#my finger slipped and i wrote a love poem for my best friend..

[ofstarsandlove]

What I wish my father will tell me one day

I'm sorry if I haven't made you feel loved, no one taught me how to love a daughter.

I'm sorry for not letting you dance under the rain that Tuesday afternoon when you were 9, it's just that I spent my childhood running around in the woods, while my sisters were home helping my mother in the kitchen, I just didn't realize little girls need to explore and climb trees and collect little stones like little boys do too.

I'm sorry I stopped telling you that I loved you when you began talking, that must have been so confusing for a little girl, not knowing if her father loved her or not. I have never been told that I was loved, and I know I'm bad at showing it, I did try, I did, but I should've told you how much I love you every day and every night. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I haven't told you how proud I am of you, but I was never told that when I was growing up, and I should've, I know. I just thought it was normal, and I wanted to make your life as normal as I could. But I am, I am so proud of you, you amaze me every day and everything you do, everything you did, from the moment you were born, your first cry, the first time you walked, the first time you said my name, the first poem you wrote, I am absolutely amazed by you every day.

I'm sorry I didn't hug you when you came home crying from your first day in high school, I didn't know what those girls had said to you, I didn't know you didn't have any friends. I didn't know that making friends was so different for girls, I've only ever known what it's like to live life as a boy, I didn't know you were struggling, I didn't know you prayed every night for a friend. I should've known, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for making you feel like you have to fake happiness to be loved, for making you feel like you have to settle, for making you build walls around yourself. I wish I could rewind and start again from the moment you came into this world, I was trying my best, I really was. But you have to know, this is my first time living too. This is my first time having a daughter.

I'm sorry if I haven't made you feel loved, no one taught me how to love a daughter like you.

[rawrmeansilyindinosawr]

Hidden Valley r@ncH

i JusT burned my friends bedframe their ex gave them and alSo found out the evil ex wuz a FatshAmer at lulul3monszz .!?? also met A gurl who wanted to put her feet in the fire .!;D n Butned a xmas tree cuz Jesus isnt god.!!! HAPPY EGG ZEMA DAY!!!!!!!!!!

Diss weekz has been spent dissociating n Crying n being scared of my own poop.!!:) welCum to HIDDEN VALLEY RANCH.!!!111 LOLZZZ this is not michael jacksonzz pedo land.!! dis is CWEAMY CWEAMY 11:11 RANCH.!!!!! (aka my sexy sexy sexy partners cum became ranch in my mouth when i Kholed n this is whut i wanna Kalll this blog post. K.!)

diss week i think i now i just realized i broke my finger a few wekz ago n itz deadazz just been untreated owchiez!!! had to skroll all tha wayBack 2 /10/23 to when i took pix of me wiff it wrapped in hello kitty band aidz.!!! i has nerve damage =[ from cutting open chiggen pesto. packet. Also im a sammich master of pesto kraft cheddar avocado sun dried tomatoes. also realized My Pussy tat (“meow”) iS baSically Kitty which is Ketamin3 which is so freakin street n hood n BARRIA/BARRIO.!!!!!!!! so basically when u have seggs witH me u BasicallY Get Hi like Ketamine which is kitty which i already SAID.!!!! =^_^= meoW.!! =^_^=

“my heart so separated from my head so many thoughts about all the things u said all the things u said.” i hate being gemini moon.!!!! i just jumped around 4 times and did a cartwheel n spun in a circle to make my bed.!!!:-D

okokOkKkKkKk so diss week / last week IDEK i went to tha mall n ated chikyfila:-] we said grace b4 n my skirt garter also got stuckked on the ChaiR so i deFz screamed n the chair Hit my bootyy so NOwwwz i have more bruises!!:] i luvv being mall goth n gettin moi boba n kissing in the hottopic fiTting r00M .!!! N gogodancing at elsewhere wuz Kute n fun wif my BEST FWEND WHO HATES TWINK SHORTS N WE RAN AROUND ST TRAFFICKK AFTER EATING BANH MI N DOUBLING DOWN ON OUR IDEA OF STARTING A VEGAN BUBBLE BUTT T STORE LOL.!!!! n i Yawned a lot n sweated a lot n den got more callouseszz.:-) #modelfeet

i luv living in BUSHTHICC PUSSY :-} .!!!! phat pussy betta than skinny flatbush Bussy…… =]]] i met a hot girl who touched my handzz so nice n said my choker was hot n my hair was rly cool n unique N den said if she wuz a Dj her name wuld b LezbHonest cuz she’s gay>.< n we did K in el bano 2gether at cute jazz bar w sexy pretty disco lites where i Def def defs had an existential crisis lol Feeling lik every 1 that walked in looked like someone i had met b4.?! I guess nothing is original under tha sun N we literally r all connected.?? N although we (strangers as a collective) hav Nvr met b4 there r specific things tht can always remind us of home …. Home is everywhere it is in ourselves.! <afterwardzz we tried to stalk her costar to c if she had taurus placements .!! =p>

daily commutes early morning subway fingers accidentally slip onto other fingers intertwining a little bit but we always pull away reallly quickly, shy n defensive n unyearning. <poem i wrote ab accidentally touching lik 5 diff pplz hands in crowded subway>>>>

Y does billyraebobbycyrus hav so many fuggin BABEZZ.?! hannah montana hannah montana hannah MonTananananan.!!! babananannanana.:)

I HAV BEEN TO TWO EVICTION HOUSE PARTIES NOWZZZZ LOLZ n nyc housing has gots to get betterzz =p eithEr Way, i LUV NIPPLE BUMPIN MY FWENDZ OUTSIDE OF HAPPYSOCKZ IN BUSHTHICC WHICH IS NEAR BEDFORD AVENUE I MEAN BEND MEH OVER AVENUE N MOI SEXY WEXY PARTNER IS MOVING OUT THA SHELTER (VERY TRACY CHApmaAn FAST CAR REFERENCE)) N i find it poetic when we are all gathering together when someone struggles to put the remainder of the K in the baggie so we all bring out our metro cards n argue that it’s way better than a card cuz it’s paper thin n can hold the K better ….. N i love the confirmed bisexuals that fall down the stairs in attempt to walk me down it safely ironically enough N how moi fwendzz always seem 2 scout out the Autistic Gurls out for Meh 2 dates.!! I luvv unmethy adderal N photoshootz on rooftopz n workin doubly hard on moi Charlixcxx soundcloud playlistt Dat now is lik UNPRIVATE :-D N more poetry readings with lots of weeeD i Do Not smoke n calling out of work cuz i am haven thoughts ab the validity of my existence .

DO NOT BOOF UR KETAMINE UNLESS U DILLUTE IT WIFF H2o Cuz it will MAKE U BAIL ON COMEDY SHOW W REPTILE n YA U SHULD FALL ASLEEP BUT WAKE UP JUST TO TELL EVERY1 HOW NANA IS SOOOOOOO GAYYYYYYYYYY.!!!!!!!! n Roleplay pilates instructor and gynecologist n Hav mental breakdown while eating mini slider at Salud after having SEGGS ON UR BESTIES ROOFTOP N PEE PEEING THERE AFTER DOING CHEAP BUT GOOD QUALITY K FROM A PSYCHIC.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Photodom is Nice n i defs almost fought this chick racing meh down the stairzz but whatevz i hav Come to the conclusion tht if u don’t lik me it rly is Ur problem . :-] 2C is cool esp when u Doin it off ur Hello kitty mirror n find pink stuff all over ur nosey nose >_< blush blush wink wink then u contemplate bringing ur partner 2 emergencii room so they culd b on Mtv new season of SEGGS BROUGHT MEH 2 ER LULZZZ :-]]\

i luv using HERS ROGAINE even tho i has lots of hair alredy CUZ IM LITETALLY BOREDDDD n sneakin in2shelter n takin slutty sexy pix of meh in moi praying bikini N manifesting Fame n sexy ness More n More cuz i yam supposed 2 b an icon i guess cuz now tht i got rejected by Succesex academy i kan lik Now profit off of being completely sexy .? idk. :( cus i feel not cute alot.

Undiagnosed adhd ass callen lourde stan i missed my therapy appt cus i purposely handcuffed myself n don’t know where i left tha key.?!

Rennyxcx<3

[christ-on-a-crackerjack]

i love you

i love you even when you don’t

i love you even when you yell

i love you even when you do that weird thing with that jelly (it’s actually hilarious)

i love you even when it’s raining and cold (and when i say i’m cold you don’t give me your jacket and you just laugh at me)

i love you even when i don’t (because i swear i do)

i love you even when you don’t like me very much (which is often)

i love you even when everything is so hard

i love you even when I can’t get out of bed (but neither can you so it’s alright)

i love you even when it takes forever for you to write me back

i love you even when you have to wear a lot of bracelets and long sleeves for a while

i love you even when you ignore me

i love you even when i have to study and do homework and go to softball and there just isn’t enough time in the day to love so much

i love you even when i have no words to show how i love you 

i love you even when you take bad pictures of me

i love you even when you send me those pictures and my camp friends see them

i love you even when you think i don’t 

i love you even when it’s just too hard 

i love you even when you won’t let me help you 

i love you even when you’re so much stronger than i could ever be

i love you even when you lie about your birthday 

i love you even when i don’t know how to make it better

i love you even when you are brave and i mess everything up

i love you even when you get better grades in math than me

i love you even when you make fun of my long torso

i love you even when you kick me for no reason

i love you even when you make me tie your shoes

i love you even when you have no appropriate shirts other than one simply southern shirt

i love you even when you like your cat more than me

i love you even when you cry because you’re so happy (i love you especially then)

i love you even when i have to keep coming up with stuff as an excuse to say just how much i love you

i love you even when you don’t believe i love you and i have to write a whole-ass poem

i love you even when you do believe i do, because i need to get it into your thick skull 

i love you even when you get mad at me because i called your skull thick

i love you even when your skull is actually super thin

i love you.

[sanzu-whore]

The Artists Mark // Kaoru Sakurayashiki x Reader Smut

Pairings:  Kaoru Sakurayashiki x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings/Tags: Nsfw, Implied Oral (m receiving), Fluff

A/N: Wrote this for my friend, now suffer <3

Sun calls you gently from your sleep, warm against your skin as it seeps through the sheer curtains that hang from your bedroom window. There's a shuffle above you, quiet and barely audible if you weren't paying attention. The slight crinkle of parchment that brings a dopey smile to your face. 

Kaoru stills as soon as you shift, waiting a moment for you to continue your sleep before he relaxes and only then do you notice the weight on your head. His fingers carding gently through your bird's nest of hair, lightly scraping his nails against your scalp and involuntarily drawing a content sigh from your lips. 

"Good morning." He tenses and when you lift your head to gaze at him, a gentle smile greets you. Glasses nearly tipping off his nose and a book crooked between thin fingers, the lush blanket covering the both of you resting just above his waist and allowing your arm to rest over his warm stomach. 

Warm, everything is warm with him. Gentle and loving as he strokes your cheek with the same grace and care he uses when writing. It's impossible to not get butterflies even after all this time in his company, maybe that's why you love him. Why he still treats you so carefully as if you'll shatter with one wrong move, leave with one wrong word. You love Kaoru because he loves you and wants it to stay that way. 

Your friends laughed when they met him, a light giggle in the air as they joked- "Just wait for the honeymoon phase to be over." But five years seem to pass as easily as water through spread fingers in his presence and you don't find yourself minding. 

Especially not when he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a kiss against your knuckles. "What are you reading?" And though your morning voice sounds horrible and scratchy against your head, Kaoru only sighs and turns the book for you to see. Pages tinted from decades of age decorated with the world's finest phrases, letters to some unknown lover and promises of undying affection sprawled across the parchment with a style that you could recognize from a mile away. Karou's handwriting. 

His smile quirks more as you flush. "I'm trying to find what I should write for my next demonstration." Kaoru's fingers lace with yours as he continues with a defeated sigh. "But these are not for anyone else's eyes, so I am left fumbling once again for inspiration." 

"Did you ask Carla?" The board charging at the foot of your bed beeps rapidly in protest as Kaoru narrows his eyes at you. A laugh bubbles in your chest "I can't help you with this, ask me anything else and I'll gladly try." 

You watch his gaze flicker to the bedside table where a small wooden box rests, filled to the brim with travel sized brushes and inks. When it returns, you're pinned in place by the intensity that resides in it as he stares at the sliver of skin on your shoulder not shielded by the blanket. "Be my canvas." 

You choke on a disbelieving laugh "Huh?" 

"Turn around." Your skin pricks at the seriousness that laces his voice but you can't resist the curiosity that burns at your stomach. His smile stretches as you pull the blanket down and lay on your stomach with your arms folded on the pillow above you, nude back on display as his weight shifts around you. A few moments of shuffling pass before you feel the press of his thighs against your hips, caging you against the bed as a  palm, featherlite, ghosts over the small of your back. Raising goosebumps as it travels to your neck and brushes your hair out of the way. 

Kaoru murmurs against your ear, breath hot on the skin as you suppress the shiver that threatens to roll down your spine. "Stay still for me." You can't find it in yourself to quip back, allowing yourself to melt into the mattress beneath your heated chest. 

Your breath catches in your throat as cold drips over your back, nearly jumping away from the shock before Kaoru's palm presses between your shoulder blades and traps you to the bed. "I said stay." 

You bite back on instinct "Watch your tone, Kaoru." His breath hitches and the pressure against your back lessons as he hums. 

"Sorry." This time you're more prepared for the cold ink as it drips onto your skin, thin bristles of his favorite brush lightly scraping against your back as it drags up. Drawing a rattled groan from your lips as Kaoru presses his weight further into you. His voice a near purr "You look so good like this, my muse." Heat boils your skin and every drag of his hand rewards him with a muffled curse. 

His free hand travels from your back to your nails digging into the pillow, intertwines his fingers with yours for a beat before releasing and letting his palm wander to your ribs. Wretch a gasp from your lips and map your body like he's trying to memorize it as his teeth nip at the junction of your shoulder and neck. "Careful-" He ignores your clipped plea with a hum before kissing at your shoulder, teeth nipping and pulling until he's satisfied with the mark left behind. 

The brush drags towards the dip of your back just as his fingers reach your heat. "You have to stay still or the ink will run.." Kaoru's voice is even and collected but it's impossible to ignore the grind of his hips. The brush long forgotten next to you as his now free hand presses against the back of your neck, holding you in place as a groan slips through his calm guise. 

"If only the world could see you like this, spread out for me. My best work." Heat builds in your stomach with each twist of his hand that pulls a stuttered moan from your throat. "Mon petit chou, my love." Kaoru purrs out each syllable, his thighs tensing around you as you jolt against his palm. "But they can not appreciate your beauty to its truest extent, to see you like this is an experience that I hope you allow me to be selfish with." 

"Kaoru-" oh God how can he sound so pretty? How can one man pull you apart thread by thread and count every one with the carefulness of the fates stitching together the world. He has to know how much power he has over you, its impossible for him not to. Not when he wretches bliss from your rattled form and carries you through the pleasure with poems written by the heavens muttered into your skin. 

Skin hot against his, you sink into the mattress. "Is the ink dry yet?" Kaoru drags his slicked hand from under you to touch your back before humming. 

"Yes, but I would wait a few-" He's pinned beneath you before he can finish, eyes blown wide with lust as his lips part to gape at you. 

His wrists lay trapped beneath your palm as your hips settle above his. His length pressing against your stomach. "Kaoru.." He twitches at your coo. "Let me thank you." His mouth opens to protest but you cut him off with a kiss. Lips pressing against his feverishly as your hand runs over his chest, nails scraping over his nipples to capture a trembling gasp from his throat as he gladly welcomes your tongue. 

Grinds against you as you pull away from his chasing lips and whines so prettily as you nip at his jaw. Bite and suck the skin until he's covered in purple and writhing underneath you, pleas tumbling from his tongue like a prayer as you ghost your teeth over his chest. "You're so pretty Kaoru." You can't help but grin when he moans at the praise. "All mine, so pretty for me. I love you Kaoru." As soon as you release your hold on his hands they fly to your head, fingers twisting into your hair as he struggles to gasp for breath. 

"Please." His hips jump as you kiss at the bruised flesh from the night before, breath ghosting over the thin trail of pink hair that leads you to your goal. "Please-" 

"Patience Kaoru." Your lips hover above his flushed length, something possessive purring in your chest as he whines. "Let me say thank you, properly."

Later that day, when you finally leave the comfort of your lover's side to get dressed. You sneak a glance at your back in the mirror, flush blooming your skin as you trail over the Kanji painted there. 

'Sakurayashiki Kaoru'

[pinkcherrybombs]

Confessions

Summary: Office Au- "Since we're about to die, I need you to know, I've always loved you, Jungkook."

♡Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Female Reader

♡Work Count: 642

♡TW: Mentions potential death/bomb threat (nobody dies), Angst, some fluff briefly, mentions of potential unrequited love.

(A/N;I wrote this while I was half asleep at 3:00am so I apologize in advance if this makes no sense at all, in my current sleepy brain it does lmao. Also sorry it's short <3 Love you all! )

(masterlist) (part 2)

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"Since we're about to die, I need you to know, I've always loved you, Jungkook."

The words slip out in haste as your gaze remains locked to the floor. You're beyond terrified to even glance at his reaction. Which is almost impossible not to, considering how tightly both of you are packed into the closet. Seconds turn into minutes as the space fills with a suffocating silence, neither of you daring to speak.

You didn't expect him to say it back; after all, if he did feel the same way about you, he would've already said so. That's just the type of person he is and always has been. Jungkook was never the type to shy away from his feelings, not from management, not from clients, especially not from you, his best friend of ten years. But, you, on the other hand, are the complete opposite, choosing to keep your feelings locked away, hidden from the world and only expressed to yourself in your most vulnerable state. This is why it's so shocking to you that you're now suddenly expressing these emotions to him out of nowhere. Yes, eventually, you planned on telling him. Normally picturing it as drunken confession at some holiday office party, or maybe even a whispered secret before retiring but never like this. Never did you imagine your admission would come out as you both were pressed chest to chest in a stuffy closet. Waiting for a supposed bomb planted in your company building to go off and kill you both at any minute.

Feeling a light squeeze on your hand, you finally lift your gaze only to be met with a comforting smile as he mutters the words, "I love you, too."

Opening your mouth to respond, the words don't come out. Instead, a radiating smile curls on your lips, filling the room as your heart flutters in your chest. Those four simple words send shockwaves throughout your entire body, and for a moment, you forget where you are. Only focusing on the fact that he actually loves you back, Jungkook, the man of your dreams, the man who's as easy to love as breathing, actually loves you back. At that moment, you can't even be upset that you're going to die in mere minutes. Because like all the Shakespeare poems you used to adore in high school, you'll be parting with the one you love, the one which you finally know loves you back.

"We sincerely apologize for the false alarm, everyone; please head back to the lounge. The facility is all clear." Outside of the door, the area immediately begins to buzz with dumbfounded conversations and the shuffling of movements, people coming out of all the places they were previously using for shelter. Loud conversations of people expressing frustration and annoyance filter through the wall cracks and leak into you and Junkook's confined space, but you don't mind. Though it's outrageous, you can't even find yourself to be upset. In a weird God actually worked in your favour for once. Reaching to cup his face, the words tumble out before your mind can even put them in a coherent sentence "no bomb, we can finally date!" However, the expression on his face does not mirror your enthusiastic one. Carefully pulling at your fingers to lower them, a heavy sigh leaves his lips, "I-I'm sorry, I thought we were gonna die, I just didn't want you to die sad, Y/n."

At first, you don't understand, but it's enough to make you choke out a sob once you do. Hesitantly peeling yourself away from him, you wordlessly exit the closet, despite the pleas coming from within. You'd deal with this tomorrow, or maybe the day after, but right now, you just needed to leave.

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[unwrittenlibrary]

the warmth of your love

summary -> there are more ways to say i love you than just i love you. you and bucky share a few.

words -> 2.2k

warnings -> pining, friends to lovers, back to my fluffy bucky roots, female!reader

notes -> i wrote a harry s. piece similar to this years ago & it’s so interesting to see how my writing has changed since then. based off of this list. items from the list are italicized!

— ➶ —

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

They’re simple words that Bucky has become accustomed to.

Steve Rogers departure has left a hole in the world and a gap in Bucky’s chest that aches. They were best friends, brothers, and Bucky wasn’t sure how to navigate this world without him.

Bucky has grown used to the pity filled eyes of the Avengers, or at least what’s left of them, and the apologetic tone of voice.

The way the words came from your mouth though was different. Your eyes full of kindness and a small smile on your face that offered comfort.

“Th..Thank you.” Bucky says quietly. The two of you have only known each other for a couple years now, but Bucky finds comfort in you more than he does people he’s known since Steve and Sam had saved him. “It means a lot.”

Your hand squeezes his right forearm gently. “If you need anything, I’m here for you.”

He knows the words hold true; That if he called, you’d be over with dinner or movies to help him. It makes Bucky feel warm in a way he hasn’t in almost a century.

“I know.” His left hand covers yours. “I appreciate it.” You both share a smile, small and private, before the moment is over.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

There’s a knock on his door that makes Bucky jump. He’s been working on his reactions, logically he knows not everybody is out to get him, but it’s something ingrained in his mind.

He’s working on being better about it, he is, but it’s almost ten at night and Bucky doesn’t really have many friends left.

His hand wraps around the hilt of his knife as he creeps towards his apartment door. There’s another knock and Bucky moves to look through the peephole.

It’s you. Covered dishes in your hand and scarf wrapped tightly around your neck. Bucky’s lips quark up at the sight, fall was starting and fall in New York was a bitter cold. His hand falls from his knife as he moves to unlock the door.

“What are you doing here?” He asks incredulously as you step inside. Bucky’s eyes find his makeshift bed on the living room floor and he shifts in embarrassment.

You gently place the glass dish on his counter and shrug your coat off. “I was in the neighborhood.” It’s an obvious lie, if the meal for two is anything to go by, but Bucky doesn’t dispute it. “Thought you might be hungry.”

You move around his kitchen like you belong there, pulling out plates and utensils. Bucky watches with his mouth parted in awe. “You didn’t have to-“

“-I wanted to.” You move over, making room for Bucky to stand beside you, and hold out a fork for him. “Now, come on. It’s a new recipe.”

Bucky holds a finger up. “Let me get you a drink. I have some wine.” He shuffles through his cabinets until he comes across a bottle of white wine, a housewarming gift from Sam.

“Now it’s a date.” You giggle and Bucky can feel his cheeks heat, not at the insinuation of it being a date but the fact that he so desperately wishes it was.

“Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

Bucky knows you’re not his girlfriend. It’s a painful observation he makes every time you bring something over or offer to go out. The way your hands brush but never intertwine and how you give him a hug and press a kiss to his cheek instead of his lips.

Bucky knew you weren’t his girlfriend, but he didn’t know you were dating.

“I’m so sorry to bother you,” Your voice is choked up and you struggle to get the words out, “I just, I didn’t know who else to call.”

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Bucky’s mind has slipped into panic mode as he jumps up from his couch. He moves around his apartment, hastily pulling on pants and socks while holding the phone to his ear and listening for any signs of pain. “Where are you?”

You sniffle. “I’m fine! I’m not hurt! Well, not physically anyway. I had a date tonight and he stood me up.” You suck in a deep breath and Bucky freezes.

A date?

“So, my pride is injured.” You joke, but Bucky’s stuck frozen in the middle of his living room with one shoe on and a broken heart.

