎𝖙'𝖘 𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖇𝖑𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖉𝖎𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖆 𝖇𝖗𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙. at least it feels that way in this very moment. one second, she is having the time of her life with her sorority sisters, the next ; graphic flashbacks of her father's accident. grief doesn't discriminate, nor does it care what you're doing and where. it's like the tide, coming in and out, and when that tide is high, you are sure to be drowning underneath its current. the drink in her solo cup was her attempt at oxygen, though despite how much she tried to resuscitate herself with cheap beer and jungle juice, all sansa achieved was frantic hysterics on top of drowning depression.

she didn't wish to return to school this semester. she swore to her mother she'd go to school at home online, she'd help her with the younger boys. though, as any mother would insist, catelyn stark knew sansa's ambitions in academia were far too deep to put on the back burner. so, here she was. some days sansa is far too distracted with lectures, exams, and charity galas to process it all. though days like today, grief sneaks in when she dares enjoy life.

there is a benefit, however, in all this mess. winterfell state is not just her school - but her older brother's as well. taking shaky breaths, sansa abandons the dorm party, hiking halfway across campus to find robb's room. there is no one else on this campus who knows what she's going through better than him - and these past few months they've been able to provide each other solace, while maintaining a life of somewhat normality. the air is ice, which shoots her with the sobering thoughts that crop tops and short skirts may work for a dorm party, but not in winterfell in the dead of winter. sansa is shaking, though this is more from the distressed sobs leaving her than the cold.

arriving at his door, she raises a delicate and frozen fist to knock thrice. the young girl is forcing deep breaths to calm hysterics and to avoid looking like a drunken mess. prior to her father's death, the only other time robb had seen her like this was after joffrey... she'd hate for his mind to go there, when this was not the case at all. sansa turns her back to the door, desperately trying to collect herself between hiccups and sobs. when she hears the door open, she whirls around, red curls twirling. swallowing, she sees theon - her brother's roommate, best friend, shadow, childhood nuisance... she need not go on.

typically, she'd throw him a snarky comment, sarcasm the fuel between the pair. but right now her feet are on tip toes to see past him, blue eyes scanning the room for any sign of her brother. there is none, which causes teeth to worry on her bottom lip. another desperate sob erupts from her, leaving sansa to do something she'd never consider if fully sober or sane: bury her head in theon's chest and wrap her arms around him. she has no choice but to blubber into him.

❝ i - i'm so sorry, ❞ sansa whispers hoarsely to him. the muscles in her chest tighten, her teeth and jaw clench as she tries to anchor herself. ❝ i didn't know where else to go... i - i don't want to feel like this anymore. ❞

[buckysgrace]

Something Blue

Not really a series but will be doing little blurbs under Oatmeal Raisin Cookies for Gator and Daphne's little family <3

CW: Smut and fluff

“What do you think you’re doing?” Gator asked, tilting his head down to the toddler who was trying to pull himself onto the counter.

Noah smiled sheepishly, his brown eyes full of mischief as he bounced on the tip of his toes again. His shirt and pants had been discarded, tossed away as he moved around in only a pair of undies.

“Cookie,” He pointed out, staring up at Gator with a bright grin as he pointed towards the cabinet again, “Pwease, pwease!” He encouraged, grinning like he already knew what Gator’s answer would be.

“Just one,” Gator responded as he pulled the chocolate chip cookie free from the bag, smiling as Noah let out a shrill squeal, “And don’t tell anyone.” He responded with a wink, satisfied as Noah quickly nodded his head in agreement. 

The summer months were quickly approaching, the sun hot and breeze cool as it swept in through the open windows. The twins had finished their first semester of preschool, which was only half days. It wasn’t too long for them to be away. 

Knox had passed out not long ago on the couch, making Gator wish that Noah would do the same as he really felt like a nap sounded good to himself. Noah still hated naps, would rather do anything but sleep. He was a handful, that was for sure. 

Piper was with Daphne, getting their last few accessories for the wedding. Which meant that they’d come home with painted nails and a handful of bags from whichever shopping mall they’d decided on. Piper had found a little handbag that she liked to carry around and insisted that her toy card worked just like a real credit card.

“Where’s your clothes at?” Gator asked, picking Noah up as he followed the trail back towards the living room, “You’re not teasing me with my bad side, are you?” He asked him seriously, watching the way Noah paused for a moment to think about it. 

“I don’t know,” Was his response as he shrugged his shoulders, more focused on munching his cookie down, “It yummy.” He said, little crumbs dancing off onto his tummy as he moved back towards the TV. 

“Can I have a cookie?” Knox’s head popped up over the couch, half of his face red and his hair messy from how roughly he’d been sleeping. Gator chuckled, nodding his head in agreement. He couldn’t ever really tell them no. 

“Of course you can have a cookie,” He said with a smile, “Do you see your brother's clothes?” He asked as he pulled another cookie free. He walked over, holding the cookie out towards him. 

“Not over here,” Knox said, smiling brightly as he took the cookie from Gator, “Thank you. Where’s mommy?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows together as Gator joined him on the couch. Noah appeared instantly, gripping his knees as he pulled himself up onto his lap.

“She went shopping with sissy,” He answered, waiting as Noah got himself comfortable. He laid back against Gator’s chest, wiggling his toes before he sighed deeply. Knox might be attached to Daphne’s hip, but Noah was attached to his. His little buddy, “Are you excited for tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Knox replied with a smile, “I get to hold the ring!” He said proudly as he moved onto his knees, grinning from ear to ear. Sometimes it was hard for Gator to tell which of his sons looked more like him. Today he thought Noah did, as Knox’s brown locks seemed to look just a bit more red than usual. 

“Hey,” Noah spoke up quickly, “Me too.” He said quickly, his brown eyes wide and full of panic like he feared that Gator had forgotten about him. He’d spent many afternoons tracing their faces and listening intensely to the tones in their voices to feel like he knew what they were thinking without questioning them. 

“Both of you,” Gator confirmed with a nod of his head, “It will be a lot of fun, don’t you think?” He asked, hoping that they’d all have fun with it. He had never planned on marrying Daphne with three toddlers running around, but he thought this made it even better. 

“Papa said it’s about time.” Knox added as he nodded his head along, making Gator sigh as he nodded his head along. He’d heard that more than once as well. He had just taken his time, there was nothing wrong with that.

He’d nearly lost his cool when he finally proposed, well he sort of did. It had all been fine, going perfectly to his plan until Daphne had almost swallowed the ring. She ended up having to hack it up, her face red and lips a shade of blue. That was the last time he listened to any advice from Wayne. 

“I’m sure he did,” He grumbled in response, “Oh look, there’s mama's car.” He said, hearing the car far before it pulled into the driveway. Knox’s features wrinkled up into delight as he raced out of the seat, rushing to be the first one to greet them at the door. 

Piper strolled in first, a green hand bag over her midsection and sunglasses over the top of her head. Her lips were shiny, and nails were deep purple. Gator slowly slid Noah off of his lap, figuring he better help them carry whatever inside. 

“Did you see how expensive gas is?” Daphne huffed as she came in next, carrying two handfuls of plastic bags, “It’s ridiculous.” She shook her head, but quickly curled her lips into a smile as Knox tugged on her pants. She dropped the bags, kneeling to kiss at his cheeks. 

“Mhm, gas was the expensive thing?” Gator asked, raising his eyebrows as he leaned against the couch. He counted twice, confirming that there were at least eight bags. She grinned as she stood, walking towards him slowly.

“I had to finish getting stuff for our trip,” She quickly defended herself, smiling as she pecked his lips twice, “How were my boys?” She smiled as she turned away, leaving his gaze lingering against her ass as she bent over again. 

“Cookie!” Noah exclaimed, smiling as he held up a soggy crumble of what he had left, “Hewe, mama.” He said happily, waiting for her to take a bite. She blinked slowly, her smile frozen as Gator did his best not to snort. 

“Oh I’m okay, baby,” She responded as she kissed his flushed cheeks, “Mama’s all cookied out.” She said as she wrinkled her nose, moving back towards the bags as he found his attention getting drawn away. 

“What about you?” He asked as he lifted Piper up into the air. He still liked holding them and feared the day that they’d get too big, “Did you get everything you needed?” He asked, poking at her bag playfully. It was most likely filled with hair ties, candies and different chapsticks that she always took from Daphne. Sometimes there would be change. 

“Yeah,” She said as she held her fingers out, showing off her nails dramatically, “Do you like them?” She asked worriedly, like she didn’t know what his opinion would be. He looked at them, pretending to inspect them in the way she liked. 

“Very pretty,” He said with a grin, watching as the two boys took turns tugging on Daphne’s skirt as she put a few things away in the fridge, “Are you going to get your hair done tomorrow?” He asked her, curious as to how she’d want it done. She was very particular. There had been more than one meltdown because she had insisted her sock was on wrong. 

“No,” She said as she rested her head against his shoulder, “You do it best.” She said as she inhaled deeply, sounding like she was tired from her shopping day. He rubbed her back gently. 

“Okay,” He said, grinning as he tucked the young girl close to him, “I can do it.” He promised her, rocking her back and forth as he enjoyed their moment together. He found himself doing that a lot with the kids, still fearing that they might feel as if they didn’t have enough time with him. He felt guilty all over again. 

“Daddy,” Noah approached him once again, “Want juicy.” He furrowed his eyebrows together, his lips pouting out as he began to tug on his jeans this time. 

“What do you say?” Daphne drew out, popping her head out from the pantry door. Knox was holding up one of the bags, handing her different items to put away. Noah gasped before he turned towards Gator again. 

“Pwease?” He asked, fluttering his eyelashes as he held his hands together. Gator chuckled as he nodded his head, using his free hand to touch the back of his head as he directed them back towards the kitchen. 

Rounding the three of them up that night for the wedding practice had been a nightmare. No one had seemed to want to go, even though any other time they were all excited to go for a car ride. Noah cried the whole way there, his missed nap clearly catching up to him. He’d missed most of the ceremony, finally passing out in one of the pews and refusing to move. 

Knox had frozen in the church, despite him knowing everyone else who was there. Usually Ruby was able to draw him out, but not even that worked. He stayed hidden behind Daphne, brown eyes wide as he peeked around at the other ten people that were there.

Piper had plopped herself into the back row, arms tightly crossed around her chest as an angry pout stayed glued to her face. It had taken a lot to finally get her to speak, to get some little answer out of her stubbornness. 

“It’s just practice,” He instructed her, trying to convince her that the wedding wasn’t happening tonight, “You don’t have to be dressed up yet.” He told her, trying to calm her down. She wanted her big pink dress. That’s all she wanted. 

“But mommy is.” She pointed out, bearing Daphne’s same irritated features as she continued to stare ahead. He sighed deeply as he slowly pried her hands free. 

“Mommy is always dressed up,” He said playfully, dramatically, “We don’t have to do it tonight, unless you really want to.” He added, squeezing her hands in hopes that she wouldn’t make them go all the way home to get it. She turned towards him, staring for the longest time. 

“I want these bows in my hair,” Piper directed as she shifted forward a little bit, “Please and thank you.” She added at last, nodding her head as he quickly obliged once she pulled them free from her little purse. 

He found Daphne a little later, thankful for Kurt’s many questions towards the priest as he followed her towards the front of the entrance. He stared at the vast decorations, thinking about how bland Roy’s own church had been. He shook his head, not wanting to think about his father at the moment.

“Maybe eloping would’ve been better,” She whispered softly, laughing as she leaned against him, “Oh, I hope it goes better tomorrow.” She replied as she rested her cheek against his shoulder, making him smile as he moved his arm around her waist.

“It will,” He said confidently as he glanced around, finding it safe enough to take a hit from his vape. He passed it to her next, watching the way she took a deep inhale and held it in her lungs. She closed her eyes as she exhaled, looking a little relieved, “And if it doesn’t -, that’s fine too. We’re not doing it to impress anybody.” He told her seriously, quite enjoying the way their three littles made their lives more hectic. 

“As long as we can keep the kids from fighting.” She said as she leaned against the wall with him, her blue eyes twinkling like bright gems. He couldn’t wait to see her tomorrow, to see how stunning she looked. 

“That’s the important part,” He said with a smile, leaning down to brush his lips against hers gently, “We’re getting pretty damn good at this.” He told her, feeling a little more confident in his parenting skills. Sometimes he still got scared, worried that he’d get too irritated and accidentally snap at the kids like his father did to him. It took a lot of reassurances to remind himself that he wasn’t Roy. 

“Gator Tillman,” She responded playfully as she held her hands on her hips, “Don’t you curse while we’re in the lord’s house.” The little white dress she was wearing bunched against her thighs, leaving him a little distracted as he peered at her freckled thighs.

“We’ve done worse things in churches.” He reminded her, feeling a little cocky as his lips turned into a soft smirk. Her features burned brightly, turning red all the way down to her collarbone as she narrowed her eyes in his direction. 

“Your father’s church didn’t count,” She said firmly as she took his hand, “C’mon, before they think we ran off.” She said as she pulled him forward, using her free hand to fan herself. He grinned, listening to what she said. She was usually right. 

Their last rehearsal went a little smoother after that. Piper stood proudly, showing off her braid and the big bow in her hair. Once Noah was finally awake he gripped Knox’s hand tightly, keeping him comforted and by his side so he wouldn’t feel quite so nervous. It was fine. Everything was fine. 

“Okay, what does everyone want?” He asked after the dreaded rehearsal was over. Part of the deal had been that they’d all go out to eat after as long as they behaved, which they had; for the most part. He also had a hard time saying no to them. Fatherhood was a lot softer than he thought it would be. 

“Chicken!” Noah yelled quickly, “And mac and cheese!” He giggled as he stood once again, leaving Daphne trying to convince him to sit down. Gator turned fully to watch him, prepared to pull him over if he did it again. He had a habit of trying to crawl onto the back of the booth seats. 

“Daddy I want the cheese burger.” Knox said as he paused his coloring, keeping neatly in between the lines. Gator was fairly certain that Knox had gotten his artistic skill. 

“Cheese sticks!” Piper said loud and proud, smiling as she began to scribble on her paper again. Noah began to tap his palms against the back of the seat, making Gator tug him away and onto his lap. He squirmed for a moment before he looked back at Gator, then started to giggle again. 

“You just want cheese sticks?” Daphne asked as he looked at Piper curiously, confirming that was what she wanted. They all had different appetites, but she seemed to be the pickiest by far. 

“Yesh.” She said, messing up on her words a little bit as she turned her attention back to the paper. Gator met Daphne’s eye, shaking his head a little bit as he looked at her amused expression. He exhaled, giving Noah a soft squeeze as he rambled on about something he had seen. 

“Mama, can I get a pop?” Knox asked suddenly, gaining the interest of his other two siblings. Their heads snapped around as they all shouted out at once, wanting the same thing. It made Gator laugh. 

“Oh me too!”

“I want one!”

“Just one little pop,” She said quickly as she blew her bangs out of her face, “Just one, okay?” She said as she looked at each one of them, meeting their eyes playfully. Noah clapped his hands as Gator shared a smile with Daphne. Sure, they’d be a little hyper later but it would be fine. They’d survived through worse things. 

“Mhm,” Knox said as he nodded his head quickly, “I promise.” 

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

The next morning was harder to get them all rounded up. As the mornings usually were. Knox wanted biscuits and gravy, but Piper wanted oatmeal, meanwhile Noah wanted eggs and bacon. They eventually decided on pancakes, which was a lot easier than making three separate meals.

“You come and do my hair,” Piper said as she clung to Gator’s hand, “You promise?” She asked before they all separated. The boys would be coming with him, while Piper would be sitting in with Daphne and her bridesmaids while they got ready. They had hired someone to do hair, but apparently they weren’t good enough for her standards. 

“I promise,” He said as he nodded his head, “Daisy said she’d take you over to me when you’re all done getting dressed.” He reassured her as he bent low to kiss her soft nose. She had a lot of Daphne’s features; reminded him of how Daphne looked at this age actually. 

“Okay,” She responded as she gave his hand one last squeeze, “If you say so.” She fluttered her hazel eyes wide like she didn’t want to go. He kissed her temple softly, promising her that everything would be alright.

It didn’t take long for him or his crew to get ready. August was one of his groomsmen, along with Kurt, Nick and Michael. Some friends he’d had for a while. Oliver had been invited, but was currently living his best life in Australia with Hugh. It was an odd adjustment, but they made it all work.

On Daphne’s side she had Noelle, Daisy, Lucy as well as Maude and Jessica. They would be walking down with August, tasked with keeping him on his best behavior. If that was at all possible. 

They had snuck in a few shots, which Gator quickly hid from Knox and Noah’s view so they wouldn’t grow curious. Especially Noah. He was worse than Birdie, always in someone's business. He just wanted to know everything.

“Hello,” Daisy peeped her head in, blue eyes searching until she found Gator, “Where are you doing Miss Piper’s hair at?” She asked curiously, opening the door just enough so Piper could stick her head through.

“Piper!” Knox exclaimed gleefully, his smile stretching from ear to ear as he spoke as if he hadn’t seen her for the longest time. Piper giggled as he quickly walked forward, giving her a tight hug.

“We can go next door,” Gator responded a second later, tightening the cap on his shot glass as he messily shoved it into his pocket. He was hoping the alcohol would give him a little boost, make him feel less nervous than what he was, “That should work.” He said as he walked towards them, following them down the hall. He was grateful the church let them use the spare rooms, but it still felt odd to be in here. Like he didn’t belong. 

“Here you go,” Daisy said, holding onto Piper’s hand as she led her inside, “I’ll wait outside.” She said with a smile, giving them both a wave before she left once again. Gator smiled as the little girl turned her attention towards him. 

“Well, hi there,” He smiled as he bent over, getting a good look at Piper in her little dress. It was a soft pink, poofy towards her knees and covered in white and mauve flowers on the sheer material, “You look beautiful.” He told her seriously, a little saddened at how quickly they were all growing. He wanted them all to stop. 

“Thank you,” She giggled as she held her hands out, smiling brightly as he sat her in the chair, “It’s like a princess.” She said proudly as she fanned her hands over the curve of the dress. It made him smile as he caught the action of the corner of his eye. 

“You do look like a princess. See,” He grinned as he worked on braiding the top of her hair back, focusing on how it felt instead of how it looked. It always turned out better that way, “I told you I’d do your hair.”

“I so excited, daddy.” She drew out quickly, messing her words up just a little bit. He let it slide, thinking about how badly he’d miss the baby talk when she grew older. He slowly reached the end of her hair, keeping it pinched between two fingers as he drifted his other hand across the braid. He nodded, confirming that it felt right. 

“I’m excited too,” He said as he wrapped the big pink bow across the braid. He left part of it down, showing just how long her hair had grown. Sometimes he felt remorseful, thinking about how much they’d grown while he’d been locked away, “You look just like your mama, you know that?”

“Really?” She asked eagerly as she turned to look at him. He lifted her from the chair gently, nodding his head as he bent to her level once again. He wanted all of his kids to know just how important they were to him. 

“Mhm,” He said as he hugged her softly, “So pretty, smart and kind. And a little sassy.” He added playfully, watching the way she scrunched her nose up from his words. 

“Me?” She said with a giggle, “No way!” She began to shake her head quickly but then stopped, bringing her hands up to her face like she was worried she messed up her hair. He moved the strands aside gently before he stood. 

“Yes way,” He said as he picked her up and gave her cheek a quick kiss, “Go ahead and go back with Daisy. I’ll see you soon.” He promised her, watching the way she skipped back down the hallway. He shook his head softly, wondering how he’d manage giving her away one day. He didn’t like that thought at all. 

It wasn’t much longer and he was standing at the front of the church, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as the music slowed down around him. He felt like the world had stopped, came to a complete halt as the doors revealed Daphne. 

She looked stunning. Her hair was curled in loose waves, her bangs framing her face as the veil settled over her face. It was sheer with lace designs settling over the bottom of it. It matched her dress, the same one that he’d seen so many years ago. 

It hugged her nicely around the wait but drifted across her body in a soft manner. It dipped low on her chest, showing off just enough cleavage before it connected against her shoulders. It was long sleeved, sheer and hit against her thumbs. It hugged around her waist for just a second before it drifted neatly against her long legs.

He suddenly felt like it was hard to breathe, like he’d been hit by something very hard and very heavy and it had stolen all of the air from his lungs. She looked like an angel. 

“Woah,” He said as she approached, his hands shaking as he moved the veil back from her face, “You look beautiful.” He told her softly as he traced his thumbs across her soft features gently, careful not to smudge her makeup. 

“So do you,” She giggled softly, her eyes filling with tears as she looked at him, “Hi.” She whispered under her breath, her blue eyes gleaming like sapphires as she stared up at him. He reminded himself that it was too early to kiss her. Not yet. He had to wait.

“Hi.” He exhaled harshly as he shook his head, unsure of how he’d gotten so lucky. He’d made many mistakes, but she was never one of them. He just wished that he could’ve fixed things sooner, made her his earlier. He quickly stopped himself from going down the same old road, knowing there was no point in lingering on the past right now. 

His gaze stayed locked to her the whole ceremony, afraid that if he looked away he’d no longer be able to see her again. He had her image memorized in her mind; just in case one day he glimpsed at her it would be the last. 

Marriage with her honestly didn’t feel any different than the past few years had. Or his whole life really. It was like they were already set to be together long before, their whole lives set out to be with one another before they even realized it.

He certainly felt the same sparks as he pushed her into the secluded bathroom and struggled to keep her dress up over her hips. Their kiss was messy but sweet; sensual but dirty all at the same time. He craved the feeling of her mouth against his. 

“Gator,” She moaned out, the sound ringing in his ears in a beautiful melody as he slid his hard cock inside of her wet hole. She squeezed around him tightly, her wet walls sucking him in deeper as he slowly thrusted into her, “Feels so good.” She gaped, cheeks red as she turned her attention from the mirror.

He groaned as he held onto her hips, watching the way his cock disappeared inside of her. He gripped at her flesh, pulling her closer as the music from the reception rang off around them. He moved his lips to the crook of her neck, needing something to kiss as he dragged herself against the curve of his cock. 

Her moans were better than anything he’d ever heard before. He sighed at the way his cock throbbed inside of her, his mind feeling a little fuzzy at the way she cried out when he hit her bundle of nerves. He could always tell by the way her features tightened, how her lips parted wide and her eyes rolled just a bit. 

“Feel so fucking good,” He mumbled against her skin, grunting into her as her pussy leaked around him. The sound of their flesh meeting filled the bathroom, leaving him craving more as he dug his fingertips into her skin, “My good girl.” He reminded her, fully intent on having her forever now.

“God,” She sighed, her body shaking against him as she began to rut her hips back. She whimpered deeply, her body spasming as her pussy clamped down around him, “Fuck, fuck!” She cursed, coming undone underneath him as he began to frantically rub his fingers against her swollen clit. He wanted to savor her, but he knew that there was no time right now. He could have her as much as he wanted later.

“Daphne,” He groaned as he rested against her, pulling her close as his cock spasmed inside of her warm, wet walls. He came with a grunt, pressing into her deeply as his cum filled her, “Mhm. You’re a dream.” He spit out, sighing deeply as he rested lazily against her for a moment. 

“You’re funny,” She said with a laugh, still breathing hard. She always tried to brush away his compliments for whatever reason, although he knew that without a doubt she was the prettiest girl he’d ever met, “That was nice.” She teased as she held onto her dress for a moment.

He smirked as he caught her eye, slowly pulling her panties back over her slender legs. He fixed her dress a moment later, content with the way she looked. He wanted her to feel him as she walked around. It turned him on that much more. 

“I’m the luckiest guy,” He reminded her, grinning as he pressed his lips against her cheek repeatedly. They’d already stumbled through their first dances, struggled to get the kids food and listened to their friends repeat their sappy speeches, “I’ve never been so happy.”

“You keep saying that,” She said with a shy giggle with her cheeks red as she held onto him, “I’m very lucky too.” She added seriously, but he knew without a doubt that he really was the lucky one. He could live thousands of lifetimes and never deserve her. 

Noah appeared, having long discarded his jacket and a few of his buttons loose as he tugged on the end of Daphne’s dress. His little belly stuck out a little bit, probably full of cake and punch. 

“Why don’t you go play with Billy?” Daphne asked as she bent next to Noah, “He’s about your age. He likes to play.” She reminded him as she pointed towards the little boy who was rushing around near them. 

“He bites,” Noah said as he wrinkled his nose, “His daddy too.” He replied as he glanced towards Kurt, shaking his head as he held his arms out. He kept rubbing at his eyes, his hair wild in a way that Gator knew that he was growing tired. Poor sleepy boy. 

“How many pieces of cake have you had?” Gator asked as he bent down towards him too, grinning at the way the little boy shrugged his little shoulders. 

“Thwee,” Noah answered honestly, “It yummy.” He smiled as he held his hands out towards her, sighing deeply until Daphne held onto him. 

“Oh my goodness,” She said as she picked him up, “What are we going to do with you, little cake monster?” She teased as she brushed her fingers across his tummy, making him squirm in response. 

“Noting,” He giggled as he held his hands up to his chest, smiling as she tickled him, “Mama, you siwwy.” He replied as he pushed her bangs from her forehead. Gator paused as he looked down at the other two that approached him. 

“I’m the silly one?” Daphne asked as Piper reached for his hand, her braid still locked in place as she leaned against his leg. He smiled as he bent once again to pick her and Knox up, holding them close to his chest.

“Should we go dance?” He asked them both, enjoying the way their eyes widened as they nodded their heads in encouragement. Noah’s little head was already resting on Daphne’s shoulder, seconds from drifting off into his dreams.

“That sounds nice,” Daphne said as she took the first step down, guiding Gator in a way that he’d grown used to, “A big family dance.” She added with a smile, making him realize just how lucky he really was. 

[leam1983]

Oblivion

So. Tomorrow, we're flying back home.

Seven days. A week spent with a small legion at my beck and call, bending to Walt's every whim, acceeding to Sarah's every request. One massive kitchen divided between four dining rooms, serving up everything from Americano-Mexican tentpoles to recomposed would-be Taino dishes, with a buffet where passable is the order of the day. Mornings were bland Continental breakfast affairs, but the evenings shone brightly, capstoned with the best cigars I've had in the last three years and the best damn Cappuccino in a decade.

Seven days realizing that an army is re-making my bed, giving me clean sheets every morning and fresh towels on the dot, showing extreme deference for my walker-using ass. A little cohort of maids paid Cheap Labor wages to smile, respond to everything with Es mi placer, señor, and pushed into treating USD tips in the single digits like they're Godly gifts.

You can bet that Walt was so appalled by this he starting leaving twenties. "These poor girls - cleaning up people's shit and vomit after the douchebags three doors down the hall spend the evening getting plastered on Mojitos - and not an ounce of gratitude!"

People started asking questions. Our passable Spanish led to us forming basic bonds with the staff, and turned our little bungalow in the Adults Only section into the talk of the resort. People with less manners started asking for drinks delivery and had to handle polite rebuffs, where we got the sense that the Room Service people were starting to network with the Pool Bar guys to figure out our schedule of preferred drinks.

Eventually, what had to happen happened. My feet were so swollen I couldn't put on my closed-toes shoes for the evening, as the dress code requests, but the staff didn't bat an eyelash when i wheeled in, looking like someone's favourite Math teacher, with socks and sandals. A Karen whose husband had completely overlooked the dress code was shocked.

"Why does he get to head inside dressed like this, and my husband can't?"

Yamilet, 23, born and raised in Santo Domingo and using the thankless job of the French Cuisine-oriented dining room's maître d' to pay her way through nursing school when she's not in church, gave her a Crest commercial-worthy smile.

Is un especial guest. Disculpe - see his legs. Mira?

For once in my life, I was happy to be singled out as disabled.

What really emerged from this is how gratitude really is crucial, when you're travelling. Everyone I heard who spouted variations on "having paid for the right to do whatever they wanted" received piss-poor service. Everyone who lowered their voice in a corridor, who showed basic deference and treated the staff like human beings received distinctly improved treatment. It wasn't just us - we noticed several other cultural groups in the resort, and I was actually thankful to draw a clear line between the nice Americans - and the douchebags.

In open spaces like the buffet, it's kind of impossible not to eavesdrop. If you're on vacation and you're still griping about your Democrat neighbours when you're halfway across the hemisphere from your point of origin, you're coloring your entire stay. The Trumptards who demanded service came in pissed off, stayed ornery and left irate. Anyone else, from anywhere else in the world, who politely asked, language barriers be damned, got what they asked for.

The Semester-Enders were hard to miss, too. Sixteen kids in total, barely in their twenties, who'd clearly pooled cash to rent swim-up suites together, and who turned the All-Ages section of the pool into a nightmare. There wasn't an inch of it that wasn't their private Football Toss area, and no resort-provided pool float that they just didn't claim for themselves.

It allowed for a sense of liminality to settle in. On one end of the more or less football-field-length of pool, you had pure chaos. On the other, placid waters, where the Adults Only club and our bungalow was located. I recovered the float I'd bought for myself, one of the Spring Breakers giving me a florid-faced and pleading look.

"Come on, bro!"

I gestured towards the back. "You've got seven other floats, over there, plus an inflatable mattress. I bought this one and brought it here. As it's my possession, I'd like to use it."

He chuckled meanly. "Nobody cares, man."

Christopher, 27, from Bàvàro, gave the guy a level look while climbing down from his lifeguard chair. "Everything okay, señores?"

"Me? Oh, everything's swell, Chris. It's the gentleman over there that's operating under weird delusions."

Chris nodded, his facial language obvious. Another one of those, huh? I nodded.

He smiled. No te preocupas, amigo.

The kid's response stuck with me. Nobody cares. Is this why some people work so much, hustle their way to a therapist and then book a week off to someplace where there's palapas, Afro-Cuban covers of Celine Dion classics and drinks that would make a medicated diabetes sufferer scream in abject terror? You put your ass to the grindstone and your only hope of recovery is to find a place, however theoretical, where nobody gives a shit?

Walt, Sarah and I brainstormed. We planned ahead. We rested aplenty, sure, and napped even more than we do back home - but this place energized us. We were free to create, and spent a week being the best versions of ourselves that we could possibly be.

For other people? It's apparently Adult Daycare. You get up at nine past the breakfast buffet's closure, complain that you can't get any service, throw yourself on yesterday evening's pizza, knock back cocktails starting at 11 AM and end up throwing up in the kiddie pool by 5 PM. You throw a fit because the pool boys had the gall to lift your limp ass out of the wading area before you could drown yourself while passed-out in a puddle-sized expanse of water. Because you're in your twenties, your brush with death is all but forgotten by 8 PM, and you head to the lobby's bar to knock back tequila shots with your fellow jabronis. The wee hours see you treating the public hallways like your personal hangout space, exchanging football huddle cries with equally-inebriated kids with no sense of their own mortality.

To all this should be added the resort's sense of liminality. If you forget your optimal route to your room, you'll end up in an entirely different resort. Pools look the same, everything's connected, and everyone feels transitory, obviously. It's the ersatz of a place. It's as impersonal as a hotel, except the staff are all stuck under a pall of fake-ass exoticism they can't shed. The equator line being so close means days are blisteringly hot and painfully short. By 7 PM, the sun's all but gone - and we're in May.

Nobody stays. Nobody leaves an impression. I've regaled Yamilet and Christopher with tales of La Banquise and of Schwartz' smoked meat or the bagel bakeries on St-Viateur - but I'll forget their faces just as they'll forget mine. We spent a week treating one another like culturally Latin brethren - Québécois deference having always meshed well with Cuban and Dominican confidence - but we won't remember one another in short order.

Single-serving friends, as Pahlaniuk once said.

I might as well head to the gift shop, swallow my pride and see if there's a tee-shirt on offer that reads I went to the Carribbean, and all I got for it was a lousy sunburn.

[ramrodd]

COMMENTARY:

The critical literary method is hiterary deconstruction, Historical deconstruction became the dominate method of inquiry on the American campus by the academe after, as as a consequence, of the takeover of Columbia Univerity in 1968 I was at Indiana University at the time and in my junior year of ROTC. I began ROTC the semester the anti-war movement began to get real traction when the draft began taking a 1.000 people a day out of the university system,

All of a sudden, Vientam became very real for everybody on campus but me. I had family friends kileed in Vietnam in 1959 or 60. I had boyhood firends living in Saigon part of MAG-V, the nation building arm of the US Army, IIt's a George Mrrshall artefact. I grew up with Vietnam on my mind,

Anyway, an 1968, the SDS had organized the anti-war movement to the extent that when Tet happened and the little people came out of the cities to do battle, America came as close to blowing up in a Trotsky revolution kind of way as what happened in Chicago. That's what an insurgence is designed to do. And I was right in the middle of it, taking note but mission oriented for my commission,

Fuck the draft dodgers: they had no idea what they would be missing, Liberal or conservative, I still can't believe that any red-blooded shouthern white boy who grew with the SEC and high school football wouldn't wouldn't be chomping at the bit to get into the fitght, To this day, it is a mystery to me, All I know for sure is that they wre all scared shitless of going to Vietnam, The John Bolton cop=-out: my sacrifice would not add one bit to the trajectory of the war,

There are no athiest in foxholes no matter what John Calvin might have to say on the subject, Fuck him, the TULIP doctrine is purely a post hoc rjustifiction for letting a righteos friend be put to the stake.

So, my entire college career was devoted to the deconstrucion of the critical literary method. In the inerrant epistemoloogy of scripture, from start to finish, the gestalt of the figure of Jesus moving through the field of everything else that is recorded very accurately, almost pure eyewitness journalism, the notes of the spy master debriefing the spy, Everything in necessarily in harmony with Jesus. He is like the sun passing over a field of sunflowers, how the seeds follow the sun, For me, it's like the picture in my mind that occurs listening to a Jonny Dollar radio drama in the back seat of a 47 Chryster with Tip-Toe control, That's the harmonic the words have been arranged to create in every reader's mind, universally, That' is what inerrancy looks like, The object of critical literary method is to take all those words appart in various ways, such as grammar and rherotic and symbolism and metre and allussion and numerology and all sorts of interesting possiblities. Such as the life of the woman for whom Hadel wrote :He was dispised of Men, that sort of thing, Then you put together a narrative of why it does or doesn't work or why it;'s som much fun to read, With the purpose in mind that the reader would go back and re-read your subject with renewed pleasure.

So, the idea of deconstruction wasn't new to me, Deconstruction is part of Hegel's historic gestalt. It's like taking a clock apart: the trick is putting it back together so that it works. The Post Modern Historic Deconstrucition of the SDS rejects Hegel and has no interest in capturing the original hamonization,

If you drew a Venn table with one enclosed field labled critical historic method and a second enclosed field labeled critical literary method and caused them to interect, Gary Habermass would personify the intentional consequence. And you could put Dr. Molly Worthen's Road to Emmaus experienc resulting in her ephphany regarding journalism and Resurrection,

If you separate the fields, Habermas and worthen would go with the field labled critical literary method. Their personal experience with the Holy Spirit is arriving at their conclusions would not exist in history without the literature.

[missspringthyme]

March 1st, 2024

Had another eeg session today, but this time we collected data from Greek girl. I did manage to get out of the first hour or so of recording because I needed to go ask the service desk for help with fixing my MATLAB. I'm missing 2 toolboxes that should've come with my university license and I can't do any processing without them unfortunately.

Today's fit included my little white boots that unfortunately both had the rubber ripped out of the heel. I like the shoes but I keep avoiding wearing them because they are so incredibly loud without the padding. I'm not sure how to fix it, but I'm not going to just throw out perfectly good boots. Anyway, because of that I kept walking on my tip toes a little to try and lessen the noise, but it was hard to find the line between walking funny and sounding funny. It did take me a while to find the service desk, but when I did I was told the guy there was on lunch break and would be back soon. The service desk is temporarily located in a library I didn't know existed in the building I had most of my tutorials last semester, which is not the main building with the main library. I took a seat at one of the tables and doodled to some music before the guy tapped me on the shoulder to ask what I needed.

I walked him through the problem and stood there for what seemed like ages while he clicked through my computer, eventually telling me he would have to put in a ticket to escalate it to the ultra IT guys. I had really been laying on the charm because I knew I looked good and sometimes it's fun to see people get dazzled, also it's nice seeing people walk away from interactions with you with a little glow about them. That was when another guy came and asked my IT guy why he was writing a ticket and insisted he could fix the problem. Second guy was absolutely flirting with me, which always feels nice. What was even nicer was when he started stepping over the line a little and talking to me in that special way where the concept of "pretty girl" makes you special, but a little less of a human. When he said "why do you need MATLAB anyway?" and I responded "oh, I'm studying neuropsychology its for brain imaging" he kinda blinked a little and some of the suaveness drained out of him. Sometimes I forget that when I dress super feminine people are nicer to me but expect less from me, and then I have an interaction like that.

Anyway, 2nd guy admitted defeat for the same reason as 1st guy and 1st guy went to work putting in the ticket for me. I made sure to be even more nice to him because he just had the other guy come in and try and show him up. He Aldo fixed the problem with my phone where it wasn't connecting to the University's wifi so hooray (even though I have a data plan, my phone company says I don't use my data enough in Germany to roam in the Netherlands, this means sometimes I get 2 seconds of very slow data before it stops all together. Unless I'm connected to wifi, I have no connection in the Netherlands.)!

When I got to the eeg lab my supervisor had me run through the rest of the experiment by myself while he watched from outside the sound proof cube on the camera. It took every ounce of my being to not fall asleep. I've decided I'll be coming to campus on Monday to attend the lab meeting in person and then stay the night at former Italian roommates to then go to my meeting on Tuesday. My supervisor told me to come to his office early on Monday if I wanted and I 100% am. That man is responsible for the entirety of the rest of my grades and I need him to like me. Plus some one on one face time could be good for figuring out my thesis.

Back home, I cooked and ate an entire veggie pizza before I joined the dnd game which was fine. I'm still trying to figure out my character a little.

That night, I had a bit of a freak out and spiraled about my future. I had this moment while I was washing my face at 1 in the morning where I just couldn't stop crying with all the soap on my face. I know this is coming from me not being occupied enough and also from being in my 20s but jesus.

Interesting day!

[pettyprocrastination]

Of Molly Houses & Mourning Clothes

pairing: Marcus Pike x Fem!Reader (victorian au)

word count: 2k

warning: grieving, discussion of death, funeral proceedings, hidden gay relationships due to time period homophobia. Marcus had a secret relationship with your husband but you were aware and accepting of it so not technically infidelity but thats there. 

summary: Marcus promised your husband he would look after you upon his passing. But when the time comes, he struggles with himself to even look you in the eyes.

Authors note: an idea I’ve been tossing around with @thesadvampire​ that i absolutely want to turn into a fully developed story but likely will not have the time to do as such until the end of this semester with how much I have on my plate. But I wanted to write something to get my noggin’ going and the fingers flying. Big thank you to this gal for being my reader, my editor, and my inspiration. Love you mars <3

tagging those I think would be interested: @pedrostories​ @tuskens-mando​ @captainsamwlsn​ @cinewhore​ @humanransome-note​ @littleferal​ @djarin-junk​ @ifimayhaveaword​ @softanon​ @mostly-megan

​--------

“Will you promise me something?”

Marcus is hardly awake, eyes heavy with slumber and limbs from pleasure that all he can manage to do is hum. Ethan knows him well enough to take it as a ‘yes’ 

“If something ever happens to me, will you look after her?” 

Marcus pushes himself up from his lover’s chest with a smile. “Is this your way of telling me that you're dying?” 

Behind his sharp response lies a fear. Of sickness. Disease. Of Ethan’s handsome face, still with closed eyes in a casket. Panic seizes Marcus’ heart as his mind begins to spiral until Ethan puts it to rest with his own sweet smile. 

“No, I just-” he pauses and looks up to the ceiling. “I just worry, that's all. I don’t want her to be alone.” 

Marcus makes a noise, a scratching ‘hm’ in the back of his throat that he always did when Ethan brought you up. “Your sweet dove.” He sings. “I’m sure a pretty bird like her would be just fine as a widow, Ethan. You have nothing to worry for” 

If Ethan senses the bite in Marcus’ tone, he says nothing of it. Instead he tucks his fingers under his chin, tilting it to look up at him and those damn eyes he fell for 15 years ago. 

“I’m not joking, Marcus.” 

Damn him. 

“If something ever happened to me, she would be alone.” Marcus watched Ethan’s eyes grow weary. “Those vultures would surge on her and try to take the estate, her family would likely pressure her to remarry when the time comes and they’ll pawn her off to some beast and-” Tears. Honest to God tears brim in the corner of Ethan’s eyes as he speaks of the woman he doesn’t love. “I can’t stand the thought of her in that house all alone, Marcus. I just can’t.” 

The same house Marcus had spent the summer in with Ethan. The same one where they spent nights drinking and laughing alone in the river with nothing but each other and the moon. The same house where they kissed in the dark corners of the hall. The same house where he told Ethan he loved him for the very first time. 

The same house where Ethan first told him of his engagement. That his soon to be wife was “A kind little thing, but would never come between us, my love. I promise you.” 

Christ, he was a fool. 

“And of me?” 

“What?” 

“If something happens to you-” Marcus’ snapped. “What of me? You don’t think I will need to mourn? That I will need comfort? Consolation?”

Ethan frowned, finally realizing that his thoughts of you had tied his partner into a cage that he didn't mean to make. “Marcus, I didn’t mean-” 

“Of course you didn’t. You never do whenever you mention your sweet little dove.” 

“Perhaps if you took the time to meet her, there wouldn’t be this animosity between you two.” 

From the tip of his ears down to his toes, Marcus grew hot with shame. “I have no animosity towards her, Ethan.”

Ethan snorts and rolls his eyes as he cards his finger’s through Marcus’ hair. “Of course you don’t, my love. That’s why you have yet to accept a single invitation from her.” 

Marcus sputtered. “ I don’t- I’d never- I have work!” 

“For dinners, anniversaries, birthdays, and my wedding?”

“You know I couldn't. I had to visit my family.” 

Ethan laughs, dipping his head back as Marcus hides his face in his chest. 

“Darling please, half of your family was at the wedding!” 

Marcus says nothing for a moment. His fingers tap out a rhythm on Ethan’s chest. 

“She knows, Marcus.” Ethan offers. “She has for years! Never once judged me for it. She-” He mulls the sentence over before finding his voice once more. “She wants me to be happy. For us to be happy.” 

His lover turns to him with a tearful glare. “That doesn’t make it any fucking easier, Ethan.” 

Ethan’s fingers lace with his. “No, it doesn’t.” 

Silence falls over them both. Marcus listens to the beating of Ethan’s heart, the steady rhythm reminding him that he’s here. With him. No matter how long that would last, he was here. 

He's close to sleep, eyes beginning to shut when he hears Ethan’s voice, quiet and scared, whisper into the hidden room. 

“Promise me, Marcus.” 

Marcus closes his eyes. 

“I promise.”

Outside their room, laughter echoes as a song is picked up by a melody of drunken voices. Ethan presses his lips to the crown of Marcus’ head as he falls asleep. 

He arrives early to Ethan’s funeral, and doesn't enter for another hour. Instead, he walks across the lawn like it's his own home, and stands under the gazebo. 

His hand shakes as it plucks the flask from his pocket.

He remembers Ethan’s words. That stupid promise he had made five years ago that was nothing but a hypothetical, a silly ‘what-if’ that nearly turned into an argument that was never supposed to actually come true because he didn’t want to meet you. To take your hand in his and offer his condolences to the woman who married the love of his life. 

He didn’t want to comfort you. He wanted Ethan to comfort him. 

But the stupid bastard had to go off and die. 

Marcus lifts his head from the railing and looks up at the grand estate, a house full of memories: of confessions of love whispered between lovers and kind words spoken from spouses. Marital beds that were never used and love letters written by the same hand that fed you breakfast each morning. 

His eyes fall on the window to Ethan’s room. The one he would slip into during summer vacation, both drunk and smiling, still smelling of the river and whatever alcohol they had swiped from his father’s cabinet. 

Marcus freezes as the curtains shift, and a figure pulls them open to peer through. 

He doesn’t see your face. It’s draped in black fabric, just as the rest of you is. Marcus can hardly make out the shape of you, but it’s enough to send his heart into a frenzy, to remind him that he was here because Ethan loved you, despite how much it hurt him to finally admit it. But he loved you and now you were all alone in that big house and he made a promise that he was going to fucking keep. 

You raise a gloved hand. Tears stream down his face as he raises one back. 

The curtain is snatched from your hand and pulled shut by an unseen force at the same time Marcus sees the front doors open to welcome in the funeral guests. 

He hates the way the house looks. 

Every mirror is covered with a black drape and every picture is turned over. He bumps shoulders with guests who hardly offer him an apology as they drag their feet along the carpet with such a blatant disrespect he feels as if he’s going to burst. 

He’s angry. He’s angry at you for letting these people into Ethan’s home. He’s angry at the people who tut and sigh “such a shame” and “so young” as if they were even close enough to Ethan to know him like Marcus did. But he’s angry at Ethan most of all. He’s angry at the son of a bitch for ding. For leaving him alone in a world he wasn’t made to suffer through by himself and making him promise to look after his wilting flower of a widow that he hadn’t even met because the notion of meeting the woman who had the privilege of sleeping by the love of his life’s side made his chest grow tight and throat close up until the room would spin and he felt faint. 

Marcus stops in the doorway of the viewing room. The black figure that had waved at him, the widow, Ethan’s little dove donned in all black like a crow. 

Across from you lies your husband’s body. 

He feels sick. From the widow or the corpse of his beloved, he wasn’t quite sure. 

But you were all the much easier to look at. 

Guests gasped and shouted as he pushes past each of them with a frantic looping mumble of “I'm so sorry, excuse me, Pardon me” as he pushes his way to the front of the room. 

He can feel it. The tears brimming in his eyes and the panic seizing his heart in that unforgiving grip, the closer he gets to the front of the room, the closer he gets to you. 

To Ethan. 

But he has to, goddamnit. He made a promise. That promise was the only thing left of the man he loved. Without it he had nothing. He was nothing. 

A hand shoves against his chest with such force he nearly topples backwards. 

“Have you any shame!” the man before his hissed. It took him a moment to recognize the sunken-in face of Ethan’s uncle, who lurched forward and seized the lapels of his coat in his fists. “The poor woman is grieving! Show some goddamn respect, Pike. Or i’ll have you thrown out before you even have the chance to-” 

“It’s alright, Edward.” 

Your voice is raw. Wet and shaking but still kind as you step forward and lay a gloved hand on the growling man’s shoulder. “Let him through.” 

Ethan’s uncle looks back at you, that snarling voice turning sickly sweet faster than Marcus could snap his finger. “Are you sure, dear? I can send him away if-”

“That won’t be necessary.” 

You were a shroud of black. As all widows were. A long, dark veil covered your face. 

Marcus wondered what you wore before he died. 

Ethan’s voice, 15 years younger, rang in his head. “Purple is her favorite color.” He had remarked. “I don't think I've ever seen the woman without it! She’s quite peculiar.” 

He could hardly see what you truly looked like, but through the veil he could make out tearful eyes and a trembling smile. 

“I’m so sorry-” He heaves, pulling your gloved hands into his own as tears begin to stream down his face. “Truly I am sorry, dove. Fuck I didn’t mean for this. I’m just-” 

“Hello, Mr. Pike.” Oh, damn you. He thought. How dare you look at him like that, without a drop of pity or malice in your voice. As if you really care that he was there besides you. As if he mattered at all in the pageantry of funerals and its rituals. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

It was then that Marcus breaks. 

You squeeze his hands in yours and he sobbs.  “It’s alright, Marcus.” You insist softly. “I know.” 

Idiot. His chest wheezes with every breath as he stammers out apologies and excuses while you rub circles into his hand with your thumb. You're supposed to be comforting her. 

Marcus hears a voice whisper behind him, reminding him that you were not alone in this room. 

A room full of Ethan’s family and friends, watching him weep as if he were the widow, not you. 

He pulls his hands away from you as if they had been burned, quickly wiping the tears from his face and forcing his voice to steady. “I’m sorry, dove. I truly am. But I can’t stay. I just can’t-” 

Turning on his heel, he doesn’t wait for an answer before quickly pushing through the crowd again until he’s out of the house and could breathe once more. 

Marcus would see you again. He promised to care and watch over you, he would do as such. But not tonight, not yet. Tonight he would drink and cry alone. Close his eyes with the small comfort that at least Ethan would be in his dreams, that he could see his smile and hear his laughter through the night. 

When he falls asleep, all that greets Marcus in his dream is a lone dove with stained wings, trying desperately to free itself from its cage. 

[duskamethyst]

broken reverie.

a/n: he’s not wearing glasses in this one.

word count: 3.9k

genre: smut, nsfw, college AU

warnings: taboo rs, slapping, spanking, choking, face fucking, brat taming (kind of), slight degradation, creampie, age gap (nanami reaching 40)

pairing: professor!nanami x f!reader

summary: professor nanami calls you to his office to ‘talk’ about your terrible performance in his class.

maybe you went too far.

or else you wouldn’t have ended up in his office. 

but is this the outcome you coveted? yes.

the door creaks behind you before it closes again as you sit and wait in front of the big wooden desk. you were kind of excited when he told you to come and see him at his office earlier but now you’re having a whirlwind of emotions making your stomach churn and you don’t dare to look around to face him– even though he’s going to be sitting in front of you in a moment.

his shoes clack against the floor as he strides and sits on his chair. the air in the room feels dense when the male doesn’t say anything; as if you’re not in his presence to begin with.

he looks exasperated. a long, deep breath is emitted through his nostrils as he loosens up his tie from the collar. you only gawk at him in awe as he does so, but quickly snap out when he finally shifts his gaze at you. 

“so, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he finally breaks the silence. the deep, husky tone of his voice fills your ear and you hope he doesn’t notice your thighs press against each other almost immediately.

“tell you.. what?” you mentally slap yourself. you’re clearly aware of what he’s insinuating but you’re suddenly lost for words. there’s a huge difference between seeing him in class and being alone together with him. it’s even more nerve wrecking than you imagined and oh god, is his ac broken? because it suddenly feels hot.

nanami raises a brow, evidently unamused. “i had the courtesy to make time for you when i should be having brunch now so i don’t appreciate you playing coy.” 

you gulp audibly, “i’m sorry, sir.”

“if it’s not clear to you yet, i’m talking about your grades.” he opens the drawer under his desk and pulls out a pile of paper before slamming it in front of you. you blink in surprise and flip through the pages, though you know you don’t need to see it when you already know what lies on them. there are a lot of red circles on the papers, namely yours, with huge unpleasant numbers on the corner ranging from 12% to 25%. 

then he takes out another file which you realize as your student record throughout your semester and the subjects you currently take. 

“i find it odd that you scored well for your other courses.” he skims through the pages. “you certainly didn’t cheat, i can tell.”

“no, of course not.”

“then, what’s the problem here?” his tired eyes bore into you as he waits for you to answer or come up with whatever excuse.

“well, i–” 

“you’re doing it on purpose.” he snaps.

it’s as if time comes to a stop. your cheeks heat up with humiliation and you can’t bring yourself to continue to look at him in the eyes. although you’re aware that your silence means compliance, you’re still jumbling up words in your head to deny his assumption. 

“are you going to tell me i’m wrong?” 

“yes– i-i mean–” you stammer.

“then enlighten me.” he glances at the branded watch donned on his left wrist. “we have time.”

you shake your head, “i have another class soon.”

“skip it.” he quickly retorts. “i’m sure you have no problems with that. your grades are doing well for that one, but certainly not mine.”

sweat starts to form on your palms as you look down on your thighs, purposely avoiding his eyes that hold nothing but so much intensity. you’re weighing between two options; to keep on bluffing or come clean. you don’t think that nanami would let you get off the hook if you keep on lying and you’d definitely be bombarded with more questions, yet the outcome of the latter would be so embarrassing and you don’t know if you can live it down for the rest of the semester.

you’ve fantasized about being alone with him but.. not particularly this way. 

gathering courage and taking a deep breath, you decide it’s best to just tell him the truth.

“you’re right,” you feel your ears burning, hands clammy. “i purposely failed your class.”

lifting up your head, you see the male grinning lopsidedly in his seat. maybe he’s pleased that you’re not wasting his time anymore, you’re not sure, he’s not easy to read.

“wasn’t that easy?” he folds his arms in front of his chest. “i have my own speculation but i wanna hear why you did it.”

“um,” you look down to your hands again, also half wondering what kind of bold assumption he has in mind. “i was dared by my friend.”

“wrong,” he scoffs. “and look at me while you’re talking.”

you sigh defeatedly and nervously fix your gaze. if you’ve learned one thing now, it’s that your professor doesn’t have tolerance for bullshit and he knows one when he hears one.

“i-i did it for.. attention.” 

“my attention?” he emphasizes, maintaining his stoic persona to mask his amusement of finding out that his speculation turns out to be indeed true.

you purse your lips in a thin line, nodding your head quietly. nanami remains to stare at you as he ponders in silence. you can hear your heart beating rapidly in your ears and you want to break eye contact so badly but you’re certain it wouldn’t be wise. 

“all that, just for a crumb of my attention?” he spits with a hint of venom in his voice. “are you happy with what you did?”

well, you’ve imagined him punishing you on his desk, fuck you raw or spank you with his belt until your ass turns red– not some serious interrogation.

“no, sir.” 

nanami props his elbows on the table, hands clasped under his chin to keep his head up. the air around him becomes even more threatening but it somehow manages you to feel even more aroused, making your toes curl in your shoes. you definitely need to get out soon.

“you know, if i have even one student failing my class, i could get into trouble and be questioned for my performance.” he starts. “to have you doing that for your own selfish incentive is unacceptable, don’t you think?”

“i’m sorry.” you mumble with meek.

“besides that, you might have to retake this course again for your next semester and it’ll waste your time– or..?”

you stay silent to let him continue.

“or you were intending to be in my class again so you can see me?” 

“y-yes.” you bashfully admit after one silent moment, knowing that lying will take you nowhere. “i’m sorry, sir.”

nanami chuckles, finding your naivety to be rather entertaining. never has he ever met a student like you, outwardly expressing their interest in him by failing their paper. he’s not too sure what you’re trying to get out of him but maybe he can put one and one together. it’s pretty common that younger women have an attraction to older men like him and your classmates are.. well, not exactly the best looking either. 

“are you?” he smirks cynically. “do you have any idea how many students i have to monitor? how tiring my job can be?”

“yes. it was inconsiderate of me. i’m sor–”

“show me.” nanami cuts you off and leans back on his chair. maybe he can push you a little bit, he thinks. you owe him this anyway.

you blink, perplexed. “what?”

“you kept saying sorry.” he undoes two of the buttons on his blue dress shirt and spreads his legs apart. “talk is cheap. show me.” 

you do a double take as he taps his thigh and waits for you to come over. you have the faintest idea of what he’s implying but your body freezes and your brain short-circuits as if paralyzed.

“you chose to lie again? you’re not really sorry, are you?” 

“no, no! that’s not it. i just..” 

an ongoing battle takes place in your mind– sure that this is a part of your deepest, darkest fantasy yet you’re just baffled over how quick nanami catches on to it. now that your debaucherous dream has become a vivid reality, you don’t know which is the right step to take. 

“but if not now, when?” a soft voice in your head whispers. if desire could embody a voice, you think this is it. gentle, yet seductive as if it attempts to give you a push to pluck and have a taste of the forbidden fruit. 

“how much longer do you have to touch yourself to the thoughts of your professor before you go to bed?”

“although this could be a one time thing, at least you’d know how it feels like.” 

you slowly get up from your seat and make your way towards him. nanami’s eyes trail up at you, down to the floor then back up at you; gesturing you to get on your knees.

you settle between his thick thighs and look up at him timidly through your lashes before you bring your hands to undo his belt.

“no hands.” he quickly demands. 

you lick your lips as you figure the structure of the belt and how you’re going to take it off without the aid of your hands. the taste of cold metal and leather instantly invades your palate as you feebly use your teeth to tug the front loop of his belt. your head shifts awkwardly side to side until you finally get to catch the buckle between your teeth, pulling it hard before the belt soon unfastens.

nanami only observes you indifferently from above, yet the large tent in front of you doesn’t conceal the excitement he currently possesses. 

you take a deep breath before you continue on succeeding your quest. you twist your neck as you find and tug on the fabric loop that holds the button.

“i know you’re a smart girl.” he praises as he rests his hand on top of your head while you struggle to lift up the zipper with your tongue and grasp it between your teeth. the simple praise inflates your confidence and you become more eager to complete your task so you can claim your awaiting prize.

with valiantness, you finally lock eyes with him as you pull down his zipper completely to reveal the huge bulge pressing against the fabric of his briefs and the tip slightly poking out from the top. 

“hm? you still have to take it out, no?” he smirks as he notices you gape at the outline of his cock. 

you quickly pull yourself together and lean back up to the stretchy band on his waist. he hisses when he feels your tongue purposely graze against the flushed tip before you pull down the briefs by force to reveal the one thing you’ve been desiring for so long. 

you press your thighs together as a dull ache forms in your core from the sight of his thick cock standing proudly in front of you. it’s nothing like you’ve ever imagined– it’s better and you’ve finally found it worth going through all that trouble of failing his class (and using your mouth to take off his pants).

“this is what you want, isn’t it?” he sneers, titling up your chin with his fingers, brushing your lips with his thumb and pulling the bottom lip apart so he can see a row of teeth.

“y-yes, sir.” you gulp and breathe as you wait for his next command. 

nanami’s lips tug into a conceited smirk, “suck.” 

leaning down your head to the base, you flatten your tongue underneath the shaft and slowly drag upwards in favor of reveling the veins on his hard cock. nanami lets out a sigh of content when he feels your tongue licking his tip and his hand tugs on your locks by reflex. you look at him as you wrap your lips around the tip, slobbering the tip with your saliva and his precum.

“fuck.” he curses under his breath and his head falls back when the warmth of your mouth finally engulfs his throbbing cock as you take most of the length inside your mouth.

you hollow your cheeks together, head bobbing up and down as you struggle to take more of his cock that you nearly choke whenever the tip hits the back of your throat, but the hand on top of your head grabs a fistful of your hair and he pushes your head down to sink all his length inside your mouth deeper. when you want to pull away, he only holds you in place and remains his cock down your throat. 

“through your nose.” he mutters. tears start to well in your eyes while your saliva just trickles down to his balls as he screws his eyes shut and relishes in the pleasure that washes throughout his body. “i needed this so bad, you know?” 

your whines only give him more stimulation and his hips jerk in response, “just wouldn’t think that a student– fuck– out of all people would choke on my dick.” he lets out a sardonic chuckle as if something just crossed his mind. “it’s wrong, but that’s what makes it feel so good, isn’t it?” 

nanami keeps you in the position as he ruts his hips slowly into your throat. his eyes are closed in concentration and his lips part slightly in fast and short pants. you work on your gag reflex as you let him fuck your mouth, enduring the sharp sting on your scalp when he tugs your hair harder– at least you know you’re making him feel good.

“if i cum in your mouth, you’d gladly swallow, won’t you?” 

you can feel his cock twitching when you let out a choke of assent from your throat but you splutter as soon as nanami abruptly pulls away his cock because of a sudden knock on the door that startles the both of you.

“get under the desk.” he urges and you quickly crawl to hide while he coughs and inches closer to his desk. “come in.”

you hear the door open followed by echoes of footsteps before it comes to a halt in front of his desk.

“didn’t i tell you to contact me before seeing me?” his voice is laced with irritation yet collected as he speaks. you can imagine the agitated look on his face, thinking it would be only natural for anyone to assume that he’s already having a bad day. and to them, interrupting the peak of his orgasm is most definitely not it. 

without a second thought, you take back his dick inside your mouth. a spur of triumph swells in your chest when you feel his body jolts in surprise. you think it’s only fair since he has choked you with his cock and what perfect timing to carry out your petty vengeance when the man is busy advising his student. 

however, nanami shifts on his seat to give you more access to take more length of his cock. he tries to stay composed as he feels your tongue gliding up and down his shaft but once the wet muscle prods against the slit, he emits an oddly sharp exhale. you can hear him almost stammering as he speaks and the way his tone changes to conceal the squelching sounds you elicit from underneath the table as you please his cock with zeal.

“so, i want you to fix the mistake and hmm..,” his hands ball into fists on the table as he takes a deep breath. “show me in class tomorrow.”

“sure. uh, are you okay, sir?” you hear the voice say. “you don’t look well.”

his eye twitches when your tongue wraps around his balls, taking one inside your mouth to suck harshly.

“yeah, fine.” he clears his throat. “thanks for asking.”

nanami only watches as his student turns to walk towards the door until the door closes behind him. once he’s sure that the student has left the door, he finally leans back on his chair in relief. 

“fuck.” he groans, glancing down at you as you look up at him innocently with doe eyes and your swollen lips wrapped prettily around his balls. yet, he looks dissatisfied more than anything. 

nanami grabs your arm and drags you out from under his desk until you’re on your feet, “i never took you as a fucking brat.” he lifts up your skirt and bites back a groan once he sees the damp patch on your panties. “did you touch yourself?”

you hum a ‘mhm’, feigning guiltlessness as he grazes his fingers on your inner thighs. 

“you’re just asking for me to touch you here, hm?” shivers run up your spine when his thumb ghosts over your wet slit and up to your clit.

“y-yes.” your breath hitches.

“begging for me to push your head on the table and ram my cock inside you?” he muses, pressing on your clit as he watches you squirm. “is that what you want?”

“please–” you roll your hips slightly to soothe the ache on his thumb but a hand comes down harshly on your ass, gesturing for you to stop in a fierce manner.

nanami chuckles mockingly, “well, that’s what exactly you’re not going to get.”

a whine elicits from your lips when he draws back his hands to his thighs and you glance at his dick; still throbbing and leaking precum from the florid tip. well, at least he hasn’t put it back inside his pants, so you still have a chance.

“come on. you haven’t shown me how much you’re sorry.”

with your inhibitions already flew out of the window, you stand in between his thighs, hoist the skirt to your waist and tug your panties to the side before squatting down to smear your slick on his dick. sparks of arousal swim through you as you grind your clit on the tip before you sink down, gasping as his thick cock stretches your cunt and down until you’re filled to the brim.

you glance at the male expectantly, waiting for him to move but he raises a questioning brow at you, “if you want something, work for it.”

not exactly what you sought for, but it should suffice. you begin to gyrate your hips slowly, adjusting to his size before you can pick up the pace. you fight the urge to hold onto him for leverage, in fear he wouldn’t appreciate the crumple on his expensive dress shirt later.

as you become more delirious, you start to hump his cock vigorously, whining like a bitch in heat as you feel every vein and ridges on his cock brushing deliciously against your walls. nanami lifts the hem of your shirt and brings it up to your mouth and you quickly catch it between your teeth. 