He knows, okay, he knows you never told him you had feelings for him. That you didn’t owe him anything, but he thought maybe…

“…But physically I’m okay.” You’re still talking and Bucky is only half listening. “Can I come over? I’m, like, five blocks away. Bad Moon bar. I can walk to your place. I just need a friend.”

The word rings in Bucky’s ears, but he forces himself to speak. “Stay there. I’ll come get you.” Bucky moves to pull his second shoe on and pulls on a coat.

He hears your sigh of relief. “Thank you so much. I’ll be outside.” Bucky swallows thickly when you hang the phone up.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

You have another date. This time with a man who asked what your favorite flower is and has decided to take you out to dinner instead of a bar.

Bucky’s chest hurts, but he stays silent. He’s unwilling to break this friendship up by telling you how he feels, especially when it seems clear to him that you do not feel the same way.

“Okay! Okay!” You come barreling down your hallway and into the living room. Bucky looks up from his phone and his mouth almost falls open in shock.

You look lovely in the dress that flows to your feet. It fits around your curves and Bucky can’t stop his eyes from trailing over you in awe.

“Wow.” He murmurs. Your eyes shift and you glance down at your hands fiddling in the front of your stomach. “You look…”

You cut him off before he can get anymore words out, “I look ridiculous! I knew it. I look far too dressed up.” You spin on your heel, but Bucky shoots up to stop you.

“No! You look…” He trails off nervously. Bucky looks at you, really looks at you, someone warm and full of light and understands what this feeling he has around you is. “I think you’re beautiful.”

“Happy Birthday.” & “I made this for you.”

Bucky walks into his apartment and is immediately hit with the smell of vanilla. He can hear your voice, reading ingredients to yourself, from his entryway and smiles to himself.

“I knew there was a reason Sam kept me out all day.” Bucky laughs when you jump and drop the whisk in your hand. “What’re you doing here, sweetheart?”

Your shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. “It’s your birthday!” You smile brightly as Bucky presses a greeting kiss to your cheek.

“I’ve had too many of them, no need to bring attention to it.” Bucky dips a finger in the whipped frosting in your hands and laughs when you smack it away.

“We have to celebrate!” You exclaim with an affronted look. “No ifs ands or buts! Happy birthday, Bucky!”

The bowl of frosting is dropped on the counter as you move to wrap your arms tightly around Bucky’s waist. He settles in your arms as his own come up to wrap around you.

The poems and stories talk about being in the arms of the one you love as rapid heartbeats and butterflies but all Bucky feels is calm. It’s like the worries of his day to day life just slip away when he’s with you.

It’s good, so wonderfully good to have an anchor like that. He didn’t need the butterflies that made him feel sick or the rapid heartbeat that worsened his anxiety. He just needed the warmth.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Bucky presses another kiss to the top of your head. You pull away to look up at him excitedly. “What’s that look for?”

You pull away completely and move around to pull your bag off of one of his kitchen stools. “I made this for you.” Your voice is quiet and nervous as you push a wrapped box towards him.

It’s a small book, one with no title to indicate what’s on the inside, but Bucky can tell it’s something personal from the way you’re rocking back and forth nervously on your feet.

When he opens it to the first page, tears almost spring to his eyes. His lungs burn with effort to not cry as he flips through picture after picture. Him, you and him, him with Sam and Steve and all of you together.

Each photo has a small note next to it too. Hearts and smiley faces decorate the edges. Bucky looks up at you with his mouth open in awe.

“This is… Nobody has ever done something this special for me before.” He admits quietly. “I love it.”

A sigh of relief escapes you as Bucky moves to pull you into his arms again. “Happy Birthday, Buck.” You murmur into his chest.

It’s the best birthday Bucky’s had since he was a child.

“You can tell me anything.”

You’re nervous.

It’s obvious in the way your eyes shift to Bucky before back to the sidewalk in front of you.

Your nervousness is making Bucky nervous. His fingers twitching every so often and he finds himself shifting around as if he expects something to hop out from behind one of the trees.

“Are you okay?” Bucky finally asks when he notices your hands tangled together in front of your stomach. “You’re being fidgety.”

You look up with wide, shocked eyes like you had forgotten Bucky was there entirely, too caught up in your own thoughts. “I’m okay!” You say quickly.

Bucky feels his eyes narrow and he forces you to a stop beside him with a gentle hand on your elbow. “Are you sure?”

“Yep! Just busy overthinking.” You laugh awkwardly as you glance down at the hand still wrapped around your elbow. Bucky drops it quickly, but your hand reaches out to intertwine your fingers with his. “I just… I’ve been wanting to ask you.. No. Tell you something.”

Bucky squeezes your hand gently. “You can tell me anything.” He says quietly. You look at him with wet eyes and Bucky feels himself panic. “No judgement, not from me, not ever.”

“Promise?” You ask quietly. Your voice sounds so unlike you, so nervous and uncomfortable that Bucky isn’t sure what he can do to make it better.

So he nods. “Promise. I’m the last person to judge, sweetheart.”

“I love you.”

It’s right out of those romantic comedies that Bucky pretends to dislike. The way you stand in front of him, wrapped up in a winter coat and scarf, with trembling hands and admit to Bucky how you feel.

“I’ve felt like this for a long time. A really long time now, I don’t think I could even tell you when because it just happened.” You ramble when you’re nervous, a habit Bucky thinks is adorable. “And I knew you were going through a lot, so I never said anything. I love being your friend, I do, but I had to tell you. It’s tearing me up having this secret because I hate secrets.”

Bucky says your name in an attempt to cut you off, but you don’t seem to hear him. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I-“

Your lips press shut when Bucky’s hands come up to cup your cheeks. “Will you shut up for just one second?” He asks sweetly.

You nod with wide eyes. “I feel warm around you,” Bucky starts off, “I don’t feel butterflies or sweaty palms. I used too, sometimes when you look at me a certain way I still do, but most of the time I just feel warm. I… I feel like I can breathe again. I feel calm. You make me calm.”

“What?” You ask softly. It’s obvious you’re trying to not get your hopes up as Bucky talks.

“I love you too.” Bucky says clearly. Your hand comes up to rest over his on your cheek as you press into the pressure. “You make it easy for me to breathe again.”

Bucky feels the sigh of relief you let out. “You make it easy for me too.” You say quietly, your tone much lighter than before.

“Can I kiss you?”

When you nod, Bucky can feel his entire face brighten. He’s sure there’s a nervous blush there as you tilt your head up towards him and leans to meet you halfway.

It’s just as warm as you are, the way you kiss. Slow and pushing all of your emotions into it. Your lips are cold, but Bucky’s sure his are too.

It’s everything he’s wanted with you. Despite the snowflakes beginning to fall around you and the wind nipping at his skin, all Bucky feels is warmth.

Bonus -> “Can I have this dance?”

A winter wedding seemed fitting when you had suggested it. Something small, intimate and warm. Just a few of your closest friends and family to bear witness.

You’ve been wandering around the venue for the past hour, saying hi to family and catching up with people you’ve been too busy to hang out with the past couple of months. Bucky’s sick of not having you by his side.

His arm wraps your waist from behind and he presses a kiss to your cheek, immediately cutting off what you were saying to Pepper.

A slow song starts, Bucky won’t admit until later that he told the DJ to start it once Bucky reached your side.

“Mrs. Barnes, can I have this dance?”

— ➶ —

me: has ten pieces in the drafts that need to be worked on

also me: just writes this fluffy disaster

[sakebytheriver]

If you got a chance to make your dream film with an unlimited budget/resources what would it be?

Oh God what a question, I have so many big ideas for stuff I'd want to make, most of which are not movies/films but TV shows instead, like the crazy complicated high concept sitcom dissection series I've been drafting, or the numerous ideas for reboots or continuations for already existing properties I have like a queer poc lead reboot of Firefly that I've only created character bios for, or the original prequel TV series I have a pilot outlined for Vala Mal Doran from Stargate SG1 about her time before she joins the team but after she's no longer the host of a Goa'uld, or the live action reboot of American Dragon Jake Long that exists purely in my head, and I have an idea for a Joker style stand alone tragic romance movie for Mr. Freeze and Nora, that I've completely outlined and have started writing a screenplay for

But I think if someone were to approach me today with this offer, there's one movie I'd make in a heartbeat. I have finished screenplay about two high school seniors, a second generation Chinese boy named Jin and a darkskin black girl who just moved to the area named Shirley, falling in love in the 1960s in that liminal space where school integration had just started, but interracial marriage was still illegal federally in San Fransisco Chinatown. It's a period piece romance filled with all the tropes of the genre with many lingering shots on their hands with their fingers almost touching but not quite, a scene with their own version of prom and another scene on a ferris wheel where they talk about running away together, a bubbly lesbian best friend character that acts as their wingman, the forbidden/secret romance they develop etc etc.

I love the characters in that script so much, I have such an emotional attachment to them and to their story, it's a bittersweet story that I personally think the phrase "two ships passing in the night" was invented for (do not judge me but the song The One by Taylor Swift was literally such a big inspo for their romance, there were days while I was writing this screenplay that I just put that song on repeat to get me in the zone because that song was literally written for these characters and if I was to make this movie that song would HAVE to be included it is literally their song I'd make it into their theme song).

I wrote the screenplay after being inspired by this tweet

And I even incorporated those pictures into the story, having Shirley and Jin take pictures in a photobooth at a fair and then the end of the movie has a closeup on their pictures that fades into the real life pictures of couples from that time as the last frame of the movie.

Now, I'm going to talk about Jin and Shirley as characters because they are my babies and you should know about them.

Jin is the second son of Chinese immigrant parents who own a laundromat. His older brother is the disowned family disappointment whose failures loom over Jin's every action. Jin's parents want him to become a doctor, but he's the loner character archetypr that always has a book in his hand and he even has a journal always on him that he writes quotes down into that touch him in some emotional kind of way. Jin is Shirley's manic pixie dream girl and he is very happy being so. Shirley tells him he should be a writer one day and he laughs her off thinking it's an absolutely ridiculous idea because he'd always been told by his parents that he was going to be a doctor and that he had to make money and that he could never end up like his brother, but she doubles down basically telling him it's obvious that writing would make him happy and the first thing Jin ever wrote was a sonnet for Shirley. And throughout their relationship he is always writing her poems and notes and little things that he slips in her locker or her books or into her hands at the end of the day after he's walked her home, because he always walks her home, because he always asks her at the end of the day if he can walk her home and at the end of their story he promises that for her, he will never stop writing.

And Shirley, my sweet, soft-spoken Shirley, she's the oldest child and about to be the first in her family to go to college. She's a math genius that I may or may not have taken some inspiration from the West Computers of NASA to write her character. She's the logical left-brained counterpart to Jin's manic pixie dream girl energy, she even tells Jin outright that it would be a bad idea for them to be together, but then she's the one to kiss him first after he saves her from a group of bullies. There are a lot of references to princesses and damsels in distress and princes and knights in shining armor, with Shirley telling Jin he is not her prince or her savior and she absolutely doesn't need him to be and him saying of course he isn't but if there's a time when he can take a punch for her he will every time. Shirley starts the film shutting out her emotions and focusing instead on the logical side of things, but as she slowly starts to fall in love with Jin she opens herself up to her feelings and emotions, and just as she inspired him to become a writer he inspires her to use her mathematical genius to become a programmer, (since at the time it was a relatively new career that seemed to be the career that the female computers were starting to move towards instead). Also Shirley has a very strong relationship with her family, it's a lot more loving and supportive than Jin's, but she still keeps their relationship a secret from them out of fear that this could be the thing that takes all of that away. She has a scene with her little brother when he walks in on her and Jin kissing, that is like the biggest turning point in terms of her journey with her emotions. In the end, she's the one to walk away first, but she's also the one that makes sure the two of them will never let go of each other in some way or another.

Anyways, I've probably rambled on about this movie for long enough and I doubt this film will ever be made and if it is it'll be years before that ever happens. I really wrote this script because I have always wanted to write a movie where an East Asian man is the handsome charming love interest and a darkskin black woman is the soft instantly loved beautiful main character in a romance movie, because these two groups of people almost never see themselves in those roles and they have never both been in those roles in the same movie which I personally think is a crime. This film will probably be my Magnum Opus if one day I have the money and ability to make it, because I love it so much and I would make sure that that love is in every single frame. The genre and the story itself is kind of cliche and played out and it's nothing like EEAAO or the big Blockbuster superhero movies with big effects and high concept sequences and storylines, but it's something soft and sweet and meant for people to see something new and different in a genre so familiar and done to death that is meant to make you feel like you've just been given a tiny glimpse at this one moment in the lives of two people who could have existed in the past with an emotional journey that I ultimately want to leave the audience with a sense of bittersweet longing and maybe one day it will

[stutterfly]

Love Bytes 09 |  Trivia: 01001100 | KNJ (M)

Last time on Love Bytes 08: After a night that left your head spinning, your best friend confessed his feelings for you. Now that you’ve admitted the same, everything is different.... but is it?

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Word Count: 17K

Series: Love Bytes (9/9)

Genre: Friends to lovers, IDIOTS to LOVERS, fluff, humor, slow burn, friendship feels, angst, pining, sexual tension, SMUT, Bestfriends!au, CollegeProjessor!Namjoon, IT/Nerd!Reader

CW& Other Tags: corny humor, nipple play, an absurd amount of kissing, dirty talk, grinding, fingering, hair pulling, sexual instruction, let’s play just the tip, cunnilingus, blowjob, protected sex, sexual roleplay, unprotected sex, adoring boyfriendJoonie, suave Joonie, supportive friendships, love talk, dorks in love

Pairings: Namjoon x Reader, brot7

Posted January 2021 by stutterfly & cross-posted to ao3. Do not repost.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You’ve crossed the line you’ve been so afraid of only to discover there really isn’t anything to fear at all. Namjoon has already made you a totally non-burnt breakfast and told you about the success of his student following the release of the poetry program. When he brings up the poem he wrote as an example, you beg him to read it for you.

He apologizes again for that day when you clicked on the document containing the draft, with dozens and dozens of half-thoughts and scribbled words placed within. He wasn't ready to show you then. He settles on the couch and opens his laptop. You look over his shoulder as he clicks a vaguely familiar document labeled: Trivia_L_Final. Unable to sate your curiosity, your eyes scan through the first few lines but he quickly flips the screen down.

“Patience."

"Ugh," you complain. "But you said I could see."

"I said I was gonna share," he clarifies with a snort. "That doesn't mean I want your speed-reading ass going through it at lightspeed without understanding any of it."

"Fair." You cross your arms but stare at him expectantly, trying your best to be patient.

“Is this love?”

He pauses to spare a glance up from the screen and freezes when his eyes meet yours. Even after everything you’ve shared he still finds himself sweating through the thin tank top he’s put on. Although he’s sure he’s masked his apprehension behind a wall of stone, all it takes is your soft, reassuring smile to break through. A wave of serenity quickly douses the anxiety. It crashes against his wall, and erodes its harsh edges until all that’s left is a familiar longing to kiss your lips.

“Is this love?” he repeats with emphasis. “Sometimes I know. Sometimes I don’t.”

He can’t stop grinning at the way your smitten gaze matches his own. It’s a difficult decision, but ultimately he chooses to ignore the urge to pull you in for the hundredth kiss of the morning and continues on instead. You sit and listen, hanging on every word you know was painstakingly thought out and written for you.

You're my person. You're my desire. You're my pride.

You're my love. One and only love.

The closing words are left echoing in your head. It’s so easy for you to forget that Namjoon is as smart as he is. Right now you feel too stupid to respond. Nothing can possibly match the perfection of his poem.

“Please say something.” He quickly closes his laptop and sets it aside. “Actually, wait, don't. It was too much wasn’t it?” He reaches over and places a large palm over your forehead and begins lightly rubbing. “Delete it from your brain.”

A laugh bubbles from your throat. “What are you doing?”

“Wiping your hard drive.”

His response has you cackling. Did he really just make such a lame joke all on his own? You grab his wrist and pull him close while a big cheesy grin graces your features. “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

He groans as he leans in and pauses before kissing you. “You are.”

His hand gently cups the back of your neck as he slips his tongue inside your mouth. You lose yourself to the rhythm of your tongues rolling across one another, hungry to keep tasting and feeling. It takes every ounce of self control you have to pull away long enough to breathe out a compliment.

“You’re incredible. Your poem is so good.”

“I had a good muse.” He smiles and moves in for another kiss but you press a finger to his lips.

“I mean it. I love what you wrote. I don’t think anyone’s ever written anything so beautiful with me in mind.”

To spare himself from the embarrassment tingling in his belly, he presses his lips to the pad of your finger with a few light, teasing kisses before moving to repeat the motion against your neck. Goosebumps immediately prickle at your flesh and you can’t help the way your hands travel along the warmth of his body, seeking to consume his heat to assuage the chill in yours.

“You make it easy,” he mumbles, kissing a line up to your ear.

“Do I? I thought I made it harder.” Your smile grows impossibly bigger as you reach down to palm him through his basketball shorts and find exactly what you’d been hoping to.

A breathy sigh warms the shell of your ear. “Fuck. You know you do.” He drags the lobe through his teeth and exhales another sigh at the way you tease his shaft. “Wanna practice?”

He whispers the words against your ear like they’re some secret he’s almost too shy to reveal and you deliver your response with equal timidity. “Please?”

Warm fingers press into the skin at your stomach and travel upward. The action disregards the flimsy white fabric of your borrowed shirt, which slides up with the rising of his arm. You think he's about to cup your breast when he suddenly changes direction and slides his fingers around your ribs to tickle you.

"Na-Namjoon!"

You're a little offended that he would do you dirty like this when you basically just begged him to fuck you for the second time today. But, if you're being honest you're also incredibly grateful. He knows how to take the nerves out of everything with such ease that you almost forget how new this aspect of your relationship is.

You grab at his hand, effectively pulling him down into a kiss brimming with laughter between the pair of you. When you try to retaliate he grabs your wrists to keep your cold fingers at bay. As his tongue dips into your mouth again, he slowly guides your hands above your head. You shift beneath him, spreading your legs so he can slot a knee between them and get even closer. It feels like it's always been this way. Nothing's going to change. This is just you guys. It's always been you guys.

At the heart of your friendship, it's always been about you being dorks together and having each other's backs. You'd never considered the possibility of adding even more physicality to it before but now you don't want to imagine life without it because it feels so fucking good. It feels so fucking right.

Instead of bearing his weight down on you, he drags your bottom lip through his teeth and lets it snap back. He hums a satisfied sound as he rises, pulling you to your feet with him. Your head feels light and for a moment it feels like you might float away, but his arms are strong and they ground you in a tight embrace. He begins walking you backwards and peppers your neck with light kisses.

“Trying to get me back into your bed, huh?” you tease.

He brushes his nose against your neck and inhales deeply, taking in your scent before expelling an airy, audible sigh. “Ah… You see right through me. I mean we could do it on the couch if you prefer. I just thought it might be a little more comfortable, you know, somewhere where I can lay you down so you don’t get a leg cramp or anything.”

You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of his statement. “How considerate.”

“Yeah, you know, ‘cause I plan on being between your legs as long as it takes.”

“Oh?” You feign ignorance. As he spins you towards him you’re glad he’s holding you steady because it feels like you’re about to faint. “As long as it takes for what?”

The tone of his voice drops low as he leans against your ear. “To make you cum.”

You stiffen in his embrace, frozen by interwoven fears of inability and inadequacy.

“Is that okay?” he asks, guiding your stiff form towards the bed.

The large, borrowed t-shirt bunches up around your thighs as you sit on the edge. It seems like every few days he’s telling himself he’s never seen you look so beautiful. Maybe you’re really to blame for the increased frequency. Now you’re looking at him in a similar light to the way he’s always seen you, and it’s added a new layer to everything.

“Yeah.” You nod, pausing to chew on your lip. “Just… don’t expect too much, okay?”

“Hey, no pressure. I promise. I just want to make you feel good.”

You pull him into a kiss before wiggling backwards up the bed. He follows your lead, slotting a knee between your legs as he climbs over you in an attempt to chase your lips.

“You do make me feel good. All the time.”

He assails your neck with kisses until he’s hovering above your lips. “Really good, though. Like right now. Right here.”

He takes a moment to meet your eyes as he ghosts his fingertips over your stomach, traveling down towards your mound. Almost as if he second guesses himself he stops and moves his hand back up to rest just above your navel.

“Can I try again?”

An embarrassed smile creeps across your face. “You really want to, huh?”

“Of course.” He pauses and his voice drops to a low whisper. “Will you show me how you like it?”

Your palms slide up your cheeks until your fingers cover your eyes. You purse your lips and try to keep your brain from short-circuiting. “Joooon.”

“What?” He shakes his head and offers a small laugh. “Why are you so shy now?”

“Because,” you murmur.

“Because...?” he prods when you leave the explanation unsaid.

“I’m embarrassed.” The words tumble out in a whisper but he seems to catch them regardless.

Hot, sweaty palms encircle your wrists and push them aside. It doesn’t take much effort to separate your hands from your face and when he does he slides his hands up to meet yours. In perfect sync, the pair of you weave your fingers together like you have a thousand times before.

The truth is that you want him. You want him so badly that your cheeks are on fire and all you can hear is your heartbeat in your ears. Despite seeing his mouth in motion, every nerve ending in your body is preparing for his touch. Anticipation overrides every other command in the forefront of your mind as your knuckles press into the pillows beside your head.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he whispers, planting a kiss on your cheek. “Your body is perfect. I could spend all day exploring it, exploring you. I wanna learn what feels good for you. Teach me. Teach me how to make you cum.”

In a stupor you blink slowly and gape at him in wonder, offering a tiny wordless nod. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to instruct him with much success. It’s not like you’re a teacher in any sense of the word and it’s definitely not something you’ve ever tried to talk through with a partner. But his eyes seem to sparkle in the dim light and the sight floods you with the determination to try, even if you don’t know how to begin.

Luckily Namjoon has an idea to assist with comfortability. He carefully positions himself beside you and runs his fingers down your chest, basking in the sight of your areola, which are perfectly visible through the faded fabric.

“You look so hot in my shirt.”

Your ears flush with heat at the compliment. Massaging light circles around the nipple he’s chosen to tease, he watches in wonder as it grows rigid. He experiments, alternating featherlight touches with a tiny pinch between his fingers.

“Do you like this?”

Words seem to escape you at the moment so you nod and mirror his actions on your other nipple. The barrier between his fingers frustrates your growing desire for skin on skin contact. You slowly hike up the shirt past your stomach to expose your breast. His eyes widen and guiltily dart away.

You pull the shirt back down abruptly and sit up with hot embers of embarrassment heating your cheeks. Maybe he's having second thoughts now that he's seeing you up close again. Before your mind can spiral too far he places his hand over yours.

"Sorry. It's not that. I just— Promise me you won't ask me to forget? I want to remember how you look, how you feel, how you taste.”

Relief cools the fire in your face and you half-heartedly chuckle as you climb over his lap. Cupping the side of his face, he Instinctively he leans into your touch.

"Joonie, I don’t think I could ever do that now. There's not a single restore point we could go back to, and I don't want there to be. I never want to pretend like I don't love you with my whole heart ever again. Because the moment you kissed me it's like this weight lifted from my shoulders. Everything I'd been locking away in my heart finally broke free. And it felt… incredible. It felt right. There's not a doubt in my mind. You're my person. You're my light. You're my pride."