“the door isn’t locked, you know.” he muses, staring at your bouncing tits with half lidded eyes; mesmerized and thick with lust. “what’s going to happen if someone comes in and sees you bouncing on her professor’s cock like a little whore?”

a low, guttural sound rips from his throat when he feels your walls clenching around him in response.

“you’d like that, don’t you?” he smirks, tugging your bra down slightly and brushes his thumb against the erected nipple, making you mewl through the fabric in your mouth.

“you know you’re not supposed to do this but,” he brings up his thumb to caress your cheek. “you’re just so eager to please me, aren’t you?”

you sniffle in response, hands clutching on his solid thighs as you melt into his soft gaze before it’s gone in an instant.

“but i don’t like brats.” he sneers, drawing his hand away to slap your breast. “i don’t like people making my job harder. are you a brat?”

you shake your head, he slaps again.

“you act like one. stop lying.”

nanami tugs down the shirt from your mouth, a part of the fabric already drenched with your drool. his large hand circles around your throat while the other grips your hip firmly to roll your hip even faster on his dick. 

“oh– feels good–!” you moan wantonly, eyes rolling back as you let him control your body and assert his dominance over you.

“fuck it does.” he presses your throat tighter on the sides, restricting air from entering your lungs but your walls squeeze harder in retaliation. 

“bratty little bitch. clamping down on me like that.” he grits out and slaps across your face. what seems to be a rather harsh form of treatment, the pleasure filled sting and the lack of oxygen only fuel your arousal that you don’t even notice the way you hump on his cock has become more rapturous.

“getting off to this?” nanami slaps your other cheek before he lets go of his grip around your neck and you’re finally able to breathe air again. yet, he doesn’t spare you time to gather yourself before he promptly lifts up your hips and starts to pound inside your cunt relentlessly. 

the position causes you to tip to the front and you immediately hold on to him; face burying on the crook of his neck while his cologne fills your senses and sends you into a state of frenzy. 

“you like me using your tight cunt like that?” nanami grabs your ass for leverage, the angle allows him to fuck you so deep that you’re able to feel his cockhead kissing your cervix with each thrust. 

“y-yes–!” you cry, the pressure in your stomach building up as you inch closer to an orgasm.

“like it when i use you to take out my frustrations?” he spanks the meaty flesh; walls clenching tighter on his fat cock and more slick dripping down his balls. “you just want to be my little cocksleeve, don’t you?”

“yesyesyes– please–!” your body starts to tremble above him. “w-wanna cum–”

“then fucking cum.” nanami rams into your cunny faster, abusing the spongy walls until the pressure snaps and tips you over the edge. you moan breathlessly into his neck, while your pussy gushes and creams around his cock. 

“that’s a good girl,” he fucks you through your high, grunting and panting as he pushes through the pulsing walls in order to chase his high. “and good girls get rewarded, right?”

you hum in agreement, still dazed and swimming in ecstasy as you gawk at him with heavy lidded eyes; the sweat glistening his forehead and sharp eyes focusing on where your bodies join. 

“then you’re gonna get some huge load in this pretty pussy.” his pace begins to stutter, nails digging deeper into your skin before his cock twitches and his hips freeze as he paints your insides white with cum.

both exhausted bodies rest against each other, chests heaving as you and nanami take time to regain composure and come down from your highs. he lifts you up slightly to take out his spent cock and he tugs back your panties in place, not minding the cum that dribbles from your quivering hole. 

your legs tremble once you get off of him that you have to force yourself to find your footing as you fix your skirt while the older male pulls back his pants in place. 

“do your best for your next papers, no more of that bullshit.” he fastens his buttons and straightens his tie before raising his hands to brush against his sleek, light brown hair that’s mixed with a few strands of grey. “but if you have any problems, just come and see me in my office.”

nanami falls quiet for a brief second to contemplate and you straighten your back when you once again meet his icy gaze, “after hours.”

enjoyed this piece? wanna buy me coffee? :)

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

[enhalite]

6:27 AM ( ACHE )

lee heeseung x reader

word count : 681

It’s cold, the wind breaking through your jacket and making you shiver as you stand in place. It feels kind of surreal, in a way, that you’re seeing Heesung after so long.

Your boyfriend had gone off to study a semester in Europe — an opportunity you’d told him he couldn’t let pass. It’s not every day that you get a scholarship to travel to one of the most beautiful places in the world.

Was it London? Or Amsterdam? Maybe Paris; you’re forgetting. Heeseung had seemed to be in a different city every time he sent you pictures and, like, you understand Europe is tiny, but the pictures with the Buckingham Palace one day, and the Eiffel Tower the next sort of were whiplash-worth-it.

It doesn’t matter anymore, because the sun is rising and the cold is numbing but you’re minutes away from seeing the love of your life again. After months of seeing him through a screen, it feels surreal that you’ll actually be able to jump into his arms and kiss him senseless — and, honestly, you’re planning on doing exactly that.

“Landed: Flight 285,” the automatic voice of the airport speakers ricochets inside your brain like it were an echoing chamber, and you start shaking your leg in place as you know, now, that you’re merely minutes away from your Heeseung.

Your phone rings, and you stumble to answer it as soon as the contact picture of Heeseung’s face shows up on screen. Your fingers feel like butter, and you answer with a deep breath and excitement bubbling through your throat.

“Baby, hi,” you say.

He laughs. “You sound so tired. Are you here? I just finished getting my bags.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m waiting.” The excitement is too much now, and you feel your heart beating out of your chest as you start trying to recognize his face in the crowd of people. “I brought your car.”

“My car? Now, who told you you could drive it?”

“It has a bigger trunk!” You exclaim, and then your eyes settle on a sight: a boy, tall and lanky and beautiful, wearing that godly awful green and beige plaid shirt and sweatpants. He’s looking for something in his carry-on bag, phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear.

He laughs. “Your mom has a bigger trunk—“

“Heesung,” you interrupt.

“What?”

With a grin, moving through the crowds of people, you warn: “Get ready.”

He makes a noise of confusion, but you’re already running and heading straight into his arms. He must hear your footsteps, because he looks up and the grin that appears on his face is lovely — dazzling, gorgeous, so goddamn relieving to see in person again.

Within seconds, you’re slamming into him and he’s picked you up — bags be damned — to spin you in place as he laughs loudly. You can’t help yourself, laughing along and clinging to him like your life depends on it. It surely feels like it does.

“I missed you, I missed you, I missed you,” he keeps repeating. You just cling tight until he lets you down.

You two are sort of causing a scene, but you don’t care. At this point, all you care about is his lips pressed to yours, so you ignore the cold biting at your nose and the lack of sleep from both of you, and with your hands clasped around his neck, you get on your tip-toes to connect your lips.

For the first time in six months — and, God, it feels like coming home.

It’s not so much of a kiss as it is a touch of lips, interrupted by Heeseung’s bright smile that, in turn, makes you smile too. And now you’re both grinning into each other’s mouths, which causes you to giggle even more. You rest your head on his shoulder, leaving kisses on his neck.

Heeseung pulls you closer to him, and you tell him: “I missed you so badly it was starting to ache.”

“I think, for me, it started to ache when I got into that plane the very first night,” he replies.

perm tag list : @jungwonize @acciomylove @bambisgirl @fleurated

[nsheetee]

One Foot in the Golden Life

Pairing: rich kid!renjun x caddie!reader Genre: rich kid AU, university au, romance, slight angst, mature content Length: 9.7k Summary: this is the story of a boy who is constantly pushed down by his father, a girl who just wants to not live paycheck to paycheck, and how they met on a golf course.  Warnings/Details: includes mentions of other NCT members, female reader, swearing, inaccurate depiction of golf, acts of sexual harassment towards the reader, mature content (unprotected sex, coming inside, oral [female receiving])

a/n: a big thank you to @insomni-writing​ for beta reading this ♡ also, if you are a minor, please beware that there is mature content in this fic!

You thought it would be the perfect opportunity to work at the most well-known country club in the state, but really the only thing your job brought you was perpetual cold to your hands and feet, and entangled your simple life with one of the youngest and richest bachelors at your university.

The only place on top of Mt. Carla is the Augusta Country Club, and it is a sight to see by the regular people who gaze up at it from the city below, like mortals looking up into the Gods’ chamber. The first time you went up the mountain for your job interview at the club, you got lost and were almost late. Thankfully, you didn’t crash your car on the winding roads, and got the job as well.

The Augusta Country Club is equipped with the largest and most expensive golf course in the region, but also has Michilin approved restaurants and the finest saunas and gym equipment any CEO could ask for. Those are usually the type of people that have club memberships: CEO’s, congress men and women, top-notch lawyers, and maybe the odd business owner that made it big enough to afford the price tag.

When you took up the job as a caddie, you had an idea of what you were getting yourself into. You’ve only been working for a month, but there are already a few regular golf players that prefer you as their caddie, which in your book is a success considering the type of high profile people that come to relax here.

However, today is different.

You can sense it when Kara and Mina, your coworkers who have been working here for a year longer than you, walk towards you and your friend, Lia, before your shift today. Mina has a small stack of info cards in her hands and they both hold smug smiles on their faces. The info cards have everything a caddie needs to know about who they’ll be working for that shift, and by the looks of it, today’s game will have a good match up.

“I’m going to be Mr. Huang’s son’s caddie. Don’t even fight me on this, you know I’ll win.” Kara states boldly as the two girls stop in front of you, snatching an info card out of Mina’s hand when she holds them up like she’s playing a card game, flashing the photos and names on the cards at you.

“I call dibs on Mr. Lee’s son.” Mina hums, not even bothering to keep up the act that they just want to be good caddies. “You two can have the old men.” She smiles tightly, shoving the other two info cards into Lia’s grasp and turning on her heel to walk away with Kara.

Considering you don’t even know what they’re talking about, you have no right to be mad at them. There is more confusion clouding your mind than anger at their rudeness. However, Lia does not share the same sentiment.

“I’ll shove these info cards up their-” Lia fumes, her volume rising as the sentence went on, and you quickly pulled her out of ear shot, around a corner by the bathrooms. “-stuck up two faced asses!”

“Lia…” You mutter, her wording making you shake your head at how unstable her temper is, “They’ve been working here for a lot longer than we have, just let them have those clients. Either way, what’s it to you?”

“What’s it to me? ___, they’re talking about Lee Jeno and Huang Renjun. I know I told you about them before.” Lia states like she expects you to have those two names tattooed on the front lobe of your brain already.

“I think I remember them…. They go to our University, right?” You try to regurgitate your friend’s rambles from months ago out of your head.

“Yeah, business department.” She sighs dreamily, as if the business department is the sexiest thing on campus. “This might be our only chance to shoot our shot.” You can’t help but grimace a bit.

“It can be your chance to shoot your shot. Leave me out of this.” You randomly grab an info card out of Lia’s hands, turning it around to see Mr. Huang Lijun’s photo staring back at you. You send Lia one last look, walking around her to go change in the dressing rooms.

“Aw, you’re no fun.” You hear her whine, her footsteps echo through the hallway as she comes up behind you. She almost knocks you into the wall from how forcefully she grabs onto your arm and swings it back and forth like you’re two little kids on your way to the playground.

“Maybe we can shoot our shot at the old men?” You and Lia stop walking, turning to face each other for a moment of silence. You blink at each other as if you’re both considering it, before erupting into laughter at the ridiculous thought and continue walking down the hallway.

You and Lia constantly joke around about finding rich sugar daddies at work to pay for your college tuition, but both of you know you’ll never actually commit to the idea fully. Neither of you will admit it, but you both know you don’t have the guts to do something like that.

By the time you, Lia, and your other coworkers change into uniform and gather your supplies for the Lee vs. Huang game, it’s already 10am. The air is crisp and cool, the signs of fall creep along your skin and taint the deep green trees in light oranges and yellows.

Despite the chill, you and your coworkers still wear skirts, long sleeve v-necks, and puffy vests; the only thing keeping your feet warm is a pair of short white socks and tennis shoes. You don’t mind the chill knowing that once the game starts you’ll be moving around enough to get warm. You stop thinking about your cold toes as soon as the door of the country club opens and the Lees and Huangs walk out.

The first time you lay eyes on Huang Renjun, you think your heart might stop.

You know it’s him because he walks close to his father as they make their way to where you’re standing by the golf carts. He has obviously dyed blonde color, his dark roots proof of that; it’s neatly gelled back in an effortless way with the light wind blowing a few of the locks gently as if an angel is personally moving them for him. His white jacket and black pants are slim and look like they cost more than all of your college textbooks this semester. He walks with his head high, his pretty, pink lips set in a straight line, and his almond eyes gentle.

Okay, so... maybe you understand the hype now.

“Good evening, ladies.” Mr. Lee announces, looking at you and your coworkers. You all politely introduce yourself and state who you’ll be caddying for.

Huang Lijun isn’t as tall as his son, but he looks to be more lively than Renjun, even at his age. He has a permanent smile on his lips and you can feel a friendly demeanor radiating from him when you approach.  

“Good Morning, sir. Let me take those off of your hands.” You politely grab the bag of clubs from him, feeling shy as his gaze doesn’t leave your face the entire time.

“You’re new here, right? I feel like I would remember you if I saw you before.” You’re surprised when he suddenly pinches your cheek, and he laughs at your shocked face. An unsettled feeling plants itself at the bottom of your stomach at the unwarranted touch.

“I’ve only been working here for a month, sir.”

“I think I’ll be coming around here more often, then.” He winks at you and turns to go sit in the front seat of the golf cart. You can’t help but let the feeling at the bottom of your stomach grow at how the older man looks at you. You definitely misjudged his “friendly” demeanor. Your eyes can’t help but glance at Renjun, who’s standing a few feet away from the whole interaction. He gives you a blank stare before turning and following his father.

In the past few weeks, you had gotten many lustful smiles and lewd gazes at your bare legs, but also many dollars in tips just in one morning by letting those smiles and gazes happen. The need to make ends meet justifies it all, and the cash you earn at the end of every shift only fuels this need.

The ride from the club’s main building to the first hole is short, so you quickly recompose yourself. You still have a job to do— a job you’re being paid lots of money for. You believe in your strong will to put up with whatever antics Mr. Huang pulls for the next few hours. Upon arrival at the first hole, you pull the bag of golf clubs out of the cart and follow in Mr. Huang’s quick footsteps, suddenly feeling sweaty from the exercise you’re getting by carrying these heavy clubs. When your group reaches the first hole, you set the bag down on the ground and press your hand over your face, but Mr. Huang’s voice startles you.

“Woah, there.” You jump and face him. “Those clubs cost more than my car, and unlike my car, they don’t deserve to be on the ground, darling.”

“Yes, sir. I apologize.” You smile shyly and pick up the clubs from the ground, your shoulders already straining to keep them up. ‘They weigh as much as a car,’ you huff.

This is going to be a long game.

“You kids can clean the carts today,” Mina suddenly throws a keychain at Lia’s face, she barely catches it before it hits her, “I have plans.”

“Me, too.” Kara quickly says, following after Mina as they both walk away. The game ended right at lunchtime (the Lees won) and now you and your coworkers are back at the club. It’s supposed to be everyone’s job to clean the golf carts after they’ve been used, but it looks like today it’ll just be you and Lia… Maybe.

“___, please. I’m going to be late to the cafe, my boss there is already mad at me.” Lia turns to you and begs with her hands clasped in front of her chest, eyes pleading and feet bouncing. You sigh; you’re hungry and your muscles are sore, and all you want to do is go home as quickly as you can. Still, you roll your eyes and take the golf cart keys from her, making her face crack open into a smile as she hugs you quickly.

“I’ll bring you coffee on Monday!” She screams at you as she practically runs away, leaving you with two golf carts to clean. You sluggishly begin, crawling into the cart the Huangs were sitting in when you find a small notebook laying on one of the seats. Picking it up to examine it, you find out it’s your university’s yearly planner, a book that everyone gets at the beginning of every academic year. Along the binder reads “Huang Renjun” and your eyes widen, immediately looking up to glance at the direction that Renjun walked off to a while ago.

Your legs move quickly through the corridors of the club, moving past changing rooms, saunas, and bathrooms, the planner tightly clutched in your hand. Your head is on a swivel and your lower lip is stuck between your teeth, until you hear a door open and slam shut behind you, making you turn your head to catch Renjun walking out of a changing room.

“Mr. Huang!” You call out.. Renjun freezes at the name, spinning on his heel to see you walking towards him.

“Sorry to disturb you, but you left your planner on the golf cart.” You hold it out for him, but he doesn’t take it.

“How do you know it’s a planner? Did you look through it?” You blink at him, stunned, and then glance down at the notebook. You’re surprised by the sudden questions and at the same time annoyed that Renjun accused you of snooping through his things so quickly. The image you had of him earlier, graceful, classy, and attractive, slips out of your mind as he stares down at you. However, this is the first time he’s directly talking to you, and you can’t help the spark that ignites in your belly from the roughness in his voice. It’s higher-pitched, but unpolished and jagged as he speaks with you.

“No. I go to the same University. I have the same one.” You explain. Renjun’s stare turns into shock.

“Really? Which department?”

“Fine Arts. I study Studio Art.” At first you think that you’re seeing things, but after blinking, you can guarantee that Renjun has jealousy painted on his face. It’s so sour that he looks away, trying to preoccupy his hands by fiddling with his bag. “So, are you going to take this, or…?”

“Yeah,” The bitterness drips from his tone, but you have a feeling it’s not directed at you, “Thank you for returning it.” He finally accepts it and turns to his bag, taking out his wallet. The cards inside look thick and heavy; memberships to places you’ll never step foot in and credit cards with limits you could never even imagine. Your pride tells you that you don’t need anything he could give you, so you silently turn around and walk away.

Renjun shuffles through some crisp 10’s and 20’s, but when he looks up to give you the tip, you’re already down the hallway and halfway out the door. You have golf carts to clean.

The next time you see Renjun is a week after the last game. The chilly weather remains, along with the useless uniform you have to wear, but this time around you’re not Mr. Huang’s caddie, you’re Renjun’s.

Kara walks next to you with Mr. Huang’s heavy golf clubs, her lips straight and head turned away from you to show her annoyance at how the caddie match up situation went this week. You’re sure to get an earful about this for at least the next few days, but you kind of like this revenge that fate dealt Kara. Either way, it’s not like there’s anything you can do about the match up. Renjun requested you to be his caddie this week, and you weren’t going to risk your bosses being angry with you by denying the request.

“Driver.” Renjun’s voice pulls you into the game. You pull out the correct golf club and put it into his awaiting hand, your fingertips brushing with his. “Aren’t you cold?” The words shock you, considering they’re the first words Renjun spoke to you today other than commands for golf clubs.

“I-I’m fine, Mr. Huang.” You respond promptly.

“Don’t call me that.” His tone is icy, and he quickly realizes how unnecessary it is to bite at you like that, “Just call me Renjun.” His father walks back from his shot, looking very smug. Renjun’s face is calm as he trades spots with his father and prepares for his first swing of the day, correcting his posture and loosening his limbs.

You remember the first time you saw him, how elegant and poised he looked. Your cold hands break into a sweat as your chest heats up from the quick beating of your heart. Renjun has only been icy and accusing towards you so far, yet you still feel warm while thinking about him. There has to be something wrong with you.

“Doesn’t my son look like he knows what he’s doing?” Mr. Huang asks from beside you, a small, unnerving smile on his lips.

“Yes, sir.” You reply back with your own, more innocent, smile.

“I taught him everything he knows about golf…. And women.” Mr. Huang leans into you, turning his chest to face you so that his breath is hitting your cheek. You can’t help but swallow to relieve your dry and cold throat, keeping your eyes forward as Renjun swings his club back and forth a bit in preparation.

“Yes, sir.” The only thought on your mind is to stop this man from stepping closer.

“Is that the only thing you can say?”

Renjun swings his arm back, breathing in as he keeps his eyes on the small white ball and his hopes in the green before him. Mr. Huang’s right hand is warm on your waist, but you would give anything to freeze right now.

A sharp crack ripples through the air as Renjun hits the golf ball and sends it flying into the golf course. His eyes are not where the ball lands, but instead on where his father touches you.

Renjun’s mom died when he was not even three days old.

He never got to meet her— to lay on her chest and hold her finger with his whole hand. He’ll never know what advice she would’ve given him when he got his first girlfriend, and he’ll never know how she would’ve reacted to him crashing his first car when he was 17. He only knows that his mom would’ve been there for him through all of that, unlike his father, who was not.

Renjun has had “mothers” through his life; three, to be exact. The first was when he was 5 years old, and she quickly asked for a divorce after Renjun’s dad went on a three month business trip and she didn’t hear from him the whole time. The second “mother” was a bit more mature than the first and with a lot more time on her hands. She wanted to shape 9 year old Renjun into a perfect student, which was something Renjun’s father appreciated, but still divorced her for “being too strong-headed.” Renjun only met his third mother twice when he was 13: once at the wedding and the second time at her funeral. He didn’t ask any questions, he wasn’t very interested in the first place.

These were the type of people Renjun spent his life around, but they really weren’t his mothers. The only similarity he had with those women was his father, and he treated them as poorly as he treated Renjun. That’s why when Renjun looks at you, cowering away from the very man who is his only link to family, he feels sick.

When is his dad going to stop being a fucking predator? How young does he want his next conquest to be? Will Renjun’s next mom be the same age as him? Something swirls in the pit of his stomach when he watches his father and it takes a moment for him to figure out what it is: jealousy. He’s not sure why he’s feeling jealous over someone he just met last week, but the feeling engulfs his whole chest and it burns him to his spot.

Renjun doesn’t even notice that he swung his golf club or that the golf ball went somewhere far into the green, probably an overshot. He only sees you, afraid of the man touching you but not stepping away. Why aren’t you stepping away?

“Nice job, Renjun.” His best friend, Jeno, claps a hand on his back as he steps up, hitting Renjun back into reality and forcing him to walk towards you. As Renjun approaches, his father slyly takes his hand away, and Renjun notices how you let out a relieved sigh. Giving you back his driver, Renjun strategically stands between you and his father, pretending to watch Jeno swing.

“Good job… Renjun.” You whisper, unsure about calling him by his first name so informally.

“Thank you.” Renjun sends a side glance to his father to see the displeased look on his face. “How was that, Dad?” Renjun hopes that maybe he can remind his father of why he’s here (to win against the Lees this week, not to feel up a girl 30 years younger than him) but in this moment, his father is acting like a 5 year old in the middle of a silent tantrum, not a 50 year old who runs the most successful construction company in the country.

“I’ve taught you better than that.” Renjun is sure they’re not talking about golf anymore, the authoritative tone in his father’s voice sends a lightning bolt of surprise and slight fear down Renjun’s back. He hates how he gets scared, he hates how his father can control him. The fury churns in the pit of his stomach as he accepts his father’s words with a bow of his head.

One day, Renjun swears he won’t submit anymore.

After the game ended with the Lees winning once again, you, Lia, and your other coworkers convene at the golf carts after the clients leave to change inside the club.

“You ladies know the drill.” Kara throws both sets of golf cart keys at you before walking off with Mina. You push Lia towards the entrance of the building before she even has a chance to turn around and open her mouth.

“You should get to the cafe before your boss throws another fit.” Lia turns back to face you, her jaw slightly slack and her eyes shining.

“You’re seriously the best. I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, just give me a few extra shots in my coffee on Monday.” Lia laughs at that, grabbing your face between her two small, manicured hands and kissing you on each cheek before hopping off inside. You can’t help but be amused at her antics, turning to the golf carts in front of you to start cleaning.

“They make you clean the carts by yourself?” The voice startles you, not because you weren’t expecting it but because it’s Renjun’s. You turn your head over your shoulder, he’s standing just a few feet away still in his golfing gear from earlier.

“Uh, not usually, no. But my coworkers haven’t been happy with me lately.” You explain, fully turning to him and crossing your arms over your chest to tuck your cold hands into your sides.

“The ones who have been working here for a while?” You nod as an answer, and Renjun nods back in understanding, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. “They’ve been trying to get with me and my best friend for a while...” Renjun trails off when he sees your eyebrows raise at the comment, “... But that’s not what I came here to talk about.”

“Oh? What are you here for?” The conversation has gotten too informal for a worker and their client to be having, but you kind of like talking to Renjun in this casual setting.

“I realized that the past few times we’ve talked I’ve been such a dick.” He laughs lightly as he remembers, “I wanted to apologize for that. I wasn’t in a good mood last week and this morning, and I ended up pushing it on you.”

Renjun feels lots of emotions when it comes to you, despite only having this one proper conversation with you. He feels envy towards you for being able to study something that he desperately wants to. He feels guilt when he remembers how quickly he made you into a thief when you were only trying to return his belongings, and he feels so many other secondary and tertiary emotions in between. His head is full when he looks at you. He finally feels like he’s thinking about something, not just doing the same day to day motions in a constant cycle of ‘when will this end?’

“You’re apologizing?” You ask, stunned when he nods his head in confirmation. Sincere apologies are important to you. You believe there are not enough of them in this world anymore, and his gentle almond eyes are too wholehearted and warm for you in this cold weather. Your heart feels full looking at him, and you curse at yourself in your head for being swayed like this.

“I also have a question… You mentioned you’re majoring in Studio Art and I was wondering if, maybe, you could let me into one of the studios after a class this week? I’ve been needing a quiet place to work since my house has been busy lately.” One of the hands that was in Renjun’s pocket moves to matte down his sideburns while he glances at his shoes. “Was that too forward? Sorry, I just know that you can’t get into a studio without a passcode and you’re the only person I know who’s in Studio Art.” Renjun explains after you stare for a while, blinking at him.

“You’re an artist?” You finally ask, Renjun giving you a weak ‘yeah’ in response. A part of you wants to say no, that it’ll be weird to do something like this for him when you’ve only known him for less than 2 weeks and up until this point, you’ve only been in a worker-client relationship. However, you’re curious about what he’s like outside of this setting, especially what he’s like when his father has no possibility of appearing, since that seems to be the factor that turns his mood up or down.

“Sure. Come by studio 3 after 6pm on Wednesday and I’ll let you in, but... I heard Mr. Lee already scheduled a game for next weekend?” Renjun nods, “Then in return, you can win that game. It’s embarrassing always being on the losing team.” You smile playfully at the end to let him know you’re only joking.

“Deal.” Renjun sends a smile back of the same caliber, holding out a hand to shake with yours. If you thought you were affected by Renjun’s nice presence, his hand in yours sends you into another realm. His touch is warm from staying indoors and from keeping his hands in his pockets, and they contrast to your cold skin. He sucks in a breath through his teeth when your hands connect, turning your hand in his grip to look at your knuckles. “Are you sure you’re not cold? Your hands are freezing.”

“I’ll be okay. I just don’t have any good gloves to wear while working.” He huffs, small traces of white smoke leaves his mouth as he digs through his pockets.

“Wear these.” He replaces his hand in yours with a pair of his own gloves, “Your hands are precious, they shouldn’t be freezing.” Before Renjun can get embarrassed by his own words, he shoves his hands back into his pockets and turns on his heel, walking away, “I’ll see you on Wednesday!”

A knock on the studio doors shakes you away from staring at your painting, making you turn to look at who it is. Renjun peaks through the small window and waves when you make eye contact. You get up to open the door, almost forgetting that today is the day you agreed to let Renjun into your studio.

… Okay, that’s a lie. You definitely remembered that you’re supposed to meet Renjun, but you keep trying to convince yourself that you’re not excited about seeing him outside of that stuffy country club.

“Hey, sorry if I startled you.” Is the first thing he says when you open the door. He’s dressed in slacks, a dress shirt with a sweater over it, and a long coat over that. His nose and cheeks are slightly red from the rough wind outside and his supplies are clutched to his chest.

“Oh, you’re fine. I was just deep in thought.” Something about the studio makes both of you speak in hushed tones. No one else is here, but you feel the need to maintain the peace and quiet the room naturally holds. You and Renjun make your way to where you’re set up, he puts his things down on an easel to your left and takes off his coat, watching you from his peripheral vision.

Those uniforms they make you wear at work are just for show, Renjun knows that well, but that doesn’t stop him from appreciating you in the tight vest and little skirt. However right now, he likes your laid back look consisting of loose jeans and a layered shirt, he thinks it matches you.

“I was going to leave when you got here, but I think I’ll just finish this and head out.” You comment, aimlessly waving at your project.

“Please, stay as long as you need to. This is your studio, I don’t want to kick you out.” He laughs and licks his bottom lip. It’s breathtaking how innocent and nice his smile looks on his face. His eyes scrunch together to form laugh lines and his cheeks rise, he truly looks pretty when he smiles. You think this is the first time you’ve seen him like this.

You mumble back with a mixture of words that probably didn’t make sense and turn back to your work, leaving the room to continue with its peacefulness and quiet. However, Renjun’s presence next to you is too big to ignore. There are so many things you want to know about him and you have no excuse as to why you’re so curious.

“How about a game while we work?” You suggest.

“Sure… How about 20 questions?” It’s like he read your mind, so you smile and nod at his idea.

“You can go first.” You suggest.

“Okay, uh… Why do you work at a golf course if you’re majoring in Studio Art? Shouldn’t you be working at a, I don’t know, museum?” The question catches you off guard and Renjun notices how you stop painting, your brush and your hand floating in the air as you think, “Oh, sorry, is that too personal?”

“No, no… It’s just, normally, the first question people ask in a game of 20 questions is something like ‘what’s your favorite color’ or ‘what’s your sign’.” Renjun lets out a choked and embarrassed laugh, ducking his head down to look away from you. You can tell he’s about to change his question, so you quickly go back to painting and speak before he can.

“I did apply to work at several museums. I didn’t get any jobs, so I had to look elsewhere and Augusta was hiring. I know it’s not very fitting, but it makes good money and rich people know my name, even if it’s for just a few hours.” Renjun nods at your answer as if he could ever understand the idea of being poor, but the insight into your decision brings a fact to light that Renjun wasn’t 100% aware of before: you’re not like him, you need money.

“Don’t you hate the way people look at you there?” The words tumble out of Renjun’s lips faster than he can process the weight they carry. He turns to face you with guilt pooling in his eyes and his mouth opening and closing to find some words to correct the situation.

“No, I don’t like it.” You surprise him with your quick response, “But people like you don’t understand what it’s like to live paycheck to paycheck, to have to worry about how to pay the bills every month for years on end, always on your toes about money. I bet you think I’m cheap and—”

“No.” Renjun cuts you off promptly before you can continue, “Don’t make me into a jerk. I’m not like that. But the fact that that is the first thing you thought of worries me.” Your eyes widen at that, prompting him to elaborate. “Doesn’t that mean that’s how you think of yourself? Maybe not on the outside, but subconsciously. Sure, I won’t ever be able to understand how you live, but I wish you would not look at yourself as cheap and think of yourself as… beautiful.” Renjun lets the last words linger on his tongue, saying it quietly as if to not startle you.

You stare at him, your paintbrush resting in your hand and your back slouched as you watch him watch you. This is not the type of conversation you thought you’d be having with Renjun tonight, but you have to admit he makes a point. Eventually, you turn to your painting and stare at it some more, making Renjun turn and continue his own work.