"My one and only love," he adds with a kiss to your palm.

You smile and nod, pushing down the tears threatening to spill out of your eyes with a joke. "Are you gonna change your mind now?"

"Wouldn't dream of it." He smiles at you softly, watching you struggle to regain your composure as you sit back on his abdomen.

"Good. 'Cause it's like a totally binding thing now."

"Oh, okay," he laughs and lifts himself with his elbows to get a better look at you. "You gonna type up those terms and conditions for me? I'll sign, Geeksquad. Get me those papers."

"Yeah, yeah. Let me write a draft right now.” You press him back against the bed and lean over his chest, splaying your fingers out for a moment before pretending they're tapping away at a keyboard.

"Under this agreement, I, Y/N, agree to the following conditions..."

"God, you're a dork."

"We have fun. We have lots of…" you stop to giggle and wiggle your eyebrows, "you know, sex when we both want it."

He rolls his eyes but he's smiling so big his cheeks hurt. "You're so corny and I'm here for it."

"And…" you pause and meet his eyes as you fake-type the next condition. "We don't ever feel bad about loving each other. I'm in love with you and I don't want to waste another minute of my life acting like I feel any other way."

He looks down at his chest. Your fingers have stopped moving. "Is all that going in the, uh, love contract? It's a binding thing, you know."

"Yes, yes," you agree, pretending to catch up on typing. "If something doesn't work, we will talk about it. Deal?"

He doesn’t even stop to think about it before he answers, looking down at your fingers like they'll show him an invisible dotted line. "Okay where do I sign?”

"See I'm typing on your heart because that's how this works. So..."

You bite your lip and lift your shirt over your head, watching his eyes struggle to stay focused on your face. You really don't deserve him.

"You type and sign right here." Your fingers lure his gaze down to the valley between your breasts and then slightly to the left. "Right on my heart.”

He ghosts his fingers over the area you’ve pointed to and licks his lips, trying to hide his smirk. “Actually your heart is a little bit lower and a little bit…” He massages his fingers against your breast. “Here.”

“Hmm. Educational and strategic. What a combo.”

"Do I gotta type the whole thing up before I sign?"

You roll your eyes. "Depends. You gonna type as shitty as you usually do?"

He tongues his cheek as he starts tapping away at your breast with his two pointer fingers. It’s too true to reality. “Under this agreement I, Kim Namjoon--”

“Nevermind this is taking too long,” you complain, wiggling over his lap. He quickly drums his fingers over your chest. “--Agree to everything you just said. Signed... Namjoon...” His fingertips trace his name along your breast. “It’s a deal.”

“Okay, okay.” You laugh and reciprocate. “If you break it I'll probably cry and Jennie will beat you up."

“Like I would ever…” he mumbles.

With a rut of his hips he cups your breasts in his hands and resumes gently working his fingers over your nipples. Following the slow rhythm he sets, you grind yourself down and thumb at the band to his basketball shorts, pulling them down just enough to reveal that sliver of dark hair leading below. A loud groan escapes with his breath. His heart aches to feel you against him again, without barriers.

He sits up and heaves his shirt over his head with reckless abandon. His arms are immediately wrapping around your waist, fingernails digging into the skin of your back with the hope feeling your body can assuage the ache in his chest. The heat of his mouth envelops your nipple before you can comment on his earnest behavior and you whimper instead. His rough embrace draws you closer, and his sinful tongue batters your nipple as you loop an arm around his neck and tangle your fingers in his hair.

The suction of his mouth makes you throw your head back. “Fuck, Joon.”

He moans and skims his lips across your chest to show your other breast love. Despite his adoration for the current position of his face, it’s not enough. Greed overtakes him. He holds you tight and musters the strength to flip you onto your back. The tiny squeal you make in response makes his dick twitch. You make such wonderful sounds.

As you draw him into a kiss, the barrier of silky basketball shorts do nothing to conceal his hardness. It makes you crazy. You want to feel his dick glide against your folds again. When you raise your hips to grind your clit against him he meets your motion with equal enthusiasm.

“Take them off,” you mumble. “Put it in me, Namjoon. Please.”

It’s hard to say no when every fantastical thought about you he’s ever had is now coming to fruition. How long has he yearned to hear those words? He thinks of earlier. He thinks of the disappointment he holds for his own performance, how he squandered his opportunity to make you feel the way you deserve.

“But I wanna go down on you,” he insists, slowly making his way down your torso. He plants deep kisses as he goes, working a trail of tiny dark marks into the surface of your skin.

“Joon…”  Your fingers claw at his back as he descends.

“Show me how you like it. I’m a good student. I promise.”

The ever present flames in your chest burn hotter, searing a path to your cheeks. He kisses along your hip and pauses to inspect the bruise from your earlier slip. He carefully creeps past it, and instead focuses on the skin of your inner thigh. Taking your hand in his, he positions it over your cunt. He rests his cheek against your thigh to watch the way your fingers settle in place.

“Are you gonna be looking at me like that the entire time?” You laugh, covering as much of your sex as you can with your hand.

“I’m a quick learner,” he assures you. “Plus…” He leans in and laps at the glistening slick in the space between your fingers. “I could taste you all day.”

“It’s after noon,” you mumble, drawing your fingers away to allow him greater access to your folds.

“Mmm,” he hums against you, letting his tongue explore every crevice of your labia. “You want me to keep going?”

Your head falls back against the pillow and you lift your hips with a whimper. “Yes.”

“How?”

Pulling his mouth back just enough to allow your finger to creep back into place, he offers a blissful sigh as you work light circles against your clit. He places a finger over yours and follows the movement, listening to your quiet breathing. He cocks his head to the side and repositions, sliding his finger beneath yours to take control.

“Like this, baby?”

It’s been so long. You’d forgotten just how good it feels to have someone else touch you, to not have to put the work in yourself to attain the reward. It feels so good. Maybe you will be able to let go.

“A little more pressure.”

You guide him again by pressing down over his finger and moving him towards the peak of your clit. He immediately gives in to the change of pace. After a little while he finds his own rhythm and you move your fingers to the back of his head where you tangle them in his hair.

“Yes, like that.”

Confident in his ability to hit that spot again, he glides his fingers down to tease your entrance and brings his lips to your clit. Your entire core tingles as he presses down and creates suction around the tiny bud. As your hips lift in ecstasy he wraps an arm around your thigh and slips two fingers into your slick cunt. Much to his delight you moan in tandem with your desperate exhale.

A proud grin spreads his lips apart and he does his best to hide it by battering his tongue over your clit instead. How many fantasies has he indulged in? How is it that they all pale in comparison to your true taste and sounds? Determined to keep himself on task, he focuses on the spot you seemed to favor and presses his lips back down while rolling his tongue along you. His fingers curl up and search for the promised sweet spot within your cunt.

You tense and clench around his fingers, body desperate to draw him deeper, to take more of him inside of you in any way that you can. Then you feel it: the unmistakable pleasurable pressure steadily rising within. You don’t want to let it slip away this time. With the pads of his fingers pressing as close to your g-spot as he can, the area of your clit you need him to hit with his tongue seems to shift.

Palms shaking, you pull on Namjoon’s hair to guide him to your newest point of pleasure. “Right there. Right there.”

He moans and expels shaky breaths through his nose. Immediately feeling guilty for being rough, you soften your grip and lovingly smooth back his hair. Disheveled, sweat-slicked strands fall against his forehead, rebelling against your touch.

“Sorry,” you mumble, cradling the sides of his face, trying to draw him up from his position. “Did I hurt you?”

He doesn’t budge. Dark brown eyes flicker upwards. The electric tingle in your heart steals your breath as you’re caught in his lurid gaze. He digs his fingernails into the soft flesh of your inner thigh and the energy contained in your chest bursts. Shockwaves of internal chills scatter throughout your body.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he whispers. “Pull me however you want, baby.”

His voice is so low and soft that it barely registers to your ears. Your brain doesn’t have time to process the words before he drags his nose over your clit and sucks on your labia. You gasp out his name as he moves back to tongue your clit. He keeps his eyes on you as he plunges his fingers into you with a renewed sense of urgency, desperate to make you say it again. It doesn’t take long for a stuttered verse of his name to sputter from your pretty lips.

Another shockwave of excitement pulses through your gut. He makes it so easy to lose yourself in the pleasure he offers. Any shame and anxiety falls to the wayside, making way for your impending orgasm. You gasp out a pitiful sound and grind your pelvis towards his soft, plush lips to create even more pressure where you need it most. There’s no doubt he feels the way you clench around his fingers and because he reaches as far as he can in search of your g-spot and looks to your face for any sign of discomfort. Instead he finds you looking back through half lidded eyes that threaten to close any moment. With your eyebrows knitted together and quivering lips parted, he knows you’re on the brink of coming undone.

You reach for the back of his head as you lift your hips and cry out. You might not make those exaggerated pornstar moans, but yours are infinitely better. It’s better than anything he could have imagined. His name spills from your lips again, tired and quiet as you come down. There’s no need for you to tell him to stop or push him away this time. His softened lips are already crashing down against your mouth.

As you glide your tongue along his, the tang of your own juices fills your mouth. It doesn’t bother you. If anything it spurs you on to wrap your arms around his back and pull him closer. You tug on his shorts again. This time he raises no argument. He inhales a shaky breath as he goes in for another kiss and works the clothing down his legs until he’s steadying himself over you and clumsily struggling to kick them off.

You take his face in your hands while he gracelessly fights the fabric caught around his ankle and he smiles at you. Another jolt of electric butterflies pulse in your gut, frazzling your senses as they travel outward from their point of origin. By the time the sensation reaches your brain, it carries along the weight of your feelings. You reflect on how he cares for you, how he’s always cared for you. Navigating the key pleasure points mapped to your body is just one more way he can show it. You’re so incredibly lucky to have someone in your life so attentive and considerate of your needs. It makes you wonder how you meandered through life without a guiding light like Namjoon to lean on for support. Meditating on that thought threatens you with torrid tears.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Before he can respond with you draw him into a deep kiss, crossing your legs behind his waist to pull him closer. His shaft presses against your sensitive clit as he grinds himself down. While your body reacts with a twitch, you still roll your hips up to meet him. His bottom lip quivers and you suck it between your teeth, slowly drawing it away from him. When it snaps back to him he chases your mouth and presses you down into the pillows.

He follows the enticing motion of your hips with a loud groan. The slippery nature of your folds promises to make his entrance effortless. Each pass his cock makes over your cunt is another strike against his willpower, but god if it doesn’t feel amazing. It would be so easy to slip in, just a little bit, just enough to satisfy the aching need of the tip that inches closer and closer to your cunt. The way you lift it for him only serves as a greater invitation.

He rolls himself through your slick folds, floating on the high of the pleasure, encouraged by the moans you breathe into his mouth. He ruts into you, coasting into your entrance just enough to make him break the kiss with a whispered expletive. You whimper as he retreats and try to beckon him back with another gentle roll of your hips. He sighs, allowing himself to rock back into you enough to coat the tip of his dick with your warmth. Your cunt pulses against him, seeking to lure him further inside.

Again he surrenders to your salacious advance, sheathing the head of his cock in its entirety within your heat. You gasp and moan at the welcome intrusion, pulling on his hair as though it will move him closer than he already is.

“Please,” you whisper. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Desperate to feel the stretch of his cock diving deep inside, you make your best attempt to raise your hips higher to take more of him in. He moans into your mouth, gently rocking himself further into your cunt and then slowly pulling back out.

Playing this game is dangerous. He knows that. But with each gasp and moan he pulls from you, the stakes rise. He tells himself he’s allowed to drive another moan from you with his teasing. Just one more time. One more sound. He tests his own resolve with each shallow thrust, never sinking deeper than before.

“Joonie,” you whine as he pulls back again. “Please. Stop teasing. I want your cock in me.”

His stomach does a somersault and it snaps him back to reality before his hips can snap forward instead. He leaves the comfort of your sweet cunt to lean over you and fish for the packet in the drawer of his nightstand. It should be right on top, but it’s not. Where the fuck is it?

The sticky wet head of his cock slips against your belly while he frantically rummages through the drawer. You shudder and reach down to take him in your palm, earning you a breathy curse in response. He spares a glance towards your mischievous eyes before looking down at the way you gather the moisture from the peak of his cock and pump it down to the base. His eyes roll back in delight for a moment and he drops onto the weight of his arm. The drawer rolls out farther than it should and promptly clatters off its track and onto the carpet below.

“I can fix that,” he announces.

“Are you okay?” You laugh, trying to sit up to help.

“Fine,” he murmurs, leading you back to the pillows with a kiss. “You just got me a little...”

His eyes wander to the nightstand. Perched on its surface are the remaining foil packets he’d been searching for in the drawer with its contents now spilled on the floor.

“Oh my god.” He sighs.

“Yes?” you press with a smile. “You good?”

“Mhm.”

He quickly snatches one up, fumbling it in his hands for a second before he recklessly rips it open. He leans back on his knees to roll the condom on, but about halfway down his shaft the rubber splits and snaps against his fingers. He vents a frustrated sound from his throat and scolds himself internally for being too excited, too eager. He wasted another one in his haste.

“I’m sorry,” he says in defeat. “Hold on.”

You’re already carefully opening the last packet while he rises to discard the bits of ruined rubber. “It’s okay. Come here. I got you.”

As he approaches the bed you reach out and begin to slowly roll the new condom down his shaft. He watches your hands roam over his cock with wonder. You seem much more confident now that he’s made a complete fool of himself for the millionth time today. Maybe you won’t think of him as so much of a saint now. He’s just as much of a mess as you are.

“You don’t have to worry so much,” you say with a slow pump of your hand over his cock. “I always have that five dollars, you know?”

It’s difficult to take your eyes off of the perfect shape of his dark cock. It’s veiny and thick in your palm, and long enough to make you wonder how it might feel hitting the back of your throat.  You manage to shift your gaze to his face and beam at him.

His worried expression melts into a dimpled smile. “Geeksquad saves the day again, huh.”

“Yeah. Pretty great, right? So, come here.” Despite feigned confidence, your jaw trembles with anxiety as you settle against the pillows once more. Nerves set your body alight with excited anticipation. “And put your cock in me.”

He slots himself between your thighs and cups your cheek, catching the subtle shiver of your body.

“Cold, baby?”

“Excited,” you admit, grazing your fingers over the expanse of his back until they’re nestled in the hair behind his neck. You kiss him.

It doesn’t matter how much time he’s had to recuperate. As soon as your lips are on his and he’s teasing himself into you, he knows he’s in trouble. You’re so tight. How is he supposed to last? Inch by slow inch you take him in, then out again. Your fingers twirl around strands of his hair until you’re sure it can’t be twisted any further.

“Oh fuck.”

Your jaw drops and you gasp a stuttered slew of nonsense as he bottoms out. He remains there, unmoving as your body adjusts to the stretch of his cock. Every executable file in your brain stops working as you lie beneath him with your mouth agape, eyes wide, and fingers tangled in his hair.

“Need a minute?” he asks, peppering kisses along your bottom lip and lightly working it between his teeth.

Finally you find the command in your brain to resume all processes. You moan into his kiss and purposefully clench around him.  “Do you?”

“Evil,” he murmurs as he begins setting a slow, steady pace with his hips. “Goddamn, you’re tight.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy, exposing your neck for his mouth to latch onto. Your hands explore the muscles of his back, digging into the sculpted flesh with your nails. He grunts against you, sucking a mark into the crook of your neck to muffle the sound. Taking time to follow the creases dividing the defined muscles of his triceps, your palms drift further down to curl around the pillars of his forearms. Without disrupting his pace, he reaches up to lace his fingers with yours.

The back of your palms press into the soft pillows beside your head. You’re connected as deeply and as literally as two people can be and still you crave more. When you moan his name into the open air he trails a line of sloppy open-mouthed kisses to meet your lips. You meet each slow thrust with a roll of your hips and a desperate need to keep him inside of you forever. Frenzied panting fills the space between you as you break the kiss.

Dark eyes full of adoration peer down at you, focused on the way the force of his accelerated thrusts shake every part of your body but leaves your gaze untouched. It’s insane just how much he cares for you. By now you must be sick of hearing his declarations of love, but he wants to say it all the same. He wishes he could make you cum for him like this. He would do anything to make you cum a second time before he does. Maybe with more practice he’ll learn your body well enough to make it happen. For now he’ll settle for making you feel good. You’re enjoying yourself at the very least.

A smile spreads across your face and a sweet laugh slips out. “What?”

“What?” he echoes, lost in the sight of you beneath him like this.

It’s like his head goes empty when you laugh like that, when you look at him like you’re shy and infatuated at the same time.

“Looks like you wanna say something.”

The serious expression plastered on his features matches the intensity of his whisper, “Yeah. Maybe I do. You wanna know what it is?”

Every muscle in your cunt contracts around him. He purses his lips, takes a slow breath through his nose and relaxes his pace.

He leans next to your ear and whispers in a quiet tone, “You’re just so fucking sexy.”

You’re so flattered that all the embarrassment resting on the tip of your tongue dissipates the moment you open your mouth. Flustered words form and then decompose the moment they’re to be spoken into existence. All that comes out is a broken sound of uncertainty.

It’s like the lights dance in his eyes as he takes a moment to straighten up and regard your features. His lips press against your forehead, then your nose and he pauses over your lips.

“I love you.”

The words fall from your mouth easier than ever. “I love you too.”

He kisses you like it’s the first time: passionate, desperate, and needy. You break off to rest your forehead against his.

“So are you gonna cum inside me or what?” You can barely conceal the smile that breaks through your pursed lips.

“Wow. So am I just a piece of meat to you, Geeksquad?” he jokes.

“I mean… Protein right?” You make a ‘yikes’ face at him and start to laugh.

He shakes his head but he’s grinning like a fool. “Well if it’s what you want…”

Just like that he calls your half-bluff. He ducks his face into the crook of your neck and begins to suck another mark over the fading mark from his earlier endeavors. Your laughter quickly turns into a string of moans as he resumes the previous tempo of his thrusts. A surge of adrenalin flips your stomach on itself and excitement pulses through your body at the thought of his cum slowly dripping out of your cunt.

“I do.”

You squeeze his hands and shimmy him away from your neck so you can sink your teeth into his shoulder to hide the shame of your desire. A broken moan rattles its way up his throat as he entertains the fantasy you’ve conjured in his mind.

“You want me to fill you, hmm?” he whispers in a breathy tone between shallow breaths.

There’s no doubt in your mind that he feels the way your cunt tenses at his words to offer a wordless answer, but you also offer a muffled hum of affirmation.

“You want me to fuck my cum into you just like this, baby?” His words are followed by the sound of his balls slapping against your ass at a new feverish pace.

“Yes,” you whimper and bring your lips to his, high off the sensation of his dick plowing into you.

“Gonna take it all for me?”

“Mhm. Cum for me,” you plead between sloppy kisses. “Cum inside me.”

“Oh shit, baby,” he gasps.

You don’t get another opportunity to coax him into letting go because he’s already slamming his hips into you and crushing his mouth over yours. He’s buried deep inside of you when his hips still but you wiggle beneath him and purposefully clench to give him the tiniest overdose of pleasure. He sighs as he leans back, finally releasing his death grip on your sweaty palms.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“You’re sweet,” you murmur, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Good lay too.”

He rolls his eyes but smiles nonetheless. “Likewise.”

When he pulls out to rise and dispose of the condom you already miss his shape, but the unmistakable ache starts to set in: the ache of a pussy pounded too well after a long hiatus. You clamp your legs together and roll onto your side to expose the skin of your sweaty back to the cold air of the room, closing your eyes as you listen to the patter of raindrops against the window.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Mmm.” You don’t bother opening your eyes. “I seriously need another shower. Sorry about your bed.”

He kneels on the floor next to the edge of the bed and carefully moves the hair from your face. “You can soak my sheets any time.”

“Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind. Sounds gross though. Definitely don’t wanna lay in the puddle behind me.”

“Tired?”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna sleep right there?”

“No.”

You’re such a liar.

He lets a few seconds of silence pass before he speaks again. “How about shower and movie?”

You peek at him from beneath one eyelid. “What movie?”

“Thinking The Kick, unless you have something else in mind.”

“No, that’s— Wait, what time do we have to be at Tae’s?”

Namjoon’s eyes widen and he rubs the back of his neck. “Later�� Uh, about that. Are we— I mean on one hand I don’t wanna make a big deal about it but…”

You bolt upright. “Oh no. They’re gonna make such a thing out of it. Nevermind. I’m never seeing them again.”

“It won’t be that bad.”

“Won’t it? Oh my god, if I show up in your clothes…”

“Geeksquad.” He grabs your face.

“Joonie.”  

You reciprocate the action and squish his cheeks towards the center of his face, causing his lips to pucker. He quickly takes your hands into his own.

“Hey. Look at me,” he pauses to make sure you meet his eyes before he continues. “You’re fine. Stay. We’ll figure it out when we get there and we’ll do it together.”

“Okay,” you breathe a sigh of relief. “Okay.”

“Be my ride?” He flashes you his wide dimpled smile.

“Only if you’re mine later.” You wink and draw him into a chaste kiss.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

"Geeksquad."

His voice sounds distant and soft while reminding you you’re home. In this moment, you’re safe, you’re warm, and you’re loved. It’s too comforting to move away right now, too comforting to bring your eyes to open, so you cling to the heat of his body.

“Hey,” he tries again, gently nudging your shoulder. “Geeksquad, wake up.”

You make sure that your distaste is apparent with a loud grumble. You nuzzle against his chest with your cheek and hum like it will drown him out. He laughs softly as the sound fades away. He briefly lets silence fill the space, which allots you the precious seconds needed to hit the imaginary snooze button and doze off again. It seems he isn't having it when he lets out a loud sigh.

“You missed the end and it’s already five,” he tries to reason. “Weren’t you the one who told me not to let you sleep too long? Unless…” He carefully snakes his fingertips down to your side, hoping to remain undetected. “...You changed your mind about going home to get all cute because you finally realize you are cute, you know, without trying."

You groan against his chest and that seems to be enough to keep him quiet. Just as he feels your head begin to drop down he starts talking loudly.

"Oh, I see. You just really wanna be out flaunting how good you look wearing my clothes. That’s it, right?"

You lightly smack your hand against his chest but don’t allow yourself to let your guard down until you’re certain he's given up.

"That must be it," he continues. "Not you... Being a pain in the ass to wake up. At all.”

With your head pressed against his chest, you find it difficult to drift back off with every loud word dropping from his mouth and vibrating straight into your eardrum. Still you rock your forehead against him and try to ignore his booming voice. When his fingers dig into your side to tickle you, your body jolts up straight and you can’t help but laugh.

“Wow. She speaks,” he jokes. “...Kinda.”

You wiggle against his grip, thrusting your chest up while dipping your head back. You attempt to scold him with his name between a fit of giggles. “Stop,” you wheeze.

“But I love the way you laugh.” His fingers relax despite his words. He leans in to press his lips to your perfectly exposed neck.

Your breathless laughter quickly transforms into a subtle slew of whimpers. He swathes his tongue across a particularly sensitive spot and your breath hitches. You grab his arm and pull down like you want him to crush you like a bug. He doesn’t. Instead he smirks against your neck when he feels your nails dig into his bicep.

“Joonie…” you whine.

He offers his inquiry in the form of a hum that radiates vibrations from the point of contact with your skin.

You’re embarrassed to admit the million things you want to ask him to do right now in place of complaining about his teasing. “Come closer.”

“Closer how?” he murmurs before kissing that spot again.

You take the hand at your side and slip it beneath the worn fabric of your shirt. You don’t have to lead him very far until he’s molding the flesh of your breast with his hand and you’re panting shallow breaths into the air around you. The sweet kiss at your neck turns into a sinful demonstration. The things he could do to you, for you. Do you truly know?

You know you never want him to leave. The heat from his mouth seems to sear a path of lava straight to your core. Your fingers glide through his hair and settle at his jaw. It takes all of your self control to gently push him away from that delightful spot he’s found so that you can plant a soft kiss against his jaw.

You draw out a groan as you pull away. “Maybe we should just cancel.”

“Mmm, don’t tempt me. You know I will,” he murmurs, chasing after your lips.

You lean back just a bit further, a grin plastered on your face as you allow him to press his mouth against yours just one more time.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

The rain has been reduced to a light patter against your windshield now. You’re grateful that visibility is decent as you pull up to the familiar curb in front of Namjoon’s building. Already waiting just within the building’s entrance, he sprints out at the sight of your headlights. He eagerly hops into the passenger seat and you do your best not to look over at him. Suddenly, you’re nervous. Have your palms ever secreted this much sweat in your life? Still you keep your hands planted on the steering wheel, staring ahead like you’re playing the role of a first-time chauffeur.

Sensing a lingering apprehension, he clears his throat as his seatbelt clicks into place. “Everything okay?”

Keeping the car in park, you allow yourself to look over at him. He smells good. He looks incredible, even in a simple black tee and jeans. And he’s looking at you like all he wants to do is kiss your lips for the millionth time today. It’s like you can feel the anxiety melt from your face.

“I’m nervous,” you admit, shaking out your hands as though that will clear the sweat from them.  “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

Your sheepish laugh causes him to reach out for your sweaty palm. To your surprise his hand is just as hot and moist as yours. Regardless of how uncomfortable it is, he holds on tight and laces his fingers between yours.

“It’s okay. Me too.”

The pair of you stare at each other for a few seconds in silence, just smiling and trying to think of what you were going to say before promptly getting lost in one another’s eyes. How is it you’ve never noticed the softness in his features when he looks at you like this? It still feels kind of surreal. But your heart skips a beat and you allow yourself to acknowledge the way heat radiates from your cheeks. You want to kiss him, to reassure him you’re not going to waffle on him again, but you’re too entranced by the infatuation smeared across every aspect of his face.

When you finally speak, he starts at the same time and you both have to pause and laugh. Silence falls between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s charged. It’s shy. It’s excited. He bites his lip and drags it through his teeth as his eyes rake over any part of you they can.

“You look beautiful.”

You lick your lips and your smile grows larger in response. “I- Thank you. I’m. We-- I mean, you look…” A nervous laugh slips into the breath between your words. “Hi.”

He leans across the armrest and plants a soft kiss against your lips. The moment you reciprocate his tongue dips into your mouth and glides against yours. It takes all of your willpower to keep the car running instead of plucking the keys out and dragging him back into his apartment to fuck him stupid. Still you rely on him to break the kiss.

“Hi,” he whispers, dragging a thumb across your cheek as he cups your jaw. “Still nervous?”

You nod. “My stomach hurts.”

“Hey, they’re our friends. It’ll be okay.”

“I know. You’re right.” You sit back against your seat and stare blankly out the foggy windshield. “I haven’t answered Jennie all day. She’s asking and I… I don’t want to answer.”

His heart sinks. It sounds like you want to keep things a secret, even though he knows you’re a terrible liar. No wonder you’re so nervous. It’s the last thing he wants to do, but if you asked he would attempt to cover for the both of you. He sincerely hopes you don’t ask.

“It’s just… I don’t want it to be a text. I mean, do we go in holding hands?” you ask, instantly allaying his fears. “Do we just announce it?”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Geeksquad, come on. Pretend like nothing’s changed. Things are basically the same right?”

You nod, but your expression casts uncertainty over the action. “Right, right. We can just say it like that, right? I mean, we still work at the same place. We still like to hang out together. Watch movies,It’s just a little more… intimate. You know, the kind of time you spend with someone that you care about and like… make out and have bomb sex and—”

“I’ll tell them we’re together,” he interrupts. “You’re my girlfriend. You signed the love contract.”

“Okay but you’re not going to tell them about the contract right?”

“Mmm. Maybe. Didn’t see anything about it in the terms and conditions.” He laughs.

“Uh, the fine print says you’re sworn to secrecy of its existence. You know, like fight club.”

“Must have missed that. Didn’t have my glasses on, you know?”

“Oh, here.” The lightbulb in your head flickers on. You rummage through the compartment beneath the armrest, presenting Namjoon with the glasses you’d been meaning to return for some time now. “Maybe these will help. You left them at my place.”

“Shit. I thought I lost those.” He sighs, taking them from you. “Wish I hadn’t ordered another pair.”

“Sorry, I kept forgetting to give them to you,” you admit.

He smiles. “Did you forget, or were you pining over me? Be real with me, Geeksquad.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay. I’m gonna start driving before I push you out of this car.”

“Sniffing them because they remind you of me?” he teases.

“Yeah. They smell like avocados.” You laugh as you turn your attention to the road. “You’re lucky hipster glasses are in.”

“Alright, baby.”

He hums in amusement, sparing a glance out the window beside him. It seems like the barrage of rainy days may be coming to an end soon. At least he hopes so. There’s not much he wouldn’t give to take you to his favorite hiking spots, have a picnic with you under clear blue skies, or lay on a sandy beach with you by his side.

“You keep calling me baby,” you point out quietly, pulling him from his reverie.

“Wha— I’m sorry. It was heat of the moment and it felt really natural when we were fucking you know? But if it’s weird now, I-I can stop. I’ll stick with tried and true Geeksquad.” He stumbles through his embarrassment in true Namjoon fashion.

“No, I like it. I just wanted to tell you it... makes me feel good. Way better than Geeksquad.”

“Yeah, you are.”

You smirk and reach for his hand and he gives you a tight squeeze, driving the rest of the way in a comfortable silence. Holding his hand is enough to keep you distracted from all the noise in your head.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

Knock-knockknock—-knock-knock.

The answer to your knock is the resounding pound of Hobi’s fist through the barrier of the door.

KNOCK-KNOCK.

The door swings open and Hoseok’s smiling face greets you. Namjoon’s hand falls from around your shoulder on instinct. Although Hoseok’s eyes briefly drop to Namjoon’s twitching fingers he draws no further attention to the reaction, stepping aside and gesturing for the pair of you to enter. Seokjin’s incoherent shouting carries from the other room, nearly drowning out your greetings.

“It’s about time.” Hoseok tips a bottle to his lips and the majority of the liquid sloshes back down as he makes a face and runs to shove it against Yoongi’s shoulder. “Yuck.”

Yoongi takes a hearty swig without so much as a glance away from the kitchen. The unmistakable bounce of a ping pong ball springs from the unseen room and you lean back to attempt to see around the blockade Yoongi and Hoseok’s bodies have created between you and whatever is happening in there.

“They started playing while we were waiting for you. Should be done soon,” Hobi says, walking back towards you. “Jimin and Tae put up a good fight but Jungkookie is too good.”

“You didn’t have to wait. We could have met you there,” Namjoon says, rubbing the back of his neck and stealing a sideways glance at you.

Hoseok raises an eyebrow and smirks, his eyes following Namjoon’s to you. His bony finger pokes your spine and you instantly tense and straighten your posture.

“I think we all wanted to wait.”

He knows. Even as you spin towards him you feel it. Despite the words left unspoken, somehow he already knows.

Yup. It’s time. Just get it over with. Easier thought than done.

“Why?” you blurt.

“Well...” Hoseok begins, ghosting his fingers over your shoulder as he walks towards the couch to put his shoes on. “We wanted to see you guys. Had a feeling we might not see too much of you as the night goes on. Figured you might want some,” he pauses to finish knotting his shoelace, grinning at you as he stands, “hmm, alone time?”

“I— Pssfht. What?” The unexpected shrillness of your voice cuts through the space between you. You clear your throat and do your best to dampen your anxiety. “I mean, like, why would we—? We’re—We, uh, whew… Is it hot in here?”

Words are no good right now. Anything else you say will just be another unnecessary embarrassment to endure. Your heartbeat resides in your ears as your flight response kicks in. Namjoon must hear it too because drapes his arm around your shoulder and pulls you towards the comforting mass of his chest.

Your fingers fidget with your keys even though you know you won’t need them tonight. You consider tossing them in the bowl Tae keeps on the counter, but that would require walking past the rest of your friends and abandoning Namjoon. You agreed you would face them together.

Namjoon smiles softly and gives your arm a reassuring squeeze. “We’re good, man.”

“Are you?” The look on Hoseok’s face tells you he’s hoping you’ll expand on Namjoon’s short answer. “How are you doing, Y/N? Has that douche tried to contact you?”

You almost forgot about Jihoon. It seems like such a distant memory now. The sting of his words echo in the darkest corner of your mind, but not for long. A smile forces those thoughts to scatter as you look to Namjoon for support. You take a breath and exhale a relieved sigh.

“Nope. He’s gone for good, I think.” You reach for Namjoon’s hand, using the courage his touch instills to fuel your confession. “If he comes back around I’m sure my boyfriend will try to kick his ass.”

“Wait. It’s finally happening?” Hoseok’s eyes go wide and he springs from the couch in an instant to poke his fingers against your sides. He didn’t expect to be totally correct in his assumptions, but he hoped for it. “For really real?”

You said it first. Out loud. Namjoon’s stomach churns in excitement as he looks at you. You’re grinning like a dork and nodding even though he knows you’re embarrassed as hell. Yeah. He’s pretty sure he’s never been more in love with your goofy ass smile. Hoseok covers your entwined fingers with both of his hands and practically drags you both towards the kitchen.

“Guys, guys! It’s official!”

The ball leaves Jungkook’s fingertips, launches across the table and circles the rim of the final cup as his opponents turn away. The room goes quiet, save for the airy spin of the ball slowly decelerating into the contents of the cup. Namjoon adjusts his glasses and you swallow hard under the burning spotlight of your friends’ eyes.

“Drumroll, please!” Hoseok demands with a smile, rolling his tongue to begin the buildup. “Bdrdrdrrdrdrdrdrdrdrdrdrdr--”

Yoongi presses his lips together to hold back a smile and begins drumming his fingers on the wall beside him. Not willing to be outdone, Seokjin and Jungkook join in, pounding their fists on the table, followed by the light tap of Jimin’s hands against his thighs, and the smack of Taehyung’s palms against his face.

“I present to you the moment we’ve all been waiting for…” Hoseok ducks behind the pair of you and lifts your arms like you’ve just tied for victory in a boxing match. “Joonsquad!”

The inflection at the end of his tone makes you cringe almost as hard as the nickname.

“Nope. No. We’re not calling it that.”

“Joonsquad? Really?”

The combined cheers from your friends drown out your objections.

Jimin’s arms are the first to wrap you both into a tight bear hug. “I’m so happy for you both.”

The statement seems genuine, but you’re flooded with the embarrassing memory of drunkenly slobbering over his face. Namjoon had always reminded you that Jimin was used to keeping things casual but still you find yourself ashamed for going there. Harmless flirting and games of chicken ruled your friendship with Jimin for so long. You used to fantasize about his lips exploring your body, but it seems so preposterous now. You’re not sure when it happened, but things changed.

Despite your mind’s acknowledgement of his beauty there is no worry accompanying it, no butterflies wreaking havoc on your senses. Your simple crush has faded into surface appreciation. It seems easy to recognize that now that you’ve stopped trying to push down the feelings you have for your best friend. Any lingering affections you bear resemble nothing more than a strengthened friendship, much like the one you’ve shared with Jennie for years.

Even with all the back slaps and fistbumps, Namjoon’s eyes are trained on you in a smitten stupor. Embarrassment does nothing to steal the light in your eyes or the joy in your laugh. All of the congratulations in the world can’t reach his ears when you’re looking at him like that.

“I knew it!” Jennie comes running from around the corner, pushing past all the men in her path to throw her arms around you. “No wonder you’ve been dodging my texts. I wanna know everything.” She attempts a whisper, but softness doesn’t translate through the liquor already clouding her voice. “In detail.”

Namjoon clears his throat loudly to combat the redness spreading along his ears. “Where are we headed? Seesaw?”

Everyone looks at one another like they hadn’t really thought about it.

“Sure. Your first drink is on me.” Yoongi throws an arm around Namjoon.

Hoseok weaves his arm beneath Yoongi’s from Namjoon’s other side, beginning to walk them towards the door. “It’s a dancing night, don’t you think?”

“How about we hit up the strip club after?” Jungkook suggests, already tugging his sneakers on and stumbling towards the door.

Seokjin rolls his eyes and claps a hand around the youngest’s neck. “Do you really want to break up a couple so soon?”

“What? They can look together, right? Wings doesn’t discriminate. It’s like a bonding thing. You don’t mind, do you, Y/N?”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. We’re not going there.” Seokjin turns back to Jungkook to whisper, “Not every celebration needs to be at a strip club.”

“I’ll remember that on your birthday,” Jungkook mutters, already on his way out the door.

The others begin to follow suit but before you can get too far, Taehyung latches onto your elbow. “Keys.”

“Right.” You produce a tangled mess of keychains and keys. Namjoon hangs back to wait with you, leaning against the doorframe as Tae disappears.

“You’re always welcome to stay here,” Tae offers as your keys clang against the others in the bowl.

Namjoon chews on his lip and looks to you. As long as you’ll lay next to him he doesn’t care where he sleeps tonight.

“Depends how drunk we get,” you reply with a smile, lacing your fingers with Namjoon’s to lead him out of the apartment. “Thanks, Tae.”

He grins and pats Namjoon’s shoulder after locking the door. “Don’t worry, Jungkook washed all the sheets yesterday.”

You flip up the hood of your sweater and tighten the strings to cover your face. You’re definitely not coming back here tonight.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

You’ve done your best to balance your attention between your friends throughout the night, sharing food, drinking and laughing together. But as the night continues you feel your energy draining with each attempt to remain social and engaged in conversation. You’re grateful when Namjoon steers the conversation away from you, leading most of the table towards the bar to collect more drinks for everyone. Only Hoseok and Yoongi are left to hold down the table with you. You’re pretty sure Namjoon is counting on the majority of the group getting distracted and splitting off. At least you’re hoping that’s what he’s playing at because you’d really like to get away from all the questions and stories.

When you yawn Yoongi nudges your elbow out from under you, forcing you to catch yourself before your chin slams against the table.

“Tired?” he asks with a smirk, eyes focused elsewhere.

“Mmm,” you agree with a nod. “I guess I should get up before they come back or I’ll be stuck here forever, huh?”

“You know, you’re not being rude if you want to head out. You don’t have to stay and prove anything. We’ve all been rooting for you to get together. If you wanna slip away for some privacy, you should.”

It’s funny how well your friends know you. You can’t even remember what life was like before they came along.

“A break from questions would be nice,” you admit with a stretch of your arms.

Hoseok, who’s been nursing the same drink all night, brings the glass to his lips and gulps down a rather large sip and scrunches his features together. “Blegh. Ooooor you can come dance with me.” He wiggles his eyebrows for good measure.

You stare him down, tonguing the straw to your tequila sunrise and trying to steal the last sip of the drink from the ice that remains in your glass. Is he trying to fuck with you?

“Don’t worry, I’ll be good.” He laughs, offering you his hand. “Namjoonie’s not much of a dancer, but I think he’d be willing to learn from you more than me. Think I can teach you something to show him before he gets back?”

“Hobi, I know how to dance,” you say with a laugh, although you’re already taking his hand.

“Mmm, do you though?” Hoseok flitters his free hand back and forth. “Ehhhh.”

With a roll of your eyes, you spare Yoongi a glance. “You coming?”

Yoongi leans back in his seat with a shake of his head. He casually pops a fry into his mouth.“Go on. I’ll send Namjoon your way so Hobi will keep his hands above your waist.”

“That’s just rude,” Hoseok scoffs, pulling you towards the dance floor.

He’s true to his word, dancing as respectably as someone with hips like Hoseok can. He guides your hips with his hands as he sways behind you.

“You’re perfect for him,” he says.

“What?” Your rhythm falters and you lose your sense of balance, stepping on his foot as you try to keep yourself from falling. “Sorry.”

He laughs, tickling your sides. “See? That’s what I mean. Took you dummies long enough to realize it.”

“It’s my fault. I was too scared and stupid to see what was right in front of me this entire time.” You sigh and lean back, surprised to find his chest a decent distance away. “I still think he’s too good for me.”

“Oh, pffft. Stop it,” Hoseok chides in your ear.

“I hope— Ugh, nevermind.”

“What?”

A small chuckle escapes with a held breath. “It’s dumb.”

“So?”

“I just— I hope my love is good enough for him.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.”

His hands hug around your stomach and push you closer to him, but the way they subtly tremble as they descend to rest on your hips feels different. When Hoseok steps around and hands still clasp you from behind, your heart soars. If not for the familiarity of the stiff chest at your back and the loving embrace enveloping your form, you might be nervous.

Namjoon’s lips caress your ear as he whispers, “You know it is.”

Even your best attempt to hide your embarrassed smile would fail, so it’s a good thing you’re not even trying. Hoseok wears a satisfied grin as he watches you turn towards Namjoon for a shy kiss. He thinks about leaving you with dancing advice, but instead he decides to slink away wordlessly. There isn’t anything he could say right now that the two of you would hear, not when you’re in a world of your own like this.

It’s easy to lose track of time as you grind against him, teasing him with every swaying motion of your hips. Every sigh against your ear spurs you on to press him further. Even with all the layers between you, the hard length grinding against your ass is ever-present and obvious enough to make you want to bend over so he can take you right here.

Instead you dance and feel his body move against yours until exhaustion starts to set in. Tae and Jennie are already waiting for a ride by the time you step outside. Your cheeks ache from smiling so much and every muscle in your face is too tired to speak. She looks just as tired as you but she gives you a small greeting.

It’s funny how you don’t find anything odd about the way she leans into Tae as they sit near one another, or the way Tae is absentmindedly stroking her hair. You feel like it should be odd, but the world is so far away that you can’t hold the details in your brain long enough to make a connection. Between the haze of alcohol and sleep, you’re too far gone to think too much about it.

Namjoon keeps his arm around you as he talks to Tae, but you don’t catch much of their conversation. Sleep threatens to take you where you stand. You count yourself lucky that Namjoon cares for you so well. You close your eyes to rest for a moment, but when you open them again he’s unbuckling your seatbelt and helping you out of the lyft. You shuffle past the threshold of Tae’s home.

Namjoon leads you down the hall to the guest room and pulls on the dangling chain on the lamp  near the bed. A soft yellow glow fills the room as you start to sleepily yank the clothing from your body. Namjoon quickly goes for the open door, but Tae is already in the doorway averting his gaze with one hand and holding a small quilt in the other.

“Thanks. She, uh, gets really cold,” Namjoon says, blocking your body with his frame as you bend at the waist to untie the shoes you now realize are blocking your pants from sliding over your feet.

“Sorry. Let me know if you need anything else,” Tae mumbles, clearly embarrassed. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Namjoon murmurs back, clutching the quilt as he softly closes the door and turns to you. “Baby.”

“Hmm.”

Your foot is stuck in your shoe but you can’t get your foot out because your shoe is stuck in your jeans. This is a conundrum.

“Baby, you’re gonna fall. Sit down. I’ll help you.”

“I can do it,” you mumble, plopping down on the edge of the bed.

“I know,” he says, already on his knees before you.

He frees your legs and gives you a kiss as he helps you wiggle below the bedspread, setting the quilt on top of your side.

“It’s hot,” you mumble.

“I know.”

“Too hot for blankets.”

“I know. How about the sheet?” he asks, rolling everything back except for the topsheet. He knows you. You’ll want them again soon enough.

“Mm. Come here.” You reach your grabby hands out for him as he flicks the light off.

“I’m coming.” He laughs and slides beside you. “So needy.”

Although you know he can’t see you pout, he pulls you toward his chest anyway and it turns into a smirk against his warm skin.

“It’s ‘cause I needy--you” you slur with a giggle, planting your lips against his chest in a drawn out kiss.

“You’re a hot mess and I love you,” he says, shaking his head.

“Love you, too.”

It’s clear you’re already falling asleep but he gently strokes your arm until the world around you begins to cool and fall away. When you roll away with a shiver, he carefully secures your body in a cocoon of blankets and drapes his arm and leg over you. Not even overheating could keep him from your touch. A wave of calm overtakes him.

This time he knows: this is love.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

Months into your relationship,you’ve have prepared for the end of the semester by planning a little vacation for just the two of you. Namjoon struggles to get through his last day of work, daydreaming about staying at Tae’s summer home and laying on the beach with you. His favorite hiking spot isn’t too far from there and he’s been dying to take you and show you the clearing of wildflowers he loves so much. Hopefully they’ve bloomed beautifully.

He yawns and stretches out, flipping the binder on his desk. It’s been a long day, commemorating the end of a long week. He’s exhausted, but he’s graded every last paper and is in good shape to submit final scores by the deadline. His phone buzzes against the dark wood in the only spot bereft of errant papers. He flips the screen around, finally allowing himself to check the time and give in to distractions.

You: Still working bae

He smiles, thumb gliding over the screen effortlessly while attempting to organize the mess on his desk.

Namjoon: Just finishing up. You: 😏 You: can I You: come before you finish You: it’s only fair

He halts his efforts to stare at his phone.

Namjoon: … You: yes?? Namjoon: 🤦‍♂️ You: what? I’m serious You: 😈😈😈 Namjoon: You on campus? You: I mean... You: who else is gonna be your ride 😘

He shakes his head, smile growing wider as he glances up at the monitor before him. He definitely doesn’t miss running to catch the last bus on late nights. He’s nearly done logging final comments. He’ll be done sooner than you can get here, but this might be as good a time as any to make the reveal.

Namjoon hits the icon to call you, swooning at the familiar image of you stealing his drink. He straightens his glasses and types away at the keyboard while trapping the phone between his ear and shoulder. It doesn’t ring for very long.

“Joonie?”

“Hey, I gotta upload these grades but I’m having trouble.”

You sigh. The last thing you want to do tonight is work, especially not with what you had planned. “What kind of trouble?”

Even as he types away on the keyboard, his mind searches for a term, some kind of red alert to get you off the phone and into his office so he can tell you in person.

“Uh… blue screen.”

“Blue screen of death?” You rub your temple. “What does it say?”

“Uh,” he swallows, pausing to proofread the comment along with the grade he’s about to submit. “It just restarted.”

“On its own?”

Submit.

“Yeah.”

“Is this the first time it’s doing this?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, see if it starts up okay. We can always come back before we go on vacation.”

“Baby, I really want to get these done tonight. I was so close to being done so we can start tonight.”

You sigh heavily and check your makeup in the rearview mirror. “Is it starting up?”

“No, it’s beeping.”

Even straining your ears doesn’t help you pick up on the sound.  “Are you sure?”

“Can you come here? Please?”

Your heart melts. “I’ll be right there.”