“Ah, I asked two questions in a row.” He suddenly breaks the tense atmosphere, making you sigh as you remember you’re just playing a game, “You can ask two questions.”

He allows and relaxes when he sees you go back to painting.

“If you like to draw, why are you a business major?” Now it’s Renjun’s turn to freeze. Maybe if he did ask what your favorite color was he wouldn’t have had to endure this question from you, but he feels like he should answer it since it’s of equal weight to the one he asked you.

“It wasn’t my choice. I will most likely take my father’s place in his company and I need to at least know the basics before that happens.” You nod slowly. He looks so calm when he’s focused on drawing, but it’s not the same calm that you see on his face when he’s playing golf. You turn away before you get caught staring.

“Is that why your mood always changes when your dad is around?”

“Is it that obvious…” He trails off and you nod, “I can’t believe I’m about to say this out loud, but… It’s like everytime I’m around him, or at his office, or at home, my mind goes blank. I don’t feel like talking or thinking at all.” As he speaks, he sets down his utensils and turns to you, making continuous eye contact as he explains. You find yourself feeling comfortable at how easily he’s talking to you about such a deep subject.

“It sounds like… you’re angry.” You turned to face him now too, your paintbrush settled onto your canvas and your full attention on him, “My dad is like that. He gets so angry sometimes that he’s calm. No yelling or fighting, just silence. That’s how I know I messed up when he gets like that.” You nod, remembering all the times he’s been calmly mad at you.

“I don’t know… It’s confusing to me.” He straightens his back and stares at your foot as it moves around aimlessly. “What do I do?” He asks into the air, as if his pencil would suddenly start talking to him like a therapist.

“Just do what makes you happy.” Renjun’s glance over at you makes a smile pull at your lips, “I know it’s easier said than done. But you already know what it is that’ll make you happy, and that’s half of the battle. Why bottle it up?”

Renjun doesn’t know how he’ll ever get the courage to tell his father these things, but the way you’re looking at him as if he can do anything, he starts to feel tingles of confidence trickle into him.

“Oh, and why did you pick me to be your caddie this past weekend?”

“Well…” Renjun plays with his pencil. What is he supposed to say? He doesn’t want you to carry around his father’s heavy golf clubs? He doesn’t like the way his father touches you and gets jealous over it for some unknown reason? Yeah, he’s not going to say.

“Just because… I wanted you next to me.” The way he says it makes it sound so simple and true, but your heart drops to your stomach and springs back up going at 100 miles per hour. You can barely stop your hand from shaking as you pick up your brush, and it’s almost like you can’t see in front of you from the thrill of his words.

“Hey,” Renjun suddenly drops his pencil and turns to you, looking a bit confused and slightly upset, “Didn’t you ask three questions?”

“We’re letting the Lees win again today.” Renjun is in the middle of pulling up the zipper of his jacket when his father drops the news. Renjun’s footsteps stutter slightly at his father’s words and he stops walking next to the older man.

“Again?” He asks as he already thinks up an apology to tell you later when he loses.

“Yes, I need Mr. Lee to be happy when I bring up the new contract to him later in the sauna.” Renjun sighs and continues to walk next to his father. It’s the next weekend, and the third Lee vs. Huang game is starting in just a few minutes.

Renjun won’t lie, purposefully losing to his best friend and his dad every week is not the greatest stroke to Renjun’s ego, especially since Jeno won’t let it down around his other friends.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Lijun swivels on his heel to look at his son, “Have you been requesting for ___ to be your caddie?”

The questions stuns Renjun, making it hard to answer so his father takes it as a yes.

“Well stop it. Dad wants to have some fun.” He claps a hand on Renjun’s back and  smiles. In the past, Renjun would’ve just rolled his eyes and let his father do whatever he wants, but this time his blood boils. He feels true anger when his father struts away with the intentions of doing whatever he wants to someone Renjun cares about. He can barely move his feet after the old man, his mind cloudy as everyone makes it to the golf carts.

“Let’s have a good game today, Mr. Huang, don’t make it too easy to beat you.” Mr. Lee jokes around and the two old men laugh as they settle into their own golf carts. Renjun walks up to his cart and you wave to him, the white gloves he gave you last week snugly on your hands. Renjun thinks his anger is what spurs him into doing what he does next.

He steps close to you, leaning into your ear and wrapping his hand around your covered ones with his thumb rubbing on your exposed wrist, “Keep these on for me, babe. I don’t want you to be cold.”

The amount of jaws that drops after Renjun’s words makes him bite down his smirk and slide into the front seat of the golf cart, pretending to not see the daggers his father is  throwing at him with his eyes.

Your heart beats so quickly and loudly you’re sure Kara can hear it next to you if she wasn’t busy huffing about what Renjun just did. Sitting in the back seat of the golf cart, you watch the back of Renjun’s head on the way to the first hole. What got into Renjun? Why did he all of a sudden call you ‘babe’ and get so close? Not that you’re opposed to it, you’re just shocked.

The game begins once you reach the first hole, and the Huang’s put up a good fight throughout the entire game, keeping the Lees on their toes and the score sheet even. Everytime Renjun comes back from a shot, you smile at him and tell him good job, which earns you a pat on the back from him that warms you up from the inside out.

Renjun can tell his father is getting more and more annoyed with him; how Renjun is keeping you as far from his father as he possibly can, the gentle touches on your waist that you welcome wholeheartedly compared to the ones Mr. Huang would lay on you before. He likes how angry his father gets, especially knowing that he can’t do anything about it right now. Not to mention, you seem to be enjoying Renjun’s attention, which just adds to his confidence.

Now, your group arrives at the last hole of the game. The Lees step up and swing, setting their total score to 357. All Renjun and his father have to do is move the ball around a bit more to get their score to be higher and the Lees will win the game. Mr. Huang is up first, acting clumsy so that the ball doesn’t make it into the hole and brings the game to Renjun.

As he sets up his posture, his hands suddenly go stiff. This shot is so easy to make, he has made this exact hole several times. He breathes in and out deeply, deciding on if he should throw the game like his father said he should, or give his one last ‘fuck you’ to his Dad.

He glances at you and makes eye contact; you nod your head and smile a bit as if to say ‘go ahead, we all know you can do this.’ Renjun then grips his golf club and swings it back to effortlessly hit the golf ball, rolling it along the green and perfectly into the hole.

You and the other caddies clap for the perfectly executed shot and Jeno and his father come up to Renjun to shake hands. They don’t look upset, instead they look pretty happy for Renjun. However, Renjun’s father is deathly silent, not even congratulating Renjun on his win. Renjun wasn’t expecting a whole ceremony for him, but it does feel nice to put his father down a peg or two today, and that’s the thought that fills Renjun’s head as everyone rides back to the country club.

While getting out of the golf cart, Renjun attempts to turn back to you but is promptly pulled away by the back of his jacket by his father. Renjun yelps and pulls away, but that doesn’t stop Lijun from grabbing onto his son’s arm instead and pulling him inside.

“What was that? I specifically told you to lose the game and you did the exact opposite. How am I supposed to talk to Mr. Lee now?” Renjun’s father fumes, his low voice belting out into the corridor and making some of the passing staff turn their heads.

“That’s not my problem.” Renjun shrugs and his father stops shaking, stepping closer to his son.

“Excuse me?” He asks with menace dripping from his tongue.

“I said, that’s not my problem.” Renjun is fired up. He doesn’t see a way out of this now, no way his behavior is being excused, so might as well go all in.

“You did it for that caddie, ___, right?” His father squints his eyes and turns his head slightly. When Renjun doesn’t answer, Lijun laughs in his face, “It looks like I’m right.”

“What?” Renjun asks dumbly.

“It’s okay. You’re just a boy and you can make some mistakes over a girl, we’ve all been there once or twice.” Lijun fixes Renjun’s jacket and pats his shoulder, his angry disposition turning passive. “Besides, you can’t do much for that girl anyway. Is a ball in a hole really all she deserves?”

“I won the game because I could. I won it because that’s what I wanted.” Renjun states, his blood beginning to boil once again when his father says he doesn’t deserve you. What is he thinking? Does he actually think he has a chance with you? He can keep dreaming.

“We can’t always do whatever we want. There are consequences we have to face for doing whatever we want. Are you ready to face the consequences?” At the question, Renjun is reminded about the words you told him Wednesday night.

‘Just do what makes you happy,’ Those simple words are so hard to turn into reality. Renjun wants to be happy so bad. He wants to be away from this man and he wants to be closer to you. The consequences? Sure, he’ll deal with it all if it means he can stop living in the personal hell his father set up for him. Renjun pushes his father away a bit and steps out of the trap his father pushed him into, making Lijun’s eyes widen.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Renjun says and turns around, walking back towards the exit of the building.

“Hey, where are you going?” His father shouts after him.

“To do the thing that I want to do the most.” He yells back and walks around the corner, out of sight from his father. Renjun practically runs through the hallways to get back outside and run to you, but you surprise him by greeting him by the saunas. He stops in his steps and you smile as you walk up to him.

“Hey, I just wanted to tell you that you did really well today. I know I said I wanted you to win last week, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” You laugh.

“Thanks.” Renjun simply says, afraid of what else could come out if he keeps talking.

“Oh, I also want to give you these back.” You dig out Renjun’s gloves from your pocket, holding them out. This is it. This is the moment Renjun will start to do whatever makes him happy, whatever he wants.

And what he wants right now is you.

He quickly takes the gloves and then tightly grips the wrist of your outstretched hand, leading you down the hallway and around some corner. He hears you exclaim a small ‘woah’ but you let him guide you into a sauna, the door closing tightly behind both of you.

There’s no one else in the room, just the stuffy steam that floats in the small space between you two. Renjun has a tight grip on the gloves you gave back to him and his other hand runs through his hair and messes up the perfect form it held.

“Tell me to stop.” He demands, looking straight into your eyes.

“What?”

“Tell me to stop right now.” He takes a step forward, his eyes full to the brim with lust and his hands shaking with how much he’s holding himself together. You’ve barely been in the room for a minute, but your clothes are already sticking to you from the intense heat.

“I don’t understand,” You reply back as he keeps moving toward you. You take small steps back in return, “I don’t know what I’m stopping you from.” Half of you is playing dumb right now; you know what Renjun wants from you just by the look in his eyes. The other half just wants to hear him say it himself

“I’ll fuck you the way you deserve. Right here, right now.” Renjun’s voice is too angelic to say such nasty words, but he growls them out like he’s a tainted angel. You’re pressed against the wooden wall of the sauna now, Renjun just a step away. You lean into him slightly and rip the gloves out of his hand to throw them to the side.

“Do it.”

It’s all the permission Renjun needs to feverishly connect his lips to yours.

The action is so sudden, you don’t remember how Renjun got close to you so quickly. Despite his forcefulness before, his lips melt into you like chocolate melting over a fire, so hot and delicious that you just want more. His hands hold the sides of your face, pushing back your hair and his body pushing you back into the wall.

He sucks on your bottom lip, softly biting afterwards and making you let out a whimper, and then a moan when his thigh pushes between your legs and further presses you against the wall. Amidst the kissing, you find the zipper of his expensive jacket, unzip it, and pull the piece of clothing off. Afterwards, you pull his shirt off and break the kiss while you’re at it.

“I’ve been thinking about you in this skirt since….” Renjun hums at the thought, his hand sliding up your bare thighs and under your skirt, then he grips your ass and brings your core down onto his thigh, the friction enough to have you letting out a strangled moan.

“Since the day I first saw you.” He finally whispers and connects your lips once again. His hand on your ass doesn’t move, his other hand is placed on your waist as he helps you ride the rough material of his pants. Renjun can only watch your reactions; the way your head lolls back into the wall and your eyes screw shut, holding onto Renjun’s shoulders tight enough he’s sure there will be marks afterwards.

“Fuck— Renjun, don’t stop, please.” He’s mesmerized, absolutely addicted to how you look and sound right now, and it’s all because of him. The thought spurs him along, he removes your jacket and you blindly help him in removing your top and bra. You must look like a mess right now, especially since you’re coming close to your climax just by Renjun’s touch and his thigh. Not to mention the sweat dripping down both of you, a glistening sheen coating your skin that makes Renjun let out a low growl before he leans down and takes one of your nipples in his mouth.

He sucks and swirls his tongue, and you can’t help but moan his name again, digging your fingers into his blonde hair and tugging. Renjun moves from your chest downward, not letting an inch of your stomach and hips go past him without a kiss and a nibble, leaving you breathing heavily. He makes his way down to his knees and folds your skirt up, glancing at  you from his position.

“You don’t wear anything under here except your panties?” You nod, your head stuttering as Renjun applies pressure with his thumb over your slick hole, a wet spot already there to greet him.

“You’re so fucking dirty, baby.” He groans and leans in to swipe his tongue over your center making you shake as a response. He slides your underwear down and throws it somewhere to the side, catching the sigh of your arousal dripping down your thigh. His intense stare makes you shake him, embarrassment crawling over you at how he’s not reacting.

“Are you shy?” You whine, not really answering his question. “You don’t need to be. You’re beautiful.” The softness from his voice contradicts his more dominating tone from before, but you don’t have time to think about it before he dives in. You sigh in content when the pressure in between your hips caused by Renjun turns into pure pleasure. His tongue laps at your essence and his lips suck on your clit, you can tell he’s trying to find what exactly will make you tick.

When Renjun slides a finger into your hole unexpectedly, you jump and whimper a bit but the feeling of him sliding in and out along with his tongue circling and sucking on your clit makes a knot form in the pit of your stomach, tightening up your muscles and making your eyes roll back.

“Right there. Oh my god, right there…” You keep repeating, praying that Renjun treats you good and let’s you come. He adds another finger and you gasp, starting to move your hips in rhythm to his hand, holding onto his shoulders for more stability. He glances up at you, watching your eyes screw shut and your tits bounce as you use his hand to get yourself off. Renjun hums against you, and you can almost feel the ecstasy of coming undone, until Renjun pulls away. You groan, feeling like crying when your orgasm fades.

“Hey..” You whine, pouting when Renjun stands back up and licks your juices off of his lips. He has some on his chin and you bring your hand up to wipe it away, Renjun stopping your hand and kissing the wetness away, then kissing up your arm and to your shoulder, up your neck and to your ear. He tugs at your earlobe, licking the skin under it and biting some more, his hands sliding up your waist at playing with your nipples, pinching a little to get whimpers out of you and making your hips buck up, ready to continue where Renjun left you at.

That’s when you feel the hardness in his pants; it must be painful. That’s why you understand his next words, whispered into the shell of your ear between kisses: “You’re not coming until I’m in you, got it?”

You nod quickly, attaching your hands to Renjun’s zipper and button, undoing them and sliding down his pants.

“But, you’re gonna need to do something for me…” He says, helping you pull down his boxers, watching his angry, red length swing out. You gasp, feeling a bit bad that you just left Renjun like this to eat you out, but you’re sure you can make up to him now.

“What is it? I’ll do it.” Your hands run over Renjun’s sweaty shoulders, moving away some longer hair in the back of his head that’s sticking against his neck.

“You’re gonna have to yell my name. I need you to let everyone know who’s doing this to you— who’s making you feel good, okay?” Your breath gets caught in your throat as the words tumble out of his lips. He tilts his voice higher at the end of every phrase to make him sound innocent, but you’re not fooled.

“There’s people outside…” You mumble back, sending a glance at the door. You know there are several staff and customers walking along the hallways outside. What will they think if they hear you screaming Renjun’s name? Not to talk about what will happen to your job.

Those thoughts melt away when Renjun’s dick slides between your folds slowly, making you turn your gaze back to him and hold on tight as he lubricates himself over your wetness, holding onto your hips so that you don’t move and take anymore than what he’s giving you.

“That’s exactly why I want you to scream. Can you do that for me?” He asks and you nod frantically, doing almost anything to get his dick inside you. You’re not sure what’s going to happen once you step out of this room, but at least you know Renjun is going to give you the best fuck you’ve had in a while, and you know it’ll be worth it for what’s to come after all this.

“Finally…” You moan when Renjun’s length disappears into you inch by inch, going slow as to not hurt you. He sucks in a breath through his teeth as he bottoms out, picking up your thigh to hang it over his hip and wrapping his other arm around your waist to keep you close. You hold onto him, adjusting as he kisses your lips sweetly and carefully, and waits to move his throbbing cock through your velvety walls.

“Go, Renjun, move….” You whisper, and he looks at you confused.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.” He asks, cocking his head.

“Please, move.” You say louder, but he shakes his head and purses his lips as if he still can’t understand.

“I said, fuck me, Renjun. Please, can you fuck me already?” You all but scream out, your voice almost cracking at how whiny you sound. No doubt, if someone passed by outside they would’ve heard you. The thought makes you tense up, but it feels so good to be able to yell out what you want.

“Your wish, baby.” Renjun mutters before he starts rocking into you. You both groan at the sensation, Renjun’s hips speeding up as he gains more momentum. His lips don’t leave yours, kissing you into oblivion while his dick stuffs you. He has you against the wall, his hips powering away and you don’t dare to disturb him, realizing he’s burning all of his anger away as well.

“Yes, Renjun, fuck me just like that…'' You moan loudly to spur him on, now not really caring about who’s outside or who hears you, just wanting Renjun to know you love how rough he’s going. He presses you higher up the wall and pulls your legs apart more, hitting a new angle that literally makes you scream out, tears mixing with the sweat on your face as he relentlessly pumps into you.

There are so many things going on at the same time. Your hard nipples and soft breasts rubbing against Renjun’s chest, making goosebumps rise on his arms. Your hot and sweaty bodies are basically sliding against each other. The clapping of his hips against yours no doubt attracts attention from outside along with your screams and Renjun’s grunts continuously get louder as you both get closer to the climax.

“I’m gonna come… Renjun, come in me…” You’re already fucked out, the words barely leaving your lips coherently, but Renjun understands and moves his finger down to find your clit, circling his thumb fast and steady, just like everything else he’s doing.

“C’mon come on my cock, babe. Let it out, I wanna hear it.” And just like that, you unwind and scream his name as your orgasm washes over and takes control, making you claw onto any part of Renjun that you can reach. Renjun feels your walls deliciously convulse around him and with a few more sloppy thrusts, he comes into you and fills you up, staying wrapped up in you as you both calm down.

Renjun presses small kisses wherever he feels like as your breathing settles down, his softness and the caring way he rubs at your sides and hips where he was holding so hard that you’re sure to have bruises makes you smile hazily.

“___… I don’t regret any of this.” He whispers into your skin, leaning back to look at you properly. “Do you?”

“No.” You answer truthfully, making his eyes shine and you both smile dumbly, your sticking bodies relaxing. The happy moment doesn’t last long before there’s a knock on the door to the sauna. You and Renjun stiffen up as you glance at the door, waiting for whoever it is to announce themselves.

“Renjun? Son?” Your heart drops to your stomach and you cover your mouth at the voice of Renjun’s father on the other side of the door, but when you turn to Renjun, he doesn’t seem bothered. He sends a smile at you and moves some hair from your face before answering.

“Occupied, go somewhere else. We’re busy.”

[dourpeep]

ASJLA HERES MY OTHER IDEA IT TOOK SO LONG TO REFINE CUZ I CHANGED THE IDEA HALF WAY THROUGH 🥴 i also have a wholesome one on my mind but it needs some work too 🤭 modern college au - roommate xiao x top student reader reader masturbating to the thought of xiao and calls out him name, doesnt know xiao came back to the dorm. he walks in on her and starts teasing her "i didnt think our top student would be such a slut". he asks her to touch herself in front of him while still teasing and degrading her "what did you imagine when you were calling out my name?". reader ends up begging for his dick 🥴

Ooooo spicy—ngl I love the college au so 👀 I may or may not have an idea for Albedo brewing as well

Anyway, enjoy just a bit over 1.2k words hehe

Tutoring Session

Summary: During a moment alone, you call out his name and he answers. Looks like there’s stuff that even you can learn still.

Contains: ((NSFW 18+)) Roomate!Xiao x afab!reader, modern au, college au, top student!reader, solo masturbation, toys, caught, light degradation kink, Xiao has a tongue piercing

You’re ashamed with how quickly you rush to your room as soon as your roommate closes the front door, but with the way your heart races and an ache makes itself known between your thighs, you find you don’t reallycare.

Xiao would be gone only for an hour—an hour and a half, tops—to help a friend move some instruments and grab lunch, so your time already was limited.

With little care, you rush into your room and close the door. It gently taps against the doorframe, still barely a crack open but you figure that you would finish with enough time to spare.

You shed your t-shirt and shorts on your way to your bed, laying down with a sigh. It really has been a bit since you’ve last relaxed. Considering the fact that finals only just finished, you finally were able to take a break until the next semester. Next semester, you’d lighten your load for sure. As smart as you were, it was a bit much to overload courses…but now wasn’t the time to think of that.

You wiggle a bit into the mattress, shifting just enough to reach your dresser.

It’s further than you remember, but you scoot yourself over to the edge to reach.

Carefully tucked away behind a dictionary a felt bag sits. It’s quickly snatched up by you and the contents revealed. You lay back onto your bed and spread your legs.

Fingers smooth up over your thighs to help warm yourself up despite wetness already apparent. You could just go for it, but the fantasy playing out in your mind urges you to at least slow down.

It’s clear, the image of your roommate, sharp eyes and messy dyed hair. He slots himself between your legs, pants low on his hips and toned chest speckled with hickies. Just like you’ve seen before, the ornate tattoo wrapping around his right bicep and forearm would nearly glow in the bright sunlight filtering into your room.

There’s no doubt that he’d lick his lips to reveal the hidden stud, and you would shiver at the idea of him pressing his tongue to your skin.

As the image continues, you slip your hand between your legs, toy placed aside while you imagine the vivid scenario. If only the fingers slipping past your folds were his larger, calloused ones. Maybe then you’d feel a bit more fulfilled—

“Mmm…”

They start a slow pace, pumping in and dragging along your walls, pressing the spots you know make your toes curl, and you continue your daydream.

Xiao would nip and lick at your neck while he preps you. Maybe you would even share a passionate kiss…and he would relieve himself of his clothing to stroke himself. The thought of him jerking himself off with flushed cheeks while his other hand is fingering you sent a rush of desire flooding your senses and you pull your fingers out of you.

They grab the silicone toy beside you, wiping your slick on it.

Taking a breath, you spread your legs more, pressing the tip of it to your entrance and sliding it in. It fills you quickly and you gasp as you imagine Xiao instead, pressing his forehead to yours while his hips lay flush to hips.

“You feel so good,” he’d rasp, having difficulty not moving his hips. But he’d be patient and let you adjust to him, ever the gentleman.

And so you start to move the toy, pressing it as far as it’ll go, mewling at the delicious pressure of it, before pulling it back out with a sigh. For a moment, you let yourself wonder if it’s as big as him. The thought that he might be bigger crosses your mind and you will it away in favor of imagining his lips on you.

“Xiao…”

With each thrust of your toy, you feel yourself slip closer and closer, thighs trembling and threatening to close with the intensity of it.

“Xiao-“

In your mind, your roommate cages you in between his arms while thrusting his hips harder, deeper. He’s panting your name and one hand lifts off the bed to pull your hips closer to his.

Would he praise you? Or even whisper in your ear what he wants to do? You slow your movements, leisurely pumping the toy in and out. Maybe he’d tease you, make you beg for him. Another gasp of his name leaves your lips, and you’re too preoccupied with your thoughts to register the call of your name.

Xiao reenters your shared apartment much earlier than either of you anticipated. It turns out his friend was busy and asked for him to help another time, thus, he decided to just have lunch back at home instead of out.

When he hears you call out his name, he assumes it’s because you’re needing him for something.

Only, standing at the door, he sees your arching body tangled up in your sheets, calling out his name and fucking yourself on a dildo. Xiao’s heart jumps into his throat.

If only you knew how good you look moaning and begging for more using his name.

His sweet roommate. His sweet, incredibly intelligent, talented, attractive roommate. Fucking themselves in the privacy of their room with their toy and entirely unaware that the very person who name they’re moaning is barely ten feet away.

In this moment, he decides.

You’re still lost in the fantasy of being taken, getting so close to your orgasm and feeling the familiar spread of warmth through your body when you hear the door creak.

Immediately, you stop and scramble to cover yourself up, shame spreading on your cheeks.

“I didn’t think our top student would be such a slut.”

Your mouth suddenly feels dry.

Xiao shrugs off his leather jacket, running a hand up through his hair and makes his way to your bed. A brief flash of your fantasies flitters through your mind and you stutter out his name when he climbs over you.

Tilting your chin up, he presses his lips to yours.

“Thinking of me?”

You hardly can bring yourself to speak.

“Tell me…” He mutters, tongue slipping past your lips, metallic stud teasing yours into tasting him as well, “What did you think of while you were busy fucking yourself? Hm?”

An accidental shift of your leg makes you brush up against the painful hardness in his pants and you gasp into his mouth. Lips curling into a knowing smirk, Xiao slides his hand from your hip to your thigh and keeps it spread open.

“Whatever it was got you soaked.”

The kiss deepens and leaves you dazed.

He pulls away and you follow him as you’re lost in the feel of his lips and sound of his voice, but he pushes you to lay back down while he undresses.

When he’s finally bare, you can’t help but stare. Just like your daydream, he’s toned and undoubtedly strong—and his body easily covers yours as he hovers over you. A glimpse between you leaves you shy. It’s difficult to not compare your toy to him.

Pushing his lips back to yours, you feel the way his chest and thighs brush against you and leave you weak. It’s strange to think what you were just fantasizing about was now reality.

“You don’t know what you do to me, seeing you in those shorts you wear around the apartment.” Teeth tug at your lip.

“Knowing you touch yourself like this thinking about me when I’m away…you must be desperate.”

His hips sit flat against yours and you gasp feeling the way his cock presses into you.

“So beg.”

[alluringjae]

until dawn - ljn

part I | part II

⤑ summary: basic number one rule of the museum is not to touch the art. but no one told jeno that falling for one of them isn’t allowed either.

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 14k

⤑ genre: fluff, humor, angst | broke architecture major!jeno, historical figure!reader, college!au

⤑ warnings: jaemin mentions onlyfans as a joke, references to actual historical figures (some try to flirt with jeno lol) and literature, explicit language

⤑ author’s note: wow, i’ve had this idea for almost two years! this one was inspired by one of my favorite childhood movies, night at the museum. it definitely required a lot of research and brainstorming, and finally i brought it to life! it was so fun to play around with the characters, and even if majority of them are real people, this is all still fiction.

i also wanna mention one of my moots, marge for enlightening me about her life as an architecture major.

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome​ (dm me if you want to be added) 

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Dormitory rent was another thing to worry about aside from the inflated university tuition per semester. Although he’s lucky to have his parents backing him up already on it, paying the monthly rent for his dorm was the remaining objective on Jeno’s list.

Plus, money for food. The man was a heavy eater, following the whole “gym is life” mantra.

Splitting it already with two of his dorm mates turned best friends, Renjun and Jaemin, his plate felt lighter. But the question still lies: where on earth was he going to get the money?

He’s practically checked out every available part-timing job in university and anywhere near campus. Barista at the same café Jaemin works at, teaching assistant for an art school for kids, convenience store cashier, library assistant, all taken in a heartbeat. The burden of his friends paying his debt these past months took a toll on him, almost to the point he almost considered making an Onlyfans.

“Yah, just find something else! Part-timers are in demand right now!” Renjun intensely closed his laptop before his older friend gets any suggestive thoughts.

“I mean, you didn’t work out your body to look the way it is for nothing.” Jaemin pitched otherwise, lifting the front back up. “When do you want to start filming? Loads of chicks would dig a piece of you!”

The contradicting opinions of his friends were like the devil and angel debating on his shoulders. Useless, he gave this worry a rest and returned to drawing new plates. A common thing when you’re an architecture major. Those deadlines were nearing. Looks like he’ll pull another all-nighter again.

Good thing most of his classes were late in the morning until 6 pm.

As if someone from above heard his petition, Jeno saw a help wanted sign posted on the bulletin board outside of the university museum. He initially went there to document some artwork and architecture models from Greek and Roman times, further analyzing how they’re still apparent in modern buildings.

The sign explained the need for one part-timer from any college to cover the night shift of the museum due to the current night guard’s full semester absence. He only had to come in 3x a week, choosing his days since he was still a student. Even the pay was above average, considering that most part-timers never go beyond midnight. Jeno would, on the other hand, always staying for his projects or gaming with the boys. Drinking sometimes during late-night Fridays with his entire college crew.

The pay would leave him a load of extra cash for himself, thus he sent an application to the museum office right before he left. A week later, while he was out with the boys, he got a text from the office that they wanted to meet him again for a final interview first thing on Monday.

Perhaps it was having architecture as his course and a healthy physique that landed him the part-timer position. Mainly, the latter because guards required strong endurance and fighting skills when worse comes to worst. It would start at 9 pm until 6 am the following day, and there was a designated uniform of it too. Blue blazer with matching trousers, white dress top, and loafers.

Aside from the typical museum etiquette the head director instructed him about, there was an unofficial list of tips written on paper given from the night guard on leave when the director handed you over his box of office-related things.

Only read at the night guard office once you’re the remaining staff left.

He did as he was told like an obedient son, flipping the succeeding page.

 To my temporary replacement,

This part-timing job is nothing regular than the other jobs. You’ll witness things as you’ve never imagined them to be, almost like witchcraft. You’ll be lost and maybe frightened, or that’s how I felt the first time because no one led me through it all those years ago. Lucky for you, I made this small guide on how to properly take care of the place that the other staff doesn’t know about.

Before you proceed, I request you take a 5-minute stroll around the lobby first to understand what I’m talking about. After such, go back to the office or somewhere quiet then browse through the guide as quickly as you could.

Art is timeless here, so they need to be taken care of.

Good luck!

 Park Sanghoon

Night Guard on Leave

 Nothing could’ve prepared Jeno for what’s to come once he unlocked the office door. They say that art brings so much color to our life, allowing us to feel all sorts of emotions in a glimpse. But no one ever interpreted art to be literally alive and walking in the halls.

Behold, random wax figures and marble sculptures that he’s seen in the past roamed the hallways, as well as the paintings were interacting with each other side by side. Even the standee of a puppy from the entrance played fetch with one of those sculptures. He swore he looked like Hermes the messenger god from his arrow headpiece and sandals.

It made more sense why the guard on leave explained his feelings during the first day because it resembled Jeno’s. But unlike that guard, Jeno sucked it up. No one ever does well on the first day, even if others say otherwise. The first day was a learning experience, so he collected his thoughts even though the goosebumps triggered his body during that one rotation.

There was an indoor garden, already locked by the day guard earlier. The only room without any art piece, where students lounge to study the plants or relax in nature.

The sculptures section ahead, showcasing various fictional figures specifically from Greek mythology, chattered away about family drama and beliefs. The sculptures of Hades and Zeus, according to their title plate, argued relentlessly about power while Athena always intervened by shouting or even throwing arrows or daggers to any of the lightbulbs there.

That was one rule in the guide, but Jeno didn’t know yet until he came inside the room and swerved the attention of the arguing duo.

“Well, what do we have here?” Zeus, in the center, straightened his posture on his throne to present himself in a more regal way. “Are you perhaps the temporary replacement of Sir Sanghoon?”

“Sir Sanghoon’s stand-in is rather good looking, don’t you think?” Hera mused, stepping down from her throne beside Zeus to take a closer look at the taller male. Her cold fingers trailed his jaw until his chest, where his heart was beating intensely. She even pinched his toned bicep, mouthing wow.

“Truly handsome you are, my dear. So full of life, please introduce yourself to us.”

While Jeno introduced himself to everyone in that room, he answered any sorts of questions they had for him too. From his age, educational background, hobbies, Aphrodite just had to ask him if he had a girlfriend because he was that handsome.

“Nope, I’m single. With my degree in architecture, the requirements are so heavy I can’t even try dating.”

Mentioning his degree excited the gods, telling him how their people created and designed all these temples to house them and perform rituals. They loved it so much. This was a copy-paste of what Jeno learned from his history classes, and for a first, he’s hearing the perspective of the Greek gods.

Mind-boggling that he hasn’t fully freaked out yet. That’s what Athena anticipated when Sanghoon told her about his short leave, putting her in charge of everyone for the meantime while the replacement settled down.

The college museum was built during the late 70s as a gift from one of the alumni. It was for the purpose to preserve history and educate college students outside the classroom. The Greek mythology exhibit was the oldest one, making Athena have more seniority. Over her stay, she’s seen every new guard lose their senses during the first night. Some not even returning for a second night. She got used to every outcome, and so far, only 8 people lasted after the first night. A couple of students in the 70s and 80s, Sanghoon in the 90s, and now Jeno was one of them.

“Jeno, aren’t you terrified by us? You just got a job in a museum that comes to life every night, and it’s not a normal thing.”

“Well, I’m still shaken up about it. But it’s my first night, and it’s when I learn everything about the place from head to toe. Plus, I really need the money.”

“Money for what? But you’re young, a student even!”

“Yes, I am. However, I do pay for the rent in my dorm. So, this job is like my first big responsibility, and I want to perform well.”

Athena commended his sense of authority, capable of leading himself. She noticed how well-spoken and poised he is, respecting and listening to everything the gods and goddesses said even if they were nonsense. She never liked to compromise with her power, taking a while to like Sanghoon back in the day. Though Jeno looked like a natural leader on his first night. If he could take care of himself well, he’s skilled to take care of the rest in the museum as well.

Plus she had full control on the nights he won’t be there, especially the weekend.

With his potential, Athena mentored him the entire night about the gist of the entire museum. Every upcoming leader needs an intelligent mentor, right? She was naturally gifted with worthy leadership skills, managing Jeno like her own child.

Athena explained how the museum came to life, which was through a royal golden plate from the Oriental room. It was a gift from a popular sorceress in China to an affluent family from the Han dynasty, who wished them a long life after she was saved from invaders due to them. The plate preserved over time, becoming an artifact. Its power remained immortal, mutating to bring life wherever it goes. In this case, the museum since its arrival in the late 70s as well.

“That’s why the Oriental room must be locked always so no one could touch or break the plate.”

After she ordered Jeno to lock the mentioned room, alongside the Foreign Art Exhibit Room which he checked out for his class, she led him to the best view of the entire museum. Center of the second floor, where stairs were on both sides. Jeno marveled at the vivacious atmosphere, witnessing actual art living, breathing, and enjoying themselves.

“Unreal, right?” She leaned in the railing, scanning through the chatty paintings.

Jeno also leaned down, deep in thought and wonder. “Absolutely, Athena. How come no one knows about this? Art coming to life? It’ll invite more students to the museum.”

“That goes against a golden rule as a night guard in this museum.” She replied bluntly. “The life that goes on inside this museum at night must remain a secret to the public.”

Jeno predicted this kind of response, having watched too many films where anything supernatural mustn’t be revealed. Although he liked the advantage of knowing something this powerful, he’d never abuse it.

Athena’s intellect was beyond the world, seamlessly reading Jeno’s expression and what he was thinking. He had good intentions even if he’s a bit mischievous. She needed to keep a keen eye on him, but for now, he needed to explore on his own.

“Anyways, Sanghoon still left out some other details. So if you have any questions, I’ll be at my exhibit trying to shut my father and my uncle up again.”

“Can you not use any weapons to do so?”

“Can’t make any promises, Jeno.” She slyly cracked her knuckles and neck as if she was fighting another battle.

Jeno was silently left with himself, finally browsing through Sanghoon’s guide while seated in one of the museum benches.

It consisted of 25 rules, wherein the first two rules consisted of locking up. One, for the doors and gates of the museum, so no art piece could escape. If they do, they will turn into dust when the sun is out according to Athena. Two, locking the Oriental and Foreign Art Rooms, which was already done.

Rule #5: Let Mochi the puppy from the lobby tag along with you; feed him treats if you have any.

On cue, the little guy barked from the corridor and raced to his side. Jeno carried him, babying him for a little and letting him lick his face a few times before putting him back down. He’s surely going to the pet store first thing in the morning with the museum allowance the director gave him.

Since he was on the second floor, he read and followed the rules that fit in before returning downstairs. On the other side of the floor were the wax figures exhibitions: one for prominent men in history while the other for prominent women. Well, more people to get acquainted with.

It’s the exchange of gasps and profanities he received when he chose the latter room. Seeing their faces, these were women he’s learned in school and online. Now in the (fake) flesh. Except for one girl he’s never heard of, unbothered in her corner sketching her life away in a sketchpad. But before he could check who she was, a suggestive touch on his arm distracted him.

“My, oh my, Hera wasn’t lying when she said that the new night guard was a fine specimen.” By her dark blue eyeshadow and eyeliner with the snake-like crown, Cleopatra studied him like he was one of the most renowned art pieces. Even patting his chest, abdomen, and arms with both her hand, Jeno caught a suggestive glint in her eyes and a smirk across her red lips.

Rule #13: Reject Cleopatra’s seductive advances at all costs.

“Goodness, Cleopatra. It’s only his first night, and you’re scaring him.” With her accent, round eyes, and a chic formal outfit, she carried a posh aura while unhesitatingly scolding the Queen of the Nile.

“Come on now, Diana. He’s stunning, who wouldn’t go after him?” If no one knew her, you’re not reading up on your world history. She’s said to have been a lovely and intelligent woman, gone so soon. Jeno definitely understood why after she detached Cleopatra’s raging hands off him.

Rule #14: Treat Princess Diana and Hera like your own parent.

“Your highness.” Jeno nodded at her out of respect, only making her chuckle uncontrollably.

“No need to address me like that, love. Now, come here.” She widened her arms for Jeno, hugging him amiably. He sensed her motherly warmth, accepting such a gesture. “You remind me so much of my youngest son, Harry. Welcome to the night shift of the museum, love.”

Similar to the Greek mythology exhibit, he introduced himself and responded to any questions that the women wax figures may have. Good for him, they weren’t crossing any borders and kept him at ease.

“A student like you working at night to pay rent?” Katherine Johnson, an African-American NASA mathematician whose calculations led to the success of a lot of famous spaceflights, cannot believe her ears. Students must only focus on school, nothing else. “What about your studies, boy?”

Rule #15: Engage in academic discussions with Katherine Johnson whenever you can.

“Most of my classes are in the afternoon, Miss Katherine. So I’ll sleep in the entire morning later and study during my breaks.”

“Mr. Jeno, what do you like to do outside of work?” Anne Frank, a German-Dutch teenager whose revolutionary diary that documented her life in hiding from the Nazis gained popularity worldwide after publication dreamily asked from her section of the exhibit. Her life was robbed of greatness merely because of her religion and war.

Rule #16: Bring delicious food or gifts to Anne Frank.

“Well, I like to bike with my friends, exercise, and draw whatever comes into mind!”

Everyone he’s met so far acquired pleasure in knowing about who he was and his passion for architecture, ridding the “freaking out” phase Athena assumed he had. Yet not everyone in this exhibit bothered to give him a shot.

Jeno’s attention from Anne talking about her crush towards Peter van Daan, a teenage boy who lived with her, switched to the section beside her, where an unacquainted figure was zealously sketching as if something was due to the following day. It reflected how he’d look when he’s cramming one of his plates due to first thing in the morning. While he properly excused himself, he quietly gazed at the way this woman scrunched her eyebrows when she erased something then drew it again. She was someone he’s never seen or heard before, reading the information plate in front of him about her.

 (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Explorer and Author. (1854-1900)

 Wealthy women in the Victorian Era only served one purpose in society: marry a man from a prestigious family, have his children and join whatever interests they have. However, for (Y/N), she wasn’t going to conform to those standards.

Born into the affluent house of (Y/L/N), she was the youngest of 8 children. She was said to be the kindest and sweetest sibling out of everyone, not capable of hurting anyone or anything. She said it herself that she can’t throw away a dying flower because it’s too painful. While 5 of her older brothers were sent to school, she stayed at home with her 2 older sisters Cecilia and Amelia where she learned how to play the piano and take voice lessons from impressive teachers. Due to the huge age gaps between them (12 and 8 respectively), she never felt close with them. She was only closest to the 6th and 7th siblings, her twin brothers Benjamin and Liam whom she only had a 2-year gap. She was also best friends with one of the scullery maids her age, Lily, because she found her amusing that than the boring rich girls her mother forced to interact with.

The moment it bothered her that she wanted to live a more meaningful life was when Amelia got married. She was 12 years old at the time, and it left her as the last unwed daughter in the family. Badly did she want to revolt, which she gradually did. Instead of practicing piano, she’d sneak in to read every book in her father’s office. She secretly studied the notes of her older brothers from school and even dressed as a boy numerously thanks to Benjamin and Liam to join their classes or field trips.

This was her routine up until the age of 18 when she stomped her foot down and expressed to her parents that she wasn’t going to let Victorian society dictate her. The night before her parents were bound to send her to her great aunt’s home down South to sort her out, she successfully snuck out her house thanks to Lily, Benjamin, and Liam. It’s another good thing that she saved a lot of money for that moment.

Off she went across Europe first, then sailed to America and even parts of Asia. Initially under the name Lilibe, coined from picking the first two letters of her brothers and best friend, she documented her days and nights through her journals and sketches. Over time, she sent them to her brothers for publication. It started the franchise, “The Adventures of the Young and Free Lilibe”. There are 10 books under it.

She learned French, Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, and Korean by herself as she made friends from those places. It was rare of someone like her to be fluent in Oriental languages, surprising locals every time she spoke to them. She was the only explorer to vividly describe life in different Asian lands in English, talking about their history and culture. With her accurate drawings of diverse citizens and their daily lives, it educated a lot of those living back home in Europe about them rather than speaking lowly of them.

In Seoul did she stayed the longest until her death from pneumonia at the young age of 46.

In her posthumous work, Finding Me, did she reveal her real identity, dedicating it to her parents whom she apologized and expressed her love for them despite everything that occurred between them. She talked about the last years of her life in Seoul, how locals were so nice and inviting to her, and how she adopted kids instead of having her own through the years.

“It’s not because I never found love in men. It’s more like I found love in doing things I’m passionate about. Traveling, learning new cultures, it outweighed the human need of romance.”

Due to her thrill in taking risks and embarking on wondrous adventures, it brought inspiration to a lot of young girls pressured to marry at that time to pursue what they really want.

 A remarkable background you had, Jeno contemplated. How come no one discussed her in his classes?

You kept brushing the bangs of your hair back as it fell repeatedly. But you got irritated instantly because it sabotaged your drive, you brought out a hairpin from her desk and attached it on both sides. But when you shifted your angle of focus, the corner of your eye locked with Jeno’s attentive gaze.

He didn’t flinch, even he should’ve. He wasn’t one to linger his look on anyone’s physical appearances, but your story and the passion on your face as you sketched mesmerized him. He was charmed, to say the least.

“Uhm, hello there?” You broke the silence due to your uneasiness about it. What’s his deal?

Jeno bowed, reintroducing himself to you. As soon as his presence settled in the room when Cleopatra attempted to hit on him, you could’ve cared less. Though this man was a first for you, a first in a long time as all guards would feel intimidated by you during the first night. Even your sharp tongue didn’t faze him. “Staring is rude, sir. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“She did,” He wandered through the exterior of your section, by the fence that separated you and him. Not breaking eye contact, his eyes turned into moon crescents as he smirked with trouble. “Though she also told me to appreciate the art too.”

Snorts noisily exhaled from Cleopatra, who took the center section of the exhibit, succeeded by Princess Diana’s whispered gasps and Katherine’s side-eyeing Anne beside her while she taught her math. That was an odd way a guard conversed with you, but Jeno was merely doing what the rules stated. Partly, he was impressed with his cheesy pick-up line, partly embarrassed because he’s never spoken like this to anyone.

Rule #17: Act playfully around (Y/N) (Y/L/N) to break the tension; she’s a harsh one.

There was irony between the information he read about your life versus the wax model. Even when you faced sexism and ran away according to your history, never were you impolite to anyone in your life. You couldn’t even kill a lurking fly when it roams around your food! It showed Jeno a possibility that as much as you’re just a wax version of someone famous in the past, maybe the external environment around you had a heavy influence too.

“You fool!” His confidence exasperated you, urging you to persistently throw balls of paper with your failed sketches at him. No one dared to talk to you like that, most especially a night guard. “Take that for your comment!”

If you thought he’d scram away and act repentant, you were proven wrong. His reflexes were parallel to a spider, capturing every single paper ball without fail. Up and down his body went, one arm held on to them and no more were left on your part. Never a single defeat during the first meeting in years, but that seemed to alter now.

“Give up already, Ms. (Y/L/N)?” Jeno remarked vibrantly as he discarded your mess in the trash bin behind him. If he managed to get everyone to like him tonight, he wanted to make sure to have you onboard too.

Whatever agenda he had, you weren’t up for it. You’d treat him the same way you usually treated Sanghoon for the past 20 something years: cold and ignorant. From your stool, you left your comfortable position to come face to face with this man. He better be grateful for that barrier in between you, or else you would’ve caused mayhem.

“Never in your wildest dreams, Mr. Lee.” Your mouth gave a half-smile, clenching on the bars to liberate your annoyance. Before you could fend back, that’s when Princess Diana intervened between your heated dialogue.

“Oh heavens, children!” She stood by the barrier, mostly to protect the newbie Jeno with her body. “(Y/N), he just wanted to know you. Must you be so cross?”

This Princess Diana embodied all the traits the real one had: soft-spoken, intelligent, and protective. She’s gotten so used to your gradual temper, staying on standby whenever anyone tried to mess with you. Even if it was harmless, you could get so mean!

“Diana, he was mocking me! Saying such a sleazy phrase as if to amuse me, ha! Not a chance, I hate people like that.”

“Not us women though; you just despise men in general.”

“And you’re absolutely right!” With a smug smile, you greedily rejoiced. “Anyways, escort this disgrace out. I’m not in the mood to get angry when I have a lot of inspiration on mind right now.”

While you resumed your sketching to let go of that extra steam, Jeno was left with Diana who apologized on your behalf. Your pride was too high to do that, and as the motherly figure among them, she always took care of things in your exhibit.

“I’m so sorry for that, Jeno. She’s not really like this, but I know how much you tried your best. It was quite a fresh spectacle honestly.”

Whatever was responsible for your abrasiveness, Jeno yearned to know. He couldn’t understand who you were yet even knowing your life story. All he wanted was to get along with everyone. It was the key to successfully maintain his job for the next 6 months.

“How can I make her come around then?”

A demanding question that no one had a solid answer to. Diana recalled how much Sanghoon didn’t let your dislike for him get to him, maintaining a respectful boundary in between each other after his past attempts. Though with Jeno, observing how he riled you up and your focus entirely on him, she hasn’t seen anything like it since the 80s.

There was something in Jeno that may just get you to warm up and return to your kind nature.

“Aside from acting playful, as Sanghoon recommended, I can think of two ways, love.” By the doors of her exhibit, where Jeno was already waltzing the corridor to visit other rooms, she suggested smartly. “One, argue back to her opinions. She hates whenever anyone tries to get her way, but boy, you’re just as wise as her. No one was brave enough to peeve on her until you came.”

“How about the second way?”

“Do your research, love. Aside from libraries, you have those small technology devices that allow you to search up anything.” She tousled Jeno’s brown locks as if it were her actual son’s. Some habits just don’t die when you do.

“Brush up on your history, Jeno. Not only will it help you with (Y/N), but it’ll serve purposefully with the other art pieces here.”

Boy, he was ready to crash in his bed for a few hours after all those interactions. His introverted nature required to be revitalized.

Towards the last hours of his shift, the art pieces who’ve strolled in the first floor lessened his plate by not leaving any major clutter behind. As if she listened to him, Athena didn’t break any lightbulbs too.

His main highlight would be meeting the men of the historical male section, who flaunted a more humorous ambiance. Freddie Mercury from Queen insisted he drink a glass of his wine and to bring more wine next time, which he denied since it would against Sanghoon’s rules. King Sejong the Great and Martin Luther King Jr. argued back and forth over the most random things (pineapple on pizza specifically), while Steve Jobs mediated whenever one crossed the line. Meanwhile, William Shakespeare was too preoccupied in his writing and speaking to himself about his books, wondering how to improve them.

During one of his breaks today, he multitasked drawing a new plate with his research on every art piece to know them better. He started with the exhibit of sculptures of the Greek gods and goddesses, which were Zeus, Hera, Hades, Athena, Hermes, Aphrodite, Poseidon, Artemis, Dionysus, and Circe. They weren’t the complete roster because the rest were in other museums across the globe, as said by Athena before sunrise. The majority of them he knew what they were in charge of, but the rest were foggy to his knowledge. Typing away and jotting notes down, he started downloading his favorite jazz songs too.

Rule # 4: Play jazz music to the paintings on the first floor so they can relax and dance within their frames.

Circe is a minor goddess, the daughter of the sun god Helios. She’s recognized for her versatility in incantations and herbs, capable of transforming people into animals. From Jeno’s perspective, she’s mostly within her space with her journals and magic wand, trying new spells or combinations of herbs. For the latter, he had to keep a closer eye on.

Rule #9: Don’t let Circe, god of potions, into the Oriental Room to get plants and herbs.

He discovered that Dionysus is the god of wine, happiness, and theatre. That’s why every god in the exhibit had full wine glasses during their gathering. It also added up why Freddie Mercury always comes to him when his bottles run empty, though he mustn’t go overboard.

Rule #18: Make sure Freddie Mercury doesn’t get too drunk from the wine of Dionysus; he might make numerous scenes if he does.

After his lone studying session, he took a short trip to the pet and convenience stores to buy food. He got a dumbfounded look from Jaemin back in the dorm room, who was studying for one of his quizzes in Biology in a couple of hours.

“Woah what’s with this stash? Is it for yourself or something?”

“The museum surprisingly has a lot of tasks needed to be done at night. And no, not from my wallet but the allowance they gave me before you get a heart attack.” Jeno plopped on his solo bed, covering his face with a pillow.

“Thank God.” A relaxed sigh escaped Jaemin’s lips, taking back his balled-up fists meant for his roommate. “I think I would’ve stormed that boring museum if they made your broke ass spend a cent.”

“Boring?” Jeno removed the cushion hastily, eyeing his busy and coffee-high roommate. The scent of black coffee from his mug spread in the room, assuming that this upcoming test was testing his roommate’s patience again.

Not even trying to look at Jeno while reviewing his handwritten notes, Jaemin continued giving his opinion. “Museum culture is dead, Jeno. Not everyone has the time to roam around one, plus people can always look up the artifacts online these days.”

People were entitled to their own opinions on numerous things, though Jeno begged to differ with his roommate’s. Especially after witnessing the magic of the night shift, you shouldn’t merely judge a book by its cover. In this case, you shouldn’t judge an artwork or art piece merely on its history and legacy.

Maybe because his roommate was in the science department, he thought this way. A lot of art students regularly visit the museum both for fun and for their classes, and Jeno was one of them. Though he was too sleepy to explain his side, he let it slide for now and snoozed throughout the late afternoon.

An hour before the start of his shift, Jeno promenaded the emptying museum to inspect anything else he might’ve missed out on from last night. There were two areas according to his rotation, both in the first floor.

One was the Diorama Room. Divided into 4 sections, highlighting some of the well-known ancient civilizations in world history. Ancient Egypt and Ancient China to your left, Ancient Rome and Ancient Maya to your right. They acted as if they were the actual people during those times, giving Jeno a laugh when they cracked jokes in between. Such tiny figures, yet the rule for them said otherwise.

Rule # 7: The small figurines in the Diorama Room are feisty, so make sure they don’t fight with one another again.

The remaining room left was the Theater Room. He’s never been here, though his art friends have for film festivals held by the university.

The interior of it was set to look like an actual cinema place you’d see in a mall. There was a mini lobby with a few posters of iconic films over the years. Singin’ in the Rain, Back to the Future, Titanic, those were some framed and hung on the wall. There were two other doors there: one leading to the chairs and the other where the movie projector was. The latter room was pretty riveting, wherein you can choose to watch old short films through an 88mm film projector or switch to a cd player for the newer releases.

Back to those posters, they weren’t an exception to the magic and a simple rule was left for Jeno to do.

Rule # 10: Chatter with the movie posters in the lobby of the Theater Room; they love meeting new faces.

Since there wasn’t anyone checking out the Art Rooms on the second floor, he closed them. Though as he was about to lock the Oriental Room, the ravishing plants around the royal plant appealed his interest. Said to hold magical properties from his research, Jeno was reminded of another rule to keep in mind for later.

Rule # 3: The fake flowers in the Oriental Room come to life too at night, so when no one is lurking, water it diligently.

Instead of lounging at Sanghoon’s office first, he brought his important items to the front desk of the lobby and continued sketching his plate. He wanted to watch the art come back alive with his two eyes. Usually, he’d have coffee when he does his work, but due to another crucial rule in the guide, he’d rather not take the risk.

Rule # 6: The lobby room can get rowdy, so keep any drinks away from important items.

On the dot, the cries and yawns from the art pieces around him reverberated. Closing his sketchpad, his night guard mode was on. Connecting his laptop on the aux cord of the museum speakers, he tapped play on his playlist of jazz music that’ll last for the entire shift duration. As the first notes flooded the entire vicinity, sounds of joy left the lips of each painting. Some were humming, dancing, and even singing along.

“You can never go wrong with Frank Sinatra!”

“This Jeno lad really did the heavens’ work quick!”

Having the sense of accomplishment on his sleeve, the small barks of his fluffy pal reached closer to him. As he kneeled to find him, he was only taken by surprise as Mochi excitedly jumped on him. Tumbling over, Jeno chuckled innocently as Mochi licked his face numerously. This puppy was friendly, easily liking everyone at first sight. He wasn’t as choosy like Daegal, the puppy of his friend Chenle studying Business Management.

Once he composed himself and cradling the dog like his own, he fed him a dog treat from the desk.

“Good boy, Mochi!” He rubbed his fur while the puppy happily munched on it, ready to fulfill more of his duties.

He skipped the Greek mythology exhibit since Athena was doing a good job not letting anyone go overboard with their powers, though he’ll check in again in a few hours. He met the posters of the theater room, who were celebrities he grew up watching on tv. Sanghoon was right; they were the kinder group in the entire museum because they were more laidback.

On to the second floor, all the female wax figures lounged by the male section due to another lecture from Shakespeare. Although the guide informed him that most of the time it could get boring, this lecture was more stimulating. On his platform, he elaborated with conviction the lines of one of his famous books, Romeo and Juliet. A must-read book back in his high school days, there’s no way Jeno could’ve missed that out.

From the looks of it, Jeno perceived that Shakespeare was performing spoken word poetry due to him reading only Romeo’s lines while Cleopatra read Juliet’s beside him. This kind of show was one of the sources of entertainment to these figures, so Jeno leaned by the side of the door to listen. After all, the famous author of it was a few feet away. Cleopatra channeled such a naïve character to her ability, absentmindedly saying as she clutched her chest.

“O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?”

“'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose-”

The flow of an engaged Cleopatra was abrupted by the loud yell from Shakespeare in front, specifically to an amused Jeno. “Jeno, my boy! Welcome back!”

Such an announcement diverted everyone’s attention to the back, some running to Jeno to give their respective greetings. It’s rare for everyone to feel at ease with a new guard, taking them weeks to approach them due to the intimidation. Though Jeno’s bright presence felt welcoming, so they accepted it. Perhaps it’s because of his youth, it reminded them of theirs too.

Shakespeare highly requested (or forced) Jeno to take his part as Romeo, intrigued to watch someone younger read his lines. Since most of the male wax figures were aged, it never satisfied Shakespeare so he jumped on this opportunity as quickly as he could. With the roaring cheers from the other figures, Jeno might as well give it a try. It wasn’t like his friends were here to clown him like they usually would if he did something humiliating.

Jeno shockingly liked this activity as he wasn’t much of a performer on stage, but someone who does the behind-the-scenes of it. He realized as he read the lines from the book Shakespeare asked him to follow along with why people held university-wide spoken word shows a few times per semester. He was no actor, but it’s delightful to have tried it at least once in his life.

“O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” As if the edge of the platform was the balcony of Juliet (or Cleopatra rather), he knelt as he ardently spoke his lines. He’s emphasizing this rush of uncontrollable desire for her, rambling whatever he would do to get the girl.

“What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?” Cleopatra questioned from her chair, inching closer to the young boy. Even outside character will she attempt to charm Jeno, but Jeno was quick to catch it and kept his distance.

“The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.”

“I gave thee mine before thou didst request it, and yet I would it were to give again.”

“Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?”

“But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

Everyone was condensed by their top-notch acting, as if this was the actual play unfolding before them. Jeno wasn’t so sure how he got himself in character without preparation, yet he felt what his character felt. He comprehended the material a lot better now than when he was still in high school.

However, there was always that one killjoy to ruin the heartfelt mood.

“How dumb is it to say that you’re in love after the first glance?” You opposed, putting the spotlight on you. This book was said to be a classic in literature, but as you matured physically and mentally, you could no longer agree with it. “Isn’t love the same thing that killed Romeo and Juliet in the end?”

Remembering what Princess Diana told him, he wasn’t going to let this pass. He wanted to give a piece of his mind too, caring less if the show must be paused. “Love is an emotion we don’t ask to feel. It’ll come to us when we least expect it, even when the timing of it can be crucial.”

“Of all the people Juliet could’ve gone for, it just had to be the enemy.” In all the years you’ve been brought to life, no one dared to test your opinions because they were aware of your intelligence, from the streets to the books. When someone bark, you’d bite back. Hard. “With all due respect, I love your works, Shakespeare. Yet the fate you’ve given these two at a young age was grave, could’ve you given them a better outcome or another character to love instead?”

“Giving them extra characters to love won’t address the horrific life fact that love can be dangerous. Regardless of what status you’re in, you can’t stop the attraction towards someone. The heart wants what it wants.” Jeno pressed his hand to his chest, pumping it a bit. Unknown to you and him, the audience found more entertainment in your argument. Anne, who was munching on the popcorn Jeno gave her earlier, passed the snack to Katherine who just couldn’t stop watching.

If this man wanted a challenge, you’re all ears. Who was he to compete with you? Was he not intelligent to know who you are?

“So are you insinuating that we just go with the flow? Be a slave to our emotions too and let them dictate our next motives?”

“Slave is such a strong word to use, (Y/N). But it’s not like we can’t choose who want to love because we actually can. In this case, Romeo chose Juliet and vice versa.”

“But what happens if the person you choose doesn’t choose you in return?”

“At least you tried your best, right? It’ll hurt like hell though, but it won’t last forever.” From his kneeling position, Jeno strutted his way with confidence. Trying not to let it mess with you, your extreme stare at him as if they’ll shoot lasers. Inches away from you, Jeno declared. “Love always has risks, that’s a given. Romeo and Juliet still tried and followed their hearts despite the downfall. But it was a needed downfall to get the message across.”

“No one would be that foolish to risk their lives for love though, right? Life is so precious, why would they do such a thing?”

“Even if they knew what their lives were without each other, they still preferred living a life where they were both in the picture. Therefore, they tried all they could that time because the regret of not doing anything at all carries a heavier burden.”

Whenever anyone argued with you, their debating points they spat back would further piss you off because most of the time, it never made sense. Back when this rude man told you to go home and be a wife in your earlier years of exploring, you civilly told him to fuck off, kicking his balls because he cornered you in an alley. For the first time, a man who tried to challenge you actually made sense. Was it because he lived in a modern time, where minds were more open? Because of the amount of sexism you faced in the past, you’ve turned a blind eye to the current period.

But your high pride maintained, not submitting into anything he said. “I still think it’s stupid to risk your life for love. There’s no such thing as having only one true love anyways, and you have to be alive to see it.”

“Fair point, but again, the feeling of regret and carrying it your entire life doesn’t fade easily. It’ll make you reflect on the what-ifs, and it’s heart-wrenching.” Jeno digressed, walking around you in circles. He’s intentionally trying to drive you mad, but he could care less. He wanted someone to put you in your place and open your mindset. “The question stands: would you rather try and go for it even knowing its risks or regret not even trying for the rest of your existence? Quite ironic for me to ask you that, don’t you think?”

Past the information board, Jeno researched more of your life history online. Your whole life was grounded on risks, from breaking the standards of your society, leaving your family and home country, to fending yourself from disrespectful men. Rather than living the original life expected from you, you chose not to because it didn’t make you happy. Such a risktaker he knew you are, but with the topic of love, he wondered why you were on a fence with it. Though some records stated you’ve had rendezvouses with a few men in your journeys, love was never in the equation. The single life was what you chose and you were more than satisfied, plus your adopted kids filled that supposed void anyways.

This man may have studied your history, but so much he still doesn’t know. Information that never made the books because you chose not to write or tell anyone about it. Aside from the discomfort growing in your chest, everyone else felt the awkward tension when you were lost for words.

Never been defeated in an argument, until tonight. Your mind lost its drive and willpower.

“Touché, Lee Jeno.” Indeed, his name you’re acquainted with. Numerously passed around in your exhibit, mostly from the lips of Cleopatra, who’d fantasize all the graphic things she would do to him. Too much information, least of your interest. “Please excuse me. I’d like to work on my sketches to ease my mind.”

As you quietly exited the room, an all too familiar sculpture leaned against the railings overseeing one side of the museum. Just like you, she hated accepting defeat or compromises. She always rooted for you to win. With a faint chuckle, “Facing a loss for the first time, I see.”

“Don’t even lecture me about it, Athena. I’m still fired up, and I need to relax.”

“Jeno is a different breed, isn’t he?” She stuck to your side, strolling wherever your feet led you.

“Different as in he’s a man? Yes. What else is there to it?”

“Men these days aren’t as trashy as those back in the day though. Shouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“Last time I did, it destroyed my heart. I’m not allowing myself to let men in even as a friend, Athena.”

She knew exactly what you were referring to, not touching on it further. No way will you let heartbreak or disappointment from men bother you. Even Sanghoon’s sweet company took a while to tolerate. You really needed to sketch this out on your pad right now, excusing yourself from Athena’s presence. Isolation wasn’t new to you; it’s what’s protecting your entire being. Immortal as you are, you had to recover from the past pain so the next decades won’t feel as brash.

You hoped to return to your old self when you were a fresh new figure in the 70s. So naïve, only proud of your accomplishments, and purely happy.

While Jeno continued to finish his scene in respect to Shakespeare, he received a standing ovation for his mini-show. Cleopatra didn’t expect such talent from him, growing fonder of the younger male. Whether she seduces him or not, he was never afraid to try new things and she liked that about him.

“Bravo, love!” Princess Diana praised, clapping at him.