You turn the car off and grab one of Namjoon’s oversized hoodies from the backseat. You slip it over your skimpy outfit and carefully make your way to the library, tugging on the hem like it will somehow magically cover all the exposed flesh down to your knees. No such luck. Regardless of how many times you’ve practiced wearing these awful heels, it’s not like you expected to be walking up several flights of stairs in them.

There’s no security guard at the station across the quad. You don’t know if you should feel as happy as you do about that. Despite the voice in the back of your head telling you to get in your car and demand an escort to his office, embarrassment outweighs any fear for safety and you push on. Only a familiar yellow cardigan draped over a chair greets you at the receptionist’s desk, its occupant long gone for the night.

Adrenaline pumps through your veins as you climb the stairs, passing stack after stack of dimly lit bookshelves until you’re standing outside of the only office still illuminated. Thankfully the door is propped open and you power walk as fast as you can towards it. The faster you can fix it, the faster you can head home and celebrate the end of the semester the way you originally planned.

He nearly tips the chair as he stands. It hits the back wall of his office with a graceless bang. “Y/N? Are those heels? Did you drive here in those?”

It’s difficult to keep your lips as they are when he adorns that expression, features battling between where they might settle: aroused or awestruck. You’d rather not screw up the perfect lipstick application you worked so hard to achieve— not yet at least. The plan is to be on your knees when that happens.

“You look—” he pauses as his traveling eyes try to glean any information they can. His voice lowers to a whisper and he quickly attempts to sate his curiosity with a wandering hand up your thigh. “Are-Are you not wearing anything under there?”

Before you can answer his fingers find the pleated fabric hidden beneath the hoodie and a new, eager question fumbles from his lips. “What are... you wearing?”

As much as you’d like for him to keep exploring, you muster enough willpower to smack his hands away. It’s only fair that he has to wait while you work.

“Computer first. You said it was beeping. Did it ever start back up?”

He swallows hard as you round the desk and start troubleshooting. It’s hard to think when all the blood in his brain is quickly evacuating in favor of inhabiting a far less intelligent location. He’s supposed to say something. He knows that much. But you look so beautiful he forgets how to say it. Your brows furrow in frustration and you sigh his name.

You’ve done your makeup, your hair is down for the first time in a long time, and you even put on a cute outfit as far as he can gather. But here you are in his hoodie, donning a pair of blue-light blocking glasses, rolling up the baggy sleeves, and tying your hair into a tight ponytail as you start to go into full on geeksquad mode. Even with your hunched shoulders and irritated tongue clicking, you’re trying to help him, still beautiful in the way he loves.

Underneath all that skin-deep beauty that fades with time, within the wrinkles that have already begun to crease the edges of your eyes and the corners of your mouth, you shine. You shine brighter than any star he’s ever seen. Months of reflecting your light haven’t been enough to show you the true glow of your soul, but he’s confident that one day you’ll see it.

He’s pulled back to reality as your scowl settles on him. Repeatedly pressing the power button with your finger won’t change the fact that he’s purposefully unplugged it, a fact it seems you’ve come to realize when you reach for the VGA cable and there’s nothing there.

A charming, dimpled smile graces his features and he picks up the monitor with ease. “I, uh, think maybe something fell off before you got here.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your computer, is there?” You lean back in the chair and sigh as he stands there like a fool on the opposite side of the desk, cradling his LCD screen like a bouquet.

“No,” he says sheepishly. He gently lowers the monitor to the floor and sighs. “I planned on presenting this better, but you distracted me. There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about for a while now.”

Your stomach is spinning and you take in a deep breath. Oh fuck. Is he really going to break up with you? No, he can’t be. He wouldn’t be smiling about that. Would he?

“Nothing bad,” he quickly adds, circling behind the desk and your chair in one large stride. His thumbs dive into the fabric of your hoodie to rub circles into your shoulders.  “At least I don’t think you’ll think it’s bad…” Terror strikes at his belly and he adds, “Unless you do...”

“Joon. Please. You’re stressing me out. Whatever it is, just tell me.”

He spins the chair around and squats down onto one knee. He straightens his tie and reaches for your hand, sending your stomach on another rollercoaster ride, only this one is running in the complete opposite direction and you’re equally as unprepared. You’re not really a marriage kind of person. Well, maybe you are, but you’re not sure. It’s too soon to know! You’re more of a limbless amoeba at this point, stuffed into heels and floating with the other protozoa in the petri dish of the universe, unthinking, just existing.

The world stops as he reaches into his coat pocket and you find yourself too petrified to speak. You close your eyes and slump into the chair like you’ve become a being comprised solely of pudding. Your skirt rides up as you sink and your panties shrink into the world’s thinnest thong. Have you ever held a breath for this long? Maybe you’ll melt through the mesh seat and evaporate into the cheap carpet below. It takes him too long to realize his latest mistake.

It was probably the pudding hand that tipped him off.

“Oh. Shit. Okay. No, look at me. I’m not—” He laughs and sets something in your palm, closing your fingers around it and holding them there. “Look.”

You finally settle on the floor before him and squeeze the item in your palm. It feels unremarkable, like a basic wire or plastic cap. The most remarkable part about it is that it is definitely not a ring.

Relief washes over you with the breath you exhale. “Joon. You’re killing me. Please.”

“Here’s the thing.”

He releases your hand so you can look at this unremarkable thing that has caused you so much panic. It’s the plastic head of a CAT5 plug, pins and all. You tilt your head to one side and inspect it with childlike curiosity and bewilderment.

“I’m not that bad with computers. I mean, I’m not like you-level, but I’m not as bad as you think.”

Things begin to click into place. This isn’t just any ethernet plug. It’s the first one, the one you couldn’t fathom disappearing like it did, leaving a mess of wires in its wake. Namjoon just seemed so clueless that you naturally blamed drunken students vandalizing campus property for shits and giggles. It never crossed your mind that the sweet, quiet professor could have staged the whole thing.

“Before I knew you, I wanted to know you. But I felt like I needed an excuse to talk to you so I…” He reaches into his pocket and adds various bits of broken plastic and screws to your cupped hand. “...did this.”

You blink stupidly at the pile in your palm, watching busted pieces of plastic slide off the side of the tiny heap of junk and fall onto the floor beside your knees. “Oh my god. You…?”

“Breaking things seemed like the easiest way to spend time with you,” he admits. “At least at first. I started doing less destructive things after a while. Deleting empty documents. Unplugging my keyboard. Turning off bluetooth. Moving my email shortcuts. I mean, damn. I thought you caught me more than once. I kept waiting for you to call me out. I dreaded it. I hoped for it.”

A cackle bubbles in the back of your throat but you suppress it with a snort. “So you held onto these? This whole time?”

“I didn’t know if I should like, recycle them or not and it’s not like I could ask you. And I mean googling that just seems suspicious. I’m not about to land myself on a watch list or something. But like, for real, you should definitely tell me if I can recycle them though because I have more and I would really like to clean out my drawer.”

Laughter breaches your lips in full force. “You faked being bad at stuff this whole time? Joonie, are you serious? I can’t believe I fell for the way — the way you type!” You cough and wheeze, trying to catch your breath between laughs. “With two fingers! I should have known. Only dads type like that. Oh my god. “

He offers a sheepish smile. “Actually, I really type like that. Something about the keys.”

“Oh.” Your laughter dies. “Sorry. I mean that like… mmm. You know what, I meant what I said. Kinda crazy, considering you text faster than me.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Okay. Texting is different.”

You cross your arms, burying the broken pieces in your clenched fist. “Have you ever needed my help? Should even come running anymore?”

“Hey, sometimes I really do. I’m still clumsy. Plus, it’s out there now. I have no reason to waste your time... unless you want me to. I won’t stop you from climbing under my desk in those hot pants you wear with all the little pockets.”

You furrow your brows and scoff, an incredulous grin spreading across your face. “My cargo pants? Those pockets are huge.”

“Not compared to your ass.” He shakes his head with a smile, holds up his hands like he’s cupping your ass and pretends to squeeze it a couple times.

“Why are you like this?” You laugh with a roll of your eyes.

“Excuse me, who’s the one getting so drunk she’s going on thinking it’s hot to talk about making guacamole with my avocado dick?”

“Vaguely remember that. Smeared it all over me though, didn’t you?” You grin and wiggle your eyebrows.

He purses his lips and takes a breath. “If you mean watched you drink too fast on an empty stomach while we waited for takeout, sat with you while you dry-heaved for 20 minutes untiI I carried you to the couch and held your hand till you drank enough water to fall asleep, then yeah. Smeared it good.”

“And that’s why… I love you.”

You lean in and stop short of his lips, sitting back enough to narrow your eyes at him.

”Wait a minute. Projector.”

If you’ve been living on a ramen and cereal diet for two years because of a man’s inability to properly express romantic interest, you’re going to be pissed, regardless of how much you love said man now.

“Oh, hey, no. Hold up. The projector was a real accident. I cried,” he reminds you. “I will proclaim you as my goddess and savior for all time on that one.”

“Goddess, huh?” you smirk and close your fist around the busted pieces, leaning in for a kiss. “You gonna call me that instead now? I think I like that better than Geeksquad.”

He hums disagreement against your lips, “Mmm-mmm.”

You rest your forehead against his. “Promise me you won’t purposefully break anything else going forward.”

“I promise. That includes your heart,” he whispers, cupping your chin and pressing his lips against your cheek.

“You are so corny.” You pull at his tie, grinning as you lure him to your lips again. “And I’m so here for it. Now are you gonna help me up so we can start our vacation? Or are you gonna sit there with a hard dick and pretend like you still have work to do?”

He clicks his tongue and rises to his feet to extend a hand to you. As you attempt to pull yourself up, he reaches for your sides and lifts you with ease until you’re perched on the edge of his desk. He didn’t ask you to part your legs yet they spread for him anyway, wrapping around his waist and pulling him close.

“Are you gonna make me guess what all this is about?” he asks, tilting his head to the side and giving your crude ponytail a soft tug.

You smirk, staring at the red streaks of your lipstick circling his mouth while you try to ignore the heat between your legs that begs you to take him right here. You’ve imagined fucking on this desk thousands of times, but at least you still have enough sense to realize the risk in playing out that fantasy. He’s got a perfectly good desk at his place anyway.

“Take me home and maybe you’ll get to find out,” you say, pulling your keys from the hoodie pocket and letting them hang from your finger.

He groans as he takes them from you. “You know I can’t do highways.”

“Backroads are fine.”

“It’s gonna take forever,” he complains, dropping his head to your shoulder.

“It’s a good time to practice. Come on.” You pat his back a couple times and hop down from the desk, making sure to grind yourself against his erection. “I promise I’ll make it worth the wait.”

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

As soon as you’re in his apartment, you remove the hoodie to reveal your very crude surprise: a slutty schoolgirl costume. Eyes wide and jaw slack, he stops loosening his tie to imitate a lifeless statue of a drooling neanderthal.

“Y/N, what is… Why?”

“Because,” you begin in a low, sultry tone as you drag your fingers over the soft silk still in his hand. “I want you to teach me a lesson.”

His soft exhale fills the space between you and he stumbles to form a response. He laughs nervously, unable to compose himself. “What?”

You bite your lip, suddenly feeling stupidly uncertain. “You… watch this porn all the time, don’t you? At least I thought you did. Oh. Oh god. This is stupid. Sorry.”

He grips your shoulders to keep you from running towards the bedroom. His eyelids flutter for a

second as he struggles to compose his thoughts. “No. It’s fine. I’m all for roleplay. I’m just... I’m not into the teacher-student trope.”

You frown and reach into the hard-drive files of your brain for any porn you’ve seen on his computer. He’s lying and he knows you know it. He wilts under your puzzled gaze.

“I’m not that into it. Like a lot. I’ve seen some, but only when the story is there.”

“Oh, the story?” You hold back a giggle.

Is he really trying to tell you he’s watching porn for the plot to cover for some terrible porno choices? He should know by now that you don’t care about that. You’ve watched more than your fair share of terrible videos just to get off and immediately hated yourself after. It shouldn’t come as a surprise considering he pretended to be a total idiot with technology for years to cover up his feelings.

“What? I’m serious. I think it’s great when the woman is the teacher and the guy is her equal, you know? She definitely makes as much as he does, if not more because she does it in tight clothes because of the dress code, you know? And he comes in one day after hours and is like how does all this work, anyway? And she starts explaining but you know a button snaps and there’s tension. Baby, you know I’m a feminist. I would never—”

“Joonie. I’m not judging you. I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t into it myself. I thought it might be fun. And I mean… I really wanted an excuse to have you bend me over your desk, but if you’re not interested I can just—” As soon as you start to work at the buttons of your blouse, he reaches out to stop you.

“We can try it,” he says, bashfully taking a step back and tapping his fingertips against yours. “I’d like to, if you’re down.”

You see an opportunity to break the tension and put him at ease, donning your best valley-girl accent. “Oh em gee, Professor Kim! You are, like, my favorite teacher. Is there some way I can get some extra credit? Puhleeeaase.”

“Nope, none of that,” he says with a laugh, twining his fingers with yours. “As a rule you cannot use that voice.”

“Fair enough.” You lead him towards the desk and gesture to the chair nearby. “How about I’m the teacher since you like that plot point so much?”

He chews his lip to hold back a toothy grin and watches with eager eyes as you bend at the waist to inspect the desk before him, giving a clear view of your ass and panties as your skirt rises. You relocate anything valuable to the nearby bookshelf and work on gathering the papers strewn about the surface.

“Sorry just let me gather up all my extra paychecks,” you mumble.

Once the desk is clear you perch yourself on its edge. Namjoon is already holding out a hair tie and a pair of glasses.

“You forgot these at the staff meeting.”

You roll your eyes and grin, working your hair into a messy bun and resting the glasses atop your head. “Thank you, Professor Kim.”

“Professor Kim is my father. Call me Namjoon.”

You purse your lips and try your best not to laugh, uncrossing and recrossing your legs purposefully. “I suppose you can call me Y/N, then.”

He makes no attempt to hide his lurid gaze, but his eyes travel to your face and he smiles. “Can I call you beautiful, instead?”

“Very smooth, Joonie,” you chuckle, breaking character for a moment.

“Joonie. Hmm. I like the way that sounds in your mouth.”

“I think there’s something else you’d like in my mouth. Maybe you’d like to put it in?”

Namjoon straightens in his seat as you approach, chest heaving in anticipation as he spreads his legs further so you might slot yourself between them. He dips his tongue into your mouth and you work his belt off, slowly sinking to your knees as you try to will yourself to break away from his kiss. He’s eager to unzip his pants and free his cock for you. It stands at attention, eagerly awaiting your touch.

Your breath warms the tip as you skim your lips across him, teasing him just enough to have him twitching, aching to thrust into that pretty mouth. He bites his lip as he looks down at you and inhales sharply through his nose the moment you grip his shaft. The moan that follows is like music to your ears and you grant him the flat of your tongue to reward such a sound.

He combs his fingers through his hair and clutches your shoulder as you take him into your mouth. The dark swollen head of his shaft is thick enough to make your jaw ache, but the sound of him cursing and losing all sense of coherence makes it worth it. As he sinks further into your mouth, he tilts his head back and squeezes his eyes shut in ecstasy.

You take him as deep as you can, allowing your spit to coat his cock. He likes it when it’s sloppy, when you’re drooling over yourself while he fills your mouth and you’re more than happy to oblige. Your eyes water as he flirts with the back of your throat with a soft, shallow thrust. When you choke his head snaps up to focus on you but you wave his concerned look away and grip his shaft tightly.

A thin string of precum and spit still connects your mouth to him as you lean back for just a second to compose yourself.

“Hope you don’t have any other meetings planned.”

“Why’s that?” His palm gently cups the back of your head, waiting for the moment you’re ready to take him again.

“I’m gonna make a mess of you.”

“Good.”

You meet his eyes and gather as much spit in your mouth as you can, allowing it to dribble down his cock before pumping your fist over him. He doesn’t have time to guide your head back down because you’re already on him again, working him over with your hand any place the warmth of your mouth can’t reach.

He chokes out an expletive and buries a hand in your hair, taking in the sight of your perfect mouth offering the bliss he craves. “You take me so well.”

You bob on his cock until he snakes his fingers down to undo the first button of your blouse, granting him access to a sliver of cleavage. He’s eager to see more of you, to feel more of you. Even after months of being with you, it doesn’t take much to tip him over the edge. He won’t last much longer if you keep going, but he’ll be damned if he blows his load in your mouth before even getting an opportunity to touch you.

“I wanna feel you,” he murmurs, leaning forward to coax you away from his cock and back to his lips.

The moment you press your lips against his he reaches for your waist to help you stand. He’s about to follow suit when you surprise him, straddling his lap and grasping at his tie to pull him towards your chest. His cock throbs as it grinds against the slick barrier of your soaked panties, begging for entrance as he buries his face in the splendor of your cleavage. A roll of your hips tempts him to push your panties aside and plunge into you like this. His fingers work as quickly as they can to pop open a few more buttons before slipping down to grip the meat of your ass.

“Fuck me,” you plead, grinding yourself down.

His arms tense and before you can entice him further he stands with a grunt, hoisting you onto the desk. You barely have time to react as he yanks your panties down and plunges a finger into your dripping cunt. Planting an arm behind you and keeping the other clasped around the back of his neck, you weakly attempt to keep yourself somewhat upright.

“How about you make a mess for me instead,” he whispers, leaving your cunt in favor of rubbing quick circles against your clit. “And then I’ll fill you up. Walk you out of here past everyone so they can see my cum dripping from your thighs. Everyone will know what a filthy slut you are for me, won’t they, beautiful?”

The way your muscles tense up nearly gives you a cramp. You bite your lip and nod with a pathetic fucked out grin as he fucks his fingers into your cunt, continuing to rub against your clit. Your elbow wobbles and you frantically grasp at his shirt instead, balling the material into your fist, desperate to undo the buttons but too close to nirvana to remember how to perform such a simple task. Your legs shake against the surface of the desk, and while the steady rhythm of his finger against your clit is heavenly, you’re ready to cry when his fingers leave your hole empty and aching to be filled.

“Joon, please.”

As soon as the desperate plea leaves your mouth, the tip of his cock teases your entrance, providing small, shallow thrusts that send you soaring past the threshold of your release. He can’t help but smile against your kiss as you drag his bottom lip through your teeth and melt into his form. Your walls spasm wildly around him and he gradually lets the pressure off your clit, instead increasing the pace and depth of his thrusts. He fucks you through the shockwaves of pleasure that follow your orgasm, stilling only when your eyelids stop fluttering and you’re able to meet his gaze with a fatigued satisfaction.

“Why’d you stop?” you wonder, lazily opening the buttons on his shirt. Pert brown nipples poke out from beneath the soft fabric, with the silky tie still swaying between them.

He watches you with a smile for a moment before pursuing the last few buttons of your blouse. Quickly working it off your shoulders, you give him the opportunity to reach for the clasp of your bra. It doesn’t take long for him to sweep you into a deep kiss, entranced by the way your skin feels against him while he’s still buried inside of you.

“Bend over this desk for me, baby. Show me that sexy ass.”

You whimper at the loss of his cock but do as he asks, knowing you’ll soon be full again. He lifts your skirt, takes both cheeks in his hands and squeezes before giving one side a slap. The moan that escapes you is embarrassing and it spurs him to repeat the action.

“Fuck,” he whispers, finally allowing his cock to press against cunt once more. “So fucking wet.”

Your own juices coat the expanse of your thighs, slowly trailing down them. Without warning he slams into you hard and fast. Wet slapping sounds fill the room as he holds your hips, driving them back to meet his thrusts.

“So fucking tight.”

You grip the opposing edge of the desk and moan. “You’re so deep, baby.”

“Fuck...” The word is exhaled through a shaky breath.

“So deep you could read me poetry,” you whisper, unable to stop the joke even though you know he’s on the cusp of cumming.

He huffs out a strained puff of air as he tries his hardest not to laugh. He gives in to the laughter after you begin to giggle. Unable to save himself, he leans into the joke that threatens to ruin his orgasm. “You’re my person. You’re my desire. You’re my pride...”

His thrusts are sloppy, his legs tense. You crane your neck to look over your shoulder to make sure he’s not mad. It must be your own grin that is contagious because he’s smiling even though he’s shaking his head at you.

“You’re my love. One and only love,” you recite for him, reaching back for his hand and pushing your hips back into him with force.

His grip on your hip tightens and he squeezes your hand. He slams into you a final time with a moan, ensuring he’s as deep as he can be before filling you with his seed. The pleasure amplifies every time you try to wiggle back for some sort of movement and he moves his hand to your ass, digging his fingernails in like it will keep him grounded. He leans over your form, kissing any bit of skin on your back his lips can reach.

Regardless of the sensitivity he keeps himself buried in you, hoping by some miracle he’ll stay hard enough to fuck you a second time. He can’t tell what’s his mess and what’s yours anymore as it drips down his balls to his thighs. As he finally slips out, you turn to face him with a sweet smile on your lips.

Your fingers glide through his hair and trail down to cradle his cheek. “I love you.”

Namjoon leans into your touch, pressing his lips to the inside of your palm. “I love you too.”

Maybe it’s the endorphins, but he can’t remember the last time he felt so comfortable and happy with another person, someone he can be so unapologetically himself with. He’s completely certain that he’s bound to you by fate. The love you share is destiny, a gift from the universe he never intends to take for granted.

No matter what the future holds, he knows he wants you by his side through it all: his one and only love.

[ladywhistleclown]

Benedict Bridgerton x M!Reader: Valentines Fools

Summary: Benedict does something special. Word Count: 3334 A/N: I read this post about Valentines in Regency England, and found it so interesting that I had to write about it. of course, I made it gay. duh. Also, I wrote the ‘poem’ later myself, but its inspired by many LGBT poets/writers from history who wrote poems like it, about hope for future LGBT folks, just very simplified. This is some of my best work, and I don’t want it to get snubbed just because its not f/m, so like, give it a chance! MLM fic is also fun :) Enjoy! Warnings: Fluff, Drinking, Giggly men doing giggly men things (being stupid) -- Valentines Day, in your mind, was a rather dreadful event. Ladies and Lords spent days agonizing over hand-made letters, writing disgusting poetry about love, or rejection. You had never partaken in the act, partly because you had never had anyone to write to, and partly because even if you had, you had neither the patience nor skill to craft such detailed notes of devotion. You thought it best to leave such things to artists and ladies, of which you were neither. This year was only slightly different. After having met Benedict at Lord Granville's, striking up conversations about art, women, and your places in society, you had developed a rather strange relationship, one that you would almost call a courtship, if it wasn’t so clearly an impossibility. Benedict simply wanted to explore something new, something outside the realm of society and expectations, and you, lovesick fool that you were, happily obliged him. It was nothing more than attraction and curiosity. Second son or not, Benedict could never marry a man. Even if he wanted to.