Although Jeno appreciated all this positive attention, his thoughts bounced back to your and your stance on love. The debate earlier was just out of being playful, interested to hear your opinions. Though, he’s worried that he might’ve offended you. It may have been time to finally witness something like that, but then again, he was sure he touched something personal to you. No matter how you tried to fight it off, your eyes can’t lie. Staring down at him, there was pain beneath it. Your eyebrows scrunched to the center, thinking deeply yet remained utterly speechless.

A win he didn’t feel good about.

“It’s time she encountered something new in the years she’s been here. Give her some space tonight, then try again to reach out to her. Kindly this time; I’m not in the mood for another brawl that could end up like the Greek gods’ past fights downstairs.”

These clever words shared by Katherine loitered his mind for the rest of the night, eventually going back to finishing his current plate since everyone was behaving well. As great it is to get the approval of the majority, he tried brainstorming ways to make you like him too.

He understood the whole “men are trash” concept in today’s modern society, but if he could prove it wrong to at least one person, it would be you. Whatever is holding you back, he only hoped that you’d let it go. Questionably unsure as to why he was so persevering, he concluded that it was so he could perform his job better as the night guard. Set higher standards than Sanghoon even.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Weeks passed, and his attempts continued to be unsuccessful.

The capability for you to ignore his efforts remained strong, whether he was pestering you over small things or debating with you again about anything. Life, books, morals, the two of you always head butt each other. Anything good he did, you searched for a flaw in it. Whatever acts he’s tried and continued trying, not one flinch from you ever.

Even if that’s his state with you, his job no longer felt stressful nor strenuous. He’d try to sleep more on days he was off-duty. Although the fatigue of staying beyond his usual sleeping time was inevitable, he compromised to take a nap lasting an hour or two when the art pieces weren’t acting frisky.

Plus, there have been multiple times they adapted to any alterations so his physical well-being wouldn’t fall sick. Per order of Princess Diana and Hera, who by instinct became his motherly figures here, only wanting what’s best for the kids.

He became accustomed to everything that went on at night, discovering things on his own without Sanghoon’s guide. Anne talked about how much she missed biking in her neighborhood, so one night, Jeno snuck his bike inside and let her use it around the first floor. With proper monitoring so none of the paintings would be unbothered or pieces wouldn’t tumble.

Hermes the messenger god was fluent in every language possible, so every so often, Jeno would freely speak to him in Korean because sometimes he felt he could explode by the amount of English he used every night. Bilingual things, you know. He knew you were multilingual too, but for obvious reasons, he couldn’t converse with you.

Because Jeno was heavily favored, that should’ve been enough to push through his night shifts before the end of the semester. In addition to that, the hourly rate was above the average of whatever Jaemin or Renjun was earning. For the past 2 months, Jeno paid upfront first, even paying back all his debts. It almost made Renjun want to switch jobs with him.

“Trust me, Renjun. You don’t want it, being the lowkey scaredy cat you are.”

Work no longer felt like work, and that’s what everyone aspired to feel. Nevertheless, he tended to worry over you mid-shift, glancing at you from his side view. Sketching, reading, and writing were your default actions. No matter how many times he said to himself not to let your dislike for him affect him, it’d always backfire.

Why were you so cold?

What made you lose your fire from all the research he did about your lively personality?

When morning arrived and he gathered his stuff, you’d be the last thing he’ll check on. Frozen in your standing pose, smiling as you held a book and a pencil, he detected how fake it was. Bystanders would only assume your happiness was from your achievements, though Jeno’s gut firmly pried that something grand overpowered that happiness. And definitely, not in a good way.

Out of all the art pieces, he investigated on you the most. Skimming through every material in the library, endless searching on the net, even asking professors from the History department thanks to Renjun, he did whatever he could. People may already think he was obsessed with who you are, but only little did they know.

Another plate was done and submitted, and he promised himself to look you up one last time before surrendering. For someone who’s rarely given up on a challenge, this one was really out of his control. Maybe he should follow Sanghoon’s footsteps now.

You lived centuries before him, and there’s limited material of you left. Rather than learning of your adventures again, he dug through what things you liked over your life. Maybe by giving one of them, it’ll lessen the tension from a 100 to 99. Maybe you preferred gifts over words, he’ll never know until he tried.

Boom.

According to one of your journal entries, there’s a fond liking you’ve acquired for lavender roses from Benjamin and Liam when they visited you in Paris in secret because of how much you missed them. It went both ways, praying your family ties could be recovered.

It’s a good thing he needed to refill his stock of items for the art pieces so he could pass by the flower store a few blocks away from his dorm. That night, without further words, he graciously offered you a fresh lavender rose in between your new sketching session.

“I may not know exactly why you’re spiritless around me, but with this rose, I hope we could work something out.”

Your frigid face of disdain, keeping your chin high and squinting your eyes with judgment, began to crumble down.  Of all things as a peace offering, he gave you that? Then again, it’s not like he knew that an item you liked so much became something you’ve grown to hate and why so. No history books could teach him that.

Vulnerability was a normal thing, yet feared by many. Once one uncovered your weak spot, they could harm you. You still couldn’t trust Jeno fully, not willing to show your helplessness nor were you ever going to tell him. Hidden from his knowledge, everyone else including Sanghoon were familiarized as to why this kind of flower tormented you.

You sprinted like thunder out the exhibit room to wherever it’s private to control your senses. You may not have a physical heart, but your emotions were just as actual as a human’s. You needed to regulate your panting breath. In the past decades, you’ve not shed a singular tear but the cycle broke when they streamed out your miserable eyes like a flowing river. Quiet sobs, an empty corner near the fire exit was where your wobbly legs faltered, the painful memories of the past replayed in your head. Once beautiful, but now an agonizing reminder of what could’ve been.

Katherine, Cleopatra, and Anne were swift on their feet to hunt you down, anxious of what you may do next. Seeing or the mention of these flowers still affected you despairingly. Sanghoon must’ve forgotten to write them down, or perhaps he didn’t know either about this fact during all the years he’s worked there.

It’s one of the biggest secrets of his museum. By the clueless face Jeno had with his eyebrows raised, mouth, and small eyes slightly open, he repeatedly asked what he did wrong and adding that he never meant to harm you. Indeed, they knew that yet what occurred involved a secret in the list of museum secrets. Confidential only between art pieces according to Athena, none of the male wax figures spoke a word, only pitying the boy.

“I wasn’t here yet that time, but they said that it was once beautiful, but now it’s a rough period.” With hesitation, Princess Diana chose to reveal it to rid Jeno’s misery. She didn’t mind having to argue about it with Athena later on, as this may further affect the two of you later on.

“A long time ago in the early ‘80s, there was a night guard around your age named Junmyeon. Also, a college student, trying to make ends meet. He did it for 3 years until he graduated. Though within his stay, not only was he such a delight to everyone, he broke a golden rule in the guide. I believe you do know the guide much more now, Jeno?”

“Yes, I do, Princess Diana. Memorized it even, but which one specifically?” Jeno’s desperate eyes pleaded, only hoping for the best and to fix what he messed up.

“You can form friendships with the art pieces, but nothing more.” Princess Diana replied bitterly. “Junmyeon was an aspiring painter, a different path from his business-oriented family. He was seen as the black sheep. She resonated with him, sharing the burden and lifting it by doing whatever fun they could in the museum. In time, they both fell in love with each other; they were each other’s first loves.”

“Why must something beautiful like love be broken? It’s not like you can control it. That golden rule makes no sense.”

“It does, unfortunately. Wax figures like me cannot age, while humans like you can. None of them could accept the reality, always pushing it away. Until Junmyeon’s last week in university, he broke it off with her unexpectedly. From there, (Y/N) was heartbroken for decades. With heartbreak, giving the cold shoulder and bitterness followed. Then with the lavender rose you gave that she used to love became a flower that she associated with Junmyeon too because he gave her one almost every night for those past 3 years.”

Things finally added up, and the guilt in Jeno’s gut expanded. His major lightbulb moment was a major failure.

“Has Junmyeon ever returned to try and win her back?”

“Well, there was one time he did come back for an art exhibition for his paintings in the 2000s. I was already here, then he had a woman around his shoulder with an adolescent boy holding his hand. He roamed around our exhibit and kept gawking at (Y/N). We may be asleep, but we remember the conversations exchanged in the room. So, his son then asked him if he knew who she was.”

“What did he respond?” Jeno attentively listened, on the edge of such a hurtful tale.

“He knew her name, praising her for historical achievements. However, nothing as a former friend or lover. From what I predict, he ingested one of Circe’s potions.”

“But I thought Circe isn’t allowed to make potions for actual consumption. She’s not even allowed to enter the Oriental Art Room.” Jeno pointed out, overwhelmed at the puzzling past. Princess Diana was mindful that she had to stop spreading too much information, so she had to end her discussion with the lost boy.

“There are a lot of secrets about this museum, Jeno. Unfortunately, I cannot reveal to you to protect our peace.”

With due respect, Jeno quit his follow-up questions and concerns. The only thing he wished to do was mend his relationship with you. As vague as to where you even stood in the first place, he unintentionally crossed a line due to his selfish intention to befriend you.

“What can I do now, Princess Diana? You know I’d never push her buttons like that, even if I’m a whimsical person.”

“Oh, my boy.” Princess Diana soothed, holding both her hand on his sweaty palm and cupping his cheek. “For the meantime, give her space. No taunting for a while, and just observe her from a distance. Though do not fret the slightest; I’m sure she’ll be okay again.”

During that interval, you were hunched on the wall, bawling and weeping like the wound was brand new again. While Katherine and Anne stood by your side, on the lookout for anyone who’d be spying on you, Cleopatra knelt in front of you as your infinite tears gushed down.

“My dear,” She tried to wipe some of them while holding your hand. “It’s been years, and Jeno didn’t know a single thing. He didn’t mean to do it.”

“I don’t care, Cleopatra! He should’ve stopped trying to socialize with me because I won’t ever live down my experience with Junmyeon.”

“As if crying like this will bring Junmyeon back to your life,” Cleopatra exclaimed, holding in her temper. Acquainted with heartbreak, it’s awful that it changed you entirely, but you should’ve found a way to heal. Throughout your attitude change, it’s mostly you in pain, not those you inflict it to. “My dear, I love you a lot. But this Jeno boy is different, and you know it.”

“He’s still a nightguard, for Christ’s sake, Cleopatra.”

“You shouldn’t generalize that all night guards are bad just because of one encounter that occurred at the wrong time.” Brushing some strands stuck by your wet visage, she professed to you bluntly. “You’re never going to know how good Jeno is unless you slowly open up again, (Y/N). Not forcing you the slightest, but healing started once you’ve acknowledged the past and move on from it.”

“But I’m scared, Cleopatra.” You restlessly admitted, hunching even more against the wall. Your poor, metaphorical heart could only take so much. You barely expressed sorrow towards others as you always held a strong exterior, only letting it out alone. Not holding back anymore, Cleopatra brought you in for a hug. The last time she did that was the first night after Junmyeon left, calming your intensified emotions so you wouldn’t do anything dumb that night. No violence, just pure sorrow.

“My dear, it’s alright.” She whispered while stroking your back upwards. “But you’re a risktaker; that’s how people remember you. Now, you must challenge yourself to move on from things that didn’t work out. Because once you do, it’ll put your heart and mind at ease.”

“Do you think I’ll be okay again?”

“Yes, you will be, my dear. You are not alone, and never will be.”

Acting like the dutiful son he always was, Jeno distanced from you.

He still cracked jokes, chatted with the art pieces, and followed the rules, yet never did he utter anything to you. You’ve proudly anticipated it since day one, not wanting him up in your business or teasing you ever. But this time, it felt odd.

On nights he didn’t report, you’ve unconsciously wondered what he may have been up to. A job like this at his age was just as Sanghoon once said: nothing in the regular.

Was he with his friends?

Was he resting well?

From the moment you chose to let go of your limitations and old thoughts, it included your grudge against past guards. Asking for forgiveness to Sanghoon when he returns was on the top of your list, however, that’ll take a while to happen. In the start, you’re baffled as to why he no longer picked on you like every night he’s been present. Somehow, it became a habit you’ve gotten used to, having so many comebacks planned to fend yourself. But you didn’t want to concede to it, maintaining what was left of your pride since that breakdown.

While on the subject, you suspected if anyone told him anything that night because that also indicated the last time he reached out to you. By anything, it would be your unwritten past with Junmyeon. A part of yourself in the museum that you didn’t want to disperse like rapid-fire again. It would be the last thing you wanted Jeno to know.

To your misfortune, Princess Diana came clean due to your growing concern over it. Although your attitude changed and people got used to it, you could only blame yourself that you were responsible for Jeno’s change.

“All he wanted was to understand and enlighten us with his likable presence. Then with you, you were his challenge because of your high walls. Out of everyone, he tried to learn everything about you. From my observation, whenever he has a goal, he’s determined to achieve it.”

“But I’m trying to be better now, Diana. Why did he stop?”

“He may have determination, but he knows where the boundaries lie.” Princess Diana patted the side of your arm, giving you a half-grin. “It hurt him when he hurt you, even if it was accidental. So he opted to give you space; that way, you could catch a breather and he wouldn’t harm you anymore. It was what you wanted from the start anyways, right?”

A hard pill to swallow, though it was a fact. It’s just that now, you’re slowly willing to release yourself from the dark. It’s been decades, and more to come. Nothing can move on unless you do.

“Where is he, Princess Diana?”

Just as she predicted right on the edge, Diana completed the grin on her face and led you to the entrance of your exhibit. She may be younger than you, but you’re reverted in your twenties while she remained in her mid-thirties. Gaping the wide museum from the railing, starting from the painting exhibit in the lobby to across the other side of the museum, Diana spotted the black hair of the boy in the Foreign Art Room.

“Over there.”

Observing where her eyes focused, you caught a glimpse of a recognizable side profile. The owner’s eyes were completely taken by whatever he was drawing on the fold-up desk he brought out from the storage room. By the tedious action of his right hand going up and down, you’ve gotten so used to his part-time identity as the night guard to entirely dismiss his current status as a university student.

Architecture specifically as he first introduced himself to you. The same path your oldest brother, Christopher, worked in. The look of tenacity Jeno presented as his eyebrows continuously scrunched, his crescent orbs hastily spied his work for any unnecessary details and his veiny hands brushed his already messy hair, you were profoundly reminded of Christopher when he was designing his possible future house. You were 8 years old, and he was 22, who just got married. He explained how many floors it’ll have, what rooms to put and what extra furniture he’ll place to make it feel more at home.

Seeing how exceptional his art skills were, you started to sketch like him. With flowers first, it turned into bedrooms and sceneries of your neighborhood. You felt your shoulders rise in accomplishment when you were able to accurately draw people. As much as you credited Benjamin and Liam the most in your works, it’ll only be within yourself to know that you also held a soft spot for Christopher.

Excusing yourself to Princess Diana, you bravely yet quietly ventured into the Foreign Art Room. Hiding first from one of the cement columns, you resumed watching him sketch. Instead of a pencil, he used a black pen with a tip as thin as a pencil. Your assumptions would be it was for a class, basing it on him informing everybody earlier that he’ll be inactive for the remaining hours of his shift to focus on his midterm requirements. That must be difficult to balance, yet he still does everything expected from him. Maybe the second cup of iced coffee beside him stimulated his bones and mind, letting his imagination free.

Through the limited space, you tiptoed whilst holding the side of the column to make up his work. There were 2 and a half rectangular shapes stacked on top of each other, the third one he was still tracing. A sign encrypted with tiny written words you couldn’t decipher, the beauty and modernity of Jeno’s plate cannot go unappreciated.

“That’s absolutely beautiful.”

Sweet words you didn’t think would bounce back in the room, Jeno’s pace ceased whilst you hid again. Art pieces capable of walking weren’t allowed here, he locked the door even beforehand! Or he thought as he was rushing to get his work done because one of his terror professors moved up the deadline to tomorrow morning. Not even 25% finished, he petitioned for everyone’s cooperation just for tonight.

He used up his 2 days of not having the night shift for other projects, and not wanting to ruin his perfect attendance, he proceeded to show up.

The voices from the foreign paintings around him hushed for him out of respect. So possibly someone snuck in, his head looking around for intruders. But only did he quit it when he saw your blurry reflection leaning against the column. The glass windows slightly mirror back what it sees, without you knowing that.

Not to mention, the small bit of your lilac dress was left out. Of all people, it was you?

“Do my eyes deceive me or is Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) inside when she’s not allowed so?”

To break the killing tension, he tested the waves with an innocent taunt. Never did you reach out to him, so least to say he was entertained whilst keeping his distance.

Fixing your proud stance, you responded in a low baritone voice you used to persuade numerous men in her adventures. “Uhm no, I don’t know who she is.”

As intelligent as you were, Jeno was a few steps farther than you this time. Educated about the risky ways you’d get around and one of them was changing the pitch of your voice, he heartily laughed at your unsuccessful attempt.

“Okay don’t lie, (Y/N). I can see a trail of your dress and your cloak. Oh, your reflection too.”

Damn, you peeked a little to realize that he was correct. Hauling your dress back in to readjust your outfit, you pushed your hair back before appearing to him. Though when you did such, you didn’t suppose that he was practically beside you the entire time. Bumping into his towering stance of 5’10 while the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, your proud posture loosened up. He even discarded his blazer. A few more inches, he could’ve cornered you on the column if you didn’t take another step back.

Has he always been this tall or were you so used to your boots having high heels under? Oh wait, maybe because you wore flats this time because it’s making your toes sore. Your head bowed from struggling to maintain eye contact with him, your palms caressing your cheeks that suddenly heated up. Clearing your throat, you straightened your back again like nothing happened.

Jeno thought otherwise, shrugging his shoulders as he chuckled. He’s never seen you get shy, not that it was a bad thing either. The temptation to play around it more was there, but he was running out of time for his assignment.

“Come in. I’ll let you off the hook this time.” His arms opened up, allowing you access to such a wonderful exhibit. Paintings from different European periods, miniature versions of famous infrastructures inside glass containers, and replicas of Greek columns in the front entrance, no wonder it’s important to protect them all.

“Are you sure?” Watching him return to his spot, which was a bench in the center of the exhibit with a table in front, it didn’t process that you were gawking at his toned back. His broad shoulders and the evident muscles in his arms while he stretched, your eyes were speedy to look away when he tried to take a glance at you.

“I don’t think the paintings here and I mind.” Sitting down again, he tapped the vacant space beside him. “Feel free to watch me draw if you want to.”

Settling by his side, he recommenced where he left off. Now with a closer view of his piece, it did look like a building as you thought. He was sketching the remaining outline of the 3rd floor of this hypothetical place, continuously checking his ruler to monitor if the lines were consistent. Able to pick up on the words of the sign beside the building, you wowed with one hand on your lips.

“You’re redrawing Seoul National University Museum of Art?”

“One of my plate assignments was to visualize a renovation of a certain place, so I chose the museum.”

“Why so?”

“Well,” Jeno shook his pen so the ink could come out. “This entire place comes to life with the royal plate, so I think we should expand the space and bring in more art pieces to life if we add another extra floor. A rooftop area for visitors and events would be fun. And definitely, we should modernize the exterior and interior a bit because it looks outdated personally. That’s also what my friends think too.”

Noticing the minor details of his plate whilst removing any unnecessary pens so it wouldn’t smudge, “Huh, I quite agree with you.”

For the first time since his night shift, you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), came into an agreement with him. He became so accustomed to clashing opinions that now, you had no contrasting points to make at all. A good change perhaps was what he’s witnessing.

“Woah, who are you agreeing with me and where’s (Y/N)?” He creased his brows whilst locking eye contact with you. This time, you didn’t wince away and just nudged him on his shoulder to get back to work.

“Hush, Jeno. Isn’t that due later? Get to work, I’ll roam around here for the meantime.”

After decades in this museum, you’re enlightened with the foreign paintings in which some you’ve heard of in your younger years and some that were created beyond your time. The Birth of Venus, Liberty Leading the People, Girl with a Pearl Earring, there’s an advantage of learning about their stories that humans couldn’t interpret. Logical that this section must be off-limits because these pieces were extra special, yet there’s so much more than what meets the eye.

There’s peace in silence while you wandered around, though it doesn’t hinder only at the art. Jeno hasn’t uttered a word since he got back to drawing, and once you asked him what’s doing now, still no answer back. Odd, he’s constantly awa-

Oh, my. You must’ve jinxed it.

Your eyes laid on Jeno leaning forward on his desk with his arms serving as his pillow, resting his head sideways. Soft snores and minimal movement in his upper body to shake the growing cold temperature of the room, he was sleeping like a log.

Putting into perspective, he hasn’t acquired enough rest specifically this past 2 weeks. The endless number of plates due making him work extra during his shift rather than sleeping in the slightest, exhaustion must be an understatement. Coffee no longer pushed him to his maximum for this week even.

But this was the path he chose, and it’ll have its challenges. Still, if you could relieve the stress in any way, you would. This would be one of the ways to repay for all the rudeness you’ve passed on him. Scurrying to his side, placing the plate on the side with his other things. You returned the caps of his open pens so they don’t spill. They must be expensive, recalling how Jeno shared the cons of being an architecture major to Princess Diana. One was the pens needed for sketching, and any tiny damages to them meant buying them again.

With his watch on clear display, he only had 2 hours left until his shift was done. Then, 4 hours until his plate assignment was done, and his current plate was far from done.

The blunt impulse to wake him up slithered your mind, though his calm state deflected your duty. As if you were on board a ship again for your explorations, you paid attention to the view with a relaxed mindset.

Lee Jeno specifically was the view.

His coffee-stained lips were parted and his sharp nose breathing in and out at a relaxing pace, he must be dreaming a happy moment the way half his lips curved into a smile. If he’s resting well, then you too would be calm.

Because of your past disinterest in him, only at this moment did you observe how sharp his jawline was and the cuts on his arms he sought refuge in. No matter how many times you tried to deny Hera’s compliments of him on the side, you couldn’t.

Lee Jeno embodied attractive features; both physical and emotional.

Back to his plate, it’ll put him at a disadvantage if he submitted the way it looked before he passed out. But you remembered all those extra details he mentioned and wanted to add to this project. Being an explorer, you documented all your ventures through words or drawings. You’re fast to adjust to anything new too.

For all the good he’s done for everyone, he only deserved some help in return.

Your version of help was sketching the remaining details of this plate, using other pens for more emphasis. It’s a risk also, but no way could you turn a blind eye on Jeno this time.

Around 5:30 am, Jeno’s eyes blinked open due to a brightening light from the outside. Stretching his limbs, he finds a velvet cloak wrapped around him like a blanket. But before he could question it, he pulled his arm in to see the time on his watch.

“Fuck!” He cursed, realizing that his so-called 10-minute snooze break aborted.

“Oh my, you’re awake!” From his frazzled state, there you were. So put together yet active, some strands of your hair falling down your face even with your hair up in a ponytail. “How was your sleep?”

This whole time he could’ve been woken up, yet you chose not to. You’re aware of his deadline, yet you let him rest entirely. He could’ve burst out in stress, yet he didn’t. You and he may have started on the wrong foot, yet it’s impossible of you to do such an evil thing. He’ll just have to tolerate the outcome later today.

“Refreshing. I really needed it.” Packing his things in his bag and closing the table, you trailed along as he exited with you. Locking up, he has 30 minutes left to accomplish the cleaning. A long good morning indeed.

But his worry of that vanished when you admitted that you had it all covered.

“Everyone helped out in cleaning, plus there are no damages made either.” From your hand, you returned one of his keys that was on his guard blazer. “I double-checked the Oriental Room and locked the doors again.”

“Why are you suddenly so nice to me, (Y/N)?” He questioned with confusion, wearing his blazer again and patting away any creases. He placed your cloak over you again like a true gentleman.

Without a word, you simply invited him to walk you back to your exhibit as parts of the sun began to rise. As you returned to your section, your fellow figures readying themselves to pose again,

“It’s my way to apologize for my very rude first impression and the succeeding moments after. I was too cooped up in my past that I was too afraid to let humans in again, night guards in particular.” You admitted, removing your cloak and placing behind your chair like always. “I’m so sorry, Jeno. Everyone was right about you and your kind heart.”

“About time.” Cleopatra’s sultry voice cut in, laying on her day bed.

Before you had the chance to flip off, Jeno mediated swiftly. With a gentle smile, “No worries about it. I’m just happy you’re okay, after all you’ve been through.”

“Can we start over then?”

“Absolutely.” With his free hand, he brought it out. No matter what kind of introductions, shaking one’s hand was the best way to start a friendship. “Good evening. I’m Lee Jeno, the new museum night guard.”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), explorer and author.” Sighing at his humor, you still replied by shaking his hand. “And I believe you’re mistaken, Lee Jeno. It’s a good morning.”

Seconds after, you imitated your typical pose and smile. Only now, the latter was more genuine. Finally, a fresh start to end your agony.

Once the sun fully revealed itself, every figure including yourself froze back to sleep. Something Jeno wished to catch up on if it weren’t for his damn plate. He was so screwed, already contemplating his next steps if he does fail this class. The possibility of getting delayed in all aspects, he dreaded it already.

Heading back to his dorm, where both his roommates completely passed out from soju on the couch, he sat by his work desk and turned on his night lamp for more light since the sun wasn’t strong enough yet.

With another cup of coffee, he cracked the joints of his knuckles and laid out his pens. He had 2 hours left to submit this plate, and at most he should accomplish 50% of his initial plan. However, he didn’t anticipate such a gorgeous outcome when he brought out his plate.

Picture perfect of every detail he desired, even adding a rooftop area with that he’d love to have if ever the museum does go under renovation one day. Rather than setting the plate during the day, it was at night as the skies were dark and bright specks of yellow inside the building symbolized light.

So much for wasting coffee, he’ll just give it to Jaemin when he wakes up later. Below the final product, a note written in cursive was stuck on it.

 I knew you wanted to get this specific plate done, but you mustn’t compromise your sleep for it. It’s your inhumane professor’s fault!

To make up for my faults, I wanted to help you out. I paid extra attention to the details you spoke highly about, so I only hoped that I interpreted it correctly. It’s risky, but as someone who researched so much about me, would you be surprised that I did such a thing?

PS: Get back to sleep. I’m quite sure your desk is laid out the same way in the Foreign Art Room.

Respectfully,

(Y/N)

 Turning off his lamp, Jeno jumped the covers of his bed to continue his lost sleep. Without an ounce of care that he hasn’t changed into cleaner clothes, he’s relieved that he won’t flunk his class.

Most of all, he’s relieved that you’ve melted the ice in you and allowed kindness to come in. Jeno may never understand how hard that must’ve been for you, yet he raved you for it.

“Oh, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Surprise is an understatement when it comes to you.”

[lightsovermonaco]

Body Shots (Pierre Gasly)

Inspired by (and beta read) by the amazing @limp-wrist-max​ thank you Mea! 

Masterlist

Word count: 3.5k

Recommended song: “Lucky You” by Sim Dane

Vacationing in Milan had its perks. Fine dining, luxury stores that were prime for window shopping, and the proximity to your best friend, to name a few.

When you'd touched down in Milan you had had no intentions of visiting Pierre. You had just finished your exams for your summer class and had a week before the next semester started up, so you had simply booked the cheapest ticket and boarded a plane. 

The intent had been to have some good wine, good food and unwind. Pierre saw your Instagram story minutes after you posted it and recognized the bakery you stopped at for lunch. And once he found out you were only a few minutes away from that weekend's grand prix, he had ideas that didn't involve you reading a novel all day.

Pierre had insisted that a last minute cancelation by a family friend had left a paddock pass unclaimed and had suggested you take it.

"You're my best friend, it'll be fun to have you experience a weekend through my eyes for once instead of sitting in the stands. Come visit me."

Something in the inflection of his voice made the simple request rub you raw. He missed you. It had been months since your last get together and you couldn't blame him. The last year had been rough for him and he  rarely had anyone physically at his side to help him through it.

Inviting you instead of one of his parents was about more than your current proximity to the track. He hadn't missed a beat in asking you, not hesitating to consider anyone else being with him this weekend.

Your stomach had turned as you climbed in a cab Sunday morning, not out of fear of something going wrong but because of the nagging feeling that something was about to change.

You'd known Pierre since you were kids. Your brother had raced in karting before pursuing another dream, but in the few short years you'd hung around European tracks you had managed to forge a bond with one of your brother's rivals. That friendship carried on regardless of the distance that separated you, kept alive by visits in the off season and once a year trips to the racetrack at Silverstone.

Pierre met you at the gates and you had barely seen him since.

A decent qualifying session saw the Frenchman start P10 on Sunday's race. He didn't hide the fact that he was disappointed, but come time for his final meeting with the team you'd never guess he was anything but ecstatic.

You had to be conscious about your mouth hanging open when Pierre stepped into the garage in his fireproofs with his suit half undone. The tuft of blond hair peeking through his backwards cap floats on an invisible breeze and he bounces on his toes. His brow furrows when he is handed a data sheet, listening intently to what the engineer points out.

Butterflies riot in your stomach when Pierre catches you staring and winks. You pray he writes the blush on your cheeks off as the heat and he must, because he raises his eyebrows and flexes a bit.

You laugh to cover the way you want to do nothing but strip him out of that tight fitted white shirt. Your crush was getting out of hand. Pierre's shameless, friendly flirting only escalated matters.

You told yourself it was nothing. He was like this with every girl he met, making a fool of himself to earn a laugh. You were no different, except maybe that you were a constant where most other women only got to enjoy his playful personality for a short time.

You're treated to a few long minutes of watching Pierre prep to climb into the car before he's heading out on track to line up at the grid. 

The race starts off fine, Pierre's pace is better than expected. One of the Haas's breaks down at the pit entry and Pierre's strategist decides to bring him in for a fresh set of tires. A kiss seems like the proper reward for their stroke of brilliance, which affords Pierre the advantage when the pits close soon after. 

Restarting on lap 28 is nail biting. Hamilton, Stroll, and Pierre make up the podium places. The entire garage gasps when Stroll goes wide at turn four. Hamilton serves his penalty and Pierre inherits the lead. Sainz jumps on the opportunity to attack.

Pierre defends brilliantly until the final lap. The team erupts when he crosses the line first, bringing home the win.

Red, white and green confetti sticks to his skin as he sprays the champagne over all of you. In the heat of it all, Pierre sits on that top step and shakes his head. You already know that the photos of him being snapped from all angles will be gorgeous, the sun shining down on the first French grand prix winner in decades.

A legend in the minds of his people and in yours.

You could scarcely believe it yourself. Your best friend had finally, after years of being pushed down, won a grand prix at the temple of speed. Red Bull had been wrong, just as you'd insisted when Pierre cried over losing his seat and his friend in one weekend. But god, did Pierre rise above it all.

Pierre catches your gaze just before he leaves the podium. A lifetime of emotion swirls around him like an enigma, begging you to find out what it was hiding. Your wave is barely more than a lift of your hand but Pierre notes it nonetheless, tipping his trophy in your direction.

You wait patiently on the sidelines as Pierre poses for pictures with his team on and off the track. His attention constantly falls on you, his grin widening each time he sees you tucked under the arm of an enthusiastic mechanic or crew member. Alpha Tauri was a family and you were an honorary member thanks to your connection to their driver.

An action packed hour of cameras passes before Pierre is able to break away. As soon as he's given the go ahead he passes his trophy off and marching to you. You're both practically running by the time you meet in the middle. You crash into him and he lifts you off your feet in a crushing hug.

"You did it," you whisper, overwhelmed by his success now that you've gotten the chance to celebrate with him. "I'm so proud of you."

Pierre laughs as he sets you on your feet. His smile is wider than you've ever seen it and you're sure his cheeks must be sore.

"Wish they allowed us to bring a friend up there," Pierre says softly, a smile melting into a sly smirk. "Seeing you doused in champagne is an image I wouldn't forget."

You shake your head, caught up in his ceaseless flirting. He had no idea that his honeyed words and gentle touches lit something inside of you, rattling your brain and making it impossible to form a coherent sentence. Instead you snatch the black and gold Pirelli cap off his head and place it on your own, earning you a peal of laughter.

"Looks better on you anyway." Pierre runs a hand through his sweaty, champagne doused hair, leaving bits sticking up at odd angles.

Someone calls Pierre's name, far enough away that there's no rush. Pierre's hands remain planted on your waist and yours stay wrapped around his neck. By the way his bright blue eyes bore into yours, you swear he's thinking the same thing you are.

"Thank you for believing in me," he murmurs, gaze falling to your lips.

"I knew it was just a matter of time," you tell him, inching up on your tiptoes. Tempted by his win, you want to ruin the best friendship you've ever had. You want to discover if the lips you spend far too much time dreaming about felt as soft as they looked. You want to know how it feels to be lost in Pierre, newly minted race winner, and find out just how he dealt with the adrenaline and euphoria of his incredible drive.

"Well done mate!"

Max Verstappen startles the two of you apart. You take a healthy step back and drop your gaze to the ground to hide your burning cheeks.

"Thanks." Pierre accepts the Dutchman's embrace and claps him on the back. "Sucks I didn't get to fight you for it."

"There will be more chances in the future. And I didn't expect to see you here, that's a nice surprise." Max knocks you with his shoulder, tipping you off balance. On instinct you latch onto Pierre's arm to steady yourself. You wait a heartbeat too long to remove your hand and both of you find anywhere to look but each other.

"So where's the party?" You ask, searching for a distraction from the way your palm still burns.

"Definitely not at Red Bull." Max shudders and you laugh because that's what you do when someone is being over dramatic. It rings hollow in your ears.

"I hear there's a few guys with adjoining rooms at the hotel who bought plenty of booze," Pierre says. "You and Dan wanna come by?"

"Is that really a question?" Max grins, already typing out a text as Pierre feeds him the details.

**********

"You should do body shots," Max suggests, which earns a roaring laugh from Daniel and a half hearted one from Pierre.

"I don't think so," Pierre says, "there's no one here I trust enough to let that happen."

"Not even your best friend?" Max gestures to you and shoots you a wink when Pierre glances over. "I think she's trustworthy."

"No thanks." Pierre holds up his plastic cup and salutes Max before draining it to the dregs.

Pierre's immediate refusal hurt more than it probably should have. You hadn't expected him to jump at the offer but having him shut the idea down so thoroughly hadn't been what you wanted either.

Max notes your pouty lower lip and speaks on your behalf. "Come on mate," Max insists. "You just won your first prix, live a little! It's not like you've got anything to lose, she's your best friend."

"That's exactly why-"

"Shut up, it would be fun! Wouldn't it?" Max says this last bit to you, a wild grin on his face.

Max expects you to turn red and object. That was his end goal. But what the Dutchman hadn't counted on was how drunk you already were on Pierre. On his smile. On his bright blue eyes, swirling in the aftermath of his unlikely triumph. And mostly on the not-so-sneaky way he glances at you every few minutes.

"Let's do it."

Pierre blinks, searching your face for any sign of distress. "Wait, are you serious?"

"Yeah, why not?" You shrug, suddenly fearing that you'd read him wrong and he really was against this whole thing. "Unless you don't want to-"

"Get the vodka," Pierre interrupts, nodding to Max though his stare remains pinned on you. Pierre latches onto your wrist and drags you around the room until he finds a table long and sturdy enough for his liking. 

"This a good height for you?"

The coffee table is low enough that you'd have to kneel. Luckily getting on your knees isn't something you'd mind doing for Pierre. You lick your lips without thinking. Pierre's pupils blow wide, black swallowing the swirling oceans of blue.

"Sure," is all you manage.

"Good." Apparently neither of you were able to focus on speech. You work together to clear the empty plastic cups and used napkins from the surface. Your hands brush when you both reach for the last cup and you just catch the way Pierre's breath hitches.

You and Pierre have danced this dance since you were teenagers. Each of you knows the steps by heart. The only difference is tonight neither of you were poised to bow out before the final lift.

"Beep beep, bitches!" You yank your hand away when Max's shout reaches you. Pierre's hand lingers in front of him,  outstretched as if your palm remained grazing his thumb. 

Max holds the bottle of vodka over his head as he wades through the crowd. "You're all about to be very, very entertained."

"Where's your chaperone?" You ask Max, searching for Daniel in the low lighting. You press your palm to your thigh, dissipating Pierre's lingering heat.

The Dutchman waves you off. "Went to get us more drinks. Pierre, isn't it kinda hard to do body shots if you're still fully clothed?"

"Who says I'm the one getting undressed?"

Max's grin dimples his flushed cheeks. "I mean you can ask her to take her shirt off in front of all these people if you want to."

"No," Pierre responds quickly. "Fine. I'll do it."

When Pierre strips off his shirt he gets more than a few whistles from men and women alike. That tended to happen when someone was built like a Greek fucking god, you supposed. Whoever voted for People Magazine's "Sexiest Man Alive" and decided on Michael B. Jordan had clearly never laid eyes on Pierre, with his bronzed skin, endless expanses of muscle, and brilliant cheshire grin.

Michael B. Jordan who?

Pierre hands the team branded shirt off and lays out on the table. He pillows an arm under his head, bare bicep flexed as he gets comfortable. Leaning in to kiss along the hard muscle was out of the question, however tempting it was.

Pierre looks up expectantly. "You coming?" 

Holy shit, this was actually happening.

"Yeah, I'm coming." You sink to your knees and Pierre laughs.

"Up here." He pats his thigh with his free hand and beacons you forward. "Please."

Screw it, you've already thrown your friendship out the window. This night ended either in heartbreak or awkwardness, might as well get your money's worth.

A few whoops break out above the music. The bassline isn't the only thing thundering in your chest as you straddle Pierre's thighs, hands braced on his chest.

"Okay?" Pierre whispers for your ears only. You nod with what you hope is a charming smile.

"Alright move," Max says, shooing you back until you're resting on your haunches. Max flicks the cap off the bottle and you grab it to take a long sip.

Max gapes at you and you wipe a hand over your mouth. "Close your mouth, you'll catch flies."

Pierre's thighs tense beneath you in response to your bold declaration. Dozens of Pierre's friends and team members gather around. For all you care, Pierre is the only person in the room.

"Last chance to back out," Max warns. You're too busy tracking the drop of liquid that falls from the neck of the bottle to splash onto the crease of Pierre's abs to bother responding. 

"Pour it out." Pierre's chest sinks with his demand, doing nothing but sparking your imagination, creating images of him heaving beneath you. You'd sell your soul to recreate the way you're currently poised above Pierre's hips with a little less clothing and no audience.

Max gives up hope on you replying and dribbles the alcohol up Pierre's abdomen, stopping just below his pecks.

"Have at 'er-"

Your tongue is on Pierre's skin before Max has finished his sentence. You feel the muscle tense beneath your tongue, going rigid at the first contact. The burn of the vodka doesn't even register as you lap it up, catching the drips that fall over his sides. 

You aren't sure either of you is breathing. Salty sweat mingles with the sharpness of the alcohol, an afterthought barely worth mentioning.

Blame the liquid courage or blame the high from Pierre's win, but you were confident Pierre was enjoying this just as much as you. 

Planting a hand on Pierre's hip, you steal a glance up at him to find him locked on you. You take that as permission to continue, dragging your tongue flat up his stomach and continuing well past where the vodka had been poured. Up between his pecks, over the curve of his throat that bobs beneath your tongue, over his chin until you meet his lips, already parted and waiting. 

Neither of you pay the shouts cresting around you any heed. You've both waited too long for this, endured too many almosts and what ifs to let the opportunity slip through your fingers. Your sticky hands cradle Pierre's face, angling it in a way that's to your liking so you can explore more of his mouth. He tastes like whiskey and mint, the juxtaposition of hot and cold scattering your thoughts. One of Pierre's hands finds the nape of your neck when you gasp for air, refusing to let you end the moment.

And it's pure, unending bliss that floods your veins when he nips at your lower lip, swollen and surely reddened from his kiss. His thumb sweeps across the back of your neck while you both fight to catch the breath currently evading you.

Daydreams didn't hold a candle to the real thing. One taste and you were addicted, craving as much as Pierre was willing to give.  

"Hey," he murmurs, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a stupidly gorgeous smile.

"That was nice," you tease, tangling your fingers in the silky blond strands of his hair. "I wouldn't be opposed to doing it again."

"Me too. Maybe somewhere where it's just us though. I wouldn't want to scandalize my team any further." You manage to steal another sweet peck before Max hauls you off Pierre.

"Fucking finally," Daniel says, clapping when you're upright again. "Do you know how long I've been trying to orchestrate this? The two of you really are dumber than a box of rocks. I can't believe all it took was Max suggesting body shots to get you two to kiss."

The arm that wraps around your waist feels right. Pierre hasn't hugged you like this before, with his chin resting on your shoulder and his nose nuzzling your neck, but it already feels like home.

Pierre ignores Max completely in favor of pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. "Why don't we go back to my room? I'll pour more alcohol on myself if that's what it takes to convince you."

You're just about to take him up on the offer when one of his team members taps his shoulder. He glances at them impatiently, which the man thankfully doesn't take personally.

"They want some photos with you holding your trophy," he explains, handing a shirt and the star shaped interpretation of the Italian flag to Pierre. "It will only take a few minutes,  they promised not to keep you long."

Of course everyone knew exactly where your minds were. Sanity had long since left the premises, tangled up in crisp white sheets. Pierre's entire team and half the Red Bull garage had seen what had gone down while the prix winner was sprawled on that coffee table. There would be no chance of denying it in the morning. 

And while you'd never imagined that the first time you'd kiss your best friend would be directly preceded by licking copious amounts of shitty liquor off his super-heated skin, now that you'd experienced it any other way seems forgettable.

Pierre sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I mean, I already have my trophy, but…" your stomach lurches when you realize he means you. Pierre catches the way your mouth hangs open and he shoots you a grin before accepting the real trophy.

"You carry it," he says, not giving you much of a choice as he thrusts it into your hands. "I'm occupied."

You're about to point out that his hands are, in fact, free and that the more likely reason for insisting you carry the trophy was his usual post-race laziness when he slings an arm around your shoulders and tucks you tight to his side.

"Is this okay?" Pierre asks when you involuntarily stiffen. God, it was more than okay, it was perfect, it had just caught you by surprise. You'd only kissed him a handful of minutes ago and Pierre was already wrapped around your finger, smitten as if you'd been a couple for years.

"Yeah no, it's perfect. Simply lovely," you say quickly, stumbling over your words.

"Can I kiss you again?"

Your answer comes in the form of a hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks. You prop the trophy on your hip and smile up at your race winner.

"You don't have to ask that ever again. My answer is always yes."

[flowersarefreetherapy]

You Are My Sunshine: pt. 7

CW: Mentioned pet whump, implied past violence, mostly just a bunch of fluff!

“Hey, Robin!”

“Morning, Ezra,” Robin calls back. They unwrap the scarf from around their neck, stomping snow off their boots. The smell of coffee rushes over them as they walk further into the corner shop, boots squeaking against the wood floor. Thad follows a step behind them, humming to himself as he unbuttons his coat. 

Star trails right behind them, still bundled up in the coat, hat, and gloves purchased that morning. He looks around the room with wide eyes, but Robin is proud. The whole morning was spent shopping for warmer clothes and toiletries for Star, and he made it through the shops without any form of panic. 

So time to celebrate with coffee.

Ezra is working today, as he normally is. This week his locs are dyed orange and black, likely leftover from Halloween. When he sees Star, his smile freezes for a moment, but reappears just as strong. 

“Plain black coffee, just like your soul?” Ezra jokes when Robin reaches the counter. 

They roll their eyes, but nod. “You know me so well.”

“Lawyers. Always so predictable.” Ezra turns to Thad. “And you want a scone and a caramel frappuccino.” 

“As always.”

Ezra’s fingers fly across the screen as he types in the order. Then he leans forward, smiling at Star. “Anything for you?”

Robin steps back with Thad following, allowing Star his moment. If he needs help, then they will step in, but for now, they wait. 

Star clears his throat, clasping his hands together behind his back. He rocks on his toes before whispering, “Can I, I, I have a hot, hot chocolate?”

His gaze instantly darts to Robin, who smiles in encouragement. Shopping, coffee, Star ordering for himself. Today is a very, very good day. They wrap their arm around Thad’s waist and rest their head on his shoulder. And the day is only going to get better once they have coffee.

“How are you doing?” Thad asks Ezra as he starts on their drinks. Star hides himself behind both of them, close enough Robin can hear him breathing. “How’s Lucy?”

“Oh, we broke up,” Ezra answers. He flashes them a smile, but it’s mostly fake. “She wanted to move to Montana and there ain’t any way I’m leaving here.”

“I’m sorry,” Robin says softly.

“Yeah, well, what can you do? It was better for both of us to go our own ways. Forge our own paths in life and all.”

“Are you still in college?” 

Ezra nods, his smile real this time. “Yep! Passed the first of my exams this semester and I’ve been working on an architect project for the last few weeks that was just graded and I did great!”

“Oh good, I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks.” Ezra slides Robin’s drink across the counter. “One very sophisticated black coffee for you, Mx. Castillo.” 

“Thank you,” Robin says with an exaggerated bow. They can’t help their gaze from darting to Ezra’s wrist, where a tangle of vines, thorns, and flowers hide the tattooed barcode that was once there. It’s barely discernible, even more so with the whole tattoo sleeve Ezra has now, but they can’t help but remember the first time they saw it. 

Edward Paine, their co-counsel on some case they don’t even remember the details of now, had brought Ezra one day. The young man limped, hands shook so badly he couldn’t hold their files, and his jaw was out of place. Robin had tried talking to him once and Ezra had flinched so badly they didn’t try again. 

At least not until the case finished, and they took Paine to court for unlawful possession of a Domestic. They were able to use a small technicality of confidentiality that Paine broke when he brought Ezra onto the case to fight for the young man’s freedom. The courts ruled in their favor after weeks of deliberation and they took Ezra home. 

Now here he is, joking with Thad about the amount of sugar their husband consumes like it is nothing, saying he is going to cut back on the caramel he puts in the frappuccino. Thad laughs and asks if Ezra wants a tip. 

Star watches the exchange, his blue eyes bright with repressed laughter. Ezra makes a joke and Star’s hand flies up to cover his mouth. There is a pinkness to his cheeks that has nothing to do with the freezing temperatures outside.

Interesting.

“Rascal,” Thad mutters, joining Robin to the side. “I swear that kid thinks he’s the next-”

“Shh,” Robin says quickly, placing a hand on his arm. “Watch.”

“What wh-oh.”

When Star goes up to get his drink, he smiles at Ezra, who smiles back. He holds Star’s drink a moment longer, leaning on the counter with a smile. 

“I don’t think I’ve had the honor of meeting you before.”

The pink on his cheeks spreads to encompass his whole face. Robin bites their lip to keep from laughing. Already Thad’s shoulders are shaking. 

“My, my name is St-Star,” he whispers, twisting his hands together. 

“Star,” Ezra repeats. “That’s a nice name.”

“Th-thank you.”

“My name is Ezra, though I’m sure you’ve already guessed that. Here.” Ezra reaches for a pen and scribbles something down on the drink. “I don’t usually do this, but here. It’s my number, if you want.”

“Oh God,” Thad breathes. “Oh, God, Robin, what-”

“We can discuss this later,” they whisper. 

When Star joins them, gripping his cup like he has found the Holy Grail, they choose a seat in the back of the room. Thad sits with his back to the wall, the position allowing him to see everywhere in the coffeeshop at once. Robin sits across from him, with Star at their side. He hasn’t stopped staring at the numbers. 

This is good. It has been almost a month since Daniel left. At this point, he isn’t coming back. It’s good for Star to accept that, to find new ways to move on. Perhap Ezra will give him such an incentive. 

Either way, you just watched someone give your son his number. Be happy for him!

Robin takes a sip of their coffee and smiles at their husband. Today is a good day.

Tagging: @pigeonwhumps (let me know if you want to be added/removed!)

[muffindaddystyles]

KISMETS (Part 3)

Harry Styles x Preggs Fem!Reader.

Frenmies to lovers to parents, Dadthon!!H

Oral Smut, dirty talk and teasing.

Angst! Angst and fluff!! N' tooth rotting fluff.

Dadrry, bestie!h, boyfriend!h

Author's Note: The concept's kinda weird but if you've watched F.R.I.E.N.D.S and Phoebe Buffay carrying child for someone. You've got it my pal!

MASTERLIST PART 1 PART 2 LETS TALK/ ASK

The morning light cocoons them with softness and they don't care if they're sitting in a pool of blood.

"I love you too, so much." She hiccups pacifying down not wanting to never be to able say them again as Harry runs a hand at her back, limbs still tangled with eachother, whispering sweet things to her while Miss. Dori pulled her placenta out, "Y/N?" He panics when she dulls in his arms head lulling at his shoulder and heartbeat slowing down to feeble line. Gently pulling his face out from the cave of her neck he pats her cheek worriedly, again, at her unconscious state, her head dangling back over his wrist, "Y/N!?" His heart squeezing tight miserably into his ribcages when she doesn't respond to his calls.

Or

Harry and Y/N are back being to besties and enjoying being pregnant together.

Warning: Mentions of blood, pregnancy trauma and natural childbirth hurdles.

//

Eyes gives it all. Even the hidden treasures get's looted from the mere mistake of someone's gaze just like right now when he's pretending to be confused as ever, "what? Called her myself . . ." He frowns and she sniffs frozen in her position feeling exposed from the vulnerability of being naked infront of him; tries to cover herself criss-crossing her arms over her chest.

"Why'd you d'that?" She hiccups wiping her blushed nose and his pupils bursts wide into realization. Immediately, cradles her face tenderly stroking the apple of her cheeks shaking his head vigorously, "Oh -— no. no. no baby told her to come over to take her leftover stuff if not I better give it to charity."

"O . . okay." She sucks in a breather. Without a word he removes hers arms away in a gesture that you never need to hide from me. Kisses her shoulder blade stroking her wrists and her pulse in circles.

"Don't cry, lil penguin. Why're ye' cryin'?" He asks in his most gentle voice feathering her cheek with the back of his hand, "'m . . . 'm scared." She tries to recoup her cries holding her breath causing her cheeks to puff like a fish.

"Let's get you cleaned warm and nice. Then we'll talk yeah lovie?" He slides her elbows behind his neck holding her strongly to walk them to his bedroom. Gives her a bath full of vanilla bubbles, essential oils, scrubbed her back and would trail kisses up her belly from under water making her giggle and weave her fingers into his own wet curls.

Him loving all three of them's the most adorable thing.

Got her ready for mid-nap with his sweater and boxers putting fur pads atop her ears, aloe fused socks on her feet and turning the heat a bit to sleepy temperature. Tucks a quilt under their chins and snuggles her closer to himself letting herself calm to his heartbeats before she speaks her heart out to him, "wanna talk? What you're scared of babe tell me all of it. Knows that I'll handle." He slips further into bed bringing her thigh around his torso and her head atop his buff chest.

She exhales loudly trying to subside the emotional feeling of crying along with each word that comes out of her mouth. Her bad habbit of grounding everything to the pit of her stomach until it blasts into a massive destruction always gets her into worst scenarios.

"'M worried about alot of things –- actually." She peeks up at him and he's already looking down at her genuinely with relaxed self to let her know that nothing has changes and he's still her bestfriend who'd wait for her till she manages to speak, "about what?" He encourages her petting down her hair.

"Everything like 'like future . . 'n — me being a good mum after all of that 'm uni too. . . the semester would start right after the month of my delivery." She furls her toes to keep her anxiety at bay level cocooning her womb cause she feels the safest with the assurement of her babies being with her, "about my career and what about me dreams? What if I'll never get to chase 'em?" He listens to her diligently boring his gaze to the way her lips mold with each word. Sighs gently rubbing her arms up and down salutating his palm around the side of her neck to tip her face towards him. His lips lingers at her temple murmuring against it, "Together we're gonna do this."

"You're gonna be the kindest and bestest mommy ever Y/N. I belive in ye' and about your dreams. I'll take care that nothing comes in the way to stop ya . . You'll attend UNI same as before 'cause 'm takin' a break to be with our babies till your done with your degree." He declares to her seriously and honestly running his hand all over her spine to assure her in every way possible, locking his ankles with her under the sheets.

"'M a big boy now! A daddy to two babies don't underestimate me miss gremlin!" He grins impishly smushing his cheeks into her side wide spreading his palm atop her tummy warmly with bare fingers, "'kay gotcha!" She giggles cuddling into him with droopy eyes inhaling the same scent she's lathered in from the sweet spot of his neck.

//

She wakes up in the evening satisfied and happy with the nap marks, sweaty baby hairs, a bit of drool at the corner of her mouth and Harry already awake but still spooning her. He's her pregnancy pillow.

Covers her mouth with his pinky and ring finger when she yawns cutely stretching beneath him slowly blinking. Proper stops with his intense loving gaze still on her and blushes hard when he pecks her dry lips after sleep. Her chest heaves with his kisses and snogs trailing down between the valley of her breasts making her card her fingers through his chocolate curls. Whimpers ever hoarsely raising her hips in air for some friction and to levitate the throb in between her legs asking for him to release the ache away.

He takes the hint scooching closer to her side nudging her knees wide stroking the flesh of her thighs with tickling pinches. She whines fisting sheets with yearning arch of her back, "insatiable lil thing aren't ya?" He gives a toothy grin wetting his lips making her pause in her heave of getting his fingers instead flickering her vision over his candy plush lips.

"Kiss me?" She whispers and how couldn't he when she's looking this soft, warm and full of blush from the nap. He was litreally nutters for not ever pondering over the thought how alluring and attractiveness her satiny features hold, "'course darlin'." He tips her chin towards himself letting her sweet cushiony lips fuse against his's into an ardent kiss shooting her libidos 100 times higher than before making her moan pathetically into his mouth.

Her forearms winding around his shoulders instinctively and exhales through her nose not pulling away from the kiss and squeaks lowly when he bites her lower lip pulling away, "'ve got asthma y'mad mad woman." He gapes down at her dramatically fiddling with the bow of her panties. They skim down to her mound feeling the slickness that has spread all around and the rough trim of hair, "and I've got an extravagant sex drive!" It whisks into a breathy gasp of dense air when he slid his digits in between her slick folds flickering her swollen clitoris and repeating till she's panting for more.

"Sad innit? 'S me fault. I should be the one to help my girl out." He mutters trailing sweet kisses down her swollen belly to her pelvis snapping the elastic with his teeth causing her to jolt under his firm hold. She's too floaty else the statement of him claiming her would have swiped her away into a paradise of never ending imaginations.

"Mhmp. What did ya had fo' lunch lovie'?" He licks her juices off from the inside of her thighs sending intense quivers to her core. His palms smoothes under her thighs to hike them up and over his shoulders nipping at her skin when all she did was responded with a gasp, "d- dunno forgot . ." He perks his brows to his forehead commenting playfully while dipping down to tickle her with his curls.

"Pregnancy made ye' loose your braincells, moppet?" She raises her hand to smack him at head instead tugs his hair when for finally he flattens his tongue thickly against her wet cunt to give a good mind boggling lick sucking her clitoris in the way, "asshole. . ." She moans squirming like leaf under him but he quites her by taking her sensitive nub between his teeth to give a little graze and pull. It makes her pussy lips flutter and her hole leak with so much wetness it sticks to Harry's chin.

"H – ha . . rry. Harry." She tries to grind her hips against his mouth but he tuts brushing his pads around her dripping hole to tease her, "yes baby?" Groans of annoyance fills the room and she shoves her face into the pillow bitting down the snarky insults thrown at the curly head.

"Not gonna give ye' me fingers till you ask fo' it." He smooches wet filthy kisses letting her stickiness coat his lips stirring a ball of fire in her pit, "shut up." She whines nudging him with her knee telling him to do something to relax her.

"Make me." He smirks tilting his head to suck her petal fold creating dirty seductive noises on purpose. She huffs taking the matters into her hands pulling him up towards her by a hard grip onto his hair, "ouch ouch!!" He quips shutting his eyes tight.

"Harry Styles you make me cum or I'm never letting you fuck me ever." She glares him and he gives out a defeated sigh naughtiness still lurking in his moss of irises, "bossy – kay! Sorry! Was kiddin' babe. 'M all here to please ye'." She nods her head curtly shoving him back down and he giggles at her when in an instant from an angry lil penguin she melted into a mush of gooe when Harry thrusted two fingers at once inside her curving them once they were buried snug deep.

"Yes. Yes. Yes." She gasps moving her hips along him that he stayed in his place eating her out while his fingers pushed in and out of her tight pussy with squelching noises, "fuckin' tight urghh." He grits rubbing her clit into harsh circles with his other hand, mouth on her cunt and fingers fucking her continuously.

"Want more?" He asks and she bobs her head not even processing what he said almost loosing the idea of her presence feeling too much ecastasy and over the clouds, "here take as much as ye' want baby." He slips another third finger admiring the way her pussy stretches swallowing his fingers, "'m gonna lick your little wet cunt off then clean it with me filthy tongue to make a mess of ye' all over again filling you full with me cock. Sounds good baby?" He knows she's the shy lil bean and his sweet enthusiastic words of vulgarism heats her up enough.

"Gonna come. Harry --" She tips her head down and back in air eyes rolling into her sockets. Harry rubs her outer thighs soothing her thrashing body, "shhh baby relax. You can cum on me fingers." She obliges him softening in his arms and her pussy makes soppy noises gushing with each wave of pleasure throbbing around his digits while he works her out to make her feel as giddy as he could, "That's it baby girl. That's it cum fo' me again?" He prods at the sponge of bump inside her seething through her twitching walls making it impossible for him to pull out and tent his cock against the bed leaving a spot of how turned on he's at the moment.

But, his first-most priority is her. It always was her maybe more than Chessie

"Happy my lil lioness?" He comes back on top of her arms digged on either side of her temple and she tries to squint from one eye pulling him to herself planting a rewarding kiss at his cheek, "how 'bout a pizza from Tommy's place?" He lays ontop of her (like half ontop of her and half on his side; just to share her warmth).

"Can I have an extra topping of olives, pretttyy pleaseee?" She makes a weird funny face to convince him, "but you're allergic to 'em." He frowns sitting up thumb hovering over the contacts popping on the screen. He has everything memorized she's allergic to; it's not much peanuts, olives and clay dough ( she claims that she ate it once when she was possibly 5 and it swelled her flesh up ) not that she's gonna nip at it now but Harry couldn't trust her cravings at all.

"But 'm craving them sooo baddd." She clutches the hem of his tattered shirt pouting but he retorts with the shake of his head intervining their fingers together to kiss her knuckles, "Nope moppet. We don't need another hospital visit at fou' in the morning like last time, do we?" She remembers it. A very angry Chessie at his doorsteps while he helped her walk inside this home post hospital visit.

"I hate this." She huffs folding her arms against her chest, "I know. How about we delay getting y'sick once babies are out?"

"You kidding?" Her mouth slacks turning into a widespread grin at last, "absolutely not. Pizza without olives yeah?" He smacks a kiss against her open mouth loudly before his phones rings at the pizza place.

//

Harry's the busy bee. From grocery shopping to making the list of all the organic food he needs to line up his pantry with, he took everything's responsibility on himself. Cause mama has a huge duty for wrapping two babies in her womb safe and heated. Even when she tries to bend down to put a plate in dishwasher he skates near her supporting her back and scolding her, "all you've t'do is eat and nap. Dunno fucks count 'cause we fuck alot — chill sweet baby. 'switch onto telly 'm bringing banana milk and cookies." She pouts because she doesn't want to be a burden on him. She wants to suspect any tiredness from his features — the way he's been on his trippy toes for her from eight and half months but how much she tries she couldn't instead he looks way more giggly and joyful than before with never ending dad jokes and teasing bum pats.

They indeed fuck alot. Harry loves that she's always sleepy and clingy — he thinks he's truly, deeply and madly in love with his lil penguin but they're in the middle of train's track whose destination is atlast confession of love but he wants to wait. He can't wait though. He's always been impatient and light from stomach can't sleep at night without sharing a word of his swimming thought with anyone. He shared it with Nialler, it was at three in the morning after Y/N sucked his cock dry with so much admiration for his prick he was bout to cry and blurt out but he didn't. Cuddled with her and oreo practically on his face then ringed his lad startling him up, "why did ya wake me up fo' something we all already know Harold? Do I've to teach ya lessons cause now that would be a shame to your kiddos." He grunted dropping the call leaving Harry baffled and alone to his thoughts again.

"Sweet angel . . " He cooes jarring the door to his room with his foot. She has moved in to his house, from guest room to his room and his heart. Told him she didn't like sleeping alone and gets the most amazing slumber squished up against his chest in his arms. He was ardent that she completes him. He's right. She does. Always had but this time it's till they're getting old and wrinkly.

Lilac walls glow from the telly's illumination and the flicker of light from their open wardrobe. His ears perks at a repulsive groan and his brows dips to tune into the situation, "what are ye' doin', pet?" He asks confused at the sight of Y/N in a funny position with a razor in her hand standing in the middle of their wardrobe trying to duck and see through her huge bump.

"'M tryin' to shave me legs — seems impossible though." She throws her head back to convey her annoyance and Harry chuckles placing the banana milk and the plate of dark chocolate cookies atop the drawer island taking her wrist which's holding onto the razor, "you don't 'ave to it's just a maternity shoot –- no biggie, moppet." She huffs. Their faces at level and intimately close to have a good stare in eachother's eyes.

"No biggie!? it's the first time I'll get to have someone take me pictures, all, personally fo' me." Her smile pouty as she tries not to break her disgruntled facade down.

"How 'bout the times, I was a victim of ye'r endless pictures taking sessions?" He squints down at her. Hands out of instinct fumbling by her sides to feel her warmth on his skin, "you were sooo shittt at that job."

"Kay, kay then, lemme just –- hand this razor, I'll shave ye'r legs pretty girl." Happily she shoves it in his grip while he knees down hiking her leg ontop of his knee. His pink tongue popping out in concentration. She trusts him in this because last time he was the one to shave herdown there. Taking a sip of her banana milk she taps the straw against his lips speaking, "a bestie in need is a bestie indeed." With his eyes on her ankle and his pretty hands which could make her come infinite times right now working so diligently, He gives her a high five taking a sip himself.

She breaks a cookie forwarding it to Harry and he looks up — so being all dramatic she acts shy and blushy turning her gaze away in a swift, "what baby?" He laughs putting her other foot on his knee his grip tight around her ankle.

"Don't stare at me calves like that you creep." He wipes away the crumbs from his lips giggling and making her giggle, "I've literally shaved your cooch days before." She jabs her big-toe against his nipple getting a high pitched squeak from a grown ass man in return.