At least you could drown yourself in booze at Lord Granville's. He was a good listener, with even better advice, and you knew that he understood exactly your pain. It was here you found yourself, a day before Valentines, throwing down your sixth beer and lamenting to Granville, who sat patiently by your side. “Society is not kind to those like us.” You sighed, running the tip of your index finger along the outer edge of your glass, staring blankly at it, as though if you drank enough, the answers would appear in the liquor. “No, it isn’t. But we are kind to each other, and ourselves.” He replied, looking over you with pity. You had never been much of a drinker, not for as long as Granville had known you, but your infatuation with Benedict had brought it out in you, and he wondered if it was a mistake to invite the Bridgerton boy here, if it caused an old friend to suffer in a way that was very familiar and personal to him. He knew the pain of impossible love too well, and saw himself reflected in your morose state. “Of course. You’re too kind to me, Granville. I talk your ear off about my foolish troubles with Bridgerton, but never think to ask of yours.” “I am not nearly as troubled as you are. And as I said, we must look out for each other, as the ton certainly will not.” he lifted up his own drink, pausing just before it reached his lips to glance at you, “Perhaps I should dis-invite Bridgerton from future events?” “Oh hell, Granville, don’t torture the man on my account. He enjoys the art and the company, and besides that,  I’d rather him here than at some brothel.” you grimaced as soon as the words left your mouth, an embarrassing slip revealing just how deeply attached you were. “Apologies. The alcohol has loosened my tongue.” “No bother. I understand that jealousy quite well.” Granville said, his voice still light and amused, and you couldn't help but laugh as he took a sip, winking at you before putting his glass down. “What jealousy?” Came a loud voice from directly behind you. You jumped, Granville almost knocking his drink over in his shock. Of course, he would arrive now, when you were drunk and foolish. You breathed out quickly, praying that you would say nothing incriminating before turning to face Benedict. He looked confused, glancing from Granville's face to yours, before reiterating, “What jealousy, Granville?” “Merely of other artists. I’m sure you know it too.” He recovered, taking another drink before gesturing to the table, “Care to join us?” Benedict sat in the chair closest to you, and you shot Granville a look of pure spite. In your drunken haze, everything seemed too much. His voice was too smooth, his smile too large, and the way he draped an arm across your chair, caging you in, was entirely too casual. You promised to whatever God was listening that you would slaughter Granville for this. “Of course I do. You know better than anyone.” He agreed, sliding easily into the conversation. You remained silent, not trusting yourself in your inebriation to respond beyond a simple hum of agreement or a grunt of displeasure. If you allowed yourself to speak freely, no doubt you would be weeping in Benedict's arms like a little girl within minutes. “What do you think?” You started, retreating from your thoughts to find both Benedict and Granville looking at you. Benedict’s eyes shone with thinly veiled concern, tilting his head and gently shaking you by the shoulder, while Granville simply smiled in amusement. “I..was lost in thought. My apologies.” You said quickly, waving Benedict’s hands away and sitting up completely. You were drunker than you thought, and briefly you wondered if you would even be able to make it to your carriage without help. You figured if you couldn’t, you would force Granville to escort you. He certainly owed you, after pulling this little stunt. “You’re wasted. Perhaps you should head home.” Benedict said gently. You huffed, shaking your head. “Don’t concern yourself with me, I can take care of myself. Now. My opinion on what, exactly?” “Valentines,” Granville supplied, glancing into his empty cup, “we were talking about all the effort that goes into such cards and letters. Artistry, in a way. What do you think of it?” “I find the holiday wholly unnecessary. And it takes far too much time to make such delicate things. A canvas is much more secure.” you huffed. Benedict stiffened beside you, although in your semi-consciousness, you barely noticed, your eyes fluttering between shut and open. “So you wouldn’t make any?” Benedict asked. “No.” “Would you receive them?” “I suppose it would be rude to deny such labors of love. But I have never received one, and I doubt I will this year. Ladies don’t send cards to men like me.” you shrugged, drooping over the table. The longer you sat, the harder it was to hold yourself up. If you passed out, it would be a good escape from such intimate topics with Benedict, so you allowed yourself to slump on the table, sighing. “Alright, that's enough. I’ll help you home.” Benedict declared, standing up and taking you by the arm, heaving you up. You groaned in protest, but didn’t fight as he slung your arm over his shoulder and half dragged you away from the table, Granville following behind. “Apologies, Bridgerton. Next time I won’t allow him to indulge quite so much. You may end up getting more than 10 minutes with him that way.” He said cheerily. “I’m sober enough to know when I’m being mocked, Granville.” you opened your bleary eyes to glare at him, finding his eyes twinkling with amusement. He patted your shoulder. “It’s no trouble. I was about to head home, anyway.” Is all Benedict said as he helped you into the carriage, climbing in after you and seating himself on the same bench. Granville waved you both off as Benedict rapped his knuckles on the carriage, directing your footman to take you home. “Now you have me alone and vulnerable. Not very gentlemanly of you, Bridgerton. What would the ton think?” you teased, leaning lazily against the side of the carriage, away from him. You hoped it was subtle, that he thought you were just drunk and loose and tired. You couldn’t bear the thought of him finding out just how weak you were for him. Then he would leave, and you would be crushed. “They would think nothing, because we’re men.” He pointed out, leaning closer to you. You hummed, acknowledging his words, but didn’t reply beyond that. It was only then that you realized how precarious a situation you were in. Drunk, alone, with a man you loved, who seemed to be moving closer and closer by the minute, although maybe you were imagining that part. Anything was possible when you were this drunk. “They would be wrong, though.” Benedict finished softly. He reached over, brushing his fingers along your jaw, moving downward to loosen your cravat. You sighed, tilting your head back to allow him easier access, cursing yourself but unable to shove him away. You were such a fool. “Are you planning something?” You asked. He finally managed to pull your cravat away, revealing your neck to him. He laughed at your question. “With you this drunk? No. I only wanted you to be more comfortable.” He tossed the cloth onto the other bench, leaning safely away from you to stare out the window after. While you were partly disappointed, you were mostly relieved. You wouldn’t have been able to resist, and only would have brought yourself more shame and confusion in regards to him. But Benedict was a good man, and he would never take advantage of you in your current state. Your heart squeezed. Too good of a man. “I’m sorry to be such a burden tonight.” you blurted suddenly. Benedict looked at you, his head whipping away from the window so quickly it almost made you dizzy. “I shouldn’t have drank so much. It was foolish.” “You’re never a burden to me.” He said, his voice soft and indignant, almost as if he was offended by the mere idea that you had inconvenienced him. “You shouldn’t have to chaperone me home like a weak debutante.” “I’d rather you than a debutante. Trust me.” You chuckled, shaking your head and glancing out the carriage window. You could see the square, and your home, fast approaching. It appeared as though your time with Benedict was over for tonight. Relieved and downtrodden, you sat up and attempted to right your swirling vision as the carriage came to a stop. Benedict stood, helping you up and out of the carriage. After explaining the situation to your housekeeper, he hauled you all the way into your home and bedroom, even being kind enough to help you out of your boots as you lay back in your bed, arm over your eyes, trying to stop the room from spinning. “I’ll be going, then.” He said quietly, standing up and brushing his hands together. You lifted your arm, making certain you weren’t going to puke before crooking one finger, beckoning him closer. “Come here.” You breathed. He obeyed, moving dutifully to your side, remaining silent despite the question in his eyes. You sat up slowly, ignoring your dizziness. Placing a hand on the back of his neck, you pulled him closer. Benedict, realizing what you were after, leaned down and forward, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. You flopped back into your bed after he pulled away, grinning, although you couldn’t see it, having already rolled over and buried your face in the covers. “Goodnight. I hope you enjoy tomorrow.” He said ominously, the clicking of his heels against the marble floor the only indication you had that he had left. Before you could even think of the meaning of his strange farewell, you were dragged into rest. -- The first thing you registered after waking was the pounding behind your eyes. Moaning in pain, you lifted your arm over your face, blocking out the light that your butler had let in through the curtains. “My apologies, My Lord. Should we have a cure made?” He asked politely, noticing your haggard state. “Quickly.” You begged. He nodded, bowing before swiftly leaving the room to procure you a bit of relief. Sitting up, you turned away from the windows completely, opting to try and find your balance. After a moment, you were able to make your way to your wardrobe, pulling on your breeches and doublet. Today you had no need to dress formally. Valentines was a day you dedicated to staying completely shuttered away from the rest of the ton, tending to your estate and business ventures. It was easier than being bombarded with reminders of love, and much easier than running into any Bridgerton, although one, of course, you wanted to avoid above all else. It would only pain you to see him giving or receiving such intimate letters, especially with the women of the ton. Once your butler had delivered your cure, and you had thrown down the slimy, disgusting mixture, you were feeling much improved. You made your way to your study, smiling at your maids as they bowed before rushing off, no doubt in a hurry to finish their work and make off with their sweethearts for the day. You felt a twinge of jealousy, smiling sadly as you opened the door to your study. Oh. In your study sat piles and piles of cards, all handmade, some gilded with gold while others were trimmed with lace. You picked one up, in awe at its intricate gold-foil flowers, embossed on the front and lined with sharp swirls and embellishments, all clearly hand done with a calligraphy pen. You opened the card. The script inside was as lovely as the rest of the card, although it was the words that brought tears to your eyes. I sit and I look into your face And I see those before us, Who have loved as we do, And I see those after, And I pray that our impossibility Will become their reality. Yours. You choked on a sob, quickly closing the card and setting it down. The last thing you wanted was to ruin something so perfect with tears. It was not signed, and it didn’t have to be for you to know. Benedict. You looked around the room. There were at least 3 large piles of cards, enough to last an entire year, all handmade and intricate. You wondered how long this had taken him. It would take you days just to read them all. Surely, your servants thought you were either the biggest rake in the ton, with all these notes. You couldn’t care less. You gathered them all, handling them as gently as you would glass, slipping them into your desk cabinet and locking it. They were yours, no one else's. Benedict's words were just for you. Dazed, you leaned back into your office chair, holding the first card, running your fingers over the edges and rereading the lines over and over. It wasn't quite a poem, nor a letter, but a sentiment. A dream, a wish. You would be lying if you said that it wasn’t your dream too. A future where love like yours would be special, not sinful. Love. You jolted. And then laughed. How could you ever have doubted him? Surely, it was only love that would drive him to do this. Only love that would have him escort you home, make sure you were safe and comfortable. That would make him sit for what must have been weeks, if not months, working tirelessly on card after card just to take advantage of the one day where letters between unmarried men and women could be sent freely. Of course, he did so for a cover. But was that not also love? He wanted to protect you from ire, from harm, and so he delivered all the letters he felt he couldn’t today, just to keep from drawing unwanted eyes. Crying and laughing all at once, you pressed the note to your chest. How had you doubted his love for a second? His devotion? You truly were a fool, although not in the way you had expected. It took you half an hour to calm yourself, and by that time, your headache was back and worse than before, thanks to your emotional outburst. But another thing was back, too. Your butler, standing in the doorway with an impassive look on his face, glancing about the room, no doubt looking for the heaps of cards the servants had dropped off. “Do you know what card came from which maiden?” You asked, holding up the first card. It was the only card you had yet to put away, and though you were loathe to show it to him, you thought you should make it try and seem as though you had no idea who they had come from. “The cards were delivered mysteriously early this morning, My Lord. No names, no signatures.” “I see. Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. None of them will be receiving a response.” You laughed, setting the card down. “What is it?” “A visitor, sir. The Second Bridgerton. Says he has something to discuss with you, about Lord Granville's gathering last night.” Your heart stuttered. “Send him up. No doubt he wants me to apologize for making such an ass of myself last night.” You joked, and he smiled back, giving a quick nod before rushing off to fetch Benedict. You quickly tucked the last letter into your desk drawer, pulling out a decanter of whiskey and pouring yourself a small glass. “No better cure for a hangover than more drink, right?” Benedict stepped into your study, shutting the door behind him even as he teased you. You laughed, pouring him a glass as well. He took it gratefully, sitting down in the chair across from yours, the desk between you two. “You may mock me if you wish, Benedict, but I am feeling positively delightful.” you said dramatically, lifting your cup in cheers. Benedict touched his glass to yours, and you took a sip. He did not. “Would that have anything to do with any deliveries?” He questioned, a secretive smile spreading across his face. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” “That’s why I asked.” You snorted, shaking your head quickly. “It would, if you must know.” Dropping all pretenses, he leaned forward, smiling even brighter now. “So you’ve got them. Do you like them?” “Of course I do,” you breathed, leaning in as well, dropping your voice to a whisper, “how long did they take you? They’re beautiful. True artistry.” “Much too long, as you said last night. But they were worth it, if you like them.” You nodded once. Smiling, he brought one hand to rest on your desk, palm up and spread open. You took it, intertwining your fingers. “Do you truly...love me? In that way?” you asked nervously, avoiding his gaze in favor of staring at your two hands. “No, I spent hours of my precious time making hand crafted love letters for a man I consider a friend.” He rolled his eyes. “If anyone would do such a thing, it would be you, Benedict.” “Certainly not. It would be Colin.” You laughed, and he grinned. Standing, he quickly rounded your desk and pulled you up by your still connected hands, pulling you against him and kissing you firmly. It was sudden, but not unpleasant, and you wrapped your arms around him, carding your fingers through his hair before resting your hands on the nape of his neck. After a long moment, he pulled away, eyes shining mischievously. “I do love you.” “And I you.” you said quickly, desperate to reciprocate. You had spent so long convinced that Benedict only saw you as good fun, that the revelation of love had left you reeling. But you would be damned if you passed up this opportunity to tell him of the affections you had kept secret since your first meeting. In response, he kissed your jaw once before pulling away, still smirking. “But you taste of garlic and egg. You truly should not have indulged so much. Now I can’t kiss you.” Groaning, you turned away from him, clamping your lips shut even as he wraps his arms around your middle, pressing kisses to your neck and cheek lovingly, cooing affections like a lovesick fool. You smiled at that passing thought, leaning into Benedict and returning his whispers in kind, leading him with purpose to your bed chamber. Perhaps you were both lovesick fools. You could live with that.

[mintmatcha]

On my glorious long weekend off (thank you, past Flora for requesting work off) I will give you this 🤲🏻

It had started with him tutoring you. Professor Akaashi was one of the better literature teachers at the university, and everyone seemed to be dying to get into one of his classes. It wasn’t even because he was insanely attractive, though he was a young professor and had a sort of dark academia awkward boyish charm to him. It was because he actually made the topics fun and easy to learn. He would encourage class discussion and debate, and give short history lessons to add context to classics he assigned so that you could understand them better. He laughingly explained once, a slight flush to his cheeks, that his best friend wasn’t academically confident but was very smart. So he tried to find ways to connect the lessons to the individual.

When he began his poets of the 20th century segment, you weren’t sure if you could keep up. It was hard enough to get through the 19th century ones last semester. When you told him this, reminding him that poetry wasn’t your strong suit, he offered to spend one of his off periods tutoring you. He wanted you to succeed, he said. He knew you were smart and had it in you, it just had to be drawn out.

And that was how you ended up here. Sitting at his oak desk in his office, his MacBook closed in front of him as his voice slipped into your ears and down your veins like warm honey. Soft, deep, quiet, but confident. When he finished the last line of the poem, he closed the book with a gentle snap, and you averted your eyes from his long fingers as they caressed the spine of the tome.

“So, what do you think he was trying to convey in that? Cummings?”

Your cheeks heated as you pushed your eyes back to his, “C-cumm-?”

“Cummings,” Akaashi nodded, a light smile on his face as his dark eyes glinted gently. “He wrote a poem every day of his life, and many of them were love poems. So what do you think was the emotion he was trying to convey in this one?”

“I…” your mind had gone blank as he leaned back in his chair, the springs of the old wood creaking while his legs spread to get to a more comfortable position, his long fingers folding together against his stomach. So long. His hands were so big. You wondered what your hand would look like in his. “Sex?”

You squeaked and your mouth dropped when you realized what you said out loud. “Oh my god I didn’t mean, I just meant-“

“You wouldn’t be incorrect,” Akaashi chuckled and stood. He came around the desk as he spoke, leaning against the edge next to you. “Cummings had many erotic poems as well as love poems. But this one has them meet, don’t you think? So what feeling and picture comes to mind when you hear this one? Don’t think of it as words that look funny on a page. Think of it like a movie in your head. Close your eyes and picture it like that. Like it’s a movie.”

“Who do I cast in it?”

A smile. “Whoever you want.” He lifted the book and began to read it again to you. “Sometimes I am alive because with me her treelike body sleeps-“

Your eyes closed and the pictures came easily. You waking up to the morning sun filtering through the window next to your bed, curtains blowing softly. Slowly rousing from the gentle grip of sleep and seeing Akaashi next to you. Bare. Bitten. Scratched. Content. Your legs slipping through his like roots, keeping him in your bed, your arms encircling him like ivy. Determined to keep him there. To be selfish with his generosity. Your teeth sink into his shoulder because you want him awake. Want his body hard and firm against yours. Slender but strong. His breathing shifts as he wakes, and his beautiful dark eyes focus on you, knowingly, wantingly, waiting for you to be the sunlight that makes his being open and consume and photosynthesize the room into one of pleasure and joy. To be alive. Whole.

Your eyes open slowly, when you realize he’s stopped reading, and you catch him gazing at you, his traitorous hand reaching out, barely half an inch away from touching your cheek. He clears his throat and pulls his hand back, but you grab it quickly. Desperately wanting to maintain this shift in aura. Your fingers vine through his and you set his surprisingly calloused fingertips against the plush skin of your lips.

“…read it again.”

ggddhjkuybbcxgjkkn

god.... that's so.... sensual.....

[forthehpfanboys]

History

Pair: Hermione Granger x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Hermione swore she would hate Slytherins since Draco Malfoys blonde self rolled into town, but your relentless flirting and charming smile causes her to feel stuff.

Warnings: Swears, bad flirting.

Notes: Slytherin!Reader, cute request. Probably super late and probably super crummy-

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

"Hello, Granger!” You flashed her your best smile, your arms crossing over the table. She turned to you with a raised eyebrow, lacking all hint of the grin she held just moments before you sat beside you. “What? Did I interrupt something important?”  You knew you interrupted her read, of course you did. This was the only time she was ever away from Strawberry Shortcake and Boy Wonder. Maybe they were allergic to studying?

“What are you doing here, (L/n)?” Your last name rolled off her tongue with grace, making your heart skip a beat or two. She turned back to her book, her now dull eyes trailing down the page at an impressive rate. Her voice was colder than a Dementors heart, but that didn’t kill your mood a lick.

“Well, I just wanted to chat! See how your day is going, maybe ask if you need help with whatever you're currently studying.” You slid the book closer to you, effectively causing her to lose her place. You lifted one end to check the cover. “Muggle history, huh? Didn’t take you for the type.” 

“First of all, it’s none of your business what I’m studying or how my day went. Second, don’t touch my book,” she yanked it back and held it to her chest before standing up, “and finally, leave me alone.” She pushed her seat in, giving you the cold shoulder as she walked toward the exit of the library. 

“Alrighty then, Granger! I’ll just see ya tomorrow!” Your cheery voice made her groan in dread. You weren’t going to get all gloomy just because she didn’t want to see you right away. You knew you would have to warm her up and you kept to your word, sitting next to her the next day at the library. She was only closed off toward you because some idiots can’t keep their bloody mouths shut. That, and you were a pure-blood that wore the green and silver tie.

Slytherins got hate, more than other houses. They always got a bad wrap because someone had to open their mouth and say some of the dumbest stuff imaginable that gave perfectly normal and rational people bad reputations. That someone was named Draco Malfoy. It wasn’t like they could lock him up and pretend he was in literally any other house, they tried. It didn’t work. Maybe if Draco kept his mouth shut, you wouldn’t stay up so late at night, cursing the color of your tie. Scratch that, you probably could’ve been the golden Trios friend, maybe just Hermione’s.

The brunette had caught your eye. She was rather pretty. And rather smart. And sassy. And strong. And- Ok, so she was a lot of things and you liked her and that’s fine! Perfectly fine. You'd accepted how you felt about the witch a while ago. Only problem was the way she viewed the house you were sorted into. You were a Slytherin, which explained all the tension. But you didn’t want it there.

Over time, you longed to be near her. You wanted to hold wants with her and make her laugh and watch her eyes sparkle with emotions reserved for only you. So, you decided you'd try to change her perception on the green and silver themed house and the people who were sorted into it, which led you to now. You’d been doing this for a few days now, just saying hi to her, her friends and just trying to be polite. 

You left the library, quickly finding no other reason to stay there. Walking down the bustling halls, you ignored the glares you got from all around you. People would always look at others and see the color of their robes before the person themselves and it was beyond frustrating, but you managed to win a few over, like Cedric and Cho and, somehow, Harry Potter himself. That’s how you knew you’d win her over. Once people got to know you, they learned you were very down to earth, very not stereotypical Slytherin, and most found you charming with a splash of witty. 

So, you kept up the routine of seeing her every day at the library, trying your best to make small talk and change her mind. What Hermione kept to herself was that she promised to do anything but fall for you. She tried her hardest not to let you in. She tried her best to not blush over your cheesy flirts and genuine compliments. Her and Ron thought you were a spy for Draco- Harry knew better. 

It had been a week since that encounter with muggle history and pure sass and she was starting to open up to you. It was evident by how her eyes would shimmer at you too, instead of just her friends, but now you. You’d managed to turn her a soft pink with a simple wink. It was so refreshing to see her smile everyday, which led you to actively seeking her out in the hallways. You didn’t find her in the hallways, though. She was outside, in the courtyard sitting between Harry and Ron, no surprise there. You scurried over, waving enthusiastically to the trio, to which you received two waves and a simple nod- Ron still didn’t trust you.

“Hello, boys! Hermione. How are you doing this evening?” You asked, a smile spreading across your face as Hermione’s cheeks turned pink, like usual nowadays. You sat down on the ground in front of them, not worrying about the dirt that would cover your dark uniform.

“Hi, (Y/n).” Harry spoke up first, reaching around Hermione to nudge Ron when he remained silent. 

“Hi.” Oh, his voice just held excitement, didn’t it?

“Hello, (Y/n)! Are you here to return my textbook or do I have to pry it from your hands?” The brunette witch held her hand out, a cheeky smile across her lips. You ducked your head down, gazing at the cover of the muggle history textbook tucked under your arm and took in a breath through your breath.

“Ooh, I’m not sure, Granger. Might have to take it from me.” You smirked at her, enjoying how her cheeks turned a brighter red. You let out a chuckle when she looked at you with a playful glare and handed the book over to her. “Alright, alright. I got the hint, love, relax.” You laughed a little harder when Ron dramatically rolled his eyes.

“Why did he have your book?” Harry turned to Hermione, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. She pulled the cover of the book to her chest. 

"Well, he ruined his after the potions fiasco last week-" 

"Hey!" you tried to cut her off, embarrassment quickly setting in. 

"-when his potion turned green and literally climbed out of the cauldron."

"He gave me bad instructions!" your voice kept falling on deaf ears as the trio snickered. 

"Oh, right! I remember that!" Ron spoke up, snickering as your cheeks turned red. 

"Didn’t it slide right off the table and fall into his bag and literally ate his muggle history book?" Harry covered his mouth as they all snickered at the event. You crossed your arms over your chest. 

"It didn't eat my book!" You grumbled out as you looked down at the dirt. You used your finger to draw in the loose dirt as you pouted. "It burned right through it. Cost me a few galleons and a detention."

Hermione let out another giggle and rolled her eyes. She slipped a piece of her hair behind her ear and chewed on her lip. 

"I know, which is why I let you borrow mine. Aw, come on! Don’t be like that, we’re just teasing. It’s what friends do.” She smiled at you again, but instead of smiling back, you just felt cold.

A shiver wracked down your spine as a freezing cold sensation spreading across your chest. The word ‘friend’ literally echoed in your head while the trio talked like you didn’t exist. She thought of you as a friend. The words made your heart physically ache and suddenly, you were worried you’d throw up, or scream. You watched the brunette nudge Ron on the shoulder, almost shoving him off the ledge of his seat and your head started hurting. 