"I hate you!" She says through the spurt of chuckles and his response in return turned both of them silent, "I know ye' love me." Their cheeks blazed. Eyes twinkling. Hearts doing lil dance dance but nobody from them tries to break the comforting silence knowing they'd word vomit the instant they'd.

They say "I love you." And "love you." in their normal routines without making it a mess of shyness. But the butterflies at that specific moment when the epiphany dawns on the pair that they really are in love with eachother makes their tummies float in void with butterflies.

"All done!" He announces enthusiastically kissing her knee like she's a princess in distress and the words burns at the plush of her lips, "love you."

"You too, lil penguin." He smiles boyishly.

"Oh fuck, I forgot we're gonna have shoot in our pyjamas." She yells in a low hum and he rolls his eyes slapping her ass, "rotten you're."

"Oopsies."

//

A maternity shoot in their back garden along oreo never seemed this fun when they were gushing about it days prior. Nialler gifted them cute baby pink coloured matching pyjamas with yellow peaches pattern, mommy and daddy embroidered on them. They even matched some fluffy kitten hats too!! A pair of yellow and pink with kitten ears with goggly eyes, big cheshire that of Oreo.

Their close friend Onna was all up for the shoot and nothing's more adorable than Harry's soft hands around Y/N's belly in a protective way, while they sat on the fluffy growing grass and cotton flowers. Her back resting against his taught chest, his legs wrapped on either side of her and oreo almost stretching atop her bump quenching loud belly ache laughs from them.

"Two pictures 'n 'm already tiredd, pff." She gasps shuffling a little to activate her sore bum and Harry pecks her shoulder cutely, "some more 'cause you'll grump later." Onna captures each every second of their tooth rotting interaction.

"Oi. I'll not!!" To avoid a banter Harry taps her chin pointing towards the camera speaking, "last one doll, one to show that we really are pregnant." Onna's laughing at their techniques. Shaking her head with each shot of overloaded sweetness she traps in her camera.

"I. Am. Indeed. Pregnant. Pet." She looks down with wide eyes rubbing her prodding tummy in circles, the top button litreally about to pop and Harry's face adorns with a naughty grin showing his bunny teeth, "Me too!!" He squeals rubbing his moth covered belly the same way she's doing and it sent both girls into fits of laughters.

"Sillllyyyyy." She sing-songs throwing an arm around the nape of his neck to bring him closer and smooch a loving kiss to his cheek, "you're gonna be the best dad." She whispers eyes closing into the diameter of his scent and he rests his lips against her forehead. Onna having a smile of adoration for her friends while she did her job, laying down to capture this one beautifully.

"Yeah?" His voice just audible to them. "Uhmm." She nods fiddling with the collar of his pyjamas and their bubbles pops when oreo tugs at Y/N's top revealing her graceful babies bump.

"You batty creature!!" She tries to grab oreo to smoosh her in her arms but oreo gallops miles away before it could happen.

//

The whole last night Y/N couldn't sleep. Tossing and turning with whines of complaints to a snoring Harry on her side. When Harry woke up she was already staring him like an owl scaring the poor thing, cause it wasn't a loving one. It was a proper creeping stare with baggy eyes and pouty lips, "can we have 'em out already?" She snuggles into his throat and he massages her head.

"In a week." He grogs out stroking his cheek against her's, "Have ya taken out all the required papers?" He asks her and she nods with a yawn. Today's the enrollment day for Y/N's next semester -- Harry will go to her UNI to talk to the administration instead of her.

"I'll be back in no time, till then try havin' a good rest, want some donughts from that one shop near ye'r UNI?" He thumbs at her baby locks. She shakes her head murmuring into his flimsy sweat shirt, "not feeling like it." Dunno what happened. She was alright after for finally her sickness went away but today she feels like shit because of her Braxton hicks climbing to painful peak.

Kissing her head last time he untangles himself to get ready and she watches him buttoning up his cuffs with his curl dangling over his eyes, he's looking handsome and a bit too out of her league with the crisp white shirt and chequered trousers.

He squats down pecking her lips. Her nostrils filling with cinnamon ocean-y smell soothing the tick of her nerves. Her body reacting to even the air pricking at her skin, "don't miss me too much, lil penguin." He gives her an eskimo kiss knowing she's feeling down and tired today the way she has her face squished into pillow and isn't trying even to cup his cheeks like she does everytime he leaves for something.

He puts her phone on the nightstand tugging her under the sheets, switching off the lamp and slowly exists the room not to disturb her. She doesn't know when he leaves but the pin-drop silence tells it all and she's half conscious half awake with fluttering eyelids.

She turns on her back with a groan to get rid of the dull ache in her pelvis and outer thighs — but then she feels something . . . . something wet between down there and it makes her snap open her eyes blinking blankly at the ceiling. Tries not to think of bad scenarios but it's otherwise.

"Holy cow of jesus." She fists the pillow under her sitting up with much difficulty and to her worst horrors the sheets are sploched badly. She stands up with her spine almost bending in two — staying calm and positive even when a heavy gush of water trickles down her legs soaking the rug. It has nothing attractive in it as they show in movies but rather feels like a dam leaking and a litreal adult peeing in their gowns.

She snatches the phone from nightstand putting a firm arm beneath her belly walking out of room, her maternity floral white gown clinging to her skin. A tinge of shock weaved through her bones but that didn't made her loose her balance. She wants to throw the phone against the wall when the line always beeps busy, "already missin — " his honey of voice bringing tears in her eyes.

"Get your ass back home!! Right fuckin' now!" She yells into speaker trudging forward with carefull steps. He pushes onto breaks hard, panicking into his seat, "What happened!?" He's quick in turning gears speeding back home. Her lips wobbles blue from pain and the unbearable throb between her thighs. Words struck in her throat as she tries to speak gripping the globe of stair railing leaning against it when a hard contraction striked against her spine.

"'M going into labour — " Harry's heart falls into his arse. His vision blurring from the intensity of the moment and he's thanking Gods for being five minute drive away from home. How many times they prepared for this time it all went in vain and now Harry's beating himself for leaving her side at all, "'m comin' home, it's okay baby, it's okay breath." His lips stammers from an invisible fear and fingers twitches around the wheel.

Wanted to shout at him "breath, my ass." Instead She gasps loudly in fright when she feels her cervix dilating to the maximum point and it did the last fireworks for her tears, "no, no, noo!!"

"'M giving birth!!" She shouts kissing her teeth together to keep the pain at the bay hooking a thumb into her panties, scrunching her dress up to press them under her armpits and squatting down with the heels of her palms pressed with so much strength over the last stair case, "what? oh my — 'm calling our midwife." She can feel a head trying to force it's way out from her vagina and it rakes out a sob from her chest.

"Please be gentle with mommy, 'm coming." Harry says and it comes out as a weak whisper while he drives sitting on the edge of the seat and Y/N's ears are ringing with white noise to even pay attention to what he's saying. Her gown drenching with sweat and she screamed at the top of her lungs pushing with her all might scaring a sleepy oreo in her bassinet, "Shit." He mutters tugging his curls back immediately calling their midwife. He wishes his babies could atleast wait for him to be there with their momma.

"Miss. Dori !! Y/N has gone into labour, 'm out, dunno —---" There's loud urgent shuffling on her side that of picking stuff and closing metal boxes as she assures Harry with firmness, "I'll be there in just 10 minutes, till then reach there as quick as possible. She needs you Mr. Styles." It collects sweat at the dip of his spine sky rocketing his anxiety. His breath elevating at the sight of his society's gate and if it was possible he'd have flown to her.

Parking hastily on the side of road and leaving his car's door open — dishelved he steps outside almost falling square on his face while the old couple that use to sit at their porch in mornings watch him with concern, "Is everythin' alright son?"

They ask and Harry nods yelling to them, "Y/N is in labour!!" His face blowing out of any color when his ears fills with painful screams of his lil penguin and his fingers jumbles with keys unlocking the door.

It's surreal. The realization not completely setting in that all of this's happening right at this moment, that he's going to be a daddy in some hours, Y/N hunched over the bottom stair squatting down with thighs wide apart and her gown soaked against her back. His breath knocks out of his lungs and eyes bursts into shock when he sees his baby's head pushing it's way out in between her legs.

"I can see it's head! I can see it's head oh m'godness." He announces rushing towards her and Miss. Dori guides him, "Harry help her pull it out, cup the baby's head and if it's shoulders are grab-able, have it out." He places the phone atop the stair sitting down beside Y/N kissing the side of her head quickly wiping her tears away.

"Hi baby, it'll be alright, 'm here now let's pull our bubba out mighty quick." He presses his chest to floor to look down there and if Y/N would have been in her good state of mind she'd have butt him in not to. His brows kinks tightly together as he tries to concentrate and not to pass out from the sight of blood and his blood covered infant half hanging in it's mother's v.

Gently he wraps his shivering palm around it's head and shoulder moreso figuring out if it could itself comes out, "push a bit more, moppet." She shakes her head furiously crying and trying with all her will, "It's hurts!!" He wishes the process wasn't that painful.

"I know, I know baby —- oh okay okay! We got him." He cackles through his worry taking him all out and in his arms having a good grip around it's tiny waist fearing it would slip. Y/N takes a huge sigh of relief muscles loosening and shoulders slumping. She could hear him sniffing close to her with little noises despite of how much she wants to hug him, she still has another one to bring out in the world.

"It's Elios." He grins with ablazed glossy eyes stroking his tweeny baby hair back. Though his excitement shatters into pieces as he cries to Miss. Dori, "He's not breathin, n'--not breathin' what do I do??" He has switched into his fight and flight mode. Fat tears spilling down his cheeks. Y/N wants to have him in her arms and make sure her baby's healthy but a hard contraction makes her bones jello with her another baby trying to pop out.

"Calm down Mr. Styles, Is his cord wrapped 'round his neck?" When Harry couldn't mutter a single word just shaking his head ear to ear staring down his little one with fear and sadness, Y/N screams for him, "No!!"

"It's nothin', clean his nose, it's probably some clotting blocking his breathing passage." Harry acts on her instruction without wasting a time and the threshold's walls bounced with prattle of his low coarse cries, "Oh my god!!" Harry gasps holding his baby boy closer to his chest not giving two fucks if his shirt and skin stains with thick blood.

In the meantime Miss. Dori and her assistant nurse tramps through their door. Cutting the cord Nurse takes Elios from Harry's arms and takes him for a cleanup as Harry leads her to their nursery. When he comes back Miss. Dori has their other bubba already out and it's worth watching him flying into clouds of paradise, full of glee, happiness, so much happiness has never experienced before.

"Hi. Victoria." He keeps his voice soft if she's a chinese porcelain doll and would break in his arms. He loves his son to core but the way his heart just swirled with fondness and love for his daughter the second she was layed into his embrace was something else. He's tender with her and from just gazing her it spurt out a sob from the deepest of his tummy, "she was so stubborn to come out rather than his brother." Miss. Dori tells him and his head perks up with proud adoration. Handing her to nurse he turns his gaze back to his exhausted lil penguin leaning against the wall now. And scoots closer to his bestfriend, the love of his life and the mother of his babies.

Hugging her warmly and affectionately, winding his arm around the nape of her neck to smoosh her into his chest while she cries against his throat. Being tender and the softest yet sweetest he could be with her, pressing his lips against her ear to whisper words that made her cry even more loudly into his bicep, "I love you, I love you more than anythin' in the world, 'm s' soo proud of ye' baby, me soulmate and the love of me life. I promise to love you forever and infinity." The world blurs around them and their heartbeats latches to sync in with eachother. The morning light cocoons them with softness and they don't care if they're sitting in a pool of blood, mess of the beautiful birth of their gorgeous twins.

"I love you too, so much." She hiccups pacifying down not wanting to never be able say them again as Harry runs a hand at her back, limbs still tangled with eachother, whispering sweet things to her while Miss. Dori pulled her placenta out, "Y/N?" He panics when she dulls in his arms head lulling at his shoulder and heartbeat slowing down to feeble a line. Gently pulling his face out from the cave of her neck he pats her cheek worriedly, again, at her unconscious state, her head dangling back over his wrist, "Y/N!?" His heart squeezing tight miserably into his ribcages when she doesn't respond to his calls.

"'M listenin', pet." She whispers smiling weakly and Harry's lungs nourishes with air, "Scared me baby love." He hugs her again with a wobbling pout and this time she tries to console him.

"Y'okay baby? Should we go to hospital? It's better if —--"

"'M okay!!" She simpers kissing the dip of his collarbone. Carefully he smoothes an arm down her back and knees picking her up bridal style to take her to their bathroom for a hot nice bath full of essential oils. He caress her face, trailing his knuckles down her cheeks, gazing her fondly while sitting down on the floor beside her with his one hand inside the warm water to lull around her calves.

"I love you, you've given me such beautiful babies. 'Ave ye seen Tori ? She's a proper you, that lil bunny mouth of yours, aish." He giggles and she squeezes his fingers in a silent gesture to tell him how happy she's. Drying her clean with a towel and moisturizing her body, making her wear her comfortable gown.

When he tucks her under sheets she babbles with droopy eyelids and tired body, "can I see my babies?" He smauches a kiss against her forehead, "After a teeny rest, yeah angel?" But, she was already out like a bulb making him chuckle softly.

//

Miss. Dori left the kind nurse behind with them till Y/N wakes up and with her help Harry lays down the twins on either side of their mommy. Deeply pondering how lucky he's to have his family completed and healthy, tucked into their mother's armpits.

He giggles and holds his breath in awe when Elio wriggles in his blanket, scootes his bum closer when Y/N yawns and stretches, "how ye' feelin'?" He brushes her loose tresses back and she nods attempting to sit up.

"Good." Thanking him when he gets comfy amount of pillows behind her, "wanna hold them?" He asks as she ducks down to kiss both of their soft skins.

"'M arms are still shakin' . ." She chuckles, "no biggie, I'll help ya out, a bestie in need is a bestie indeed." She giggles loudly startling Tori and Harry hushes her comically scooching behind her embracing her in a heated wrap from behind chin resting over her shoulder, "shh, gotta be quite with this one — such a light sleeper bub."

"This's Victoria Anne Styles and Elios Vincent Styles." He supports her one forearm with his's under: giving Elio to her and having Tori in his other, "are you presenting them to me as some kind of award for my bravery, pet?" She nudges him playfully and he shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

"Such nice awards, innit?" He gives her an eskimo kiss and she puckers her lips asking for a loving smooch of his candy lips, "absolutely."

//

They took their first nap together with Harry and Y/N on either side of bed with their babies in the middle of their warmth just like a nest of sparrows, safe, comfy and utterly snuggly with the couple protecting their dainty creatures of soft flesh from the storms of outside.

"C'mere baby . . " Harry usheres Oreo with the snap of his thumb as she tries to canoodle into the soles of his feet tickling him and she obliges his tone, "Good girl . ." His own voice tired petting her crown when she turns into a lil ball of fur beside Tori who's sleeping at her daddy's side, being ever hesitant and carefull with them making Harry smile at her thinking of giving her treats in dinner.

He almost slips from under the sheets when a shriek of cry jolts him awake and it's Tori crying loudly thrashing under the blanket while her brother kept on sleeping stretched over his mommy's chest, head tucked under her chin.

Ah! Here comes the real deal. Daddy Harry's about to face real challenges 'cause we all know he once promised that he's a big boy now, innit?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Teacher’s Pet

Sequel to Extracurricular

Warnings: noncon/rape; drinking/drunkenness, oral, some uses of ‘daddy’.

This is a dark! fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: (Professor) Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: Your night out proves to have lasting effects.

Note: Well, another spontaneous sequel. Did you ask for it? Well, you know my username. A brief blip on the radar as I work on my king!Loki but you know what, we need some dirty Ransom.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog and I might continue it as a full series! <3

You scooped up the water desperately into your mouth, rinsing away the taste of bile as you leaned heavily on the porcelain sink. You felt hands on you and tried to shake them away as you groaned, your head pulsing as blurred halos of light seared your vision. 

You’d fucked your professor. Worse, you couldn’t even remember it. 

Not what happened after the club or how you’d come to wake up in his bed. You only remembered the distant haze of music and sour alcohol.

“Get away from me,” you tried to shrug him off as you twisted the faucet. “Stop!”

Ransom grabbed your arms and pushed them down to your sides. He squeezed them harshly and a large hand flew up to your chin. He made you look at yourself in the mirror, your make up smeared and your face puffy. His bare shoulders were visible around you and his blue eyes pierced you.

“Baby girl, look at you.” He ran his thumb over your lower lip, “You’re a mess… that’s gonna be a long walk of shame if you don’t start behaving.” He dropped his hand to your shoulder and slid the strap down your arm. He grasped the front of your dress and tugged it back down, groping your tit as it fell out. “Now, sweetie, you can stop being a brat and get washed up or I’ll toss you out the front door and you can walk back to campus with my cum still sticky on your cunt.”

You gasped at his vulgarity and he chuckled as your lips parted in disgust. You felt a prodding and he wiggled his hips.

“What’s it gonna be?” He gripped the top of your rumpled dress.

You closed your mouth and held back your revulsion. You grabbed the sides of your dress and shimmied out of the ridiculous sequined sheath. Ransom let go as the fabric fluttered to your ankle and you crossed your arms as you turned to stare at the frosted glass of the show. His hand tickled your ass and he chuckled.

“Look at that face,” he mocked as you pouted, “You weren’t such a bitch last night.”

He slapped your ass and slid open the shower door. He nodded inside and waited for you to step past him. You did so reluctantly and he followed, closing you in. The stall was hug, much bigger than that shared in your dorm of five. He moved you in front of him and reached past you to crank the faucet to life. You were hit by a sudden flow of cold water and the stream slowly warmed against the goosebumps across your flesh.

Ransom’s hand trailed down your arms and slipped around your waist. He traced the curves of your body and drew himself against you. The water dripped between your bodies and he purred as his fingers edged along your vee.

“Turn around, sweetie,” he purred.

You were rigid and shook your head. You couldn’t bear to look at him. You couldn’t do it. You were already humiliated. And it was too late to drop his course. Too late to hide in shame and sign up for a summer semester.

“You’re starting to piss me off,” he pinched your thigh, “Now turn the fuck around.”

Your foot slid on the tile as you did as he said. You grabbed onto his arm to keep from falling and he laughed at your struggle. His eyes quickly descended your body and you kept from looking below his shoulders. Even if you didn’t peek, you knew he was in better shape than most of your peers. The cable knit sweaters he wore had kept it a secret though his broad shoulders had never appeared schlubby.

He leaned closer and whispered in your ear as he pulled you close. “Get on your knees.”

You blinked and shook your head. His hand rested on your shoulders as he straightened up to look you in the face.

“You made a mess of me last night so you gotta clean it up, sweetie,” he pushed on your shoulders. “Now,” he tapped your lips with his finger, “I don’t want to hear that pretty little mouth, I only want to feel it.”

He smirked and you shook away the trickle of water that spilled over your face. He dropped his hand down to his dick and his arm moved as he stroked himself. 

“Come on.” He gripped the back of your neck, “A good girl like you is always so eager to please her professor.”

He forced you down, your toes slipping dangerously until your knees hit the tile. You latched onto his hip and were nearly poked by his hard dick. You eyed his throbbing tip and the thick vein along his length. He was huge. You winced as your core ached and the tenderness between your thighs assured you of his size.

His hand stretched across the back of your head and he urged you closer. You closed your eyes and opened your mouth. The humiliation filled your chest as his dick filled your mouth. He pushed himself past your throat and you choked as you struggled to breath. He hummed and impaled you to his base, your slobber gathering against his pelvis.

He eased out and you breathed through your nostrils. He quickly thrust back in and you gagged, slapping his thick thighs as the water splashed noisily against his body and flowed down over you. He grunted as he moved you against him, soon both his hands held your head as he fucked your face.

“I thought you were a good girl,” he rasped, “Hmm? Always got the answer, don’t you? Always first to arrive…” He groaned as he rutted against you, “Look at you now, you little slut.”

Your eyes rolled back and burned with unbidden tears. You were glad for the stream of water as it hid your distress. The noise of him in your mouth made your stomach turn and you struggled to keep down another mouthful of bile. You gagged and whimpered around him. He tensed and stopped you suddenly, buried deep in your throat.

“Fuck,” he slid out of you slowly and his cock bobbed up as a string of spit hung from your lips and you panted raggedly. “I should cum in your mouth…” He tugged on your arm, “But I just love that ass.”

You stood, unsteadily, and staggered as he spun you to face the wall. He lifted your hands to rest on the wall and angled you as he pulled your hips back. You shook your head and tried to pull away. His nails dug into your flesh and he growled. You stilled and he reached to feel along your fold, shoving two fingers into you without warning. You were wet and you could both feel it.

“That’s a precious little act you got but this,” he pushed his fingers in and out, “Is giving it all away, sweetie.”

“Please,” you sniffed as you curled your fingers against the cold marble.

“You were begging for it last night.” He sneered as he parted his fingers and stretched you. “Oh, professor,” he mocked, “Fuck me. Fuck me, professor.”

He withdrew his fingers and stepped closer. He pressed his tip along your ass and angled it to your entrance. He gripped your shoulder with his other hand and you whined as he stretched you around his head. You strained against him as he sank into you and let out a yelp as he met his limit. He sighed and tilted his hips.

“Ow,” you groaned, “Ow, please, it hurts.”

“You fit me perfectly, sweetie,” he hissed as he rocked his hips, “Tell me, how many?”

“Wha--” Your voice evaporated and you dropped your head as you tried not to whine.

“How many boys?” His flesh slapped yours over and over, though his pace remained deliberate and slow.

You shook your head as your arms shook and you struggled to keep yourself upright. You bit your lip as your core burned and your walls hugged him.

“How many?” He barked and slapped your ass so that your legs wobbled and your arms bent so that your cheek met the marble.

“One. Just one,” you confessed and let out a pathetic moan.

“One?” He laughed and his grip tightened on your shoulder as his other hand held your hip in place. “I gotta break you in, then.”

He bent over you and dragged his lips along your shoulder. He nuzzled your neck and sank his teeth into the muscle just along your shoulder. You exclaimed and slapped the wall as he crushed you against it. He had you nearly off your feet as he sped up. He sucked on your flesh as you wheezed in pain and didn’t stop until you were swollen and sore.

He grabbed your hands and pulled them up above you, pinning them to the wall as he fucked you harder and harder. You were trapped as he used your body easily and sent waves of pain and pleasure through you. You came but it was so agonizing that you could only gurgle and tremble.

He snarled and pulled your arms back behind you, your back arching as he hooked his own arms through yours. He slammed into you, again and again. The water blinded you and blurred your vision as it filled your mouth and washed away his salty flavour. He grunted and spasmed, a growl as he finished inside of you.

He stilled you and rolled his hips. You winced and he shoved you off of him suddenly. He sniffed and measured his breaths as you caught yourself on the wall. You shakily wiped away the water from your face and listened as he moved around behind you. You heard the click of a bottle top and smelled the fresh scent of pine and sandalwood as it wafted in the steam.

“So much for cleaning up,” He snickered as his cum leaked out of you. “You dirty girl.”

📚

When you returned to your dorm, you were numb and entranced by disbelief. You climbed the stairs without counting the floors but somehow found your way to your section. Your roommates were still asleep after their own escapades and you were glad as you stood and waited for your coffee to trickle from the machine.

You wore the same pink dress, it smelled of Ransom, and your jacket was zipped only halfway as your purse hung from your elbow. You took your mug without adding sugar or cream and hid in your room. You sat gingerly at your desk and inhaled the aroma of steamed beans.

Your phone vibrated in your purse and you placed the bag on your desk beside the mug. It buzzed again and you ignored it. You stared at the wall. You didn’t know what to do. You winced as you turned in the chair. You had to get out of these clothes.

You stood and unzipped your jacket. You hung it from the back of the door and tore the dress down your body, the straps refusing to stay up. You shoved it into the bin beneath your desk and shivered as you grabbed the nightshirt wrinkled up on your pillow. You pulled on the cotton tee and groaned as your thighs rubbed together.

Your bag began to shake steadily. You snatched it up and unclasped it to pull out your phone. It was Lexi. You answered it with a short ‘hey’ and scrolled through the messages she’d been sending you all morning.

“Finally! I was so worried.” She said frantically. “We didn’t know what happened to you! I don’t even remember--”

“I’m fine,” you lied and sat on your mattress, “I must’ve taken a cab back.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you said curtly, “Is everyone else… okay?”

“Aside from hung over, yeah.” she answered.

“Good.” You replied flatly and hung up. 

You dropped your phone and crossed your arms. How could you be so stupid? How could you have gotten so drunk?

You lifted your legs up onto the mattress and spread out on the narrow single bed. You only stared blankly at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Every time you shut your eyes, you saw Ransom. The shower hadn’t been the end; he hadn’t even let you dress before he was on again. You wondered how he could go again so soon but there was little you could do to stop him.

He drove you home, his hand on your thigh. You caught his grins in the mirror and tried to ignore him. Before he let you out, he took your phone and keyed in his number. He waggled it before you but wouldn’t let you have it.

“If I call, you answer,” he warned. “I mean it, sweetie. Or I might just be forced to do something drastic.”

You blinked at him dumbly and nodded. He dropped it in your lap.

“All those cute photos of you, they’re all for me… right?” You didn’t miss the subtle threat. If you didn’t do as he said, those photos wouldn’t stay private. He showed you a few before you left the house, recalling how easy you were. 

You nodded. “Got it.”

The memory had you addled and you sat up. You took your phone to your desk and put a pillow on the chair before you sat. You were incredibly sore. You opened your laptop and grabbed a syllabus as you looked up your weekly meetings. You had to think of anything else.

You spent a few hours reading. It wasn’t easy. You found yourself going over the same paragraphs over and over and your notes made little sense as you reviewed them. You were growing frustrated as you finally gave up.

Your phone vibed and you checked the time. Hours had passed since your return, though it barely felt like it. ‘Daddy’ flashed across the screen as the cell continued to jitter on your desk. You shook your head; had he really done that? Your impression of Ransom as a refined professor was steadily falling away.

You picked up and put him on speaker, you didn’t have the strength to hold your phone. You hunched over as you spoke into the end. “Hello?”

“Sweetie,” Ransom’s voice rose, “Hope you’re resting up. Get lots of protein for that hangover.”

“Uh huh,” you muttered vacantly. What did he want?

“I just wanted to go over some things…” he said. You could hear water in the background, bubbling as he sighed. “Can you hear me, sweetie? Sorry, the hot tub’s a bit loud but I got a few tight muscles… late night, you now?”

He chuckled and you shuddered. 

“I can hear you,” you said quietly.

“Great. Now, Tuesday, I want you in the front row.” He purred, “Wear something short and don’t bother with the panties.” The water stirred through the speaker, “Or, how about this… you can wear panties but I want them handed in at the end of the lesson.”

You were quiet. This couldn’t be happening.

“Sweetie… answer me.”

“Okay.” You uttered. “Okay.”

“Yes, Daddy,” he recited, “That’s what you say when I give you an order. Got it?”

You cleared your throat. “Yes, Daddy,” you eked out and your stomach flipped.

“Well, you sound tired,” he said, “So why don’t you have a nap? Make the most of your weekend, it’s gonna be a long week.”

“Okay…” you murmured again, “Okay, uh, Daddy?”

He laughed again. “Fuck, you got me hard again. You shoulda stayed a little longer.” He taunted. “Ah well, I’ll save it for Tuesday…” He inhaled dramatically, “When you hand in… your assignment, we should discuss it further, yes?”

“Yes,” you paused and the silence was a warning in itself. “Daddy.” You hated it so much, it was bitter on your tongue, but you needed him to leave you alone.

“Good girl,” he praised and the line died.

You frowned and turned over your phone. You covered your face and resisted the urge to scream. You weren’t drinking ever again, although it was a bit too late for that lesson.

📚

The days dragged by. Sunday, you didn’t do much and you remained on edge as you awaited another torturous phone call. It never came and left you even more anxious. Monday returned a sense of normalcy to you. You went to class and had lunch on campus before you returned to your dorm. Still, no phone call and you even hoped that Ransom was having second thoughts.

Then Tuesday struck you like a slap in the face and the one class that separated you from your predatory professor flew by. You packed up and shivered as you shrugged on your jacket. You’d borrowed a skirt from your roommate Lindsay and a pair of stockings to cover your legs. Still, the late autumn air rushed up and sent a chill up your spine.

You hurried from one building to the next. You had ten minutes between blocks and so little time to prepare yourself. As you entered, Ransom stood at the front of the class as he always did. He wore a blue sweater as he read over his notes and didn’t seem to notice as you entered. You neared the front row and lingered at the aisle. He looked up and his cheek twitched as he saw you. He shook his head and looked to the centre seat.

You hid your disappointment and sat front and centre. You pulled your arms out of your jacket and let it hang open around your shoulders. You unpacked your notebook and two pens and tapped your foot impatiently. 

Your attention was drawn by tapping at the podium. Ransom tapped his index and middle finger on the wood. He looked up and met your gaze as he spread his fingers.

You rubbed your neck, a turtleneck hiding the mark he’d left on you. You shifted and parted your legs. His eyes flicked down between them and he quickly hid his smirk as he opened his Mac on the podium.

“Hey,” Cece dropped beside you, “You do the reading?” She was out of breath as she jostled around with her bag.

“Uh, yeah,” you watched her. “You?”

“I got the Coles notes,” she trilled, “Honesty, I’m still recovering from Friday.”

“Huh, yeah,” you fiddled with your pen. “What a night.”

“Oh my god, Lexi, she slept in the shower and I woke up on the floor,” she giggled, “What happened to you anyway?”

You shrugged. “Caught a cab and woke up at home.” 

You glanced at Ransom and Cece followed your eyeline. She squinted at your professor but her mind quickly drifted.

“Anyway, we’re going again this weekend--”

“No, thank you,” you said shortly, “I-- I can’t. I have assignments due next week.”

“Fine, party pooper,” she snipped, “Lexi did say you were a browner.”

“Did she?” You rolled your eyes. “You don’t seem to mind as you copy off my notes.”

“I’m just teasing,” she huffed, “How can you sit all the way up here?”

“I’m a browner,” you said dryly.

“Well, whatever, Josh is here.” She looked over her shoulder, “Maybe he’ll come out with us.”

“Maybe,” you mumbled and she left you as quickly as she’d come.

You looked at the front again and found Ransom watching you again. His jaw was squared and his forehead lightly lined in thought. He tore his eyes away and gripped the edge of the podium as he peered around the room.

“Alright, everyone, let’s quiet down and get started,” he boomed, “Next on our journey through the twentieth century, we move onto Salinger. If you want to sign into the campus portal, you’ll have ten minutes to do the pop quiz before we go over the results. Together.”

You sighed and dug around for your phone. The rest of the class grumbled and many dreaded the ten minutes as most of them hadn’t bothered to read the novel, like Cece. You could barely recall it yourself as you found it hard to concentrate on anything before your disastrous weekend.

As you signed into the course, a bubble popped up at the top of your phone. Ransom’s message made you cringe. ‘Cute skirt.’ You crossed your legs without thinking and another notification buzzed. ‘Don’t be shy.’

You peeked over at Ransom but he kept his eyes on his computer. You slowly pulled your legs apart and an eggplant emoji blipped up. You hid your discomfort and opened the pop quiz. If your focus wasn’t shattered before, it had flown entirely out the window.