Why would she like you when she was surrounded by chivalrous Gryffindors who’d gladly take her anywhere she wanted to go. You were just a Slytherin. It probably didn’t matter how hard you tried, how nice you were, how many friends you had, you were still a Slytherin. 

You looked down at your tie, chewing on your lip. Your eyes stung as your brain went on the tangent. Your brain stopped when you remembered what exactly was inside the book. The coldness in your chest seemed to triple. Your mind flickered to the night before, when you were studying in the library and decided enough was enough and wrote the female a poem that put Romeo and Juliet to shame. It may, or may not have even hinted at your feelings.

You felt a physical itch to get it back. You wanted to wipe the parchment clean, give it to your owl and send it to the ocean to drop it in, maybe even feed it to Scabbers- anything to get it out of her hands.

“Hermione!” Your loud shout interrupted the jokes flying back and forth between the friends, and, honestly, interrupted most of the conversations scattered across the courtyard. Your cold chest quickly flipped to burning hot as embarrassment set in. “Um.. I think I left some notes in your book.”

“Oh, did you?” She looked down at it, laying it cover side up on her lap before opening the cover.

“Yeah, but uh, don’t trouble yourself with finding it! I um- I can do it.” You reached for it, but she shifted the book so she was holding it by the spine.  

“No, no, I got it.” The brunette witch dragged her thumb along the edge of the pages, allowing them to fall until she spotted the brownish parchment separating the gray faded pages. “Is this it?” She picked it up delicately, smiling at you. She noticed how your ears were bright red, how your hand was twitching just a few inches away from the book and how your eyes held dread- borderline panic within them. 

“Uh, yeah, yeah, that’s.. That.” You chewed on your lip, refusing to meet her eyes. Hermione’s smile dropped a little. She wasn’t dumb, she knew what was going on. She looked down at the paper, noticing the semi-messy handwriting and a few doodles that had her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Her eyes skimmed across the pages of where said paper was trapped and noticed it was wedged between a few pages of a specific romantic drama.

“We went over Romeo and Juliet ages ago, (Y/n). Why are you re-reading it?” Her words had your entire face practically turning red and even Harry seemed to pick up on a clue. He stood up and grabbed Ron by the hood of the robes, literally dragging the now shouting red-head away to give you some speckle of privacy.

While you stammered out a response, her eyes flicked down to the brown parchment again. You panicked. You grabbed her wrist and tried to take it from her before she could read it, but you ended up, pushing her off her seat and landing on the floor with a thud. You fell on top of her, your hand pinning her wrist with the parchment beside her head while you basically straddled over her waist.

“Oh, bollocks. Sorry, I’m sorry.” You stammered, letting go of her wrist. “I am so sorry. I just- I didn’t want you to read the poem and think I’m some idiot and like, slap me?” Your eyes looked into hers and that was when you noticed how bright her face. It was a stark contrast against her tie, but not by much. Her cheeks were a bright pink and her lips were hanging open ever so slightly. You got lost in her eyes for a brief moment. 

Once you snapped out of it, you practically jumped off the young witch and helped her up. You brushed off her robes and fixed her tie that became crooked and flashed her an awkward, but apologetic smile.

“It’s ok.” Her voice was softer than a whisper. Her hand rubbed the wrist that still held the poem, her eyes casting down to it before looking back up in confusion again. “Wait, you said poem.”

“I did?”

“You told me they were notes, (L/n).”

You swallowed thickly at the mention of your last name. It’d been a good few weeks since she called you that and you were worried you were back at square one. You let out a shaky sigh, nodding your head. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I just..” Your sentence trailed off. She was reading over the poem now, so you found explaining it useless. You fiddled with your own robes, dusting them off while she read. 

“A night in the star freckled skies or a day below the deep blue lakes, cannot hold a twinkling diamond nor elegant magpies toward your beauty that overtakes.” She read out loud while you cringed. Ok, so maybe it wasn’t the best, but you tried. “What’s this all about?” You expected her to glare at you that promised hexing, but you were met with a look one could almost confuse with love sickness. 

“Ah, well.. I.. Kinda.. I fancy you.” You squeezed your eyes tight, waiting for the stinging of a slap to meet your cheek, instead you were met with a bunch of giggles. You slowly opened your eyes to look at her. She was covering her face with the paper. “Hermione?” You whispered. Was she laughing at you?

“It’s about time you realized that!” She moved the paper, folding it perfectly and sliding it into her robe pocket. Your jaw dropped to the floor, a clear expression of confusion across your still warm face. “It’s been so obvious!” She was giggling again.

“Wait, so you knew?!” You screeched out, your voice vanishing in the middle. It wasn’t like you didn't know since the bloody beginning that you liked the witch, you just had no idea it was so obvious.

“Of course I did! The winks, the cute nicknames, the obvious attempts to be near me- oh and Harry told me.” She counted on her fingers. The witch looked up when you didn’t respond and stepped forward. “Don’t worry, (Y/n). I fancy you too.” Hermione cupped your cheek with her free hand and landed a kiss to the other one. 

“Was it the poem?” You squeaked out, quickly bending down on one knee to pick up the abandoned textbook before standing back up. You winced at the floor as your voice echoed in the now empty courtyard, but smiled a little when Hermione let out a snort.

“It was the flirting, the kindness, the poem and then some.”

“Oh.. So, date? This Friday? I could take you to the Quidditch game?” You rubbed the back of your neck, holding the history book out for her. Your smile turned into a wider on filled with hope as she contemplated her answer.

“You do know the game is Gryffindor vs Slytherin, right?”

“Of course I know. I’m not a dummy.” You held your arm out for her. Your heart skipped a beat when her arm wrapped around yours. You began leading her down the hallway, straight to the library. 

“Then yes, I’d love to go.” Hermione leaned into you, her own captivating grin clear as day. The two of you ignored the puzzled glanced from across the student filled corridors as you passed. It was strange to see a Gryffindor and a Slytherin so close to each other.

“It’s a date then! I can’t wait.” You spoke as you separated from her. You hurried to the library door, holding the entrance open and letting the brunette witch go in first. You trailed after her, grinning as you hurried back to her side. “I bet the fist fight with Malfoy really did it.” 

“I will not confirm that.”

“I knew it!”

“Hush!”

“Sorry, love. Just excited we got the history out of the way.”

[local-ground-apple]

I saw requests are open for Pomefiore, so please... How about Pomefiore being absolutely in love? How would they react and think? They would confess to their love?

So, I didn’t do it yanderish and I wrote a small scenario per each. 

I seriously need to stop writing Vil kissing scenes 🙃 🙃

🦚 oh, he fell for a potato? Well, you must be a refined potato then, if you managed to catch his attention,

🦚 at first Vil seems indifferent. He’s not the type to rush into action after localizing his target  (like Rook) or dwell on his feelings (like Epel). No, he takes his time getting to know you better, 

🦚 you won’t even notice that he may have developed feelings for you. You’re convinced that your another target, just like Epel and you do your best to follow all the routines Vil implored on you. After all, being in Pomefiore was never supposed to be easy. You were certain he was treating you just like any other student from his dorm, making sure you look presentable, being strict and calling you potato,

🦚 yet Rook notices small slips and hints Vil is leaving. Soon he refrains from adressing you as a mere potato and calls you by your name, he won’t scold you for tiniest mistake brushing it off and pretending he hadn’t seen it or inviting you once for a smoothie, making everyone gasp in shock. Rook clearly see that you’re special,

🦚 Vil gets impatient soon. He craves your affection and wishes your attention would be focused on him. He wants to shower you in small kisses, leaving the trail of them on your neck, gently run his fingers through your hair and brush his lips against yours. Oh, he wants you so bad,

🦚 sometimes, Vil may seem distant, engrossed in his thoughts, yet he denies it when Rook confronts him about his behavior. He is just thinking of the perfect way he could confess to you. He absolutely wants it to be flawless, 

🦚 he seems confident that you won’t reject him. After all, who would reject Vil Schoenheit? Yet, he feels tad insecure deep down. Vil will never admit it, but the countless “what if” scenarios are playing in his head before confession,

🦚 you’re probably one of the few persons who managed to mentally frustrated and make Vil Schoenheit’s heart flutter. You achieved unachievable,

🦚 it was Neige Leblanche who pushed Vil to yeet his perfect confession plans into void and aggressively take the lead, (it’s always Neige or Lilia that either start apocalypse or change the course of history),

 Vil clicked his tongue in annoyance as exasperated sigh left his lips. He was tapping his heel impatiently, his arms firmly crossed on his chest, as his gaze was fixated on you.

Why were you taking so long talking with Neige?

Neige out of all bloody people.

Vil watched you giggling at some sort of joke Neige had made. Your bright and broad smile you were gracing Leblanche with, was driving him up the wall. Vil ignored Deuce and Ace bickering in the background, as well as Rook laughing at them, while Kalim and Jamil were nowhere to be found. Probably they were occupying food stalls.

Vil frowned. You all were supposed to have a rehearsal on the stage day before VDC, yet you all run into Neige who was more than eager to meet you.

Especially you. 

Vil was fully aware of how Neige hand brushed against yours, how he leaned a bit too close, how his fingers tuck strands of your hair behind your ear. Vil didn’t fail to notice how Neige’s eyes would stop on his annoyed form, clearly enjoying his visible jealousy or how we would smirk whenever his face was mere inches from yours and dorm leader was close to exploding.

Enough!

Here he was, Vil simply had to save you from Neige’s sly clutches. With a barely audible “tsk”, he aggressively walked to you. You slightly jumped, startled when Vil gripped your arm rather firmly. He didn’t give you the time to bid farewell to Neige.

,,Excuse us”

With that, Vil began dragging you away. You flashed an apologetic smile to Neige, trying to keep up with dorm leader’s rapid pace. Well, you weren’t blessed with long legs, like him. You quickly realized that struggling was pointless, his grip was too strong for you to wriggle out.

Vil was practically fuming with anger, ignoring your questions about what was going on. He soon stopped before a close room, pushing you inside and closing door. Now, you were beginning to feel nervous and, well, curious. Vil was never the type to personally drag you somewhere, it was always Rook’s job.

You raised your eyebrow, eyeing Vil with pure confusion written all over his face. He run his head through his hair and sighed deeply in frustration, before his gaze pierced through, making you take a step back. He looked so intense.

Vil quickly cut the distance between you two, his fingers firmly grabbing your chin, making you look straight in his eyes.

,,I don’t want you associating with that…that potato”

His words were dripping with disgust and malice, as a frown flashed on his face. You opened your mouth to say something, yet your words were muffled by soft lips pressing on yours. Your eyes widen and your hands subconsciously clutched the cuffs of his jacket, pulling Vil closer. He smirked, not breaking a kiss. 

He pulled away, his lips gently brushing against yours. Vil eyed you for a brief moment, before clicking his tongue. His thumb gently grazed over your lips, gently smearing the remaining lipstick.

,,My, my, looks like you need to apply it once again”

You nodded, still in shock, as your fingers touched your lips in disbelief. Vil only chuckled seeing your reaction. He swiftly turned around on his heel, briefly glancing at you.

,,I’d love to take you out for a nice lunch after rehearsal. I have a important confession to make”

With that Vil left, leaving you completely stunned with a fluttering heart.

🏹 Rook is rather quick to realise his burning feelings for you and he’s a man who would immediately began to act,

🏹 he does a research on you beforehand. Before he even approaches you and starts talking to you, he will spend several days observing you, taking notes about your habits and paying attention to your dislikes and favorites. Rook doesn’t view this as stalking, non, non, it’s just an extensive research,

🏹 when Rook feels that he had gathered enough informations, he’s first to approach you. He complimets your dazzling beauty and starts a small talk with you. He absolutely doesn’t hide his attraction towards you, non, non, he rather makes it crystal clear, 

🏹 Rook would flirt a lot. You would see him popping up in most random moments, always when you’re alone, meeting you by “pure coincidence”,

🏹 he worships your beauty even before he asks you out. Rook probably worte multiple poems or serenades concerning you and he’s more willing to read them to you on a proper date. You always get embarrassed and hide your frustrated face in your hands, when he showers you in praises out of blue, 

🏹 Rook asks you out rather quickly. Maybe after talking with you like three or four times. This man takes the risk without batting an eye,

🏹 and he’s rather dramatic about it, practically giving you a heart attack, 

You quickly scanned through your notes, knowing very well that even this rapid revision wouldn’t save you before Crewel’s class. You were absolutely doomed and you were well aware of that fact. You sighed defeated, staring at complicated notes concerning potions you had absolutely no clue about.

,,Prefect, watch out!”

You jumped, papers dropping from your hands and flying in the air, as the arrow pierced through the wall inches from your face. You could feel it teasingly brush against your cheek, yet not cutting your skin. Your eyes widen and you tried to steady your breath. You were sure your heart would jump out of your chest. Letting a heavy sign, you hesitantly and reluctantly reach for the note attached to the arrow.

You frowned, not understanding first few lines written in French.

Should have studied this bloody language when I had the chance.

You scanned neat, cursive handwriting and you could feel your heart flutter. You bit your lip, lowering your gaze, as you giggled slightly at the cheesy confession and invitation to romantic dinner with candles. Normally “in the middle of the forest at the ungodly hour” would make you concerned, but you were too flattered reading the attached translation of the poem basically worshipping your beauty.

You raised your head and looked around, trying to find a certain hunter behind bushes, but to no avail.

,,I accept!”

You yelled, ignoring Ace’s and Deuce’s “what the hell human” look.

,,Très bien!!”

You could swear the source of that voice was somewhere in bushes.

🏹 Rook won’t hesitate to confess and he declares his love to you on first date. Like literally, you would be enjoying your dinner, while he’s planting small kisses on your hand, making you beyond frustrated and almost choking on your food and suddenly Rook declares his feelings to you,

🍏 he’s confused at first. Very confused. What is this weird feeling in his stomach whenever he sees you? 

🍏 you two went from classmates to “we-escape-from-Vil-on-daily-basic” friends to “fuck-we-escape-from-Rook-too besties to finally best friends. Epel has viewed you as a friend for quite a long time. You were always there to listen to his problems, help sneak out of Rook’s eagle eyes and you comforted him whenever he felt upset,

🍏 Epel realized his feelings, when certain hunter began cooing over how “stunning you had looked surrounded by rough nature”, all that while sniffing your hair and holding your hand. He got jealous, frustrated and practically dragged you out of there,

🍏 Epel is rather shy and hesitant to confess. What if you turn him down? What if you don’t reciprocate his feelings and want to stay as friends? What if you find Vil more attractive than him? What if…

🍏 those constant questions haunts and torments Epel practically all the time he’s around you or you spend time in the company of other males,

🍏 you live in his mind rent-free,

🍏 when he finally gathered courage to confess everything went wrong. Rook crashed his confession unknowingly (or on purpose, who knows) and you got dragged away by Vil to attend to “urgent matter”

🍏 needless to say, Epel was beyond furious and fuming. If the whole world was set on stopping his declaration of love and prevent him from speaking from the bottom of his heart, then he will aggressively take the action,

 Sometimes you truly questioned your ventures to Diasomnia or more likely questioned why you had refused the escort Sebek or Silver were willing to provide. You sighed heavily, mentally facepalming yourself. Oh right, you wanted to show Malleus that you by no means were scared walking back to your dorm practically in absolute darkness.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Where was your prince on the white horse?

Apparently nowhere to be found.

,,Y/N”

Oh how you wished you weren’t so squeamish and easily scared. You let out a blood-curling scream, when a hand roughly turned you around, pressing you into the wall. Your heart was beating so fast, you thought it could jump out of your chest, when your back collided with the cold surface. One hand rested beside your face, while the other one gripped your chin.

Before you could scream one more time and alert anyone, soft lips roughly crashed on yours, making you gasp from astonishment and pure confusion. You couldn’t see in the darkness face of the person desperately kissing you, yet the fragrance of fresh apples and gentle locks tickling your cheek smelling like Vil’s latest shampoo line, made you realized who it was.

Epel was kissing you.

Your hands tangled into his hair, pulling yourself closer, as you deepened the kiss. His hands landed on your hips, cutting any distance between you two. Your chest gently collided with him. Epel pulled away, when he felt you were breathless.

You placed the hand of your heart, taking few deep breaths to calm your racing heart from fear and sensation of soft lips on yours.

,,What the?! You scared the hell out of me!”

“Well, that’s the only moment I can confess in peace without Vil’s chattering. And if you hadn’t screamed, I wouldn’t have to kiss you before telling you that I’m in love with you”

“WHO NORMAL CONFESSES LIKE THIS?!”

,,WAIT, LET ME CONFESS”

🍏 you accepted his messy confession either way, yet you did scold him few times for practically giving you a heart attack,

[toothyleech]

𝐊𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚 + 𝐊𝐨𝐤𝐨𝐦𝐢 | 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 (𝐂𝐖: 𝐌𝐚𝐣𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏𝟐𝟎𝟗

»»———————— ♔　———————-««

When Kazuha was a kid, he never imagined that he would experience death in any form. Until his best friend died, he never thought that he would go through the pain of seeing someone die in front of him. And after he died, he never wanted to experience that sort of pain again. It was gut wrenching, and it felt like his heart was being plucked from his chest and stomped on under the heel of the electro archon herself.

So when Kazuha was experiencing death himself, it was a little shocking. Needless to say, it was a little surreal to be the one dying this time. He hadn’t been expecting the arrow that was shot his way, lodging its way through his stomach. They say that when you realize that you’re dying, it brings back memories of your life. The phrase “I saw my life flash before my eyes” was not a phrase that Kazuha saw himself using until this very moment. He could tell that the arrow hit something vital. Not to mention that the arrow was charged with electro energy, which sent jolts of pain through his entire body every time he moved, trying to crawl his way to safety. He knew it was only a matter of time before the Shogun enacted her revenge on him, but he hadn’t been expecting it so soon. Not now. Not when he was beginning to feel happy for once in his life. For the first time since his best friend had died, he had felt some sort of happiness. And that happiness came in the form of Sangonomiya Kokomi.

Kokomi and him…they were just starting to get closer. Kazuha never thought that he would be friends with the leader of the resistance—not after what had happened after he opposed the Shogun for the first time, but nevertheless he found himself growing closer with Kokomi the more time he spent with her. The two had met through Beidou, who introduced them briefly when the Crux had docked in Watatsumi island for a few moments. Tensions were high in Inazuma, but they needed a place to stop and restock their ship, and Beidou knew that the Sangonomiya clan were welcoming. When they did stop, Kazuha was surprised to see the leader of the resistance herself. She was young, about his age, perhaps maybe a few years younger, but she had a defiant spark in her eyes that was wise way beyond her years. Despite her floaty and graceful appearance, Kokomi looked strong and agile. There was an air of power around her as well, and Kazuha knew full well why she was the leader of the resistance.

At first they hadn’t gotten along all that well. Sure, they exchanged pleasantries, but it was merely just that. The first time they had met, they hadn’t gotten to talk all that much as they were in a hurry, but the next few times they had seen each other…

Kazuha discovered that he had a lot in common with Kokomi the next few times they had met. They both enjoyed writing poetry and haikus though, and they had bonded over that enough to even agree to exchange letters and poems while Kazuha was away on his travels with the Crux crew. And Kokomi’s poetry was beautiful. As Kazuha’s eyes scanned the pages upon pages of beautiful strokes of ink, he found himself enraptured with the way she wrote. Not just her poetry, but the letters detailing her endeavors with the resistance. It captured his heart in an, admittedly, childish way. He found himself having almost a crush on the leader of the resistance, and the more letters they traded, the more he wondered if she felt the same about him.

They ended up meeting more frequently from then on. Beidou would go out of her way to make sure they made it back to Watatsumi island so he could see Kokomi and exchange letters with her, but things had been…tense lately. The Tenryou Commission had established a base on the island to crush the resistance, and now Kazuha had to be more careful than ever while visiting Kokomi. At one point, Kazuha had begged Beidou to stay away from the island; that they needed to be careful now that the Tenryou Commission was advancing. But Beidou was as stubborn as a mule, and she pushed on. She wasn’t afraid of the commission despite Kazuha’s pleas.

Now look at where that ended him.

With a letter clutched in hand, Kazuha collapsed onto the ground, letting out a grunt when the arrow was lodged further into his gut. He was bleeding out fast, and the electricity felt like it was coursing through his veins, lighting everything nerve ending on fire the more he moved. Even when he stayed still, the electricity from the arrow forcefully jolted his muscles, causing even more pain not only from the arrow, but from his muscles being forced to move. Blood gushed out from the wound, causing Kazuha to wheeze softly the more his body was jolted like a ragdoll. Now that he was dying, he was most definitely sure that he had many regrets in life.

The first being that he hadn't ever gotten to deliver Kokomi his confession.

The letter slipped from between his fingers. He had been loosely gripping it before he had gotten shot, and now the letter was getting doused by the gentle sprinkle of rain.

If he focused hard enough, he could almost imagine the sound of footsteps approaching him. He was beginning to lose consciousness, and his vision was blurring, but the more he strained his ears the more he realized that someone was, in fact, approaching. Kazuha hoped it wasn’t whoever had shot him.

Luckily, or unluckily, it was the person he had been dreading and anticipating to see the most.

Kokomi stood above him, her eyebrows furrowed gently as she looked down at his prone form. His breathing had begun to get shallow, but he could vaguely interpret what she was trying to say. Despite the clear worry in her voice, and the panic in her eyes, she seemed composed as ever, crouching down in front of him and cupping his face with her cool hands. Her hands were just as soft as he had imagined. If he were in a better state, his face would be flushed, but unfortunately he was dying.

Kazuha nudged his head towards the letter, mustering the strength to move his head. When Kokomi’s eyes followed where he was gesturing, she picked up the letter, smoothing it out from where the droplets of rain had ruined the paper. She tucked the letter into her clothing, one hand still cupping his face. He could see her mouthing his name, but he couldn’t hear her. His ears were starting to ring, his eyes starting to slide close, and his body starting to finally give out from the pain.

The last thing Kazuha saw was Kokomi’s lovely eyes, peering down at him with the most concerned expression.

And the last thing he felt before he slipped away was the gentle press of her soft lips in between his eyebrows, previously creased with pain, and now smoothing out to nothingness.

[pacific-rimbaud]

hi!!! so. for the first sentence game:

She had learned touch typing on a blue, electric Smith Corona a year before Hogwarts.

Touch Type

Pairing: Sirius Black x Marlene McKinnon

Rated M

1,000 words

Also on AO3

She had learned touch typing on a blue, electric Smith Corona a year before Hogwarts.

asdf jkl; ffdd ffss ffaa asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj jjkk jjll jj;;

“You’re doing very well.”

The typing teacher tacked a gold foil star to the upper right-hand corner of her paper.

Marlene knew children weren’t meant to agree with adults when they said that sort of thing.

“Yes, I am.”

It’s just that she didn’t care.

When she got home, Marlene’s mother fixed the paper to their refrigerator.

At dinner, as Marlene’s father passed the potatoes, an owl flew through the open kitchen window carrying a letter.

#

Little things were lost to her, straight away: toaster ovens; radios; typewriters; yellow-painted Number 2 pencils.

And large ones: Queen; all of science; ballet; Shakespeare.

They'd given her a wand instead.

ffjj ddkk ssll aa;;

lad lad fad fad add add

asks asks dad dad all all

“What are you doing?”

He whispered like no one else she'd ever known, the tips of his t's and d's shivering down her nape.

He knew he was doing it, just like he knew his off-kilter tie looked illicit.

An unusual amount of power for a thirteen year-old.

“I don’t feel like telling you."

The sun glaring through the south-facing windows in the Charms classroom struck Marlene’s neck above her stiff white collar.

ask afford ajar adapt ate art awe

“Are you playing the piano?”

“I am not.”

“What are you doing, Marlene?”

“Mr. Black!” Flitwick’s chalk stalled. “Pray tell, what is so fascinating about Miss McKinnon’s half of the desk that you are not seated properly at yours?”

“Nothing, Professor.”

Marlene continued striking her imaginary typewriter keys.

aught apt award among aztec ant

boy black brazen braggadocio bye bye bye

#

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.

Escaping to the balcony from the overheated Great Hall, Marlene tapped the railing.

“You’re a dog,” she said.

“Am I?”

Elbows propped on the balcony rail, Sirius took a long pull from a flask, Adam’s apple rising and falling.

“Peter is a rat,” she said.

“That’s not very nice, Marlene.”

He didn’t need to whisper anymore to make the vellus hair on her arms rise.

A troubling amount of power for a fifteen year-old.

“James is a stag,” she went on.

“And Remus?”

His eyes gleamed.

Sphinx of black quartz, judge my vow.

“Someone very fortunate in his friends. You’ve left your date inside, and she looks unhappy. If you didn’t want to be here with her, you shouldn’t have asked her to the dance.”

He drew himself up to his full height and tucked the flask in his back pocket.

“Why are you mean to me, Marlene?”

“I’m not mean. I’m direct. There’s a difference.”

He shifted towards her, slowly, and their shoulders met.

Waltz, bad nymph, for quick jigs vex.

Then he leaned down, hand traveling along the railing, until it slid beneath her fingers.

She struck imagined letters into the soft skin on the underside of his forearm.

ffjj ddkk ssll aa;;

“And if I were direct?”

Marlene closed her eyes.

black dog black dog lazy dog bad dog

“I would directly tell you no.”

#

The summer she turned sixteen, on a long Italian holiday, she inoculated herself. Any beautiful Italian boy with a kind face would do, so she chose one at a disco in Rome. Within three weeks, she had debauched herself to her own satisfaction.

At school, she typed poems into the wood of the common room table, whatever came to mind: Pablo Neruda, Walt Whitman, Adrienne Rich.

I had questions but you would not answer

I had answers but you could not use them

He took any girl he wanted to his bed and into empty classrooms. Boys, on occasion.

A frightening amount of power for a seventeen year-old.

When he walked past, hand in hand with someone else, she felt his stare as a physical act, as though he could, through relentless pestering perception, make her look up from the table, a book, a parchment, from the poetry in her fingers.

Dark river beds down which the eternal thirst is flowing

He seemed allergic to silencing spells.

He didn’t know how easily Marlene could tuck herself inside the memory of a low breathless voice in her ear saying, “Guardami. Guardami.”

ffjj ddkk ssll aa;;

look at me look at me

mi fai impazzire

you make me crazy

#

For her eighteenth birthday, she bought herself a blue, electric Smith Corona typewriter. Defying every forced dichotomy, she placed it before the wide front window of her newly let London flat.

She never agreed to be halved.

Now, when she typed, whole stories appeared on pages, entirely of her own invention.

She wrote messages to magicians in Muggle ink on a Muggle typewriter, rolled Muggle papers and handed them to magical owls.

James and Lily,

I’m extremely pleased to accept the invitation. My warmest congratulations.

Skin hugged tight in red silk satin, Marlene tapped her fingertips on the kitchen counter at Grimmauld Place while she waited for another drink.

asdf jkl; ffdd ffss ffaa asdf

i take you for better for worse to love till death my vow

i take you to have to cherish

death do us take

solemn vow i cherish

Sirius’s arm slid along the counter’s edge, until she typed against the bare pale skin of his forearm.

He was drunk, in a white tuxedo and red tie, jacket long since lost, flush with philia, with agape, with philautia, radiant with incandescent eros.

An insurmountable amount of power for a nineteen year-old.

The ache between her legs was torturous.

asdf jkl; ffdd ffss ffaa asdf

boy boy black black bad bad best

His arm that was her typewriter folded around her middle as he slipped into the space between her body and the counter.

“You are kind,” he said.

“I am.”

“And you are direct.”

“Yes.”

His chin dropped. “And if I promised, directly, to be very kind?”

He fucked her on the typewriter table in her front window, her dress around her waist, his hand over her breast, panting in her ear.

“Why did you make me wait?”

She gasped, tightening her fist in the fabric of his waistcoat.

“Because you didn’t think you would have to.”

She jolted under the force of his hips, her left hand smashed against the unplugged typewriter’s silent keyboard.

“Marlene…”

to have have have

“Yes?”

i take i take i take

“I am so fucking—”

to hold to want

to want to love

“I know.”

[kirencer]

febuary seventh (i’m seeing you)

Y/n and Spencer's relationship collide around a single day: the one where they first looked into each others eyes.

[Or, the all of the secret love letters they wrote during the beginning of their relationship]

Word count: (part one and two) 9.2k

Warnings: Language

Rating: Gen audiences

A/N: it was too long for tumblr, so I broke it into two parts!! Enjoy. GN! Afab reader (it’s important, trust me)

Part Two

Y/n looked up. They had just finished reading Spencer’s journal, the one dedicated to them. Spencer was kneeling and in his hand was a small box, the dainty ring he’d gotten years ago from his mom sat in between the white.

“Will you, Y/n L/n, do me the greatest pleasure by marrying me?” Spencer said with his anxiety showing through. Y/n gasped and threw themself at Spencer, wrapping their arms tight around him.

“Yes!” they cried, pulling away for Spencer to slide the ring on their finger. Then they took a deep breath. “Wait here.”

They disappeared into the two’s bedroom, rummaging through some things before running back with a black binder in hand. “It’s only fair if you see my unsent love letters, too.”

Spencer grasped it and flipped the binder open as Y/n guided him to the couch.

“They’re in order but aren’t as neatly organized as yours - I stopped writing before you did, though.”

————————————————

For Spencer Reid, february 8th 2008 10:17 am

It was yesterday, a little more than 24 hours ago at 6 am that I was on a bus. Tiny, white and cramped, but now I realize it was actually a ferry to the love of my life. Even though at the moment all I cared about was when I was going to get to stretch my legs next, it still buzzed with excitement because I was about to be in your city even if you didn’t come to see me, that would’ve been enough. Being three feet away from you is more than enough. Being Two inches away from you is bliss. But your head on my shoulder is nirvana.

But then, only two hours after I had started my d&d campaign (the moon isles or something) there was an urge to look behind me. I tried to ignore it but I looked anyway.

What I saw scared me. Not because I’m afraid of you Spencer, but because I was scared of myself. I wanted to run to you and hug you, but I was too scared of scaring you away that I didn’t. My head seemed to spin as a second glance felt like a hundred years. Then a smile broke out on my face and I looked away. At first I didn’t think it could be you, I half screamed at the two people sitting on the left side of me. “Don’t look now, but my boyfriend’s here” of course they looked and Sophia told me that you were walking over here.

My insecurities flared up, but I remembered that you love me, even though I'm tired and probably covered in acne. She said you sat down behind me and I risked a quick glance, or two, or three times every two minutes. I tried to act as normal as possible even though if I looked back I would see the smile that lifted your cheeks when I looked at you. It was hard to focus on my campaign because it’s cliche, but I could sense you behind me and I was shaking. My friends were hyping me up to say Hi and I was trying to not scream. I ran to the bathroom, splashed water on my face and tried to calm down. I ran back, probably looking a little too excited. Ok, I was totally too excited.

My campaign finished up, you caught me staring at you a few times and my friends told me you were looking at me anytime we all made a loudish noise. After that, you followed us to lunch, well, followed me. You stood beside me and I said Hi, you replied the same. Then you grabbed your stuff and seemed to have left. I visibly deflated, my one chance to see you and I missed it. Then you came back, with a takeout bag in hand and some fries. I didn’t mention it already but you looked adorable in your glasses, from afar they look too big for you but then you see the big warm eyes behind them. Your cheekbones are so nice and everything about you is handsome, even more than I could have imagined. Photographs don’t do you justice. I hoped you had liked your dice, I got the red and black ones but I was scared you didn’t like yours.

You sat directly in front of me and my friends (Deriasia and Emma) immediately made fun of me and I almost died. At that moment. When you smiled and laughed. My friends gave us their blessing, which kinda fit because you were as tense as if you were meeting my parents.

I asked you to sit with me during the next campaign and you did (we snuck you in without paying). You played with the first character I ever played (Bida the high elf wizard). I was almost too distracted to really compete in all the things, instead focusing on you. You let me use your journal to doodle, a weird eye and a girl. Did you notice me fiddling with my hands? If I didn't keep them busy I probably would’ve put my hands in your hair or grab your hand. I remember you asking me if I needed a hug. I said yes and I think that hug is the most important one I've ever had. You laid on me and I didn’t care what my friends would say, all that matters was you.

My skin in two weeks will not remember the feel of your hair, my lips will not remember your cheek, but my brain forever will. At that moment, physical immortality is not as important as the immortalization of those touches.

They linger in my head, fuzzy and soft on my skin but they’re there.

I remember you telling me not to buy you anything (i still got you a resin skull magnet and dice) I remember flirting with you, i remember it all. I remember how you know all of Sappho’s poems and fragments, I want to remember everything about you. I know I won’t, you’re the one with the crazy good memory, after all.

I wish I would’ve looked in your eyes and told you that I saw you. I wish I would’ve pressed my lips to yours, but then again there’s always next time. And next time I will, even if it’s right in front of the whole world. Because I love you. I really fucking love you and everyone can suck it. I love you.

And I think that’s all that matters.

____

I have waited almost six months to hold you in my arms, and now I wait longer. I hate myself, I didn't hug you. I should’ve.

I didn’t tell you I love you enough, I didn’t kiss you properly. I wish I did.

Currently my arms ache to hold you, my eyes burn to see you and my lips yearn to touch yours. I can’t wait to indulge myself in thousands of kisses, I hope they are as sweet as your skin. Kinda licked my lips after kissing your nose, cheek, and right under your neck. You taste sweet, I think I'm addicted.

I still feel the ghosts of your touch on my skin, I love it. I love you. I want to have your actual skin under my fingertips, to hold you when you wake up from a bad dream, to dance with you under the stars. Decide what song is ours and argue over how cheesy it is. Cry on the day we say our vows, cry at the birth of our first child, cry when they go to school, cry when they grow up, cry when I realize that we did it. I can’t wait to have life with you.

If there’s such a thing as soulmates then the word was made to describe us.

I love you.

____

I fell asleep, I woke up right before you texted me. I dreamt about you, in my mind I fell asleep with you in my arms. In my mind I am sitting in a cafe, right across from you drinking tea.

I prefer it to real life, by about an infinite percent. My friend came in and basically yelled at me to let him use my box, I told him to fuck off. I know I won’t be able to fall back asleep but I do hope to continue my dream tonight. Currently im trying to believe that you think i’m “stunning” it’s starting to work it’s way into my mind that i’m not ugly.

Spencer, I love you.

You have such an effect on me, the first week we were together you weaseled your way into my mind. You sprouted a tree that is still a sapling but has rooted to the core of my mind, slipping into my heart and spreading through my limbs. You’re almost a drug (the only one I approve of).

You’re poison, searing through my veins and warning my skin. But you’re not toxic, you’re candy, sugary sweet, something tangible that almost floats in and out of existence.

If you are a God, I am your most loyal patron.

____

Time is meaningless but it goes so fast, only eight minutes left to talk then my day ends. So many more ‘I love you’s I could say.

But time will not permit our love, that’s fine, I’ll wait it out till the end.

You’re worth it.

Seven Minutes

____

You always deny that you’re adorable, and that’s so adorable.

It’s frustrating sometimes because you’re so beautiful you deserve to know it. But oh well, i’ll just have to prove you are.

I told you I’d rather go on a date with you first before doing anything sexual. you also deserve to know your love is all I need, not your body (that’s just a perk)

You’re hot, sue me!

____

In the shower, I have most of my daydreams. Ranging from cotton candy clouds to a place where my parents accept me. However, the best daydream i’ve ever had is about a boy. A boy with chocolate brown eyes and a beautiful smile. Ding Ding Ding, his name is Spencer.

My dream is about his last name, well it involves it. I imagine myself talking to him while I say an important speech, in front of a crowd of people. I’m talking about our relationship, about how much I love you, and how much I can’t wait for the next chapter of our life to start. I always tear up when everyone is quiet at the end, and then you say what you have to say. It’s fuzzy and I don’t remember any of it (kinda want you to make your own in the future) but after you say it. It's time.

You say two words, so low only I and the person standing next to us can hear, “I do”

That’s the best day dream I’ve ever had, because I know it won’t be just a dream (I hope)

____

The best part of my day is looking at any photos from you: they always make me smile. Even when my day has been utterly terrible, your bright eyes are always a light in the dark.

I often don’t even need to think about you to have your smile in my mind, it’s just there, like a constant bright sunshiny beam. A single thought about you makes my day, a single touch my year, remembering that you’re mine makes my life a whole much better.

You, make living better.

I live for you, you’re all I ever want to have.

Je suis fou amoureux de toi.

____

So uh, you might have noticed but I don’t know how to talk to people, let alone talk to you.

It’s not that I have nothing to say, I have too much to say. It all bubbles in my mind and makes me jump on topic every three seconds. But when it comes to you, I'm stuck on which way to tell you I love you.

So, how about all of them?

I don’t need to focus on a single part of your face to know that it’s beautiful, but I do. All the parts work in harmony, like a choir. But individually they are still beautiful. I love every single inch of your face, individually and together.

I love you for your personality, I fell in love with a genius who is so much more than his memory or intelligence. Then I fell in love with a sweet boy who whined when I said self deprecating things. When we first met, I instantly fell in love again, with a shy boy who would look up at me from under his lashes.

Fuck, my mind is racing too much to distinguish anymore. But, I hoped I showed you.

That, I love you now, and forever will.

Happy Valentine’s day, my love.

____

Happy anniversary, god I can’t believe it’s been five months already. It seems just yesterday I was crying over whether or not I should continue liking you (i had told myself I wasn’t good enough for you).

Well, turns out I was wrong. I’m just enough for you. It doesn’t matter to me anymore if you’ll ever leave me, well, it does, `but there’s something more important, you being loved and being happy is what matters. And I can’t wait to give you what matters.

I love you babe! I’ll try to write more to show it.

____

My mind is a cavern of echoes, words (well a name) revertibrating in my skull.

The things used to be about art, school, anything slightly important.

But now, it’s filled with the most important person in my life. Analyzing the color of his hair (a warm brown), thinking of his eyes, thinking of his name and my name with a change; Spencer Reid (and sometimes Y/n Reid) has taken over my mind and burrowed into my soul.

I think if the red string of fate was real then we’d have been connected when we first met. Fuck, we are connected.

If we weren’t why would I have fallen in love with you? It was fate that I sent a letter to a wrong address, fate that I stumbled upon the boy that would change my life for the better.

Our souls are connected, being pulled because of the distance though, and I can’t wait to be with you. Not two halves of a whole, but two souls that fit like a puzzle piece.

I love you, and you love me. Even though I'm a coward.

When we have a daughter, her name should be Rhiannon. We will both dote on her like the goddess she is. Just a thought :>

____

You were in my house today. I think I'm dying, I'm wearing your sweater. It smells like you. I think you left it behind on purpose.

You smell really nice. It’s not like a cologne or anything, but it's nice. You’re nice

You kissed me. You’re a really good kisser. You should do it again and again and again.

I got the news yesterday, my transfer went in, I'm sending my letter to you tomorrow. I know you’re in my city but I'd rather it be like this.

I don’t think i'm going to write any more, don’t think that means i don’t love you!!

I am going to hold you for hours, I promise, I love you.

————————————————

Spencer finished reading and smiled up at his new fiance. “We were such dorks! It's crazy how similar we thought.”

Y/n nodded and looked down at their ring. “We were dorks in love! Um, so how do you feel about the name Rhiannon?”

“It’s pretty, but I don’t think we need to be worrying about baby names - we need to figure out how to tell my team we’re engaged.” Spencer quipped, wrapping his arms around Y/n before it hit him.

Y/n’s morning sickness, the weird secretive doctors appointment, and what they had just said. “No!” he whispers, a smile growing on his face, “I’m gonna be a dad?”

They nod and bury their head into Spencer’s chest. Spencer can’t stop the smile that beams across his face. He grabs Y/n and spins them around in his arms, “This is the best news!!”

He pressed a deep kiss to Y/n’s lips, then went onto his knees to wrap his arms around Y/n. “Jason Derek Reid if it’s a boy and Rhiannon Penelope Reid if it’s a girl.”

Y/n smiles and nods, “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Let’s be on the same page, forever from now on, okay?”

They nodded, Spencer’s hands finding place on their back as he pressed his lips right below Y/n’s navel. Y/n’s hand’s dug into his hair: “Forever.”

Years later the two do indeed wake up on a Saturday morning to impatient kids who demand to be made pancakes. Sometimes after a hard case they do dance at three am in their underwear. Sometimes they do a lot of things in their underwear. They’re together in every way imaginable.

And to them? It’s the most important thing that could ever be possible.

The End

part one

[unwrittenlibrary]

airport love confession w steve for drabbles?? like reader is about to get on a plane and leave and steve is racing through the airport to get to her in time and tell her how he feels🥺

Wherever You Stray

yesyesyes STEVE!!!!! 🥺

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

You could see why all the poems of unrequited love wrote it so painfully. Why they had described it as hearts being torn from chests and air being pulled from your lungs.

Steve Rogers had taken a piece of your heart and you couldn’t bare to watch him take it all the way back to the 1940s with him. Back to her.

You swallow thickly at the thought. When Steve had mentioned seeing Peggy when he and Tony had ended up on that army base, it was like you physically saw him slip through your fingertips.

It was your fault though, wasn’t it? Falling in love with Steve when half the population had been wiped away and the only thought anybody had was finding a new normal. Falling in love with him and never telling him, never explaining how his voice was your calm and his presence made your panic subside.

Would it have changed anything though? You think as you stare at the airport gate. Airports were crowded these days, families trying to find their way home and people trying to find their loved ones again. No. You know it wouldn’t have.

Steve had loved one woman in all his life and they had created a way to bring him back to her. A way to give him the life he desperately craved.

You wipe away the stray tear that’s fallen in the midst of your consuming of these thoughts. Your phone has texts from Sam, Bruce and even Clint, all urging you to tell him.

You wonder what they had told Steve about your absence. If they had told him the truth or if they had made up a pretty lie that calmed his nerves about one of his best friends disappearing before he went back in time.

“Now boarding fight 579 to San Diego.” A voice calls over the speaker. You take a deep breath as you stand. A fresh start sounded nice. The beach and palm trees seemed like the perfect place.

As you fall in line behind most of the other passengers you begin to wonder Steve had ever felt anything for you. If he hadn’t been forced to that army base if he would have stayed.

“Hey!” You ignore the voice, assuming it’s for another passenger as you wallow in your thoughts. “Excuse me. Sorry. I’m not cutting you, I’m trying to-“

“-Is that Captain America?” A voice calls out and your head snaps up to investigate it.

Steve is hastily pushing through the crowd of passengers. Steve in his ridiculous time travel outfit and still the same young Steve you had seen that morning.

“Just Steve Rogers.” He answers politely. His height gives him an advantage as he freezes in the middle of the crowd and his eyes scan in search of you.

You can only stare with wide eyes until the woman behind you shoves your shoulder lightly and you’re forced to move forward. “Go!” She groans.

You move forward on autopilot, completely baffled by Steve’s appearance and unable to do anything but follow the line. You can feel when Steve’s eyes land on you. His intense stare burning through your head as you continue to move up in line.

Three people in front of you. You glance over your shoulder and find Steve pushing through the crowd again.

Two people in front of you. His eyes are determined and don’t move from you. You feel heat on your cheeks and the back of your neck as he stares.

One person. Steve is only a few feet away. He smiles at kids who stare up in awe and politely nods in greeting to the people calling out Captain America.

“Ma’am?” Your head snaps to look at the woman in front of you. She’s wearing a confused smile as she waits for you to step forward. “Your ticket?”

A hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you off of the line. Your eyes move from his chest to his face and you can only stare with your mouth agape.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asks completely exasperated.

“What… What are you doing here?” They’re the only words you can get out as you stare at him absolutely perplexed.

He was supposed to be getting that dance with Peggy Carter. Why was he standing in the middle of JFK with you?

“Why are you leaving?” He asks softly. “I… You weren’t there when we all met at the time machine.”What a ridiculous name, you think. Time machine seemed far too simple for what Tony had created.

“I… Why are you here?” You ask again. “I thought you were going back in time.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows at you. Your fingers twitch, wanting to reach up and smooth out the lines on his forehead like you had for so many years when it was just you and him. You try to force back your tears.

“I did.” He says slowly. “To put the stones back. I went looking for you afterwards and Bucky said you were on a plane. What the hell? Why would leave without a goodbye?” You open your mouth and he shakes his head. “Why would you leave?”

You lick your lips nervously. “Last boarding call for flight 579 to San Diego, California.” You turn to look at the now almost empty gate. There were only a few more people left in line to board. “Steve that’s my-“

“-Why are you leaving?” He asks again. His voice is firmer this time. “I…” He trails off.

You shake your head. “You said… I thought you were staying with Peggy.” You whisper. Your head is spinning and you’re unable to connect the dots. Why was Steve here? Why had he chased after you?

“Staying with…” His hands come up to cup your cheeks. “Why would I stay with Peggy?”

You pull one of his hands away from your face and narrow your eyes. “You said… You said you saw her when you and Tony were on that base. That you saw her and you finally realized what you had to do.”

Steve’s shaking his head before you even finish. There’s a smile on his face that you can’t return because he’s leaning in and kissing you.

Steve is kissing you. Steve is… Your eyes widen before they close and you’re kissing him back. Your hands come up to rest on his chest and one of his grips your hip.

When he pulls away he doesn’t go far. Close enough he can speak in a whisper. “It made me realize I’ve moved on. That I have a life here. With Sam. Bucky. You.” He emphasizes. “A life with you where instead of dancing you take me to movies in the park and show me how to use IPhones.”

“You know how to use your phone.” You shake your head with a short laugh. “What are you saying?” You think you know by now, the confused fog clearing from your head, but you’d like to hear the words.

“I love you.” He smiles. “Not Peggy. She had her life. She lived it. She told me to live mine and I want to. With you.”

“With me?” You ask a little breathlessly. Steve nods and a smile breaks out on your face. “I love you too.”

Steve lets out a sigh of relief that makes you giggle. “No California?” He glances up at the now closed door. Boarding for the flight finishing while you were busy swapping I love yous.

You nod. “Not unless we’re going together.”

“I could use a vacation.” Steve slips your bag from your shoulder and move it onto his. When he wraps an arm around your shoulder, you return it with one around his waist and he begins to guide you towards the exit. “Especially one with my favorite person.”

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okokok this was my first time writing steve i hope you liked it!! i love the airport love confession trope! thank you for sending this in 🥰